#and that immediate feeling of disgust.... that's what i feel like i am to people

[greencarnation]

i feel like i'm going crazy because my friends literally don't fucking care like at all. i was speaking to one of them today and when i was done she was just like "yeah it's horrible. anyway!" like bitch tf do you mean anyway??? fucking do something???? if you can see that it's horrible fucking do something, anything at all!!! but she won't because she doesn't fucking care. and another friend, who i also haven't heard a goddamn peep out of, but i know has been watching my many many stories on what's going on in palestine and the MANY protests and events here just posted pics of her like. chilling having fun at a cute wee coffee shop less than 10 minutes away from where the march was. she was right there and she didn't go because she wanted coffee. because that is what's important to her and i'm a shit person for thinking that's disgusting. how can you be so detached and deluded? it's not because they don't know what's happening i'm TELLING them what's happening they're actively choosing not to get involved and not to care, because it doesn't personally impact them enough

[dysthymia-wet-specimen]

idrk about this take. like, you know it's not just trans people who enjoy nsfw art. yes there are a lot of problematic nsfw art out there but like, is goku yaoi really an issue?

feels like projection. i'm kink critical, and anti porn of irl people, but erotica (drawings and literature) isn't inherently unethical although there is definitely something to be said about fetishes that are harmful being sexualized. but nsfw artwork is not just a male or transgender thing.

i am the last person to be defending problematic fetish, but i think there is a huge problem of sfw platforms giving children access to explicit nsfw content (not like suggestive shirtless man like dick n balls level nsfw art). it's not just trans people who make this content and it's crazy to suggest otherwise when a large amount of shipping/fandom culture is female dominated.

i am staunchly anti-"proship" (definition varies but i am against people who make nsfw/fetishize rape, incest, pedophilia (aka lolicon/shotacon), etc), I wish there would be platforms where aforementioned content wasn't allowed, and unfortunately all of these are depectied in fetishized manners in abundance on the female dominated fanfic website AO3.

There are plenty of "proship" and shotacon women both in writing and artwork which is disgusting and vile, but not all nsfw art is exploitative and harmful. not to mention the person making the site is also a trans man (ftm), not a trans woman like you guys are trying to make them out to be. i guess i just think there's a hypocrisy in how we assume the worst when from face value when it's a trans person, even trans masc people, there's no mention of any harmful nsfw yet.

i think its definitely odd, but there should be a space for someones weird foot fetish art that isn't going to end up on peoples feeds unwanted. websites like this already exist for erotic fiction, and people do post drawings there too, and it has an abundance of sexualized rape culture content, but i don't see this kind of reaction.

i'm very critical of harmful kink on my blog. but i do think that this isn't really the "receipt" you think it is for a trans person wanting to post nsfw art, especially when its unclear on the extent of what is and isn't allowed.

like i'm not trying to interact in bad faith here. i just don't really see the red flags you all seem to be and to me it feels like it's just because it's a trans person due to the abundance of nsfw art in female-dominated shipping/fandom space. and that there's an assumption that a trans person making nsfw is immediately more harmful than a cis person making it.

Imagine all the things going on in the world and fetish art is your priority

[woovalin]

i’m in such disbelief right now and beyond disgusted.

i really hope y’all are choosing your morals over kpop; because we do not know these men at all. i will never side with or defend a predator and a criminal, even with little to no proof. even if there is the smallest chance he may be innocent, i will always believe the victim first.

some of you, as fans of the boys for years and him in general, i know you must be feeling disappointed and betrayed. you’re not dumb for previously supporting him, as we couldn’t have possibly known. but now is the time for a reality check and it’s time to wake up and take a step back. this just goes to show that we know absolutely nothing about them.

for sm to just outright put out a statement on their own before any rumors even surfaced and immediately kick him out? this has to be insanely serious and i’m terrified of what he could’ve done. the crazy thing is with everything currently happening in korea with the telegram situation, and korean women constantly being in danger in general because of the men there, i’m not at all surprised that celebrities are being exposed. sm has protected criminals before, and held onto lucas when his scandal came out as well as other artists who have been exposed for similar crimes. i can’t even imagine the severity of the current situation. we’ve seen what happened with the burning sun, and these men are not immune to being misogynistic, vile human beings.

members have already unfollowed him and deleted posts with him in them; his best friend of 17yrs has unfollowed him. the company taking the initiative and him getting kicked out of the group in less than a second before anything even came out, no denying the claims or even trying to defend him. that should be enough to tell you and understand how serious this actually is. i am beyond disgusted with him and this whole situation.

i sincerely hope the victim is doing okay and praying for them to heal and get the justice they deserve. and remember that your love for these celebrities should always be conditional, because we do not know them. it’s their job to put on a show and show you their public persona, but behind closed doors? we don’t know what they’re actually like. we put them on a pedestal and yet we don’t know what they’re really capable of. they are still men after all. i hope the police are taking this seriously. there needs to be consequences and these women need to be protected.

let this be a lesson to all of us. they don’t know us, and we don’t know them, not really, not at all.

ALWAYS choose morals over these strangers you idolize. and as women, we should be standing with the victims.

maybe not all men, but enough of them. and maybe not all men, but somehow always a man. and going forward, i will continue to support nct as a whole with the remaining members. however, keeping the situation in mind, i will be supporting from afar for a little while. if the situation escalates and other members are investigated and new information comes to light about the rest of them either knowing or possibly being involved, it would be best to step away for good. i will do my best to stay updated. but i do hope the rest of the members are doing okay, and hopefully no other members were involved; but this, just shows that they can always surprise us. you never think it’ll be your fave, until it is.

let’s hope this causes a domino effect and more of these people are exposed and charged for the crimes they’re committing.

sending love to anyone who has ever experienced sexual violence or has been targeted and been in a similar situation. it is not your fault and it never was!

love you all and my dms are always open if you need to vent. <3

❗️EDIT: also i wanna add that we need to not praise the rest of the members or any other celebrity for simply unfollowing him on social media. that is the least of anyone’s worries.

we don’t know if they were aware, we don’t know if they knew and were protecting him or turning a blind eye. it could be them trying to save themselves and clear their guilty conscience. maybe they didn’t know and are just as shocked as we are, we don’t know that either.

we blindly trust these people and believe they have good intentions but look at where that can lead to. fans being upset is valid, yes; but remember people with money and power will do whatever it takes to sweep things under the rug and make it go away in order to save face and keep their image and reputation.

follow-up post here.

[imstillalexcomic]

I waited a bit before making this strip.

After the comic talking about what it was like to grow up with a conservative father who routinely listened to and agreed with conservative talk radio, someone spoke to me the words you see in the comic today.

As you could imagine, it was hurtful to hear something so disgusting.

I wanted to make an immediate response to it, but I ultimately decided that I needed to address my emotions only after I had time to process what was said, and how I was feeling.

I am never going to pretend that I am anything less than an incredibly fortunate person.  Something that I’ve told one of my coworkers is that I don’t have everything I want, but I do have everything I need.  As far as I’m concerned, that makes me one of the most fantastically lucky people in the whole of human history.

I’ve been surrounded by wonderful people and have the ability to provide for myself, and I hope that I’ll continue to be so fortunate.

That said, we all have things that get us down.  Right now, our trans brothers, sisters, and enbys are the target of what’s becoming a global movement against our existence.  We fear for our safety, we fear being cast from society, we fear we’ll lose access to life saving medical treatment.

Many of us grew up confused and afraid of our own bodies and emotions, and had families that, while otherwise loving, exhibited ideals and behaviors that said people like us were less than, that people like us were disgusting or broken.

That’s incredibly damaging not just for a child to grow up with, but for anyone regardless of their age.

While the person who said this comment to me apparently disagrees, I want you all to know that your emotions are real, that the pain you feel is valid, and that it is ok to talk about your feelings.

You don’t need to be the world’s least fortunate person to be allowed to talk about your pain. 

You’re allowed to allow yourself to heal.

We should all be here for each other; to listen, to learn, and to love.

[vrystalius]

GI-HUN / PLAYER 456 YOUR YANDERE.

What will happen if the previous winner of the games falls utterly and sickly inlove with you?

Pairing: Gi-hun x fem!reader (x In-ho)

Warnings: non-con themes, gaslighting, unhealthy obsessions, stalker-ish behaviour, sexual/perverse fantasies, slight somnophilia if you squint, groping, violent fantasies, barely read-proof.

Summary, Gi-hun as your yandere: Falling for you, his yandere profile (with nsfw), his jealousy of In-ho

Words in total: 3.4k

In-ho’s yandere profile over here!

Introduction.

Gi-hun is incredibly careful ever since the horrific death games he witnessed and survived. Paranoia followed him everywhere, the feeling of being utterly useless crept more and more to his head as another year passes by without any useable evidence or clues that brought him even a little closer to the people controlling and allowing these games and the dread that tried to lure him into simply giving up.

As he finally managed to join the games once more in firm belief that his hired team of investigators/hitmen and Jun-ho can track his exact location before his hopes were shattered for one another time as he discovered the missing chip in his tooth.

He spotted you for the first time during the Red Light Green Light game. As Gi-hun yelled instructions on when to move and when to freeze, his eyes found your precious face.

You were horrified, that was obvious. Your eyes were darting around in panic as more and more people were shot and bodies hit the floor, your hands shaking slightly despite your best effort to hold them still after seeing a woman get eliminated for having trembling hands, a strangers blood splattered over your face and tears threatening to run down your soft cheeks.

Gi-hun’s voice faltered for a moment. Glancing around and noticing that most people were over the finish line already, he rushed over to your side as quickly as he can and hooked your arm in his, practically dragging across the large hall to force you to move. Instinctively, you clung onto this stranger as he was guiding as carefully as he can to survival.

He released a deep breath he never knew he was holding as he gently lowered your shaking onto the dirt below. Seeing you cower and bow at his feet and thanking him over and over for saving him stirred something inside of him he hasn’t felt in years.

What exactly it was, Gi-hun doesn’t really know.

“You can get up, it was nothing. I am glad you are safe now.”

Yandere profile (SFW part).

- Overcompensating Generosity -

Gi-hun shares every single meal be gets with you. If you ever refuse or kindly decline his offer so he can have more for himself, he will come up with lies about allergies or feeling sick so that you can have even more. He worries that you might be malnourished or don’t have enough energy to live through and survive the next round of games.

He quietly stalks you from the side and makes sure you eat and drink everything up. If you ever complain about being full and sharing a little with Dae-ho or Jun-hee, Gi-hun will gently scold you for not eating properly, almost like a father would in a way.

His hand would ruffle your hair slightly in frustration. The kimbab he gave you was intended to be eaten by you, not… Dae-ho. No matter how much you grew fond of him. But your kindess and compassion to share does put a small smile to his face, even if it frustrates him.

“You shouldn’t be careless. Think about yourself first. Stop sharing your food with others.”

He completely contradicts his own actions by scolding you for offering Jung-hee or Dae-ho some of your share by giving you his own food.

Gi-hun doesn’t only share food but his clothes as well. If yours ever get bloody or if he catches you shiver just once, expect his jacket to immediately be wrapped around your shoulders or offered to you to wear it instead of your bloody one. He did consider giving you his t-shirt and going without one more than once after seeing your face scrunch up in disgust at the sight of someone’s blood on your shirt.

He wants and will do everything in his power to keep that frown of your face. Your smile lights up the whole bunkbed-hall and gives one more reason to keep going. It may sound depressing, but you gave him a reason to live and fight for survival. Even if you don’t know about it yet. He planned on leaving the rest of the money he had for his child and ending his life after the games. What other reason does he have to live for anyway?

Now he has. You are his reason to live. Gi-hun can provide for you, care for you, love , protect and worship you with every cell in his body, if you let him or not, he will find a way to fulfil his new purpose in life and Gi-hun will make you enjoy it.

- Persistent attention -

He is watching you every minute, every hour, every day and all day. Gi-hun insists on taking watch during the night and shooing Jung-bae off just so he can have a moment to himself to watch your adorable sleeping face. He takes mental notes on your sleepy expression, your soft pout, squished cheek as you lay on your side, your hair perfectly falling into place and how your chest was perfectly squished by the mattress or just lift up and down when laying on your back, synchronised with your breathing.

His fingers briefly brushed over your forehead to push some loose strands from your eyes so he can admire you further, a soft smile resting on his face. Watching you and knowing that you are safe brings makes his heart race a little slower when around you. One less thing to worry about.

For some reason, Gi-hun knows more about you than you do yourself. He can predict when you need to use the bathroom by watching what and when you drink. He knows your sleeping schedule and your favourite position to lay in. He knows what food you prefer despite barely mentioning it. He knows what to say to make you smile, his favourite expression on you, and how to comfort you when you are scared. Gi-hun also constantly “helps” you in a way that includes physical touch.

He might close your zipper up, his fingers briefly brushing over your chest, or tucking you into your bunkbed as if you were a child needing constant care.

Even if it may seem sweet from time to time, it does feel incredibly overbearing and annoying when Gi-hun goes ahead and “helps” you with eating food as if you’re not capable doing so yourself (embarrassing you in front of the others during the process) or offering you to go to the bathroom with you for protection, waiting outside with the guard while you did your business.

Somehow, even the stationed guard felt creeped out by him.

⁎⁺˳ — A mini scenario starts here. —

You were afraid to fall asleep at night despite Gi-hun assuring you that he will keep watch at all times. Your eyes were tired and heavy but your mind just couldn’t relax, couldn’t rest. No matter how hard you tried your own body forced you awake, believing that you are in immediate danger.

Paranoia kept swirling inside your mind as your eyes floated around the room. Did that shadow in the corner just move? Or was your exhaustion finally catching up with you?

“Hey.” Gi-hun’s voice ripped you out of trance like state as you flinched violently in surprise. His heavy hand carefully brushed over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you as it rubbed back and forth slowly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The soft red light of the X marking on the floor illuminated his face to the point where you could read his soft expression. Worry was etched into his face. “Can’t sleep?” His voice was mich quieter now, trying to provide a little more comfort. His hand slowly made its way down to your waist as it began rubbing gentle circles there. You slowly nodded your head as you shifted your position to carefully shake his hand off.

You rolled over onto your back and Gi-hun smiled slightly. His fingers brushed some hair strands out of your face, briefly brushing over your soft cheek to savour your warmth a little more.

“Let me…” Without asking, Gi-hun suddenly gently scooted you aside to make space for himself as he crawled into your bunk bed, wrapping his arms around your smaller body. His hand began running through your hair, untying knots and feeling their softness. You uncomfortably shifted under him. “I-I can sleep on my own—“ “It’s okay, I’ll stay here.”

His voice left little space for arguments, just as much as his arms did. They were tightly wrapped around your back and waist, pressing you so firmly against his body that you could swear he was trying to absorb you. His nose brushed over the top of your head briefly, nuzzling into your hair.

“Close your eyes, I’ll keep you safe.”

⁎⁺˳ — End of the mini scenario here. —

If you ever try to tell him about how uncomfortable it makes you when he keeps on treating you like you’re incapable of being independent and thinking/acting on your own. Gi-hun first on denies being so overbearing with you and insists that it’s all you’re exaggerating, mistaking his simple kindness for whatever you’re talking about.

“Why are you so unreasonable? I’m trying to help you stay alive in these games. Don’t you want to survive and go back home? Let me take care of this, of you. You’ll die without me.”

- Idealisation -

Gi-hun put you on a pedestal the moment you came into his life. To him, you embody perfection, kindness, beauty, patience… Everything good in the world. Whoever dares to taint your image just the slightest earns themselves a night visit by Gi-hun himself to force their eyes away from you (and everything else) forever.

He’ll downplay or outright ignore all your “bad” or “negative” traits, fully believing that you could never do or feel wrong. Even your tears, your anger, your fear makes him feel absolute euphoria since you blessed him with the opportunity to witness your emotions on full display.

He sees you as his saviour and the one who will cure all of his illnesses, mental and physical. You fill the void in the man’s heart and he believes, no, knows, that you will bring Gi-hun everything he ever longer for; happiness, stability, protection, hope, absolute love and eternal devotion.

He fantasises every hour about having a perfect future with you together; a rural house somewhere quiet and peaceful, a child or maybe children (wether you want them or not), worshipping the ground you walk on everyday and come home with a new bouquet of flowers whenever he returns from grocery shopping. A fulfilling family life.

If you ever voice something that would go against his fantasies and imagination, for example that you don’t even want to marry him, Gi-hun will become visibly depressed and deflated, going as far as stopping to eat until you comfort him and shower him in attention, encouraging his fantasies once more.

- NSFW -

Gi-hun cannot control his own body anymore to the point of constantly finding his hard on pressing against the damn pants of the track suit uniform. Concealing it is hard so he either uses your pillow to cover it up and letting it rest on his lap until it finally calms and goes down or he sneaks off to the bathrooms, basically pleading with the guard to let him use the men’s room in the middle of the night.

During masturbation, you are again the only thing on his mind. He teases himself my cupping himself by the base harshly, makes himself whimper broken parts or your name by brushing his thumb over his leaving tip and drown himself in the fantasy that you are right there, with him, your hand on his cock and furiously jerking him off while the lewd Schlick Schlick Schlick sounds echo through the bathroom.

He also likes using your belongings and things to pleasure himself. Your pillow, for example. Gi-hun secretly swapped it out with yours while you weren’t looking and now has it pressed between his thighs tightly during the night when everyone is asleep, pathetically grinding onto it, thinking about where exactly he went wrong again and again as thought of your soft lips leaving burning kisses all over his body, your soft voice whispering encouragements and praises into his ear before switching around and calling him your obedient slut as you edge him over and over.

Gi-bun bites down onto the thin blanket to muffle his pathetic whines as he coats the inside of his boxers with sprays of his warm cum, his head falling back and his eyes tightly shut, not ready to leave his fantasy just yet and open his eyes to find himself back in the damn death games. He cuddles onto the thin of his blanket as if it were you lying right beside him, comforting him after such a rough and unforgiving session of imaginary praise, edging and your soft coos.

He does get more and more perverted and rather desperate at times when his fantasies aren’t enough anymore. Gi-hun lets his hand “accidentally” brush over your backside before profusely apologising over for his honest mistake. You forgive him and wave it off of course. Your forgiveness and the way you wave it off so quickly pushes Gi-hun to go further, do more, *feel* more. His hand frequently brushed over your backside, his palms gently pat on top your chest after zipping your jacket close, his fingers briefly brushing over your soft thighs while you slept, lingering close to your core but never daring to outright touch it. Yet.

When it comes to thought of sex with, Gi-hun gets all shy when even thinking about doing it with you. He isn’t the youngest and his stamina is not the best either. It was a long, long time since he felt anyone else be wrapped around his cock than his own fist working up and down so what if he forgets what to do? What if you’ll be disappointed? What if you become disgusted by him and leave him forever? He doesn’t want to think of that so he finds himself content with just finishing inside his boxers, hand and all over your pillow.

Gi-hun gets incredibly ashamed of himself after cumming to the fantasy of you being there with him, encouraging him. He beats himself up over being so utterly in love with you, such a perfect, young woman. You would never love a middle aged man like him, he is sure of it. He knows he has to somehow make you love him, at least just a little. Make you learn to love him, accept his care, teach you how to pleasure him properly, keep you all to himself and shut you away from the world, all the perverts and men that ogle you when you simply exist.

The world is too cruel, too corrupted, too perverted for a naive thing like you.

- NSFW ends here -

Gihun’s jealousy.

The moment In-ho joined his little alliance group he immediately felt inferior to him. He is intelligent, charismatic, dependable, kind. Everything Gi-hun barely ever is. It’s no wonder you got so attached to someone like him, the way your eyes sparkle when In-ho begins to talk or explain something, how fascinated you looked after he put Thanos in his place by demonstrating his strength, how you complimented his kindness after he gave his milk carton to Jun-hee. It makes him feel sick and incredibly angry at his friend for seemingly no reason other than existing near you.

Gi-hun slouches in his seat and fiddles with his fingers as he watches you have some small-talk with In-ho during breakfast. He’ll compare himself to In-ho in every way he possibly can, from his appearance to behaviour and actions.

Gi-hun watches him closely and tries to study his gestures and the way he presents himself, subconsciously mimicking everything his does in hopes to appeal to you even more.

He’ll start over analysing every single, every small interaction between you, imagining and spiralling himself into dark thoughts. He somehow fully convinced himself that by you clinging onto In-ho during the six-legged game means that you are in love with him and will end up marrying him after the games (despite the fact that you held onto your life on Dae-ho and In-ho’s shoulders, scared you’ll trip. But Gi-hun is just focused on your touch with In-ho).

Gi-hun becomes much more irrational as he keeps switching back and forth between showering you in love and affection and accusing you with trying to sleep with In-ho. One moment he is happily sharing his meal with you, admiring your hamster-like cheeks as you chewed on the food he shared with you before passively-aggressively interrogating you about why you even looked at the other man.

“You and In-ho seem to get along really well. What’s going on between you two? Are you trying to seduce him?”

It rarely happens but Gi-hun does explode out of rage sometimes, mostly when you two are alone and after letting his chronic jealousy get suppressed. He’ll scream and yell, vividly gesturing around, accusing you of everything you can be possibly accused of; having sex with him, wanting sex from him, loving him, thinking about marriage, you thinking In-ho is soo much better than him, you seducing the man… Gi-hun would’ve gone on and on, yelling and screaming at your trembling form as you were totally confused on why he was so angry if not for a guard that stepped in and dragged him back into the halls of bunkbeds with the other players.

In-ho. In-ho. In-ho. Whenever you say In-ho’s name, Gi-hun could throw his guts out or snap his own neck. He both wants to die and murder someone whenever his name slips through your soft lips. It makes him want to break your jaw so you could never utter his name again or bash your head in to the point of not being able to think about anything but himself, Gi-hun, your caring and generous future husband you don’t know about yet.

⁎⁺˳ — A mini scenario starts here. —

“You seem awfully tense. Is everything alright, Gi-hun?” In-ho’s voice sounded sincere. He scooted a little closer to his friend and leaned forward to rest his arms on his thighs, a concerned look on his face.

Gi-hun didn’t bother to spare him a glance and kept his eyes glued to the ground below him as he kept clenching and unclenching his fist. “I’m fine. Just worried about the games and all.” He lied through his teeth and turned his face away from him, earning a hum from the man beside him. In-ho placed a warm hand on his shoulder and gave it a small pat.

“If you are worrying about your darling, don’t worry. She is too smart and fast, she’s a real fighter. We’ll keep her safe together though, won’t we?”That statement shook Gi-hun to the core. We? Who exactly is we? He turned his head to finally look into his eyes, trying to see if he was trying to joke or being serious right now. He’d thought about letting In-ho purposefully die in the next game if it means to finally end this friendship or whatever it was between you and In-ho, but he always felt ashamed to think of someone like that right after. But not right now.

Right now, staring at that man’s face, Gi-hun wished he could wrap his hands around his neck and shut him up forever. Cut off all the air and watch as the life leaves his eyes, personally making sure that he will never talk, look or even breathe your way. How dare he. How dare he touch you, how dare he make smile, how dare he make you happy, how dare he do the life-long-job Gi-hun assigned to himself and only himself.

Gi-hun’s thoughts spiralled further. Surely In-ho fantasises about you too. About how the fat of your ass jiggles ever so slightly when you walk, how your chest stretches against the fabric of your jacket, how beautiful you’d look covered in his cum, how it would feel to take and taint you as his and only his.

And yet, he forced his violent thoughts away and let out a small sigh. Gi-hun nodded and turned to look away from In-ho again, not able to bear to have bim in his sight without fantasising about bashing his skull into the bed frame until his brain was mush and never able to conjure another thought again.

“Sure. Let’s keep her safe.”

⁎⁺˳ — End of the mini scenario here. —

💠

Author’s note.

Oh wow, I wasn’t nervous about posting like this since the first time I ever posted. To be fair this is kind of my first time posting about something else than Demon Slayer, soo… Also, Dae-ho is my baby, my precious. I need to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay and that it’s okay to feel scared. 🥺 Poor baby is so traumatised. Anyways, rant about Dae-ho over.

Make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3

[goddamnitmahtin]

Danny’s Designer Friend

Okay so hear me out. Danny jumps universes a lot right? It’s a part of running errands for Clockwork. He may be the Ghost king but since he was Clockwork’s mentee at the same time, he had to run time errands sometimes. It took him to some really interesting places.

Some places had magic, some didn’t. Some had heroes that used their own devices and some had heroes that used magical artifacts to manifest abilities. Some didn’t have heroes at all. Some universes had lots of technology and some were working to catch up. And obviously, Danny had his favorites. And he had his favorite people from each.

So…. Danny had an idea.

…

Bruce looked around suspiciously, alert to any dangers that may be in the area. He and all of his children were on duty when all of a sudden he ended up in a modern mansion of sorts with an indoor waterfall.

“What in the world-?” He heard Tim say as Red Robin appeared as well.

“Oi-!” from a surprised Spoiler as she appeared.

Sword slashing noises as Robin appeared, apparently trying to slice the air, “What is this trickery!”

Next Duke in his pajamas and Nightwing appeared, landing on top of one another. “Get your sweaty ass off me,” Bruce heard his son say as he pushed his older brother off of him.

“GUYS!” Oracle called as she fell. She had teleported in but her chair didn’t seem to have come with her. Red Robin and Spoiler caught her just in time.

Orphan appeared silently.

Then Oracle’s wheelchair popped in, dropping onto Signal just as he had stood up. “Oh come on!” he exclaimed as a post it note apology appeared on his forehead. Presumably for forgetting the chair.

Lastly, Red Hood appeared, guns out and ready to fire. That is, if only he had anything to fire at. He quickly put them away once he realized it was only the bats and birds. The others wouldn’t have noticed it but behind his helmet, Jason was wide eyed, noticing the post it note. He only knew of two entities that used that form of communication and one meant something significantly better than the other.

After a few moments of Red Robin and Spoiler helping Oracle into her chair, footsteps could be heard approaching. Everyone tensed, ready for a fight. Except Red Hood who could feel his core tugging at him familiarly.

Two people approached. First person they were able to see was Danny. He had decided to show up in his kingly glory, his ceremonial cloak billowing behind him. As he got closer, they could see a very short woman with black hair and round glasses smoking a cigarette walking with him. Despite Danny being a king, she was the one in charge.

The woman walked up to the group with a judgmental look, “Every one of you. When I point, you tell me your title and occupation. Go.”

Nobody said anything.

“You guys better do what she says,” said Danny chuckling. Their faces so far were hilarious.

Slowly, the family obliged, starting with Red Hood.

“I go by Red Hood. I’m a crime lord. And a vigilante I guess,” Jason said. He knew enough to know they weren’t in any danger.

The others followed along until finally it got to Bruce, “I’m Batman. Vigilante.”

The short woman scoffed and immediately started pointing out the flaws in everyone’s outfits, “You all look ridiculous! What is that, bunny ears? And you! Red, green and yellow are far too many colors! You look like a traffic light! You! Those shoes are impractical and appalling! Do any of you know what style is?!”

She walked up to Duke, “I have seen photos of your suit and it is disgusting! Too bright!”

She gestured wildly to the group, “And NO CAPES!”

The woman then went up to Red Hood, “You are perfect darling, practical and filled with personality. You are my favorite.”

Danny chuckled, “He’s my favorite too.” The king shot a knowing smirk to Jason who under his helmet blushed from the comment.

“I am designing you all new suits right away!” the woman exclaimed with a wild look in her eye.

Danny couldn’t help but start laughing at this point. The looks on everyone’s faces were pure gold. This was the best idea he had literally ever had.

“I can’t wait to see it Edna. I can pay for it too,” the king said, sneaking a glance at Red Hood, “Anything for future in-laws.”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Every Part of You

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."

You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.

His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."

Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.

"You're so -"

He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."

You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a@weallhaveadestiny@mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064@michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73@withyoutilltheendoftheline@the-photo-hoe @rae-nna@sarachabeans1 @double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep

[fortunately-bi]

God after that rant in the tags I really do miss old Tumblr. Like not just for the nsfw stuff but also like, I miss all of the people I used to follow who disappeared and I never found. I miss the stuff I can't find anymore because it got unfairly nuked during the ban, I miss not having ads, I miss not having weird layouts and random blogs pushed on me and Tumblr live giving me heart attacks every time I think I accidentally clicked one. Like for a long while this site was just left alone with the occasional update and different color of blue and we all just kinda existed(at least that's how my dash looked). Tumblr feels like walking into a house I used to live in but now someone else lives there and they painted the walls a different color they changed a bunch of things. Like it's still the same layout, there's still things that pop up sometimes that poke at the nostalgia but it just feels weird.

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Madri Lager: drunk words

Contents: cursing, just a little conversation between them to set the mood and provide a backdrop for the next fic, not proofread

No fucking way. 

There’s just no fucking way. 

“Why the hell are you here?” You hiss. 

Gojo fucking Satoru strolled into your lecture hall, smug grin on his fuck ugly face, arms folded behind his head and swinging his legs like a maniac. From the doors at the front, he immediately spotted you all the way at the back, sat by your lonesome and you could see his shit-eating grin widen. The whites of his teeth blind you almost as much as his impossibly white hair.

Then, the freak had the audacity to climb the stairs, ignoring the whispering and the pointing, and sat next to you. Well, a seat down because you refused to move your bag, even fought with him a little when he tried to lift it. 

He shrugs, slinging an arm around the back of the chair between you, fingertips way too close to your shoulder, and black sunglasses hanging low on his nose bridge. “Was feeling bored so here I am.”

Counting to ten, you tried to put on a patient voice, like you’re berating a child, which you pretty much are, and you grit out, “Bored people take up hobbies. Bored people do things like puzzles and cooking and knitting. Bored people don’t crash lectures and bother other people.”

“I love when you lecture me on common knowledge, wifey. It really warms my heart.” To emphasise his stupid point, he presses a hand to his chest and fans his face with the other. “You’re just so smart.”

You slap his hand away when he tries to boop your nose. People are staring, turning their heads like owls as they strained to listen to your conversations. Some people are taking pictures, no doubt sending it to The Bulletin or whatever, because people have nothing better to do than gossip. You hate this attention; the pointing and whispering because of your appearance you’ve learnt to tolerate, but this? 

This is just irritating on a different level.

At least once a day, a cheerful stranger comes up to you and asks in bewilderment if you’re Gojo’s fiancee. In fact, they ask if you’re really, actually the future wife of Gojo Satoru like he’s some mythical being and you’re a frumpy little worm. Fuck them. And fuck him. 

“Go away, Gojo,” you roll your eyes, typing as much of the lecturer’s notes as you can, a little distracted by the peering eyes around you and the ones running over your clothes . 

He sighs and lifts the lace from your dress, rounding the neckline. You feel it tickle your neck, and you fight the urge to shudder. In disgust. With a forced melodramatic tone, he complains, “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Are you fucking twelve? Go watch a movie like a normal person.”

“Movies are boring,” he retorts as if it’s fact. 

You roll your eyes. “And what? I’m so much more interesting?” 

What a stupid question. You really shouldn’t have asked that because the serious expression on his face as he lifts one shoulder in a lazy shrug makes you blush. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

“Did you meet Suguru on the course or was he your piercer first?”

Still typing, you throw him a side glance, feeling suspicious of the sudden change in conversation. But it’s welcomed. “We met on the course. First year. We were in the same class. He’s a good guy.”

Gojo huffs as if he didn’t like your answer. 

The piercer’s actually a decent person; he was friendly, smart, and kind. He made long, boring classes feel shorter with his interesting insights and opinions, and he had such a great way of expressing them — he was the most eloquent male you’ve ever met. However, there was always something off about him, like an inner turmoil that neither you nor he could ever quite understand. 

It was when he absentmindedly said he was thinking of dropping out that you felt you knew him a little better. You both shared a long talk at the back of the Life Sciences building where your little stroll took you, him smoking and you listening to his mutterings. He spoke of this feeling of being out of place, which you understood better than anyone else, and how the traditional path didn’t suit him. He disappeared for a while, a couple months, and you thought your response might have spooked him. After all, no one ever really comes to you for advice. But when he reached out to offer you a free piercing as his first ever client at his newly opened studio, you realised maybe you are capable of dropping an odd pearl here and there. 

“Well, Suguru��s my bestie, so back off,” Gojo pouts.

From your peripheral, you see him eye the big lecture hall and you don’t really know what he’s thinking. It’s an odd realisation to think that Geto, the guy you’ve always kind of admired, is actually friends with this loser – the suggestion that there’s a redeeming quality to the frat guy is one that doesn’t suit you. 

Most times he’s easy to read; he wants fun and excitement and thrill. He does whatever’s convenient or interesting, a totally impulsive guy. But there are rare moments, emphasis on rare, where you think there might be something more going on in that huge head of his. Maybe there’s something deeper to him. A maturity and wisdom he’s yet to show. 

“Fuck, marry or kill,” he lifts three fingers, “Marx, Satre or Aristotle.”

Yeah, unlikely. 

“Gojo, seriously, go away,” you sigh, exasperated. Just five minutes with the guy and you’re already drained. And somehow, you’re expected to live a lifetime with the weirdo?

Satan strike you down. 

“Me personally, Satre’s cute but something about big, bushy beards really gets me going. So, it’ll have to be: kill Aristotle, no offence dude, fuck Satre, and marry Marx.”

Two girls in the row in front of you giggle. Your lips turn down in repulsion. 

“I’m not sure Marx would like either of us, Gojo,” you give him a pointed look. 

He laughs. It’s loud and sudden and he has to say sorry to the entire lecture when it echoes around the hall. Some people laugh at him, or with him, and the lecturer can only shake his head and carry on. This lecturer is strict and merciless when it comes to interruptions, but of course he doesn’t say a thing against the interloper. How could he when there’s a huge placard over the double doors of this building titled ‘From the Loving Hearts of The Gojo Charitable Foundation’?

A couple minutes pass in relative silence, just the tapping of fingers against keyboards and the droning of the professor filling the space, and you think maybe he’s fallen asleep or maybe he’s so bored that he’s actually thinking of leaving. 

Of course, neither of those things happen because the universe hates you. 

Gojo pokes your side with a pen. You writhe with a blush. 

“Oh, ticklish, are we? Very interesting.” He wiggles his brows like an idiot, and you fight the urge to land a punch there. “Our wedding night’s gonna be fun.”

“We’re not going to have one if you had it your way, remember?”

Leaning back in his seat, he taps the pen —where the hell did even get that? He wasn’t carrying a bag— against his chin, considering his words carefully. He shrugs again. “Well, seeing as everyone’s so set on it, I’ve decided to, you could say, open myself to the idea.”

You try to quell the spark of hope there, that maybe your family could be saved, that you’ll be saved. It’s not wise to let that spark fester into something more. 

Gojo’s impulsive. Fact. 

Gojo’s a thrill-seeker. Fact. 

Gojo is an unserious guy set in his bachelor ways. He cannot be relied upon. He cannot be trusted to keep his word.

All facts. 

It’s easy for him to be able to have the option to be ‘open’ to an idea, whereas it’s thrusted upon you without much say. He can wake up and make decisions solely based on his urges, but you have to be mindful of the family’s reputation, your father’s bad habits, your mother’s social conservative ways, and the fact that this is all your fault. 

“Gojo,” you turn, fixing him with a solemn expression, “don’t do that. Don’t lead me on. I may not want to marry you, but I do want to marry. I must. It’s important to me, so please don’t wave it around like it’s some pretty flag.”

There must be something in your eyes, a graveness or a sombre quality that makes his smile disappear. His brows furrow like he’s trying to understand, trying to piece things together but you’re turning away before he could see. 

Clearing his throat, he pokes you again. “Alright. How about this?”

You throw him a doubtful look, worried about what dumbassery is going to leave his mouth. 

“Go on a date with me.”

“No.”

“Hey! You said that way too quickly.”

Resuming your typing, you’re already trying to drown him out, focused on the history of pragmatic ethics instead of his humoured tone. He’s suggesting something ridiculous again. As if you’d go on a date with him. Him. The guy who’s been getting in the way, the one who’s been making your life difficult and family dinners awkward, and the one you certainly cannot trust to not set up some trap to humiliate you like in the movies. 

“I’m being serious. Let’s go on a date.” Seeing you open your mouth to argue back, he hurriedly adds, “This isn’t fair on me either, y’know? I’m supposed to marry a stranger, one who wears all black and looks like she’d haunt me — not a bad thing, I’m actually kinda into it, question mark? — but my point is, we don’t really know each other. So why don’t we go on a date? It’s a pretty brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you mull it over. Sure, it makes sense, it would be good to get to know the freak you’re marrying or supposed to marry. This is how it should have been in the first place. Plus, your mother would certainly approve; she’d think this is a golden opportunity to secure him, to make him fall for you or whatever Mrs. Bennet thing she’s thinking of. 

However, as good as that idea is, you can’t just eagerly agree; there’s no guarantee this isn’t a trap. 

“You’re thinking this is a trap, aren’t you?” Your eyes meet his. He’s grinning ear to ear like he’s proud he guessed correctly. “Why don’t you plan the date, then? Set the time and place, that way there’s no way I could have rigged the environment with explosives or something.”

“No pig blood?”

Gojo smiles even brighter, and you have to squint to prevent losing your vision permanently. 

“No pig blood.”

[eddiesghxst]

ARE YOU BORED YET? - part two

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you're steve's "bitchy" step-sister and are spending the summer in hawkins; eddie is steve's annoying best friend who you can't seem to shake, but things take a sharp turn when you find yourself sneaking around and ultimately falling for him

contains: slightly enemies to lovers trope, food/eating, mentions of drug use, smoking, secret relationship vibes, lots of tension, kissing, flirting, and eddie being a pain in the ass <3

word count: 10.5k (sorry)

chapter song: magnet and steel x walter egan

| previous part I next part |

I series masterlist | their mixtape | -main masterlist- I

Dry heat, a sputtering engine, and the overwhelming stench of burning asphalt is how you spend the hottest day of the summer.

This wasn’t part of the plan. You just wanted to get out—needed to escape the stifling air of the house, where no amount of fanning yourself or pressing ice cubes to your neck made a difference.

So you took your father’s keys, hopped into the car, and now?

Now, you’re stranded.

Suffocating heat spills through the half-opened windows of the car, sticking to your skin and pressing against your lungs. You turn the key over once again, nothing.

You groan, slapping your hand against the wheel, cursing as you realize— of course, this would happen to you on the hottest day on the goddamn earth.

And just for good measure, you turn the key one last time, jamming your foot into the gas as if it’ll encourage the piece of shit. It sputters. Makes a weird noise. And then— silence. Pathetic silence. 

“Oh, fuck you!” You drag your hands over your face, and your frustration bubbles over. 

Great. It’s great, really. 

Defeated— and overheating— you gaze at the useless wheel and consider your options— which are none. The heat is unbearable, and you’re miles out from Hawkins— because why is the closest mall two towns over?

You need help. Clearly. And luckily, there’s a gas station across the street with a payphone, and if you’re lucky, Steve will pick up. 

Annoyed and maybe with a little too much anger in your movements, you dig out a few coins from your purse before opening the car door. 

You step out, immediately regretting it when you’re smacked with the heat. The pavement is scorching, waves of heat rippling off in the distance as you match your way across the street, and by the time you reach the pay phone, you feel like you’ve been walking through an oven.

You shove a quarter in, angrily punching in numbers before picking up the phone and listening to it ring. 

Three rings pass. You swear under your breath, impatiently tapping your nail against the payphone as you wait. And then, finally, someone picks up. 

“Harrington residence.”

And that’s… not Steve. It’s Eddie.

Your stomach drops. 

Your teeth grind together, your eyes shutting momentarily as you reel in your composure. 

Your voice comes out irritated, “Where’s Steve?” 

“Ah!” Eddie exclaims in a happy tone, “Am I speaking with Malibu Barbie?” He teases.

Your nerves fray, the summer heat singeing them clean off. “Shove it, Eddie; where’s Steve?” You snip.

“Love it when you get mean, princess,” Eddie talks through a mouth of food from what you gather, making your nose crinkle in disgust. He sighs, “Steve’s not here, went to do some rich people shit for your dad.”

You roll your eyes, your hopes depleting by the second. 

If Steve isn’t home, you’ll be left waiting for god knows how long before he can get you. You glance over your shoulder, hesitating, knowing that the only option to escape this debilitating heat is through the man on the other side of the phone. 

This is humiliating. You don’t think you’ll ever come back here again, honestly.

You swallow your pride. 

“My car broke down.” You flatly say. “I need him to pick me up.”

There’s a pause. Not long, but enough to acknowledge. You almost think the call may have dropped. But then, in the most sincere tone you’ve ever heard come from Eddie’s lips—

“Where are you?”

You huff, shifting in your spot as you roll your eyes, “I just said I need Steve.” You stubbornly reply.

“Yeah, well, he’s not here,” Eddie says obviously. “So, unless you wanna sit there and melt, tell me where you are.”

Your grip tightens on the phone, annoyed with how right he is. 

This is the worst-case scenario. 

You could just hang up. You should hang up— figure out some other way home. Because god forbid you have to rely on Eddie right now. Anyone but him.

You’d been avoiding Eddie since the bonfire— not because whatever that was had done a number on you or anything, but because… well, it was just fucking awkward. You didn’t know what to say to him, and you sure as hell didn’t want to address whatever that weird moment was. But Eddie didn’t cease to indoctrinate your household, so you did your best to stay away. However, it seems the universe has other plans.

So, after a long moment, your teeth digging into the soft skin of your lip, you give in and mumble the details of your location. And annoyingly, you feel a sense of relief rolling over you when Eddie says he knows exactly where you are. The feeling is quickly gone when he adds, “Now, was that so hard, grumpy?”

You roll your eyes, grimacing even though he can’t see you, “Just hurry up.” You snap before hanging up.

And when you step away from the payphone, the heat seems even more intense, especially considering the realization that you’re now waiting on Eddie Munson to pick you up. 

And you already know he’s never going to let you live this down.

It feels like hours beneath the summer heat as you wait for Eddie, until finally, you hear the familiar rumble of a rusted-out van. You’re against your car; arms crossed over your chest as you watch him pull in next to you, his music blaring for a moment before he kills the engine.

And you hate the smug grin he has on his face when he hops down from his van— like he’s enjoying this. 

Your expression doesn’t falter from the annoyed look you’ve had for the past hour as he walks over to you. 

“Good afternoon, princess.” He happily greets as he gets closer. 

“Told you to stop calling me that.” You remind him.

“Did you?” He asks, brows lifting in faux surprise. He hums, face twisting in a look of wonder as he tugs a cigarette from behind his ear to stick between his lips. He clicks his tongue once and shrugs as he fishes out a lighter, “Can’t seem to remember.”

Yeah. You should’ve hung up.

“You know,” he pauses to burn the end of the cigarette, flipping the zippo shut and shoving it back in his pocket, “Considering I’m your handsome knight in shining armor,” he teases, casually gesturing towards your situation with the burning stick in hand, “I assumed you’d be happier to see me.”

You shortly hum then, “Keep dreaming, Munson.”

He grins then, lazy and lopsided. You watch his mouth for a moment, stuck on the way it wraps around the cigarette— no. Not this. Not him. 

Smoke billows from his mouth when he responds, “Always do, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, a snarky remark dying on your tongue when he nods behind you and asks, “What’d you do?”

Your face twists in defense, “I did nothing— it just… died.” You shrug. 

Eddie hums like he doesn’t believe you, pulling in a drag as he walks around to the front of your dad's car and rolls his sleeves up. You can’t help how your eyes linger on his arms for a moment, eyeing the dark ink and intricate veins, muscles flexing with every movement. You quickly glance away as he pops the hood open.

“Sounds to me like you ignored the warning signs.” He calls out from behind the hood. 

You roll your eyes, shifting against the side of the car as you distract yourself with the boring scenery around you— seriously, this town has nothing to offer. 

“Can you just figure out what’s wrong and fix it.” You snap as Eddie tinkers with the car. 

He’s lost behind the hood for a few minutes, leaving you to try and distract your thoughts by boredly eyeing shapes into the ground until he slams the hood down, causing you to slightly jump.

The cigarette hangs from his lips, a few streaks of grease smeared on his hands. You’re annoyed, but you’re not blind. He looks good. Annoyingly so, even if you can’t stand him. 

You shrug, “So?” You press. 

He pulls the bandana hanging from his pants pocket, using it to wipe away the dirt on his hands, “Hate to break it to you, Barbie, but I can’t fix this here— gonna have to take it to the shop.”

You exhale sharply, resisting the urge to kick the stupid car. “That’s fuckin’ great.” You sarcastically mumble. 

Eddie’s got a sly grin as he looks at you, honey-dewed beneath the sun, slick with the summer heat and his usual confidence. He tilts his head, eyeing you momentarily like he’s piecing you together before nodding towards his van, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You stare at him, summer heat boiling your blood and every last piece of sense you have— god, you just need to get into some AC. And Eddie’s looking at you like he already knows your answer, with a sly grin on his lips, brown eyes looking at you as if he could see every thought running through your head. 

And you wonder if he’s lying. Would he lie about the state of your car just so he can be your saving grace? With the way he’s smirking, you wouldn’t put it past him. 

Any other day had the temperatures been cooler, you would’ve gladly told Eddie to fuck off, and you’ll find another way home… But it’s hot. Ungodly hot.

So, you yank the car door open and grab your purse, slamming the door shut and locking it. Eddie smiles, taking one last drag before tossing the bud on the ground, “Your place or mine, honey?” He teases as he eyes your body. You feel his gaze more than you’d care to admit.

You grimace, fingers tight on the leather handle of your purse as you stomp past him towards his van, “Just drop me off, Eddie.” You snap.

“Copy that, Malibu.”

He’s hot on your trail, following after you like a pathetic hound as you walk to the passenger side. You reach over to open the door, only for Eddie to reach over you and open it for you. He pulls it open all the way, an annoyingly charming and teasing smile on his face as he politely gestures for you to get in. 

You know what he’s doing.

He knows what he’s doing. And he’s so fucking smug about it.

You can barely hold the huff of annoyance that spills from you as you climb into his stupid van. But he’s not expecting you to buy into his little party trick— he’s surely not expecting you to climb into the passenger seat and slightly arch your back, your tiny skirt riding up your thighs as you slide into a comfortable position. 

He quietly but surely clears his throat, glancing away as you wriggle your skirt back down your thighs, his fingers tightening over the handle for some seconds.

“Thanks, Eds.” You forcefully give a sweet smile, a tiny glimmer of joy sparking in you when he avoids your gaze and nods, “Yep. No problem.” He mumbles before slamming the door shut. You can barely hide the satisfied smile on your lips, basking in the glory of flustering Eddie as you settle into your seat.

Eddie takes his time to walk to the driver's side, the sound of his boots crunching over against the gravel with each of his steps. The driver's door creaks open— and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something, almost anticipating it, but—

He says nothing.

No. Eddie climbs into the driver's seat in complete, utter silence. He doesn’t say anything as he settles in, shifting the car out of park and peeling off back onto the road without a word. 

It’s silent. Unbearably so. The most silence you think you’ve ever endured around Eddie— and you’re not sure if you should be thankful for it. You should be. But it feels weird, knowing Eddie’s true nature of constant noise.

Because Eddie Munson never shuts up.

But a quick glance to your left tells you exactly why.

There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, a glint in his eyes. 

He’s enjoying this— just as you’d suspected. 

Your face twists with something like annoyance, your eyes narrowing as you break the silence, “What?” You snap.

Eddie hums, ringed fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “Nothin’.” He shrugs, lips turning in a momentary frown, “Just enjoying the peace and quiet for once. Really nice. Crisp. You should try it, princess.” He teases.

You roll your eyes, huffing as you cross your arms over your chest in annoyance. A quick response dances on your tongue, but then—

Your stomach rumbles.

Painfully loud.

And Eddie hears it perfectly clear. 

You tense. 

His smirk opens, lips splitting into more of a grin, something downright giddy before he snaps his fingers— like he just won some stupid bet.

“Oh, that is beautiful,” he muses, eyes trained on the road. His face turns in amusement, “Could’ve sworn you were just sitting there all high and mighty, angel, but nope— even the mighty fall.” He shakes his head with a grin.

You glare, arms tightening over yourself as if that’ll silence the sound of your hunger, “Shut up.” 

“Not a chance.” He quickly responds before glancing at you, “That was— Jesus, that was ace,” he huffs out a laugh as you groan in irritation, “When’s the last time you ate? Yesterday?” He teases

“None of your business, Munson.” You grumble, glaring outside the window.

“Ah, so yesterday. Got it.” He snickers to himself.

You’re still glaring out the window when Eddie says, “Well, now we have to get a bite to eat.” He says as if it’s obvious. Technically, it is. 

Your head snaps his way, eyebrows furrowed with a pout on your lips, “What?”

Eddie’s grin widens, pure joy dancing in his eyes. “No. Take me home.” You demand.

The curly-headed boy shakes his head, “Can’t. Not when you’re out here starving, babe. That’s dangerous— you could, like, pass out or something. Scrape your knee in those little heels— and while I am in excellent shape—“

You groan, rolling your head and pressing your temple against the window, “Jesus Christ, Munson—“

“—I would rather not have to fight Harrington because I let his sister die of starvation, you get my gist? So, really, we have no choice but to go eat.” He shrugs. He glances at you and drops a wink your way, “For my sake.” 

You stare at him, disbelief of your situation settling in your mind. He’s torturing you. That’s what this is— torture. 

“Take me home.” You repeat.

But Eddie says nothing. He’s got a gleam in his eyes, the type that lets you know he’s already put his stupid little plan into action as he flips his turn signal on.

And before you can protest again, he’s turning into the tiny parking lot of a very conveniently placed diner. 

“Eddie—“

“Relax,” He purrs, shifting the van into park, “You don’t have to thank me… but I do accept tips in the form of cash and kisses.”

You gawk at him, stomach flipping at his stupid fucking words because— seriously, who does this guy think he is?

“You are so fucking irritating, do you know that?” You stress.

Eddie shrugs, “So I’ve heard,” he opens his door, grabbing the keys from the ignition, “C’mon, I’ll even let you sit on my side of the booth.”

And before you can argue anymore, before you can fight it, he’s already climbing out and swinging the door shut. You sit in your seat, fingers curled into a fist as you watch Eddie waltz into the diner.

You shouldn’t follow him.

You shouldn’t reward his insufferable behavior. 

And you really shouldn’t want to spend a second longer enduring his annoying presence. 

But your stomach grumbles again. And there’s something fun about this back-and-forth you have with Eddie, something you’re not entirely sure of but couldn’t care less to figure out. 

You drop your head against the headrest, a frustrated groan ripping from your chest. You pause for a moment, reeling yourself in before dragging in a deep breath and opening the door. 

Whatever. 

You’re hungry, and you’ve had a long day.

And Eddie?

Well, he’s got a shit-eating grin, already seated in a booth with a perfect view of you stomping across the parking lot. 

You swing the door open, the bell above it ringing in some mocking little victory chime for Eddie— and you really hate the way he’s stretched over the back of the booth, arms splayed out in his usual, infuriating, cocky manner. 

You should turn around.

You should flip him off, try and call home again, figure out a way to get away from his annoying and handsome smirk. 

But you slide into the booth, an irritated pout on your lips as you cross your arms.

His smirk widens, his knee bouncing beneath the table as he tilts his head, “There she is,” he muses, leaning forward to grab a menu on the table and sliding it towards you, “In all her angry glory. Let’s get some food in that talkin’ tummy, yeah?”

“I hate you.” You grumble, begrudgingly grabbing the menu.

“Fair,” he hums, opening his own menu and grazing over the options, “Doesn’t change the fact that I saved your ass twice in one day. You’re 0-2, pixie— you kinda owe me.”

“I do not.” You quickly reply. 

“Sure you do. Didn’t I just save you from incinerating off the side of the road? And haven’t I just saved you from dying of starvation? Seriously, you owe me, like, a dozen strawberry-milkshake-sugar-sweet kisses.”

You grimace at him from across the table for a moment, fingers tightening on the edges of the menu, “I’m not kissing you.”

Eddie grins, winking at you, “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can send a quick remark his way, a lady is stepping up to your table, boredly clicking her pen as she asks, “What can I getcha?”

Eddie’s grin never falters, but you don’t care to stare any longer, turning your focus to the lady, “A burger and fries, please. And a coke.” You order.

Eddie hums, eyes never having left you.

“For you, sir?” 

Eddie smiles at the lady before looking back at the menu, “I’ll have a burger too— double stacked— extra pickles, onion, and cheese. Fries, make ‘em crispy, and a side of your special sauce, please… I’ll take some nugs too actually,” he lists off as the lady takes note, “Aaaand, two milkshakes. One chocolate, one strawberry— extra whipped cream with a cherry on top.” He finishes with a satisfied smile, closing the menu and handing it to the lady.

The lady walks off to put your order in, and you stare at Eddie as he leans back in the booth, “You realize you just ordered a meal for an entire nation, right?” You ask. “You’d snap with a strong breeze; where are you putting that?”

Eddie hums, tilting his head and thinking, “You ever ran from the cops before?”

Your face twists in confusion, “What? No?”

Eddie hums, “Burns the calories quicker than a line of coke.”

You pause for a moment, blinking at him as he gazes at you, fingers fiddling with a napkin as if his words are something normal to say— coming from him and his chaotic nature, though, you suppose they are.

You blink, “Why are you running from cops, Eddie?” 

“The first, second, or third time?” He muses.

You stare.

He watches you, no indication of a joke on his face— and you begin to slightly worry.

But then he slowly grins, flicking a piece of ripped napkin paper at you, which you bat away with a grimace, “That’s called a joke, princess,” he teases, a devilish smirk on his face when he adds, “I’m a saint… only ran once.”

You nod, eyeing him, “Right.” you mutter, shaking your head.

The conversation naturally dies down then, and for a moment, there’s just the soft hum of the diner—plates clinking, low conversations murmuring around you. You tap your fingers lightly against the table, eyes drifting to the neon glow of the jukebox in the corner, wondering if you should say something.

A flash of that moment some nights ago passed by the forefront of your mind. 

But before you can think too long about it, the food arrives.

Plates of hot food are placed before you— and Jesus Christ, you hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the scent of a fresh burger and fries wafts in the air, making your stomach clench. You eye the food for half a second before reaching for your burger, fully ready to demolish it—

Only to pause when Eddie immediately grabs his own and takes a massive bite, nearly inhaling it all.

You take a bite of your own, taking your time to thoroughly chew as you watch Eddie scarf down three bites worth in one. You raise an eyebrow, “You’re gonna choke.” You warn him.

Eddie hums, talking through a mouthful, “Worse ways to go.”

And you smile, taking another bite of your meal as you think— this kind of isn’t bad.

Eddie groans in satisfaction, slumping back into the booth with a dramatic sigh, a full stomach, and an empty plate. He spreads his arms wide across the top, stretching out like he’s just finished running a marathon. The chains and pendants hanging from his neck glimmer beneath the dim glow of the diner as he tilts his head, and you do your best to look anywhere else. 

“So,” he looks at you, a look of amusement dancing in his eyes, “Care to tell me what you were doing all the way in sketchy-middle-of-bum-fuck-nowhere Indiana?”

You drag in a breath, twirling a fry between your fingertips as you shrug, “Mall.”

Eddie’s grin drops, face paling into a deadpan expression, ”That’s it?”

You pop the fry in your mouth, humming with a nod as you swallow before answering, “That’s it.”

Eddie blinks, face twisting in something like disgusted confusion, “You drove that far just to shop?”

You roll your eyes, glancing out the window as you cross your arms over your chest, “No, Eddie, I drove that far to practice my backflips off the escalator.”

Eddie snorts, leaning forward to snag a fry from your plate— he’d been stealing bites from you the whole time, sneaking around your hands to steal a dip in your ketchup or sip on your milkshake— and each time, he ignored your protests, so you’ve given up.

“Now that,” he snickers, pointing the fry at you, “I’d pay to see.” He eats the fry, a glimmer in his eye.

He shrugs, “Well? Get anything nice?”

You shrug, pulling your milkshake towards you and taking a long sip.

Eddie gasps, dramatized horror seeping around the edges. “Oh my god,” he muses, “You’re one of those people.”

You narrow your eyes in confusion, “Huh?”

Eddie grimaces, “The ones who just walk around and look for shits and giggles.”

You shrug, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, it’s a waste of a trip, doll.” Eddie points out, which is arguably true in your situation. 

Still, you roll your eyes, “I bought stuff, asshole.”

Eddie grins, unbothered, swirling the straw in his nearly empty cup as he looks at you, “Oh? Something good, or does Indiana have nothin’ on California stock?”

You sigh, leaning back into the booth and crossing your arms, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I bought a pair of sunglasses. And a dress.” You say matter-of-factly.

Eddie’s lips twitch, “Wow. Life-changing. Try it on for me.”

You grimace, “In your dreams, Munson.”

“Name the color so I can get an accurate image.” He teases.

You stare at him, a devious look in his eyes and that stupid smirk that won’t wipe off his lips. 

“Blue.” You casually say. Eddie groans. “Baby blue. Mid-thigh length.”

“Fuck.” Eddie mumbles, glancing out the window as he rubs a hand over his mouth. He looks back at you, playful lust in his eyes, “You’re an evil woman.”

You innocently shrug, taking another long sip of your milkshake.

And beneath the table, you shift your leg, not thinking much when you do it before—

Your foot nudges Eddie’s.

It’s not much, could easily be ignored and passed as an accident— which it is.

But Eddie doesn’t let it pass as so.

He nudges you back. 

You pause, heart skipping a beat when your gaze flickers to him. He’s completely normal. Popping a fry in his mouth and chewing way too casually like he hasn’t just done that on purpose.

Like he isn’t waiting to see what you’ll do next. Like you’re too chicken to play this little game he’s started.

And because you’re not thinking, the sun having gone to your head or something, and maybe because you’re a little tired of thinking, you take the bait.

You nudge him again.

His lips twitch, brown eyes dancing across your face. He props his chin in his hand, lips twisting in thought as his foot presses against the side of yours, the toe of his boot scratching against your ankle.

“Favorite color?”

You hum, shrugging as you dance below the table, “Not my favorite, but I like it. You?” You respond casually, but your heart is thrumming in your chest, nearly flopping out onto the table because— Jesus Christ, what are you doing?

Your foot scratches against the lower back of Eddie’s calf, and he stirs, tossing another fry into his mouth in distraction.

“Blood red,” he easily says, “But— I doubt it’ll still be number one once I see that dress.”

And your game goes on. 

Eddie stays casual, steady gaze settled on you as he snacks on the rest of your fries— like this is easy for him. Like this isn’t the first time you’re allowing yourself to play this— whatever this is— with him.

You’re very much aware of how your foot is still pressed against his. You’re very aware of this little cat-and-mouse game— your foot will brush his, he will nudge back, you will wander off, and he will find you.

And neither of you mention it.

Because Eddie isn’t, and you refuse to do it.

You let it build. The shock of warmth that shoots up your leg each time he finds you, the lousy waltz your eyes are in— you let it inch forward more and more.

Your milkshake is finished, and the sun is gone, but you’re still so fucking hot, and your neck burns, and just when you think to call it quits and pull away for good— Eddie traps you.

His foot sneaks in behind yours, and he loops around your ankle. 

Not forcefully— you could definitely move away if you wanted to.

And you do. You think.

But he’s saying something, and you’re watching his lips move, his ringed fingers glimmer beneath the light, and his skin is pressed against yours beneath the table— and you don’t want to move. Can’t. Not even if you tried.

Not when he’s warm and gentle, and all of your defense is benched.

And goddamn him— he’s so fucking annoying, he doesn’t even look bothered, and he clearly isn’t when he flicks a soggy fry at your forehead.

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown, dusting the salt from your head. 

“You weren’t paying attention.” He plainly says, though there’s a glint in his eyes.

You scowl, flinging the fry back at him only for him to dodge it, “You’re a child.”

“Yet you’re still here.”

He slinks his foot away from you, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as you drag in a silent breath.

“What’s my favorite color?” He asks.

You gaze at him, subconsciously committing this view of him to memory as you boredly reply, “I was listening, you idiot.”

He turns his head, offering his ear as he gestures his fingers in a ‘speak up’ motion. You roll your eyes before responding, “Blood red.”

He hums, tapping the table as he exits the booth, “And don’t forget it next time you’re at the mall.” He winks.

The drive home is mostly quiet.

It’s not awkward, more so just… charged. Like neither of you wants to speak and shatter what you’d started beneath the diner table. Like you’re too afraid to speak of it and call it something.

A game. That’s all it was.

And your ankle is still buzzing.

You can almost feel the scratch of his boot against your skin.

Eddie’s fingers drum against the steering wheel, his rings clinking softly. The radio hums softly beneath the rumble of the van, something lazy and bluesy that sounds nearly historic crackling through the old speakers. 

He pulls into your house, the van slowing to a stop— and you kind of had hoped the drive would never stop. Because maybe then, you wouldn’t be forced to finally say something. 

What do you say?

The headlights wash over the white picket fence and pristine lawn— a sharp contrast to the dim, cramped diner where your foot had been tangled with his just an hour ago.

You shift in your seat, stalling, hand on the door handle but not moving. You try to convince yourself it’s because you’re tired— summer heat. 

But you know better. And Eddie knows better, too.

“So,” he drawls, twisting one of his rings. He glances at you, curly hair rolling over his shoulders, a suppressed grin cracking at his lips, “Good date?”

You scoff, finally looking at him, “That wasn’t a date.”

Eddie smirks, huffing out a laugh as he briefly looks out his window like he’s trying to stop from bursting into a full-blown fit of laughter. “Right. My mistake.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag, before opening the door to get out. Your feet hit the pavement, your fingers curling around the door, preparing to shut it when Eddie speaks again. His face is unreadable in the dim light, but his voice is… softer. Less teasing.

“You had fun, though, right?”

And you hesitate, gripping the handle of your bag— because yeah. You did. Too much.

You tilt your head, flashing a look his way before you shrug and respond, “I survived.”

Eddie laughs, craters of sun carving out in his cheeks as he looks away. And you can’t stop the mirror of a slight smile on your lips as you close the door and turn around.

He watches you walk to the door, and you only know not because you turn back around to catch it, but because you can feel his gaze burning with each step you take.

And because Eddie is a thorough chauffeur, he waits until you get the door open before driving away. And you don’t look back.

Not until the red glow of his taillights disappears down the street.

Eddie doesn’t leave your mind easily.

Granted, it’s been less than a day, but that doesn’t make your restlessness any less frustrating. After Eddie dropped you off, you spent the better half of your night batting away flashes of your afternoon with him.

His stupid grin when he picked you up. His teasing comments. His clunky rings. The way his lips curled around a cigarette, the brush of his skin against yours. It plays in your mind like a shitty looped movie, running on repeat from the moment you closed the car door to when you stepped into the shower to when your head hit the pillow.

Admittedly, it’s annoying as hell.

Like an itch. An intrusive thought that won’t quit no matter how hard you try to ignore it. If lobotomies were still legal, you might’ve scheduled one by now—because nothing, absolutely nothing, seems to get that stupid metalhead idiot out of your head.

Which is why you’re here now, lounging by your friend’s pool, still reeling, when the words slip out before you can stop them—

"Do you know Eddie Munson?"

Mia, one of the true friends you’ve made in the years of visiting Hawkins, sits on the lounge chair beside you, focused as she paints her toenails and hums. She doesn’t look up as she responds, “Eddie?” She pauses to blow on the wet paint and shrugs, “Yeah, of course. Why?”

You lean back against your chair, sunglasses dipping as you look at your friend, “He’s always at my house— friends with Steve,” you mutter, “Weird, right?”

Mia huffs a laugh, shifting as she focuses on her task, “Yeah, kinda. Don’t remember Steve having a resident bad boy in his little high school clique.”

“Exactly.” You muse, “That’s what makes it weird.” And honestly, you’re glad you’re not the only one who sees it. How Steve and Eddie even crossed paths will always be a myth to you.

And because your mind is a whirlwind of questions and you seem to have lost your dignity, you move on, voice neutral like your prodding is coming from a place of gossip— “Did you talk in school?”

Thankfully, Mia doesn’t seem to catch your curiosity— Eddie is an interesting guy compared to most people in Hawkins. She hums, still focused on her nails, “Not much. He was a grade above me, so we never really crossed paths, but y’know,” she shrugs, “People talk.”

That piques your interest, your brow raising as you ask, “Talk about what?”

Mia sighs as she shifts her attention to the next set of nails, “That he’s a troublemaker, for one. He was kind of just… always doing his own thing,” she mindlessly rambles, “Skipped class half the time, played in his band, sold drugs in the parking lot.” She huffs out a laugh, shaking her head, “Honestly, I don’t even think he tried to graduate.”

You scoff with a playful roll of your eyes, “Shocking.”

“He was kind of nuts. He was, like… crazy, but in a fun way,” she explains, “Loud, dramatic— he walked across the lunch table once, so, definitely not boring.”

Your face twists in confusion, imagining Eddie walking across a lunch table, but before you can ask, Mia shrugs and speaks again, “I don’t know, he’s kinda hot.”

You nearly freeze. 

You glance over at Mia, playing it cool, when you hum in an uninterested tone, “Not my style.”

Mia shrugs, completely unfazed, “Fair. He’s not a lot of people’s style.” She pauses, tilting her head before a small smirk dances along her lips, “But, y’know, I did hear he’s good with his fingers.”

You blink, heart skipping a beat for a moment. “What?”

Mia grins, finishing her task and twisting the nail polish lid back onto the bottle as she shrugs, “You know… he’s in a band. Plays guitar. And allegedly, that skill transfers.”

You scoff, pushing your sunglasses higher up your nose as if the plastic frame will hide whatever the hell your face is doing, “Jesus Christ, Mia.” You mumble.

Mia laughs, stretching out her legs on the chair as she leans back and wriggles in her spot, “Hey, I’m just repeating what I heard,” she defends, “Some girl at a party a while back was very detailed about it.”

And you don’t want to think about it.

You really don't want to imagine whatever hell Eddie Munson’s fingers could release upon your body because that is the last thing you need, and god— you should’ve never asked.

You grab the magazine next to you, desperate to distract your hands from nervous fidgeting. You shrug, playing a facade of boredom, “Yeah, well. Still not my type.”

Mia snickers, gliding a pair of shades over her eyes and relaxing into her chair, “Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”

And you hate that you know she’s right.

The days pass uneventfully.

Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The heatwave has passed, so you keep yourself busy— lounging by the pool, flipping through magazines and books, running forced errands with your stepmother, and meeting up with Mia when you can. It’s enough to keep your mind occupied but not enough to stop Eddie’s presence from creeping in during the quiet moments.

It’s frustrating.

It was just one day. One stupid, random, impulsive day. And yet, his voice, his smirk, the way he looked at you before you left his car— it lingers. Just as much as your newfound information about his magical fingers.

It’s like trying to scrub off a marker stain that refuses to fade.

And it doesn’t help that Steve has been acting annoyingly weird. Smirking and snickering. Amused. Like he knows something.

And you shouldn’t feel bothered by it— because it was nothing— but you do.

You’re sitting at the dining table, absently pushing the grilled asparagus around your plate, hardly listening to whatever your stepmother is saying until your dad says your name.

“Did you go out today?” He asks, cutting into his steak.

You shrug, “Not really. Just hung out here. Swam for a bit.”

Steve snorts, barely looking up from his plate as he spears a bite of chicken. Your brows knit together, face twisting in subtle annoyance before you decide to ignore him.

”What about the rest of the week? Been keeping busy, right? You’ve got another two months left; can’t spend it locked up inside.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and shrug again, “I guess. Nothing exciting. There’s, like, nothing to do here anyway.”

Steve huffs a laugh, chewing his chicken as he shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. You barely have a chance to shoot a glare his way before he mutters, “Don’t lie. She’s been hanging with Eddie.”

His words crash over you like a bucket of ice water.

Because, what the fuck?

Your head snaps toward him, stomach twisting, pulse skipping a beat, “I have not been hanging with Eddie,” you snap. “We hung out once. By accident.”

Your dad hums, sipping his drink, “When you broke my car.” 

You glare at him next— that conversation didn’t go over well— “Yes, when your car broke down, which was, again, an accident.” You stress.

Steve huffs, sending an unconvinced glare your way, “Yeah? Well, quit throwing yourself at him then, ‘cause I’m tired of hearing him ramble about you.”

“Steve.” Your stepmother warns.

And you… you’re not quite sure if you’re breathing right.

What?

Your body runs so hot you could nearly burn a hole through the table. Your father smirks around the rim of his glass, eyes holding an amused glimmer like this is the most entertaining thing he’s heard all week.

You, however, are not entertained.

“I’m not throwing myself at anyone, you absolute moron.” You grit out, face burning despite your best efforts.

Steve shrugs, “Could’ve fooled me.”

You glare, turning back to pushing at the food on your plate, “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Steve just leans back in his chair, his mother shaking her head as her son continues to spew out nonsense, “Oh, I don’t? Well, I guess Eddie’s been hallucinating then, huh?”

You scoff in disbelief, “Probably. The drugs probably finally got to him, I don’t fucking know!” You stress.

“Language.” Your father warns, earning an eye roll from you.

Steve's mom gasps, turning to her son, “Steve!” She exclaims, “Drugs?”

Steve waves her off with an annoyed glance, “All I’m saying is there’s no way Eddie is the only one buying into whatever you two have going on— gross.”

Your heart kicks up a speed, but you fight to keep your expression neutral.

“Well, it’s not my fault your weird friends never spent more than two minutes around a girl.” You bite back.

Steve’s mother finally waves her hands about the table, “Okay, you two, that’s enough. We’re not here to discuss sibling politics; we’re here to eat.”

Steve shrugs, taking another bite into his chicken— which you hope is poisoned. You roll your eyes, returning your attention to your plate, trying to act like your pulse isn’t pounding in your ears.

But it is.

And as much as you don’t want to, you can’t stop wondering about Eddie’s supposed “ramblings.”

And you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

That maybe he’s just rambling about how he thinks you’re annoying or something stupid— but from how Steve put it, and from the way Eddie acts towards you—

You know it’s the complete opposite.

And you hate that it makes your insides twist.

The past few days have been… weird.

Eddie doesn’t know exactly why, but something’s been sitting in his chest, subtle yet loud.

Maybe it’s because he’s been trying not to think about you.

Which, by the way, isn’t working.

Because he can’t stop thinking about you.

Admittedly, Eddie is a flirt at heart. He likes playing with shiny things, and you’re a fucking beam of light. That being said, sure, Eddie initially started this little cat-and-mouse game as a fun little summer activity, but shit Eddie’s never been this dedicated to a game other than D&D.

He knew his chances with you were slim— because what’s a guy like him doing poking his nose around a girl like you? But the other night, sitting across from you in that shitty diner, hearing your laugh and seeing your smile, feeling you against him— shit, Eddie’s done for.

Sugar-sweet, honeycomb, crisp sunshine— Eddie feels this sticky, gooey substance oozing down the sides of his insides every time you pass by.

He’s kept himself busy, helping Wayne with the truck, jamming with the guys, and doing extra shifts at the shop. He’s been a busy guy for a guy that isn’t usually busy. 

And you’d think it’d tire his brain out enough to not be able to think about you, but nope. 

You’re still there, at the forefront of his mind, bright as ever, Malibu sun in all her glory.

If Eddie’s being honest, he gave up trying after the second day. 

Lets you run rampant in his cluttered mind, sprinkling stardust on everything and throwing up glitter. God, Eddie’s fucked. And he knows it, not only because he feels it when he sees you and his body gets this surge of adrenaline, but also because— Steve sees it.

Eddie doesn’t know; maybe he said something offhanded— his mouth runs a lot; he stopped paying attention to it back in middle school— so he was kind of thrown when Steve just casually looked at him and went, “If you’re gonna have a crush on my sister, at least do it silently, man.”

Eddie… did nothing.

Couldn’t.

Not even if the weed allowed him to.

He thinks he just laughed, said something witty, and told Steve to fuck off, but he doesn’t quite remember— why? Because he was busy thinking about you.

He’d been waiting for a chance to get alone with you again, whisk you away like he did the other night, make you fall disgustingly hard for him— shit, get a ring, make it official or something, jump every last one of the hoops— but you’ve done an excellent job at making yourself scarce.

Until now.

Now, Eddie’s at the town's yearly carnival, and you’re right fucking there.

Eddie barely processes it at first— he’s walking through the loud park with the guys, laughing at something dumb Jeff said, and that’s when he feels it— the weight of your gaze.

He glances up, and sure enough, there you are.

And you’re already looking at him. 

And Eddie has you caught.

You’re standing near the ticket booth, arms crossed, expression unreadable beneath your sunglasses. The neon lights drip over you in shifting colors— blue, then pink, then gold. 

Malibu sun in all her beautiful, stubborn glory.

You don’t look away. Or maybe you do. Eddie can’t tell past the lights bursting across your shades, but he takes it upon himself to grab the invitation either way.

A slow, wicked, and hungry grin tugs at his lips. He alters his course, peeling off from his group of friends without so much as a word. They don’t notice— he doubts they’d question it if they did.

He weaves through the crowd, sugar-high kids dashing past him, hands in his pockets and eyes loose on you until he’s standing right before you.

The smell of your perfume drifts in the wind, whizzing up his nose and licking the grooves of his brain. His stomach churns.

“Fancy seeing you here, princess.”

You lift an unimpressed brow, still unreadable beneath your glasses. “Mm. Lucky me.”

Stubborn as ever.

Eddie inhales it like freshly washed sheets.

Eddie smirks, leaning against the ticket booth, “Careful. Almost sound happy to see me.”

You scoff, shifting your weight and glancing away, “In your dreams.”

“You’d be surprised how often you show up there, honey.”

You hum, your nose wrinkling— Eddie’s insides burn.

“Surprised? Not really. Grossed out? Maybe.”

Eddie raises a brow, “You know what… I’ll take a maybe.”

His gaze flickers towards a ride across the park, and he looks back at you as you retrieve your tickets from the man in the booth. And before you can walk away, Eddie speaks again, “Take a ride with me?”

You look at him momentarily, seemingly thinking it over before shrugging, “No thanks.”

You turn around, taking a few steps before Eddie jogs up to you, turning and walking backward as he paces before you, “Come on babe,” he drawls, “I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity here.”

You raise an eyebrow, fingers tight around your string of carnival tickets, “Well, I heard you’ve got a reputation with girls and your fingers, so, can’t be much of a missed opportunity.”

Eddie physically malfunctions.

His smirk falters, just for a second, his pace slowing. 

And you pause, and Eddie sees it on your face— you fucked up.

Your lips part for a moment, about to say something, something to debunk what the hell you just said— but Eddie beats you to it.

He laughs, eyes widening in disbelief, “Oh-ho-ho,” Eddie delights, “Look at you, princess. Fishing for details.” He drawls. You groan, attempting to walk around him only for Eddie to follow after you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as if it’ll help him digest your words easier, “Hold on— did you just slut shame me?” He exclaims with a grin.

“Yes. And no, I wasn’t fishing for details.” You hiss.

“No, no, no,” Eddie places a hand on your shoulder and turns you to him, “You can’t just drop that in casual conversation and expect me to let it go.” He pauses, eyes narrowing at you before he leans in, a devilish smirk on his lips as his voice lowers, “You wanna try ‘em out, huh?”

You grimace, “Excuse me—”

Eddie wriggles his decorated fingers in your face, “Right here, ready to go for you, honeybee.”

You smack your hand against Eddie’s, batting him away as your face twists with an annoyed expression, “And what about you?” You press.

Eddie looks at you, amusement woven with confusion, “What about me?” His fingers dance across your wrist, licks of fire kissing his fingertips, “I’m not the one accusing you of sleeping with the entire town, sugartits.” He points out.

You hum, crossing your arms and straightening your back, “Well, you’re the one rambling to Steve about me. That’s cute, Munson.” You lean in, “You’ve got a crush on me.”

Eddie’s brain short-circuits.

Because what the fuck is he supposed to say to that?

He blinks.

“The hell are you talking about?”

You tilt your head, a smirk tugging at your lips, “Steve told me.”

Eddie scoffs, looking away as if unfazed, shifting in his spot as he shrugs, “Steve’s full of shit.”

You hum, “If you say so.”

Eddie shrugs, “So we’re both in love— knew that already.”

“We are not—“

Eddie waves you off, trying and failing to suppress a smile, “Yeah, yeah— getting on the ride or what?”

You look at Eddie, arms crossed, cute and disgruntled.

Oh, he’s definitely got you stuck.

“One ride.”

Eddie smirks, slinging an arm over your shoulders and forcing you to walk with him, “Just what I like to hear.”

He takes you across the park, a shit-eating grin on his face and you under his arm. Eddie glances at you, smirking at your forced look of annoyance. He snags your sunglasses, perching them on his face and grinning when you grumble and try to take them back, “Come on, princess. Gotta save my eyes; your smiles just too bright.” He teasingly complains, poking at the side of your lips.

You roll your eyes, giving up on retrieving your glasses when he bats you away. “You’re so annoying,” you grumble, but Eddie sees your lips twitch.

“You love me.” He squeezes your arm.

And because Eddie’s a total shithead, he stops at the scariest-looking ride in the park, smirking when you gaze up at it, arms crossed.

“Nope.”

Eddie tilts his head, grinning. “Nope?”

You turn to Eddie, a stern look on your face, “Nope,” you repeat, “I’m not getting on that thing.” You point towards the ride of screaming victims.

Eddie clutches his chest dramatically, “Wow,” he muses, “Can’t believe this. Little miss indestructible, afraid of a little carnival ride.”

You glare at him, “It’s not fear; it’s common sense. I like my feet on the ground.”

“Oh?” Eddie hums, lips mockingly turning into a pout, “Sounds like fear, baby.”

You huff, shifting your weight, “Pick something else.”

Eddie looks at the ride for a second before looking back at you. “Nah.”

“Eddie—”

“Just so we’re clear,” Eddie holds up a finger, leaning in when he speaks, “If you pick another ride, I’m never letting you live this down. Every time I see you, I’ll greet you with a, ‘Hey, remember when you chickened out at the carnival?’”

Your jaw clenches. A pause of silence. A glance at the ride.

Caught.

So fucking caught.

“So fucking stupid.” You mutter with a shake of your head. “Fine.”

The metal bar slams over your laps with a heavy clunk, ringing in Eddie’s ears like a winning chime.

And beside him, you shift in your seat, hands gripping the bar, jaw tight as you glare straight ahead. Eddie grins, lounging back like he’s in a recliner, one arm draped over the side.

“You look tense, princess.”

“I wonder why,” you deadpan.

Eddie snickers, impulsively reaching out and giving your bar a heavy shake just to mess with you. You flinch, snapping your head towards him and gripping his hands, “Stop that.” you stress, peeling his fingers from your seat.

“What?” Eddie drawls, “Just making sure it’s secure.” He hums innocently, a shit-eating grin on his face to ruin the act. “Wouldn’t want you flying off, now, would we?”

You exhale sharply, a frown on your face as you turn forward again, “I hate you.”

“You keep saying that, but you’re still risking your life for me.” He teases.

You roll your eyes, fingers still tight around the bar. Eddie leans in a little, voice dropping when he asks, “You nervous?”

You scoff, knuckles nearly popping from your skin, “No.”

“You sure?” Eddie grins, “You’re holding onto that thing like it’s your last hope.”

You release the bar immediately, crossing your arms instead, “I just— I don’t trust these things, alright.” You grumble.

Eddie hums, glancing around, “Yeah, I mean… I did see a loose bolt on the track earlier— but I’m sure it’s fine.”

You turn, eyes wide, as you look at Eddie, and it takes Eddie everything in his body not to burst into a fit of laughter.

“Are you serious?” You stress.

Eddie pauses. Thinks you’re the prettiest sight when you’re about to fling yourself off the ride and probably murder him.

Then he grins. “Nah.”

You elbow him— quite hard, actually— and Eddie barks out a laugh just as the ride jerks to life, gears whirring as you begin your slow ascent.

Eddie glances at you again, sees the way you shift, the way you press your lips together as the ground sinks further and further beneath you. 

And Eddie can’t help himself.

“You can hold my hand if you want,” he offers, wriggling his fingers in your direction.

You glance at his fingers. Eddie thinks you consider it, but you huff and look away, adjusting your grip on the bars, “I’d rather die.”

Eddie just laughs, the wind whipping through his hair as the ride reaches the top, “Suit yourself, princess.”

And then—

The ride drops.

Eddie’s head throws back in laughter, and the wind roars, whipping through his curls and pressing his shirt to his chest as gravity yanks you both down. The weightlessness sends a rush through his veins, fire licking hot through his veins. He fucking loves this.

A scream rips through the air beside him.

Eddie glances over and— oh, shit, this is better than the ride itself.

You look miserable.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your mouth open in a blood-curdling scream that gets stolen by the wind and stirring gears, drowned out by the deafening carnival sounds. You’re gripping the safety bar like your life depends on it— which it does— and your body is stiff as you get thrown into a loop.

Eddie laughs even harder then, because— god, she’s adorable.

The ride twists, flips you upside down, and snaps you back into another soul-snatching drop. You let out another breathless scream, like you’ll never come out of this alive, cursing at Eddie like he’s this is his fault— and Eddie soaks up every second, grinning wide, weightless, and free.

And then something grabs him.

Eddie falters for a moment and blinks, head snapping down, and— oh.

Your hand. Wrapped tight around his. Like it’s instinct— like you reached for him without thinking.

The ride whips sideways, but Eddie’s hardly paying attention to that anymore.

His hand is on fire.

Sweet, sizzling, hot fire.

You don’t let go. Not even when the ride is tossed through another loop, not when your breath stutters from the sheer force of another drop— your hand stays steady planted around Eddie’s.

He feels the tremble in your fingers, how hard you’re clutching— like he’s steadier than the metal bar bolted to the seat, solely there to protect you.

Eddie’s stomach flips, and it’s not because of the ride.

He’s grinning wide, fingers curling around your hand, allowing himself to greedily take your mindless opening.

By the time the ride slows to a stop, Eddie’s still smiling, riding high on a sunny-bliss wave. 

You rip your hand from his, and Eddie watches as you unbuckle yourself, your face twisted in utter betrayal.

“That was awful.” You pant, shaking out your hands like they’ve fallen asleep, “I fucking hate you.”

Eddie cocks his head, beaming. “You held my hand.”

You pause, still breathing shakily, as you look at Eddie for a second. Your gaze flickers down, fingers flexing like they remember how Eddie felt just moments ago.

Eddie’s grin stretches as your expression shifts from realization to horror, and before you can say something, Eddie wiggles his fingers, “Still feelin’ ‘em, too. Strong grip, princess. You sure you don’t wanna hold ‘em again?”

You shove Eddie so hard he nearly topples over.

Eddie laughs, honest and deep in his chest— god, he’s having fun.

Eddie unbuckles his seat, lifting the bar above your heads, careful not to hit you. You step down from the seat, wobbling for a moment, but Eddie catches your elbow before you take out an entire family of children.

“Woah there,” he muses, holding you steady, “You okay? Need me to carry you?”

You glare at him, letting Eddie gently guide you out of the way for other passengers, “Pick something else before I kill you.”

Eddie grins.

God, he so fucking won.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, honeybee.”

And just like that, you’re off again, moving through the park like it’s just the two of you.

And you don’t bring up your friends.

Neither does Eddie.

You just keep going, slipping from one ride to the next, getting caught up in the rush, the lights, the sheer gravity of just being together. Eddie’s never felt this high.

By the time Eddie does think about your groups of friends, it’s already too late. They’re gone.

Not that he gives a single shit.

Mostly everyone is slowly leaving the park because they’re about to close, but one last ride catches Eddie’s eye.

“One more?”

You look at Eddie, a glow on your face that Eddie can’t stop admiring. “I think I’ve had enough of feeling my heart drop out of my ass, Munson.”

Eddie smiles, already tugging you towards the ride he has in mind. “This one's slow.”

You look at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion of the devilish grin on his face. You follow his gaze, groaning when you land on his target, “That’s for couples.” You point out, “And it’s cheesy.”

Eddie shrugs, “We’re a couple, babe. Madly in love, you and I.” 

You roll your eyes, barely fighting back as Eddie pulls you into the Tunnel of Love.

There’s no one in line, so Eddie slips the guy two tickets and leads you straight to the awaiting boat. He lends you a hand into the boat because he’s a gentleman before he’s a menace, before taking a seat next to you.

You sit quietly, looking everywhere but Eddie— because here in this tiny little shitty boat, you’re practically sharing the same breath. And Eddie loves it.

“This is stupid.” You mutter.

“As stupid as the first, second, third, or fourth ride you said was stupid?” Eddie teases, draping an arm across the back of the boat, not touching you but just there.

You glare at Eddie, and the boat drifts forward, slipping into the tunnel’s shadow. The warm glow of the carnival lights disappears behind you, swallowed by the dim flicker of fake candles and twinkling stars overhead. It’s quiet in here— just the soft hum of old music and the gentle rush of the water beneath the boat.

You shift beside Eddie, arms crossed as your eyes dance around, “This is kind of creepy.”

Eddie smirks. He leans in, voice low like he’s telling a secret, “It’s haunted, actually.”

You huff through your nose, unimpressed, though your knee bounces momentarily, “Yeah, okay.”

”No, really,” Eddie insists, biting back a grin. You glance at him, your faces close. “Couple got stuck in here. Died. Now they haunt anyone who makes out in these things.”

You huff out a laugh, eyes glancing away as you turn back to the ride, “Wow. So tragic. Guess we should definitely avoid that, then.”

Eddie shrugs, all casual and smug, turning back to the ride as well, “I mean… unless you’re feeling brave— ever been ghost hunting?”

You scoff, shoving at Eddie, your stifled smile peeking out beneath the dim lights. Eddie’s fast— catches your elbow and grins when you glare at him.

He doesn’t let go.

His grip isn't hard, easy enough that you could pull away if you wanted to, but you don’t.

So, Eddie distracts you, spinning this stupid lie about a dead couple as his fingertips drag along the inside of your wrist, featherlight. You shift slightly, eyes taking in the twinkling lights and windows of displays.

And Eddie takes a chance.

Silky smooth, he slides his palm over yours— slow and easy— linking your hands together before you can think too hard about it.

There’s a roaring fire in his chest. Breathing and so fucking alive, and his Malibu sun is feeding it dry wood.

“I don’t believe your story.”

Eddie grins, squeezes your hand once, playful, like it’s just part of the joke, “Don’t come crying to me later tonight when an old woman comes knockin’ shit around in your room.”

You raise a brow, “I’m willing to bet it’d just be you sneaking in like a creep.”

Eddie hums, calloused fingertips dragging over your knuckles. “Wouldn’t be books and makeup knocking around then.”

You groan, pink and red lights casting over your grimace, “Gross. Might be the worst one tonight.” But the corner of your mouth twitches, betraying you.

And Eddie grins, then. 

And because Eddie wants to revel in what’s left of being on this ride with you, he says nothing more. He sits there, pressed against you, letting his hand burn in yours.

The carnival hums in the distance, fading into nothing as you and Eddie cross the gravel lot.

Your hand isn’t in Eddie’s anymore.

Eddie misses it, but he doesn’t push it.

There’s a silence between you, not awkward or bad, just… silence.

It’s warm, a slight breeze drifting by that cools the hot bones in Eddie’s body. 

Eddie’s hands are shoved in his pockets, scared to let them out because his fingers keep twitching, buzzing with this need to touch you. You’re walking beside him, watching your shoes pace in the gravel, arms wrapped around yourself.

Eddie kind of hates the sight of his van when you walk up to it.

He says nothing, walking over to the passenger side, swinging the door open, and stepping back to let you climb in.

You swallow, stepping forward to get in.

And you make the biggest fucking mistake of looking at Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t know; he’s skyrocketed in the sky, looking down at the earth and weightless in the air— because your lips are on his

He’s not sure who leaned in; maybe it was him— it was probably him— perhaps it was you, but it doesn't matter because he’s kissing you.

And you’re kissing him.

He startles for a moment— just for a second— before instinct takes over. His greedy hands creep out of his pockets to find your waist, dragging you closer as he kisses you, hard and sure.

It’s impulsive. A little messy. Like something that’s been aching to happen all night just snapped loose all at once.

You exhale sharply against his mouth— like you can’t believe what’s happening. Like you might know, this is toeing the line, but Eddie doesn’t let you think too long.

He tilts his head, deepens it— just a little. Just enough to make you forget whatever had been rolling around in your mind.

And fuck, he feels it too. The heat. The weight of it. The fact that this is the first time you’re face to face with this dance you’ve been dancing these last weeks.

You’re pressed against the side of his van, fingers curled into his shirt and kissing him to his death.

He cups your face— can’t get enough of you— and you whimper before pulling away, breathing heavily, hands still clutching his shirt.

Eddie looks at you, your wide eyes, your wet lips, and he licks his own— and he can taste you.

Sugar, cherry, honeydew, Malibu fucking sun— dancing on his tongue, heavy and soft.

And when he looks in your eyes, Eddie realizes he’s entirely, irrevocably, and immensely done for.

Now I told you, so you ought to know

It takes some time for a feeling to grow

But you're so close now, I can't let you go

And I can't let go

- magnet and steel x walter egan

part three.

cutie teeny taglist: @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @hereforshmut @emxxblog @mdurdenpitt @glassbxttless @peculiarwren @aactuaaltraash @daveythorntonslocker @bl1ssfulbaby @strangereads @wdsara48 @cowboylikemunson

————

a/n: THEY SMOOCHED !!! AHHH !!! lmaoo okay guys we're smooth (ish) sailing from here on out ;) I can guarantee there will be some smutty action next chappy hehe. anyways, I hope u enjoyed lovesick eddie this chap. as always, thank you for riding along, ily and appreciate any and all forms of feedback <3

[mssishipi]

TASTE OF INDULGENCE

CHAPTER 2 – OOPS, IT'S SOUR

The sex was good. So fucking good. But somehow, Jay is making things difficult afterward. His sharp comments, his rough attitude, the way he keeps looking at you like you’re something he regrets. Annoying. Irritating. You need to be careful with the way you talk 'cause— oops, it's sour.

content tags: again everyone is either gay or fruity, bi! jake, bi! jay, pansexual! reader, profanities, reader being horny, sexual mutual pining (?), lots of pov switch, jay has a high pride (bear with him), sunoo is just sunoo, poorly written smut (going to proofread when i have time)

explicit content (smut): masturbation, anal sex (mxm), threesome (switch jake, switch jay, sub reader), cunilingus, fingering, nipple play, unprotected sex (don't!), multiple sex position, overstimulation, cream pie, belly bulging, facial. dacryphilia. MDNI! WC: 17.9K

want a taste?

7:10 AM.

A text notification lit up your phone screen.

Jay: We had a 7:30 class. Jake didn't want to wake you.

You blink at the time. 10:12 AM.

"Oh, fuck." You bolt upright, instantly regretting it when a sharp ache shoots through your thighs and up your spine. Your entire body hurts. Your throat stings. Your legs feel like they barely belong to you. You can't even walk straight at all, and every moment is torture.

Ignoring every screaming muscle, throwing on your uniform in record time. You grab the oversized turtleneck jacket hanging in Jay's apartment—no doubt his—to cover the bruises blooming across your neck.

You don't even think about eating or taking a bath. No time. You shove your things into your bag, slip your shoes on painfully slow, and practically limp out the door. By the time you're speed-walking (more like hobbling) down the university halls, you're out of breath, late, and completely miserable.

You barge into the lecture hall, panting. People inside the hall turn around their head, looking at you, suddenly making you feel conscious. While your professor gives you a pointed look, gesturing vaguely toward the empty seats.

"Sorry," you mumble, bowing slightly before sinking into your chair next to Sunoo. You drop your bag with a thud, wincing as your shoulders protest because everything hurts.

Sunoo, bless his nosy soul, immediately narrows his eyes at you, looking you up and down. "The hell are you wearing?" His voice is dripping with disgust.

You blink, tugging at the oversized turtleneck swallowing your entire frame. "Clothes?"

Sunoo looks offended that you would even try that excuse. "First of all, why are you not entirely on your uniform? Second, what is that outfit? And third—" he pauses, squinting at you, "where the hell were you during Chemistry?!"

You sigh, pressing your fingers against your throbbing temples. "Can you not interrogate me at ten in the morning?" You slump onto the table, resting your forehead against your arms.

Sunoo does not back down. "You? Skipping a major class? That's a first."

"I overslept," you mutter, voice muffled against your sleeves.

Sunoo gasps dramatically. "Overslept?! Girl, our vacant period was six hours—how the fuck did you oversleep that much?!"

You squeeze your eyes shut. His voice is a hammer against your already pounding head. "I'm sick," you groan.

Sunoo snorts, utterly unimpressed. "Yeah, no shit. You look like you crawled out of a man's closet and died."

"Shut up and send me the lecture notes," you grumble.

Sunoo glares, but does as you ask, muttering, "You better not fail this subject because of whatever the fuck you've been up to."

You straighten your back, pulling out your iPad, clicking it on—7% battery left. You groan, rubbing your palms over your face. Of course you forgot to charge it.

"Do you have a power bank?" you ask, voice bordering on pleading.

Sunoo sighs, shaking his head as he rummages through his bag. "Seriously, what did you do last night?"

Yeah. No way in hell you're answering that.

Abnormal Psychology was awkward as hell. You shared this class with Jay and Jake, which was already bad enough—but what made it worse was that they sat right next to you.

Jake slid into the seat to your right, all easy smiles and warmth, while Jay, dropped into the chair on your left, arms crossed, jaw tight. You stiffened, hyper-aware of just how close they were.

Across the table, Sunoo let out an audible huff, rolling his eyes as he aggressively placed his notebook down. He didn't say anything, but the look he shot you was pure what the fuck is going on?

Your fingers clenched around your pen, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. Jake, leaned in toward you. "Are you okay?" he asked, you swallowed, nodding quickly, keeping your gaze firmly on your desk.

"Did you eat?" You nodded again.

"Do you have time for lunch later?" You pause, your throat felt dry. You hesitated, sneaking a glance at Jay. Only to be met with an icy glare piercing straight through you.

Jake, still in his own world, leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to a whisper, just for you. "Did you enjoy last night?"

Your grip tightened around your pen. Your breath felt shaky. You notice Sunoo's head tilted ever so slightly.

Jake smirked, barely audible as he added, "Do you think there should be a next time?"

A thrill shot through you—excitement, nerves, anticipation. Of course, you wanted that. Of course, It's a yes! It's a fucking yes!

Jay's posture had gone rigid. His hands curled into fists, his shoulders squared. You turned your head slightly, and there it was— That look, sharp and cold—but unmistakably directed at you.

Jake, completely oblivious, kept his soft smile, his fingers lightly drumming against the desk as he waited for your answer, but you're attention was not on him anymore. Because Jay's glare was burning into the side of your face, setting every nerve in your body on edge.

Why was he looking at you like that?! Why did it feel like he was angry?

Your throat felt dry, your palms clammy. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away, staring down at your iPad as if it could somehow shield you from whatever the hell Jay's problem was.

Jake nudged you lightly, still waiting.

"Uh, only if both of you mind," you managed to say, your voice light, a forced chuckle following your words. And because you were stupid, because some part of you needed to check, you glanced at Jay, just for a second. What a big mistake.

His eyes bore into you, glaring through your skull.  You snapped your head away, heat crawling up your neck.

What the hell is his problem?

The sex was good. No—more than that. It was amazing. It was the first time you ever felt that good, the first time sex had ever been something.

So why was he glaring?

It wasn't like you were about to steal Jake away from him. It wasn't like you had forced him into it. He agreed, didn't he? Unless... Did he not enjoy it? Was this whole situation making him uncomfortable? Did he regret it?

Maybe you were overthinking. Maybe he was just being his usual self. Maybe you should just walk away now, act like it never happened. Maybe that was what Jay wanted.

Agh, you're confused.

Sunoo lazily popped a sour candy into his mouth, squinting as the tartness hit his tongue. He let out a small grunt, shifting to a more comfortable position on the grass. The afternoon sun was hot, beating down on both of you, but you are too focused on your internal dilemma to noticed the heat.

"What does it mean if you have two friends? Friend number one smiles at you, treats you well, but friend number two always glares at you. But—" you paused, picking at the hem of your uniform, "friend number two is perfectly nice to friend number one?"

Sunoo gave you a long, unimpressed look, slowly chewing. "It means friend number two doesn't like you," he grumbled, voice flat, as if the answer was obvious.

You frowned, hugging your knees to your chest. "But what if..." You hesitated, debating whether you should even continue.

Sunoo sighed dramatically. "Oh, here we go. What if?"

You rolled your eyes but pressed on. "What if friend number one, friend number two, and I... shared a happy moment?"

Sunoo raised a brow. "Shared a happy moment? What the hell does that even mean?"

You felt heat creep up your neck. "I mean, like—" You cleared your throat. "Something really good happened, something we all enjoyed together. But now, friend number two acts weird with me."

Sunoo chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. "Maybe friend number two just thinks of those happy moments as something they only wanted to share with friend number one."

You bit your lip, heart sinking.

"Maybe friend number two is jealous," Sunoo continued, tossing another candy into his mouth. "Because you got to be part of something they wanted to keep just between them and friend number one."

You inhaled sharply, your body shifting as you leaned back on your palms, eyes fixed on the field in front of you. The rhythmic sounds of students laughing and running filled the air

"Can friend number two just tell me they hate me already?" you muttered, exasperated. "I'm overthinking everything at this point."

Sunoo snorted, reaching into his pocket before offering you his pack of sour candy. "You expect men to communicate? Not a chance."

You rolled your eyes but took the package from him, ripping it open. "I never said friend number two was a man, geez," you huffed, popping a candy into your mouth. The sharp, sour taste made you wince slightly.

"I'm not that dumb, bitch." Sunoo grumble as he turned to you. You clicked your tongue but said nothing. Sunoo wasn't an idiot. If anything, he probably already had an idea of what—or who—this was really about. But thankfully, he didn't push any further.

With a sigh, you started thinking again. Was that really it? Did he really hate you? Was he really just jealous?

Your fingers curled against the grass, the uneven texture grounding you. If he didn't want you there, if he didn't want to share Jake, then why didn't he just stop it from the beginning?

He was the one who convinced you. He was the one who told you to give it a chance. And yet now, every time you saw him, his eyes burned into you.

You swallowed hard, staring blankly ahead. His words echoed in your mind.

"He's mine—and letting you into our bed doesn't mean anything more. You're just there for fun."

"I'll always be the one who fucks him better."

Maybe that was all this was. A reminder and a warning to know your place.

You sighed, rubbing your temple before shoving another sour candy into your mouth. The sharp, tangy taste made you wince.

Just like him. Acting so fucking sour.

Jay's life was a fucking mess.

Every time he saw you, he remembered. Every time he didn't see you, he still remembered.

It pissed him off to no end. It made him furious that his brain kept replaying that night—your whines, your shaking legs, the way you screamed when you came undone on Jake's fingers.

He scoffed, almost laughing at himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was Park Jongseong, for fuck's sake. There was no way in hell he was going to let some pathetic girl like you get under his skin.

You weren't special. You were just a moment—a mistake, something that should've been forgettable.

And yet. Why the fuck was he hard right now, thinking about the way you squirted all over his sheets? The way your body trembled when he slapped your pussy raw, the way your lips parted when you gasped for air under his grip?

His jaw tightened. He hated you. He fucking hated you. He hated your guts. He hated the way you always stared at his boyfriend with those wide, hungry eyes. He hated that you got to see Jake like that, got to have his attention, even for a moment.

Most of all, though— He hated that you never once looked at him the same way.

"Is she replying to you? Because she's not responding to me." Jake let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto the bed. His phone dangled loosely in his grip as he stared up at the ceiling, defeated. "She won't even accept my follow request."

Jay didn't respond. He just kept typing on his laptop, the only sound in the room was the faint clicking of his keyboard.

Jake glanced at his phone again, lips pressing together. "Is she okay? She's been wearing turtlenecks under her uniform for almost a week now," he muttered. "And her voice—it's different. Kinda raspy. I noticed it during our Social Psych class."

Jay's typing slowed as Jake groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Do you think she's avoiding us? Did I do something wrong? Am I making her uncomfortable?"

Jay inhaled deeply, fingers pausing on the keyboard as his boyfriend's endless stream of questions continued.

"I think she's more comfortable with you," Jake added, eyes still fixed on his phone.

Jay almost laughed. Comfortable with him? Yeah, right. He rolled his eyes before finally speaking. "She would come back if she wanted to," he muttered, still not looking away from his screen. "Stop overthinking it."

Jake frowned, crossing his arms. "I'm not overthinking. I just want to know if she's okay."

Jay clenched his jaw. "She's fine."

"You don't know that," Jake countered. "You haven't even checked on her."

Jay's fingers twitched. "You have," he shot back. "So why does it matter what I do?"

Jake sighed, shaking his head. "Because I know you care, even if you don't want to admit it."

Jay stiffened, his fingers tightening around his mouse. Jake sat up straighter, watching him carefully. "I just want to fix things, okay? She's been distant. And I don't think it's just because she's busy."

"Just leave her alone for the meantime," Jay muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the irritation underneath Jay's words. "Babe, why are you so—"

"I'm not anything," Jay cut him off sharply, fingers resuming their typing, even though he wasn't actually focusing on the screen anymore.

Why does it matter so much? Why can't Jake just let it go? They had their fun, it happened, and now it was done. It was supposed to be done. But no—Jake kept thinking about you, kept asking about you, kept caring about you. It was pissing Jay off.

And what pissed him off even more was the fact that he wasn't any better. He didn't want to think about you.

Jay's fingers stilled on the keyboard.

You weren't even interacting with them anymore. You barely even looked at them. You were just out there, minding your own business, avoiding them. And yet, you still had this effect on both of them.

Jake was concerned about you.  Jay was pissed. That was it. That was all. He had no other reason to care.

"Jay?" Jake's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Jay exhaled through his nose, forcing his hands to relax. "Do whatever you want," he muttered. "Just don't expect me to give a shit."

Jay didn't know what kind of cosmic joke this was—how out of every possible student in this class, he ended up paired with you. Just two minor courses and one major, and somehow, somehow, he still couldn't escape you.

Like life was just laughing at him. And as if his patience wasn't already wearing thin, your stupid alarm had to go off. Again.

"Can you fucking turn off your alarm?" he hissed, glaring at you from across the table.

You blinked at him, unbothered, barely sparing him a glance as you silenced your phone. "It's just an alarm. Chill."

"Excuse me? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sunoo snapped beside you, rolling his eyes as he turned to Jay. "That's her alarm for her medicine."

Jay's jaw clenched. Of course your annoying best friend would come to your rescue. Not only was he stuck in a group with you, but Sunoo too—and somehow, by some miracle, without Jake around to be the buffer between him and his growing irritation.

What the fuck was he even doing here? And what was with this medicine you kept taking at exactly 3:30 PM?

Not that he cared, but it pissed him off that every time he was forced to be around you, your stupid alarm would interrupt the discussion, and then you'd excuse yourself to the bathroom.

It pissed him off that he had to spend another minute waiting for you to come back. He hated that he was noticing things about you. Like how you avoided looking at him unless you absolutely had to, like he wasn't even worth acknowledging.

You grab your bag and stand up, ready to leave, of course, Sunoo follows instantly, picking up your tumbler like some kind of assistant.

Before either of you can take a step, Jay huffs, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed.

"Just take the damn medicine here," he says, sounding beyond annoyed. "I don't want to waste my time waiting for you two to come back. There's literally five minutes left in this meeting."

Both you and Sunoo pause, staring at him. Sunoo squints, looking personally offended by the audacity.

Meanwhile, you hesitate, shifting awkwardly before reluctantly sitting back down. You send Sunoo a silent look—a desperate please, let's just drop this before Jay kills me kind of look.

Jay watched as Sunoo sat down, rummaged through your bag with way too much enthusiasm, practically throwing things aside until he found what he was looking for.

"You're being so fucking insensitive," Sunoo snapped, pulling out a small container of pills and dramatically placing them in front of you. "She's literally sick."

Jay rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair, arms crossed. "It's not like I told her not to take them."

"You're acting like it's an inconvenience!" Sunoo shot back, popping the cap off your tumbler. "She needs these!"

Meanwhile, you were panicking. Sunoo didn't actually know why you were taking the medication—only that you'd been struggling with swallowing and breathing. He was there when you went to get it checked out, and he had shrieked so loudly at the doctor's office upon seeing the bruises on your throat that security almost got called. You had to practically beg them not to report it as abuse.

Jay's gaze flickered toward you, watching how stiff you had gotten, your fingers curling around the edge of the table. Suspicious.

His patience was already hanging by a thread, and every group meeting was making it worse. Every single time, Jake would sit beside you, smiling, asking about your day, treating you like nothing had changed. And you would talk to him in the same soft tone, laughing lightly, joking, as if things were perfectly fine.

But when it came to Jay, you barely even looked at him.

Jay's hands curled into fists under the table. Did you really like Jake that much?

"Just take the damn pill and let's finish this," he muttered, looking away.

Sunoo clicked his tongue, clearly still pissed, but you sighed. Grabbing the medicine, you tossed it back with a sip of water, trying not to feel like you were swallowing more than just the pill.

Sunoo huffed dramatically, slumping back in his chair, arms crossed as he blew his bangs out of his face. Then, in a whisper just loud enough for you to hear, he muttered, "God, he's so sour."

You nearly choked on your water, barely managing to swallow before coughing into your sleeve. Meanwhile, across the table, Jay's eye twitched, his fingers pausing mid-typing.

Yeah, he definitely heard that.

"I did not study Psychology to be dealing with people like him. I swear, I don't get it! His boyfriend, Jake, is an actual sunshine. How the hell did he end up with someone like that? He's such an asshole—I want to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze."

Sunoo groans dramatically, throwing his hands in the air like he's physically choking someone.

You snort, patting his back in an attempt to soothe him. "Easy there, I don't think murder is part of the syllabus."

"I know he's serious about his work, but I didn't expect him to be this much of a dick about it! What's his problem?" Sunoo huffs, his fists clenching. "Do you want me to go back there and punch him? Because I will. Gladly."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "I don't think that'll help."

Sunoo lets out another exaggerated sigh, slumping against the bench you're both sitting on. "This is exactly why I hate men."

"You do realize he's gay, right?" You whisper, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.

Sunoo glares at you, eyes narrowing. "And? He's still a man! God!" He throws his head back dramatically. "Why are they all like this? Why can't they just be normal and not emotionally constipated?"

You chuckle, resting your chin on your palm. "You're so worked up about this."

"I am worked up! I don't like seeing my best friend treated like trash. That's my job!" Sunoo pokes your forehead lightly. "Not some grumpy, brooding asshole with control issues."

You sigh, offering a small smile as you murmur something to calm him down. He huffs but eventually lets it go, leaning back with his arms crossed.

It had been a week since everything happened. And to your credit, you were doing a great job avoiding them—or, well, avoiding Jay.

Jake was different. Jake was nice. He kept talking to you, his usual warmth never faltering. Always so soft, always so considerate. It was hard keeping your distance when he was so genuinely kind to you.

Unlike Jay, Jake never gave you a reason to feel unwanted. He'd ask if his proximity made you uncomfortable, if you'd eaten, how you were feeling. But somehow, despite everything, he never brought up that night again. Not once did he mention the sex, didn't push for another time, didn't make any suggestive comments.

You weren't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Well, Jay... that was a different story entirely. You couldn't afford to talk to him. Couldn't even look at him. His attitude, his gaze, the way he seemed to burn with irritation every time you were anywhere near—it made everything so much harder.

You were convinced at this point. Park Jongseong hated you. And somehow, Jake had no idea.

And yet, you still wanted him. Both of them, It was pathetic.

No matter how much he glared, no matter how cold he acted, your body still reacted to him. Your mind still wandered into dangerous places, imagining things.

Like the way his hands would feel pinning you down, his fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you from behind—frustrated, rough, using you to work out whatever twisted anger he had toward you.

Or maybe Jake would be there, slipping underneath, his soft mouth on your clit while Jay kept you spread open for him. His tongue moving in slow, teasing circles, coaxing you to the edge while Jay's cock filled you.

You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but your thighs clenched instinctively.

God, you were so pathetic. Back to being the desperate girl thirsting over men who weren't even yours to begin with.

It would never happen again. You repeated it in your head.

Another week passed, and you finally ditched the turtlenecks. The bruises were still there, faint shadows against your skin, but barely noticeable unless someone really looked which you doubted anyone would.

"I swear, after midterms, I'm going to sleep for a full twenty-four hours," you muttered, scrolling through your research on your iPad. Your pen skimmed across the screen, underlining sections that needed revision.

"I just want to treat myself," Sunoo sighed, resting his chin on his palm. "Maybe a red velvet cake or something."

You hummed, mimicking his pose, eyes distant as you both fell into a much-needed daydream. "I wanna try the matcha strawberry drink from that new café at the Avenue. This week has been so draining." You sighed, letting your shoulders slump. "I'm also craving marshmallows, but honestly? I don't even think I deserve them."

Across the table, Jay huffed—that sharp, irritated sound you'd grown far too familiar with. You didn't even need to look up to know he was watching, that signature glare aimed straight at you and Sunoo.

"Can you focus?" His voice ruined your lighthearted moment. "We're almost done. Stop wasting time."

You quickly dropped your gaze back to your iPad, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. But your fingers fidgeted with the stylus. Sunoo, made a loud show of flipping open his book, rolling his eyes so hard.

"God, you're so uptight," he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Jay to hear.

Not long after, Jake appeared, all warmth and sunshine, his smile instantly making the mood lighter. "Hey," he greeted, his voice soft as he glanced at you before nodding at Sunoo.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up—straightening a little, fingers brushing over your hair, smoothing down your uniform. It wasn't intentional, but Jay noticed. His grip on his pen tightened just slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Are you finished?" Jake murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Jay's temple before settling beside him.

Jay hummed in response, not looking up, but his hand instinctively brushed around Jake's waist, a small acknowledgment of his presence.

Sunoo gagged dramatically, clutching his chest like he was in physical pain. "Jesus Christ, not in front of us, please," he groaned, rubbing his arms like the display of affection had given him hives.

Jake just laughed, completely unbothered. "What? You don't like a little affection?"

"I like affection," Sunoo huffed, flipping a page with unnecessary force. "I don't like seeing gay love flaunted in front of me, knowing I'm single and trying to work."

Jake smirked, leaning further into Jay just to be annoying, kissing his cheek. "Hmm, okay," he said simply.

You chuckled at their antics, but the laughter caught in your throat the moment your eyes met his. Your breath hitched slightly, and you quickly looked away, suddenly hyper-aware of how comfortable you were around Jake compared to the awkward tension that always came with Jay.

Geez, you can't even be happy in front of him.

Jake knew himself well enough to admit that sometimes he could be too pushy when he wanted something. But he wasn't insensitive. He noticed things, especially when it came to the people he cared about.

And lately, he'd been noticing a lot. Jay's behavior toward you wasn't just cold—it was rough. The sharp glances, the clipped tone, the way his patience seemed to wear thinner whenever you were around. At first, Jake thought it was just Jay being Jay, the brooding, possessive, easily annoyed. But the longer it went on, the more it started to feel different.

That was why Jake had been careful. He didn't push too hard. He avoided bringing you up in conversations with Jay, kept his interactions with you light, casual. But he couldn't completely ignore you. Not when he'd noticed the way your breath sometimes slowed, how you would press your fingers against your throat absentmindedly, as if checking for something. Not the time when you still wore high-collared tops long after the bruises should've faded. He knew Jay had left those marks. And he knew, deep down, Jay knew that, too.

Jake couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Did Jay regret what happened? Was he jealous of you? Jake knew how possessive Jay could be, how he had always been the type to express his emotions through actions rather than words. Maybe Jake should've just let it go. Maybe he should've left you alone for the sake of Jay's peace of mind. But every time he thought about it, something in his gut told him that wasn't the answer.

"Fuck—just like that," Jay groaned, fingers tightening in his hair, hips snapping forward, chasing more of that heat, more of that wet, perfect warmth.

Jake hummed, taking him deeper, his throat swallowing around him. Jay shuddered, his thighs trembling slightly.

Jay's mind was a wreck — being in the same group as you? Tolerable. Jay was starting to tolerate you. But that didn't mean he didn't hate you. God—he hated you.

His grip tightened in Jake's hair, frustration bubbling over as he fucked into his boyfriend's mouth with more force, each thrust carrying a weight he couldn't put into words. Jake moaned around him, wide eyes flicking up, locking onto his as he bobbed his head, matching his rhythm perfectly.

Jake looked so fucking beautiful like this.

Jay let out a shaky breath, head tipping back for a moment before his thoughts dragged him back to you.

Why the fuck do you keep looking at Jake like that? Why do you always pull away when he walks in? Why does your smile always falter the moment he gets near?

You were so soft with everyone else—laughing, chatting, existing like a normal person. But with him? It was different.

Your shoulders tensed. Your voice lowered. You avoided him, even in small things—passing papers, choosing seats, glancing his way. Even when you had to sit next to him, you made yourself small. So close, yet always so far away.

He shouldn't care. He fucking hated you. So why did it feel like he was losing his mind over this?

"Jake—" his voice was strained, stomach tightening, his body wound so tight. "I'm close."

Jake hummed in response, vibrations sending pleasure through him. His boyfriend was eager, tongue swirling around his shaft, making his legs tremble.

Jay's jaw clenched, his whole body coiling as his release built up.

And then—your face flashed through his mind. The way you walked into the lecture hall, pretending you didn't see him. The way you laughed at something Sunoo said, your shoulders relaxing the second you thought Jay wasn't watching.

Jay was always watching, he was always looking at you. And you never looked at him.

Look at me, his mind screamed every time. Just fucking look at me. But you never did.

His orgasm ripped through him, his whole body shaking, his head tipping back as his eyes rolled, a loud whine tearing from his throat.

He whispered your name. His hips stuttered, mindlessly thrusting into Jake's mouth, the echo of your name slipping past his lips, again and again.

Jake pulled off, gasping for air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His brows furrowed slightly, staring at Jay with confusion before chuckling.

"Did you just—"

Jay collapsed back against the couch, breathless, his arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling heavily. Jake's fingers glided up his stomach, watching him closely.

And even now—Even after coming. Your name was still on Jay's lips.

That made Jake's cock twitch. He liked this. He liked Jay this way—angry, possessive, completely in denial.

A slow smirk curled Jake's lips as he leaned back against the couch, eyes lidded as he reached for his zipper. The sound of it unzipping filled the air, followed by the rustle of fabric as he tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself.

His fingers wrapped around his cock, dragging along the length, thumb circling the slit as he collected the precum beading at the tip.

Jay watched him, He didn't say anything, didn't move—but Jake saw it. The way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. The way his fingers twitched at his sides. The way his gaze lingered.

Jake let out a soft gasp, biting his lip before stroking himself faster. "Let's fuck her again," he murmured, His eyes flickered up, locking onto Jay's dark stare. "Shall we?"

Jay stirred, shifting slightly.

Jake hummed, his pace quickening. "I want to do more things with her," he moaned, hips stuttering into his own grip. "Thought you hated her, thought you wanted nothing to do with her, but—fuck—" he inhaled sharply, smirking through his pleasure. "You're just denying things, huh?"

Jay's cock twitched.

"You make things so fucking difficult," Jake moaned, tilting his head back, his free hand dragging up his stomach. "If you weren't so prideful, we'd already have her between us again."

Jay inhaled sharply through his nose, his control slipping. He moved before he could stop himself—grabbing Jake's wrist, ripping his hand away from his cock.

Jake gasped, pleasure cut off instantly as Jay loomed over him, eyes burning. "Shut the fuck up," Jay growled, his grip tight. His other hand snapped to Jake's thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Jake's lips parted, his breath shaky—but then he grinned again, riling him further.

"You're so full of shit, baby," Jake moaned. "Acting like you hate her, when really, you just wanna ruin her."

He shifted under Jay's hold, spreading his thighs slightly, giving him more of a view. "Come on, just admit it," he murmured, his voice teasing, breathless. "You liked fucking her. You liked the way she fell apart under you—how desperate she was, how much she wanted it."

Jay's breath hitched, nostrils flaring. Jake leaned in closer, lips brushing against his jaw, voice dropping to a whisper. "And now, you can't stop thinking about her, can you?"

Jay's fingers twitched, feeling the rush of heat.

"You wanna know if she thinks about it, too?" Jake continued, his free hand sliding up Jay's chest, fingers tracing over the fabric of his shirt. "If she touches herself to the memory of you?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jay snapped. He grabbed Jake roughly, flipping him over onto his stomach before yanking his hips up, positioning himself at his ass. Using his own cum from earlier as lubrication, he pushed inside in one rough thrust.

Jake gasped, his mouth falling open in a silent moan before it turned into a loud, wanton cry. His fingers clawed at the couch, his back arching. "Fucking yes—"

Jay didn't wait, didn't give him time to adjust. He fucked into him—deep, brutal thrusts, each one fueled by the mess in his head, the tangled thoughts that refused to leave him alone.

"Fuck," Jay gritted out, his hands gripping Jake's waist hard enough to bruise. His pace was relentless, hips snapping forward with enough force to shove Jake up. "You think I give a shit about what she does?"

Jake moaned, back curving further as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, meeting Jay's thrusts. "I think you do," he panted, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips despite the way his body trembled from the rough pace. "I think you care—I think you hate that you care."

Jay growled, his fingers tangling in Jake's hair, yanking his head back roughly. "Shut. The fuck. Up."

Jake only moaned louder, his own cock leaking against the rough fabric of the couch. "That's right, baby," he gasped, voice breaking from pleasure. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Imagine her in my place—imagine that tight little pussy wrapped around your cock instead—"

Jay let out a loud, guttural groan, his pace turning frantic. His mind flashed to you—flashed to the way you bit your lip when you were nervous, the way your breath hitched when Jake touched you, the way your thighs clenched together when you thought no one was watching.

"Fuck, Jay!" Jake cried out when Jay angled his hips, slamming into his prostate repeatedly. His body trembled, fingers fisting at nothing, lost in the brutal rhythm. "God—yes! Just like that—faster—"

Jay's grip tightened. His vision blurred, thoughts colliding into each other, overwhelming him. Your lips. Your moans. The way your walls clenched around his fingers

His frustration boiled over. His jealousy. His confusion. His anger. And still, your name slipped from his lips.

Jake smirked despite the overwhelming pleasure wrecking his body. His teasing voice was broken between moans. "Fuck, Jay—do you want her?" His breath hitched when Jay thrust harder, his whole body shaking. "Are you gonna take her again? Ruin her—make her fucking yours?"

Jay groaned, his fingers bruising into Jake's skin. His answer came through gritted teeth.

"Fucking yes."

You plopped back into your seat, setting your tumbler down with a sigh, when your eyes landed on the unexpected sight in front of you.

A pack of marshmallows sat right on top of your notes, neatly placed beside your scattered belongings. Brows furrowing, you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. "Huh? Where did this come from?"

Jay barely spared you a glance, fingers typing away on his laptop. "That's been there since before you left to refill your water."

You blinked, confused. "What? No way."

"You got a goldfish brain or something?" Jay's brow twitched in irritation. "God, stop disturbing me."

You scowled at his attitude but chose to ignore it, more focused on the marshmallows that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Sunoo plopped down beside you, a cup of mint ice cream in hand. His spoon clinked against the container as he scooped a bite into his mouth.

"Hey, Sunoo." You turned to him, still holding up the marshmallow pack. "Did I buy these?"

Sunoo tilted his head, squinting as if trying to recall. "Uh... maybe? You did say you were craving marshmallows." He shrugged.

You frowned, glancing back at the pack before shaking your head. "Weird. I don't remember buying them."

"Maybe you did and just forgot. You've been drowning in schoolwork lately." Sunoo licked his spoon, then smirked. "Or maybe you've got a secret admirer."

You snorted, tearing open the pack. "Doubt it." Jay's typing faltered for half a second, but he quickly resumed. Shrugging off the thought, you popped a marshmallow into your mouth, savoring the soft, sugary texture.

"Either way, free marshmallows," you mumbled, offering the bag to Sunoo.

Sunoo happily grabbed one, humming in satisfaction. You turned to Jay, nudging the bag toward him, but he barely glanced up from his laptop. Instead, he waved you off with a dismissive shrug.

Typical. You didn't push, rolling your eyes as you stuffed another marshmallow into your mouth.

The following meetings were okay. No unnecessary arguments, no tension that made you want to shrink into yourself. Things were flowing smoothly.

Except, you started noticing something. Jake was around more often. He claimed it was because he preferred working on his research alongside his boyfriend, but Sunoo had made a dramatic gagging sound the moment Jake sat down, whispering, "Yeah, sure. Totally research-related."

Jake also seemed to be getting... casual with you. Too casual. His hand would rest on your thigh, just sitting, his fingers sometimes absentmindedly rubbing up and down. Or he'd casually hook his arm through yours while walking. You didn't really think much of it. Sunoo did the exact same thing. And, well, Jake was Jake—affectionate, playful, and friendly. You were comfortable with him. It felt natural.

Jay, on the other hand... His behavior was still sour. Or at least, that's what you'd call it if he actually interacted with you at all. He wasn't glaring anymore—not as much, anyway. But he also wasn't looking at you. At all. Not once. He'd walk behind you while you, Jake, and Sunoo chatted and laughed about whatever nonsense came to mind, Jay was always completely silent. Always present but never engaging.

"What the hell?!" Sunoo practically screeched, pointing an accusing finger at you and Jake. His face was twisted in pure betrayal. "I knew you two were fishy! Fucking traitors!"

You and Jake burst into laughter, barely holding onto your phones as you clutched your stomachs. The screen in your hands displayed 'Impostor Wins' in bold letters.

Jake was shaking with suppressed laughter, his head buried against your shoulder as his body trembled with the effort not to be too loud. Meanwhile, Sunoo sat there fuming, eyes narrowed in frustration as he dramatically crossed his arms.

"I trusted you," Sunoo huffed, glaring at Jake. "You were my partner! And you—" He turned to you, jabbing a finger in your direction. "You're supposed to be my best friend!"

"I'm sorry!" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your eye. "It was too easy! You fell for it!"

"Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head.

Jay, who had been slumped over the table, twitched at the sudden noise, lifting his head slightly to glance at the three of you. He looked exhausted, his jaw tightening slightly as he took in the way Jake was still pressed against you, his head resting against your shoulder, hand resting a little too comfortably on your thigh.

"Okay, okay, rematch?" you offered, nudging Sunoo with your foot. Sunoo huffed. "I'm not playing with you two anymore. I need new allies."

Jake grinned, finally lifting his head from your shoulder, his hand lazily tapping at his phone screen. "Come on, don't be like that, Sunoo. It's just a game."

"A game?" Sunoo repeated, looking personally offended. "I died for you. I defended you! I saw you kill someone, and I still voted for someone else!"

You and Jake exchanged amused glances before dissolving into laughter again. Jay slammed his laptop shut. The sound was loud enough to startle all three of you, making your heads snap toward him.

"I'm leaving." He said.

You stared at him, blinking in confusion. "Huh?"

Jake straightened up, his playful expression fading slightly. "You okay, babe?"

Jay didn't answer. Instead, he stood up abruptly, slinging his bag over his shoulder before shoving his chair back into place with more force than necessary.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, swallowing. "Uh... I thought we were gonna—"

"I want to sleep," Jay cut you off, his tone cold. His eyes flickered to you briefly, before looking away just as fast. And just like that, he walked out without another word.

The three of you exchanged glances, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Then, Jake sighed, standing up as well. "I'll go talk to him."

"Here we go again," Sunoo muttered under his breath, popping another piece of candy into his mouth.

You wrinkled your nose at him, nudging his leg under the table. "Shut up."

Sunoo smirked, nudging you back. "What? It's entertaining. "

You huffed, slumping back in your chair.

You told yourself over and over again that it wasn't your fault. That Jay's jealousy—because at this point, you were convinced that's what it was—was his own issue. Not yours.

But it was getting harder to ignore when Jake was pressed behind you, arms wrapped securely around your waist, his chest flush against your back. When he was nuzzling into the crook of your neck, murmuring things that weren't even remotely suggestive, but the warmth of his breath against your skin made your knees weak anyway.

And it was impossible to ignore when Jay was sitting right across from you, staring. You felt like a pawn in whatever unspoken battle Jay was having with himself.

Sunoo was oblivious—or maybe just used to this—was too busy fixing his makeup to acknowledge the suffocating tension in the air.

Jake would whisper little things in your ear, casual gossip, things that should not have been turning you on, but the way his lips brushed against your skin with every word sent sparks through your core.

You wanted Jay to do something about it.

You knew he hated you. But deep down, you still hoped—prayed—that whatever this was, whatever anger or frustration he was harboring, he would take it out on you.

That he would grab you by the waist and shove you into the nearest surface. That he would bruise you all over again, mark you up until you belonged to him. That he would shove his cock down your throat, just like last time, ignoring the way you gasped for air, not caring if you were still recovering. Fuck the doctors prescription.

God knows you wanted it. Every night, you would find yourself alone, your fingers curling between your thighs, biting down on your lip to stop from moaning their names. Jake, with his sweet kisses and lingering touches. Jay, with his rough hands and punishing pace.

Would they ever ask again? Would Jake pull you into his lap, whispering in your ear that they missed you? Would Jay finally snap, throw you onto the bed, and take you? Even though you don't deserve it?

You imagined them ruining you, stretching you out together, stuffing you full until there was nothing left of you but the sound of your own choked moans.

Or Jay filling you up, his cum dripping down your thighs. Jake licking it up, kissing your swollen clit before shoving his cock into you next.

"Shit—fuck!" you gasped, thighs clenching around your hand as your mini vibrator sent sharp pulses straight to your core. Your body arched violently off the mattress, hips trembling as waves of pleasure surged through you.

Your back hit the sheets again, your head tilting back as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Every muscle in your body tensed, heat coiling tightly in your abdomen before snapping all at once.

"Thank you—thank you," you moaned breathlessly, tossing the vibrator aside, but your fingers didn't stop. Desperation clawed at your skin as you rubbed tight, insistent circles over your clit, the oversensitivity making your entire body jolt.

Your legs spasmed, toes curling as cold sweat slicked your skin. The tension didn't ease, it only built higher, higher, until suddenly their faces flashed behind your closed eyes.

Jake, whispering filth into your ear, his hands gripping your thighs as he kissed his way down.

Jay, pinning you in place, his fingers tight around your throat, his breath warm against your lips as he growled in your ear.

The image alone sent you spiraling.

Your hips twitched, grinding against your own fingers, chasing more, needing more. You whined, the sound escaping without your permission as your body trembled violently.

"Oh—fuck! Fuck! Ahh!"

Your release hit again, crashing into you, your entire body shuddering as liquid gushed from between your legs, soaking the sheets beneath you. Your thighs clamped shut, your fingers stalling against your clit as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Your chest heaved, your heartbeat erratic, the high still pulsing through your veins. You lay there, boneless, ruined, your sheets damp, your body twitching with every lingering spark of pleasure.

The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing and the faint, continuous buzzing of the forgotten vibrator beside you.

You sigh, staring at the ceiling. Post orgasm crashing into you. Frustration suddenly kicking in.

Frustrated because nothing seemed to satisfy you. Frustrated because no matter what you did—you couldn't forget them.

Frustrated because... God help you. You wanted it to happen again.

"How do you initiate sex?" You blurted out, glancing at Sunoo, who was casually fixing his hair in his compact mirror. "Like... how do you tell them you want to do it again?"

Sunoo froze, his reflection staring back at him before he slowly turned to you, eyes squinting in pure offense. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

You frowned. "Who else am I supposed to ask?"

He huffed, snapping his mirror shut. "Babe, first of all, I don't do seconds. If I hit once, it's a one-time event. No reruns." He gave you a pointed look. "But if you're desperate—which, let's be honest, you are—just text them 'hey, dtf?'"

You groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the bed. "No! It's—ugh!" You covered your face, muffling another groan. "Nevermind! Fuck!" You give up as you threw your hands up in defeat.

"Hey!"

You jumped slightly at the sudden voice, turning to see Jake standing behind you, his usual bright smile on his face.

Before you could say anything, he reached out and ruffled Sunoo's hair, only to get a sharp slap on the back in response. Jake laughed but winced at the impact, rubbing the spot where Sunoo had hit him.

"Huh? Where's Jay?" You asked, glancing behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend.

"Studying," Jake replied with a shrug. Sitting beside you, settling himself in the ground.

"What?! Midterms just ended!" Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms. "Force your boyfriend to take a break! We were planning to get caramel macchiatos with you guys." He muttered, still fussing over his hair that Jake had messed up.

Jake chuckled. "I'd love to, but you know Jay. He's—"

"Anyways, Jake, how do you initiate sex?" Sunoo cut him off, completely changing the topic.

Your eyes widened in horror. "Sunoo!" You hissed, tugging on his arm, but he only grinned mischievously.

Jake blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "Uh... what?"

"She was asking me earlier," Sunoo continued, completely throwing you under the bus. "How to tell someone she wants to do it again."

Jake's mouth fell open slightly, then a slow smirk spread across his lips. His eyes glinted with amusement as he turned to you.

Your grip on Sunoo tightened, your face heating up instantly. "I wasn't—I didn't—" You shook your head frantically, staring at Jake in sheer embarrassment. "Ignore him!"

Jake's smirk deepened, but he played it cool,  "Oh? And who exactly are we talking about here?"

Your heart nearly stopped. The way his eyes glinted with mischief, the way his lips curled slightly at the edges—he knew. Oh, he fucking knew exactly what Sunoo was referring to. But he was pretending not to.

Sunoo hummed thoughtfully. "Good question! She won't tell me either. Probably some random guy who dicked her down so good she wants seconds."

You choked on your own breath. "Sunoo!"

Jake snorted, biting back a laugh, but his gaze never left you. "Hmm," he mused, tapping his chin dramatically. "Well, if I had to give some advice..." He trailed off, his eyes flickering with amusement as he watched you squirm.

You shot him a warning glare, silently pleading for him to drop it.

He didn't. "I'd say just be straightforward," Jake continued, completely ignoring your flustered expression. "Just shoot them a text, something like, 'Hey, I can't stop thinking about that night. Wanna make it happen again?'" He shrugged. "Easy."

Sunoo nodded in agreement. "See? That's what I told her! But nooo, she wants to overthink it."

You groaned, pressing your hands against your burning face. "I hate both of you."

Jake chuckled, leaning closer, his voice dropping just slightly. "So... is this mystery guy really that good?"

Your breath caught, eyes snapping up to meet his. There was teasing in his tone.  He was fucking with you.

Sunoo rolled his eyes. "Obviously, if she's still thinking about him. Poor girl's down bad."

Jake hummed, tilting his head. "Yeah... must've been one hell of a night."

Thankfully, the topic shifted. Sunoo, being Sunoo, effortlessly steered the conversation toward food and cafés, but by the time 2:00 rolled around, Sunoo stretched his arms with a dramatic sigh. "Alright, I'm out. Gotta visit Wonyoung before she thinks I've abandoned her."

You barely had time to nod before he turned to you with a knowing smirk. "Thank me later."

Your stomach dropped. The realization hit you, before you could stop him, Sunoo was already strutting away, leaving you alone. With Jake.

You were too close to Jake, yet somehow, it still wasn't enough. Your throat felt tight, your heart hammering in your chest as you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his presence.

"I—uh," you started, your voice barely steady, "d-don't mind what Sunoo said—"

Jake didn't even let you finish. "I've been waiting for the perfect moment to ask you myself," he cut in smoothly.

Your eyes snapping to his. There was something about the way he spoke, like he already knew what you wanted—like he could see right through you.

"Ask me what?" You hated how weak your voice sounded, how your throat felt suddenly dry.

Jake leaned in just slightly, enough for you to catch the faintest scent of his cologne. His gaze never wavered. "If you want to do it again."

Your stomach twisted, heat pooling low in your abdomen at the way he said it. His presence was overwhelming, and it took everything in you to stay still, to not shrink away from the intensity in his eyes.

"I'm not a natural talker," he admitted, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm not straightforward like Jay. But thank God for making things flow naturally my way." His lips curled into a small smirk, and before you could prepare yourself, he asked, "Did you miss us?"

Your pulse pounded. You shouldn't say it. You should make this harder for him, play coy, pretend you hadn't been thinking about them every damn night, imagining their hands, their mouths. But instead, the word slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

"Yes," you whispered.

Jake hummed, clearly pleased, but before he could say anything else, you hesitated. A weight sat heavy in your chest. "But Jay—" you paused, unsure how to phrase it without sounding pathetic. "Jay hates me."

Jake chuckled, shaking his head as if the idea itself was ridiculous. "Jay definitely does not hate you."

You frowned. "Then why—"

"He's just jealous." Jake cut you off, your heart stuttered. The idea was so absurd that it took a second to process.

"Jealous?" Your brows furrowed. "Of me?"

Jake's grin widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath fanning against your ear. "Of me."

Your breath caught, your mind struggling to keep up with what he was saying.

"He's jealous of me, baby," Jake murmured, his fingers tracing lightly against the inside of your wrist, his touch barely there, teasing but it makes your pulse jumped under his fingertips.

"Because I get to hug you," he continued, voice velvety smooth, almost hypnotic. "I get to nuzzle my head into your neck. I get your attention."

You exhaled sharply, your body tensing. The way he said it, like it was a privilege—like it was something Jay wanted.

Jake tilted his head, watching you carefully, eyes flickering with amusement. "Tell me," he whispered, his lips hovering just over your skin, "do you miss him too?"

He was toying with you, but damn it, it was working. You knew the answer before he even asked, but saying it out loud was dangerous. That was admitting to something you weren't sure you could handle.

Jake's fingers brushed against your wrist again, featherlight, teasing. He was waiting, watching for your reaction.

You swallowed, throat tight. "I—"

Jake smirked, sensing your hesitation. "You do, don't you?" You hated how easily he read you. How he knew exactly what buttons to press, exactly how to get under your skin.

You exhaled shakily, hands curling into fists on your lap. "If Jay's so jealous, then why does he act like he can't stand me?"

Jake hummed, considering. "Because Jay is a fucking idiot."

You blinked. "What?"

Jake leaned back slightly, arms crossing as he grinned at you. "He's stubborn. Prideful. And he's fighting something he doesn't want to admit."

You frowned, confused. "Fighting what?"

Jake tilted his head, studying you like you were missing something obvious. "You."

Your chest tightened. "Me?"

"You," Jake confirmed, grin widening. "He's pissed because he wants you. And because he doesn't know how to handle it, he's pushing you away instead."

Your stomach flipped. You had convinced yourself Jay hated you, that he regretted everything that happened. But now?

"You're lying." Your voice was weak, but you needed to say it. You needed to convince yourself that Jake was just messing with you.

Jake only chuckled. "Am I?"

You swallowed again, looking away, but Jake wasn't having it. He reached out, his fingers catching your chin, guiding your gaze back to his.

"Let me prove it to you," he murmured.

Your breath caught in your throat. "Prove it how?"

Jake smirked, his thumb brushing against your jaw. His next words sent a shiver straight down your spine.

"Let's give him something to be jealous about."

Desperation clouded every thought in your head, everything around you blurring into the background.

You barely remembered how you ended up stumbling into Jay's apartment, your lips locked feverishly with Jake's, hands grasping at each other like. Jay was out doing groceries. You had no idea when he'd be back. And maybe that was what made this so much hotter.

Anticipation coiled in your stomach, excitement tangled with nervous energy. How would Jay react if he walked in on this? Would he be pissed? The mere thought had heat pooling between your thighs, your panties dampening with want.

"Miss you," Jake whined against your lips, arms tightening around your waist. His movements were rushed, needy—like he'd been waiting for this, craving it just as much as you had. His lips parted against yours, the kiss turning sloppy, hot, all tongue and teeth as the two of you stumbled deeper into the apartment.

Neither of you cared to be careful. Jake kicked off his shoes with barely a thought, his fingers already fumbling with the buttons of your uniform blouse, eager to rid you of the fabric. You let him, hands curling around the back of his neck, tugging him down, pressing yourself against him.

Your back hit the couch, Jake's weight pressing into you, his hands tugging impatiently at your uniform. Your breath hitched as his fingers found the last button, parting the fabric to reveal the warmth of your skin. He groaned softly, dipping his head, his lips trailing down the side of your neck, sucking, licking, tasting.

Jake's lips hovered just over yours, teasing, making you chase him. His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your ribs just enough to make your skin prickle with more anticipation.

"Remember what I told you?" He tilted his head, pressing a quick, featherlight kiss against your lips. But before you could answer, his fingers danced over your bra, fingertips teasing at the fabric, grazing over your already sensitive nipples. The sensation made you shiver, your back arching involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his touch.

A quiet whimper slipping from your lips, and Jake hummed approvingly. "Hey, baby, I asked you a question." Without warning, he tugged your bra down just enough to pinch your nipple between his fingers, rolling it between his fingertips, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure.

"Yes!" you gasped, your hands flying to wrap around his wrist, not to stop him—but to urge him for more. "Please!" Your body was burning with need, aching for him, for anything he'd give you.

Jake chuckled, his breath warm against your lips. "That's my girl," he murmured, before leaning down again, capturing your lips in another deep kiss. His tongue slid past your lips effortlessly, moving against yours.

You clung to him, fingers curling around the fabric of his uniform, tugging at it, silently begging him to take it off. He straightened, exhaling a sharp breath as he worked through each button, fumbling slightly when you kissed his neck, sucking gently at the skin just below his jaw.

"Ahh, fuck," he groaned, his breath hitching as you nipped lightly at his pulse point.

Taking advantage of the moment, you reached behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting it slide down your arms before tossing it aside. The cool air against your bare skin sent another shiver on you, but it was quickly replaced by heat as you hooked your fingers into your skirt, dragging it down along with your underwear.

The second Jake finished undressing, he was on you again, his plump lips crashing into yours with renewed hunger. His hands roamed greedily over your bare skin, mapping out every dip, every curve.

He pressed you further into the couch, one hand slipping between your legs, fingers grazing against your already soaked folds. He groaned at the wetness he found there, pulling back just enough to smirk against your lips.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured, his fingers sliding through your slick, teasing but not giving you what you wanted just yet. "You're dripping for me already."

You whimpered, hips shifting toward his hand, but he pulled away slightly, denying you the friction you needed.

"Patience," he cooed, his lips brushing over your jaw, down your throat, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses. "Let's take our time with this."

But you didn't want time. You wanted him. Now. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him back up to crash your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your other hand reaching down, curling around his cock, stroking him slowly.

Jake groaned into your mouth, his hips twitching forward into your grip. "Fuck," he muttered, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours. "You're gonna be the death of me."

And with that, he finally gave in, slipping a finger inside you, curling it just right, drawing a moan from your lips.

The two of you had long lost track of time, lost in the haze of pleasure, in the desperate push and pull of each other's bodies.

You didn't know how many times Jake had sunk himself deep inside you, how many times he had come, or how many times he had dragged another orgasm from your overstimulated body.

You were both drunk on each other—on the way his hands molded your body to fit against him, on the way your walls clenched around him so perfectly.

Your legs were pressed close to your chest, folded as Jake held you up, his arms wrapped under your thighs, supporting your weight as he thrust up into you. Your back arched against his chest, your head thrown back over his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as you let him take you.

"I-I can't! I'm cumming again!" You cry.

Jake's whines mixed with your cries, his lips dragging over your neck, pressing soft gentle kisses. His pace quickened, each thrust are harder. Your toes curled, your nails digging into his arms, unable to do anything but take what he gave you.

You were lost, drowning in the sensation, in the heat, in him, until his fingers tangled into your hair, yanking just enough to make your eyes snap open.

You gasped, your walls clenching involuntarily around him at the sudden shift, earning a deep groan from his throat. Your dazed mind barely had time to process what was happening before your blurry vision sharpened—and landed on the figure standing in the doorway.

"Hah! Nghh, fuck! J-Jake!"

Jay was standing in front of you, motionless, his hands clenched at his sides, eyes locked onto the scene before him.

"Oh," Jake exhaled, breathless despite the way his thrusts never faltered. He smirked, leaning in just beside your ear, loud enough for Jay to hear. "Look who finally showed up."

Panic surged through you, heat creeping up your neck. Instinctively wanting to cover yourself, but Jake's grip on your thighs tightened, he instead separate your legs,wide open for Jay to see.

The obscene view of where Jake's cock was buried deep inside you—slick, glistening, your walls clenching around him with every drag of his hips.

You gasped, squirming under Jake's hold, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Jake!" you whined, the desperate plea slipping from your lips. You knew exactly what he was doing, what game he was playing. But seeing Jay right in front of you made you feel too exposed.

"What the hell, Jake?" Jay gaze flickered between the two of you, his lips parting slightly as if struggling to find the right words. His nostrils flared, his breath uneven despite his stillness. "We were supposed to take things slow with her. That's what we agreed on."

Jake only chuckled, his amusement evident. Instead of slowing down, he snapped his hips harder, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls in a way that made your body jolt under him, your breasts bouncing with the impact. A sinful moan tore from your throat, your head falling back against his shoulder again.

"Surprise," Jake murmured, his smirk widening.

The word sent a shiver down your spine, a sharp flashback hitting you—the first time this happened, the way you had watched them, except now, the roles were reversed.

Jay was the one watching.

His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw locked so tight you thought it might snap. His eyes darkened, tracking every movement, every reaction, every shuddering breath you took.

His gaze dipped lower, settling between your legs, watching the way Jake stretched you open, how greedily your body took him. His Adam's apple bobbed, his breathing getting heavier.

He was pissed. You could tell by the way his fingers flexed, by the tension coiling through his frame.

"Can't blame me," Jake exhaled, groaning at the way your walls clenched around him. "I mean, you were too slow. Kept sending her mixed signals." He nuzzled into your neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your pulse, his breath warm against your damp skin. "Poor girl thought you hated her."

Jay's jaw ticked, his lips pressing into a thin line. His fists clenched tighter, the veins in his forearms standing out. He looked like he was on the verge of snapping.

Jake wasn't done. His fingers traced down your stomach, circling teasingly around your clit. He chuckled darkly, his eyes still locked on Jay. "She was too good to be true, Jay."

Jay remained silent, watching the scene you and Jake are making.

Jake smirked. "Did you know she's been taking medicines because you damaged her throat?"

Your breath hitched, eyes widening in panic. "Jake—"

You gripped onto his arms, a silent signal for him to stop, you did tell him that information but you didn't expect him to thrown it out there, in the middle of him fucking you, in the middle of Jay standing there, looking at you like he didn't know if he wanted to drag you into his arms or ruin you completely.

Jay stiffened at the sudden information, his eyes flickering briefly to your throat.

"But still, she wants us," Jake mused, his lips brushing your temple. His thrusts falter but still remain deep. "Still wants you."

Pleasure coiling in your stomach, overwhelming and intoxicating. You were right there, teetering on the edge.

"Jake, I'm close again!" you gasped, your voice trembling.

Jake didn't pull his gaze away from Jay, didn't even blink as he continued rolling his hips into you. His fingers never faltered against your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the brink. But he didn't let you fall—not yet.

"Do you think he deserves you, baby?" Jake asks you, still staring at Jay. You were too far gone, your mind hazy with pleasure, body trembling from the overwhelming sensations Jake was giving you. But even through the haze, you felt the weight of Jay's intense gaze on you.

Your breath hitching as you struggled to form words.

"J-Jay's been mean," you finally managed to stutter, voice shaky, breathless. Your legs twitched as the pleasure kept mounting

Jake hummed in agreement, tilting his head, his expression thoughtful as he slowed his movements, making you whimper in frustration. "Hmm, right?" His lips brushed against your ear. "He's been so mean to you."

You nodded desperately, your mind fogged with pleasure. Every nerve in you was on fire, desperate to finally tip over the edge.

"He should say sorry first, right?" Jake continued, his voice dripping with faux innocence as he looked back at Jay. His fingers on your clit stilled, applying just enough pressure to keep you on the edge but not enough to let you tip over.

Your breath hitched, your body twitching, so needy, so desperate. "Yes—fuck, yes."

"What the fuck?" Jay muttered, dripping with irritation. His patience was hanging by a thread, and Jake knew it.

Jake chuckled and feigned a pout. "Aww, see? Even she agrees. You've been such an asshole to her, Jay. Shouldn't you at least apologize?" His voice was sickeningly sweet, but the way his hips moved against yours, the way he continued to play with you, was anything but innocent.

Jay inhaled sharply, not please with any of this.

"Maybe," Jake drawled, "if you get down on your knees and apologize, she might forgive you."

Jay's nostrils flared. His gaze flickered between you and Jake, his fists tightening. "You're fucking kidding me," he said through gritted teeth.

Jake only grinned, his fingers finally starting to move against your clit again, making you gasp, your back arching into him.

"Not at all," Jake mused. "But, hey, if you don't want her that bad..."

"I guess I'll just keep her all to myself."

You forced your eyes open, looking at Jay—really looking at Jay. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling unevenly. But it was the way his eyes darkened, the way his gaze flickered to where Jake disappeared inside you over and over again,

You whimpered, half-lidded eyes darting down—right to the prominent bulge in his pants. Your mouth went dry. He was hard. So fucking hard.

Jake felt the way your walls clenched tighter, and he groaned, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. "Oh, baby," he cooed, "are you looking at him?"

"J-Ja—" You gasped. You couldn't hold back anymore. The pressure was unbearable, the fire burning through every inch of you. You moaned his name again, this time louder.

Please give in, please give in, please give in.

"Jake's making me feel so good, Jay!"

Jake groaned behind you, his hips snapping faster, chasing his own high. Your whole body convulsed, legs shaking violently as pleasure crashed through you.

A scream ripped from your throat, loud, raw—so much so that Jake had to clamp a hand over your mouth, muffling the sounds as his own breath hitched.

"Fuck," Jake gasped, his rhythm faltering as your walls tightened around him, making it almost impossible to move. He buried himself deep inside you, his breath coming out in ragged pants.

Your vision blurred, your body shaking from the intensity.

But then, you saw Jay, slowly, hesitantly, lowering himself to his knees in front of you.

"Jake," you breathe. You are overstimulated, exhausted, yet somehow—aching for more. The lingering echoes of your orgasm pulsed through your veins, but the sight of Jay kneeling between your legs sent another rush of heat straight to your core.

"That's it, baby," Jake murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, his grip on your waist. "Let him see how good you look like this. Let him know who you really want."

A whimper escaped your lips, your body instinctively arching, pushing closer to Jay, despite the sensitivity.

Jay pride had been a stubborn thing, keeping him in denial, making him push you away. But now, as he knelt before you, his fingers flexing as if restraining himself from reaching out—he finally admitted it.

He wanted you.

Jake chuckled lowly, sensing the shift, his hold on you tightening as he spread your legs even wider, exposing every inch of you.

Then, with a teasing hum, Jake pulled out of you, his cock slipping free from your swollen, overstimulated cunt. The sudden emptiness made you whine, your walls fluttering around nothing, aching for the fullness you'd just lost.

"Fuck," Jake groaned, his hands flexing on your thighs. "Look at her, Jay. So fucking pretty like this."

Jay's eyes darkened as they dropped between your legs. His chest rose and fell sharply as he watched—his gaze fixed on the sight of his boyfriend's cum slowly dripping from your pussy, the way your cunt clenched involuntarily, like it was still hungry for more.

"Look at him," Jake whispered, the teasing lilt in his voice sending made you even wetter. "He wants to taste you, baby. Can you see it?"

You swallowed thickly, your fingers gripping onto Jake's arm for support. Your eyes fluttered down, meeting Jay's.

"J-Jay," you finally managed to breathe out.

Jay hands finally moving—gripping your thighs, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh. He leaned in, just close enough for you to feel the ghost of his breath against your still-sensitive skin.

His eyes flickered up, locking onto yours, and, he let you see it.

The gaze of hunger, want, need.

Jake chuckled once again, satisfied. "There you go, baby," he murmured, running his fingers along your stomach, feeling the way your body reacted to Jay's touch. "Now tell him—does he deserve a taste?"

Your breath hitched, heat crawling up your skin. The moment felt surreal—Jay, the man who spent weeks glaring at you, the man who made you feel small with just a look, was now on his knees, waiting.

"M-maybe if he a-apologizes," you stuttered, barely able to get the words out.

Jake chuckled against your neck. "You heard her, Jay," he said as his hand moved to cup your breast, kneading it in slow, deliberate motions. "Apologize."

Jay's jaw clenched, his hands tightening around your thighs as he stared at the two of you. He didn't know what kind of game this was, but fuck—he was getting tired of playing from the sidelines.

"Is your pride really that high?" Jake mused, fingers pinching at your nipple, making you whimper. He kissed the side of your temple, his tone light, teasing. "She said apologize."

Jay hesitated. His pride had always been his downfall, the thing that kept him from saying what needed to be said. But right now, with you trembling before him, with Jake so effortlessly pulling you apart—he knew he had no choice.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, grip tightening on your thighs.

Your breath hitched, the roughness in his voice sending a spark of excitement. Remembering Jake's plan, you frowned, your hands moving on their own, swatting at his hands.

"Not like that," you mumbled, half-lidded eyes peering down at him.

Jake hummed, his lips curling into a smirk as he ran soothing circles on your thigh. "Is that how you apologize?" He tsked, feigning disappointment. "Be sincere, Jay."

Your body leaned further into Jake, nuzzling against his neck. The sight made Jay's eye twitch. His patience was running thin.

"I'm sorry," he tried again, the words heavier this time.

Jake exhaled through his nose, fingers slipping between your folds once more. "She can't hear you," he teased, his tone singsong. His fingers pushed deeper, curling inside you.

Jay gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling inside him. "I said I'm sorry," he repeated, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Jake nipped at your ear, dragging his fingers along your walls at an unbearable pace. Your head lolled to the side, eyes locking onto Jay, pupils blown wide.

"Again," Jake commanded.

Jay exhaled sharply, his nails pressing into your skin. "I'm so sorr—"

Before he could finish, Jake suddenly withdrew his fingers and your hands shot out, gripping Jay's hair, pulling him closer.

Jay barely had time to react before his face was buried between your legs, his nose bumping against your clit.

You gasped, a loud, uncontrollable moan ripping from your throat. Jay stiffened, his hands instinctively gripping your thighs tighter.

"Fuck!" you cried out when you felt Jay's tongue slip inside you, the wet heat sending your mind into a spiral.

Instinctively, your grip on his hair tightened, but his hands kept you in place, stopping you from moving too much.

Jake clicked his tongue at the sight, smirking as he reached down and swatted at Jay's hands, forcing them to let go. He laced his fingers with Jay's instead, squeezing them tight

"Planning to give her more bruises? Is that how you apologize?" Jake teased, watching Jay's brows furrow in frustration.

The moment Jay's hold on you loosened, your body instantly relaxed, and you took advantage of it—hips rolling forward, grinding against his face. Jay let out a muffled grunt, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

Your mouth fell open, breath coming in shaky gasps. "Are you even sincere, Jongie?" You exhaled, your grip easing slightly on his hair. "Maybe me and Jakey should just go to the bedroom and leave you out here all alone..."

Jay's response was immediate, his head shook fervently, tongue angling to flick against your clit before dragging down your folds.

Jake hummed in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around Jay's as he grinded his half-hard cock against your back. "Say sorry to her again," he commanded.

Jay shot him a glare, frustration evident in the sharpness of his gaze. How the fuck was he supposed to apologize when you kept grinding your cunt against his face, making it harder to focus? The constant brush of his nose against your clit, the way your slick coated his lips, the way your hips moved to chase your own pleasure.

He barely had room to breathe, but instead of pulling away, he let his tongue flatten, licking a long, slow stripe up your slit, tasting the mix of you and his boyfriend's fluid.

Jake let out a small chuckle at Jay's obvious struggle. "Come on, baby," he crooned, pressing a teasing kiss against the shell of your ear. "Make him say it properly."

You smile, just barely, though your voice trembled as you spoke. "Apologize, Park Jongseong."

Jay groaned, his entire face tensing before he finally gave in.

"I'm sorry," he gritted out against your cunt, the sound of his muffled desperate voice, combined with the way his mouth moved against you, made your legs tremble.

A choked moan escaped you as your fingers tangled deeper into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

"I'm close again," you whined, breath hitching as another wave of pleasure built inside you.

Jake hummed, thoughtful, his grip tightening around Jay's hand as he whispered, "Think you can take another one, baby?"

Through the haze of your arousal, you nodded quickly, too desperate to think of anything else.

Jay rolled his eyes at your eagerness before pressing his tongue deeper into your heat, the slick sound of his mouth working against you making your entire body shudder. His tongue curled inside you, swirling, tasting, fucking into you like he was starved.

A strangled whimper tore from your lips, your back arching as your senses blurred into overwhelming pleasure. You could barely think, barely breathe. The sheer intensity of it had your mind spinning, and you almost swore you saw the gates of heaven open for you.

Muttering incoherent words, your hands scrambled for something to hold onto—Jake's arm, Jay's hair, the couch beneath you.

"Yes! Right there!" you cried out.

Jay's eyes flicked up, peering through his lashes, and his cock twitched painfully at the sight before him.

You and Jake were kissing. Sloppy, heated, tongues sliding against each other. Jake swallowed your moans eagerly, rolling his hips into your back, panting softly into your mouth.

Your nipples were painfully hard, your chest rising and falling in time with the pleasure coursing through you. Beads of sweat trickled down your skin, glistening under the dim light, sliding from your collarbone down to your navel, following every curve of your trembling body.

Jay groaned at the sight, a deep, guttural sound vibrating through his throat.

Both of you were too fucking hot.

The way you came undone against his mouth, the way Jake lost himself in the feeling of you. It was too much. His cock throbbed painfully against the fabric of his pants, aching for relief, for attention, for you.

Jake pulled away from the kiss just enough to smirk, his lips swollen and wet. "You enjoying the show?" he teased.

Jay didn't answer. Instead, he doubled down, tongue working furiously against your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. If Jake thought he had the upper hand, Jay was more than willing to prove him wrong.

And judging by the way your body tensed, by the way your moans became louder, higher—he was succeeding.

Jay was lapping up everything you gave him, his mouth completely fixated on making you fall apart over and over again. The wet sounds of his tongue working against you mixed with your breathless whimpers, making the room feel unbearably hot.

"Fuck—Jay!" you sobbed, hands fisting into his hair, tugging at the strands in desperation. Your thighs twitched, trembling with the threat of overstimulation, but Jay didn't slow down. If anything, he only got rougher, hungrier.

Jake chuckled lowly, his lips ghosting over your temple before moving down to your jaw, then your neck, pressing light teasing kisses there. "Look at you... So fucking wrecked," he murmured.

Jake let go of Jay's hand, refocusing his attention on you, his fingers toying with your nipple—tweaking, rolling it in time with Jay's movements.

"You're close again, aren't you?" Jake whispered, lips curving against your skin.

You nodded weakly, unable to form words, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure built up inside you. It was almost too much—almost unbearable. They were both completely focused on you, every touch, every movement designed to push you further over the edge.

Jay's hands went to gripped your thighs, keeping you locked in place as he worked his tongue against you with ruthless precision.

"J-Jay—" you gasped, thighs threatening to clamp around his head, but his grip was firm, keeping them spread wide.

Jake exhaled sharply, his hips pressing tighter against your back, grinding into you as he watched. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, "let go. Make a mess all over his face."

Jay growled against you, and that was it.

Your orgasm slammed into you again, tearing through your body violently, leaving you shaking, gasping, completely wrecked. Your walls clenched around nothing.

Jay groaned, drinking in everything, his tongue flicking against you a few more times, pushing you through every last tremor. He didn't let up until you physically tried to push him away, whimpering from the overstimulation.

"Fuck," Jake muttered, watching the way your body slumped against him, your chest heaving, your skin flushed with heat. He pressed another lingering kiss against your temple, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

Jay finally pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips glistening. His dark eyes flickered up to meet yours—hooded.

Jake's fingers tilted your chin up, guiding your gaze to him as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly.

Then, his touch disappeared. He turned, grabbing Jay by the nape, pulling him in. You exhaled shakily, watching as their lips crashed together.

Your stomach tightened at the sight, the heat between them palpable. Jake didn't waste any time, licking along Jay's lips before dipping lower, dragging his tongue down his chin, licking up every last trace of you that lingered there. Jay let out a low groan, gripping Jake's wrist tightly as their mouths moved together

"Bedroom," Jake muttered against Jay's lips, breaking apart.

Jake lift you effortlessly into his arms. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, your legs tightening around his waist.

Over Jake's shoulder, you caught Jay's eyes still watching you like he was trying to figure out what to do with you.

Jake carefully lowered you onto the bed, his lips trailing down your jaw, peppering soft kisses along your throat, his hands firm as they spread your legs apart. But your attention drifted beyond him, straight to Jay, who was already pulling off his clothes impatiently, eyes never leaving the two of you.

The moment he was fully bare, Jake smirked, reaching for him again, pulling him down for another kiss.

You laid back against the pillows, legs still spread, your fingers instinctively trailing down your stomach, teasing along your sensitive folds, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clit as you watched them.

"Come on, lay down," Jake murmured against Jay's lips before pulling away, pushing Jay onto the mattress.

The second Jay's back hit the bed, you and Jake exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between you.

Jay let out a sharp exhale as you swung your leg over him, straddling his thighs, your fingers trailing down the length of his cock. He twitched beneath your touch, eyes locked onto you.

You slowly rolled your hips forward, grinding against him, teasing the thick length of him against your folds, already dripping for him.

Jay groaned, hands instinctively moving to grip your waist—but before he could, Jake grabbed his wrists, pressing them down into the mattress.

"Hands off," Jake said, "you were too rough on her last time."

Jay gritted his teeth, glaring up at him. "No, I'm tired of playing whatever fucking game you two are—"

Jake cut him off by shoving his cock past his lips, silencing him instantly.

Jay's eyes widened, hands flying to Jake's hips, but Jake didn't budge, instead pushing himself deeper into Jay's mouth, letting out a breathy moan at the feeling of Jay's throat constricting around him.

"Fuck, yeah—" Jake groaned, his fingers tightening in Jay's hair.

Jay let out a muffled grunt, struggling against him, but you didn't give him a chance to resist further.

You sank down on him in one slow, deliberate motion.

A strangled noise tore from Jay's throat—half a groan, half a muffled curse—completely swallowed by Jake's cock still buried in his mouth.

Your head tipped back, your mouth falling open as the thick stretch of him filled you.

"Fuck!" you whimpered, hands on his abdomen for support. "Too big—"

Jay groaned beneath you, his hips twitching with the urge to thrust up, to take control—but Jake wasn't letting him. His hands remained firm on Jay's wrists, pinning them against his waist, making sure he stayed right where he was.

"You're so sexy, fuck," Jake murmured as he watched you struggle to take all of Jay. "So fucking full."

Your head tipped back, your lips parted, a whimper escaping you as you rocked your hips experimentally. Jay's cock twitched inside you, the thick stretch still bordering on painful—but the way he filled you, the way your walls clenched instinctively around him, made the burn feel so, so good.

Beneath you, Jay let out a frustrated growl, the vibrations from his throat sending jolts of pleasure straight through Jake's cock still buried between his lips. His nails dug deeper into Jake's hips, leaving crescent-shaped marks against his skin.

Jake hissed at the sensation, eyes darkening as he glanced down at him. "Getting impatient, baby?"

Jay glared up at him, unable to answer, his mouth still full. But the look he shot Jake was nothing short of a warning—one that promised payback the moment he got his hands free.

Jake smirked. "Too bad."

With that, he rolled his hips forward, pressing himself deeper into Jay's throat, making him gag slightly. At the same time, you shifted, rolling your hips again.

Jay's body tensed, his muffled groan vibrating around Jake's cock, making Jake shudder. "Fuck, that's it, baby," Jake rasped, "take it like a good boy."

You whimpered at the filthy sight in front of you—the way Jay's mouth stretched around Jake, the way his throat bobbed, the way his cock twitched inside you every time he moaned. It was too much.

Slowly, you move your hands on Jay's chest for balance, bracing yourself before you lifted your hips, only to slam them back down again.

Jay's reaction was instant. His whole body jerked, a choked noise escaping him.

You gasped at the feeling, the stretch, the way he filled you so completely.

Jake chuckled breathlessly. "Fuck, baby," he murmured, watching the way Jay's body tensed.

"He's losing his mind already."

You sighs, rolling your hips again, this time slower, dragging out the sensation.

"I don't think he's really sorry," you murmured, pouting down at him, fingers trailing over his chest.

Jake let out a low chuckle, his own hips rolling forward, forcing another muffled groan from Jay's throat. "You hear that, babe?" he mused. "You're being mean again."

Jay's eyes snapped up to you and when he tried to move, Jake tightened his grip on his wrists, keeping him in place.

"Be a good boy," Jake taunted, a wicked grin on his face. "Then maybe—just maybe—we'll let you fuck her the way you want to."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled around Jake's cock, the words muffled but there.

You shift your hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding down on him just to watch him squirm.

Jay let out a muffled curse, his whole body trembling beneath you. His tongue flicked desperately against Jake's cock, his throat tightening around him as he tried again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Jake cursed under his breath, looking down at Jay. His boyfriend's eyes were glossy, a tear slipping from the corner of one as he struggled to hold himself back.

"Fuck," Jake whispered, pulling away, his hand coming down to swipe the tear away with his thumb.

Jay exhaled sharply, his lips slick and swollen, his eyes burning into Jake's. "Please," he rasped, voice hoarse. His gaze flickered to you, "let me touch her already."

Jake was loving every second of this, watching Jay unravel, his pride stripped away. It reminded him of the first time they ever did this, when Jay had pretended he didn't want it, when he had fought it tooth and nail—until he couldn't anymore.

Until he was begging for it, just like this.

And God, Jake had missed it. Seeing Jay like this. Watching him break down, surrender to his own desires.

Jake smirked, letting go of his wrists. "Be gentle with her," he murmured, though the words carried no real weight. He knew Jay well enough to know he was barely capable of gentleness right now.

The moment his hands were free, Jay's fingers shot to your waist, gripping you tight. His breath shuddered as he finally felt you, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips, the way your walls clenched down around him so perfectly.

"Fuck," he hissed, his head tipping back for just a second before his gaze snapped back to you. He gave your waist a slow, experimental roll, guiding you against him.

Jay groaned, his hands sliding from your waist down to your thighs, squeezing, spreading them wider. Then, with agonizing slowness, he moved upward again—over the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up to your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers just enough to make you gasp.

Anticipation crawling down your spine as his touch moved higher, his fingers brushing against your throat. Your eyes widened, breath stammering at what he was about to do—

But then he sat up, his grip shifting, his lips ghosting over your collarbone before trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

The unexpected gentleness made your chest tighten. This wasn't the rough, punishing Jay you thought he would be.

"That's what she likes," Jake muttered. He had positioned himself beside you, stroking himself lazily as he watched the way your body arched against Jay's, completely entranced by the sight.

Jay's hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he rolled his hips upward, sinking deeper into your heat. A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your body instinctively adjusting, your back curving as your hands braced against his knees.

Jay groaned at the way you clenched around him, his fingers tightening against your waist, but he let you move at your own pace, letting you take what you needed.

"Ahhh, fuck!" you moaned, tilting your head back, surrendering to the feeling.

Jake sucked in a sharp breath beside you, his hand moving faster, grip tightening as he struggled to keep control. He had been holding back, savoring the view—watching the way Jay stretched you open.

But the moment he saw it. The outline of Jay's cock pressing against your stomach, the proof of just how deep he was inside you.

Jake's breath hitched, his restraint snapping instantly. His body tensed, muscles locking as a deep, guttural moan ripped from his throat. His release hit hard, ropes of hot cum streaking across your chest, trailing up to your throat. A few stray drops landed on your lips, warm and sticky.

"Goddamn it," Jake groaned, hating the sudden force of his release.

Jay exhaled sharply as he fought the urge to flip you over and take control. Instead, he leaned in, his tongue darting out to lap up the mess Jake had made on your skin. Wet strokes traced from your chest up to your chin.

A moan slipped past your lips as the sensation made your hips grind down harder, each movement pressing Jay deeper inside you, the head of his cock brushing dangerously close to your cervix.

Your fingers threaded through his hair as he kissed you, swallowing the gasp that escaped when his tongue slipped past your parted lips. He groaned into your mouth, his grip tightening on your waist.

Jay was grateful you weren't much of a talker because if you so much as whispered something filthy in his ear, he'd lose it right then and there. But the way you gasped? The breathy little whimpers spilling past your lips? Fuck, that wasn't helping either.

A low whine came from behind you, and then Jake pressed himself against your back, refusing to be left out. His warm breath fanned against your ear as he reached around, one hand claiming your breast, kneading. The other hand trailed lower, brushing over your clit.

"W-wait—too much," you panted, pulling back slightly, your hands weakly pressing against their chests. Jay barely let you go, his lips chasing yours as if he couldn't stand the distance.

Jake hushed you, pressing a lingering kiss against the side of your face. "Just one more, baby," he pleaded. His forehead rested against yours, his moans intertwining with yours as he watched Jay's expression shift—his brows knitting, jaw clenched, eyes fluttering shut as he snapped his hips up, hitting deeper, harder.

Your head tipped back with a cry, thighs trembling as the pleasure became a bit much.

"Just one more," Jake whispered again, his fingers working your clit in slow, teasing circles. "I know you can take it." 

"Fuck, I can't! I can't!" You shook your head wildly, tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. It was too much, too intense. You don't really know if you can handle another one again.

But your helpless cries only seemed to spur them on.

Jake groaned,  his hand tightening around your breast. "You're crying again," he murmured, more to himself. "So fucking pretty."

Jay's breath hitched beneath you, his grip bruising against your waist. "Jake, keep doing that—I'm gonna cum," he gritted out.

You could barely move anymore. Your body was trembling violently, you continue to shake your head, wanting to get up and take a break but Jake didn't let up, his fingers relentless, rubbing tight circles against your swollen clit. 

"You're taking it so well, baby," he praised. "Come on—let go again for us."

Your vision blurred, your breath caught in your throat as a scream tore from your lips. Your body convulsed, an electric shock of ecstasy tearing through every nerve ending. Your walls clenched around Jay, milking him, you didn't know orgasm could be this good. and the feeling make him lose his mind.

"Shit—fuck!" Jay's hips stuttered, his body tensing beneath you as he continue to thrust up, spilling deep inside you with a rough groan.

His fingers dug into your flesh, holding you flush against him, making sure you took every last drop.

The overstimulation sent you spiraling again, a second orgasm ripping through you, a broken sob leaving your lips as you soaked his stomach.

Jake moaned, his own hand stroking himself, eyes locked on the way your body twitched helplessly.

Jay let out a heavy breath, his head dropping back against the pillows, chest heaving. His fingers traced the curve of your spine absentmindedly. You collapsed against him, legs still shaking, your mind floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion.

Jake's hands wrapped around your waist, dragging you away from Jay's warmth. You whimpered, your body too spent to resist. 

"Please," Jake murmured against your skin, lips pressing gentle kisses down your back, "one more, okay? It'll be fast, I promise."

A shaky sob left your lips. Your body was marked, every inch of your skin imprinted with their touch—bruised fingers on your hips, deep red marks across your thighs. 

You were sore, completely and utterly spent. You whisper a small "okay", praying to be done already.

Jake groaned in approval, tilting your hips up. His fingers spread over the swell of your ass, cursing under his breath as he watched Jay's cum drip from your hole.

"Holy shit," he exhaled, running his thumb through the mess before pressing it inside, watching it disappear into your heat. Your entire body twitched, another weak whine slipping past your lips.

Jay let out a breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. He didn't think it was possible for him to be hard again so soon, but watching you collapse under Jake's touch—watching his own release spill from you, slicking up Jake's length as he slowly pressed inside—had his cock twitching to life.

"Oh my God," Jake groaned, sinking in inch by inch. The glide was effortless, Jay's cum making it easier for him to push into your overstimulated body. You were shaking beneath him, your fingers curling desperately into the bedsheets.

Jay shifted beside you, he propped himself up, watching as Jake started to move. His hand trailed down his own stomach, fingers wrapping around himself, already hard again.

Jake's rhythm grew faster, his nails digging into your waist as he slammed himself deeper, watching more of Jay's release spill down into your thigh with every thrust, no space available inside. 

"F-fuck, so hot." he stuttered, his voice breaking into a whine. His jaw clenched as he watched the obscene way his cock disappeared inside you.

Jay grip your chin, tilting your head towards him. Your tongue lolled slightly, your breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Jay cursed under his breath at the sight, his strokes growing rougher on himself.

Jake let out a strangled moan. His pace turned erratic, hips snapping against yours desperately as he buried himself deep one last time, spilling inside you with a low, drawn-out groan.

"I can't! S-Stop!" You broke. Another pleasure hitting you in waves so intense it stole the breath from your lungs. Your back arched as your walls clenched down on Jake, milking every last drop from him. 

Your eyes rolled back, lips parting in a silent cry.

Jay let out a sharp breath, the image of you alone pushing him over the edge. His release spilling hot and messy across your face, dripping down your chin, pooling at the corners of your mouth.

Jake slumped forward against you, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, still catching his breath. Jay breathe, hand lazily brushing against your cheek, smearing the mess across your skin.

"Perfect," Jay muttered.

Jake hummed in agreement, shifting slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. "You did so good, hmm?" His voice was soft, full of warmth.

Your limbs were too heavy, your body sinking into the mattress. A weak whimper left your lips as you nuzzled deeper into the sheets, seeking warmth, comfort.

And just like the last time—you passed out.

Jake was the first to notice, lifting his head slightly to glance down at you. His lips curled into a tired smile before he carefully shifted, pulling out of you as gently as he could. You whimpered in protest at the loss, but Jay's hands were already smoothing over your skin, grounding you.

"She's out," Jake murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face.

Jay huffed, stretching his arms before moving. "Come on, let's get her cleaned up."

Between the two of them, they carried you to the bathroom, handling your limp body with surprising gentleness. The warm water cascaded down your skin, Jake chuckled when your head lolled against Jay's shoulder, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"She sleeps like a baby," Jake mused, reaching for a washcloth.

Jay, who was carefully holding you upright, rolled his eyes. "No shit. You wore her out."

Jake only laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before rinsing you off.

Once you were clean and dry, Jay carried you back to bed while Jake changed the sheets, replacing them with fresh ones. He pulled the blanket over your bare body, making sure you were warm before slipping in beside you.

This time, you didn't wake up alone. 

Your eyes fluttered open. The first thing you noticed was warmth. A solid weight pressed against you from both sides.

Jake's arm was draped over your shoulder, pulling you flush against his chest. His face was nestled against your hair, his breath slow and deep as he snored softly.

Another hand rested against your waist, fingers barely curled against your skin. Blinking sluggishly, you tilted your head slightly, your heart stammering at the sight behind you. 

Jay was there—his body pressed firmly against your back, his face relaxed in a way you'd never seen before. No furrowed brows, no tight-lipped frown. Just stillness. The quiet rise and fall of his chest against you.

His grip on your waist was loose, as if he had reached for you in his sleep without thinking.

A small, unexpected smile tugged at your lips. You let your eyes flutter shut again, exhaling softly. This time, as sleep pulled you under, you let yourself sink into their warmth.

Sunoo eyed you suspiciously as he pulled out a chair beside you, dropping two plastic bottles onto the table with a dull thud.

"Good mood?" he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You stretched your arms, a slow smile spreading across your lips. "Yeah, got the best sleep of my life."

Jay, who had just settled his laptop and books on the table, barely spared you a glance.

Sunoo hummed. "You said we were gonna hit the café today. What about later?"

Before you could answer, Jay cut in without looking up. "We're starting chapter four."

Sunoo blinked at him in disbelief. "What the fuck? Give me some slack! We'll do our part, just let us relax for once."

You laughed at his whining, your gaze flickering to Jay for a brief moment before reaching for one of the bottles. You twisted the cap, but it barely budged.

"God, do not buy this brand again," you groaned, straining against the stubborn lid. "It's impossible to open."

Sunoo grunted in agreement, grabbing his own bottle to try, only to meet the same struggle. "Shit, seriously. What is this? Childproof or some shit?"

Before either of you could complain further, Jay reached out, taking the bottle from your hands without a word. Effortlessly, he twisted the cap open and set it back down in front of you.

Your fingers twitched slightly, the unexpected gesture catching you off guard. Sunoo, mid-sulk, blinked at Jay in mild shock.

Jay, noticing the stare, let out a quiet sigh before grabbing Sunoo's bottle too. He twisted it open just as easily and placed it in front of him. 

"You’re welcome," Jay muttered, already flipping open his laptop. Sunoo stared at the bottle, then at you, then back at Jay like he had just witnessed a supernatural event.

"Jake will be here in an hour," Jay continued, completely unbothered. "We can go to the café you wanted after we start working on the results and findings."

Sunoo’s mouth dropped open slightly, his brain short-circuiting. But instead of responding, he reached under the table and pinched your arm—hard.

You flinched, glaring at him. "Ow! What the hell?" you hissed.

But Sunoo was too busy silently squealing, his eyes wide with barely contained excitement as he watched Jay sit down, fully immersed in your research.

"Wow! You’re in a good mood too!" Sunoo blurted out, his voice slightly high-pitched with suppressed glee.

Jay didn’t even look up. "No, I just want to get this over with."

Sunoo shot you a pointed look, wiggling his brows. but you ignored him, focusing on your screen.

The three of you fell into a comfortable rhythm, typing away, until the familiar sound of footsteps approached. Before you could react, Jake appeared behind you, nuzzling his cheek against yours with a content hum.

"Missed me?" he teased, before pulling back to press a quick kiss on Jay’s temple, his arms sneaking around his boyfriend’s waist.

Sunoo wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, can you two not?"

Jake only grinned, unbothered, before turning his attention back to you. "So, café time?"

You perked up, excitement buzzing through you. "Yes! I’ve been waiting all day to try that matcha-strawberry drink."

Sunoo clapped his hands together. "Finally, a reward for my suffering!"

Without hesitation, you pushed back your chair and stood up, eager to leave. Jake and Sunoo flanked you immediately, chatting animatedly about the menu, already making plans to order half the pastries just to "test them out properly."

As the three of you made your way down the hallway, you couldn’t help but peek over your shoulder.

Jay was trailing behind as usual, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, his pace slower.

Without thinking, you pulled away from Sunoo and Jake, slowing your steps until you were beside him. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around his, tugging him forward. 

"Come on, walk faster. We're starving for sweets already," you whispered, your voice light and teasing.

Jay stiffened for a second, his eyes flicking down to where you held onto him. But then, his shoulders relaxed, and to your surprise, the corner of his lips quirked up in the faintest half-smile.

Jake, watching the scene unfold, let out a small, pleased hum. His lips curled in amusement before he smoothly moved to Jay’s other side, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Sunoo, who had been watching with wide eyes, suddenly grinned. "Well, well, well," he muttered under his breath, clearly enjoying whatever was happening. Then, without hesitation, he threw himself onto your other side, dramatically resting his head against your shoulder.

The four of you continued walking, your steps now in sync, voices mixing together in overlapping conversation.

As you walked, still nestled against Jay’s side, you squinted at Jake, who was already watching you with mischief in his eyes.

Jake stuck his tongue out playfully, then made a ridiculous face, his brows wiggling as he tried to get a reaction out of you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the small smile creeping onto your lips.

Jay, stuck in the middle, let out a grunt, clearly unimpressed. "Do you two ever stop?" he muttered. 

Jake only grinned wider. "Nope."

Jay huffed, but his attention flickered to you again. He watched the way your eyes softened whenever you looked at Jake, the way your laughter was bright, effortless.

He had convinced himself that his irritation, his short fuse around you, was justified. That pushing you away, acting indifferent, was the only way to keep things from spiraling out of control. But now, walking beside you, his arm still loosely wrapped around your frame, he felt something shift.

Jay didn’t feel that usual, biting irritation clawing at his chest and more importantly—he wasn’t so sour about it.

[feyascorner]

At first, he blinks when you wrap your arms around him.

For as much as he can remember, sex has been a tool to him. A necessity to survive under Cazador's influence, leaving him in a state that loathes the touch of others. Most encounters remained the same--he'd disassociate, and by the time he'd come to, he'd want to leave immediately, wishing to scrub his skin raw. But no matter how much he'd cleaned his own body, it never seemed enough.

At least, until you.

He feels your bare form press against his back and tenses. It's different from before---not out of disgust, but out of surprise. He'd thought you'd leave. He'd given you his services and had nothing left to offer you, yet here you were, your cheeks smushed against the crook of his neck. He has no idea what you're doing, but you simply hold him tighter.

"What is this?" he finally says.

You don't budge. "What's what?"

His hands brush against your own. "This."

"My hand?" you snort, but he adjusts his body so he's now facing you, your eyes meeting with such seriousness that the smile vanishes from your face. "Are you okay? Did you not like it?"

He nearly balks at your words. Not like it? It's the first time he hasn't lost himself in the cage of his own mind during the act in---well, forever. He doesn't even want to scrub until his skin peels because he wants your touch to linger as long as possible. "I did, I just--we had sex, my dear."

The slightest pink tinges on your cheeks, and he wants to move his hands to cup them. "We did."

"...People usually leave by now."

Your face falls. "You want me to leave?"

"No, of course not, but it's just what usually..." he trails off, and his brows furrow. You suddenly seem to understand his confusion as your eyes soften in that irritatingly beautiful way of yours. But they almost seem sad...for him.

"I can stay," you say, your fingers tracing the shapes of his face. It feels nice if the way he nearly shudders means anything. He wants more.

"If you insist on adoring me, then," he replies, but his voice isn't as performative as it usually is. "Who am I to stop you?"

You smile wider, and he's sure his poor heart is doomed.

The first few times after this, he's still hesitant, unsure if you're really going to stay. But after a while, he's the one to wrap his arms around you, bringing you impossibly close as he breathes in the scent of your soap. You let him hold you until morning, and even then, he doesn't want to let go.

"Thank you," he mumbles one day. "Truly."

You only squeeze his hand, and it's enough for a thousand unspoken words.

[mahowaga]

you aren't sure how long you've been curled on the bathroom floor.

time has begun to blur into nothing more than sensations—sharp cramps that pulse through your middle like waves, sweat sticking to your temples, the raw sting at the back of your throat, and the cold of the tile seeping into your skin like it belongs there. you try to take shallow breaths between dry heaves, but everything feels like too much and too little all at once.

it's awful. you can't remember the last time you felt this bad.

but through the haze, there's a hand on your back—steady, warm, unshaking. and a voice, low and familiar and comforting, gentle coaxing you back to yourself.

"i've got you," suguru murmurs, kneeling beside you without hesitation. "just breathe, sweetheart. don't force it."

he's been here the entire time.

you didn't even have to call for him. one look at you stumbling out of bed with your hand over your stomach, your face pale and mouth drawn tight, and he was following—already half-awake, already focused, already yours.

and now he's holding your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soft, slow circles between your shoulder blades, like you might come apart if he doesn't keep you grounded.

when another wave rises in your throat, you don't even have the strength to feel embarrassed anymore—you just lean forward and let it happen. suguru shifts with you, gently, lovingly, careful not to let you tip too far, one arm bracing your weight as you empty your stomach for what feels like the hundredth time.

you're shaking by the time it passes. weak and miserable and barely able to sit up straight without toppling over.

"god," you rasp, voice barely audible, "i'm disgusting."

"not to me." his response is immediate, quiet but firm.

you glance at him—just for a moment—and you see it. that unwavering expression he always wears when he's made a decision. that steady, heavy gaze that says i am not leaving.

you try to look away, but he reaches up, brushing your sweat-damp hair behind your ear with a tenderness that makes your throat tighten more than the nausea ever could.

"you're sick," he says quietly, like it's the simplest truth in the world. "and i love you. that doesn't change just because you're human."

"but you hate gross things," you whisper, letting your head droop against his shoulder anyway.

he huffs, a short, amused breath. "i hate dumb things. like people who don't clean up after themselves or pretend to be stronger than they are." he adjusts slightly, tucking you against him more fully. "i don't hate taking care of someone i love."

the word hits you harder than anything else tonight.

love.

he doesn't throw it out lightly, not suguru. every tme he says it, it feels like a promise.

you feel the tremble in your muscles start to ease—not because you're better, but because you're not alone in it. because his arm is still around you, solid and warm, and he's not pulling away even though you know you look terrible and smell worse.

"i need to clean this up," you mumble, eyelids fluttering.

"you don't," he replies. "i will."

"but—"

"no buts," he says sternly. "sit here. drink this."

he produces a glass of water from somewhere, helps you sip it with infinite patience. he wipes the edge of your mouth when you cough. he sets the glass down with care, like it's precious, and you want to cry because you are the one he's treating this way.

later—after he's helped you brush your teeth, after he's cleaned the floor without a single complaint, after he's settled you in bed with a fresh shirt and a cool washcloth on your forehead—he lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, fingers brushing lightly over your wrist.

"you still feel awful?" he asks softly.

"mhm," you croak.

"okay." he leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. "then i'll stay right here until you don't."

you close your eyes, your body weak and aching and worn, but with suguru curled beside you—his presence like a blanket heavier than fear and warmer than shame—you start to breathe again. real, slow breaths.

the pain is still there. the nausea, the weakness. but so is he.

and that makes it bearable. makes it safe.

because even when you're at your worst, geto suguru looks at you like you're still the softest thing he's ever touched.

[prosypepper]

hi mootie, here’s a good morning forehead smooch 💋

i’m looking for a f!plus size x toji fic 🥀 my obsession with his grimy ass has came back ten fold.

maybe something along the lines of being his ‘bestie’ (let’s be so fr this man has NO friends.) and he invites u to the beach so he doesn’t have to go with just shiu or sum like that…

sees u in a revealing swimsuit n goes bonkers. OR MAYBE kinda like a comfort bc reader doesn’t feel good in the suit…

even if u choose not to write this it still felt great to get out of my system, ily pls don’t go bald mwah

BABE MY LOVE I WAS SO HAPPY TO SEE U BACK ON THE DASH!!! I MISSED YOUUUUUUU!!!!! also i have some thoughts………ur so smart.

a/n: smut, comfort of insecurities, plus size fem reader, this is lowkey SO BAD and im so sorry but i wanted to do this for u 🫶🫶🫶 18+ mdni!

“where have you been hiding that?”

toji whistles when you walk out of the bathroom you’d been forced to share for the weekend, sleazy grin on his face from where he’s sitting on the bed.

“you’ve seen me naked like four times,” you retort, climbing onto the bed beside him to rummage through your bag of clothes, “also i’m changing. i look disgusting.”

toji’s taken aback by your statement, utterly dumbfounded at a pretty thing like you saying such harsh things about herself. he’d never denied how attractive he thought you were, always flirting and riling you up when he had the chance. hell, you guys had even fucked before, albeit on all sorts of drugs, but now?

toji thought you looked better sober. you’re the first girl he’d ever thought that about, too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“disgusting?” he repeats after you, word tweaking into a question.

“yes, disgusting. gross, ugly, nasty, whatever. i hate this stupid bikini but i didn’t have the cash to buy a new one,” you complain, still angrily shoving through your bag and getting angrier when you didn’t find anything to cover up with.

“babydoll,” toji coos, smoothing a hand over your back, “what makes you say that?” toji’s voice is dropped lower, concerned, almost. it was so unlike you to say such a thing. toji didn’t care for many people, but you’d been there for him in the most trying of times, there was no way he’d let you think that about yourself.

especially when he was about to lose it at just the sight of you.

“i just..” you sigh, slumping your shoulders, “i don’t know. i just feel so gross now, like nothing looks good on me and i just feel so ugly. like i’m surprised you’re not embarrassed to be seen with me—.”

“woah, slow down,” he interrupts, taking a breath to collect his thoughts, keeping the soothing hand on your back. “you’re.. damn gorgeous, y’know that. i tell you all the time.”

“yeah but that’s different, we’re friends, plus we only had sex when you were drunk or whatever so obviously you have to be in an altered state to wanna—,”

“stop.”

you’re shut up immediately, looking at toji confused, because why did he care so much? the both of you hold eye contact before toji’s eyes flicker down, causing you to do the same—down his chest and torso, right to the tent in his swim trunks.

“toji!” you laugh, shoving his chest—and toji just grins. cocky.

“that’s all you, babe.”

“you’re so gross.”

“show me how gross you think i am.”

“toji!”

“yeah, baby, scream my name just like that.”

there’s barely room for you to get any words out with the way toji’s stretching you out on the counter of the bathroom. you’re teetering on the edge of the marble, the only thing holding you up are toji’s arms and the desperate grip you have around his neck.

fifteen minutes ago you were complaining about your looks.. and now, he won’t even give you the chance to complain. your bikini bottoms are pulled to the side and the top is resting below your tits, showing all of you off to him.

you’re beautiful like this.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” toji mumbles, looking down at your blissed expression—eyes glued shut, eyebrows knitted together, mouth dropping open and closing with miniscule whimpers. “hold on tight, doll.”

without much warning, toji picks you up with one motion, holding your legs around him with strong hands. a slew of words come out as you try to tell him he’s going to drop you—but you never hit the floor. he’s still for a moment as he slides himself allll the way in, practically stabbing your cervix, you’re sure.

“fucking—pleaseplease, wait,” you babble, not used to the stretch of toji’s cock inside of you, “too much—it’s, mmph—toji.”

“too much, gorgeous?” he chuckles, cute name slipping off his tongue naturally, laughing more when you nod quickly. yet he does anything but pause, bouncing you up and down on his length like you’re weightless.

“sorry, pretty. can’t help myself.”

[firelilyfox]

Deadly Eyes

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment / angst / curses / hateful words / comfort

If someone means harm to the girl he loves, Paul won't hesitate

Words: 1k

_______________________________

You stare at the men and women right in front of you. All of them were looking at you with the same emotions pictured in their faces. Disgust. Outrage. 

Today was the first day after Paul announced your relationship to his people. The Fremen welcomed you with open arms… well some of them at least. Your roots lies with none of the big houses. All you know about your family is, that they were travelers who never lived at the same place for more than a couple of years. You are one of the Lost Ones. But when Paul rescued you from being tortured by the brutal Harkonen a couple months ago, you never thought about traveling somewhere else again. Your people always praised that the soul is a free from wich never settles and never find the one and only home. Paul changed your way of thinking. With him you felt at home for the first time ever. 

„The Mahdi can’t be with someone who is lost“, one of the believers growled as you were passing by. All you wanted to do was taking a walk and exploring the hallways of the Sietch, one of the rocky formations what the Fremen call their home. And now you are standing in front of a hand full of believers who are talking bad about you. 

A old, wrinkly woman hisses. „You don’t belong here, Lost One.“ 

You look at her fully blue eyes. The same color your eyes have turned as an outcome to the effects of spice everywhere. „Please let me through. I don’t wish for trouble.“ 

Now a young man steps right in front of you. Too close to be comfortable with. You try to move and bring some distance between the two of you, but your back almost immediately hits the wall. Your chest tightens up. This feels like a cage. A cage of people who hate you. 

„But you are trouble, whore.“ He couldn’t have been more than five years older than you, but he was so intimidating that you wanted to flee before he would hurt you. You still are one of the Lost Ones. Their are no fighters. Your people staying alive because they run for dear life when problems appear. That’s why the Fremen always looked down on your kind. 

„All your people do, is stealing and living in the shadows. You are not worthy to be here. Your are not worthy to be with Muad’Dib“, he grabbed your neck with a tight grib. „But I’ll find some use for u, don’t you worry.“ 

The others looked away while he is dragging you to a shallow corner at the end of the hallway. Your screams got muffled by his greasy hand and silent tears filled your eyes. The back of your head hit the wall hard and your vision flickers for a moment. Fear crawling all over your body, followed by the tip of his knife. You’re trying to beg for him to stop, but all he does is giggling at your helplessness. 

„I will show you your worth and after that I will give your body to the desert. I will…“ 

A voice is shouting at the near distance. „Where is she?!“ The man fearlessly let’s go of you and hiding his knife. You fall down on your knees as Paul rushes around the corner. Gentle hands pulling you up and you begin to sob, hiding your face at his chest. 

„How dare you to touch her!“ Paul growls at the man who is now lowering his head in respect for his Duke. 

„I did not want to bring any disrespect to you, Mahdi. But this woman damages you reputation. She is not worthy to be …“ but Paul cuts him off. 

„She is equal to me. I am who I am today, because of her. How dare you to speak about her like that?“ His voice became dangerously silent and you could feel under your palms how tense his muscles were. As you look around you discover that people have stopped and watching the scene with wide eyes. 

You reach up to gently touch his cheek, so Paul would look at you. „I’m okay, Paul. Nothing happened. I’m unharmed.“ 

For a moment the coldness in his eyes vanished, but as he looked down at your neck and saw the bruises … he was ready to kill someone. Paul kisses your forehead and it feels like that he needed to do it just to calm himself down, before he would actually cut a throat. His grip around your waist thightens but not in a hurtful way. You never felt more protected as right here in is arms. 

Paul turns his head slowly. A deadly look on his face. The man kneeled down in fear of his punishment. „I will only say this once and for all. Who ever touches this woman and mean harm to her, will be sentenced to death. Without exceptions.“ He looks around, making eye contact with everyone who is watching. „Spread the word. I will personally kill everyone no matter if man or woman.“ 

The Fremen quickly leaving the place murmuring and chattering. The message was clear. If you break this rule, death by Muad’Dip will find you. 

„And for you“, Paul looked down at the man who tried to do unspeakable things to you. His voice full of dark rage. „If you ever come near her again or look at her even from afar, I’ll break your neck.“ He gave two other men a sign to carry him away. 

„I should have known that something like that might would happen“, Paul curses. „I’m so sorry. I should have never left you go alone.“ His eyes meet yours and the deep sorrow in them breaks your heart a little. 

„You couldn’t ever have guessed that. This isn’t your fault and it’s not your job to see something like that before it happens.“ 

Paul pulls you closer now that the two of you are alone. „But is is my job to protect you.“ 

„And you did.“ 

He leans his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath. His body is still tense but his touch is so gently. „I don’t want to imagine what could’ve happened if I weren’t be here on time … I couldn’t…“ his voice breaks. This is the side of him no one ever sees. The softness and the vulnerability. To everyone he is the fearless Muad’Dib. But to you he is Paul Atreides. The man who owns your heart. 

„Then don’t. You saved me. I am right here.“ To prove your point you get on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. Paul cups your face with his hands, holding you so close to him that nothing would have room in between. 

_____________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Comments, ideas & reposts are very welcome <3

[desperate-gay]

christmas request for leah williamson:

"Just because we’re stuck under mistletoe doesn’t mean I have to kiss you.”

“Scared you might enjoy it?"

A Christmas Tease

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

summary: your teammate has quite the reputation and she will do anything to catch your attention

a/n: just a quick blurb i thought id write due to a sleepless night

“There she is!” Katie shouts, arm extended with a beer in hand, announcing your late arrival at the party.

“Yes, here I am. My tires are horrible with the snow and everyone drives like there’s a whole blizzard outside.” You roll your eyes, removing your outdoor gear to throw on the coat rack and embrace the warmth of the house.

You greet everyone with a smile and catch up to all the conversations that have happened within the last 20 minutes you have missed. You’ve gotten extremely close with many of your teammates despite only playing for Arsenal for only a couple of months. Once your USWNT teammate, Emily Fox, was signed, you weren’t too long after.

You had already known a lot of your teammates from international games and previous clubs you had played for, so there weren't too many people to get used to.

Besides one very obnoxious player.

Leah Williamson.

She has a reputation for sleeping around and placing girls in her trophy case. The team jokes that she’s challenging herself to sleep with every girl in London, and, unfortunately, her new target is you.

“Were you too busy answering prayers, angel?” A thick british accent breaks you out of your trance, making you jump in surprise.

“More like digging myself up from hell.” You say, giving her a plastered grin before taking a sip of the champagne that rests in your hand.

“I’ll have you one day, you know.” Leah states confidently, earning herself a sharp glare from you in which she only returns with a cocky smirk.

Not even wanting to argue with the girl, you scoff and walk over to where Lia and Mariona sit and join them in conversation. You’d never admit this to the blonde, not wanting to make her ego swell bigger than it anyway is, you used to have the biggest crush on her before you transferred to Arsenal.

You always found the blonde extremely attractive, especially on the pitch, but when you finally met her and found out about her off-the-pitch affairs, your crush faded away.

“You still there, amiga?” Mariona asks softly, noticing your silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry, just a bit distracted.” You smile apologetically, twisting the glass in your hand for distraction.

“No need to apologize, but if I may, does this have anything to do with a certain english blonde defender?” Lia smirks teasingly as you roll your eyes and shake your head rapidly.

“Absolutely not. You know my feelings about that, Lia.” The swiss girl allows the conversation to disappear although she doesn’t believe you one bit.

—

“Next question, what is everyone’s favorite christmas song?” Kim asks the team who all are huddled around in the living space, you coincidentally smushed on a loveseat with Leah.

Many shouts are thrown across the room from voices trying to top each other, debating on what christening song is the ultimate song, including your voice.

Noticing the girl next to you zoning out and not participating, you bump your shoulder into hers, asking, “What about you? What’s your favorite christmas song?”

“Rockin’ around the christmas tree.” Leah nods in confidence.

“Why that one?” You immediately regret asking when that familiar cocky grin stretches along the older girl’s face.

“Because I know I can rock your world when you finally let me.” She whispers, leaning closer to you so no one else can hear, and quickly snapping back when you push her in disgust, making the girl chuckle and take a sip of her drink.

Many hours pass by with more questions, movies, karaoke, and so on before people start to trickle out to head back to their destined homes. It was only you and a few people left, cleaning up the snacks that were on display and garbage littered in small areas.

Leaning against the wall of the archway, someone clearing their throat grabs your attention next to you. You quickly see the blonde locks and huff in annoyance before turning back to look at what you were.

She taps your shoulder and points above the two of you, causing you to scoff when you notice the holiday plant hanging down by a string. Leah’s white teeth shimmer at you before puckering her lips and making exaggerated kissy noises.

“Just because we are under a mistletoe does not mean I have to kiss you.” You declare, watching the older girl with squinted eyes.

“Afraid you may enjoy it, darling?” Leah questions, pulling herself off the wall and moving slightly closer to you with a wide grin plastered on her face.

A weird shock runs through your body from hearing her husky tone, but you shake it off as the thought of a cold shiver. You swiftly look around to make sure no one is around before closing the gap between you and Leah, grabbing her arms and placing them on your hips while yours wraps around her neck.

The blonde’s smile fades and instead is replaced with a huge face of shock.

“I know I’ll enjoy it. I have been dreaming of you railing me into the mattress over and over again, having your way with me on every surface of every room, and making my legs shake violently with every orgasm you give me.” You whisper, lips brushing against the girl’s ear as her hands grip your hips together with every word.

“Yeah?” Leah’s voice shakes.

“Oh yeah, but this won’t ever happen except in your daydreams.”

With that, you down the rest of the drink in your hand and strut off to help Kim with the rest of the cleanup, leaving the defender in complete bewilderment and arousal.

Merry christmas indeed.