#How to Communicate in a Business Crisis

[borderlinereminders]

If you’re someone who needs reassurance from loved ones that they love you, that’s really valid. But the way you ask for it matters. Hinting at it with comments like “nobody loves me” can actually be hurtful to your loved ones. It’s also a good idea to try and reassure yourself first!

The truth is that for a lot of people, giving reassurance constantly is exhausting. It can lead to issues in a relationship over time, and negative feelings on both sides because they may end up avoiding the other person. This is especially true if someone doesn't ask for reassurance directly but hints at it with things like "No one cares about me."

My advice is if you are finding yourself struggling is to first try and self soothe either with skills or things that have helped in the past. Here is my post on self-soothing ideas! And if that doesn’t work, then ask for it in a healthy way.

Some other examples.

Keep screenshots, letters, cards etc that affirm you are cared about by your loved ones. You can even ask someone to give you a recording of them saying it that you can listen to. Bonus: Keep these things in a self-care box that you can use in times of crisis and pull out that has other things in like affirmation cards, favourite treats, self care items, etc.

Examine the evidence. By this I mean try and keep a list of things they've done to show they care about you. For example, I have a list of things my partner has done for me besides saying "I love you" of both big things and little things that I can read when my brain decides to be rude to me and make me doubt he cares.

If the other person has done something specifically to make you feel they don't care, it's important to step back and look at the situation and check the facts. There's a difference between someone lying to you or doing something intentional and someone not replying to you because they got busy. Here’s my post on checking the facts!

Here’s a post on Challenging Irrational Thoughts!

ACCEPTS is a really good skill for distractions! Here's a post on it.

TIPP is a good skill if you are needing to calm down in immediate crisis. Here's a post on it.

If you're having urges to accuse your loved one of not caring, consider Urge Surfing (here's a post on it) and then using a skill or plan that helps you.

If you aren't able to self-soothe that's so valid! It really is. I recommend trying it because sometimes you will be able to. But then sometimes you won't be able to and that's okay. In this case, if you need to get it from someone, ask directly for it instead of doing it in a guilting/passive aggressive/hinting way. You might say "Hey. I know you care about me, but my brain is being rude. Can you please give me some reassurance?" instead of "Sorry I'm such a bad friend/person/burden/etc".

It might also be worth having a conversation when calm with the other person to establish some boundaries and ideas for communication.

For example, if your friend regularly feels drained by you asking for reassurance, they could set boundaries on how often they're okay for you to ask for it.

You both might decide that they will try and message you randomly to offer reassurance because it can mean a lot when that happens.

This might be where they send you messages/recordings/etc that you can read in times of need.

If the friend is doing something specifically, even unintentionally, that makes you question things then it's really valid to have a discussion about it! I recommend using some I-Statements or other communicative skills to talk about it. Even if they aren't doing something wrong, it's still valid to talk about your feelings and see if you can come up with a solution. For example, maybe it's really hard on you that they disappear randomly for a couple days when their energy levels plummet. And this causes you to spiral and think they're ghosting you or etc. In this situation, maybe you and your friend come up with a solution where you establish a single emoji (specific for this purpose) that the friend can send with low energy that says "Hey. It's not you but I'm feeling drained and need to not reply for a bit."

[dontforgetukraine]

Ukraine Donation Guide Master Post

(Ver. 2 updated Aug 13th, 2024) I will be reformatting this and adding more in the future when I have time.

Also a quick note, all of the groups I have found through twitter have been around long enough for them to be vetted by each other and the brigades they work with. In fact, a lot of these groups collaborate with each other too. Those that are in the fight for Ukraine have been diligent in calling out those that are grifters. Word spreads around quickly if an organization doesn't show up with what they promised. They also use their social media (often Twitter) as a means of transparency for their work.

Remember: When considering on whether to donate, always use your best judgement and donate to those you trust if you do not see what is listed is up to your standards.

Multi-Purpose

United 24 has various fundraisers dedicated to defense and drones, medical aid, rebuilding Ukraine, humanitarian demining, and science and education. You can pick which one you want to contribute to under their various projects.

Liberty Ukraine uses funds for humanitarian aid, medical supplies, protective gear and equipment, and rehabilitation therapy. You can choose which campaign of theirs to donate to.

Come Back Alive is a charitable foundation that supports Ukraine's military with competent assistance while also focusing on security and defense. They also have projects that use sports to help veterans rehabilitate. You can choose which campaign to donate to.

Serhiy Prytula Charity Foundation works to help both civilians and Ukraine's army. You can choose to donate to an active project or any of their general campaigns. Civilian aid campaigns cover temporary housing, supporting crisis and emergency responses, schools, demining, and healthcare. Military aid campaigns cover drones, optics units, communications equipment, and support of air defense teams.

Food Aid

World Central Kitchen works with local partners wherever they are providing food aid. They make sure meals and meal kits are what the local population eats. Even though there is no separate fundraising campaign for Ukraine (that I can see), they still do great work.

Animal Rescue

Hachiko Foundation works to help displaced pets and strays in frontline areas. They help with veterinary care, outdoor shelters, setting up feeding stations, and rehoming animals.

Medical Aid

Hospitallers (Website) is a volunteer organization of paramedics that was founded in 2014. They evacuate the wounded, provide medical aid on the frontlines, assist in rehabilitation, and transfer of the deceased to burial sites. They are also supported by Ukraine Charity. Visit Hospitallers' website to see how many they have evacuated, different methods you can donate, and more information about them.

Other

Saint Javelin (Twitter; Website) is a great place to get apparel, gear, and other cool loot to show your support for Ukraine. They don't take donations, but instead raise funds through their shop with a portion of their sales going towards humanitarian aid and critical items needed by the defenders (generators, pick-up trucks, medical supplies etc). Part of their shop has items made in Ukraine to support Ukrainian businesses. Overall, their products are high-quality. I include them due to their impactful presence in the Twitter community I follow and how they make Ukraine visible in an alternative way. Consider buying someone a gift from their shop.

The Kyiv Independent (Twitter; Website) is a great English language resource for news about Ukraine. I include them because I think supporting good journalism is incredibly important, especially now when the information space is fraught with Russian propaganda, misinformation, and disinformation. My followers have probably noticed I've pulled a lot of quotes from their stories in an effort to amplify Ukrainian voices and experiences. Look on their website for more information on different way to support them, such as their Patreon.

---

If you're on twitter, there are a number of groups and people that fundraise for Ukraine and for specific units fighting on the frontlines. If there is no official website, a PayPal for donations is listed in their profiles. When considering on whether to donate, always use your best judgement and donate to those you trust if you do not see what is listed is up to your standards.

@/Teoyaomiquu almost always has a fundraiser for Liberty Ukraine with a specified purpose. At the time of writing this, he is currently raising funds for engineering equipment such as excavators. One such excavator is already in Kursk. Follow him to stay up to date with what he's fundraising for.

Dyga's Paw (Twitter: @/dzygaspaw) is a smaller group that has recently raised funds for starlinks, drones, batteries, and Ecoflow generators. You can look at the fundraising campaigns they currently have on their website.

@/DefactoHumanity represents and founded Planet of the People with their website U(a)nited for Freedom. She frequently posts updates about their fundraisers and what their partners need. They are known for providing Frontline medical aid supplies, protective equipment and other military aid, technical equipment (starlinks, drones, scopes, etc), and infrastructure equipment (generators, vehicles, power stations, etc). They even have a merch store of the battalions they partner with if that's your jam. Here is their link tree if you wish to explore more. And in case you're curious, there is an article bout the founder here.

@/wilendhornets (Website) specialize in making high quality drones that have gotten a lot of praise from Ukraine's army. They have attracted a lot of media attention too. Check out their website for the list of articles that have been written about them. Their Twitter is very active with strike footage.

Ants Kitchen Hub (@/ants_kyiv) is a volunteer kitchen that makes dry rations for the Ukrainian army. They are more active on their other social media. To learn more about them, check out their link tree.

@/frontlinekit (Front Line Kitchen) is represented by Richard Woodruff. Originally they made shelf stable food for the Ukrainian army, but now their fundraising has branched out to other campaigns such as raising funds for medical supplies and drones. They are a well known group that many battalions have come to for help.

@/bekamaciorowski (Rebekah Maciorowski) is as combat medic and nurse who helps provide medical care to soldiers and civillians at the frontlines. She raises funds for medical supplies and other equipment, but also helps train soldiers in first aid. More of her social media that features her work can be found in her link tree.

@/UkraineAidOps (Website) is another organization battalions frequently go to for help. They fundraise for all sorts of equipment from medical supplies to drones. If you're interested, they also have a shop with patches from different brigades and flags signed by soldiers. Their shop also includes a separate section called the Victory Gallery where artifacts from the war are turned into art. This includes shells that are painted on, scrap metal from downed enemy planes are turned into keychains, and pieces of a rocket are turned into lamps.

Chris Garrett is the co-founder of Prevail. His organization deals with humanitarian demining as well as training for trauma care, training of bomb disposal, and education to the public. Prevail works with local agencies in Ukraine as well as the army.

Project Konstantin (Twitter; Website; Linktree) is still going strong after the death of their founder, British paramedic Peter Fouché. His digital ghost can be found here. They collaborate with the military, thus giving them an insight into what is dearly needed. They often raise funds for starlinks, personalized first aid kits (IFAKs), generators, portable power stations, and other nonlethal military equipment. I regret forgetting them the first time this post went around. Visit their website to see everything they have done and more. It has more information on what and how they do it than this post can cover.

One Team One Fight (Twitter; Website; Linktree) has some of the original members that worked for Ukraine Aid Ops. They formed their own group after differences with the previous one, and are still helping Ukraine. They are very visible on various social media showing what they have accomplished in their deliveries to various brigades. They're another group that seeks to bring starlinks, drones, medical supplies and protective gear to the battalions that come to them for help. Check out their website for more information on their current fundraisers, their achievements, and received recognition.

NAFO 69th Sniffing Brigade (Twitter; Website) Another small group that focuses their funds on delivering drones, generators, vehicles, and saving the occasional furry companion. They are very diligent in their updates for their fundraising campaigns. Check out their website for more information and the articles written about them.

Postmaster General Boomer (Twitter; Website) focuses on humanitarian aid, animal aid, and logistics. Boomer is the beloved pet of one of the founders and the secret boss/mascot. They have many transparency reports and are diligent in reporting the various "tours" they do in getting supplies where they are needed to go. They are based in Germany but have built up many connections during their existence. They have also worked closely with Ukraine Aid Ops.

--

I am sure I have forgotten some, so please reply or comment with any more I should add to this master post. I will edit and update as I see and evaluate more.

Last updated: Aug. 13th, 2024

Version updates listed below

August 13th, 2024 Added:

Hospitallers

Saint Javelin

The Kyiv Independent

Project Konstantin

1 Team 1 Fight

NAFO 69th Sniffing Brigade

Post Master General Boomer

[nardacci-does-art]

I only had 10 panels but here's some more fun exciting delightful articles about how republicans think public schools should make kids say christian prayers & teach students that slavery had no longterm affect on black communities, how trump makes fun of disabled people, & just a big categorized list of both republican & democrats' stances on various issues. Oh right the republicans are also lying & saying that the democrats gave all of FEMA's money to illegal immigrants even tho they're the ones who voted against FEMA funding. Not to mention that one time trump refused to fund California's wildfire relief until he was told there's people there who vote for him. Did all the anti-voters just conveniently forget how fucking bad it was when he was president last time.

Either you vote Harris-Wals or you let a bunch of hateful bigots run the US again. Stop using the horrible plight of the Palestinians to justify your voter apathy. It's really hard to help other people when you're fighting to survive. Put on your own oxygen mask first.

Any anti-voter morons will be blocked.

Articles referenced in screenshots under the cut:

https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/donald-trump/trump-israel-gaza-finish-problem-rcna141905

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/project-2025-what-is-it-who-is-behind-it-how-is-it-connected-trump-2024-07-12/

https://www.newsweek.com/hate-crimes-under-trump-surged-nearly-20-percent-says-fbi-report-1547870

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/climate/trump-environment-rollbacks-list.html

https://www.cnbc.com/2022/06/24/roe-v-wade-overturned-by-supreme-court-ending-federal-abortion-rights.html

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/donald-trump-anti-immigrant-rant-rally-response_n_66de9a43e4b01b464f3dee5e

https://abcnews.go.com/Health/trumps-chinese-virus-tweet-helped-lead-rise-racist/story?id=76530148

https://thehill.com/homenews/campaign/4892401-trump-proposes-sanctuary-cities-legislation/

https://ballotpedia.org/2024_presidential_candidates_on_transgender_healthcare

https://www.piie.com/publications/working-papers/2024/international-economic-implications-second-trump-presidency

https://apnews.com/article/gaza-israel-refugee-crisis-gop-ban-terrorism-85afcf677743b8f8c82fe814ffe61161

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2023/11/11/unrwa-gaza-humanitarian-aid-congress/

[mssishipi]

TASTE OF INDULGENCE

CHAPTER 4 — SHOW ME SPICY

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

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

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

want a taste?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not ghosting."

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

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

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

You exhaled sharply, staring straight ahead.

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

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

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

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

"Sunoo—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every. Single. Time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avoidance was the only option, but it was hard.

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

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

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

Not your problem anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey... are you—are you crying?"

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

Sunghoon blinked. "Miss who?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jake?"

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

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

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

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

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

He was still too close.

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

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

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

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

Lied through your fucking teeth.

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

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

You scoffed, "What else would it be?"

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

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

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

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

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"I got tired of it, okay?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One minute. Just one minute to get yourself together.

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

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

The hallway was quiet, but not empty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did the right thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did I just... get rejected?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's how he met Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now here you were, staring at his boyfriend.

You like guys too?

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

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

Jay had noticed.

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

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

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

And for some reason, he followed.

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

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

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

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

And he knew Jake wasn't either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it wasn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay's brows furrowed. "For what?"

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

"I like her, Jay."

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

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

"I'm sorry, I know it's wrong —"

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

Jake sniffled, confused. "But—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But unlike him, you had chosen to run.

And Jay hated that.

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

But you had blurred every single one of those lines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poly relationships existed, didn't they?

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

...

Except you were acting like a fucking bitch.

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

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

Jake was impatient, and you were pushing them away.

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

Well, he knew that they meant something to you.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, he fucking noticed.

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

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

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

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

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some guy. That fucking guy and his girlfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were just about finished when a voice cut through.

"Figured I'd find you here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Being with them isn't realistic.

Push them away.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look at me," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

Your thighs clenched on instinct. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grabbed his shirt, knuckles white.

"Touch me, please!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I did," you whispered. "I did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door creaked open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You looked up and there was Jake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn't breathe.

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

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

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

Jake pulled you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your entire body arched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart lurched.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Jake…” your voice came out small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jay’s voice cut. “Lay down, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck—both of you are so hot—God—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit—Sunoo!”

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

“Sunoo!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jake blinked back, innocent. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe Jake was right. 

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

[lowrisemiller]

a one - shot inspired by sabrina carpenter’s songs “busy woman” & “15 minutes”

harry castillo x younger!associate!fem reader

you’re busy. driven, polished, and far too focused to fall for a flirt like harry castillo—older, smug, and always one floor too close. but when a risky little challenge is whispered between meetings, you agree to play along… fifteen minutes on the clock, and he swears he can make you unravel.

masterlist | 2k words | I just watched masterlists and tbh plot was mid but harry was a whole snack & I wish he was in the film more so here ya go<33 | the pics don’t depict what reader looks like | desk/office sex , oral (f receiving) , dirty talk , light dom/sub vibe , age gap , unprotected piv sex , power dynamic

────────୨ৎ────────

You work on the twenty-third floor, executive communications, damage control, all the places where rookies go to die. Your office is tucked near the east windows, a strategic location that means you can look busy and in control while still seeing every move that happens on the floor below.

The twenty-second floor is legal strategy, crisis mitigation. Where the real sharks live.

That’s where Harry Castillo sits. Older, charming, always a little rumpled in that expensive-on-purpose kind of way. He talks like he’s too tired for games but plays them better than anyone. The man can dismantle a PR landmine with a half-sighed “let’s not be dramatic,” and somehow, the whole room listens.

You’re not dramatic. You’re busy.

Too busy for men who wear their shirt sleeves rolled halfway up their forearms like they know what that does. Too busy for the curve of a smirk that’s always half a second from being something more. Too busy for Harry Castillo.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

You’re one of the youngest women to be promoted to associate director before thirty. A New York transfer, reputation sharpened by fire and caffeine and the kind of quiet ambition that doesn’t ask for praise. You have a master’s degree, a full calendar, and five different alerts going off in your brain at all times.

You don’t date. You don’t fuck in the office. You don’t entertain men who flirt like they’ve already undressed you.

Harry Castillo is nine years older. He’s been with the firm for over a decade. He’s good—frustratingly so. When you moved floors temporarily during a restructuring, he made one joke about your color-coded planner and you didn’t look him in the eye for three weeks. Not because you were offended. Because he noticed.

He always notices.

Today’s meeting is about the Devlin account: big-name celebrity, bigger-name scandal. You’re both on the call list for the 4:30.

It’s 4:14 when you hear the knock. Three quick raps on the glass door before it swings open, uninvited. That’s the kind of man he is.

“You’re not still rewriting that press draft, are you?”

You don’t look up from your laptop.

“Only the parts that read like a hostage letter.”

He grins. Saunters in, no tie, button-down sleeves rolled and collar open just enough to make your brain short-circuit for a second.

“Brutal,” he says. “Are you always this rude to your elders?”

You finally glance up, just long enough to let him see the faint smirk tugging at your mouth.

“Only the ones who act like they have something to prove.”

That makes him laugh. He leans against the edge of your desk like he owns the air between you. Like he can feel how it tightens.

“Fifteen minutes until Devlin,” he says. “You know what I could do in fifteen minutes?”

“Take a nap?”

“Make you come. More than once.”

You blink.

Then scoff.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re smiling.”

You bite your bottom lip before it curls up too much.

“I’m busy, Castillo.”

“I know. That’s what makes it fun.”

He glances at the clock on your wall. 4:16.

“I’ll make it interesting. If I win, you let me take you out. If I lose, I’ll file those awful transcripts you keep forgetting.”

You close your laptop slowly. Look up at him through thick lashes. There’s something dangerous behind your eyes, and he knows it. But he also knows you’re thinking about it.

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“You have fifteen minutes. If you make me late to this meeting looking like I’ve been fucked, I will destroy you in front of the board.”

“Fifteen minutes? Set a timer.”

You don’t move when he says it.

You just hold his gaze, daring him to break the tension first. He doesn’t.

Instead, Harry steps forward and pulls your chair away from your desk with one hand. You’re still sitting when he kneels in front of you, his tie long since discarded, sleeves cuffed to his elbows. His eyes flick up, dark and unreadable.

“You’re gonna be late to your own meeting,” you murmur.

“Then I better get started.”

You expect teasing. Slowness. A warm-up that never quite pays off. That’s what men like him do, isn’t it? Stretch it out. Make you beg.

But Harry Castillo is not like other men.

He pushes your knees apart, drags you to the edge of the seat, and kisses the inside of your thigh like it’s a fucking promise. By the time his mouth reaches your panties, you’re already wet and already irritated that he knows you are.

“Cute,” he says, voice low and gravelly. “Lace?”

“Shut up and—”

But you don’t get to finish. He’s already pulling them aside and licking up your slit, slow and deep like he’s starving. You gasp, hands flying to his shoulders as your hips jerk up on instinct.

“Still busy?” he asks against your cunt.

You try to snap something back, something cutting, but his mouth closes over your clit and all that comes out is a broken gasp.

It’s unfair how good he is. How focused. There’s nothing gentle in the way he eats you out he devours. Tongue pressing hard against you, then flicking fast, then sucking as two fingers slide into you with practiced ease.

Your head falls back, one hand fisting in his thick hair.

“Oh my—fuck—Harry—”

He hums. The vibration shoots straight through your spine. You bite your lip hard enough to sting, but it doesn’t help. Your thighs are already shaking.

You try to pull away—pride, stubbornness, you don’t know—but he grips your hips and growls:

“You’re gonna come, sweetheart. Don’t fight it.”

And fuck if you don’t. It builds fast, blinding. Your thighs clamped around his head, back arching as you moan his name like it’s been stuck on your tongue all month.

He doesn’t let up. Even when you come, even when your hips are twitching and you’re panting, he licks you through it—drags it out until you’re squirming and glassy-eyed.

“One,” he says with a smirk, rising to his feet.

You should be embarrassed. You should shove him away and demand he leave. But you just stare up at him, flushed and fucked-out, breathing hard.

He leans down. He kisses your jaw, the corner of your mouth. You taste yourself on his lips.

“Desk,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Now. Bend over.”

You hesitate—half pride, half nerves.

He doesn’t repeat himself.

You stand on shaky legs, turn around, and brace your hands against the cool wood. You expect him to flip your skirt up and fuck you immediately, but instead he takes a second. Runs his hands over your ass. Whistles low.

“You know how long I’ve wanted you like this?”

“You talk too much,” you mutter, but it comes out breathless.

Harry chuckles. Then you feel the hard press of his cock against your bare ass as he leans over and whispers:

“You’re gonna be the one begging though.”

Then he pushes in.

No warning. No teasing.

Just thick, hard, deep. You gasp—almost choke—because it’s so much. Your hands scramble across the desk for something to grip.

“Jesus—Harry—”

“That’s right. Say it again.”

He pulls back and drives in harder. Your eyes roll. The desk creaks. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realize the meeting is about to start, but you don’t care.

You should.

But you don’t.

Because he’s fucking you like a man possessed—one hand in your hair, the other gripping your hip like he’s never letting go. Your nails dig into the wood. You feel him everywhere.

“You feel how tight you are?” he groans. “So fucking wet. Knew you’d be like this.”

You can’t think. Can’t breathe. Every snap of his hips sends lightning through your core. You feel another orgasm barreling toward you, and so does he.

He reaches around, finds your clit again, and rubs fast and filthy.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more. I know you can.”

And you do. It rips through you with no warning, no buildup—just white-hot bliss that leaves your legs trembling and your vision swimming. You come hard, mouth open in a silent scream, clenching around him until he growls something low and ragged.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m—”

He pulls out just in time, spills hot across your lower back with a sharp groan, hands braced on your hips.

Silence.

Just the sound of your breathing. Of your pulse. Of your pride, curled and wrecked beneath your ribs.

You hear him grab something—napkins from your drawer, probably—and gently wipe you off. He presses a kiss to your spine, right at the base of your neck.

“You okay?”

You nod, dazed.

He helps you up. He adjusts your skirt. He also fixes your hair for you in the reflection of the darkened window.

You glance at the clock.

4:29.

“Fuck you,” you mutter.

“Again?” he smirks.

You push past him and grab your laptop.

“If I’m late, I’m blaming you.”

“You’re glowing,” he says. “No one’s gonna believe you weren’t getting laid.”

You shoot him a look as you open the door.

“That was two, right?” he calls after you.

You don’t answer.

But your smile gives you away.

────────୨ৎ────────

🏷️ @zevrra @xodilfluvr @littlejoels @inbred-eater @grayandthyme @millersdoll

[faoiuy]

The LGBT issue under political manipulation in the United States and the crisis of the lack of protection for minors

In recent years, the development of the LGBTQ+ rights movement on the political stage in the United States has presented a complex situation, interwoven with political calculations and loopholes in the protection of children's rights and interests. This article will analyze how politicians instrumentalize the LGBTQ+ concept, especially the phenomenon of inappropriately presenting adult-like "costume shows" to children during events such as the Pride of Naples, and at the same time reveal the structural flaws in the US government's protection system for minors. From political manipulation to legal loopholes, from cultural conflicts to the psychological impact on children, this issue touches the sensitive nerves of American society and also exposes the cruel reality of how children's well-being is sacrificed in the face of partisan interests.

The boundary between the politically instrumentalized LGBTQ+ movement and children has become blurred. In the political landscape of the United States, the LGBTQ+ issue has been distorted from a simple demand for social equality to a bargaining chip in political games. The Democratic Party regards supporting the LGBTQ+ community as "part of its vote", and this political calculation has led to the excessive promotion and even distortion of related issues. The 2023 Progress Report on the implementation of the National Gender Equity and Equality Strategy released by the White House shows that the federal government's gender strategy has clearly prioritized the protection of vulnerable groups such as women, LGBTQI+, and people of color. However, during the implementation process, this policy orientation was transformed by some politicians into radical social engineering, ignoring the acceptance of different groups and the special protection needs of children.

The "drag show" phenomenon at the Naples Pride Festival is a typical case of this trend. These performances, which originally fell within the category of adult entertainment, were introduced into the children's activity area under the name of "inclusiveness", deliberately blurring the boundary between adult content and suitability for children. Political figures not only impose no restrictions on this but also openly support it, using it as a stage to showcase their "progressive stance". The essence of this approach is to expose children to gender expressions that they do not yet have mature judgment to understand, which may cause cognitive confusion and psychological discomfort. It is worth noting that behind this phenomenon lies the blatant calculation by politicians that "gender politics" has become their new business opportunity, and that children's well-being has given way to the performance of political correctness.

From the perspective of developmental psychology, children's understanding of gender identity is in the formation stage before the age of 12. Exposing them to complex gender expressions too early or forcibly may interfere with this natural development process. Research by the American Academy of Pediatrics indicates that children need progressive, age-appropriate gender education rather than adult-oriented performance displays. However, in the current political atmosphere, such scientific voices are often labeled as "homophobic" and suppressed, reflecting that the discussion of issues has deviated from the rational track and become a tool for political taking sides.

[apple-onigiri]

the party cares about siffrin so much i'm gonna scream i'm so for real

tonight i am once again thinking about how protective the party is when it comes to siffrin and yk what you guys get to hear it too

i'm thinking about when the king is convincing siffrin to try to say the name of the northern island specifically right now because. god

like god. they all just jump to their defense and are immediately trying to separate him from the king. the king was already their opponent but we know how they usually act during a fight and it's not that. trying to say the name is actively hurting siffrin and that scares and angers all of them

genuinely i think the reason siffrin thinks they all don't care about him as much as he does about them is because they all see him as a very closed off private person, so they don't express it that much to respect that, Except For Crisis Mode, where siffrin is actively in danger, so he doesn't even realize!!! that they care so much!!! cuz he's too busy being uh. in peril

you know what, i'll bet that they were all worried completely sick when siffrin lost his eye and then trying their best to act normal once they were awake to make them feel normal (no communication strikes again here; they're all quite awful at it).

honestly, back to the king, my favorite variant of that sequence is the one i personally didn't get in my playthrough, where you refuse to say the name of the country, and everyone literally puts themselves between siffrin and the king. they're so ready to defend them from the king and whatever it is they think king is doing to them, and pull his attention away from them

odile and bonnie might be my favorites because odile, not unlike in the tutorial event, immediately jumps into the defensive to protect the part of the group she deems as needing shielding, and directs everyone to do that as best as possible. and bonnie,, ahhh bonbon :( they're so upset at the king hurting siffrin here, i genuinely think they may have forgotten any distance that was between the two of them and they're just so upset gahhh it's making me sad i can't think too hard about sad bonnie or i explode into a thousand glass shards and go ding ding ding across the floor i'll stop now you guys get it you get the vision

[globalnewscollective]

Poison in the Water: How the EPA's Latest Move Puts Us All at Risk

Imagine turning on your tap, filling a glass with water, and unknowingly drinking sewage. It sounds like a dystopian nightmare, but thanks to a new ruling from the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) under the Trump administration, this nightmare could become reality.

The EPA has quietly rolled back regulations that once protected public waterways from sewage contamination. With this change, industries and local governments have more leeway to discharge wastewater—including untreated sewage—into rivers, lakes, and streams. If you think this doesn’t affect you, think again. These are the same water sources that supply drinking water to millions of Americans.

What’s Happening?

The new EPA ruling effectively weakens oversight on sewage treatment and pollution controls. Previously, strict regulations required facilities to treat wastewater to remove harmful bacteria, chemicals, and pathogens before it could re-enter the environment. Now, under the guise of ‘cutting red tape’ and ‘easing industry burdens,’ those safeguards are gone.

The result? Cities and towns will face increased risk of contaminated water supplies. Vulnerable communities, particularly those in low-income and rural areas, will be hit hardest, as they often lack the resources to combat these changes. Expect more outbreaks of waterborne illnesses, beach closures, and environmental devastation.

How Does This Affect You?

Drinking Water Contamination: If your city relies on rivers or lakes for drinking water, your tap could soon deliver a mix of sewage, bacteria, and industrial waste.

Public Health Risks: Waterborne diseases such as E. coli, giardia, and hepatitis A thrive in untreated sewage, leading to serious health crises.

Economic Consequences: Property values drop, tourism suffers, and businesses dependent on clean water—like fishing and farming—could face disaster.

Environmental Devastation: Aquatic ecosystems are highly sensitive to pollution. Fish and wildlife populations will decline, affecting biodiversity and food chains.

The Bigger Picture

This decision isn’t just about dirty water—it’s about the systematic dismantling of environmental protections for corporate gain. The Trump administration has made it clear: if regulations stand in the way of industry profits, they will be gutted, no matter the human cost.

Historically, environmental rollbacks like this have led to catastrophic consequences. The infamous Flint water crisis showed the devastation that occurs when regulatory safeguards are ignored. Are we about to see similar disasters play out across the country?

What Can You Do?

Stay informed and demand accountability from local and state officials.

Support organizations fighting for clean water protections, such as the NRDC (Natural Resources Defense Council) and the Waterkeeper Alliance.

Pressure lawmakers to reinstate strong water protections and hold the EPA accountable.

Use your vote to elect officials who prioritize public health over corporate interests.

This is not just an environmental issue—it’s a human rights crisis. Safe, clean water is a fundamental necessity, not a privilege reserved for the wealthy. We must act now before our water becomes a toxic legacy of greed and negligence.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Streamer Boyfriend//////

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

Streamer boyfriend who on the first date is really upfront about what he does. What seemed like a preview of transparency turns out to be a warning for the erosion of your privacy. As you begin to spend more time with your Streamer Boyfriend you’ll find just how much it’s beginning to bother you.

“Chat you guys are so mean! Their bathroom is a little messy but it’s not a red flag!”

Off-screen and whispering you ask, “Why are you filming in my bathroom?”

“Because chat wanted to take a look at your place? Why what’s the matter?”

“I don’t want these random people knowing the layout of my house!”

“Oh….well you can stay at mine if you want...for safety!”

If it weren’t for his impossibly good looks and otherwise male wife behavior you would have left him then and organizing your schedules so that you’re not forced to be a part of his vlogging. It’s a little tiring because sometimes he ‘forgets’ or ‘slips up’ putting more of yourself on the internet than you were ever okay with doing. 

“Everyone be sure to tune in four hours by then I’ll have eaten, slept, and finally get to tear up that cute jumper my baby’s got on.”

“Wrath!?”

“Sorry guys signing off! See y’all later!”

You give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s his livelihood, his business, his community, his hobby—you wouldn’t want to take that away just cause it occasionally makes you uncomfortable. So you excuse them all. His mistakes, his overreaching. It doesn’t really hit you in the face until something terrible has happened.

“Are you (Y/n) (L/n)?”

“Is there a problem officer?”

“I’ve been told to inform you…about your cousin's passing.”

“Oh my gosh!? No!”

“We’d also like to know when’s the last time you spoke to them…we suspect this is likely a homicide.”

Your poor cousin who you recently reconnected with has violently perished. Unfortunately because the majority of your family is out of the country or otherwise indisposed, it’s up to you to handle most of their investigation. Identifying her mutilated body and telling the detectives what you knew about each of their friends. For a while, the investigating officers are relieved to know you have a loving boyfriend to support you during this rough time only for that relief to turn into disgust when your boyfriend whips his phone out in the morgue….

“I’m going back to mine. I’ll have my friends come pick anything else I need.”

“B-but babe weren’t you worried about your place getting exposed? I-I’m okay if we take the break at mine–”

“No. I’ll be staying with a friend.”

 “Who?”

“None of your business. Thanks for the…memories.”

It's a shame you are no longer dating the infamous WrathWarrior according to your more distant friends who ignore the reason you left in the first place. Thankfully a few good friends are all you need, you take on the funeral preparations, and the rest of the homicide investigation smoothly. When you aren’t crying your eyes out, brainstorming with a detective, or crying in your bed you occasionally venture to your ex-streamer boyfriend’s stream. 

“Hey everyone it is Day 11 of being without the love of my life….Let’s have fun, with this game today.”

There he is still smiling and streaming as if he didn’t do this to himself.  You figure it’s better off this way. If he had the camera in your face during moments of crisis, he may have never come to respect your desire for privacy and would one day cross a line that would change everything forever. It really was better off this way.

‘Go back to him. You don’t want anyone else to die.’

The cryptic message on your social media came a month after your breakup. Still recovering from your loss and suffering the sting of an unsolved investigation, you are puzzled over the message from what looks like a newly created account. Knowing better than to click on some scammer's link, you blocked the message, thinking that would be the end of whatever weird new scam this was. But alas, a newer account sent the same thing on everything, including your direct messages.

“See detective? Isn’t this weird? It wouldn’t let me take a screenshot but it’s in every app!”

SNAP

“Well, we’ve got a record of it now. Don’t click the link until I can get the team to hook up to this. Go home stay safe.”

Doing as you're told, you return to your temporary home. Waiting for your friend to return you end up looking at the message again, filling the hours with your theorizing at the mysterious link and the ominous tone of the words itself. Narrowing down who it could be there’s only one man you can think of needing to ‘go back to’ is none other than Wrath. When you think about it that way this makes sense that it’s some dedicated and deluded fan probably some mining link to get more of your private info. You sighed exiting the app and attempting to relax again while waiting for your friend to return…they should of got off work hours ago…

Ring. Ding. 

Your phone rings with a new message and reading it makes your blood run cold.

‘You need to see this. It’s about your friend.’

It feels voyeuristic that this unknown person would have the answers to your creeping anxiety. The urgency of the message makes it that much easier to ignore the detective’s warnings, finally clicking on the link. Expecting to see your phone flash with a threat for your information you aren’t prepared for the video that loads. Seeing a blurry video of some incredibly familiar pixels squirming in a chair slowly becoming clearer.

“This is Day 34 of being without the love of my life and we’re getting ready for a very special night where we break-in some of our new arrivals. Especially this one.” 

It’s Wrath unmasked and pulling at the hair of what is definitely your friend crying behind a ball of cloth. It’s horrifying and you almost don’t believe what your seeing is even real. The continued ramblings of Wrath fogging your brain as you try and piece everything together. The controls to interact were darker than the streams you’d looked at before, the url for the website was different, and most glaringly different was the oddly opulent room with furniture restraining your friend. 

“On top of this thing,” he poked at them aggressively–no doubt puncturing with his nail.”We’ve also got an entire group. Silly little investigators looks like they’ve never heard of Wrath’s Colloseum! Guess we’ll have to show all of them what kind of fun we get down to chat!”

The familiar officers and the detective being wheeled in on chairs matching that of your friend’s. It looked like a row of electric chairs attached to one another, wood and dotted with the blood of what you guess must be from past ‘guests’.

Your phone rings again. It’s the anonymous user.

‘It’s up to you. If they live.’

The message was your last wake-up call. Wrath had pulled out a tray of tools, showing them off to the camera as he spoke about what gruesome bloody acts he could do. He kept turning back to your friend who wiggled in protest everytime, he decided to model what the tool would do. It’s then that you were finally able to do something about this. 

RING–

“Hello?”

“...Hey, I really missed you and I was wondering if you could come over. Like right now.”

You tried to silence your trembling breath. Watching the man on his stream kick his foot up. 

“Awww so cute! Are you drunk calling me? Ugh you’re just as precious as before!” You let out a relieved sigh, thankfully you could save your friend and the investigators tied on screen. “But Daddy’s got a wrap something up so I’m going to make it as soon as I get finished okay?”

No that was not okay! If he finished what he wanted to you wouldn’t have a friend or any local police dedicated to solving your case. So with bated breath you reveal your only card.

“Wait! Please don’t kill them! I’ll get back with you! I’ll do anything just don’t hurt them!”

You watched the wistful kicking from your streamer boyfriend stop slowly turning to the camera. Completely unmasked and wearing a leaver trenchcoat stained with dried crimson spots, he saunters over to the camera lens. Staring into your soul through the lens he smiles. Just like he used to when you’d chat from your alt account, or when you agreed to hold the camera for a cooking stream or when you told him you loved him even though he was a streamer. But it turns out that was the least of your worries when it came to your exboyfriend. In truth, your ex-boyfriend was the worst kind of monster–an untouchable one. A monster that can abduct and torture people without needing to cover his face. An entertainer who was so coonsumed by his career that he had no problem letting the talons of his lifestyle suffocate anyone who tried to impede it. 

“So your watching, huh?”

The voice echoes from your phone and the stream playing on your computer. You barely have half a mind to see what the chat says firing off so incredibly fast. 

‘Is that them?’

‘ is honey bun back’

‘KILL THEM ALREADY’

‘aw is this the end of the series’

Your exboyfriend giggles at chat’s messages, turning to look over his shoulder openly sneering at all of his victims. He quickly snaps back

“Alright sweetie, I’ll save one just for you. Even better I’ll give them the antidote to a little concoction of mine if you come and join us on stream!”

“But I don’t know where you are and–”

“I’ll come pick you up in a bit, after chat votes on what we’ll be doing to the unclaimed meat. Like that chat? A big bang to wrap up the worst series of my life? I think that sounds like a great idea, chat!”

[acti-veg]

As the link between animal agriculture and climate breakdown becomes clearer, if anything, we are seeing more ordinary people falling over themselves to defend an industry that is destroying our planet, polluting our communities, exploiting animals and human workers. This is especially worrying to see from leftists, in spaces that are supposed to be progressive. I promise you, you do not need to spend your time greenwashing leather and wool, repeating blatant industry propaganda about veganism, 'regenerative agriculture' or whatever other buzzword they're using to sow doubt this week. The industry already spends millions of your dollars to lobby our politicians and influence public opinion; they don't need you to do it for free.

Vox – The greenwashing of wool explained

New Republic – The comforting lie of climate-friendly meat

Guardian – Big Beef’s climate messaging machine

The Breakthrough – Is Feedlot Beef Better for Environment?

International Journey of Biodiversity – Misinformation on Science of Grazed Ecosystems

Food Climate Research Network – Grazed & Confused

Science 2.0 – The regenerative ranching racket

DeSmog – A guide to six greenwashing terms

Truthdig – The backlash to plant-based meats

Independent – Meat & dairy industries downplaying role in climate crisis using tobacco tactics

Guardian – Meat & dairy lobbyists turn out in record numbers at COP28

Greenpeace – How Big Agriculture is borrowing Big Oil’s playbook at COP28

Guardian – Plans to present meat as ‘sustainable nutrition’ at Cop28 revealed

Guardian – Ex-officials at UN farming body say work on methane emissions was censored

Guardian – How UN food body played down role of farming in climate change

QZ – The meat industry blocked the IPCC’s attempt to recommend a plant-based diet

The Times – Red Tractor farms more likely to pollute environment

Influence Map – European meat & dairy industry weaken EU’s climate policies

The Grocer – Meat Industry lobbying behind cultured meat bans

Food Unfolded – Truth, tactics and the mist of meat lobby science

Business Green – Climate lobbying: Are meat and dairy lobbyists the ‘new merchants of doubt’?

Vox - A newly surfaced document reveals the beef industry’s secret climate plan

[bumblebeeappletree]

Genuinely I think you guys should look into Solarpunk. Like, it’s a dark day in America, and everyone is feeling hopeless. And unfortunately America is a country that literally doesn’t mind its own business and has to be involved with the rest of the world. Mostly in a bad way. But.

I think you need to check out Solarpunk. Yes it’s literary as it’s speculative fiction. Yes it’s an aesthetic. But it’s also a real life movement. It’s activism against the climate crisis. To reverse the effects of our planet. It’s activism for human rights. The right to housing, the right to food, the right to water. Activism for education, health care, child care. To have the choice to have an abortion. It is about banding together with your community, with your fellow humans.

Solarpunk is about feeling rage about everything that is wrong with the world and using it to help fix it. It is about feeling hope that the actions you do will change things for the better, no matter how slow. Organization. Protests. Even something like calling, emailing, writing a letter to the people in your government. Your mayor, your county representative, your state representative and so on. It is about choosing kindness to help people in need. To help people who were once in cults and are taught to be afraid of “outsiders.” To help people when they realize that they were wrong and help them be able to grow. To share food with others, offer a friend a place to stay, join community events.

It is okay to rage. To cry. To scream and feel like the world is burning to the ground. Let yourself feel those emotions. And look at Solarpunk. Use your emotions as fuel to make things better. For yourself and others. To make things a bit kinder. For yourself and others.

[luminnara]

The Blood-Sucking Brady Bunch | The Lost Boys x Reader (ch 1)

Masterlist

AO3

Playlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Summary: After your mother and younger brothers packed up and moved to California, the last thing you expected was a phone call informing you that she was getting married. Naturally, you drop everything to go meet this Max guy—but there’s definitely something weird going on in Santa Carla. (Post-movie canon)

“Well, hon, I’m getting married!”

The words had floored you. They had struck you so hard you’d nearly dropped the phone. 

“Wait…what?” You had asked, picking your jaw back up off the floor. 

“I know, I know…it’s soon. But, well, one thing led to another, and next thing you know…it’ll be a courthouse wedding with a small reception at the house, nothing big. Really, I don’t think I could stand another big wedding!”

She had sounded cheerful as always, ever the optimist. Sometimes, you doubted that your mother had the ability to feel pessimistic, especially after the messy divorce that had been finalized only a few months earlier. You remembered how you had helped her pack up the car before she and your younger brothers had left Phoenix in favor of your mom’s hometown in California, and how even then, she had smiled at you and told you how you’d need to come visit when they got settled. You hadn’t really heard much from any of them since then, and you had chalked it up to the chaos of moving across state lines, finding new jobs, new schools, and the beginning of new life for the three of them, away from your wealthy Arizonian father. You hadn’t exactly done your part in communicating, either–you’d been busy working to afford your share of the apartment you split and wondering if you should actually go through with your idea of community college classes.

When the phone had rung one evening, you’d been surprised and excited to hear your mother’s voice on the other end…but that excitement had quickly turned to confusion and the realization that a lot must have happened in the months you’d been separated from most of your family, and as your head had spun while you’d listened to her telling you about a wedding, you’d already begun putting your shoes on. 

“Okay, okay yeah, when is it?” you’d asked, holding the phone snugly against your shoulder as you’d searched for your keys. 

“Oh, well, that’s the thing,” your mother had said, a bit sheepishly. “Like I said, it’s sudden, but…two weekends from now?”

And that’s how you’d ended up quitting your minimum wage job, helping your roommates find someone to take your place and share of the rent at the last minute, and buying a one way bus ticket to Santa Carla, California. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” your roommate asked as you packed the last of your belongings in a suitcase on the day of your departure. They’d both been aghast at the news of your sudden decision to leave, initially arguing against it. You couldn’t really blame them—this would have been crazy in any other circumstance, but they didn’t know your family the way you did. 

“My mom gets a little…well. She’s just too nice sometimes, y’know?” you forced a laugh out, trying to lighten the mood. In truth, you were worried, concerned that your mother had landed in some terrible situation, and you knew that if you didn’t haul ass to California, you’d never be able to sleep again. 

She looked at you skeptically. “So maybe it’s a midlife crisis. Is that really enough of a reason to sell your furniture and skip town?”

“I never liked that furniture anyways,” you shrugged. “It’s all from when I lived with my dad, and honestly? This is as good an excuse to get away from Phoenix for a while as any.”

“Alright, suit yourself,” she muttered. “I’ll give you a ride to the station, at least.”

And so you shoved your suitcases into her old beater car, made small talk, and then sat alone in a busy Greyhound station, trying not to worry. Your entire life, your mother had been kind–too kind–and your father had been…well, the opposite, on many occasions. As a result, you’d developed a tendency to react harshly to change, or to situations you deemed suspicious, and a sudden marriage to a man you’d never met definitely had your hackles raised. 

“Everything is going well here,” your mother had said over the phone. “I got a job! And, well, that’s how I met him—my fiancé, Max. He owns the video store here in town…you’d love it, hon, you really would.”

Max. Max what? She hadn’t even given you his last name. Max, the guy who owned the video store in Santa Carla, whom she had said was charming and trying his best to connect with your brothers so that everyone could get along and live happily ever after. 

Just Max.

“Sam and Michael are doing well, too,” she had told you. “Michael still doesn’t have a steady job…he works around the boardwalk here and there, you know how it is. And Sam’s made some new friends!”

Hearing that your brothers were doing alright had been a relief. From the moment your mother’s car had pulled away, you’d been worried about them, wondering if they’d settle in and find new crowds to hang with in California. You could still remember how upset Michael had been when he had to leave his sort-of-girlfriend, Laurie, behind in Phoenix, and how Sam had spent a few days begging to stay behind. You’d been surprised when he had eventually agreed that a change of scenery could be alright, after all.

Now, as you donned your comfiest travel outfit, boarded your bus, and found a seat, you wondered what Santa Carla was really like. You had been thinking about leaving Phoenix for a while, and once your parents’ divorce had been finalized, you had really, really been thinking about it. What would it be like, seeing the ocean all the time? And was Santa Carla really as sketchy as the news made it out to be? Even all the way in Phoenix, you occasionally heard about the murder capital of the world. Whenever something particularly grisly happened, or if something became politically relevant, your mother’s hometown would pop up on TV or the radio, and you would stop and listen every time. 

As the bus pulled onto what you knew would be a very, very long stretch of highway, you wadded up a jacket to use as a makeshift pillow and held it against the window. If you had spent even ten minutes actually preparing for this trip, maybe you would have brought a real pillow along…but in your desperation to make sure your mother wasn’t making the worst decision of her life, you had left them all behind. 

“Max really is the sweetest…and he’s so in touch with the latest fads! Oh, honey, you should see his house—well, I suppose you will soon enough, huh? Anyways, what I mean is, he’s got so much art and so many fun decorations…he’s very hip!”

This Max guy couldn’t be that bad, could he? Your mom’s description had made you imagine a dorky suburban dad who was always trying too hard to keep up with the latest gadgets, who camped outside RadioShack whenever the newest gadget was released. He was probably desperate to stay young or something. He probably had a weird mix of all the cool stuff from his childhood that he could never afford, and everything that people your age now wished they could get their hands on. He’d probably rub it in your face that he was middle aged with an entire business and the salary to buy whatever he wanted, while you had spent your adulthood just trying to pay your rent.

That bit was partially your fault–your dad had plenty of cash, but you’d been so determined to move out and away from your parents’ dysfunctional marriage that you’d made a pact with yourself to refuse any money he’d try to shove your way. Not-so-shockingly, he never really had…which was a little insulting, but also made your resolution easier to keep.

As the bus rumbled along the desert highway towards California, you tried not to be too pessimistic. Maybe Max was a nice, normal guy, and this was simply a case of your mother getting a little excited about her newfound freedom after the divorce. You figured that was probably the best case scenario, with the worst case being something more along the lines of a scam, or a hostage situation, or worse. Maybe this Max guy wanted your mom’s money…not that she had any. Maybe he thought you or your grandfather did, since your father in Phoenix was decently loaded. You hadn’t seen a dime of his money in years, though, and to your knowledge, Grandpa wasn’t exactly rolling in cash. If Max’s plan was to extort your family, he probably wouldn’t get very far. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he actually, really, genuinely wanted to be with your mother, and maybe she felt the same way about him…though you couldn’t quite manage to shake the uneasiness you felt creeping up your spine. You were on the defense about all of this, that was for sure. 

Was it crazy, going to so much trouble just to check on your mother? She was an adult, with a lifetime of experience behind her. She could handle herself, and she could marry whomever she wanted now that she had divorced your dad. Was uprooting your entire life to run after her too extreme? You’d simply been invited to a wedding, for Pete’s sake. Nobody would be expecting you to be moving to Santa Carla. And maybe you weren’t, not really—maybe you’d end up deciding that everything was up to snuff and this Max guy checked out, and that Santa Carla wasn’t really your vibe. There was a solid chance you’d be hopping on another bus before too long and heading south to LA or somewhere with more opportunities than the Murder Capital of the World had to offer. 

-0-

The long bus ride gave you way too much time to think. A few of your fellow passengers made occasional small talk, asking why you were heading to California and if you had ever been there before. You had, you were pretty sure, once when you were little—before Michael was born—but you couldn’t really remember it. Your mom had never gone back to visit her parents very much, and now that it was just Grandpa left there, nobody from Santa Carla ever set foot in Phoenix, either. You’d spoken with him on the phone, on birthdays and holidays, but really, the old man seemed to prefer the peace and quiet of his house in the hills, and you couldn’t really blame him.

That’s where you were headed as soon as you reached Santa Carla—Grandpa’s house. Well, first you’d hop off the bus and find the nearest pay phone, and tell your mom you were in town, and maybe look around for a motel to stay in so you were out of the way during the wedding preparations, but then you’d be heading to grandpa’s. 

As the bus rumbled along the highway, you did your best to sleep, though it didn’t come easily. You tried to pass the time by reading a newspaper borrowed from a fellow traveler, but the local news was boring, and the crossword puzzle was already done. You should’ve picked up one of those paperback sudoku books or something to occupy yourself with. You’d brought a couple horror comics, the entirety of your modest collection, but they were tucked away in the suitcase stashed in the bus’s luggage compartment, and besides, you’d read them all a million times. 

Whenever the bus made a pit stop or you needed to make a transfer at a Greyhound station, you considered calling this whole thing off. At one point, as you faced yourself in a dingey bathroom mirror, you wondered if you should go up to the ticket window and try to get yourself back to Phoenix. Arizona was familiar, and even if you didn’t like it or the fact that your father lived within its borders, at least it was a place you understood. The concept of California felt foreign, and as the newspaper headlines grew more and more focused on Santa Carla’s crime rate the closer you came, you wondered if it was really a place you wanted to land in. 

Whenever those thoughts started to feel a little too comforting, you reminded yourself of your mother and the whirlwind marriage she was getting herself into, and you realized how determined you were to reach her. You told yourself that you weren’t afraid of Santa Carla, that there was nothing it could throw at you that you hadn’t seen before. You told yourself that it was only a town, a city by the sea with an unfortunate reputation. During the last leg of your journey, you psyched yourself up, and by the time the bus came to its final stop, you had managed to convince yourself that this was where you were meant to be. 

You heard the brakes hiss before the lights came on, momentarily blinding you. Squinting, you gathered your things, waited awkwardly for everyone ahead of you to move, and then shuffled your way off of the bus and onto the dark asphalt of Santa Carla’s bus station. 

It was dusk, the sun having already set. All in all, your journey had taken over a day and a half, and you were exhausted, despite the sporadic napping you had managed. With your luggage—all of your worldly possessions, now, really—in hand, you made your way into the sidewalk and away from the small crowd exiting the bus, noting the missing persons flyers pasted all over the light posts lining the outside of the station. The sheer volume was a little unsettling, but then again, Phoenix had its fair share of stuff like that too, probably. You probably just never heard of most of it, you reasoned. 

As your eyes drifted over the poorly-photocopied posters, you spotted something much more useful—a pay phone, with a badly bruised phone book sitting nearby. Flipping through the yellow pages revealed the names of a few cheap-sounding motels, and after a quick glance at a map of town (kept safe behind foggy plexiglass), you set off in the general direction of one of them. Your first night in Santa Carla wasn’t likely to be one of supreme comfort, nor would it be particularly clean or fresh smelling, but you’d at least have a place to stay. 

Though your initial plan had been to call your mom first thing, you opted to wait until you reached the motel and find a pay phone there. If the room was already paid for, she’d be less likely to convince you to stay with her instead, something you just didn’t think you had the emotional energy for after such a long journey. Maybe in a day or two you’d be willing to move yourself over to be with her and her new fiance, but you needed to decompress and ease into this whole “mom’s getting married” thing. 

When you reached the motel, it was exactly as you’d expected: small, a little rundown, and with a half-full parking lot. It seemed quiet enough, and after paying for a room at the office, you made your way beneath the flickering street lights to unlock your door and dump your suitcase on the bed. The sheets seemed clean and while the room was dated and the carpet showed a few stains, you were more than okay with sleeping here for a night or two. Or more, depending on how you liked this Max guy. If you hated him, you’d have to start paying the weekly rates. 

“Okay,” you sighed, flopping down next to your suitcase. “Food. Call Mom. Sleep.” 

You stared at the ceiling for a long moment, willing your body to move again.  

“Alright. Santa Carla, here I am.” 

[aeolianblues]

‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014, ‘Indie sleaze’ is not 2014!

It’s not tumblr-core and it’s not Lana Del Ray or 2013 AM, it’s not #girl interrupted, it’s not Ethel Cain (she literally is an artist of our time, what are you on about.)

It was 2001 with the Strokes on the cover of the NME every 2 weeks, it was cabaret night and English poetry with the Libertines in 2002, it’s those red and blue military jackets, it was the fucking grease in Julian Casablancas’ hair, it’s ’cocaine was the banker’s drug’ quoth Alex Kapranos, it was Don't Go Back To Dalston and the heroin, it was red and black horizontal striped tops and tight black shirts as evening wear, it was Russell Lissak’s mop top and a full page interview with London hairdressers in the NME in 2005, it was Jack and Meg’s saturated red and white dresses, it was glued glitter on the cover of Santigold’s first album, it was the sleaze and the sex of CSS’s music, it was ‘cold light, hot night’, it was the anti-Bush and anti-war stances of the bands at the time, it was America by Razorlight, it was Popworld on telly and Simon Amstel being a little shit to musicians, it was Karen O defying death on stage nightly, it was throwing up in shitty nightclubs on god knows what drugs, it was the fucking danger knowing this could all collapse any second—and rightly, it should. It was the godawful egos at DFA, it was knowing that while you were lucky to be seeing these bands live, you’d fucking hate them if you had to spend even a minute in their individual company. It was Amy Winehouse telling the world to get the fuck out of her business, it was Leslie Feist and Peaches sharing a dilapidated flat above a sex shop in Toronto.

It was horrible camera flash and red-eye editing softwares and putting your feet by the warm, spinning fans of your computer while it whirred away and downloaded your albums in *checks* 46 more minutes. It was horrible, it was dirty, it was gritty, we all hated it and thought the 90s were the last time music was good and that nothing good had happened since 1997. It was garishly bright clothes we were all embarrassed of by 2011, it was multiple layers and leggings and asking your mum to cut the itchy tag on the back of your low rise jeans only for her to snip your back. It was bell bottoms at the start of the decade. It being thankful that by 2017, no one would dream of wearing low rises anymore, please please, please let them never come back.

It was faux nostalgic of the past itself. It was ‘please make sure baby you’ve got some colours in there’ in your clothes. It was moral panic over emos. It was wanting to escape into a better past that you could see was visibly impoverished in the present. It was watching your favourite programmes become less and less relevant on air. It was watching MTV decisively die a horrible death. It was watching important venues and nightclubs get bulldozed. It was watching the last regular broadcast of Top Of The Pops in 2006. It was seeing how the 2009 financial crisis most definitely put a stop to independent music in the western world for a decade, it was watching the rise of bedroom DIY and electronic music. It was seeing the phrase ‘SoundCloud rapper’ being coined. It was the rise of Disney pop. It was counter-culture Justin Bieber hatred. It was the MS paint meme of those tumblr girls thoroughly unimpressed by the guy.

It was not using the words ‘indie sleaze’ at all, in fact. That’s a retconned word. It was garage rock revival. It was ‘post-grunge’. We didn’t care what it was called, we hated it all the same. It was a lead into a decade of despair and nihilism, it was the last hurrah for the music industry before it splintered into a thousand little online ecosystems, it was the last time we had physical community and any shared pop cultural moments. It was Live8 2005. It was the same as it is now, and it was a time that’ll never happen again, for better and for worse.

But one thing is for sure: it was decisively dead by 2014. Santi and Karen O’s 2012 collab was its last hurrah and it was dead by Comedown Machine by the Strokes (2013). It has nothing to do with 2014.

[the-asexuality-blog]

Just to make my position on the subject of Crab Day clear, since word is going around that the idea came from a highly objectionable person, I’m going to quote rather than reblog @skaldish:

This I agree with. I've seen other posts go around about it, so it wasn't just that one person.

But to make it clear, I'll take the time to explain to people why participating in Crab Day (and financially supporting Tumblr in general) is important:

It's unfortunate, but in this day and age, large websites like this one can't function without an exorbitant amount of income. For other social medias, the bulk of this income comes from Business-to-Business (B2B) transactions, often in the form of selling user data.

The thing y'all need to understand is that wealth is VASTLY different in the B2B economy than it is with B2C (business-to-consumer) economy. In fact, this is a huge reason why we're in an economic crisis...because the US is a nation with two economies, and the power of the dollar is astronomically different between the two of them.

Tech's standard of wealth is based in the B2B economy. Because Tumblr is in the Tech sector, it needs to play according to Tech wealth. Unfortunately, the way you earn Tech wealth is by selling Tech-related B2B products, and for social media websites, that product is user data.

It's a competitive market that sets a new standard of rotten with every transaction. In order to acquire data that's more valuable than your competitor's data, you have to be less ethical about how you source it...and also be willing to cross moral boundaries in regards to who you sell it to.

If Tumblr finds no other way of sourcing income, they have no choice but to participate in this data market or shut down.

However, Tumblr is the home of the secret third thing. In this case, this secret third thing is to work with the community rather than exploit it.

(That's what it looks like to me, anyway. I nether trust nor doubt Tumblr's words; that's not what's winning me over. Instead, I'm curious to know where they plan to go with this, because this is unusual as far as business practices go and I think it would be cool if they're trying to set a more holistic precedent for the social media of the future. I won't be able to see that conclusion if they go bankrupt though.)

So yes, participate in Crab Day. Just because one unpleasant person also condones it doesn't mean it's a bad idea.

[everwalldigan]

Jason Todd, newly on the way to being “reformed”, is sent in by Batman to sub into an emergency justice league meeting with a few lesser known JL members because the big hitters are all busy with a new crisis. They both agreed this would be kind of a slow and easy way into trying to reintegrate him in the superhero community, because none of the leaguers present know about his past and it could kind of be “a fresh start”.

Except neither Jason nor Bruce anticipated the horrible gossip that would begin as soon as Jason said he was sent it by Batman, now that there aren’t any of the big leaguers present to immediately shut it down. The meeting hasn’t even begun, Jason CANNOT afford to screw this one up, but the whispers between the leaguers, seeing a new face under Batmans protection and advocacy, naturally shifted to discussing the robins and they really weren’t talking as quietly as they thought they were.

And whenever the conversation shifts to the Robins, it always finds its natural conclusion in the second Robin. The cautionary tale for every young hero, the tragedy that still haunts the superhero community and hides behind every strict training regimen, every extra warning given to the heroes and every time their suits are upgraded to provide more protection.

As gossip tends to be, the young leaguers have only heard the story second or even third hand and details get screwed in order to create the most gruesome version of events, a boogeyman story that older heroes use to scare the younger ones into caution.

“Don’t go out without letting someone know where you are, you don’t want to end up like the second Robin.”

“Think before you make a move, don’t end up like the second Robin”

And Jason is just sitting in the midst of it, his fingers cramping from how hard his fists are clenched under the table and he’s teetering on the edge of saying fuck it and ruining everything he and Bruce have been working towards the past couple of months.

He was supposed to start the debrief five minutes ago but it’s taking all of his league and Batman training to calm himself down enough to get through the stupid meeting without burning the watchtower down with everyone in it. He manages, though, and finishes the meeting without any further complications.

When the crisis dies down and Bruce realises all of Jason’s safehouses have been deserted and he hasn’t heard from Jason in more than a month, he assumes the worst. He didn’t hear anything about the meeting going awry from any of his colleagues, so he decides to check the security footage of that day. The following disciplinary hearing was the most brutal one any of the new heroes have witnessed.

[astrolook]

Your Saturn Return: Why Life Feels Like a Cosmic Midlife Crisis (And How to Survive It)

So, you just hit your late 20s, and suddenly, life feels like it’s testing you in ways you definitely did not sign up for. Your job? Feels like a never-ending loop of doom. Your love life? Either nonexistent or way too serious. Your friendships? Half of them vanished overnight. Congratulations 🎉, my friend—you’re entering your Saturn Return.

Wait… WTF is a Saturn Return?

Saturn, aka the strict cosmic dad of the zodiac, takes about 29.5 years to return to the exact spot it was when you were born. When it does? It’s like a stern life coach showing up at your front door yelling, “Hey, time to get your act together!” 🚪

If you’ve been coasting through life without a plan, Saturn’s about to hit you with a reality check. If you’ve been avoiding responsibility, Saturn’s here to serve up consequences. This transit pushes you toward maturity, purpose, and stability—whether you like it or not.

And trust me, where Saturn is in your birth chart determines exactly what part of your life is getting dragged through the trenches. 👀

Saturn Return in the Houses: What’s Falling Apart for You?

🪐 Saturn in the 1st House: "Who even am I?" 😵‍💫

Saturn is forcing you to redefine your identity and take yourself seriously.

Expect a whole personality shift—old habits, appearances, and insecurities are all under review.

You might feel more self-critical, but this is actually the universe pushing you to build real confidence.

🏠 Saturn in the 2nd House: "Am I broke or just bad with money?" 💸

Money lessons are here, whether it’s job insecurity, budgeting struggles, or learning self-worth.

Saturn is making you rebuild your finances from the ground up.

By the end of this, you’ll be handling money like a pro (or at least not blowing your paycheck on impulse buys).

📖 Saturn in the 3rd House: "Why is communicating suddenly so hard?" 🗣️

Your ideas, words, and even how you think are getting a major upgrade.

Maybe you’re going back to school, learning a new skill, or dealing with serious sibling drama.

Saturn wants you to become a master of clear, meaningful communication.

🏡 Saturn in the 4th House: "Family trauma speedrun—let’s go!" 😭

Childhood wounds? Generational patterns? Emotional baggage? Yup, all resurfacing.

You might be moving, buying a house, or redefining what “home” even means.

Saturn wants you to break toxic family cycles and create a stable foundation for yourself.

💖 Saturn in the 5th House: "Why does fun suddenly feel illegal?" 🎭

Romance, creativity, and self-expression feel like they’re being put through a cosmic stress test.

This is a "grow up or give up" moment—either commit to your passions or find something more meaningful.

If you’ve been dating like a chaotic mess, Saturn’s about to demand some emotional maturity.

💼 Saturn in the 6th House: "Work, health, routines—why is everything so exhausting?" ⏳

If your daily life is a disaster, Saturn’s here to force you into discipline.

Your health, habits, and work ethic are getting an overhaul (expect wake-up calls about burnout and self-care).

By the end of this, you’ll be the person who actually sticks to a schedule and drinks enough water.

⚖️ Saturn in the 7th House: "Why is my love life being personally attacked?" 💔

Saturn is testing ALL your relationships—romantic, friendships, business partners.

If it’s built on shaky ground, expect breakups, ghosting, or deep confrontations.

The good news? If you survive this, you’ll only attract relationships that are strong and long-term. You could even get married between the ages of 27-31.

💀 Saturn in the 8th House: "I did NOT sign up for this level of emotional intensity." 🖤

Deep psychological work, trust issues, and facing your fears—Saturn is dragging you into the underworld.

You might deal with financial debts, inheritances, or a major transformation in your personal power.

It’s tough, but once you get through this, you’ll be emotionally unshakeable.

🏹 Saturn in the 9th House: "Time to get my shit together and figure out my beliefs."* 📚

You’re questioning everything—your worldview, religion, education, and even your life goals.

Saturn might push you toward travel, higher education, or a deep spiritual awakening.

By the end of this, you’ll have a clear purpose and philosophy to guide your life.

🏆 Saturn in the 10th House: "Am I failing at life or just leveling up?" 💼

Saturn is testing your career, reputation, and sense of achievement.

Expect job shakeups, new responsibilities, and pressure to succeed.

If you do the work, you’ll come out of this as a true expert in your field.

💙 Saturn in the 11th House: "Where did all my friends go?"

Your social circles are getting a reality check.

Fake friendships fall away, and Saturn pushes you toward meaningful, long-term connections.

You might feel isolated at first, but in the end, you’ll find your true people.

🛌 Saturn in the 12th House: "Why do I just want to stay in bed forever?" 😴

The hidden corners of your mind are getting a deep cleaning.

You might deal with subconscious fears, spiritual awakenings, or deep solitude.

By the end of this, you’ll be more spiritually aligned and self-aware than ever before.

How to Survive Your Saturn Return (And Not Cry Every Day)

🔹 Accept the lessons. Saturn isn’t punishing you—he’s making you stronger. Learn the lesson, or Saturn will make you repeat it. 🔹 Commit to self-improvement. Whether it’s therapy, new habits, or changing your mindset, this is your time to grow. 🔹 Get a personal birth chart reading. Want to know exactly what this transit means for you? DM me for a complete birth chart reading, and let’s decode your cosmic homework! 🔮