#and leaving with no new friends made. it cannot happen and it will not happen if i can just pony up

[magebastard]

murmuring brook, curving about you

wc: 2123

rating: g

ship: lucanis dellamorte x loua ‘rook’ mercar

notes: pre relationship! early game! picks up immediately where the cutscene leaves off after the ‘get coffee with illario’ quest! the rating is g though this IS the ‘lucanis is not experienced’ conversation. nothing rlly inappropriate happens they’re just a couple anxious emotionally constipated clowns. this is soooo self indulgent btw. i think abt them in early game and i cannot stop thinking ‘wow. they are friends’

“Ready to head back to the Lighthouse?” Perhaps it is selfish—they rest so little. Rook wants to stay. Wants them both to stay tucked in this cafe where the blight and the war haven’t yet spread their ruin.

She has not seen him so at ease, so loose, even toiling away as he’s wont to in their dim kitchenette. Lucanis swills his coffee, a soft smile still on his lips.

“Almost.” Quietly, like a secret between them.

Loua tries not to look overly pleased.

It’s been close to a week at this point, since he’s joined them. She didn’t know him before his imprisonment, she couldn’t attest to whether or not it changed him. She cannot miss the man he was before and she’s grateful for it. She is so tired of missing. All they have is the capable assassin he seems to be now. One who, apparently, makes a fine pasta dinner and expertly crafts a shopping list. ‘Abomination’ isn’t even the first word Loua would use to describe him. It’s rather far down on the list.

“Well then,” she began. “I would love to ask you about knitting. I can sew alright, but I can barely accomplish a garter stitch.”

He quirks a brow. “I had a feeling I might be mocked for this.”

“What? What is there to mock? I asked for your help.”

“It is a domestic hobby—“

“I like that you knit.”

“And knit-wear isn’t very practical for the warmer climate—“

“Lucanis!” Loua is beaming at him when he finally pauses. He drums his fingers on the table. A few patrons are watching them, now. Coy smiles on their faces that he pointedly ignores.

“Again; I like that you knit. It is practical. And you said it yourself—it’s just another sort of dexterity training.”

“Forgive me. I’m used to employing logic to silence Illario and his jests.” He says it so breezily. The words are sharp but the intent is jocular, so familiar, even as Illario has fled them and cannot interject. Just like brothers, Loua supposes.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I imagine it’s also nice to have a focus beyond the work. And I like that you’re discerning about coffee. It implies particularity.”

It isn’t only that she’s convivial—it’s that she’s so genuine about it. There is an assertive sincerity to her prodding. She and Bellara are alike in that way. The gentle methods with which they pry are new to him. Lucanis is used to the perfunctory. The cold, calloused inquiry. From marks, from crows, from captors. He’s used to maneuvering through conversations—not having them.

But she’s made an assessment about him. Something simple enough. Benign, maybe. Or does she mean to tell him that he’s being observed? Noticed? Is she marking his weakness?

Though…

Smells like pipe-smoke. Coffee. Burnt clothes and lightning. No blood under her nails, or dry at the corners of her lips. She won’t hurt you.

Yes, he is starting to suspect as much.

“Before all of this, I lived a very comfortable life. I was in a stronger position to be particular.”

It delights him that she snorts—unrefined and comfortable. Maybe he should feel admonished or teased but it’s nice. It’s as if they’re friends.

“You don’t need to be ‘comfortable’—cough, filthy rich—to have impeccable taste in coffee. I’ll have you know; there’s a stand in Midtown, just a hair outside of Dock Town, with a dark roast that makes my heart sing. Andoral’s Breath has stiff competition out there.” Loua punctuates her lecture with a hearty sip. It is good coffee. Made better by the full moon, and the company.

“Truly? You’re sipping—guzzling, more like—Andoral’s Breath right now and you think there is a single roast that compares?”

“Guzzling!” She grins and he hesitates. This is nice. It’s as if he’s getting enough air to fill his lungs, finally, for the first time since his capture. And he’s smiling back honestly. When had that happened?

“Well, you’re not luxuriating in it as someone who is particular might.” Lucanis is joking. Spite thuds like a wind-torn rudder in his skull but his remarks are astonishingly temperate.

“Alright. We’ll get another cup each and I’ll take my time, then.” She reasons. It’s a calm, factorial resolve. Is it Spite that preens or something softer in his chest? We’ll just spend more time together, she might have said. Is he getting this right—is she enjoying this, too?

“Fine. And later, when we have a moment, I’ll have to see this coffee stand. A stand! Vaya, not a cafe or a proper shop? What of the atmosphere—can you even stop to enjoy a drink that way?”

Lucanis leans forward in his seat. He hopes to mirror her, goading and inviting. This, at least, is familiar to him. The dance of it.

“It’s a stand in a park, thank you very much. There’s a fountain and real grass and a pond. The mage lights are white after sunset. And little. Like stars.” Loua holds her conviction tightly. She doesn’t relish getting gooey and sentimental when they’ve reached such a jovial place. But something melts within her as she describes this quiet, personal thing.

To his credit, Lucanis seems to take the odd moment in stride. His smile does something saccharine and Loua will refuse to think about this for the days and weeks to come.

She shakes it off, tamps the homesick reverence out of her voice.

“And the dark roast is called King’s Cup.” Her hands are meticulous, even gesturing errantly. Mages. He would roll his eyes if he weren’t so captivated.

“Bitter and spiced—like a welcome home,” Loua pinches her fingers together, as if capturing the meaning with her hands could convey its verity. She wants to meet his passion for fine coffee, wants them to bond as she has with their gathered outfit so far.

“Ah, see, you are mocking me.” And he’s still smiling and it’s like they’re both in on this joke.

“No! I’m serious!” She laughs and laughs. “If I had to describe such a feeling, it would be like coming home. The kissing—first, goodbye or otherwise, I’m not entirely sure.” A new busker has set up near the counter, plucking away some slow melody. She wants to sway to it, feeling light enough to dance.

“Though some might say no kiss is sweeter than that of a welcome home, no?” Lucanis is messing with her and quietly Loua wishes they could have met in a time of peace. She could do this all the time with him, she decides. Sitting, laughing, ribbing. Flirting, surely, in some weird way.

“Some might—but not you? You assassin types love the heady, tragic stuff.” Ease up, you oaf. Don’t push, don’t nudge, don’t ruin this.

Though again, the sea air and gentle chords pull something loose between them. Lucanis does not respond with annoyance or discomfort. He’s still smiling at her.

“We assassin types aren’t often given a choice in that. It’s why I prefer the romance in novels. Much more range.” He’s still joking with her. Loua should take this and his tone and his quips and grasp them tightly. Move on. And yet…

When had she ever left well enough alone?

“More range than your own romances?” Perhaps if she keeps smiling, he won’t recoil at her clumsy attempt to know him. Perhaps he won’t care that the hapless leader of this crew throws her good sense away in a conversation when she carries even a mote of curiosity. Perhaps, hopefully, he will simply say ‘that’s not your business’ and they can move on—never to speak of this again.

Ah, but they were doing so well.

For a moment, to Loua’s horror, his face does betray discomfort.

Then, to her surprise, something relents and he unspools further still.

“I, personally, have none to speak of. No time, you see.” His head bobs from side to side as he contemplates explaining further. “No time, and not much vested interest, in truth. Mine is a solitary work. I don’t seek out things that are fleeting, and from there, my options are—well. It has not been a priority for me.” It shocks him that he isn’t entirely embarrassed to tell her this. Once, Lucanis believed it would shame him to be so comfortably isolated. At some point, perhaps even before the Ossuary, he must have come to accept the inexorable nature of his desires.

It helps, he supposes, that Loua only nods along. “I understand that. Between you and I; I would have benefited a lot from your foresight,” she offers in turn.

“Oh?”

“Well,” she pauses to take a sip. Stalling. “I certainly never thought to pursue anything fleeting. That doesn’t stop them from fleeting anyways.”

“Ah. My apologies—“

“No—I mean. Kaffas, that sounded bitter. Things just happen. It’s life, yeah?” Creators, maybe we should have gone back to the Lighthouse.

Lucanis nods. “Sure. Still, the heart and mind are often at odds, even as time passes. I’m sorry all the same.” And she supposes he knows a thing or two about hearts and minds. The grief and loss.

“Thank you. The novels are more fun, anyway.”

“You think?”

“Of course. Impossible trysts, impossible battles, love conquering all? What’s more fun than that?”

The lights are beginning to dim around the cafe, giving way to the strange ambience of midnight. Her fumbling notwithstanding, there is a molasses ease to leaning back and tilting her head at him. They’re just people, doing what people have always done; holding out something heart-soft and vulnerable for someone else to take.

Lucanis swallows around the sudden hard ache in his throat. Spite has conjured the sound of a cat, scratching a hard wooden door in his mind.

“Is that what you want, then? Swords and combat? Love to be the answer to stopping the mighty elvhen gods?”

She snorts again. “It could be,” she says. “But no. Not the swords and combat part. At least, not forever. I’m a Shadow Dragon—the swords are probably inevitable for a while yet. But someday—I don’t know. Maybe a house by some water. Coffee every day. A family. The happily ever after stuff.”

He tips his cup in a slight ‘cheers’. “That’s wise. I don’t imagine the tragic, heady stuff has much of a shelf life.”

Loua tips her cup back at him. “And you?”

“What about me? I can hardly make an informed decision about this.”

She points a finger. “I’m only guessing here, myself. If not romance, then what’s happily ever after? You said you haven’t had much of an opportunity to choose for yourself, so imagine it. The world is wide open for you. We finish the evanuris, then what?”

“You’re especially optimistic this evening.”

“I’m always optimistic. It’s my best and worst quality. Go on.”

Lucanis takes a moment, chewing it over. There is a kind of comfort that comes with never having to decide these things. His life has been a ruthless straight line. Pushing onward, never stalling to question or process. Mourning only in the dark. There has never been another way.

His eyes stay fixed on hers, dark and bright like sunlit woods. Loua lounges in her seat. She’s smiling at him, encouraging as ever. Free of the loneliness that dogs him. Perhaps there has always been another way.

“A family would be nice, I think. Death is my purview and it’s a demanding employer, but if I could—if there were something else.” He swallows, tries not to stutter. “If I could even begin to consider something else, yes. A house, a family. Perhaps we’d all knit. Something peaceful.”

The song the busker plays has gone impossibly sweet. Loua knows without knowing that the fool is staring directly at their table and she tries not to pay any mind beyond that. She tries not to give them too much ammunition in the way that she cannot control her face around this man.

Is he blushing? Loua wonders. Am I blushing? Of course I am, look at him.

The crowd around the bar must have died down. The barista on shift strolls up, practically giddy to deliver them a refill and collect their empty mugs. Loua wrenches her gaze away to nod and thank them. Pointedly ignoring the glee and mischief.

This place…

Lucanis seems to gather himself after a long beat.

“Though, as I’ve said, who’s to know what I really want? My own body is housing a demon and the world as we know it may end. ‘Something peaceful’ becomes a loftier goal by the hour.”

Her brows furrow at his dismissal. Loua could argue, but goodness, when was the last time she fought for anything that had nothing to do with her cause. Had she ever truly planned on settling down one day? Had she ever planned on leaving Tevinter when it still had use for her?

There’s comfort in having a purpose, she supposes. Though very suddenly it all seems so heavy to bear. Is it so ridiculous to think they all might rest once the evanuris are defeated? Is it so greedy to want to pursue the purpose of finding peace?

Is it so bizarre that she wants that for him?

For all of them, of course.

What am I doing?

Loua taps the lip of his mug with her own.

“To something peaceful,” she says. Lucanis huffs a quiet laugh.

“Something peaceful for us both.”

[gregorovitch-adler]

Never Leave Me Again

My eyes fluttered open after what felt like ages. After a moment of blurriness, I tried to make sense of my surroundings.

I found myself lying on the floor of the sitting room of 221 B Baker Street.

I must have fainted before.

Holmes was on his knees, towering over me from the left side.

Holmes. Mr Sherlock Holmes. My friend, my intimate companion, the only consulting detective in the world. The man the entire world thought to be dead.

Apparently, even death did not have a chance against him -- such was the power of my Holmes.

"Watson, my boy! Are you all right? You scared me to death for a good minute."

Something about his words ignited a fire in my heart. I clenched my fists in anger and frustration.

"Here I thought you were dead." I braced myself against the floor to be able to sit up. I grunted as I finally sat up straight.

Holmes looked down in embarrassment.

"Scared you to death, Holmes? Do you have any idea what I went through for these three years?" My eyes were welling up with tears.

I bent forwards to grasp his shoulder. Flesh and bones. I used my other hand to squeeze his shoulder properly, just to confirm that he was really there.

Holmes flinched in fear when I squeezed his shoulder. Did he really expect that I was going to beat him? It broke my heart to think he would even consider that a possibility.

"A thousand apologies, my dear Watson. I did not think you would be so affected."

"Why did you not? Did it not occur to you that you were my closest friend?"

"Of course, it did." Holmes' brow was furrowed. "I can assure you that you were not the only one who suffered all this time. I just thought that you would have moved on by now."

I moved a bit on the floor and wrapped my arms around Holmes to pull him in for an embrace. Holmes' arms were around my back now.

"Never." I swallowed hard. "I could never. Why would I even be here at Baker Street right now? I used to come here so many times a month, sometimes even daily, hoping you would come out of nowhere in front of me. I'm aware this was rather lunatic on my part. I could not help myself."

"You cannot imagine how many times I made up my mind and almost sent you a letter to inform you about my whereabouts. That would have been seriously lunatic of me, given how the situation related to Moriarty's network was at that time."

I gently held his head in my hand and pulled him closer. "You did not have to go through all that alone. I was right there with you that day. I always will be there with you."

"I know that, and I trust you deeply. I would never have forgiven myself, though, if something had happened to you because of me, or because of you being with me. I had to be alone."

I was not satisfied with his answer, but I decided to let it go for now.

We kept holding each other like this for a long moment.

"I am sorry."

I nodded in my reply. "How did you do it? There was no escape from the Reichenbach falls."

"I am exhausted right now, dear fellow. May I tell you about it later? I shall tell you the complete facts of the incidents over dinner."

My heart fluttered with joy at the sound of dinner together. I smiled and nodded as I let him go. "Promise me that you shall never leave me again."

Holmes took my hand in his own. "I will never leave you again. Now it's your turn to promise me something."

"What is it?" I asked, getting up from the floor to stand straight. Holmes did the same, and we were now facing each other.

"Move back in." His grey eyes were filled with hope.

"I will." His wish was my command. Always.

Holmes turned around and went to his old bedchamber.

I waited for him to disappear, and then I walked across the sitting room to look out of the window -- thinking about new beginnings with a broad smile on my face.

**

Prompt: Forgiveness by @fluff-cember

Tags: @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @jamielovesjam @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @gaylilsherlock , etc.

[tokitooth]

the urge to just say fuck it and book myself a trip to gothenburg BY MYSELF NO ONE ELSE ALLOWED so i can just go there and be there and see what it would be like to start a new life somewhere completely different where i can. i almost want to say pretend to be someone else but that’s not charitable it’s more like actually finally be who i want without any of my previous social inhibitions that i’ve built up from living in the same city i went to high school in and the same city i got my first job in being constantly surrounded by people who’ve known me since i was 16 if not even younger. being completely by myself in a brand new country maybe i can figure out how to talk to strangers at a bar or how to drop in on a social event and actually be social and not clam up for half an hour and leave “but you can do that at home without going to sweden” NOT THE SAME i need that spirit of knowing i’m somewhere where no one absolutely no one knows who i am so i don’t have to worry about seeming out of character. do you feel me

[scare-ard--sleigh]

in an effort to not be laying here thinking about succession i am in fact thinking about the dream daddy robert/joseph mess,,, mwahh ,

[jwonsite]

e(nnn)-

(a no nut november series)

what will happen when two boys bet a ps5 if either one of them make it through no nut november?

heejake x fem!reader (y/n is a different y/n for each hee and jake!)

smut!! mdni!! warnings will be posted on individual works

masterlist!

authors note!!! this series will NOT be finished. i’m going to leave the heejake versions up but the other members will not be posted. i’m really sorry to everybody who looked forward to it 😞

prologue

“just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” - lee heeseung

release date: nov 5th, 2023

synopsis: your video game obsessed boyfriend is determined to win a bet made with his friends for a new gaming console, all while depriving you of sex for an entire month. luckily for you, your boyfriend lacks any amount of self control

warnings: p in v, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), hickeys, grinding, exhibitionism (? the boys hear them over the mic😭), unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!!), lmk if there’s anymore!

“happy birthday, pretty boy” - sim jaeyun

release date: nov 18th, 2023

synopsis: while your boyfriend is trying his hardest to win a bet made by his best friends to not have sex for a month, you couldn’t help but give him a little show on his birthday

warnings: oral (f&m receiving), making out, 69 position, lingerie mentioned, idk what else to put help me

hi guys!! i am so excited for this series since it is my first one!! i hope you all enjoy and i apologize for the shitty titles i kinda rushed to get this out since i planned for it late :((

tag list (closed!) -

@yannew @hanienie @beomgyusonlywife @akirakinimi @multifandomgurllll @boutyouwonu @kissmunalodz @5xiang @ibsysbsfsunsbs @guqsnfics @hellaboredd @wvnkoi @kpopslover @heerinnie @climbingmandevillas @rikisly @simeonswhore @lilriswife4life @daegutowns @harrietbarnesblog @wonniie3 @ariadores @yizhoutv @lilizinho @firstclassjaylee @olivehues @ikeusol @bunhoons @electrobutterfly @choijxn

(if your name is not greyed out i cannot find your acc!)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“Disenshittify or Die”

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Last weekend, I traveled to Las Vegas for Defcon 32, where I had the immense privilege of giving a solo talk on Track 1, entitled "Disenshittify or die! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification":

https://info.defcon.org/event/?id=54861

This was a followup to last year's talk, "An Audacious Plan to Halt the Internet's Enshittification," a talk that kicked off a lot of international interest in my analysis of platform decay ("enshittification"):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rimtaSgGz_4

The Defcon organizers have earned a restful week or two, and that means that the video of my talk hasn't yet been posted to Defcon's Youtube channel, so in the meantime, I thought I'd post a lightly edited version of my speech crib. If you're headed to Burning Man, you can hear me reprise this talk at Palenque Norte (7&E); I'm kicking off their lecture series on Tuesday, Aug 27 at 1PM.

==

What the fuck happened to the old, good internet?

I mean, sure, our bosses were a little surveillance-happy, and they were usually up for sharing their data with the NSA, and whenever there was a tossup between user security and growth, it was always YOLO time.

But Google Search used to work. Facebook used to show you posts from people you followed. Uber used to be cheaper than a taxi and pay the driver more than a cabbie made. Amazon used to sell products, not Shein-grade self-destructing dropshipped garbage from all-consonant brands. Apple used to defend your privacy, rather than spying on you with your no-modifications-allowed Iphone.

There was a time when you searching for an album on Spotify would get you that album – not a playlist of insipid AI-generated covers with the same name and art.

Microsoft used to sell you software – sure, it was buggy – but now they just let you access apps in the cloud, so they can watch how you use those apps and strip the features you use the most out of the basic tier and turn them into an upcharge.

What – and I cannot stress this enough – the fuck happened?!

I’m talking about enshittification.

Here’s what enshittification looks like from the outside: First, you see a company that’s being good to its end users. Google puts the best search results at the top; Facebook shows you a feed of posts from people and groups you followl; Uber charges small dollars for a cab; Amazon subsidizes goods and returns and shipping and puts the best match for your product search at the top of the page.

That’s stage one, being good to end users. But there’s another part of this stage, call it stage 1a). That’s figuring out how to lock in those users.

There’s so many ways to lock in users.

If you’re Facebook, the users do it for you. You joined Facebook because there were people there you wanted to hang out with, and other people joined Facebook to hang out with you.

That’s the old “network effects” in action, and with network effects come “the collective action problem." Because you love your friends, but goddamn are they a pain in the ass! You all agree that FB sucks, sure, but can you all agree on when it’s time to leave?

No way.

Can you agree on where to go next?

Hell no.

You’re there because that’s where the support group for your rare disease hangs out, and your bestie is there because that’s where they talk with the people in the country they moved away from, then there’s that friend who coordinates their kid’s little league car pools on FB, and the best dungeon master you know isn’t gonna leave FB because that’s where her customers are.

So you’re stuck, because even though FB use comes at a high cost – your privacy, your dignity and your sanity – that’s still less than the switching cost you’d have to bear if you left: namely, all those friends who have taken you hostage, and whom you are holding hostage

Now, sometimes companies lock you in with money, like Amazon getting you to prepay for a year’s shipping with Prime, or to buy your Audible books on a monthly subscription, which virtually guarantees that every shopping search will start on Amazon, after all, you’ve already paid for it.

Sometimes, they lock you in with DRM, like HP selling you a printer with four ink cartridges filled with fluid that retails for more than $10,000/gallon, and using DRM to stop you from refilling any of those ink carts or using a third-party cartridge. So when one cart runs dry, you have to refill it or throw away your investment in the remaining three cartridges and the printer itself.

Sometimes, it’s a grab bag:

You can’t run your Ios apps without Apple hardware;

you can’t run your Apple music, books and movies on anything except an Ios app;

your iPhone uses parts pairing – DRM handshakes between replacement parts and the main system – so you can’t use third-party parts to fix it; and

every OEM iPhone part has a microscopic Apple logo engraved on it, so Apple can demand that the US Customs and Border Service seize any shipment of refurb Iphone parts as trademark violations.

Think Different, amirite?

Getting you locked in completes phase one of the enshittification cycle and signals the start of phase two: making things worse for you to make things better for business customers.

For example, a platform might poison its search results, like Google selling more and more of its results pages to ads that are identified with lighter and lighter tinier and tinier type.

Or Amazon selling off search results and calling it an “ad” business. They make $38b/year on this scam. The first result for your search is, on average, 29% more expensive than the best match for your search. The first row is 25% more expensive than the best match. On average, the best match for your search is likely to be found seventeen places down on the results page.

Other platforms sell off your feed, like Facebook, which started off showing you the things you asked to see, but now the quantum of content from the people you follow has dwindled to a homeopathic residue, leaving a void that Facebook fills with things that people pay to show you: boosted posts from publishers you haven’t subscribed to, and, of course, ads.

Now at this point you might be thinking ‘sure, if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.'

Bullshit!

Bull.

Shit.

The people who buy those Google ads? They pay more every year for worse ad-targeting and more ad-fraud

Those publishers paying to nonconsensually cram their content into your Facebook feed? They have to do that because FB suppresses their ability to reach the people who actually subscribed to them

The Amazon sellers with the best match for your query have to outbid everyone else just to show up on the first page of results. It costs so much to sell on Amazon that between 45-51% of every dollar an independent seller brings in has to be kicked up to Don Bezos and the Amazon crime family. Those sellers don’t have the kind of margins that let them pay 51% They have to raise prices in order to avoid losing money on every sale.

"But wait!" I hear you say!

[Come on, say it!]

"But wait! Things on Amazon aren’t more expensive that things at Target, or Walmart, or at a mom and pop store, or direct from the manufacturer.

"How can sellers be raising prices on Amazon if the price at Amazon is the same as at is everywhere else?"

[Any guesses?!]

That’s right, they charge more everywhere. They have to. Amazon binds its sellers to a policy called “most favored nation status,” which says they can’t charge more on Amazon than they charge elsewhere, including direct from their own factory store.

So every seller that wants to sell on Amazon has to raise their prices everywhere else.

Now, these sellers are Amazon’s best customers. They’re paying for the product, and they’re still getting screwed.

Paying for the product doesn’t fill your vapid boss’s shriveled heart with so much joy that he decides to stop trying to think of ways to fuck you over.

Look at Apple. Remember when Apple offered every Ios user a one-click opt out for app-based surveillance? And 96% of users clicked that box?

(The other four percent were either drunk or Facebook employees or drunk Facebook employees.)

That cost Facebook at least ten billion dollars per year in lost surveillance revenue?

I mean, you love to see it.

But did you know that at the same time Apple started spying on Ios users in the same way that Facebook had been, for surveillance data to use to target users for its competing advertising product?

Your Iphone isn’t an ad-supported gimme. You paid a thousand fucking dollars for that distraction rectangle in your pocket, and you’re still the product. What’s more, Apple has rigged Ios so that you can’t mod the OS to block its spying.

If you’re not not paying for the product, you’re the product, and if you are paying for the product, you’re still the product.

Just ask the farmers who are expected to swap parts into their own busted half-million dollar, mission-critical tractors, but can’t actually use those parts until a technician charges them $200 to drive out to the farm and type a parts pairing unlock code into their console.

John Deere’s not giving away tractors. Give John Deere a half mil for a tractor and you will be the product.

Please, my brothers and sisters in Christ. Please! Stop saying ‘if you’re not paying for the product, you’re the product.’

OK, OK, so that’s phase two of enshittification.

Phase one: be good to users while locking them in.

Phase two: screw the users a little to you can good to business customers while locking them in.

Phase three: screw everybody and take all the value for yourself. Leave behind the absolute bare minimum of utility so that everyone stays locked into your pile of shit.

Enshittification: a tragedy in three acts.

That’s what enshittification looks like from the outside, but what’s going on inside the company? What is the pathological mechanism? What sci-fi entropy ray converts the excellent and useful service into a pile of shit?

That mechanism is called twiddling. Twiddling is when someone alters the back end of a service to change how its business operates, changing prices, costs, search ranking, recommendation criteria and other foundational aspects of the system.

Digital platforms are a twiddler’s utopia. A grocer would need an army of teenagers with pricing guns on rollerblades to reprice everything in the building when someone arrives who’s extra hungry.

Whereas the McDonald’s Investments portfolio company Plexure advertises that it can use surveillance data to predict when an app user has just gotten paid so the seller can tack an extra couple bucks onto the price of their breakfast sandwich.

And of course, as the prophet William Gibson warned us, ‘cyberspace is everting.' With digital shelf tags, grocers can change prices whenever they feel like, like the grocers in Norway, whose e-ink shelf tags change the prices 2,000 times per day.

Every Uber driver is offered a different wage for every job. If a driver has been picky lately, the job pays more. But if the driver has been desperate enough to grab every ride the app offers, the pay goes down, and down, and down.

The law professor Veena Dubal calls this ‘algorithmic wage discrimination.' It’s a prime example of twiddling.

Every youtuber knows what it’s like to be twiddled. You work for weeks or months, spend thousands of dollars to make a video, then the algorithm decides that no one – not your own subscribers, not searchers who type in the exact name of your video – will see it.

Why? Who knows? The algorithm’s rules are not public.

Because content moderation is the last redoubt of security through obscurit: they can’t tell you what the como algorithm is downranking because then you’d cheat.

Youtube is the kind of shitty boss who docks every paycheck for all the rules you’ve broken, but won’t tell you what those rules were, lest you figure out how to break those rules next time without your boss catching you.

Twiddling can also work in some users’ favor, of course. Sometimes platforms twiddle to make things better for end users or business customers.

For example, Emily Baker-White from Forbes revealed the existence of a back-end feature that Tiktok’s management can access they call the “heating tool.”

When a manager applies the heating toll to a performer’s account, that performer’s videos are thrust into the feeds of millions of users, without regard to whether the recommendation algorithm predicts they will enjoy that video.

Why would they do this? Well, here’s an analogy from my boyhood I used to go to this traveling fair that would come to Toronto at the end of every summer, the Canadian National Exhibition. If you’ve been to a fair like the Ex, you know that you can always spot some guy lugging around a comedically huge teddy bear.

Nominally, you win that teddy bear by throwing five balls in a peach-basket, but to a first approximation, no one has ever gotten five balls to stay in that peach-basket.

That guy “won” the teddy bear when a carny on the midway singled him out and said, "fella, I like your face. Tell you what I’m gonna do: You get just one ball in the basket and I’ll give you this keychain, and if you amass two keychains, I’ll let you trade them in for one of these galactic-scale teddy-bears."

That’s how the guy got his teddy bear, which he now has to drag up and down the midway for the rest of the day.

Why the hell did that carny give away the teddy bear? Because it turns the guy into a walking billboard for the midway games. If that dopey-looking Judas Goat can get five balls into a peach basket, then so can you.

Except you can’t.

Tiktok’s heating tool is a way to give away tactical giant teddy bears. When someone in the TikTok brain trust decides they need more sports bros on the platform, they pick one bro out at random and make him king for the day, heating the shit out of his account.

That guy gets a bazillion views and he starts running around on all the sports bro forums trumpeting his success: *I am the Louis Pasteur of sports bro influencers!"

The other sports bros pile in and start retooling to make content that conforms to the idiosyncratic Tiktok format. When they fail to get giant teddy bears of their own, they assume that it’s because they’re doing Tiktok wrong, because they don’t know about the heating tool.

But then comes the day when the TikTok Star Chamber decides they need to lure in more astrologers, so they take the heat off that one lucky sports bro, and start heating up some lucky astrologer.

Giant teddy bears are all over the place: those Uber drivers who were boasting to the NYT ten years ago about earning $50/hour? The Substackers who were rolling in dough? Joe Rogan and his hundred million dollar Spotify payout? Those people are all the proud owners of giant teddy bears, and they’re a steal.

Because every dollar they get from the platform turns into five dollars worth of free labor from suckers who think they just internetting wrong.

Giant teddy bears are just one way of twiddling. Platforms can play games with every part of their business logic, in highly automated ways, that allows them to quickly and efficiently siphon value from end users to business customers and back again, hiding the pea in a shell game conducted at machine speeds, until they’ve got everyone so turned around that they take all the value for themselves.

That’s the how: How the platforms do the trick where they are good to users, then lock users in, then maltreat users to be good to business customers, then lock in those business customers, then take all the value for themselves.

So now we know what is happening, and how it is happening, all that’s left is why it’s happening.

Now, on the one hand, the why is pretty obvious. The less value that end-users and business customers capture, the more value there is left to divide up among the shareholders and the executives.

That’s why, but it doesn’t tell you why now. Companies could have done this shit at any time in the past 20 years, but they didn’t. Or at least, the successful ones didn’t. The ones that turned themselves into piles of shit got treated like piles of shit. We avoided them and they died.

Remember Myspace? Yahoo Search? Livejournal? Sure, they’re still serving some kind of AI slop or programmatic ad junk if you hit those domains, but they’re gone.

And there’s the clue: It used to be that if you enshittified your product, bad things happened to your company. Now, there are no consequences for enshittification, so everyone’s doing it.

Let’s break that down: What stops a company from enshittifying?

There are four forces that discipline tech companies. The first one is, obviously, competition.

If your customers find it easy to leave, then you have to worry about them leaving

Many factors can contribute to how hard or easy it is to depart a platform, like the network effects that Facebook has going for it. But the most important factor is whether there is anywhere to go.

Back in 2012, Facebook bought Insta for a billion dollars. That may seem like chump-change in these days of eleven-digit Big Tech acquisitions, but that was a big sum in those innocent days, and it was an especially big sum to pay for Insta. The company only had 13 employees, and a mere 25 million registered users.

But what mattered to Zuckerberg wasn’t how many users Insta had, it was where those users came from.

[Does anyone know where those Insta users came from?]

That’s right, they left Facebook and joined Insta. They were sick of FB, even though they liked the people there, they hated creepy Zuck, they hated the platform, so they left and they didn’t come back.

So Zuck spent a cool billion to recapture them, A fact he put in writing in a midnight email to CFO David Ebersman, explaining that he was paying over the odds for Insta because his users hated him, and loved Insta. So even if they quit Facebook (the platform), they would still be captured Facebook (the company).

Now, on paper, Zuck’s Instagram acquisition is illegal, but normally, that would be hard to stop, because you’d have to prove that he bought Insta with the intention of curtailing competition.

But in this case, Zuck tripped over his own dick: he put it in writing.

But Obama’s DoJ and FTC just let that one slide, following the pro-monopoly policies of Reagan, Bush I, Clinton and Bush II, and setting an example that Trump would follow, greenlighting gigamergers like the catastrophic, incestuous Warner-Discovery marriage.

Indeed, for 40 years, starting with Carter, and accelerating through Reagan, the US has encouraged monopoly formation, as an official policy, on the grounds that monopolies are “efficient.”

If everyone is using Google Search, that’s something we should celebrate. It means they’ve got the very best search and wouldn’t it be perverse to spend public funds to punish them for making the best product?

But as we all know, Google didn’t maintain search dominance by being best. They did it by paying bribes. More than 20 billion per year to Apple alone to be the default Ios search, plus billions more to Samsung, Mozilla, and anyone else making a product or service with a search-box on it, ensuring that you never stumble on a search engine that’s better than theirs.

Which, in turn, ensured that no one smart invested big in rival search engines, even if they were visibly, obviously superior. Why bother making something better if Google’s buying up all the market oxygen before it can kindle your product to life?

Facebook, Google, Microsoft, Amazon – they’re not “making things” companies, they’re “buying things” companies, taking advantage of official tolerance for anticompetitive acquisitions, predatory pricing, market distorting exclusivity deals and other acts specifically prohibited by existing antitrust law.

Their goal is to become too big to fail, because that makes them too big to jail, and that means they can be too big to care.

Which is why Google Search is a pile of shit and everything on Amazon is dropshipped garbage that instantly disintegrates in a cloud of offgassed volatile organic compounds when you open the box.

Once companies no longer fear losing your business to a competitor, it’s much easier for them to treat you badly, because what’re you gonna do?

Remember Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator in those old SNL sketches? “We don’t care. We don’t have to. We’re the phone company.”

Competition is the first force that serves to discipline companies and the enshittificatory impulses of their leadership, and we just stopped enforcing competition law.

It takes a special kind of smooth-brained asshole – that is, an establishment economist – to insist that the collapse of every industry from eyeglasses to vitamin C into a cartel of five or fewer companies has nothing to do with policies that officially encouraged monopolization.

It’s like we used to put down rat poison and we didn’t have a rat problem. Then these dickheads convinced us that rats were good for us and we stopped putting down rat poison, and now rats are gnawing our faces off and they’re all running around saying, "Who’s to say where all these rats came from? Maybe it was that we stopped putting down poison, but maybe it’s just the Time of the Rats. The Great Forces of History bearing down on this moment to multiply rats beyond all measure!"

Antitrust didn’t slip down that staircase and fall spine-first on that stiletto: they stabbed it in the back and then they pushed it.

And when they killed antitrust, they also killed regulation, the second force that disciplines companies. Regulation is possible, but only when the regulator is more powerful than the regulated entities. When a company is bigger than the government, it gets damned hard to credibly threaten to punish that company, no matter what its sins.

That’s what protected IBM for all those years when it had its boot on the throat of the American tech sector. Do you know, the DOJ fought to break up IBM in the courts from 1970-1982, and that every year, for 12 consecutive years, IBM spent more on lawyers to fight the USG than the DOJ Antitrust Division spent on all the lawyers fighting every antitrust case in the entire USA?

IBM outspent Uncle Sam for 12 years. People called it “Antitrust’s Vietnam.” All that money paid off, because by 1982, the president was Ronald Reagan, a man whose official policy was that monopolies were “efficient." So he dropped the case, and Big Blue wriggled off the hook.

It’s hard to regulate a monopolist, and it’s hard to regulate a cartel. When a sector is composed of hundreds of competing companies, they compete. They genuinely fight with one another, trying to poach each others’ customers and workers. They are at each others’ throats.

It’s hard enough for a couple hundred executives to agree on anything. But when they’re legitimately competing with one another, really obsessing about how to eat each others’ lunches, they can’t agree on anything.

The instant one of them goes to their regulator with some bullshit story, about how it’s impossible to have a decent search engine without fine-grained commercial surveillance; or how it’s impossible to have a secure and easy to use mobile device without a total veto over which software can run on it; or how it’s impossible to administer an ISP’s network unless you can slow down connections to servers whose owners aren’t paying bribes for “premium carriage"; there’s some *other company saying, “That’s bullshit”

“We’ve managed it! Here’s our server logs, our quarterly financials and our customer testimonials to prove it.”

100 companies are a rabble, they're a mob. They can’t agree on a lobbying position. They’re too busy eating each others’ lunch to agree on how to cater a meeting to discuss it.

But let those hundred companies merge to monopoly, absorb one another in an incestuous orgy, turn into five giant companies, so inbred they’ve got a corporate Habsburg jaw, and they become a cartel.

It’s easy for a cartel to agree on what bullshit they’re all going to feed their regulator, and to mobilize some of the excess billions they’ve reaped through consolidation, which freed them from “wasteful competition," sp they can capture their regulators completely.

You know, Congress used to pass federal consumer privacy laws? Not anymore.

The last time Congress managed to pass a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988: The Video Privacy Protection Act. That’s a law that bans video-store clerks from telling newspapers what VHS cassettes you take home. In other words, it regulates three things that have effectively ceased to exist.

The threat of having your video rental history out there in the public eye was not the last or most urgent threat the American public faced, and yet, Congress is deadlocked on passing a privacy law.

Tech companies’ regulatory capture involves a risible and transparent gambit, that is so stupid, it’s an insult to all the good hardworking risible transparent ruses out there.

Namely, they claim that when they violate your consumer, privacy or labor rights, It’s not a crime, because they do it with an app.

Algorithmic wage discrimination isn’t illegal wage theft: we do it with an app.

Spying on you from asshole to appetite isn’t a privacy violation: we do it with an app.

And Amazon’s scam search tool that tricks you into paying 29% more than the best match for your query? Not a ripoff. We do it with an app.

Once we killed competition – stopped putting down rat poison – we got cartels – the rats ate our faces. And the cartels captured their regulators – the rats bought out the poison factory and shut it down.

So companies aren’t constrained by competition or regulation.

But you know what? This is tech, and tech is different.IIt’s different because it’s flexible. Because our computers are Turing-complete universal von Neumann machines. That means that any enshittificatory alteration to a program can be disenshittified with another program.

Every time HP jacks up the price of ink , they invite a competitor to market a refill kit or a compatible cartridge.

When Tesla installs code that says you have to pay an extra monthly fee to use your whole battery, they invite a modder to start selling a kit to jailbreak that battery and charge it all the way up.

Lemme take you through a little example of how that works: Imagine this is a product design meeting for our company’s website, and the guy leading the meeting says “Dudes, you know how our KPI is topline ad-revenue? Well, I’ve calculated that if we make the ads just 20% more invasive and obnoxious, we’ll boost ad rev by 2%”

This is a good pitch. Hit that KPI and everyone gets a fat bonus. We can all take our families on a luxury ski vacation in Switzerland.

But here’s the thing: someone’s gonna stick their arm up – someone who doesn’t give a shit about user well-being, and that person is gonna say, “I love how you think, Elon. But has it occurred to you that if we make the ads 20% more obnoxious, then 40% of our users will go to a search engine and type 'How do I block ads?'"

I mean, what a nightmare! Because once a user does that, the revenue from that user doesn’t rise to 102%. It doesn’t stay at 100% It falls to zero, forever.

[Any guesses why?]

Because no user ever went back to the search engine and typed, 'How do I start seeing ads again?'

Once the user jailbreaks their phone or discovers third party ink, or develops a relationship with an independent Tesla mechanic who’ll unlock all the DLC in their car, that user is gone, forever.

Interoperability – that latent property bequeathed to us courtesy of Herrs Turing and Von Neumann and their infinitely flexible, universal machines – that is a serious check on enshittification.

The fact that Congress hasn’t passed a privacy law since 1988 Is countered, at least in part, by the fact that the majority of web users are now running ad-blockers, which are also tracker-blockers.

But no one’s ever installed a tracker-blocker for an app. Because reverse engineering an app puts in you jeopardy of criminal and civil prosecution under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with penalties of a 5-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

And violating its terms of service puts you in jeopardy under the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act of 1986, which is the law that Ronald Reagan signed in a panic after watching Wargames (seriously!).

Helping other users violate the terms of service can get you hit with a lawsuit for tortious interference with contract. And then there’s trademark, copyright and patent.

All that nonsense we call “IP,” but which Jay Freeman of Cydia calls “Felony Contempt of Business Model."

So if we’re still at that product planning meeting and now it’s time to talk about our app, the guy leading the meeting says, “OK, so we’ll make the ads in the app 20% more obnoxious to pull a 2% increase in topline ad rev?”

And that person who objected to making the website 20% worse? Their hand goes back up. Only this time they say “Why don’t we make the ads 100% more invasive and get a 10% increase in ad rev?"

Because it doesn't matter if a user goes to a search engine and types, “How do I block ads in an app." The answer is: you can't. So YOLO, enshittify away.

“IP” is just a euphemism for “any law that lets me reach outside my company’s walls to exert coercive control over my critics, competitors and customers,” and “app” is just a euphemism for “A web page skinned with the right IP so that protecting your privacy while you use it is a felony.”

Interop used to keep companies from enshittifying. If a company made its client suck, someone would roll out an alternative client, if they ripped a feature out and wanted to sell it back to you as a monthly subscription, someone would make a compatible plugin that restored it for a one-time fee, or for free.

To help people flee Myspace, FB gave them bots that you’d load with your login credentials. It would scrape your waiting Myspace messages and put ‘em in your FB inbox, and login to Myspace and paste your replies into your Myspace outbox. So you didn’t have to choose between the people you loved on Myspace, and Facebook, which launched with a promise never to spy on you. Remember that?!

Thanks to the metastasis of IP, all that is off the table today. Apple owes its very existence to iWork Suite, whose Pages, Numbers and Keynote are file-compatible with Microsoft’s Word, Excel and Powerpoint. But make an IOS runtime that’ll play back the files you bought from Apple’s stores on other platforms, and they’ll nuke you til you glow.

FB wouldn’t have had a hope of breaking Myspace’s grip on social media without that scrape, but scrape FB today in support of an alternative client and their lawyers will bomb you til the rubble bounces.

Google scraped every website in the world to create its search index. Try and scrape Google and they’ll have your head on a pike.

When they did it, it was progress. When you do it to them, that’s piracy. Every pirate wants to be an admiral.

Because this handful of companies has so thoroughly captured their regulators, they can wield the power of the state against you when you try to break their grip on power, even as their own flagrant violations of our rights go unpunished. Because they do them with an app.

Tech lost its fear of competitin it neutralized the threat from regulators, and then put them in harness to attack new startups that might do unto them as they did unto the companies that came before them.

But even so, there was a force that kept our bosses in check That force was us. Tech workers.

Tech workers have historically been in short supply, which gave us power, and our bosses knew it.

To get us to work crazy hours, they came up with a trick. They appealed to our love of technology, and told us that we were heroes of a digital revolution, who would “organize the world’s information and make it useful,” who would “bring the world closer together.”

They brought in expert set-dressers to turn our workplaces into whimsical campuses with free laundry, gourmet cafeterias, massages, and kombucha, and a surgeon on hand to freeze our eggs so that we could work through our fertile years.

They convinced us that we were being pampered, rather than being worked like government mules.

This trick has a name. Fobazi Ettarh, the librarian-theorist, calls it “vocational awe, and Elon Musk calls it being “extremely hardcore.”

This worked very well. Boy did we put in some long-ass hours!

But for our bosses, this trick failed badly. Because if you miss your mother’s funeral and to hit a deadline, and then your boss orders you to enshittify that product, you are gonna experience a profound moral injury, which you are absolutely gonna make your boss share.

Because what are they gonna do? Fire you? They can’t hire someone else to do your job, and you can get a job that’s even better at the shop across the street.

So workers held the line when competition, regulation and interop failed.

But eventually, supply caught up with demand. Tech laid off 260,000 of us last year, and another 100,000 in the first half of this year.

You can’t tell your bosses to go fuck themselves, because they’ll fire your ass and give your job to someone who’ll be only too happy to enshittify that product you built.

That’s why this is all happening right now. Our bosses aren’t different. They didn’t catch a mind-virus that turned them into greedy assholes who don’t care about our users’ wellbeing or the quality of our products.

As far as our bosses have always been concerned, the point of the business was to charge the most, and deliver the least, while sharing as little as possible with suppliers, workers, users and customers. They’re not running charities.

Since day one, our bosses have shown up for work and yanked as hard as they can on the big ENSHITTIFICATION lever behind their desks, only that lever didn’t move much. It was all gummed up by competition, regulation, interop and workers.

As those sources of friction melted away, the enshittification lever started moving very freely.

Which sucks, I know. But think about this for a sec: our bosses, despite being wildly imperfect vessels capable of rationalizing endless greed and cheating, nevertheless oversaw a series of actually great products and services.

Not because they used to be better people, but because they used to be subjected to discipline.

So it follows that if we want to end the enshittocene, dismantle the enshitternet, and build a new, good internet that our bosses can’t wreck, we need to make sure that these constraints are durably installed on that internet, wound around its very roots and nerves. And we have to stand guard over it so that it can’t be dismantled again.

A new, good internet is one that has the positive aspects of the old, good internet: an ethic of technological self-determination, where users of technology (and hackers, tinkerers, startups and others serving as their proxies) can reconfigure and mod the technology they use, so that it does what they need it to do, and so that it can’t be used against them.

But the new, good internet will fix the defects of the old, good internet, the part that made it hard to use for anyone who wasn’t us. And hell yeah we can do that. Tech bosses swear that it’s impossible, that you can’t have a conversation friend without sharing it with Zuck; or search the web without letting Google scrape you down to the viscera; or have a phone that works reliably without giving Apple a veto over the software you install.

They claim that it’s a nonsense to even ponder this kind of thing. It’s like making water that’s not wet. But that’s bullshit. We can have nice things. We can build for the people we love, and give them a place that’s worth of their time and attention.

To do that, we have to install constraints.

The first constraint, remember, is competition. We’re living through a epochal shift in competition policy. After 40 years with antitrust enforcement in an induced coma, a wave of antitrust vigor has swept through governments all over the world. Regulators are stepping in to ban monopolistic practices, open up walled gardens, block anticompetitive mergers, and even unwind corrupt mergers that were undertaken on false pretenses.

Normally this is the place in the speech where I’d list out all the amazing things that have happened over the past four years. The enforcement actions that blocked companies from becoming too big to care, and that scared companies away from even trying.

Like Wiz, which just noped out of the largest acquisition offer in history, turning down Google’s $23b cashout, and deciding to, you know, just be a fucking business that makes money by producing a product that people want and selling it at a competitive price.

Normally, I’d be listing out FTC rulemakings that banned noncompetes nationwid. Or the new merger guidelines the FTC and DOJ cooked up, which – among other things – establish that the agencies should be considering whether a merger will negatively impact privacy.

I had a whole section of this stuff in my notes, a real victory lap, but I deleted it all this week.

[Can anyone guess why?]

That’s right! This week, Judge Amit Mehta, ruling for the DC Circuit of these United States of America, In the docket 20-3010 a case known as United States v. Google LLC, found that “Google is a monopolist, and it has acted as one to maintain its monopoly," and ordered Google and the DOJ to propose a schedule for a remedy, like breaking the company up.

So yeah, that was pretty fucking epic.

Now, this antitrust stuff is pretty esoteric, and I won’t gatekeep you or shame you if you wanna keep a little distance on this subject. Nearly everyone is an antitrust normie, and that's OK. But if you’re a normie, you’re probably only catching little bits and pieces of the narrative, and let me tell you, the monopolists know it and they are flooding the zone.

The Wall Street Journal has published over 100 editorials condemning FTC Chair Lina Khan, saying she’s an ineffectual do-nothing, wasting public funds chasing doomed, quixotic adventures against poor, innocent businesses accomplishing nothing

[Does anyone out there know who owns the Wall Street Journal?]

That’s right, it’s Rupert Murdoch. Do you really think Rupert Murdoch pays his editorial board to write one hundred editorials about someone who’s not getting anything done?

The reality is that in the USA, in the UK, in the EU, in Australia, in Canada, in Japan, in South Korea, even in China, we are seeing more antitrust action over the past four years than over the preceding forty years.

Remember, competition law is actually pretty robust. The problem isn’t the law, It’s the enforcement priorities. Reagan put antitrust in mothballs 40 years ago, but that elegant weapon from a more civilized age is now back in the hands of people who know how to use it, and they’re swinging for the fences.

Next up: regulation.

As the seemingly inescapable power of the tech giants is revealed for the sham it always was, governments and regulators are finally gonna kill the “one weird trick” of violating the law, and saying “It doesn’t count, we did it with an app.”

Like in the EU, they’re rolling out the Digital Markets Act this year. That’s a law requiring dominant platforms to stand up APIs so that third parties can offer interoperable services.

So a co-op, a nonprofit, a hobbyist, a startup, or a local government agency wil eventuallyl be able to offer, say, a social media server that can interconnect with one of the dominant social media silos, and users who switch to that new platform will be able to continue to exchange messages with the users they follow and groups they belong to, so the switching costs will fall to damned near zero.

That’s a very cool rule, but what’s even cooler is how it’s gonna be enforced. Previous EU tech rules were “regulations” as in the GDPR – the General Data Privacy Regulation. EU regs need to be “transposed” into laws in each of the 27 EU member states, so they become national laws that get enforced by national courts.

For Big Tech, that means all previous tech regulations are enforced in Ireland, because Ireland is a tax haven, and all the tech companies fly Irish flags of convenience.

Here’s the thing: every tax haven is also a crime haven. After all, if Google can pretend it’s Irish this week, it can pretend to be Cypriot, or Maltese, or Luxembougeious next week. So Ireland has to keep these footloose criminal enterprises happy, or they’ll up sticks and go somewhere else.

This is why the GDPR is such a goddamned joke in practice. Big tech wipes its ass with the GDPR, and the only way to punish them starts with Ireland’s privacy commissioner, who barely bothers to get out of bed. This is an agency that spends most of its time watching cartoons on TV in its pajamas and eating breakfast cereal. So all of the big GDPR cases go to Ireland and they die there.

This is hardly a secret. The European Commission knows it’s going on. So with the DMA, the Commission has changed things up: The DMA is an “Act,” not a “Regulation.” Meaning it gets enforced in the EU’s federal courts, bypassing the national courts in crime-havens like Ireland.

In other words, the “we violate privacy law, but we do it with an app” gambit that worked on Ireland’s toothless privacy watchdog is now a dead letter, because EU federal judges have no reason to swallow that obvious bullshit.

Here in the US, the dam is breaking on federal consumer privacy law – at last!

Remember, our last privacy law was passed in 1988 to protect the sanctity of VHS rental history. It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden? Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google? Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics? Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms? Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

A federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems

There's a pretty big coalition for that kind of privacy law! Which is why we have seen a procession of imperfect (but steadily improving) privacy laws working their way through Congress.

If you sign up for EFF’s mailing list at eff.org we’ll send you an email when these come up, so you can call your Congressjerk or Senator and talk to them about it. Or better yet, make an appointment to drop by their offices when they’re in their districts, and explain to them that you’re not just a registered voter from their district, you’re the kind of elite tech person who goes to Defcon, and then explain the bill to them. That stuff makes a difference.

What about self-help? How are we doing on making interoperability legal again, so hackers can just fix shit without waiting for Congress or a federal agency to act?

All the action here these day is in the state Right to Repair fight. We’re getting state R2R bills, like the one that passed this year in Oregon that bans parts pairing, where DRM is used to keep a device from using a new part until it gets an authorized technician’s unlock code.

These bills are pushed by a fantastic group of organizations called the Repair Coalition, at Repair.org, and they’ll email you when one of these laws is going through your statehouse, so you can meet with your state reps and explain to the JV squad the same thing you told your federal reps.

Repair.org’s prime mover is Ifixit, who are genuine heroes of the repair revolution, and Ifixit’s founder, Kyle Wiens, is here at the con. When you see him, you can shake his hand and tell him thanks, and that’ll be even better if you tell him that you’ve signed up to get alerts at repair.org!

Now, on to the final way that we reverse enhittification and build that new, good internet: you, the tech labor force.

For years, your bosses tricked you into thinking you were founders in waiting, temporarily embarrassed entrepreneurs who were only momentarily drawing a salary.

You certainly weren’t workers. Your power came from your intrinsic virtue, not like those lazy slobs in unions who have to get their power through that kumbaya solidarity nonsense.

It was a trick. You were scammed. The power you had came from scarcity, and so when the scarcity ended, when the industry started ringing up six-figure annual layoffs, your power went away with it.

The only durable source of power for tech workers is as workers, in a union.

Think about Amazon. Warehouse workers have to piss in bottles and have the highest rate of on-the-job maimings of any competing business. Whereas Amazon coders get to show up for work with facial piercings, green mohawks, and black t-shirts that say things their bosses don’t understand. They can piss whenever they want!

That’s not because Jeff Bezos or Andy Jassy loves you guys. It’s because they’re scared you’ll quit and they don’t know how to replace you.

Time for the second obligatory William Gibson quote: “The future is here, it’s just not evenly distributed.” You know who’s living in the future?. Those Amazon blue-collar workers. They are the bleeding edge.

Drivers whose eyeballs are monitored by AI cameras that do digital phrenology on their faces to figure out whether to dock their pay, warehouse workers whose bodies are ruined in just months.

As tech bosses beef up that reserve army of unemployed, skilled tech workers, then those tech workers – you all – will arrive at the same future as them.

Look, I know that you’ve spent your careers explaining in words so small your boss could understand them that you refuse to enshittify the company’s products, and I thank you for your service.

But if you want to go on fighting for the user, you need power that’s more durable than scarcity. You need a union. Wanna learn how? Check out the Tech Workers Coalition and Tech Solidarity, and get organized.

Enshittification didn’t arise because our bosses changed. They were always that guy.

They were always yankin’ on that enshittification lever in the C-suite.

What changed was the environment, everything that kept that switch from moving.

And that’s good news, in a bankshot way, because it means we can make good services out of imperfect people. As a wildly imperfect person myself, I find this heartening.

The new good internet is in our grasp: an internet that has the technological self-determination of the old, good internet, and the greased-skids simplicity of Web 2.0 that let all our normie friends get in on the fun.

Tech bosses want you to think that good UX and enshittification can’t ever be separated. That’s such a self-serving proposition you can spot it from orbit. We know it, 'cause we built the old good internet, and we’ve been fighting a rear-guard action to preserve it for the past two decades.

It’s time to stop playing defense. It's time to go on the offensive. To restore competition, regulation, interop and tech worker power so that we can create the new, good internet we’ll need to fight fascism, the climate emergency, and genocide.

To build a digital nervous system for a 21st century in which our children can thrive and prosper.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/17/hack-the-planet/#how-about-a-nice-game-of-chess

Image: https://twitter.com/igama/status/1822347578094043435/ (cropped)

@fak3r@mastodon.social (cropped)

https://mamot.fr/@fak3r@mastodon.social/112963252835869648

CC BY 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.pt

[latenightdaydreams]

Thinking about werewolf König. Maybe you're new to town, and he's just like, yep, that one's mine.

WereWolf!König x New!Girl

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master List✍🏽

>cw:fem/afab, werewolf, forceful, oral, p in v, knotty

1.9k word count

🐺

.

.

König has lived in the same town for the last twenty years. He knows everyone by name and smell, blending in seamlessly, he appears as if he is like any other human. Living in such a small town has made it easier to hide away from others. However, today when one his weekly grocery run to the local store; a sweet smell lingers in the air.

He swallows hard and tries to act casual as his eye darts everywhere trying to pinpoint the new smell. As he enters the store, the smell seems to only grow stronger, nearly making a growl slip from his chest. That’s when his pale blue eyes lock on to you; a bright smiling face standing behind the cash register. It takes everything in him to control his primal side that is crying out to just take you now.

König averts his gaze and just continues to shop as he normally would. No matter how hard he may try, he cannot escape your smell that fills his nostrils. You’re already consuming him completely and he doesn’t even know your name. Once his things are gathered, he approaches the register, feeling as if he’s stalking prey.

“König!” The voice of the store owner interrupts his thoughts. 

“Hey, Frank.” König tries his best to maintain a calm demeanor with you so close.

“It’s good to see you!” Frank holds his hand out to shake with König. He looks over his shoulder to you at the counter. “The new cashier is my wife’s niece. She’s new so be nice.” He nudges König playfully.”

König smiles and nods while his eyes shift back to you. You’re not paying attention to them as you help the next customer in line. The way you move is hypnotic, making it difficult for him to even remain in this conversation.

“Don’t worry about me, Frank. I’ll be nice.” So nice.

Frank chuckles and nods, “Well, I have to go help unload a truck. It was good to see you.”

König nods and watches Frank walk away before turning his gaze back to you. He stands in line behind a mother and child. The closer he gets the more intoxicating it all is. All he can envision is having you under him as he buries his face into your neck, claiming you as his mate.

“Hello!” You greet him as he walks up in line, placing his items down for you to scan.

“Hallo, I’m König. I’m friends with your uncle.”

“Oh! It’s nice to meet you. I’m y/n.” You smile at him, noticing how intense his blue eyes seem to be.

“Beautiful name. How long are you staying?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet. Maybe until the new year?”

That’s not enough. The holidays are only a few months away, he couldn’t possibly find and lose his mate in only a matter of a few months. Instantly, his mind begins to speed run ideas on how to get you to stay here, stay with him.

“Well, it is a lovely area. Hopefully you fall in love.” König smiles at you, allowing his eyes to drift down to your body in that apron wrapped tightly around your curvy form. “Are you staying with Frank?”

“Yeah, I am. I couldn’t find anything to rent, only buy.”

“Ja, there isn’t much real estate around here.” He chuckles as he watches you bag his items.

König reaches into his pocket and grabs his wallet, getting cash out and handing it to you. Your much smaller cold hands caress his rough warm hands. The way you feel so impossibly soft only tempts him even more. There is no way he can let you go, you’re his.

“It was nice to meet you, y/n. I hope to see you around.”

“Thanks.” You say back in a cheery tone, fidgeting with your hair slightly as you lock eyes with him.

As König turns to walk out of the store he takes one more deep breath, wishing to savor this scent forever. With a sting in his heart, he walks away from you and leaves back to his car. For a moment he lingers, deciding what to do before pulling away and driving home.

The rest of your shift goes on as normal, nothing really eventful happening. It’s your second day on the job and everyone that you’ve met has been extremely kind. Your uncle Frank leaves you to close up by yourself, he knows that you’re responsible enough to handle that. By the time the store closes the sun has set.

You grab your bag from the locker in the back before leaving with the store key in hand. As you leave, you lock the door and turn to walk towards your car. Your eyes are drawn to the clear night sky. The moon is bright and illuminating the sky as the stars shimmer brightly; it’s such a beautiful calm night. Then you hear a twig snap.

You freeze, looking out into the darkness towards the trees. Being a city dweller, the darkness can be incredibly intimidating to you. Uncle Frank promised you that any deadly animal has been hunted out by previous generations, so if anything, it’s probably a raccoon. Right?

Not wanting to stick around to find out, you walk forward quickly with your car key in your hands and ready to get in. The second you turn the corner of the small building your eyes lock onto glowing yellow eyes. You freeze as your mind attempts to make sense of what it’s seeing. A low growl emanates from the creature triggering your fight or flight.

Quick on your feet, you run forward towards your car. That’s when the creature took off too, directing itself right at you. A scream leaves you as adrenaline crashes over your body, unable to remain calm.

König can’t help himself as he charges at you. His claws grab onto the fabric of your purse as you open your door. He throws you off balance, causing you to fall into your passenger seat on your knees. Another low growl leaves him as he wraps his hands around your waist holding you there.

You flail and scream at first until you realize that you aren’t being attacked. Not only that, but the hands are hands not paws. Is this a wolf? Or a sick joke?

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whisper, hoping whatever it is will understand.

König understands, and he isn’t going to. Not intentionally at least. He presses his cold snout into the crook of your neck and takes a deep inhale, letting his tongue slip out and lick your soft flesh. The smell of arousal hits his nose; you’re actually enjoying this.

He pulls back and begins to pull at your pants, not caring that his sharp claws tear and rip the fabric as he does so. There is only one thing on his mind and he needs it. Only surprised and panicked sounds leave you, yet you aren’t doing much to stop him. He wonders if you know that you belong to him, if you can feel it too.

You feel the night's cold air breeze across your bare bottom as he tears your bottoms off completely. Looking over your shoulder you finally get a good look at the creature. The realization makes you feel as if you’re going to faint, this can’t truly be happening. This man…wolf? The word werewolf of course comes to mind but that just seems too ridiculous.

König sniffs down your body, leaving chills in his wake as his cold nose presses against different parts of your body. He pushes you forward and he drops his face lower towards your supple ass and wet pussy. Eagerly, he presses his nose between your legs. You let out a loud gasp as he continues to breathe you in deeply. His tongue comes out and laps across your core, tasting you.

Your fingers dig into the cushion of your passenger seat as your legs shake from the feeling of his tongue. His hands grab on to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to give himself more room. You can feel his tongue slip into your entrance and wiggle around as your eyes close tightly. It feels wrong, but you can’t help but to give into how amazing it is.

When he pulls back there is a small line of spit connecting the tip of his tongue to you still. He goes back in for a few more tastes before mounting you. His hands press on your middle back, forcing you to arch your back more as his massive and erect cock desperately seeks your cunt.

Once König feels himself lineup, he thrust forward into you. A low huff leaves him as he feels his cock bully itself past your tight walls. You wrap around him so perfectly that he can’t control himself. He pulls back and slams into you even harder this time, causing you to wince in pain from his 13 inch cock rams into your cervix wall. While he is aware you can’t take him, he sure as hell is going to try and fit himself in fully.

You cry out of a mixture of pain and ecstasy as his heavy furry balls slap against your puffy pussy. The sensation is almost too much causing your body to tense and tingles shoot in different directions. Pathetic little mewls leave you with every thrust. Not wanting to give into this pleasure, you try to pull yourself up only for him to slam you back against the seat.

“Stay.” König growls in a raspy voice.

Your walls flutter in an attempt to adjust to his size, but it’s impossible when he doesn’t allow you a moment of rest. His sharp claws begin to dig into your skin as he grows more eager to claim you. His build up is approaching as his knot swells.

The heavy weight of his body rests on yours and you can feel his cold nose brush up against your neck. One of his clawed hands pulls your head to the side to allow himself room to bite down on the sensitive flesh. You gasp, not expecting the feeling of his sharp canines sinking into you. König goes deep enough to leave a scar and so that you can’t try to move away from what is going to come next.

König thrust into you a few more times before holding on to your hips harder than before, not letting up the tension from his hips. His cock is shoved fully in you, making you lose your arch from the pain of being filled. You wiggle uncomfortably for a moment before you feel yourself almost tear. One of your legs kicks out as you clench down tightly on the new feeling. König moans, feeling you actually take all of him. His cock begins to throb, spilling all of his seed deep inside of you.

“It- it's too much!” You cry out but your pleas are useless, he can’t pull out. The pain from his teeth in your neck is basically nonexistent at this point. It feels like losing your virginity all over again.

König only hums in response and grinds into your once more. You respond by whimpering, getting your hint to just try to relax and take it. Tears form at the edge of your eyes and fall down. The sex was orgasmic, but this pain is absolutely terrible.

The next morning you wake up in your own bed, confused. The last thing you remember from last time was…well the sex. Was it truly all a dream? How did you even make it home? You pull the blankets off of yourself and move your legs to stand. That's when a shooting pain travels from your crotch traveling down your legs.

Fuck…

Part 2

[zarnzarn]

TW: jumping on the manwhore au but aftermath, discussion of S/A, read carefully.

Three weeks pass.

Odysseus is carried through them with ecstasy and joy, reuniting and grieving and laughing and rearranging.

But then everything settles down, and-

It was him who'd ordered it. Ordered owls to be carved into every free inch of Ithaka, coveted shipments of the secretive birds for his personal menagerie, sold trinkets in the market. Made no secret of who favoured them, when he had half the houses painted blue.

But now every step he takes in his own home haunts him.

He cannot so much as look to the side before feeling the urge to flinch away, shame growing inside of him until it chokes him up. Cannot look at any owls. Cannot look at any of his men.

("Well, if our captain can't think his way out of it, at least now we know talking filthy works just as well!" One of the men chortles, unaware of how Odysseus' blood had run cold, standing with his hand raised to knock.)

("This day, you've lost it all, consider this as my goodbye-")

("Come on, she's a beautiful, powerful lady! How bad could it really have been, Captain?")

("Captain?" Eurylochus whispers, as Odysseus wipes the blood off his mouth and reaches for his cloak. The ships are silent, even though the roar of the waves has left. Eyes stare at him from all directions, wide and-

Pitying? Horrified? Odysseus can't really tell.

"Full speed ahead," He says, voice ruined, and keeps his chin high as he hobbles back to his room.)

(When the sirens come, all he sees is Penelope. It is nice, at least, to know that he can discard the intrusive thoughts creeping in about natural reactions and forced pleasures.)

("Please- please don't do this, don't make me choose, I'll do anything-")

("Leave me the fuck alone, both of you. If Penelope does not take me back after all of this, it's her choice. But I have to get all of us off this island and it's better me than you.")

"Ody- Your Majesty!" Odysseus reaches into his robes, pulls out the whittling tool and the wood, busies himself as he walks. It's one of the younger men, the ones who'd barely been boys when they left. "Listen, we were wondering if- if you'd come join us at the festival! The- all of the men, really, we've been- heh- missing you since we now have to share you with the rest of the kingdom. We could- we could sing together? Like we used to?"

Athena's prayers.

"You go ahead," Odysseus murmurs, eyes on the carving. "Next time."

"But you didn't come for the last one either!"

"I have-" He hears his own sharp tone, stops and swallows to soften it. He was terrible to all of them, he knows, those last few days aboard the ship, rude and sharp and brutal like all the other royals, where he never was before. "I have work to do. Have a good day. I've heard the new hound stock is coming in today, you should see if you want a pet."

He ignores whatever is said in response, walking on. He wonders, darkly, what they think of him. Do they still think he enjoyed it? That it was a privilege to be had by gods?

("He won't speak to us!" One of them hiss that night, when the lad comes back sniffling and downcast, like all the others. They'd grown up with Odysseus, almost like younger brothers, and all of the younger ones were taking the sudden frigid silence hard. They all were. Somewhere they had lost their friend, left him behind without noticing, until only their king returned. "He cannot possibly think we think less of him for sacrificing so much, for- the gods are impossible to hold up against, he can't think we blame him for-"

"We don't know what he thinks," Polites says, pulling his head out of his hands and wrapping his arms around himself. "He doesn't even look at us."

The men around the fire are all silent.

"He has to know, right?" Someone whispers. "He has to.")

"What did happen on the trip back?" Penelope says, voice quiet, sitting next to him. He jolts. When did he reach their bedroom? "Something did. You have barely touched me since that first day."

Odysseus opens his mouth, but for the first time, he has nothing to say. What can he? She had known, the first second he had turned his eyes from her in shame, and yanked him back in anyway with eyes blazing like a lion, growling that she didn't care what he had to do to come back, as long as he had.

Odysseus doesn't feel like he has.

Penelope carefully takes the whittling knife away from him, as well as the spear he'd carved. "And you have not prayed, after your return."

(He had tried. Had walked right upto the temple steps when everyone was asleep, and then turned around and thrown up in a bush.)

"Have you heard the story of the high priestess Medusa?" He murmurs, staring at the wall. Watches the shadows dancing across. "Athena used to tell me about her. One of her favourite devotees. I never understood why she cursed her, when it was not her fault."

Penelope puts a hand on his shoulder. Both of them are shaking. She has seen the scars, the ones that glow beautiful and bright, left behind by each god who touched him.

"A gorgon, snake-woman, capable of turning anyone she looked upon to stone, gods and humans alike. No eyes upon her, ever again."

The breeze blows in.

"At the time, I thought it to be a curse." He whispers. Remembers the story of the way she had screamed in the temple bower for Athena's help, insane, at the feeling he knows now is violation of self and celibacy both; Athena's chosen, ripped away from one of their ways of worship by force. "Now I know it was a blessing."

"But-" Penelope swallows. "Perseus-"

"Was a mercy." He looks at the ground. "She was pregnant. She did not wish to be. Athena granted her so."

"The shield is to honor her," Penelope murmurs. "Not a trophy."

He hums.

"I-" Penelope starts, voice thick. "I remember when you asked. When we first got married. If I was fine with not being joined with you in bed often, as long as I was satisfied. Was it-?"

"Only her priestesses can have true celibacy, her devotees less, me lesser. I had a crown to continue, so Athena accepted a more lenient vow, when I became her student." He stares out at the sea, the sky. "But I had vowed. I had sworn." A half-sob escapes him, some delayed noise of grief. It feels far away now, and the scars have all healed, but he cannot move past the violation, the stares, the whispers. The shame of betrayal. "I had an oath, Penelope."

"It was not your fault," Penelope whispers, taking his hand like he will shatter like glass. "Poseidon seems to target all of Athena's people. If anything-"

"We fought," He says, turning his head to press his face to her shoulder, shuddering as he confesses it. Abandoned by his own god. "She left. Maybe this is her punishment, all the eyes, all the time. Paranoid that another Olympian will jump out of the shadows, do it again."

"Or," Penelope says after a long pause. "She does not know. Only one way to truly find out."

Odysseus considers.

"Could you," He swallows, throat clicking. "Could you get me- the things from my shrine?"

-

He does not expect her to actually arrive.

He shakes in front of her, for the first time, feeling small and foolish and broken. Wishes he could go back to being twelve, do it all over correctly. "Lady Athena," He says, as formally as he can. "I beg your forgiveness. Please- please, is there anything I can do to-"

"About time," She interrupts, bored. "Finally willing to concede that I was right?"

Odysseus feels bile rise in his throat. "Yes, goddess. I was- stupid, to ever consider otherwise."

Penelope's hand is clenched tight in his robes, kneeling with him.

"Good," Athena says, pleased. "A war well won, all things considered. Our glory will go down in the history books." A pause. "Why are you on the floor?"

"What?" He chokes out.

"You've never kneeled to me once, even when I've taken you out at the ankles, you impudent brat," She snorts. Odysseus feels his pounding heart freeze in his chest at the- fondness in her voice. Fondness. She is not furious with him, not unforgiving. "What, do you want something else-"

She knocks him on the head, flicking him on the forehead playfully- then freezes as he looks up at her. Goes completely still, and he knows she can see what they did to him.

Penelope's hand reaches out to steady him.

"Only your forgiveness, goddess," His voice breaks. "Only that."

-

After, Penelope holds him, crying silently herself as she wipes at his cheeks. Athena sits with her head in her hands, helmet removed, anger finally under control but completely silent. Just sits there at the edge of their bed, bent over, face buried in her own palms.

Finally, she straightens, inhaling. Turns to look at him. "You may not be alive to see it," She tells him, quiet and furious. "But this is their last transgression, I swear to you. I will find a way to get revenge. They will die."

"I do not-"

"They will die. And no vows have been broken." She hesitates, hand hovering over his ankle. Odysseus crumbles, nodding desperately, and nearly passes out at the relief of the familiar touch, sharp and cleansing, godly and unlike the chaos of all the others. "You need not apologise to me about that."

He sniffs, turning his face into Penelope's shoulder. It feels freeing, some latent relief that Athena finally sees him, understands, forgives. She is not the terrifying goddess so far removed, cold and cruel, that he was starting to think she truly might be; bowed over in grief and horror for him, like a friend- he just wishes this was not the reason why.

Her eyes are gold at the edges. Crying. Nauseated almost, at the fact that- her uncle. Her father.

"Would you-" Odysseus wheezes. His heart hurts still, for their fight, for what happened after, for how hard he knows she will take it. "Can you-"

"Anything, champion," She says softly, strained. Gives him a half-smile. "My friend."

"The wings-" He whispers, feeling stupid, but-

"Slow," Penelope murmurs, reaching out to steady Athena as she climbs in close. Her voice is wrecked. She does not say anything more.

Owl wings fold around him, not white or blue or pink, patterned and brown like the mud; home. Home.

"No one will see you," Athena murmurs, and her voice is wretched, but caring. "No one can see you. Peace."

"Peace," Odysseus repeats, and leans into them both, letting the darkness shroud around them like an embrace. Peace.

Home.

[modanisgf]

SO HIGHSCHOOL , HANNI PHAM

“you know how to ball, i know aristotle!”

✎ SYNOPSIS — in which hanni falls for the captain of the basketball team, despite you two being complete opposites.

✎ PAIRING(S) — yearbook/newspaper student!hanni x athlete!reader

✎ WARNING(S) — blood mentioned, injuries, kissing, lowkey rushed i wanted to get it out for her birthday 😭

a/n— ily yearbook girlie hanni pham!! also happy birthday hanni

it was unreal to haerin how her best friend had fallen in love with y/n. hanni pham of all people was deeply in love with you, someone who barely even looked her way. hanni even showed up to all your games making the excuse that it was so she could take photos for the school newspaper, but everyone knew it was just for you.

it was one of those days right now actually, hyein and haerin sighing as they accompanied hanni to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

you and your teammates were currently strategizing, the other team calling a timeout as your team was up by forty points.

“han what even is interesting about this, every game y/n makes like five threes and carries her team to victory. nothing else ever happens.” hyein complains, making hanni roll her eyes.

“and then she gaslights herself into thinking y/n shot them all for her.” haerin says, making hanni side eye her.

“all you guys do is complain,” hanni groans, “also i do not gaslight myself?! she really does shoot them for me.” hanni says.

“you’re insane.” haerin says simply, making hanni come back to reality.

“my bad.” hanni mutters, grabbing her camera again as the timeout concluded.

the girl had an insane amount of photos already, some of your best plays coming from this game. it was concerning how much of cameo you made in each new issue of the newspaper, it was actually something you noticed recently but you brushed it off and just thought you were having a good season.

you were running down the court waiting for a pass when a bright flash blinded you, making you groan. you looked up to see three girls in the stands, scrambling and yelling at each other. two of them were yelling at the girl with a camera on her neck, the girl having her hand over her mouth in shock.

“hanni you cannot be serious right now.” hyein deadpanned, looking at her older friend.

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD DO THAT?” hanni says, her hand quickly making its way to cover her mouth.

she would never recover from this, she looked down to see if you noticed just to see you staring directly at her making her heart drop.

“hyein.”

“hanni?”

“look.”

“oh my god.”

“i blinded the love of my life.” hanni says, sinking down into her seat.

“how do you manage to ruin everything.” haerin says, making hanni roll her eyes and ignore her friend.

your teammate hadn’t realized you weren’t paying attention, the girl throwing the ball to you for an easy shot. her jaw dropped when she saw you fall to the ground, the ball leaving a big red mark on your face.

the ref blew his whistle, calling a timeout in which all of your teammates ran towards you to figure out what happened.

“y/n what are you doing?!” yujin shouts, anger laced throughout her voice.

you didn’t even understand the girl as you just barely woke up from your small sleep, causing you to touch your head and feel blood.

“ah shit.” you curse, the pressure of your hand sending pain coursing through your body.

“y/n did you hear me?! what the hell are you doing?” yujin repeats, your other teammates concerned.

“yujin..” was all you could mutter before you saw black. you knew it was over, this was most definitely your last game of the season.

back up in the stands hanni couldn’t believe her eyes, all because of her stupid camera flash you were now injured.

“hanni, you actually just may have made the most insane fuck up of all time.” haerin says.

“i genuinely have no words.” hanni says, her eyes trained on you as your teammates carry you out the gym. the match even had to be finished early, with the lead your team had it didn’t even matter much.

if hanni even thought she had any chance with you before, it was most definitely gone now. she didn’t even know how she fucked up this bad.

—

the next day hanni anxiously tapped her fingers against her usual lunch table, danielle and minji confused at her unusual antics.

nobody knew what y/n was looking at while she was distracted, so it was a complete mystery to the two girls what had happened yesterday.

“hanni, are you good?” minji asks, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“yeah! just anxious about my spanish test.” hanni lies quickly, looking around after like she was being interrogated for a crime.

“um okay..” minji says, she knew there was no spanish test today (they had the same class..) but she chose to not question any further.

a small conversation picked up between dani and hyein, haerin sometimes chiming in with minji. hanni couldn’t even focus, she was so unbelievably worried about you.

hanni couldn’t get image of you on the ground out of her head, a lingering feeling of guilt following her everywhere. thankfully she had yet to see you, she knew she would probably break down.

hanni was also nervous that you would confront her, tell her that she ruined your life or that she was awful but she knew you wouldn’t. that was what drew her towards you. regardless of how your friends and teammates acted, you were the kindest person ever. whenever a new issue came out you would compliment her on her work, as hanni usually worked on the sports section alone. it was a simple gesture really, but coming from you it meant the world to hanni.

in conclusion the girl was smitten with you, and she wanted nothing more than to know you were okay.

—

hanni knew it was stupid. but she let herself walk into the nurses office, where you currently were getting checked on.

hanni thought it would be fine, considering they had a student nurse at the moment who she knew well. she walked in and greeted her friend, the older boy smiling at her.

“hi hanni.” huening kai greets the girl quickly, before turning back his attention to your wound.

“oh sorry kai, i didn’t know you still had someone in here.” hanni apologizes, knowing well she knew you were in there.

you stared at hanni in disbelief, you couldn’t really see her when you were on the court so her beauty amazed you. maybe it was okay that she blinded you, and also sort of caused you a major injury.

“no worries hanni! i actually need to go grab something from the main office really quickly, can you watch y/n for me?” kai says, to which hanni nods almost immediately.

“thanks! y/n keep your head down.” kai commands, noticing the way you sat up to look at hanni.

“oh yeah, sorry..” you mutter, laying back down slowly as kai left.

there was a moment of silence, before you sat up almost immediately alarming hanni.

“y/n you’re gonna—“ hanni starts, being cut off by you.

“it was you, wasn’t it.” you say eerily, further examining hanni’s face.

“huh?” hanni questions, her heart dropping to her ass. she didn’t think you would acknowledge it.

“it’s okay hanni!” you retort quickly, noticing the change in the girls demeanor.

“next time just wait until i actually make the shot.” you tease her, making hanni groan.

“it was really an accident i’m so so so so so so so sorry.” hanni mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

“it’s fine hanni, your photos are actually really good. i use them on insta all the time.” you reassure the girl, taking her hand in yours making her unbelievably nervous.

“you do?” hanni says dumbfoundedly. (she actually knew that, she loved scrolling through your instagram, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“yeah, i mean you manage a whole section of the newspaper yourself for a reason. you always manage to catch my good side, it’s actually kind of scary.” you say, making hanni smile nervously.

“i just pay close attention you know, i love basketball!” hanni lies through her teeth, she didn’t know shit about basketball she just liked watching you play.

“oh really? who’s your favorite player?” you ask.

“um… lebron james?” hanni admits quietly, looking away in embarrassment at the way you burst out into laughter at her response.

“wow, you seem very well versed on basketball ms pham.” you say, still giggling at how unsure she sounded giving her response.

“i just— oh shut up.” hanni deadpans, noticing that you were now teasing her on purpose.

silence filled the room once again, causing you to lock eyes with hanni. you finally got to see her in all her glory, your eyes slowly scanning her face until they stopped at her lips.

she looked so kissable in that moment to you, the thought of her making you smile. what hanni didn’t know is that you were actually obsessed with her too, you’re teammates hated you for it always calling her the pretty girl in the stands.

you looked back up to see hanni staring at your lips too, making you ask a question on impulse.

“can i kiss you?”

another beat of silence, making you nervous.

“please.”

you wrap your arms around hanni’s neck, crashing your lips onto hers as she held your waist. you knew kai would be back soon but you didn’t care, you had been waiting forever for this.

the two of you only pulled away for air, addicted to the feeling of your lips on each others. though every good thing comes to an end, the two of you jumping at the sound of the door opening.

kai stood there dumbfounded, “you know what, i’m not even gonna ask.”

“um, y/n you’re free to go! after you’re done with whatever..” kai says, smiling awkwardly.

he quickly closed the door making you laugh, hanni hiding in the crook of your neck.

“never again.” she mutters into your neck.

“you sure?”

“shut up."

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:02」 — s.mingi

» ateez menu | mingi menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ werehyena!Mingi × fem!reader wc: 4k summary: Y/N hasn’t been intimate with her boyfriend but not by choice. Every time she tries, he always ends up pushing her away and its starting to affect her confidence. After an argument, Mingi finally blurts out just why he's been pushing her away this whole time. genres/themes/au: angst/fluff/smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, insecurities, past trauma, breakups; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! taglist for kinktober is CLOSED. Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: i promise the next thing i write for Mingi will make him dom. I already promised @yoonguurt and i will keep that promise but here is some sub mingi for the sub mingi enthusiasts lol also, if anyone is curious, i'm using STRIPED HYENAS as a reference for his werecreatures. NOT SPOTTED. Spotted hyenas are fucking insane to learn about. seriously, if you're curious, look up spotted hyena reproduction. it's literally unreal. anyway, the next part is for Chris' birthday and includes our fave aussies from stray kids! notice how i said aussies 😉 stay tuned for that and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), facesitting (m receiving), mommy kink, oral (f receiving), handjob (m receiving), sub!Mingi, dom!Reader, use of pet names (hers: mommy, ma’am; his: baby boy, sweetheart, etc), and I think that’s all but let me know if I missed any. kinks: facesitting + mommy kinkdialogue prompt: ❛❛ Sit on my face. ❜❜

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When you first met Mingi, you were intimidated by his presence, taking him as a very imposing and menacing but once you got to know him, you discovered it was merely in his looks alone. Standing at 6’1 with broad shoulders, he was a physically imposing man.

Adding to that aura of dominance was the fact that he wasn’t entirely human. You learned early on that Mingi was a werecreature. Specifically of the hyena variety. It was something you were new to, having never met another werecreature before him.

When things shifted in your relationship with him from platonic to romantic, Mingi was quick to let you know everything he felt was important about his condition. When he transformed, when his heat was, and what he usually did during his transformation and how long it lasted.

When his first transformation since making your relationship official happened, you had seen him the day before, making him a variety of meals for afterwards as you knew he would be too tired and weak to do it himself. His first cycle passed by without issue and soon it became part of your monthly routine to go over the day before, check on him, make him a week’s worth of meals and kiss him goodbye until you saw him a couple days later.

For almost a year, this was the norm for you. Something that had also unintentionally become the norm was not being intimate with Mingi. At all. Sure you’d kissed and even made out but as things got heated, Mingi always managed to push you away, trying to change the course of the evening or even leaving before you got a word in.

You’d never gone beyond a few lingering touches and it was slowly chipping away at your confidence and self esteem. It made you feel unwanted and unattractive despite being the center of male attention when you went out with your friends to the clubs once a month.

You didn’t want the attention of some random guy at the bar trying to buy you enough drinks to forget your own name and end up in bed with him only to regret it the following morning.

You wanted the attention of your boyfriend.

You’d tried speaking to Mingi about this, expressing your concerns but each time he managed to change the subject, steering it in an entirely different direction and avoiding the conversation altogether.

You didn’t expect sex from him. Of course he could have very specific reasons for not wanting to have sex with you but it was the fact he wouldn’t discuss it with you. All you wanted was a reason, something as simple as he wasn’t ready and you would drop it but you didn’t even get that.

And so, after being rejected all day on one of your rare days off, you wanted to find out why your boyfriend didn’t want to have sex with you.

You let out a sigh, keeping your eyes on the TV as you sat on the couch with Mingi sitting a cushion’s distance away, his massive frame taking up the opposite side of the couch from you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his eyes were wandering your body, focusing on the exposed skin of your thighs.

He often would look but never touch. You wanted so desperately for him to touch you in more ways than guiding you out of his way when he was trying to pass you or cupping the back of your head so he could kiss your forehead. You want his hands everywhere.

You heard Mingi clear his throat and you quickly focused your gaze back on the TV. You had no idea what was playing, having lost interest in it a long time ago as you were too busy fantasizing about your massive boyfriend’s hands all over you.

“I’m gonna grab a drink. You want one?” he asked as he got up from the couch, towering over you. “Sure,” you said softly as he nodded and moved around the couch to the kitchen behind where you sat. You heard the fridge open and close and a few moments later, he returned with two cold cans of cola, handing one to you and sitting back down.

“You don’t have to sit all the way over there,” you said as you cracked open your can and took a sip. Mingi turned to look at you wide-eyed. “Oh, uh I’m okay over here,” he said nervously. You set your can down, settling back against the couch, disappointment settling in your chest. “Fine,” you muttered, picking up the remote and changing the channel.

Mingi turned to look at you, taking in your profile as you flipped through channels until you exasperatedly tossed the remote onto the couch between you. “You pick something,” you snapped, not looking at him. Your tone made him recoil internally, wondering why you were upset.

He picked up the remote and flipped through the stations until he found something to put it on. He set the remote on the coffee table as an uncomfortable silence fell over the two of you. He could tell you were thinking hard, something bothering you but you were working out a way to bring it up.

Mingi hated this. He hated fighting with you. He hated the silent treatment. He hated denying you. Earlier, when he’d arrived and sat on the couch, you had joined him while dinner was finishing cooking in the oven. What started as a few kisses turned into more as you straddled his lap, kissing him deeply as you started to grind against him. 

Mingi wanted more than anything to let you have him right there on the couch but he was reminded of his past experiences. His previous partners who became weirded out upon learning that a man so strong and physically large was so submissive. He’d never been one to be a leader or in charge of anything and that extended to his preferences in the bedroom.

His relationships in the past failed because of his inability to take charge in not only the bedroom but in the relationship as well. He wasn’t comfortable with it but he really, really liked you, possibly even loved you, and he didn’t want to mess this up. He’d forced himself to take charge in some scenarios but he felt so out of his depth. 

And when it came to intimacy with you, he wanted more than anything to be intimate, to give into his more carnal desires but his past trauma held him back and he ended up pushing you away just like earlier. He’d quickly pushed you off him before things go get too far and luckily for him the timer on the oven went off and he was saved for a little while longer.

He knew it was no way to conduct things and that he should have a serious conversation but he just never seemed to be ready because he felt that things would end if he was honest with you. He was trying to prolong the inevitable.

“Do you not like me or something?”

Your question caught him off guard as your words hung in the air, waiting for his response. He turned to look at you, taking in your profile as you sat there, arms crossed over your chest, one leg tucked under you. “What?” he asked stupidly. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have immediately refuted your claim but he was just so taken aback.

“Do you not like me?” you asked again, turning to look at him. Mingi hesitated. Of course he liked you. He loved you. His brows knitted together in confusion. “Of course I like you,” he replied, turning in his seat to look directly at you. “Then why do you always do this?” you asked.

“Do what?” Mingi asked, knowing it was the wrong thing to ask. He knew what you were talking about. Your eyes narrowed. “Always push me away when we start to get intimate.” Mingi felt his stomach sink, the same feelings of anxiety and dread that he always got when this topic came up, rising into his chest.

It was starting to get hot in the apartment. He needed fresh air.

“I need some air,” he said getting up.

“No,” you said, getting to your feet and following your boyfriend. “We’re not doing this again!”

Mingi sighed as he stopped abruptly, making you run into him before he turned. “I can’t have this conversation with you, really,” he said. “Why?” you asked, feeling a pang in your chest when he turned and started for the door. Panic rose up inside of you as you watched him grab his keys from the counter as he passed it. You don’t know what came over you but you weren’t about to let this go.

“Song Mingi, if you walk out that door, we are through!!”

He froze, hand on the doorknob as your voice rang through the apartment. His shoulders visibly relaxed before he turned to look at you, a look of shock on his face. “You’d break up with me over this?” he asked softly. You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what you expect me to do!” you all but shouted at him.

“I’m trying to have a mature conversation with you but all you’ve done is shut me down. I just want to know why you don’t want me!” you said, the corners of your eyes burning as you fought back tears. “I… don’t want you?” Mingi asked, sounding confused. “When have I ever said I didn’t want you?” he asked, walking back into the living room.

“You didn’t have to say it!” you countered. “Every time we’re intimate, you always push me away before it gets too far. I could understand if you would explain to me that you aren’t ready or it was something else but you won’t even entertain a conversation about it with me!” You blinked away the tears and turned away from him, not wanting to let him see you cry.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

Silence fell over the two of you, punctuated only by the sound of the TV, forgotten in the midst of your argument. Maybe it was better to just let him go, let this all go. Maybe you’d be better off. You loved Mingi, you really did, but you never signed on for all of this. You knew getting involved with him was going to be a learning experience after he revealed his nature as a werecreature but to you, that was nothing.

The silence was broken by the sound of Mingi’s keys being set on the counter and the floor creaking as he walked towards where you stood. You felt his arms wrap around you, warmth from his body enveloping you as he rested his head on yours. “It’s not because I don’t want you,” he murmured, finally speaking.

“I want you so bad I can barely stand it,” he added. “I just don’t want to scare you off.” You turned in his arms to face him. “How would it scare me off?” you asked, looking at him with a confused expression, brows knitting together. “Because,” Mingi started, his voice faltering. “It’s embarrassing,” he continued. “You thought I would judge you?” you asked. Mingi shrugged.

“It’s happened in the past. The people I’ve dated didn’t want…” he trailed off. “Didn’t want what?” you asked, trying to coax it out of him. He sighed, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Someone like me,” he blurted out. You reached up, cupping the back of his neck and forcing him to look down at you. “What does that mean? Someone like you?”

“I’m not very… confident,” he started. You snorted. “Now that’s a damn lie,” you retorted. “You’re the most confident man I know,” you added. Mingi shook his head. “Confident is the wrong word,” he admitted. “I’m not… I don’t like to be… in charge.”

Realization dawned on you and you let out a sigh. “You’re not dominant,” you stated. Mingi nodded, shutting his eyes and bracing for what you assumed was some sort of angry response. It nearly broke your heart that he felt he had to lie and hide this from you because of the reactions of his past relationships. You could understand his hesitation. But you weren’t like his previous partners.

“Mingi,” you started, grabbing the front of his shirt when he tried to turn away. “Yah,” you said sternly. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you!” the tone in your voice must have surprised him. You’d never sounded so commanding before. At least not to him. “Yes, ma’am,” he answered quickly.

“I wish you had just told me, instead of hiding it from me,” you explained, cupping his cheek. “If you had told me, we could have solved this a lot sooner instead of tiptoeing around it.” Mingi leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I thought that if I told you, it might make you leave me.”

You pulled him into a kiss. “I almost broke up with you because I thought you weren’t attracted to me,” you said softly. “This is why we need to communicate,” you continued. “I’m not like your previous partners, you know this.” Mingi nodded, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I know,” he murmured. “And I never should have compared you to them. I was just…”

“Scared,” you said. “I get it. It can be hard to break that cycle of trauma.”

“It’s not weird though,” you continued, taking his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. “I don’t mind taking control,” you added, smiling at him as you pushed the door open with your back. “How about you lay down and let me take care of you. How does that sound, baby?”

Mingi nodded wordlessly as you guided him over to the bed, turning so you could push him down onto it. He landed on his butt with a soft oof as you moved to shut the door and returned to him. “Let me take care of you,” you repeated, slowly kneeling in front of him, hand sliding down his chest to the waistband of his sweats.

You slipped your fingers under the elastic pulling it forward slightly before letting it snap back against his stomach, making him gasp. You chuckled softly as you grabbed the sides of the waistband and started tugging. He lifted his hips, letting you pull the material all the way down his thighs and to the floor where it pooled around his ankles. He sat in his underwear, waiting for your next move.

You could see he was starting to grow hard but you knew Mingi’s body, even if you hadn’t seen it fully. You knew that your boyfriend had a massive cock and from what you could see now, half hard, you were correct in your assumptions. You pressed your hand over the bulge in his boxers, making him his, a shudder run up his spine as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Does that feel good?” you asked, stroking him slowly, watching his expressions. “Y-yes,” he whined, hips starting to roll up into your touch. You could feel him growing harder and harder by the minute and decided to take it a step further. You slipped your hand into his underwear, pulling his cock free from the material. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you started to slowly pump your hand up and down.

“Fuck,” your boyfriend hissed. “Feels so good, babe.”

You let go, spitting into your hand and resumed stroking him, your saliva working as a lubricant and moving faster with ease. He was almost completely hard by this point. “Babe, please,” Mingi whined. “What is it?” you asked softly, your speed never faltering as you looked up at your boyfriend. “I wanna be inside you,” he whined, hips bucking.

You clicked your tongue as you slowed your hand for a moment. “No, baby,” you answered. Mingi whined again, shaking under your touch. “Please, mommy,” he gasped and you felt your cheeks burn. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before but you weren’t about to comment on it. Not when you wanted to focus on making Mingi feel good. You could discuss it later.

“Sorry baby,” you said softly. “Only good boys get their dicks wet.” Mingi whined, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “It’s literally wet right now,” he countered but you shushed him, stroking him faster and making him remove his shirt. He did as you asked, tossing the tee to the floor. 

“Please, baby. I’ll be good, I promise,” Mingi begged. It was tempting to give into him but why the rush? “Not tonight, baby boy,” you cooed. “Maybe in the morning.” You continued to stroke him, his hips bucking up to meet your movements as you drew him closer to his high.

You felt his cock throb and twitch in your hand and you knew he was close. “Just a little more,” you cooed. “Be a good boy and cum.”

As if on command, Mingi let out a moan and you angled his cock away from you, watching as thin ropes of his milky white cum shot out of him, landing on his toned stomach, contrasting with his tanned skin. You continued to pump him slowly, making sure to squeeze every last drop out of him.

“What a good boy you are,” you said sweetly as you got to your feet, ignoring the gusset of your panties sticking to you as you climbed onto the bed. “I bet that felt really good, didn’t it?” you asked, to which he nodded. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said, starting to get up but his grip on you was strong. He muttered something that you couldn’t make out.

You leaned over to hear him better. “What was that, baby?” you asked. “You need to speak up.”

“I said,” Mingi started, licking his lips. “Sit on my face.” You let out a chuckle. “It’s okay, baby,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “You don’t need to do anything. We can clean up and go again tomorrow if you really want to.” Mingi shook his head. “No,” he said, grabbing your wrist, moving to lace his fingers with yours. “Please, Y/N,” he whined. “P-please, mommy. I want you to sit on my face!”

You stared at him, nibbling on your bottom lip for a moment before you relented. “Fine,” you said. “But no cleaning or wiping your mess away until I cum, do you understand me?” you asked, leaning over to look into his eyes. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You got off the bed, tugging your shorts and underwear down and letting them fall to the floor, stepping out of them and then returning to Mingi on the bed. He waited eagerly as you straddled his chest. “Before we do this. You have to tell me if you can’t breathe. Tap my thigh three times if you need air,” you instructed. Mingi shook his head. “I don’t need air,” he replied. “I just need your pussy on my tongue, right now.”

You reached behind you, grabbing his sensitive, soft cock. He let out a whimper before nodding. “Yes mommy,” he said quickly. You let go and scooted forward until your knees were on either side of his head. Mingi’s hand moved up to cup your ass. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Just sit down.”

You lowered yourself onto his waiting tongue and let out a moan as he immediately wrapped his lips around your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue, the room filling with lew slurping sounds. You reached down, combing your fingers through his hair gently. You felt him flatten his tongue against your clit, licking up and down slowly before he started to circle the nub with the tip. 

You let out a moan, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to make out with your sex, ignoring the wetness that seeped from you onto his lips and chin. He could careless and lapped away at your core, fingers digging into the plush of your ass, pulling you down and close as possible.

His tongue traced down to your hole, teasing the entrance before he pulled you flush against him, his tongue wiggling into your pussy. You let out a gasp, feeling his nose bump against your clit as he tasted everything you had to give him. His tongue slipped out and was back on your clit, flicking against it in quick succession, each flick making your body jerk violently as he built you up to your climax.

Your fingers in his hair tightened as your hips started to move involuntarily. Mingi gently pushed you up slightly. “Yes, ride my tongue,” he murmured, slurring his words before pulling you back down on his flat tongue, letting you grind against him. You let go of his hair, leaning over to place your hands against the mattress as you started to roll your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue.

Your body shook, thighs squeezing his head as your orgasm washed over you, a wave of euphoria spreading throughout your body as you continued to ride out your high. Finally, you shuddered, feeling the effects of your exertion in the burning of your thighs but also in the sensitive bundle of nerves your boyfriend was still licking slowly.

You finally pulled away, lifting off his face and swinging your leg over to kneel beside him. The lower half of his face was coated in your release, shining in the low light of your bedroom.

“You are a mess,” you said with a chuckle before getting up and heading into your ensuite bathroom to grab a clean washcloth, wetting it with warm water and returning to the bed. Mingi held out his hand but you pushed it away and started wiping his face clean before wiping down his stomach, cleaning it of his release. 

Once you were satisfied he was no longer sticky, you tossed the towel into the hamper as Mingi’s arms circled your waist, pulling you onto his naked lap and smiling up at you with a very tired and lazy smile. You felt his cock prod at your thigh and you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair before kissing him. “You’re hard again,” you noted between kisses.

“Mmm,” he hummed in answer. “I could go again,” he offered. “But I’m also very tired.” You nodded. “My thighs are burning,” you admitted. “How about we rest and then maybe later we can go again. Maybe I’ll even let you fuck me,” you said, pulling him into a slow, languid kiss that was messy and nothing but tongue. “Have I been a good boy?” he asked, perking up slightly, making you laugh.

“Yes,” you answered. “You’ve been a very good boy,” you added. Mingi pulled you into a kiss, grabbing your hips and pushing you down so his cock pressed against your clit. “I could go right now,” he said eagerly. “You won’t even have to do anything,” he added. You cupped his cheek, pressing a kiss to his lips. “If you promise I won’t have to lift a finger,” you said.

Mingi nodded excitedly. “I promise!” he said eagerly. You nodded, nose bumping against his. “Alright,” you replied, kissing him and pulling back, resisting the urge to laugh when he pouted, trying to chase your lips. “Show me what you can do, big boy.”

Keeping his hold on you, Mingi shifted from sitting to his knees and laid you back against the pillows before removing your top, dropping it to the floor and cupping your chest over your bralette. He kissed down your chest, pushing your bralette up and taking one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before kissing down your stomach, moving your legs over his shoulders as he drew level with your cunt. 

“Will you let me fuck you without a condom?” he asked suddenly. You reached down, brushing his hair back. “One step at a time,” you said. “Make me cum with your mouth and then we’ll discuss condoms afterwards. Sound good?” you asked. Mingi nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You nodded, leaning back against the pillows. “Don’t worry about rushing,” you reminded him.

“We have all night.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Hey, I've read your last yandere Bruce, neglected fam reader and it gave me an idea. What if instead of the reader wasting all that money or luxury, she saved most of it in a closed account and when Bruce bought the apartment she made him sign it in her name as a plan to when the right time comes or if she needs to, she will sell the apartment and use all the money she saved to leave to start over in another country. Imagine Bruce finding out when she reaches the point where she put her apartment for sale, or better, actually selling it to a friend or someone they know and actually leaving.

Yan!batfam with neglected!sister reader leaving the state/country

Anon your mind is fucking golden! I also thought of the reader having the apartment signed in her name just because Bruce wanted her to feel comfortable but I love the layers this adds.

Hopefully these couple of hcs are good enough while I work on pt 2. Also if anyone else has any questions about any other scenarios or certain characters feel free to send them in I'll try to respond whenever I have time and I write for any gender reader.

Word count ; 1073

Unedited

___

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bruce is not happy with this turn of events at all. He wasn't expecting nor did he sense that this was going to happen, you didn't post about it or even reference moving on any of your social media apps which he lovingly stalks watches over to make sure you are content with your life and also because he likes seeing you happy and enjoying all the things he got you. And it hurts him a little that you didn't even say something to him … he knows you don't owe him that, not when your relationship is still in a fragile state but he's trying.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ he only figures out after someone in the fam(most likely dick) broke in dropped by your apartment and likely scared one of your friends shitless.. obviously both parties are shocked but your friend more so as they don't know who the hell just broke into their house, dick is shocked when this random person claims that he's trespassing in their home. After that awkward situation dick immediately reports back to Bruce about this over the comms and with some digging from Tim they're able to find out that you had sold the house and the exact date that you had, approximately a month ago. That sends off alarm bells for the entire batfam, where are you now?! It takes an hour or so of searching to find out exactly where you moved and when they do they can't decide what to do with the information.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alfred is the voice of reason in this family, he discourages the batboys from immediately doing everything in their power to bring you home, he advocated for you to live wherever you choose and says that it's your life and that the family cannot choose for you. Alfred loves you dearly you are basically his child he views you the way he views Bruce. He may be a yandere but he's a selfless one he truly only has your best interest in mind. His words are like a slap of reality for some of the Batfam mainly Tim, Steph and Jason all three of then become a lot more hesitant to go through with their plans to bring you home on the other hand dick, bruce, and damian are adamant that you aren't safe unless they can be nearby.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Nobody can come to a decision the night they find out and so they decide to sleep on it until they can come to an agreement the manor will be tense for a week or two at most before they spring into action, they will all eventually cave to their selfish needs even if some feel guilty for doing it. Alfred will sigh disappointedly but ultimately allow them to go through with their plans he only hopes you can forgive him for not doing more

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you on the other hand will be left unaware to all that's going down you'd gotten a new phone and lived in a whole new state maybe even country! They couldn't bother you here. You were happier than you have been for a long time. Even if you missed your old friends you still tried to keep in touch over the phone.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ as for why you did this? It's likely the other batboys' faults, Bruce is annoying but he's not nearly as demanding of your time as the others, namely dick. Dick is insanely clingy once you're on his radar and he becomes aware of how much his neglect affected you mentally. The guilt for him was all consuming when he found out how much he hurt you and that he neglected you for quite literally no reason, you just didn't matter to him at the time. the thought now makes him sick, of course you matter, what the hell was his problem!! Dick would have constantly broke your boundaries by hugging and touching and cuddling you he feels like he needs to make it up to you by being a good big brother, even if that's not what you need anymore after all it's far too late you're already an adult but he refuses to see it that way you're still his baby sister. He inserts himself into your life constantly and even if he'll pay for things he'll only do so under the circumstances that the money be spent ‘together’ like sure he'll take you to that fancy restaurant but it's going to be made into a sister-brother bonding moment, like yeah he'll let you use his card to go shopping but only if he's going with you. Even if you don't use him for money he will still find ways to insert himself into your life. He's overwhelmingly intense and his behavior mixed with the other overbearing members in the batfam plus the added overwhelming feelings of having people who ignored you all your life suddenly want your time and attention is probably why you felt like you had to leave.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you won't be gone for more than a month or two before your dragged back to Gotham and back to your family, only this time you've got a metaphorical collar around your neck as now you're likely brought back to the manor always under surveillance and on the off chance you're still allowed to own your own apartment again just know it will be heavily bugged along with your phone courtesy of Tim even if he feels bad about invading your privacy he knows they need to see your texts to make sure you're not planning to leave Gotham again. Oh and now the bat members will each take turn patrolling your house and following you from the shadows to make sure you're safe.

___

All in all I'd say you'll have your fun for a little while but ultimately you'll just drive them deeper in their obsession and they will likely kidnap and bring you home.

[mothmothwoth]

so with the Wilbur situation happening and more people talking about Shubble I thought it’d be a good time to recommend and talk about Shubble stuff that I’ve loved and have lived rent free in my head for years. (All of which are older stuff, Shubble was my jam like 6 years ago)

Agents - This is a series that started out as the typical comedy bit where Shelby and their friend Max (Mithzan) pretend to be Secret agents on a mission. They play old Minecraft mini games and challenges and are just a really funny duo together and they play off really well. However they start to incorporate lore and returning characters into the videos which create an overarching story to the Agents series. The original series that came out in 2016 (ish?) Ends with the end of the world and many mysteries unexplained. However there is a prequel series Shubble made after the Original Agents which explore Agent Shed and Zeds backstory, how they met, and gives Shelby’s love interest (Death (or well actually its deaths son?? In the prequel he hasn’t taken over for his father yet) also yes Shelbys character has a crush thing on death) a personality and character as well. I loved this thing, honestly I still do love this series it’s silly and the mystery made me lose it as a kid. It honestly is still my jam I will most likely rewatch this one soon.

Mystery Hotel - This is a roleplay mystery series Shubble did that has less of the comedy and buddy cop duo of Agents but more story and an almost haunting vibe. It has Shelby as a person walking into a hotel hoping to get a room to crash for the night and being trapped in the hotel and the other guests rooms. The guests are all her friends and they play games and challenges and when they succeed the guests are free from their rooms. This one is more actually one off than agents but it has a really nice vibe and the people all seem to be having a good time doing this. There is also a heavy sprinkle of lore between the fun so it leaves you with questions and wanting to find out more. I honestly do not remember the ending because I watched it when it came out and it was a long time ago.

Shelby almost dies in a stairwell - This story time video has been in my head for 7 years. I NEED to tell someone about this. Shelby got trapped in the stairwell and this is her video about that. This video turned me off of conventions forever and gave me permanent paranoia of being stuck in a stairwell. I think I watched this video like 18 times when I first saw it and I cannot tell you why. AND THEN IT HAPPENED AGAIN. I cannot explain why these videos are so special to me they just are. Someone please tell me you share the experience of watching these I’m going to lose my mind.

but anyways Go watch Shubble they are silly, go watch her new content. Just. go bananas. Support Shubble (thumbs up)

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you. 

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…” 

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…” 

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?” 

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!” 

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” 

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.” 

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led. 

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him. 

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?” 

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?” 

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…” 

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher. 

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face. 

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his. 

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in. 

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even. 

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator. 

He couldn’t help but kiss you now. 

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you. 

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him. 

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…” 

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.” 

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again. 

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…” 

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…” 

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.” 

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him. 

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers. 

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…” 

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest. 

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.” 

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you. 

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that? 

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment. 

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you. 

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did. 

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper. 

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…” 

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body. 

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.” 

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof. 

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter. 

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock. 

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root . 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes. 

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?” 

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away. 

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…” 

Joel winced at that. 

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!” 

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something. 

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.” 

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around. 

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers. 

Joel swallowed. 

“No,” he said. “But… here…” 

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside… 

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex. 

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved. 

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue. 

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before. 

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan. 

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…” 

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. 

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.” 

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father? 

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?” 

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face. 

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.” 

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you. 

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…” 

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!” 

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides. 

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again. 

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…” 

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel. 

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…” 

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began. 

“Really don’t need…” Joel said. 

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.” 

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned. 

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too. 

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!” 

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red. 

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.” 

You smiled a little. 

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.” 

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours. 

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…” 

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile. 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.” 

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered. 

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.” 

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family. 

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted. 

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning. 

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened. 

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…” 

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise. 

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.” 

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room. 

***

Six Months Later 

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser. 

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first. 

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause. 

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you. 

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that? 

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.” 

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…” 

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.” 

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed. 

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.” 

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations. 

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football. 

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…” 

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging. 

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.” 

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin. 

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.” 

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…” 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?” 

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face. 

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft. 

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?” 

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you. 

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see. 

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?” 

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table. 

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad. 

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?” 

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.” 

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down. 

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…” 

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. 

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…” 

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.” 

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat. 

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours. 

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…” 

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…” 

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.” 

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?” 

He sighed before going and kissing your temple. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come. 

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.” 

You sighed. 

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.” 

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted. 

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked. 

“Yup,” he said. 

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?” 

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.” 

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly. 

He shrugged. 

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.” 

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work. 

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again. 

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it. 

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!” 

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool. 

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.” 

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you. 

Two months later 

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick. 

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this. 

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…” 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other. 

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you. 

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.” 

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

He sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.” 

“So do you,” you said quietly. 

He laughed once. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.” 

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now. 

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.” 

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back. 

He didn’t ask you to. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.” 

He hung up before you said I love you, too. 

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you. 

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either. 

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering. 

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand. 

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could. 

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed. 

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance. 

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like. 

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life. 

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy. 

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would. 

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted. 

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings. 

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could. 

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him. 

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off. 

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door. 

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted. 

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you. 

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.” 

You smiled a little and shrugged again. 

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.” 

Joel’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.” 

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you. 

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you. 

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.” 

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.” 

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth. 

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed. 

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.” 

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.” 

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him. 

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…” 

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him. 

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again. 

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax. 

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.” 

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…” 

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.” 

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it. 

“You sure?” He asked, breathless. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.” 

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been. 

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did. 

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.” 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.” 

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.” 

He smiled a little. 

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked. 

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?” 

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed. 

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?” 

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. 

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.” 

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…” 

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together. 

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.” 

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.” 

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

[leclercstars]

lando fic🙏🙏 size kink and pushing down on her lower stomach while he's inside!!?

Obsessed with this one. This might be my fave thing I've ever written so thank you to whoever requested this.

house of balloons.

Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: 18+!! smut, hate sex, slight degradation and dom!Lando, cursing, size kink, unprotected sex.

“Get a grip,” you snapped as you strutted away from the bar. Now you had to wait to get another vodka lemonade. There was a viciousness to everything about you in that moment, from your facial expression to the way you sat and rejoined your friend group.

“What was that?” your best friend knew everything about your life, and you knew she was asking just to get a rise out of you.

“What do you fucking think? I thought him and his friends had stopped going here.”

“Well breaking news: that is not the case,” one of your other friends chuckled. 

“Ugh, I just cannot deal with this tonight,” you sat back in the the booth and groaned, pulling out your phone in hopes of avoiding more conversation about the topic.

“I should start making you that angry more often.” read the text that suddenly lit up your screen.

You hated Lando, and he hated you right back. Ever since freshman year you could not stand his “holier than thou” level arrogance and the way he always had to find a way to push your buttons in whatever setting you two were in. From class, to the bar all the way to the time you two ended up in the therapy waiting room together. 

“Okay Lando pls stfu. Dealing with you tonight was enough.” You had gotten into a heated argument with him in the bar, which you suddenly could not remember the subject of, pondering his last text in your head.

“I think I know how to fix our little problem”

What could he possibly mean by that. No way was he about to suggest sex.

“And what might that be?” you chuckled to yourself, noticing that your friends were peering over at your phone screen. Little snoops.

“Let’s leave.” Yep, there it was. He thinks fucking will somehow be the answer to your now four-year battle with each other. You had made each other’s lives a living hell. One time you fought so bad you both started crying, in public. Not the finest moment for either of you. But you thought more and more about his proposition. Sometimes he stared at you a little too long when you wore one of your skimpy going out tops, especially that lace corset, which of course you happened to be wearing tonight. He stood a little close to you to whisper insults in your ear, and occasionally slid a hand to the small of your back when you were standing next to each other. Maybe this was the answer. Besides, hate sex actually sounded kind of fun. 

“If you really want to do this then come over to the booth and I’ll get up and leave with you.” If this was really his master plan, you were going to make sure everyone knew about it. You weren’t gonna let him get away with lying about this little inchident later. It took him less than 2 minutes to appear at your table, hand extended towards you, a mischievous look painted all over his face.

“See ya around!” he waved to your friends as he dragged you out the bar.

“I better be getting a text about this later” you looked back at your friends' aghast expressions. They were looking at you as if you had just been shot through the head.

It didn’t take long to get to Lando’s shitty college house. You argued the whole way there. You almost shoved him in front of a moving car on accident. Maybe that would make the sex better.

He led you up to his bedroom, a surprisingly gentleman-ly gesture. The only light came from the dim glow of his computer monitor, casting a red ambiance over the entire room. How perfect, you thought.

“Let’s just get all that anger out, huh?”

“Worth a shot.” you smirked before inching closer and closer to him. The space between you two held so much tension, a pit of horniness, rage and frustration. He grabbed your face with both hands, his lips crashing into yours. You had never kissed someone with this much passion before. Neither of you knew how to keep your hands to yourself, but why bother. His hands explored every single inch of you, places that very few people had ever touched. He had already unhooked your bra effortlessly, your soft tits pressing against his chiseled chest. Fuck, he actually was kind of sexy all this time. He started gently biting your lower lip, causing you to moan into him. You could not be the only one moaning in this situation, so naturally you started palming his growing erection over his boxers. 

“Shit,” he whispered softly before groaning, his lips never leaving your face. There was a neediness, a hunger to the way you were touching each other. An intensity, a fury, and unfortunately one of the most erotic things you had ever experienced. 

He picked you up and threw you back onto the bed, the harshness of it turning you on even more.

You covered your pussy with your hands- giggling. You couldn’t help it, teasing him felt like the right thing to do in this scenario.

“Oh that’s not gonna work. I’m gonna fuck that little attitude right out of you.”

“I’d like to see you fucking try, pal.” your sly expression just making him angrier and angier.

He pinned your hands above your head as you laughed, loving that he was really taking it as a challenge. He slid his boxers off with his free hand.

Holy fuck. You had NEVER seen a dick that big. He was absolutely massive. Your confidence faltered for just a second, thinking that even though he was so much larger than you in stature, his dick could not have been that exceptional. But boy were you fucking wrong.

He gave you half at first, watching the way your face contorted as you adjusted to the feeling of him filling you up. He didn’t let you get comfortable for long, sliding the rest in as you shouted his name, probably waking the entire neighborhood up. Whoops.

“This might be the only time I ever get you to submit to me like this. Fuck you look hot when you’re being a good girl.”

You were going to fight back more- but those words made you want to listen to anything he told you to do for the rest of eternity. After two sickeningly slow thrusts, he started pounding into you. That attitude you had earlier had completely left the room, probably the stratosphere too. His dick felt like nothing you had ever taken before, nearly hitting your cervix with every pump in and out. It unfortunately was not going to take long for you to orgasm, as much as you wanted to hold out so you could keep experiencing this feeling. The feeling you never thought the guy you hated could give you. Pure and utter ecstasy. The alcohol flowing through your veins had you putting on quite the performance, moaning just as loud as Lando, tossing your head back and creating large claw marks along his back.

He thrusted deep into you- holding himself there. He made eye contact with you, his eyes low and filled with a fiery lust you had never seen before. He pressed against your lower stomach and holy fuck- you could not believe this was real.

“You feel that? That’s my fucking cock all the way inside you. You’re being such a good little slut taking me like this.”

You never wanted that feeling in your stomach to go away.

He pressed down again, shooting waves of pleasure through you that made your vision start to blur. Were you going to orgasm when he wasn’t even fucking you? 

“That’s enough of that, can’t make you feel too good.” he winked as he started fucking you again, bringing you right to the brink of an orgasm.

“Fuck Lando, you’re gonna make me cum.” He grabbed your throat.

“I’m gonna cum too. Look at me baby, I want us to remember exactly what we’re doing to each other.”

You never broke eye contact as you both lost control, his forehead pressed against yours as loud moans filled the room.

“That might be the only good idea you’ve ever had.” you laughed as he cleaned you both off.

“Of course that’s what you say right after I fucked the shit out of you.”

[starsinthesky5]

down bad || joe burrow x reader

description: you and joe go to your best friend’s wedding and it’s very clear that you both are soo down bad for each other ;)

a/n: bye i cannot believe i wrote this in 3.5 days because I was SO excited to write it. it’s just so 🤭 it’s definitely somethingggg 🤭🤭 also am i like one of the only people who thinks headband joe is peak joe. like his hair right now is amazing, but headband joe just makes me melt.

warnings: smut, language, and more smut, you both are perpetually horny

word count: 8.5 k

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“Joe!” You moaned as you felt the hot shower water dripping down your body. Joe’s head fell to the crook of your neck, sucking the soft skin which would be sure to leave a purple mark. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” you cried as he pounded into you, your body starting to feel sore since you have had your arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist for a good half hour. He was helping you out by holding you up, but everything about what was happening in the shower made you feel sore, in a good way of course. 

“Y/N…” he groaned. “Fuck, you feel so good,”. 

You felt a familiar sensation in your stomach as he continued to thrust into you, his grip on your waist tightening.“I’m close,” you whisper as you throw your head back against the shower wall.

“Shit, hang on for me baby,” Joe said as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, pushing you up against the wall each time. You whined at the feeling of him pushing himself deeper inside of you, which you thought was impossible. 

“Joe,” you whimpered again. “Right there,”. Joe’s rapid pace and deep thrusts were pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm, his cock grazing your g-spot. 

You move one of your hands into his wet curls and push him closer to your face, capturing him in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you. One particularly rough thrust causes you to break away. You felt the rubber band in your core snap as were clenching around his cock, “Joe,” you moaned into his ear as you came. 

“Y/N,” he moaned as he felt himself reaching his own pleasure. A few more thrusts later, you felt hot spurts of his cum fill your slick core as his head dropped down to your shoulder again, pressing soft kisses on your collarbone. 

As the water continued to rain down on you both, Joe and You stood in each other's arms, your bodies entwined in the lingering heat of your love. You knew that in that moment, there was no place you would rather be than together, lost in the blissful embrace of the shower.

“I love you,” he pants while pressing a few more kisses on your lips.

“I love you too,” you say back with a smile.

A little while later, you're standing in front of the bathroom mirror in your pink robe as you inspect the new purple marks littered around your neck. 

Joe walks up behind you, cupping the nape of your neck with his hand and rubbing it. “Sorry about that,” he softly says. 

You look back at him and smile, “It’s Okay, I’m used to it by now,”. 

What was supposed to be a quick shared shower before packing for your best friend's wedding in New York this weekend had turned into another one of your many unplanned romps. 

“I should’ve known this would’ve happened if we showered together. Every damn time we say we’ll take a quick shower, I end up with a limp,” you giggle while leaning back into his warm body. 

“Can’t keep my hands off of you. You know that,” he whispers into your ear lightly before lightly kissing the marks on your neck. 

You playfully roll your eyes as you move forward and walk into Joe’s closet. You weren’t living with him just yet, but by the looks of his closet, you basically were. 

You were bringing Joe as your plus 1 to your bestie’s wedding this weekend during the Bengals Bye Week and came over to Joe’s house to pack since he hated packing and needed you to keep him company. You had only been dating for 4 months but were already acting like a married couple according to your friend, and you were starting to see why she said so. 

Flashback to a few weeks ago

“So, you’re bringing Joe?” she asked, a little surprised since you’d only been dating for a few months and you never brought a guy to your friends this early, especially since you lived a little far away from them. 

“Mhm,” you responded while putting the phone on speaker as you were attempting to find your keys to Joe’s house in his driveway while he was away at practice. 

“Already the plus 1? Damn, he has you whipped,” she giggles. 

You roll your eyes and say, “Really funny Sophia,”. 

“Am I on speaker? Your voice is echoing,” she questions.

“Yeah, I'm trying to find my keys,”.

She stays silent for a second before saying “You’re in his driveway aren’t you,” with a big smile she wished you could see. 

“Maaaybee,” you trail. 

“God, get married already. You’re always over at his place, just move in Mrs. Burrow,” she teases. 

You laugh and say, “That’s because it’s most convenient. You know my apartment is a good half hour away from him. Besides, I thought you liked Joe,”

“Oh, I do, even though I've only met him a few times. I’ve never seen you happier, I'm just surprised you’re actually bringing him,” Sophia says. 

“Honestly, me too. But it feels right. And he’s very excited to go with me which makes it even better,” you say as you finally find the keys. 

End of flashback 

Joe joins you in the closet and watches you pack your stuff for this weekend in your suitcase. Along with your basic necessities, you pack several party dresses, heels, your wedding day look, and a bunch of accessories. 

“Damn, I never knew girls needed so much stuff for 3 days,” he laughed. 

You turned around and gave him a look that had him immediately retreating.“Not that it’s a bad thing,” he says while raising his hands to soften the blow. 

You break out into a laugh and say, “Calm down Joey, I’m jussst kidding,” as you walk over to him and kiss him before moving behind him to grab his suitcase. 

“You’re turn,” you say as you drop the bag at his feet. 

“I hate packing,” he frowns.

“That’s why I’m here baby. Here to keep ya company,” you smile before sitting in the comfy armchair in the corner. 

He lets out a defeated sigh as he begins packing his things and you watch him the entire time. He was doing something so simple as packing but looked incredibly delicious while doing so. His wet hair flopping around, his bare chest on display, and his shorts hanging low on his waist and showing off his blonde treasure trail. 

He catches you staring deeply at him and smirks. “Like what you see?”.

“You know I do,” you say as you cross your legs in the chair. 

“You know, we coulddd go back to bed,” he offers.

“Nice try Burrow. Packing comes first.”

“Damn,” he whispers. He finishes packing all of his things for the weekend, similar to you. Basic necessities, some nice shirts, pants, and jackets; also packing his wedding day outfit and a few of his favorite shades. 

“Always with the shades huh?” You tease. 

“If you can bring 20 different kinds of earrings, I can bring my shades,” he deadpans. 

“Alright alright, that’s fair,” you say as you get up and walk over to him to inspect his packing, making sure it’s not a complete mess. Satisfied with the way he packed his things, you move your face closer to his ear and whisper, “Now, if you’re done, is that ‘back to bed’ offer still on the table?”.

Joe immediately puts down his bag and reaches for your legs, picking you up bridal style, and rushes you to his bed. He softly drops you against the silk sheets before untying your robe and moving in between your legs. 

“I guess that’s a yes,” you giggle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to your lips for a sweet kiss. 

“We can’t be too rough though, I’m still a little sore from the shower and we have an early flight to New York tomorrow,”. 

He plants another soft kiss on your lips, “No worries babe, soft and gentle is one of my specialties,”. You watch as he kisses down to your core, closing your eyes in anticipation of what is to come. 

The next day

The ring of your alarm wakes you up early the next morning. You reach over and turn it off before turning to face Joe, who looks incredibly adorable and still asleep. His head was angled towards you, his messy bedhead hair was sprawled out against the pillow, his soft golden skin looked flawless, his lips curled up in a smile, and his bare chest was littered with a few purple marks from last night on display. He looked absolutely gorgeous at 6:00 am and you were jealous since you probably looked like a hot mess. 

You leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose, hoping to wake him up. Lucky for you, it worked.

“Morning sunshine,” you whispered.

He groans, barely opens his eyes, and mumbles “Morning Baby,”. 

You felt your core throb at the sound of his morning voice but immediately gave yourself a mental lashing since you were sore from last night and you guys have a flight at 8:00 to NYC. His morning voice and bare chest combo made you weak in the knees so early in the morning. 

After laying in bed for 10 minutes to give Joe a chance to fully wake up, you both hit the shower again. This time, actually showering with no funny business. Joe loads up the car to head to the airport but makes a quick pit stop at your favorite coffee shop to grab you both some breakfast. 

You guys were on the way to the airport as you were reading off the events and itinerary for the weekend. “Okay, tonight we have the rehearsal dinner and then the party at the club after,” you say as you feel Joe’s hand migrate to your thigh, a familiar spot for it. 

“Sounds like fun,” he says while giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Then tomorrow we have the wedding and reception. And then the next day she said she planned a brunch for close friends so it’ll just be a small group of people,” you conclude.

He nods his head as he continues to caress your thigh. “So what do you think of Steven?” You ask Joe. Steven is Sophia’s fiancée and Joe has only met him a handful of times. 

“He’s a good guy,” he says. “We actually have a good bit in common and he’s a big football guy,” Joe says, turning the car into the airport entrance. 

“He likes the Eagles right?” You question.

“Yup,” he says.

“That tracks, you know Sophia’s a big Eagles fan,”.

“Oh I know, so are you,” Joe says giving you a look.

You look back at him, a little offended, and say, “Aye, slow down buddy. Were. Were an Eagles fan. My loyalty has changed, and I look better in orange anyway,”

“Oh I know,” he smirks, his mind flashing back to all the times he’s seen you in your adorable little gameday outfits. You and Joe had been dating since a bit before the season started and had been getting to know each other throughout the summer. When the first game of the season rolled around, Joe insisted that you come and watch him play. You were a little hesitant at first since you knew that a lot of people would be there, many of whom would notice a random girl in Joe Burrow’s suite, but ultimately said yes because you wanted to support your boyfriend in any way possible. 

Your first gameday outfit consisted of a black Bengals-themed baseball jersey which had ‘Burrow’ and ‘9’ on the back and ‘Bengals’ on the front. You left the buttons open and had a white crop top on underneath, with your favorite jean shorts. He loved your first gameday outfit, but the accessories made it even better. You had gotten an iced-out ‘9’ necklace and a vintage Bengals baseball cap you had on backward to pull the look together. You had him drooling the entire day and he couldn’t wait to get you alone, and when he did, you could hardly think or walk straight after. 

Flashback to Week 1

You were sitting inside the Burrow suite while the boys were warming up on the field before changing into uniforms. You were scanning the field to hopefully get a glimpse of your boyfriend but couldn’t find him. It's been about an hour since you drove over with his parents and hadn’t gotten a chance to see Joe yet, and you were feeling a little sad because you thought you’d have to wait till the end of the game. 

You heard the suite door open as you were trying to find your lipgloss in your bag and thought it was just his parents coming back from their tailgate. You felt a big pair of hands wrap around your waist and a warm mouth press a kiss on your cheek. 

You let out a shriek and immediately turned around, panicking because you thought it was some random creep, but it was in fact just your boyfriend.

“Woah Y/N. Calm down, it’s just me,” Joe soothes.  

You relax your muscles and let out a sigh, “Whew, I thought some rando creep found their way into the suite,”. 

“Nah, just me,” he laughs. 

You furrow your brows, slightly confused at what he is doing up here, “Wait, why aren’t you down there?” you say as you point to the field.

“I just had to make sure you were doing okay. I know this is all new for you and I want you to feel as safe and relaxed as possible,”. 

Your eyes soften at his response, “Awww that’s so sweet,” you say while wrapping your arms around his neck, a whiff of sweat making you grimace. “Ohhh that lovely football smell,”.

“Sorry about that,” he says while pulling you in for a kiss. 

He pulls away after a few seconds, observing your adorable gameday outfit that he was seeing for the first time. His eyes got stuck on the ‘9’ necklace. “And that is how people will know you’re my girl,” he says while touching the necklace. 

“Glad you like the fit,” you smile. 

“Oh, I love the fit. I could get used to this,” he winks. 

“Me too,” you say as your eyes travel around the room, taking in the feeling that this could very well be a constant thing in your life from now on. 

Joe looks at the time and his face drops, “I gotta go get ready now,”.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine Joe,” you say while rubbing the back of his neck. 

He lets out a sigh, “Okay, but if you need anything, and I mean anything, ask my parents or come sit down by the locker room if things get overwhelming,”. 

“Okayy,”. “Now go back down there before they accuse me of hogging their star QB,” you tease. 

“Really funny babe,” he says while pulling you in for a hug. He pulls away before giving your forehead a sweet kiss and walking towards the door to head back to the field. “Knock ‘em dead shiesty,” you yell as he gives you a smile before leaving the suite. 

Although you were anxious about being noticed by thousands of people, you were having the time of your life. As time passed, you became more and more engaged in the game, screaming and shouting whenever Joe would throw a dime or a big-time play would happen. You didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought anymore and were not afraid to show people that you were his girl. And Joe noticed. Each time he would look up at the suite, he would see you jumping up and down with his family and looking incredibly focused on him; this was the ultimate motivator for him because he knew his girl was watching. 

End of flashback 

Joe parked the car in the lot while you got all your stuff together before boarding his private jet to New York. 

“Ahh, I can never get tired of this,” you sigh as you slip off your Uggs and lay back onto the cushioned chair. Joe drops down onto the seat across from you and immediately pulls your legs into his lap, massaging your feet. 

“You’re so cute,” he mumbles while giving you a warm smile. 

You brush your hair out of your face before sending him a flying kiss, “You are even cuter,”. 

You both ended up taking a power nap during the short flight to New York and woke up about an hour before you landed. Since you had some time to kill, Joe pulled out his Nintendo Switch and convinced you to play a round of smash-bros with him. 

“Noooo,” you whined as you just lost for the 2nd time in a row. Joe let out another laugh as he watched you struggle to digest that you sucked at Smash-Bros. 

“You’re laughing now, but once it’s time for Mario Kart, it is game over Burrow,” you growl. 

“Maybe, but at least I put up a fight in Mario Kart. You basically gave up halfway,” he laughed as he placed the controller down and grabbed his phone, opening his notes app to add to the win-loss ratio list you had going. You and Joe both had somewhat competitive natures and loved to play silly little games whenever you could, so you suggested you keep a tally of how many times each of you won or lost a game of anything. At the end of the year, the loser has to do whatever the winner wants them to do for a whole day. 

“What’s the tally right now?” You asked.

“34-45. I’m winning,” he smirks. 

“Damn,” you whisper. “It’s okay. I still have all of this month to get myself back on top,”.

“You can be on top whenever you want, just say the word,” he teases while motioning to his dick. 

Your eyes widen at his words as you grab a pillow from behind you and chuck it at his face. “Are you always horny?”.

“Well, when I'm with my drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, I can’t help it,” he shrugs. 

Drop dead gorgeous? You looked like a sack of potatoes right now, wearing one of his old LSU sweatshirts that was too big on you, black sweats, messy hair in a claw clip, and your glasses on. “Joe, I look like a mess right now,” you say as you pull the hood of his sweatshirt over your head. 

“Well if you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,” his face immediately scrunching up. “I don’t think that came out the way I thought it would,”.

You smiled, got up from your chair, and moved over to his lap, pressing a soft kiss on his smooth cheek. “I know what you mean,”. 

A few hours later 

After your plane lands, you both head over to Joe’s New York penthouse you’ll be staying for the weekend. You both unpack all your things and start to get ready for the night. 

You’re finishing up your makeup as you watch Joe walk into the bathroom, seemingly looking for his hairbrush. You look at him up and down in the mirror and he looks incredible. He’s wearing his black jeans, a plain white short-sleeve tee which showed off his bulging muscles, and his navy blue jacket in hand. He walks over to the sink and runs his hands through his hair, like usual, to perfect it. 

“Can’t find your brush?” You question while fixing your hair. 

“Nah, but it’s fine. This should do it,” he says as he pushes a few stray strands back. He turns around and feels slightly flushed as he looks you up and down. You were wearing a short baby pink dress that hugged your body in all the right places, strappy white heels, and an ensemble of jewelry which was all gifted to you by Joe. 

“Baby..” he breathes out, struggling to move from where he was standing. You looked absolutely sexy and he felt like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him, much like how he’d feel when that happened out on the field. 

You do a little twirl to show off your outfit, “You think it looks good?”. 

“Good?” He says as he walks over to you. “Looks fucking amazing,” he mumbles as he pulls you in for a kiss, one hand cradling your head and the other migrating to your ass. He gives it a delicate squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

You pull away and press your forehead against his, “We gotta behave tonight Joe,” you giggle. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says before giving you another kiss. 

You both finish up and then head out to the wedding venue just outside of the city for the dinner. You and Joe walk into the venue, hand in hand, and you’re in awe of how beautifully everything is decorated. The warm fairy lights that were all around the room made everything glow and highlighted the most captivating elements. 

You looked ahead and caught a glimpse of Sophia and released yourself from Joe’s grasp, immediately running over to her. 

“There’s the bride!” You yell. 

Her face instantly lights up as she sees you. She runs to meet you halfway, tackling you in a tight hug. “I misseddd youuu! Cincy stole you away,” she squeals as she sways you back and forth. 

Joe walks over behind you both, smiling at the cute interaction. 

Sophia opens her eyes and sees Joe standing behind you and lets go of you. “And here is the reason why Cincinnati stole you away,” she teases. 

“Guilty,” Joe says while giving her a salute. 

“Hey Joe,” she says while giving him a friendly hug. 

“Hey Sophia,” he smiles, hugging her back. You have a huge grin on your face as you watch your two favorite people get along, it’s the best feeling in the entire world. 

“What are you smiling at?” Sophia questions as she pulls away to wrap her arm around your shoulder. 

“Just happy that my favorite people get along,” you sing song. 

“Remember, she was mine first Burrow,” Sophia giggles, causing Joe to scoff and gently pull you into him as Sophia’s fiancée walks in behind her. 

“Well, I’m incredibly lucky to have her now, and hopefully forever,” he says as he stares lovingly into your eyes. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst at his words, add to the fact that his strong grip on your waist was making you feel butterflies in all the right places. You felt yourself getting lost in his deep blue eyes as you both were just stuck staring at each other. 

Sophia smiles at the sweet words that came out of Joe’s mouth for you and notices the way he’s looking at you and holding you. It’s like you were the only person in the room, like you were a diamond. “Aye, snap out of it love-birds,” Sophia claps as her fiancée joins you all. 

“Whoops, Sorry about that,” you blush. “Hey Steven!,”. 

“Sup, Steven,” Joe says as he lets go of you to greet your friend's Fiancée. 

You all have a small reunion and spend a few minutes catching up and talking about wedding details before the other guests start to arrive. The rehearsal dinner was great as you got to catch up with your old friends from home and got the chance to finally introduce Joe formally to some of them. 

Currently, You and Joe were sitting together in your own little corner at the table as a few speeches were being delivered, his hand once again on your thigh, and your hands wrapped around his, softly caressing his golden skin. You leaned your head onto his shoulder as you melted into his touch. 

“You alright?” He whispers, noticing the change in your body language. 

“I’m amazing,” you whisper back. 

“Good, we still have a long night ahead of us,” he laughs before planting a few kisses on your forehead. 

About an hour later, the wedding party makes its way back into the city to a club in the Upper East Side. 

Loud music and bright strobe lights fill the room as you take another shot of tequila at the bar with your friends. Joe was across the room with Steven and the rest of the boys, also taking shots but less frequently than you and the girls. You’re slightly buzzed, maybe a little more than slightly actually. 

“Come on, let’s go dance,” Sophia yells as she pulls you into the dance floor. 

You and the girls start dancing in the crowd, having the most fun when you hear the song change, which immediately causes you and Sophia to scream. 

“This is our song!” She screams. The song had just changed to ‘Blow’ by Kesha, a song that you had very fond memories of in high school. 

“Oh yeah,” you yell as you throw your head back and hands in the air. 

Joe watches you carefully from across the room as you dance with your friends, looking incredibly stunning and sexy while doing so. The tent in his pants was a sure sign that he was going to struggle for a few minutes. His eyes never leave you as he sips his drink while still talking to the boys. 

You keep dancing around with your girls as you feel a pair of eyes watching you. You turn around to where Joe was and obviously, it was him. You give him a playful nod and stare right back at him, still dancing like nothing mattered. 

“Damn, Y'all can’t be away from each other even for a little,” Sophia laughs. 

“I think I’m torturing him by being out here, especially dressed like this,” you giggle. 

“Y’all are soo Down bad,” she yells but you barely notice what she said as you hear the song change again. This time, to one of your and Joe’s favorite songs, ‘Feel So Close’ by Calvin Harris. 

You immediately look back at him, motioning him to come over with just a simple look. He smiles at the song change and doesn’t hesitate to get off the barstool, places his drink on the counter, and walks over to the dance floor. You turn around and keep dancing as you suddenly feel a familiar warmth behind you. Joe presses himself into your back as you dance back into him, making his boner even worse than before. 

You both were caught up in the moment as the loud music and flashing lights created a special scene around you both. Although you were in a room filled with people, right now it just felt like you two out there, dancing the night away. Joe placed his hands on you and slid them down your waist as you threw your head back into his chest. 

You felt the tent in his pants on your ass, causing you to let out a giggle, “Got you worked up, didn’t I?”

“You look amazing,” he whispers into your ear before fully wrapping his arms around your waist, turning you so you could face him. You were a little breathless as you closed the space between you both, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss while your hands wrapped around his neck. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he says breathlessly as he pulls away. You nod your head as he lets go of you. You walk over to where Sophia is and let her know that you’re heading out and that you’ll see her tomorrow.

“Me and Joe are going to head out,” you pant. She gives you a smirk and says, “Mhm, called it,”. You’re confused by her words, “Called what?”.

“You both couldn’t even last 2 hours in the club before getting so worked up over each other that you’d have to leave before the party was over,” she giggled. 

You felt a little red as she said that. Damn, she was right. You don’t know what it was about Joe that made you act like this or what about you that made him act like this, but you certainly weren’t complaining. 

“If you want me to stay, I can,” you say as you brush a few stray pieces of hair out of your face. 

“No, it’s alright,” she smiles. “It’s getting pretty late anyways, you guys should go rest,” she says.

“Are you sure?”.

“Positive. He makes you happy Y/N, I can see it. Go have fun, but not too much fun,” she winks.

You pull her in for a hug and tell her that you’d absolutely help her get ready for the big day tomorrow morning. 

You make your way back over to Joe, who has moved closer to the exit. He grabbed your hand and placed it in his, “I called Uber, you ready?”. 

“Yup,” you say while giving him a kiss. 

Both of you were wrapped up together in the backseat of the Uber. Your head once again on his shoulder, and his resting on top of your head. His arm was wrapped around you, and his hand was absentmindedly softly rubbing your arm. Your right leg was wedged in between his as his free hand was rubbing up and down your lower leg. Everything about this was comforting for you both. It felt so peaceful and natural.

Once you’ve arrived at the apartment, Joe helped you out of the Uber since you were a bit too drunk and were wobbling around; he was terrified that you’d fall in the heels you were wearing. 

He slowly helped you into the elevator and you moved to stand behind him. He pressed the number of the floor you were supposed to be on and immediately turned back around to face you as the door closed.

He looks into your eyes for a few heartbeats before leaning in and capturing your lips in a delicate kiss which you both grin into. Once again, your hands find their home wrapped around his neck, and you stay like this until the door opens again. 

A few minutes later, you both are back inside the apartment and are in the process of getting unready. You feel a gush of wetness pool your core as you catch a glimpse of Joe’s bare chest as he just got out of the shower. He looked so desirable and his bare chest always got you worked up.  

You walk over to him, take his hand, and lead him back to the bed. “What are you doing?” He questions.

“What I’ve been wanting to do all night,” you say as you push him back onto the bed, straddling his waist. You capture his lips in a fiery kiss as his hands grip your waist again. You slowly grind on his shorts, making him way more horny than he was before. You push your hand down to his dick and start palming him through his shorts when he suddenly flips you both over so that he’s on top, leaving you a little dizzy. 

“Hm?” You question his sudden change of mind.

“You can do that another time, I wanna make you feel good tonight,” he says. 

You don’t have a chance to argue with him since he starts to peel off your tank top; his lips finding the sweet spot on your neck, making you flutter your eyes as you let out a whimper. 

He moves down and presses a few wet kisses on your belly before getting right to business, sliding off your shorts and underwear. 

“Oh,” you moan as you feel him blow on your core which was already wet from earlier. 

He lets out a laugh before he moves closer to your core, attacking your folds with sloppy kisses. Your hands find themselves in his hair again as you pull on the strands. “Joe,” you whimper. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers as he goes back to lapping at your slick core. He takes one of his fingers and pushes them inside your heat which makes you let out another moan. The combination of his mouth and fingers, along with the alcohol in your system was making you feel like you were levitating. “Fuck,” you whined. 

He continued to pump his finger into your core as his mouth attached itself to your clit, rhythmically sucking on it. He inserts another finger, stretching you out even more which causes you to arch your back. His free hand pushes your belly back down to the bed as he continues to attack your core. 

“Baby,” you moaned while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You felt a familiar warmth in your lower belly, signaling that you were very close. 

“I’m close,” you whispered, pushing your head further back into the pillow. You continue to pull on his hair which causes him to groan against your core, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

His fingers pick up the pace as his mouth is replaced by his thumb. He rubs circles around your clit while continuing to pump into you, which intensifies the entire experience. A few seconds later, you’re cumming hard and fast. “Joe,” you loudly moaned. He removed his fingers from your core and his mouth begins lapping up your juices.

He helps you come down from your high by pressing delicate kisses around your core and inner thighs. After a few minutes, he walks into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to clean you up. Also, bringing you Advil and water to get ahead of the morning hangover. You’re too drained to move so he cleans you up and wraps a blanket around you while he makes sure everything is locked up. He joins you back in bed and pulls you closer to him, “You comfy?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say sleepily. He presses one final kiss to your forehead before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

You stay awake for a few moments, thinking about how lucky you were to have someone who cared so much about you and always made sure that you were comfortable. He was perfect for you, and you couldn’t get enough of him. Sure, you two were absolutely insatiable for each other, but you also had a healthy balance between lust and love that kept your relationship steady, strong, and tender. 

The next day

The next morning rolls by fairly quickly. You get up early to go over to Sophia’s hotel to help her get ready for the ceremony and leave Joe to get a few more hours of sleep, assuring him that you’ll be back in time to get ready with him. 

“Babe, have you seen my watch?” Joe asks as he walks into the bathroom, his mouth agape as he sees your completed wedding look. His eyes travel down your body, the slit in the dress showing off your bare leg; the black material of the dress hugged your body in all the right spots, especially your ass. He felt particularly weak when he saw the v-cut neckline which highlighted your perfectly round breasts. 

“I think it was on the entry table,” you say turning to face him as you get your last earring on. Your eyes widen at his completed wedding look; black pants and a silk maroon shirt with his signature shades. 

“You look stunning,” he says while keeping absolutely still. His heart was racing at how gorgeous you looked. Even though he got to see your beauty every day, he would still lose his mind every time. 

“Right back at ya,” you wink causing him to let out a chuckle. 

After putting the finishing touches on your look, you both head over to the venue for the ceremony. 

It was a wonderful ceremony. You and Joe were seated towards the front so you had an amazing view of the whole thing. You both were sitting close to each other, his hand in yours. You were struggling to hold back your tears the entire time since you were watching your best friend since elementary school get married, and when Joe looked over and saw, he melted. You were also tearing up at the thought of imagining yourself getting married. You would have all of this one day and you wondered if it would be with the man sitting next to you, you were praying that it would be with the man next to you.

He raised your hands to his lips, pressing a few soft kisses to them to make sure you were okay. 

“I love you,” you mouthed to him. 

“I love you more,” he mouthed back, not knowing why you were feeling extra emotional all of a sudden.

A few hours later the wedding reception had begun, and you both had found yourself in your own little corner once again. You were absentmindedly rubbing Joe’s thigh while you both were focused on all the wedding speeches, and it was getting him worked up. Once it was time for your speech, Joe had lost it. He watched as you swayed your perfect hips, hips that he loved to grab onto, over to the stage. Your soft skin was glistening in the spotlight and your perfect breasts were mocking him. 

“Now’s not the time,” Joe thought to himself as he felt himself getting hard. 

You wrapped up your special speech for your bestie with a toast to the newlyweds and made your way back to your boyfriend, who looked like he was struggling to sit comfortably. 

“Are you okay?” you giggle. All you get in response is a blank stare.

“What?” you question. 

He lets out a sigh and fixes his posture, “You in this damn dress, is driving me fucking insane,” he blurts out. 

You stare at him for a few moments, thinking about how funny it was that he was going gaga over you right now, just like how you were drooling at his sexy self. “Well, you in this whole look is making me insanely horny,” you whisper into his ear. 

He clears his throat as a way to compose himself. He thinks about if anyone would notice if you both stepped away for a few minutes. “There’s a bathroom around the corner,” he whispers. 

Your eyes widen at his offer. You both rarely had sex in public places like this, usually finding pleasure in your home, car, or anywhere private. But right now, you honestly could care less.

As the wedding reception raged on outside, You and Joe sneaked away to the bathroom for a moment alone. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the candles casting a warm and intimate atmosphere.

Your eyes locked, filled with desire and longing. Without saying a word, Joe closed the distance between your lips, capturing them in a hungry kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his hands roaming freely over your plush skin.

You moaned softly as Joe lifted you up onto the countertop, his hands sliding up your dress to caress the smooth skin of your thighs. You push your hands into his curls as his lips travel down your neck, causing you to let out a moan. “Yeah,” you whimper. 

Your clothes were quickly discarded, leaving you both naked and exposed to each other. You push your lips against him again as you reach down and slide your hand up and down his dick. You guide it to your core and leave the rest to him. You moaned in ecstasy as he buried himself deep inside you. 

Your head falls back against the mirror as your legs hook around his waist. “Shit,” you moan as Joe moves his face into the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses along your collarbone. His steady pace was doing wonders but you needed him to go deeper and faster. 

“Joe,” you whimpered, causing him to move his face back into your view. “Fuck me harder,”. 

“Are you sure?”.

“Yeah,” you moaned. 

He smiles and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he quickens his pace, rapidly thrusting into your slick core. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom as you were drowning in pleasure. “Harder,” you whimpered. The sounds coming out of your mouth were driving Joe insane as he thrusted deeper and deeper into your pussy, completely forgetting you were in a public bathroom. 

“Y/N,” he groaned as he gripped your waist tighter, surely leaving a few bruises. 

“Fuck Joe,” you moaned, this time a little louder. Each thrust sends you further back into the mirror and your lower half becomes slicker and slicker by the second. “You feel so good,” you whisper. 

Joe smiles as he plunges into you harder and harder each time. You felt a familiar sensation build in your belly as he pounded into your heat, “I’m so close,” you whispered. 

“Fuck, me too,” he moans as he reaches down and starts to rub circles around your wet clit. You whimper at the sudden contact, eventually setting off your release. Your walls clench around his cock as you let out a series of pornographic moans into his ear. 

He continues to pound into you, harder than before, trying to reach his own pleasure. You whimper at his movements and your hands start to scratch up and down his bare back. 

“Y/N..” he moaned. 

“Mm,” you whined. A few seconds later, you felt his release coat your walls. You both were trying to catch your breaths and regain your senses for a few moments before Joe slid out of you. He cleans you up first and helps you put your clothes back on. Then, you clean him up and help him fix his outfit just like he did for you. You look into the mirror while fixing your hair and smile at how well fucked-out you look, and look back over to your boyfriend, also looking well fucked. 

Before leaving the bathroom, he pulls you in for a hug, whispering a few sweet nothings into your ear and telling you how amazing you were. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, causing you to smile against his chest and hug him tighter. 

You walk back into the reception with a slight limp, pretending as nothing happened, and tell Joe you are going over to Sophia for a bit. Joe nodded and said he’d be grabbing you both something to eat. 

You walk over to her table and slide into the chair next to her, flashing her a giddy smile. 

“How does it feel to be a Wifey,” you questioned. 

She laughs, “Very Fun,” while looking over at you. She looks carefully at you, noticing your smudged lipgloss and slightly messy hair. Your radiant smile and limp told her everything she needed to know.

“Looks like you had a little bit of your own fun,” she winks. “I saw that limp,”. Your face immediately turns red at the fact that she figured it out. How could she not? This girl has known you longer than anyone, of course she could tell when something was up, good or bad. 

You heave a sigh, “I don’t know what about him makes me so-,” you pause as you can’t find the right word to finish the sentence. 

“Down Bad?” Your friend says. 

You stay silent for a few seconds, “Yeah. Down Bad.” You smile as you look over at your boyfriend who was currently balancing two plates of food in his hand for you both.

“I see the way he looks at you, you know. It’s like you’re the only person in the room for him,” she says. “He looks at you like you are the most valuable diamond,”. 

You blush while you think about the countless times you’d find Joe deeply staring at you whenever you were talking. “Yeah, he does do that doesn’t he,”. 

“And I also see the way you look at him,” she adds.

“What do you mean, how do I look at him?”.

“Well other than looking like you want to pounce on him every 5 minutes,” she giggles. “You look at him like he’s the one,”.

You are surprised by what she says. The one? You’d only been officially dating for 4 months, was he really the one? He made you feel things that you haven’t felt in forever and even things you’d never felt before. He made you feel seen and he made you feel loved. You were so lucky to have found something special with him, but was he going to be the one? Did he even want you to be the one?

“Sophia, we’ve been dating for 4 months,” you nervously laugh. 

“And?” She questions. “I know it’s early, but I’ve seen you look happier with Joe in the past few months than I saw you with your ex who you were with for 3 years. He really really really loves you and I can tell that you feel the same way”. 

“He’s the one, Y/N. Trust me, I can feel it,” she adds as you look back over at Joe, who flashes you a warm smile, setting off butterflies in your stomach. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. Maybe he was the one. God, you wanted him to be the one. 

You hear her let out a loud laugh, “See what I mean! Even across the room, look at you two!”. 

You turn over and playfully push her arm. “Y’all are sooo down bad for each other,” she teases. You break out into a fit of laughter as you spend a few more moments talking to her about the wedding and the brunch tomorrow before getting up and joining your boyfriend once again. 

“What was that about?” He questions. 

“Ohhh nothing,” you say. The playful tone in your voice makes Joe slightly suspicious but he decides not to question it. Festive music fills the room as you both sit and eat your delicious meals while watching all the couples fill the dance floor.

Joe hears the song change from upbeat to slow; “Can’t Help Falling In Love,” playing softly in the background. This song was another song that was special for you both. 

He meets your eyes before standing up. You were confused at why he was getting up since you were both comfy the way you were sitting now, and you both certainly were not about to dance. Joe never danced in public as the only time he would slow-dance with you was in private. You didn’t mind though, it felt more natural and intimate that way. The song currently playing was one of your favorites to dance to.

He extends his hand out and says, “Y/N, would you like to dance with me?”. 

You feel like he’s messing with you so you don’t say anything for a few seconds, but he remains in the same position so he means business. 

“I would love to dance with you,” you say as he grabs his hand and leads you to the dance floor.  

His hands wrap around your waist as yours hang from his neck, and your warm bodies find themselves pressed together once again. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says quietly while swaying you to the beat of the song. 

You blush, “You’ve told me that like 50 times today,”. 

“And I’ll do it 50 more,” he says while raising his brows. 

“Only you could be so romantic not even an hour after rearranging my guts,” you whisper as he pulls you closer, if that was even humanly possible. 

“You just have this effect on me Y/N,” he says. “Got me feeling down bad every minute of every day,”.

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “Have you been talking to Sophia?” you question. 

“I mean, Yeah, it is her wedding,” he says while shrugging his shoulders. 

“No, I mean about us?” you ask.

“A little, but not anything in particular. Is something wrong?” he says, his face turning solemn. 

“No, No. Nothings wrong. It’s just she’s been going on the entire weekend about how down bad we are for each other,” you giggle, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. 

“To be fair, she isn’t wrong. You make me do things and feel things that I never knew I could be capable of,” he says, once again staring deeply into your soft eyes. Your heart beating so incredibly fast as it felt like it was just you two dancing on the floor. 

“Joe,” you whisper, your face moving closer to his.

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N. You have no idea,” he says before pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

Your lips fit perfectly against his as you stay like that for a few seconds before breaking away, “I can’t help falling in love with you,” you say, reciting the lyrics of the song playing while you two are dancing.

“I love you, so fucking much. If this is what they call down bad, then fuck yes I’m down bad for the love of my life,” he says. 

A huge grin appears on your face, “Love of your life?” you question.

“Mhm,” he says as he pushes your head into his chest. “Take this as a preview of what our first dance will be like at our wedding,” he says. “Same song and everything,”.

You feel tears pool in your eyes as you look back up at him, “Really? You wanna marry me?”. 

He smiles and says, “Down the road, absolutely. You are exactly what I’ve been waiting for in my life. If you think I’m gonna let that go, maybe I need to do a better job of showing it”. 

Your heart felt like it was about to explode. He wanted to be the one just as much as you did. 

“If you were to do more to show your love than you already did, I think I would drop dead,” you tease. 

“Hey, that is not funny,” he deadpans. 

“Oops, Sorry Mr. Serious,” you say as you kiss his cheek. 

“Well, for future reference, I like princess cut,” you smile, causing him to break his serious expression and let out a hearty laugh. Your head finding its way back to his chest as you continued dancing. 

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a dance that seemed to last for eternity. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, but to them, it was as if they were the only ones in the world.

As the song came to an end, they held each other closer, never wanting to let go. The warmth of their love enveloped them, filling their hearts with a sense of pure bliss and contentment.

And in that magical moment, as they whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, they knew that their love would always be the music that guided them through life's dance, forever intertwined and inseparable.

–The End–

[kaybug88]

Katsuki Bakugo x Wife!Reader

December 23rd:

Katsuki Bakugo x Wife!Reader

Note: Use of (Y/N) + Newly weds

“What if we made our actual house!?”   “Hell no, that's stupid.”

TW: Swearing

WC: 1.2k

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“(Y/N)! Time to go, we're gonna be late!”

Katsuki calls From downstairs. For some context, you're going to Mina and Ejiro's house to hangout before everyone starts going out on missions again. Tonight was, and will be the only night your whole friend group can take off for a while. You're planning to make Gingerbread houses, watch movies, drink hot cocoa, and exchange presents.

“Coming!”

You call from your bedroom before stepping out and closing the door. By the time you're at the front door, he's in his black Ford F150 Raptor with the engine Running and his playlist Blasting out the open windows.

You roll your eyes with a grin before walking over and getting into the passenger seat with a small huff.

“Need a hand, princess?”

Katsuki says with a shit-eating grin while you send him a half-assed glare.

“No, I'm just fine On my own.”

You counter while buckling in and he begins to back out of the driveway, his arm slung over your seat.

-

Upon arrival, you notice you're not the only couple in matching pajamas. Kyoka and Denki are in pajama pants with polar bears and white hoodies. Eijiro and Mina are in Batman Hello-Kitty pants with pink long sleeve shirts. You and Katsuki are in red and black plaid pants with black shirts. 

“Hey y'all!”

You excitedly say while walking towards your bestfriends while Enjiro and Denki start up a conversation with Katsuki.

“So, how're you, Mrs.Bakugo?”

Mina chirps while dragging out your new last name.

“Yeah, how's it feel to finally take the Bakugo name? Feel angry 24/7 yet?”

Jiro chuckles while giving you a hug, Which you happily accept. Mina joins in the hug, which makes you smile.

-

“No, you absolutely cannot make our house a pile of rubble. It's a Gingerbread house, not Gingerbread house rubble.”

You say, smacking his hand lightly, earning a small scowl. You playfully roll your eyes as you reach for white frosting, in order to decorate the house before putting it together. . . As one would, right? Apparently that's wrong.

“Nope, I'm doing that. Can't trust you to make it not look like shit. Pick out the candy or somethin’.”

Katsuki said, sliding all the Gingerbread house pieces toward him, and away from you; turns out Kirishima’s ‘genius’ idea to make this a competition wasn't so ‘genius’ after all.

“Denks-!”

Jiro panics as Denki’s elbow misses their house by mere inches. Kirishima and Mina are so concentrated they don't even notice what has happened, causing you to snicker to yourself before going back to the candy selection.

“Kats! What if we made our actual house!?”   

You suggest excitedly as you show him green gumdrops that could work perfectly as the bushes in your front yard.

“Hell no, that's stupid.”

He protests while carefully putting the Gingerbread walls together with white frosting that looks upsettingly neat.

“Whatever. . .”

You groan, picking out some pretzel sticks to use as a path up to the front door. You stick one in your mouth, leaving the salt treat hanging from between your lips. You set down little piles of candy you could use for decorations, and can't help but notice the way Katsuki Eyes your lips.

You raise a brow at him before he grabs your chin and leans in to take his own bite of the pretzel, his lips brushing against your own for a split second. You sit there wide-eyed as he smirks at you with hidden intent. Nobody else noticed what he had done, but you sure as hell don't regret him doing it.

Hoping that blush isn't too visible on your face, you pass him a small bowl with little red ball sprinkles before glancing at his face. His brows are furrowed in concentration while his tongue is peeking out from between his lips.

Noticing how concentrated he is on the larger details, you secretly grab a few green gumdrops, lining the yard with them. Every few seconds, you glance over at him, trying to hold in the goofy smile hiding behind your lips. 

“The hell are you doing? If you want shit lining the house, use those.”

He says while pointing to a bowl of green and red candies that probably taste like diabetes. You bite back a frown at your failed attempt to add secret little details from your own house and try to think of more subtle details. You could casually suggest. Your mailbox would be a good idea, but you would probably need Katsuki to help you, so that’s a no. 

Instead, you think of the arches by your doorstep. Katsuki is absolutely loaded with money and refused to, in his words, get some small, shitty house that doesn't have room for future plans.

You reach for a small unopened box of candy canes striped with vibrant greens and reds, pulling out a few and dumping the rest out into an empty bowl. You hold back a giggle as Eijiro sneakily takes one, unwrapping it and sticking it in his mouth. Rolling your eyes at the action, you place two of the candy canes next to Katsuki, clearly suggesting that he use them. 

He nods lightly and begins to form icicles along the edge of the roof, which you have to admit is quite a smart idea. Noticing black licorice, you can't help but imagine it as a chimney. You show it to Katsuki with a grin.

“Hey! What If we use this as a chimney?”

You suggest with a cheery tone, holding a few of said licorice and he gives you a smirk.

“Hey, so you do have good ideas in there.”

He teases, flicking your forehead. You know he's teasing you, and completely unaware of the glare he's receiving from Mina.

“What!? She's got great ideas in there!”

Mina says with a bit of sass and lightly hits him on the head, her yellow eyes narrowed into the glare only a mother could muster. Scary.

“Get the hell off me, Raccoon eyes! It was a joke, she knows she's smart and I wouldn't have married some damn idiot!”

You bite back a chuckle at the look Katsuki has on his face. He's clearly not mad, and there's hints of adoration and love sparkled into his dangerous red eyes.You smile when he looks over to you without a hint of Annoyance or anger, and  a pinch of wonder of how he landed someone so wonderful.

“Aww, Kats.” 

You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. His face flushes as he hunches back over to continue building the house. So adorable. You grab the licorice, arranging it to make a cute little chimney on top of the house. 

“Ta-da!” 

You nudge Katsuki, gesturing to your little chimney, which sits at an awkward angle. He laughs, a genuine, sweet one, and adjusts it carefully. Now all you two need to add is a door. Easy. 

You grab a piece of gingerbread, carefully outlining a door and breaking it out. Handing it to Katsuki, you grab a bunch of mini candies. He carefully frosts the top of it, and sticks it to the front of the house. You lean in, rimming the little door with the candies. 

“Alright, we’re finished!” 

You say, leaning back and stretching. Katsuki does the same, wrapping one arm around you and pulling you closer. 

“Ya’ know what? We rocked this.”

He said with a small chuckle as he presses A kiss to your head. He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of your house made from pure hard work.