#i just don't know if the colors are right

[mssishipi]

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 4 — SHOW ME SPICY

Avoidance was your only way to move forward, but Jay and Jake weren’t about to let you slip away so easily. How could you pretend you didn’t want them when your body told a different story? If you wanted to play stubborn, fine. But brats don’t get to run—they get put in their place. And they were more than ready to show you exactly what spicy really meant.

content tags: everyone is gay or fruity!!! angst! reader is self sabotaging, she made jake cry, jay is angry (and stressed), let's play back to friends by sombr, psych majors who don't know how to communicate, reader assume sunghoon's sexuality, reader cuts her hair short, jay's pov, sunoo is just sunoo.

explicit content (smut): uhm threesome (switch jake, rough mean dom jay, sub reader), dubcon!!! public sex, unprotected sex, humiliation (?), dacryphilia, rough throat fucking, cunillingus, jake tried to be angry but went soft, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration, creampie, anal sex (mxm). MDNI! WC: 21.5K

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"I think red nails would look good on me, don't you think?" You flipped your hand over, inspecting your nails with a thoughtful look.

Sunoo barely glanced up from his phone before reaching out to grab your hand, tilting it side to side. "Hmm... Maroon, definitely. With silver designs," he decided with a nod.

"Almond shape?" you asked, watching his expression closely.

Sunoo furrowed his brows, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he considered. "Square could work too... gives that classic, clean look. But yeah, almond is a solid choice. It'll look good when you're, like, casually reaching for things."

"Okay, I should set an appointment with the nail tech Wonyoung keeps talking about," you mused, already pulling out your phone. As you both walked past a full-length mirror in the store, you stopped in your tracks, turning your head slightly to get a better look at yourself.

"Maybe I should cut my hair, no?" You ran your fingers through the strands, tilting your head as if trying to picture it. "Or maybe I should dye it? What color do you suggest?"

Sunoo looked up from his phone, finally giving you his full attention. His mouth was slightly open, eyes squinting as he observed you.

"I tried a new makeup style today," you continued, adjusting your reflection with your fingers. "I don't know if it suits me yet, but if I cut my hair, maybe it would. This length would be good, right?" You pointed just below your ears, mentally mapping out the bob cut you were suddenly considering.

Sunoo blinked, then gasped dramatically. "You're planning to get a bob cut, bitch? Are you fucking serious?!"

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. "What? You don't think it would look good?"

He placed both hands on your shoulders like he was about to shake some sense into you. "Do you have any idea what a bob cut means?"

You laughed, shaking him off. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Short hair on a hot girl?" Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms. "That's a crisis cut. A post-breakup cut. A someone just emotionally wrecked me and I need a fresh start cut!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faltered slightly. "Maybe I just want a change."

Sunoo wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms, his expression shifting into something more serious. "Yeah, right." He paused before adding, "By the way, Jake keeps texting me, asking when our vacant period is. He says you're not replying to them."

Your steps faltered, but you quickly regained composure. "I already told them I'm busy," you said, forcing a casual shrug. "Our internship is coming up next year, so I have to start networking now. I need professors to recommend me to the best hospitals—ones that actually offer jobs after the internship."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. "That's a solid excuse, I'll give you that. But babe, you're literally ghosting them."

"I'm not ghosting."

"Bitch." Sunoo deadpanned. "You left them on read for two weeks."

"Because I'm not in the mood to fuck them anymore," you said flatly, resuming your pace.

Sunoo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh my god. The coldness. The absolute heartlessness." Then, his voice softened. "Babe, you sound like a total bitch right now, but I know you. And I know there's a reason you cried that night."

You exhaled sharply, staring straight ahead.

"I'm your friend," Sunoo continued, his tone gentler now. "You can tell me if they hurt you. Did they do something? Say something? I mean, yeah, they're my friends too now, but you know I'll always have your back first. So tell me."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It's not like that. They didn't do anything."

"I just... I don't know, Sunoo." You stopped walking, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "I thought I could handle it. I thought it would be easy to keep things casual. But the longer I stayed, the harder it got. Now, it just fucking hurts."

Sunoo crossed his arms, watching you carefully. "You like them."

"Sunoo—"

"You like them," he repeated, this time with certainty. "Not just one of them. Both of them."

Your throat felt tight. "It doesn't matter."

Sunoo scoffed. "It matters if it's eating you up like this."

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. "I was never supposed to catch feelings."

Sunoo let out a long breath, his expression softening. "You're human, dumbass. Not a fucking robot. It was bound to happen."

"It doesn't change anything." Your fingers clenched at the hem of your uniform. "It's just—fuck. I don't even know where I stand with them. I mean, they're sweet, they treat me so well. Who wouldn't fall for them?" You let out a bitter chuckle. "But that's the thing, isn't it? I don't know if it means anything."

Sunoo tilted his head, watching you carefully. "Have you told them how you feel?"

"What for?" You scoffed. "So I can humiliate myself? So I can hear them say, 'Oh, that's cute, but we never actually saw you that way'?" You let out a hollow laugh. "No, thanks."

Sunoo pursed his lips. "You don't know that's what they'd say."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back. "It doesn't matter, Sunoo. Because even if—if—they felt something, it wouldn't change the fact that I'm still just an extra in their relationship. They've had each other for years. I'm just..." Your voice faltered, and you forced a small smile. "Temporary."

"Babe," Sunoo frowned. "That's a really shitty way to look at it."

"Is it?" You met his eyes, voice quieter now. "Or is it just reality?"

Sunoo sighed, rubbing his temple. "I'm saying, maybe just tell them what you feel. Communicate—"

"No." You cut him off, shaking your head. "It's better to just move forward. Cut them off and be done with it." Your voice wavered, but you quickly steadied yourself. "As I said, even if they did feel something, it wouldn't change anything." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "I'll just consider them a hookup. That's all they were supposed to be anyway."

Sunoo huffed. "Look, babe. You wouldn't be spiraling over them, trying to change your hair, your nails, your entire damn life just to get away from the way they made you feel." He sighed again. "I get it. Feelings suck. But lying to yourself? That's worse."

You exhaled sharply, looking away. "It doesn't matter, Sunoo."

"It does matter." He poked your forehead. "And sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it."

Well, too bad because Sunoo didn't have a choice but to deal with your stubbornness. He had seen you shut down before, had watched you bury your emotions so deep that even you forgot they existed.

Avoidance was the only way. Cutting them off was the only way. If you ever told them the truth, it wouldn't change anything. If they did feel something for you, it still wouldn't matter. Because being together with two guys? It wasn't realistic.

Jake and Jay were perfect together—enough for each other. Their love was already deep, already established, already real.

You were just an afterthought, a temporary distraction, a spice added to their relationship to make things more exciting for a while.

That was why you had to let it go. Because holding on would only break you more.

Avoidance was the only option. But that didn't mean it was easy.

You shared three majors with them, which meant there was no real escape. Every time Jay or Jake tried to talk to you, you scrambled for a half-baked excuse, something—anything—to put distance between you.

And you felt guilty. Because at this point, you weren't just avoiding them, you were leaving Sunoo to deal with the fallout.

Every. Single. Time.

"Sorry, I already made plans to get my nails done," you said, forcing a smile as Jake grabbed your arm after your laboratory class, trying to pull you toward the arcade.

"We can just go with you!" Jake perked up immediately, his eyes practically sparkling at the idea. He turned to Jay, beaming. "Right?!"

Jay, as always, was quieter, but his gaze was on you.

You resisted the urge to sigh. "Uh—actually, I'm going with my other friends."

Beside you, Sunoo tensed, trying not to roll his eyes so hard they got stuck.

"Then Sunoo can go with you guys," you added quickly, shoving the attention onto him.

Sunoo's head snapped toward you so fast,  "Excuse me?" His expression was pure betrayal.

Jake blinked, tilting his head. "Wait. Sunoo's not going with you to get your nails done?"

"Nope!" Sunoo answered before you could. "Because I'll be with you guys. Losing all my money on rigged machines. Can't wait!"

He hooked his arms through Jake and Jay's, dragging them away before you could say another word. But not before shooting you a sharp, knowing look.

Avoidance was the only option, but it was hard.

It was almost funny, how desperately you were trying to erase them from your life, only for your own mind to betray you at every turn.

Jay's lips were always dry. Did he ever listen and start using the lip balm you recommended? Or was he still stubborn about it?

Jake had a terrible habit of not drinking enough water, always running on boundless energy until he inevitably crashed. You wondered if Jay kept that in mind—if he reminded him to drink more, if he handed him a bottle without a word, the way you used to.

Not your problem anymore.

"Your nails are so pretty!!!" Wonyoung screeched, grabbing your hand and turning it under the flashing club lights. The silver designs shimmered, catching every flicker of neon.

"Thank you," you muttered, tipping back your drink without hesitation. The alcohol burned down your throat, but you welcomed it. Anything to dull the edges. Sunoo sat beside you, talking how he wants to have sex tonight.

Another drink. Then another. By the time the rest of your friends arrived, your head was already buzzing, you can't even keep up with the conversation anymore. You laughed at the right moments, nodded when necessary, but your mind was elsewhere.

"Can you recommend a good waterproof mascara?" you mumbled, resting your head against Sunghoon's shoulder.

He exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed with your state. "I don't know? Maybelline, I guess? Or some Japanese brand—those are good too."

"You're gay," you giggled, voice slightly slurred.

Sunghoon scoffed, shifting slightly so you didn't slide off him. "How the fuck is that gay?"

"You just know things." You poked his chest, eyes drooping.

"It's called having sisters, dumbass," he deadpanned.

You giggled, the alcohol making everything funnier than it should be. "Hehehe, ever since you joined our group, you've had this, like... boy love energy."

"I'm not into boy love," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "Oh my god. You're homophobic."

Sunghoon choked on his drink so hard he nearly spit it out. "What?! Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"How are you not into boy love?" You slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Boy love is great. It's wholesome, it's cute, it's—"

Your voice cracked and your lips wobbled, remembering Jay and Jake. Suddenly, your eyes burned.

You sniffled. Sunghoon, who had been mid-rant about how you made no sense, suddenly froze. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"Hey... are you—are you crying?"

You sniffled, waving a hand dramatically. "I miss them."

Sunghoon blinked. "Miss who?"

"Boy love!" you wailed, smacking the table. "Boy love is so cute! It makes me so jealous! Agh—fuck! How can you not like boy love?! I miss seeing some boy love, but it hurts seeing some boy love!"

"Bro, what the fuck are you talking about?"

You sniffled harder, rubbing your eyes aggressively. "It's so unfair. Why are they so perfect together? Why can't I just be happy watching them be happy?!"

Sunghoon, still utterly baffled, slowly turned his head, scanning the club for someone or anyone to deal with your mess. His gaze landed on Sunoo, who was currently twerking in the middle of the dance floor, hyping himself up with your other friends.

"It's really hard to avoid them," you hiccupped, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. "I miss them."

Sunghoon let out a slow breath. "Uh-huh."

"I'm making the right decision, right?" you asked, eyes wide and desperate, like you were begging him to validate your self-sabotage.

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh... yeah?"

"Yes," you repeated, sniffling. "I'm right. They'll stop. They'll forget me. They'll live happily ever after."

Sunghoon nodded again, then you let out a wobbly sigh. "I will also forget about them," you declared, before promptly bursting into tears again.

You wiped your nose aggressively. "I'll just go back to my old self. No more stupid feelings, no more heartbreak, no more—no more them."

He gave you a cautious thumbs-up. "Sounds... healthy."

"I'll just masturbate with my vibrator," you continued, completely ignoring him. "At least my vibrator doesn't make my heart hurt."

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ."

"Women can over-complicate things, and that's because they go deeper—sometimes too deep, admittedly."

Yes. Exactly. To avoid over-complicating things, avoidance was the only solution.

You were just walking down the hallway, minding your own business, when a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

You yelped, eyes widening. "What the—?!"

Before you could even react, you were being pulled, not roughly, but firmly, until you stumbled into an empty mini-theater room. The door clicked shut behind you, and your heart pounded as you whipped around.

"Jake?"

He was standing there, hand still wrapped around your wrist, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. His usual playful energy was nowhere to be found.

The room was too quiet and intimate. The only sound was the distant hum of the campus outside, muffled by thick walls, the kind that trapped secrets and held them hostage. Your pulse was a dull roar in your ears as you stared at him.

God, you missed him. The playful lilt of his voice, the way he always smelled like clean laundry and something unmistakably Jake. You missed the way he touched you—soft, then rough, then soft again. You missed them. Him and Jay.

Your chest tightened, instead you swallowed, immediately trying to pull away. "Jake. Let go."

His fingers twitched against your skin, like he was debating something—like he wanted to hold on a second longer, just in case you changed your mind. But then, finally, he released you, but he didn't step back.

He was still too close.

"You are avoiding us." He said, wounded by frustration. "Why?"

Panic coiled inside you, what the fuck. You weren't ready for this. Your thoughts scrambled, reaching for an excuse, anything—anything—that would make him back off. Think. Think. Think.

But then Jake's face softened, and he exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry if we did something wrong," he said. "Just—please, talk to us. If you don't want to have sex anymore, that's okay. I understand. We understand." He took a step closer, voice cracking slightly. "Just don't shut us out, please."

Fuck. You almost caved. Jake have this eyes that knew exactly how to weaken you, but you spent enough time to hardened yourself. Pulled your walls up so high that even you couldn't see over them.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

You crossed your arms, forcing a blank expression. "I'm busy, Jake. I don't have time to play around with you two anymore."

Jake blinked, hurt was flashed across his face. "P-Play around?, I-Is that what this was to you?"

You scoffed, "What else would it be?"

Jake's expression twisted, like your words had physically knocked the breath out of him. Good. Maybe he'd finally get the hint.

"Look, Jake." You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, swallowing down the lump clawing its way up your throat. "I don't want to be mean, but get a fucking clue. Okay? Yes, I'm avoiding you. You and Jay were fun. The sex was good. But that's all it ever was."

Jake inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. His eyes, still locked onto yours. "Just explain to us, why?"

"I don't owe you an explanation in the first place!" you snapped, voice rising despite yourself. You could feel your resolve cracking, your emotions clawing their way to the surface. But you couldn't let them win. You couldn't let him see you break.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"I got tired of it, okay?!"

Jake's breath came out unsteady. "You could've just told us," he said, "I-Instead of... this—instead of just shutting us out like we never meant anything. We're friends, r-right?"

That last word came out, and his voice cracking, and that was what almost broke you.

Because Jake was looking at you like he was desperate to understand, like he needed you to say something—anything that could make this all make sense.

"Friends?" You let out a cold, hollow laugh, tilting your head like he'd just said something stupid. "Jake, we were never friends."

The second the words left your mouth, Jake flinched, his breath stuttering. His entire body stiffened, his shoulders curling inward.

"Don't say that," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You don't mean that."

You clenched your jaw so hard it ached. "I do."

Jake swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared at you like he was trying to see through the wall you'd just slammed between you. Like if he looked hard enough, he'd find something—some sign that you were lying.

But he wouldn't. Because you were good at this. You were good at pretending.

"Just tell me why," he tried again, softer this time, more pleading than before. "If you ever cared about us at all, just... tell me why you're doing this."

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms, your entire body screamed at you to stop, to take it all back, to fix this.

But you couldn't. You forced out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "God, Jake, you're so clingy." Jake flinched, and you saw the exact moment something in him cracked.

"You took everything way too seriously," you continued. "It was just sex. I don't know what the fuck you thought this was, but it wasn't deep."

"You were convenient," you added, twisting the knife deeper. "That's all. And now? I'm over it."

Jake sucked in a breath, his shoulders stiffening. You noticed the way his lips trembled. And then slowly—he nodded.

Tears streaked his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. He didn't lash out. He didn't beg. He just looked at you—looked through you—his expression heartbreakingly soft despite everything.

Jake didn't yell. He didn't curse you out, didn't demand answers or call you a liar. Instead, he just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. His eyes were soft—too soft, filled with a quiet kind of devastation that made your stomach churn.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. The door clicked shut behind him, and that was it.

Your body sagged the moment he was gone, like the strings holding you together had been severed. You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but the air felt suffocating. Your hands trembled at your sides, your fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out, to pull him back.

Don't break down. Don't be weak. You did what needed to be done.

One minute. Just one minute to get yourself together.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your throat burned from holding back something that wanted to crawl out, guilt, regret, longing, you didn't know. Didn't want to know.

Then, finally, you exhaled. Straightened your back. Set your shoulders and walked out.

The hallway was quiet, but not empty.

Your steps faltered as you saw them—Jake, standing there with his back slightly hunched, his hands gripping the hem of Jay's uniform. His shoulders shook and his breathing uneven.

And Jay stood right in front of him, tense and rigid, watching him with a concern expression. His fists were clenched, but his hands hovered just slightly—like he wanted to touch Jake, to comfort him, but didn't know how.

And when he looked up, his eyes found yours. The softness that was there for Jake was gone.

Jay's gaze was dark, sharp, and cold in a way that made your breath hitch. There was no visible anger, just an overwhelming quiet rage simmering.

Your pulse kicked up, you immediately turned away to avoid his gaze.

Spun on your heel and walked in the opposite direction, forcing your steps to be even, controlled. Ignoring the way your chest ached, the way your throat felt tight, the way your lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air.

You did the right thing.

BACK in high school, Jay never really liked being around too many people. He wasn't exactly antisocial, he could hold a conversation when needed, and he got along fine with classmates.

But having a solid group of friends wasn't his thing. Socializing felt like a chore, something that drained him. It was exhausting trying to keep up with people's expectations, their small talk, their unnecessary drama. So, he kept his distance, floating between different groups without ever fully settling in.

Girls, especially, were a whole different kind of exhausting. He wasn't clueless—he knew most of the guys in his class were obsessed with them, always whispering about who had the best tits, passing around porn links like they were trading cards.

Sure, Jay could admit that women were attractive. Sexy, even. Tits were nice, pussy was great. But in his experience, being around women felt more like a headache than a pleasure.

They were too complex, too hard to figure out. One moment they were sweet, the next they were upset over something he didn't even understand. And somehow, he was always expected to know why. It was frustrating. The high-pitched screeching in the hallways, the emotional rollercoasters, the way they'd take out their bad moods on him for no reason—it was all too much.

So, he stayed detached. Women were beautiful, but from a distance. Up close, they were just another thing he didn't have the patience to deal with.

"Did I just... get rejected?"

Jay barely had a second to process before the words came tumbling out from the stranger standing in front of him. The guy was wearing a soccer jersey, his eyes red-rimmed like he'd been crying for a while.

Jay raised an eyebrow, not sure why he was being dragged into this. He didn't even know the guy.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" the stranger asked, pouting up at him like some kicked puppy.

Jay gave him a once-over. The guy was about his height, maybe a little smaller, with messy hair and wide, golden-retriever eyes that only made his pathetic expression worse.

"She said I give the best head," the guy continued, sniffling. "But, continue to say some monologue that it's not me, it's her. What does it even mean?"

Jay sighed, running a hand down his face as he stared at the sky. Out of all the people this guy could've dumped his sob story on, why him? He just wanted to go home, lay in bed, and maybe practice a few guitar solos, not babysit some heartbroken stranger.

And that's how he met Jake.

If Jay was being honest, Jake could be a lot to handle. He was loud, clingy, and had the attention span of a golden retriever, but somehow, they just worked.

They balanced each other out in a way Jay never expected. They didn't argue much, jealousy was never an issue, and even when they weren't in the mood to deal with each other, they just shrugged it off—no drama, no unnecessary fights.

And Jay loved him. So much that he followed him to university, enrolling in the same classes just to be with him.

That was why, when Jake first brought up the idea of a threesome, Jay had been flabbergasted. He wasn't the sharing type. He was possessive by nature, and the thought of someone else touching his Jake made his blood boil. But Jake was patient, communicating his feelings in the only way he knew how: between tangled sheets.

It took months for Jay to even consider it. He didn't know what to think, didn't know if he'd be okay with it. Whether it was another guy or a girl, the thought of it made him wary.

Then, one day, he and Jake went out to his favorite café, and that's when he noticed you.

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at Jake. Staring—too long, too obvious.

Jay's eyebrow twitched. He knew exactly where he had seen you before.

You were the girl at the freshmen welcoming party, kissing random girls like it was nothing, completely lost in the haze of alcohol. He remembered the way you moaned when two girls did body shots off your stomach. You were that drunk—so far gone that, by the end of the night, it was him and Jake who had been instructed to carry you back to your dorm.

And now here you were, staring at his boyfriend.

You like guys too?

He huffed, raising an eyebrow when he caught you looking.

Then there was the train ride during the retreat. Another moment. Another time you stared at Jake when you thought no one was looking.

Jay had noticed.

"Do you think she's into threesomes?" Jake had whispered to him that night, curiosity practically dripping from his voice. He was always like this—open, playful, intrigued by new experiences.

Jay had just sighed, brushing the thought aside. "How would I know?"

He didn't think about it much after that. At least, not until he saw you sneak out of the drinking room at the retreat.

And for some reason, he followed.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was suspicion, or maybe it was something else. And that's when he saw you grinding against some guy named Heeseung, lips locked in a messy kiss, your whimpers barely muffled by the night air.

Jay's fists clenched at his sides. He should've turned back. Should've left. But instead, he stood there, watching.

And fuck, he didn't expect his pants to feel this tight.

Jay thought you were beautiful. Not just in the obvious way—yeah, you had the kind of face that turned heads, but it was more than that. You had this energy, this pull, something that made people gravitate toward you like you were a magnet. And Jay had always been the type to keep his distance, to stay in control, but even he wasn't immune to it.

And he knew Jake wasn't either.

Jake was naturally affectionate, clingy even, but with you, it was different. He paid attention in a way Jay had never seen before, like he was cataloging every little thing about you.

"She likes soft textures," Jake mused, scanning the shelves of the convenience store. He grabbed a puff pastry filled with chocolate and strawberry, tossing it into their basket. "She'd like this."

Jay raised a brow, watching as Jake continued down the aisle, muttering to himself.

"I think we should get makeup wipes," Jake said, grabbing a pack without hesitation. "She uses this brand, right?"

Jay exhaled through his nose, amused. "Since when did you memorize her entire skincare routine?"

Jake shrugged, grinning. "Since she started leaving her stuff at our place."

That part was true. At first, it had been little things, a stray hair tie, a forgotten hoodie—but now there was a whole section of their bathroom cabinet stocked with your products. Your shampoo was in their shower. Your chapstick was on the nightstand. Your presence was everywhere, lingering like the scent of your perfume.

It annoyed him, how easily you captured Jake's attention, how effortlessly you slipped into their dynamic like you'd always belonged there. Jay had never been the jealous type, not really, but something about the way Jake gravitated toward you, the way he paid attention to you in ways that felt too careful made something uneasy settle in his chest.

But over time, Jay realized it wasn't just Jake.

He found himself watching you more often than he cared to admit, listening when you talked, remembering the small details about you without even trying.

He started noticing things—how you always smelled like vanilla and something sweet, how your nose scrunched up when you were focused, how your lips parted slightly when you were about to tease someone. It wasn't just Jake who was drawn to you. Jay was, too.

"Men have different parts in their brain," their professor droned on at the front of the lecture hall, pacing slowly as he gestured to the board. "It's an anatomical difference that affects communication—"

Jay barely heard the rest. Instead, his attention drifted to you, slumped against Sunoo's shoulder, your mouth slightly open as you slept. Sunoo was just as bad, his head tilted against yours, completely knocked out.

Jay huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

The two of you looked ridiculous, but for some reason, he felt that same annoying warmth in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore. The same feeling that made him buy your favorite snacks at the convenience store without thinking. The same feeling that had him listening a little too intently whenever Jake talked about you.

"Anatomical difference, my ass. Men just use their dicks instead of their mouths, that's why they're assholes," Yunjin muttered, typing away on her laptop while half-listening to the lecture.

Jay didn't agree with that. He knew men communicated—just differently. Maybe not with words the way women did, but through actions and through presence.

Like how Jake never outright said he wanted you, but always found an excuse to bring you up in conversations, to keep you close.

Like how Jay himself never said much at all, but still, for some reason, his attention always gravitated toward you.

They just had different ways of showing affection, and for a while, Jay thought that was enough.

Until it wasn't.

"It's freezing. What are you doing out here?" Jay asked, stepping onto the snow-covered porch where Jake sat curled in on himself. The night air was sharp, biting against his skin, but Jake didn't seem to notice.

Jay's eyes trailed over him—his red nose, the slight tremble in his fingers, the way his eyes were swollen and glassy.

"Were you crying?" Jay frowned, reaching out to tilt Jake's face toward him.

Jake flinched, but he didn't pull away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"Baby, talk to me," Jay said, firmer this time.

"I—I..." Jake's voice wavered. His breath came out in a shaky cloud, visible against the cold air. "I'm sorry."

Jay's brows furrowed. "For what?"

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, as if saying it out loud would break him.

"I like her, Jay."

Jay's breath hitched at the confession, Jake had always been expressive—his love was loud, easy, all-consuming. But maybe, just maybe, Jay had never truly listened. Never truly looked. Because if he had, he would've seen this coming.

Jay let out a slow breath, steadying himself. Then, without hesitation, he cupped Jake's face, thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, I know it's wrong —"

"You don't have to be sorry," Jay murmured.

Jake sniffled, confused. "But—"

Jay shook his head, cutting him off. "I like her too."

Jake stilled. His grip on Jay's jacket loosened slightly, as if he didn't believe what he just heard.

Jay exhaled, looking past Jake for a moment, toward the snow-covered street, the dim porch light casting a soft glow around them. It had taken him too long to realize it, but now that the words were out, they felt right.

"I didn't want to admit it, but I get it. I get why you feel this way."

Jake's lips parted slightly, his breath hitching. "Then why did we—" He hesitated. "Why didn't we talk about this sooner?"

Jay fell silent, because that was the problem, wasn't it?

Their entire relationship had been built on silent understandings, unspoken words, actions instead of conversations. It had always been enough—until it really wasn't.

Jay wasn't the type to talk about feelings, and Jake... well, Jake always just went with whatever Jay was willing to give.

Jay sighed, finally meeting Jake's gaze again. "Because we never really talk about things, do we?"

Jake let out a breathy, broken laugh, shaking his head. "No. We really don't."

Jay reached up, threading his fingers through Jake's hair, pulling him into a slow, grounding hug. Jake melted into him instantly. For a while, neither of them spoke. The cold wind bit at their skin, the snow crunching softly beneath their feet as they shifted slightly in place. But neither moved to go inside.

"I miss her," Jake finally whispered. His voice was small, fragile in a way that Jay rarely ever heard. "Is it right to tell her how we feel?"

Jay stiffened slightly at the question, that was the real problem. It wasn't just about their feelings anymore—it was about yours too.

He wasn't an idiot. He had noticed the shift in your energy, the way you had started pulling away, the way your texts had become shorter, emptier.

Maybe you felt it too. Maybe you had been trying to fight it just as much as he had.

But unlike him, you had chosen to run.

And Jay hated that.

Because the truth was, he had spent so much of his life avoiding unnecessary complications, keeping people at arm's length to protect himself from feelings he didn't know how to deal with. Relationships were easy when they were just sex, when there were clear boundaries that everyone followed.

But you had blurred every single one of those lines.

He had spent months trying to ignore the way he felt, convincing himself that this was nothing more than what it started as — just a bit of fun. But then you wormed your way into their lives in ways he never anticipated.

It was in the way you laughed at Jake's stupid jokes, in the way you pout your lips at certain foods, in the way you always took extra time to make sure Jake was drinking enough water or that Jay wasn't skipping meals.

It was in the way you would fall asleep on their couch, curled up like you belonged there, as if you had carved a space for yourself in their world without even realizing it.

And yet, they had never said anything. They had never talked about what any of this meant, never acknowledged the growing weight of their emotions.

"I don't know," Jay admitted, "but I know I don't want to lose her."

Jake swallowed hard, his grip on Jay tightening. "Me neither."

He wasn't sure how to approach this, wasn't sure how to untangle the mess they had all made. But one thing was certain—he and Jake wanted you.

And if there was even the slightest chance that you wanted them too, Jay would figure out a way to make this work.

Poly relationships existed, didn't they?

And if that was the way to keep you, then Jay would do everything in his power to make you stay.

...

Except you were acting like a fucking bitch.

Despite all the planning, about how to approach this properly, Jake had gone ahead and done the one thing Jay told him not to do—talk to you without a plan. Without giving you time. Without preparing himself for the worst.

And now Jake was curled up in Jay's arms, shaking, trying to choke back his sobs while Jay clenched his jaw so tightly.

Jake was impatient, and you were pushing them away.

Jay's head was going to fucking explode. He didn't know how to handle this. He hated seeing Jake cry, hated the way his hands trembled as he held onto him. Hated the way you had shut them out like they didn't mean a goddamn thing to you.

Well, he knew that they meant something to you.

Jay's patience had been stretched thin for weeks now. Every time he thought he might have a chance to talk to you, you slipped away like smoke between his fingers. It was pissing him off. He could feel you pulling back, putting up walls he hadn't even realized were there. And the worst part is he had no fucking idea how to break them down.

He wasn't the kind of guy who begged. He wasn't the kind of guy who chased. But for you? For you, he was losing his goddamn mind.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay, I'll talk to her," Jay murmured, his voice steady despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. Jake sniffled, his face buried in Jay's shoulder, but his grip didn't loosen. His whole body shook, fingers digging into Jay's back.

Jay sighed, bringing a hand up to wipe Jake's wet cheeks with the pad of his thumb. Jake's lips trembled.

"She's not even giving us a chance."

Yeah, he fucking noticed.

And it pissed him off. Not just because you were avoiding them, not just because you were pushing Jake away—but because Jake wasn't even mad about it. He wasn't angry; he was hurt. Both of them knew you didn't mean what you had said that day. But what could they do when you refused to talk? When you were so hell-bent on running?

"...Many individuals engage in self-sabotage not because they don't want happiness, but because they fear it."

Jay blinked at the professor's voice, his jaw tightening as he focused on the lecture.

"Fear of commitment, avoidance of intimacy, and reluctance to accept positive emotions often stem from deep-seated insecurities. This can manifest as pushing people away when they get too close, fixating on imperfections to justify emotional distance, or convincing oneself that they are 'better off alone.'"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

"To put it simply," the professor continued, leaning against his desk, "people self-sabotage when they don't believe they deserve good things. They anticipate failure or abandonment, so they preemptively destroy what could be good before it has the chance to hurt them."

Jay's head instinctively turned to where you usually sat. Your seat was empty. Of course, it was.

His fingers drummed against the desk, irritation flaring in his chest. He already knew you were avoiding them, but it was becoming worse. First, it was the silent treatment, then skipping plans, ignoring texts. Now, you were barely showing up to class. What the fuck were you thinking? Were you really about to fail a major subject just to get away from them?

Jake nudged him lightly, his eyes worried. "She's really doing this, huh?"

Jay clenched his jaw. "Fucking ridiculous," he muttered.

He didn't understand. Why were you acting like this? They had never once made you feel unwanted. Never treated you like an afterthought.

The professor moved on, but Jay wasn't listening anymore. His mind was spinning, the weight of your absence pressing heavily against him.

Prelims came and went. And still—no shadow of you.

Jay barely glanced at his exam paper as he turned it in. He had spent the past hour only half-focused, tapping his pen against the desk in frustration, mind elsewhere. He already knew his score wouldn't be his best. Not with the way you were consuming his every thought.

Outside the exam hall, Sunoo approached him hesitantly. Jay didn't miss the way he shifted awkwardly on his feet, fingers twisting together like he was debating whether to speak.

"I'm sorry," Sunoo finally said, sighing. "I hope... whatever's happening with you guys, you'll be patient with her."

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose. Yeah. He was trying to be patient, but patience was running thin when you wouldn't even look at them anymore.

Sunoo hesitated again before glancing around, making sure no one was listening. "It's not my story to tell," he admitted carefully, voice softer, "but she likes the both of you." He shook his head, lips pressing together. "She just... she's being negative."

Jay's grip tightened on his exam booklet. Of course, he fucking knew that. It wasn't just obvious—it was the only explanation that made sense. But hearing it from Sunoo, having someone else confirm it, should have made him feel better. It didn't.

Because knowing that you wanted them didn't change the fact that you were pushing them away. It didn't change the fact that you were choosing to ruin this before they even had a chance to prove to you that it could work.

Sunoo studied Jay's face, reading his silence before sighing. "She's just scared," he muttered. "That's how she is."

Jay huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, I'm getting really fucking tired of watching her run."

Sunoo gave him a look, almost as if to say, then catch her.

Fine. He would. One thing was clear—this avoidance shit? It needed to end.

They had to talk. They had to communicate. Well, they had been trying. But talking to you was like grasping at smoke. Jay had tried to contact you, but it was clear you had soft-blocked them both. His messages stayed unread. Calls went straight to voicemail.

Jay had tried to find you. But every time he did, you ran. Midterms came. Jay was exhausted, irritated, and so fucking done with the distance.

And then, he saw you. Laughing like nothing had happened, like you hadn't disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. You were standing outside the library with a group of friends, flexing your nails dramatically as the others fussed over them. Jay's steps slowed. Your hair was different, it was short.

A bob cut. The sight of it made his chest tighten. It wasn't a bad thing—hell, it looked good. But it was different. You were different.

He inhaled sharply and stepped forward, but before he could close the distance, your gaze flickered up. And you saw him for a second your expression froze.

Then, before Jay could even process it, someone else entered the scene.

Some guy. That fucking guy and his girlfriend.

Jay watched as they approached you, watched as the girl kissed your cheek, Heeseung slinging an arm around your shoulder.

And you let them. You let them pull you away before Jay could even reach you. No fucking way.

"Do you think we should give up?" Jake had asked once. Jay only shook his head. No.

Communication is key—but with the way you're acting, they need a different strategy to reach you.

You don't get to run. Not anymore. Men speak in different ways they said, and if the softest way doesn't get through to you then he'll have to go rough.

"Oh my God, this is the most chaotic event ever," Sunoo complained loudly, fanning himself dramatically with his schedule sheet. "Who in their right mind thinks it's a good idea to hold university games when summer is practically melting us alive? That's actual insanity."

Sweat clung to your forehead, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin. All around you, students were sprawled across the open field, desperately searching for shade or breeze.

Sunghoon turned on his small turbo fan and aimed it toward you and Sunoo. A soft hum filled the air, and you immediately leaned into the stream of cool air.

"Bless your soul," you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as the breeze hit your face.

Meanwhile, Wonyoung sat cross-legged on the grass nearby, sipping water with a serene expression, completely unbothered by the scorching sun.

"This is actually so unfair," you muttered, glancing at her in disbelief. "I look like a soggy dog, and she's out here looking like a skincare commercial."

"She's probably not human," Sunoo said flatly.

You slumped dramatically closer to the turbo fan, shoulders sagging with defeat. "Why did you even register us for dodgeball?!" you whined, voice muffled as you practically shoved your face into the breeze. "I look like I've been through five stages of grief, I don't even barely survive now that we don't do anything, then what about tomorrow."

Sunoo shrugged, unapologetic. "It's tradition. And it's the only time I get to legally throw a ball at people I don't like."

You gave him a flat look, lifting your face just enough to mutter, "That includes me, doesn't it?"

"Depends on how much more you complain," he deadpanned, eyes hidden behind his oversized sunglasses.

Sunghoon leaned slightly forward with a furrowed brow. "Hey, your mascara is kind of melting. Like... a lot."

You gasped, sitting up straight. "No! No, no, no—" You fumbled through your bag in a mild panic, fishing out your phone. The moment your reflection came into view, you groaned. "I look like a raccoon who just got dumped."

"You always say that," Wonyoung chimed in with a lazy smile, finally acknowledging the conversation as she shifted beneath her sun umbrella. "And yet somehow you still pull."

"Not in this heat I don't," you grumbled, pressing a tissue to the corner of your eye. The moment you pulled it back, it was smudged black. "Great. I look like I'm melting from the inside out."

You leaned into the mirror on your phone, trying to fix the damage but the more you dabbed and adjusted, the worse it got. The eyeliner smeared into your under-eye, and your lashes clumped at odd angles. You cursed softly under your breath, cheeks hot with both embarrassment and the unforgiving sun.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you muttered, standing quickly and brushing off the back of your shorts. "This is a mess—I need to fix this before I look like I got dumped and then thrown into a fire."

"I told you to change your mascara," Sunoo mumbled. "Waterproof isn't just a suggestion in this weather."

"I didn't think it'd get this bad!" you hissed, reaching for your bag—which, naturally, was hanging from Sunghoon's overburdened shoulder. He handed it off without complaint, arms already full of Wonyoung and Sunoo's things too.

"Where are you going?" Wonyoung asked without moving.

"To salvage my face," you said over your shoulder. "If I don't come back, assume I drowned in the sink."

You didn't wait for a reply, slipping away from the group as your shoes scuffed against the hot pavement. The chatter of students faded behind you, replaced by the distant hum of activity inside the university. The moment you entered the shaded hallway, the temperature dropped just enough for you to breathe.

Your footsteps echoed lightly as you made your way toward the restroom, the cold tile of the building cooling the soles of your feet through your sneakers. You exhaled a long, slow breath—finally out of the noise and the sun.

You pushed open the bathroom door and slipped inside, letting it close behind you with a soft click.

You dropped your bag on the counter, you pulled out your makeup, eyeing the smudged disaster on your face. Carefully, you began dabbing away the ruined mascara and eyeliner, patting concealer beneath your eyes and slowly rebuilding the illusion of composure. Your lashes clumped slightly as you reapplied your mascara, and you leaned in closer to the mirror to separate them.

You were just about finished when a voice cut through.

"Figured I'd find you here."

You jumped, nearly knocking your makeup pouch off the counter. Your head whipped toward the door—where Jay stood, leaning against the frame.

"This is the girls' restroom," you snapped, the panic slipping into your voice. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered by him. And God, of all the times, why did he have to look so fucking good in that damn denim jacket?

Jay didn't flinch. He just stared. "It's not like I haven't seen everything already," he said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him with a low thud.

You scoffed, hard, grabbing your bag off the counter. "Right. And that gives you a free pass to stalk me now? Is that how it works?"

Jay's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed low. "I didn't stalk you. I came to talk. Since you're ghosting every call, and message, avoiding us, and you made Jake cry," he added, emphasizing the last part.

"Maybe because I don't want to talk," you bit out, slamming a lipstick back into your bag. "I already told your boyfriend—I'm done with the both of you. So stop. Stop being so fucking annoying."

You tried to storm past him, but his hand shot out fast, gripping your shoulder, forcing you back.

"What the hell is your problem?!" you snapped, "You think cornering me like this is gonna change anything?"

Jay's eyes darkened, his voice dropping a notch. "Yeah. Maybe it will. Since the version where I let you push us away didn't work."

"You don't get to decide how I feel," you hissed, shoving at his chest. "You don't get to show up like this just because you're pissed I won't answer you."

"And you don't get to shut down every time something doesn't go your way," he shot back. "You act like you don't care, but if that were true, you wouldn't be shaking right now."

Jay's eyes dropped to your arm, the subtle tremble giving you away. You quickly swallowed the lump rising in your throat and tucked your arm behind your back.

He raised a brow. "Can you stop being a brat for five seconds and just hear me out?"

You scoffed, biting down the sting in your chest. "I told you—I'm not interested anymore. Why are you so damn pushy?!"

"Because we fucking like you!" Jay snapped, you stiffened, the silence that followed hitting louder than his voice had. Your breath caught. His jaw clenched, and the space between you suddenly felt way too small.

Being with them isn't realistic.

Push them away.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"Wow. Great. That's your excuse?" you spat, though your voice shook just enough to betray you. "You like me, so now I'm supposed to just roll over and forget everything? Grow up, Jay. That's not how this works."

Jay stepped forward slowly. You instinctively backed up, your spine hitting the cold edge of the counter.

"You felt something too," he said, eyes fixed on you. "Don't bullshit me."

"Shut up," you shot back too fast, and too obviously defensive.

He didn't stop. His gaze locked on yours, footsteps steady. "You can act cold, pretend you're done, like we didn't get under your skin. But I know better."

You pressed harder into the counter. "You don't know shit," you hissed. "It was a mistake. A phase. Whatever the hell you thought you saw—it wasn't real."

Jay's mouth curled, smirking. "Funny. That 'phase' made you tremble like that? That mistake had you gasping my name?"

Your chest rose and fell fast, your heart thundering behind your ribs like it wanted out.

He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. "You're not scared of us. You're scared of how real it felt. You're scared because it meant something—and you don't know what the hell to do with that."

"Shut up," you repeated, but your voice cracked on the edge of it this time.

Jay went still and finally, he heard it. That tiny crack in your armor, the one you didn't mean to let slip. The one he'd been waiting for.

His expression shifted, the usual smirk gone. What was left was quiet, focus and dangerous stare.

"You can keep pushing us away. Say it was fake. Say it was a lie. But you and I both know—" his voice dipped, "—it was the most real thing you've ever felt."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. If you met his eyes now, it was over, you knew it. So you stared at the floor, at the sink, at anywhere but him.

"Look at me," he said.

You didn't. So he grabbed your jaw, rough, and tilted your face toward his. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you locked eyes with him. And that was it. The moment cracked open, revealing everything you hadn't said.

His gaze bore into you, not blinking, not softening. "You gonna keep pretending this meant nothing?" he murmured, breath ghosting over your cheek. "You gonna keep walking around like you're not haunted by us every fucking night?"

You said nothing because you couldn't. Jay stepped in closer, so close the space between you vanished, the scent of his cologne hitting you hard, that familiar deep and musky. Your legs wobbled, barely holding you up, and you cursed your body for betraying you.

He leaned in, his hand still holding your face, thumb brushing the edge of your lip. "You really think you can just move on? That someone else is gonna touch you the way we did? Know you the way we do?"

His voice dropped even lower, a growl at the edge of it. "You think you're just gonna give that cunt to someone else?" His hand slid down, slow, dragging along your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. "You think it's gonna listen to them?"

Your thighs clenched on instinct. Fuck.

Jay caught the reaction—he always noticed. His lips curved just barely. "Your body doesn't lie," he said, "It remembers us. The way you moaned. The way you begged. That pussy listens when we speak. You know it. I know it."

His hand rested just above your chest now, feeling your heartbeat racing beneath it.

"You can lie all you want," he said, eyes dark and locked on you. "But your body's telling the truth."

You were frozen, pulse slamming in your throat, heat spreading beneath your skin. Jay's lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Say it didn't mean anything. Look me in the eye and say it."

A soft, broken gasp—no, worse. A moan left your mouth. You felt the slow smile curl against your skin, felt the change in the air as his grip shifted.

"There she is," he murmured. "Couldn't hold it in, could you?"

"Fuck you," you choked, breathless, humiliated, every inch of your skin lit up with heat and shame.

His hand slid from your chest to your neck again, thumb brushing your jaw as he tilted your head up. "You already did," he said. "And you fucking loved it."

His other hand slid to your hip, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. Then he stepped in fully, pressing his body flush against yours, pinning you between the counter and him.

"Push me away," he said, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling, eyes locked on you like a hunter cornering prey.

But you couldn't look away. His scent coiled around you, and your legs barely held you up. You felt it, the warmth blooming between your thighs, the traitorous ache soaking into your panties, and you hated how much he could still do this to you with so little.

"Push me away," Jay repeated. "Make me cry the way you fucking did to Jake."

His hand tightened around your throat suddenly. Your hands flew to his wrist on reflex, clutching him but you didn't push. You didn't even try. A squeak escaped your lips, your fingers just held him there, trembling, as the air caught in your throat and heat flared down your spine.

"Stop talking," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut, as if you could block out the sound of his voice.

But his grip on your throat only tightened. "Why?" Jay murmured, his tone taunting. "Can't take it?"

Your lips parted, breath ragged. "I—I'm s-sorry, okay? I'm sorry," you gasped.

Jay's eyes narrowed, and a sharp, mocking smile curled at his lips. "Sorry?" he echoed. "Now you're sorry?"

"No. You don't get to say sorry and pretend that fixes this," he snarled. "You lied. You ran. You made Jake cry. You threw us away —and now look at you."

"Look at yourself," he hissed. "Pathetic little whimper in your throat every time I speak."

You tried to shake your head, but he didn't let you. "No. Don't look away now," Jay growled, fingers still wrapped tight around your throat, forcing your eyes up to meet his. "You wanna play cold? Strong? Then own it. Stand tall. Push me off. Say it was all a fucking lie."

Your lips trembled. You tried. You tried to hold it in—but everything broke at once. "It's not!" you cried, voice cracking, hands shaking against his wrist. "It's not! I'm sorry!"

Your chest heaved. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to—I just—" your voice splintered into breathless pieces, eyes glassy, vision blurring, "please just—just—fuck!"

You grabbed his shirt, knuckles white.

"Touch me, please!"

The words left your mouth like a scream torn from your core, soaked in shame, in need.

"There's the truth." His grip released your throat to slide lower, hands now on your waist. Your hips met his, and the hardness pressing against your core made your breath stutter, arousal flooding you so hard your legs gave a twitch.

"You begged," he whispered, eyes never leaving yours. "Say it again."

You swallowed hard, breath catching, lips parted and trembling.

"Say it," he repeated like a command. "Say it so you remember how low you got."

You hesitated, just for a second, but the ache between your legs, the fire in your belly, the heat in your cheeks—it was too much.

"Please..." you whispered, eyes wide, voice shaking. "Touch me."

Jay tilted his head slightly, then leaned in to your ear again, mouth brushing your skin. "Louder."

You shut your eyes, biting your lip, humiliated but so fucking far gone. "Please," you gasped, louder now, every word dripping with shame, "touch me. I need it. I need you."

Jay didn't answer immediately. He let the silence hang heavy, waiting—making you sweat in it. Then he leaned closer again. "Think you deserve it?"

Your breath caught. "No..." you whispered. "N-No. I don't."

Jay smiled. "Exactly." And then, without another word, he pulled away. Just let go of you and stepped back, turning his back.

"H-Huh?" you breathed, the air suddenly cold without his touch. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the field," he said flatly. "You don't deserve shit—not after all the stupid games you played."

Panic flared so violently inside you it made your knees weak. The throbbing heat between your legs was unbearable now, your panties soaked, your stomach aching from how badly you needed release. But worse than the arousal was the cold pit of humiliation, of abandonment.

You lunged forward, clutching his wrist with both hands. "No, no—please! I'm sorry!" your voice cracked. "Please, I'm sorry, I just— I got jealous. With you and Jake, I— I like you. I like both of you, I just thought..."

You were sobbing now, tears spilling hot and fast down your cheeks. "I thought it would be better if I was out of the picture. I didn't know what to do. I miss you! I— I need you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Jay turned slowly. "And you acted like a bitch because you thought it'd be better?" he hissed. "We chased you for three fucking months."

You froze, mouth parted, lips trembling. "And what did you do?" Jay continued, voice rising. "Blocked us. Ignored us. Walked away like we were nothing. Like you didn't feel anything."

"I did," you whispered. "I did."

He stared down at you, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on your tear-soaked face and the hands still clutching his wrist

"You're going to earn your place back," he said coldly. "We're not just taking you back. You'll crawl for it. You'll beg for it."

You stood there, frozen, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Shame burned through you, and the arousal between your legs was only getting worse.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, his voice low, mocking. "You think I'll give that to you just like that? Just because you cried a little? Because you finally admitted you fucked up?"

You shook your head slowly, lip trembling. "N-No..." you whispered.

"No?" he echoed, lips curling. "Then why are you still standing like you're in control?"

You blinked at him, confused for half a heartbeat. And then the word dropped. "Kneel."

You flinched. Your legs almost didn't respond but your body knew. Knew the command, knew his tone, knew exactly what was expected. Your knees buckled beneath you, and you sank slowly to the floor, the cold tile biting into your skin.

Jay towered over you now, looking down with nothing but cold amusement in his eyes. "Pathetic," he muttered. "You were so full of fire. So quick to run your mouth. What happened to all that attitude, huh?"

You kept your head down, cheeks flushed hot, hands trembling in your lap.

He stepped in close behind you, hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back just enough for you to gasp. "I should make you wait longer," he said, staring down into your eyes. "Should make you watch me walk away again. But then I'd miss watching you break. And I like this view too much."

Your lips parted, breath caught between a sob and a moan.

"You know what I should do?" Jay whispered. "I should call Jake. Let him see what's left of the girl who told him she was 'done.' Let him see you begging on your knees, soaked and broken. You think he'd feel sorry for you?"

You shook your head again, tears welling up all over, and yet—your thighs pressed together.

Jay smirked. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

He released your hair, let you slump forward just slightly. "You're going to stay right here," he said. "On your knees. Hands behind your back. You don't get to touch. You don't get to beg again unless I say."

"Yes..." you whispered, eyes shut, heart racing. "Yes, okay..."

You heard the soft rustle of denim—Jay pulling off his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the counter. The metallic click of a belt followed, then the slow grind of a zipper sliding down. The sounds alone made your pulse spike.

Jay stood above you, fingers resting at his waistband. His gaze dropped down to meet yours and the look in his eyes made your stomach twist in the most helpless, humiliating way.

He shifted his stance slightly, drawing closer, one hand sliding into the front of his jeans, adjusting himself as his breath hitched low in his chest. A dark patch spread along the front of his briefs, Jay let out a low hiss through his teeth, his jaw tightening as he watched you watching him.

Jay's thumb brushed your bottom lip, dragging the soft flesh down just enough to part your mouth. With one hand, he pushed his briefs down just enough to free himself, fingers wrapping around the thick base of his cock. The head was flushed, already wet at the tip, and he slowly angled it toward your waiting mouth.

You opened for him without hesitation, lips parting wide, tongue slightly curled. You saw the flicker in his expression, by the way his breath hitched sharply, his brows twitching together.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, just before his hips surged forward. The sudden thrust made your throat constrict, a choked gasp escaping you as you adjusted, eyes watering.

Both of his hands moved to your head now, fingers splaying through your hair, rough and needy. He let his fingertips glide against your scalp at first, almost soothing, before his grip tightened. A sharp tug followed.

"Why'd you cut your hair, anyway?" he asked, breathless, but the question was half a growl, half a genuine bite of irritation. His fingers tangled in your shorter strands, clearly missing the length he used to wrap his fists in.

Tears blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks, but you didn't stop. Your throat worked hard around him, swallowing, adjusting, the wet sounds of gulp, gulp, gulp are echoing against the tile walls of the bathroom.

Your lips stayed stretched around him, tongue coiling beneath the shaft, dragging slow and deliberate from the base upward as you swallowed him again and again.

The world outside the bathroom didn't exist. You'd forgotten where you were, forgotten the echo of distant footsteps, the fact that the tiled walls weren't just enclosing heat and pleasure but public space. You were too far gone in the taste of him, in the stretch of your lips, in the burn of each breathless gasp you took through your nose.

Then—knock knock. A sharp, sudden rap on the door snapped. You flinched, instantly trying to pull back, eyes wide in panic, throat clenching around him. But Jay didn't let you go.

"Shh," he murmured. His fingers tightened in your hair, the other hand sliding to the back of your neck. Before you could react, he forced you down—all the way. His cock sank into your throat in one sharp, complete thrust, your nose pressed flat against the skin of his pelvis. The breath caught in your lungs. Your eyes watered harder. You were choking, but you stayed, frozen, as his grip held you exactly where he wanted.

The door creaked open.

"It's just me," came a soft, casual familiar voice.

You heard the unmistakable click of the lock sliding into place behind him. A moment later, you could feel the weight of Jake's stare, as he stood there, just inside the bathroom door, watching.

Jake's tone was edged with uncertainty, but not surprise. "You said you were just gonna talk," he said as he took in the scene—your knees on the cold tile, face flushed, cheeks hollowed, and Jay buried deep in your throat.

Jay exhaled through his teeth, head tilting back slightly, his grip finally loosening just enough for you to breathe again. But he didn't pull out.

"That's her way of apologizing," Jay hissed, his hips rolled forward again with purpose, forcing another wet choke from you. "Isn't that right?"

His hand remained in your hair, holding you steady, guiding your mouth with every thrust. His other hand slipped down to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your lips, smearing the spit that clung there like gloss.

You looked up and there was Jake.

You'd always remembered Jake as soft-spoken, the kind of boy smiled too gently. Sweet to a fault. The kind of person who would've cupped your cheek and whispered it was okay, would've helped you up and kissed the tears from your face.

But not now. Now his eyes weren't soft. They were cold, sharp and predatory.

Even through the blur of your lashes and the sting of fresh tears, you saw it: the shift. The hunger.

"You're crying," Jake said. He tilted his head, studying your face. "She's crying, Jay."

And how you remembered, too well, the way he had this thing with you crying every time he fucked you. A fascination of your tears.

"She should be," he said flatly. "After the shit she pulled? She should be sobbing." He thrust forward again, slow and deep, watching your throat stretch to take it.

Jake didn't blink. His expression didn't soften. He just knelt lower beside you, one hand resting casually on his knee as he leaned in a little closer. His eyes were fixed on your tear-streaked face, watching every twitch of your mouth, every breath you struggled to take around Jay's cock.

His cock twitched in his pants. There was a fire building in his chest stoked by the sight of you like this—on your knees, choking, tears running, all for his boyfriend. And yet... all he could think about was that moment. That time he tried talking to you, voice soft, reaching out with patience, and you'd barely looked at him. Just shrugged him off.

Maybe he'd been too kind. No—he had been too kind.

Jake didn't know exactly what he was feeling as he watched Jay drive himself deeper into your mouth, but it wasn't softness. Not anymore. A new edge in his blood he hadn't recognized before. Every time your throat clenched, every time another tear slipped down your cheek, something inside him twisted tighter.

"You're so unfair," Jake said. He stood slowly, eyes never leaving your face.

Jay reached up, hand curling around the back of Jake's neck, fingers threading into his hair. He pulled him down, and their mouths met in a slow kiss.

You whimpered around Jay's cock, your voice small and choked as your eyes followed the scene unfolding above you.

They didn't look at you. Their kiss deepened quickly, mouths open, tongues sliding together in a messy, hungry rhythm. Jay tilted his head, humming low against Jake's mouth, and Jake responded with a moan that vibrated through him—a sound that made Jay's grip on your hair tighten just slightly.

Their bodies leaned into each other, mouths devouring, heat bleeding off them like they'd forgotten you were even there. You whimpered again, louder this time, throat sore, nose running, your jaw aching, but they still didn't acknowledge you.

Then you sobbed, your body trembling as another wave of tears spilled down your cheeks. Jake pulled back from the kiss, breathless, lips slick.

"Stop being dramatic," he muttered as he looked down at you. His hand came down with no hesitation, fingers sliding into your hair alongside Jay's to push you further.

You whimpered one last time, cut off by the sudden pressure as your head was forced forward. Your nose pressed flush to Jay's skin again, throat stretched to its limit.

"Shut up," Jake said quietly. Jay hissed through his teeth, his body jerking slightly as your throat took him again, deeper now under Jake's added weight.

You gagged again, but Jake didn't flinch. He just turned his head and watched his boyfriend with a crooked smile. before leaning in to kiss him again. Their mouths met above you, hot and open, tongues sliding as if you weren't there.

You couldn't breathe.

Your throat burned, raw and stretched too wide, and your jaw felt like it was splitting apart under the unrelenting ache. Jay's pace had become erratic now, his stomach bouncing against your nose with each desperate thrust. You could feel the tightness in your chest spreading, oxygen slipping further and further out of reach.

Your lungs screamed. Your eyes streamed. But neither of them looked down.

And just when you felt his cock throb in warning, when your body tensed in anticipation of the inevitable—

Jake pulled you off.

You gasped as you were suddenly released, choking, coughing, collapsing sideways onto the cold tile floor. Your body folded, weak and trembling, chest heaving as you dragged in greedy, ragged breaths. Your lips were swollen, spit-slick and trembling, and the back of your throat felt like it had been clawed raw.

You barely had time to lift yourself onto your elbows when you saw Jake move again.

He dropped to his knees smoothly in front of Jay, his mouth opened without a word, and he took Jay in deep, his jaw relaxed. You watched through bleary, tear-streaked eyes as Jake's head began to bob, slow and sinuous, his lips wrapped around the same cock that had just brutalized your throat.

Jay groaned, one hand bracing against the counter, the other curling in Jake's hair. His hips jerked once, twice—and then he came.

Jake didn't flinch. He swallowed it all, his throat working silently, eyes fluttering shut as if savoring it. His fingers dug into Jay's hips, keeping him in place as the last tremors rolled through him.

You stayed on the floor, trembling, watching through a curtain of tears you couldn't stop.

Jake pulled back with a wet drag of his mouth, lips glossy, tongue flicking out to catch the last trace of Jay's release. He looked up at him with hooded eyes, mouth still parted slightly, breath heavy. Jay let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing Jake's hair back from his face.

Something in you twisted again. Bitter. Ugly. It crawled up your chest and sat there. You wiped your face with the back of your trembling hand, smearing the tears more than cleaning them. The other reached up shakily, trying to push your hair out of your eyes, trying to regain some kind of dignity.

But Jake didn't give you the chance. He turned to you slowly, head cocked, still licking the corner of his mouth. His gaze locked onto you, that same hunger was still in his eyes.

"You think you're done?" he asked. Jay's hand dropped from Jake's hair, and looked down on you again. 

Jake stood and approached you with the lazy certainty of someone who already knew you wouldn't resist.  He crouched in front of you, his face level with yours. He reached out and brushed your hair back

Your lips trembled as you tried to speak. "I-I'm sorry, Jake..." you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. "Both of you mean something to me. I just... I didn't know how to handle it. I miss you. I didn't mean to make you cry. You're precious to me, baby."

Jake stilled. For a moment, he didn't blink. His gaze searching yours. His breath hitched, just enough to give him away, his jaw tightening as his face flickered with softness. Behind you, Jay leaned back against the wall with a soft exhale, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flicked between the two of you.

Jake's hand hover near your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. You leaned into it simply to feel him again. Just that brief, tender contact that used to come so easily. Your skin brushed his fingertips, and he didn't pull away.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed. Your body trembled, shoulders shaking, the emotion too big to contain any longer.

Jake exhaled sharply, his entire demeanor going soft suddenly. "Shhh..." he finally whispered, pulling you into him.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, and he tucked his face into the side of your head. His nose pressed gently to your temple. One hand moved to your back, slowly rubbing up and down.

"You meant it?" he murmured. "All of it?"

You nodded into his shoulder, arms tightening around his waist as you clung to him. "I meant it," you whispered, breath hitching. "Every word."

Jake didn't move right away. He just held you there, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other drawing slow, rhythmic circles against your spine. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, faster than it should've been.

For a moment, everything else faded— the ache in your throat, the sting of your tears, even Jay's quiet presence nearby. It was just Jake. Just the closeness you hadn't had in too long.

"I should be angry," Jake murmured after a pause. "But I missed you too much." He pulled back just slightly, enough to look at you. "Don't lie to me again. Don't run." he said softly.

"I won't," you whispered. "Let me fix things." The moment the answer left your lips, Jake moved, he hooked his arms beneath you, lifting you up.

You let out a small gasp as he turned, setting you down on the cold counter behind you. Your back hit the mirror with a soft thud, the glass cool against your scalp as your legs instinctively parted to accommodate him stepping in between them.

He kept his eyes on yours, even as his hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers working them down. "Let's fix things, huh?" he murmured, dragging your shorts down in one motion. "You want to make things right?"

You nodded again, barely able to breathe as the air hit your wet skin.

"Then spread those pretty thighs," Jake growled under his breath. He dropped the fabric carelessly to the floor, hands sliding up your inner thighs, his eyes landed on the soaked fabric of your panties before he pushed them aside.

"Already dripping," he muttered. His fingers pressed against your folds through the soaked cotton, dragging slowly up your slit, teasing you. The friction of the fabric sent jolts through your core. He pressed a little harder, making your hips twitch in response.

Another presence pressed close—Jay. He moved in behind Jake. "You're spoiling her again," Jay said as he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

His hands slid up your body from behind, palms rough, until they found your breasts. He cupped them through your top, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they stiffened beneath the fabric. He gave a sharp little pinch that made you whine, your body jolting forward as your thighs tensed around Jake.

"I don't think she's learned her lesson though," Jay muttered, rolling your nipples between his fingers lazily.

"She looks sorry," Jake said, but his eyes were locked on your glistening cunt. "But I don't think that mouth means anything until it's begging."

Jake dropped to his knees between your legs, mouth already parting as he pressed it against your heat. He pushed the fabric aside with one hand and gave your folds a slow, deliberate lick that made your head fall back against the mirror.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, voice shaking. "I mean it—please. I'm really sorry!"

Jake didn't answer. He just groaned against your pussy, his tongue flicking against your clit. The vibrations made your thighs clench around his head, but he held you in place, grip firm, unmoved by your squirming.

Jay chuckled above you. "That's one. Keep counting." He leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear. "You don't get to say you're sorry once and expect it's over, sweetheart."

"I am, I swear—" you gasped as Jake sucked your clit into his mouth, making your hips jerk. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jake. Jay, please—please forgive me..."

Jay's hand slid lower, fingers trailing a heated path down your trembling stomach. His hand slipped between your thighs, right above Jake's head, and his fingers found your clit in seconds, rubbing slow, tight circles in contrast to the deeper movements of Jake's tongue.

The combination made your head tilt back, a cry caught in your throat.

Jake groaned against you, the sound buzzing through your core as he pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. His nose nudged against Jay's fingers as he worked in tandem.

Jay's free hand found your breast again, making your shirt up to your collarbone and exposing your skin. His fingers found your nipple in your bra, pinching it between his knuckles until your back arched involuntarily.

Jake pulled back just enough to speak. "She tastes like guilt," he muttered before dipping back in. This time, his tongue flattened against your slit, licking long and firm, each pass rougher than the last.

"I am guilty!" you cried out, voice cracking as your fingers clutched the edge of the counter. "I fucked up—I know I did, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I missed you, both of you—"

Jay didn't respond right away. His thumb rose to your throat, brushing the hollow there gently, deceptively.  "You're not forgiven yet," he said calmly. "But keep begging. Maybe we'll believe you."

Jake moaned into your cunt, tongue working harder, faster, burying himself in your heat while his grip on your thighs tightened, nails biting into your flesh to keep you still.

Your body arched reflexively, head pressed hard against the mirror behind you. The cold glass was a cruel contrast to the fever building inside you, the friction between their mouths and fingers making your thoughts blur and your words tumble out in desperate, breathless gasps.

"I'm sorry—please, I'm so sorry—Jake, Jay—don't stop, please—don't leave me—I'll do anything—"

"You will do anything," Jay murmured, lips brushing your jaw as he kept one hand working your clit and the other still wrapped around your throat. "But that doesn't mean we're done punishing you."

Jake pulled back just long enough to spit on your cunt, watching it drip down before diving back in.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes..." you breathed. A few strands of your hair had fallen across your face, clinging to your flushed cheeks. Jay tsked under his breath, brushing the messy hair away with care. His fingers swept your temple, tucking the strands behind your ear to clear the view. He wanted to watch your face, every twitch, every tremble, every silent plea written across your features.

Jake's tongue flicked over your clit again, followed by a slow, deep press inside. Your thighs shook against his shoulders, toes curling over the edge of the counter.

"You don't even know which one of us you're moaning for, do you?" Jay whispered.

"I c-can't—" you whimpered, breath stuttering. "I'm sorry—Jake, Jay—I'm sorry, I swear—please..."

Jake growled softly between your legs, like your apology alone made him want more. He shifted his angle, tongue plunging deep as his nose rubbed against your clit, creating friction that made your spine arch and your head knock back into the mirror again with a dull thud.

Jay caught your head this time, hand sliding behind your skull, fingers threading through your hair.

"You'll come like this," Jay murmured, his lips brushing yours without closing the distance. "On his tongue, with my hand around your throat, and every breath you take will be ours."

"Jake—fuck!—Jay—I'm—" You choked on your own voice, the climax coiling inside you about to snap.

Jake didn't slow. His tongue moved in steady, ruthless strokes. His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you anchored, legs trembling under the weight of everything he was drawing from you.

Jay's hand remained firm around your throat, not choking but holding. His thumb pressed lightly just beneath your jaw, grounding you as the rest of your body lost control. His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every flicker of surrender build in your face.

"Look at me," he ordered softly. "Don't look away."

You tried—God, you tried—but your vision blurred with tears and white-hot pleasure, your eyes fluttering, lashes damp as you clung to consciousness. "I—can't—" you gasped, every breath shallow, high-pitched.

Jay leaned in, brushing his mouth against yours without kissing you. "You can," he whispered. "You will."

Jake's mouth locked around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking fast, perfectly cruel. One hand slid beneath your ass, lifting you just enough to change the angle, and the pressure hit exactly where you needed it. The world around you fractured.

Your entire body arched.

A scream tore from your throat as Jay's hand held your windpipe and Jake's tongue forced you over the edge. Your vision went white behind your eyelids, every nerve in your body seizing with the violence of your orgasm. Your thighs clamped around Jake's head involuntarily, hips grinding into his mouth.

"There it is," Jay growled, watching the climax crash through you. "Fuck, that's it. That's what sorry looks like."

You sobbed, mouth open and shaking as aftershocks rolled through you, making your legs twitch, your fingers slip on the counter's edge.

Jake didn't stop right away. He licked you through it, each drag of his tongue coaxing every last tremor from your core. Only when your body jerked from overstimulation did he finally pull away, mouth slick, chin wet, his breath ragged.

"Goddamn," he muttered, voice rough as he looked up at you from between your legs. "Still the sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted."

Jay eased his grip on your throat and let your head fall forward against his shoulder. You collapsed into the space between them, boneless, panting, your body trembling and used, your voice lost somewhere.

Jake rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he reached for his waistband. He was flushed, breath ragged, hands already moving to undo his pants. You lifted your head weakly, eyes wide, still dazed as you looked up at Jay. "A-Are we really doing this? In here?"

Jay arched a brow. "Jake just had his mouth buried in your pussy," he said smoothly. "Don't start playing modest now. Don't be selfish."

Jake let out a sharp breath as he freed himself, hissing softly as his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your breathing hitched when he stepped in closer. He lined himself up with you, the swollen head of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding up through your folds, collecting the wetness there before grinding it against your clit.

You whimpered at the friction. "My back hurts..." you managed to stammer out. "It's... it's uncomfortable."

Jake didn't even flinch, he pushed in his whole length into you in one motion. You both moaned at the feeling.

"We'll make it comfortable." Jake growled, breath hot against your cheek as he gripped your waist. 

Without warning, he lifted you off the counter, his hands strong under your thighs. You let out a startled gasp, your legs instinctively locking around his hips as he held you up with ease. His cock stayed buried inside you as he adjusted his grip, settling you in against him.

"Ahh—Jake!" you cried out as he began to move, bouncing you on his cock. Every thrust drove him deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing sharp against the cold tile walls. Jay moved without a word. He slipped in behind you, one hand found your hip, steadying you as your body jolted from Jake's pounding pace, while the other reached up, sliding to seize your breast.

"God, fuck—" Jake groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your damp skin before he started kissing and biting, not caring about the sweat.

Jay's mouth found your shoulder first, then your throat, trailing wet kisses up your jaw until he reached your lips. Your head lolled back against him, mouth already open, and he took full advantage—tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing the moans Jake was forcing from your chest.

You whimpered into Jay's mouth, his cock grinding against your lower back, the friction syncing with every bounce of your hips. Your body moved helplessly between them, each movement rubbing him against you, closer... lower...

"You're so fucking wet," Jake growled against your throat. "I can feel it all over me." He thrust harder, teeth grazing your shoulder as he panted.

Jay broke the kiss with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, tugging until you gasped. "I think we'll fit," he said, voice low, eyes flicking down to where your bodies met. "Don't you think?"

Your heart lurched.

Your eyes widened as you felt Jake adjust his stance, your weight shifting in his arms. Your body tensed immediately, the pressure at your core tightening to near-panic. "Wait! W-Wait—!" you stammered, breath catching in your throat.

Jay was already positioning himself, one hand on your lower back, the other on Jake's hip for balance as he leaned in. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before you felt it—his cockhead, thick and hard, pressing lower just beneath where Jake was already buried inside you.

The angle was careful. Slick with your arousal and the lingering wetness of Jake's earlier mouthwork, Jay began to push slow his shaft grinding against Jake's through the tight squeeze of your entrance, the pressure unbearable even before he was fully inside.

Jake slowed immediately, holding you tighter in his arms, breath ragged against your cheek. His voice was low, firm, grounding.

"Relax for him. Breathe. You can take it."

But your body was shaking, the stretch is too intense, and too foreign.

"Fuck! I can't—" The words tore from your throat, panic bleeding into your tone—cut off almost instantly when Jake surged forward and kissed you. His mouth swallowed your cry as Jay began to sink in, splitting you further, claiming space that wasn't there.

Your entire body tensed, clutching, pulsing, your walls clamping down instinctively on both cocks as they shifted inside you, working together to make room.

Both men moaned low in your ears. "Shit," Jake gasped into your mouth, breaking the kiss just to breathe. "Fuck, she's tight—Jay—go slow."

Jay's groan was more guttural, his lips brushing your shoulder. "I am—she's gripping us like she's trying to push us out."

You whimpered as your body was forced to take it—all of it. The thick drag of Jay's cock sliding in alongside Jake's, every inch of your walls stretched to their absolute limit, friction pressing between them, heat building inside you so violently it made your toes curl.

Their hips pressed in unison, the base of their cocks grinding together deep inside you, buried to the hilt. You could feel them inside each other through you, the shared space, the impossible pressure, the slow pulse of them twitching inside your cunt, both thick and deep and so full it.

Jay hissed, forehead pressed to your back. Your mouth hung open, panting. All you could do was hold on—legs locked around Jake's waist, arms limp around his shoulders, your body trembling violently between them.

You couldn't tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Jake's head dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "I can feel him," he whispered. "Fuck, I can feel him moving through you."

Jay's hand shifted from your hip to Jake's jaw, guiding his face upward. Their bodies pressed so close, only you between them, joined not just through you, but with you.

Jay leaned in, lips met Jake's, tongues brushing, mouths sliding together as their hips shifted slightly, still buried inside you. Their kiss deepened quickly, tongues pressing hard, teeth grazing. Jake groaned into it, when he pulled back from Jay only to kiss you next.

His lips claimed yours fast, almost needy—salt and sweat and desperation—and Jay didn't wait. He was already kissing along your neck, up behind your ear, while his hand slid between you to stroke your clit with slow circles.

The shift in pace was dizzying. They weren't pounding into you. Not yet. They were just holding you. Deep, warm, kissing, mouths trading between you and each other.

Jake finally broke the kiss, forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, "You feel like heaven right now."

Jay's mouth brushed your shoulder again. "She's shaking. Poor thing's too full to even speak."

Your fingers digging into Jake's shoulders, back arching slowly. The pressure of them both still lodged inside you kept your body humming with tension.

Jay kissed the side of Jake's mouth again before murmuring, "Move with me, baby."

Jake nodded once. They shifted. And then, slowly, carefully, they began to move.

One would pull back while the other pressed in, your body stretching and clenching around the rhythm. It was slower than before, more controlled, but no less overwhelming. The glide of two thick cocks inside you, perfectly in sync, had your body twitching, tears pricking your lashes again.

Their mouths kept moving, on your throat, on each other, across flushed skin and slick shoulders. They didn't speak much, just low moans, shuddered breaths, the soft slap of bodies finding rhythm again. Jay's hand never left your clit. Jake's arms held you close.

"Stay with us," Jake whispered into your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

"Don't run next time," Jay added, his voice deep in your ear. "We just want to keep you." And their cocks kept moving, slow and deep and together, keeping you open, full, and exactly where you belonged.

Jake shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his stance, the grip on your thighs tightening as he found more control in his movement. The slow rhythm gave way to more deeper, and faster, his hips slapping up with wet, rhythmic sounds that bounced off the walls.

The moans pouring from you grew louder. You were unraveling again, overstimulated, but your legs refused to stop twitching, clinging around Jake's waist as your hands clawed at anything for purchase—his shoulders, Jay's neck, the edge of the mirror behind you.

A sudden sound echoing outside, footstep and people murmuring as they pass by. Panic stabbed into your chest. You froze for a moment, instinct flaring, shame bubbling up behind your ribs. The reality of where you were hit hard—legs wrapped around one man, another flush to your back, both of them inside you, fucking you, right there in the university bathroom.

But the pleasure didn't stop. You twitched, thighs squeezing reflexively, a cry caught in your throat. "Someone's—"

Jay's hand came up instantly, cupping the side of your face as he leaned in, swallowing your next sound with a kiss. His mouth sealed over yours just as Jake drove up harder, his thrust knocking the breath from your lungs, forcing the moan straight into Jay's waiting tongue.

"Let them hear," Jake hissed, voice rough against your skin, his pace unrelenting now. "Let them wonder who's making you sound like that."

The footsteps outside faded, but your heartbeat didn't slow. It thundered in your chest, driven by both fear and the savage pleasure coursing through your nerves.

Jay broke the kiss with a strand of spit between your lips, eyes half-lidded, and flushed. "You're squeezing us like you want to get caught," he murmured, fingers slipping between your bodies to rub your clit again, drawing a fresh, keening whimper from your throat.

Every drag of their shafts against each other inside your overstretched cunt sent aftershocks through your core, your body trembling violently with each grind and press. The feeling of them rubbing together inside you, separated only by the thin, spasming walls of your body, wasn't just overwhelming—it was ruinous.

"F-Fuck," Jake choked, hips jolting up hard. The impact of his thrust slammed you forward into Jay's chest, your breath ripped from you as your body tried—and failed—to brace for the intensity.

Jay grunted, catching your body easily, his hand fisting your hair as he held you in place. His cock surged deeper alongside Jake's, the slick sound of their movements inside you impossibly loud in the quiet space.

"Can't hold it," Jake panted, sweat dripping from his temple, breath stuttering. "She's—she's so tight I can feel you through her—fuck, Jay—"

Jay growled, his own control shattering with every convulsion of your clenching walls. You could barely think anymore—your mouth hung open, no words left, only broken gasps and sobs as your body tightened around them again. The pressure had built too fast. It rolled up from your core, cresting so high you couldn't breathe.

Your orgasm hit hard. It exploded through your abdomen, a pulsing, electric burst of heat that seized every muscle. You screamed, not even a word, just sound—your voice breaking as your cunt clenched violently around them, walls spasming uncontrollably.

"Fuck—" Jake snarled, the rhythm of his hips shattering.

He slammed in once more, his cock jerking violently inside you as he came with a rough moan, hot pulses of cum flooding your cunt. You felt every spurt, thick and hot and deep, and the sensation of being filled only sent another shiver of pleasure rolling through your already-fractured nerves.

Jay wasn't far behind. Your body's violent squeezing around both cocks at once pushed him over the edge—his thrusts turned erratic, hard, his breath tearing through his chest.

"Gonna fill you up," he groaned against your throat, voice ragged, hips pressing as deep as they could go. "You're gonna take all of it."

Then he came. You felt the way his cock throbbed next to Jake's inside you, the rush of hot fluid spilling in, mixing with Jake's release, both of them pouring into the same aching space. Their hips jerked in sync, involuntary tremors shaking them as your body held them tight, refusing to let go.

Your own climax still burned through you, wave after wave wracking your limbs, your nails digging into Jake's shoulders as your vision blurred.

You were just there, caught between their shaking bodies. They didn't pull out. They stayed inside you, panting, foreheads pressed to your skin, arms wrapped tight around your waist. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, the soft whisper of sweat-slicked skin, the occasional stuttered groan as aftershocks rolled through all three of you.

Jake leaned his forehead against yours. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."

Jay's hand came up to stroke your side. "No more running, okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing your temple as he spoke. "We're going to talk this time. Really talk."

You tried to nod, but your head only shifted slightly. A soft, low hum escaped your throat as your vision swam and your body slumped against Jake's chest. Everything ached. You weren't sure if your legs were still attached, or if you'd ever feel your core without that deep, burning throb again.

It had been so long since you'd let yourself be used like that... and even longer since it had ever felt like this. Safe. Claimed. Held.

Jake was the first to move, easing himself out of you. You whimpered faintly at the loss, but even that sound felt distant in your own ears.

"Hey," he whispered, fingertips brushing your cheek. He tapped gently, calling your name. "Hey, come back to me, baby."

But you couldn't answer. Your eyes were half-open, glazed with exhaustion. Your body limp between them. There was no strength left in your limbs just the slow throb of overstimulation and the deep, quiet ache that said you'd been pushed right to the edge of yourself.

Jake's expression changed instantly. "Shit—she's out of it," he muttered, voice sharp with guilt.

Jay's brows furrowed. "She's overwhelmed. Fuck."

Together, they moved quickly, shifting their grips. Jake bent to retrieve his pants, tugging them up with one arm while the other held you carefully to his chest. Your body sagged against him, boneless but trusting, your cheek pressed to the slick skin of his shoulder. "I've got her," Jake said quietly.

Jay adjusted himself quickly, stepping in to help. His hands cupped your thighs, his gaze scanning your face. "We need to get her cleaned up. Somewhere soft."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, his hand smoothing the back of your hair.

You couldn't speak—not really. You were too far gone, too worn down in the sweetest, most bone-deep way.

But you felt them. You felt the tissue as they wiped between your legs, cleaning their combined mess from your trembling thighs. Another passed over your face, cool and damp, brushing away the sticky sheen of sweat and the tears you didn't remember shedding. Fingers were tender as they tucked your hair back, smoothing it down, and you sighed softly into the sensation.

Jake carried you effortlessly, holding you to his chest. You felt Jay beside you, one hand steadying your legs as they moved together. Their voices were hushed now, murmurs exchanged just beyond your hearing, their steps soft against the tile.

When the door opened, the shift in air hit instantly—cool and dry from the hallway's air conditioning, raising goosebumps across your flushed skin.

You managed one last, drowsy breath as the cool air washed over you. Then your eyelids dropped.

You stirred slowly, the first thing you felt was warmth. A soft bed cradled your body, the sheets cool against your bare skin, but it was the sensation wrapped around your waist that anchored you. The scent pressing against your back was just as recognizable—clean sweat, faint cologne, and something uniquely him.

You blinked slowly, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks before you opened your eyes fully.

Your head was nestled into the crook of someone’s neck. His skin was warm beneath your cheek, his heartbeat a steady thrum beneath your ear. You shifted slightly, body still sore and heavy, and looked up.

Jake was watching you, eyes soft. He rubbed slow circles against your side with the pad of his thumb, his other hand still resting gently across your waist, holding you close.

“Hi,” he whispered. 

You managed a small, sleepy smile. “Hi. How long was I out?” you asked, blinking again to clear the haze still lingering behind your eyes.

Jake exhaled through his nose, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “About an hour,” he murmured. 

Your brows knit faintly, and he brushed a thumb along your temple. “Don’t worry,” he added with a soft smile. “We covered for you. Told them you fainted because of the heat—overexerted, nothing serious.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry in your throat. “Technically not a lie…”

Jake’s grin widened just slightly, a playful glint flickering behind the softness in his eyes. “Mm. They don’t need the exact details.”

You gave a breath of a laugh, but it faded quickly as your gaze lingered on his face—the gentle curve of his smile, the creases near his eyes, the way he was watching you so closely.

 “Jake…” your voice came out small.

He stilled, but his thumb never stopped moving on your side. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, the flood of everything you’d been trying to suppress surged up your throat. You swallowed it down once, then let it rise.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “For avoiding you. For running off. For shutting down instead of just…” You trailed off, sighing as your brows pulled together. “I was scared.”

Jake’s lips parted slightly, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he pulled you in closer, pressing your cheek against his chest. You felt the beat of his heart against your skin.

“I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling,” you continued. "I started… caring. And that made everything messy. Because you and Jay—you’re already whole. You don’t need someone like me getting in the middle of that.”

Jake was silent, listening, his hand still tracing soft patterns into your skin.

“And I kept thinking…” You swallowed hard. “If I let myself fall deeper, I’ll only be the one who ends up hurt. Like I’d ruin what you both already have. That I didn’t deserve it, any of it.”

He finally spoke, his voice low. “Why didn’t you just tell us that?”

“I didn’t know how,” you admitted. “And then when I saw the two of you together, being so perfect—it made me realize how small my place in this is. Or… was.”

Jake shook his head, exhaling as he tilted your face up gently with his fingers. “You think we’re perfect?” he said, a sad sort of smile curling at the corners of his lips. “We’re not. We’ve made mistakes. We didn’t talk about a lot of things. But one thing we were sure of?” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone. “We both want you.”

Jake's thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. His breath was warm as he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closing briefly. “I’m sorry we didn’t make it clearer,” he whispered. “We thought we were showing you—through touch, through time, through every little thing we did. But we never said it. And maybe that’s where we messed up.”

You blinked back the heat behind your eyes, your throat tightening. Jake’s fingers brushed under your jaw, coaxing you to look at him again.

“We want you,” he said, “In every way. Not just in our bed. Not just when it’s convenient. We want you in our life. You’ve already made space in it—you didn’t ruin anything.”

You let out a shaky breath, and before you could stop yourself, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck again, seeking warmth, shelter, reassurance. His arms wrapped tighter around you.

“And Jay?” you asked quietly, voice muffled against his skin.

Jake chuckled softly, the sound a little choked. “Jay’s downstairs trying to pretend he’s not pacing. He’s been wanting to talk to you too. But I asked him to give me this moment first.” He pulled back just enough to brush your hair from your face. “You mean more to him than you think.” 

The soft knock came, Jake didn’t move right away, just held your gaze, giving you a choice without saying a word. When you gave the smallest nod, he leaned over and called out gently, “It’s okay. Come in.”

The door cracked open, and Jay stepped inside. His eyes immediately found yours, and the moment they did, the edge in his posture melted. He wasn’t guarded like he usually was.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, stepping closer.

Jake shifted slightly to make space on the bed, and Jay took it without question. He sat on the edge first, then leaned in beside you, bracing one hand on the mattress near your hip.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Sore,” you said, voice raspy with sleep. “Like I got hit by a very… affectionate truck.”

That pulled a laugh from both of them. Jake’s body vibrated behind you with the sound, and Jay let out a quiet chuckle as he rubbed a hand gently over your knee, his thumb brushing just above where the blanket had slipped.

“Sorry,” Jay murmured, though the smirk was playing at his mouth now. “Not sorry.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him when he bent down and pressed a kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there for a beat longer than expected. When he pulled back, he looked more serious. 

“No more running,” he said quietly, “I’m not great with… talking. Feelings. All that shit.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking down briefly before returning to yours. “But I want this. I want you."

Jake let out a quiet huff behind you, shifting closer as he nuzzled the back of your shoulder. “He’s always like that,” he whispered, “I was the one who confessed first. Initiated the first kiss. First sex.”

Jay’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “You asshole,” he muttered.

“You blushed when I touched your wrist,” Jake added, grinning now.

“I was cold,” Jay shot back. You laughed then soft, but real—and both of them stilled like they’d been waiting for the sound. Jake’s smile softened, and Jay, still glaring at his boyfriend.

Jake grinned wider. “He literally couldn’t make eye contact for twenty-four hours after we slept together the first time.”

“I hate you,” Jay muttered, but he was already reaching for you again, hand slipping beneath the blanket to rest on your stomach, drawing you back toward him as he curled in behind.

“You don’t,” Jake replied, smirking as he met your gaze. “He just never knows how to say the nice shit.”

“I will push you off this bed,” Jay warned to keep Jake from opening his mouth again. “Then we’ll fall together,” Jake countered smoothly, wrapping an arm tighter around your waist.

You sank into their warmth, nestled between their bodies. You turned your face slightly, resting your cheek against Jay’s collarbone while one of your hands found Jake’s under the blanket.

For a long, comforting moment, no one spoke. Then, quietly, Jay’s voice rumbled near your ear. “Were we too rough earlier?”

You shook your head without hesitation, cheek still pressed to his collarbone. “No. I needed it,” you murmured, honest and calm. “It pushed me out of my head. That’s what I needed.”

Jake’s hand tightened slightly around yours, and he smiled softly. “So… are we okay now?”

You turned your head toward him, lips curving with amusement. “That depends,” you said. “Was that makeup sex?”

Jake raised a brow, mouth twitching. “Wait—that wasn’t?”

Jay snorted behind you. “If that was just a warm-up, I’m scared to know what the actual makeup sex is supposed to look like.”

You laughed, low and a little breathless, the sound making both of them smile wider.

“I guess we’ll have to do it again,” Jake said, voice dropping just enough to make the tease linger. “Y’know. For clarity.”

It didn’t take long. Clothes were shed, tossed carelessly across the floor—shirts half-inside out, underwear tangled near the foot of the bed. You were on your back with Jake above you, his mouth on yours, his tongue moving with a tenderness that made your body ache all over again.

Then Jay moved. You barely had time to gasp before his hand curled into Jake’s hair, tugging sharply. Jake groaned into your mouth, the kiss breaking as Jay pulled him back.

“Not so fast,” Jay said, “You had your turn.”

He dragged Jake down the length of the bed, making him twist and arch, until Jake’s head was between your thighs, his back curved beautifully under Jay’s grip. Jake didn’t resist—he melted into the position, groaning as he inhaled the scent of you, mouth finding your cunt.

You gasped, your legs parting without thought. The sting from earlier still lingered, but it was chased by the familiar, glorious heat of Jake’s mouth. He licked into you slowly at first, tongue stroking over your clit.

Your back arched as he moaned against your folds, his face buried deeper. “F-fuck, Jake—” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, hips twitching against his face.

Jay watched from behind him, one hand stroking down Jake’s spine, the other trailing lower. You didn’t see the moment he slipped his fingers between Jake’s cheeks, but you felt the way Jake moaned louder against your cunt, hips jerking slightly as Jay began working him open.

“Want to see you fuck him,” you breathed, voice cracked with need. “Please. I want to watch.”

Jake whimpered into your pussy, tongue fucking you deeper in response. Jay’s eyes lifted to yours. His fingers were slowly pushing into Jake. “She wants a show,” he said, leaning in to kiss Jake’s neck. “You gonna be good for her?”

Jake moaned again, his voice muffled by your cunt, and you tightened your grip in his hair, nails dragging across his scalp.

Jay’s hand slid away briefly, and you heard the soft click of the drawer beside the bed opening. A moment later, the quiet sound of a bottle opening filled the space. Cool lube met skin, and Jay didn’t hesitate—he returned to Jake’s body with a steady hand, working the slick between his cheeks.

Jake whimpered again, body shuddering beneath both of you. Jay kept stretching him, fingers moving in slow, deep circles, curling and scissoring in a rhythm that made Jake pant harder against your pussy. His mouth never stopped licking, sucking, groaning into your folds with more desperation the more he was opened up.

You looked down and nearly lost your breath at the sight: Jake’s flushed face buried between your legs, his lips wet and glistening, while Jay knelt behind him, eyes dark, and focused as his fingers slick, sliding in and out of Jake’s ass with increasing ease.

Jake was trembling now, his thighs twitched against the sheets, and you could hear the breathless hitch in his throat each time Jay’s fingers pressed just right inside him.

“She’s gonna see how good you take it." Jake moaned hard against your clit, and you cried out—your hips bucking into his face. He didn’t stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, tongue working you open.

Jay leaned forward, pressing a kiss between Jake’s shoulder blades. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”

Jake’s reply was only a ragged whine, and it made your pulse spike.

“Please,” you said softly, the only voice in the room not breaking. Jay’s eyes flicked to yours, gaze locking for one searing moment. Then he leaned forward, hand steady on Jake’s lower back, and began to push in.

Jake let out a strangled groan against your cunt, his tongue faltering for a heartbeat before diving back in with renewed force. Your legs tightened around his head, your hips rising helplessly into his mouth.

“Good boy,” Jay breathed, voice thick as he slid deeper. “Keep eating her.”

Jake moaned again, the vibration pulsing through your clit as Jay’s cock pressed deeper inside him. You could feel Jake struggling to hold rhythm, overwhelmed by the dual sensations—his mouth locked to your cunt while Jay slowly filled him from behind.

Jake’s fingers were clutching your hips, knuckles pale, his lips slick with your arousal as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again—desperate, hungry, obedient. Behind him, Jay moved with a slow, grinding pace, hips rolling forward, burying himself inch by inch into Jake’s tight, slicked hole.

“Shit,” Jay groaned, head dropping for a second as his hands gripped Jake’s waist.

Jake whined against you, hips pushing back to meet Jay’s thrusts even as his mouth stayed locked on you, his tongue circling your clit in dizzying spirals. You could feel him moaning again and again.

Your hand threaded deeper into Jake’s hair, pulling tight, guiding his mouth where you needed him as your hips rolled shamelessly against his face. His moans were frantic now, high-pitched, especially when Jay snapped his hips forward harder—burying himself to the hilt. 

His tongue was relentless, and the pressure was building again in your core, fast and burning, pulled taut by every flick of his mouth, every grind of Jay’s cock rocking through him from behind.

You were right on the edge—suspended between pleasure and the raw thrill of watching them together.

Jay’s rhythm grew rougher, his groans more ragged. One hand slipped from Jake’s hip to curl around his waist, holding him in place, deepening every thrust. The wet slap of skin filled the room, matched by the obscene, eager sounds of Jake’s mouth on your cunt.

Your back arched. Your breath hitched. “I’m—fuck—Jake!” you cried, your orgasm tearing through you. 

Jake moaned loud and deep into you as you came, your body spasming under his tongue, your legs clamping around his head as your hands tangled tight in his hair. You rode it out on his mouth, grinding into him, the pressure of Jay’s thrusts making Jake groan right through your high, pushing you even further.

Your body melted into the sheets, chest heaving, but your eyes stayed locked on the scene unraveling in front of you.

Jay didn’t relent. He adjusted his grip, arms slipping under Jake’s chest to haul him higher, fucking into him harder from behind with a pace that was nothing short of brutal. His skin slapped against Jake’s ass with wet, relentless rhythm, and Jake took it beautifully—his moans muffled, body twitching with every deep thrust.

You watched them, your lips parted, breath shallow. Both their faces were flushed and wild, lost in each other. And instead of jealousy, the sight only fed the fire already burning in your gut. The ache that never really went away around them now pulsed hotter, deeper.

Jake’s voice broke as he moaned loud enough to echo through the room. “Jay, baby—oh fuck!”

Jay reached up, tangled a fist in Jake’s hair, and yanked him back just enough to crush their mouths together. The kiss was messy, desperate, teeth clashing, tongues sliding, both of them breathing into each other’s mouths.

The noise of it made you whine. You couldn’t stay still. You crawled forward on shaky limbs, eyes locked on Jake’s cock, thick and flushed and bouncing wildly with every one of Jay’s thrusts.

Your hand wrapped around it in one slow, sure stroke, and Jake shouted into Jay’s mouth. Jay pulled back just slightly, his eyes flicking down to see your hand wrapped tightly around Jake’s length, pumping him in time with the rhythm of their bodies.

Jake’s head fell back, hips jerking forward into your touch, his stomach tight and trembling. His mouth opened in a silent gasp, then a broken moan when you dragged your thumb over his leaking tip, smearing the precum down his shaft.

“Fuck,” he choked, voice shaking. “That—God, that feels so good.”

Jay groaned behind him, his rhythm stuttering just for a second at the sight in front of him. His gaze dropped to where your fingers wrapped around Jake’s cock—your nails catching the light, long and perfectly shaped, moving over him in steady, merciless pumps.

He hissed through his teeth, fucking into Jake harder. Jake moaned again, louder this time, his whole body pushing back into Jay while thrusting forward into your hand. His eyes fluttered open, hazy and wild as they met yours, lips parted.

Jay’s voice cut. “Lay down, baby.”

You blinked, heart pounding. You released Jake’s cock with one last stroke, watching his hips twitch at the loss, and moved backward on the bed without a word. You lay back across the pillows, your legs parting instinctively as you settled into the space, your body already pulsing in anticipation.

Jay pulled out of Jake with a slick, wet sound, his hand curling around Jake’s hip to steady him. “Come on,” he said, gaze flicking to Jake, then to you. “Enter that pussy and ride my dick.”

Jake didn’t wait. He crawled over you immediately, his hands braced on either side of your shoulders, and with one fluid motion, he lined himself up and sank into you.

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as the stretch hit you hard all over again. Your walls were still sensitive, still twitching from your last orgasm, and now he was filling you again.

Behind him, Jay didn’t waste time. He adjusted, positioned himself, and with one slow, deliberate push, slid back into Jake’s ass.

"Ahhh!" Jake’s whole body jolted. A strangled sound caught in his throat, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that was sloppy, all tongue and open breath. His hips began to move almost immediately, short shallow thrusts between your legs while Jay drove into him from behind.

“F-fuck,” Jake moaned into your mouth, pulling back only to drop his lips to your throat. He bit down hard—just enough to make you cry out—then dragged his mouth lower, tongue hot on your skin as he kissed, licked, and bit his way down to your collarbone.

Your fingers clutched at his back, and every time he thrust forward into you, it was followed by the shock of Jay’s cock driving him forward again—his motion caught between both your bodies.

Jake was trembling, moaning louder than ever, his rhythm completely overtaken by Jay’s pace. Every thrust from behind forced him deeper into you, the sensation nearly too much. His moans spilled against your throat, turning into helpless gasps as his cock slid in and out of your soaked cunt.

His voice broke in short, frantic cries. “Jay! Jay—please, baby, oh God—”

His mouth returned to your neck, teeth scraping the skin before he latched on, biting down with desperate force. The sharp sting drew a gasp from you, the pain blooming into pleasure just as Jake’s hips jolted forward again, burying himself to the base.

He held there for a moment—frozen, panting, his breath hot against your skin. His back was slick with sweat beneath your palms, muscles twitching under your touch.

Then he pulled back, just enough for you to see his face. His lips parted, breath shaky and shallow. His eyes were unfocused, lashes wet, the flush across his cheeks deep and burning. He looked wrecked, and completely beautiful—mouth closed now.

You clenched around him involuntarily. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. “So fucked-out.”

Your hips rose instinctively, pushing up into him, your body begging for more, for all of it.

Jake let out a shuddering groan. He rolled his hips again, slow and deep, and the way you took him made him press his forehead to yours.

Behind him, Jay didn’t slow. He was pounding into him with brutal control, groaning with every thrust, his grip locked tight around Jake’s hips to keep him in place. You could feel each stroke reverberate through Jake's body, transferring into yours.

“F-Feels so good—ahh, fuck—feel so good!” Jake cried out, voice cracking, mouth open in a moan that bordered on a sob.

You reached up with a shaky hand, brushing the damp strands of hair from his face, your thumb stroking gently along his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glassy.

Your body clenched again, the pressure cresting high, unbearable and exquisite.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, hips lifting to meet his every desperate thrust. “Jake—cum with me, please—ahh—now!”

Jake’s breath hitched, his hips faltered before he slammed into you one final time, burying himself deep. His entire body seized, a loud, gasping moan torn from his chest as he came hard, cock pulsing inside you with wave after wave of heat.

You fell with him, your orgasm ripped through you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your cunt clenched around him, milking every drop of his release. Your cry echoed into his mouth as he kissed you again.

“Fuck—both of you are so hot—God—”

Jay’s pace grew rougher, deeper, his restraint unraveling with every breathless sound spilling from Jake’s lips, every clench of your cunt around Jake’s cock. He watched you both, panting, his hands gripping Jake’s hips so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

“Fucking hell,” Jay growled. Jake moaned again, overstimulated and soft, his forehead still resting against yours as Jay buried himself one last time with a low groan, 

You felt it in Jake’s shudder, the way his breath stilled as Jay’s cock throbbed deep inside him. The sound Jay made as he emptied himself, his body pressing tight to Jake’s back.

Jay was the first to exhale, his lips ghosting over the back of Jake’s neck as he slowly eased out. Jake let out a soft whimper, his body twitching from the sensitivity, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him, one hand sliding over his spine.

Jake collapsed onto you gently, his full weight cushioned by your body, his cheek pressed to your shoulder as he panted, still flushed and wet with heat. You stroked his hair, letting your fingers card slowly through the damp strands.

Jay shifted beside you, climbing up the bed on unsteady arms before dropping down on your other side. His chest was heaving, he wrapped one arm around your waist, hand splayed across your stomach, fingers brushing softly against your skin.

Jake tilted his face up to look at you. “You okay?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You nodded, stroking his cheek. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Better than okay.”

Jake gave a breathless laugh, burying his face briefly into the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” he groaned, still catching his breath. “That was the most delicious orgasm I’ve ever had."

You chuckled, breath hitching a little as you threaded your fingers into his hair again.

Jay leaned in from your other side, his body pressing close, his mouth trailing a soft kiss along your shoulder before brushing Jake’s temple. His arm wrapped around the both of you, pulling you tighter into the warmth of him. Your legs tangled instinctively, bodies nestled under the sheets that now clung to the lingering heat of sex and skin.

None of you spoke for a moment, the silence stretching comfortably between heartbeats and shallow breaths.

Then you glanced between them, your voice still breathless. “So…” you murmured, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Does this mean I have two boyfriends now?”

Jake’s head popped up slightly, a crooked grin forming. “Only if you’re okay being heavily spoiled and never allowed to escape.”

Jay made a quiet sound of amusement beside you, his thumb brushing a lazy line along your hip. “We’re clingy,” he said, voice low, eyes half-lidded but sincere. “Terrible at sharing. Lucky for us, we just want the same person.”

You laughed, letting yourself melt back into the weight of them, your body still pulsing with quiet aftershocks and warmth. “I think I can live with that,” you said softly, eyes fluttering closed as their hands continued to drift gently over your skin.

And then you suddenly remember something. Your eyes snapped open as panic surged through your chest.

“Shit—Sunoo!”

You shot up so fast that the blanket fell off your chest and Jake practically flinched, startled, his sleepy post-orgasm daze completely shattered. Jay blinked at you from behind, frowning in confusion. Then he realizes what you meant.

“Sunoo!!!”

Jake’s voice echoed across the grassy field the next day, dramatically over-the-top as he broke into a slow-motion sprint—arms wide, expression exaggerated with mock desperation.

You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath, trailing behind him with your fingers laced through Jay’s. Sunoo, on the other hand, stood perfectly still ahead, arms crossed, expression locked in a glare.

Just as Jake went in for a hug, Sunoo’s palm came up and smacked him square across the face—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to jolt the dramatics right out of him. Jake stumbled back, blinking.

“You didn’t text, you didn’t call, and my best friend just disappeared with you two?” Sunoo snapped, pointing an accusing finger toward you and Jay. 

You smiled awkwardly, offering a sheepish little wave behind Jake’s shoulder.

“She fainted!” Jake explained, hands flying up. “We were busy assisting her. Medical-grade care. You should be grateful your best friend fell into the right hands.”

Sunoo’s eyebrow arched so high. His gaze slowly dropped to your neck… and then narrowed. “Yeah, right,” he said dryly, arms crossing again. “That why she’s covered in poorly hidden hickeys?”

Jake blinked, he slowly reached out and bit his own finger, eyes wide as he turned to stare at you. “Babe,” he whispered. “You said you’d cover those.”

You flushed, dragging the collar of your shirt higher with a quick tug. “I did! Jay distracted me!”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Dodgeball’s starting now—don’t actually faint this time.”

Your fingers gently slipped away from Jay’s, reaching out to Sunoo instead. You slid your arm through his as you began walking beside him, your shoulder brushing his. He let you lean into him without hesitation.

“I assume the three of you are okay now,” Sunoo said after a pause, voice lighter, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’m still scared,” you admitted. “But… as long as I’m with them, I think I’ll be fine.”

Sunoo gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, well. You’ve got me at your back too.”

Jake popped up beside Sunoo, slinging an arm over his shoulder with a wide grin, pressing in close to you on the other side. Jay followed right behind, falling into step beside you with that calm, quiet presence that always made you feel anchored.

“So,” Jake said casually, stretching his arms above his head before locking them behind his neck. “What do you guys want to eat later? Because I’m seriously craving some Samyang Buldak noodles.”

Sunoo stared at him, blinking once. Then, flatly: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jake blinked back, innocent. “What?”

“It’s thirty-four degrees,” Sunoo said, gesturing wildly to the sky like the sun itself was his witness. “And your dumbass is out here craving spicy death noodles? Are you okay? Do we need to check for brain damage?”

"Well, I love spicy!" Jake scoffed, throwing his hands up. 

Their voices quickly dissolved into muffled bickering again—Jake insisting it was about heat and thrill, Sunoo arguing that eating molten fire under the sun was a cry for help.

Jay exhaled a quiet laugh beside you, his fingers brushing against yours. You felt the heat of it—not from the sun, not from the air, but from them.

From all of this. And as you watched your best friend and your boyfriend argue, with Jay steady at your side and your pulse still echoing from the day before, you couldn’t help the smile curling at your lips.

Maybe Jake was right. 

Maybe a little spicy-ness was exactly what made life interesting.

[bratzblondie]

⌗02 — 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 KATSUKI BAKUGO, GATE 3-A.

✈ IN FLIGHT PLAYLIST! 〔jam out while you board〕 :

⤷ sneak peek: How could I forget that face, I don't even know your name. I'm in love with a ghost girl, all alone in a lonely world I just really wanna find her.

✈ FLIGHT PLAN! 〔synopsis〕 :

You’re the new girl. The mystery transfer student with too many passport stamps and not enough memories to call “home.” You’ve spent your whole life moving, city to city, country to country, never long enough to fall in love or stay rooted. Relationships? Not your thing.

Now you’re finishing your final year at U.A., and this time, you’re staying put. No mess. No drama. No distractions.

Until him. Katsuki Bakugo. Your childhood best friend turned stranger. Loud, explosive, impossible to ignore… and maybe the only one who remembers who you used to be.

✈ BAGGAGE CLAIM! 〔content warnings〕 : childhood friends to strangers to lovers. emotionally constipated reader. pining bakugo. social anxiety rep. traditional writing with smau elements. fluff. angst. slowburn. miscommunication. oc character who will piss you off. chapter-specific CW’s provided.

✈ CABIN CREW! 〔character manifest〕 :

you : suitcase always half-packed. playlists for people you miss. soft hoodies. shy but observant. allergic to feelings. “always the new girl.”

katsuki bakugo : jaw clenched, fists looser than they used to be. quiet loyalty. eyes that burn. “one who stayed.”

mina ashido : glitter eyeliner and contagious laughter. hypes you up when you’re spiraling. pink sugar with a punch. “emotional support, gremlin.”

eijiro kirishima : loud laugh, bigger heart. snacks in every pocket. wants everyone to be okay. “ultimate wingman.”

note : there will be other’s these two just are slightly more important to the plot.

✈ FLIGHT LOG! 〔archives〕 :

• 4 I 17 I 25. prologue : who am i? well, even i’m not so sure.

✈ FREQUENT FLYERS! 〔taglist〕

21 | 50 comment to be added!

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @nina-from-317 @harryzcherry @kye1aaazene @kalulakunundrum @cielito--lindo @happinessisabutterflie @sakuraszn @dahhliaa @bakugoubaby @jazoewazoe @loliesaregreat @blissin6s @vicdik @yk-raji @meowsannie @toriiee @yelocaltrashcan @littlestinkybastardman @napbatata @iamaconfusedpan @personally4runa

BLONDIE’S NOTES : My second story (for those who’ve been on my account since the beginning). As always I have no specific posting time, the idea just popped up after reading a hopeless romantic fic w/ katsuki. I use memi message for texts and twinote for Twitter (X) type posts. The banner is a template I found off canva and I changed the colors (it’s inspired by loveriotss banner from her series). All credit to whomever made it! Thank you for all the support — bratzblondie signing off!

© 2025 bratzblondie — All rights reserved. Don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[daylighted]

─ HIDE AWAY THE SIGNS, dad's best friend ! jackles

you didn't think jensen was leaving and saying goodbye without a proper taste of you, did you?

warnings. ( 18+ ! ) pls for the love of god don't interact with this series if you're a minor. hefty age gap. oral (f receiving). dirty talking. manhandling. edging (kind of). thigh biting. minor exhibitionism. he's mean </3. word count. 3.4k

sneak into his room here!

THE FIRST THING YOU HEAR WHEN you wake up is the sound of rustling around on the other side of your bedroom wall. with an odd sense of disappointment, you realize immediately what it is. suitcases zipping, bedsheets rippling as the big duvet is fluffed and spread flat over it. you’d know the sound of someone preparing to leave anywhere — you’d only just done it days ago prior to returning home. 

it feels wrong to get up and say goodbye. to your parents, jensen was a stranger you talked to sometimes, when you passed each other. even in your mind, you only knew him at base level. you don’t know his favorite color, what high school he went to, if he had any pets wherever it was that he was from. 

so you weren’t going to say goodbye. you’d sit on your bed and stew on this realization that it was fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t meant to last. not really. you’d been told to get some spontaneity in your life by him, made to step out of every single comfort zone you had, and now you could say you did. that was the whole point, wasn’t it? he was sent into your life by some god, probably not any that were going to let you through heaven’s gates or anything, and now that he’d served the purpose he came for, he’d leave.

it still felt bittersweet in the most painstaking of ways. you didn’t have to completely close yourself off from him to know that fact.

the sound of things flipping around halts, and the door clicks shut, and footsteps start down the hallway to the staircase, not once pausing in front of yours. 

somehow, it hurt more that he’s just as dismissive as all of this as you were trying to be. you were trying, he didn’t even need to make the efforts to push you out of his head, it seemed.

four days you’d been home and you hadn’t reached out to your friends. you pull your phone out of your pocket to do that, needing some sort of distraction from the fact that you’d let yourself become your dad’s best friend’s temporary plaything while he stayed over. maybe he had a wife back home, not a dog. maybe his favorite color was the color of her eyes. maybe they met in high school.

the thought makes you feel sick, your fingers hovering over the group message with your friends in town.

you nearly jump out of your skin when a knock echoes on the doorframe behind you. there, standing in its open space, is jensen. 

“weren’t downstairs,” he says, eyebrows raising like he was accusing you of something. he’s wearing a baseball cap, the brim shadowing over the greens of his eyes. the strap of his duffel bag is slung over one shoulder, catching on the bunched up fabric of his hoodie. “thought i’d come up here n’ see why.” 

you raise your eyebrows right back at him, just as much accusation in them as his. “well, i’m not your girlfriend or anything, so…” 

“no, you aren’t,” he says easily, crossing his legs at the ankle as he braced his shoulder on the doorframe. “but i thought we were past the point of pretending we weren’t something.” 

“what’s that supposed to mean?” 

he raises a closed fist, holding up fingers as he counted them off. “friend. good fuck. good fuck who’s a friend. fuckbuddy—”

“your best friend’s daughter,” you interject, hissing it through your teeth at him, eyes darting over his shoulder to make sure both of your parents were downstairs like he’d implied. “you should do better to keep that little tidbit at the front of your arguments.” 

jensen takes a step into your room, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood. “if you wanna play mean, pretty girl, by all means, i’m not stoppin’ you. but i’ve already warned you that you won’t like it when i’m mean.” 

“why are you so adamant on me going to tell you goodbye, huh?” you sit up on your bed now, no longer laying on your stomach facing the pillows, but flipped over to properly argue. all of the hurt you felt over the fact that this was ending and it meant nothing by this point was starting to bubble over, out of your control. “you probably have a wife at home! you probably— probably have a job, and kids, and a dog named, like, spot or something—” 

jensen nods along with everything you’re rambling on about, his lips pursed in disamusement. it’s when you stumble on the syllables out of your mouth that the sentences falter, and you’re staring at him with your chest heaving and your lip wobbling against your will. you weren’t supposed to miss him, and especially not now, when he wasn’t already gone. “you done?” 

“no!” you choke on it, spit it out like it burns your tongue. “i bet you’re really happy, too, with your little family. i bet you came here and saw something young, and new, and because you’re jensen ackles you couldn’t help yourself! you never could help yourself, i know this, dad always said so — you’d see one thing you wanted, and you—” 

his duffel clatters to the ground with a heavy thud, the strap scraping along the hardwood as it lands. you can barely process jensen’s footsteps crossing the space to you before he’s hauled you into his arms, all of your protests dying in your mouth. 

he’s taking you down the stairs, your mouth opening and closing before you can even think of telling him no, or to put you down, or to never let go. 

over his shoulder, you see your parents small forms from the screen door of your front entrance. they’re at the mailbox, talking to one of your neighbors, both of their backs to you and the neighbor turned to face them, capable of seeing you at any moment through his peripheral vision if he chose to glance over. 

you duck your head like that alone could save you from that possibility, tucking it behind jensen’s shoulder. “talkin’ to me like i’ve got somethin’ to prove,” he rasps in your ear, scoffing in disbelief, “who do you think you are, tryin’ to make me feel guilty?” 

jensen shoves you onto the countertop, his head hovering over you, looming like a shadow — overtaking you in a single breath. “the news flash, sweetheart, is that i don’t owe you shit.” his fingers close around your thigh, digging into the bare flesh as he pushes it open. “i don’t owe you my wife’s name, my kids’ names, my fuckin’ dog’s name, if i had any of that shit. i don’t owe you what my job is. i don’t owe you what i do in my freetime.” 

he curls his index finger over the crotch of your panties and tugs downwards, his other hand forcing each of your thighs up to wiggle the fabric down your legs. immediately, your eyes dart to the doorway, to the screen door open for anyone to see, to where you’re directly in the sights of any potential straying eyes. 

“and you know what i especially don’t owe you?” jensen asks, sinking his teeth into the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin before lapping it under his tongue. he sits back a little, just enough so that one hand could come up and flip his baseball cap backwards on his head. “i don’t fucking owe you on why i like you, pretty baby,” he hums, giving you a wolfish grin before diving into the space between your legs, his head beneath your skirt.

you couldn’t hide your sharp gasp, not when it was all so sudden, and not when the scratch of his beard teases and rubs at the highest parts of your inner thighs and the sensitive skin of your folds, his tongue dipping between them to lick a stripe up the wet slit. one of your hands curls around the edge of the countertop, the other clamps over your mouth to keep quiet.

the last thing you wanted was for either of your parents to wonder what you were making noise for, or for your neighbor to catch too much movement through the glass door and peek over, and to see jensen’s head between your legs, or the throes of ecstasy he was beginning to drag you through. 

his hands grip your calves, keeping your legs open for him with a bruising grip on the skin, but his tongue and lips play a different story. they’re slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring the proper taste of you and not just the fleeting flick of his tongue or the wetness around his fingers. the thought alone has you squirming on the marble surface, knowing that he was teasing you on purpose, that he was just as capable of being much worse as he was being much more ravishing. 

his tongue flicks over the bundle of nerves between your folds and your fingers tighten over your mouth, just in time for him to suck it between his two lips. one of jensen’s hands lets go of your calf to grab upwards at your wrist, looking up at you with dark eyes through the span of his eyelashes. 

“uncover it or we’re going to the living room,” he breathes, his voice a delicious vibration against your clit, “and if you keep pushing me, baby, i’ll put you on the porch.” 

you let go of your mouth with haste, looking down at him with wide eyes. “but—” 

“you think i’m scared of them?” he asks, eyebrows bouncing up on his forehead. “why would i be? you think you’re nothing to me, that this is just bullshit, so why should i care who sees what i do to you? why should i care about you at all?” 

jensen’s glistening lips curl up into that sneering grin again, and he pushes your one leg open further, moving it to the back of your knee to hook his fingers around it and drag you closer to the edge of the countertop. he shifts his attention, trailing his tongue downwards to lap at the seeping wetness from your entrance, before pushing through it and into the tight throb of your heat.

it’s all you can do to not make a sound. the only outlet you have is the grip he still has on your wrist, your nails dug hard into the back of his hand. he doesn’t lift his head to see as he lets go of your hand to smack your digging nails away from his skin, the crescent marks evident in the tanned skin. 

instead, he grabs your fingers in a vice grip, holding them in his own tight enough that you can’t pull them free — like he’s almost afraid of the risk that you’ll let go. he’s relentless in his unabashed tongue fucking, breaking away for seconds at a time to suck and lap at your clit before returning. 

your breath leaves you in heaving gasps, your thighs closing tighter around his head, writhing against him. it only seems to encourage jensen further, the arching of your hips into his face making him groan in between your pussy lips.

he takes the time to learn all of your secrets. how you can’t help a gasp when he nuzzles closer, his beard leaving red splotches on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. how your spine arches when his teeth graze the throbbing nub of your clit. how you whimper softly, just for him, when he closes his mouth around your clit and sucks at it until it aches, and soothes it with the lap of his tongue as he collects every bit of your wetness on it and breathes it in. 

“please—” you beg, though you’re not sure for what, not when he’s started to pay special attention to your clit again and every thought in your head becomes a puddle, replaced with a constant buzz that only builds and builds.

he nips at it again and you whine throatily, just as he relents. jensen’s head dips lower to your entrance again, moaning against the new wave of wetness he finds in place of what he’d just swallowed down. “please what?” he rasps, making your toes curl at his sides. “thought i wasn’t happy with you. thought i was real fuckin’ happy to get away from this pussy.” 

“no!” you gasp the word out, no breath left in your lungs to rise above that sweet whisper of a sound. “no, no, no—” 

“yeah, you backtrack real fuckin’ fast when i’m eating your pussy, huh?” his laugh is bitter and cruel, but the kiss he presses to your clit is sweet, and so is the look he gives you through his eyelashes. a thin strip of green around the expanse of his pupils, big and glossy like he might actually like you, but dark enough to remind you that this, like everything, is a fleeting moment in a span of millions of other little moments.

you’re right on the cusp of the feeling you’ve been chasing, and he’s stopped. his cheek is pressed against your thigh, lips wet with the taste of you, the facial hair around his mouth wet and red from the friction. “you want the truth?” 

your heart screams yes. “no.” your head’s answer slips through your teeth.

he nods once, letting go of the back of your knee to smear his finger teasingly along your entrance, brushing the juices upwards and circling the pad of his thumb over your clit. “try again.” 

you shake your head. the tightness is beginning to curl up beneath your navel, each little brush of his thumb starting a slow crescendo. your head knocks back against the cabinet behind you with a soft thud, your legs spreading open wider in an attempt to grind your hips against his touch. 

jensen grabs your inner thigh again and holds it tight in his big hand, keeping you from squirming too much, no longer about to push you over the edge of the impending orgasm. “try. again.” 

you let out a little mewl at the lack of his touch leaving you panting and empty, the pleasure teetering right over the cusp. “stop it,” you manage to whimper out, again trying to wrestle your hand free from his other one. 

his lips twitch. “do you. want. the truth?” 

“no,” you rasp back at him, leaning your head off of the cabinets to be closer to eye level with him. 

silence follows like a heavy blanket. his thumb strokes slowly along the inside of your thigh where he holds it steady, his eyes never once dragging away from your face. “okay.” 

there’s no preemptive warning before jensen lets go of your leg and slides two fingers deep inside of you, just like there’s no preparation as he pumps them, curling them upwards to brush against the gushy spot inside of you that makes you whine again. the sparks of pleasure are so much more intense with how close you were, everything building at a speed you can’t keep up with. 

your fingers go slack in his grip, your head tipping forward that little bit more to press your forehead to his while you try to catch your breath. never once did jensen take his eyes off of you. and again, he doesn’t falter in that eye contact when he pulls his fingers out of you.

each breath is shallow in your lungs, your lips trembling as you fight against the need to scream and whine and hit him, probably, if you had access to your dominant hand. yeah, you’d hit him, and then you’d kiss it better, and—

“i meant it.” jensen ducks his head to catch your downturned eyes, nudging your head up with his nose along your jawline to force the eye contact. “when i said i wanted you to look at me. wanted you to see me.” he lets go of your hand, then, and surprisingly, you don’t swing on him. not immediately, anyways. “you’re the only fucking person here in this place who doesn’t have some idea of me in their head, you know that?”

you guessed he was right, but how were you supposed to take any of this to heart when you felt like you were made of lightning? when your tears sprung in your eyes with the need for release that he wouldn’t give and kept you from getting on your own? “you try and lie to yourself, baby, try to make yourself feel better about the fact that i’m walkin’ out of that door today. you made up stories to make it easier, assigned me a happy family waitin’ back at the ackles residence, just so you didn’t have to think about the fact that i’m gonna be in my bed every night, fucking my hand raw to the thought of what those moans would sound like if i didn’t have to force them into a pillow, or my fingers.” 

jensen leans up to brush his mouth along yours, glancing between the both of your eyes for an answer he’s not getting. “now are you gonna be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, or do i have to keep arguing with you?” 

he doesn’t move an inch as he waits. his eyes are brutal, piercing, watching you with a conviction that no one else has dared to. everyone around you has had high expectations without the room to catch you if you missed them, but his expectations are in the realm of something you want.

just like you’re the first person to look at him without the precognitive impressions your father tried to instill in you, he’s the first person to look at you and see past the goals and the blind hope. you could fall and he’d catch you, so long as you fell from somewhere within what you wanted, and not someone else.

you nod, but it’s not enough. his voice is made of gravel and sin when he whispers, “use that pretty little voice of yours for me.” 

“okay,” you sputter out quickly, as if that alone could make him give in any quicker. “yes, yes yes—” 

his head cocks in his amusement. “yes what?”

“yes, i’ll be good—” 

jensen let go of your hand and your thigh at once. his forearms slip underneath your knees to drag you just a little closer, pulling your thighs up and over his shoulders. and when his tongue dips between your folds and licks up the slick slit before he can close his mouth around your clit again, he moans. 

he licks at your clit and your entrance like he’s starving, nibbling along your clit with each flick of his tongue, each slight movement of his head making the raw skin of your inner thighs that much more inflamed. 

it doesn’t take long for the crest of your orgasm to crash over you, not with the way he ravished with tongue and teeth along your puffy clit and dove his tongue into your entrance with the same intensity he fucked you with. your head tips back into the cabinets, shaking fingers pressed to your mouth being the only thing stopping you from letting out a wail that would inevitably alert the whole town to what you were doing. 

jensen doesn’t stop, though, as you ride out the intensity of your comedown. he laps up every drop of your juices, soothes the beardburn on your inner thighs with kisses along every part of your skin he can reach, sucks your throbbing clit in between his lips just to feel you squirm a couple more times.

when he finally rises to his full height, dropping your legs back down from his shoulders, he keeps his palms on top of your thighs, rubbing little circles through the fabric of your dress. “you look pretty like this,” he whispers, capturing your lips in a kiss so much more gentle than how he was being before, pressing the taste of yourself back into your mouth, “i think i need to see you like this more often.” 

it takes a moment for the words to register, blinking your eyes back into focus when you meet his again. “you can’t—” 

jensen gives you an unimpressed look, still wearing the slick of your juices along his mouth like a wet trophy. he goes to the fridge to take out the nearly empty orange juice bottle he’d drank from a couple days ago, messing with the cap between his two fingers. “give me your phone.” 

you want to question him, but the look he gives you makes your mouth shut. you pull your phone out from underneath your thigh, something that just makes him smirk. he holds the juice in one hand and your phone in the other, swiping through things outside of your line of sight.

he looks kind of ridiculous, in an endearing sort of way. he has an uncapped bottle of orange juice in one hand and a cell phone in the other, mouth wet like he’d been drinking right— 

oh. you almost laugh, then, at how simply he’d reduced what he’d just done to the cover story of drinking juice. like he hadn’t just about had you in tears for the third time in his weekend stay with how good he’d made you feel. 

you hop off of the counter onto wobbly legs, bending down to tug your panties back up from where he’d aimlessly tossed them beneath you. 

the screen door squeaks open and slams shut just as you straighten back up to your feet. your heart nearly leapt out of your chest at the sound of it, at the intensity of the close call you’d narrowly missed. 

jensen forks over your phone again, giving you a wink in the process. “should be all good.” 

“hey, you heading out?” your dad asks from the kitchen doorway, patting his hand on the kitchen wall. he glances between the both of you with a little grin, so oblivious it’d make you feel nauseous if you weren’t so focused on staying upright.

jensen lifts the juice bottle to his mouth again, finishing the rest of the juice off in a quick swig before wiping the excess — and the remainder of your wetness — away with his thumb and sucking it into his mouth. he doesn’t even need to look at you for you to stumble on a breath, looking down at the phone in your hand. 

“yeah,” jensen says, placing the glass bottle down next to you on the countertop you leaned up against. “got a little thirsty. needed somethin’ sweet to tie me over on the drive.” 

he shrugs his duffel over his shoulder again. you can hear the rustle of it without needing to look up, afraid that your expression will give everything away if you look at him now. “bye, little lady,” jensen says, and that draws your attention. he’s devastating like this for many reasons: because he’s leaving, because he smiles with the sun in his teeth, because he can be so sweet after he can be so mean. his two finger salute makes you smile, and you mimic one right back to him before his back turns again. 

daring to see what he did on your phone, you find it open to text messages, where he’d sent something to, assumedly, his number from your phone, after very sweetly naming his contact daddy a.

to: daddy a staying at a hotel for a few nights. i’ll send the room number if you’re feeling brave enough to sneak out.

a dare and a promise all in one. you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, your face blooming in pink, just as your dad lets out a scoff of laughter. “and i always thought that orange juice was too sour, not sweet.”

notes | i dont rly have commentary for this one i just want in his drawls so bad. i was sweatin from the moment i wrote him turning the hat around ───ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfeedback & reblogs appreciated <3 !!

tags | @soldiersgirl @seven7lee @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @winchestersbgirl @tinas111 @bejeweledinterludes @lonelylonelybaby @mourningthewicked @ultravi0lence14 @1-imbroglio @hughesinthebox @angels-silhouette @blossomingorchids @chris444evr @cassiecourtemanche @writtenbyhollywood @adrienneleclerc @losers-clvb @bluemerakis @fuckedupfate @legalmente-loca @k-slla @fxckingjo @blueschevy @fitxgrld @viluren @youdontknowe @sizzlingcheesecakepanda @cupidluvzz @lanasgirlfr @h8aaz @coralfacecrown @doublecrazyyymofo @1ghxstt1 @mahi-wayy @narniabusinessbitch @zqarax @angelicjackles @arcannaa @am0rem @sthefferrete @v1v1-3 @spxideyver @suckitands33 @beausling @pieandflannel @briisbananass @cowboysandcigarettes @deanswidow @aurevina

[sunnyday102]

Fun!

- I would be a cat. I'm already the embodiment of a cat sooo

- I'd grab whatevers on my chair then somehow it doesent fit right so I freak out and go throught my closet and probably find some random ass clingy shirt and my Jeans

- I would probably be a witch! Idk man brewing sum mysterious ahh potions and waving around a wand sounds like my kinda thing. Or I'd be a Dryad, cuz I speak for the trees for the trees have no knees (I like saying knees ok?! Better than tongues even if it makes less sense)

- Uhhh grunge maybe? I also like colorful clothes and jewelry but yet I don't like many colors either ToT (and no im NOT emo for my irl friends who keep saying that I barely own black clothesss) Idk I'm everything EXCEPT coquette I just can't do it (no hate its just not my style!)

- Gotta agree milk is NASTY the day I just. Drink milk. Is the day I'm 5 feet under

- JUST cereal. No milk. Eat that shi the way God intended/silly. Grab it with your hands and go toddler mode (I say having not eaten cereal in 6 months)

- I think about this a lot actually and it creeps my friends out :D (I'm a writer I SWEAR-) I get murder writing tips for some reason and I don't write crime :'[ I would kick the solar plexus and groin for temporary disablement, then take out my pocket knife (dont judge I have it for self defense and I don't carry it around out T-T) and stab like...The neck or side again. Bleed out, take the body into the middle of the desert near me (that's convenient!) And erase all traces of my presence. And never take your phone. Phones are traceable. This will be summer, as it reaches 95- 115 is here and the sun and scavengers will finish the job, and chances are it won't be found in time! Okay yes I know this isnt well planned out but still

( @highbookwormofthecentury plant based milk isn't that bad...pls dont kill me 🙏)

Open tags! I would love to hear yalls opinions

yk what I'll also do this get to know your mutuals cuz I thought bout it for a bit and I think I have to or I'll explode

get to know your mutuals♡

if you could be any animal which one would you choose to be? (can be fictional) (and you can explain why if you want to)

what would you choose when you're in a hurry and have nothing to wear?

are you a witch, vampire, fairy, dryad, siren or a mermaid and why do you think so?

what is your style?

regular milk or plant based milk?

which one do you put first milk or cereal?

fav way to kill someone? (idgaf if you never thought of it now you have to think of something and make it at least a bit cool I'm begging)

and I'll go first cuz I can

girl I wrote kinda a lot in these answers but I just had to brag about my fav way of killing people🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ and okay maybe it's kinda stupid that I'm also doing this game even tho I made it for others but who cares?

I can't choose but either a phoenix or a wolf cuz the allegory of both of these animals absolutely stole my heart

anything in my wardrobe that looks good (and it's almost always not adequate for the cold weather, I literally can wear a mini skirt when it's like 2°C outside and there are times when I am wearing a mini skirt and a crop top when it is 0°C and even when it was -3°C I don't care)

something in between vampire and a dryad cuz I feel like I would be a good vampire I don't know how to describe it but I just know and that's it and also a dryad cuz when I think of them they give me rather a messy and chaotic vibe which is def how I act and overall express myself so I'd say that I'm sometimes both sometimes one and sometimes the other

I'm goth so my style is overall gothic and / or cunty

regular but only 1,5% fat

CEREAL

sooo this is my fav way, first - pepper spray in the face so they can't see and therefore they can't run away, second - start scratching their legs with a pocket knife as hard as possible and try to find an aorta and cut there (making it even harder to run away), third - stick the same knife into all of their fingers (why not), fourth - knock out their teeth with a knuckle duster and finally - when they open their mouth trying to catch a breath from the blood and saliva running into their throat pour fluoroantimonic acid into their mouth and it's done! and I'll add that fluoroantimonic acid is called the most corrosive acid in the world ans if it touches the skin it causes huge damage and if poured into someones throat it'll burn the insides and kill. I think I'm really creative cuz I came up with this when I was writing one of my books and now I'm obsessed

tags: @n1eprzytomnadesperacja @niketas-s @r4tkisses @dawkacynizmu @gothicm0rph @slowacki006

and with question 7 rn I'm mostly thinking about one bbg ( @dawkacynizmu I'm looking at you ) cuz a bit after I came up with this question I thought that you might have an interesting answer

[creatingblackcharacters]

I'm a Black Biracial person with light skin and 2a-2b curls. I consider myself Black, but seeing a lot of people choose "mid" or "nah" for characters that resemble me makes me wonder, am I really Black?

Well I certainly would NEVER let the opinion of anyone on Tumblr determine my self identity, so I'm gonna stop you right there partner and say Don't. If you know you Black, that's all there is to it. Blackness is not just determined by skin color or hair texture, it's a sociological class, made in tandem to Whiteness, which- the more I learn about it- is unnecessarily convoluted. I don't wanna call it "blood quantum" because that's for Native folks, but something equivalent to is what we get stuck with, at least here in the US. The existence of light skinned and biracial Black people have been throwing white supremacy for the biggest loop for centuries.

Now admittedly, you might not be as "easy to spot" in terms of what we deem physical Blackness. Part of the reason I push for non ambiguity here is because in our media, we tend to try to capture the title and credit of "Black" without trying to commit to it, and yes, that usually means drawing darker skin and thicker hair. I'm sorry that you got caught up in the fray on that. Genuinely passing is not that easy though; I'm sure if we saw your face, we'd be like "oh yeah I see it". I'm trying to do what I can to teach folks that we run the range in looks, but I can only do so much. Sorry for the let down.

[ahouseofstarkdefender]

Also, I love the scenes of Gendry in Brienne. He obviously had a crush on Arya, but she was a lady (even if she didn't want to admit it) and book!Gendry was more realistic than his series counterpart. In the books, he found his own Arya in the smallfolk:

"No," said the boy smith. "Yes," said the girl Willow. They glared at one another. Then Willow stomped her foot. "They have food, Gendry. The little ones are hungry." She whistled, and more children appeared as if by magic; ragged boys with unshorn locks crept from under the porch, and furtive girls appeared in the windows overlooking the yard. Some clutched crossbows, wound and loaded.

"Down to the common room, to supper." The common room was crawling with children. Brienne tried to count them, but they would not stand still even for an instant, so she counted some of them twice or thrice and others not at all, until she finally gave it up. They had pushed the tables together in three long rows, and the older boys were wrestling benches from the back. Older here meant ten or twelve. Gendry was the closest thing to a man grown, but it was Willow shouting all the orders, as if she were a queen in her castle and the other children were no more than servants. If she were highborn, command would come naturally to her, and deference to them. Brienne wondered whether Willow might be more than she appeared. The girl was too young and too plain to be Sansa Stark, but she was of the right age to be the younger sister, and even Lady Catelyn had said that Arya lacked her sister's beauty. Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny . . . could it be? Arya Stark's hair was brown, she recalled, but Brienne was not sure of the color of her eyes. Brown and brown, was that it? Could it be that she did not die at Saltpans after all?

We can't have Brienne wondering if she is Arya and we, readers, not see Martin winking at us.

Willow hit him with her spoon. "Ben Big Mouth. There's food. You should be eating it, not bothering m'lords with talk." The children fell upon the supper like wolves upon a wounded deer, quarreling over codfish, tearing the barley bread to pieces, and getting porridge everywhere. Even the huge wheel of cheese did not long survive. Brienne contented herself with fish and bread and carrots, whilst Septon Meribald fed two morsels to Dog for every one he ate himself. Outside, a rain began to fall. Inside, the fire crackled, and the common room was filled by the sounds of chewing, and Willow smacking children with her spoon. "One day that little girl will make some man a frightful wife," Ser Hyle observed. "That poor 'prentice boy, most like."

Willow is so Arya coded is impossible to not see. She even has an older sister, Jeyne Heddle, who is smallfolk!Sansa in name and personality.

Gendry liked Arya, you can read between the lines he was starting to have a minor crush on her, but not only she is an ignorant classist, that relationship in the world of Westeros wouldn't have worked. First, she is destined to meet her siblings, and she will be like Brienne: a lord's daughter with her dreams of adventure accepted, probably supported in money because you need money to keep her weapons in good state, and everyone will know Arya Stark. Just like everyone in the Reach knows Brienne the Beauty, Arya will be known in Westeros after the Long Night.

Gendry liked Arya, but he wanted to settle. Arya? Who loves Nymeria and stories of adventures? Can you see her acting like Willow, taking care of a bunch of children, smacking children with her spoon because they don't behave? Staying in one place while Gendry happily bangs in his smithy?

Nah. She will be the cool aunt for her Stark nieces and nephews (we are having little Robb Stark, even with his red hair and probably blue eyes, the Tully genes being dominant than Stark's, I bet), teaching them to swordfight, telling her own adventures, and that's it all her interest in children.

Also, GoT!Gendry had the Edric Storm's scene of being nearly sacrificed to the Lord of Light, which we already know didn't happen to book!Gendry. GoT!Davos brought GoT!Gendry knowing his existence to Winterfell... when did book!Davos met book!Gendry again?

I think, by GoT!Arya's scene with Hot Pie in the Crossing Inn, Arya will meet Gendry there. I hope Hot Pie is too, but doubt it. Arya is going to meet LSH, and Gendry is connected to her, so there is a big chance Arya will meet Gendry happily living in the inn's. It's the best place that boy can be. I doubt we will have the sex scene because Arya is 10, and as much she could be 12 when they meet again, and that's stretching a lot (maybe Martin manages to stretch her arc 5 years? Who knows?). But if that happen (the meeting) Arya will see Gendry with Willow, and that's why she is going to leave Gendry behind.

I think people forget that Gendry in show got Edric Storm plot. Gendry in books is a tertiary character. If Ary@ is going to meet him in books, it will be at Riverrun. But I don't think he would go to WF with her. Also like him, Mya Stone is introduced to Sansa story. Both Baratheon bastards befriended Stark girls in disguise.

Yes, it’s sad that they turned Gendry into this carricature. :(

The most interesting and significant thing about her friendship with Gendry is that they have genuine classist conflict. Which is why I also believe that they will likely meet again, and in a different universe with a time skip may have explored that with a vaguely romantic angle. As it is, it’s still waiting for another confrontation on the subject of class conflict and respect.

When Arya wants to escape Harrenhal, Gendry is not enthused. He is, in fact, deeply sarcastic. 

"And if we did escape, where would we go?"

"Winterfell," she said at once. "I'd tell Mother how you helped me, and you could stay—"

"Would m'lady permit? Could I shoe your horses for you, and make swords for your lordly brothers?"

Sometimes he made her so angry. "You stop that!" "Why should I wager my feet for the chance to sweat in Winterfell in place of Harrenhal? You know old Ben Blackthumb? He came here as a boy. Smithed for Lady Whent and her father before her and his father before him, and even for Lord Lothston who held Harrenhal before the Whents. Now he smiths for Lord Tywin, and you know what he says? A sword's a sword, a helm's a helm, and if you reach in the fire you get burned, no matter who you're serving. Lucan's a fair enough master. I'll stay here." (ACOK, Arya IX)

She considers Gendry her pack, but Gendry has a very different outlook on life. She is a “wolf” because she has a house sigil, she is ultra highborn nobility, while for Gendry the lords are like the clouds that come and go far out of his reach. They are not the same.

That's not to say he's right in thinking that who rules makes zero difference to the smallfolk, but Arya is essentially viewing him as a transferable good. Her father allowed her to bring her swordmaster Syrio along to Winterfell, why can't she just bring along her blacksmith friend? His perspective is entirely secondary to her own, and his lack of agreement, his invocation of their status difference doesn’t cause her to respond with even a reasonable counter-argument. Just anger at his lack of cooperation.

This conflict is not resolved from either end. 

One of their last exchanges before being separated features a return to the class divide and how it shapes their priorities.

Gendry joins the Brotherhood for very deliberate, political reasons. He chooses his own group, based on his own sense of justice. He willingly accepts the risk to his life, answers the question he asked a book earlier. Why wager his feet for the choice who to serve? Because it does matter. He has evolved in his priorities.

“At the hollow hill, what you said about being King Robert’s men, and brothers, I liked that. I liked that you gave the Hound a trial. Lord Bolton just hanged folk or took off their heads, and Lord Tywin and Ser Amory were the same. I’d sooner smith for you.”

Arya has no evolved yet at that point. All she hears is:

Arya bit her lip. He means to leave me too.

Her reaction is to lash out to cover up her hurt feelings, as she usually does:

As Arya was cinching her saddle girth, Gendry came up to say that he was sorry. She put a foot in the stirrup and swung up into her saddle, so she could look down on him instead of up. You could have made swords at Riverrun for my brother, she thought, but what she said was, “If you want to be some stupid outlaw knight and get hanged, why should I care? I’ll be at Riverrun, ransomed, with my brother.”

She dismisses his personal convictions and frames them in contrast to the privilege of serving her family, she clings to her own status as a highborn lady worth of ransom, from up on her horse. 

This becomes an uncomfortable stance to take later. Their final exchange before her kidnapping is about this:

“Did the Lannisters kill the people who lived here?” Arya asked as she helped Anguy dry the horses. “No.” He pointed. (...)

“Who did it, then?” asked Gendry.

“Hoster Tully.” Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. “This was Lord Goodbrook’s village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook’s son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn’t help the dead none.”

A silence fell. Gendry gave Arya a queer look, then turned away to brush his horse. (ASOS, Arya VIII)

That noble lord killing smallfolk is her grandfather. Her people. Killing people like Gendry. They are not the same.

Their relationship is begging to be revisited. To show Arya having grown beyond viewing lowborn people through the lens of her personal attachment or her own sense of justice, but within the context of her own privilege. To make room for their perspective even if it doesn’t include her. To actually be a lady, own her privilege and answer it with duty. 

There is a theme of comparing their hands. “She has the hands of a blacksmith”. He laughs at her dainty hands and says she couldn’t wield a hammer, yet she has calluses from training with a sword. Swords are made by blacksmiths. Her weapon is made by his hands.

If Gendry represents the smallfolk, and Arya the nobility, then she needs to become worthy of carrying a sword, of being handed that privilege by people like him. Not because it’s “a shade more fun than needlework”, but because it represents power and justice and needs to be tempered with duty and responsibility. 

Arya’s sword needs to serve the people, not herself.

Sadly, all the show saw in them was an opportunity to get Maisie naked. :(

[somethinginthemyste]

These motherfuckers did it from the start

The entire time I've been listening to Magnus Protocol and reading all the theories and understanding what is going on, there's been some ideas that just haven't been convincing. Either because they're based on the Archives entities or the theories exist because of misinterpretation and some are more convincing than others but finally I understand. I don't think I'm right, I don't think everyone else is wrong, but I think I understand.

Because the thing that cracks everything is Mister fucking Bonzo

FIRST OF ALL

One of the four base elements, Fire, associated with the colors red and orange and the humor yellow bile. Well what are the humors?

Blood, Phlegm, Yellow Bile, and Black Bile.

Yellow Bile, which is associated with Fire in alchemy, provokes excitement. Just like we see when Bonzo attacks, there's an excited chanting of his theme song. But as we just saw recently, Bonzo can get very angry, seemingly jealous of the murderer on trial.

But it's even worse than that

MR BONZO IS ORANGE AND RED

Yes I know this is more yellow and orange, but remember ancient colors were different and depending on where you were located and at what point in history, the names for colors were different (I tried to find an illustration to help prove my point but unfortunately I couldn't find a good one and I'm losing my mind right now so I stopped looking)

BUT IT GOES DEEPER

Because in alchemy, Air is sometimes thought of as a life-giving force and is associated with Blood. Blood is thought to promote joy and mirth and enthusiasm. Remember Needles? We loved that little guy, the most enthusiastic and joyful murderer in the series. Just like how in real life, needles can draw Blood and are used in vaccines which are Life Saving devices.

But it gets worse still

Because Air is symbolized as the Earth symbol inverted. Earth being cold and dry, representing physical movements and sensations and associated with Black Bile. Black Bile being melancholic and withdrawn, just like Ink5oul. Ink5oul the tattoo artist. The tattoo artist that uses NEEDLES

Earth and Air are just inverses!

THERE'S EVEN A FUCKING EPISODE WHERE A SENTIMENTAL COUPLE GOES TO FIND THEIR LOCK THEY PUT THERE YEARS AGO AND STUMBLE INTO A LOCK MUSEUM WHERE ONE OF THEM DROWN. Sentimentality is associated with Phlegm and you know what Phlegm is represented by in alchemy? WATER!

From the start, it's literally been from the start. There's so much more, alchemy is becoming my life, there's so much, they're doing it again, from the first fucking episode it's all been here.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Chrissy and Steve walked through the door of Steve’s house just as Eddie pulled into the driveway. They quickly set their bags down in the living room just as Eddie came barreling in. Luckily, their arms were free, so they caught Eddie before he could knock them over. Chrissy and Steve laughed as they welcomed his eager kiss.

"Ugh! As much as I love Corroded Coffin, I would have rathered gone shopping with you two," Eddie groaned. "They're still fighting over what to call the new song we wrote."

"Just name it after us and call it a day next time, baby," Chrissy said.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," Eddie sighed, and then he pouted. "I had hoped that I would have gotten out early enough to watch you try on the clothes you love."

"Well, we bought a lot," Steve grinned. "So, it's not like we can't put on a little fashion show right here. I mostly just some more polos, though, so don't get too excited."

Eddie pressed his palms together and brought them to his face. He let out a deep breath and looked at Steve.

"How many times do I have to tell you, sweetheart? I love those sweet little sexy numbers of yours," Eddie said. "Along with Chrissy's overall jumper thingies, her puffy pirate pants, and her twirly skirts. You know why? Because it's how you feel when you wear them. . .sexiest thing I've ever seen, Jesus H Christ."

Chrissy cupped his face, kissed him deeply, and moved to let Steve do the same.

"We love you," Steve said softly.

"I love you, too. Let's get this party started, big boy," Eddie said and patted his ass affectionately.

Steve and Chrissy grabbed the bags before rushing up the stairs. Eddie quickly turned the couch around so that it was facing the stairs and turned on the radio before throwing himself onto the couch. Raise a Little Hell by Trooper came on, and Eddie couldn't help but use his leg as a drum. When they did come down, they found him banging his head and beating on the meat of his thighs. After giggling a lot, they had to yell to get his attention. He jumped and sat up straight. Chrissy was standing in front of him, a loving vision dressed in green. It was a beautiful summer dress with a thousand yellow daisies on them. Chrissy seemed to really love it. Her face was beaming as she touched the material.

"You look beautiful," Eddie gasped as Chrissy twirled around in front of him.

"I love the way it feels against my skin," Chrissy sighed and then smirked. "I bet it would feel even better against yours."

Chrissy stepped in between his legs and let him touch the material of her dress. It didn't look like it would be so smooth, but underneath Eddie's fingertips, it told a different story. Chrissy's cheeks flushed as she let Eddie's hands wander down from her waist to her thighs. She let out a giggle before spinning out of his grip. Eddie groaned. She was such a menace. He couldn't help but smile, though. Eddie's eyes wandered over to Steve, who was watching them with a glint in his eyes while he smoothed down his yellow polo.

"Shit, baby, you found yourself a yellow polo?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, isn't this great! I didn't think that they'd had it in my size, but they did!" Steve exclaimed.

Eddie smiled. He knew how much that Steve loved the color. It was his favorite, after all. The white stripes spread right over Steve's chest, right over his pecs. Eddie appreciated how tight it was and how Steve kept running his hands over it to smooth down every wrinkle. Steve looked fucking beautiful right now, beaming like the fucking sunshine that he was. He waved Steve over, making grabbing motions with his hands. When Steve got close to him, Eddie yanked him in by his hips.

"You look beautiful," Eddie breathed as he ran his hand over the material of his shirt.

He placed his face right into his chest, breathing in his scent. Steve chuckled and ran his hand through his hair before kissing the top of his head. Eddie pulled back and let him go.

"I told you he would like it," Steve said to Chrissy as they meandered up the stairs.

"And I told you that he would like it as long as we did," she said and paused. "We do look sexy."

"Hell yeah, we do," Steve said.

Eddie smiled softly. They kept telling him how confident he made them every single day, but honestly, that was all the hard work that they did. He loved them so much, sometimes it didn't seem possible that he could love them more but every new day that came along liked to prove him wrong. Chrissy came down first in a blue skirt that seemed to float around her milky thighs, and she wore a white turtle neck long sleeved sweater. She looked like a gorgeous cloud. She really seemed to like this one. He watched as she giggled and danced around the living room. She spun and twirled, letting her skirt dance around with her. His heart was going to burst out of his chest.

"Eddie!" Chrissy gasped. "This skirt has pockets!"

Yep. There it goes, his heart bursting out of his chest. She was so gleeful and he knew that it would become her favorite outfit.

"I could bite you, you're so fucking cute," Eddie said and Chrissy giggled, knowing she would eagerly let him.

It was astounding how cute they could get, and it made him a little feral. Steve moved over to Chrissy, smiling as he twirled her around. Eddie's eyes widened at the sight of him. Steve was wearing a pair of rather tight black jeans and a red polo shirt.

"You look beautiful, Chrissy," Steve said.

"You look rather dashing yourself, Steve," Chrissy said.

They stood in front of the living room mirror, smiling at each other. Eddie's eyes wanted to roll back into his head when Steve started touching himself. Well, okay, not like that. Steve turned around, looking over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I definitely like the way these pants look and feel. Look at my ass!" Steve exclaimed, his hands cupping his own cheeks.

"I'm fucking looking," Eddie gasped and Chrissy giggled.

"And I'm touching," she said and squeezed Steve’s ass. "I like the red and the black."

"So, which credit card did you guys steal this time?" Eddie asked, trying to focus.

"My mother's," Chrissy said.

"Next time, it's my father's," Steve said. "And we'll take Eddie shopping so he can show off for us, too."

"Hm, he definitely deserves a dent in his wallet after that homophobic comment he made towards you," Chrissy sighed. "Asshole."

"He'll get what's coming to him when he gets the credit card bill. He'll just think it's my mom again," Steve said.

"And we can't forget to donate to charity, too," Chrissy beamed.

"How are you guys getting away with this?" Eddie asked in disbelief.

"Oh, our parents couldn't possibly let it get out their precious children like the same sex," Chrissy said. "They'd pay more for it."

"Never mind that we also like the opposite sex," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Okay, you did not tell me that you blackmailed your own parents!" Eddie laughed. "Did I mention that I love you?"

"Hmm, wouldn't hurt you to say it again," Steve said softly.

"I love you," Eddie said. "Both of you."

Steve leaned over and kissed him, pressing him to the back of the couch. Eddie sighed against his lips, his fingers curling into his hair. He broke the kiss, tucking a hair behind Eddie's hair.

"We've got a few more outfits to try on, and then we've got our suits," Chrissy said.

"Suits?" Steve and Eddie asked.

"Yeah, you know. . .our suits," Chrissy emphasized, looking at Steve.

"Oh. . .oh! Yeah, our suits," Steve said, and then he grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"What suits?" Eddie asked.

Chrissy sauntered over to him and grasped his chin in her hand.

"You should be thinking about what you want, baby, because when the time comes, we're going to spoil the hell out of you," Chrissy cooed and kissed his lips.

They tried on a few more outfits before rushing upstairs and giggling. Meanwhile, Eddie was left downstairs trying to figure out what kind of suits they bought. He watched them, though, when Steve came down in a new vest and Chrissy came down in a new, pink and yellow over all jumper thingies. He was pretty sure the suits were the next to try on when they gave him a look and then giggled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie was now eager to see them, forgetting about the music in the background. He didn't even know what was playing now. He was watching the stairs with rapt attention when they came down wearing -

"You're NAKED!" Eddie shrieked.

"Do you like our birthday suits, Eddie?" Chrissy grinned.

Despite the fact that he's seen them naked before, it still left him feeling gobsmacked and filled with an excited nervousness that made it seem like the first time all over again. His heart was definitely beating like it was. Eddie stood up quickly and tripped over his own feel. Steve and Chrissy laughed before going over to help Eddie up.

"Okay, let's get into my suit, and you guys can try me on," Eddie cackled.

"You're going to be a perfect fit like always," Chrissy said and paused. "God, I hope this time it works, and I get you both pregnant."

"You're a freak, Cunningham," Eddie cackled again as they led him upstairs.

"Thank you, baby, we wouldn't want to be any other way," Chrissy said.

She really meant that. Steve and Chrissy seemed to take delight in being reminded that they're not like everyone else. After spending time being put into someone else's box, Eddie couldn't blame them. They seemed to relish in being called a freak by him, especially by him. To them, it means they're all exactly where they want to be. Nothing made Eddie happier than knowing that the King and Queen of Hawkins High could drop the mask and be utterly themselves with him. They were his king and queen now, and he was happily their court jester.

[arrietty-rune]

Templates made by @itsnotmourn !!

Yeees already V3 version of them (+ ALTs)!! But just some bits changes and new interface because i actually don't like how messy are the others ones ꒰◞‸ ◟꒱💧 So i hope you'll enjoy these better!!

Also yeah these don't have some lore info i did on the others so see below for info of each ♥ (⚠︎ Warning long text) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

──────── ˚.⋆୨୧⋆.˚ ────────

Luciano:

His blood is in a reddish pink, a raspberry tone, being also the flavor of it.

Past was difficult for him. Strict family, important event: had lack of feelings for a decade, this due to being struck by lightning at 6 years old but recovered slowly at 18.

Doesn't actually know much about his species, this due to his full life among humans. This also meaning he knows little of his magic.

Had no idea about the existence of the Hidden World* until Rósa told about it.

He can be exhausted easily at work, especially when it's about some kids making troubles. But he still likes to help as much he can.

He speaks fluently at Italian, English and Sardinian. Know a little bit of french words and sentences, from the Sterenn sisters but also from memes.

Affiliation with the cult: Has been kidnapped after his work, as to be used as a sacrifice. When Eyes realized his fairy identity, they spared him but instead, they and the cultists are making profit from him. Otherwise, if Luciano doesn't obey, they will use any from his closest friends to be sent as a sacrifice instead. For now, all he does are little harmless tasks, like cleaning rooms and cooking. As being not a cultist, he never saw any of these members without their mask.

──────── ˚.⋆୨୧⋆.˚ ────────

Rósa:

Her blood has a light green color, close to a turquoise tone, with a fresh mint flavor.

Chill past, grew up with her sister Maelys and her father, Icarus, being an human.

Her mother died but shares few memories of her, almost blurred.

She spent time mostly on the Hidden World due to magic school stuff. She knows very much her water magic and has learnt other magic stuff.

She knows dark magic and barely used it. Has knowledge of it, as to push it away and/or to annihilate, it with white magic. (note: she can use dark magic by her left hand, white magic by her right one)

As her element being water, she can control blood, only used it once as this being a part of her boundaries.

She's able to see souls and can read them, not perfectly though, but can recognize how people can be good or bad by this.

Other notes: Can work as an exorcist, or a monster hunter, as protecting innocent soul from their attacks.

She does invest a lot in the forest near the town, due to weird magic she can feel her. She tries to prevent people to not get here, but kids never obey. One day, she started a white magic spell on a supposed dead tree, as to revive it and to possibly use it to chase black magic.

However, something was wrong. Very wrong, as she realized she used her left hand on not a tree, but a dead body, starting to move but seeming very weak.

After moments of panic and confusion, she thought of having no choice but hiding them in the forest, then later in her home after the undead person, named Apollo, recovered enough energy. She tries her best to hide his existence toward people, including his sister.

──────── ˚.⋆୨୧⋆.˚ ────────

Maelys:

Her blood color is in a light reddish orange, with a peach flavor.

Chill past, grew up with her sister Rósa and her father, Icarus

Her mother died few years after she was born. May was too young to share any memory of her

Spent time mostly among humans, share some part of school years with them

Use her fire magic only for good, never as a weapon. Use a frying pan only to defend her or her closest ones. Also do apologies every time she hit someone with as she hates any form of violence

Can use her hair as a source of light. It has healing powers

Speak fluently French and Breton, her English is good but can do mistakes

Love her breton origins, have a flag on her room with an AroAce one. Doesn't even have a french flag lmao

Other notes: Basically chilling in the town, doesn't get much in troubles. Girl works most of her time in morning, sometimes in the afternoon, but met Miles (Captain) and Mihka (Shotgun man) in the bakery, as them and other cops buying sweets there. She becomes easily friends with them, as the friendly girl she is! She does talk with them while being at work when these two have a break.

Both her and Mihka will develop feelings to each other, but at present, they aren't in relationship yet.

──────── ˚.⋆୨୧���.˚ ────────

Hidden World* => An unknown place on the Earth, where non-humans lived together, where humans are very rare there! Creatures froms myth and folkores like yokais, vampires, fairies, centaurs, etc live here! Rare humans here are usually affiliated with non-monsters, such like Icarus, the father of Maelys and Rósa.

[relia-robot-writes]

Previously

I stood in the bathroom staring at the mirror, still covered in steam from Lilith's shower. I'd been standing there for several minutes. I could vaguely make out the shape of my new face, greenish and strange. I half-reached towards the mirror to wipe it clean so I could really see it, then let my hand fall to my side for the fifth time. I was trembling, staring at the softly glowing eyes of my reflection through the mist as it slowly cleared away. I just couldn't...

I just couldn't. I needed to, and I couldn't. Would the real me, the real Kathrine, have been braver, in my place?

"Hey," said a voice from my right, and I jumped. Kathrine stood before me, her hand half-extended to touch me. She let it fall. "It's all right. I think you look kind of cute, actually."

I looked at her, seeing her face - my old face - like it was a mirror, but really looking for the first time. Brown, curly hair, soft cheeks, full lips. Stunning blue eyes that looked both kind and worried about me. I knew that other people had found me cute, before, but I'd never quite believed it. Not really. But... Kathrine was cute. Like, cute cute. I got lost in her eyes for a moment.

She glanced towards the mirror, looking guilty. "Here, we can do it together, okay?" Her hand reached for mine, and without thinking I reached back. Hand in hand, we reached forward and wiped off the mirror.

My new face was green, dark green, circuitboard green, an image solidified by the golden wiring running its way all around my features. It was segmented into smaller plates, and I could see servos and pistons in the cracks between when I moved. My nose wasn't the skeletal hole I'd been dreading, but instead a kind of peak in the central plate with two narrow holes leading inside. Without the cartilage and fat, my new face looked smaller, things reduced in detail, like a sketch instead of a full drawing. The exceptions were my eyes - golden, with wide black irises, lit from within by some kind of status LED - and my lips. They were some kind of translucent grey silicone cushion which stretched and moved as the underlying plates shifted beneath it. In various places on the plating, more status LEDs shone in a variety of colors, blues and yellows and reds. I reached up my hand to touch my face, and could feel the ridges of the circuitry and the bumps of the LEDs just as my cheek felt the artificial softness of my fingers.

"You're beautiful," Kathrine said, looking at me through the mirror. She turned to face me, our hands still linked, and when I twisted around to face her, she placed her hand just under my chin, very gently. I gasped softly at the touch, and she carefully moved her thumb up to touch my lips. I parted them without thinking, barely daring to breathe as she rubbed her thumb along them. "They're so soft," she murmured to herself. Her face was very close. I tilted my head slightly, and she did too. My other hand went to her waist, and we drew closer together-

And then the doorbell rang. Both of us sprang away from each other, cheeks glowing in different but very similar ways. "I, uh, I better go- that's probably- I mean, it might be- uh, I'll be back," she said, looking down and away.

She spun around to go, and on impulse I grabbed her arm. She glanced back at me, and somehow I managed to stammer out, "I- I think you're really pretty, too!" She blushed harder, and made as if she was going to say something dismissive, but I cut her off. "I know! I know you don't believe it. I didn't. But you are!" I wasn't sure exactly what I looked like when I was blushing, but it felt like the room was practically on fire with how my cheeks felt. "You are."

She was left speechless. I glanced up to try to look her in the eyes, and I saw that they were wet with almost-tears. The doorbell rang again, and I let her hand go so she could wipe her eyes before answering.

---

I decided to sit at the top of the stairs and listen in on the conversation below.

"Agent Franklin, hello. Another round of questions?" Kathrine sounded tired, and her voice was still a little wobbly.

There was a brief electronic noise, and then a reserved, feminine voice said, "No, ma'am, just checking in on you after last night's assault concern. I got your message that you were safe, but you know I had to come and verify that in person."

"Well, as you can see, I'm as human as the next woman," said Kathrine. I snorted quietly.

"So you are, ma'am. As long as I'm here, can I ask you a few more questions? There's some things I want to clear up."

A sigh. "Sure, Agent Franklin. Come on in, meet my wife."

The conversation drifted into the living room where it was harder to hear. I strained my ears, but didn't dare go downstairs myself. I don't know what this mysterious agent's view of me would be, but I really didn't want to risk getting shot at again.

"Mrowp?"

I looked down and saw Drake, our orange cat (their orange cat, I was an intruder and didn't deserve him) staring at me. Hesitantly, I put out my knuckles towards him. How would he react now that I was...

He immediately bumped his tiny head into my knuckles and rubbed past them to get onto my lap. He rose up, paws landing on my shoulder, and he sniffed at my face. I held still. For a long moment, I wasn't sure what he would do; then, with a happy "Brrrowt!", he headbutted me on the cheek and curled right up in my lap, purring like a motorboat.

"Ohhhh! Tiny boy! Tiny baby boy," I crooned at him, scratching underneath his chin. I could have cried, if my tear ducts were still working. "Oh, buddy, you don't even know how much that means to me. You don't even know! Do you? Do you baby boy?" I got my other hand in behind his ears. "Ohhhhh, baby boy!"

There was a shout, and I looked up right into the bright green eyes of a woman with dark skin wearing a black suit and holding a gun in her hands. I froze, causing Drake to mrowl in protest. Kathrine was right behind her, also frozen, uncertain what to do.

"Um," I said, as the barrel of the gun held steady at the floor. "Agent Franklin, I presume?"

---

"It's vital evidence in our case!"

"She is a person and she deserves rights just as much as any of us. I won't let you take her away!"

We'd reconvened in the living room. The conversation between Agent Franklin and Kathrine had become a shouting match, but at least the gun was holstered again. I sat on the couch, making myself as small as possible. I didn't dare raise my voice - what if she saw me as just another aggressive evil robot?

"It isn't a person. That was the whole point of them," said Agent Franklin, exasperated. "You're being fooled by a trick you already know is fake. Look at it! It's not human!"

I burrowed further into myself, but Lilith snaked her hand into mine and squeezed it. Despite myself, I looked up to see her smiling at me. She turned back towards the conversation without letting go. "Agent, it doesn't matter if she's human or not. She's a part of our family now," my eyes widened as the words sank in, and I nearly missed the next part, "so if you want to claim her, you'd better come back with a warrant." I stared at her, open-mouthed, then glanced at Agent Franklin. Her face was knotted in a mix of anger and concern.

After a moment, she sighed. "Fifth one today. I keep trying to tell you people these things are dangerous, but nobody listens to me."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Kathrine sat back down, looking smug. "Ah, yes, the dangerous robotgirl, petter of cats and holder of hands."

Franklin's resigned look turned sour. "I mean it, ma'am. They may not have weapons, but they can kill just as easily as any person with the flip of a switch. It may look docile now, but what happens if its creators return?"

Kathrine's smile turned brittle. "I've told you before, Agent. We've isolated their control pathways and found ways to disable them. I turned off her receiver myself this morning. She's safe." she stood, walking to the door. "It's been nice to see you, Agent Franklin. If you have any more questions, I'm happy to answer them over the phone." She opened the door, and Agent Franklin took the hint. She nodded to Lilith and Kathrine before she left, leaving me with just a piercing look.

Kathrine closed the door behind her, stood there for a moment, then collapsed onto the floor. "Holy shit," she breathed. "I thought for sure I was gonna get myself arrested. Fuck."

I drew further back into the couch and let out a shuddering breath. "I thought I was going to get scrapped."

I felt Lilith's hand leave mine and I folded my arms over my knees. Of course she'd want to comfort her real wife. It made sense. My breathing hastened, beginning to shudder, until I felt the couch jerk as someone dropped onto it, leaning against me. A moment later, a blanket was draped over the two of us, and I opened my eyes to see Lilith leaning down to hug Kathrine and I together. She squeezed us tightly and said, "You both did great. Stay there and be cozy for a minute. I'll make us some tea."

Still shivering from nerves, our hands found each other and squeezed tight under the blanket.

[urpetbunny]

Buying you a dog crate and decorating it with all your favorite plushies, filling it with soft pillows and blankets in your favorite colors and fabrics.

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Don't worry, my pet, I've already prepared all your favorite activities! Shh, it's okay... While you were asleep, I microchipped you so everyone will know who you belong to if you ever get lost.

Not that you would, anyway, with that shiny new collar around your neck, right?

Welcome home, sweetheart. I made it just for you. <3

[anthonyhurd]

I came across your "You have this hold over me" piece and it made me stop and share it with a friend of mine outside of tumblr because I was so striken with feelings about it. I started off my message to them with "Oh, I feel Some Kind Of Way about this art piece" before we both started talking about it in depth. We went into how it came across as tender but heavy. How they felt like realistic depictions of people that don't get seen very often in the public image, how it's decidedly Southern by background choices and colors and way of dress, how it feels like being covert about desires publicly and thus stealing a moment between the two in the piece. How if separated and standing next to each other there wouldn't be a visual cue to mark them differently from a heterosexual man from the south. How it just felt so quietly reverent, it just resonated with both of us for different reasons. I finally went to see if you offered prints, because it made me feel so strongly that I wanted to see if I could get it for my own home. That's when I saw your other pieces and I went 'Oh, all their art is like that' as I was already a little weepy about the first piece. I don't really know why I felt so compelled to reach out to you beyond thanking you for sharing such wonderful pieces. Thank you for telling such stories with your art, I can feel the love and meaning put into them. I hope you have a wonderfully peaceful day, much love and joy sent your way from me and mine who will cherish your art for the rest of our lives.

Thank you sincerely for sharing this with me/us. Last night I held a small social hour at my studio. A way to try to bring our local Albuquerque NM community together. I feel pretty helpless with all that is going on right now in the United States. I just wanted to provide a space for people to expand their circles, talk and exchange resources. But from that and many of the discussions I was reminded that I’m doing a lot for folks just by sharing relatable images of queer people in love and in joy. It’s what I set out to do from the beginning of this series of works. These stories, like your own, make it all so worth it as the good far outweighs in the bad in the long run.

Again, thank you!

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Today, I work through a section featuring Myrna and the Lich Lords. No Emmrich nor Iris to be found here. (But I am screaming at something I am going to write next chapter. SCREAMING. Jupiter knows. AAAAAAA!) This is hot off the press. I mean HOT. Just wrote it. If you see any typos or things which don't make sense, no you didn't.

Tagging: @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @dirty-bosmer @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @caughtnyact @guacamolleee @hedwigoprah @starfleetteddybear @theyearningghoul @razildor (I'M SHAKING YOU) @holdingontojupiter @aldisobey @draco-illius-noctis @sylvienerevarine and anyone else who wants to play. I don't even know who to tag or not tag anymore, but I love seeing everything you all are working on.

“Esteemed Lich Lords of the Necropolis, thank you for seeing me and on such short notice.” Myrna bows,  her eyes carefully scanning the five skeletal figures before her as her hands rest in front of her, fingers laced tightly together. 

This is the right decision. The liches will help, and if nothing else, they will know. Vorgoth is right. 

Several golden rings cut dully into her gloved fingers as she presses her hands even closer. There is nothing that will stop her from doing the duties entrusted her as the most recent Keeper. The Necropolis is her domain; hers to manage and hers to protect. Aren’t they in this together? But if so, then why does she feel so uneasy?

“Myrna,” The foremost Lord returns her bow, pointed crown gleaming dully in the dimmed light of the veilfires, “how might we be of assistance? It has been such a long time since a Keeper has called upon us.”

“My apologies for disturbing what I know to be important work, but at Vorgoth’s behest, I have sought this audience to speak about the recent shifts in energy in the lower floors of the Necropolis. Surely, you all have noticed it?”

None of the Lords so much as flinch as she stands before them, and Myrna sighs internally. Hardened bone and a stoic, flickering green meet her eyes. She would have better luck with one of the many animated skeletons at divining their intention than she would have here. To some extent even Vorgoth allows their gestures to color their speech allowing for an accurate read of what limited range of emotion they choose to convey.

Shoulders back, Myrna. You are unmovable; do not allow them to see your façade to crack.

“I have sent out several parties of Watchers to investigate the situation, yet none of them return with more than reports of strange flows of energy. None of them so much as see the denizens of the deep stir.”

Still nothing. Not even so much as the twitch of a finger.

Deathly stillness fills the room, the sound of the sand beneath her shifting quietly, yet she continues. “It is my duty as Keeper to maintain the sanctity, order, and safety of the Watchers who protect the Necropolis and theirs in turn to guard our sacred dead, so if there is something that I should know, if there is some small slice of wisdom which you could share, it would be in all of our benefit, my Lords.”

Steadily, one by one as if in a cascade, the liches begin to turn their empty eyes towards the Elder at their center who stares out into the dark of the space before him; bare, stark, and revealing nothing. The sharpened lines of the chamber all converge onto a single point: him. A motif which is a subtle departure from the rest of the halls of the Necropolis, where lines join to create a pattern of hexagons which nestle snugly together in perfect symmetry—a symbol of how each Watcher fits together. Remove one piece and the balance is broken. The entire Necropolis along with the Watch would fall. Symbiosis.

[cece693]

Hiiii this may be a bit of a weird idea but I was thinking something with vision x male reader, Reader could be a wielder of another infinity stone (maybe power stone??) and him coming to warn vision of thanos??

Also idk if u do soulmates aus but if you do, could they be soulmates in this as well?

I TRIED, I REALLY TRIED WITH THIS. I don't know why, but writing for Vision is hard because he talks in this sophisticated, calm tone that I cannot replicate. So, this might not be Vision canon, but I tried. Hope you like it!

pairing: vision x male reader tags: you aren't human, you wield the power stone, soulmate trope, pre-relationship, I tried, that's all I have to say, don't really like how it turned out but it's something, right???? 😭

You feel it long before you actually see him—like an electric current surging through the stars, calling you forward in a whisper of cosmic force. The Power Stone, set within a bracer around your forearm, thrums in sync with your every heartbeat. Its energy keeps you strong and feeds you, for you are not entirely human—your lineage spans ancient cosmic bloodlines older than most civilizations. Your crimson eyes reflect the swirling galaxies you have seen, and your skin carries faint patterns of violet veins that pulse with the Stone’s power.

For centuries, you’ve traveled the furthest reaches of space, mastering the destructive and creative energies that the Power Stone offers. Many have fallen attempting to possess it, but you, shaped by the harsh realities of a thousand worlds, learned how to channel its might without burning your soul.

Tonight, it leads you to him—Vision. The synthetic being who wields the Mind Stone. You sense the resonance like a beacon in a vast, inky sky. With each step, the Stone’s purple glow lights your path until you find him standing near a quiet lake, moonlight dancing across the water’s surface. Vision hovers just inches above the ground, his head angled to the side, as though he, too, hears the call echoing in the night. When his gaze locks onto you, the Mind Stone in his forehead blazes bright, casting ripples of gold over the water.

He lowers himself to the ground, curiosity evident in his stance. “Who are you?” he asks, voice gentle yet wary.

You draw closer, carefully unfastening the clasp that conceals the Stone’s main power. A soft whir emanates from your bracer as the violet radiance spills over your arm. “Someone who understands what it means to bear an Infinity Stone,” you reply, your voice resonating with a quiet, ancient timbre. “I’m here to warn you.”

Vision’s gaze flickers from your crimson eyes down to the luminous Power Stone. “Thanos,” he says, almost as though the word itself pains him. “I’ve felt his presence.”

You nod. “He is gathering the Stones. I’ve sensed his influence on entire star systems. Planets burned to ash, millions slaughtered. He’s relentless, and soon, he’ll come for the Mind Stone. And for me.” Your bracer flares again, the hue growing more intense as if the Stone senses the discussion of its own fate.

Vision steps forward, his crystalline features reflecting not only caution but something you can’t quite define. A gentle recognition, perhaps, sparked by the cosmic pull between you. “I’ve…seen possibilities—dreams of destruction,” he says quietly. “Yet I’ve also felt another presence calling out. It must have been you.”

“When the Stones resonate,” you explain, “they create a bridge between their wielders. We share a connection. I felt your consciousness almost like an echo through the cosmic void.”

Slowly, he raises a hand toward you, stopping just short of your chest. “It’s strange,” he admits, voice colored with awe. “I shouldn’t be able to sense another Stone like this, and yet I do. Every thought in my mind resonates with the Mind Stone in my forehead—and your Stone seems to answer it.”

You lower your gaze, swallowing against the sudden swell of emotion. Your breath comes quicker as the connection deepens, as if the universal tapestry is gently tugging you and Vision toward each other. “Our people might call this a ‘soul bond.’ A pull that goes beyond mere chance. Something the Stones themselves or perhaps destiny created.”

He looks surprised for a moment, blinking as though a new understanding settles over him. “But, you don’t appear to be from Earth. Are you human?”

“Partly, but mostly no,” you say, letting your cosmic side shine through. The violet veins beneath your skin glow brighter, a sign of your inherent power. “My ancestry traces back to an ancient race, long gone. The genes I carry allow me to endure the Power Stone’s might without being destroyed by it. I’ve spent eons learning to master it—and still, it threatens to devour me if I lose my focus.”

Vision’s expression softens with empathy, his voice quiet. “I know what it is to be something beyond human. To hold power that feels larger than oneself.”

Wordlessly, you take another step until only a breath remains between you. He watches as you place your hand against his chest, your Power Stone pulsing, faint purple embers dancing around your fingertips. His own Stone blazes in response, a bright golden flare illuminating both your faces.

“All my life,” you say, voice hushed, “I’ve been wandering the galaxies, searching for something more than just survival or dominance. And then I felt your presence, almost like a lullaby carried on cosmic winds. It felt…right. Whole.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The lake ripples behind you, the wind carrying the hush of distant leaves. And then Vision lifts a hand to gently cradle your cheek, his eyes reflecting a rare vulnerability. “I’ve questioned my place in this world,” he admits. “I am…was…created by humanity’s ingenuity, yet the Stone in my head connects me to something infinitely grander. And now, looking at you, it’s like a missing piece of me just fell into place.”

He leans in until your foreheads almost touch, the glow of his Stone and yours merging in a cosmic dance of violet and gold. Heat floods your body; a powerful sense of belonging overtakes you. “Vision,” you whisper. “Let me stand beside you. Thanos is coming, and we must be ready. But more than that, I…I don’t want to lose the bond we share. It’s the first time in centuries I’ve felt like I’m not alone in the universe.”

His response is barely above a whisper, yet it resonates with every fiber of your being: “Then stay by my side. We will face Thanos together. As one.” Gently, you curl your fingers around the back of his neck, letting the thrumming energy in your bracer resonate with the glowing Stone in his forehead. In that intimate moment, you feel the steady rhythm of his synthetic heart, and he, in turn, senses the cosmic pulse in your veins.

[theambitiouswoman]

I really like your attitude towards dating and relationships. Over the past few years, I’ve kind of reprogrammed myself, I’m no longer seeking intensity, but rather the kind of qualities you mentioned. I’ve realized that I don’t need butterflies or a racing heart to feel connected; sometimes just feeling calm and comfortable is enough. Still, I sometimes wonder if I’m doing it right. I don’t just want to process things. I want to truly experience emotions too

What you said "I don't just want to process things" is a sentiment that is echoed very often in my messages

You know, real love can feel like fireworks, but I think we need to rewire our idea of what that actually means

A healthy relationship doesn’t spike your anxiety or make your heart race from fear of losing someone. In fact, neuroscience shows that when you're in a safe, loving bond, the brain’s fear center (the amygdala) actually calms down. Holding hands can reduce physical pain, hugging regulates the nervous system and just being in the presence of someone you trust can lower cortisol levels

When love is calm, it’s easy to wonder if you’re missing something. But what if you’re not? What if you're finally safe? Love becomes a place your body can exhale, not brace itself. That stillness isn’t a lack of feeling, it’s a new kind of depth. The kind that doesn’t burn you out, but lights you up

Healthy love is so powerful

What we call “butterflies” is just anxiety, we confuse nervous system activation with romantic excitement. But drama and toxicity can feel intense because they create a cycle of extreme highs and lows: love bombing, withdrawal, arguments, then affection again. That spikes dopamine, and we become addicted, not to the person, but to the anticipation of their validation. Especially for those of us with an anxious attachment style, you unconsciously associate unpredictability with love. The person just becomes a personification of our unresolved attachment wounds

The truth is that if you removed the chase and the validation, you probably wouldn't even like them

We need to rewire what we think fireworks feel like. Because healthy love can still feel like fireworks, just in a different way

When you’re emotionally safe enough to be fully yourself When you can play, laugh, and be present without fear When chemistry builds through trust, not tension When growth is mutual and love feels expansive When your nervous system feels at home, not on guard

Imagine feeling happy, at peace, free, full of love, seeing the world full of magic, seeing colors brighter, feeling like a child again, feeling confident, full of life, inspired, motivated

So if peace feels unfamiliar, maybe the question isn’t: Where’s the passion? Maybe it’s: Am I mistaking peace for boredom because I’ve been wired for chaos?

Healthy love isn’t void of emotion, it’s where real emotions finally have room to be felt, not just survived. And yes, real love still feels like fireworks, just the kind that light up your whole sky, not the kind that set your heart on fire and leave you in smoke

You already know the difference between what’s healthy and what isn’t, so don’t overthink or second guess yourself

I will tell you that not everyone is open to healing. A lot of people are operating from unhealed wounds, stuck in cycles they’re not ready to break. Emotional health isn’t as common as it should be… and that’s okay. Because not just anyone is meant for you

So trust yourself. The right connection will never require you to abandon your peace just to feel "something"

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Light's Chapter 433

Brief summary: Clopeh becomes Cale's older brother. Sui still being chased.

==========

Cale's group entered Count Lupe's estate, and briefly discussed the situation. With Lupe missing, there was no lord, so two candidates were vying for the position. One from Lupe's family and another from the Demon King's side.

With the GoC cult in the city, Cale believed that one of the candidates was in cahoots with them because such a large force could not go unnoticed unless there was an insider who secretly hid them.

To hide their identities, Cale's group dyed their hair black.

Raon: Human, Clopeh-yah. I'll dye your hair! Cale with black hair: It's been a while. *recalls his days as KRS* Clopeh with black hair: Fufu. I like it. Cale: *feeling uncomfortable at Clopeh having the same hair color as him* Raon: Hehehe! They're both my colors! Cale: … (If the child likes it, who am I to argue?)

Cale's reactions to Clopeh and Raon. 🤣🤣🤣

Guard: Wow. Black hair is uncommon, so it's amazing that your entire family has black hair! Are you cousins? Clopeh: We're siblings. Cale: !!! Guard: I guess this person (Cale) is your older brother. Clopeh: Haha, how dare you. Guard: Pardon? How dare you? Clopeh: Haha, no. I'm the eldest brother. Clopeh: *points to Cale* This is the second eldest. Clopeh: *points to black-haired On* This is the third eldest. Clopeh: *points to black-haired Hong* This is the fourth. Clopeh: And there's also the youngest, the fifth- Guard: They didn't come with you? Clopeh: Haha. Raon: Human, I'm the youngest! They say we're all siblings! Hehe! There's a huge age gap between me and human! Clopeh is funny! On: Pfft. Hong. Hehehe. Cale: Ha.

Clopeh insisting that he was older than Cale. 😂😂😂 Just how many people want to be called "hyung" by Cale? 🤣🤣🤣

Clopeh always formally to Cale, so when he began speaking casually, Cale was shocked. Raon defended Clopeh, saying they were acting now as siblings, so casual talk was normal.

"Second eldest-yah, the castle in front is the Lord's castle." "…I know too." Cale glanced at Clopeh. 'Is this bastard having fun right now?' This was correct. 'Ha. Oh my god-' I'm pretending to be Cale's older brother! There were various episodes in the legends that heroes created. 'This has always been the position of Choi Han.' This time it's me! There was joy in Clopeh's eyes. 'Let's pretend we don't know.' Cale avoided those eyes, feeling uneasy for some reason.

Clopeh feeling very happy now. 😂😂😂 And if you recall, adding the suffixes "-ah" or "-yah" to the end of names denote having a close relationship in Korea. Clopeh speaking casually and even using "-yah" on Cale, signifying he was "close" to Cale... Yep, he's ecstatic. 😂😂😂

Clopeh: Second eldest-yah, this is where the Count Lupe's family currently resides. Cale: I know. Clopeh: Still, I wanted to tell you. Cale: Shut up. Clopeh: …

Cale had enough of Clopeh's nonsense. 😂😂😂

So Sui got injured because he witnessed something bad and tried to step in. He managed to escape but was now being chased. And then he saw Cale's signal in the sky and headed there.

Cale said to his companions. “From this day forward, we are wanderers.” Out in the open, Cale would pose as a wanderer to his enemies, to the Cult of the God of Chaos. “We're going to be the Third Emperor's lapdogs, no-” Team Leader Kim Rok-soo almost spoke up. “We are the Third Emperor's subordinates. Do you understand?” “I get it!” “Okay.” “Yes, Cale-nim.” Through Hong, through Raon, through Clopeh. Raon said. “Alright, human, we're going to be Third Emperor's lapdogs!” Cale rolled his eyes and reflected. Right words, kind words. “…No, we're the Third Emperor's subordinates.” “Yes! Okay, human, we're the Third Emperor's subordinates!” “…Yeah.” Cale had just realized, very deeply, that his impact on the vocabulary of the average ten-years-old was quite significant. His eyes were still tightly shut.

Wasn't that too late, Cale? You only realized it now? 😂😂😂

For context, 따까리 was a derogatory word for subordinate in Korean. I used the English word "lapdog", though I'm not sure if that word sounded insulting enough. Moving on, KRS was used to speaking like that, so when he realized his mistake, he belatedly corrected it. 😂

Ending Remarks Demon King's faction, the GoC cult, and Cale's group wanderers in one city... Chaos indeed. 😂 Next chapter would hopefully be Sui reuniting with Cale, and them fighting enemies.