#somewhere we can put away our phones

[teathattast]

And I really wanna let you know

That I can never let you go

'Cause I just wanna be only yours

[driverlando]

✧.* #BABYVERSTAPPEN

synopsis: Max accidentally leaks the news of your pregnancy during an interview and he breaks the internet

before you continue- I loveee this # series so much!! if you enjoy then pls reblog and follow :)

✧.* the interview

—

—

✧.* Y/N’s reaction

You hear the front door creak open, and your heart skips a beat. Glancing up from your phone, you see Max walk in with a cautious smile, holding a tub of your favourite ice cream like a peace offering. The house feels unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling energy you’re used to when Max comes home.

“Hey, love,” Max says, trying to sound cheerful despite the tension in the air. “I brought your favourite ice cream.”

You look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, so now you’re trying to bribe me with ice cream?”

Max winces at your tone, setting the ice cream down on the coffee table. “I thought it might help smooth things over.”

You sigh, putting your phone aside. “Max, do you have any idea how many messages I’ve gotten today? Everyone knows now. Everyone.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry,” Max replies earnestly, stepping closer to you. “It just slipped out. I was excited, and I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem, Max. You didn’t think,” you cut in, crossing your arms and stepping back from him. “This was supposed to be our special moment. Our announcement.”

Max reaches out for your hand, his expression pleading. You pull away, your disappointment palpable.

“You’re in the dog house tonight, Verstappen.”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that,” Max urges, his eyes reflecting genuine regret. “I know I messed up, but I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t help talking about how happy I am.”

Your resolve wavers for a moment, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s not just about the announcement, Max. It’s about our privacy, our moment. You know how much this meant to me.”

“I do,” Max murmurs softly. “And I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

You shake your head, though your expression softens just a bit. “You better. But tonight, you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

Max nods solemnly, accepting his fate. “Alright, the sofa it is. But can we at least share the ice cream?”

You hesitate, then roll your eyes in resignation. “Fine. But just the ice cream. You’re still in trouble.”

Max smiles gratefully, relieved that you’re willing to share even this small moment with him. He retrieves two spoons from the kitchen and settles on the sofa beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance, the mood swings were strong today. You sit together in silence, eating the ice cream slowly, each lost in your own thoughts.

As you near the bottom of the tub, Max suddenly has an idea. “Hey, Y/N?”

You look at him, a spoonful of ice cream paused halfway to your mouth. “What?”

“I know I ruined our announcement, and I feel terrible about it,” Max begins earnestly. “But how about this—you can be the one to announce the sex of the baby. However you want, whenever you want. It’s your moment.”

Your gaze softens as you consider his suggestion. “I like that idea. But you’re still sleeping on the sofa tonight.”

Max chuckles softly. “Fair enough. But at least we’re getting somewhere, right?”

You lean in and kiss his cheek gently. “Yeah, we are. Thanks, Max. This means a lot to me.”

—

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfriend, landonorris and 1,357,147 others

yourusername guess the secrets out! (thanks max) baby verstappen we can’t wait to meet you 💘

tagged: @/maxverstappen1

view all 23,527 comments

yourbestfriend congrats!! so happy for the two of you ❤️

↳ yourbestfriend can’t wait to spoil her

↳ yourusername thank you darling! 💘

user1 hey, atleast max let you announce the sex 😂

user2 congratulations!! you’re going to be the best parents 🥳

maxverstappen1 so excited ❤️

user3 is max in the dog house? 😂

↳ yourusername yep.

—

—

✧.* the boys reactions

— Formula One Star Max Verstappen Accidentally Reveals Wife Y/N Y/L/N’s Pregnancy During Interview

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a hilariously unexpected turn of events, Formula One champion Max Verstappen has found himself at the centre of a viral moment after inadvertently revealing his wife Y/N Y/L/N’s pregnancy during a live interview. The impromptu announcement has taken the motorsport and influencer communities by storm, and Y/N later added her own delightful twist to the news.

The Accidental Reveal

The incident unfolded during a press conference following Verstappen’s practice session. When asked about his expectations and what he was looking forward to in the new season, Verstappen, with his characteristic charm and ease, responded, “And for the baby to come too, the next season’s going to be busy.” The interviewer, catching the slip, pressed further, “Did you say baby?”

Max, realising his gaffe, was momentarily speechless. His face turned a shade of crimson as he stammered, “Uh, I mean…uh, no? Y/N is going to kill me.” This candid and unscripted moment sent ripples of excitement through the audience and quickly became the talk of the paddock.

Social Media Explosion

As soon as the clip aired, social media ignited. Fans, fellow racers, and celebrities alike flooded platforms like Twitter and Instagram with reactions, congratulations, and plenty of memes. The hashtag #VerstappenBaby soared to the top of the trending lists, making it clear that the news had captured everyone’s attention.

Fans and media outlets were abuzz with the news. In a move that was as swift as it was sweet, Y/N took to Instagram to confirm the delightful news. She posted a picture of a cake with pink filling and an ultrasound picture, accompanied by the caption, “Guess the secret’s out! (Thanks Max) Baby Verstappen, we can’t wait to meet you 💘.”

Max’s unintentional reveal and Y/N’s charming confirmation on social media endeared the couple even more to their legion of fans. Verstappen, known for his fierce competitiveness and composed demeanour on the track, showed a softer, more relatable side that resonated with many. His initial reaction, followed by Y/N’s sweet Instagram post, painted a picture of a couple who are navigating the journey to parenthood with humour and grace.

Messages of support

The Verstappen household, already bustling with the excitement of the F1 season, is now set for even more joy with the impending arrival of their baby girl. The couple, who have been private about their journey to parenthood, seemed to embrace the unexpected reveal with good humour. Max later took to social media, joking, “Lesson learnt! Next time, I'll leave the announcements to Y/N.”

As the F1 season progresses, Max Verstappen will have more than just his racing commitments to look forward to. The prospect of becoming a father has added a new dimension to his life, bringing a balance between his high-octane career and his personal life. This blend of professional and personal excitement has further endeared him to fans who now feel even more connected to his journey.

Despite the unplanned nature of the announcement, Max and Y/N have embraced the outpouring of support. A close friend of the couple shared, “Max and Y/N are over the moon about the baby. It wasn’t how they planned to share the news, but they’re thrilled with the love and support they’ve received and now laugh over the accidental reveal.”

Max’s teammates and rivals have also expressed their congratulations. Lewis Hamilton, Verstappen’s long-time competitor, commented on Y/N’s post, “Huge congrats to both of you! You’ll be the best parents!” Daniel Ricciardo, known for his playful camaraderie with Verstappen, added, “Can’t wait to meet Baby Verstappen! She’s going to be a little racer for sure.”

The new season

The unplanned revelation has certainly added a fresh layer of excitement to the season. Media outlets have been buzzing with speculation about how the impending fatherhood will impact Verstappen’s performance on the track. Analysts suggest that the new family milestone might provide him with an extra boost of motivation and focus.

For now, the spotlight remains on the happy news of Baby Verstappen. The couple’s playful and endearing approach to this new chapter in their lives has won them even more admiration and affection from their fans. As the countdown to their baby girl’s arrival begins, Max and Y/N are set to experience a whirlwind of emotions, balancing the thrills of Formula 1 with the joys of parenthood.

In the grandstands, on social media, and in the hearts of their supporters, Max and Y/N Verstappen are celebrated not just as a racing power couple but also as soon-to-be parents. The racing world waits with bated breath for more updates, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the newest member of the Verstappen family.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

[theemporium]

💛 #16 with Quinn

Congrats on 10k babe

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

16. massaging them

series masterlist

.

“Fuck.”

Quinn lifted his head from the random email he was reading to glance over at you, finding you sat on one of the other couches rubbing your neck with a grimace. 

“You good?” He called out, watching as your eyes fell shut for a moment too long before you smiled at him. It looked fake and slightly strained, instantly making the alarm bells in his mind start ringing. 

“Yeah no,” you waved the boy off, trying to nonchalantly shrug your shoulders. “Think I just slept weirdly.” 

“I told you that wasn’t a good position to nap in on the boat,” Quinn responded with a frown, his phone long forgotten. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You were right, my neck is sore. Happy now?” 

“No,” Quinn stated simply before standing up from his spot on the couch, walking towards you with his lips turned downwards. “Turn around.”

You frowned. “Why?” 

“Do you ever just listen?” He muttered under his breath, though there was a hint of playfulness in his voice as he lightly pinched your arm until you listened. 

“When the incentive is right,” you retorted, but did as you were told.

“Thoughts out of the gutter, baby,” Quinn murmured as he gently pushed your hair out of the way before slowly pressing his thumbs into the back of your neck. “Just relax.”

“Since when were you a masseuse?” You hummed, your eyes falling shut as you allowed your boyfriend to continue massaging the crick in your neck. “Shit, that feels good.” 

“Brock is demanding,” he deadpanned but his lips twitched when you laughed in response. 

“I should make you do this more often,” you murmured, a wistful sigh leaving your lips as you felt your shoulders drop a little. “Forget whatever else you can do with your hands, this is what you need to do full time.” 

“You like the other things I do with my hands,” Quinn noted, leaning in to press a lingering kiss just under your ear to emphasise his point. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it was the other day where you said—” 

“Shut up,” you grumbled, your cheeks heating up at the implication of his words. “Less talking, more massaging.” 

“Or more of this,” he murmured, nosing along your jaw before his lips began to trail soft, open-mouth kisses along your skin. 

You let out a happy sigh, leaning back against him as he continued to kiss along your neck. His hands smoothed over your shoulders, dropping to your arms before he wound his arms around you and pulled you closer. You tilted your head to the side, your head resting on his shoulder when he—

“MY EYES! MY EYES!” 

You let out a groan, huffing in annoyance as you opened your eyes to find Luke standing in the doorway with his hands over his eyes. “You didn’t even see anything!” 

“PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!”

“Our clothes are on,” Quinn deadpanned. 

“THIS IS PUBLIC INDECENCY!” 

“Next year, we are going away somewhere alone for the summer,” Quinn murmured under his breath, holding you closer. 

.

[oldsoul007]

Shadows of the Sacred

father charlie mayhewxdetective reader

Summary: what begins as a case for y/n takes a turn to something far more difficult for y/n to resist

disclaimer: I’m not catholic and no disrespect to the religion at all just been wanting to write about him and the show. This is just a work of fiction. (Loosely follows the plot) I jus write for fun so I’m not giving it my all, be nice ;) and enjoy

Warnings: making out, blasphemy?, forbidden love, sexual themes, not proofread

masterlist

There's an undeniable allure to a man who is off-limits.

The office was noisy with the recent murders going on. Some psychopath was killing people and putting them into religious meaning. We have no clue who could be doing something like this. Lois was currently talking to some nun that came in here. She has a very weird vibe from her considering she’s a nun. I think Lois thinks so too considering how she’s looking at her.

I feel like I’m going insane lately. Considering I haven’t been able to sleep after seeing those things. Even in my dreams I can’t escape them. You think no matter how many years you’ve been working like this you’d be used to these things by now. I sat at my desk, the hum of the precinct filling the air as i sifted through a mountain of paperwork. The phone rang incessantly, and the chatter of my colleagues created a constant background noise.

Just as I was about to take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, my boss, Lois, burst into the room. "Y/n, I need you on this one," Lois said, urgency in her voice. “Im gonna need you to follow that nun and the priest she was talking about to see what you can get off her” she says pointing at the nun walking out of the building. “What, you thinking she has something to do with the murders?” “No, at least not alone but I just there’s something about her.”

So here I was walking into a chapel for Sunday mass. Sunlight seeping in through the stain glass. Church bells ringing in my ears. The smell of old wood. Somewhere I haven’t been since I was 16 years old. I sit in the back behind an elderly couple hoping to go unnoticed. I noticed the priest sitting in his chair tapping his hand along to the choir. He’s wearing these dark red boots along with his priest attire seeming very serious. He looked very young for a priest, and was very attractive.

The choir stops and a light beams down on him. He stood up and started speaking to the congregation. I watched as Nun Megan looked up at him amazed. I zoned out until it was over. I watch as everyone flows out of the chapel stopping to speak to the priest first of course. I stand up to leave when I see the nun running around the corner. I seem to zone out on her suspicious whereabouts when I hear someone clear their throat behind me. “Shit you scared me” I turn around and meet face to face with the priest. “Oh forgive me father I-“

“It’s quite alright we all have our vices” he smiles. “I noticed you while I was speaking, I’ve never seen you before what made you want to come to our church? The blog?” He asks eagerly. “Um…I don’t know what blog you’re talking about? But no, I’m catholic I’ve just been inactive for a while and thought I should reconnect with the church.” “Oh well welcome back, we’re glad to have you.” “Me too…I’m y/n” I say reaching out my hand. He puts my hand in between both of his hands holding it. “Father Charlie Mayhew.” He smiles.

I notice movement to the right of me seeing sister Megan watching us. I drop my hand from his and act like I don’t notice her. “Well I better get going I enjoyed your sermon” I say backing away from him after noticing how close I was standing to him. He looked over noticing sister Megan too. I decided to leave so I wouldn’t draw too much attention. “Nice boots” I say as I proceed to walk out of the chapel.

I feel someone run up next to me, looking over to see sister Megan. “So what made you decide to come to our church?” She asked curiously. “That seems to be the question of the day” I say blankly. “Well it’s just we don’t get many new people joining the church lately” she says trying to keep up with me. “I just decided to come back after a while” I say grabbing my door nob to my car. “Bye now” I pull out a cigarette and start to drive back to the station.

I’ve been to many masses but nothing seems out of the norm so I decided I should talk to the preist more. He’s so intriguing. It always felt like he was staring at me but I think it’s just me being paranoid. After the service I lingered a bit waiting for everyone to leave so it was just me and him, with me sitting and him up at the altar putting out the candles. Me seeming to go unnoticed by him I carefully stand up and walk over to him.

“Father Charlie?” He turns around noticing it’s me he softly smiles. “It’s nice seeing you again y/n” "well, I really enjoyed your sermon today," i began. "It gave me a lot to think about." "Thank you, y/n," he replied, genuinely pleased. "I'm glad it resonated with you."

I took a breath, feeling a bit nervous but determined. "I was wondering if you'd like to have lunch with me sometime. There's a diner nearby that I've heard great things about. It would be nice to get to know you better outside of the chapel."

Father Charlie's face lit up with a smile. "That sounds wonderful, y/n. I'd love to join you for lunch. How about tomorrow?" "Perfect," she said, relieved and happy. "I'll see you then."

The door jingled as it opened and I spot Father Charlie settled into the booth at the rundown diner, the aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wafting through the air.

"Good afternoon, y/n," he greeted warmly as I approached the table. "I hope you don't mind, I went ahead and ordered some coffee."

"Oh Not at all, Father Charlie," i replied with a smile, sliding into the seat across from him. "Coffee sounds perfect."

He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me better, almost drawn to me. "So, y/n," he began, his eyes twinkling with curiosity, "tell me more about yourself. What do you do for a living?"

I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "I work in public service," I said, which was true enough. "It's a challenging job, but I find it very rewarding."

Father Charlie nodded, listening to me. "That sounds like a noble profession. It's always heartening to meet people who are dedicated to helping others.” “You know the more I talk to you the more I feel like I’ve met you before” I muttered. “Well I get that a lot” he chuckled. “Wait no, you went to pine valley high, it’s funny you said you always wanted to be a doctor” “and you said you always wanted to be a detective” I shuttered as he says almost suspiciously. “I mean look where we ended up” I laugh trying to change the subject.

“I always admired you in high school” he says eating a fry. “Really? I mean I always tried to go unnoticed” “I have no idea what you’re talking about you seemed so confident” “I mean that’s what I showed everyone” “I understand.” He said seeming to sense my uneasiness.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about the murders happening around town.” Father Charlie eagerly changing the subject. "…it’s been so unsettling lately," I said, trying to seem confused. "These strange murders have everyone on edge. It's hard to believe something like this could happen in our small town."

Father Charlie nodded, his expression serious. "I know. The community is shaken. People are scared, and it's understandable. The randomness of the attacks makes it even more terrifying."

I took a sip of my coffee, my mind racing with thoughts of the recent events. "this... it's different. There's no clear pattern, no obvious motive. It's like the killer is playing a twisted game."

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Do you think there's anything we can do to help find the killer? Maybe there's something we've overlooked."

He pondered my question, unaware of my true role in the investigation. "We can pray for guidance and protection, and we can keep our eyes and ears open. Sometimes the smallest details can make the biggest difference."

I felt a pang of guilt for not being able to confide in him fully, but i knew my cover was crucial to solving the case. "You're right, Father.“

Father Charlie placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You should read the blog, Sister Megan has an interesting way of talking about the whole case" Father Charlie leaned forward, his eyes filled with passion. “You seem to know a lot about these events.” “What can I say I like true crime.” I joke.

As our lunch arrived, we delved into deeper topics, sharing stories and perspectives. An unspoken connection seemed to grow between each other. We found themselves sharing more than just professional interests; we talked about our hopes, our fears, and our dreams. The more we shared, the more we realized how much they had in common.

“Well I have to go now but I’d love to talk to you more. So I was wondering if you’d come by the monastery later tonight?” Father Charlie asked. “Uh is that allowed Father?” “I say so, I’ll see you later then” he said as he left money for food and walked out the diner.

I arrived at the chapel later that day as the sun began to set. I walk in and it’s completely silent. I walk around the corner to find steps trying to find Father Charlie.

“In here y/n” I heard him shout. "You know I really admire the work you do here, Father Charlie," i said. "It's inspiring to see someone so dedicated to their faith and their community." "Thank you, y/n. Your dedication to public service is equally admirable. It's rare to meet someone with such a strong sense of duty and compassion."

As I reach what I’m assuming is his room. The door in opened ajar so I gently knock trying not to push the door. “Come in.” I head him say. I push open the door to see him leaning against the wall in only a towel. “Oh sorry is this a bad time I can come back later” I try not to look down. “no, please stay. Would you mind closing the door?” He bops his head. I push the door closed with my back against it trying to resist getting close for him. His hair was wet which made him even more attractive, he was so toned and large.

“So um why’d you want me to meet you, here?” “Maybe I just like seeing your angelic face” he smiles, creeping toward me. "Y/n," he began, his voice tinged with regret, "I feel a connection between us, and I know that you feel it too, But I also know that there are boundaries we must respect. My commitment to the church and to my faith is something I hold dear." I nodded, "I understand, Father Charlie. I feel the same way. It's just... difficult to ignore what we feel."

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of our unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Finally, Father Charlie spoke again, his voice gentle but firm. "Perhaps, I’ve been wanting a change in the church for a while, I mean it’s a new world”

“Father Charlie I- “Charlie please” he cut me off. I nodded. “Would you mind drying my back” he says reaching out a towel to me. I walk slowly toward him, taking the towel. He kneels on this wooden step stool thing and I proceed to walk over so I’ll be behind him. I hesitate and notice his back full of scratches and stitches. “Fa-Charlie?” I say as I gently start swiping the towel on his back. “Yes y/n” “what happen to your back?” I feel his shudder as I ran my finger gently over one scar.

He slowly stands up so we’re face to face with him towering over me. “We all have our vices” he says in a whisper, grabbing my chin with his hand gently. His eye piercing through mine. I could almost hear my heartbeat against his. “I should go” he grips my arm as I try and walk toward the door. I grab his bicep gently like he’s gripping my arm. “This isn’t right Charlie” “I know but if it’s wrong why does it feel so good” he mutters as he backs me up against the wall. His lips lingering over mine, his bare chest against mine, his breath against mine. He runs his lips done my neck leaving open mouths kisses along my collar bone.

I grab his face to look back up at me. “Fuck it” he says under his breath. He grabs my face kissing me harshly. I could tell he hasn’t kiss someone in a long time. I could feel his tongue against mine and running over my teeth. “oh y/n, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.” He said in between kissing me. I let out a soft moan against his mouth, and that sound seemed to do it. He grabs me and lays me down on the bed.

He starts kissing me going lower down my body. Hot open mouth kisses. He pushes my skirt up kissing my upper thighs slowly. Sending shivers down my spine. I brush my fingers through his hair throwing my head back at the feeling.

And then I came back to reality. I push his shoulders to keep distance from him. “Wait, stop we can’t.” I say pushing my skirt back down. “Why?” He says brushing my calf. “Why? Charlie you have no idea how badly I want to but you’re…you’re a priest you took a vow. It’s a sin” “you’re not a sin”

…..

a/n: part || coming soon…

[deadsetobsessions]

To the mf who had my house before me, if you see me on the street, turn around and run the other way. Because if I see you, know that it’s going to be on sight. Who even puts tile like that?? Anyways, I'm kind of sick, so that's why I've been kind of inactive.

But good news (ish) I got me a house! Yay! Let’s hope I can keep it. To celebrate, y’all can have this! And a few chapters! So technically this is a chapter update post?

——

Danny’s most favorite thing to do with Alfred Pennyworth is groundskeeping. While he might not be Sam, Danny could still appreciate the serenity and beauty of nature.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Master Danny, please refrain from using explicit language.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I got stabbed.”

“Oh dear. Will you be needing a bandage?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I think…” Danny hummed, peering closer at the reddish brown thorns sprouting from the ground. “That might be the rose bush?”

Alfred paused his snipping, turning around and coming closer to inspect the plant. “How peculiar. It seems to have grown a branch beneath the soil.”

In unison, Danny and Alfred lifted their heads to look at the rose bush, innocuously sitting three yards away.

“Huh. Weird.”

“Indeed.”

The door to one of Bruce Wayne’s many gardens, all opulently gothic to hide their vigilante disturbances, opened. The hinges swung without a single creak, as Alfred the butler always carried WD-40 on his person and a squeaky hinge in this mansion was an affront to his professionalism.

"Hey, guys! Whatcha doing?" Duke greeted, followed by Jason.

"Gardening! You wanna help?"

"Nah, I'm a Gothamite, not Poison Ivy, man. I don't do grass." Duke replied, plopping down on one of the lawn chairs with his drink. "But I can totally give you moral support... from over here."

Danny snorted. "What about you, Jason?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure, what are we doing?"

"There's a rose bush that grew all the way over here."

"Woah, crazy."

"Indeed, Master Jason. I shall go get the shovels."

"Okay, Alfie," Jason absently agreed, focused on finding where else the rose bush had grown to. "You wanna keep the bush, right?"

"That would be preferable."

"Duke, can't-" Jason paused, throwing a quick look at Danny before visibly changing tracks. "Can't you get us some drinks?"

"Kitchen's right over there, Jason." Duke pointedly leaned back and took a sip.

Danny piped up. "I'll get it! What did you want, Jason?"

----

Two hours later, covered in all manners of dirt and blades of grass, Jason and Danny sat back to survey the messed up garden.

"You sure we can't hire Ivy to move the plant somewhere?"

"She'd just make it worse," Jason grumbled.

"You guys can do it!" Duke cheered, scrolling through his phone and cherry picking the most hilarious pictures of Jason and Danny to send to the group chat. He chose the selfie, where he was grinning into the camera as Jason fell on his ass as Danny pulled up a long section of thorns.

Duke gets nailed in the face with two clumps of grass from his disgruntled brothers.

"I believe it is time for a shower." Alfred Pennyworth smiled, content. Days like these made him glad that his grandchildren found their way back.

[ynsbarbbb]

down bad | d. ricciardo

hypothesis - daniel is not ready nor is he willing to leave this thing behind.

pairing - daniel ricciardo x fem!baker!reader

[fic is inspired by “down bad” by taylor swift]

“fuck it if i can’t have us, i might just not get up, i might stay down bad”

“y/n,” your name slipped past his lips in a devastated sigh, eyes big as he stared at you. brown orbs drowning in a pool of tears.

a big, red suitcase sat on your bed, clothes haphazardly thrown around and you, sitting there on the foot end of the bed, messy hair surrounding your face and one of your favourite tops scrunched up in your hands.

daniel’s feet is glued to the hardwood floor by the door, his mind swimming, “wh—what are you doing?”

he looks around the room, your belongings, their familiar spots now empty. a sob escapes your mouth and you crumble from the edge of the bed down to the floor, ankles crossing and knees bucking up.

“i can’t do this anymore, daniel.”

his feet moves him to crouch in front of you, “baby, what are you talking about?”

you look up at him, “this,” you gesture around you with your hand, “the spotlight, the constant hate, the amount of time you leave.”

“let’s talk about it, yeah?” daniel asked, his voice hoarse. he’s swallowing at the lump in his throat, as he moves to sit down.

chuckling, you throw the top to the side, “what’s there to talk about? i’m a baker, i bake cakes, in a small town. and you,” you sniff and wipe your nose with the back side of your hand, “you travel the world, you race, everyone knows about you.”

he nods, “baby, i still don’t see the problem here.”

“i’m out of your league, i’m so far out of your league. i don’t fit into this lifestyle, i can’t flaunt money anywhere i go.”

daniel takes hold of your hands, “where’s all of this coming from, honey?”

you look up at him, and reach your arm back on the bed where you have thrown your phone after spending hours reading what his fans had written about you.

his fans, the people that would run to the end of this world to support him, that go to his every race to shout his name as he passes the finish line, the people he confided in the most when he started dating you.

“i can talk to them, disable our comments on our posts, hell, baby, i’ll even delete all social media,” daniel says, his eyes not leaving the phone. his eyes reading every comment twice and his heart swelling and breaking.

switching off the phone, you stand up and grap the top you had thrown to the side, “don’t bother, it’ll either way just get worse.”

daniel shoots to his feet, grabbing the things you had haphazardly throw into the suitcase and putting it on the bed.

he’s not going to loose you. he won’t.

“y/n, please don’t do this, it’s almost winter break, we can go somewhere private, just us. we can work this out, we will get past this,” daniel is practically begging, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he keeps on swallowing on the lump.

your shoulders sag, “daniel, stop,” you place the jeans in your suitcase and walk up to him to take his hands in yours, “find someone else, someone who fits into this life, who will walk it with you every step of the way. there are so many women out there who’ll be better and much more supportive than i am, and someone who can handle a bunch of teenage girls’ comments.”

daniel shakes his head wildly and grips your hands tighter, “no, no, fuck all else if i cannot do this with you. i don’t need someone else, God, i only want you. i am my best when i am with you, y/n, forget those fucking comments. remember what i said in the beginning of this relationship?” daniel’s hands moved up to cup your face, wiping at the wetness under your eyes, nodding his head,

“it’s us, baby, it’s us against all else,” his voice breaks as he said it. he bites his lips, the tears he was forcing away finally slips down his cheeks.

“i will fight, y/n, i will fight for us. i will fight for you. i will fight anyone who is against us, because, baby, i will not survive this night if you walk out those doors,” he moves to tuck those little hairs around your face behind your ears.

you nod your head as best as you can with daniel’s large calloused palms holding it. falling into him, resting your head on his chest and securely wrapping your arms around him, you believe him.

because, against all odds, you weren’t ready to leave, to leave everything you’ve accomplished together.

you weren’t ready to loose daniel. to loose his jokes, his comfort that comes with his presence, his laugh that made everyone in the room giggle, his hands that easily engulfed yours, his shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. you weren’t ready to loose that.

his chest heaved with a sigh of relief as he rested his chin on the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around your shoulders tightly.

“it’s us against it all, yeah?”

with your face smushed into his chest, a mumbled agreement sealed with a kiss to your forehead is all both you and daniel needed to know that none of you were going anywhere anytime soon.

fin.

[mixingpumpkins]

Man, we really lost when we decided that the best way to feel safe or to try to prevent bad things from happening is to assume malicious intent from everyone and police every little fucking thing about existing.

Want to go shopping? You'll be treated like a thief. Security cameras, anti-theft sensors by the door, and a staff that may or may not follow you around isn't enough; we're also putting security tags on every single piece of $4 underwear in the bargain bin and keeping everything on the shelves under lock and key, so you can't even look at it without staff assistance/supervision. No, cameras and staff monitoring checkouts isn't enough. We also need someone else searching your bags and verifying your receipts at the door. (And god help you if a security sensor somewhere didn't get deactivated properly and the door alarm goes off.)

Are you a student taking an exam? We've already decided you're a cheater. Of course you are — all students cheat. So you get assigned, spaced out seats in the testing room, surrounded by cameras. Show us your photo ID at the door. Nothing goes in the room with you but your pencil. Leave your phone, wallet, water, and anything else in a locker outside. All your jewelry, too. No long sleeves. Let us check your hair/headbands/pockets/ears/religious garb in case you're smuggling something in. Need to leave for the restroom? No, you don't, or your exam is done. Emergency? You can choose between literally shitting yourself or failing your course and risking expulsion for cheating.

Online exam? Prepare to be subject to literal spyware. Your eyes better not waver a fraction out of the "acceptable" gaze window. Don't press any button you're not supposed to or mis-click anything; that's proof you're trying to cheat. Don't even think about shifting in your seat, even if your test is two hours long.

Do you work? It'd better be at top speed and no errors at all times. We have security cameras trained on you every moment, sensitive enough to read the text of any paper you handle. We're tracking exactly what you do and how fast. Did your metrics slip for even a second? Unacceptable, even if your rate is otherwise within our "acceptable" range, because we know you can work faster. Yawn? How dare you — we don't pay you to be tired. You're not working hard enough. You must not have enough to do — your requirements have now tripled and we've cut your pay as an incentive not to waste time again. Make a mistake? You must have done it on purpose. You must be trying to steal or sabotage. We'll be evaluating to see how quickly we can fire you and if we can press charges or sue you for damages.

Need to travel via plane? It doesn't matter if you're paying through the nose to do so; you're clearly a criminal who's only not committing a crime at this very moment because you're outnumbered by security officers. We need to question you excessively if you don't look exactly like your ID picture taken three years ago. Take off half your clothes and walk through our scanners that will basically show you without them. (Then prepare to be wanded, and possibly groped — maybe even by more than one person — and if we really feel like it, taken to another room to be stripped and questioned further.) You can't take some necessities with you. Your belongings will be x-rayed and pawed through and commented upon, and they're maybe even a reason to detain and question you further. Why does your purse have suspicious organic matter in it? No, that can't possibly be a bag of fruit snacks you bought from the kiosk 20 feet away; you're trying to hide explosives.

Need medication? You're lying. You're faking. You're just trying to get drugs. You're an addict. You're a dealer. No, you don't have a condition that really requires medication; if you just slept more/lost weight/did yoga/were a better person, you wouldn't have to feel like you need to use drugs. We don't care if your doctor says you need this medication — your insurance company says you don't. Oh, you can afford it anyway? At that price? You must be reselling. We need to investigate and put notes on your file.

Communicating via message? God forbid you take even a fraction of a second too long to respond. You must be trying to hide something. You're slacking off your work. You must be cheating on your partner. You must have a problem with the sender and are leaving them out of something. You left them on read; you're being a bitch. You edited a response or took too long to type something — you're actually being mean and manipulative by not just saying what was on your mind first. Company policy is we get to see everything on your devices. You shouldn't have a problem sharing your personal location/passwords/etc. with your partner if you're not up to no good.

Want to simply exist where a stranger might see you? That's suspicious. What are you doing out here? We don't recognize you. You must be stealing. You must be casing the houses or stores in this neighborhood. You must be looking for someone to rob/assault/harass/etc. You must be part of that rabble claiming they're protesting to cover up the nuisances and criminals they are. Why did you hold a door for me — are you trying to get behind me? Why have I seen you more than once while I'm shopping here — are you following me? Why did you smile at me — do you have a problem? Why are you walking down the street? Why are you sitting on a bench? Why are you visiting the library? Why are you eating alone at the cafe? You don't look like you belong here. You look like a creep. You need the police to come handle you. (If they use force, that just shows you were up to something and totally deserve it.)

Want to exist online? We need to know everything about you — your real name, address, email, age — to ensure you're not a criminal. But you're probably also lying. We need to spy on everything you do, too: every site you visit (and how long you spend there), every purchase you make, every message you send, every search you do. We will take everything you say in bad faith, so be careful about what you post. But it's also extremely suspicious if you don't post — who doesn't have an extensive social media presence these days? What are you trying to hide? You need to indicate that you think the right way. You aren't posting about this — you must not care; you must be a bad person. You deleted an old post — you must be trying to hide your awful views. You can't possibly just be removing things from your profile that no longer reflect who you are. You posted something that I don't like — I knew there was something off about you. It's not a leap to think you're also into worse things. You're probably a pervert. You're actually a criminal of the worst sort and this is an early warning sign for those of us who are smart enough to see it. We're only accusing you of these things NOW so you don't have an opportunity to do them.

Didn't you know? You need to be constantly watched and humiliated and inconvenienced and sometimes even attacked because that's the only thing standing in the way of bad things happening. If you find all this demeaning, there's something wrong with you. Only criminals would rather trade this for being less safe. You don't want us to go from thinking you're a criminal to knowing you're a criminal, do you?

...

Like, fuck. Aren't you tired of living like this???

Some of this stuff has been around for a long time, and it obviously isn't applied evenly across all demographics. But a lot of it has also gotten exponentially worse within the past few decades. Please don't ever accept any of this as normal or necessary or good, because it's not. I'm going insane watching people shrugging off the increasing infantilization and dehumanization of everyone just because this is all they can remember.

It doesn't have to be this way. Don't ever take this shit as a given — it wasn't that long ago that some of this would have been unthinkable. And the instant someone starts talking about doing things a certain way/supporting certain things because of "safety" or "security," be very careful about blindly agreeing with them. We lose very real, important things in pursuit of the nebulous concept of "safety."

[etherealyoungk]

birthday boy - kim mingyu

pairing: mingyu x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing

wordcount: 1160

a/n: happy mingyu day <3

"are you ready? we should leave babe", you yell out to mingyu who's still getting ready and you grab your phone from the table outside. you open your email to figure out the reservation details but you let out a gasp when you see the email headline that awaits you.

"what happened?", mingyu asks, coming out, hearing you and he walks towards you, a small etch of worry on his face. you only smile, trying to brush it off, not wanting to upset the atmosphere right now. but there was no point. the email you just read said that your reservation was cancelled and now you both had gotten dressed up to go...nowhere. you had booked that place two weeks in advance just for mingyu's birthday today and the fact that they cancelled it without any reason made you upset.

"what's wrong?", he prompts again, seeing the troubled look on your face.

"i-um", you start as you look at mingyu and sigh because there was really no point in denying it.

"the restaurant cancelled our reservation", you tell softly, feeling defeated. "i'm so sorry i should have planned this better, it's your special day and -",

"woah woah, sweetheart, look at me", he says making you meet his gaze. "it's okay we can do something else", he assures, giving you a small smile.

"but you were looking forward to this place", you add, frowning.

"how about we stay in? have some wine, cut the cake, just us?", he suggests. "are you sure? we can go somewhere else maybe, we're already dressed up", you add but he shakes his head. just then your doorbell rings and mingyu moves to open it but you stop him, putting your hand on his chest.

"i'll get it", you tell, shooeing mingyu away because it was a special delivery for him and you wanted to keep it that way. you had ordered flowers from mingyu, the bouquet was gorgeous, with fresh red roses with baby's breath in between all wrapped up in brown paper and a small note tucked inside. you smiled softly as you took the bouquet and peeked inside, hiding it behind your back as you saw mingyu putting out the cake and getting out the wine.

"gyu close your eyes", you told. "why?", he asks, playfully.

"just do it please", you add and he closes his eyes, a smile already playing on his lips. you make sure his eyes are indeed closed before you come forward and you bring the bouquet out front, holding it out for mingyu as you tell him to open his eyes.

he opens his eyes and he grins, his pretty canines showing and you smile too. "happy birthday gyu", you say as he takes the flowers from you like an excited puppy.

"for me?", he asks. "no they're for my boyfriend mingyu, give them back", you tell and he chuckles. "this is the first time someone's given me flowers", he confesses and you make a mental note to surprise mingyu with flowers more often.

he smells the flowers and his eyes find the note that's tucked inside and almost hidden in the flowers and his eyes sparkle. he picks out the note and you mentally cringe when you remember what you wrote. mingyu puts the bouquet aside, opens the note and he smiles like an idiot when he reads it. you know he's going to tease you about it, so you usher him to the cake that's waiting on the table, hoping he'll spare you.

you place the candles on the cake mingyu takes the initiative to light them and you find the princess crown you had found a few days back, thinking it would look cute on mingyu. "babeee", he draws out when he sees it, knowing exactly what you had in mind but you just chuckle as you put the crown on him and he lets you because he loves to indulge you like that.

you put your arms on your hips and admire mingyu. "you look so adorable", you say and he nods his head. "well, thank you for blessing me with princesshood on my birthday", he jokes and you smile, moving closer to mingyu when you notice the candles melting.

"make a wish gyu!", you tell and he sincerely closes his eyes, makes a wish and blows out the candles. his eyes are still closed so you take this chance to swipe some icing from the cake on his nose and cheek. he opens his eyes, his mouth opening in shock before he narrows his eyes at you and you run around the table because you know he's going to get you back.

he's quick to run after you and after a few strides from his long legs, he's caught you, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you against his body as he corners you into the wall and you can only let out a soft giggle.

he leans forward and boops your nose with his and now you have icing on your nose too and he seems satisfed. "now we're even", he tells with a playful smile and you can only smile back up at him, your arms resting on his shoulders as his hands caress your waist.

"have i told you how gorgeous you look tonight", he says with a glint in his eyes and you smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his compliment. he always made you feel like the prettiest person in the world and loved complimenting you, knowing you'd get shy about it. you clear your throat before speaking.

"have i told you how dashing and handsome you look tonight?", you tell, looking him up and down again because he was wearing that gorgeous all-black suit that he pulled off so well, making him look amazing (and hot). mingyu chuckles at your words and smiles wider, the sound of his laughter like music to your ears and he looks at you with pure adoration.

"is this the part where i finally get my birthday kiss?", he asks after a few seconds with a twinkle in his eyes.

"you're acting like i didn't kiss you today", you tell, tilting your head.

"but that was just a kiss, not a birthday kiss and you only kissed me once today which didn't even last five seconds". he explains, making you roll your eyes at his words and give him a look.

"i'm still waiting", he prompts, raising his brow with a tilt of his head, grinning that stupid smile that makes you melt every time you see it.

you lean forward and close the gap between you both, kissing mingyu and he pulls you closer against him as he softly moves his lips against yours, kissing you back.

"happy birthday", you whisper against his lips when you pull away.

"i'm really sorry about the reservation being cancelled though", you add because you did feel bad after having planned it and it fell through last minute.

"shhh, this is perfect too", he assures, kissing you again.

taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @kyeomyun @lvlystars @blue-jisungs @wootify @ihrtboo @idubiluv @n4mj00nvq @joshuaahong @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852 @mirxzii @wheeboo @writingmeraki

[greensagephase]

"Made by Spider-Man himself"

Pairings: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: After failing to find spider webs for Halloween decorations at the store, your husband surprises you. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: fluff; established relationship, marriage; Spanish spoken, but translations are provided within text; suggestive comments, so MDNI; terms of endearment; I think that's all; this was just an idea I had the other day and needed to write it🥺 Masterlist

You sigh heavily next to Miguel, your eyes scanning every single spot on the shelves in front of you, hoping to find at least one box.

Next to you, Miguel glances at you. “Why the heavy sigh, mi vida [my life]? What are we looking for?” he asks, turning to the shelves again.

“Some spider webs for Halloween decoration to put on our front windows, but I’m too late.”

“Too late? Baby, it’s still about two weeks before Halloween.”

“I know, but people start buying as soon as the stores put things out, and the norm now is that stores start putting a holiday’s decorations like two months in advance.”

“Which is insane, by the way,” Miguel murmurs, eyes scanning for spider webs. “Are they normal spider-webs, or…?”

You sigh again and pull out your phone to show him a screenshot from some short video that seems to have come up on your feed. The video displays the LED spider webs, attached to the creator’s windows. He nods, realizing there’s nothing like that on the shelves.

“Maybe we can go to another location?” your husband offers.

You smile softly at him but shake your head. “No, mi corazón [my heart]. It would be pointless. I’m certain we won’t find them anywhere. It’s too late at this point. The video popped up last night on my feed, and again, most stores put everything out two months before the holiday, so… I’m sure every single box has been sold at this point.” You shrug and put your phone away. “Maybe next year I’ll have better luck. Do you want to go somewhere else?” you ask, already deciding that next year will be your best bet.

“No, I don’t need to go anywhere else, mi vida [my life]. I just wanted to come with you,” Miguel says as you both begin to head out of the store. He frowns, not failing to notice your little pout. “Are you sure, preciosa [precious]? We can make the drive to another location. It’s no problem.”

You smile again and take your husband’s hand, which has been brushing against yours this entire time, as you head to your car. “I’m sure, mi corazón [my heart]. Let’s just go home, okay? I’m going to make some delicious, cozy, and warm food for us.”

With a smile, Miguel pulls you closer to his side, still walking. “Alright, preciosa [precious]. Let’s go home,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before he opens the car door for you, always the gentleman.

A few hours later, you’re on the couch with a blanket over you while re-watching one of your favorite autumn shows in the living room. You glance towards Miguel’s workroom, wondering what he’s working on. Earlier, after having dinner and cleaning the kitchen together, Miguel told you he needed to work on something regarding the Spider Society, so you decided to settle in the living room by yourself.

Fixing your position on the couch while the intro of a new episode starts playing, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, signaling that he’s left his workroom.

“Mi vida [my life]?” Miguel says, his footsteps growing closer.

You lift yourself up, smiling just at the sound of your husband’s voice, thinking that maybe he’ll join you now and you can cuddle.

“Baby,” you start, your eyes landing on him, but freezing when you see what’s on his hands. You stare in awe. “Wait…”

Miguel grins as he walks closer to show you, displaying the item in front of you for a better view. “Are these okay, preciosa [precious]?” Miguel asks, still wondering if the amazing and sweet gesture he’s made for you is ‘okay.’

“Miggy, you made spider webs out of your own for me?” you ask softly, in awe. You look up at him as he gently hands the spider net over to you, your heart filled with so much love for Miguel, your sweet husband.

“Cualquier cosa para ti, preciosa [anything for you, precious]. I know it’s not the sam -” Miguel starts while you accept the spider web and carefully place it on the couch before lunging yourself at him, catching him by complete surprise.

“I love you!” you say, throwing your arms around him. “You’re the sweetest! What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, hugging him tightly.

Despite being caught off guard, Miguel’s arms instantly wrap around your body, pulling you closer. He smiles and lifts you up easily, he’s Spider-Man after all. Smiling, he presses his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t stand seeing mi hermosa esposa being disappointed [my gorgeous wife]. That little pout pulled at my heart strings. It always does,” he whispers, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “When we were having dinner, I remembered I’m Spider-Man and I build things. So, I figured, why not build some spider webs out of my own for my lovely wife?”

Slipping your fingers into Miguel’s dark locks, you nuzzle your own nose against him. “Eres el esposo mas dulce [you’re the sweetest husband]. So kind and loving to me — so much that you entertain my silly shenanigans,” you whisper.

Miguel hums and lift his face just to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s not silly shenanigans. You have no idea how much I love seeing you getting excited about decorating our home for the holidays.” Miguel pulls you closer before settling on the couch with you attached to him. He smiles and positions you so you’re sitting on his lap comfortably before cupping your face with his large hand. “For so many years, I went on without celebrating anything. It brings me so much joy to see you excited over the decorations and being able to decorate with you. It was a great joy to make these for you, too,” Miguel gently states, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“You made more than one?” you whisper.

“I made you a few so we can place them all over the front of the house,” Miguel whispers back with a grin. “And the best part? We don’t need any extension cords or batteries.”

You chuckle and give Miguel a kiss on the lips, gentle and sweet. “Thank you, mi corazón [my heart]. You’re truly the sweetest.”

More than content with your reaction, Miguel grins. “Want to go ahead and put them out? I’ll get the ladder and hang them for you. I’d do it without the ladder, but…”

“We don’t need our neighbors to know they live next to Spider-Man,” you finish with a smile.

“Right. It’s our little secret,” Miguel responds, leaning forward to press another gentle kiss to your lips before the two of you collect all the spider webs Miguel made and head outside.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to place them around the front of your shared home with your assistance, and by the end, your home looks amazing with the spider webs and the other decorations you have out. You’re so happy that you take a few pictures just for memory keeping, something you always do, while Miguel watches you fondly.

After finishing taking pictures, the two of you head back inside to warm up by cuddling on the couch, just like you were hoping. The show you were playing earlier is still going, but you don’t even care much about it at this point since you’ve re-watched like a million times anyway, so you focused on caressing Miguel’s face, who looks more than happy with the attention. He leans into your touch, his crimson eyes fluttering in delight due to your soft hands.

“I bet everyone is going to say how wonderful the spider webs look when we host the little party on Halloween,” you whisper, remembering that you both decided to host a small Halloween party for the neighbors. “I’m going to have to pay you back.”

“Mmm, yeah? What do you have in mind?” Miguel asks, his hand moving to your hip, caressing it lightly.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you reply. “I have an idea,” you add, earning yourself a gentle squeeze at your hip and the sweetest, laziest smile from your husband, who you know doesn’t care if you reciprocate the kind gesture in any way since he did it out of love.

Halloween Party

Dressed in matching costumes with Miguel, your Halloween party is a success. You set up age appropriate games for the kids and made sure to have plenty of delicious food and candy, on top of what the neighbors brought over. At the end of the party, Miguel and you stand outside on the front of your home to see the last couple out for the night.

“You two have a great night. Thank you for the good time,” Mrs. García says with a smile. “It was lovely!”

Miguel and you smile, standing next to each other. You feel your husband’s arm around your waist from the back, his warmth seeping into your own body.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. García. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you reply, pleased with yourself since the small group of people you invited seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, but those spider webs! They’re so wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where did you buy them?” the older woman asks, her husband looking at the spider webs with interest, too.

You grin, recalling that the very next day after Miguel and you hanged them, the spider webs were a point of discussion around the neighborhood. You can only guess why.

“My mom bought them for us, but I’m not sure where she got them from since they don’t have a company logo or something like that,” you lie, finding it easy to do so because it’s not the first time that you’ve been asked where you got them from. Of course, you had to fabricate some lie because you can’t tell them your husband made them.

“That’s a shame. They’re so wonderful. I was thinking,” Mrs. García starts, staring at one of the spider webs. “They look so much like our superhero’s. It’s as if they were made by Spider-Man himself.”

You grin at that, feeling Miguel’s hand squeeze your side. “They do, don’t they?” Miguel says quietly. “But my mother-in-law got them for us. Where from? Solo Dios sabe [only God knows].”

After cleaning up and completing your night routines, you lay next to Miguel on your shared bed. You can’t help but stare at him with full admiration and love. You find yourself doing that often, wondering how everything led to this beautiful life with this beautiful and gentle man. Smiling, your eyes move over that beautiful chiseled face, loving how cute your husband looks with his reading glasses. You watch him flip the page on his current read, seemingly unaware of his wife’s eyes.

You can’t help yourself — he looks so handsome laying on his side of the bed, shirtless with grey sweatpants as bottoms.

“¿No te han dicho que es de mala educación cuando te le quedas mirando a alguien [Haven’t they told you it’s rude to stare?]?” Miguel asks, smirking softly and looking at you.

And God, no matter how long you’ve been together, that smirk and voice does things to you. Your cheeks feel hot and suddenly you turn shy under your husband’s gaze. “I was just admiring the view,” you confess softly. “Can’t help it.”

Still smirking, Migue places his book on the nightstand and removes his reading glasses. In seconds, he has you straddling his lap with ease. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hands caressing your sides. “Mm, I find myself doing that too often with my lovely wife,” Miguel whispers.

You smile and cup Miguel’s face. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, so much. I’d be a trillionaire if I was paid for looking at you,” he replies, making you chuckle.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For making the lovely spider webs. I love them so much!” You press a soft kiss to his lips. “You have no idea how many compliments they got and how many times I had to lie about my mom buying them for me, so they wouldn’t get any ideas about where they came from.”

Squeezing your sides, Miguel grins. “Anything for you, preciosa [precious]. And it seems our little white lie worked. Hopefully no one thinks too hard about them, like Mrs. García.”

“’Made by Spider-Man himself’ — she got it right on the head,” you whisper, amused before leaning forward again and pecking Miguel’s lips. “I’m gonna have to thank Spider-Man himself for lending me a hand.”

“Hmm, yeah? I’ve heard he loves cookies and sweet tamales [I think everyone knows these; Latin dish],” Miguel replies in a whisper, brushing his lips against yours, still holding you close. “Perhaps you can thank him like that, with something sweet.”

“Ah, ah,” you tease. “I did have a feeling he has a sweet tooth.”

“The worst,” Miguel answers, grinning. “He loves sweet things… Like his sweet wife, who has the sweetest lips, voice, and….” Miguel trails off and begins to pepper your face with gentle kisses.

“Hmm, what were you going to say there, arañita [little spider]?” you ask, amused, while Miguel continues showering you with kisses.

Pulling back, Miguel smiles. “The sweetest soul I know,” he whispers.

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.”

Miguel chuckles. “No, but it’s the truth all the same. You’re the sweetest and I’m so thankful to be yours,” he adds, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing gently, before leaning forward to kiss you slowly, tenderly, and lovingly on the lips.

You kiss him back, still cupping his face. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips when you pause the kiss just to tell him that.

“Y yo a ti, mi vida [and I you, my life],” Miguel replies in a whisper. “Te amo [I love you].”

You kiss again before you pull back, feeling something poking you. You grin. “Spider-Man really does love sweet things, hm?”

“Mhm, he has a craving for something sweet right now,” Miguel answers.

“Did you know Spider-Man's wife loves it when her husband wears grey sweatpants?”

“I may or may not know that,” Miguel murmurs, using a hand to caress your cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Something tells me you do know,” you only manage to say before your husband rolls over on top of you to get his sweet tooth satisfied.

A/N: Thank you for reading!!

Alondra❤️

[late-night-secrets]

!! tw: smut -> 18+!! (reader discretion advised) !!

**********

The Fish ♡

[Video]

The Fish ♡

Dont open in public

Or do but dont say i didnt warn u ;P

The video’s display picture is nothing but a black screen with nothing to indicate what the file might contain.

The Fish ♡

Miss u my love <3

[Video play]

It automatically opens in full-screen mode and, like its display picture, shows nothing but a black screen at first. Then, the camera moves and Rafayel appears. It seems like he’s recording with his phone, holding it sideways and having the front camera switched on, just like those vloggers and influencers on social media often do. With this angle only his head and neck are visible. He is in a poorly lit room, only illuminated by a soft, blue hue from some artificial light source.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets with a smile as soft as his voice. “How are you doing? I know, our last phone call was yesterday but that’s not nearly enough to stop me from missing you. And you keep telling me you miss me, too, so here I am.” He moves the phone away a few inches, so his shoulders and a proudly outstretched arm become visible. They are bare.

The phone moves closer to his face again and he brushes through a few strands of his hair that appear dark in the dimmed room. “So, erm, actually… Hm, how do I put this?” Even with the poor lightning, his ears take on a clearly darker shade and his gaze suddenly moves away from the camera. “You know what we talked about last night? Yeah, erm… I thought about it and decided on preparing something for you…” Not only his ears but also his cheeks turn red as he blushes.

Rafayel is silent for a few heartbeats, just clears his throat once. Then, he moves around and places the phone somewhere. After inching back, it becomes obvious that he’s in his bedroom and he has put the phone on his nightstand near the pillow. The blanket is neatly folded and pressed against the wall so there is quite some space on the mattress. Rafayel himself takes a seat on the bed, facing the camera cross-legged.

He is wearing nothing but a pair of grey boxer briefs that do little to no good of hiding of whatsoever.

There is still this beautiful blush on his face but at least he is looking directly at the phone camera again. “Well, you know I haven’t done anything like this before, so this can turn out as a huge failure, but I wanna give it a shot and I think you might like it. Plus…” Suddenly he turns shy again and scratches his head. “… I had a dream about you last night. About us, to be precise.”

His gaze shifts to some random spot on the mattress and then to the source of the artificial light; it has to be something that is placed behind the camera. It seems to give him courage to continue because suddenly his eyes relax, and his voice comes out steady although a little hoarse. “We were at the beach, just taking a walk, and the sun was setting. Everything was so… orange.”

He looks at the camera again. “Thinking of it now, it was a bit too much; the color, I mean, too loud… But, shit, it looked so good on your skin.” One of the corners of his mouth lifts into a half-smirk. “You wore such a tiny bikini, something I would never let you wear in public. But it looked so hot on you. Fuck, and that color… I swear, your skin was golden!”

He leans on his left arm, angling his head to the unknown source of light while his eyes flicker over something that is not visible to the phone camera. His right hand finds its way to his crotch, the movement apparently spontaneous. “I remember… One moment I was admiring you, and the next–” Suddenly, his eyes shoot back to the camera, his smirk growing cockier. “–I was inside you.”

In this moment, his palm presses down, with intention, and his breath hitches for a second. “You… were riding me, right there, at the shore. And you looked so, so pretty…!” He keeps rubbing himself through his briefs, and his eyes flutter shut for a short moment before he looks at the camera again. “But, I swear, sweetheart, no dream could keep up with the real You. Shit, I miss you.”

His eyes close once more, and he slowly throws his head back at the sensation of his moving hand. Something stirs beneath the fabric, gradually growing into something long and hard. Rafayel is silent for a few minutes. At some point he lifts his head again to look at the source of the artificial light. It seems to captivate him, with his eyes barely blinking and making small jumps from one point to another. Sometimes the hues shift, fading from white to blue, indicating some kind of change.

Gracefully, he changes his position. To get more comfortable, he slides the left hand he has leant on until now further towards his pillow, his upper body following. The movement is so fluid and controlled and seductive, it’s hard to believe he’s been embarrassed just a few minutes before. He ends up lying down on his side, his left hand propped up to support his head. For better access for his other, much busier hand, he has his right leg put up as well. Like this, nearly Rafayel’s whole body is stretched out. Given the camera angle, his head and upper body are a bit closer than the rest, yet it does not spoil the view; how this man keeps such a fit body for someone who hates to exercise remains a mystery.

“I’m looking at the pictures you sent me, by the way,” he suddenly says, his voice almost startling after the minutes of silence. “The ones that should help me out when I miss you.” His eyes flick to the camera, and he winks. “I created a slideshow that’s playing on the TV right now. Wait, let me show you…”

He lifts himself off his left hand to stretch it towards the camera. It gets comically huge as it taps on the screen. Rafayel’s gaze, dark and lust-filled just now, drifts slightly to the side as he appears to look at his phone screen in concentration. “Huh? Is there no button to switch to the back camera while recording?” It looks like he swipes across the screen and suddenly flinches. “Oh, shit! I didn’t stop it, did I?” One more tap on the screen and his face lights up in relief. “No, it’s still recording. Good. But I guess I can’t show you right now, sweetheart. Sorry.”

He falls back to his previous position on the mattress. “I love those pictures but they, too, are not even close… Ah, what should I do?” He runs his hand across his face in frustration before using it as support again.

From this point on, it doesn’t take long until his slender fingers slide underneath his waistband. He hisses. His hand isn’t visible anymore, but the up-and-down movement of his right arm leaves little left to imagine. The first moan escapes his lips, so soft and quiet and easy to miss if one doesn’t pay attention. Briefly, he stops to slide the boxers completely off. And then, he’s fully bare.

God, the way he looks…! His firm chest, his toned abs, the prominent V-line. The kissable freckles all over his smooth skin. His pale hand wrapped around his cock, pumping rhythmically, muscles flexing. The way his rib cage flows into the dip of his waist and then up to his hip bone; the artificial light casting deep shadows that sharpen all those features. And his face…! Eyes half-lidded and dark, mouth slightly ajar with soft sounds leaving every now and then. A blush across his ears and cheeks that gradually creeps down his neck towards his chest. Rafayel is handsome and beautiful at the same time; divine even. That gorgeous, gorgeous man…!

His hazy gaze seems to be set on the pictures as he pleasures himself with tugs and twists that elicit more of those delicious sounds. He settles for a lazy pace that occasionally speeds up for a few seconds. Sometimes, he pauses, watches as his cock jumps against his lower abdomen when letting go. As he slowly, almost provokingly, strokes up and down with one of his long fingers his eyes shift to the camera again with that tantalizing smirk of his.

When he wraps his hand around his tip and begins to make circling motions, it looks like something inside him snaps; he throws his head back, throat exposed, and openly moans into the room. He keeps going, torments that sensitive part of his body although his leg starts twitching and his upper body shaking. Rafayel’s head collapses onto the pillow as his supporting arm gives out, face pressed into the cover and moans muffled. His now free hand grabs the soft cushion tightly, making his knuckles turn white.

“Shit, baby…!” he curses into the pillow. He turns his head to the phone, so a few strands of his hair fall into his face while others are pushed back, exposing a part of his forehead. His mouth is free again, his groans and sighs clear. And his half-lidded eyes, one barely visible at that angle, zero in on the camera. “Fuck, I need you…!”

He’s pumping his cock again, so sensitive now that he can’t stop squirming at the touch of his own hand. Shadows dance across the curves of his body as it moves with gracefulness; the body of a man who knows elegance like a second nature, knows it despite his state of desperation and need. “Oh, please come back soon! This is not even close…!”

A whiny voice oh so contrary to that sinful face. Ears and cheeks blushing red, half-lidded eyes dark with lust and the smirk so, so smug. He looks drunk. He looks irresistible. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Are you touching yourself to me? I hope you do… Shit, I need you to!” His hand is still now, his hips are not. They are bucking into his fist again and again and again; fast and purposeful. The grip on his pillow seems to grow stronger. “Hah– We should make a video together when you come back, don’t you think? A recording of us, making love. That’ll be so, hah– hot, won’t it? I bet it’ll be.”

His pace is quickening, his groans turn louder. “Oh, please, please…!” Despite his needy demeanor his gaze is so… demanding. With eyes emitting an aquatic hue that doesn’t have anything to do with the screen showing the photos; eyes that haven’t blinked in a good while. He’s mumbling sweet nothings, sensual and senseless, “Do you like this? Me, making a fool out of myself just for you? Oh– Do you want me to be your personal cam boy?”

He keeps going like this, changing between breathless babbling to chants of endearment to sinful moans. And then, suddenly, his mouth falls wide open, and his eyes squeeze shut. The muscles of his abdomen flex as he keeps his hips pressed against his fist. Just when his cock starts twitching, white spurts of cum leave his tip and make a mess on his stomach. Still riding out his orgasm, he slowly strokes himself into sensitivity, making him pant. “Oh, my love…!” he purrs and looks at the camera again. After finishing, he puts his index finger on his slick tip and experimentally slides it along its slit. The action produces one of the most beautiful whimpers this man has made, and his whole body shudders.

Not long until he lets go of his softening cock. His curious fingers wander upwards instead, admiring the messy abdomen and the heaving chest. Then, he rolls flat on his back, still catching his breath and one arm across his eyes. It takes him a good minute or two to recover enough to catch some tissues for cleaning up.

Only when he picks up the phone again at last, does his face come into focus again. He’s still blushing a deep red, his eyes giving away that clear thoughts have returned to his mind. “So…” he starts awkwardly. His voice is still a little hoarse, a little out of breath. “There’s that. I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly did.” He goes silent again, apparently thinking deeply. The next second he covers his face with his free hand. “Oh my, the things I’ve said…! That’s post-nut-clarity for you…”

He aggressively rubs across his face and runs his fingers through his hair as if to get rid of the embarrassment. “Still, I… actually would like us to record… stuff. Well… Let me know if you’d be down to talk about it once you’ve returned.” His eyes suddenly drift away in shyness. “And if you don’t, let me know, too, please. It’s all… very new to me.” He scratches his neck and ends up covering his mouth in thought.

All of a sudden, he snaps out of his trance of overthinking and smiles brightly. “Anyways, I miss you dearly, my love. I do hope you liked it because I had fun. Love you, sweetheart.” He blows a kiss to the phone. Then, his finger moves close to the screen, probably towards the recording button. Briefly, his eyes shift the camera to directly look at it at the end. “See you soon, my love. Bye-bye!”

And just like that, the video ends. The last frame shows Rafayel with his flushed face, soft smile and eyes full of endearment. Partly covered by the triangle-shaped play-button to rewatch the recording.

**********

masterlist

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Pent up (Chris)

Request: None

Warnings: Small fight, horny Chris, besties to lovers (when is that not the case?), minimal crying, inexperienced Chris, handjob, embarrassment/humiliation if you squint, switch Chris & reader, cumshot, riding, minimal degradation, begging

Chris’ pov

I’ve only ever had sex once in my life, it was when I was 17 and it was pretty trash, not gonna lie. It’s been 3 years since then and it’s been up to me to get myself off, which had been fine until recently. Nothing I do is working, I’ve tried switching hands, grinding on my bed, fucking pillows, humping random things, using a vibrator, and I still can’t cum. That doesn’t stop my dick from getting hard though, sometimes I go all day with a half-hard dick. It’s gotten to the point where it’s uncomfortable and starting to hurt because basically, all I can do is edge myself. I haven’t been able to fucking cum for 6 weeks, I don’t do hookups or one-night stands either so I’m literally screwed. (or not screwed in this sense)

Now that our friend Y/n from back home has moved to LA as well, my usually half-hard dick has become fully hard. We’ve known her for about 8 years, so needless to say she’s our best friend but that doesn’t mean I don’t find her attractive. Sure, in middle and high school I wasn’t attracted to her like that, plus she was more so Nick’s friend until we turned 16 and he came-out. She’s recently gotten a bigger following on social media and had moved out to LA for better opportunities, it was also obviously a plus that she’d get to see us more.

If I’m being honest, ever since Covid, Y/n has really had a glow up, we all have. However, I wasn’t used to seeing her all the time, except for on FaceTime, but her attractiveness never really affected me then. Now with Y/n coming over all the time, it was hard not to be affected by her attractiveness. It’s even harder when she wears short shorts/skirts, crop tops, or tank tops, and especially when she’s braless. I’d never say or do anything though, I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Plus, what am I supposed to say? “Oh by the way, you make me hard when you wear clothes like that, could you please stop?” there’s absolutely no way I’d do that.

I’ve been doing my best to avoid Y/n for the past month and I think she’s starting to catch on, she probably thinks I’m mad at her. I catch her giving me hurt and confused looks all the time and Matt says I hurt her feelings by pushing her away for no reason. Except there was a reason, but nobody knew that and nobody was going to find out. At least that was the plan until today as Y/n came over yet again. She walked through the door as usual, saying hi to Matt and Nick before they left for some reason. I was extremely confused because we didn’t have any plans and they didn’t mention that they were going somewhere.

Y/n came over to the couch and sat next to me, I just stayed on my phone until she took it out of my hand. She set it down on the coffee table before wrapping both her arms around my left one. Y/n put her head on my shoulder and sadly said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry.” that made me feel like shit. I sighed and removed my arm from her hold to give her an actual hug. “Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m sorry.” I sighed again as I heard her sniffle. She wrapped her arms tightly around my torso and I heard her sniffing a second time.

“Please don’t cry Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m just going through something with myself and it’s difficult being around you” I really should’ve worded that better because Y/n immediately pulled away. She was now understandably defensive and upset “What’s that supposed to mean!? You don’t like being around me!? I literally paid Matt and Nick to stay the night at my house so I could talk to you privately and now you don’t even want to be around me!?” she yelled at me. She got off the couch and started walking towards the door crying.

I felt like an asshole so I immediately went after her, pulling her into a tight hug before pulling away and wiping away her tears. “God, you’re gonna fucking hate me after I say this.” I said before taking a deep breath and continuing. “It’s difficult to be around you because you turn me on and make me extremely hard. It’s not your fault, it’s just my body being stupid. I can’t believe I’m telling you this but I haven’t been able to cum in like 6 weeks, I get painfully hard and can basically only edge myself. You know I don’t do hookups so I can only rely on myself and it’s just not working. I’m sorry.” I told her truthfully.

Y/n started laughing, like full on hysterically laughing. I stood there, not finding what I just funny but still cracked a smile at her laughter. “Oh my god, you’re such a jackass!” she joked, making me a little bit confused. “You could’ve just said that and I would’ve given you a handjob weeks ago!” she said between laughs. I didn’t know what to say back so I just stood there staring at her in shock. “Bullshit, I’ve been trying to hide the fact that you’ve been making me hard for weeks just for you to say you’d give me a handjob!? That’s fucking crazy!” I laughed while shaking my head.

Y/n’s pov

I can’t believe all the confusion and hurt going on, on my end was all because I turn Chris on. Yeah no shit he’s one of my best friends, but he’s also obviously very active and I’d honestly give him a handjob just for fun. I love the thought of making someone cum with just my hand, I’m obviously a bit more experienced than Chris since I had a boyfriend for 2 years and we had sex but it didn’t bother me. I like knowing I’ll be the only person to have given him a handjob and the second to touch him intimately like that.

After Chris said this was all crazy, I turned to walk back into the living room when he grabbed my wrist, turning me around. “And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a cocky tone, “To sit down, what are you doing?” I said back. “I believe you owe me a handjob. Can’t believe you came over to talk to me in such a slutty little outfit and expected me to not get hard” Chris said with a smirk as his hands went to my waist. He pulled me against him so I could feel his half-hard cock and he’s fucking huge.

I decided to mess with him a bit and pull away, doing a little spin before saying, “You don’t like my outfit? Is it because I look bad?” I fake pouted. Chris grabbed my hips once again but his hands almost immediately went down to my ass. “I love it, I just don’t want others seeing what’s mine.” he said lowly, “Possessive.” I teased him, poking his chest. “Is that a problem?” he asked, “Not at all.” I replied. “Good. Now about that handjob offer-“ he started before I cut him off, “ Yes, I’ll give you a handjob now c’mon.” I laughed at his neediness.

We got to his room and I sat on his bed, taking my shoes off while he took off his shirt and laid down, propped by pillows. “Wait! Y-You know um…” he trailed off so I spoke up instead. “Know that you’ve only ever been touched and seen naked once? Yes, I’m aware.” “Oh, um okay, yeah that’s what I was gonna say. I was also going to ask if we could like makeout first? You know, to make me less nervous…” Chris blushed cutely. “Anything you want, tonight is all about your pleasure.” I smiled at him before moving my lips to meet his. Right before our lips we’re about to meet Chris mumbled, “Want you on my lap” pulling my waist so I was now sitting on his lap.

I once again leaned down to attach our lips, my left hand was on his chest while my right cupped his jaw. The kiss was a little slow at first and I could feel that Chris was still half-hard, slowly getting fully hard when he deepened the kiss. I wasn’t expecting him to run his tongue across my bottom lip or squeeze my ass so he could gain access to my mouth, but I was glad he did. The kiss started to get hot and I loved the way Chris whimpered a bit before pulling away. “Want you to touch my cock.” he panted with a smirk. Chris took off his pants before asking me to take off my skirt, which I did, “Goddamn baby, you’ve got such a nice ass.” he said before slapping my ass, making me laugh.

“Just sit back, relax, and enjoy” I winked at him before placing another kiss to his lips, sliding my hand over his hard-on. I pulled away and saw a bit of fear flash through his eyes, “Chris, are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” I asked softly, removing my hand from him. “No, I want you to keep going. I just- this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward after, right?” he asked nervously. I brought my hand up to stroke his cheek, “I promise this won’t ruin our friendship or be awkward. I just wanna help you, plus it’s fun and enjoyable for me too.” I smiled. Chris smiled back, “Okay good. Please continue.” he said while blushing.

“Do you have lube and can I take off your boxers?” “Yes and yes” he replied, leaning over to grab the lube from his dresser next to his bed. He handed it to me before pulling down his boxers and blushing. “Holy fuck Chris! You’re fucking huge!” I said shocked because he’s a lot bigger than I expected. “Mmm shut up.” he whined back embarrassed, gasping loudly when I started slowly jerking him off. I looked at his face as it twisted with pleasure, I started to move my hand a bit faster as he looked at me, causing him to close his eyes and bite his lip to prevent any moans from falling past them. His face turned a bright pink, making me smile as I moved my other hand to his face, pulling his lip away from his teeth with my thumb.

“C’mon Chris, let me hear those pretty moans. Open those gorgeous eyes for me.” I softly ordered him. His hands were by his sides, balled up in fists as he gripped onto the sheets below him. He let a small whine when he opened his eyes and saw mine looking back at them. “Does that feel good?” I asked seductively, “G-Go faster.” he said, “Can you use your manners for me?” I teased. Chris gave me a pleading look, not wanting to beg but that quickly changed when I stilled my movements. “No, don’t stop! P-Pease go faster!” he groaned, immediately avoiding eye contact with me. I lightly gripped his jaw as I started moving my hand again, I turned his head to face me before saying, “So good with your words.” I smiled before slowly making out with him.

Chris pulled away to let out a particularly loud moan as I felt some precum leak out of his tip. I decided if I wanted to go faster, I’d need to use the lube, squirting some directly onto his cock. I sped up my movements, making Chris’ whines and moans get louder. “Talk to me.” “What?” “Dirty talk to me, tell me I’m being good. I don’t know just talk to me, I’m getting close.” he said. “Awe that’s cute, I haven’t even been jerking you off for 10 minutes and you’re already gonna cum.” I teased thinking he’d get mad at me but instead let out a loud whimper. “You like when I do that?” I asked when I started moving faster, Chris just whined and nodded his head erratically, feeling slightly humiliated.

I dug my thumb into his slit, collecting precum before using my other hand to play with his balls. My fist would tighten every time I went up towards the head, making Chris whimper and whine. I was so focused on pleasuring him that I jumped when I felt his hands come up towards my boobs, “Sorry, I ju-“ he started being I cut him off. “It’s okay I just wasn’t expecting you to touch me, go ahead and do whatever you were gonna do. You’re being such a good boy.” I added the last sentence experimentally to see if he’d like it, and to my surprise, he let out a loud, whiny moan. He moved my tank top straps down and lowered it so my boobs were now visible. Chris looked from my boobs up to my face, getting embarrassed when he found me already looking at him.

“Fuck Y/n/n don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna make me cum.” he whined. I decided to move positions and go in between his legs so I could get a better angle, Chris’ eyes blew out with lust at that. He became a whining, whimpering mess, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit ‘m gonna cum!” he loudly moaned out. I started moving my hand as fast as I could, trying to keep his hips still at the same time. Chris’ left hand came down to tightly hold onto my right wrist as the pleasure was overwhelming due to him edging himself for so long. I saw his stomach flex and thighs start to shake a bit, signaling he was about to cum. Not wanting to make a big mess, I moved his cock so it was up against his stomach, that way he wouldn’t cum all over his sheets.

“Fuck Y/n! Oh shit- yes I’m cumming!” he groaned out loudly, “Be a good boy and cum for me.” I replied seductively. Chris let out something that was a mix between a whine and a growl, which sounded so fucking hot. Within a couple of seconds, thick strings of white cum started to paint his body as I jerked him through his orgasm. I watched in awe as this was the biggest cumshot I’ve ever seen, some cum even made it all the way up to his face. That was fucking hot, I helped him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, during which he let out multiple whimpers and whines. I was so out of it that I didn’t realize Chris’ cock had now turned soft, “S-Stop too much, ‘m sensitive!” he moaned, causing me to finally let go of his cock.

Chris was breathing heavily but he looked so fucking good covered in his own cum like this. “Chris, are you okay?” I asked gently, with his eyes closed all he could do was whimper out a response that would turn me on even more. “P-Picture! Take a picture of me covered in my cum!” I was a bit shocked but nonetheless, I got up to grab my phone. I wasn’t even turned around for a more than a minute, but by the time I got back to the bed with my phone, he was already hard again. I took a few pictures before telling him to open his eyes, Chris looked at me with an extremely fucked out expression and a dopey smile as I took the last picture.

Even though Chris was basically fucked dumb at this point, he still somehow managed to take control of the situation. He grabbed me by my throat and pulled me closer to him, causing me to let out a surprised whine. “Clean my cum up with your tongue and ride me. Like you said earlier, tonight is all about my pleasure, meaning you’re gonna be the slut who does all the work.” he stated in an authoritative tone. I replied with a quick, “Yes sir.” before I started licking up his cum from his stomach all the way up to his face. He actually tasted really good, once he was clean of his cum, he sat up against the headboard.

Grabbing the bottom of my tank top, he said “Take it off.” before watching me pull it over my head. I was honestly a bit surprised at how much of a power bottom Chris was being right now, considering this is only his second time having sex. He pulled me onto his lap before smashing our lips together, biting mine as he pulled back to toy with the side of my panties. “Take these off before I fucking rip them off.” he growled, I immediately took them off and sat back on his lap. “Can I please just fuck myself on your cock now?” I whined, “Well you’re the one who’s gonna do all the work so go ahead. Condoms are i-“ he said cockily before I cut him off. “We don’t need one of those unless you want it.” I told him before kissing his neck, “Goddamn, no condom then.” he grunted.

I slowly sunk down onto his massive cock, “Jesus Christ! You’re so fucking tight!” he moaned out while his voice cracked. “Mhm you’re so big Chris!” I whimpered as I started bouncing on his dick. Chris helped me move by griping onto my ass while I started sucking hickies into his neck. “Baby you can’t leave marks, Matt and Nick can’t know.” he panted out, making me loudly whine. I didn’t stop though, I really didn’t care about his brothers finding out. However, I did stop when he slapped my ass and pulled my hair, “I told you to fucking stop!” he growled in my ear. I started moving a bit faster as he started sucking hickies into my chest, “Just wanted to mark you up!” I whined.

“Why? You tryna claim me as your own or something? Can’t stand the idea of other girls looking at me?” he teased me. Suddenly I turned into the whiny one, blabbing out incoherent sentences without thinking. “Don’t want others looking at you. Only me, you’re mine- please Chris! Want you!” I cried out as the pleasure started to become too much. “Please what baby? What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking at me with his eyes full of lust, “Just want you!” I said frustrated. Chris started thrusting up into me, “Yeah, you want me baby? You got me, I’m yours princess, kiss me.” he said softly in my ear. I moved my hands to wrap around his neck and thread through his hair as our lips met in a feverish kiss.

Chris helped me move faster as he thrusted up into me as well before he moved one hand from my waist to rub my clit. He moved his kisses down my neck, sweetly sucking more hickies into the skin. “Feel so good around my cock princess.” he mumbled, “Shit, Chris I’m gonna cum!” I cried out. With that Chris flipped us over and started drilling into me, looking down at me with a smirk. “Cum on my cock babe, cum so I can fill you up with mine.” he groaned, I pulled him down for another kiss, moaning into it. He was fucking into me at a fairly fast pace while rubbing my clit in tight, fast circles. I tightened around him as I started to cum, moaning loudly. Chris’ thrusts grew sloppy and before I knew it, he was loudly groaning and filling me up with his cum.

He fucked into me for a couple more seconds then pulled out, laying down next to me. As I came down from my high, a wave of emotions hit me and I suddenly got nervous. “Chris…” I said barely above a whisper, he just pulled me into his side, laying my head on his chest. He pulled the blankets up over us, “Shhh, it’s okay, I know. We’ll talk about it in the morning, I promise this doesn’t change anything in a bad way. Just go to sleep princess, everything’s gonna be okay.” he said in a soothing voice, calming my nerves. “Okay, goodnight Chris.” I said softly, “Goodnight pretty girl.” he replied back, protectively wrapping his arms around me.

Taglist: @angelic-sturniolos111 @biimpanicking @biplrbtch @chrisolivia4l @christinarowie332 @chr1sgirl4life @creamoncreamoncream2 @delimeats-000 @devthepoet @ermdontmindthisaccount @flowerxbunnie @fionaheartswomen @gilbertscurls @heartsforchrisandmatt @iheartchrissturniolo @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @justaslvttygirl @kvtie444 @lustfulslxt @luvysworld @meg-sturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @mangosrar @mangoposts @meerkatzthings @mattsnutsack @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @recklesssturniolo @solarsturniolo @soursturniolo @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @sturniolocoded @sturniofilmd @sturniolohoe @sturniolopepsi @sturniolo0ntop @thecynthh

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Do not steal, use, or reupload my work

[softspiderling]

think you're a genius (you drive me up the wall) | r.c.

summary: it wouldn't be an outer banks party if there wasn't at least one fist fight. also, rafe is trying to turn over a new leaf.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

word count: 3,8k

warning: mention of blood, violence (reader gets punched in the face, but there are no graphic details), shitty topper (sorry top)

author's note: long awaited (at least by me) rafe fic, whoop whoop!!! no usage of Y/N, happy reading, don't forget to reblog!!! also tagging @sunderlust bc i borrowed some of our conversation in this fic😘love you sol

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“Since when do you drink beer?”

Barely pausing at the words, you continued to stack cold beer cans in your arms, the condensation dripping onto your skin. You didn’t have to turn around to know who the voice belonged to, having heard it so many times. And this was his house after all.

“Wasn’t aware you kept track of my drink of choice,” you retorted, turning around to face him, while simultaneously trying to balance the cans.

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you before his gaze lowered to the beer in your arms. “… You trying to tell me that all that beer’s for you?”

“You calling me a lightweight?”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth ticked up and he took a sip from his drink, the ice clinking in the glass.

“I think we both know I’m not.”

If someone had told you that one day you’d be standing in the parlor of Tannyhill, having a mostly civil conversation with Rafe you’d have them institutionalized. But things have changed. When Sarah returned with the news that Ward has died protecting Sarah, Rafe imploded at first. Blaming her for his death, the downfall of their family and generally being ungrateful for Ward’s love for her.

Everyone avoided the Cameron estate for a while, hearing stuff crash and yells from a mile away. No one dared to step close. A few days after, the disturbances stopped, being replaced with complete silence.

It was so silent, you actually grew concerned until Rafe turned up at Heyward’s setting up a weekly grocery delivery. Pope had dumped the stuff he was holding as soon as Rafe had stepped into the store, storming outside, with Cleo hot on his heels, leaving you to set up the standing order.

“Can you tell Sarah I’m sorry?”

“What?”

You looked up from the register and Rafe clenched his jaw, giving you a look.

“You really gon’ make me say it again?”

“How about you call her yourself instead of making me deliver your message like a post boy?”

Rafe exhaled deeply, knitting his eyebrows together like he was really trying not to explode and honestly, you had to respect him for that. You know how impatient he could be.

“I tried, okay? Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve tried to call her, she’s not picking up. Fuck, I don’t even know if she still has the same phone number,” he said, like the words physically pained him. “I don’t even know where she’s staying. Is it at John B’s new place?”

Somewhere between his words, Rafe had started pacing up and down the stairs, making you antsy.

“Hey,” you said, coming around to slowly, carefully - like you were trying to pet a stray cat - curl your hand around his wrist. Rafe immediately stopped, eyeing his wrist where you were touching him.

“Sorry, I’ll take my hand off,” you quickly said, but before you could, Rafe stopped you.

“’s fine,” he muttered, meeting your eyes for a second before looking away again. “Physical touch grounds me… Y’know… When my thoughts get too… Much.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding at him and staying in place, for god knew how long, until Rafe had seemed to calm down.

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

You drew your hand back, crossing your arms over your chest and leaned against the counter to put some distance between you and him, wildly overwhelmed with this situation. Rafe didn’t seem like he knew what to do either, turning his ring on his finger, his eyes cast on the floor.

“If you really want to apologize to Sarah,” you started, making him look up. “Maybe I can talk to her. Ask her if she’s willing to meet up with you.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, clearly surprised. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head. I’m mostly doing it for Sarah,” you scoffed and Rafe only smirked, shaking his head.

“Sure, tough girl. Gonna ring me up now or what?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you returned to the cash register, finishing up his order. You still felt his eyes on you as you worked away.

“Thanks,” he finally said, and you lifted your head, briefly meeting his eyes.

“Don’t mention it.”

And he never did.

Miraculously, you had managed to get Sarah to agree to talk to Rafe and while you had accompanied her to the beach, where she had met up with Rafe, you stayed behind to give them privacy. You weren’t sure what they had talked about, but you didn’t press her about it either when she came stomping back to you with tearstained cheeks. Whatever they have talked about must have helped though, because even though Sarah still stayed with John B of the the times, she went home every odd night, returning with sandwiches and drinks the next day like a soccer mom. It went unsaid that Rafe had provided her with everything and Sarah avoided talking about him, mostly because Pope still got that distant look in his eyes whenever she mentioned her brother. Which is why you were surprised that he was the first one to agree to go to a party Rafe had invited Sarah to, forwarding the invite to her friends.

“What?” Pope had said everyone gave him an odd look. “He stole a family heirloom of mine. The least he can do is invite us to a party of his.”

“Okay then,” JJ jeered, beating on Pope’s back with his opens palms. “Let’s go to a Kook party.”

You had to admit that it was nice to see that the two tribes of the island coming together. The fact that Pogues were invited to a party on Figure 8 was huge. Granted, it was just you and your friends, but still. It was a start.

Loud cheering from outside brought you out of your thoughts, you and Rafe both looking towards the dimly lit backyard, where the main attraction of the party took place.

“JJ and John B are destroying a group of Kooks at Rage Cage right now,” you then explained, lifting the beer in your arms. “Hence... You know.”

“Right right, I was starting the wonder what all that yelling was about,” Rafe mused.

“So how come you’re not out there?”

Rafe shrugged. “Needed some quiet.”

“What, you having your private party in here?” you teased and Rafe smirked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Why? You jealous?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the beer cans in your arms, the weight slowly getting to you.

“In your dreams, Rafe,” you scoffed. “I got to go, get these beers to the boys before they’ll get warm. You should come down, when you’re done brooding and shit.”

Throwing your last words over your shoulder, you returned to your friends, being welcomed with loud cheers as the empty cups get filled rather quickly. You dropped down into your empty chair, taking your drink from Kiara who had been holding onto it during your absence.

“Pope was about to send a search party because you were taking so long,” she said and you gave Pope a look over the brim of your cup.

“You’re such a mother hen. I was talking to Rafe.”

“Why the hell were you talking to Rafe?”

“You talked to Rafe?”

“Jesus, guys relax,” you groaned, leaning your head back. “He’s fine. He didn’t even do anything. We just talked.”

“It’s never just anything with Rafe,” Pope muttered.

“I get that,” Sarah started, rolling her empty cup in her hand. “But he’s different.Like… He regrets a lot of the thing’s he’s done and trying really hard to make up for his mistakes,” she paused, pressing her lips together tightly. “I’d be the last person to defend him, but I feel like he’s trying to turn over a new leaf.”

Before Pope was able to list all of the bad things that Rafe has done in the past, your conversation was interrupted, angry yells ringing over the music.

“So now you’re just all buddy buddy hanging out here, huh?”

The new voice wasn’t really new and everyone looked at Sarah, who paled, slowly pushing herself up from her chair, looking towards the disturbance, the rest of the group following her.

“Shit. What the hell is Topper doing here?”

The sudden intrusion of a rather inebriated Topper had immediately tanked the relaxed and laid back atmosphere; suddenly, everyone was tense, not daring to make a move in fear of making the wrong one.

“What? Aren’t we here to party?” Topper cajoled, waving a half empty bottle of whiskey around. “Let’s get rid of these Pogues and party!”

The rest of the Kooks looked between themselves, not really wanting to follow Topper’s request but also not wanting to defend your friends. Even if they just had fun together, the Kooks wouldn't go as far as openly defend Pogues, you knew that.

“You should leave, Topper,” John B said, his hands curling at his sides, which was fair, honestly. Even though you had rebuilt the Chateau, bigger, better and most importantly more fire resistant, Topper burnt down John B’s home. His safe space. Topper only widened his eyes at John B comically, snorting.

“Who are you to tell me to leave?”

Sarah pushed herself to the front, pressing herself to John B’s side, which was probably not the smartest thing she could have done, as it only aggravated Topper even more to see her next to John B. You and the others stood right behind her, ready to step in as soon as it escalated.

“Leave, Topper,” Sarah snapped at him. “Nobody invited you.”

“Yeah, as far as I know, you don’t even live here anymore, Sarah,” Topper said, spitting out her name like it was venom in his mouth.

“I didn’t invite you.”

You hadn’t even noticed Rafe having joined you, not really standing on your side, but not on Topper's side either. Suddenly, the tension had grown even thicker and by now, you realized this could go wrong in about a 100 ways.

Topper stared at his friend, mouth agape, before he collected himself, pulling a face.

“Seriously, Rafe? Weren’t you the one who told me that I’m better off without your bitch of a sister and now you’re taking her side?”

“Watch it, Top,” Rafe only said, not even moving an inch.

Not that he had to. Everyone knew what Rafe was capable of, if he was angry enough. Topper only narrowed his eyes at his friend, weighing his options.

“Topper, just go,” Sarah yelled, walking towards him for good measure, trying to offer some sort of olive branch, but Topper only pushed Sarah roughly, causing her to stumble to the ground.

“Jesus, fuck, Topper,” you snapped, rushing to get Sarah back on her feet again, making the fatal mistake of getting between him and John B, as you received a sickening punch to the side of your face.

“Fuck!”

“Holy shit, Topper are you insane?”

You had toppled over your feet to the grass, not having expected the punch at all. Disoriented, you touched your throbbing cheek, your fingers stained red when you looked at them.

“Fuck,” you moaned, feeling like you were about to pass out. Your friends quickly crowded around you, helping you up.

“Shit, girl, you alright?” Cleo asked, carefully pushing your hair to the side to assess the damage.

“Is Sarah okay?” you only asked, pausing to spit out some blood, leaning on Cleo, your legs still shaking.

“Dude, I’m fine!” Sarah said, wrapping an arm around you, still shaking herself.

Your vision was still dizzy, and the voices were not helping, but it seemed like most of the party goers had dissipated as the argument had started. As your eyes adjusted, you could just see Rafe holding Topper by the collar of his shirt and saying something you couldn’t quite understand, before he tossed his friend on the ground. Topper didn’t take long to get back to his feet, fleeing from the scene.

Rafe turned around, his eyes scanning over you before turning to Sarah.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a bruise,” Sarah said, her eyes fixated on you. “But you should definitely get checked out. I can't believe Topper punched you."

“Come on, I got a first aid kit upstairs and some ice for the swelling.”

Rafe reached out to grab you under the arms, but Cleo was reluctant to let you go.

“Maybe I should help.”

“Seriously?” Rafe asked, incredulously and you only watched with narrowed eyes, your reaction time still limited.

“We should just take her home,” Pope chimed in, grabbing you by the shoulder gently, jostling you around.

“Guys, I’m gonna be sick if you keep handing me around like a joint,” you groaned, shutting your eyes, in the hopes of making the dizziness better.

“Pope, it’s fine. Rafe’s not going to hurt her. And he knows a thing or two about patching up wounds,” Sarah said, Pope’s grip on you loosening.

“Fine. But you even look at our girl funny, and you got another thing coming, you hear me, Rafe?”

“Yeah yeah, I got it,” Rafe grunted.

You peeked an eye open, when your friends let go of you, Rafe looping his arm around your shoulder, pausing to look at John B. “You got Sarah, right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about her.”

Rafe nodded his head in thanks, before leading you towards the house.

"Hey, just call if you need anything!" Kiara called after you, which you only replied with a weak "Okay!", your focus on putting one foot after the other. Rafe had his arm around your waist, taking most of your weight.

“Can you walk alright or do you need me to carry you?”

“If you pick me up right now, I will vomit on you,” you moaned and Rafe snorted.

“Right, and neither of us want that.”

It took you guys an embarrassing amount of time until you reached the house, since you kept making Rafe stop because you thought you were going to throw up. When you finally walked inside, Rafe lead you upstairs, instead of steering you towards the living room.

“Where are you taking me?”

“First aid kit is in my bathroom,” Rafe replied, mostly supporting your weight as you climbed the stairs.

“Ugh, your bathroom? Am I gonna get infected with herpes or something?”

“Is it the smartest idea to insult me in your position right now?” he asked dryly, and you almost sighed in relief when you reached the second floor.

“Just take me to your bedroom Rafe.”

“Alright, Princess,” Rafe sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice as he guided you to his bedroom, carefully depositing you on the bed. While he went to the bathroom to fetch the first aid kit, you took a second to catch your breath, hoping the world would stop spinning.

Rafe returned with the first aid kit, moving slowly so as not to startle you. He set it down on the bed and then looked at you, concern flickering in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you mumbled, pressing a hand to your throbbing cheek. "Just a little dizzy."

"Right." Rafe opened the kit and began to rifle through it, pulling out a bottle of disinfectant and some cotton pads. “This is probably gonna sting,” he warned you.

“Do your worst.”

You managed to flinch only slightly as the cool, yet burning liquid hit your skin, with Rafe’s surprising gentle touch as he cleaned your wound. He put a small bandage on the cut, before sitting back to inspect his handiwork.

“I’ll go grab you some ice for the swelling,” Rafe then said, standing up. “No dozing off, though, a’ight?”

Without waiting for an answer, Rafe left the room, leaving you by yourself yet again. Even though he explicitly told you not to doze off, you laid down on the bed, figuring that it might make the pain a little less bad. As soon as your head hit the pillow, Rafe’s scent engulfed you, and you weren’t sure if you lying down in his bed was too... Intimate? Then again, he was the one who had left you in his bedroom by himself. Before you could sit up again, Rafe reappeared in the room, holding a bag of in his hand, an unreadable expression on his face as he took you in on his bed.

“Sure, go ahead and make yourself at home,” he huffed, but you could see the frown on his face. Rafe sat down on the bed next to you, carefully wrapping the ice bag in a small towel and pressing it against your bruise, his other hand cradling your face. Despite the ice on your skin, you felt your cheeks heating up.

It was odd. You’d never have expected that Rafe could be able to be so gentle, so caring, and you suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him.

“What’d you say to Topper?” you blurted out instead, breaking the silence. You reached up to hold the ice bag, and Rafe pulled his hands back, raising an eyebrow at you.

“What?”

“After he hit me. What did you tell him to make you leave?”

Rafe sighed, leaning back a bit, staring at the wall as his eyes hardened. “I reminded him of what he did to me when I… Hurt Sarah. Asked him if he was willing to beat me to a pulp for my sister, what he thought I’d do to him for hurting her.”

His eyes flickered back to you.

And you.

You let out a breath at the pregnant pause, scared he’d say something he couldn’t take back. Something real. Maye you had been flirting with him, but so what? There was no harm, they were just words. Right? But admitting something real? That was a whole other story.

“Who would’ve thought Rafe Cameron could be so nice?” You said instead, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Rafe snorted, shaking his head with a laugh, the moment dissipating. “Yeah yeah, don’t get used to it. It was a one time thing.”

“Right, right, we wouldn’t want people to think that Rafe the Kook prince actually has a heart.”

“Does that make you the Pogue Princess then?”

“What?” you asked, flushing. “Where’d you get that idea? That’s obviously Kie.”

“Come on,” Rafe huffed, rolling his eyes. “Kie’s half Kook. And don't even start with my sister. Sarah’s… Half and half, at least.”

You eyed him in amusement. It was clear that he’d spent a good amount of time on that analogy.

“What about Cleo?” you asked, humoring him.

“Ehh. She would’ve made a good Pogue princess, too bad you’ve already taken the spot,” Rafe said with a shrug. “Pogue Princess. Flirts with everyone, heart of gold, never hesitates to get right between a brawl to help out a friend and to call people out on their bullshit…. Should I continue?”

“Please don’t,” you laughed, pressing the ice bag to your cheek. “You’re talking shit out of your ass right now.”

“I’m talking shit out of my ass? You’re the one saying everything that comes to your mind to stop yourself from kissing me right now.”

What?

“What?”

You never thought he’d actually say it out loud. Mention the elephant in the room. The tension you had been trying to ignore all this time. The silence that followed was deafening as you tried to find the right words, your heart beating in your chest.

“In your dreams,” you muttered hotly, repeating your words from earlier in the evening, looking everywhere but at him. It didn’t take long for Rafe to grab you by the chin gently, forcing you to look at him, his eyes piercing yours.

“In my dreams, yes,” he said quietly, inching so close that his warm breath was fanning across your face. “What about yours, princess?”

Gaping at him, speechless, you knew you didn’t have long until Rafe would take your silence as rejection. Your mind was racing, but ultimately, you leaned in, closing the gap and finally kissed him. Rafe let out a soft grunt, dropping his hand from your chin and cupping the back of your head instead to press even closer to you. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, as you finally admitted the attraction you felt to another, but you pulled away, when you felt a tad too dizzy.

“Right, shit,” Rafe cursed, knitting his brows together, examining your cheek. “Got too carried away.”

You flushed, handing him the small ice bag, that was more or less a bag of water now. Rafe dumped it in the trash next to the nightstand, before turning back to you with a smirk.

“Took you long enough.��

“Shut up,” you huffed and Rafe only grinned, pushing your hair out of your face, where it stuck to your wet cheek. You leaned in for another kiss, only for Rafe to stop you, holding you back.

“Nuh-uh. You get better first. Next time, I want you to get dizzy because of my mouth and not because you just got punched in the face.”

“You sound real confident there will be a next time,” you pointed out.

Rafe sighed, faux-exasperation. “Princess, don’t act dumb, it doesn’t suit you. You really think I’ll let you go after you’ve professed your love for me?”

“After I did what?” you shrieked in laughter, and Rafe only laughed. It was nice seeing him laugh for real for once, not the smarmy, smirk he used to do. After your laughter subsided, your pursed your lips, serious.

“You know my friends won’t take this well, right? Especially Pope.”

Rafe ran his hand over his buzzed hair, exhaling softly. “I know. But I won you over, didn’t I? Rest will be a piece of cake.”

“I’m serious, Rafe.”

You gave him a look and he leaned down, clasping his hands in his. “So am I. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have been trying to make things up to him, to Sarah. To everyone. It might take a while… And I don’t blame him.”

“As long as you’re aware…. Now, can we get back to kissing?”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?”

Pushing your lower lip forward, you pouted at him. “One kiss.”

Rafe stared at you for a hot second, frowning. “Fine. One.”

But when he leaned down to give you a chaste kiss true to his words, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you.

"Jesus, are you trying to kill yourself?" Rafe hissed, but you only cackled, almost taking your bandage off in the process.

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author's note: pls leave a comment/reblog/like if you liked it🥹

[lumi077]

He's the type of man to...

A/N: Once again i have changed hyper fixations...drastically. And y'all know what that means lol...Nanami and Yuuta the type to be MY type if you catch my drift. Try to guess my favorite lol

Includes: Kento Nanami, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Yuuta Okkotsu, Masamichi Yaga

Warnings: MDNI; elludes to nsfw but no actual smut, possessive themes, canontypical violence in some (no gore), as always potential ooc, petnames (my love, princess, baby, babydoll, honey), slight spoilers for Geto (oops), Geto is a sorcerer au, slight harassment in yuuta's, specified fem reader in some (ie wife/princess)

Nanami Kento

is the type of man to settle on his knees by your feet and strap on your heels for you. 

You hum lightly, eyes flickering over what pairs of heels to wear to your husband’s work party before settling on a classy pair of black strapped ones. Before you can even lean down to put them on, Kento is kneeling down. His fingers ghost over your knee and down your calf before resting firmly on your ankle and slotting it into your chosen heel. Thick fingers quickly buckle them around your delicate ankle, and to finish it off he presses a kiss right above the strap. He repeats the action on the other foot, and you two are definitely going to be fashionably late. 

He’s the type of man to let you try out different color combustions of nail polish on his first. 

“Ken.” You cooed to your blonde husband, sat on the chair across from you. As he looks up from his book, you gesture to the colors spread out on the table “which ones do you think would look good?” He looks them over before pointing to a cool lavender and white before offering you his hand. Catching your questioning gaze he shrugs and simply states “try it out on me first.”

He’s the type to drive you around with a hand on your thigh always, and he always lets you play your music. Even going so far as to memorize singers you like.

You and Kento were heading to a newly opened club to hang out with some friends, his hand splayed across your upper thigh. His thumb was rubbing mindless circles as you scrolled through your phone “any requests?” Looking up at him. “Play that one singer you like…Lana del Rey was it?” And you swear you swooned. 

He’s the type of man you want to marry and have kids with, his responsible and nurturing personality luring you in. 

“you know.” You drawl out the words, looking at him through the corner of your eye. “Yuji is kinda like our kid.” 

Kento hums, raising a brow but not looking up from his work laptop “what makes you say that, my love?”

“He’s constantly over here, we feed him, give him an allowance…kinda makes me want another smaller kid.”

That makes him look up “you want a baby?” And when you nod your pretty little head he takes you right there and then. 

Kento Nanami is the type of man to stare down other men at the work party he took you too-not liking how the drunkards were staring at your exposed skin.

You were leaning on the bar, making small talk with Shoko before you felt a large muscular hand wrap around your hip and pull you closer. “Ken?” You mumbled, looking over your shoulder to see him looking somewhere else. Unbothered, you wrap your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek. “Who’re you staring at, my love?”

“Some guy, looking at you like you’re not my wife.” he grumbled, leaning his head down to kiss you properly. 

“Wanna go home?” You asked, hand rubbing his chest before letting out a little giggle when he nods his head.

“Wanna show you just how much of you is mine” Spoiler alert-all of you

Satoru Gojo

is the type to randomly spoil you with very expensive gifts whenever he can. He rarely sees you some days and he needs to make it up to you somehow. 

Satoru was away again, another mission only he was deemed worthy enough to go one. By himself. You sigh as you unlock your shared apartment, something off. There, on the little table you keep in the entryway is a gift box with your name elegantly scrawled on it, opening it you find something you mentioned wanting- that was very expensive. Along with that was a note

“I’m sorry I’m not there to see your pretty face baby. I’ll make it up to you when I come home. -Your Satoru”

Satoru is the type of man to make you feel like a Greek god reincarnated, never is there a moment without praise. 

you were doing something mundane, scrolling on your phone while sitting on your very comfortable but ridiculously expensive couch when long lithe hands lifted your legs and let them fall onto his lap. “You’re gorgeous, ya know.” He cooed, fingers rubbing your calf as you giggle. “Pretty enough to eat right up.” He sighed affectionately, and you knew how this night would end.

He is the type of man to always gush about you, letting everyone know just who he belongs to

he was sitting in the expansive room, watching his students and those of the Kyoto school duke it out in the annual exchange event. "My poor sweet baby would have loved to be here to see this" he pouted, almost childishly. They had sent you on a mission, leaving him with boring Utahime nagging him.

"Shut up!" Utahime whined, giving him a pointed stare even though she too missed the presence you would bring.

Mei Mei laughed, shaking her head "They're more bareable than you, after all Gojo"

And now he's missing you all over again.

He is the type of man to let you use any and all of his expensive clothing whenever you want.

"Toruuu" You called in a sing song voice, clad in your pajamas while scouring your shared closet.

"Yesss princess?" he hummed from the bed, propping up to look at you.

"Can I wear one of your shirts today." You barely spar him a glance as you take said shirt off the hanger before he even speaks.

"Course baby, looks much better on you." He hummed, letting his head fall back into the pillows at the thought of you in his clothes.

The type that even though he prefers his carefree nature, gets so serious when it comes to you.

He told you, hours after the mission, how nervous he was when you called him. Panting into the phone, sounds of many curses in the background. You only said one word before the phone was crushed "help"

He was there in an instant, and he could see why you needed help. You were very powerful, but even if would have trouble with multiple grade 1 curses and another special grade.

Devoid of his usual humor or playfulness when fighting, he slaughtered them in record time so he could rush you to Shoko.

You had gotten so many kisses, you think the feeling of his lips are imprinted into you.

a/n: it was so hard to find an of age picture of him from the anime where he wasn't possessed by Kenjaku

Suguru Geto

is the type of man to, like his best friend-spoil you. always unprompted and at the least expected times

You were putting the girls to bed, walking out of their shared room to see your husband standing there. Raising a brow you walked over, hands snaking over your waist and pressing a kiss to temple. "My love" he mumbled against your skin, raising your hand and sliding a pretty little ring on your finger. One you distinctly remember fawning over last time you two had took the girls to the mall.

"Sugu-" you gasp, trying to remember if you had forgotten a date but he sushed you with a sweet kiss.

"Just wanted to spoil my pretty wife."

he's getting it tonight ong

Suguru Geto is the type of man to get baby fever and pester you, whining about how cute a baby that looked like the two of you would be.

"Babe." You groaned, seeing the notification that he had sent you yet another cute baby fever inspiring tiktok.

"What" He hummed all innocent from where he laid next to you in bed, your leg draped over one of his. "Just thought it was cute is all."

"Yeah, uh huh." You grumble, feeling the tug to want to have a baby filling you too as you watched a compilation of cute little baby sneezes.

"maybe a baby wouldn't be so bad...the girls want a baby siblings anywa-" he interrupts you with his mouth hungerly attacking yours, body pressed on top of yours.

He is the type of man to let you sit on his back while he does pushups, only if you ask nicely.

You sat in your home gym, watching you husband stretch his glorious mouthwatering muscles when he inevitably caught you staring. "see something you like, babydoll?" he teased, making your face warm.

"Maybe I do..." you trailed off, remembering something your friend said she did with her boyfriend at the time. "Can I sit on your back when you do push ups?"

he raised a brow, eyeing you before shrugging "If you ask nicely, I'll think about it."

"Please Sugu?" You hummed, batting your eyelashes.

And that's how you found yourself sitting on his back, feeling the same muscles you were drooling over flex and work under you. let's just say you were craving some other kind of workout...

he's the type of man that secretly enjoys domestic moments, it feeds the lighter side of his soul just right.

Nothing is better than walking into the house after a mission with Satoru and his partner to see his favorite girls snuggled up on the couch.

it was late, and the twins were passed out despite boasting they could stay up to see Suguru. You look over the two sleeping bodies of your babies and send your husband a small tired smile as he stalks over.

First he plants a kiss on the girls heads, before pressing one to your lips. "I'll help you get the girls to bed, then we cuddle, hm?"

Is the type of man to make you think he doesn't like physical affection as much as you do, but he goes feral for it.

"You know babe, you never really initiate contact all that much." you had told him one day, completely out of the blue as the two of you made breakfast together.

"You're the clingier one between us two." he teased back, shrugging in mock nonchalance.

You huff, a playful tease slipping past your lips "Fine then, I won't initiate it anymore."

he thinks he can last, that he won't care.

It takes all of two hours for him to be attached at your hips, hands squeezing and kneading your hips and thighs while he lips attack your neck...

Yuuta Okkotsu (aged up ver)

is the type of man to bend to your every whim; the word "no" is just not in his vocabulary when it comes to you.

"Baaaby" you drawl out, your draped across his chest, arms encircling his neck at about 2 in the morning. It's dark as hell in your shared room, and he only groans.

"Yes princess?" he mumbles, sleepiness evident in the way he was speaking.

" 'm hungry." you pout, tugging on his sleeve to get him awake "wanna get ice cream?"

He groans, the word "no" on the tip of his tongue, but once he cracks open a tired eye and sees you pouting at him, it dies and is instead replaced with an "of course princess, let me get changed." He slowly slides your body off his to get his wallet and pants.

He's the type of man that never lets you pay for a single thing ever, his bank account is yours to use.

You were shopping with a few friends, pulling Yuta around with you as you and your friends squealed to one another about cute clothes and the cute boys they saw. You mostly stayed quiet at that regard, fussing at your boyfriend for carrying your bags.

Your friends were slightly jealous, eyeing your free hands because their own partners couldn't come and hold their bags.

"Maybe some new shoes?" You asked your friends, nodding as you went in, tried some on, and decided on this pretty new sandals.

When you went to pay, Yuuta scoot in and gave them his card instead. You cooed, kissing his cheek "Yuu, you didn't have too!"

Your friends cooed too, making him blush and squirm. "Shhh, just let me pay."

Yuuta is the type of man to carry you because your heels hurt your feet-even after he warned you this would happen.

"Yuu baby." you pouted, shifting your weight to a different foot every other minute, the poor appendages throbbing as you took another step.

"Your heels hurting you baby?" He hummed softly, arms circling around your waist and lifting you up. The relief was almost instant, his other arm going to lift your legs.

"My princess needs carried hm?" he teased lightly, and you giggle while pressing your lips to his cheek.

"My knight in shining armor." You giggled, shaking your head. "What would I do without you?"

"Having to walk in heels I told you not to wear." He huffed back, still walking the path home. He laughed when you lightly hit his shoulder, pouting.

"Didn't have to say told you so!" you huff

The type of man that would absolutely punch someone in the face for bothering you. He may not look the part, but he is your scary dog privileges.

You and Yuuta had decided that going out to the local bar with your shared friends was a good idea, to celebrate a mission well done. You were sat up at the bar with Maki, while Yuuta and Toge sat at the table your group at previously claimed as your own when you all had entered.

There were some other college kids, already drunk off their asses when you had entered. They were a rowdy group, and the boys had their eyes on them the entire time.

As the two boys conversed, they had failed to see the boys make their way over to you and Maki.

"Hey beautifuls." one man slurred, throwing an arm around Maki while his friend stood awfully close to you. Maki was having none of it, shoving the man off her and grabbing your hand.

"Back off creeps." she hissed, clenching your hand in silent reassurance. The other man that had stood next to you put his hand on your thigh, making squeak out "I have a boyfriend!"

maki immediately looked over, ready to punch the guy for you when the sleeve of Yuuta's shirt appeared, his hand grabbing the collar of the guy.

"Hands. Off." he basically growled the words, and the man immediately backed off.

"S-Sorry man, thought she was single!" he yelped, both him and his friend scuttling off afer he let go and wrapped his arms around you.

"Let's head home baby." nodding to maki, he grabbed your hand and started leading you out.

The type of man to absolutely match with you. Whether it's phone cases, profile pictures, clothes, necklaces. He really doesn't care.

"hey Princess." he hummed, brushing against you in his matching shirt. It was cheesy, an "I <3 my girlfriend" t shirt while yours said "i <3 my boyfriend."

"hey bubs." you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What's up?"

"Just got you a lil something." pushing your hair back, he put a necklace on, clasped it, and let the chain fall against your neck.

Looking down with a furrowed brow, you let out a tiny giggle as the small silver name of "Yuuta" written in cursive shone dimly in the light.

"Have one of your name too. So we match." he almost giggled the words against your neck, and you sighed happily.

"So sweet for me baby, thank you." you really did love the gift.

Masamichi Yaga

is the type to keep your marriage a secret for your own safety...and conveniently forgetting to tell you about that little tidbit.

"Honey" You called as you entered through the front door of your shared house, giddy and excited to tell him about an encounter you had with a teacher at his school.

"Yeah?" he called back to you, sitting on the couch and fiddling with a new puppet, his eyes flicking up to you instead. Noticing your giddy smile, he tilted his head.

"You'll never believe who I saw when I was shopping!" You placed the bags down on the coffee table, putting off the task of putting them away for a moment. "Gojo! He was so sweet, i don't think he knew we were married."

"Oh, how silly of him." He had neglected to tell you that well...you were his well-kept little secret. No one knew about you but Panda, who was like a child to you despite his unique appearance.

"Mhm, but he invited me to see Panda train with the other second years, how nice!"

he nodded, a light scowl. "That's wonderful honey, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you."

Gojo was going to be one hell of a headache.

Masamichi is the type of man to do all the chores you hate around the house, even if he doesn't like doing them either.

You had just gotten back from the school where your husband worked at, watching your son train with his other classmates when you hear the dishes clinking and Masa humming.

Walking into the kitchen, you had tilted your head as you saw your tall, muscular, rather intimidating husband putting away the now clean dishes.

"Masa baby?" You called out, a small smile on your face as you leaned on the wall. He let out a small hum of acknowledgement, waiting till he placed the last dish where it should be before turning to you and opening his arms for you.

You walked into them without a second thought, his thick arms wrapping around your waist. "Thought you didn't like unloading the dishwasher?" You hummed, looking up at him.

he simply shrugged his shoulders, lifting you up to place a kiss on your lips "Know you don't like doing it either, thought I might as well."

You coo at the thoughtful action, and placed a kiss on his cheek. "thank you my love."

He's the type to introduce you to every puppet, making sure they're nice and gentle with you every time.

"C'mere my love." he waved you over, you had just stepped out of the shower, hair wet against your back. You were dressed up in his shirt as you sat down on the bed next to him, curious.

Pleasantly, he showed you his newest creation. The puppet was small, the body of the puppet was your favorite color as it stared up at you from his hands.

"Awe, what a cutie." you cooed to the little thing, and it seemed to purr at your words, tumbling off his hand and into your lap to cuddle up.

He pouted, muttering a "traitor" before shaking his head "I think they like you more than me."

"Must have good taste then." you laughed lightly, scooping up the puppet and pressing a kiss to the top of it's head.

"Do I get a kiss?" he hummed, snuggling up to you just like his creation had.

"I suppose." You hummed, pressing a kiss to his lips only for the little puppet to punch the creation, almost pouting in your hands.

"Hey!" He huffed as your laughter broke the kiss, looking down at the small puppet like it stabbed him in the back.

He's the type to look so mean, but is so soft with you.

You were sat in the rocking chair stationed in your living room, some meaningless show playing on the flatscreen for ambience. You were knitting a scarf for Panda, the cold season approaching quickly. Which led you wanting to make some for his friends too, knowing Maki and Yuta couldn't have home knitted scarves to keep them warm when your husband burst in.

His head swiveled, trying to find you. You could hear the sigh he let out when he found you, sitting on the ground next to your legs. Placing a gentle kiss to your knee, he let out another sigh.

"Hello my darling." you spoke softly, placing down your knitting materials to rub his head. he hummed tiredly at the action, leaning into your touch. "Rough mission?"

he nodded, "But I'm home now."

"You're home." You assented sweetly as he laid his head against your leg.

"Now help me knit these scarves for Panda's friends."

He's the type of man to put a lot of importance on birthdays and anniversaries, always making sure he has a clear schedule for them.

You woke up to an empty bed, something that wasn't entirely unusual when it came to your husband. Though you felt a twinge of hurt, normally he was here.

Pulling yourself from the warmed sheets, you slipped on your house shoes and through on a robe, walking to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast when hands went around your waist and spun.

"Happy birthday baby!" Masamichi cooed down to you, pressing a lasting kiss to you cheek because your mouth was too preoccupied giggling up a storm.

"Thought you went to work?" You spoke in-between your giggles, arms wrapping around his thick neck and pressing your own kiss to his cheek.

"And have you spend your birthday with just Panda? I could never my love." he peppered kisses against all the skin he could, shaking his head. "My pretty spouse deserves much better than that. Now c'mon, we're going out to breakfast."

All in all, these men are the type to love you so completely no matter what you look like <3

[bluesylveon2]

To the Most Handsome of Them All (800 Follower Special ft the third years)

Again, this is late but thank you for 800 followers!!

Summary: The third years fight over an apple (not clickbait)

Note: platonic third years x Yuu/reader (there is a hint of romance, but you have to squint), crack, chaos, humor, some second years cameo, and the third years being ready to fight each other.

Warning: fem Yuu/reader, not beta read, some cursing, Ortho threatening Idia, and possible ooc characters

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist: here

Somewhere within Pomefiore's lab was a short, feminine-looking-

"Hey! I can hear ya!"

(Sorry. Ahem. Where was I?)

A lavender-haired boy wearing a lab coat and stirring a suspicious liquid in a pot. 

"Mwahaha, you will pay for all the trouble you give me, Vil Schoenheit." The boy pulled out his laddle with a shiny golden apple in it. He carefully picked up the apple with one hand and whispered a charm into its glossy skin. 

"Let's give NRC a taste of drama." The boy picked up a knife and smiled sinisterly. 

"MWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Trey and Cater rested in the courtyard under a tree, finally free from their classes. The area was quiet, and there were a few lingering students. Cater hummed a popular song as he scrolled through Magicam. Trey was coming up with the following experiment for the science club. 

"So I heard Vil's film about the sleeping princess was a hit. Everybody is talking about it!" Cater said, showing Trey the latest Magicam post. 

"Let's hope that Yuu uses her share of the profit on things she needs," Trey smiled, proud of his underclassman's hard work. 

"Like premium tuna cans?" Cater snickered before bursting out into laughter. "OW! What was that?" He exclaimed and held on to his sore head. 

"What do you mean?" Trey asked with concern, and then he saw it. From the corner of his eye, there was a golden apple lying not far from them. Trey picked it up to examine. "To the most handsome third year? What a weird thing to carve into an apple."

"Let me see that!" Cater swiped the apple and held it at eye level. "Hmm. Yep, that's what it says." His eyes lit up like a light, and he held the fruit close to his face. 

"Cater, what are you-" 

Snap

"Who is the handsomest of them all? #handsome #thirdyear #apple #golden #totallyme," Cater typed away on his phone until he hit send. 

Trey's eyes widen in alarm. "Cater, why are you posting that?"

Cater dramatically rolled his eyes. "C'mon, and think about it! Our class is filled with princes, models, heirs, you name it! Wouldn't you want to know who is the best-looking?"

Trey rubbed the back of his neck in confusion. "I guess? But that makes us look like chopped liver. We don't fit under that criteria."

"I wouldn't underestimate your looks, Chevalier of Rose. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, like the pomme in Monsieur Magicam's hands." A smooth voice chuckled. Cater and Trey looked up to find Rook sitting on a branch and smirking at them. The blonde swiftly jumped down and landed next to Trey. 

"I agree with Rook," The sound of heels alerted the trio of the newcomer. "Don't underestimate yourself, potatoes."

Cater sweatdropped. "I don't know if I should take that as a compliment."

Vil ignored the comment and walked up to Cater instead. "I saw your post, Cater, and I believe that apple belongs to me."

"What makes you say that?" a smug voice asked, causing Vil to roll his eyes. "Herbivore's post said it was for the most 'handsomest third year.' What makes you the one who deserves the apple?"

Vil smirked and crossed his arms. "I am the embodiment of being the fairest, and unlike you, Leona, I have many fans. Therefore, that apple belongs to me."

Leona put a hand on his hips. "Being fair has nothing to do with looks." He and Vil glared at each other like rivals, leaving the others to watch. 

"I feel like we are watching a drama show," Trey whispered to Cater. 

"Totally."

"Tres bien! Roi du Poison is so beautiful even when he is mad!"

"ORTHO PUT ME DOWN! I DO NOT WANT TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH THESE NORMIES!" Idia's screams caused everyone to watch as Ortho carried his older brother like he was a wet cat. The humanoid's eyes sparkled as his eyes landed on the group of third-years. 

"There they are!" He flew to the group and dropped his brother on the ground. "Big Brother, you are going to prove to your friends that you are handsome, and you cannot return to Ignihyde until you prove yourself!" 

"B-B-B-BWAH?! Do you not see me compared to them?" He pointed at Leona and Vil. "I am literally an R card compared to the SSRs! I am not qualified for this! Can I go-" Ortho's glare caused Idia to stop rambling. The others didn't hold back their smirks as the younger Shroud placed a finger on Idia's chest. 

"You are going to stay here and spend time with your friends. Do I make myself clear?" For a cute and innocent-looking humanoid, Ortho was more than his looks.

"They aren't really my friends…" Idia mumbled and fiddled with his fingers.

"Big Brother."

"EEP!"

"Fufufufu. Don't worry, Ortho. I can help keep an eye on him," Lilia's mischievous voice sent chills down Idia's spine. The bat fae floated down from the sky and rested a hand on Ortho's shoulder. To Idia's horror, Ortho smiled with glee. 

"I assure you, younger Shroud. Your brother will participate in this contest," Malleus, the final third year of the ragtag group, said as he joined in and patted Ortho on his blue fire head. 

"Looks like it is time for me to go. Have fun with your friends, Big Brother!" Ortho flew off, leaving Idia to fend for himself.

"WAIT ORTHO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Idia jumped up, only to be grabbed by the hoodie by Malleus. Idia blushed in embarrassment as Malleus held him up like a cat. 

"Honestly, it is like leaving a child in daycare," Vil sighed and turned to the group. "Alright, boys. How shall we settle this?"

"I propose we FIGHT TO THE DEATH!" Lilia exclaimed. Everyone's eyes widened except for Malleus, who was unfazed by it. 

"Not bad, Lilia. I can get behind that idea," Leona smirked, his eyes trained on Malleus as he spoke. 

"Oo la la! That would be a marvelous sight to see. A fight between Roi du Dragons and Roi du Leon would bless my eyes!"

"Lils' idea is cool and all, but can we not do something that can get us killed?" Cater popped in, and Idia eagerly nodded in agreement. 

"As much as I would like to see Leona and Malleus ruin each other's looks with bloodshed, someone who looks the most desirable deserves the apple." Vil picked up his magical pen and summoned a small jeweled box with a heart on it. He swished his pen. The apple floated out of Cater's hands and landed on the box's cushion. "This apple will remain here until a winner is determined."

"Can I be the judge of that?" Idia raised his hand. Lilia and Malleus looked at him, confused. "What? I'm not going to win anyway. Take me out of the running by making me the judge." 

Malleus sighed and dropped Idia to the ground. "Honestly, Shroud. You self-deprecate yourself, yet you are handsome already."

"Yeah, even the Ghost Bride thought so!" Lilia joined in.

Idia had never felt more embarrassed in his life. "That woman was delulu!"

"What we need-" Leona interrupted. "Is somebody besides Radish Sprout to judge this?"

Vil, watching the whole exchange, nodded in agreement. The staff would be a good idea, but they might confiscate the apple before he could get his hands on it. They needed somebody else. A lightbulb lit up in his head. Vil cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. 

"Gather around, potatoes. I have an idea."

"How kind of you to consult with me. My benevolence shall decide who deserves this apple."

"Cut the crap, Azul, and pick somebody," Jamil said with irritation. A vein began to pop out of his forehead. The poor vice housewarden could feel his stress building already. 

Vil's great plan led the group (along with a few second years) to Mostro Lounge. The group had managed to squeeze into one booth. On the other end of the table were the second years. The Octotrio didn't mind the company, Jamil looked pissed, and Kalim was just happy to be there. 

Floyd sat up straighter from his spot on the Lounge's leather sofa. "So let me get this straight. You guys want us to pick the most handsome to get an apple?"

Trey chuckled nervously. "As ridiculous as it sounds, yes." 

Floyd did not look convinced. "That's a dumb idea. Why should we be helping you out?"

Vil sighed. He did not need to sigh anymore, or he might get wrinkles. "You five are the only dorms without third years in this group. So, as neutral parties, you should decide who gets it."

Kalim's mouth opened in an o, "You know, I always wondered why that was…" 

"Fine, I'll start," Floyd rolled his eyes and pointed at the third years. eenie, meenie, minie, you-— His finger landed on Leona, causing the beastman to smirk at everyone. 

"A vote is a vote," Leona said, looking at Malleus, who was frowning. Meanwhile, Floyd unceremoniously flopped back down on the sofa. He closed his eyes, drowning out the incoming argument between the two princes. 

"That is not how it should be done, Kingscholar," Malleus said through gritted teeth. It surprised Lilia how his son was not blasting Leona into oblivion. Probably to not ruin his chances. "You were voted by chance."

"Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"

"If I may," Jade interrupted and faced the third years. "I would like to cast my vote." The third years watched with curiosity as Jade's heterochromatic eyes scanned them. "Trey."

The lounge was quiet, minus the sounds of a clock ticking nearby. 

"WHAT" Everyone's eyes widen, and they turn to the man who looks as confused as they do. 

"Why are you confused, Trey? You're in the lead with Leona right now!" Cater exclaimed as he took selfies with Trey to post later. 

"I was expecting someone like Leona or Vil," Trey chuckled while ignoring glares from the two. 

Jade smiled. "Let me explain. According to a questionnaire from the East, most females prefer guys who fit Trey's description over others, hence my decision to pick him."

"Okay, so that's one point for Trey," Cater said while typing on his phone. "What about you, Azul?" 

Azul smirked and stood up. He let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, my decision is based on who would bring me the most money if I were to put them as the face of the Lounge." 

"Thank Sevens, that's not me," Idia muttered. He quietly tiptoed towards the door, only to be stopped by someone grabbing his hoodie.

"You're not leaving under my watch, Shroud," Malleus said sternly and dragged the poor boy back to his spot. His grip remained on the hoodie. 

Luckily for them, Azul did not seem to notice. "That leaves someone with beauty. Not someone rough and brutal." He glared at Leona before continuing. "Therefore, I would pick Vil."

Vil smirked and had an 'I told you so' look as he looked at the others. Leona felt the urge to wipe off the smug look on Vil's face. 

"And what about you?" He gestured to Jamil. "Let me also remind you who saved your ass from Radish Sprout over here." 

Idia rolled his eyes. "Yet the normies made it out alive in the end. Field trip with me was 7/10 tops." 

The overblot boys shuddered at the memory, unaware of the last member's internal crisis. 

Malleus leaned towards Lilia, a frown etched on his face. "The others got invited on a trip with Shroud? Why didn't I get one?"

Lilia smiled and patted Malleus on the back. "Soon, I promise you that. Now look, Jamil is going to make his choice."

The vice housewarden felt a headache coming on. After this monstrosity, a nap after tending Kalim was needed. "I would have to pick Cater. He is decent in my eyes." 

"Really?!" Cater's eyes went wide. "I knew I could always count on you!" He exclaimed and pulled Jamil in for a side to take a selfie. "This has to go on Magicam!"

Lilia wiped a pretend tear out of his eye. "Oh, poor me. What did a cute and young boy like me do to deserve this? Wah…” 

"I can think of many," Leona muttered.

Lilia ignored Leona's statement and turned to Kalim with puppy dog eyes. "Kalim, my dear friend, you must pick me to heal my fragile heart."

"What you need to see is a doctor before your back breaks too," Malleus added, but Lilia also ignored that. 

"Do I have to?" Kalim wailed. "This is too hard, and you are all my friends."

"Magnifique! What beautiful words!" Rook sighed and held his chest where his heart was.

"Asim thinks I'm his friend…" Malleus whispered to himself, a giddy feeling in his chest. 

"HECK NO! I refuse to befriend a cheerful guy like him! Not happening!" Idia exclaimed, causing Vil to elbow him out of irritation. 

"I know! I'll pick Malleus, Idia, Lilia, and Rook! That way, you all get a point," Kalim said cheerfully, his face bright like the sun. 

"That has to be the most wholesome thing I have ever heard," Rook wiped a tear from his eye. "Beaute!" 

The others did not share the same sentiment. Leona's ears perked up when he heard thunder booming at a distance. 

"Gentlemen," Azul stepped in casually or stupidly, depending on how Malleus will react. "It seems like you are going to need another person to seal the deal. Someone from a neutral party."

The thunder stopped, and Malleus turned to Azul with interest. "Oh? Do tell, Ashengrotto.”

Azul smirked. Oh, how his dear friend is in for a wonderful surprise. 

It was a peaceful day in Ramshakle, and Yuu spent it the best way she knew, ordering pizza and spending it with Grim. No ADeuce. No Sebek screaming her ear off. No Octotrio trying to scam her. 

(You get the picture)

Yuu was preparing the snacks just as the doorbell rang. 

"It's probably the pizza! I'll get it, Grim. You pick a show to watch," she yelled. Two tall figures were standing at the door. That looked different from the pizza delivery guy. Yuu opened the door to find the two Heartslabyul third years. 

"Hello, Yuu," Trey smiled. 

"Hey, bestie!" Cater grinned and pulled Yuu in for a hug. 

"Hey…" Her eyes wandered to their outfits. Both guys were not wearing their dorm or school uniform. Instead, Trey wore his Camp Vargas outfit, and Cater wore his Pop Music Club clothes. "Guys, is there an event going on?" 

"No, silly!" Cater said as he guided Yuu inside. "Though you have to agree that these fits just go with us, right?"

Yuu sweatdropped. She opened her mouth, but Grim's screeching stopped her. 

"YUU, I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE JUST US TODAY!"

Yuu stepped away and pulled Grim into a hug. "Oh, Grim. It will be once these two leave," she glared at Trey and Cater. This was supposed to be a relaxing day—not this.

"It will be very quick, and then you can get back to your show," Trey said, causing Yuu to relax a little. 

"Fine," Yuu sighed. "Spill."

Cater grinned. "If you had to pick who is the most Cammable, out of me or Trey, who would you pick?"

Yuu blinked and tilted her head. "Can you repeat that?"

"Which one of us looks the best," Trey sighed. 

Yuu looked at her friends in confusion. Sure, she had heard weirder things since coming to Twisted Wonderland, but this was something she did not expect to hear. "I mean, you both have your own type of charms. I guess I would pick-"

"Oi," a familiar voice said, widening Trey and Cater's eyes. You can't make the herbivore choose when it is in your favor." Leona smirked as he entered the dorm. He scanned the area like he was hunting prey. "I almost missed the show."

Yuu did not hear Cater and Trey curse under their breaths as she took in what Leona wore. Leona wore the outfit from the Fairy Gala instead of his usual school uniform. He even went all out, from the makeup on his face to flowers decorating his hair. "Is there a fashion show Dad did not tell me about?" Yuu mumbled to herself. Maybe Crewel was too busy handling the guys to tell her?

"Hey, what is with the fancy getup?" Grim's voice broke Yuu's thoughts. The cat monster jumped onto Yuu's arms and glared at the third years. "You are ruining my night."

Leona rolled his eyes. "Look, furball. Herbivore has to pick which one of us she likes, and then we will be out of your way." His eyes flickered up to Yuu's. "Remember who was kind enough to share a room with you"?

"HOLD IT!" Vil yelled, causing Yuu to turn her attention to the newcomers. He strutted into the room with Rook trailing behind. 

"Is there a fashion event going on because why are you guys dressed up?!" Yuu exclaimed. Sure, the Pomefiore guys dressed nicely, but Scalding Sands and Halloween vampire outfits Vil and Rook wore respectively were too much. 

Vil sighed. "I wish, Potato. Then I could show them who is truly the most good-looking of them all." He smirked in the direction of the other third years. 

"Beaute! But a vampire has an allure you cannot resist, no? They are very good-looking." Rook winked at Yuu, causing the others to glare at him. 

Yuu frowned and whispered to Grim. "Good looking? What do you think they are talking about?"

Grim shrugged. "These guys are always spouting nonsense. What's important is our movie night."

"NOO I DON'T WANT TO BE NEAR THOSE PEOPLE!" Idia's voice cried out. The others turned to see said boy being dragged into Ramshackle by Malleus.

"Tsuntarou? What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like you're going to the City of Flowers?" Yuu asked Malleus as he let go of Idia, causing the housewarden to fall with a small "oof." 

Malleus only smiled. "I came here to settle some personal matters. You are one of my most precious friends, Child of Man."

"Great, looks like the star of the show has arrived," Leona said in disdain. 

"Why do you have to be like this?" Vil shook his head disapprovingly.

"Don't forget about me!" Lilia said as he popped out from behind Malleus. Yuu only frowned in confusion. She was used to Ace or Deuce showing up randomly, but seven guys? Something was not adding up. 

"What's with the fancy outfit? Halloween is over." Grim asked Malleus and then turned to Lilia. "How did you get that outfit? I thought that was from the past."

Lilia chuckled and flexed his muscles under his armor. "I have my ways."

The others in the room looked at Grim, confused. 

"Long story," Lilia answered vaguely and turned to Yuu. "But can't you see how cool I look in this? Like a knight in shining armor!"

"No way!" Cater intervened. "Lils is cool, but that fit is so outdated. Yuu, can't you see that Trey and I look the best?"

Yuu glanced at Grim in confusion. "The best?"

Grim eyed the group wearily. "These guys are more koo koo than normal."

"Clearly, you potatoes do not get fashion. I have a very unique taste, no Yuu?" 

"Uhhh…"

"Roi du Poison has excellent taste! Look at how the fabric goes well with his skin," Rook gushed and turned to Trey. "Great fabric choice, Chevalier of Rose!"

Trey chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's not talk about me…"

Leona jumped into Yuu's view. "Forget that wannabe. Clearly, I am better than him." Yuu was mesmerized by the fairy dust that followed Leona's movements. Until she was pulled away by someone else. 

"Child of Man, are you alright?" Malleus gently held onto Yuu's arm. 

"I'm just confused about why you all barged in here."

"I understand." Malleus smiled. "Although, would you agree that this outfit suits me?"

Yuu looked over Malleus's outfit before responding, "It does. The other students at the other schools would not stop talking about how mysterious you looked, either. I wonder if Rollo felt the same?"

"Yeah, well, I would rather not see that guy ever again," Idia muttered to himself. Malleus and Yuu turned to him, causing him to look up in shock. "Oh no! I'm caught! I need to get away before I have to socialize with the extroverts."

"Idia."

"EEP!" Idia stopped moving. 

"Why are you wearing that suit? Eliza is not here anymore." 

The others stopped to watch as Idia's hair turned slightly pink, and he struggled to speak. 

"I-uhh…It's for a cosplay convention."

"Yeah, you would never wear that unless-" Grim gasped. "You are getting married!"

Idia's face fell in horror and his hair turned fully pink. "NO!"

"Ohoho. I remember those days."

Everyone turned to the Ramshackle ghosts, watching the group as if it were a drama.

"Yeah, I remember fighting other guys in favor of a girl's hand."

The others froze as Yuu began to connect the dots. Luck was not on their side as the smallest ghost began to speak. 

"I heard from one of the chefs that these boys were arguing about who was the most handsome of them all."

"And you needed a girl like me to pick someone." Yuu finished aloud. A dark aura came out of her, and a vein popped out of her forehead. 

It was at that moment the third years knew they fucked up.

"AND STAY OUT OF MY DORM UNTIL YOU SOLVE YOUR CHILDISH GAME WITHOUT ME!" 

The school could hear the local therapist yell as the third years landed on the ground one by one.

"Ow, that totally is going to bruise later!" Cater whined as he assessed the damages with his phone. 

Trey chuckled from next to the redhead. "At least she did not make us bleed,"

"Who knew the Child of Man could kick so hard?" Malleus said, stunned while gently hovering to the ground. 

"I thought I was back home for a second," Leona said as he rubbed his head. 

"There goes my cute face!" 

"Enough, Lilia." Vil groaned as the bat fae lay on top of him. His hair was definitely a mess now. "Rook, remind me to hire Yuu to do stunts for my next movie."

"Oui. Madame Trickster has good form."

Idia rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you normies let yourselves get kicked out by a girl. That was like an arcade game where you're spamming the A button." He huffed, causing Leona to glare at him. 

"Speak for yourself. You got kicked out as well, Radish Sprout." 

"Monsieurs," Rook stepped towards the group with a gentle smile on his face and his hands up. "We should not focus on how we hurt Madame Trickster. Think about each other. Maybe the important thing was the friendships we made along the way?"

….

…..

"Don't ever say that again, Rook." Trey chuckled awkwardly. 

Vil sighed and shook his head. "I feel like that was something Neige would say," the model felt as like he was going to vomit at the thought. 

"I think I puked inside," Idia visibly cringed.

"Guys, we have important things to worry about, such as Rook's cheesy lines," Cater said. "Who is going to get the apple?"

"Monsieur Magicam has a point, although I have a suggestion," Rook said as the third years watched expectantly. "No one should get the apple since Madame Trickster chose no one."

"I agree. I can feel wrinkles forming on my youthful face." Lilia cried as Vil took out the apple from its box. 

"How do we get rid of it?" Idia eyed the apple suspiciously. If only Ortho were here, then he could shoot it with a laser. 

"I have an idea," Malleus said. He grabbed the apple with one hand, and instantly, the fruit lit up in green flames. "There. All gone." He looked up to see the other third years, minus Lilia, watching with their jaws dropped. Malleus wiped the charred bits off his gloves and turned to the group. "Should we all prepare for later?"

Rollo stood tall and walked through Night Raven College, his student council members trailing behind. As the Noble Bell student council president, it was his job to remain diligent and make a good impression on NRC, even if he had opinions about the institution. A twinkle caught his eye as he made his way down the path to the gates of NRC.

"Where are you going, Rollo?" His vice president asked as Rollo stepped out of the path. 

"I'm just inspecting something. You can go ahead without me," Rollo said until he was in front of the item. There, lying on the ground, was a golden apple that did not have a speck of dirt despite being on the ground. Rollo picked up the apple and inspected it. "Disgusting," he said, sensing the magic embedded in it. Rollo turned the apple to find something written on it. "To the most handsome third year…" the boy muttered. Suddenly, the apple was plucked out of his grasp and was floating in the air. 

Wait a minute.

"Reveal yourself!" Rollo pointed his staff at the apple. 

"Ooo, you caught me~," a voice said with glee. Rollo held his stance as legs magically appeared, followed by a torso and a head. "Long time no see, Rollo."

Rollo clicked his tongue. "It has, Chenya. Now, hand me that apple so I can dispose of it properly."

"Heh, heh, this thing?" Chenya threw the apple in the air like it was a ball. "I think I'm gonna keep it for myself. You know what they say? Cats like shiny things," he said as he began to disappear again. 

"Why you!" Rollo yelled, and his staff glowed. "I'll take it by force then."

"WAIT!" A girlish voice yelled. Neige Leblanche ran into the scene, huffing and puffing. Rollo froze and put his magic away. Meanwhile, Chenya revealed his whole body. 

"Purrfect timing, Neige. I almost got burned to a crisp." Chenya cried in glee. Rollo rolled his eyes. Dramatic much?

Neige ran between the two. "Guys, let's all stop fighting and be friends! We should not create a commotion while visiting another school. Think about friendship and world peace!" 

Chenya and Rollo remained quiet as if processing Neige's speech. Neither reacted until Chenya's infamous Cheshire grin graced his face.

"Nah." His attention turned back to Rollo. "This apple is clearly made for me. Who cannot resist these purrfect looks."

Rollo scoffed and crossed his arms. "A fool, really. Now give me that apple. I need to dispose of it." He lunged forward, but Chenya moved too quickly. The beastman grinned mischivously. 

"You gotta catch me first!” Chenya stuck his tongue out and laughed as his body disappeared again, leaving a floating apple running across campus. 

Rollo gritted his teeth, and his face turned red. "Stop hiding, Chenya!" he yelled, losing all composure as he chased after the Cheshire cat. 

"Guys! Let’s talk about friendship!" Neige exclaimed as he followed Rollo, leaving the Noble Bell vice president, who came to check on Rollo, confused. 

Meanwhile, the NRC third years watched the goose chase pass by them while returning to their dorms. 

"Was Chenya holding the apple Malleus just incinerated?" Cater asked randomly. The others thought for moment before shaking their heads.

"Let's just keep moving," Vil responded. "Before Crowley sends out a search party for us."

Just a typical day at Night Raven College.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-24. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The disenshittified internet starts with loyal "user agents"

I'm in TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (TOMORROW, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

There's one overwhelmingly common mistake that people make about enshittification: assuming that the contagion is the result of the Great Forces of History, or that it is the inevitable end-point of any kind of for-profit online world.

In other words, they class enshittification as an ideological phenomenon, rather than as a material phenomenon. Corporate leaders have always felt the impulse to enshittify their offerings, shifting value from end users, business customers and their own workers to their shareholders. The decades of largely enshittification-free online services were not the product of corporate leaders with better ideas or purer hearts. Those years were the result of constraints on the mediocre sociopaths who would trade our wellbeing and happiness for their own, constraints that forced them to act better than they do today, even if the were not any better:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Corporate leaders' moments of good leadership didn't come from morals, they came from fear. Fear that a competitor would take away a disgruntled customer or worker. Fear that a regulator would punish the company so severely that all gains from cheating would be wiped out. Fear that a rival technology – alternative clients, tracker blockers, third-party mods and plugins – would emerge that permanently severed the company's relationship with their customers. Fears that key workers in their impossible-to-replace workforce would leave for a job somewhere else rather than participate in the enshittification of the services they worked so hard to build:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

When those constraints melted away – thanks to decades of official tolerance for monopolies, which led to regulatory capture and victory over the tech workforce – the same mediocre sociopaths found themselves able to pursue their most enshittificatory impulses without fear.

The effects of this are all around us. In This Is Your Phone On Feminism, the great Maria Farrell describes how audiences at her lectures profess both love for their smartphones and mistrust for them. Farrell says, "We love our phones, but we do not trust them. And love without trust is the definition of an abusive relationship":

https://conversationalist.org/2019/09/13/feminism-explains-our-toxic-relationships-with-our-smartphones/

I (re)discovered this Farrell quote in a paper by Robin Berjon, who recently co-authored a magnificent paper with Farrell entitled "We Need to Rewild the Internet":

https://www.noemamag.com/we-need-to-rewild-the-internet/

The new Berjon paper is narrower in scope, but still packed with material examples of the way the internet goes wrong and how it can be put right. It's called "The Fiduciary Duties of User Agents":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3827421

In "Fiduciary Duties," Berjon focuses on the technical term "user agent," which is how web browsers are described in formal standards documents. This notion of a "user agent" is a holdover from a more civilized age, when technologists tried to figure out how to build a new digital space where technology served users.

A web browser that's a "user agent" is a comforting thought. An agent's job is to serve you and your interests. When you tell it to fetch a web-page, your agent should figure out how to get that page, make sense of the code that's embedded in, and render the page in a way that represents its best guess of how you'd like the page seen.

For example, the user agent might judge that you'd like it to block ads. More than half of all web users have installed ad-blockers, constituting the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Your user agent might judge that the colors on the page are outside your visual range. Maybe you're colorblind, in which case, the user agent could shift the gamut of the colors away from the colors chosen by the page's creator and into a set that suits you better:

https://dankaminsky.com/dankam/

Or maybe you (like me) have a low-vision disability that makes low-contrast type difficult to impossible to read, and maybe the page's creator is a thoughtless dolt who's chosen light grey-on-white type, or maybe they've fallen prey to the absurd urban legend that not-quite-black type is somehow more legible than actual black type:

https://uxplanet.org/basicdesign-never-use-pure-black-in-typography-36138a3327a6

The user agent is loyal to you. Even when you want something the page's creator didn't consider – even when you want something the page's creator violently objects to – your user agent acts on your behalf and delivers your desires, as best as it can.

Now – as Berjon points out – you might not know exactly what you want. Like, you know that you want the privacy guarantees of TLS (the difference between "http" and "https") but not really understand the internal cryptographic mysteries involved. Your user agent might detect evidence of shenanigans indicating that your session isn't secure, and choose not to show you the web-page you requested.

This is only superficially paradoxical. Yes, you asked your browser for a web-page. Yes, the browser defied your request and declined to show you that page. But you also asked your browser to protect you from security defects, and your browser made a judgment call and decided that security trumped delivery of the page. No paradox needed.

But of course, the person who designed your user agent/browser can't anticipate all the ways this contradiction might arise. Like, maybe you're trying to access your own website, and you know that the security problem the browser has detected is the result of your own forgetful failure to renew your site's cryptographic certificate. At that point, you can tell your browser, "Thanks for having my back, pal, but actually this time it's fine. Stand down and show me that webpage."

That's your user agent serving you, too.

User agents can be well-designed or they can be poorly made. The fact that a user agent is designed to act in accord with your desires doesn't mean that it always will. A software agent, like a human agent, is not infallible.

However – and this is the key – if a user agent thwarts your desire due to a fault, that is fundamentally different from a user agent that thwarts your desires because it is designed to serve the interests of someone else, even when that is detrimental to your own interests.

A "faithless" user agent is utterly different from a "clumsy" user agent, and faithless user agents have become the norm. Indeed, as crude early internet clients progressed in sophistication, they grew increasingly treacherous. Most non-browser tools are designed for treachery.

A smart speaker or voice assistant routes all your requests through its manufacturer's servers and uses this to build a nonconsensual surveillance dossier on you. Smart speakers and voice assistants even secretly record your speech and route it to the manufacturer's subcontractors, whether or not you're explicitly interacting with them:

https://www.sciencealert.com/creepy-new-amazon-patent-would-mean-alexa-records-everything-you-say-from-now-on

By design, apps and in-app browsers seek to thwart your preferences regarding surveillance and tracking. An app will even try to figure out if you're using a VPN to obscure your location from its maker, and snitch you out with its guess about your true location.

Mobile phones assign persistent tracking IDs to their owners and transmit them without permission (to its credit, Apple recently switch to an opt-in system for transmitting these IDs) (but to its detriment, Apple offers no opt-out from its own tracking, and actively lies about the very existence of this tracking):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

An Android device running Chrome and sitting inert, with no user interaction, transmits location data to Google every five minutes. This is the "resting heartbeat" of surveillance for an Android device. Ask that device to do any work for you and its pulse quickens, until it is emitting a nearly continuous stream of information about your activities to Google:

https://digitalcontentnext.org/blog/2018/08/21/google-data-collection-research/

These faithless user agents both reflect and enable enshittification. The locked-down nature of the hardware and operating systems for Android and Ios devices means that manufacturers – and their business partners – have an arsenal of legal weapons they can use to block anyone who gives you a tool to modify the device's behavior. These weapons are generically referred to as "IP rights" which are, broadly speaking, the right to control the conduct of a company's critics, customers and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

A canny tech company can design their products so that any modification that puts the user's interests above its shareholders is illegal, a violation of its copyright, patent, trademark, trade secrets, contracts, terms of service, nondisclosure, noncompete, most favored nation, or anticircumvention rights. Wrap your product in the right mix of IP, and its faithless betrayals acquire the force of law.

This is – in Jay Freeman's memorable phrase – "felony contempt of business model." While more than half of all web users have installed an ad-blocker, thus overriding the manufacturer's defaults to make their browser a more loyal agent, no app users have modified their apps with ad-blockers.

The first step of making such a blocker, reverse-engineering the app, creates criminal liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with a maximum penalty of five years in prison and a $500,000 fine. An app is just a web-page skinned in sufficient IP to make it a felony to add an ad-blocker to it (no wonder every company wants to coerce you into using its app, rather than its website).

If you know that increasing the invasiveness of the ads on your web-page could trigger mass installations of ad-blockers by your users, it becomes irrational and self-defeating to ramp up your ads' invasiveness. The possibility of interoperability acts as a constraint on tech bosses' impulse to enshittify their products.

The shift to platforms dominated by treacherous user agents – apps, mobile ecosystems, walled gardens – weakens or removes that constraint. As your ability to discipline your agent so that it serves you wanes, the temptation to turn your user agent against you grows, and enshittification follows.

This has been tacitly understood by technologists since the web's earliest days and has been reaffirmed even as enshittification increased. Berjon quotes extensively from "The Internet Is For End-Users," AKA Internet Architecture Board RFC 8890:

Defining the user agent role in standards also creates a virtuous cycle; it allows multiple implementations, allowing end users to switch between them with relatively low costs (…). This creates an incentive for implementers to consider the users' needs carefully, which are often reflected into the defining standards. The resulting ecosystem has many remaining problems, but a distinguished user agent role provides an opportunity to improve it.

And the W3C's Technical Architecture Group echoes these sentiments in "Web Platform Design Principles," which articulates a "Priority of Constituencies" that is supposed to be central to the W3C's mission:

User needs come before the needs of web page authors, which come before the needs of user agent implementors, which come before the needs of specification writers, which come before theoretical purity.

https://w3ctag.github.io/design-principles/

But the W3C's commitment to faithful agents is contingent on its own members' commitment to these principles. In 2017, the W3C finalized "EME," a standard for blocking mods that interact with streaming videos. Nominally aimed at preventing copyright infringement, EME also prevents users from choosing to add accessibility add-ons that beyond the ones the streaming service permits. These services may support closed captioning and additional narration of visual elements, but they block tools that adapt video for color-blind users or prevent strobe effects that trigger seizures in users with photosensitive epilepsy.

The fight over EME was the most contentious struggle in the W3C's history, in which the organization's leadership had to decide whether to honor the "priority of constituencies" and make a standard that allowed users to override manufacturers, or whether to facilitate the creation of faithless agents specifically designed to thwart users' desires on behalf of manufacturers:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

This fight was settled in favor of a handful of extremely large and powerful companies, over the objections of a broad collection of smaller firms, nonprofits representing users, academics and other parties agitating for a web built on faithful agents. This coincided with the W3C's operating budget becoming entirely dependent on the very large sums its largest corporate members paid.

W3C membership is on a sliding scale, based on a member's size. Nominally, the W3C is a one-member, one-vote organization, but when a highly concentrated collection of very high-value members flex their muscles, W3C leadership seemingly perceived an existential risk to the organization, and opted to sacrifice the faithfulness of user agents in service to the anti-user priorities of its largest members.

For W3C's largest corporate members, the fight was absolutely worth it. The W3C's EME standard transformed the web, making it impossible to ship a fully featured web-browser without securing permission – and a paid license – from one of the cartel of companies that dominate the internet. In effect, Big Tech used the W3C to secure the right to decide who would compete with them in future, and how:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

Enshittification arises when the everyday mediocre sociopaths who run tech companies are freed from the constraints that act against them. When the web – and its browsers – were a big, contented, diverse, competitive space, it was harder for tech companies to collude to capture standards bodies like the W3C to secure even more dominance. As the web turned into Tom Eastman's "five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four," that kind of collusion became much easier:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

In arguing for faithful agents, Berjon associates himself with the group of scholars, regulators and activists who call for user agents to serve as "information fiduciaries." Mostly, information fiduciaries come up in the context of user privacy, with the idea that entities that hold a user's data would have the obligation to put the user's interests ahead of their own. Think of a lawyer's fiduciary duty in respect of their clients, to give advice that reflects the client's best interests, even when that conflicts with the lawyer's own self-interest. For example, a lawyer who believes that settling a case is the best course of action for a client is required to tell them so, even if keeping the case going would generate more billings for the lawyer and their firm.

For a user agent to be faithful, it must be your fiduciary. It must put your interests ahead of the interests of the entity that made it or operates it. Browsers, email clients, and other internet software that served as a fiduciary would do things like automatically blocking tracking (which most email clients don't do, especially webmail clients made by companies like Google, who also sell advertising and tracking).

Berjon contemplates a legally mandated fiduciary duty, citing Lindsey Barrett's "Confiding in Con Men":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3354129

He describes a fiduciary duty as a remedy for the enforcement failures of EU's GDPR, a solidly written, and dismally enforced, privacy law. A legally backstopped duty for agents to be fiduciaries would also help us distinguish good and bad forms of "innovation" – innovation in ways of thwarting a user's will are always bad.

Now, the tech giants insist that they are already fiduciaries, and that when they thwart a user's request, that's more like blocking access to a page where the encryption has been compromised than like HAL9000's "I can't let you do that, Dave." For example, when Louis Barclay created "Unfollow Everything," he (and his enthusiastic users) found that automating the process of unfollowing every account on Facebook made their use of the service significantly better:

https://slate.com/technology/2021/10/facebook-unfollow-everything-cease-desist.html

When Facebook shut the service down with blood-curdling legal threats, they insisted that they were simply protecting users from themselves. Sure, this browser automation tool – which just automatically clicked links on Facebook's own settings pages – seemed to do what the users wanted. But what if the user interface changed? What if so many users added this feature to Facebook without Facebook's permission that they overwhelmed Facebook's (presumably tiny and fragile) servers and crashed the system?

These arguments have lately resurfaced with Ethan Zuckerman and Knight First Amendment Institute's lawsuit to clarify that "Unfollow Everything 2.0" is legal and doesn't violate any of those "felony contempt of business model" laws:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/02/kaiju-v-kaiju/

Sure, Zuckerman seems like a good guy, but what if he makes a mistake and his automation tool does something you don't want? You, the Facebook user, are also a nice guy, but let's face it, you're also a naive dolt and you can't be trusted to make decisions for yourself. Those decisions can only be made by Facebook, whom we can rely upon to exercise its authority wisely.

Other versions of this argument surfaced in the debate over the EU's decision to mandate interoperability for end-to-end encrypted (E2EE) messaging through the Digital Markets Act (DMA), which would let you switch from, say, Whatsapp to Signal and still send messages to your Whatsapp contacts.

There are some good arguments that this could go horribly awry. If it is rushed, or internally sabotaged by the EU's state security services who loathe the privacy that comes from encrypted messaging, it could expose billions of people to serious risks.

But that's not the only argument that DMA opponents made: they also argued that even if interoperable messaging worked perfectly and had no security breaches, it would still be bad for users, because this would make it impossible for tech giants like Meta, Google and Apple to spy on message traffic (if not its content) and identify likely coordinated harassment campaigns. This is literally the identical argument the NSA made in support of its "metadata" mass-surveillance program: "Reading your messages might violate your privacy, but watching your messages doesn't."

This is obvious nonsense, so its proponents need an equally obviously intellectually dishonest way to defend it. When called on the absurdity of "protecting" users by spying on them against their will, they simply shake their heads and say, "You just can't understand the burdens of running a service with hundreds of millions or billions of users, and if I even tried to explain these issues to you, I would divulge secrets that I'm legally and ethically bound to keep. And even if I could tell you, you wouldn't understand, because anyone who doesn't work for a Big Tech company is a naive dolt who can't be trusted to understand how the world works (much like our users)."

Not coincidentally, this is also literally the same argument the NSA makes in support of mass surveillance, and there's a very useful name for it: scalesplaining.

Now, it's totally true that every one of us is capable of lapses in judgment that put us, and the people connected to us, at risk (my own parents gave their genome to the pseudoscience genetic surveillance company 23andme, which means they have my genome, too). A true information fiduciary shouldn't automatically deliver everything the user asks for. When the agent perceives that the user is about to put themselves in harm's way, it should throw up a roadblock and explain the risks to the user.

But the system should also let the user override it.

This is a contentious statement in information security circles. Users can be "socially engineered" (tricked), and even the most sophisticated users are vulnerable to this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

The only way to be certain a user won't be tricked into taking a course of action is to forbid that course of action under any circumstances. If there is any means by which a user can flip the "are you very sure?" circuit-breaker back on, then the user can be tricked into using that means.

This is absolutely true. As you read these words, all over the world, vulnerable people are being tricked into speaking the very specific set of directives that cause a suspicious bank-teller to authorize a transfer or cash withdrawal that will result in their life's savings being stolen by a scammer:

https://www.thecut.com/article/amazon-scam-call-ftc-arrest-warrants.html

We keep making it harder for bank customers to make large transfers, but so long as it is possible to make such a transfer, the scammers have the means, motive and opportunity to discover how the process works, and they will go on to trick their victims into invoking that process.

Beyond a certain point, making it harder for bank depositors to harm themselves creates a world in which people who aren't being scammed find it nearly impossible to draw out a lot of cash for an emergency and where scam artists know exactly how to manage the trick. After all, non-scammers only rarely experience emergencies and thus have no opportunity to become practiced in navigating all the anti-fraud checks, while the fraudster gets to run through them several times per day, until they know them even better than the bank staff do.

This is broadly true of any system intended to control users at scale – beyond a certain point, additional security measures are trivially surmounted hurdles for dedicated bad actors and as nearly insurmountable hurdles for their victims:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/como-is-infosec/

At this point, we've had a couple of decades' worth of experience with technological "walled gardens" in which corporate executives get to override their users' decisions about how the system should work, even when that means reaching into the users' own computer and compelling it to thwart the user's desire. The record is inarguable: while companies often use those walls to lock bad guys out of the system, they also use the walls to lock their users in, so that they'll be easy pickings for the tech company that owns the system:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

This is neatly predicted by enshittification's theory of constraints: when a company can override your choices, it will be irresistibly tempted to do so for its own benefit, and to your detriment.

What's more, the mere possibility that you can override the way the system works acts as a disciplining force on corporate executives, forcing them to reckon with your priorities even when these are counter to their shareholders' interests. If Facebook is genuinely worried that an "Unfollow Everything" script will break its servers, it can solve that by giving users an unfollow everything button of its own design. But so long as Facebook can sue anyone who makes an "Unfollow Everything" tool, they have no reason to give their users such a button, because it would give them more control over their Facebook experience, including the controls needed to use Facebook less.

It's been more than 20 years since Seth Schoen and I got a demo of Microsoft's first "trusted computing" system, with its "remote attestations," which would let remote servers demand and receive accurate information about what kind of computer you were using and what software was running on it.

This could be beneficial to the user – you could send a "remote attestation" to a third party you trusted and ask, "Hey, do you think my computer is infected with malicious software?" Since the trusted computing system produced its report on your computer using a sealed, separate processor that the user couldn't directly interact with, any malicious code you were infected with would not be able to forge this attestation.

But this remote attestation feature could also be used to allow Microsoft to block you from opening a Word document with Libreoffice, Apple Pages, or Google Docs, or it could be used to allow a website to refuse to send you pages if you were running an ad-blocker. In other words, it could transform your information fiduciary into a faithless agent.

Seth proposed an answer to this: "owner override," a hardware switch that would allow you to force your computer to lie on your behalf, when that was beneficial to you, for example, by insisting that you were using Microsoft Word to open a document when you were really using Apple Pages:

https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html

Seth wasn't naive. He knew that such a system could be exploited by scammers and used to harm users. But Seth calculated – correctly! – that the risks of having a key to let yourself out of the walled garden were less than being stuck in a walled garden where some corporate executive got to decide whether and when you could leave.

Tech executives never stopped questing after a way to turn your user agent from a fiduciary into a traitor. Last year, Google toyed with the idea of adding remote attestation to web browsers, which would let services refuse to interact with you if they thought you were using an ad blocker:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

The reasoning for this was incredible: by adding remote attestation to browsers, they'd be creating "feature parity" with apps – that is, they'd be making it as practical for your browser to betray you as it is for your apps to do so (note that this is the same justification that the W3C gave for creating EME, the treacherous user agent in your browser – "streaming services won't allow you to access movies with your browser unless your browser is as enshittifiable and authoritarian as an app").

Technologists who work for giant tech companies can come up with endless scalesplaining explanations for why their bosses, and not you, should decide how your computer works. They're wrong. Your computer should do what you tell it to do:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/08/your-computer-should-say-what-you-tell-it-say-1

These people can kid themselves that they're only taking away your power and handing it to their boss because they have your best interests at heart. As Upton Sinclair told us, it's impossible to get someone to understand something when their paycheck depends on them not understanding it.

The only way to get a tech boss to consistently treat you well is to ensure that if they stop, you can quit. Anything less is a one-way ticket to enshittification.

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/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[sturnsbaby]

CODE WORD ...CHRIS STURNIOLO

Summary: You were stressed out while out in public, and you and chris have a code word that you both use whenever you need each other.

Trigger warnings: Describing a anxiety attack, crying, cussing,

use of y/n, she/her pronouns

very sweet chris, angst, fluff

"baby?" you hear chris say, quietly, as your first wake up, as well as feeling him slightly shake you.

"hmm?" you mumble, slightly awake.

"wake up mama, it's 10:56" he whisperes in your ear before giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"my stomach hurts" you whine and sit up, usually, when your stomach hurts it's because your stressed, and chris knew this.

"what's wrong ma?" he says and sits infront of you.

"i don't know.. i just- i feel off today." you shrug and rub your eyes as you finally fully wake up.

"are you sure you want to go anywhere? we can stay home and go another day." he says and holds your hand.

"no- no it's fine." you reassure him with a slight smile.

"are you sure ma?" he says, not convinced that it's fine.

"mhm" you say and stand up.

"okay, remember our word?" he says and also gets up.

you nod in response and go to your dresser to pick out a outfit. To be simple, your wearing ripped jeans and a normal crop top.

time skip

The mall was already a scary place for you, you hated the crowd of people, the loud noises, basically everything just stressed you out in there, and now that chris was gone to use the bathroom, you were even more anxious about the situation. you were with nick and matt, but you needed chris to stay calm, he knew how to help you more then anyone, he could read your body language better then anyone else can.

Eventually, Matt had informed you that chris went to go get some food from somewhere in the mall, which to you, ment he was going to be gone longer. Which was your breaking point.

Your eyes water and your breathing becomes quicker as you look around at your surroundings, not sure of what to do right now in the situation you are in. A wave of dizziness went through your body as your head was starting to hurt and a annoying high pitched ringing in your ears started to form.

The only thing you could do right now is say the word you and chris have and hope that nick and matt know what it means, "flowers" you stutter and nick and matt look at you with slight worry and a confused facial expression.

"what? are you okay?" matt asks you and you shake your head and tears roll down your face and nick pulls out his phone and texts chris.

nick: can you help? what does flowers mean??

chris: wdym?

nick: y/n is crying and she hasn't said anything besides flowers ...

chris: where are you guys??

nick: the same place but what's going on is she okay

chris: it's a code word, anyways, can u please talk to her and tell her everything's okay? i'm on my way now, we can get food later.

nick: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENIG???

chris: fuck nick she's having a anxiety attack. read at 4:56 pm

"its okay, breathe." nick says as he puts his phone away, matt looks back at nick, completely confused of what's going on.

nick goes up to you and looks you in the eyes, "chris is coming, okay? Your okay, breathe in and out."

And a couple minutes later, chris is by your side and comforting you, "your okay my pretty girl. I'm here." he whispers to you as he wraps his arms around you and kisses you on the forehead.

sick! 2 fics in one day :)