#the bad thing… is just about everything else

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: omegaverse, omega reader, careless alpha husband, marriage problems, poor communication

♡ GN reader

He’s a little reckless sometimes—not always paying attention to the feelings of those around him, but he means well, you’re sure of that.

He’s just a little high-strung, is all—doesn’t really have the time to think things through.

He’s always been like that—ready for just about anything and everything anyone would throw his way, and just sort of expecting everyone else to be onboard. He’s an Alpha, after all—it’s not in their nature to worry or look back.

All your life, he’s been the leader—all you others could do was chase after him and just hope on your life to keep up. And as an Omega, you were comfortable like that—with having someone to follow. It felt natural to you—safe and good and correct.

But when he started courting you, you admit being a bit skeptical—weren’t sure if it would work the same way, not sure if it even could. Being mates is different, after all. You’re supposed to be in tune with one another, and you weren’t sure if you’d be heard or just end up being bulldozed.

But you figured, since you weren’t too big on making decisions anyway, that you’d just go along with it, and it would be fine. You’d put your trust in him and follow his lead, and maybe that would be enough.

And it was. Everything worked out perfectly—for the most part. You married in the spring and moved into your new house the day after. He’s a good husband and nice man, deserving of the respect he garners, and he’s successful. A true Alpha. Perfect on all fronts.

What more could an Omega ask for?

Well… suppose it wouldn’t hurt if he listened sometimes. Or no, that’s not fair. You’d have to speak up first in order for him to listen. Still, you think… he should be able to tell without you saying anything. 

You don’t even know what you’re complaining about, really… It's not as if he’s done anything overtly bad. You just feel… well, you suppose you just feel a little left out. He’s so dominating in everything he does—you just end up being swept along in the process. He doesn’t ask for your input, nor do you give it. Things just happen the way he wants them to before you’ve even agreed. You don’t even think he recognizes it himself, how he makes decisions you’re supposed to be making together on your behalf.

He bought the house without telling you, for starters. But it was a wedding present and a nice surprise, so you’re not mad about it exactly. But given how big a step it was, it still feels strange to have been on the outside. Then he sprung that vacation on you and even called your boss to schedule your leave—only a month after your honeymoon, no less. Not to mention the wedding itself—how all the arrangements were already done before you’d even sat down with the wedding planner, of whom was his choice. In some ways, or in many ways, you felt as if you were just a part of the decor.

But it’s not as if you aren’t happy—because you are. And it’s not as if you don’t love him—because you do. It’s just well… You know it’s not exactly fair, but you’re beginning to feel a little taken advantage of… as if he doesn’t even care about you or your thoughts and feelings as long as you’re keeping him happy.

But you can’t keep feeling that way without telling him, you decide. You’re sure none of it is his intention. You’ve never taken an interest in decision-making, so why would he think you’d want to? For all his prowess, you can’t exactly expect him to read your mind, either.

So, tonight’s the night you’ll finally say something. You want to be included. If he’s hiring a new maid, you wish to be a part of it. If he’s buying a new TV, you want to help pick out which one. If he’s taking you out to dinner, you want to be informed, preferably beforehand. Even if all he’s doing is getting his hair cut, you want him to tell you about it.

“Hello, welcome home,” you greet once he staggers into the bedroom, looking tired yet no less neatly put together than always.

“Hello, my sweet,” he mirrors, voice gruff with the toils of the day as he marches over to plant a kiss on your cheek.

It’s late. You’ve already gotten dressed for bed, having been just about ready to cut your losses and postpone the talk for tomorrow.

He could have told you he was working after hours. No, he should have.

You were just about to switch off the night lamp and go to sleep—but find yourself feeling redetermined now.

This was just another one of those things you can bring up as an example, after all.

“I-”

“God, I missed you today. Felt like work took an eternity,” he groans, hurriedly removing his suit with sloppy movements, throwing his jacket on the floor, shirt quickly following before he’s back on you. “Give me those pretty lips—I’m starving.”

He takes your mouth with his, one hand steadying him against the bedframe while the other works on unbuckling his belt, hunching over where you lay.

You put your hands on his bare chest to distance him, asking, “Can it wait a bit?”

He drops his pants on the floor and climbs on top of you, face buried in your neck while muttering, “No, not really. Been waiting all day.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something-” you try again, to no use.

“No talking tonight—none, except pillow talk.”

He says it with a smile. You feel it against your neck—his teeth and tongue and the heat of his voice.

You’re sure he means it playfully, and yet you freeze, feeling a little sick.

“But I really need to—”

“Omegas are supposed to obey their Alphas, you know.” 

His touch isn’t rough, but it’s not without force, but more than that it’s those words that make your heart jump and then stutter. 

You hold your breath, but it goes unnoticed by him or maybe ignored—you’re not sure which. It shocks you—scares you even, but then, following the original freight, your heart sinks, and you feel nothing but disheartened and disappointed.

And then, even a little angry.

“Oh…” you mumble, lying still beneath his onslaught. “I guess I thought I was yours ‘cause I wanted to be, but I see now…” Your brows cinch with many feelings between them. “I had it wrong.”

He halts then—struck with a sudden pang of guilt maybe, or perhaps just puzzled by your words. Whatever the case, the former rush he’d been in is gone, and he looks down at you—finally.

“What? What do you mea-”

“No, no, never mind. I was out of line,” you brush him off—harshly, and he blanches, going rigid. “Do what you want—you’re the Alpha, after all—so by all means.”

You turn your head to the side and lie still.

Eyes prickly and throat tight, you push the words out all stiff and hoarse, “I have no right to stop you, and even if I did, it’s not like I could. But who cares, right? Nothing I think matters.”

“Baby, you know that’s not what I mea–” he tries.

“Then what did you mean?” you all but bark, snapping to face him again. But however pointed your glare is, there’s no mistaking the now visible tears brimming in your eyes.

Seeing it, he stiffens even more, undaring to move. Trying to make his voice softer, “Don’t cry.”

But his acts of comfort are far from sufficient.

“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” 

Good, you think—it better. He made you uncomfortable when he ignored your wishes, so why shouldn’t you? And ignore him in turn?

“Funny that, isn't it?” you continue. “The only thing I have against you is a pesky few tears. Would you like me to turn around, maybe?” 

You know you’re guilt-tripping him—and you’re not sure why or if it’s the right thing to do, but even so, you couldn’t find it in you to stop either—no, not until you had punished him, for some reason.

“If you hide my face in a pillow, maybe you won’t hear it either–”

“Please stop,” he finally begs, bowing his head. “I’m sorry.”

You stop. You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s apologizing for. And though the thought of asking him to clarify strikes you, it doesn’t feel important. Those weren’t the words you wanted to hear.

You sigh then, trying to calm yourself down. “I don’t need you to be sorry. I need you to see me—to listen—I need you to respect me.”

He looks up again, this time with a deeply remorseful expression warping his face. “I do. I’m sorry-”

“Really?” you question. It's a little harsh, you admit, but it's what you need, “Then get off me and go sleep downstairs.”

He’s rigid under your admonishment. Shocked by your claims, yet begrudgingly ashamed by the truth in them. 

You were right. He wasn’t paying attention. And by the looks of it, he hasn’t been paying attention for a while.

 “Okay,” he ends up agreeing.

Sliding off the bed like a shunned dog, he walks back to the door he’d only just come through a moment ago.

Keeping a hand on the doorknob, he looks back—head still bowed.

“Good night.”

You feel a little bad about how it turned out, but you steal yourself. You wanted to be alone right now. In fact, you think it would do you both some good.

“We'll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Yukimiya, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[luvashli]

MORE THEN FRIENDS

Synopsis -> Heeseung has always been your best friend—but lately, the lingering touches and stolen glances feel different. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to realize he’s meant to be more.

Pairing -> best!friend!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, best friends to lovers, suggestive

Status -> complete

Wc -> 3.4k

Note -> requestet by this ask :) hope you enjoy

The first time you met Heeseung, he was the quiet new kid in your fourth-grade class, staring down at his desk while nervously tapping his pencil. You had been assigned as his seat partner, and while the rest of the class chattered around him, he stayed silent.

Ever the curious one, you nudged his arm with your elbow. “Wanna trade snacks?” you asked, holding up your peanut butter sandwich.

Heeseung hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for the first time. Then, without a word, he slid his pack of strawberry Pocky across the desk. You grinned, breaking your sandwich in half and handing it to him.

And just like that, you were inseparable.

___

Middle school was a blur of shared lunch trays, inside jokes, and whispered secrets. Heeseung wasn’t as shy anymore—not with you, at least. He still liked to keep to himself, but you were the exception to that rule.

You balanced each other out. Where you were loud and impulsive, he was calm and thoughtful. Where you rushed headfirst into things, he held back and thought things through.

When the other kids teased you for being “too much,” Heeseung was always there, rolling his eyes and telling you they were just jealous. And when Heeseung got called a nerd for acing every math test, you sat beside him at lunch and loudly declared that smart people were hot anyway.

Back then, everything was simple. Heeseung was your best friend, and you were his. No questions asked. No complicated feelings.

But then came high school. And suddenly, things weren’t so simple anymore.

___

Heeseung had always thought you were pretty. Even back in middle school, when you still had braces and a habit of tripping over your own feet, he knew there was something about you that pulled people in—pulled him in. But he never really understood what that feeling meant until sophomore year.

It happened at a school dance, of all places. You had dragged him there, even though he insisted he hated school events. You’d rolled your eyes and called him a grandpa, saying, “Come on, Hee, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, apparently, was watching you slow dance with someone else.

He hadn’t realized he was gripping his soda can so tightly until Jake nudged him. “Dude, you look like you wanna kill someone.”

Heeseung forced a laugh. “What? No. I just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on you—on the way you laughed at something your dance partner said, on the way they spun you around like you were weightless. And that’s when it hit him.

He was in love with you.

It was a terrifying realization, one that made his stomach twist into knots. Because the moment he understood his feelings, he also understood something else—you didn’t feel the same way.

After that night, Heeseung tried to ignore his feelings. He told himself it was just a phase, just a stupid crush that would go away if he stopped thinking about it.

He dated other girls. Not many, but enough to convince himself he was over you. But it never worked, because every time something good happened, you were the first person he wanted to tell. And every time something bad happened, you were the only person who could make it better.

So, he buried his feelings. He smiled when you talked about your latest crushes, pretended it didn’t sting when you called him your platonic soulmate, and kept being the best friend you needed him to be.

Because loving you was easy. It was having you that was impossible.

___

Now, standing on the edge of adulthood, you still saw Heeseung as your constant, your safe place. But Heeseung? He had spent years pretending not to love you.

And he was starting to wonder how much longer he could keep up the act.

If someone had told Heeseung years ago that he’d still be hopelessly in love with you, he would’ve laughed it off. He had convinced himself—or at least tried to—that his feelings would fade with time. That someday, he’d wake up and you’d just be his best friend again, nothing more.

But here he was, sitting across from you in your favorite café, watching as you stirred sugar into your coffee with that same absentminded concentration you always had, and he knew—he had never stopped loving you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Heeseung wanted to tell you the truth—that you had his whole heart on your face, that he couldn’t look at you without wanting to memorize every little detail. But instead, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you have ‘annoying’ written all over it.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Is this how you treat your best friend? Unbelievable.”

There it was. That word. Best friend.

Heeseung swallowed down the bitter taste that always followed when you said that. He knew it wasn’t your fault—you had no idea how he felt. How could you? He had spent years making sure you didn’t.

But lately, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to keep smiling when you told him about your latest date, harder to act normal when you rested your head on his shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. Because to you, it was casual. But to Heeseung, every touch, every laugh, every moment with you felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

“Hello? Earth to Heeseung?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized you were waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” He blinked.

“I was saying, do you wanna come over tonight? Movie night, just like old times.” You smiled, eyes bright with excitement.

It was an innocent offer. Just another normal night in your friendship. But to Heeseung, it was another reminder of how much he wanted but could never have.

Still, he nodded, forcing a grin. “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because no matter how much it hurt, being close to you—even as just a friend—was better than not having you at all.

___

Movie nights with Heeseung were nothing new. They had been a tradition since high school—just the two of you, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and an unspoken rule that you had to rewatch at least one childhood favorite before the night was over.

But tonight felt… different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way Heeseung seemed quieter than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way your heart kept skipping beats whenever his knee brushed against yours on the couch.

You shook the thought away, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It’s just Heeseung. Your best friend. Stop being weird.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, flipping through the streaming options.

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. ���You pick.”

“You always say that.”

“And yet, you always pick something terrible.” He smirked, reaching over to steal some of your popcorn.

You gasped, smacking his hand away. “Excuse you! I have excellent taste.”

He snorted. “Sure, if excellent taste means forcing me to sit through three-hour-long romance movies where nothing happens except people staring at each other.”

“You like those movies, don’t lie.”

“I like suffering through them for you—big difference,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread just a little. Heeseung always did that—acted like he was just tolerating the things you loved, when in reality, he indulged you more than anyone ever had.

You ended up picking a random movie, something lighthearted, but halfway through, you barely paid attention. Your focus kept drifting to Heeseung—his stupidly perfect side profile, the way his lips parted slightly when he was concentrating, the little crease in his brow when something in the movie confused him.

It wasn’t like you had never noticed before. You had eyes, after all. But tonight, it was like your brain refused to brush it off as nothing.

You shifted slightly, only to realize just how close the two of you were sitting. At some point, Heeseung had draped his arm across the back of the couch, and without thinking, you had leaned into his side. It wasn’t unusual. You’d done this a hundred times before.

So why did it feel like your whole body was hyper-aware of him?

A scene in the movie made you laugh, and without thinking, you turned to share the moment with him—only to find him already looking at you.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away.

For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the muffled dialogue from the movie, but everything else faded into the background. His gaze flickered down—to your lips, just for a split second—before returning to your eyes.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew what had been different about tonight. You knew why your heart was racing, why his touches felt electric, why the way he looked at you sent heat rushing through your veins.

Because for the first time, you were seeing Heeseung in a way you had never let yourself before.

And maybe—just maybe—you were falling for your best friend.

Your heart pounded as you stared at Heeseung, the glow of the TV flickering against his face. He wasn’t looking away.

He always looked at you—watching, waiting, as if he had something to say but never quite found the words. But tonight, for the first time, you weren’t oblivious to it. You weren’t brushing off the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for you but held himself back.

And maybe, for the first time, you didn’t want him to hold back.

You swallowed, trying to play it off. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Heeseung’s jaw clenched slightly, and his voice came out lower than usual. "You’re the one staring first."

You weren’t. Or maybe you were. It didn’t matter.

The tension between you felt thick, heavy, like a rubber band stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

And then it did.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Heeseung’s lips were on yours, crashing into you like he had been waiting for this moment forever. Maybe he had. Maybe you had, too, without realizing it.

A small gasp left your lips, but Heeseung didn’t hesitate—his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him like you had been made to fit there.

The movie long forgotten, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing between kisses, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back as Heeseung deepened the kiss. His hands roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you onto his lap.

You should’ve felt nervous. This was Heeseung, your best friend. The one who had always been by your side, the one you told everything to. But right now, nothing about this felt wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

His lips trailed down, grazing the corner of your jaw, your neck—hot and unhurried, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you.

"Hee," you breathed, hands tangling in his hair.

His grip on you tightened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your skin.

The confession made your stomach flip. Because if he had wanted this for a long time… why did it take you so long to see it?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, filled with something raw, something unspoken.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Because I was scared you’d never look at me the way I look at you."

Your heart clenched. How had you been so blind?

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. "I’m looking at you now."

And then, you kissed him again—slow, deep, like you were making up for all the lost time.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was years of unsaid words, years of stolen glances, years of Heeseung loving you in silence.

And finally, finally, you were listening.

Heeseung’s lips moved against yours like he had been waiting forever—slow at first, savoring every second, but growing more desperate with each passing moment. His fingers dug into your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away, but there was no chance of that happening. Not anymore.

You were completely, hopelessly lost in him.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and Heeseung let out a quiet groan against your lips. The sound sent heat rushing through you, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

He pulled you even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space left between you. His hands roamed, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

When he kissed you again, it was different—deeper, rougher, like he had finally let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

And you wanted more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, your fingers tracing down his jaw, his neck, the sharp lines of his collarbone. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around you.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost pleading.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard him sound like that before.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" you teased softly, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. "You’re actually going to kill me."

You grinned, feeling a rush of confidence. "Oh? Am I?"

His hands squeezed your hips, grounding himself. "You have no idea."

The air between you was thick, charged with something neither of you had dared to acknowledge before tonight. But now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

You stared at him—his swollen lips, the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Heeseung had always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, he looked absolutely wrecked.

Because of you.

Something about that realization made your heart pound even harder.

Slowly, you traced your fingers over his jaw, your touch featherlight. "Then maybe you should do something about it," you murmured.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened.

And in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a smirk that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured, his voice lower now, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. "Show me."

Heeseung groaned softly before capturing your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss.

And this time, neither of you held back.

___

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth.

You were tangled in Heeseung—his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair, his steady breathing fanning across your skin. The soft glow of early morning filtered through your curtains, casting everything in golden light.

And then it hit you.

Last night. The kisses, the way he touched you like he had been waiting forever, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Your heart clenched.

What happens now?

You shifted slightly, and Heeseung groaned in protest, tightening his hold on you.

“Mm, don’t move,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at how soft he sounded. “Heeseung, we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” He buried his face deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Five more minutes.”

You hesitated, staring at the ceiling. What were you supposed to say? Did last night change everything? Were you still just… friends? Did he regret it?

Heeseung must’ve felt the tension in your body because he finally lifted his head, his eyes barely open, but still filled with something softer when they met yours.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I just… what does this mean?”

Heeseung blinked at you sleepily before a small smirk played at his lips. “You want me to confess again, don’t you?”

Your face heated. “That’s not—”

He cut you off by leaning in, brushing a slow, lazy kiss against your lips. It was barely a kiss at all, just a soft press of his mouth against yours, but it made your whole body melt.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

Your breath hitched.

It was one thing to realize your feelings, to feel them creeping up on you like a slow-burning flame. But hearing him say it—knowing that he had felt this way for so long—made your chest ache.

“I…” You hesitated, but only for a second. Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

You cupped his face, running your thumb along his cheek. “I love you too, Hee.”

Heeseung let out a small, relieved laugh before kissing you again—slow and sweet, like he was savoring every second.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just you and him, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Heeseung kissed you again, slow and deliberate, as if making sure you weren’t just a dream. His hands rested gently on your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin, grounding himself in the moment.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Waking up late?”

“No.” He pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Waking up with you.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his eyes held nothing but warmth.

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was—you liked this side of him. The Heeseung who was completely unfiltered, who didn’t hold back anymore. And maybe, deep down, you always had.

A comfortable silence settled between you as Heeseung shifted, pulling you impossibly closer until your head was resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the warmth of his skin against yours made you wish you could stay here forever.

But reality was waiting.

Eventually, you sighed. “We really should get up.”

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, grinning when you shot him a glare.

You tried to move, but he tightened his arms around you, effortlessly keeping you trapped against him. “Nope,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”

You huffed, but your resolve was crumbling. He was too warm. Too comfortable. And if you were being honest… you didn’t really want to move either.

“Fine,” you relented, nuzzling closer. “But only for five more minutes.”

Heeseung chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. “You say that now.”

And, of course, five minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

And before you knew it, the two of you were still tangled together, lost in quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft, lingering touches.

Because for the first time, there was no rush. No reason to pretend.

For the first time, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

You were his. And he was yours.

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[mssishipi]

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 1 — SO BITTER

Getting invited into bed with two insanely hot guys? A dream come true. Sim Jaehyun is everything you’ve ever fantasized about—soft, sweet, impossible to resist. And his boyfriend? Park Jongseong is the perfect mix of manly, dominant, and dangerously addictive.

So when they invited you to join their bed activities, you can't argue to say no despite of your situation. Who could blame you? They're insanely sexy and they're the ones insisting. They want you there. So why the hell is Jay acting so bitter about it?

warning: everyone is either gay or fruity, bi! jake, bi! jay, pansexual! reader, brief mention of: fxf, scissoring, open relationship, threesome (heeseung and his gf x reader). reader having a hard time enjoying actual sex, so reader masturbate like a man, she's so sexually deprived that she uses everything to get off, reader thirsting over jake, jealous angry jay.

explicit content ahead (smut): masturbation, threesome (switch jake, dom jay x sub reader), anal sex (mxm), fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, choking, pussy slapping, squirting, pain kink?, unprotected sex, throat fucking, dubcon-ish, biting, rough mean jay, MDNI. WC: 15.7K

want a taste?

You are so frustrated.

Why does sex feel amazing for everyone except you?

It's not like you don't know what it's supposed to feel like. You've read books, watched porn, listened to your friends rave about their latest hookups. They make it sound euphoric—breathless moans, trembling legs, mind-numbing pleasure. And yet, for you? Nothing.

Your first time was a disaster. The foreplay—if you could even call it that—was pitiful. The stretch burned.  It hurt. It hurt so much that you ghosted the guy afterward, deleting his number like he was nothing more than a bad memory. Because that's all he was. A mistake.

Maybe it was him. Maybe he was just bad at it. So you tried again, this time with someone older, more experienced. Surely he would know what to do. But no—it was the same damn thing. They couldn't get you off. It hurt. It burned. And worst of all? It was boring. Uncomfortable, frustrating, infuriating.

You sit there, listening to your friends gush about their wild sex lives, their earth-shattering orgasms, and you can't help but hate them a little. It's not fair. It's not normal.

Is it a you problem?

You tried something different. A woman. Maybe men just weren't built to handle you.

And at first, it was better. You liked touching her, liked making her feel good, liked watching her body shudder under your hands. But when it came to you? The same damn problem. The moment she touched you, it was like your body refused to respond. Even scissoring just felt like raw friction, nothing more than skin dragging against skin. It burned. It always burns.

You're so envious of others—for actually enjoying sex, for having partners who know how to touch them.

Meanwhile, you're stuck in your room, watching porn, getting yourself off because no one else ever gets it right. No one knows your body like you do.

You've spent night after night touching yourself, pushing your limits, exploring kinks you never even knew you had. Your vibrator's been through hell—drained, recharged, drained again—because you can't get enough of the pleasure it sends coursing through you.

Six times in a single night, and it's still not enough. It never is.

You're pathetic, aren't you? Masturbating like some desperate, sex-starved pervert. Plunging your fingers deep inside yourself, chasing the high that no real partner has ever been able to give you. Watching porn, imagining yourself in the girl's place—wishing it was you being touched like that, fucked like that, worshiped like that.

And after nearly a year of searching, experimenting, you've realized something. You cum the hardest when you watch groups. Threesomes, foursomes, full-blown orgies—bodies tangled together, hands everywhere, mouths everywhere. The way they touch each other, pay attention to every inch of skin, despite the numbers.

So, you decided to bring that into real life.

You replied to a guy looking for a one-time hookup with his girlfriend—a birthday gift for her, he said. It sounded perfect.

You told them it was your first time, and the three of you set some ground rules. He guided you gently, his fingers threading through your hair as you ate his girlfriend out. She was beautiful, and you loved every second of making her moan, feeling her thighs tremble beneath your tongue.

It soaked you. This was what you wanted. Giving them what they wanted. Letting him use your throat, over and over, watching him fuck his girlfriend while you licked her clit. That was the turn-on.

But then, his fingers slipped inside you. His girlfriend kissed you, her lips soft, her words so comforting. And yet— It burns.

You winced, tried to relax, but it was useless. That familiar, infuriating discomfort crept in again, killing whatever arousal you had.

You pulled away, forcing a smile, telling them to keep going, that it was okay if they didn't focus on you. Because you didn't need it. They were your type—both of them, so hot, so eager. You loved watching them touch each other. You loved licking his balls while he fucked her, loved playing with her breasts, pinching her clit.

Your pussy clenched at nothing while you watched her fall apart on his dick, her face blissed out in pleasure you knew you'd never feel.

And just like that, frustration settled deep in your gut.

Maybe sex just isn't for you. Maybe it never was. And maybe, at some point, you'll have to accept it.

But damn, you're jealous.

"Awww, they're so cute! Look at them holding hands!"

Wonyoung's voice practically drips with excitement as she nudges you, her perfectly manicured finger pointing toward the entrance of the café.

You follow her gaze, eyes landing on the two men walking in. Their hands are loosely intertwined, their strides in sync.

The shorter one has a face that's both sharp and soft, his jawline well-defined yet not too harsh, his high cheekbones giving him an almost ethereal look. His eyes—warm and expressive—contrast with the straight line of his nose and the fullness of his lips, God, what a handsome man.

The taller man, in contrast, carries a striking, almost intimidating presence. His facial structure is all sharp angles and strong lines—high cheekbones, a prominent nose bridge, a jawline - a sharp 120 degrees jawline.

You raise a brow, turning back to Wonyoung. "What's with them?"

"Nothing!" she chirps, grinning as she watches them take a seat. "It's just refreshing to see bro luh bro together."

You snort. You steal another glance at the pair. The shorter one is laughing now, dimples peeking out as he leans in, nudging the taller man playfully.

Sunoo arrives, setting down a tray with all of your orders. He follows your gaze, his own eyes landing on the two men.

"Oh, Jake and Jay?" he says, voice dropping slightly.

Wonyoung perks up immediately. "You know them?"

Sunoo plops down beside you, nodding as he starts distributing drinks. "Yeah, Jay's our club president. Never thought they'd are together, though. I mean—" He pauses, lowering his voice slightly. "They sound so straight."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and Wonyoung lets out an exaggerated gasp. "No way," she drawls, glancing back at them with renewed interest.

"Swear," Sunoo says, holding up a hand like he's making a vow. "Back in highschool, Jake always had that... golden retriever energy, y'know? Friendly, flirty, kinda dumb in a cute way. But Jay?" He scoffs.

"Jay was the heartbreaker. Like, he had this whole nonchalant thing going on—cool, detached, gave just enough attention to make a girl fall for him, then disappeared a week later. Maybe that was just his denial phase."

"And now they're holding hands in a café," Wonyoung muses, poking at the ice in her drink with her straw. "Everyone is being gay right now."

Sunoo hums in agreement, shrugging. "Yeah, because life is better when you're gay."

You huff out a quiet laugh, finally reaching for your drink. "Oh, you got matcha, right?" Sunoo asks, sliding the cup toward you.

You nod, mumbling a quick thanks, but your mind is barely in the conversation anymore. Your attention keeps slipping, your eyes betraying you as they flick back—again and again—to the couple sitting at the other table.

Because—if you're being honest—you've thought the Jake guy was attractive from the moment he walked in.

Sunoo and Wonyoung have moved on, their conversation shifting into casual university gossip, but their words barely register. Your focus is locked on Jake, on the way he sits, leaning slightly forward, lazily twirling his pen between those long fingers as he writes something down in a notebook. He says something to his boyfriend, smiling as he does.

That smile. Those lips. Plump. Soft-looking, the kind that part just enough to reveal a glimpse of teeth when he grins. The kind that would feel so—

You bite down on your straw.

No. Nope. You are not thirsting over a man who very obviously has a boyfriend.

And yet—your gaze drifts lower, down to his hands. His hands.

Slender, long fingers, veins subtly running beneath his skin. Knuckles slightly prominent as he flexes them, tapping his pen absentmindedly against the page. You swallow hard, mind spiraling down a path you know you shouldn't be going down, but fuck, you can't help it.

Those hands—how would they feel against your skin? Pressing against your thighs, spreading you open? Fingers sinking deep, stretching you just right? The thought alone sends a pulse of heat straight between your legs.

And his nose—fuck, his nose.

It's perfect. Straight, slightly defined at the bridge, the kind of nose that was made to be sat on. Your breath hitches as a vivid image flashes through your mind—his face buried between your legs, that perfect nose rubbing against your clit as he eats you out. You imagine his hands gripping your hips, holding you down as you ride his face, your fingers tangled in his hair, your moans breathy and desperate as you grind against him.

Would it actually feel as good as it looks in porn? You wouldn't know. But it doesn't hurt to imagine, right?

You shift in your seat, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Your foot taps anxiously against the floor, your thighs pressing together, trying desperately to ignore the growing ache between them.

But just as you force your gaze down, trying to pull yourself out of your own head, a chill runs through you.

You feel it before you see it. Slowly, hesitantly, you glance back up—only to lock eyes with Jay.

Fuck.

He's looking right at you, his brow raises just slightly, like he knows exactly what you were thinking.

Your breath catches in your throat. Panic sets in, and you immediately tear your gaze away, heart hammering as you stare down at your drink.

Great. Just great. Not only are your panties soaked, but now you've got a pissed-off boyfriend glaring at you.

You don't even make it five minutes before bolting.

Some half-assed excuse—an emergency, you tell them, whatever the hell that means—and then you're gone. Practically fleeing back to your dorm, heart hammering, skin burning with embarrassment.

The second you step inside, you lock the door, press your back against it, and let out a shaky breath. You strip any piece of your clothing and went to the bathroom, turning on the water.

The shower is scalding but it does nothing to wash away the lingering heat in your core. You scrub your skin, try to shake off the feeling of want, but it clings to you.

Even after, sitting on the toilet in just your towel, your legs still feel weak. Your mind won't shut up, replaying the way Jake looked, the way Jay looked at you.

You feel so guilty.

But it's not like you actually did anything, right? You were just looking. It's not a crime to look. You tell yourself that over and over, forcing the thought down, gaslighting yourself into believing it.

It's normal. Completely normal. You just found him attractive. That's all. Then why does it feel so wrong?

Your fingers twitch against your thigh. Your whole body is tense, wound up tight, frustration eating you alive.

You don't think. You just act. Your hand reaches for the bidet, adjusting the angle, fingers trembling as the cold metal rests against your skin.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as the water pulses against your clit, and your head tips back, shame curling tight in your stomach. You shouldn't be doing this. You know that.

But you can't stop. You're so pathetic.

Since it was your third year, the number of students had dwindled. Some had transferred to different courses, others had dropped out entirely, victims of whatever existential crisis they were facing. It was just the reality of being a college student.

The college retreat finally arrived, and you placed your bag in the train's storage before settling into your seat. Sunoo, already making himself comfortable beside you, had an eye mask covering his eyes and was snoring before the train even began to move.

You sighed, sinking into your seat, plugging in your wired headphones to drown out the chatter around you. As music filled your ears, you scrolled through your phone. Your gaze drifted downward, watching your foot tap lightly against the floor in time with the beat—until something small thumped against it.

A small bag. Frowning, you pulled out one earbud, wincing at the slight tug.

"Be careful, babe," a voice said. You looked up just in time to see Jay reaching down for the bag at your feet.

"I'm sorry," Jake murmured. The moment your eyes met his, your entire body froze.

You couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. Jay straightened, holding the bag, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. Jake, oblivious, apologized again before walking off.

But Jay? He didn't move right away. He looked at you one last time before turning to follow Jake.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry.

Slowly, you put your headphones back in, forcing yourself to relax against your seat.

Why the fuck is it so hard not to look at him? Who could blame you, though? They were your batchmates, your classmates, and you hadn't even realized you shared the same major until now. And they were so close.

And so fucking hot.

Both of them were, to be fair. But Jay was the one who would kill you with his angry glares.

Your foot taps anxiously against the ground, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you fight the urge to glance over again. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. But you do.

Across the room, your colleagues erupt into cheers, celebrating another round of drinks, but their voices fade into the background. You try—try—to engage, to smile, to socialize like a normal person, but your gaze keeps betraying you, flickering back to them.

Jake looks so happy. His face is flushed, his glasses fogging slightly from the heat of the room and the alcohol in his system. His smile is soft, a little lazy, dimples appearing as he giggles at something Jay mutters in his ear. He's a lightweight, that much is clear, and the alcohol is making him affectionate—leaning into Jay's shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his boyfriend's sleeve.

Jay is the complete opposite—calm, composed, sipping his drink with effortless elegance. He barely reacts as Jake presses closer, only tilting his head slightly, allowing him to rest against him. His fingers lazily ghost over Jake's knee, a silent acknowledgment, a small show of possession.

Your stomach tightens. Your mind wanders, slipping into dangerous territory, conjuring images you should not be entertaining.

Is Jake a bottom? Or is he a top?

No—no way. Look at him. He's so soft, so giggly, so touchy. If you had to bet, you'd say he's the kind of guy who'd melt under the right hands, who'd whimper when teased, who'd take it so well—

Your breath catches. Fuck.

And Jay—fuck, Jay is so manly. So effortlessly dominant. He doesn't even have to do anything, and yet he owns every space he's in. You can only imagine what he's like behind closed doors, when there's no one around to see—except Jake.

What does Jake sound like when he moans? Would his voice be high, needy? Would he gasp, or would he whimper? Would Jay be rough with him? Would he tease him, make him beg, make him squirm?

Would he— You squeeze your thighs together under the table, your nails pressing into your palms.

You need to stop.

"I need some fresh air," you blurt out, standing a little too fast, the chair scraping against the floor as you push back from the table. Sunoo barely acknowledge your sudden departure, too wrapped up in their own conversations, and you're grateful for it.

You make a beeline for the exit, your cheeks burning, your pulse erratic. The moment you step outside, the night air rushes over you, cool against your heated skin.

You take a deep breath. Then another. The cabin's outdoor area is quiet, save for the rustling of tall trees and the distant hum of music from inside. The air is fresh, crisp, but it does little to cool the wrong kind of heat pooling in your stomach.

"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath, slapping your cheeks lightly, trying to shake yourself back to reality.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Is this how dry you are? Years of masturbating, of getting off alone, of chasing something that never quite hits—has it really reduced you to this? To thirsting over a taken man like some desperate, pathetic slut?

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. You march aimlessly in circles, feet pressing against the dirt path, trying to ground yourself—trying to shake the images still burning in your mind. You need to behave. Your pussy needs to behave.

After a while, you drop onto a wooden bench, pressing your palms against your knees, forcing yourself to breathe.

"Hey."

A voice startles you, and you whip around, heart nearly jumping out of your chest.

"Oh—Heeseung," you exhale, relaxing slightly when you see him standing there, hands in his pockets, the faint glow of the lights casting long shadows behind him.

He smirks. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"Inside, having fun with her friends." He steps closer, glancing at the empty space beside you. "Can I?"

You nod, shifting over to give him room.

He sighs as he sits, stretching his arms out along the back of the bench, tilting his head up to look at the sky. "Didn't think I'd see you out here alone."

"I needed a break," you say vaguely, not about to admit to the absolute filth running through your mind just minutes ago.

Lee Heeseung was the guy you met last summer—a music major with a healthy, happy open relationship with his girlfriend. You had joined them for one encounter, though nothing more came of it. After that, you stayed mutuals on social media, exchanging the occasional like or comment. His girlfriend, however had a habit of slipping into your DMs with suggestive messages, playful and teasing, making you chuckle every time.

"She misses you," he started, looking at you. "She was kind of disappointed, waking up and realizing you leave without cumming, telling me I'm such an asshole." He laughed, "well, maybe I was. I'm sorry."

You blink. Then, shaking your head, you wave a hand dismissively. "No, don't feel bad! It was a wonderful experience."

"You guys were amazing," you continue, turning to meet his gaze. "I loved watching you two, letting you use me, but I wasn't expecting anything. Seriously, don't feel guilty. I wanted to focus on her—on making her feel good."

Heeseung watches you for a beat, his lips curling slightly before he exhales, stretching his arms again along the back of the bench. "Ahh, I'm so glad I picked you." His tone is light, teasing. "You're really considerate, you know that?"

You shrug, grinning. "What can I say? I have a talent for that."

He laughs, shaking his head, but then his expression sobers slightly. "Still, I feel bad about that. I just thought—" He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. "That night, when you backed off... I figured touching you might've made you uncomfortable. I didn't wanna push it."

You blink. Oh. He thinks that's why?

"No!" you blurt, laughing, reaching out to slap his shoulder playfully. "It wasn't you, okay? That was totally a me issue."

Heeseung raises a brow, tilting his head. "What kind of issue?"

You hesitate. Do you tell him? It's not exactly something you go around sharing, but it's just the two of you out here. You think Heeseung has always been easy to talk to—never judgmental, just curious, open.

So, you sigh, deciding to just be honest. You tell him everything—how you get aroused easily, how your body wants it, craves it, but the moment someone actually touches you, it all goes wrong. How you can't seem to relax, how their touch feels too much, too uncomfortable. How it burns.

Heeseung listens, his brows furrowing slightly as he processes your words.

When you finish, he shifts, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Shit," he breathes, his voice softer now. "I—fuck, I'm sorry." His eyes widen, guilt flickering in them. "I—We tried to touch you. I slipped a finger inside. And you didn't say anything. I didn't even realize—"

You shake your head quickly, waving him off. "Don't feel bad."

"But it hurt," he says, like he's trying to wrap his head around it, his breath hitching slightly.

"Well, yeah," you admit, leaning back against the bench. "It burns."

Heeseung lets out a quiet, almost guilty laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fuck. I feel like such an asshole now."

"You're not," you assure him, nudging him with your knee. "Seriously. It's fine. I wanted to be there. I wanted to do that. And I did enjoy it—I loved watching you two." You flash him a grin. "Plus, your girlfriend? Hot as hell."

That makes him chuckle, shaking his head again. "She is, huh?" He glances at you, eyes softer now. "But... you? You didn't get anything out of it?"

You shrug, sighing. "That's just how it is for me, I guess."

There's a moment of silence between you, filled only by the distant hum of laughter and music from inside. Heeseung sits back again, stretching his legs out in front of him, staring up at the sky as if he's thinking.

"I'm actually here to convince you to do it again with us," Heeseung admits, rubbing a hand over his face awkwardly.

Your eyes widen. "What?"

He laughs, a little sheepishly. "Yeah—uh, she said I should probably, you know, lick you as a take-back and propose the idea of doing it again because the sex was so good." His grin turns teasing before he sighs, shaking his head. "But... I don't know. I've been thinking about it, considering your situation, and my conscience just can't take it."

You open your mouth, unsure of what to say. "I—I..." You hesitate, then finally admit, "Honestly? I would like to do it again with you guys. It was a good experience, and you were both so kind—"

"But," Heeseung interrupts, giving you a pointed look. "I don't want to do it again knowing that you're probably not enjoying it."

"Hey," you protest, frowning. "I said I enjoyed it."

Heeseung groans, slumping back against the bench. "Still."

You laugh at the sheer misery in his voice. "What, is your ego that fragile?"

He gives you a side-eye. "Yes. Absolutely."

You shake your head in amusement. "So... what now? You going to find someone else for your little proposition?"

Heeseung exhales dramatically, staring off into the distance. Then he shakes his head. "Nah." His gaze flickers back to you, lingering for a brief second before he smirks. "Damn, though—you and my girlfriend are such freaks in the best way. It's hard to find someone like that. Plus, you're sexy as fuck."

Your lips twitch, amused. "Oh?"

"And your gag reflex?" Heeseung groans, running a hand through his hair. "Impressive. I'd rate the blowjob five stars, easy."

You laugh, playfully flipping your hair over your shoulder. "Why, thank you."

"But," he sighs, dramatically placing a hand over his chest, "I'm letting you go."

You pout, exaggerating your disappointment. "Awww."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says, waving you off. "I actually rehearsed a whole ass speech before coming over here, thinking I'd convince you to join us again —but honestly, I'd just be disappointing my girlfriend." He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's okay, though."

You exhale, feeling a strange mix of relief and... loss?

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Heeseung says, more serious now. "Don't think I'm letting you go just because you can't get off. That's not the reason. I don't want you to be hurt, and well..." He pauses, his voice lowering slightly.

"There were... things my girlfriend and I discussed doing to you. But after hearing what you said, I don't think it'd be a good idea anymore."

You swallow, his words sinking in. Another experience, another opportunity taken away because of your body's refusal to cooperate.

Heeseung must see something in your face because he groans, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fuck, I feel so bad now. Can I make it up to you? Food? Something sweet for making you feel bad?"

You shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you look at him. "Is it okay if we kiss?"

Heeseung looks momentarily caught off guard, but then he shrugs. "Sure, why not?"

"Wait—doesn't this feel morally wrong? Like, cheating?"

He snorts. "You do know we fuck other people, right?" Heeseung raises a brow, amused. "Besides, she's the one who suggested I should eat your pussy as an apology."

You scrunch your nose. "Yeah, but I wouldn't enjoy it."

Heeseung clutches his chest, "Fuck—you don't have to say it like that. Even I can't please you, huh?"

You burst into laughter before leaning in, pressing your lips against his.

His hands immediately find your waist, gripping you firmly as he responds, lips parting slightly as he follows your lead. The heat between you builds quickly, the moment shifting as your fingers tangle in his hair.

You move, climbing onto his lap, your thighs pressing against his hips as his hands slide down, settling on the curve of your ass. His tongue flicks against yours, deepening the kiss, and he practically shoves it down your throat, savoring the moment and leaving a last impression.

And just a few feet away, standing unnoticed in the shadows beyond the cabin's back entrance, Jay remains completely still—leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. Watching. Listening.

You don't even remember how you ended up in bed that night. One moment, you were locked in a messy make-out session with Heeseung outside, and the next, you were back in the cabin, drink in hand, relieved to find that Jake and Jay were nowhere in sight.

You actually enjoyed drinking with everyone. Maybe because you had let out a problem that had been weighing on you. Maybe because there were no distractions around the circle—nothing tempting, nothing forbidden, nothing that made your skin burn with frustration.

Even Sunoo—who could usually outdrink everyone—ended up absolutely wasted.

A loud, piercing voice jerks you from unconsciousness.

"WAKE UP! EVERYONE GET READY FOR TODAY'S ACTIVITY!"

Your brain screams in protest, eyes squeezing shut as the harsh sunlight spills across your face. Around you, deep groans of agony echo through the cabin, everyone waking up in a collective hangover-induced suffering.

You stiffen, you felt something heavy weighing against you.

Blinking, you squint through the brightness—only to realize Sunoo is wrapped around your waist, his deep snores vibrating against your back. What the hell?

You tilt your head, glancing around groggily. Why are you in a room full of men?  Several guys are already getting up, shuffling around in various stages of disarray, stretching, groaning, rubbing their faces in exhaustion.

Panic jolts through you as you slap Sunoo's arm. "Did you bring me here?!"

He winces, barely cracking one eye open before scowling and slapping your back in revenge. You groan at the sting.

"Both of us were drunk as fuck," he grumbles. "Do you really think I had the brainpower to take you to the right room?" He shifts, kicking off the blanket, pulling a pillow over his face.

"Agh, fuck, the seniors are so noisy," he groans, muffled. "Let me fucking sleep."

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. Then, you glance down at yourself. The blanket is covering most of your legs, but... something feels off.

A memory flashes through your mind—you and Sunoo, stumbling into the room last night, singing like idiots, collapsing into bed. You kicking off your pants because it felt too hot. Your stomach drops.

"Where are my fucking pants?" you whisper harshly, panic creeping in as you glance around. Other guys are groggily stretching, pulling on hoodies, running hands through messy hair, and you suddenly want to die.

"Uh... hey," a familiar voice calls.

You freeze. Slowly, hesitantly, you turn your head. And immediately wish you hadn't.

"Is this yours?" Jake stands a few feet away, holding your pants. But that's not the problem.

The problem is that he's shirtless, fresh water dripping from his hair, rolling down his bare shoulders, glistening over his defined chest and abs— Don't look lower. Don't look lower.

Oh, fuck, those abs.

"Y-Yes!" you blurt, scrambling to sit up. "Thank you!"

You practically launch yourself off the bed, tripping over the blanket as you grab your pants from his hand. Your fingers brush against his slightly—warm, damp from his shower—and your entire body locks up.

Jake just grins at your flustered state. "Rough night?" he asks, amused.

You don't answer. You can't.  Your face is burning, your thoughts spiraling, and the only thing that matters is getting the fuck out of there.

You mumble a quick, "Thanks," grabbing your pants with shaky fingers. Turning away, you hurriedly step into them, nearly tripping in your rush to cover yourself. Your hands fumble with the waistband as you stumble toward the door.

You don't look back. You don't see the way Jay's gaze follows you. The way his eyes drag down your body, your ass, the way his fingers twitch, his knuckles flexing as his grip tightens.

A scoff breaks the silence. "Enjoy flirting with that girl?"

Jay leans back against the bedframe, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flick toward Jake, who is casually applying lotion to his arms, completely unbothered.

Jake doesn't even glance up. "Everything is such a big deal to you."

"Yeah," Jay mutters, his jaw tightening, "because you know she wants to fuck you. And you just gave her a reason to touch herself thinking about you." His voice is flat and bitter. "Do you want to fuck her?"

Jake lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head at Jay's possessiveness.

Then, without warning, he leans forward, pressing in close, his lips brushing against Jay's ear as he murmurs, "Come on... don't pretend you don't want to fuck her too."

You hear Sunoo grunt beside you as everyone gathers in a large circle for today's activity. Your shoulders sink slightly—there are too many people, too much noise, and the closeness makes your skin prickle with discomfort.

Before you can dwell on it, someone calls your name.

Heeseung's girlfriend appears beside you, slipping her arm through yours. Heeseung follows a step behind, hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with mild amusement.

Conversation flows naturally between the three of you. She's playful, teasing, and when the moment strikes, she leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek before Heeseung pulls her away with a laugh, shaking his head.

You huff out a chuckle, shaking off the flustered warmth lingering on your face. The fresh air feels nice, even with Sunoo rambling beside you, half-awake and barely filtering his thoughts.

"There's some dirt in your hair."

You pause, caught off guard by the voice behind you. You blink at Jay as he gestures vaguely toward your head. Your fingers immediately reach up, brushing through your hair, searching for whatever he's talking about.

Before you can find it, another voice cuts in.

"Can't get off?"

Your eyes snap to Jake, heartbeat stuttering.

Sunoo frowns beside you. "What?"

Jake grins. "I mean—you can't get it off." He reaches out, plucking something from your hair—a small leaf—and twirls it between his fingers before letting it drop. He and Jay don't wait for a response. They just turn, walking off, their presence fading into the crowd.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Sunoo clicks his tongue, slipping his hand into yours as he pulls you along. "What's wrong with them?"

The activity is divided into groups, and you've been paired with your colleagues. The rules are simple: win the games, and your team gets to decide what food to eat. With everyone desperate for a good meal, the competition turns chaotic.

The entire field is a mess—people running, yelling, tackling each other for flags. You and Sunoo are no exception, darting up and down the hill, breathless and determined.

"I fucking want some steak!" you scream, gripping the colored flag in your hands like your life depends on it.

Behind you, Sunoo is just as wild, holding onto another flag. "We are not eating instant noodles again!" he howls, voice cracking mid-sentence.

But just as victory feels within reach, another group surges past, shrieking in triumph.

Your stomach drops as you watch them hoist their flags in the air, the whistle blowing to signal their win.

Gravity betrays you. You and Sunoo crash to the ground, tumbling into a heap, dirt and grass sticking to your clothes. You groan, lying there for a moment, staring up at the sky in defeat.

"Goddamn it," Sunoo mutters. "I wanted seafood."

A hand appears in your vision. Someone is helping you up. You grab hold, letting yourself be pulled to your feet. "But I wanted steak," you whisper, still eyeing the victorious group with bitter jealousy.

A soft chuckle sounds behind you. "Must be frustrating."

Your brows furrow. You turn, only to find Jake standing there, hands lazily tucked into his pockets, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes.

"What?" you ask, confused.

He takes a step closer, reaching out. His fingers barely brush your shoulder as he tugs off a piece of dirt clinging to your shirt.

Then, he leans in—just slightly, just enough for only you to hear— "Never getting what you want."

Your body tenses, a shiver running down your spine. Because no fucking way—this isn't about the game.

Your mind races, trying to make sense of it.

You stay in the shower longer than you should, the hot water running over your skin, but doing nothing to wash away the unease settling in your chest. Some of the other girls have already finished, wrapping themselves in towels, chatting about the day's activities. A few glance your way, concern flickering across their faces.

"Are you okay?" one of them asks. You don't answer. You just stand there, naked, staring at the tiled floor, your hands limp at your sides.

"Can't get off?"

"Must be frustrating, never getting what you want."

A chill runs down your spine. Jake's words loop in your head, over and over, like an echo you can't shake off.

Your brain scrambles, piecing together every interaction—every weird moment leading up to this. First of all, you don't even know Jake. One day, you were just thirsting over him from a distance, admiring him like some campus crush. Your second interaction—if you could even call it that—was when he dropped his bag in front of you. No words exchanged, just a moment of awkward eye contact before he walked away.

Then last night—when you looked at him again, when you got caught looking. By his boyfriend, Jay.

And then? The sudden shift. The randomness of it all. Why did Jake start talking to you out of nowhere? Could it be because of the pants? The morning embarrassment? But no—his comments weren't just casual teasing. They were pointed. Suggestive. And worst of all, relatable.

Your stomach twists. Your mind flashes back to last night.

You had stepped out for fresh air. You had talked to Heeseung. You make out with him. And when you went back inside— Jay and Jake were gone.

Your breath hitches.

Fuck.

Your hand grips your hair, heart pounding. Could they know? No. No way. That's impossible. Right?

Three more days, and the retreat would be over.

If Jake and Jay knew, then all you had to do was avoid them until you got back to campus. No unnecessary conversations, no eye contact, no chance for them to slip more suggestive comments into your ears and make your skin crawl.

It was the last night of the retreat, the final stretch before you could return to normal life.

The final activity was a mountain climb. The goal was simple—make it to the top and back before 8 o'clock. But the moment the seniors announced it, you just stood there, dumbfounded. What the actual fuck were they thinking?

Sure, a hike sounded fun in theory, but at night? In an unfamiliar area? Terrible idea. Most of the students murmured in protest, some even flat-out refusing, but somehow, you ended up participating. Why? Because Sunoo, your only companion in this nightmare, begged you to come along, promising that he wouldn't survive without you.

Now, with each step up the steep incline, you're regretting it.

"We need to go back down soon," you huff, pausing to catch your breath. "Before the sun sets. I don't trust the seniors—they're probably planning some shit."

Sunoo, hunched over beside you, dramatically clutches his chest. "What?! Can you just— give me five minutes to breathe?" He whines, panting. You roll your eyes but grab his wrist anyway, tugging him forward. "Come on. I have a bad feeling about this."

While walking in the middle of the forest to go down, both of you stop when you hear a scream.  Not just any scream—bloodcurdling, echoing through the trees, sending a violent shiver all through your body.

Your body stiffens. "What the fuck was that?"

Sunoo barely has time to respond before more sounds erupt—heavy footsteps, frantic rustling, the unmistakable pounding of people running.

The flashlights around the area flicker out, plunging everything into a suffocating black void.

Your breath catches. "No, no, no—"

Sunoo grabs your wrist. "Run."

You don't question it. The two of you bolt, feet crashing against the uneven ground, dodging low branches, blindly navigating the terrain. You don't even know what you're running from—only that fear is thrumming through your veins, keeping your legs moving.

In the middle of running, in the darkness, your grip on Sunoo slips.

"Sunoo?!" You gasp, stumbling as you lose sight of him.

"Keep running!" You heard him shout, but his voice are distant.

You're alone.

Heart hammering, you stagger forward, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Your legs are aching, your hands trembling as you reach out blindly, searching for stability.

Finally, your fingers brush against rough bark. A tree. You collapse against it, sinking down to the ground, your back pressing into the trunk as you try to calm the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

The silence around you is deafening. You close your eyes, stabilizing your breath when you heard a twig snaps.

Your eyes fly open, and panic takes over. A scream tears from your throat as you kick out wildly, scrambling backward, heart hammering in your ears but a hand clamps over your mouth.

"Shhh," a hushed voice murmurs against your ear, warm breath ghosting over your skin. "Unless you want the seniors to hear and make fun of you more."

The low timbre sends a shiver down your spine. A firm arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against something solid and warm.

You tilt your head, catching a glimpse of soft curls, of a lazy, curling smirk beneath the dim glow of the moonlight.

Jake. His scent is so close—clean, a little woody. It makes your head feel light, makes your thoughts blur at the edges. And his eyes—fuck, his eyes. Dark, glinting, lashes so long.

Your throat tightens. With a sharp breath, you yank his hand away from your mouth, coughing as you shift awkwardly in his hold. "W-What?"

Jake grins. "Relax. The seniors are just scaring the juniors. That's the 'big activity.'"

You scowl, turning your head away. "I know that."

He laughs, low and amused. Then, before you can react, he tugs you down beside him, making you squeal.

"Why are you so awkward?" he teases, settling back against the tree trunk, looking at you like he's enjoying every second of this. "I just wanted to talk to you."

You swallow, shifting uncomfortably. "You have a boyfriend."

"And yet," he murmurs, leaning in slightly, "you keep staring at me like I don't."

Your body reacts before you can stop it, thighs pressing together instinctively at the way his voice drops, at the heat curling in his gaze.

"T-That's micro-cheating," you whisper, trying to steady your voice. You pressed your hand around his chest, stopping him from getting any closer.

Jake chuckles. "It's not—" he leans in, his nose grazing your cheek, his breath fanning over your skin, "—when he's aware of it."

Your eyes widen, lips parting in shock just as his tongue flicks against your earlobe. A sharp, involuntary sigh escapes you, your body shuddering at the sensation.

He smirks. "Sensitive?"

"S-Stop," you stammer, hands pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to push him away.

But Jake doesn't budge. Instead, he pouts—actually pouts—his fingers curling around your wrist, gently prying your grip from his shirt. "Why? Don't you want me?" His voice is teasing.

"I know you've participated in threesomes." Your breath catches at his bold statement.

"I'm just interested in you joining us," he continues, his tone light, almost casual, like he's suggesting something as simple as grabbing a coffee.

Your thighs press together. Because fuck—fuck, it's too easy to imagine it. Two mouths. Two bodies. Two dicks.

The kind of scenario you've watched over and over in the videos you get off to. The kind of scenario that should have you saying yes without hesitation.

But then you remember. His words from the past few days. The suggestive phrases, you felt that he was toying with something deeply personal to you.

Your arousal sours, replaced by a dull ache of frustration. You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, to focus. "I know that you also know my situation."

Jake tilts his head slightly, curious about where you're going with this.

Your voice hardens. "I'm not the girl you're looking for. Yes, you're hot. Your boyfriend too. But—" You swallow thickly, fingers curling. "Do you think it's a little insensitive of you?"

His brows lift, you take a steadying breath. "I got turned down from experiencing a threesome because of my issue." The words taste bitter on your tongue, resentment creeping in despite yourself. "So what makes you think this would be any different?"

Jake stays quiet for a moment. His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist but the teasing glint in his eyes has dimmed slightly. Not completely gone—just softened, like he's listening now.

You use the moment to pull your hand free and leave him alone, despite of being scared in the dark.

The next morning, as you pack your things, your mood is bitter. Sunoo notices immediately but doesn't press, only throwing you occasional glances as he folds his clothes into his bag.

By the time you're on the train, settled into your seat, the frustration inside you has only grown. You stare out the window, thoughts spiraling, the rhythmic movement of the train doing nothing to calm you down.

Sunoo, beside you, nudges your arm gently. "Is it because I left you alone?" His voice is small, pouting as he holds your hand.

You blink, turning to him briefly before exhaling a heavy sigh. "God, no."

"Then what?"

You lean back against the seat, rubbing your temple. "I'm just... frustrated."

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. "Frustrated about what?"

You don't answer immediately, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you avoid his gaze.

"Frustrated about everything," you murmur, voice low, more to yourself than to him.

Sunoo watches you for a moment before sighing, deciding to let it go.

But your mind doesn't. You think about it. Threesomes are the best. You love everything about them—the attention, the pleasure, the thrill of being used by more than one person at once. You've spent countless nights fantasizing about being sandwiched between two bodies, your moans muffled against warm skin, hands gripping your thighs, your body bent and spread, completely taken.

The thought alone makes your stomach tighten. But, what's the point if your body refuses to cooperate? If every touch that should send you over the edge instead makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out?

And come on—you know yourself. You don't want to put yourself in a situation where you'll just end up jealous again, where you'll watch pleasure unfold before you and be left with nothing but your own frustration.

You made the right choice. You should praise yourself for finally prioritizing your mental health this time. Because you know how this ends. A wet-ass pussy left hanging, again and again, with no relief.

"You're really dumb," Jay sighs in frustration, rubbing his face with his palm. His other hand rests on his waist as he stares at his boyfriend, unimpressed.

"Now, how are you supposed to convince that girl, huh? You scared her off."

Jake shrugs, unbothered. "Maybe you should go talk to her."

Jay's eyes widen before he scoffs, laughing sarcastically. "No fucking way."

He feels Jake's presence, familiar arms snaking around his waist from behind, pulling him close in a lazy, comforting embrace.

"I'm sorry," Jake murmurs, resting his chin on Jay's shoulder. "I know you told me to give it more time, but I was excited to approach her. You know I've been looking for the perfect third, right?"

Jay huffs, rolling his eyes. "I still don't get why you want a threesome so bad." He pries Jake's arms off his waist, turning to face him. His jaw tightens as he stares at his boyfriend. "Am I not fucking you right?"

Jake chuckles, tilting his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, baby, you are—but that's not the point."

Jay crosses his arms, his annoyance growing. "Then what is the point?"

Jake shrugs, leaning casually against the table behind him. "I just want to add some spice. It's nothing personal—just something I'd like to try." He watches Jay carefully. "And I'm not forcing you, okay? If you don't want it, we don't have to. But you asked why, and I'm just telling you."

Jay lets out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair. Of course, Jake says it so easily, so casually, like it's not a big deal at all. But to Jay, it is.

He's pissed. Maybe even jealous. Because Jay is not the type of man who shares. He never has been. The thought of someone else touching what belongs to him—seeing Jake spread out, vulnerable, pleasured by someone else—sets something ugly and possessive twisting in his chest.

But then—fuck. Jake is looking at him with those big, innocent, doe eyes. His lower lip juts out, his brows lift slightly, and he tilts his head just enough to make himself look small, needy. And Jay hates that he knows exactly how to get his way.

Jay groans, rubbing his face with both hands. In the back of his mind, a voice whispers—maybe he'll like it. Maybe, just maybe, it won't be so bad if he's the one in control.

His hands drop, and he meets Jake's gaze. "I'll try to talk to her."

Jake's entire face lights up. His arms shoot forward, wrapping around Jay's neck as he peppers kisses all over his face, murmuring between them, "Thank you, thank you, thank you—I love you, you're the best, oh my god—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jay grumbles, pretending to be unimpressed, even as his arms tighten around Jake's waist. "I love you too."

Jay drops his notebook onto the desk with a loud thud, drawing a few glances as he settles into the seat beside you with a quiet grunt.

You freeze, lip gloss wand hovering just above your lips, staring at him in confusion.

"Excuse me? That's my seat." A sharp, sassy voice cuts through the moment.

Jay sighs, already annoyed, and glances up. He recognizes the guy instantly—Sunoo, one of the members from his club.

"Do you have your name on it?" Jay asks, raising a brow.

Sunoo rolls his eyes. "Seriously? God, you guys just pop up out of nowhere." Huffing, he drops into the seat in front of you instead, muttering something under his breath.

Jay turns his attention forward. "I need to talk to you."

You blink, shoving your lip gloss back into its tube. "What?"

"Is this about what your boyfriend told me? Because I already said—"

"And I'm here to change your mind."

You press your lips together, irritation and confusion mixing inside you.

Jay sighs, rubbing his face before looking at you again. "Meet me after the lecture, at the café downtown."

Then, without another word, he stands up, walking away because he can't sit next to you any longer.

You watch him go, then, right on cue, Jake walks into the lecture hall. His eyes scan the room once before landing on Jay. His face lights up immediately, steps quick as he moves in, casually throwing an arm around Jay's shoulders.

Jay barely reacts. He says something back, forcing a small smile, but you can tell it's fake.

Jake looks at you for a second his lips twitch into a small smile before he turns back to Jay.

Before you can even process it, Sunoo is sliding into the seat beside you, reclaiming what was his.

"Are you friends with them?" he asks, side-eyeing you. "What's with all the random talks?"

You force yourself to shrug, keeping your voice light. "No idea."

You don't know what possessed you to agree to this, but here you are—sitting across from Jay at a café, watching him lean back in his chair, sipping on his fruit tea.

Your foot taps anxiously against the floor. "Where's Jake?" you ask, breaking the silence.

Jay exhales through his nose, placing his drink down on the table before spreading his legs slightly, leaning forward. "He's too impatient and impulsive," he says firmly. "It's better if I'm the one talking to you."

You press your lips together, feeling the weight of his stare.

"Look, I didn't mean to overhear your conversation that night." His voice controlled as he's talking to you. 

"Jake has been looking for the perfect third to bring into our bed, and he thinks you're..." He hesitates, his next word feeling like it physically pains him to say, "interesting."

Your fingers curl against the fabric of your skirt. "There are plenty of other girls who would be willing to join you." Your voice is steady, but your stomach is twisting. "I'm just... not the one—"

"But you want it, don't you?"

The air shifts. Your breath catches, your eyes widening slightly as you stare at him.

"You just can't say yes because of your situation," he continues, watching you closely making your throat feel dry.

He sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before pushing his hair back. "Look," he starts, tone lowering slightly. 

"I know this may sound pushy, but just give it a chance. Jake is great at what he does." His jaw tightens, like the words physically strain him. "We'll consider your situation. We'll take it slow. We won't push you into anything you don't want. If it gets uncomfortable, you can back out."

He exhales sharply, his gaze flickering away for a moment before he forces himself to look at you again. "Just... give him a chance."

You stare at him, mouth slightly open. There's something strange about this. The way he speaks. The way his voice changes—like he's forcing himself through the words.

Your lips part before you even think. "What about you?"

His head lifts slightly, eyes narrowing. "What?"

You swallow. "Are you even sure you want me to join?"

His shoulders tense.

"This isn't just about Jake," you continue, shifting in your seat. "You're a couple. This kind of thing requires a lot of trust and... well, you know." You let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension.

Jay doesn't smile, his eyes flicker before he answers, voice softer than before. "I'm okay with it."

You tilt your head slightly. "Being okay with it doesn't mean you want it."

His jaw ticks. Jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again, more frustrated now. "Just don't mind me, alright?"

"I just want him to be happy. What stays in the bedroom, stays in the bedroom. He's mine—and letting you into our bed doesn't mean anything more. You're just there for fun." His voice is short, irritation creeping into it.

Then, his next words come out gritted, dripping with something so possessive, it nearly startles you.

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

You blink. Then before you can stop yourself, you laugh.

A short, amused scoff, shaking your head. "Okay, chill." You hold your hands up in mock surrender. "I'm not going to steal your boyfriend from you."

"So you're down?"

Jay voice is impatient, looking at you.  You sigh, leaning back slightly. For most girls, this would be a dream come true. Jake is hot. Jay is hot.

And they acknowledge your situation. They get it. They've promised to take things slow, to not push you, to let you back out if it gets too much.

Maybe... maybe you should just give it a chance.

Because honestly? All that self-reflection, all those moments of avoiding temptation, of telling yourself you're better than this?

Fucking pointless. Because it's not you chasing after dicks. It's the dicks chasing you.

You exhale, rubbing your temple before finally meeting his gaze. "Okay. When?"

Jay studies you for a moment before nodding, pulling out his phone.

As he scrolls through his messages, you brace yourself—already preparing for another abdominal pain moment. Because you see it coming already.

But hey—at least they're hot.

—

You wake up early, too early, scrubbing your body until your skin is soft and warm. Another round of shaving, another layer of the sweetest lotion, perfume misted over every inch of you.

By the time you sit in your lecture, your nerves are already getting the best of you. Your eyes keep flickering toward them. Jake, completely unaware of what's coming. Jay, pretending not to notice you staring.

You remember his words.

"Don't degrade him. You can't finger his ass. No leaving marks on his neck. Don't bite his dick. Don't choke him—that's my job."

You had blinked at him, slightly amused. "What about you?"

Jay had raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you had lost your mind.

"The same." His voice had been simple. Then, after a beat, "Yours?"

You had hesitated for a moment, thinking. "Uh... nothing, really. I am uh—I'm more into giving. If I get comfortable -" You had tapped your nails against the table, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I'm okay with everything. You can use me all you want."

Jay hadn't expected his pants to tighten at that.

Fuck. He shouldn't be feeling this way.

Then, you had laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Oh, and I'm not ready for double vaginal penetration. Or something inserting in my ass."

Jay had stilled. His jaw had ticked, his thoughts immediately spiraling into something he shouldn't be imagining—both him and Jake taking you, your body trembling, stretched wide between them—

He had shaken his head sharply. "As if I'm going to fuck you," he had muttered under his breath. But he had made sure you heard it.

You had only raised an eyebrow at him.

Two hours after your lecture, you're cleaning yourself again.

Over and over, you go through the motions—shower, shave, perfume—your anxiety making you restless. Jay had texted you his address earlier, and now, standing in front of his apartment door, your heart is pounding.

Your fingers tremble as you twist the knob open. Stepping inside, you're immediately hit with the scent of him.

The living room is simple—clean, minimal. Your eyes soften slightly as they land on the table covered in picture frames, mostly of him and Jake.

Cute. How long have they been together?

You shake the thought away, climbing the stairs slowly, Jay's instructions still clear in your mind—

"Just go straight to my room. The one with the keychain on the knob."

But the second you reach the hallway, you hear a soft, breathy sounds slip through the walls. Your brows furrow, steps slowing.

"Ahhh, fuck, please, please. I want to cum, I want to cum—"

You gulp, throat tightening, fingers hovering over the doorknob. A familiar ache spreads between your legs. You let out a sharp breath, half-annoyed, half-aroused.

"God, he didn't even give me a heads-up," you mutter under your breath, shifting your weight, trying to decide if you should actually walk in on this.

"Fucking shut up," Jay's voice cuts through the air, with his rough and commanding tone.

Your thighs press together as you let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a brief moment before gathering the nerve to twist the knob open.

The door swings slightly, and you're immediately hit with the sight in front of you—

Jake, on his knees, getting pounded from behind by his boyfriend. And the worst part? They're facing you.

Your head spins as you stared at Jake's face is flushed, glistening with tears, his mouth parted as he moans helplessly. His hair is fisted in Jay's grip, keeping him in place, forcing his back into a deep arch.

Your eyes travel lower— Fuck, why the hell it's so long?

His achingly pink, dripping cock dangles with every relentless thrust, bouncing between his trembling thighs. A sharp inhale slips from your lips.

"Oh, look who finally showed up," Jay murmurs,

His grip tightens in Jake's hair, tugging him back further, forcing him to lock eyes with you.

Jake's body shudders, his eyes widening in shock.

"J-Jay! Oh my God—" His words break into a loud, desperate moan as Jay speeds up, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. "You said she refused!"

Jay only laughs, voice dark and smug as he leans down, shifting his angle, making Jake cry out.

"Surprise."

Your throat bobs as you swallow, hard.

You're just standing there, frozen, watching the scene unfold before you. Watching how beautifully, how filthy Jake takes Jay’s cock. The way his body rocks forward with each thrust, the way his lips fall open in helpless moans.

And then your eyes trail lower. You can see everything—Jay’s dick sinking in and out of him, coated in slick, stretching him so perfectly. Each movement is deep and unrelenting. Your breath shudders as you take it all in, heat curling through your body, making your skin burn despite the cold sweat forming on your back.

Jake’s moans grow louder, whinier, then, with his free hand, he reaches down, wrapping his fingers around his neglected cock, fisting it fast.

"Nggh, you got louder—" Jay grunts, his pace never slowing, His gaze flicks toward you, locking onto yours with a sharp, knowing glare. "You’re really into this, huh?"

"Yes, yes, yes—!" Jake moans through a smile, his hand moving faster, squeezing around his cock, never looking away from you.

Your body feels weak. Your nails press into your palms, clenched so tightly that they sting, but you barely notice. Your legs shake slightly, but you still don’t move. You can’t.

"I’m cumming—oh fuck, I’m cumming—!"

Jake’s entire body trembles, his back arching, muscles tightening as he finally lets go. His cock twitches in his hand, thick white ropes spilling over his fingers, his stomach, dripping onto the sheets beneath him. His moans are long, drawn out, mixing with the broken whimpers leaving his lips.

You don’t even realize you’re staring until your breath stutters, your thighs pressing together involuntarily.

Jay’s pace stutters as well, hips jerking forward one last time before he exhales sharply.

"Agh, fuck—"

His grip tightens on Jake’s hips, burying himself deep as he spills inside him, his body going rigid before his movements slow. He takes a second to catch his breath before finally pulling out.

A slap lands on Jake’s ass, making him jolt slightly, though he’s still too dazed to react properly.

"Don’t keep the guest waiting," Jay mutters.

Your gaze drops to him.

Jay stands there, still breathless, still hard, his cock coated in a mess of slick and cum. It’s thick, flushed, and—fuck. Your mouth waters.

Jake takes a moment to catch his breath before turning to you, grinning as he practically bounces toward you, not even bothering to clean up—not even caring that Jay’s cum is still dripping down his thighs.

He just walks up to you, arms wrapping around you in a soft, warm hug.

"Hi!" he says, his bare skin is hot against yours, his breath warm near your neck. And then you feel it—his softened cock resting against your covered thigh.

Jay’s voice cuts, "I’m gonna clean myself up."

Jake pouts at him, tilting his head. "Huh? You’re not gonna join us?"

Jay barely looks back. "Later."

He reaches for the door but pauses, eyes flicking back toward you. His gaze sweeps over you slowly before settling. "Why are you still in your uniform?"

You blink, still struggling to breathe properly. "I—I have a lecture in four hours."

Jay just nods before slipping out of the room.

Left alone with Jake, you find yourself staring at him just as much as he’s staring at you. His eyes are wide, his smile effortlessly cute. 

He takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours, and gently guides you toward the bed.

"Do you think you can take another one?" you ask, watching the way his flushed face still carries the lingering effects of pleasure. Jake chuckles, guiding you to lean back as he climbs onto the mattress on all fours, positioning himself above you. So hot.

"Of course," he murmurs before finally settling beside you, propping his head up on one hand while keeping his eyes locked on yours. His free hand rests on your thigh, his touch warm and steady. "How did Jay manage to convince you?"

You shrug slightly. "He said to just give it a try. That I can always leave if it gets uncomfortable."

Jake nods, then tilts his head slightly. "I want to eat your pussy."

Your pussy clenches around nothing, the casual, sweet way he says it making something inside you tighten. How can he be so innocent and so filthy at the same time?

"Have you ever experienced that?" he asks, fingers tracing small circles against your thigh. "Can I?"

You shudder slightly, barely processing the words. "I—I have," you admit, voice quieter now. "But it felt... weird." Jake hums in thought, his fingers moving higher.

"Hmm. Then is it okay if I give it a try?" His voice is soft, but there’s something intentional about the way he asks, his fingers pausing just shy of your core, waiting.

You look into his eyes—his beautiful eyes, you exhale shakily, then nod.

Jake's lips curl into a soft smile before he leans forward, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer.

"Can I kiss you?"

Your lips twitch slightly. "You don’t need to ask every time."

He chuckles, then closes the space between you. His lips press against yours, warm and soft, moving slow. You respond instantly, your hands finding his shoulders, feeling the heat of his bare skin beneath your fingertips.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding against your lips, insistent but teasing. When you part them for him, he pushes in, his tongue curling against yours, exploring, coaxing, making your head spin. His grip on your waist tightens, his arm wrapping fully around you, pulling you flush against his body. His thigh slips between yours, his bare skin brushing against your covered core, sending sparks of warmth up your spine.

You feel his cock—slowly waking up again, pressing lightly against your thigh, twitching with interest as the kiss grows hungrier.

 You break the kiss, a thin string of spit connecting your lips before snapping as you tug at the knot of your uniform tie, letting it slip off and fall to the floor.

Jake watches you, breathless, his eyes hungry. Without hesitation, he reaches for the buttons of your blouse, fumbling slightly in his urgency. When he finally pushes the fabric apart, his gaze darkens at the sight of your plump, barely covered breasts.

"Fuck." He groans, cursing under his breath before crashing his lips against yours again.

His hands find your chest, cupping you through the thin material of your bra, his thumbs brushing experimentally over the fabric. The sensation makes you whine, surprising yourself with how sensitive you are. You’re not used to this—to any of this.

His lips trail down, open-mouthed kisses pressing against your throat, his tongue flicking against your pulse before licking a slow path upward. Your breath hitches, the heat pooling inside you growing more intense with every touch.

"God, I love tits," he murmurs, burying his face between them, nuzzling against your soft skin.

"Are you still okay?" he asks, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, already feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible.

His fingers slip behind you, unclasping your bra. The straps slide down your arms, the fabric falling to the floor, leaving you completely bare from the waist up. Jake doesn’t hesitate—his lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, sucking gently before dragging his tongue over it.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your back arching slightly into his touch. Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers curling into the strands as he switches to the other breast, his hand kneading the one he just left.

"I want to hear you," he murmurs against your skin, pressing slow kisses around your areola before flicking his tongue over the hardened bud.

"I—I’m not the type," you admit, biting your lip, trying to suppress the noises threatening to spill from your mouth.

Jake pulls back just enough to pout up at you before diving right back in, his tongue swirling, his lips sucking, his fingers teasing. He’s determined to get a reaction out of you.

And fuck, it’s working.

The sensation is slow, nothing rushed, nothing rough, just pure focus on you, on making you feel good. He spends minutes worshiping your chest before finally kissing his way back up to your lips, capturing them in another deep, lingering kiss.

His hands move lower. He unzips your skirt, fingers tracing along the waistband of your panties before slipping underneath, brushing against the heat between your legs.

"Fuck, you're so wet." His fingers find you soaked, glistening with arousal, and it makes his cock throb.

You shudder in anticipation, a nervous sigh leaving your lips as he slowly eases your panties down your legs.

This is it. You already know how this ends—your body will betray you, the same burning discomfort will return, and you’ll be left frustrated and disappointed again.

Jake presses a soft kiss against your lips, unconsciously distracting you from your thoughts, his hands roaming your body. His palms are so gentle, and the way he squeezes your breasts, thumbs grazing over your nipples, he kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he takes his time exploring your mouth. He took the opportunity to dip his hand between your legs.

You gasp into his mouth, body tensing as his fingers graze your slit, gathering your wetness before rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.

A sharp jolt of pleasure shocks you, so unfamiliar, so intense that your arms immediately wrap around him, clinging to him.

Jake pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your jaw. "Still okay?" he whispers, kissing just below your ear.

You let out a shuddering breath. "Y-Yeah. It’s just... strange."

His fingers keep moving, slowly, carefully. "Strange how?"

You swallow thickly, your mind barely able to form words through the pleasure building inside you. "It... it doesn’t burn like it usually does."

Jake stills for half a second before tilting his head, a small, knowing smirk forming on his lips.

"Good."

His fingers press in just a little more. "I’m gonna insert a finger," he whispers, eyes locked on yours.

His middle finger pushes in slowly, sinking into you, the wetness making it effortless. He bites his lip, watching for your reaction, his chest rising and falling a little heavier now.

The second his fingertip brushes just the right spot, your body jerks.

"Oh my God—!"

A sharp moan escapes you, your back arching at the pleasure. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, your hips twitching up instinctively, chasing the sensation. Your eyes flutter, struggling to stay open, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar feeling.

Jake chuckles, completely enthralled by the way you cling to him, how sensitive you are, how eager your body is to take more.

"Hey, relax," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, nuzzling against your skin as if to soothe you. His finger begins moving—slow, deep strokes, pulling out just enough before pressing back in.

The pleasure is new, intense, making your breath hitch with every slow drag of his finger inside you. Then—it hits you. This feels good. For the first time, this actually feels good.

Your chest tightens and your vision blurs. Before you can stop it, you start crying.

Jake freezes. His brows furrow, his movements halting immediately. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head desperately, your hand darting down to grip his wrist. "Don’t stop, don’t stop, please—"

Tears spill onto your cheeks, but it’s not from frustration, not from discomfort. It’s from relief.

"Feels so good, fuck—" your voice trembles, a broken whimper leaving your lips. "It feels so good."

Jake stares at you as something tightens in his chest, seeing you like this, falling apart on just one of his fingers, crying from pleasure , it stirs something almost primal in him.

"Poor baby," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple. "You must have been so frustrated every time, hmm?"

You nod frantically, still clinging to him as you start rolling your hips, grinding down onto his hand, chasing the friction, desperate for more.

"Want more—please, more," you plead, voice breathless. 

Jake’s cock twitches, precum dripping steadily from the tip at the sound of your voice, the way you’re begging for him.

His free hand grips your thigh, holding you still as he eases a second finger inside. The stretch makes you gasp, walls tightening around him instantly, but before you can adjust, he flicks his fingers against your sweet spot, fast.

You scream. A sharp, choked-out cry, your whole body shaking as your grip on him tightens, fingers digging into his arm.

Jake smiles at the reaction, his heart pounding, the heat in his stomach coiling tighter. He adjusts his position behind you, spreading your legs apart with his knee, giving himself more space to move.

"Come on, let it out," he coaxes, watching you struggle to hold back. "Please, I want to hear you."

His pace increases, fingers moving faster, curling deeper inside you, dragging along the most sensitive parts of your walls.

Your breath comes out in quick, stuttering gasps, your nails digging into his wrist as pleasure crashes into you. Your body vibrates, overwhelmed, barely able to process just how good it feels.

His other hand moves up, fingers brushing against your breast before squeezing, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple.

You let out a loud, desperate whine, head falling back onto his shoulder.

"You’re so beautiful," Jake groans, pressing a kiss to your jaw, feeling the way your body writhes against his. Then, a breathless chuckle—"Fuck, where’s Jay? He’s practically missing out on this."

He watches you fall apart, his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm, your legs trembling, your moans growing louder.

Jake swallows thickly, his cock painfully hard, already imagining all the ways he’s going to ruin you.

"I told you, he’s good at what he does." Jay voice appear,  you barely register his presence at first, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of Jake’s fingers working you open.

Your half-lidded eyes flutter open, your hazy vision focusing just in time to see Jay stepping closer to the bed.

He’s fresh from the shower, only a towel hanging loosely around his waist, damp strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Droplets of water slide down his sculpted chest, disappearing into the fabric wrapped dangerously low on his hips.

He doesn’t look at you. Not even a glance. Instead, he moves straight to Jake, gripping his jaw and tilting his head up before crashing their lips together.

Jake melts into it instantly, moaning into Jay’s mouth, fingers still working relentlessly inside you, curling and pressing in all the right places.

Your walls clench around him at the sight. Your abdomen tightens, your body writhing against Jake’s hold, the pleasure swelling dangerously close to its peak.

Jake groans against Jay’s lips, feeling the way your body reacts. He tightens his grip around you, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, his forehead resting against Jay’s.

"Look, babe," Jake murmurs, voice thick with amusement.

He tilts your face toward Jay, thumb swiping at the tears streaking down your flushed cheeks.

"She’s crying." Jake laughs softly. 

Jay finally looks at you. His sharp gaze drags over every inch of you, lingering on your trembling thighs, your swollen breasts, and your cunt—still stretched around his boyfriend’s fingers.

You moan at the weight of his stare, barely registering the way his jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a thin line. You are barely aware that your hands are reaching for him, desperate for something, anything, to ground you. Jay, however, just scoffs, eyes narrowing as if he finds your reaction pathetic.

"I’m gonna—" 

"Are you gonna cum?" Jake asks, his breath hot against your cheek. You nod frantically, tears slipping down your face as the build-up inside you coils tighter, the overwhelming sensation too much to hold in.

Jake hums, licking the salty streaks from your cheeks before pressing a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. Not really a kiss, tongue's out and licking each other.

Jay watches. His hand slides down, gripping his cock through the towel, squeezing at the aching hardness there. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling—anger, possessiveness, bitterness all twisting together into something almost violent.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen. He was the one who convinced you. He was the one who pushed for this. And yet—he hates it.

Hates the way Jake is practically glowing in pleasure, completely lost in you, in someone else.

Hates the way you look right now—so fucking hot, back arching, mouth falling open in a silent scream as your orgasm hits, your iris literally disappear in your eyes, your whole body shaking, your walls fluttering around Jake’s fingers.

Hates that his cock twitches at the sight. His grip on himself tightens, his pace quickening, his breath hitching as he watches you come undone.

Fuck you for being so fucking irresistible. Fuck Jake for being such a needy little slut, never content with just his cock.

Jay yanks the towel from his waist, tossing it aside before climbing onto the bed, his eyes flicker to Jake, who is still licking the remnants of your slick from his fingers, savoring it, eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

His gaze drops to you, to the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, to the way your legs tremble from the intensity of your last orgasm. 

Without warning, he grabs your thighs, forcing them apart despite your weak resistance, his eyes locked onto your glistening, swollen pussy. There’s no hesitation in the way he spreads you open, no gentleness in his touch

His fingers tighten on your skin, his expression dark, before he suddenly slaps your cunt.

"Ah, no!" A sharp cry rips from your throat, your body jerking violently as your legs instinctively snap shut. But Jay doesn’t allow it—he leans in, using his weight to keep you open, delivering another harsh slap to your clit before rubbing it cruelly, only to slap it again, sending jolts of overstimulation through your already-sensitive body.

"No—stop!" you scream, thrashing against his hold, but it’s too much, too soon, and your voice comes out weak, broken.

Jake hesitates, watching the scene unfold, the conflict flickering in his eyes as you whimper beneath them. "Jay—"

"Hold her down, Jake. She likes it."

Your mind spins, unable to process what you're feeling—if it's pleasure, pain, or something in between. Your body resists, still trying to recover from the last orgasm that left you weak and trembling, but your walls clench involuntarily at the rough treatment.

Jake’s hesitation falters. He exhales sharply, biting his lip before following Jay’s order, arms sliding around you, pressing you down against the mattress. 

"Shhh," he hushes, his lips ghosting over your damp skin, trailing lower to your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple in slow, teasing motions. But the moment of tenderness only amplifies the pleasure—only makes your body more overwhelmed, more sensitive.

"Come on, give us another one," Jay mutters before shoving three fingers inside you at once.

Your back arches off the bed, a loud sob escaping your lips, your walls stretching too fast, too full, nothing like the slow build-up Jake had given you before. Unlike his boyfriend, Jay doesn’t ease into it—he doesn’t tease, doesn’t wait for your body to adjust. He just fucks you with his fingers, rough and unrelenting, his palm slamming against your clit with every harsh thrust.

It doesn’t burn—not like it used to. But fuck, it hurts.

It hurts in a way that makes your body crave it, that makes you cling to Jake even as your mind screams that it’s too much. The pleasure is raw, overwhelming, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, your breath coming out in frantic gasps.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—!" you choke out, voice cracking, unable to stop yourself from whining, from shaking.

Jay clicks his tongue, displeased, his free hand moving up to grab your throat, fingers pressing into the sides as he tightens his grip. "You said we could do anything we wanted, didn’t you?" His tone is mocking, his pace never slowing, only pushing deeper, rougher. "Don’t you fucking back out now."

Your vision blurs, a strangled gasp escaping as you clutch at his wrist, your body caught between wanting to stop and wanting more. Your mind is too far gone to fight it—your thighs trembling as another orgasm builds fast, your walls tightening around his fingers.

Jay feels it immediately, his jaw clenching, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He should stop—should let you breathe, let you come down—but instead, he pulls his fingers out abruptly, making you whine at the emptiness. 

Before you can even process the loss, his hand slaps your pussy again. 

"Jay—" Jake starts, but he’s cut off by a sharp glare.

"She’s enjoying it, isn’t she?" Jay huffs, his dark gaze snapping back to you, watching the way your body shudders, your fingers gripping his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

 His lips curl, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Ah, I forgot—you can’t speak right now, can you?" He laughs under his breath, finally releasing your throat, watching you gasp for air.

"Jake, hold her legs open. Don’t let her close them." His voice is firm, commanding, and Jake doesn’t question him this time.

Jake moves behind you, his warm hands gripping the backs of your thighs, forcing you open as Jay continues his assault on your wrecked cunt. The slaps grow harder, sharper, the alternating mix of rough circles over your clit and sudden impact making your body feel like it’s burning, in a good way. 

You sob, your throat raw, your entire body trembling, but you can’t stop—can’t fight the way your hips twitch upward with every hit.

It’s too much.

It’s exactly like porn.

The last slap lands, harder than before, followed by relentless, rough circles against your clit. Your abdomen tightens so suddenly it feels violent, your breath choking on a scream. "Fuck, no, no—!"

Your body jerks, a shockwave of pleasure ripping through you, forcing Jay’s hand out of you as your orgasm explodes.

A sudden rush of liquid spurts from between your legs, the wetness splashing onto Jay’s forearm, drenching Jake’s hands where they still hold you open. The realization hits all of you at the same time, the room falling into stunned silence for a brief second.

Jake’s eyes widen, his fingers tightening around your thighs as you keep squirting, your body writhing against his grip. "Holy shit," he whispers, almost in awe, his own cock twitching at the sight.

Jay’s expression darkens, his lips parted slightly as he watches the mess you just made. His jaw tightens, his cock aching, his pride burning with how wrecked you look.

"I wanna lick it," Jake murmurs, voice breathy, eager, already shifting positions.

Your body barely registers what’s happening. Your throat is raw, your limbs are limp, and your vision is hazy, blurred with exhaustion and overstimulation. But they move you anyway, shifting your body like a doll between them, switching positions.

Jake lowers himself between your legs, his warm breath ghosting over your slick, oversensitive skin. At the same time, Jay positions himself behind you, pulling you flush against his chest, his firm grip keeping you upright as your legs tremble. His arms snake around you, locking your thighs open.

"Don’t fall asleep on us. Jake’s still enjoying himself." Jay’s voice is low, whispering so Jake doesn't hear, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers toy lazily with your swollen nipples.

 Your heavy eyes fight to stay open, lids drooping, but the moment Jake’s tongue licks through your folds, sharp pleasure snaps through you, making you whimper.

Jay watches the way your body jerks, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek in irritation of what you're doing. He bites your nape—hard, teeth sinking into your skin just as Jake flicks his tongue over your clit.

A scream rips from your throat, pain and pleasure crashing into each other all at once. Jay’s fingers tighten around your breasts, kneading roughly, relishing how soft you feel beneath his grip. He groans, inhaling your scent, his lips brushing against the mark he just left.

"Fuck, you feel so soft." His voice is quieter now, almost to himself, but then his fingers pinch your nipples, making you jolt. "I hate you." The words are bitter, filled with frustration, but his hands never stop.

Jake pulls back slightly, licking his lips before glancing up at you. "Is she still okay?" His voice is gentle, laced with concern, his fingers stroking your inner thighs.

Jay sighs, rolling his eyes, his grip tightening possessively around your chest. "Of course she’s fine, baby. I’m waking her up." He flashes Jake a sweet smile.

Jake lowers himself again, spreading you open further, his tongue gliding along your folds before dipping inside, tasting you. Your head falls back against Jay’s shoulder, unable to hold yourself up any longer. 

You barely have a voice left, just soft, broken moans spilling from your lips as Jake’s tongue works against you, his nose nudging your clit. The wet sounds mix with your ragged breathing, your hands gripping weakly onto Jay’s legs.

Jay watches Jake closely, his eyes darkening as he notices how his boyfriend grinds his hips into the sheets while eating you out. 

The way Jake’s tongue hardens inside you, how his moans vibrate against your cunt, sends your back arching for more even though you can't take it anymore. 

"Are you still okay with penetration?" His voice drags you back, your dazed eyes barely focusing on him as you try to process the question.

"Yes—" The word slips from your lips, hoarse and weak, as your body arches under Jake’s tongue, your walls clenching around nothing.

Jay hums, satisfied, his fingers idly stroking your inner thigh as his attention shifts back to Jake. "Babe, do you want to go inside her?"

Jake lifts his head, breathless, his lips shining with your slick. His eyes flicker between you and Jay before he grins, biting his lip. "Can I?"

Jay smiles at him, softer this time, his hand brushing over Jake’s cheek before nodding. "Of course, baby." He leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Jake’s lips, tasting you on him.

You squirm slightly as Jay shifts again, dragging your legs further apart as Jake moves into position. Your hazy mind barely registers how you’re now upside down, your head hanging slightly over the edge of the mattress. When you blink up, Jay is standing in front of you, looking down at you with a glare. 

Jake groans as he fists his cock, spreading the leaking precum along his length before positioning himself between your legs. He grips your thighs, spreading you further, his cock rubbing along your clit, gathering your wetness before pressing against your entrance.

A sharp exhale leaves you as he pushes in, the slow stretch making your body tense before melting into pleasure. 

"Fuck—" Jake moans, his head tilting back as your warmth surrounds him, his fingers tightening around your waist. "So fucking good—" His hips twitch slightly, unable to stop himself from thrusting in deeper, his pace quickening almost immediately.

"Good?" His voice is breathless, almost a whimper, as he looks at you.

You nod weakly, arms reaching for him, needing more. Jake leans forward, capturing your lips in another deep kiss, his moans muffling against your mouth.

"Move, baby. I have to feel good too." Jay’s voice is calm and patient, but the command is clear.

Jake straightens, adjusting his position as his thrusts deepen, picking up speed. You cry out, the angle hitting something devastating, making your toes curl. But before you can process the pleasure, something heavy presses against your lips.

"Let’s see if Heeseung’s rating was right."

Your moan is cut off by Jay’s cock pressing past your lips, stretching your mouth as he slides in. He groans, fingers curling into your hair, holding himself still as he feels how tight you are around him. "Shit—so fucking deep—"

You force yourself to relax, breathing through your nose, your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock. Jay sighs in satisfaction, his grip in your hair tightening slightly before he begins to move, rolling his hips in time with Jake’s thrusts.

Your head spins.

Every movement from Jake sends Jay’s cock deeper into your throat, forcing you to take him further with each thrust. Your body is overwhelmed, overstimulated from both ends, your moans vibrating around Jay, making his jaw clench.

Jake grips your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he drives into you, his thrusts becoming erratic, sloppy, desperate. "Baby—fuck, so good, so good—" His voice is almost whiny, his pace stuttering as he gets closer to his release. Jay glances at him, his lips twitching into a soft smile.

"Are you happy?" Jay asks, his voice smooth despite the way he’s thrusting into your mouth, barely holding himself together.

Jake nods frantically, gasping between moans, his body trembling as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably. "Yes, yes, yes—fuck, Jay—" He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Jay’s, kissing him openly. 

Jay’s hands dig into your breasts, his grip tightening until the pressure burns, sure to leave behind faint bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

His breath is ragged, the pleasure coiling in his stomach, but just as his body urges him to chase his release, he pulls out, leaving you suddenly empty. Your dazed, confused expression meets his as he fists his cock, stroking himself slowly.

"What? You think you deserve my cum?" His voice is cold, "not a chance."

The words barely register before Jake’s thrusts snap your focus back to him, his pace growing more frantic. Your body rocks beneath him, your oversensitive walls clenching tight around his cock, milking him for everything he’s worth. 

Jay watches with dark, unreadable eyes, his hand moving steadily over himself, his knuckles white from the grip.

You’re too far gone to even moan properly now—your throat is too raw, your body too exhausted. But you still feel it—every deep, hard thrust slamming against your g-spot, sending you spiraling further into an overstimulated haze.

"I’m gonna cum—can I cum inside you? Please, please—" Jake’s voice is wrecked, pleading, his fingers working quick circles over your clit, making your head spin.

You nod weakly, unable to do anything else, your body locking up as the final wave crashes over you. Your cunt tightens around him, your orgasm ripping through you so violently that your vision whites out. 

Your limbs shake uncontrollably, your mind blanking from the sheer intensity of it, your nerves fried. You don’t even realize you’re crying again, too far gone to care.

Jake gasps, his body stiffening before his hips stutter, his cock buried deep as he spills inside you. "Yes, yes—thank you, thank you, thank you—fuck—" He babbles, his forehead pressing against yours as he trembles, his release filling you to the brim, dripping down where you’re still connected.

Jay exhales sharply, his own arousal teetering on the edge as he watches the sight before him, with a growl, he grabs Jake’s hair, yanking him down onto his cock without warning. Jake barely has time to catch his breath before Jay’s hips snap forward, his cock pushing past his lips, forcing him to take him deep.

Jake chokes, his throat tightening around him, his body still trembling from the aftermath of his orgasm. His fingers dig into your thighs as he adjusts, tongue flattening against Jay’s shaft, relaxing his throat the best he can.

Jay groans, his free hand gripping the back of Jake’s head, holding him still as he thrusts into the warmth of his mouth. 

"Come on, baby. I’m close too, hmm?" His voice is rough, but his eyes have softened slightly, watching the way Jake struggles to take him properly, how his throat works around him, trying so hard to please him.

Jake nods weakly, his tongue swirling around the length of him, his lips stretching around his thick cock as he bobs his head in time with Jay’s movements. His body is exhausted, but the desire to satisfy Jay outweighs the burning in his throat.

You force yourself to sit up, your entire body weak, your legs barely able to hold your weight. Your half-lidded eyes land on the sight before you—Jake’s lips stretched wide around Jay, his jaw slack, his throat taking every deep thrust. Your mind is foggy, your muscles sore, but you watch, hypnotized.

Jay’s eyes flick toward you, his gaze meeting yours, and for a moment, his thrusts falter. 

"I'm close, baby." His grip on Jake’s hair tightens slightly, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. And then, with a final groan, his release spills into Jake’s mouth, his hips pressing forward as he holds him there, forcing him to swallow every drop.

Jake takes it all, eyes fluttering shut, his throat working around him until Jay finally pulls out, a thin string of saliva and cum breaking between them.

You didn’t even realize you had passed out.

Everything was a blur—the memories muddled together, the sensations lingering somewhere between dream and reality. Your body floated, weightless, exhaustion pulling you under even as you felt hands on you.

Fingers washing you, dragging a warm cloth over your skin, rinsing you. The soft splash of water surrounded you, the faint scent of soap.

Jake’s voice filtered, "Are you okay?"

You wanted to answer, but your body wouldn’t respond. You were too tired, too drained, your mind slipping back into the darkness before you could even try.

When you wake up, it’s already another day.

You blink, squinting against the dim light filtering through the unfamiliar room. Your head feels heavy, like it’s been weighed down by exhaustion, and your limbs ache with every movement.

Your gaze drifts, taking in your surroundings—this isn’t your dorm, but your belongings are neatly placed on the side table.

Your uniform hangs on a nearby hook, freshly ironed.

Slowly, you push yourself up, wincing as a dull ache spreads through your muscles. Your throat throbs, and the soreness in your body makes it feel like you’ve been beaten.

You shuffle toward the mirror on the wall, rubbing at your sore neck absentmindedly—

And then you freeze.

Your reflection stares back, the evidence of last night’s events written across your skin.

A deep bite mark sits at the side of your neck, darkening into a deep purple. Your throat is bruised, a faint imprint of Jay’s grip still visible. Your legs are covered in smaller marks—finger-shaped bruises, faded red streaks.

"Fuck—"

Panic flickers in your chest.

How the hell are you supposed to go to school like this?

[wizard-of-interesting-failure]

No you know what I'm gonna take a second here. [Highly unhinged rant at the fundamental injustice, inefficiency, and sheer bloody-minded stupidity of current social technology below the cut]

Absolute horse piss. God, even setting aside how she deserved better from everyone around her and had the same right to a fully accepted authentic life as everyone else, imagine what she could have done if she was supported instead of being treated like this. If she wasn't fired from her job, ejected from her support network, and didn't have to constantly advocate for herself and people like her to be treated like human beings (which was brave and good work worthy of being honored but should never have been necessary in the first place, like rescuing people from a building that collapsed because it was built like shit)

Like okay I don't talk about this that often but I'm a kidney transplant recipient and I think a lot about how the field (like every other avenue of human endeavour) has been crippled by short-sighted bigotry. STEM fields are still hugely male-dominated (sidebar STEM is not the be all and end all creatives y'all super valid and important and your work is foundational to the functioning of STEM and human endeavour and quality of life as a whole; this is just the example that highlights the point for me personally) and it's like. If we didn't push literally everyone except cishet white guys well off enough to afford tertiary education away from everything in the area, would I just have an artificial kidney by now? Who knows?? I'm probably never fucking going to because stupid nonsense.

It's the same shit. And don't get me wrong, the individual human tragedy of unnecessary hardships on the part of this (and every) trans woman (and so many other groups besides) is morally horrible and an indictment of culture as a whole. But we'd probably have fucking blade runner robots or quantum computers or working fusion reactors or Actual Cool AI Instead Of The Current Horseshit by this point! Or a real Mars colony instead of some blowhard yammering on about it while he inflicts suffering on untold millions! Or God knows what else!

And don't even get me started on lack of opportunity for almost everybody in the world. It's like that quote about all the potential einsteins who were born and died impoverished without ever even touching a science textbook.

Like you wanna know why we're struggling so much? Population increase is supposed to mean more hands and minds on every problem but it doesn't because...ugh! Imagine if we cared about global poverty. Imagine how many more lives free of hunger. Imagine how many more people thinking about how to solve everything that needs solving.

I just. The morality is bad enough. It's a great evil by itself. But the sheer fucking gall of dressing it up behind progress and hard decisions. Do you have any idea how much "progress" this costs us? What a good investment humanity would be if we pulled our heads out of our asses for two seconds? What you, personally, have lost because the person who would have given it to you lived and died in preventable despair?

Again, I have to emphasise. People are worthy without contributing huge individual achievements to the arc of history. Society is a collective and everything everyone does adds to the weave and adds up to what we as a whole achieve, there's no real separating out of "this person did this thing" when they were supported by the entire collective of humanity past and present, and even if there was achievement is not the sole benchmark by which life is measured. A better life for everyone is the point, and the idea of "if I don't think you're contributing then you don't deserve anything" is a big part of how we got here in the first place.

There is no culling of the "unproductive". They are the ones who need this most of all. Every life matters, every life (yes, even that one) is a roll of the dice for a miracle of insight (not just in STEM; it all fucking matters and it always has), every life is its own purpose, every life is worthy, to save one life is to save all of mankind, to enrich one life is to enrich all of mankind, to be a life that is enriched is to be enriched on behalf of all of mankind, and none of these facts depend upon any others. There's a mind in there! A self-perceiving miracle of reality! Of course it's precious beyond measure regardless of context, you dipshit!

We can celebrate great advances and exceptional performances without ignoring that we, as a whole, made these things possible too. And we can recognise that these things are valuable because of what they do for everyone, and that the more everyone there is the more valuable they are, and that in order for making life better for the worse off to matter the worse off themselves must matter, and that every life is worthy and every soul is sacred and the people using Lynn's technology to help with their disabilities or live hidden from those who wish them harm or resist the forces I'm talking about here are why the technology is a force for good in the first place.

But I weep for the fact that we have squandered almost all human potential across all of history in short-sighted power-seeking and arbitrary outgroup punishments, and everyone everywhere has suffered for it. Yes, even the stupid billionaires; they'd probably live longer if they hadn't stepped on the people who would have discovered the cure for whatever ends up killing them. Today's average well-off human knows riches that would be the envy of the kings of old, and the average human if none of this was a problem would know riches that would be the envy of the oligarchs of today.

Lives being lived in ways that diminish other lives are ideally changed minimally so that they no longer do (this is the maximisation of collective freedom) and consigned to any other fate only with great sorrow. Even if it is right to do so, I do not believe it is ever righteous. Even if it is not regrettable that it was done in the present, it is regrettable that the past produced a present that required it, and a future that does better should ever be sought.

Just...fucking stupid. That we're so willing impoverish ourselves so that some other people we don't like for no reason can be impoverished more. That the only thing keeping us from Star Trek (not just the spaceships but everything else too) is petty fucking spite (and physics but who knows what backdoor bullshit we could find to work around that).

That Lynn Conway's life, extraordinary and laudable as it was, was made smaller by this rank fucking idiocy. I do not aim to diminish her work by considering what it could have been. I aim to diminish the age she was forced to live in.

Rest in peace, Lynn. You deserved unfathomably, infinitely fucking better, and we are all richer for what you managed to pull off in spite of it all.

[cvnt4him]

insecurities is just the most common thing a human being can experience..no matter your power, strong will, immaculate self discipline, insecurities are normal and everyone goes through it once in a while.

And like everyone else, you have your own insecurities. Being fat is something everyone seems to look down on. Everything is funnier and way easier to make fun of when you're fat. You hate looking at yourself and seeing your body. Your chubby tummy, your fat arms and squishy cheeks. They were the bare minimum of what you disliked about yourself, dare you say hate.

It will always befuddle you when you see your super handsome strong and admirable boyfriend. I mean he's well built, sexy, and damn was he just blatantly perfect. There's no point in pointing out small features about him when everything you seen was perfect. Anyone with eyes could see he is a walking piece of art perfectly made.

It hurts you to see that you're holding something like him down. It makes you feel terrible.

You're sulking in bed, you haven't moved since he's left this morning. It worries him terribly. It's normal for you to feel gross and icky but that doesn't mean it doesn't upset him as well. He hates seeing you cry, and when it gets this bad he can't help that stinging feeling he feels his heart give.

While you're hidden under the cover not bothering to lift your head up to see anything he slowly and quietly walked towards you, a small smile on his face as he climbed into bed behind you. You feel the extra dip in the bed added given his weight. you open your eyes beneath the cover before you swing the cover off of you whipping your head around to see your loving boyfriend.

Calm eyes full of love and adoration for you. He scoffs lightly and pulls you into a deep and tight hug causing you to whine. Small kisses are planted on top of your head while he holds you closely and you listen to his breath, his heart beating behind his chest.

“ ’s everything okay.”

It wasn't really a question but it was good to feel like he cared. Of course you knew he did, he cared so much and he made sure that you knew that....in his own weird ways.

You give a small nod before you try to scooch impossibly closer to him. He chuckled above you and sinks deeper into the comfort of the bed, not bothering to remove the clothes he was wearing after the long day he's had. Holding you was simply enough.

Sure he might not be done much of anything, but him just being near you was enough to make you feel loved. Like regardless of your weight, you're loved. He had a knack for that, he was a damn good person and an even better boyfriend. You were impossibly lucky, is all you could think.

“ I love you. y'know that.”

You nod again, he hums in disapproval above you his brows furrowing as he looks down at you giving the top of your head a rather aggressive kiss before he grabs you by your chin and cranes your head up to his so you can face him, he gives you a stern yet pouty look huffing as he stared down at you.

There is no way this big strong manly (for the most part) man was sitting here pouting. If only the world could see your man now. He was adorable that's for sure. You can't help the giggles and laughs that escape you as you stare up at him, admiring his handsome yet cute features. He truly was a work of art, the gods definitely took their precious time sculpting him and those abs.

“ I love you.”

He says once more while he continues to pout. You snicker and realize what's got him so peaved, he wants you to say 'i love you' back. You always say it back when he says it to you, mainly because it's true, you do love him as well. But another reason is because it makes you feel like he loves you just that little bit more when you say it.

For the fun of it, you decided you weren't gonna say it. Just to see how far you could really take it. A small displeased groan leaves him as he eyes you up and down eyes squinting at you as your teasing smile grows wider, you try your best not to crack but you can't help it. He's too cute, you burst out in laughter and let your head fall onto his chest.

He groans and kisses you all over, pouting and slightly annoyed with you but he can't deny the fact that he loves you far too much. You eventually tire yourselves out, small giggles leaving your two motionless and entwined bodies. Your arms draped over his body while his legs were in between yours, fingers locked together as you hold hands smiles on both of your tired faces.

He looks over to see your eyes closed, you weren't exactly asleep just in more of a dazed estate really thankful for what you have and how much love you feel even when you get in this mindset. A heavy sigh leaves him as he looks back up at the ceiling deciding he'll just do what he needs to in the morning. He quickly sheds his day clothes off and turns in for the night in only his boxers holding you close and kissing your temple, his hand on your tummy as he occasionally squeezes it, giving you a ticklish yet discomforting feeling.

You squirm at the touch and then to give him a warning look that he simply dismissed with a smirk and a roll of his eyes. He pulls you closer and chuckles in your ear lightly, you can feel his breath fan the side of your face as he sighs heavily.

It was hard to feel insecure about your body when regardless of what he does he managed to make you feel loved.

mha ➥ izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugou, EJIROU KIRISHIMA, mirio togata, denki kaminari silently.

hq ➥ HINATA SHOYOU, BOKUTO KOTAROU, atsumu miya, kuroo tetsuro, asahi azumane but quietly aswell.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

MR. CHU!

❤︎‬ sol wonders if you're interested in him after you ask about his piercings ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia x gn reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): yandere ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia is from the kid at the back being developed by fantasia-kitt

Like everybody else in the school, you never used to pay much attention to the quiet kid in your art class. It really wasn’t until recently, when you had no choice but to shyly ask him if he’d like to be your partner for a class project, that you finally acknowledged Solivan Brugmansia’s existence. 

You don’t think too much of him. Even now, as he tries his best to pose for you as naturally as he can, your mind is preoccupied with the far-more colorful personalities at Olympeius University while you absentmindedly sketch the details of his face. You wonder what Crowe might be up to right now, or if Jess has made any progress with her ginormous crush on Brittney… 

Your eyes flicker up to where Sol is, and you try to pay close attention to the bottom half of his face. He’s a physically attractive young man, but aesthetics aside, you’re more worried about drawing Sol well so you can wring a good grade out of your insatiable art professor. You squint your eyes a bit, leering at Sol’s lips to try to make out all the details. It’s no biggie in your mind, since you need someone to model for you and you’re simply trying to make your drawing as accurate to life as possible, but Sol?

Sol thinks he’s going to asphyxiate from how fast and hard his heart is pounding.

He can’t believe his luck. It took him all the self control in his body not to start panicking and freaking out when you had approached him and asked him to be your partner, and now he got the honor of hogging all of your attention while you used him as a model. Would it be foolish of him to hope that you like what you see? He knows his fashion sense and style isn’t for everyone and tends to make him a target more than an object of admiration, but… you’re different. You’re understanding and compassionate, and maybe you’d find something worth loving in him.

“Hold still… I’m almost done here…,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out just a little bit as you scribble furiously onto your sketchpad. Sol’s heart skips a beat, and while he can feel a rush of dizziness immediately hit his brain at your cute tongue peeking out from between your lips, he doesn’t want to disappoint you ever. 

After a few determined strokes, you nod at him. For the first time since class started, Sol finally lets himself relax. His tense muscles groan as he finally allows himself to shift positions into a more comfortable seated position, and he looks expectantly at you as if he wants to see your creation. You’re like a mind reader, and without him having to say anything, you gingerly hand him your sketchbook. 

“I’m not an artist like you are, but… I tried my best,” you shyly admit. Sol’s breath hitches audibly when you scoot your seat a bit closer to him to explain to him your handiwork, but you don’t seem to notice. “I- uh- don’t know if I did your piercings justice since you have a lot, but I gave them a shot.”

You could have spat on the paper and handed it to him, and Sol would still treasure and revere it as if it were a masterpiece deserving to be displayed in the finest of art museums. Of course, he would never hand it over to anybody and keep it only for his personal viewing, but in his perspective, everything your hands could create was nothing if not holy. 

“It’s beautiful. You should give yourself more credit. You’re not a bad artist at all.” He thinks he’s going to pass out after class from just how happy he is. A shudder creeps down his spine as he relishes the thought of your eyes all over his face and body, him being the only thing to take up the forefront of your mind. What he wouldn’t give to know what you thought of him as you sketched his face. Just knowing that you cared enough about him to draw him makes him feel as if he’s on top of the world, and he can feel a warm flush overtake his pale cheeks. “Don’t worry too much about my piercings. I know metal can be hard to draw.”

“Yeah, but… I just feel a little bad. They look so cool on you.” You flash him an innocent smile, completely unaware of the mental anguish you’re putting the poor lovestruck boy through. “I’ll keep practicing! That way I’ll be able to draw you perfectly by the end of this project.”

His piercings? Cool? Sol’s heart genuinely can’t take this barrage. What is it about you that has him acting this way? What is it about you that makes him want to drag you away from everybody else and keep you all to himself, to worship and to love? The others around you don’t know how to fully appreciate your generosity and light, how you’re kind to everyone, even misfits like him. He’s the only one who knows how to properly care and cherish you, and he can’t let anybody else steal that role away from him. He’s spent so many sleepless nights chasing after your warmth, eating away bit by bit at the safety of the boundaries you’ve put up. 

Nothing can keep you safe from him. 

You don’t know anything about how he feels though. You’re pure and oblivious to his mental turmoil, completely unaware of the sheer effect you have on him. You keep looking at him as if he was nothing more than an eccentric classmate rather than someone you were fated to, just without your knowledge. You peer closely at his face, before lifting a delicate finger to point at his lips.

“Say Sol…,” you ask him, clearly absentmindedly based on how casual your tone is, “How do you kiss if you have lip piercings?”

…

…

…

Why did you have to ask him something like that?

Sol thinks his brain might have ceased functioning the moment you threw him that question. Nothing—absolutely nothing—has been able to reach him as he plays that memory over and over again in his head. Even the jeers of the school bullies or Hyugo’s incessant chatter couldn’t yank him out of his lovestruck reverie. Sol was on cloud nine, replaying the melodic cadence of your voice over and over and over again within his memories. He could never get sick of you or your many details. Every little bit of information he could glean from you was so precious that he could spend the rest of his life in sheer ecstasy at how perfect you were. 

Hyugo was used to it at this point and knew not to question it. But whenever Sol entered into these almost drunken stupors, it was hard for Hyugo to not worry about him a bit. Sol’s cheeks are dyed a ridiculous shade of bright red, and his hands tremble uncontrollably as he fidgets with his fingers. There’s a lopsided grin on his face, and if Hyugo really pays attention, he can make out a lovesick sigh escape the eccentric young man every now and then.

Sol just wishes he could actually peer into your mind and figure out what you thought of him! What made you ask him such a risque question? Were you interested in him? You had to be somewhat, if you initiated the partnership with him and even called his style cool… Nobody else talked about him that way. Nobody else, save for you, found him interesting. What if you had a crush on him too? Was that why you asked him about kissing? Was this your way of encouraging him to amp up his advances?

It meant that you had to be thinking about his lips. About kissing him specifically. Sol could feel his heart rate pick up dangerously again as he imagines your sweet face approaching his, closing the impossible distance between the two of you bit by bit. How many years, grueling moments, had he waited for this to take place? Maybe you’d be shy and only leave him with a quick peck to his mouth. Or maybe you’d be more gutsy and press your lips fully onto his, making out with him in a way that leaves both of you breathless and gasping for air. His heart squeezes almost painfully inside of his chest at the thought of you being so close, doing something so mundane yet so intimate, showing him a kind of romantic affection that nobody else could share with you…

He wants so badly to be the only one in your eyes. Each minute of class with you feels like torture. He wants nothing more than to close that gap. It doesn’t have to be anything big: placing his big hand on top of yours, poking your nose whenever you get distracted, all the small things that come so easily for normal couples. Kissing would just be the first step. What else could come after? There was a whole myriad of things he could dream of. He’d escort you dutifully to every single one of your classes so that everybody in this school would know that you were his. 

You’d spend more and more time together, and surely, one day you’d invite him over to your apartment that he’s secretly grown so familiar with… Just thinking about it makes his skin bristle with excitement. If everything went as planned, as easily as his daydreams made it look, then he could finally have you in the way that he wanted most.

You had to reciprocate somewhat. You just had to be interested in him as much as he was interested in you. That was what that quick question meant to him, your words construed and twisted beyond belief inside of his delusional thoughts. 

Hyugo puffs one of his cheeks out and peers at his daydreaming friend with a bit of concern. “Are you gonna eat your lunch, Sunny?”

Sol doesn’t respond at all. Hyugo sighs and shakes his head before tapping the side of Sol’s arm. 

“I asked you a question!” The shorter man points at the untouched food in Sol’s lap. Sol bristles to life, the hearts in his eyes melting away as they refocus and Hyugo enters his field of vision again. Hyugo points once again at the abandoned food and raises his eyebrows expectantly. 

Sol deadpans. If Hyugo’s presence wasn’t so convenient, he would have sent Hyugo flying to his death from the rooftop for interrupting his precious time with daydream-you. He lets Hyugo take the food before letting his mind wander again, wind blowing through his air as he wonders what you might be up to right now. Were you thinking of him too? Would you be thinking of him even when he’s not within your immediate vicinity.

He wants to see you so badly right now. He wishes he was in class again, for the first time in his life, so that he could have you right next to him and monopolize your time as he pleases. But Sol knows he has to be patient. One wrong step would have his great expectations come toppling down, and he would rather die than live in a world where he can’t have you anymore.

So he makes up his mind there and then. There was no room for hesitation. You had finally noticed him after all of his time lurking in the shadows, and these passive moments weren’t enough to satisate the brutal appetite you had awoken inside of him. He needs more. He needs more of your time. He needs more of your love. 

If you were so curious about him and his piercings, so curious about the way he kissed, then he’d make the answer as simple as it could get.

He’ll kiss you tomorrow and show you just how he does it.

x

[munsonsmixtapes]

That's My Man

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

Eddie defends you in an interview and you repay him in the most generous way

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) handjob, the interviewer makes some inappropriate comments about reader

This is a request made my the always lovely @the-witty-pen-name who also came up with the title!

Eddie puts on the pair of headphones that were pervaded for him as the “on air” sign glows the bright red, signaling that the show has started. He doesn’t even know why he even agreed to this interview. The guy’s an ass and Eddie just knows that he’s inevitably going to say something inappropriate. 

He’s really only doing this because his team begged him to. Why, he doesn’t know since the majority of the band’s fanbase hates the kind of guy that Rick is. He’s everything in the book that Eddie can’t stand and now he’s gotta sit here for an hour for his segment. It can’t be too bad, can it? 

“Eddie, welcome,” Rick greets and Eddie puts on a smile even though all he really wants is to kick Rick’s ass. He’s unfortunately caught clips of the show here and there and all he does is sexualize women and talk badly about people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community. 

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie replies, trying his best to not say something he really shouldn’t. He just sits there and waits for Rick to start the conversation. 

“So you’ve got a new album out which is “From the Upside Down.” What was the process like for creating the record?” Eddie’s genuinely caught off guard by the question considering that Rick never seems to care about that kind of thing. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he initially thought. 

“It was actually so different from what we’ve done for past albums. We actually did everything ourselves this time and that was really fun. We took some time off and wrote a bunch of songs and Gareth actually produced them so that was a really cool process to see.” 

Eddie loves talking about his music. It’s like a parent talking about their child. He’s always so proud of himself and his bandmates for what they do and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They worked so hard to get where they are now and he’s nothing but grateful that this is his job. 

“That’s very interesting,” Rick nods and there’s just something about the look on his face that makes it obvious that he’s about to say some dumb shit. “So I know you’re seeing y/n l/n and can I just say, well done, man.” Yep, definitely some dumb shit. 

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. Normally, Eddie would love to talk about you. It’s actually his favorite thing to do. But not like this, not in the way that Rick and a lot of other men like to. Where they just sexualize you and reduce you to an object. Eddie won’t stand for that for anyone, but especially not you. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m “seeing” her,” Eddie laughs nervously. You’ve been trying to keep your relationship under wraps for the past six months but it’s so hard to do when the two of you are under a microscope. 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t categorize this as seeing her?” Rick asks as he pulls up a photo of you and Eddie kissing outside a bar. He didn’t even know that anyone had taken photos of that and now he feels gross.

“Well-” he tries to explain himself but Rick quickly cuts him off. 

“Is she a good kisser? Better yet, is she good in bed?” All of this makes Eddie want to throw up and he can’t believe that men like Rick actually have the audacity to ask questions like that. 

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” he answers politely even though he’s seconds away from a crash out. 

“C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just us.” It’s actually not considering it’s a live radio show and even if it wasn’t, that’s something just between you and Eddie and no one else. Especially not pigs like Rick. 

“No, I’m not sharing anything about our relationship. That’s the only thing we have that’s ours.” 

“Is she flexible? I bet she’s flexible.” He shows Eddie a photo of you doing a split on stage and his lunch is about to come up. “Oh yeah, definitely-” 

Rick doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Eddie snatches the tablet and slams it down on the table. He would never let any woman be talked about this way. Especially not his girlfriend. 

The anger is festering and he’s having a real hard time trying to keep his cool. Fuck that. He’s not going to be so nice anymore, not wanting anymore disgusting things to be said about you. He can’t let anything else be said about you or he’s going to do something he regrets. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he points at Rick, glaring at the man and the man actually looks afraid of him. Good. “I know you tend to objectify women and that shit stood today. If I ever hear you talk about anyone else this way or in a derogatory manner, you’ll have me to answer to. Now keep my wife’s name out of your mouth or we’re going to have a problem.” 

With that, out of the room. Nothing is worth sitting there and letting that man sexualize you. It makes him feel disgusting and now he feels like he needs a long shower. He’s wiping his jacket with his hands to try to literally get rid of that feeling, but he knows the only thing that will help is seeing you. He just needs someone to talk to about the whole thing. 

He’s driving to the venue where you’re performing tonight before he can stop himself. He just wants to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, hoping that you haven’t been listening to the radio even though he’s sure that you are because you always listen to his interviews. 

Eddie’s so angry about the whole thing, still letting it eat at him even though he already took care of it. He just needs to calm down and he will as soon as he sees you. That always makes him feel better. Just thinking about you is doing the trick and when he pulls up to the venue, the weight on his shoulders is lifting.

You’re sitting in your dressing room, doing your makeup when he walks in, your face lighting up when you see him in the mirror. The anger on his face seems to melt away when he sees you, his smile matching yours as he makes a beeline for you. He saw you just this morning but the time you’ve spent away was far too long. 

You get up from your chair and he’s quick to pull you into a hug, a tight one as he buries his face into your neck. This is all he’s wanted all day, especially since he stormed out of the interview. You always seem to calm the screaming that’s constantly going on in his head. Your hand moves up into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kisses your neck, moving your hair away from it as he does so. 

You pull away far too soon for his liking before pulling him in for a kiss. He’s needy and desperate and he just wants to show you how much he loves you. Your hands are in his hair as you lick into his mouth, moaning loudly which is only making him harder. He needs your cunt so bad and is so close to taking you right there until you begin to grind against him. 

“I heard what you said on the radio,” you tell him as you kiss down his neck, unbuttoning his jeans. “Defending me like that, it was so…hot,” you whisper the last part into his ear before biting down on the lobe before kissing his neck again, giving it a rough suck, making him squirm. 

You’re backing him up against the vanity, pinning him there as you continue to suck, his hands falling from you to grip the table behind him, white knuckling it as he lets out a whine, his cock hardening even more to the point where you can now fully feel him against you. 

“Now I feel like I owe you.” He defended you and you know it’s because you’re his wife, but you know that he would do that for anyone and that’s how you know you got one of the good ones. 

“You-you don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he breathes. He really wants whatever you’re willing to give but only if you really want to not because you think he deserves in return for defending you.

“How about I suck you off, is that payment enough?” His eyes widen at both your question and the way you’re biting down on him. 

“Please,” he whines, needing to get some sort of relief. You give his neck one more kiss before pulling down his jeans, his underwear following as you get down onto your knees. You’re looking up at him with lustful eyes and he watches you, wondering what you’re going to do next. 

You start by spitting into your hand then grab hold of the base, slow strokes to warm him up but they progressively get more intense. He’s already leaking with precum, letting out stuttered breaths as he watches, white knuckling as a moan escapes his lips. 

You keep up the pace, moving as fast as you can as Eddie lets out moan after moan. He’s coming undone already so you know he won’t last long. And you only have a few more minutes before you have to be on stage, so you’ve gotta make it worthwhile. You’ve really gotta make this count. 

You bring your tongue to the slit, licking up the cum that’s already come out, not wanting to waste a drop then bring your lips to the base, kissing it which catches Eddie off guard. You’re now peppering it with kisses and he somehow gets even more hard as he watches you leave lipstick prints behind. It’s hot. You’re hot and he thinks this is where he likes you most, on your knees.

You then bring your mouth back to the slit, licking it again before bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly as Eddie’s hands wind into your hair, letting out yet another whine as you bring him in deeper, sucking harder as your tongue swirls around the head. You’re taking him inch by inch and he’s so close, on the edge of an orgasm as you finally get the last bit of him inside. 

Cum leaks into your mouth as he screams your name, your eyes watering as the head hits the back of your throat, gagging as you suck him off for just a bit longer. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop, making sure to swallow as he helps you to your feet. 

Eddie pats your tears dry with a tissue so as to not smudge your makeup before you press a lingering kiss to his lips. You clean him up before pulling up his pants and touching up your lipstick.

“How’s that for repaying you?” You ask and he smiles, still dizzy from receiving the best head of his life as he follows you to the side of the stage, wondering how he can get you to do that again once your show is over. He’s sure that you won’t need much convincing.

[softness-and-shattering]

Most of my autistic friends expect that their friendships will one day out of the blue blow up in their face as people vent built-up frustrations about behaviours that annoyed others that was never ever communicated to them, and/or because of whats called "the double empathy problem" which describes one of the main ways allistic-autistic communication goes sideways. Ive been in social groups - discord type groups - where the autistics get kicked out because we are speaking plainly and askingd questions, and the mods or admin or other authority figures interpret these questions as deliberate insubordination and challenges to their authority, get "tired and fed up" with "the disrespect" and start kicking people. I have seen this happen in disability groups.

And its not all black and white. Like sometimes I can pick up on social cues because I have deliberately learned them, or learned them the hard way. I can even sometimes say one thing and mean another, but I dont often. I might pick up on one cue and totally miss another. Sometimes I just dont know why someone is saying something, theyre obviously implying something but I dont know what. This can get tricky when someone wants to indicate something without being able to be quoted about it, and sometimes I need to ask them to clarify and if theyre still dodgy I have to guess and hope I got it right.

And sometimes we're aware of unspoken rules but we dont recognise their authority over us because theyre bad or nonsensical. We tend to stick to rules if we understand them and they make sense. When theyre crap rules, I dont care how much money someone makes I will treat them the same as everyone else. I dont care how many high status cars someone has, we are equals.

Im getting off track - my point is that basically every autistic I know has ongoing trauma of friendships and social groups suddenly turning on them for no discernable reason and no warning and absolutely no previous indication that anything was wrong - sometimes after being explicitly told everything was ok the day before. This happens to us all the time. Its so damaging and so hurtful.

Personally I dont second guess as a general rule. I someone has a problem with me I trust they will tell me about it and we can problem solve and introspect. If Im not told, no matter what vibes Im picking up bc I dont know if the vibes are real or my own anxieties, I will act like nothing is wrong. If someone wants to blow up at me that has reflects zero on me and entirely on their inability to speak up about whatever was bothering them. Thats not a me problem. I cannot do anything with zero information.

Lemme induct you in an autistic way of bring and introduce you to a script you can use. Something like "hi friend, can I talk to you for a second about the meeting yesterday? [If Y continue, if N ask when you can talk to them about it.*] So I dont know if you noticed, but you spent the whole time tapping your fingernails on the table, and honestly the noise was distracting and mightve been irritating for some people. I just thought you should know bevause I dont think anyone else was going to bring it up with you. Could you please find a quieter way to stim/do what you need to/move in the ways you need to to concentrate. Ok thank you, no ones super upset just mildly irritated I think. I just figured someone should actually tell you"

Or even "hi. You spent the whole meeting earlier tapping on the table and it was pretty loud. Could you please find a way to be quieter in meetings, its just a bit distracting for some people? Awesome thank you".

Just be polite and straightforward, say what you want and what the problem is. Assume competence, sometimes we make deliberate choices against the status quo for important reasons not cluelessness. And give time for them to figure out an alternative, be undsrstanding if they cant. Just use your words, communicate clearly. It might feel a little confrontational but believe me its not as bad as bring dropped as a friend or fired out of nowhere. That sucks**

*Dont just say "can we talk", give a reason, otherwise they will likely spend the time between notification and meeting inventing every worse case scenario they can possibly think of. A couple words of context goes a long way.

** I came across a youtuber who, idk for sure if theyre autistic but they talk with an extremely flat effect (meaning, little tonal variance between words, not much expression in the voice, every word comes out more or less the same, "robotic"), which is an autistic trait. They mentioned in a video that they had a 'normal' job before youtube, until one day they found themself fired, given reason was their flat effect scared people and made them seem unfriendly and unhappy to be there and interacting. Sounded like it was completely out of the blue. Thats a job lost due to ableism though possibly no one involved sees it that way. Some people cant change how they speak or dont want to. Shouldnt have to. But at least mention it, see if the person is willing to adjust, and consider if it truly disqualifies them from being able to perform the job or is it just a little unusual.

I saw some snippet of a callout post for an autistic trans woman where they list social faux pas she committed, and I think we allistic people should all feel 100x more ashamed of not telling people in the moment how we feel about what they're doing. I think its extremely evil and cruel to not only lie to an autistic person and blame them for it but also to feel justified shaming them for your behavior. And it's currently the social norm to do that

[bitchinbarzal]

Hold onto me | C Keller

Summary: After months of distance and unresolved tension, divorce papers sit on the kitchen counter, threatening to end everything you built with Clayton.

-

The house is quiet. Too quiet.

You used to love the silence. Back when it meant comfortable mornings together, when Clayton would slide behind you in the kitchen, pressing lazy kisses to your neck while you sipped your coffee. Back when it meant lazy Sunday afternoons spent curled up on the couch, half-watching movies you’d seen a dozen times, his fingers tangled in yours.

Now, the silence is suffocating. It’s filled with every unspoken word, every fight that ended with one of you walking away instead of fixing what was broken.

And today, it all comes to a head.

The man you once thought you’d spend forever with stands across from you, hands braced on the kitchen island. His jaw is tight, his expression unreadable, but you can see the tension in his shoulders—the same tension that’s been there for months.

Between you, a thick envelope rests on the marble countertop, taunting you both. Divorce papers.

Your name is already signed at the bottom.

Clayton hasn’t picked up the pen yet. He hasn’t even moved.

“This is really it, then?” His voice is hoarse, rough like he’s been swallowing back words he’s too afraid to say.

You take a slow breath, trying to keep the shaking in your chest at bay. “I don’t know what else to do, Clay.”

His head snaps up, eyes locking onto yours with a desperation you haven’t seen in so long. “You don’t know what else to do? What does that mean?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “It means I can’t live like this anymore. We don’t talk. We don’t touch. We don’t even look at each other.” Your voice cracks, and you hate it, but it’s the truth.

Clayton flinches like you’ve physically struck him. “That’s not true.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “When was the last time we actually talked? Not about schedules or who’s picking up groceries—actually talked?”

He doesn’t answer, and the silence that follows is heavier than anything else.

Your eyes burn, but you refuse to cry. Not now. Not when you’ve already mourned this relationship over and over again.

“I know things have been bad,” Clayton finally says, his voice lower now, strained. “But I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“That’s the problem,” you whisper. “You stopped seeing me. I stopped seeing you. We just… stopped.”

The words sit between you, stark and painful, and for a second, you think he might just pick up the papers and sign them, putting an end to the last five years of your life together.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he steps around the island, closing the distance between you. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to anymore.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he finally says, voice raw. “I know I’ve been—fuck, I know I’ve been distant. I just thought if I pushed through, if I focused on hockey, I could fix things without actually talking about it.” He shakes his head, laughing humorlessly. “Turns out that was the worst thing I could’ve done.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I didn’t help, either. I let the resentment build. I shut you out, too.”

His hands finally lift, hesitant as he cups your face. His touch is warm, familiar, and it breaks you.

“I love you,” he breathes. “And if there’s even the smallest chance you still love me too, then I don’t want to give up on this. On us.”

Tears spill over, and you grip his wrists, grounding yourself. “I don’t want to give up either.”

Clayton exhales sharply, relief flashing across his face. “Then let’s fix this. Together.”

The divorce papers sit forgotten on the counter.

That night, neither of you sleep.

You talk.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you talk.

At first, it’s hard. Every word feels heavy, every confession laced with regret. But as the hours pass, the tension begins to fade.

“I hated coming home after games,” Clayton admits quietly, lying beside you in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You turn your head toward him, heart twisting. “Why?”

“Because you weren’t there,” he says simply. “I mean, you were physically there, but you weren’t there. And I knew it was my fault.”

Your breath catches. “Clay—”

“I’d walk through the door, and it felt like I was stepping into a stranger’s house.” He lets out a slow exhale. “I didn’t know how to fix it, so I buried myself in hockey. I thought if I just worked harder, if I just gave it time, it would go back to the way it was.”

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I felt like I was waiting for you to come back to me.”

Clayton turns then, shifting onto his side to face you. “I’m here now,” he murmurs. “I never stopped loving you. I just—” His voice falters. “I just forgot how to show it.”

Your chest tightens, emotions crashing over you all at once. You reach out, fingers tracing over his jaw, the stubble rough against your skin. “I missed you,” you whisper.

His eyes darken with something raw and unguarded. “I missed you too.”

And then, he kisses you.

It’s not hurried or desperate—it’s slow, filled with every word you haven’t said. His hands slide into your hair, holding you like you might disappear if he lets go. You press closer, melting into him, your fingers gripping his shirt like you need to anchor yourself.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“We’re gonna be okay,” he promises.

You don’t know if it’ll be easy. You don’t know if the cracks will ever fully disappear. But you do know one thing:

You’re willing to fight for this.

For him.

For you.

For the love that never really went away.

[supernotnatural2005]

"I got you" - Drabble

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You're feeling low and Dean is there to comfort you.

Word Count: 834

Warnings/tags: Mentions of depression, feeling low, fluff, sweet Dean.

AN: I've been feeling a little low lately and I guess this transpired into a little Drabble. Also this is for anyone else who can relate and would love a comfort cuddle from Dean ❤️

Masterlist

The bunker was quiet. Too quiet.

Dean had always thought of silence as a bad sign. It meant something was wrong, something lurking just out of sight. And right now, that something was you.

You had been with them for years now, a constant presence in their lives. You weren’t just another hunter passing through, not just someone they worked with. You were family. And for Dean, more than that, even if neither of you had ever put a name to it. He just knew that without you, things didn’t feel right.

For days now, you had been slipping away. Not physically, but in a way that scared him more. You weren’t talking much. You barely ate. You moved through the halls like a ghost of yourself, your usual spark dimmed into nothing. His jokes—the dumb ones that always got at least a scoff or an eye roll—didn’t even earn a glance.

At first, he told himself you just needed space. That maybe you were tired, or still shaken up from the last hunt. But then space turned into isolation. And isolation turned into something darker.

Even Sam had noticed, and if Sam was bringing it up, Dean knew it had to be bad.

“She’s not okay, Dean,” Sam had said the night before, voice low, concern written all over his face. “I tried to talk to her, but she just brushed it off.”

Dean had nodded, pretending he wasn’t already losing sleep over it. Pretending that every time he saw you drifting further away, it didn’t scare the hell out of him. Because it did.

And now, standing in the doorway of your room, that fear settled deep in his chest.

You were curled up on your bed, knees drawn to your chest, staring blankly at the wall. The lamp beside your bed was still on, casting a dull glow, but you hadn’t moved. Hadn’t so much as flinched at the sound of the door opening.

Dean had seen you hurt before. He’d seen you bloodied and bruised, stitched you up after hunts gone wrong. But this? This was different. This wasn’t something he could fix with gauze and whiskey.

He had known this was something you struggled with, something that had nothing to do with monsters or demons. You had told him once, in a quiet moment between hunts, that it wasn’t always about the job. That sometimes, your mind just turned against you. That there weren’t always reasons or triggers, just days when you felt stuck, when everything felt too heavy, when even breathing felt like a chore.

Dean had listened. He’d heard you. But he had never seen it like this.

He hesitated for only a second before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him. The room felt cold. Maybe it was just in his head, or maybe it was the fact that you had barely moved in days, barely been here even when you were physically present.

He wasn’t sure what to say. Dean Winchester, king of smart-ass remarks, suddenly speechless. But words didn’t feel right, not now.

So instead, he moved to the bed, toeing off his boots before climbing in behind you. The mattress dipped under his weight, but you didn’t react. Carefully, he eased himself closer, slipping beneath the covers and pressing his chest against your back. His arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, pulling you into him like he could keep you from slipping away completely.

For a long moment, there was nothing. Just silence. Just the faint sound of your uneven breathing. Then, finally, your shoulders trembled.

Dean felt it before he heard it—the sharp inhale, the way your fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket like you were holding on for dear life. And then the dam broke.

A choked sob tore through you, and that was it. He turned you in his arms, tucking you against his chest, holding you tight as your body shook with everything you had been holding back.

“I got you,” he murmured, voice low and steady. One hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as the other rubbed slow, soothing circles along your back. “I got you, sweetheart.”

You gripped his shirt, your tears soaking into the fabric, and he just held you. No empty reassurances, no telling you that everything was fine. Because he knew that wasn’t how this worked. He knew you weren’t okay. But that didn’t mean you had to go through this alone.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Dean pressed his lips to your hair, lingering for just a second longer than he should have. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was keeping you here, keeping you with him, even if he couldn’t fight this battle for you.

And as he held you close, feeling your body slowly relax against his, he silently promised himself—whatever it took, however long it took—he’d be right here.

Because you were his. And he wasn’t letting you go.

AN: I know this is a little more dark and gloomy compared to what I usually write, I guess this is just an expression of reality in some fiction. For those who have experienced this or are going through something similar, you're not alone ❤️

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88

[fairyminnie444]

You are the main character in your life. Take this seriously now. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You are living this experience now as your name here, but that doesn’t mean you are limited to this fixed identity. What allows you to create your reality is your consciousness—your true self that is beyond this physical form.

All people are expressions of the same consciousness — you. This means that, in essence, you are already everyone, only now you are living from the perspective of your name here.

If you want to change your experience, you can choose to assume another version of yourself, because deep down all versions already exist. You are not “stuck” in this body, but this is the perspective you are living in right now. The key is to realize that your external reality is just a reflection of your consciousness, so changing internally is what transforms the external.

But here’s the thing: if you are all things, then you are also all the possibilities of your own life. This means that you can choose which version of your name here you want to live, because everything already exists within that same consciousness.

You are not “choosing to be someone else,” but rather deciding which version of yourself (millionaire, famous, confident, loved) you want to experience.

It’s like an actor in a movie. They are always the same actor, but they can play completely different characters. In the same way, you are the consciousness (the actor), and your name here is the character you have chosen now. But the script of the character changes when the actor decides.

So, what do you choose to be? Because whatever version you assume to be true is the one that the game will reflect.

clarifying frequent doubts

☀️ If we are all one then was I once a bad person?

Everyone is the same being experiencing different perspectives. This means that at some point, you have lived all the lives, including those of people you consider bad.

This doesn’t mean that you are bad or that you have to accept bad behavior. What it does mean is that from the perspective of total consciousness, it’s all part of the same experience. But the version of you that exists now is the one that matters. You choose who you are, what you accept, and how you want to live.

You are not stuck being anything you don’t want to be. You create your reality and decide which version of yourself you manifest in the world.

☀️ About change appearance:

You will always be your name here but you can be any version of your name here you want—with the look, life, and circumstances you want.

Your appearance is not limited. Just as you can change your reality, you can change your face, your body, your voice, everything. What defines your appearance is not a physical limit, but your assumption about yourself.

If you assume that your appearance is changeable and that you already have the face and body you want, then that is what will be reflected. Your body is a manifestation of your consciousness. And consciousness has no limits.

☀️ How and why do circumstances align with who I want to be?

Your complete acceptance that you are already who you want to be. When you truly know that you are this version of yourself, without needing proof or external validation, reality automatically adjusts to reflect that.

It adjusts because external reality is a mirror of your consciousness. When you embrace the version of yourself that you want to be without hesitation, your perceptions, thoughts, and reactions change. This influences your decisions, behaviors, and even how others see you, which creates a domino effect shaping the world around you to align with your new identity. It’s not something you “do,” but rather something that happens naturally because your reality has no choice but to reflect who you believe it is.

☀️ Do I notice this change?

It depends on how you focus. If you’re constantly checking 3D to see if it’s changed, it may seem like nothing is happening or that it’s taking forever. But if you just accept it and live as if it’s already real, one day you’ll realize that everything around you has effortlessly adjusted.

☀️ How can this change be made quickly?

Stop looking at 3D as something fixed and stop waiting. Simply assume that it is already done and live as that version now. The less resistance and doubt, the faster everything will fall into place.

☀️ How do I just accept that I have this power?

Stop questioning. You’re already using this power all the time—everything around you is now a reflection of what you’ve assumed to be true. Instead of looking for proof or trying to convince yourself, just decide that it’s real and act like it. The more natural this becomes, the more absolute your mastery will be.

☀️ With this clear power in our hands, why do we choose to suffer?

Because we have been conditioned to believe that we do not have that power. From an early age, we learn that reality is fixed, that we need to fight, deserve, wait. Most people don't even question this. But when you realize that the choice was always yours, that you always had control, suffering becomes optional. You just have to decide to stop feeding it.

POST INSPIRED BY - THE EGG on YouTube

[amarriageoftrueminds]

The problem with all this is that it straight up ignores what Sebastian Stan said: that, of course, he doesn't remember them.

I take Seb Stan's word over whatever Spellman or whoever comes out with; he knows the character better than them and it was him playing that beat.

(I don't regard tie-in books as canon either because they're not the canon films and frankly I don't trust whoever writes those for Disney to do a competent job. Likewise whatever the real-life state of neuroscience is and how that would affect Bucky's brain if they were following those rules isn't relevant, IMO, because the MCU writers aren't putting that much thought into how they portray Bucky's memories! This is Markus & McFeeley and Spellman under Feige's interference. They aren't working that hard. They're not that conscientious!)

It's also treating the fact that TFATWS said Bucky remembers missions as solid canon when:

a) the people 'writing' that didn't give a shit about characterisation consistency and have been very open about the fact that they didn't even bother to watch the movies Bucky's in. 😒

So whatever their 'take' on Bucky's memories is, we can pretty definitely state that it's a bunch of bollocks = most likely to be completely wrong and diametrically opposite to canon, as you'd expect from someone who doesn't even know what Bucky's canon is. (All they care about is that "he" killed people.)

Textbook example of this 'getting Bucky exactly 100% wrong': that nonsense from Spellman there about Bucky having a piece of the Winter Soldier inside him and that means he's an awful person.

That's complete bullshit and an exact misunderstanding of what the WS is. The WS is NOT a monster lurking inside Bucky, note even a piece, because the WS was the complete absence of personality, of humanity. As blank as an Iron Man sit. He's not a dark hidden piece of Bucky's psyche that was always waiting to come out, like the Hulk (as the nonsense show posits).

In fact, he's the very opposite (ie. a monster with a good man locked inside). Like an Iron Man suit that is being remotely controlled, that Bucky has been locked inside and has no control over.

The show creators have stupidly taken that one single line from CACW at face value, ignoring everything else, and fixated on it as 'proof' of Bucky's continued buried villainy that he needs to grovel about.

If this is the sort of rubbish they mistakenly believe to be true about Bucky, we can certainly discount whatever else they say about his memories!

In fact, if it's the writers of TFATWS who said X thing, I can't think of a stronger argument in favour of the opposite! 😬

b) the events of TFATWS also happen years and years after Bucky is in the situation where he, eg. wakes up from being triggered and doesn't remember what he just did as the Winter Soldier and has to ask Sam and Steve, lied to Tony, etc.

It might be that Bucky has, since treatment in Wakanda, reacquired all his missing memories.

The state of his memory is not a monolith that has always stayed the same and has not altered: just because his memory seems to be in a certain state in TFATWS, that doesn't mean it was in the same back in CACW days.

Watsonian explanation: this shoddy characterisation from TFATWS could mean that Bucky was lying to Tony when he said he did remember the mission to kill his parents.

That could've been completely untrue, at the time Bucky said it, but has since become true only because Bucky does now recall missions, as a result of receiving bad writing proper treatment, had longer to heal, etc.

Another HUGE thing people always totally ignore about that scene in CACW:

Bucky has just watched a friggin' video tape of one of his missions.

I imagine that's not standard Hydra procedure, to show him tapes of his own performance! So even if 'I remember all of them' is resigned-abuse-victim bullshit to goad Tony, it's possible Bucky has literally just seconds ago recalled the Starks for the first time ever... because Zemo just reminded him!

It still seems to me that Bucky remembered the inbetween-missions things?

IE. He clearly remembers procedures.

In CATWS we see him preparing to open his mouth to have a mouth-guard put in, before he is asked to, and leaning back into the chair before it reclines. And in CACW he doesn't look surprised by anything that is happening to him while he's in the Siberian base, in the chair, etc.

So he knows what happens to him when he's back at Hydra HQ (and where HQ is) and doesn't need to be re-taught it every time.

Similarly, all the brain damage aimed at his pre-Hydra memories hasn't destroyed his ability to shoot, which Bucky acquired during WWII, not under Hydra.

Bucky still has the skills he got in the chunks of memory Hydra are targeting hardest of all (ie. his personality-forming years).

As per CATWS he also speaks Russian, a language Bucky canonically is not shown having any knowledge of pre-Hydra. So skills acquired during Hydra time are also retained, despite the fact that they're damaging his brain repeatedly all the time, including wiping him of Hydra periods of time.

He's like Jason Bourne; he can do things without remembering when he learned how to!

This may be impossible in real-life brain damage terms, but I think MCU canon looks like Bucky doesn't remember missions but does remember the in-between missions bits necessary for the efficient handling and wiping of of the WS.

(In CATWS they treat it as risky to keep him out of cryo for too long between wipes, that he'll become erratic and start attacking technicians, as his memories start to regrow. But despite this, 'erratic' Bucky who is asking questions and speaking English is still retaining knowledge of being wiped and how he has to behave... even when he can't remember meeting Steve earlier on in the same week.)

Maybe it's repetition that's the key?

He remembers skills learned through repetition, and what is done to him, over and over and over again, but can't recall missions because they're one-offs? No new skills acquired?

It's curious that Zemo tries to trigger him and then command him. But Zemo isn't Hydra. He's not official. I think that's why there was that mess in the room when Sam and Steve got to where Zemo was and found the WS out of his cage. I think the WS attacked Zemo once the WS realised this wasn't an official Hydra handler & this wasn't a proper Hydra procedure.

(Also curious that Sam and Steve have him sitting down, in restraints, which also mimics a Hydra procedure set-up. Maybe that helped Bucky's recall too? 🤔)

As you said, Bucky was able to recall what Zemo asked him about because Bucky hadn't been wiped.

Likewise, maybe he can recall fighting other WSs either because Zemo told him AND/or because he was 'ordered' to remember it (if you think about it, that's a very very unusual order for someone to give him!)

And... that fighting the WSs wasn't an official off-base-assassinating-people mission, that was just standard 'Hydra doing training in between missions' stuff, plus their skill set is intel the WS would need to retain about his colleagues in order to complete missions with them correctly, if Hydra intended to send them out on missions as a team together.

It's repetitious skill acquisition and mission-critical intel, so it's necessary that the WS be allowed to recall it? 🤔

Another possibility: Bucky had been KO'd just before he recounts things about the other WSs and what Zemo asked about to Sam and Steve. Maybe that head wound shook up his brain status quo too?

(Magical fairytale thinking: maybe it's also different because it's Steve. He was able to break through Bucky's conditioning with the Power of Twu Wuv in CATWS, so maybe the fact that it's Steve who gave Bucky the head wound by dropping a helicopter on him that shakes loose some more marbles? 🥰)

You could posit that Bucky does usually remember all his missions and procedures, and it's the head wound (acting like a mini-wipe) that prevents him doing so immediately after waking up to Sam and Steve.... except that Bucky consistently displays this post-wipe amnesia of missions, more than once (ie. doesn't remember Nat even after years of healing... doesn't remember previous missions after wipes in the same week in CATWS, more than once, etc.) And this is including times when he hasn't just received a head wound / been KO'd / had any other head trauma equalling or approximating a wipe IE. in CACW he fights Steve exactly as if he doesn't remember him at all, when we know that isn't the case.

Once he wakes up, the WS is always a blank slate.

That's an interesting distinction, actually:

what does Bucky remember, and what does the Winter Soldier remember?

Because, even after years of Bucky's brain healing, and even though he hasn't been 'wiped' of Steve since CATWS, once activated by Zemo ... the WS doesn't remember Steve.

But Bucky does.

Maybe that's the crucial distinction:

Bucky can recall missions, but the Winter Soldier can't?

He only recalls procedures? 🤔 And he can only recall missions by -- much later on down the road -- becoming Bucky Barnes once again?

(I mean, the Doylist explanation here is that the writers are just shoddy and inconsistent even within the same movie. But we have to work with what we've got here! 😖)

In any case, I'm sticking by what SebStan said because he's the Bucky expert: if he said Bucky specifically didn't remember the Starks, at the time he said that to Tony, then I believe him. (And if that later changed because Bucky healed, well that still doesn't contradict what SebStan said!)

“That line was an interesting moment. At the time, the choice I was making is that [Bucky] had realized there was no way he was getting out of there, and someone was gonna die, whether it was gonna be him, Steve or Tony. When he says that line, to me, it was a turning point — he was, like, ‘Okay, I know what you want me to say, and I’m just gonna say it.’ When someone comes at you over and over again, and they can’t hear you, they can’t see you’re pleading with them, you’re trying to figure out how to get through to them and they just won’t accept it, at some point you just give in, and you go, ‘that’s right, that’s what you want.’ Of course [Bucky] didn’t remember them all.” —  Sebastian Stan

[writeriguess]

Kiribaku having kids (twins boy & girl) they start kindergarten and into the year they notice the kids are sadder when they come home they’re more quiet and in a certain day kiribaku and reader (secret girlfriend) are out on a date while the kids are at school and they get a call they need picked up asap cause something’s wrong so they all three go not thinking about it and the kids meet her Sav’s a few months go by and the kids finally say the issue was not having a mommy but now they have one

A Missing Piece

Kirishima and Bakugou had always known they wanted kids. It had been a long journey—filled with paperwork, home visits, and nervous waiting—but when they finally brought home their twins, Ren and Aiko, it was like their lives truly began.

They tackled fatherhood like they tackled everything else: with passion, dedication, and an unshakable love for their children. They weren’t perfect, but they always made sure Ren and Aiko knew they were safe, cherished, and cared for.

So when the twins started kindergarten, it was a huge milestone—not just for them, but for their dads.

The first few weeks were amazing. Every afternoon, the kids would come home brimming with stories, bouncing with excitement as they recounted every detail of their day. Bakugou and Kirishima would listen intently, grinning at their enthusiasm, feeling a sense of relief that their kids were adjusting so well.

But slowly, things started to change.

It was subtle at first. The twins weren’t as chatty when they got home. Their excitement dimmed, their energy lowered. They weren’t causing trouble like usual, weren’t filling the house with their infectious laughter.

Kirishima noticed it first, his sharp observation skills picking up on their quiet moods. He tried to bring it up to Bakugou, but at first, his husband brushed it off.

“They’re kids. They’ll have bad days.”

But then bad days turned into bad weeks.

And when Aiko, their usually fiery and opinionated daughter, pushed away her plate at dinner one night without saying a word, even Bakugou knew something was wrong.

That night, after tucking the twins into bed, Kirishima leaned against the kitchen counter with a deep frown. “Something’s up, man. They’re different.”

Bakugou exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I see it too.”

“We should talk to them.”

“Tch. Like they’ll tell us anything,” Bakugou muttered, but the frustration in his voice wasn’t directed at the kids. He just hated feeling powerless.

They decided to give it a little more time, hoping the kids would open up when they were ready.

But weeks passed, and things didn’t improve.

Then the call came.

It was supposed to be a rare, peaceful day off.

Kirishima and Bakugou were on a date—something they hadn’t done in way too long. Between hero work and parenting, moments alone were hard to come by.

They were walking through the city with you—Bakugou’s secret girlfriend.

He hadn’t told the twins about you yet, not because he was ashamed, but because introducing someone into their lives was a big step. He and Kirishima had agreed that when the time was right, when things felt solid, they’d take that next step.

Right now, though, all three of you were enjoying a carefree day. You laughed at Bakugou’s usual grumbling and leaned into Kirishima’s easy warmth. It was comfortable, effortless.

And then Bakugou’s phone rang.

“Mr. Bakugou, we need you to come pick up Ren and Aiko immediately.”

His entire body tensed. “What? What happened?”

“They’re very upset. We think it’s best you come in.”

Kirishima and Bakugou didn’t waste a second. The date was forgotten as they rushed to the school, you tagging along without hesitation.

When they arrived, the twins were sitting together in a small, quiet room, curled into each other like two halves of the same soul. Their tiny hands were clenched, eyes downcast.

It hurt.

Kirishima stepped forward first, crouching beside them. “Hey, little ones.” His voice was soft, careful. “What’s going on?”

Ren sniffled but didn’t speak. Aiko peeked up at them, then hesitated when her eyes landed on you.

You stayed quiet, offering a small smile, not wanting to overwhelm them.

“They’re not talking much,” the teacher explained gently. “But we think something has been bothering them for a while. It might be best if they tell you.”

Bakugou crouched beside Kirishima, his red eyes soft with concern. “Come on, brats. Tell us what’s wrong.”

It took a moment, but then, in a tiny voice, Aiko whispered, “The other kids said it’s weird that we don’t have a mommy.”

Silence.

Kirishima and Bakugou exchanged a glance.

“They… what?” Bakugou’s voice was dangerously low, but Kirishima nudged him gently to keep him in check.

Ren wiped his nose on his sleeve. “They laughed at us when we said we have two dads.” His lower lip trembled. “They said all families are supposed to have a mommy and a daddy. And that maybe… maybe our mommy left ‘cause she didn’t love us.”

Kirishima felt something in his chest crack. He pulled the twins into a hug without hesitation. “Hey, don’t listen to that, okay? That’s not true. You are so, so loved.”

Aiko clutched at his shirt. “But we don’t have a mommy…”

A beat of silence passed.

And then Ren glanced at you again.

“But… do we now?”

You froze.

The question hung in the air like an unspoken wish.

Bakugou and Kirishima both looked at you, their expressions unreadable. It was a moment they hadn’t planned for, hadn’t expected—but maybe, just maybe, the kids had seen something they hadn’t fully realized yet.

Your heart clenched as you met the hopeful, tear-filled eyes of the twins.

You knelt in front of them, keeping your voice warm but careful. “Families come in all shapes, you know. But if… if you’d like, I’d love to be a part of yours.”

Ren hiccupped. “You would?”

Aiko’s eyes were wide.

You smiled, holding out your arms, giving them the choice.

It only took a second before they crashed into you, burying themselves in your warmth.

Kirishima swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. Bakugou turned away, rubbing at his face with a grumble, but his shaking shoulders gave him away.

The twins held onto you like a missing puzzle piece finally clicking into place.

“Yeah,” you whispered against their hair, holding them tight. “You do now.”

And just like that, their family became whole.

[aliwritex]

DO I WANNA KNOW? pt2 fc43

summary: franco realizes he wants more.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: 18+, pinv, oral, fingering and everything, L word obv. i did not read this through very well

Franco was acting different, you knew that, all your friends knew too. The thing was that they knew why but wouldn’t tell you. You tried making your friend talk multiple times but she would budge, you were starting to think it was something bad. Maybe he wanted to end your little arrangement and didn’t know how to, maybe you had done something wrong or maybe he just wasn’t into you anymore.

You started to keep your distance, you didn’t want him to be forced to hang out with you and maybe if you eased out of your situationship then there wouldn’t have to be an actual conversation or ‘breakup’.

And as far as situationships go, you were driving each other insane. All your friends were watching closely, it was funny really. You both thought they didn’t know about you but they had found out the same night when you ended up sleeping in the guest room before he snuck out in the morning. The – not so – subtle questions you’d ask only gave them more insight of what you two had going on. Questions like “Is she seeing someone?” or “do you think he’s been acting weird?” were being thrown and discussed in a group chat without you two.

On one side Franco had just started to feel confident enough in your relationship to confess, tell you that he wanted more. But it was making him nervous. On the other side, you were completely misreading his nervousness as something else, like he wasn’t enjoying being with you. In your defense he had gone soft on you twice because of his overthinking.

“I know we talked about you coming over tomorrow but turns out I have plans” you lied as he came back from the bathroom.

“Oh? Okay.” he tried to understand but didn’t miss the weird way you brought it up “Can I still sleep over, though? Don’t wanna drive back home. Tired”

Franco left the next morning and you didn’t talk that weekend or the week after that. And the next time the group got together you said you couldn’t make it, you would be studying for a test – which was true – but that night Franco took the opportunity to talk to your friend.

“Tina, do you think she has been acting different lately?”

“Oh, god, you will drive each other insane.” she said, taking a sip of her drink “We know you’ve got something going on so please just tell me so I can help”

So there he was, sitting in a booth in the club boring Tina to death as he told her everything he deemed important about your relationship.

“Look,” she spoke when he finished, “from what I’ve gathered, she thinks you’re not into her anymore and to be fair I’m guessing you’re the guy that went soft on her twice.”

“She told you? I was- I don’t have to explain myself to you” he realized.

“Didn’t ask you to. Franco, the point is, I think she’s really into you and you should do something about it because she’s trying to push you away”

“How could she possibly think I’m not into her? I’ve been throwing myself at her for over a year!” he was genuinely surprised and couldn’t understand how you came to that conclusion.

“Then maybe keep doing it, okay? She says you’ve been acting different, I get it that you’re nervous about telling her but you can’t let that affect your performance, darling, apparently that’s all your relationship is based on”

“I hate you. Why would she tell you that?” he whined “She won’t really talk to me, she’s making excuses and avoiding my texts.” his explanation comes out as a sigh.

“Bother her a little more, show up to her house, she’ll give in eventually.” she shrugged, getting up from her seat.

Franco left the club earlier that night and texted you before getting in his car. “you still awake?”

You rolled your eyes at the text, yes you were still awake at one in the morning, but it was because you were busy. “i’m studying franco” “not a good time.”

He only read your text, didn’t say anything else because he was driving. Driving to your place but not without a quick stop to a 24 hour grocery store. He knew that if you had been deep into your studies to be up that late you deserved some good snacks and just as he was leaving he saw some mediocre flowers, they would have to do, so he picked a small colorful bouquet – he didn’t know your favorite color but it was surely amongst them.

He didn’t text or call cause you would tell him no, so he just showed up at your door and knocked. You knew immediately it was him.

“Fran, I said I’m bu-“ your mouth stopped moving when you saw him with a grocery bag and the flowers in his hand. Franco froze, he forgot to think of what to say. “I told you I was busy”

After a couple of seconds – that felt way too long for him – staring at you he finally spoke, “I thought you might be needing some rewards, for studying so hard” he lifted up the bag, showing it to you.

You stood in front of him, your head rested against the door, watching him smile a little when he realized you were wearing his shirt. “Hope you don’t mind”

“No, never. Guess if I forgot it wasn’t that important in the first place.” he paused for a second, still looking at you “I got you these” he lifted the flowers “figured the ones you had last time I was here would be dead by now. I realized I don’t know your favorite color, or what flowers you like, think I was too busy looking at something else other than your flowers. I guessed you had to like at least one flower or one color from this one.”

“Fran, what is this about?”

“I wante- Can I come in?” he asked nervously.

You moved out of the doorway to let him through, smiling to yourself as you realized you were completely wrong. He put the things down on the table by your door as you locked it and when you turned back your arms wrapped around his neck, as you kissed.

His hands came down to your waist and he was slightly surprised at your sudden action, but melted into the kiss. “Missed me?”

“A little” you confessed, pulling away from him and walking to your bedroom.

You heard him follow right behind you, reaching for your hand when you walked in. Your lips met again but this time his hands guide your legs and guide them to wrap around his hips as he walks to the bed. He placed you where he wanted, right in the middle with your back against the pillows, your legs naturally spreading for him to settle between. He knelt up for a second, grabbing the stuffed animals around you and throwing them on the floor. You rolled your eyes.

“You know I don’t like them here”

He smiled and bent down to kiss you. His hands sneaked up your hips to your waist, under your shirt. Yours ran around his neck, nails against the sensitive skin, knowing it would turn him on. His lips lowered to your jaw, making you let out a sigh, relaxing all your muscles after being tense in a desk all day. He let his hips meet yours, grinding slightly against yours as his mouth started working on your neck, sucking and kissing all the spots he knew. His hands then lowered to the band of your shorts and tugged them down till he had to pull away from you to slip them off your legs.

“You look good in my clothes, should leave them around here more often” he smiled, making you blush as he positioned himself between your legs, laying on your bed.

Your hand reached out to caress his cheek, he smiled against the skin of your thigh before kissing it. He started leaving open mouthed kisses all over, your thighs, your lower stomach and over your panties, making you shiver when you felt his lips brushing against your cunt, only your thin underwear separating you. But not for long, once he felt like he had teased you enough his fingers hooked on the sides of your panties and slowly dragged them down, then he was facing your bare cunt, wet and ready for him.

Franco licked his lips at the sight before sticking his tongue out to spread your lips apart. He moaned when your taste hit his tongue, he had missed it. Once he started he was unstoppable, licking into you till his tongue and lips were covered in your wetness. Your hands dropped to grab his head when he took your clit into his mouth. His fingers joined the combo, slowly making their way inside you before gently curling up, he was making a mess out of you. Moans started leaving your mouth as he worked on you. His free hand made its way inside your shirt, reaching up to palm your tit. Your back arched onto his touch immediately, making your hips shift slightly and his fingers reach the perfect spot inside you.

“Fran” you whined, grasping his hair harder.

He just fucked his fingers harder into you, making you see stars and clench around them, By that point he knew you were close, just a couple more thrusts right to your gspot and you’d be gone. You felt your walls tightening as he started sucking harder on your clit, your muscles tensing and your legs trying to close around his head till he pushed you over the edge, making you cum around his fingers. Franco kept working you through your orgasm, his movements slowing till they came to a stop. You were biting a smile back as he kissed your thighs and your stomach, making his way up your body.

Your lips met again in an intense kiss, as you reached down to unbutton his jeans. He chuckled against your lips at your desperateness but helped you kick them off and knelt up for a second just to pull off his shirt. When he bent over your body again you flipped over him, straddling his legs as he looked up at you, surprised. You took his lips back to yours, kissing down his face to his neck as your hand reached down to rub his cock through his underwear. As small as the touch was it made him sigh, almost moan.

“Guess you missed me too” you teased before pulling him out of his underwear.

It was only a few pumps of your hand before raspy and shaky moans were making their way past his lips, “please” he whined.

You took a condom from your nightstand, making quick work of getting it on him. His lips were parted and his brows were just as expressive as always, furrowed together as you guided his cock between your lips, sliding yourself back and forth onto him just to tease. A struggling moan left his lips as his hands dropped to your hips, lifting you up so you could guide him inside. You lost all composure when he slipped into you, it felt like those couple of days without him had been so much more and like he was fucking you for the first time again.

His hands started guiding your hips slowly, letting you both get used to the feeling as you pulled him into another kiss. Your hands rested on his chest as you started moving faster, your hips now moving in circles, making your clit rub against his skin. He could feel your thighs flexing under his hands as you moved but what he couldn’t take his eyes off of was your face when you pulled away. Your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, soft moans still escaping your throat, your eyes were screwed shut and your brows furrowed as you concentrated on making yourself feel good.

All it took for your high to wash over you was the gentle touch of his fingers to your clit and you were coming for him, clenching around his cock as your hips stilled on top of his. He waited a second before guiding you to move again. You knew he was close too, his body was giving you all the signs and his face was twisted in pleasure, just a little more and he would be there. You reached out for his face, making his eyes open after you kissed. Franco stared into your eyes for a second, eyes open as he came. He kissed your thumb that brushed his lip and spoke in a soft whisper “I’m in love with you”

You smiled, bending over to kiss him “I figured,” you said with a chuckle. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and pulled you down to kiss him, both breaking into smiles as your lips met, “and I’m in love with you too”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer till you were rolling on your sides, still connected and kissing. Franco only pulled out when you groaned into his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to unwrap his arms around you.

“I bought ice cream, you know” he whispered after a while “do you think it’s melted yet?”

“I think you should go find out” you whispered back “you were the one that said I needed a reward for studying so hard.” he scoffed and nodded on your shoulder but when he tried to pull away you held him back “No, stay. I don’t mind melted ice cream, I actually like it better.”

[nerdbabee]

NATAL PLACEMENTS OBSERVATIONS —NERDBABEEE

NOTE: these are my own observations i’ve experienced with these placements/people this is not necessarily true for everyone so take what resonates & leave what doesn’t.

Mars in the 12th + Scorpio moon

i’ve noticed these placements are often susceptible to bad things happening to them almost immediately, I had a friend with these placements & i often consider these placements together as karma, with scorpio moon usually having a rough upbringing or experience a lot of criticism in their younger years these people often grow up to be just a critiquing to others as well, in return they experience bad luck in the areas they are criticizing (eg. my past friend would always critique others beauty & appearance & in return it would flip back on her, this also resulted in her crushes or boyfriends liking or falling for the women she would critique as well as if she critiqued another’s woman’s weight then her partners & boyfriends would easily be drawn into liking that part of whomever she’s criticizing yet it be result in the opposite for her)

Eg. she would critique someone’s weight i’ve also noticed her partners or people around her would then start to criticize hers as well*

NOTE: these are just observations based on both placements in the same chart, this can be different from everyone else ! this specifically applies to my mars in the 12th house people as y’all are very offended by everything i say.. unfortunately i don’t really have anything utterly good to say about you guys based on my experience with this placement.. i don’t dislike this placement i’ve just had bad experiences with them.

Gemini Rising + Sagittarius Sun

these people are quite sociable yet flaky, i’ve noticed with this pair they can be easily liked by others & socially accepted, it’s rare to see these people alone. the bad part of this pair if that they can’t function alone, one of my past friends had this placement & she was very insecure in terms of standing firm by herself, it’s almost like she never felt safe but ultimately these people are usually well liked and popular😭 they are fun asf too, very spontaneous & funny asf i absolutely adored this aspect of her as a friend she was literally the best person to be around literally.

sagittarius moon + sagittarius mars

these people are quick to call out somebody’s bullshit. When they see some unjust hanging around somewhere they will be speaking up about it. The people around them see them as a strong-willed people, someone who is never going to let anyone walk right over them. they are loyal to themselves and their friends, and if any of the people they care about gets harmed they always know that revenge is going to be bittersweet. they are people that others look up to, even those people you don’t believe ever would do. They wish they had the balls that these people seem to possess as long as they know them (for many of you this obviously isn’t true, you have learned to become like this, or forced to become like this)

Saturn in the 9th

When they are young they often experience many types of injustices that make them question the authorities. They may feel that good people are the worst off, they may feel separated by their way of seeing things, their attitude, their race, sexual orientation and even gender, and this gradually makes them lose faith in humanity. I have this placement & i also noticed others try to “prove me wrong” in regards to my knowledge as well, although they often end up being the wrong one it’s a frustrating experience

3rd house ruler in the 7th house

These natives may have many partners before getting married. And precisely because of these experiences many can perceive them as “counselors of love.”, i have this placement & i often found myself giving my friends relationship advice A LOT!, If the ruler is badly aspected, this placement may have a bad relationship with their brothers, while if it is well aspected, they can enjoy a harmonious relationship with them, (eg. me and my brother no longer speak to one another & we are always arguing) & lastly these people can show interest in issues such as law and justice, they have very defined criteria and they will always do their best to defend those who are discriminated against or treated unfairly. (Eg. I’m a social science + Pre law major)

Pisces Sun + Capricorn mars + Saturn in 5th house

these natives are undeniably the most loyal & dedicated partners anyone can ask for, with their pisces influence they are very compassionate & standout to be the ideal partner for any romantic suitor interested in pursuing a connection with them. these people usually go through trials and tribulations regarding love but ultimately they end up with someone just as committed as they are, their partners tend to adore them & spoil them with a lot of gifts i’ve noticed, with the saturn in 5th house influence these people are disciplined and as they grow older become wiser in terms of love, these people deeply understand the meaning of love and how to express to their partners (note, i had the sweetest homegirl with this placement & she would constantly get hurt in love due to this Saturn in the 5th house influence but ultimately she ended up with someone who values her presence whole)

Aquarius Sun in 4th house + Scorpio Rising

These people are often quiet & very private. Usually their home life & romantic life are usually clandestine & hidden from the general public, often times with this placement lineup even their own friends & family see them as secretive & are often trying to discover more about their lives. These people are introverted with a tendency to retreat in the comfort in their own homes, they are often “homebodies” & prioritizing making their home their special sanctuary. these people can be interested in writing, psychology & cooking

ok , i’m done

[nalyra-dreaming]

It's so frustrating trying to have a conversation about Louis' narration. The last time I tried, someone accused me of being 'ship-brained' because they believe Loustat has nothing romantic about it and that there's no tenderness between them.I simply pointed out,as neutrally as possible,that we can’t fully trust what Louis has said about their relationship so far because he’s altered a lot of details,and that Armand is also a suspicious figure in Louis’ memories of Lestat. That’s it.But immediately, I got attacked for calling Louis an unreliable narrator and for trying to demonize Armand. Which is insane, because I never said Louis was completely unreliable, just that when it comes to his relationship with Lestat, things are complicated, and we can’t take his words at face value when assessing their love.It’s exhausting. You can’t have a nuanced discussion anywhere without people jumping down your throat.I have never said Loustat had a perfect marriage or was a perfect couple,just that things are more nuanced that what Louis narrated,I'm not waiting for Lestat to be the only truth and if i understand Rolin doesn't want another revisit and s3 will be modte likely Lestat' background + maybe some plot in modern story,I never believed that he would refute everything and Louis is a liar Iand Armand a big bad moustache curling villain.😮‍💨

I'm accepting to be wrong and we can discuss anything without being always at each other throat

*sighs*

You know, the fact that people cannot see what a disservice they do Louis by making him into this one-dimensional, flat caricature of himself by removing all the problematic bits.... And I call that "problematic" - because JACOB called him/them monsters, and that it's good that they can be problematic...

And so I sat down, and listed a few things JACOB said - with sources!

Louis does lie (he literally says “not everything Louis says is a lie“ in this video)

Louis is problematic

Louis was very repressed

Louis is a snob

Louis has many guises (and Jacob looks forward to s3, TVL!)

Louis is the problem (I saw the tweet (here is one referring to the Taylor Swift song), but it's referred to in this comment as well, as well as other things, too)

Louis knows deep down some things are not true

Louis presents Lestat as a monster bc he‘s angry

The way some people want to remove eeeeeeeeverything that makes Louis in the slightest bit problematic or even an active participant of his own story, and thereby reduce him to this victim only ... this shell is beyond me. I get where it comes from(!), namely from bad stereotypes and racist inflections that have unfortunately been employed again and again at other points - but heaven help, this show is NOT that, and JACOB has already stated all these already - and this need to scream anyone down who dares to point these out is preventing any possibility of real discussion in this fandom - and honestly, THAT is actually the true shame.

Also, re Loustat - ALSO Jacob:

"They are in a romantic relationship in the books. They’re married by the end. Maybe Anne Rice didn’t fully know what their relationship was at first – the style is very different in the first book. Lestat is this kind of goblin monster torturing Louis. But when you look back with the context from further books, you see this man was just very repressed and so hurt by what happened between him and Lestat that he couldn’t acknowledge him as his lover, as his partner, as his great love. But by the second book, they’re absolutely a couple. And because we’re adapting the whole of The Vampire Chronicles and taking things from later books and repurposing them, the idea of telling this story and them not being a couple… well, there’s no show! Their love story, as messed up as it is, is the heart of it."

And:

"Well, scenes from a divorce is probably Armand, and then scenes from a marriage feels more fitting to Louis and Lestat."

What else is there to say....

Our cast gets their characters. Jacob gets Louis.

Now if only the fandom could accept that, too...