#those of you who are saying all of this is a knee jerk reaction to what you think you were entitled to receive

[journalofimprobablethings]

I think the thing about your first response that is provoking knee-jerk reactions (at least, it did for me) is that it implies that character death's only purpose in fiction is to "maximize pain" for the readers, and that any other purpose it might serve can be found through other means. And I don't think that's true at all.

To a certain extent I agree with the OP commenter that it's not necessary to kill a character simply for 'emotional impact' or 'realism'. If an author's main goal with a character death is just to "inflict maximum pain" on the reader, then that's probably not very good writing, and not "necessary". The death needs to do more than just hurt the reader; it should affect the story in some way, either in how other characters react to the death, or how events change because of it.

But I also agree with friskdaferret's argument that some character deaths are necessary for the story that the author is trying to tell. That's the key. Could they choose to write it a different way? Sure. They're the author, it's their story, it's all made up. But then it would be a different story.

I know that you consider the Holes argument to be a bit of a tangent, but for the sake of using an example that's already been brought up, Sam's death in Holes serves a particular purpose in the story. It reflects real-world racism in a very direct way: black men being lynched for having a relationship with a white woman (or after being accused of assaulting/touching a white woman, whether they did or not) is a real fact of American history. It's an ugly fact, and it's something that Louis Sacher decided was important to include in the story. For some kids reading that book, it may even have been their first exposure to that sort of racism. Having Sam leave Kate for other reasons, as you suggest, would change the story, and would make a different point. It's not the story Louis Sacher was trying to tell.

Your argument, if I understand correctly, is that sometimes, the potential pain inflicted on a reader who is very attached to the character might outweigh an author wanting to make a particular point or tell a particular story. How then, do we handle telling stories that are inherently about painful topics? What is the "utilitarian calculus" as it relates to a story like Orpheus and Eurydice which is about grief; or tragedies like Hamlet?

I also think that if you're going to make that argument, you have to consider the other side - that is, what benefit do those deaths, as written, bring to readers? Why has the author included it in the story? What do people get out of it? That answer is going to be different for different readers and stories, but there is a reason that death has been such a prominent trope in human storytelling since forever. Death and grief are inherent, immutable facts of life, and so storytellers are going to find ways to engage with and examine it.

Two examples that came to mind while I was thinking about this post were The Fault in Our Stars by John Green and Babel by R.F. Kuang. Both of those books contain absolutely devastating moments of loss in connection with characters we have become very close to as readers. I don't think I've ever cried as hard at a story as I cried at those two books in particular.

Both of those stories would not be what they are, or say what they wanted to say, if those deaths didn't happen. They are a book about cancer and a book about imperialism and the violence it engenders, respectively. Both those topics are impossible to handle without at least talking about death.

Now, would I give people a warning before I recommend those books to them? Absolutely, because it's the sort of thing you probably want to be in the right headspace for. But do I think that those books should have been written differently, just because the stories were painful? Absolutely not.

I don't know that I agree with any sort of utilitarian argument about the potential effect of a character death on readers vs its function in the story, in part because that sort of thing is impossible to quantify. How would you ever possibly judge what was "too much"? It's entirely subjective, and in the end, authors do not have control over what a reader's reactions to their story will be.

I also think that to a certain extent, readers are responsible for their own reading experience. If a person does not want to encounter painful moments in their reading, that is their responsibility to tailor their reading accordingly. If they as a reader know they are prone to making deep connections with characters such that it might genuinely hurt them if that character then dies, they can take steps to avoid those sorts of stories, or to use sites like doesthedogdie.com to check whether a story has something that they don't want to/can't engage with. But it's not an author's responsibility to tailor their story so that it doesn't make anyone sad. That's not the point of fiction.

Fiction is a reflection of life, and a way for us as humans to examine and process all aspects of it, including the aspects that hurt, that are awful, the parts that don't make sense. It's perfectly valid for someone to not want to engage with challenging fiction, but to say that authors shouldn't be writing it at all because it might somewhere cause someone grief? I can't agree with that.

im starting to think you guys dont like it when stories make you feel things

[butchpeace]

hi there! thank you so much for you're response to my anon ask- i was honestly expecting you to mock me and then tell me im in a cult and am bringing down other women- which is the response i usually get when trying to ask radfem blogs things- i understand why they would say this but i am asking questions genuinely. I've looked through the medical articles linked in your page, I'll be honest it is concerning but currently I am enjoying the physical and mental changes on testosterone and dont want that to stop- obviously while paying attention to my body and working with my doctor if any issues occur. i think i'll talk about doses with my doctor to understand what options i have when i want to taper off or vaguely slow down, i hope my approach to medical transition isnt seen as aggravating or flippant this is just my general philosophy about things :) i dont know i kinda feel like crying this is kinda the first radfem space i have felt safe in?

i enjoy having a deep voice- being hairy, being flat chested and these are all things women can do-- i feel that my decisions to get a mastectomy and be on hormones to achieve this shouldnt be used to kick me out of butch spaces but maybe im just being naive 🤷

A lot of radfems have that knee jerk reaction to trans identified women. Those are the kinds of people who pushed me away from radical feminism before I transitioned, so I know how that feels!

There aren’t a lot of people who both identify with radical feminism and also have the empathy and understanding needed to help us work through our gender issues. My goal is to be the person I needed back then.

My viewpoint is that people have a wide variety of different feelings about their gender, but at its core it all comes down to the same thing: The inability to accept our bodies as they are.

That’s something butch women particularly have been dealing with for a very long time. Of course butches want to be more masculine. Why wouldn’t we? We live in a patriarchy, and physical masculinity and androgyny is considered attractive in butches.

But my opinion is that accepting our bodies as they are should be the ultimate goal, and that messing with our hormonal systems and having cosmetic surgeries is objectively a negative thing. Not just because of health risks, but also because it’s a way of rejecting femaleness. I believe that all forms of rejecting the female aspects of our bodies come from misogyny. Because of that, giving in to the pressure to change our bodies isn’t a positive thing in the big picture, even if it makes us feel subjectively better about ourselves.

But I feel that way about all cosmetic surgery, including botox and all the other things women do to alter themselves. I don’t think that the way we’ve altered ourselves is any different from what they’re doing. I’m against all of it, but I don’t see us as the problem, I see patriarchy as the problem.

Whether radfems agree with it or not, the fact is that many butch women have taken hormones and have had mastectomies, and we are still women. Testosterone and mastectomies are so widespread among butch women these days that it’s kinda just part of who we are at this point. That doesn’t mean it’s a good thing or that it should be encouraged, and people have the right to criticize it. But we should be accepted.

Our appearances are altered but that doesn’t change who we are, and it doesn’t change the fact that we need community and a sense of belonging.

[goldkirk]

I don’t know how to explain any more clearly that it doesn’t MATTER if it seems legitimate to you. You have got to fact check every single headline and post and claim on the left just like you need to do on the right.

The left is NOT immune to misinformation and rushed reporting. And the more emotionally polarizing or shocking the talking points, sound bytes, and headlines are, the worse it is and more frequently it happens.

Learn to verify through multiple independent sources. If you can’t do that, you can’t trust it.

If you have to wait extra hours for the real information to come through vetted channels—NOT just one individual somewhere everyone links to, and not just one single media source either, EVEN if it’s a major news network—thats just how it has to be. What news outside of genuine local disasters near you TRULY needs your outrage and post-sharing in the next hour specifically?

Misinformation works best by not seeming like misinformation and by fitting in with the rest of what you already expect to see. It doesn’t help anyone to not be able to recognize and avoid the stuff.

[jmdbjk]

The Truth Untold

I think when you are normally an optimistic, positive personality, it is more difficult to deal with negativity, especially when it originates within one's self. Speaking from my own experience, optimism sometimes feels like a force field that keeps most negativity out. But sometimes the force field fails when the negativity is coming from within.

It seems this was the case with Jimin back when he had all these feelings a few years ago.

These emotions that originated within himself affected him so much that he needed to expel them from his mind. So he expressed them through music. He gave us his very personal album filled with his own hidden feelings that he'd kept to himself. This album was so personal to him. It was his own cathartic exercise in rebuilding his optimistic force field.

We all know how difficult it is to express our own deeply felt emotions to those around us. Many of us internalize and go on. But Jimin pulled these things out of himself, crafted these thoughts into lyrics, wrote and recorded songs, and let these songs about his emotions out into the world. He showed the world his raw self.

How many of us can even attempt to speak one sentence about something deeply personal that we've kept to ourselves without fear of being ridiculed or humiliated?

So if you ever have confided something very personal to someone and all you got back was "this is how you fix it, you should have done this or you should have done that and you are being over sensitive, why are you like that..." do you see how that sounds? It is dismissive.

Those of you who are right this second as you are reading this, you are thinking "but he deserves everything, he deserved more promotion, he deserved more cake, he deserves it all, he was sabotaged, he didn't get what he deserved."

Yes, he deserves it all but the way you all go about saying those things is selfish. You are selfish. You are saying to Jimin that he made a mistake, that he was shortsighted, that he wasn't smart enough or assertive enough or that he allowed himself to be controlled by whatever big bad guy you've latched onto to justify your selfishness.

You were dismissive.

Try to remember, there are ways for us to shower Jimin with praise and love that do not involve tearing down him, tearing down his company, tearing down other fans and the other members.

When I say "tearing down" that's exactly what I mean. Jimin chose how to give us this intimate part of himself and some people told him that how he chose to give it to us wasn't the right way, it wasn't good enough, not enough promotions, just not enough to get what he deserved. He went about it the wrong way.

Jimin is a slow processor of his own emotions and of things going on around him so it has taken him some time to allow his inner over-analyzer to process everything. We've known he's an over-analyzer so it takes time for him to process all of it.

This is what this Truth Untold letter is about. He basically admits he is slow to process everything.

He admits when the #1 Billboard achievement happened, he did not understand the importance of it at the time and now that he's had time to process everything, he feels pressed to thank us now.

He apologizes for taking so long to acknowledge and thank us for loving him and showing so much appreciation for his first album which was so personal to him.

He feels our love. But he for sure saw your selfishness.

We will learn more about it all when his documentary drops next week and I feel like it will hit even harder how difficult this whole process was for him.

Just be grateful like he is.

[purgemarchlockdown]

The temptation to vague about something in the milgram-confessions blog because its something thats bothered me for Actual Years about certain fandoms vs letting it go because when it is brought up its actually done somewhat tastefully and reasonably which makes me happy and this anon probably didnt mean it in the incredibly bad faith way I keep on seeing it be repeated so really Im getting upset over nothing.

[thechekhov]

Did you seriously reblog a post defending the sanctity of life of pedophiles?

You did not read that post.

I understand that it might be difficult, because of the knee-jerk reaction we all have when it comes to this topic. I admit I also had the emotional first-response of disgust. But I urge you to go back and try to read it again, when you are cool-headed.

Stating that 'murdering people we find disgusting is not the moral high ground it feels like', is not the same thing as 'defending the sanctity of life' of anyone.

And while it feels good to emotionally say 'we should kill all (people who do bad things that cause harm to others)' this does not actually accomplish what our brains think it does.

From the post:

denying the humanity of people who do horrible things accomplishes exactly three things:

give cover to people who haven't been caught yet by allowing them to use their humanity as "proof" of their innocence

silence any criticism of societal structures and institutions that facilitate those horrible things by putting the focus on individuals who are assumed to be so uniquely monstrous that the ways it was made easy for them are irrelevant

provide a shortcut to dehumanize anyone you feel like killing: simply accuse them of doing a horrible thing

Listen, to me, listen:

I know that we are all human and when we see someone committing evil things, we feel justified and good, and we want to use our teeth and claws to rip them to shreds. I KNOW it feels incredible to reply to pain and harm with equal violence.

But on an ideological level, if you EVER hope to understand how emotional manipulation and dehumanization on a social level works, you NEED to be prepared to unwrap this delicious i-can-murder-that-person-and-feel-rightous burrito.

You need to understand why it is not the swiss knife of justice that it feels like.

You need to know that it can and will be used to kill innocent people who don't deserve it, and you will not even notice.

Because if you can justify murder with a simple 'if you fit into this category you automatically don't deserve to live' then you are supporting an authoritarian regime, who can and WILL happily take the easier job of convincing you that some person that they need dead fits the description (of a person you've already agreed doesn't deserve anything but a swift and unquestionable death).

This is why, when they needed the gays to be feared and hunted, they labeled them 'pedophiles'. This is why they're now doing this to trans people. This is why dehumanization is a tool of oppression, not justice.

There is way to fix injustice in the world and protect children without becoming easier to manipulate and trick.

[windkonig]

society has ingrained in all of us that bugs are bad and evil and scary and they Bite You for no reason and Sting You For Fun and I would like to challenge every single person that reads this to try to step back and challenge those thoughts. CHALLENGE that knee-jerk reaction to kill every bug you see. REALIZE that killing it doesn't have to be the answer. it's fine to not want bugs in your home. but I see so many people whose FIRST choice is to kill it, even though it'd be easy to just cup it and toss it outside. why?

one of the greatest things that got me over my extremely intense arachnophobia was knowledge. learning more about the thing I was afraid of made me realize, "oh, they're just little guys trying to get by too" and I stopped killing every spider I saw.

and it's like. no, that wasp didn't sting you for fun. it stung you because it felt scared or defensive. no, the spider in your shower isn't trying to kill you. spiders need water to live too.

you don't deem a scared dog/cat evil for biting you, do you? then why are we demonizing insects and spiders for feeling scared? they are so, so small and we are so large. they don't know anything about us, they're just trying to live life. they didn't know they built their web in a bad spot. they didn't know they built their nest next to your door. please, show some kindness to these tiny creatures. I understand you can't let infestations happen or wasps build in your walls, but whenever possible, try to put bugs in a cup and take them outside. yes, even wasps. even black widows. if you want tips for safely capturing bugs, I'm always around to ask.

also, to those who say things like, "x bug eats other pest bug, so they're okay" why? why does something have to benefit you to deserve to live? shouldn't all creatures have a chance at life, even if they're ugly, even if they don't benefit you, even if they do something you don't like? what gives you the right to decide to take the life of any animal just because ahhh it looked scary? please. all I ask is you try to be kinder. it's okay to be scared, it's not okay to pointlessly kill things.

[onlymingyus]

give it to me (teaser)

pairing;  jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, toxic, fluff

summary; From the outside looking in your life is perfect. It's the perfect ones who are the most fucked up and have the most to lose, or so you thought.

dark/content warnings; murder, kidnapping, talk of abuse, talk of solicitation, illusion to sexual abuse, wonwoo is not a nice guy for a large part of this fic -- hitman!wonwoo, kidnapper!wonwoo, ransom negotiations, corrupt business world, seedy gang/mob underworld, crying (pain and mental pain), depression, fucked up family dynamics, yn has parents/parent death mentioned, police, dead bodies, blood, guns, lying, eating/drinking -- i am sure there is more, this fic can be a lot. please consider the warnings before you read. 

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (m receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), olfactophilia/mysophilia (panty sniffing), grinding, petnames

w/c; 22k and some change (980~ bonus on patreon only)  (740~ this teaser)

a/n; thank you to my @onlyhuis for proofreading this for me! i know i am on a dark fic kick. thank you all for going along on this ride with me -- perhaps you might catch some easter eggs 🤫 -- i really hope you enjoy this one.

this fic will be released 6/15 at 3 pm est to read it now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Rubbing at the mascara drying on your fingers, you feel the car come to a stop. Wonwoo sighs, his brows furrowing as he looks around at the empty parking garage and finally back at you. You hadn’t spoken since he had started driving, but he wasn’t complaining. He could hear you crying, your pathetic little whimpering as he drove, but that had been the most of it. You had been resigned to what was happening. You had been “a good girl,” and Wonwoo could give you a bit of credit for that.

“Home sweet home, Y/N.”

Looking up, you furrow your brows at the sight around you. This parking garage had clearly not been used in years, probably closer to a decade. The building itself is probably in similar, if not worse, condition. There was nothing about this that you wanted to call home, but as Wonwoo opened his door and moved to yours, opening it, the gun pointed in your direction, and you knew you didn’t really have much of a say.

“Wh–why are you doing this? Did my father not pay you enough?”

Scoffing, Wonwoo sighs, leaning back against the door as he waits impatiently for you to gather the train of your tight dress and slide towards him.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. Isn’t that what all those degrees on your office wall are for?”

Your stomach twists at Wonwoo’s words as your high heels unsteadily meet the uneven concrete of the garage. Reaching out with his free hand, Wonwoo tugs you upward and keeps your body against his, letting the barrel of his gun rest against your abdomen as he walks with you.

“This is ridiculous, Wonwoo. You’re throwing your life away, and for what? A paycheck—”

Scoffing at your words, Wonwoo cuts you off with a look as he kicks open a heavy door to the stairwell. Obviously, the elevator wouldn’t work in a building like this. You whine at the idea of the stairs in your heels, your eyes searching Wonwoo’s as he shakes his head and digs the gun into your side.

“You’re the one who’s ridiculous. You look ridiculous and you are acting pathetic. Walk!” Raising his voice, Wonwoo feels your body jerk in his arms before you do as he says and move forward up the stairs. “This isn’t about some stupid ass security job. This is about your daddy, and him paying for you. I was hired to take you, Princess.”

You feel your knees buckle. Wonwoo’s fingers dig into your arm, lifting you back up as he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He figures you are playing the role of the grief stricken daughter, but in reality, you are fighting the urge between laughing and crying. Your father? Paying for you? Who was stupid enough to think that he would?

Using his shoulder, Wonwoo pushes open the door to one of the many rooms before letting you stumble inside in front of him. You look around, your brows furrowing in confusion and you feel some disgust at the sight in front of you. You weren’t sure what you had expected. The rest of the building hadn’t given you the impression that any of the apartments would be in good condition, so seeing it firsthand shouldn’t be surprising.

“Welcome home.”

You give Wonwoo a look of contempt, making him laugh as he gestures towards a dusty couch with his gun. You didn’t want to sit on the couch. The first thought in your head was that the dress you were wearing cost thousands of dollars and that cleaning it would cost hundreds, but the look in Wonwoo’s eyes made you take a step in its direction.

“He won’t pay you any money for me. If—listen, Wonwoo... if you let me go, I can pay you the money myself.”

Sighing, Wonwoo lifts his free hand to his brows, rubbing hard as he watches you. He could see you hesitating to sit down. The way you were brushing at the couch with your fingers only to rub them together as if you were in pain. When you finally sit down, you look stiff and struggle to not let any of your skin touch the dusty material under you.

“Doubt this is about what you can offer, sweetheart. Get comfortable, you are going to be here for a while. So stop acting like you are going to get the plague from some dust.”

READ THE FULL FIC NOW ON PATREON

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.

[celchive]

𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 — smut, afab!reader, blowjobs & riding, p in v, creampie, face-fucking, slight breeding kink, switch!peeta, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, porn no plot

Peeta Mellark is a loser.

You often wonder how he always radiates charisma whenever he’s in public. Infront of cameras, he’s charming, confident, keeps himself composed.

He’ll always keep things professional—even with you. The most you’ll get out of him during a social event is a chaste kiss or a soft peck on the cheek, denying you of anything more.

Honestly, it amuses you, the way he puts up such an outgoing front. How he treats you like a coworker playing pretend lovers because he can’t keep his dick in his pants whenever you get too touchy.

Just imagine The Capitol’s reaction if they found out their ‘charming prince’ from District 12 was also just a whining bitch.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“What the hell was that?” Peeta sighs as he drags you into the guest bedroom, locking the door behind you. “I have no clue what you're talking about.” you murmur softly, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“Oh, so you just feeling up on me back there was nothing?” he scoffs.

“It was just a light touch. Not my fault you're so sensitive,” you murmur, a grin playing on your lips as you watch his breath catch.

“The sponsers could’ve seen you.”

“But they didn’t.”

“They could’ve.”

“So what if they did? What’s so wrong with giving them a show? It’s what they want.” you refute, stepping closer to him.

“You can't just wait till we get back, huh?” he sighs, swallowing hard as you move closer to him.

“It's hard to keep my hands to myself when you look this good tonight.” you tease, gliding your hand over the bulge in his pants.

“We can’t—at least not right now,” he says, his voice heavy with resignation. “We're not even the focus tonight. No one will notice if we slip away,” you smile.

Your hands run down his tense thighs as you gently lower yourself to your knees on the carpet, locking your gaze with his through those doll-like eyes that you know drives him crazy.

“You don’t have to.” he murmurs softly, his hand drifting to your cheek. His fingers curl softly around your jaw as he delicately traces his thumb across your bottom lip.

“I want to.” you hum, unzipping his pants and pulling his member out. it’s already red and hard, precum leaking out by the second. “Feeling a bit excited tonight, aren’t you?” you tease, placing soft kisses over its veins and along the sides.

“You’re not the only one who's had to keep it together all day,” he murmurs, his hand gently resting on the top of your head.

He did nothing but watch as your tongue slowly licked up the precum from the tip of his slit, stifling a moan as you as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around your hair.

“Damn, you’re—ah—mmhph,” he moans. He's cut off the moment you take him into your mouth. Never will he get used to just how warm you feel when he’s inside you.

His cock pushes at the back of your throat as you attempt to swallow him whole, struggling to resist the urge to buck his hips into your wet mouth.

Grateful for the lively atmosphere in the next room, you listen to his soft whimpers and moans. His eyebrows knit together as he his puppy eyes stare down at you. More, is what they begged, and who were you to deny him?

His hips slowly jerked and twitched as you bobbed your mouth up and down along his length, your moans vibrating onto him. It was cute, how he tried his best to keep his composure and not fuck your mouth dumb—but you wanted more. You offered him a reassuring look before pushing yourself as deep as you could go.

Peeta had always been able to read you like a book, so it wasn't hard to understand your expression. If you were to so generously invite him to not hold back, who was he to refuse?

He experimentally rolled his hips into you, letting out a shuddering breath once he felt you swallow around him, his free hand laced into your hair.

As you gag around him whilst trying to take him further, he thrusts deeper. “Fuck, you feel so right—shit.” he moans, quickening his pace. “Hold on a moment—hah—don’t want to finish just yet.”

You slowly pull back as he stops rolling his hips, trying to catch your breath. As soon as you lift yourself up, he grabs you and pulls you into a fervent kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, mingling the taste of his precum and your saliva mixed with his own.

You both let out muffled moans as your mouths pressed together. Though, it wasn’t long before he broke the kiss and wasted no time to take things one step forward.

“On the bed,” he said simply. you climbed onto the mattress and sat on your knees, waiting for his next instruction. But instead of words, he pulled you into his lap, with your thighs resting on either side of his waist.

“Lift yourself a little.” he whispered, watching as you silently raised your hips. You sighed as your dress was pulled off and thrown to the floor, your panties pushed down to your knees, completely exposing you to him. “Gotta make you feel good too.” he mumbles, his large hand running up your inner thigh.

You let out a soft moan as he continues to tease you, his hand brushing close to your core before retreating. You sigh with relief when his hand finally reaches up, gently rubbing against your clit and the folds of your cunt.

It’s a bit embarrassing how quickly you’re drenched and so receptive to his fingers as they gradually slide inside you, letting out a sigh as his fingers slowly fill you up, bottoming out.

As his fingers began to curl deep inside you, your silent whimpers gave way to increasingly loud moans.

“Oh my god, you're so deep,” you sigh, your thighs trembling as he picks up his pace. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you cry out as his fingers thrust into you relentlessly. You couldn't help but feel so full.

His hand snaked up to your mouth, muffling your sounds as he went faster.

“Don’t be too loud unless you want everyone outside to hear you,” he whispers, replacing his hand with his mouth. You gasped and sighed, trying your best to keep all those pretty sounds inside as his fingers curled inside you.

Heat started to build up in your stomach. You could feel your climax. You were so, so close.

And then, just as you were about to cum, there was nothing.

He pulled back, denying you your release.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, his voice low and insistent as he peeled off his shirt and discarded his trousers. I’ll make sure to fill you up real good.”

You pressed your bodies together once more, straddling him as you shifted, the slick heat of your body gliding over his eager, throbbing length.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.” he hitched, his hands finding their place on your hips as the two of you grinded into each other.

He only watches as you begin to palm his shaft, his eyes following your every move as you position yourself over him. Finally, you spread your legs and took your time pushing into him, sinking in inch by inch. “You're so incredibly wet.” he sighs.

Once you bottomed out, your hips took control and began painfully slowly riding him out while gradually increasing your pace. You wanted to watch his desperation escalate.

Though, it didn’t take long for his whimpers to turn into growing moans as he began sighing your name. He started thrusting his hips with yours, picking up the pace, and you weren't sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

His sloppy thrusts turned into intense ramming as you continued to ride him. He slammed into you, hitting that deep spot over and over again. The unrelenting rhythm was everything, the feeling taking you to your peak.

“Fuck! you’re too—mmph’–fast! Hhmmph! Oh my god—ah!” you cried, your legs shaking as you bobbed up and down his cock. “You feel so tight, I need you so bad." he sighed. "I’m gonna—fuck—“ He cut himself off. He couldn't take it. You felt good. Too good.

He quickly pulled you down, suddenly flipping you over. Your back was now pressed against the mattress as he continued his thrusts.

“I’m gonna cu–mmmph!” you cried, suddenly feeling his hand press against your clit, his fingers maintaining pressure as he plowed into you. Your hands pushed at his abs as you were on the verge of cumming.

“Please. I need to, inside—” he slurred, his thrusts reaching his limit. “Let's give The Capitol what they want.” he groaned, applying more pressure onto your clit as he rammed into you.

“Peeta, I'm—holy shit—fuck!" you could only scream as as you felt a giant rush of heat pool in your stomach. Your entire body trembled as you began squirting on his dick—but Peeta wouldn’t pull out. He only thrusted himself further into you as you continued your spasm.

“Don't stop.” you whined, overwhelmed by the sensation of him filling you full. “Fuck.” he moaned, listening to the juices of your cunt squelch inside and around him.

“Don’t… Don’t pull out.” you sighed, shaking as you gradually came down from your high. Your juices leaked out and soaked the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you.

But your sighs were only replaced with shrieks the moment Peeta started thrusting into you again after such a short rest.

“Wait—ah—Peeta! I can’t—It's too much!” you gasped, your voice wavering as each thrust drove you to the brink, your body continuing to squirt out every time he thrusted into you.

“I’m gonna cum—hah—come on, come for me again, please—” he begged, rutting into you like an animal. He pulled you into a kiss, his tongue swirling against yours as his hand lifted your back up, your whole bodies fully pressed against each other as he fucked you stupid.

You moaned into his mouth as the heat began to build up once more, but his lips muffled every sound you made as you squirted for the second time. His cock stuffed you, slowly grinding but never fully leaving your cunt as the squelches of your wetness slowly squirted out every time he thrusted.

He let out a long groan as he finally came inside you, followed by soft sighs of your name whilst the two of you rode your highs together.

“I should provoke you more often.” you weakly sigh, brushing the hair out out of your face with your fingers. He only scoffs as he pulls you into a soft, gentle kiss.

You began to wonder how long the two of you were gone for from the event, but your thoughts are soon eclipsed by a more pressing concern: how on earth you will manage to walk after this?

[drdemonprince]

I don't think I have it in me to be an abolitionist because I read that horrible story about the trans teen murdered in South Carolina and my knee jerk reaction is, those people should rot in jail, ideally forever, or worse. No matter how I look at it I can't make myself okay with the idea that you should be allowed to steal someone's life in such a horrible way and then just go back to enjoying your life. Some stuff is just too over the top evil.

You can have whatever emotions you want about that person's murderous actions, but the reality is that the carceral justice system is one of the largest sources of physical, emotional, and sexual torment for transgender people on this planet.

Transgender people are ten times more likely to be assaulted by a fellow inmate and five times more likely to be assaulted by a corrections officer, according to a National Center for Transgender Equality Report.

Within the prison system, transgender people are frequently denied gender-affirming medical care, and housed in populations that do not match their identity, which increases their odds of being beaten and sexually assaulted.

The alternative to being incorrectly housed with the wrong gendered population is that transgender people are also frequently held in solitary confinement instead, often for far longer periods on average than their non-transgender peers, contributing to them experiencing suicide ideation, self harm, acute physiological distress, a shrunk hippocampus, muscculoskeletal pain, chronic condition flare-ups, heart disease, reduced muscle tone, and numerous other proven effects of solitary confinement.

The prison system is also one of the largest sites of completely unmitigated COVID spread, among other illnesses, with over 640,000 cases being directly linked to prison exposure, according to the COVID prison project.

We know that number is rampantly under-estimated because prisoners, especially trans ones, are frequently denied medical care. And even basic, essential physical care. Just last year a 27-year-old Black man named Lason Butler was found dead in his cell, having perished of dehydration. He had been kept in a cell without running water for two weeks, where he rapidly lost 40 pounds before perishing. His body was covered in rat bites.

This kind of treatment is unacceptable for anyone, no matter who they are and what they have done, and I shouldn't have to explicitly connect the dots for you, but I will. One in six transgender people has been to prison, according to Lambda Legal. One in every TWO Black transgender people has been to prison. One in five Black men go to prison in America.

THIS is the fate you are consigning all these people to when you say that prisons must exist because there are really really bad people out in the world. We should all know by not that this is not how the carceral justice system works. Hate crime laws are under-utilized, according to Pro Publica, and result in few convictions. The people who commit transphobic acts of violence tend to be given softer sentences than the prisoners who resemble their victims.

We must always remember that the violent tools of the prison system will be used not against the people that we personally consider to be the most "deserving" of punishment, but rather against whomever the state considers to be its enemy or to be a disposable person.

You are not in control of the prison system and you cannot ensure it will be benevolent. You are not the police, the judge, the jury, or the corrections officers. By and large, the people who are in these roles are racist, transphobic, ableist, and victim-blaming, and they will use the power and violence of the system to terrorize people in poverty, Black people, trans people, "mad" people, intellectually disabled people, women, and everyone else that you might wish to protect from harm with a system of "punishment." Nevermind that incaraceration doesn't prevent future harm anyway.

You can't argue for incarceration as the tool of your revenge fantasies, you have to argue for it as the tool that it actually is. The purpose of a system is what it does. And the prison system's purpose has never been to protect or avenge vulnerable trans people. It has always been to beat them, sexually assault them, forcibly detransition them, render them unemployable, disconnect them from all community, neglect them, and unperson them.

[panbotter]

Hey so in reference to my previous ask, can you do one were the reader is having trouble controlling their powers (you can decide those) and either Kurt or Erik comfort them after a bad day and end up confessing to the reader. You can ad smut if you want but if not that's totally fine too☺️.

Your Existence is Grand

Erik Lehnsherr x gn!reader

Erik notices you having a rough day with your powers and decides to shower you with praise.

(This is my first fanfic literally ever so feedback appreciated, but also... Sorry for any mistakes!!!!)

Trigger warnings: cursing, suggestive themes (I don't know what else to write here, pls let me know if there's anything else I should add!)

The air around me begins buzzing and crackling, becoming charged with electricity and I sigh, deeply frustrated before I reach for the metal doorknob in front of me and receive a shock so strong that all the muscles in my arm cramp up painfully. I curse under my breath, forcing my arm to bend and stretch the tense muscles as I walk into the lounge, getting a glimpse of the others outside. Some might say I’d been gifted with a particularly powerful mutation, that it made me strong and intimidating. That I am admired for it, as if it’s a blessing to be grateful for.

But in this god-forsaken world, all I could see was a curse that plagued my body. I never bothered to understand the science behind it, as much as others might have tried to explain it to me. Something about the electricity in my body behaving abnormally, affecting the air around me and in turn, other electronics or conductors of electricity, turning me into a walking hazard around power lines, or thunderstorms. Let's not even mention the sheer amount of electrical fires I’ve caused. Sure, it sounds cool. But the reality is basically hell.

One of the ‘best’ parts about my mutation is that it is terribly unstable, especially when you’re constantly surrounded by electricity no matter where you go. Everyone else who charges up some static then touches a piece of metal receives a little sting from a silly little shock. It might be a little funny or perhaps surprising! Maybe it happens when you touch fingers with someone else and you shock each other, what a cute moment!

Try getting fucking electrocuted every single time.

Nowhere near as cute, nor as fun.

Some days are worse than others and the more restless I become, the worse it is for me in the end. But unfortunately, I can’t lay in bed immobile for an entire day to lower the voltage my body is producing, resulting in my current conundrum. Avoiding the rest of the X-Men in order to avoid any potential accidents, especially with Jubilee. Fireworks and a highly-charged mutant body surrounded by a bunch of high-tech only spells out bad news. Luckily, it seems like most of them were outside on the basketball court. That’s what I thought, at least.

“I take it you’re having a bad voltage day?” the voice of none other than Magneto startles me out of my thinking. It’s been more than a few months of him living here with us, but his presence is still unexpected. I had a hard time training the knee-jerk defensive reaction out of my body for the first few days, my body becoming charged up so quickly that I wouldn’t even have the chance to blink before I shot a bolt of electricity at him.

He was quick to show that a little spark didn’t do much to him, given that he was essentially a walking magnetic field.

I turn to him, his large form standing at the entrance to the lounge, “What makes you say that?” I turn back to watch as Scott and Logan start another argument, their voices muffled by the glass.

“The air keeps crackling and I have a hard time believing there’s a storm inside the building” he approaches until he pauses at my side. I chuckle a little, giving a wince once I feel my sore muscles constrict. He turns to watch me.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe Storm has had enough of those two at each other’s throats” I try to joke but my voice falters, as my heart begins to race again and the sound of the air buzzing around me becomes overwhelming. Tremors begin rippling across my muscles, a mixture of them cramping and relaxing too fast for me to keep up with. Losing the strength in my legs, I stretch a hand out toward the glass in front of me to hold myself up but I miss the glass by a couple inches. Erik’s hands are quick to grab onto my arms before pulling me into his chest, supporting my weight as the crackling noise fills my ears and I let out a pained shout. My body releases a strong burst of electricity, most of it absorbed by Erik’s magnetic field, whilst the rest causes the power in the building to go out. I pant loudly, trying to catch my breath, feeling like my heart might’ve stopped in the middle of that.

The lights flicker around us before the power in the school hums back to life. Erik’s hands are still around me, I realize before beginning to step away, but his hold on me tightens. He pulls me back against his chest and I try to fight back the heat that’s slowly creeping up to my face. This is a bit embarrassing. I’ll admit it, I had grown to like Erik in the time he’d been with us, not to mention I had quite a few run-ins with him before I ever joined the X-Men. He always seemed so… Powerful, he always felt safe to be around. As radical as the Professor may claim he is, he always seemed… Right. You could hear the passion in his voice when he spoke of mutantkind and it made you want to side with him, to be loyal and to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

He had a powerful presence, and as I am now discovering, a powerful touch. One of the very few people who could come near me without fear of being electrocuted. My muscles had begun to twitch in the aftermath of the shock. These are the unfortunate moments where I wish I could be rid of my mutation. I could barely hold myself up and here I was in Erik’s arms.

“You should be resting” his voice was stern, but there was a hint of concern in there. I raise my gaze to meet his, feeling a bit of shame.

“I can’t just lay in bed all day, the world is still turning, there’s things to do…” I muttered.

“Precisely, the world is still turning and it will still continue to turn if you are at rest. You, on the other hand, are not a planet and you need to care for yourself”

I stare into his eyes, feeling them pierce through my soul. He always seemed to be right about everything… I chuckle under my breath as I regain some strength in my legs, straightening back up.

“I’m sure you must be tired of having to run after all of us like a babysitter” I joke as his arms come to rest on my shoulders once I’m stable on my feet.

A glint crosses his eyes, “I do wonder how Charles managed, and then I remember he’s a telepath, so it must’ve been quite easy for him” he replies with a smirk gracing his face that makes me laugh a little.

“He still struggled, you shouldn’t compare yourself to the Professor”

He begins to lead me toward the couch behind us, helping me take a seat before joining me. I still feel a hot streak of shame across my stomach, having him help me. Burdening him.

“Sorry, by the way… You’re right, I should be a little more considerate of others” I mutter.

Erik turns to look at me as I avoid making eye contact, “I don’t believe those were my words…” his hand reaches out toward my chin, gently turning my head to face him, “I only ask of you to rest and care for yourself, forget what the others may think”

I blinked up at him, “The Professor always wanted me to push past my limits, so that I can perhaps get stronger… Control my powers better”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have to restrict your abilities, you could rule this planet with a wave of your hand, what you have is something to be proud of, not ashamed” he places his hand against my cheek and I find myself leaning against his warm touch, “Your mutation is a blessing, not a curse”

I scoff, “Sure doesn’t feel that way, I can’t even live among humans without shutting down an entire city’s power”

“Your powers shouldn’t be hidden, controlled, or restricted for the sake of humanity” he says the word with disdain, “but those are my beliefs, your existence is grand mein liebling”

My heart thumps against my chest loudly at his words. It feels… Intimate. How could he speak such high praise toward me?

“I see you hurt and I watch as you restrain yourself around others, as your mutation basically eats your body alive and it pains me…” his eyes gaze across my face, pausing at my lips before trailing back up to my eyes, “It pains me that you live in a world where you feel you cannot rest, where you feel you must hide the power within you”

“Erik…” I whisper, almost afraid to shatter the moment between us, “What are you… What are you saying…?” I peer into his eyes, seeing something brewing behind his gaze. Could it be possible that he’s… No, there’s no way.

“What do you believe I’m saying?” he whispers softly, leaning in toward me. I jump as a few sparks fly out from where he has his hand on my cheek. I can’t help my eyes dropping to his lips before rising back up to his eyes.

I feel the tension rise and in a desperate attempt to avoid it, I joke, “If I was delusional, I might think you’re trying to confess to me right now” I laugh a little to dispel the tension. His gaze was still just as intense so I failed, but I tried my best.

A smile graced his features, “Yes… Perhaps if you were delusional, you might see that I am actually confessing my feelings for you right now” he says it so casually I almost think he’s playing along with my joke, but as my eyes widen, so does his smile.

“Are you…?” my voice wavers a little. I feel my heart drop, realizing he’s probably joking with me. I turn away from his hand, lightly pushing his chest to put distance between us.

“Is this some sort of joke? Come on, Erik… You know that’s… It’s unrealistic” I mutter, a man like him would never love someone like me, that’s not how it works… Maybe in the movies, or in a fairytale perhaps.

“Mein liebling, perhaps I haven’t been clear enough with you” he wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in close, closer than before, “do you prefer a visual demonstration instead? I can give you that, you only need to ask” he smiles before slowly leaning in, giving me enough time to back out if I wished, but I find myself leaning in, eager to feel his lips against mine.

As soon as our lips locked together, sealed at last, a burst of electric sparks flew out from our lips and I giggled into the kiss. I mean, how ironic is that? I felt real, literal sparks and fireworks from the kiss and it made my lips tingly. Erik smiles into the kiss before deepening it, his hand rising up toward my hair while the other trailed down my back and I found myself desperate to be closer to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, clumsily climbing over to sit on his lap. We part right as I begin losing my breath and he trails a burning, tingly trail of kisses down my jaw before he stops by my ear.

With a whisper that blew across the nape of my neck, “I see more than just greatness in you, so much more…” The words are charged with intention, passion, and sincerity. I shudder as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I bite back a moan as he continues kissing down my neck. I take a sharp breath in as he begins sucking on a tender spot before I suddenly realize what we’re doing…

Where we’re doing it.

I turn slightly to peek at the windows, making sure the others are still thoroughly distracted with playing before I feel Erik bite my skin and a moan breaks out, “Wait! Erik… We’re… In the lounge…”

He lifts his head, and the dark look in his blue eyes makes me clench my legs in anticipation, “We’ll just have to be fast… And quiet… Can you do that?” He taunts me with a question I don’t even get the chance to answer before he lays me down on the couch, climbing over me, “I’m just helping you relax, that’s not a sin, is it?” He looks down at me with a hungry gaze and I feel my cheeks burn.

“I guess not”

“Show me what else you can do with these sparks of yours”

[the-catboy-minyan]

lets set some things straight:

if you see an ad talking about Jewish hate and your knee-jerk reaction is to be openly hateful to all Jews, the ad was made for you.

if you see an ad talking about Jewish hate and your knee-jerk reaction is to scream "but what about the bad jews from Israel that are killing Palestinians???", the ad was made for you.

if you see an ad talking about Jewish hate and your knee-jerk reaction is to say "the ad was made by zionists so it's invalid", the ad was made for you.

if you see an ad talking about discrimination against a marginalised group and your knee-jerk reaction is to:

call them all evil

call some of them evil

claim it's propaganda by the evil members of the marginalised group to distract you from them being evil

make sure people know you don't hate the marginalised group, you only hate those who hold a political beliefs that's heavily integrated into their history of discrimination

then maybe you need to look in the mirror and ask yourself if you're part of the problem.

because this sounds exactly like the response to 9/11.

[orphiclovers]

Rereading early ORV and I have some THOUGHTS on Kim Dokja. In typical me fashion, they are unpopular. So if he's your absolute favourite character and seeing him be criticized will ruin your day, maybe skip this post, ok? Peace.

-

What is so novel and interesting about Kim Dokja is that he GENUINELY doesn't really have a knee jerk emotional reaction of outrage and empathy when seeing injustice happen. He sees something immoral and bad, but doesn't FEEL horrified and disgusted. Emotions don't drive him to attempt to fix the situation or save anyone.

Instead his moral compass is based on the simple logic that 'bad things happening should be prevented if there is an opportunity to prevent them.'

This philosophy is the most apparent in his actions in Chungmuro on the WHOLE, with the food and marginalized group and etc. But I will point out this moment in particular as an example of what I mean.

They see women be driven to prostitution to survive. Jung Heewon has an instinctive, human reaction of outrage and disgust, wants to rush in and save them and damn the consequences, while Kim Dokja is calm and rational, holding her back and saying those woman will starve if they try to help right now.

This lack of empathy (feeling strong emotions) is definitely due to childhood trauma stunting his emotional development but... that doesn't change the fact this is a legitimate part of his personality now.

Usually, when a character is 'cold and ruthless', it's because they are repressing their true feelings and forcing themselves to be unfeeling for some goal. Like Yoo Joonghyuk, for example.

But we are IN Kim Dokja's head and get to see the way he thinks, and being 'unfeelingly rational' IS what comes naturally to him.

Before you say anything, I know the Fourth Wall represses some of his emotions in certain situations and certainly helps him deal with pain and horror. But we are ALWAYS TOLD when it's active, and it isn't in these moments.

Blaming all of Kim Dokja's less than moral thoughts and behavior on the 4th wall even when there's no indication that it's influencing him at that particular moment, is not something I want to do as it feels like an attempt to scrub away his moral greyness. I choose to believe that his narration, in moments when he's not wrong or biased or 4th wall-ed, is a basically accurate representation of his character. I think the authors didn't make his narration totally 100% unreliable all the time, with no possible indication of where he's wrong or right. Because that would mean there is nothing a reader can latch onto and draw conclusions about KDJ from.

If they wanted to write about a faceless self insert with no concrete personality traits and flaws, a person you can headcanon to be anything, they wouldn't have written ORV.

I think it's okay to acknowledge Kim Dokja's first reaction to seeing a woman about to be raped is not 'oh my god...those bastards...! I have to stop this...!' but '...she might be dangerous or a hinderence in a future...'

We don't need to make excuses here and try to justify this. A moment later he catches himself thinking like this and 'shudders with disgust at himself.'

His first, instinctive thoughts that he can't control don't necessarily make him a bad person. What matters is his second thoughts and what he actually chooses to do, which he CAN control. I ALSO don't think he's wrong to feel disgusted at himself for having low empathy. His guilt is justified.

I genuinely like him even more for always picking the 'moral option' in every scenario now, than if he did it immediately with no hesitation. Because it makes empathy and compassion a constant choice he's making, and putting in the effort reflects well on what his values are.

Kim Dokja legitimately can't help but weigh everyone he meets on a scale of how 'useful they potenially are' first and foremost. He does this with strangers and also with all of kimcom too.

"Who should I save because they would be useful in the future? I wasn't Yoo Joonghyuk to be thinking about these things." At this point, chap 74, he thinks Yoo Joonghyuk is wrong and doesn't want to be like him at all and mostly calls him a psychopath. He thinks 'acting like him' is wrong and undesirable.

He has a mini arc about Yoo Joonghyuk later, goes from 'he's a bad person, I know it because I know everything about him' in chap 81 to 'maybe I don't know him at all' in chap 82 but this is before that.

Seeing people as tools and deciding who to save based on future knowledge is a thing BOTH of them do. Yet Kim Dokja critisizes Yoo Joonghyuk for it, it's his least favourite character trait that YJH of TWSA has.

And in typical Kim Dokja fashion, this similarity between them is exactly what he despises in Yoo Joonghyuk - but now we find out it's not because he finds it amoral ("I'm not a humanist" - he doesn't care about that part) but because he sees it as a mirror reflection of himself. He's projecting, as always!

In early ORV, he hates the part of Yoo Joonghyuk that is the most similar to himself. (even tho they're sort of the polar opposites too. Yoo Joonghyuk is a deeply emotionally driven person, he feels empathy and the desire to save everyone but chooses to repress and ignore this and act like a ruthless 'psychopath'. KDJ disagrees with this choice, as Kim Dokja IS an unfeeling psychopath (low empathy) but does his best to act like a decent person and not an edgelord.)

[asynca]

I'd like to provide another perspective to "don't tell people who don't want children that they will want kids one day".

I'm actually the person they're talking about. I was very certain I didn't want kids as a teenager. Very certain in my 20s. Very certain, almost militantly anti-having kids in my 30s. In fact, my wife and I bonded over not wanting children.

Then, at 38, we changed our minds at the last minute and ended up having two kids and being super happy with the choice.

However, I think I lost like 75% of my friends as a result. I had friends straight up tell me "it feels like a betrayal" for us deciding to have kids. In those words. I had people no longer have any interest in my life - in more than just a 'drift into different interests because we're doing different things' way. In a "fuck you" way.

It super hurt, but I think it's very much influenced by how marginalised women (and perhaps also other genders) who choose not to have children are. If people weren't treated paternalistically over the choice not to have children and treated like they didn't know and understand their own minds, it wouldn't have caused such a knee-jerk reaction in these people when I decided to. It wouldn't feel like I was proving all the assholes right just by changing my mind. It wouldn't feel like I was betraying them and 'selling out' when I decided I wanted kids.

Treating people like they don't know their minds with regards to not wanting kids hurts them if they continue not to want kids, but it will also impact people who eventually decide to have kids.

Part of the reason I second-guessed myself for an entire year about wanting kids was because I wasn't sure if I really wanted them or I was caving to external pressure, and the other part was feeling like I was proving the paternalistic assholes right by changing my mind.

Believe people when they say they want kids... but also allow them (and yourself) the flexibility to understand that sometimes people change in ways they themselves don't expect to.

[serana666]

Getting on my soapbox about something I think is REALLY important for chronically ill ppl to think about.

Being undiagnosed and disabled is a terrible experience. You’re screaming into the medical void for ANYONE to please SEE YOU and help. You start thinking “is it just me? Could it just be in my head? What’s wrong with ME?”

And I’m here to tell you, it’s 👏🏻NOT YOU👏🏻 it’s THEM. (The doctors)

I have been through the grueling process of becoming totally disabled by chronic illness, without knowing what it could be. I picked up diagnosis’ along the way: RA, then lupus, then fibro. And I am LUCKY that my blood worked with me to show those things, not everyone is so lucky.

I kept thinking (foolishly buying into the narrative doctors try and sell you) that if I could just get a *serious* diagnosis I would finally be given access to the care I needed, that ALL disabled people need. That was never the case at any step in the process.

When I was diagnosed with RA and began having symptoms outside of it, that were completely debilitating my rheumatologist told me I just needed more exercise and activity. I told them specifically I had fatigue so strong that I was loosing the ability for basic functioning.

When I found a new rheumatologist and was diagnosed with lupus I thought my troubles were over. Then she started saying weird shit like “do you have a boyfriend? You’re so pretty!”

She found out I was a lesbian when I brought my girlfriend to my appointment to be my advocate. Her whole demeanor changed to me and I spent 6-8 months with her receiving no treatment. They kept saying “oh it’s the insurance” nope they sent me letters telling me this office was not following up.

So I moved to a blue state literally out of fear that I would die waiting on these bigoted doctors. I got a rhum in a blue state. I was diagnosed with secondary fibro. Again, I foolishly believed I would finally be in the clear. No, she still minimizes and blinks at me when I describe my pain.

Doctors are not our allies, even though they should be above all else. They find ANY excuse to minimize us. So if you are someone who is undiagnosed or with a diagnosis that is misunderstood/not taken seriously , they will milk that for all it’s worth. 👏🏻ITS NOT YOU👏🏻

I’ve seen people in disabled communities minimized for their race, their weight, their gender, their sexuality/queerness, their age, their diagnosis or the lack thereof, ITS NOT YOU!

You know your body, and the pain you feel BETTER than any doctor that has been trained to systemically ignore you!

Don’t let them tell you what your reality is. It’s such a knee jerk reaction for minorities to do this to themselves.

You deserve medical care that isn’t contingent on your doctors bias’. We NEED more empathy. Don’t let their disregard for your life leak into the love you NEED to give yourself. 💕

[hayakawalove]

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater

Summary: You're happy with your husband, you swear. Except you actually aren't. You're so unhappy in fact, that you find yourself in a cheap bar late one night. Two men find you, and it leads to a night of fun.

A/N: Yeah. It goes without saying that I DON'T CONDONE CHEATING! I don't know why I wrote this. I actually used to really hate cheating fics, so much so that I would filter the tag out. They used to trigger me super bad. I'm not sure why I wrote this. Maybe as a way of doing exposure therapy, maybe just to practice writing things I normally don't write. Whatever the case is, here you go. I hope y'all enjoy! As always, I appreciate your guys comments so much, seriously!

CW: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cheating (You Cheat on Your Husband), Hand Jobs, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Finger Sucking, Spit Kink, Protected Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Cum Swallowing, Hook-Up, No Strings Attached, Reader Feels Bad (Doesn't Last Long), Hair-pulling, Female Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 6,154

Credit to cafekitsune for the banner

You’re happy. 

You really are. 

Those are the words you find yourself repeating like a mantra, a self assuring prayer on a loop in your mind. 

You have a great life. 

A wonderful job, a nice house, the perfect husband. 

People live their entire lives searching for what you’ve been so graciously dealt. 

So why did it feel like you were lying to yourself when you repeated that mantra? 

The words felt uneasy in your mind at first, the weight of them feeling unknown on your tongue. You’d never really thought about it before. Were you happy? The more you told yourself that you were, the more the saying turned your stomach sour. 

You were happy. You were happy. You were happy. 

You weren’t happy. 

At first, it began like a tingle in the back of your throat. Not disruptive, but most certainly there, no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. It was the most obvious when you felt like you should be grateful for something.

Before going to bed at night, finishing a big project at work, when your husband kissed your cheek. 

The doubt simmers in your gut, barely a blip on your radar.

It was hardly noticeable, until it wasn’t. 

The thought became a raging forest fire, drowning out all your other senses. Every day was the same. It was so boring. Nothing lit a spark in you. 

You weren’t sure how to even remedy it. Not only that, but you would listen to your friends talk about their lives, and how it was monotonous for them as well. Maybe life just had to be like this. 

There’s a pit in your stomach as you walk to your car. You really didn’t want to go home tonight. Not when you knew your loving husband would be waiting for you; not when you knew you had all the reasons in the world to be happy, but you just weren’t. 

“Hey, sexy lady!” A man’s voice rings out around you. 

When you flick your head around you see a man who’s much older than you sizing you up. Your knee jerk reaction is to be disgusted, but you aren’t, not fully at least. 

You’re flattered. 

When was the last time someone paid you a compliment like that? Your husband told you you were beautiful all the time, but it felt rehearsed, like the words had lost their meaning. Sure, a stranger calling you sexy was a bit half assed, but at least it was real.

“Thank you! But I’m married-“ you reply, even though the man is long gone by now. 

You straighten your shoulders and open your car door, accepting the fluke. 

~~~

You’re craving the attention again. 

You feel like an addict craving their next hit. You didn’t want anything else, other than a bit of attention from a stranger. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? 

Over the next couple of days you craft a plan. You were going to get dressed up and go to a bar, nothing major. You just wanted to put yourself in a situation where you could receive attention, maybe get a couple of compliments. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Your husband texted you to inform you that he would be at the office late tonight. You try to ignore the pang of guilt that shoots through you when you tell him that it’s okay, you wouldn’t be doing much anyway. 

Liar.

The dress you’re wearing feels a bit too tight, fitting to your form like another layer of skin. You hadn’t worn it in years. There never was any need to. You and your husband didn't go on dates much anymore, instead choosing to settle down for movie nights or dinner. 

Your makeup is more extreme than usual. It highlights all your favorite features, and the colors are a bit dramatic. Even though it felt different, you had to admit that you looked good. 

You fiddle with your ring, watching the way it catches the light. Reluctantly, you pull it off and put it in your purse. You feel naked not wearing it. Hopefully, more people would compliment you if you didn’t have it on.

You sling your purse over your shoulder and turn your phone off, you wouldn’t be needing it anyway, sliding your high heels on. 

The bar you decide on is on the furthest edge of town, in a much seedier neighborhood. On any chosen day you wouldn’t be caught dead on this side of town, and neither would any of your loved ones. Which is precisely why you chose to be there in the first place. 

Nobody would recognize you. Not that it would be a problem if they did, you remind yourself. You weren’t doing anything wrong. 

The bar is loud as you enter, eager voices discussing a variety of topics over cheap alcohol. The smell of liquor is strong, the astringent scent nearly burning the inside of your nostrils. 

You slide over to the counter and take a seat on one of the rickety stools. It’d be a miracle if it doesn’t break under your weight, it looks like it’s two seconds from collapsing on its own. 

You order a mixed drink and smile as the bartender passes it to you, your heart fluttering at the way he grins back. 

Validation springs throughout your body. It feels like you’re being rejuvenated, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

See? What you were doing wasn’t so bad. 

“What's a fine young thing like yourself doing over here?” 

When you turn around to catch a glimpse of the man shamelessly hitting on you, you feel your stomach turn. You had never seen someone so attractive before. 

A head full of soft white hair, messy in an almost endearing way. You can’t catch a glimpse of his eyes due to the sunglasses that rest on his nose. On anyone else it would come off as douchey, it was dark out and you were inside a bar, but for him it seemed oddly fitting. 

There’s a cocky grin on his face as he leans against the counter where you sit. He’s close enough that you can smell the soap he used to scrub himself with. An intoxicating scent, cedarwood and bergamot.

“Enjoying some alone time.” You reply, deciding on playing hard to get. 

It would be nice to see him continue to try, even if you didn’t make it easy. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I just had to tell you how gorgeous you were.” 

He didn’t sound sorry, didn’t look it either.

“I know.” You take a small sip of you drink, staring up at him as you do so. 

You would never be so forward in your day to day life. You much preferred to be humble. Humble was cute, humble was safe. 

You were tired of being safe. 

The strangers lips spread even further and you catch a glimpse of him running his tongue along his teeth. You can’t see, but you feel like he’s staring down at you, gaze assessing your features. You hope he likes what he sees. 

“Sir, can I get another one of these for her?” He flags down the bartender and motions to your drink. 

“I didn’t tell you I wanted another one.” You reply, stirring the drink you’re currently nursing. 

The man beside you raises a brow, before sliding out a wad of cash. He hands it to the bartender without looking away from you, confidence leaking from his pores. 

“You shouldn’t have to. A gentleman should be able to notice.”

You feel a heavy weight drop on top of you. He was right. True gentlemen should take note of the small things, right? 

Your husband hardly ever did. 

The crack inside your heart begins to deepen; you know there’s not going to be a way back from this. Do you mind that you won’t be able to recover? 

No. 

You don’t. 

You grin at him and toss back the rest of your drink before taking the new one from him. It’s cold against your hand, a sickly sweet scent wafting up from the cup. 

“Who’s your little friend?” A second voice enters.

You flick your eyes from the man beside you to see who’s talking. Long black locks and chestnut eyes. 

“Suguru. This is…” The first man talks.

You state your name, nerves beginning to take hold in your chest. When it was just one of them it was fine, but two of them? 

“I’m Satoru Gojo, and this is Suguru Geto.” The original man says. “Pleased to meet you.” He finishes, dipping his face down to look at you above his glasses. 

Electric cerulean greets you, nearly taking your breath away. 

He smirks and pushes his glasses back up before tossing a look over his shoulder towards his friend.

Suguru circles around you, and you can’t help but let your eyes follow his movements. It feels like he’s sizing you up, a dark gleam in his gaze as he settles in the spot beside you.

It feels a bit like the walls are caving in on you, except the metaphorical walls are in the form of two bulky men. 

You wanted attention, that much was true, but you weren’t sure you were ready for this amount. 

“What brings you to this dive bar?” The one called Suguru questions. 

You take a sip of your drink as you ponder a response. What should you tell them? You were here with friends? The truth? 

“Needed to get out of the house.” You decide on. 

Well, it wasn’t completely wrong. 

“So you decided to come to this shit hole?” Satoru says. 

“You decided to come here too, didn’t you?” You reply back.

Satoru looks away, his bottom lip pouting out. It was a shit hole. The two men looked oddly out of place. Their clothes looked to be worth more than half your rent, and there was an effortless elegance flowing from them. You were sure that they belonged anywhere else. 

“We were just passing through town, and this was the first place we found.” Suguru responds for Satoru. 

You wonder how true that statement is. 

Could it be that the both of them are also running away from something in their personal lives? 

You could only hope. 

Maybe it would make you feel less guilty. 

Suguru’s nursing a whiskey now, lips shining in the low light from the tantalizing liquid. It’s a bit hypnotizing, watching the way his lips pucker as he takes measured sips. 

You feel like nothing can break you from the trance you’re in, nothing that is, until something brushes your thighs. It’s Satoru’s fingers, skimming your skin under the guise of tugging your dress down. 

“I like your dress,” Satoru murmurs, his knuckles causing goosebumps to erupt along your thighs. 

You watch as he slowly drags his fingers back, letting your eyes trail up until you reach his face, only to see that he’s already staring at you. 

“Yeah?” You ask, breathless.

Satoru hums and flicks his gaze back down to your legs. There’s lead in your stomach as you watch his pupils flicker. You can only guess what’s on his mind. 

“Say, do you have any plans for the night?” Suguru questions, settling his arm around the back of your chair. 

His thumb brushes against your shoulder, making your breath stagger. The ambiance is more than heavy, a thick understanding settling over the three of you. 

“No, I don't.” You take one last sip of your drink before looking at the boys once more. 

“Want to go have some fun, then?” Satoru asks, an evil glint in his eyes. 

You begin to understand how Eve could not resist the temptation.

“Please,” you all but plead.

You reach a hand out and Satoru laces his fingers in yours, tugging you along until you’re forced to navigate through the crowds in the bar. There’s a heat behind you, and you register it as Suguru’s presence shortly following after you. 

There’s something bubbling up in your stomach, anticipation you think, as you watch the back of Satoru’s head. 

He’s so tall. 

You briefly wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair. Would it be soft? Would he like the way it feels? 

Satoru pushes the bar door open, a gust of wind whipping your face. The sensation almost shocks you to your senses, but Satoru doesn’t allow it. 

He slows down and stops beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. You’re being tugged beside him, smooshed against his lean frame as he walks you to their car. 

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he comments, whispering into the crown of your head. 

Your stomach flips. You think he may be right. 

Suguru walks ahead and spins keys around his fingers before unlocking the car. You’re unable to recognize the brand, only able to see that it’s expensive. 

Satoru opens the passenger door and you’re greeted with fine black leather. It dawns on you that someone’s going to have to sit in the back. 

How was this going to work? 

Were you supposed to sit in the back? 

Wouldn’t that be weird? 

When you come to, you see that Satoru’s already sitting in the front seat, his hand holding yours as he looks up at you with an expectant gaze. 

“Come on.” He murmurs. 

He pulls you closer, spreading his legs to make room for you. He wants you to sit on his lap? 

You look around, noticing how empty the parking lot is. You were already making bad choices, so you figure you may as well go all in. 

You inch in the car, settling on top of his lap. His thighs are warm beneath you, your exposed legs shifting back and forth. He shuts the door, settling his hands on your body while Suguru starts the car. You never once stop to think about how this may be considered dangerous, all you can think about is how you want more of it. 

“Ready, princess?” Suguru’s voice is like velvet as it comes out. 

As ready as you’ll ever be. 

“Yes.” You fake confidence, shining a grin that feels entirely too exaggerated. 

Suguru chuckles and reverses the car, the action fluid. Satoru’s still holding onto your thighs, the proximity to him causing your heart to race. You don’t know who to focus on. Even their hands have you in a trance. Suguru’s fingers grip the steering wheel, knuckles making your mouth water, while Satoru holds your legs, his palms suspiciously moving further up.

You can feel the outline of something beneath you, and you think you know what it is, but you want to be sure. 

You shimmy your ass a bit, turning your head over your shoulder to look at Satoru. There’s a dangerous grin on his face as he looks at you over his glasses. 

“Careful there, baby.” He warns. 

Your mouth immediately dries, desperation crawling up the back of your throat. The outline below you is much thicker than it was several minutes ago. He was hard. 

The engine stops, and your stomach turns over. You’re stopped at a hotel. It’s on the nicer side of town, luckily the part of the city none of your friends ventured to. The building in front of you is at least twenty stories high, the air of wealth floating over to you. 

Just what did these guys do for a living? 

“Come on.” Satoru says, patting your thigh twice. 

You snap out of it and hop out of the car, eyes drawing to the two men next to you. Suguru stuffs his keys in his pocket and slides beside you, snaking his arm up your back. His hand rests against the nape of your neck, softly holding you. The act feels borderline protective.

You peer up at him and he grants you a smile before leading you next to him, guiding you by your neck towards the hotel entrance. It’s even nicer on the inside than it is on the outside. 

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling, you know that it must be made of glass but at first glance it looks like diamonds. There’s little dots along the walls from the reflection of the fine material, hypnotizing you. A soft tune echoes in the background, Mozart you think, that lulls you into a sense of relaxation. 

“Good afternoon.” The check in attendant nods at Suguru. 

Does this scene look weird to him? 

Suguru acts as though it’s completely normal, dipping his head down in response before facing forward again, heading towards the elevators. Maybe it was normal for Suguru. 

Maybe they’d done this countless times before, and you weren’t special. You have to remind yourself that that’s the point. You weren’t any better. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re objectively worse. Tonight wouldn’t mean anything. Just a quick, nasty fuck. 

Out of your periphery you see Satoru jab his finger into the elevator button. He seems a bit impatient. Excited, maybe. 

He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking up as the numbers on the screen decrease, indicating the elevator was inching closer and closer. 

He’s a bit beautiful. 

You knew that before. But his beauty looks different under the fine chandelier light of the hotel. The way he looked in the dingy bar, although still incredibly attractive, was a far cry from how he appears now. Almost ethereal, you’d say. The warm glow of the lights above make him look like a painting. 

Suguru’s the same as Satoru. The lighting and surroundings of the hotel are making him appear even more stunning than before. When you peer up at him, he glances down and grins back at you. It feels like you’ve been caught red handed. You look away quickly, just in time to watch the elevator doors slide open. 

Satoru hops in and waits for you and Suguru to enter before pressing ‘18’. 

The music inside the elevator is much more quiet, yet you’re still grateful for it. You’re nervous, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides. It was hard to believe that you were really doing this. The soft piano helps soothe your nerves, as you will your mind to stop racing.

Suguru’s hand slides off your neck and you find yourself almost missing the sensation. The warmth from his palm fades away, along with the sense of protection it provided. 

You only have a moments reprieve before the other man jumps at you. 

Satoru’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his tongue smoothing along your bottom lip. You groan in surprise before following along, letting your hands slide up his shirt. 

He’s muscular. 

Images flash in your brain of what he may look like shirtless. Your mind paints up a mouthwatering scene, full of hard lines and bulging muscles.

Your mouth opens to accept him, his tongue quickly entangling with yours. It’s hot and messy. Spit dribbles from the sides of your lips, and you can hardly catch your breath. 

“Don’t be so greedy, Satoru.” Suguru chides. 

Shit, you had almost forgotten he was there. 

Embarrassment fills your veins instantly. It suddenly hits you that you were going to have sex with both of them. How was this going to work? The idea seems daunting. 

Satoru grunts in retaliation and you almost think he doesn’t want to share. The man proves you wrong though, when he tugs you forward towards him. His body crashes against yours, and you have to hold his firm biceps to stabilize yourself. Suguru glides behind you, his hands quickly finding your hips. 

You’re trapped. 

Satoru parts from your lips, a thin string of saliva snapping once he removes himself. Your mind is crowded by lust as you look up at him with heavy lids. 

You want more. 

It’s a good thing there were two of them. 

Suguru grips your chin from behind and turns your head sideways, pressing his mouth against yours. His lips aren’t as sweet as Satoru, but it makes your knees weak all the same. 

Suguru is more methodical in his approach. He waits until you’re reaching a hand down, squeezing his arm against your waist. With a chuckle he parts his lips, sliding his tongue along your mouth, the movement painfully slow.

Satoru has moved his focus to your neck now. He’s kissing and biting down the column of your throat, the heat from his breathing making you shiver. You use your other hand to glide through his hair, urging him forward to continue his attack on your throat. 

Only when he starts sucking do you realize the severity of his actions. 

“N-no hickeys.” You tear yourself away from Suguru to say. 

Satoru looks at you for a second before chuckling, dragging his tongue up your throat. “Sure thing, princess.” 

Your shoulders sag in relief as you feel Satoru begin to go easy on you, only licking and kissing your tender flesh. You’re grateful you caught him in time. 

Suguru kisses you once more and you moan, a sound that spurs the two men on. Satoru raises a hand to paw at your breasts through your dress, and Suguru’s grip has tightened. 

The elevator dings just in time. 

Your entanglement felt longer than a life time, but it couldn’t have been more than two minutes. Suguru reluctantly tears himself away from you, watching as you catch your breath. Satoru is a bit more stubborn, only stopping once you say his name. 

Luckily the hallway in front of you is empty. The three of you step out, and you let them guide you to their room. 

“Here we are.” Satoru murmurs. 

Suguru, apparently master of the keys, lifts up a card and unlocks the door. When it opens he pushes the door in, letting you and Satoru go first. 

The room is huge. 

There’s a living room with a decent sized kitchen, along with two doors that can only lead to what you assume to be bedrooms. 

“Home sweet home,” Satoru lifts up a hand, waving it towards their hotel room. “Well, I guess hotel sweet hotel-“ 

“Satoru.” You all but plead, looking up at him desperately. 

His eyes flick down to you and he grins before stepping closer. 

“Sorry baby, you need something, huh?” He crashes his lips against yours again. 

The kiss is even more urgent this time around. Satoru lifts his glasses up blindly, before walking backwards to lead you further inside. 

You reach behind your back and pat around, trying to feel for your zipper. You need your clothes off now. When you don’t feel the flimsy tab, you turn around and look over your shoulder as if that will help any.  

“Keep having your fun, princess.” Suguru murmurs, his fingers expertly finding the elusive zipper. 

You whine and face forward again, kissing Satoru once more. Suguru carefully pulls it down, a cool rush of air grazing your back once it’s open. 

He leans down and kisses your spine, slowly making his way up while you shove your tongue down Satoru’s throat. 

The room’s spinning, you’re sure of it. 

Suguru takes his lips off your back so he can slide the dress off your shoulders, his hands grazing your skin causing you to break out in goosebumps. 

The dress falls to the floor, leaving you exposed in only your bra and underwear. It was an expensive set, one you had bought years ago yet hadn’t gotten much of a use out of. 

Satoru pulls his lips away to glance down at your figure before looking back up at your face. Your lips are swollen, eyes fluttering in need. 

“Shit…” he whispers to himself before kissing you again. 

Suguru’s hands roam your body, letting you have your playtime as he explores your skin. His palms glide against your stomach and thighs, moving slowly. 

You must be soaked already. 

Satoru tears himself back again, hands reaching for his shirt. He undresses in a matter of seconds, leaving himself only in his underwear. His body is even more amazing than you had conjured up in your mind. 

He was muscular without being overtly so, leaning more towards the body of a runner. His skin is pale, matching the tone of his hair. 

You run your hands up his stomach to his chest, letting your fingers dance along the grooves of his muscles. His head hangs low as he watches you drag your nails against him. 

Suguru stands next to you as he pulls his shirt off his head, the action catching your eye. You turn around and allow your gaze to float down to his chest. He looks just as perfect as Satoru. 

You tug Suguru closer and kiss him, his slow pace allowing you a chance to recuperate. 

“Want you to sit on my face.” Satoru says, his hands skirting along your body. 

So much for recuperating. 

“O-okay.” 

Satoru leads you and Suguru into one of the bedrooms before making himself comfortable on the bed. His form takes up the whole length of the bed, head at the end as he looks up expectantly. 

You look over your shoulder to see Suguru watching you. His lids are heavy as he stares at you, desire unmistakably falling over his features. He dips his head as if he was comforting you, or giving you permission. You slide your underwear off before tossing a leg over Satoru’s face, lowering yourself just above his mouth. You’re facing the end of the bed, Suguru standing in front of you. 

“So fucking wet.” Satoru mumbles to himself before sticking his tongue out, tugging your hips down until he meets your pussy. 

“F-fuck!” You moan, your hand latching onto his white locks. 

“That feel good?” Suguru asks. 

You bite your lip and look up at him, watching as his hand reaches down to unbuckle his pants. The sight makes you flustered. He maintains eye contact as he tugs them down, his cock still contained behind his underwear. 

“Open.” He says in a hushed tone. 

Your lips part, jaw dropping open at his order. 

“Atta girl.” 

Suguru eases his thumb into your mouth, watching as your lips wrap around him. You suck softly, bobbing your head as you lick the sides of his thumb. 

He looks delighted as you perform for him. You try your best to focus on the task at hand, but Satoru is making it increasingly difficult. His tongue is sticking out, flicking against your swollen clit. He drags it down before teasing your entrance, poking in several times before retreating to suck on your nub. 

You tug at his hair, grinding your body down against him. His hands have a tight grip on your ass, helping you hump against his mouth. 

“There you go, ride my fucking face.” Satoru growls below you. 

Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure coursing through your body. 

Suguru uses his other hand to pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to jump free. Everything feels too good. When you look back down, the sight makes you lightheaded. His cock is hard, tip leaky with anticipation as he watches you. 

He pumps it several times before reaching down to grab your free hand. Suguru wraps it around his cock, giving you free reign to pump him. 

His thumb never leaves your mouth. You’re sort of glad it doesn’t. If it did, you aren’t sure how loud you would be moaning. 

Suguru looks at your face as you begin to jack him off. He’s far more interested in watching you suck his thumb.

Satoru sucks on your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your body. You can feel yourself drip into him. 

“You gonna cum for us? On Satoru’s face?” Suguru coos. 

You moan around his thumb and squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck, you were going to cum on Satoru’s face. Soon, probably. 

Your palm slides down Suguru’s cock as your fist fucks him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, his precum making the glide that much easier. 

Satoru speeds his actions up, his lips wrapped tightly around your nub. Your body tightens up in response, and you begin to cum. 

Satoru aides you through your orgasm, sucking the entire time as you twist above him. Your hand slows against Suguru’s cock as you pant around his thumb. 

Satoru flicks his tongue against your clit slowly before removing his mouth from you, allowing you to slide off his face. 

He sits up once you’re off, his chin completely covered in your essence. You’re almost embarrassed. Satoru looks unaffected, letting his tongue clean the cum on his lips. 

“Let’s go baby.” Satoru says. 

Suguru eases his thumb from your mouth, chuckling at the whimper you let out. You were really starting to get into it, too. 

Satoru helps you get onto your hands and knees, facing forward towards Suguru. Suguru reaches down to unclasp your bra, pulling it off your body before tossing it to the side. Your nipples instantly harden from the cold air. 

Satoru smoothes his hands down your back while admiring your trembling form beneath him. Aftershocks from your previous orgasm were still racking through your body. He tears his gaze away to look at the bedside table, grumbling before he finds what he’s looking for. You hear the sound of a condom being opened as you stare at Suguru’s cock. 

Would you be able to fit that in your mouth? 

“Alright,” Satoru mumbles, sliding the condom on before lining himself up with your entrance.

You part your lips, waiting for Suguru to slide himself in your mouth. Satoru’s cock pokes at your entrance, pushing past as he sinks into your pussy. You groan, your walls rushing to accommodate the stretch. 

Satoru’s jaw is clenched as he looks down, watching your pussy greedily accept him, squeezing his cock until he’s finally all of the way in. 

He pauses for a moment, and you slip Suguru’s cock into your mouth. His tip eases past your lips, precum dripping onto your taste buds as he pushes himself in further. 

You gag a bit, nose flaring as you try to breathe around his cock. It’s more difficult than you anticipated, drool sliding down your chin as you go as far as you can. 

Satoru begins to shallowly pump inside you, while Suguru starts to rock his hips. 

It doesn’t take long before Satoru is fucking you properly, the slick of your cum making it easy to glide inside you. Suguru lets you control the pace, bobbing your head against his cock as you swallow around him. 

Satoru pushes against your gspot with each thrust, the sensation making you moan around Suguru. 

This felt so good, you were left wondering why you didn’t do it sooner. 

Satoru groans behind you, feeling like his cock was being choked by your pussy. He reaches down and his fingers find your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You moan and your pussy tightens around Satoru in reaction. 

“Thaaaat’s it.” Satoru sounds almost breathless. “Bet your husband doesn’t fuck you this good, does he?” 

You stutter around Suguru, confusion sparking inside you. 

Husband?

How did he know?

Satoru laughs loudly, continuing to fuck into you. 

“What? You didn’t think we’d notice?” Suguru inserts himself into the discussion. “There’s a tan line around your ring finger, darling.”

Satoru thrusts into you even harder. “No hickeys? Come on.” His fingers speed up around your clit, making you moan against Suguru. “So I’ll repeat myself, your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” 

The humiliation was almost suffocating, yet it turned you on so badly you could hardly stand it. 

Suguru pulls himself from your throat, watching as you loudly gasp for air. 

You feel ruined. But you like it. 

“N-no,” you moan out. 

“No? That’s right.” Satoru mumbles under his breath. 

With each thrust it feels like he’s knocking all common sense from you. Your fingers dig into the sheets below, hoping it will relieve some of the pressure but all it manages to do is crumple the bedding. 

Suguru presses himself back into your throat, throwing his head back as you bob your head along him. You run your tongue down the sides of his cock, stroking him as you suck. 

“Can tell you aren’t happy with him, you just needed to be fucked properly, is that right?” Satoru continues. 

You moan around Suguru, unable to reply. Satoru understands the sentiment, pressing harder against your clit. You tighten up around him again, unable to control the way your cunt squeezes him. He keeps filling you up, his cock somehow pressing into all the right places. You’re getting close to cumming again, body begging for the sensation once more. 

Satoru’s hands are gripping your hips hard, so hard that there’s a voice in the back of your brain telling you he may leave marks, but you’re in too deep already. Drool is seeping from your lips, hanging in strings down your chin as you swallow Suguru’s cock. You wonder who’s going to cum first. 

Your orgasm inches closer, made possible by the strum of Satoru’s fingers against your needy clit. He’s groaning behind you, the sounds spurring you on. 

“Come on, come on baby. Cum on my cock.” He urges with a groan. 

Your pussy clenches around his cock hard and you release, cumming harder than you ever have before. 

“Just like that, just like that.” He talks you through it, a whimper breaking his voice. 

Suguru makes good use of your slack jaw, pounding so hard into your throat that you surmise it’s going to bruise. There’s no oxygen in your brain, no thoughts in your head, just pure bliss as you cum on Satoru. 

“You’re gonna make me-“ Satoru lets out a long moan, hips jerking against you, his cock twitching as he fills the condom with his cum. 

You’re trying to breathe heavily through your nose as you come down, allowing Suguru to use you as he sees fit. His face is concentrated as he stares down at you, admiring the mess you’ve become as he fucks your throat. He swears under his breath before coming to a stop, spurting hot cum in your mouth. 

You struggle to swallow it all, briefly feeling like you were drowning in the fluid, before you gulp it down. It’s messy, some of his cum paints your lips as he slides his now softening cock out of your mouth. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your mixed panting, bodies all entering a state of relaxation. Satoru eases himself from your pussy, inhaling sharply as he slips out. He removes the condom, tying it before tossing it into the bin beside the bed. You’re in complete bliss, fucked out from every orifice. 

Suguru smoothes your hair down and finds a washcloth to wipe the filth from your lips, smiling to himself at your expression. 

“You can stay the night, if you’d like.” Satoru says as he relaxes on the bed. 

He glances at the clock and ascertains that it’s much later than you were intending. You mumble to yourself and nod, not fully comprehending what ramifications may be waiting at home for you. 

Satoru opens the blankets for you, waiting as Suguru cleans between your legs. The actions are a bit sweet. Everything is. You were expecting them to kick you to the curb after you had sex, so you’re pleasantly surprised when they slide in bed next to you, laying on either side. 

Satoru’s arms are wrapped tightly around your frame as you nod off, and you feel truly happy for the first time in years. 

~~~

You aren’t sure what wakes you up in the morning. Your internal clock, maybe. Your body is sore as you groan, flipping onto your back. The hotel ceiling greets you as you crack your eyes open. A brief bit of panic courses through you. 

So last night was real, huh? 

You turn your head and notice the bed beside you is completely devoid of anyone else, both men seemingly having vanished. You aren’t sure if you feel more sad or relieved. Sad because you enjoyed their presence, but relieved because now you could pretend like nothing happened. 

Is that what you wanted to do? 

You were having a hard time believing that that would be easy, that you could go back to your old life and be content when you knew there was so much more out there. 

You sit up and look towards the clock. You were in deep shit. There’s a note on the beside table that catches your attention. You lift it up, reading the words on the page. It fills you with a deep sense of satisfaction once you notice a phone number on it.

“Call us if you want to have a good time. -Satoru and Suguru.” 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @mikisspeak, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothicwhore666, @bunviixo

If you want to be tagged just let me know, please specify what you want to be tagged in