#*me. join Me in hell not e

[kindheartedgummybears]

mmmmrrrpppphhhh................. Molly-Beth......... grrrrrrrrrrrr.............. O'Shadie..................... mmmmmmmmmmmmm............ O'Shones................ raaaaaaaaaahhhh....... Sapphic Molly..........

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[willyoubemycherryy]

Intimacy Cues (C. Kent)

Summary: Who better to teach you how to talk body when you never learned the language?

Contains: smut AND plot so it’s long,depressing past, the college au you all secretly needed, struggles with physical touch, struggles with any form of intimacy, one mild panic attack, Clark is understanding but hot, dumb ideas, hugging, bonding, kissing, making out, it starts off shaky then soft but quickly snowballs into horn-e central, size kink, slight dumbification, strength kink, first kisses, virginity kept but not for long just give me till the second part, Clark is a little infatuated, they’re so nasty about each other my word, grinding, kissing (no forreal), prayer bc we all need it

A/N- my stomach is fine, it wasn’t a tumor but a blockage because of something I ate that never digested, causing my tummy to bloat and swell but they fixed me up so I’m back😈

. .* ੈ✩‧₊•

“Nononono- no, stop!!”

This might be the worst decision of your entire life.

Clark pulls away again, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in concern but also exasperation because-

“Hey! It’s okay- you’re okay. Remember…you were the one who asked for my help.” He didn’t say the obvious “but we’re not getting any farther” part out loud but it echoes through your head all the same and you breathe out a deep sigh; regretting it with the depths of your very being but, yes. You did ask him for his help.

Help with what? The answer would’ve ended your social life if anyone who wasn’t Clark had found out.

You needed his help with…closeness- intimacy.

Growing up you were always awkward. Not in a charming way or even unconventional, you just simply didn’t make the cut based by society’s standards. You were always too gangly, too weird, too timid; so imagine the surprise come middle of highschool to now college where you’ve finally grown into yourself.

You know how you like to dress and which clothes look hottest on you, you know what hairstyle suits best for your face shape, you’re still weird but you’re also sarcastic which somehow equals charm to people and you’ve also managed to come out of your shell a bit. Becoming more confident from people naturally gravitating towards you after your blooming stage and even more after letting your friends convince you to join your college’s cheerleading team. You’d become everything you wanted to always try.

Pretty, popular, and fun. The problem?

Thanks to how much of a late bloomer you were, you never got the chance to get comfortable with others intimately during your formative years. Nobody liked you in that way and you were terrified of embarrassing yourself so there was nothing. No first kiss, no first dance with a boy, hell- even now you still get uneasy when others stare at you too long. Hiding behind your image as a college sweetheart made everything you were still to unsettled to try easier. Don’t misunderstand; it wasn’t that you never wanted those things, it’s that you’re not used to others suddenly picking you for those kinds of things after being invisible and missing out on them for almost all your life to the point where you don’t know how to deal with it when those moments do happen.

Still, you acted like everything was fine.

Playing the role of pretty cheerleader- the flirty tease that was favored by many even though that favor was shallow as a tear on a hot day. You pretended. And it was working, nobody knew…or so you believed.

Cue to one of the football teams parties where you’d been flirting with a guy, coy smile painted on your face as you giggled softly whenever he spoke, batting your pretty eyes at him in your little mini skirt. It had been going well until he suddenly leaned closer, focusing solely on you and when you felt the heat of his skin from how close he was- it felt as if the color had drained from your face, leaving you frozen as you became so uncomfortable it was visible; nerves screaming at you to flee until you listened. Spinning on your heels and bolting, trying to calm your breathing enough to will the cotton out of your ears.

You didn’t realize it then but a certain pair of blue eyes had been watching the whole thing. He’s always seen you. Which is funny because you almost always actively avoid him. In fact, he’s seen you enough to know that this isn’t the first time you’ve had that reaction and one day after a particularly rough week of endless pondering over you; he decides to just ask you after practice is over. Clark waits until his and your friends leave, it being only you and him on the field when he starts to walk over to you. The sound of incoming footsteps make you look up and when you see him, he can hear the very second your heart stops; skipping a beat before it quickly begins to thrum out of rhythm.

Honestly, there genuinely are not enough words to describe how attractive Clark Kent was. He was so incomprehensibly beautiful that you avoided Clark altogether just to avoid getting a headache from staring at him for too long especially since the real suffering started when he’d smile. Seemingly perfect pearly white straight teeth but when his grin broadened, his sharp canines would show, leaving you breathless every time. The type of good looking that was flat out overwhelming. Besides being apart of adjacent stereotypes, you two didn’t go together but there was no animosity.

Clark stops and you have to look up at him because of his hulking size. At almost 6’4 he nearly dwarfed you and his proportions matched. Thick, beefy everything- everywhere and you swallow before forcing a smile on your face. While you preferred to avoid him for the sake of keeping yourself out of the psych ward from how crazy he could drive you; you were still curious as to why he came to talk to you. He takes a moment to just look at you, cerulean eyes almost glowing but he doesn’t realize how intense his stare is until you start to shuffle on your feet- dainty hands twitching nervously at your side and that’s when he speaks.

“Hey…I know we don’t usually talk or anything but are you okay?” Even his voice is dreamy but confusion draws on your face because you felt fine; nervous, like you were around any guy you thought was cute, but fine. Clark elaborates at your expression,

“Y’know because of what happened at the party last-”, that seems to jog your memory enough to snap you out of it, eyebrows shooting up as dread overtakes over your face. You whip your head around, making sure there’s no witnesses when you grab him by his sweaty shirt, dragging him all the way behind the bleachers as you slam him against the metal. Clark is caught so off guard that he just lets it happen; lets the pretty thing half his size drag him as you pleased. Your eyes shift as you glare up at him.

You’re positive he’s talking about your little freak out with close proximity guy, the one that made you leave the party completely; walking so fast you nearly burned a trail in the carpet. Heart pounding, you start to spiral.

He wasn’t supposed to see that. He- like everyone else- was supposed to be too drunk to notice anything.

Your nose scrunches, full lips curling in a snarl. “I swear if you say anything to anyone-!” You’re threatening him so fast, Clark falters, raising his hands in defense, debilitating blue eyes widening as he starts to plead his case.

“No no-! I didn’t! I-“, He stutters at your harsh gaze, the feel of your hands soaking through his shirt, warming his chest. He needs to hurry up and explain himself before you start disliking him. “I was just worried! Whenever I see you and a guy, even if you act interested-“, he rushes out, panting as he talks even faster, “the second they get too close you look like you’ll vomit!” Your hostility melts into shock and even more confusion and you let go of his shirt, stepping back as you study him, his words stuck in your mind.

“How..? Are you- you’ve been paying that close attention to me? When do you even see me?” You’re at such a loss for words that it’s hard to string them together to properly question him.

“…I”, he swallows harshly, “I always see you.” It’s pure adrenaline that motors his mouth- he thought he was over the time when lovely faced girls made him nervous but you were unexpectedly feisty. It lit something tingly in him. Your eyes search his face and he spills. “I see how you flirt but you’re sarcastic too. Everyone is so taken by your pretty that they don’t even notice, they just call it ‘wit”, he manages to catch his breath enough to sound less panicked now that you look like you won’t kill him, “I see how even though you’re a flyer, you hate heights-”

“H-how-?”

“Your right leg shakes when they lift you, no matter how stable your base is.” Your mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out, heart racing when his voice goes soft,

“But what I’m saying is- so what that you’re not really what you give off? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. ‘Jus curious why you think it is…”, he blinks those long lashes at you and you find yourself explaining the tale of your sordid social past.

By the end of it he’s stunned speechless.

You? Just how bad was your awkward phase for nobody to be interested in you? Wait so that also probably meant that-

“You’re a virgin?!”

You slap your hands over his mouth with a speed equal to his own, face flushed as you shush him, hissing in a low whisper.

“Jesus Chri- shut up! Are you trying to tell the entire campus?!!” You let out another heavy sigh.

“…yes, I am”. You let your hands fall to the side, refusing to look at him while he’s trying to process; silence filling the space between you. You’ve accepted that your ego will never recover from the most gorgeous being on the planet knowing about all your…truths. That you looked and acted the part of a vixen just to hide that you secretly weren’t.

“…so you’ve never done anyt-”,

“No.”

Well then.

You can’t take another long drag of awkward silence, turning to face the boy who knew you probably more than anyone else did.

“Look- I would’ve loved to remedy this but I-”

“Can’t stomach whenever a guy gets too close due to previous deep rooted societal wrought insecurities…” Bingo.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he gives you one of his disarming grins and a flush creeps up your neck; warming your ears, “I think you’re doing fine now.” You snap your head down to see that you two are standing fairly close or at least closer than you normally allow and you don’t have that itch to get him as far away from you as possible. That’s when you get the idea that- “Oh my god! You can help me get over my thing! This is perfect!”! You’re practically vibrating with glee, excited to finally have all your firsts without that looming of touch related dread haunting you. Clark however is swarmed with various images of him “helping” you and can’t keep his ears from reddening at all the different scenarios where he’d be required to be close to you and begins to stutter.

“W-well, I wa- not that I-! I don’t think that’s a good idea, I mean w-we-”, you cut him off before he can weasel out of it, eyebrows creasing in frustration. You unconsciously step closer, your sweet smell bathes his senses as he stares you down, trying not to gulp too hard. “Please, Clark?”, you start and he swallows harshly at how his name sounds in that whiny tone from your lips.

“It can’t be anyone else because you’re the only one who knows! We’re not close now but we could be-“, and the double meaning makes him tune out completely as he only watches your plump lips move; not even registering the sound coming from them. He was thankful you didn’t ask him why he watched you so closely because the answer was one he wasn’t ready to even admit to himself.

Your lips stop moving after a while and them paired with your begging doe eyes make him cave, Clark nodding in hopeless defeat. He was supposed to be over the influence of pretty girls.

“S’okay, I’ll help you out. Your secret’s safe with me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided smile that was somehow both attractive but made you feel safe and you smile shyly back. You were nervous but you know Clark is a good guy- reckless as hell with his charms- but a good guy. What could go wrong?

•

•

•

Standing in the middle of your dorm room with your arms wound tight around yourself is when you find out that alot can go wrong.

Clark came over and you two came up with a starting plan that seemed the easiest: talk and slowly close the distance between you two until he was touching and looking at you without you getting uncomfortable or pushing him away. It sounded simple enough at first only…. you severely underestimated how you’d react to Clark. The way his deep mellow voice sounded in your ears, how he always held such steady eye contact as he moved towards you, that heavenly jawline tilting when he’d think too long. Already, Clark was big from afar but up close he was even bigger. Strong arms and broad shoulders; chest so thick it was noticeable through his shirt. You were used to others falling at your feet but Clark stood fine and it affected you in ways you didn’t prepare to deal with, so you tried to do what you always did- ignore it.

Matching Clark’s light conversation as you two eventually get more comfortable, gradually gravitating towards each other with slow short steps. The air shifts when you exhale and the breath tickles his chest. This is when you normally get squeamish but you merely hesitate for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself by letting him keep his distance.

His hand twitch and he shuffles a bit closer, biceps flexing as he reaches out, resting his hands on your shoulders; your conversation quiets as he stares at you with perfectly blue lidded eyes and then you feel the stirrings of restlessness under your skin. That impeding urge to get away. Despite the way you feel, the slow atmosphere helps you tremendously to not pull away but your pulse spikes all the same. His hands felt nice. You take another deep breath as you try to come to terms with what you were feeling.

Clark was a guy.

A guy who was standing in your bubble, touching you- looking at you.

A million emotions fly across your face at record speed and Clark doesn’t move any more for the next couple minutes. No, he waits for you; large rough palms warm on your bare shoulders while his pinky idly messes with the thin strap of your top. Your skin was soft. The heavy rise and fall of your chest has him focusing on you more intensely, trying to get a read on how you felt until you break the silence with a shaky exhale.

“We can keep going- you can keep touching me.” He knows you don’t mean it that way but his ears burn anyways as he nods. Taking a second to think before taking his hands off you to take yours, ignoring your big eyes look as he places your hands around his waist- inevitably moving closer and his voice softens like he’ll frighten you away if he were to speak any louder.

“You can touch me too. Promise I don’t mind…this is for you after all.” You suppress a whine because being so close was already hard with you fighting every instinct yelling at you to get gone and go somewhere where nobody could comprehend you but now with Clark staring at you like that, it was even harder. Your eyes flick about the room as you flatten your palms more against his back, mentally rolling your eyes back at how his muscles feel. You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip but Clark does, instantly alert the second he felt your small hands nervously press against him, his eyes zeroed in on the swollen skin dipping under the pressure of your teeth. He feels bad because while he was supposed to be helping you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you were being so shy but hardheaded enough to build up the grit to go for what scared you because you wanted it.

Without taking his eyes off your face, he rubs his hands up to your neck, making you squeak before smoothing them back down your shoulders; repeating the motions with a gentle hum.

The room feels hot- you felt hot and jittery but it’s too much. Unable to keep the waves at bay, goosebumps trickle over your skin and your eyes scrunch in panic as your breathing picks up. He was close. Close and touching you. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes because you know when you do, you’ll be naked for all to see and you scream.

“Stop!”

Nobody can see you-nobody’s supposed to be seeing you, the girl who was never even chose last as you were overlooked entirely no matter how badly you wanted to reach out. Maybe that’s what started your fear. Maybe you were scared of losing experiences because of rejection.

Clark doesn’t move away but he isn’t touching you anymore and you aren’t touching him as your hands fly to the sides of your head, trying to calm yourself down and guilt pours over him. He wants to hug you; comfort you but he knows that pulling you against him in a hug will only worsen things right now so he waits. Closing his eyes to help you feel at ease, listening closely to the beat of your heart until your breaths quiet and he hears it fluctuate back to normal. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels your small trembling hands slide back around him and instead of putting his hands on your shoulders, he moves his arms around them; resting them against your back but not pulling you in yet. It’s quiet besides the hushed sounds of him cooing at you and your breathing. The air now has an underlying current and you shift in his heavy arms, inhaling deeply as you finally look up at his face. Shyly, you cut the silence; voice soft as how you feel.

“…you can open your eyes now..” Clark feels his own heart speed up before he responds, low tone matching yours and electricity hits you when it clicks. This is intimate.

“Are you okay? We can stop and try again some other time; I don’t wanna upset-,”

“I want you to look at me.”

His eyes pop open at your command, peering down at you in such a way that your breath catches; anxiousness rising up you again but you stay right where you are. Willing yourself to embrace the exposed way he makes you feel.

Under the heat of his stare it’s like he’s seeing everything you’ve ever hid or been but his hold is steady enough to let you know he’s there with you and he’s not going anywhere. You still feel naked but more than that, you feel safe. Comfortable enough to not shy away from his warmth, you take another breath; looking up at him through your lashes- it makes his head fuzzy.

His eyes shift from their usual blue to the shade of the sea after a storm and you’re swept away, logic going with you as you slowly glide your hands up his sides to his where his arms hold you. Feeling every dip and curve of his strong build until you reach his hands, repositioning them around your lower back. You move closer but because you two were already standing so close- your chests touch and Clark stops breathing. The soft swell of your breasts move against his body with your every inhale and he finds his senses filled with you.

Your gaze is torn away when you turn your head, looking down as you drop against his chest. Arms looping around him making his own instinctively curl around you, holding you tight to the firm but soft muscle of his chest. You both pause for a few minutes- waiting for the urgent panic but it never comes. Instead, you melt into him with a relieved sigh, warm breath bleeding into his shirt. You two were officially hugging.

And you were in heaven.

You never knew close contact with the opposite gender could be so delightful. Clark was just so big and warm and smelled so good, you bury your face into the meat of his pec almost deliriously, sighing happily. Fuck, you really had been missing out. His arms are firm and heavy against your back, effectively locking you against him. The endorphin rush hitting you has you practically purring; the sounds of your bliss vibrating Clark’s chest and he smiles, letting you get your fix as he enjoys the way you fit into his arms.

Unsurprisingly, you two stay like that for a while. Fitted against each other in the silence of your cozy bedroom. He sees the top of your head move and he’s suddenly looking into your eyes, pupils blown so wide that your eyes are black. Clark has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how cute you look. Your eyes flit down to his mouth to see the peek of his fangs that always show, letting out a small breathy ‘oh’ when you do. You’re still reeling in all the best ways as you rest your chin against his chest, unabashedly looking at his handsome face.

Clark raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the phantom hearts in your eyes and the way your small feet are standing on top of his larger ones while you make no attempt to separate your bodies, completely content with his proximity. He likes you so he likes your closeness and he’s even more elated that you seem to like him being so close too. Speaking lowly so he doesn’t disturb you, he checks if you’re still on the planet with him.

“This okay, sweetheart? Y’enjoying yourself?” The petname slips out but you don’t move or rush to correct him as your blood simmers, a numbingly pleasant heat washing over you so strong it’s hard to think. Running your hands in a slow caress up his back, you feel the muscles flex as his arm twitches and a smile grows on your face as you blink dumbly- brain currently taking a break, you mumble sweetly,

���Mmhm, yeah. Never better.”

And it’s true. You’ve never felt this safe, this free with anyone that wasn’t immediate family or your best girl friends. He was touching you and seeing you but you didn’t care because you knew whatever he was seeing and touching, was safe as it would ever be with him.

Clark huffs out a laugh at your belated response, moving one of his hands in a warm caress up your back, feeling you shiver and he bites his lip again. You were so alluring without even having to try and he breathes to reign himself in since he was currently the first and only to have you melting like this from a hug alone. If a hug got you like this he could only imagine how beautifully you’d respond to-

“Um, C-Clark?” Your soft voice brings him back as he hums, flicking his eyes down lazily at you.

“Yeah, baby?” Your sweet little gasp makes him realize that he just called you another nickname but you don’t seem to mind, flustering prettily in his arms. He leans down closer to your face, only to hear you better, eyes patient as he stares at you.

“I know this is supposed to be about me but how do you feel? You’ve been so good with me..I just wanna make sure you’re okay too.” Clark smiles, moved that you’re worrying about him even with all his experience.

“Yeah I feel good but how about you? Want me to let go or we can try something different?” He would’ve asked if you wanted to stop but he was going off your body language and it was telling him distance was the last thing you wanted and he was right as you shook your head before resting your chin back into his chest, looking up at him with those pupil eclipsed doe eyes.

“I feel great but…”, your voice gets smaller as it takes on an almost needy tone before stopping altogether. You snap your face back into his chest and he’s even more curious to get it out of you but you just can’t say it.

“You really don’t need to be embarrassed. Clothed or naked, we all start somewhere”, he whispers against the top of your head, stroking your back soothingly as you try to talk yourself into asking him before you chicken out, “with me you can start wherever you want and you know I’ll never tell. Or make fun of you..”,

His voice is tender with warmness and it turns your reservations to raindrops as you look back into his eyes. Steeling your nerve, you ground yourself with the way you feel in another persons arms for the first time in your life- his arms and decide to go for it.

“You said- we can try something different?” Your heart begins to race again as Clark’s starts to pound. He can’t keep the heat out of eyes as he returns your stare, nodding.

“Yeah. We can do whatever you want.” His breath wafts across your face, forehead resting against yours and the rate at which you find yourself needing him- scares you. You’ve been depraved of this kind of contact to the point of fear since forever but now…

“Then…can we-“, you blink rapidly, not wanting to verbalize it but not wanting to go without even more.

“Can we kiss please?”

Clark has to shut his eyes. You looked so sweet, felt so soft and even though you couldn’t keep the neediness from seeping into your words, you still asked so politely. Blood rushes through his ears as he feels a familiar stirring in his groin, taking a deep breath because it wouldn’t do for him to lose control now, his voice is heady with pure want when he answers,

“F’course. I’d love to kiss, baby.”

Large hands settle around your waist as you get pulled completely flush to him, legs almost intertwining while your pelvises touch; bodies glued together. The languid heat of arousal thrums through you, making your head spin.

Your lips part when Clark presses his forehead more firmly against yours, lighting you from the inside out when he dips his neck to slot his open mouth over yours.

Immediately your chest burns, heart feeling like each pump is gasoline, fueling the fire hes started in you. Clark’s full lips slide against yours, alternating between suckling at your top lip then bottom lip slowly, coaxing you to follow his lead, groaning his approval and the sound turns you up as you press yourself harder against his body. You feel so good you’re thrumming- heat steadily pulsing through you.

Your heads move from how hard you’re kissing, slick sounds coming from your mouths intensifying as you get rougher, delicious shivers all up your spine. Clark presses his lips fully against yours, moving them open wider with his own, hot breaths mingling as he licks hotly against the opening of your mouth. A bolt of pleasure hits you so hard that you gasp, wrenching your mouth off his as you moan- the needy little thing so whiny it makes his cock fatten in his pants as you pant against each others lips. Fuck. He can smell how wet you are. The sweet, heady smell makes his mouth water with him tossing shame clean out the window.

“Can I put my tongue in your mouth? Please, pretty girl?” You move your arms around his neck to get as close as possible, nodding desperately.

“God, yes-” His mouth is back to consuming yours before you can finish. Opening your lips with the force of his swollen ones, he sucks your bottom lip before lapping his tongue into your mouth. You twitch in his hold, even more turned on when he doesn’t have to move to keep your squirming in place, casual show of strength making you lightheaded as he swallows your moans. Wet smacks fill the air, your grip on him tightening when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. You get wetter and he can tell, growling in pleasure as he suddenly lifts you; your legs locking around his waist as he uses his hold on yours to grind you against him. The result is instantaneous. You melt like cotton candy, chest shaking against his from your pleasured moans as your shared spit wets your lips. Still aware of the fact that you need to breathe, Clark pulls away with a suck of your lips- staring at you hungrily with dark eyes.

He can’t even remember when he picked you up but the tiny undulations of your hips let him know it was a welcome decision. You looked so good. Lips puffy n slick, doe eyes teary and blown out, wet as fuck with your hard nipples poking through your top…you could ask him for every one of Saturns rings and he’d get them for you.

Clark takes a deep lungful of your tantalizing scent before he checks on you again.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’first kiss right?” You nod, cupping his face. You can’t help the way you smooch more pecks onto his pink lips, aching as you answer.

“It was so good”, you drag your nose down his jaw; kissing his ear as you whisper into it, “you feel so good, Clark..”. You have him completely hard at this point, thick and fat as his tip oozes pre when you start to whine. He almost feels bad that you’ve waited so long, being so pent up wasn’t healthy and you deserved to feel good everyday.

“What’s wrong baby?” The low timbre of his voice makes your pulse skyrocket, causing you to absolutely dissolve against him, hips twitching as he helped you rub yourself on him.

“I-I need..-“, you let out a soft cry and he quickly soothes you. Kissing you deeply before pulling away, licking his lips of your taste as he verbalizes exactly what you need.

“Need to cum?”

The heat in your chest blooms up to your face as you nod, suddenly growing shy but still comfortable. You purr as Clark presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, looking at you with pretty lidded eyes.

“Would it be okay if I made you cum princess?”

The utterly wrecked moan that comes out of your mouth has goosebumps scattering up his arms, holding you tighter as you nod vigorously.

“I need words baby”, he whispers. Giving you another kiss to tempt you and it works. He was too irresistible and he knew it.

“Yeah, you can make me cum Clark.” And with that he carries you over to your bed, laying you on the plushness as he takes over your mouth again with a hungry groan, your hands touching everywhere until he pulls away- fangs on display as he smiles making fire sweep through your veins.

Massaging your legs, he rises on his knees- taking off his shirt as your mind checks out from how hot he is, shifting restlessly as the ache in your pussy throbs with the best pain. Whining his name, Clark cooes at you; big hands moving to pull your clothes off. Your nerves are going haywire but you need this- need him to make you feel things, lifting your hips to help him slide your shorts and underwear off, spreading your legs as you let him get a good look at your messy wet hole twitching in need.

Clark swears, hooking his hands under your knees and bending them towards your chest. Exposing you more as he licks his lips, keeping his eyes glued to your cunt.

“Atta girl, jus’ lay there nice n pretty and I’ll give you what you need..”

Part ✌🏽…

[crushmeeren]

ᝰ KATSUKI’S NSFW ALPHABET .ᐟ

̽ ⋆ ﹒♡﹒ GOD…. The epilogue is KILLIN ME!!!!! I had to write the brain rot out of my brain.

‣ ‣ cw ; spanking, choking, lil’ bit of degradation — vanilla otherwise.

master list ‣ ‣ @i-the-fluffo

ᝰ A ‣ ‣ AFTERCARE { ༝༝ what’s katsuki like after sex? ༝༝ }

Often, sex ends with you becoming dead to the world, falling asleep in record time because Katsuki’s fucked out all your stress. Fortunately, or somewhat unfortunately for you, Katsuki is unable to leave things unclean. He downright refuses to relax.

So even when you’ve started to doze off, harsh panting turning steady and mellow, Katsuki runs his fingers through your hair, presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and demands you “get the hell up pillow princess, we aren’t sleepin’ in this fuckin’ mess.”

On the rare occasion he’s able to convince you to join him in the shower, he’ll ask if you want him to wash your hair. Sometimes, if you aren’t itching to be back in bed, you’ll say yes.

Katsuki also has a habit of positioning you so the spray of hot water will hit your back. Strong arms will wind around your shoulders, hugging you close to his chest, and every inch of you will keep warm.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ B ‣ ‣ BODY PART { ༝༝ katsuki’s favorite ༝༝ }

I can’t seem to shake the idea that Katsuki is an ass man.

He finds reasons for his hands to be on your ass no matter what. Cooking? He’s behind you, grabbing a handful and squeezing. At the gym? He’s spotting you while you do squats, smacking you every time you finish a set. When you have to get up from the couch after the fourth episode you’ve binged because you need to pee? Yeah, he’s there too. “Helping” you by shoving a hand up the back of your shorts to palm the curve of your ass and lever you up.

Don’t even get me started about the hand prints he leaves during sex.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ C ‣ ‣ CUM { ༝༝ where katsuki likes to cum ༝༝ }

Katsuki loves when the tight heat of your pussy locks onto his cock and refuses to free him, sucking him in like it’s begging to be stuffed full. It destroys his determination to pull out every time.

If he’s not burying himself inside you, he’s keeping a steady pace until his balls draw up tight, until his stomach clenches in warning, before he slips free, pumping his cock and covering your ass with glossy threads.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ E ‣ ‣ EXPERIENCE { ༝༝ how much does katsuki have? ༝༝ }

Katsuki’s dipped his toe into the water a few times, so to speak. No, he’s not one to sleep around, but you met him in his mid to late twenties. He’s had time to venture out and explore, as most people in that phase of their life do.

How else do you think he got toe curling pussy eating skills?

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ F ‣ ‣ FAVORITE POSITION { ༝༝ katsuki’s favorite ༝༝ }

Katsuki’s under a spell fucking you from behind. The first snap of his hips jiggles your ass and it leaves him slackjawed, fingers digging into your squishy hips to use as leverage while he yanks you back to meet each heavy thrust thereafter.

The curve of your spine, the clench of the muscles in your upper back, and the fact that the side profile of your fucked out expression is on display when it’s not shoved into the sheets all fill him with pride. It soothes the hidden primal urge in his brain.

To Katsuki, it’s a victory high when he pushes all the right buttons to shred your voice and shake your thighs while your ass is in the air.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ H ‣ ‣ HAIR { ༝༝ does katsuki shave or care? ༝༝ }

Katsuki does shave. Not bald, because it’s odd to him when there’s no hair. A small nestle of blonde curls is all that remains above the base of his cock. Sometimes, when you sneak your hand past the waistband of his briefs, and your fingers tease through the coarse hair, his brain starts to buzz.

In the case of whether or not he cares if you shave, his opinion can be summarized down to this — he does not give a single shit. He cares more that you do what’s comfortable for you rather than what you think he wants.

Whether your pussy looks like a hairless cat or a lions mane, you’ll scream his name.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ I ‣ ‣ INTIMACY { ༝༝ is katsuki romantic? ༝༝ }

Sometimes.

There are times when you need Katsuki to fuck you silly. To push into you so hard it bruises your hips, hands braced on the wall above your head to keep yourself from a concussion.

Other times, his fingers will search for yours and tangle together, ending with them pinned to the mattress. Katsuki’s face will bury itself into your throat, warm breath fanning your neck until it’s damp as his hips flex with the effort of making love to you. The tip of his cock slides across your g-spot and your back arches, tits pressing into his chest. Katsuki’s moan splinters, and he’ll chant “I love you, love you so fuckin’ much,” until your knuckles turn white.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ J ‣ ‣ JERKING OFF { ༝༝ does katsuki jerk off? ༝༝ }

Once, maybe twice a week, in the shower, he’ll curl his fingers around his cock. You’re the star of his show, whether you’re there in reality or not.

Eyes closed, Katsuki will brace a hand on the wall and remember the time you jerked him off in the shower. The memory of hot water on his chest, your soapy tits pressed against his back, and how he met each drag of your hand with a roll of his hips. It’s one of his favorites.

Usually he tries to avoid a mess, so he doesn’t touch himself in bed often. But when he does, he stares at the collection of filthy pictures you’ve sent him. Maybe a video of you sucking his cock, if you felt generous enough to allow him to record one.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ K ‣ ‣ KINK { ༝༝ katsuki’s kinks ༝༝ }

Spanking you, admiring your skin as it swells and burns hot to the touch, always sends heat sinking through Katsuki’s belly and straight to his cock. He wouldn’t do it if you didn’t squirm and cry out, pressing your ass into him to silently ask for more.

Along with spanking, Katsuki will flatten you to the mattress, haul a leg over his shoulder, and latch his fingers around your throat. The feel of your pussy fluttering, reacting as soon as he restricts your air flow, shoots adrenaline down his spine.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ L ‣ ‣ LOCATION { ༝༝ where katsuki likes to fuck ༝༝ }

Your bed is preferred. It’s big, comfortable, affording you the privacy Katsuki demands. He’d chew off his own arm before another person witnesses you unravel for him.

Other than that, he leaves the decision to you. As long as there’s some sort of solitude, and it’s not icky, Katsuki’s more or less fine with it.

You’ll get an earful if he isn’t.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ O ‣ ‣ ORAL { ༝༝ katsuki’s thoughts on oral ༝༝ }

Straddling his face, so slick that he laps at your pussy like an ice cream cone, tongue sliding over your tender clit again and again — that’s what curls pleasure low in Katsuki’s pelvis. Giving him the surreal sensation that he could cum from the slightest brush of his fingers.

When it’s reversed, and you’re the one with the aching jaw and swollen lips, Katsuki’s calloused palm will cup your jaw, thumb running along the bone underneath your eye, and his hips will thrust slowly to meet the fluid motion of your bobbing head. Eventually, Katsuki’s patience will run out, and you’ll be in his lap before he cums.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ Q ‣ ‣ QUICKIES { ༝༝ katsuki and quickies ༝༝ }

Katsuki prefers savoring the moment, so quickies aren’t his favorite. He will though, if you’re both pent up and it’s all the time you have.

It’s not a quickie by definition, but Katsuki enjoys waking you up in the middle of the night, squeezing between your legs and slipping his dick into your sleep soft body to seal you as one. Clinging to him with heavy limbs, moaning in his ear about how good he feels, he brings you both over the edge in no time.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ S ‣ ‣ STAMINA { ༝༝ what’s katsuki’s stamina like? ༝༝ }

Katsuki’s ego would bruise if his stamina was anything less than stellar. To be fair, he’s trained long days and even longer nights to achieve it. Repeatedly working himself to the bone for even an ounce of progress.

But, you make him weak. Katsuki’s man enough to admit there are times when his pleasure wells up so hot, so fast, that the iron grip on his control slips. He can’t help but suck in a sharp breath between his teeth, snap his hips forward and finish inside you.

The saving grace is that he can go multiple rounds without begging for too much of his stamina.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

ᝰ T ‣ ‣ TEASE { ༝༝ does katsuki like to tease you? ༝༝ }

Teasing you until you’re flustered, until your expression is cracked with pleasure, it’s an achievement in Katsuki’s mind. In between the slick rejoining of your hips, when he can catch his breath, he’ll open his mouth and mutter with a rich, low tone “So fuckin’ needy for my cock, yeah? Can’t even go a day without it, you spoiled rotten princess.”

You love to hear Katsuki belongs to you, only you, and he uses that to his advantage to turn you to mush. When he eats you out, he moans, pulling back to stare at you with heavy lidded eyes, teasing you with “You love that I’m a fuckin’ slut for your pussy, don’t you?” The words sink into your skin, a flash of heat slicing through your belly, and the nod of your head is jerky. A few more swipes of his tongue and you’re cumming.

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or reader going to a football game.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ and we’re back!! hi hi hi. sorry for no new part last week, i was busy as hell. ANYWAY we’re finally meeting reader’s friends !! also guess who managed to finish three different fics today… whew.

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

for the next two weeks, not a day went by that you didn't talk to MalachiConstant; the screen time on your phone almost having doubled. most of the time it was just surface-level stuff; talking about your days, about your interests... but at night, it... changed. it became genuine. real. like you were sitting under the stars together, talking about things that actually mattered.

MalachiConstant: y'know MalachiConstant: sometimes i kinda worry that i'm disappointing everyone around me

YOU: how come?

MalachiConstant: idk MalachiConstant: i feel like i'm fucking shit up all the time MalachiConstant: like i'm a screw up and disappoint everyone

YOU: well, i don't know if it helps, but.. YOU: you haven't disappointed me :).

MalachiConstant: knocking on wood

now, you were sitting with your friends at lunch, occasionally glancing down at your phone screen as if beckoning for the stranger to message you, your lips pursed in thought as the group around you kept chatting, wondering why the boy hadn't texted you all day.

"hey, everything okay?" one of your friends, zainab, asked, looking at you with widened eyes, startling you out of your little reverie. you turned to the girl sitting next to you, feigning a small smile, "yeah, everything's okay."

"she's being ghoooosteed." vivian teased you, causing you to roll your eyes.

"ghosted? by who?" emilia asked with excitement, vivian's statement clearly having piqued both her and zainab's interest.

"it's no one."

"she's lying." vivian grinned, drinking some of her iced latte, "she met someone on that website i recommended. kildareuchats. she told me they've been talking for a few weeks now."

"viv, i told you not to say anything." you groaned, hiding your face in your hand, feeling your cheeks warming up, your next words coming out in an awkward mutter, "only reason i told you was because you saw me text him in the first place..."

"whatever. the important thing is," vivian grinned widely, "our friend here thinks that he's a member of the football team."

"how do you figure that?" zainab asked, and you threw your hands up in slight frustration, "well, i don't know it for sure!" you said, "but he keeps talking about how he has practice, and... he does know a lot about football."

"hot. you're e-dating a football player. who would've thought?" emilia snorted, making you throw a singular fry her way. "i'm pretty sure they have a game tonight."

"oooh, we should go support your boyfriend." zainab squeezed your shoulder and you could feel your face turn warm with embarrassment, "we're not going. and he's not my boyfriend..."

"i can't believe i let you three talk me into this..." you grumbled under your breath, pulling your coat closer to your body, feeling the chilly autumn air in your bones as you sat on the bleachers, watching the game you understood nothing about; when you were younger, your father tried to get you into sports, but most of the time you simply snuck in a book so you wouldn't actually have to focus on it.

"don't try to play pretend." vivian nudged your shoulder and drank out of her slushie, "we all know you're dying to see your cyber-boyfriend."

"again, he's not my boyfriend."

"but you wish he was. bet you've already made him in the sims, and you two have a brood of pixel-kids."

"i don't even know what he looks like."

"well, if it is someone from the football team, he's gotta be at least semi-attractive. have you seen their group picture?" emilia snorted, "everyone is somewhere between seven and ten."

"it's definitely not thornton." vivian snorted, "dude has the emotional capacity of a slinky."

"viv, you do know that that's a dig on yourself?" you raised your brows, "don't think any of us forgot what happened between you two."

"jokes on you." the pink-haired girl stuck her tongue out at you, "i've already forgotten all about it."

"that's what happens when you spike your slushie with vodka."

"don't act like you could focus on this shit sober. besides, this is not about who i've slept with. this is about who you're dying to sleep with." vivian winked and took another sip of her slushie.

"well," you pursed your lips in thought, "he's in a fraternity."'

"that does narrow it a little bit..." zainab mumbled, "maybe maybank? i mean, you did have a crush on him for like, the entirety of freshman year."

"it wasn't a crush!" you held your hands up, "it was... a mere fascination. he had nice hair."

"ah, yes. you were having wet dreams about his hair." vivian snorted, and you smacked her forearm, pursing your lips into a pout as you looked at the field, "how about... mason? he's got that whole broody, mysterious smart guy vibe going for him. he definitely reads vonnegut."

"dodge is a pretty valid option. though, i don't know if chatrooms are his style." emilia tsked, "what about the captain? cameron?"

that suggestion caused vivian to snort and smack the other girl's shoulder, "rafe cameron? yeah, he definitely isn't the type to do that. i think his longest relationship was when a girl accidentally fell asleep in his bed after they hooked up, and he was too drunk to kick her out."

your eyes went to number 9, the name 'cameron' written above his number, making you shake your head and look away before you spoke quietly, "this is stupid. i don't need to know who he is. i don't want to know who he is." vivian wrapped her arm around your shoulder, tugging you close in a comforting gesture; you knew there was truth to your words, but you also knew that the reason you didn't want to know the identity of MalachiConstant was that you knew he'd be disappointed to know who you truly are. to know, that the girl he'd called witty and funny several times actually couldn't tell a joke without stuttering.

after the football game ended with your team winning, the four of you were making your way away from the field, only to hear someone calling out behind you

"viv! vivian, wait up!"

you turned your head to look at who was so eager to talk to your friend, a small snort leaving your lips, nudging vivian's side, "viv, it's your slinky." your friend looked at you with furrowed brows, following your line of sight to topper, the girl letting out an exasperated groan, "is it too late to hide?"

"hey, viv." topper gave the girl a lopsided grin that he surely thought was charming, his face slightly red from the game, "you came."

"most of the school came." vivian gave the boy a narrow, feigned smile before taking another slurp out of her slushie, "whatcha want, thornton?"

"well," the blonde scratched the back of his head while emilia, zainab and you grinned at one another, a strange contrast to the unamused expression on the pink-haired girl's face, "we're having a party, at our frat house. you should come if you feel like it."

"i'll think about it."

"you can bring your friends." topper glanced at the three of you briefly before his focus was fully on vivian once again, "hope to see you there."

"maybe." vivian said, turning around and continuing to walk away, the three of you following behind her, trying your best to control your laughter, "don't say a thing." she warned.

"come on, you've gotta come with me." vivian pouted, spinning around in your office chair, "i can't go alone, z doesn't do parties and em has an essay to finish."

"you know i don't do parties either." you mumbled, absentmindedly stroking angel's soft fur while shopping online for a birthday gift for vivian, "i think i'd suffer a stroke if i even tried to go to a frat party, of all things."

"please! i can't go alone, because then i'll end up hooking up with topper again."

"then just don't go."

"but then i'll have fomo! you know i love parties, i live for-"

YOU HAVE RECEIVED A MESSAGE ON KILDAREUCHATS FROM MalachiConstant. CLICK HERE TO OPEN.

you tuned out everything vivian was saying, instantly clicking the pop-up.

MalachiConstant: whatcha up to?

YOU: nothing much. YOU: trying to stop this annoying wasp from buzzing in my ear

MalachiConstant: a... wasp?

YOU: my friend. YOU: she's trying to get me to go to a party with her. YOU: it's essentially a babysitting gig, though.

MalachiConstant: one party won't hurt you MalachiConstant: wallflower

YOU: how do you know? YOU: what if i have a stroke the moment i step foot into that place?

MalachiConstant: c'mon MalachiConstant: what do you have to lose?

YOU: my dignity.

MalachiConstant: ah, yes. the dignified grandma. MalachiConstant: hey, if the party sucks you can just stand in some corner and send me messages MalachiConstant: might not answer immediately cause i also have a party

YOU: oooh, another frat party?

MalachiConstant: you know me so well MalachiConstant: i dare you to go, poe girl

YOU: this isn't elementary school.

MalachiConstant: i triple-dog dare you

you pursed your lips in thought, looking to vivian and narrowing your eyes at the girl, a pleading look on her face. you groaned, shaking your head in defeat and rolling your eyes, "fine, i'll come with you. but i have nothing to wear."

"don't worry." vivian jumped up from her seat with a victorious smile, ruffling your hair, "you're lucky i'm your fairy slut-mother. with piles and piles of slutty dresses and skirts. i'll go get us something to wear!"

you watched as the girl made her way out of your dorm, her long hair bouncing along with her "nothing too slutty!" you called out after her, before turning back to your computer.

YOU: if i die, i'm blaming you.

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr

[karaeilish]

★ #ruined; b. eilish

★ g!p fuckboy!billie x reader

★ smut `

“don’t you fucking dare do that, o'connell”

that was what you said to her with the most serious expression you could manage, hoping that for once in her life she’d listen to you. but this was billie fucking eilish.

she nodded, slapping your ass to get you to crawl into the backseat of the newest model audi she owned, kneeling between her legs. no matter how cool she acted, you could always see the nervousness in her every bite of her lip, the way her fingers tugged impatiently at the belt loops of her baggy jeans. all for you.

“baby, hurry up. don’t wanna be late for the party” she teases, and you roll your eyes, but reach for her belt buckle, making short work of it as quickly as you did the zip of her pants, pulling them down to her ankles. the fabric of her red boxers's stained dark with pre-cum, the sight makes you smile.

you lean down, pressing your cheek to her clothed cock, slowly beginning to kiss her entire length as she grips the leather upholstery of the seats, growling.

"want me that bad?" you tease, hands coming up to stroke her until she shivers under your touch.

"fuck, princess, use that pretty mouth of yours for something more useful," she says in one breath, but it's not enough. "please, baby, i need you. will you be a good girl f'me, mm?"

you giggle, the corners of your lips lifting into a playful smile, and it pisses her off, how much you affect her. "see, you could always just ask nicely" her boxers finally join her pants and your eyes fall to her cock, standing between her legs. the tip's already leaking and your mouth's already watering.

the pad of your middle finger touches the head of her cock gently and billie twitches like she's been electrocuted, trying to hold back all those whines sitting in her throat. "baby, just take this fucking cock in your pretty mouth, i beg you"

well, how can you refuse her?

licking your lips one last time, you tuck your hair behind your ears, leaning down to lick a stripe down her length, starting at the base until your tongue touches the swollen head of her cock. billie groans. low, rough, immediately grabbing your head with her right hand to guide you down. you don't resist.

"fuck—fuck, baby,” she moans, mouth falling open in an attempt to say something constructive, but all she can do is whine and whimper your name, talking about how good you are.

you move with precision, relaxing your throat to take all nine thick inches into your mouth, gagging slightly but never stopping because you know how good she feels when you stroke her so perfectly.

your right hand comes up to cup the base of her dick, feeling how hard she’s throbbing and twitching under your grip, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

“fuck!” she screams, loudly, as you start to jerk her off, giving double stimulation to her—oh, poor sensitive cock.

it’s just such a pleasure to watch her gasp and writhe, leaning forward, gripping the back of the seat in front of her so hard her knuckles are turning white. the palm of her hand presses harder on your head, your mouth working relentlessly until her thighs begin to clench around your body, trapping you in a way that signals how close she is.

"i—i'm gonna.." her voice is completely broken by her approaching orgasm, and before you can process it, she pulls out. stroking herself a few times, before thick ropes of her cum fall all over your face, completely ruining your makeup.

you almost choke, feeling it everywhere. dripping down your chin and onto your chest.

she smirks, falling back into the seat completely spent, while you're still between her legs, ready to kill her.

"what the hell, billie?! i told you not to do that!" you scream, and she can't do anything but lean back into you, her thumb gathering some of her release and pushing it straight into your mouth, making you suck on her finger. "sorry baby, i totally forgot you asked for this in the beginning"

such a bitch.

౨ৎ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworl

[runawayrafetrain]

wyd babe hope u doing great

can u write abt the way pregnant!reader feels insecure abt her stretch mark & changing body... like she start shutting her body off (e. g. changing her clothes in bathroom, lock the bathroom while she shower (its not usual)). rafe is slowly noticing it nd ask her whats wrong

Hockeyplayer!rafe x pregnantwife!reader

Warnings: insecurities, mentions of sex

Content: hurt/comfort, angst

Not proof read

You've already had one baby and now you're pregnant with your second one. Yeah your body is going to change but you never expected this much. Weight gain, stretch marks, more cellulite, and you're pretty sure your hair is thinning.

It was just small changes at first, going to the bathroom to change, asking rafe to turn off the lights during sex, wearing less short dresses and shorts. Now you and rafe aren't intimate at all and you lock the door every time you shower so he can't join you.

You hope he doesn't notice but you hear him sigh every time he tries to join you in the shower and it's locked, you see him staring at the pants and long dresses you where. He looks sad when he walks into your shared bedroom to find you looking at yourself in the mirror which you quickly take a few steps back from and sit on the bed.

Today you're in the kitchen, it's the off season so you two get to stay home with your daughter And soon you'll get to stay home with both babies. You're trying, unsuccessfully, to make cake pops. You have the chocolate, frosting, and crumbled up cake. While you're dipping the balls into chocolate rafe comes up behind you

He wraps his arms around you. He can barely interlock his fingers over you and you almost start crying. He's kissing your neck now. "I'm almost done with the cake pops..."

"Mmm, that's not why I came in here"

"what is it then?"

"are you okay?" Your heart drops, he's asking about the changes. "I'm always okay"

"stop..."

"what?"

"just tells me what's wrong. Why do you never want to have sex? Why do you always lock the bathroom door? Why do you never want to be around me?"

"I do want to be around you I'm just... Not pretty enough for you anymore"

"what the hell are you talking about"

Your face is wet, before your tears reach the food you wipe your face.

"come on" he tugs you back by your waist

"what?"

"we're going to our room, having sex, with the lights on, and I'm going to make you beautiful. The cake pops can wait, let's go."

Tags: @angelpoguesofia, @yesshewrites1, @suzuki-18

[pazzi5351]

Make it to the morning

“The shit I did last night I’m not real proud of, but let’s just make it to the mornin”

Word count: 1.8k

AN: I was listening to this song and was like “holy shit this would be good” I sincerely apologize for what I’m abt to write and what ur abt to read (I AM SO SORRY OH MY GOSH I SWEAR)

Warning: 18+

————————————————————————————

The bar was loud, hot, and heavy with bodies, but Paige only had eyes for Azzi.

She leaned in behind her, lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear, breath warm as her hand curled around Azzi’s waist possessively.

“You look too good tonight mami,” Paige murmured. Her voice was low, rough from beer and want.

Azzi smiled, head tilted back just slightly. “You told me that already,” she said, a little breathless.

“Doesn’t make it less true.” Paige’s hand dipped lower, fingers playing just under the hem of Azzi’s crop top. “I jus’— can’t help myself ‘round you.”

They’d been doing this for weeks now—hookups behind closed doors, secret touches at parties, makeouts in the empty locker room. It was supposed to be just fun. Easy. They never talked about it. That was the rule.

Until now.

Because Paige had her hand on Azzi’s waist one second… and the next, she was laughing with some girl. Her old hookup. Brunette. Tight dress. Bold. Shameless. And touching Paige like she had a right to.

Azzi’s heart twisted. She felt it before she even fully saw it—before the girl touched Paige’s chest, before Paige leaned in just a little too close, smiling like she didn’t just have her hand down Azzi’s pants two nights ago.

Fine.

Two can play this game.

Azzi drifted over to the edge of the bar. Her hips swayed a little more than usual as she struck up a conversation with the guy next to her—cute, tall, dimples. He leaned in fast. Then another girl joined, sliding up behind Azzi and laughing into her drink.

Azzi laughed too, hand brushing the girl’s arm. She could feel Paige’s eyes on the back of her head like lasers on her.

A beat later, Paige was there.

She slid in behind Azzi with a sharpness that made the air tighten. Her hand glided around Azzi’s waist, fingers on her like she owned her. Her voice was low, dangerous.

“Who are you talking to?”

Azzi didn’t turn. She just sipped her drink, slow and petty.

“Go talk to your little ex or whatever the fuck,” she said, cold. “Looked like you were having fun.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “The fuck did you just say?”

Azzi turned now, eyes narrowing, fire flickering under the surface.

“You heard me.” She smiled, bitter. “You’re all over me, then suddenly you’re back in slut ‘player P’ mode the second someone gives you an ounce of attention. So yeah—fuck you.”

That did it. Paige’s fingers gripped tighter around Azzi’s waist, her breath coming harder through her nose.

“You wanna talk your shit mama?” she said, bitter.. “Cool. Let’s go.”

She pulled Azzi with her, not even letting her finish her drink.

They slammed into the single-stall bathroom, the door clicking locked behind them. Paige had Azzi against the wall in two seconds flat, one hand gripping her waist, the other wrapped tight around her throat—not choking, just… stilling.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Paige’s voice was low, her eyes blown wide with anger and something darker. “Flirting with two people in front of me? You know you’re fucking mine Az. Don’t fucking play with me.”

Azzi’s breath caught. Her pulse thundered under Paige’s hand. Her body betrayed her—heat blooming between her legs, knees going weak. But her pride held firm.

“You did the same shit,” she hissed. “You make me feel fucking stupid, Paige. Every time I think this could be more than just… this. Whatever the hell this is,” Her voice cracked at the edge. “You make me feel fucking replaceable. Like I’m a goddamn option.”

She shoved Paige off her and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Paige stood there, dazed, chest heaving, guilt washing over her in a wave so strong it nearly knocked her over. She had feelings.

Fuck. She had real feelings.

She chased after Azzi, catching her before she reached the door. Her arms wrapped around Azzi’s waist from behind, holding her still.

“Lemme make it up to you, mama,” she whispered, lips close to Azzi’s ear. “Please. I promise… you won’t regret it.”

Azzi was still breathing hard, but she didn’t pull away.

The Uber ride to Azzi’s dorm was a blur of hands and heat.

Paige couldn’t stop touching her—fingertips dragging over Azzi’s bare thighs through the rips of her jeans, palm gripping the soft curve of her waist, thumb brushing just beneath the waistband of her pants.

Azzi’s breath stuttered every time Paige’s hand got close to her pussy.

Their mouths crashed together like magnets. Paige kissed her like she was trying to win her back with lips alone—deep, wet, hungry. Azzi moaned softly into her mouth, pulling Paige’s hair as Paige slid her tongue past her lips.

“I’m sorry,” Paige breathed between kisses, pressing hot kisses down Azzi’s neck. “The shit I pulled tonight was fucked up. I’m not proud of it.” Her voice dropped as she kissed just above Azzi’s collarbone. “But let me show you. I can get you right.”

Azzi melted under her, nodding, unable to speak.

Back at Azzi’s dorm, clothes came off fast.

Paige had Azzi through the door as soon as it was unlocked.

Paige shoved her back onto the bed, climbed over her like she owned her.

Azzi tried to flip them, voice teasing. “What if I want to ride you tonight?”

Paige just smirked, grabbed both of Azzi’s wrists and pinned them above her head.

“I told you mami,” she said, voice dark with promise, “I’m making it up to you.”

Paige moved down between Azzi’s legs, kissing every inch of her skin, slow and reverent like she was worshipping her. She licked long and slow over Azzi’s pussy, teasing her until Azzi was gasping, squirming under her.

“Paige,” she whined.

“Mhm?” Paige hummed against her, the vibration making Azzi buck her hips.

“You’re… it’s like— you’re trying to make it to morning doing this.”

Paige paused for a beat, grinned, and pressed her mouth back down with more purpose.

“I might just do that,” she said, voice thick with want. “You deserve it, baby.”

And she did.

All night long.

Azzi’s legs trembled against Paige’s shoulders, the sheets beneath her already twisted from how hard she’d been clutching them.

Paige didn’t stop—not when Azzi whimpered, not when she begged. If anything, it just fueled her. Her tongue moved slow and firm, circling Azzi’s clit with relentless precision. Every flick, every moan, every graze of Paige’s nails down Azzi’s thighs felt like she was trying to write her name into Azzi’s body.

Azzi’s fingers curled in Paige’s hair, tugging just enough to make Paige groan into her, and the sound made Azzi’s whole body jolt.

“Fuck,” Azzi gasped, hips grinding against Paige’s mouth. “I’m gonna—”

“I know ma,” Paige murmured, voice vibrating against her. “Give it to me, baby.”

She flattened her tongue and sucked gently around Azzi’s clit while sliding two fingers inside her with practiced ease. Azzi’s eyes rolled back, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm hit—loud, breathless, raw. Paige held her down through it, eyes locked on her face, watching the way Azzi completely unraveled just for her.

And still, she didn’t stop.

Azzi twitched, overstimulated, as Paige’s tongue started its slow circles again.

“P-Paige, wait—”

“I told you,” Paige said, licking her lips as she looked up. “I’m not done.”

She kissed up Azzi’s stomach, licking a stripe between her breasts, before leaning in to kiss her—deep, tongue tasting Azzi’s moans, her own cheeks flushed with heat and dominance.

Azzi was limp under her, but her fingers were already slipping down to Paige’s ass, trying to pull her closer. “Ride my thigh,” she whispered, breath still jagged. “Want you to come too.”

But Paige grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the bed again, her mouth just barely brushing Azzi’s.

“You’re not giving me anything tonight,” she growled. “You’re taking it. And you’ll like it.”

Azzi shuddered at the authority in her voice. Paige kissed her again, harder, teeth grazing Azzi’s bottom lip before moving back down—kissing across her inner thighs this time, slower, savoring.

“Open ‘em,” Paige said.

Azzi’s legs opened automatically. She was soaked, thighs glistening, still catching her breath from her last orgasm.

Paige smirked and slid three fingers into her this time.

Azzi gasped, head falling back. “F-fuck, Paige.”

“That’s right,” Paige murmured, curling her fingers up into that perfect spot that made Azzi’s mouth fall open without sound. “You’re mine, remember that shit.”

She worked her fingers deeper, thumb back on Azzi’s clit, stroking in rhythm as Azzi came again—legs shaking, voice cracking on Paige’s name.

Then Paige pulled her up, flipping her onto her stomach, gripping her hips and dragging her to the edge of the bed. She leaned over her back, pressing kisses to her spine before biting her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. One for just them to see.

“You feel so fucking good baby,” she said, grinding against her from behind. Her hands roamed everywhere—over Azzi’s ass, her back, up to her wrists that Paige pinned again on her back.

She bent low, licking over Azzi’s inner thigh from behind, then started eating her out again from that angle—slow, messy, filthy.

Azzi could barely keep herself upright.

It was too much. And not enough.

By the time Paige finally let her turn back around, Azzi was flushed and breathless, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glassy with want. Totally fucked out.

Paige hovered over her, kissed her slowly, then slid two fingers into Azzi again while keeping deep eye contact.

“Want you to come in my mouth one more time,” she said softly. “Then I want you to fall asleep knowing you’re mine. Got it?”

Azzi nodded, dazed.

“You gotta say it.”

“I’m yours,” Azzi whispered, completely ruined. “I’m fucking yours.”

Paige went down on her again—this time even slower, deeper, more drawn out. She sucked Azzi’s clit into her mouth, circled her tongue while curling her fingers inside, and didn’t stop until Azzi came again, legs wrapped around Paige’s head, crying out her name with a rawness that echoed through the dorm.

Azzi collapsed backward, panting, trembling.

Paige climbed up next to her, kissed her temple, then her shoulder, then the bruises she’d left along her neck and chest.

“You good, baby?” she asked, voice quieter now, fingers stroking Azzi’s hip.

Azzi just nodded, melted into the sheets. “You trying to kill me?”

Paige smirked. “I told you I was making it up to you.”

They lay there in silence for a moment, Azzi curled into Paige’s side, Paige’s hand stroking slowly over her back.

“You’re mine,” Paige said again, quieter this time.

Azzi didn’t say anything. But her hand slid across Paige’s chest, fingers curling in the front of her hoodie like she was scared she might disappear.

————————————————————————————

AN: I’m a slut i sincerely apologize. I’m gonna go touch grass.

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

PART TWO

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: lmaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago 😭 also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage lmao.

PART ONE | PART THREE

The princess of hell along with her girlfriend was just settling in the guest room heaven provided for them temporarily as they had an important meeting with them.

Charlie and Vaggie stopped talking as their was a knock on their door, “Who do you think is it?” Charlie asked and Vaggie shrugged and Charlie decided to open the door.

There stood a rather tall female angel with three pairs of wings and a golden halo on her head, the short white dress accompanied by gold compliments the woman's figure beautifully.

Safe to say both Charlie and Vaggie were mesmerized, the woman before them was drop dead gorgeous. Though, Vaggie was still cautious, despite a former angel, she doesn't know who this woman is as some seraphim angels tend to not show themselves to the lower ranking aside from Sera.

“Are you Princess Charlotte? The daughter of Lucifer?” the woman asked with her [e/c] eyes sparkling in excitement, the woman quickly placed her hands over her mouth in embarrassment, “Oh! Sorry for the intrusion, I forgot to introduce myself,” she says with a small smile before giving the two girls a curt bow, “My name is [y/n], a seraphim. It's a pleasure to meet you two.”

Charlie gave her a big grin, giving the woman a curt bow. The princess of hell decided to trust her as she couldn't sense any bad intentions from the older woman and to her, the name [y/n] sounded awfully familiar, she just forgot where she had heard it before. “It is so nice to meet you, I am Charlotte but you can call me Charlie.” Charlie said and [y/n] just grinned as Vaggie decided to just watch the two, still cautious. The older woman's eyes landed on Vaggie and she gave her a grin, “And who might you be?” she asked her and Vaggie just glared at her before avoiding her gaze, “Vaggie.”

[Y/n] just grins, her eyes analyzing the gray haired woman before letting out a small hum before shifting her gaze to the princess. [Y/n]'s heart ached a little to see how much the girl looked exactly like her father. [Y/n] misses him, she wished she did something that could have prevented his fall. Regrets always comes last. She took a deep breath then once more wore a bright smile on her face. Charlie noticed the shift of her mood but decided not to question it.

“So Charlie, I came here as I was curious what your plan for hell is about.” [y/n] says softly, she wasn't there during the meeting Lucifer requested for hell and this time, she promised to be there for his daughter instead. Charlie's eyes sparkled excitedly, excited that an angel aside from that bitch ass Adam would finally listen to her. “Really?!” The princess asked excitedly and [y/n] can only let out a soft chuckle, “Of course, why don't we take a walk while you tell me about it? Your friend can join us too.”

Charlie calmed down and gave the older woman a smile, “Vaggie here is actually my girlfriend.” she says, expecting the older woman to judge her but she was surprised when [Y/n] just ruffled her hair. “My apologies, I didn't know.”

The younger girls were surprised, that an angel didn't show any disgust to their relationship and she even looked like she approved.

“Now then, how about that walk?”

“And that's what I'm planning, I wished for my people to find redemption and join heaven.” Charlie explained softly, taking a bite of her strawberry cheesecake. Both [y/n] and Charlie sat in a rather peaceful cafe in heaven, angelic sigils circling around them as [y/n] casted them for their privacy. [Y/n] can only smile as she listens to the younger girl who rambles about her plans for her people, [y/n] can't help but remember how similar Charlie is to her father, oh heavens... She missed him so much.

Vaggie didn't join them unfortunately, she said that she wanted to rest a little bit in the guest room.

[y/n] gracefully placed down the cup of coffee she was sipping and gently wiping her lips with a napkin, “That is truly admirable Charlie, to see you have so much hope for your people really reminds me of your father. I really hope it will come to life.” the compliment was almost enough for Charlie to burst into tears, to hear someone praise her plans and believe in it, it felt like a mother praising her.

Though, she was able to stop her tears as she realizes something. Reminds me of your father. [Y/n] and her dad knew each other.

Then Charlie remembers, the stories her dad told her about heaven and the stories he told her about his closest angel friend—the only one who believed in him. She remembers thinking that she felt her dad loved that angel in one way or another, with how fondly he spoke of her—with so much adoration.

“I remember now, you were my father's best friend!” Charlie gasped, a hand over her mouth and [y/n] can only chuckle, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Were? I still think of him as my best friend.” She chuckles softly, “Though, I don't blame him if he doesn't think the same way as I wasn't able to help him back then.” she continues sadly and Charlie had to wave her arms around to stop her, “Nonono, my father doesn't think like that. You're still his best friend.” Charlie reassured the older woman.

“Really now? How is he these days? I haven't heard from him after so many eons.” [y/n] asked softly with a slight chuckle and Charlie can only sigh with a small smile on her face, “Well... He's still how he usually is. Kind, trying his best for me, and lately he had an obsession with making rubber ducks.” she says with a small giggle making the older woman chuckle, “Thay sounds like him, though surprised that he still loved ducks. He used to ramble to me about random duck facts when he was still here. He was such a dork, I truly missed him.” [y/n] says with a chuckle, a longing look in her eyes.

Charlie was able to put two and two together, her father and this woman loved each other and she can only assume they didn't confess in the fear of ruining their friendship. Charlie loves her parents but a part of her is hoping in a different universe, her father and [y/n] are happy together.

Charlie decided not to mention it to the woman and just continued hanging out with the older woman. “I am sure he misses you too.”

“The meeting will start in a few hours and Charlie?” [y/n] says softly before summoning a wax sealed white envelope out of thin air, gold sparkling from where the envelope is as it slowly falls into her hands. Charlie looked at her in curiosity, “Can I ask you a favor?” [y/n] asked her hesitantly and Charlie just nodded, “Of course!”

“Can I ask you a favor of delivering this letter to Lucifer?” She asked and gently extended her hand towards the younger girl in which the girl accepted the letter and placed it in her chest pocket. “Of course! My father would be delighted to hear from you.”

“Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate it dearly.” [y/n] smiled softly as she stood up from her seat, extending her hand to help the hell princess up from her seat. “Now, let me walk you back to your room so you can get ready for your meeting.”

Now the princess of hell wishes the other angels were just as understanding as [y/n]. Even though the meeting didn't go as planned, she felt reassured as both Emily and [y/n] were there in the court room.

“What are we even talkin' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.” Lute sneers with an annoyed glare, putting on her mask. Though, Charlie can feel her patience thinning, her eyes glaring at the angels.

The other angels looking down on the scene happening below, [y/n] looking worried for her while glaring at Adam and Lute. “There's no question to be posed, he's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that 'Hell is forever'?” Adam and Lute sang mockingly and [y/n] could feel her anger starting to boil. She always hated Adam, that egoistical prick, she looked up at Sera as if asking her to stop this nonsense.

“A man only lives once, we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to—” Adam sang and [y/n] noticed Sera getting worried, “Adam.” Sera says sternly but it seems the man was too busy to hear her, “Come down and exterminate you!”

At that moment, loud ringing was only what [y/n] heard as she was shocked to hear him say that. Exterminate...? Don't tell me...? [Y/n] asked herself before glaring at Sera, the other angels were also shocked by the reveal.

“Wait!” Emily exclaimed, shocked by the reveal and Adam just noticed his slip up, “Shit.”

“What are you saying? Let me get this straight, you go down there and kill those poor souls?” Emily asked, horrified as she slowly flies down towards Charlie, holding her hand, “You didn't know?” Charlie asked and Emily shook her head. “Whoops!” Adam says, not a care in the world, “Guess the cat's out of the bag.” Lute says with a smirk, “What's the big deal?” Adam asked with a condescending smirk and [y/n] wished she could go down there and punch him.

“Sera, tell me that you didn't know...” both Emily and [y/n] asked simultaneously, though, Sera was just looking at Emily. [Y/n] was pissed at this whole revelation, human souls are killed in heaven by the hands that are supposed to be pure holiness. To think about blood staining those hands, fills her with disgust.

The whole courtroom was a mess, [y/n] doesn't remember what exactly happened. The reveal that Vaggie was an angel didn't surprise her, she can sense the girl's angelic blood but the reveal that Sera was the one who ordered for the extermination to happen, filled her with rage.

“Charlie! Don't lose hope! We will find a way to help you!” Emily says as we watched Vaggie and Charlie be sucked by a portal back to hell, “Don't give up! We'll find a way!” [y/n] added, making sure the two girls heard. Sera glared at her and [y/n] glared back.

That's what Charlie last saw, Emily looking worried and disappointed but what worried her was Sera and [y/n] started arguing, angelic powers starting to spark between them and that was the last thing she saw as she returned back in hell. Thankfully, the letter was safe in her pocket.

[jk97]

Unprofessional Attraction | ONE

♡ pairing - yunho x afab!reader ♡ word count - 13K ♡ series synopsis - There's no such thing as a coincidence, right? CollegeSenior!Reader (22) and linguistics teacher Yunho Jeong (27) indulge in an entanglement of inappropriate gravitation. It's risky and it's wrong, but listening to one's better judgment never leads to anything as intoxicating. When someone threatens this secret relationship with blackmail to expose the truth, things take a turn for the worse. Graduation can't seem to come fast enough. ♡ warnings for this chapter - fluff and explicit content (mdni), slight age gap, teacher/student relationship, other members are featured, pining, some obsessive behavior and manipulation (mainly from reader), drinking alcohol, inebriated driving (big no no frens!) perverted!yunho, bigdick!yunho, sprinkles of praise, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (mention of bc pill tho), porn with plot  ♡ A/N - part one is kinda tame, the next two parts will have more explicit scenes. I hope you enjoy, and please look forward to the rest! I haven't posted a fic on tumblr in many years so pls be kind ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Yeosang is too attentive, especially when it comes to his best friend.

That’s why he knows you well enough to call you out when he whispers, “You’re staring again.”

“I’m staring at the whiteboard, pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to do in class,” you argue, not bothering to even glance at him. It’s quite obvious that your eyes are too busy soaking in things that don’t have to do with phonology.

Your linguistics teacher, Yunho Jeong, is dressed particularly charmingly today. Something about the tight-fitting white polo shirt and chocolate brown slacks he has on this class is too distracting. It doesn’t help that his hair is a little more messy than usual, you wonder if he was running late this morning. Linguistics has nothing to do with your major, however, for your final semester in college, you simply needed a filler class for your last few credits. Yeosang suggested joining him in this class so you could both support each other, but he never factored in the fact that you’d be too distracted by the teacher to do anything of use for him. There weren’t many younger teachers such as Yunho at your university; in fact, you were pretty sure this was only his second semester teaching in general. He was generally a mild-mannered and easygoing teacher, but he was also able to command a room when necessary.

A minute later, Yunho offers everyone a 10-minute break since the last section of his lecture lasted a little longer than he anticipated, and the class immediately breaks out into chatter.

“He’s single, you know,” Yeosang turns towards you and props up his head on his palm, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Don’t tell me things like that, you’ll make me delusional.”

He doesn’t miss the goofy smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your tired limbs from too much sitting. The lectures for this class were two hours long, but they were only twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays, so you couldn’t complain too much.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That I might have a chance with him,” you nudge him playfully.

“I’m not sure he’d want to date someone barely passing his own class,” Yeosang quips quickly, subsequently squeezing his eyes shut when you flick his forehead in response.

“Watch your mouth, I am not ‘barely passing’!” You return your eyes to the subject of your conversation, slowly taking in his form, “For the record, I could definitely pull him if I tried to. You think he likes younger women?”

“That is a terrible idea,” your best friend immediately shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Surely I would be guaranteed to pass then though, no?” you offer instead, half-joking.

“You haven’t gotten laid in the last month and this is the first person that comes to your mind to fix that?” Yeosang scoffs incredulously.

“I wouldn’t just be in it for the sex,” you clarify. Your keen eyes watch his every move, from the way that his large hands flex as he thumbs at his phone to the way he purses his lips in curiosity at whatever he’s looking up. Like a lion stalking a gazelle before pouncing. “He’s quite literally perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, financially stable… the whole package. I deserve a man like that, right Yeo?”

You meet Yeosang’s eyes curiously, and he reminds you, “I think you’re forgetting he’s our teacher .”

“We graduate soon,” you whine, “Act now, worry later. I could graduate with a boyfriend already lined up the minute I get handed my degree.”

“You’re playing with fire, ____,” he holds his hands up in surrender. As your best friend, he knows you’re not joking, despite how much you might play it off later. He knows that once you set your mind on something, you generally don’t stop until it’s achieved, “Let’s see you try, though. It’ll be entertaining.”

When class resumes, you listen to the rest of his lecture with renewed cravings and an unusually optimistic disposition Yeosang has never seen you hold for this subject.

From that moment forward, every instance you “stumbled” across your teacher was planned. You figured out which parking lot he parked his car on during the day and bought a proper parking pass for that lot, now alternating between taking the shuttle and your car to the university. Your schedules crossed occasionally on your driving days, and you’d simply offer warm greetings or cheerful send-offs depending on the time of day. Yunho was a man of habit who visited the same campus restaurant nearly every day he worked during lunchtime in between his midday classes. It didn’t take much energy to stop by a couple of days a week and run into Yunho, giving you the ability to strike up a conversation or two when asking for recommendations on what you should order. These instances were simply to put you more on his radar, instead of just being a face in the sea of students in his class.

He seems to be good friends with two other teachers who are also around his age, teachers Seonghwa Park and San Choi. You wonder if getting in their good graces would somehow transfer to your teacher, by word of mouth. Luckily, you have a friend who has Mr. Park for a history seminar. On a Sunday night, you shoot a text to set the stage.

  [Y/N: Jongho!!!! It’s been so long since we’ve hung out :(( Can I swing by your class tomorrow and pick you up? Let’s get lunch!]

When 2 PM rolls around on Monday, you make the mistake of trusting the shuttle to come on time. It’s nearly 3 PM when you get to the necessary building, and you’re sure Jongho’s class ended close to half an hour ago. The plan to run across Mr. Park is thrown completely out of the window, you are only worried about Jongho being upset with you. You know he’d never, but still. Being late to something planned ahead of time always upsets you to no end. You curse at yourself over and over every stride down the hall, and it’s good that the hallways are virtually empty or else you’d probably look crazy. Eventually, you make it to your destination.

You’re just about to blindly call out an apology to Jongho but end up stopping dead in your tracks as soon as you enter the door; not only is Mr. Park in the room seated at his desk, but he’s also accompanied by Mr. Choi and Mr. Jeong. They’re huddled together, Yunho leaning against the whiteboard leisurely with a cup of coffee in his hand while intently listening to Seonghwa complain about the registrar’s office fucking up another one of his student’s enrollment for his class.

“There she is,” Jongho sighs this aloud as if his prayers have been answered.

He didn’t know if you were going to still make it and he’s dying of hunger from skipping breakfast. Immediately, all three men’s eyes turn towards the entrance. You pray to God that your face isn’t flushed with how hot you feel being the fixation of so many eyes. Or maybe it’s more so how handsome the men are that those eyes are coming from. This surely isn’t the time to have such a weakness for a strapping man in a button-up and crisp slacks.

“Hello, ____,” Yunho is the first of the three to speak. Subsequently, San amiably nods toward you in acknowledgment.

“Good afternoon all,” you greet everyone, bashfully adding, “I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“Not interrupting at all,” Seonghwa waves his hands, dispelling those fears, “We were curious why Jongho was sticking back so late. He assured us a friend was coming to get him and we just chose not to leave him.”

Well, this is embarrassing. You nod hastily and glance toward Jongho, who is practically skipping down the lecture hall’s steps. Yunho wants to crack a joke about seeing you everywhere, about how you both must be magnets or something else silly, but he decides to keep that to himself. He doesn’t want it to seem like he’s keeping track of course, even if he is.

Instead, he affirms to the other men, “This is a student of mine.”

Admittedly, your ears had tuned every other word out except “mine”, and you nodded a little too enthusiastically. You haven’t been this discomposed in a long time, too bashful to look any of them in the eyes, and you pray it’s not showing too much elsewhere. Jongho’s friendly hand landing on your shoulder grounds you.

“You ready?”

“Absolutely,” you puff out.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for her, Jongho,” Seonghwa pokes a bit of fun at one of his top students, who replies by waving him away and scoffing. They seem to be relaxed with each other— this is something you desire to achieve with Yunho soon. You snatch up your friend’s hand and finally move to leave for lunch, if it could even be considered that now with how late it is.

“See you Wednesday, Mr. Jeong,” you look back and shoot him a wave, accompanied by a charming smile. He nods back, offering you his own as well.

Unbeknownst to you, San’s eyes follow you out the door with Jongho, especially surveying the plush of your thighs rubbing together as you walk. Such as yourself, skirts are surely a weakness of his.

“She’s a senior, right?” he murmurs, half-jokingly.

“Stop it,” Yunho promptly elbows San in the arm, earning a stifled laugh from Seonghwa.

Yunho has heard stories about San’s slight affinity with the pretty college women when he goes out to bars on the weekends. Nobody from his own classes, of course. Needless to say, Yunho would not let him even think about you that way. No way in hell.

“I was just asking, Jesus.”

Seonghwa stretches his limbs from his chair, “It’s never ‘just asking’ with you.”

“You buy a table of women drinks one time and your friends never let you hear the end of it,” he groans with a roll of his eyes, “God you guys are the worst.”

“Yeah, sure, that’s what it is,” Seonghwa concedes sarcastically.

“Just don’t make any unannounced visits to my classroom anytime soon, you buffoon,” Yunho chastises him while pressing his cup to his lips, “And I’m serious.”

“You got that,” San yields, “Wouldn’t wanna be a cock-block.”

Yunho nearly spits his coffee, “I beg your pardon?”

San nearly doubles over in laughter and, to Yunho’s surprise, Seonghwa has joined in. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the look they’re sharing and it makes the back of his neck burn with heat. Yunho doesn’t know why he’s so embarrassed but he steers the conversation away from discussing you any further. He ignores the feeling of indignation and possessiveness pooling in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for you to decide you’ve done what needed to be done outside of the classroom; the cherry on top now was simply to get him alone more privately.

You didn’t have to try very hard for this to happen; your work on your paper outline was already sub-par at best. You did fairly well on the quizzes and packets he passed out once a week, but that final paper preparation was surely going to be a challenge. When you find enough courage in yourself to email him about seeing him during his office hours for extra academic help on formatting your paper and choosing a more concise topic, he replies quickly and enthusiastically. According to your syllabus, the topic should relate to what you’re studying for your degree, but the real meat and potatoes of the paper should incorporate an aspect of linguistics in relation to your career path. Yunho understands how something like this can be difficult to tackle, so he assures you not to worry and that you both will work on perfecting it in no time.

“Mr. Jeong, do you mind if I text you instead? It’s more convenient for me than to email,” you end up asking him at the end of class on a Friday.

Yunho doesn’t mind this and he says so; he's put his phone number on the syllabus for situations like this. Moreover, he doesn’t think anything of it when he receives a text from you the morning of your first session telling him good morning and saying that you’re excited to finally get some guidance. You follow up by asking how he likes his coffee, and if he prefers muffins or donuts. Even after this indicator, he’s still surprised that you show up at his office right on time at 10 AM on Monday with two fresh cups of coffee and a couple of things from the campus bakery.

His office is fairly small, but not enough to feel uncomfortable. He’s decorated it to his liking though to make it feel a little more homely on the days he has to stay late for one reason or another. He watches you marvel at his space before you set down everything in your hands and relieve yourself of your backpack.

“Good morning!”

“Good morning ____, welcome in,” Yunho smiles. “You’re very punctual.”

“Of course, I meant what I said about being excited,” you tell him honestly, settling into the seat in front of his desk, “The right one is yours, by the way.”

Yunho timidly thanks you before sliding it closer to himself. He’s never had a student do something for him like this, then again he hasn’t been teaching that long to begin with. Regardless, he appreciates it and the gesture goes straight to his heart. He takes a sip to emphasize this.

“I’m all ready when you are,” you proclaim, clasping your hands together.

With that, he begins to look through his folders for your class number and finds the topic idea and outlines you’ve submitted previously. He doesn’t even have to look for your name specifically, you always tend to write his name and your class section in a particular way on the top of your work that is very appealing and oddly unique.

“You have really pretty handwriting,” Yunho murmurs out absentmindedly when he finds it. When he lifts his head to see your intrigued eyes gazing back at him, he clears his throat and adds, “Mine looks like chicken scratch so I’m always fascinated by others.”

“As long as it’s legible, that’s all that matters,” you hum with a smile, “And I can read yours just fine, so you’re fine.”

Yunho’s not sure why that mild compliment, something that should probably be insignificant, steals his words from him for a moment. Instead, he offers a hum in place of thanks while quickly taking another sip of his coffee. He glances at his notes before speaking again.

“Okay, so when I reviewed your work, it seems like you generally have a solid topic,” he begins, “It’s definitely something that can be a bit more concise, but it’s fine. The problem is that you’re trying to incorporate too much into the paper as a whole.”

You nod in understanding, so he takes a sip of coffee and continues.

“That’s good and bad, for a couple of reasons. It’s good that you’re being ambitious and trying to give lots of information. This shows me that you’re planning on doing a lot of research and you’re going to be very knowledgeable about your topic,” Yunho cocks his head, “If you set yourself up like this, though, your paper will end up being over twenty pages easily. And we both don’t want that, right?”

He gives you a knowing look, and you can’t help the candid snort you let out at his frankness, “Definitely not, oh God. I’m so sorry.”

“Precisely. So, let’s work on cutting some of these sections out and conjoining some of these bullet points in others. Sound good?” He holds out his hand with a grin as if to make it a deal, and you grant him a firm shake.

After a considerable amount of time figuring out which parts of your paper to chop without losing the vision, Yunho feels his limbs tighten from sitting too long. He’s been in this chair since 9 AM, so he asks, “Can we take a quick break? I need to stretch a bit.”

“Of course!”

When he stands to full height and stretches his arms, your eyes inconspicuously survey the way the edge of the desk lines up right with his pelvis. Perfect height for extracurricular activities… You wonder if he’s the type of guy to be open to something like that, fucking his lover in his office. Surely this thing is sturdy enough to withstand it, you muse. The thought of him bending you over the desk just to prove how sturdy it is makes you rub your thighs together. You decide to chug the rest of your now-cold coffee to get your brain back on track. Yunho collapses back into his office chair gently and lets you know he’s ready to resume. The rest of the time is spent setting up a list of some things you could tweak when you go home on your own and prepare for him to view in a couple of days.

On Wednesday, for your second meeting, you both convene at his office directly after your class with him in the afternoon. You smell especially good today, a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and something else he can’t put his tongue on… but it’s got Yunho’s head a bit foggy. Still, the meeting is engaging and brimming with useful help just as the last. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a brief moment to review a printout of what you’ve implemented into your outline from your last meeting discussions. It’s definitely already an improvement, but there are still a few things that could be tweaked in terms of sectioning. He grabs his favorite pen and lays your papers out in front of you, leaning forward to mark things you should be mindful of. A circle here, a quick jotted note there—his soothing voice explains each eagerly, and you can tell just how much he loves this subject by his enthusiasm. You reply to all of his criticism and suggestions with just as much enthusiasm. Yunho finds himself leaning in a little closer than might be suitable for the circumstances, but his brain is still ensnared by your perfume. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing, truthfully, but it doesn’t bother you a bit. In fact, you’re a little too enamored with watching his large hands grip his pen and flex while writing to notice he’s calling your name.

“____?” he calls for a second time, to which you finally meet his gaze while blinking bashfully. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I think I spaced out for a second,” you answer honestly. He is absolutely too close to you right now and the way you can see the details in his eyes is making your brain short-circuit. He finally sits back in his chair and chuckles warmly.

“We have been working for quite a while today, I’m sure it’s a lot of information. Maybe we should wrap up for the day and meet again next week? I’m a bit tied up on Friday,” he ponders. You can’t help the hint of disappointment that makes its way onto your face, and he notices. There’s this unusual feeling in his chest right now; why does he feel regret for his stupid schedule? He leans forward on his elbows and cocks his head, “You’re doing very well, you know that? We’ve made a lot of progress after only a couple of meetings. I’m very excited to see how this comes together at the end of the semester.”

“I’m very self-conscious about my writing, so I appreciate that, Mr. Jeong,” you confess with a sheepish smile.

“You have nothing to be stressed about, I love what I’ve seen so far,” he continues his praise, “And I’m very happy you’re in my class, ____.”

The smile he gives you after such a statement manifests dozens of butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but match it. These one-on-one sessions go on 2-3 days a week for about two more weeks, loosening him up to you. He successfully becomes much more casual and unfiltered in your presence before you decide to up the ante. The following Tuesday of the next week, you remain on campus fairly late after classes end for the day, seated on a bench near the parking lot you both share. It’s warm outside even with the sun gradually setting, and you spend the time mentally rehearsing exactly what you planned on saying when he arrives to leave for home. He should be here any minute now–

“_____?”

You spin around at the familiar voice calling out your name. It’s him, of course, coming from the staff meeting you found out was being held this evening. Finally , you think. He stops just short of where you’re perched on the bench.

“Oh, hello Mr. Jeong.”

“What are you doing out here so late?” He inquires quickly, and there’s a tinge of concern laced in his voice. However, he realizes that asking this might be out of the realm of things he should know, you’re a grown woman after all. So, he follows up with an excuse, “It’s getting pretty dark out.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing,” you mutter, glancing away from his gaze.

Yunho can’t deny, he’s a bit mesmerized by the way you look tonight. He’s never seen you with your make-up done up like this, or your hair styled so charmingly. When you glance back at him again with those long, fluttering lashes of yours, he feels the back of his neck turn hot.

“You can tell me anything, you already know,” he reminds you, “I won’t judge and I’m always available to listen.”

“Well… I have a reservation for dinner with someone at six… but it seems they stood me up,” you reveal while mindlessly fiddling with a frayed string on the skirt of your dress. Yunho glances down at his watch: it’s 5:48 PM. “They were supposed to pick me up a while ago. I was trying to hold out some hope, but… I’m just being stupid.”

Yunho furrows his brows; why would someone stand a girl like you up? You’re beautiful and exceptionally smart (despite any kind of trouble you may have had with your paper). You’re also one of the sweetest people he’s ever crossed paths with in life. Many of those paths having been crossed within the last month, of course. Still, he can’t fathom it.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, ____,” he tells you truthfully. Then, he thinks about how your car isn’t here, and how the shuttle won’t be around until 6:30 PM. He’s slightly apprehensive before offering, “Do you want a ride home?”

You give him a winsome smile that pierces into his heart with an invisible arrow, “You don’t have to do that. I appreciate the offer though.”

“No, really, I don’t mind at all,” he says with more confidence. The idea of him being your knight in shining armor, buried deep in the back of his head, is shouting at him. That’s when you decide it’s time to take your shot, for better or worse.

“Well, in that case, would you like to accompany me to the restaurant instead?” you inquire, glancing up at him curiously. “I already paid for the spot, so I wouldn’t want the reservation to go to waste.”

Normally, you’d follow up a statement like that with a: “But it’s okay if not.”  

Not tonight.

You didn’t want to give him an out to this proposal willingly. You can see the mild indecisiveness in his face anyway, all the way down to how Yunho’s hand tightens around the handle of his briefcase. You did get all dolled up for whoever you were supposed to be spending the evening with, and he’ll feel awfully bad letting you go back home to take it all off for no reason. It’s just a dinner, he tells himself.

“Sure,” Yunho finally says in an exhale, “Let me pull around my car.”

While he walks off into the parking lot towards his car, you bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the dishonest smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. Was it all a bald-faced lie? Of course it was! But, sometimes it takes some white lies to get to what you want, and what you wanted was no longer that far out of reach if tonight was anything to go by.

When he finally pulls around to pick you up, you allow yourself to slip into the mode you usually go to on dates. It doesn’t hurt to pretend tonight, it’s like manifesting your reality. You thrum your fingers against your bare thighs, to no particular beat, while staring out of the car window at other passing cars during your brief trip on the highway.

“Is this a restaurant you’ve been to before? It looked really nice online,” Yunho eventually says into the silence, trying to make small talk. He had briefly skimmed the reviews while plugging the address in on his phone.

“I haven’t, actually,” you divulge, going further, “I’m a bit of a foodie, you know? I like to try new places occasionally.”

That conversation flows smoothly for the rest of the drive, and even smoother when you both are seated and eating dinner in a booth towards the back of the restaurant. It’s nice to see him in a more relaxed setting.

“Thank you for joining me tonight, Mr. Jeong.” You offer him some well-deserved gratitude as you wipe your mouth, signaling the end of your eating. “Makes things a lot less embarrassing tonight for sure.”

“No need to thank me, I enjoyed your company,” he smiles. He doesn’t even hesitate this time before adding, “That bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

The bubbly laugh and adorable smile you grant him the experience of witnessing enraptures him, the tips of his ears burning at the thought of how he wants to be able to produce that from you again and again. Yunho hasn’t been on a date in a while, so he’s sure this feeling is just because he’s attention-deprived. Still, it’s something he notes mentally. And, even though some might consider it inappropriate, you and your teacher both began having dinner occasionally, just like that. Platonically, of course.

  “We can go over my questions for my paper topic here rather than in that cramped office of yours, you know?”  

Surprisingly when you proposed this, he showed little resistance to the idea. Yunho enjoyed getting out of the house for the evenings he usually spent alone with a few beers and a Netflix series. He enjoyed having a pretty girl keep him company even more. He reminds himself every time he picks you up, though, that this is simply work and nothing more. Just some overtime—helping a student who enjoyed his class get better at the material. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.

But after the first few times of these “informational paper related” meetings, conversations involving anything to do with linguistics slowly molded into Yunho placing a nimble finger to his lips to say a silent shhh, followed by, “Let’s not talk about schoolwork tonight, okay?”

That moment, when you noticed that slight shift in Yunho’s energy, the atmosphere from there turned more informal. You become more conscious of those important invisible lines between student and teacher— or even more teacher and friend— that have begun to blur significantly. “Good evening Mr. Jeong,” became, “Le’me taste your food, Yunho?”

To which he never declines, naturally.

Tonight, on the 5th dinner, the climate between you both plows further into the downward spiral of informality, warm and fairly flirtatious. At least, that’s what you surmise by the way he keeps openly teasing you this evening. It’s all innocuous banter, but that doesn’t quell the adoration you hold for him in the pit of your stomach. It’s enough to make your thighs clench together underneath the table. You finally decide to shamelessly reciprocate, teasing him about the way his hair is going every which way tonight. You emphasize how the style is still very handsome despite him looking like he’s been through hell and back.

“I was having a pretty bad day today until I remembered where I was going tonight actually,” Yunho divulges, pushing the wrinkly sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He truly has been through hell and back today, between snooty older teachers and idiot freshmen both treating him like he’s a student just because of his age, “These kinds of nights with you always make my day, so it’s been saved.”

A playful smile tugs at your lips as you cock your head, “Is it the food or is it the company?”

He leans forward on his forearms with a prepossessing smile, one that makes your heart thump loudly in your ears.

“Both, of course,” he teases again, “I suppose the food is just a bonus, though.”

He takes notice of the way your cheeks are dusted in crimson as you shyly avert your eyes and locks that innocent image into a deep chamber of his mind along with all the others. He practically has a photo album saved mentally. It’s not too long until the food comes, and things become all about eating. A fair amount of time into your dinner, you decide to add a new element to your dynamic.

“Do you mind if I drink a little tonight?” you inquire quietly while your eyes skim the wine menu briefly. Not like you were going to care about his answer, but it was simply fun to ask. He chuckles.

“You’re an adult,” he points out instead. You smile to yourself before meeting his eyes from behind the menu. There’s something especially curious tonight behind those dark irises of his. The unfamiliar stare he gives you from behind his bangs is accompanied by a subtle smirk that makes your stomach tie into tight knots.

You turn away your eyes until you’re able to catch the attention of your waiter once more. In the process of requesting a glass of some Cabernet Sauvignon, you hesitate before saying the name of which brand because of the price tag for one glass, but most risks are pricey and tonight you felt like splurging for the reward in return: releasing your inhibitions. The waiter turns towards Yunho to confirm if he’d like to add anything before he leaves.

“Bring a bottle of that instead, please. We’ll share,” he requests alternatively. It takes all of your strength not to look at him like he’s crazy as the waiter nods and heads off to fetch it.

“It’s on me tonight,” Yunho beats you to the punch on declaring anything about his decisions.

“You don’t even know the price of it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he quips back with a chuckle, “Are you suggesting I can’t afford it?”

“Yunho…”

“Don’t even give me that, ____.”

The way he blithely says your first name with a different warmth now always causes your heart to swell in your chest. All formality is truly gone between you two. You both share matching smiles in place of any further words about the matter.

When the waiter returns briefly with a freshly opened bottle of wine and two glasses, you both offer him words of gratitude before he slips away once more. Yunho wastes no time pouring you both a proper amount, sighing contently when finished. You lift your glass towards him and grin once more, “Cheers?”

“Cheers.”

Yunho surely got his money’s worth, because the bottle is gone between you both quickly, signaling the end of your dinner as well. You don’t feel the few glasses fully set in until Yunho is helping you out of the booth, your legs feeling akin to a newborn baby deer as you bashfully stumble into his arms. You suppose your food wasn’t as carb-heavy as usual tonight. You’re not drunk, but surely you’re not sober either. He doesn’t mind holding you steady on the way out of the restaurant, a guiding hand timidly pressed to the small of your back.

As much as you despise the thought of driving under the influence, it’s pouring an insane amount of rain upon exit of the restaurant and Yunho insists he’s fine enough to drive. The dilemma that arises is how your place is further than he has confidence in making it to in this storm while inebriated. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way he’s driving you home tonight.

“I have a spare bedroom,” he begins, and glances over at you, hoping you understand what he means because he’s not sober enough to come up with the words to ask you otherwise. The pouring water is making it hard for him to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t miss the feigning look of indecision in your eyes. He tries to ignore the way the rain has soaked through your dress enough to make it plaster your body. It accentuates every contour of your figure, from the rounds of your breasts down to your supple thighs. When the boom of thunder somewhere far off fills the silence after his proposal faster than you do, he panics slightly.

“I can get you an Uber if—”

“You already paid for an expensive bottle tonight, don’t waste more money on an Uber,” you grasp onto his arm fondly, sopping breasts squished into his bicep. Your lips curl into a soft smile at his attempt at chivalry though, “I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry though, okay? I’m cold.”

That statement is followed by a sharp shiver running down your back, and that’s enough for him to drag you along with him to his car with quick, but careful, steps.

Surprisingly, Yunho lives in a townhouse. You’re very thankful not to have to walk up the stairs of a condo. He thanks God there’s an empty parking space in front of his house, he hates when the tiny lot fills up before he gets home. You both prepare yourselves before rushing out of the car and to his front door.

Your hazy eyes train themselves on his pretty, slender fingers fiddling with the doorknob before he finally gets it open. Those same fingers grab your hand and pull you through his front door with him mindlessly. Another chill immediately runs down your spine at the cool AC blasting through his home, which he immediately runs off to turn down.

“Both bedrooms have bathrooms with showers,” Yunho sputters while quickly heading off to find you a towel and some spare clothes for which you could sleep in.

While you’re still peeling your drenched shoes and socks off, he settles on a fresh t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants since it’s still a bit chilly in the house. You try not to track too much water through his home while you journey through his living room and meet him halfway.

“I’ll shower in the guest room,” you tell him, taking the items.

He runs an anxious hand through the wet hair sticking to his forehead, “I can also dry your clothes if you leave them on the bed.”

“Fuck, that’s great,” you sigh with a smile, stepping past him but cocking your head back to add, “Wait about five minutes before you come grab them, I should be in the shower by then.”

Just as you requested, Yunho comes into the room a little over five minutes later when he hears the shower running. His eyes confirm that the bathroom door is closed for your privacy before grabbing your wet clothes and retreating to his laundry room down the hall. He chucks them all in his dryer and runs it on medium heat and maximum dryness. While that’s running, he busies himself with running to his bedroom and speedrunning his shower to ensure he’s out before you. He’s a man on a mission, pulling on clothes and towel-drying his hair before rushing to the laundry room to get your clothes.

Yunho pulls your garments from the dryer one by one, making sure there’s nothing left wet. He stops when he pulls something out that catches his eyes. Your underwear. He’s quite enticed by them, even if they were pastel pink with turtles... Hot, he thinks sarcastically. Yunho eyes the crotch curiously and remembers that technically he didn’t wash your clothes at all. It’s been a while since he’s had a girl over his home and that, on top of the thought of even holding your underwear, is taking a small toll on him. He gives in and puts them to his nose, breathing in deeply.

Oh God … Even after they've been soaked in rain, your scent is still heavy on the fabric. He groans, why did you have to smell so fucking good? He remembers that you are quite literally right down the hall while he's here sniffing your underwear like a pervert. It’s your fault, right? Yeah, it’s your fault for trusting him with such a sensitive piece of clothing by himself. It’s your fault for smelling so good and looking so pretty and—

He gives up on rationalizing it and presses the clothing fully onto his face again, inhaling heavily and feeling himself grow harder and harder by the second. His arousal grows worse and worse, precum dampening his underwear with every deep inhale and fluttering thought of what you probably taste like… He finds his hand mindlessly palming himself, and luckily his groans are muffled by the underwear bunched up in his face. That’s when he hears the water shut off.

Yunho whispers a handful of obscenities as he hurries to the room to place your dried clothes on the bed while you’re still in the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. He’s long gone by the time you step out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Normally, you’d stay in the shower until your fingertips are pruney, but you suppose being a good guest includes not using up all of his hot water. There were more pressing things to attend to anyway, like the tall attractive man patiently awaiting your presence outside of this room. So, when you tug on your now dry panties and his previously provided clothing, you quickly make your way out of the room and to the living room. You’re not exactly sure what you expected upon seeing him, but he’s indeed still exceptionally handsome freshly out of the shower. Those same curious eyes gaze at you behind his shaggy bangs, still in the process of drying. Clad in a simple white t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, his biceps and strong thighs are fully on display as he lounges on the couch. The way his long legs are man-spread now that he’s comfortable in his own abode makes you swallow a little harder than usual. Still, you meander over and sit on the other side of the couch, not too far away.

“Your place is very nice,” you state absentmindedly, glancing around at the walls of his home. “Very fit for a bachelor.”

Without you noticing, Yunho’s eyes skillfully study the way you’re so casually in his clothing. You’re too busy glancing around at unnecessary things anyway; he wonders if you’re rambling about his decor because you’re nervous. He’s nervous too, but not for the right reasons. Regardless, seeing you in his clothing is taking an additional toll on his mental health. How did you both end up in this situation together… This is wrong, he thinks. He shakes his head to try and clear those corrupted thoughts from his mind. It isn’t until you realize he hasn’t replied to anything in a couple of minutes of you jabbering that you finally peer over at him. His eyes are trained on the short distance between the both of you, mindlessly chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, finally catching his attention.

He nods hastily, “Definitely. Sorry, it’s been a long day. Mind is on empty.”

“You’re fine, no worries.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet for a moment as you both exchange stares. You’re seconds away from breaking the silence before Yunho steals the chance.

“I’m sure you’re tired, so we can head to bed,” he suddenly exhales, hands clasping his thighs, “The guest room is all yours for as long as you need it.”

You take the chance and lean forward toward him on your palms at this statement, slightly sinking into the couch while you gaze at him, “Is that what you really want, Yunho?”

There’s now an even longer moment of silence where you both stare each other in the eyes again and the room is unbearably quiet. Yunho finally breaks it after his Adam’s apple bobs uneasily.

“Of course,” he awkwardly chuckles with furrowed brows, “What do you mean, ____?”

Your heart deflates. For a second, you wonder if maybe you’ve been reading his body language incorrectly the entire night. There’s a flare of embarrassment that ignites on your cheeks as you immediately retract yourself.

“I suck at making jokes,” you match his chuckle nervously, “Don’t mind me.” He cocks his head at you curiously and you stand to your feet before he can catch the way your face is lighting on fire with every passing second. You avoid looking at him as you begin striding back to the guest room, “Goodnight Yunho, see you in the morning!”

Yunho is left alone to his own devices once he hears the sound of the door to the guest room closing down the hall. Sitting alone on a large bed in your teacher’s home feels surreal, and all too disappointing the same. You press your palms to your eyes to try and settle the embarrassment that keeps washing over you every time you think back to your impromptu attempt at making an advance toward him. God this fucking sucks…

After a few minutes of setting up some alarms on your phone for the next morning, you decide you need to go get some water and wash away tonight from your mind forever. Yunho Jeong doesn’t like you more than a friend, it’s time to accept your fate and that you failed at attracting him. To be fair, it all was a shot in the dark to begin with. You try not to be too hard on yourself and hope that he’s already in his room by now.

But, if that’s all truly the case, then why is Yunho standing in front of the guest room door when you open it? His arm is positioned as if he was about to knock. Yunho had been standing there for quite some minutes, debating his next actions in his head, overthinking as usual. Though, could it be considered overthinking if the consequences of his actions could lead to delinquency? Had you not opened the door to go get water, albeit unknowingly, he probably would’ve psyched himself out.

“Oh– Did you need something?” you mumble and look up inquisitively at him. His mouth lingers open for a few seconds before he learns how to speak again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” You can’t help the hint of confusion gracing your face as you step aside and allow him inside the room, “Is everything okay?”

When you close the door and face him, he looks distraught. Everything was indeed not okay.

“Are you still drunk?” He asks first.

“I don’t really think I was ever drunk,” you tell him, “But no.”

“Neither am I.”

At first, it doesn’t click about why he’s confirming this. You also don’t notice the way he gradually takes tentative steps forward—or the way you’re equally taking steps back—until your back hits the bedroom door. He’s so close that you can smell the minty mouthwash still fresh on his breath unfurling over your face. Still, he looks hesitant about his actions.

“I’m sorry, I was just… nervous before,” he swallows. He watches your face shift from confusion to realization; he’s referring to his response when you shot your shot. You relax against the door.

“About?” Is all you can ask in a soft voice, left hand daringly reaching up and cupping his cheek.

“About drunken words,” he continues, his voice just above a whisper. You can see the stutter of his heart against his chest. “And my feelings.”

Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, “What are you feeling, Yunho?”

In a moment of fleeting courage, he gently grabs your right hand and leads it to settle below his groin, pressing it against him a bit for good measure.

“What does it feel like I’m feeling to you?”

Your cheeks heat up at the feeling of him in your palm; you didn’t expect him to be so forward about it out of nowhere. The overall anticipation of the situation is killing you, even though everything feels like it’s moving too slowly and too fast all at the same time. All of your effort was leading to this point and yet, somehow, you still don’t feel nearly as prepared as you thought you were to finally fuck him, to finally fuck your teacher. That doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching around nothing at all at his words alone, because this is definitely what you’ve wanted so badly for weeks.

You try to swallow even though your throat feels parched, mindlessly whispering, “Oh my God…”

Then, you give him an experimental squeeze which has his eyelids fluttering closed, and a deep grunt leaving his flared nostrils.

“Fuck …” he groans. It’s too natural, the way you subconsciously run your hand up and down the bulge, feeling it harden even further. Yunho is at his wit's end. “I need you to tell me exactly what you want ____,” he reminds you.

You get it, he’s covering his bases because of his relation to you outside of this bedroom. Consent is sexy regardless, so you grant that to him.

“I really, really want you to fuck me Yunho,” you purr as your hands creep up his chest until you can wrap your arms around his neck, “And I think you want the same, right?”

Yunho’s hands sneak under the t-shirt on you and he massages the flesh of your sides, fingertips ghosting up your skin until they reach your breasts. His thumbs brushing against your hard nipples involuntarily make you whimper his name, and this is all Yunho needs to hear to proceed without such caution. The moment he leans down and smashes his lips to yours, time stops.

It’s nasty, the way your tongues are dragging against each other, spreading trails of saliva everywhere.

It’s nasty, the way he can’t help but drag that same tongue down your neck, sullying your freshly washed skin with spit.

It’s even nastier, the way he moans out your name, shamelessly grinding his clothed boner into your crotch, searching for friction because he’s touch-starved.

“A-Ah—wait! Bed, please,” you let out a broken moan at the way he sucks and bites on your neck. Yunho grunts in agreement, spinning you around and forcefully guiding you back until you both reach the bed. You can’t help but giggle when you fall back on the mattress— he’s so hungry for it, for you. And you’re more than ready to give it to him.

“Can I take them off?” He still asks like a gentleman, though his fingers are impatiently already tugging at the bottom of your sweatpants. You nod with fervor.

The moment he tosses them away, the situation begins to feel a bit more real to you both. Maybe it’s because you’re sopping wet and semi-exposed, and he’s not, so you become bashful and self-conscious.

“Take yours off too?”

Yunho doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. He peels off his shirt and shoves his shorts away easily. There’s a brief second where he hesitates before also pulling his boxer briefs down and finally fully exposing himself to you in all his nude glory. Yunho hasn’t slept with a woman in a while, but he’s never had complaints about anything, and especially not his size. He can tell by how your eyes are drinking him in, that you won’t have any either.

“You’re so handsome, you know that?” you murmur, eyes hazy as they rake over him from his broad chest to his defined abs, then his defined hips to his heavy cock. There’s a cute hue of pink dusting his cheeks at the compliment.

Yunho doesn’t give you a chance to stare at him very much longer before he’s finally ridding you of your shirt, lips meeting yours again the moment it’s tossed. It’s not long before that naughty mouth of his indulges in your breasts, licking and sucking on your hardened nipples like they’re the only thing that will keep him grounded to earth. You’re a moaning mess underneath of him, hands carding through his tresses and lips struggling with telling him how much you love his mouth. He could suck on your beautiful breasts all day but there are more pressing matters at this time.

His eyes never leave yours as he kisses all the way down the expanse of your stomach to the waistband of your panties. Only then does he close his eyes to bury his face in your clothed cunt and take a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're about to burst. He’s so content that now he can do it knowing the real thing is right underneath. It gets him hard all the same as the laundry room. You watch him grind himself into the mattress for some relief just at the smell of you.

“I’ve never done something like this before,” he divulges, pressing heated kisses into the skin of your sensitive thighs.

“What, eating pussy?” you tease to ease his nerves. He stares pointedly at you from behind your mound.

“You know what I mean.”

Your hand reaches down to find a comforting purchase in his hair, “Neither have I, Yu.”

Yunho can feel himself falling apart faster and faster, and the nickname is not helping him keep it together at all. He hooks his fingers in your panties and gently tugs them down your legs, joining the rest of the discarded clothing on the floor. Your cheeks tingle with heat when his hands spread your legs wider, eyes seemingly mesmerized.

“Such a pretty pussy…” he whispers, marveling at the way your sticky lips tremble when you clench around nothing.

He solves that by pushing in two of those pretty fingers of his, all the way down to the last knuckles. The desperate moan that flies from your lips sends him into a depraved headspace. He immediately latches his mouth onto your throbbing clit and sets to work, thrusting into your squelching squeezing heat and sucking to his heart’s content. Yunho loves eating pussy, truly. There’s something truly cathartic to him about holding a woman’s legs down while she twitches and grinds against his face as he’s slurping up every bit of essence that seeps from her greedy hole. He even removes his fingers and opts for lapping at your heat like a starved man instead. Up and down, left and right… His tongue leaves no inch of your heat untouched. He loves the feeling of your slick coating his face when he pushes his tongue as deep as he can into your hole. He feels your hands yank him by his hair before he can even get to the fun part. He gazes up at you in confusion, mouth messy and eyes indubitably pussy-drunk.

“Please,” you beg, chest heaving, “I want you inside.”

Yunho licks his lips clean before crawling back up your body to fulfill your request. You’re right honestly, there’s only so much grinding he can do into the mattress to ease the ache of his hard cock. He leans over to grab a condom from the nightstand but you pull him back over, mumbling about how you’re on the pill and that it’s fine.

He’s so big, the way he’s engulfing your whole body with you caged between his arms like this. Gazing into your eyes, he drags the blunt tip of his cock back and forth through your dripping folds, occasionally pressing it hard against that clit that he’s taken such a liking to sucking on.

“Hey,” you mumble against his lips, catching the full attention of his blown-out irises. “I can tell you’re nervous. Just relax and lose control, for me. Okay?”

Yunho’s last rope of restraint snaps.

The moment you feel his tip finally breach your entrance, you squeeze your eyes shut and mewl at the feeling of his thick cock sliding into its rightful place. Yes, obviously he’s meant just for your cunt, because you fit like a glove when you're swallowing him in so badly the deeper he pushes. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, despite your squirming and twitching underneath him at the feeling of being so full.  

“I’m about to move,” he pants, adjusting to the feeling of your warm walls squeezing his cock, “Holy fuck.”

When you nod, he finally lets go of his inhibitions. He begins to roll his hips at a nice steady pace, large hands clasped to the backs of your thighs as he pushes them towards your torso. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy and his eyelids lower lazily at the way your walls suck in his cock so tightly and squeeze it like they’re begging to be filled to the brim. You reach up and latch onto his arms to ground yourself, head dizzy and overwhelmed at the feeling of him starting to snap his hips just a little faster now that you’re stretched out a bit more to accommodate him.

“Yunho, fuck, you’re so big,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. Yunho grinds his pelvis into you at this remark, rubbing against your clit with his happy trail.

“And you’re taking me so well,” Yunho praises with a lopsided grin, “Feels good?”

“So fucking good.”

Yunho pushes your legs back even further as he leans in to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss. You’re so pretty with those glassy eyes and those flushed cheeks of yours, but there’s something about that that quivering bottom lip that makes him want to suck every sound from you himself. He finds himself bucking faster and faster, unable to maintain any kind of self-control.

He breaks away to catch his breath, eyes lazy as he groans, “Let me hear you. This is what you wanted, yeah?”

“Mhm, yes, yes,” you whine desperately, “I wanted it so bad. Wanted you so bad.”

You grant him a flurry of shameless bitten-off moans, egging him on further and further. Yunho buries his face into the crook of your neck, making your skin damp between his own warm gasps and grunting obscenities. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this aroused before; yes, he’s so painfully hard at the fleeting thoughts of how inappropriate everything is. He’s your linguistics teacher—he’s not supposed to be teaching your cunt how to mold to the shape of his cock. He’s not supposed to be massaging your clit and babbling nonsense about how he’s going to lick your pussy clean when you cum. How can he say that to a student? However, his eyes roll back at that thought.

“I’m going crazy,” he groans into your skin, mindlessly speaking his thoughts aloud. “I’m so close.”

You’d say the same if you could, but your mouth can’t form proper words with the way his long fingers are rubbing quick messy circles around your clit. Instead, you put your mouth on the shell of his ear and say his name in a filthy mewl. Your legs tense up and your toes curl; Yunho can feel you cum around his cock a beat later, encouraging your convulsing and whimpering. He can only manage to give you a few more rough thrusts before he pulls himself out and allows himself to empty his balls in quick spurts all over your torso, a mix of “fuck” and “____” leaking from his mouth at how filthy the action is, dirtying you like this. He’s a man of his word though, quickly hefting himself back down to your sopping cunt and diving face first to taste everything he missed tasting earlier. The groan of pure bliss he lets out into your sensitive cunt has you squirming away, much to his dismay. But he finds himself chuckling anyway—he got to taste your cum and, even if it was for only a few seconds, he’s satisfied.

Cleaning up and cuddling after is far from awkward, Yunho feels comfortable with his arms wrapped around you and head on your chest. You find yourself mindlessly scratching his scalp and playing with his messy hair, while his large hands massage the muscles of your thighs. It’s immensely intimate, and this scares Yunho deep inside. Unbeknownst to his stress, you’re settling into a mental state of bliss; you can’t wait to see where this night leads you after, even if it might be a little awkward back in the classroom at first. He tries not to dwell on such thoughts for too long, eventually falling asleep under your touch.

Yunho wakes up to a cold, empty bed. Glancing over at the clock on his nightstand, he catches some time he can’t be bothered with reading fully, nine-something-in-the-morning. He groans internally at the bittersweet arrival of the morning. After a few seconds of just lying there, bleary eyes staring at anything and everything, he remembers that he’s not supposed to be alone right now. The grimace that crosses his face is heavy.

He lugs himself up and out of bed to find his phone, which he’s left God knows where. After a bit of searching, he’s even more upset to see a lack of text from you about leaving. Leaving with no word after sex… Yunho has been in this position before and it makes him feel like shit. It feels even worse considering that this is not just some random woman, you are his student. He’s a chronic overthinker, he knows he is. Yet, he can’t stop his mind from filling with a plethora of miserable thoughts about what this could mean.

Did you simply want to fuck him and nothing more?

Did you regret sleeping with him and want to leave without confrontation?

Did you sleep with him to then leave and tell someone, maybe to humiliate him?

All of these thoughts scream at Yunho until he finds himself clenching his jaw, and tears are pricking at his eyes. He hates this feeling every time it happens; it makes him feel like he’s not good enough. In a moment of brief irrationality, Yunho debates if he should outright block you.

He’s impulsive like that when he’s worked up. However, after a few minutes of begging himself to calm down, he tossed his phone away and went on to make a cup of tea to ease his agitation. He knew this was a mistake from the start and he still did it.

He doesn’t get a text from you until after 11 AM.

  [Y/N: sorry for leaving without saying anything!! I forgot I had prior commitments this morning, didn’t wanna text you until I was sure you’d be up. hope you slept well :)]

Yunho doesn’t know what to think. Prior commitments? Surely this would’ve been something you would’ve mentioned before he drove you to his home last night. It is Saturday though, so it’s plausible. He opens the message and leaves you on read instead.

Earlier this morning, you were certain Yunho must have completely tired himself out after sleeping with you because he failed to wake up when your alarms went off. You make a mental note that it only takes him cumming once to make him go comatose (and maybe a little wine to boot). You had left his place with no ill intentions, and your message was truthful. So, when you get left on read by him, it ignites a small flame of insecurity in you. You’re never one to double-text a man, but considering this is something you put a great amount of effort into getting to happen, you put your pride aside when you don't get a reply by the next day.

  [Y/N: Wondering if you want to try a new restaurant after work tomorrow… Let me know if you’re interested!]

To your surprise, Yunho replies that he’s too busy. He doesn’t offer to reschedule for a better day, which isn’t like him. Instead of taking it too seriously and replying something disheartened, you let him know that you understand and to let you know if anything changes. He opens this message and doesn’t reply. You try again on Tuesday. This time, your inquiry is more succinct, no fluff.

  [Y/N: Are you free Wednesday?]

He answers this similarly to the last attempt, maintaining that he’s too busy to see you that day as well. However, this text is more curt than the last. When you cave in and ask him which days he’s not busy, he leaves you on read, again.

  [Y/N: Do you have a free moment to talk then?]

Yunho doesn’t open this text altogether, and the disgruntlement this stirs within you lingers in your system all day, even when you decide to go out with your friends to clear your mind.

Throughout his class with you the following day, you endure Yunho’s eyes practically boring into you at various points in time. It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, nagging at your scalp while you keep your head downcast towards your laptop. Thoroughly, as distractions do, it keeps you on edge and unfocused throughout the whole lecture. It doesn’t help that Yeosang is out today, so you feel alone even surrounded by so many people.

At some point, during a quiet moment of everyone completing an individual assignment he had handed out, you glance up over the screen of your laptop and catch his attentive eyes gazing back. He gnaws on the nail of this thumb as he usually does when his brain is on overdrive, his eyes calmly lingering on the fixation of all his thoughts. Eventually, he turns them away and decides to focus on something else irrelevant involving his phone. Anything to take you off of his mind.

You quietly snicker to yourself and roll your eyes. So, he can play on his phone just fine during class but can’t find the time to text you and talk? Men will be men… If he just wanted to sleep with you and leave at that, he could at least tell you, you brood. You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard to focus on anything for the last half hour of class. You don’t bother sticking around after and instead, preoccupy yourself by striking up a conversation with another acquaintance on the way out of the doors. Yunho notices the way you act like he doesn’t exist while leaving and it makes him a bit bitter. He knows it’s irrational, but you’ve really done a number on him, so he can’t help it.

On Thursday, you’re sick of the games altogether. Being the super sleuth you were at the beginning of this mess, you knew when Yunho typically went to his office in between classes to get grading done that he couldn’t do throughout the day. So, when you finish your mathematics class, you pack up your things quickly, knowing he should be roaming this same hall in very little time. There’s one thing–or person, you suppose–that you didn’t account for in this plan.

“You’re terrible at covering hickeys, you know,” Hongjoong chides, eyeing your messy job at applying makeup to your neck.

To be fair to yourself, you hadn’t realized Yunho had sucked one onto your skin the night you both slept together, and the dark blotch was too annoying to deal with every single day. You bruise too easily and they don’t go away fast enough. Admittedly, you had slacked off on the cover-up today. You chalk it up to secretly being in Fight Club, which you remind him, the number rule is to never talk about Fight Club! That, of course, was not a good enough reason for Hongjoong, and you regret that you didn’t acknowledge beforehand he would surely grill you endlessly about your recreational pastimes.

“Okay seriously, I just wore my choker too tight yesterday and it pinched my neck, that's all,” you explain as he quickly follows you out of the classroom. He squints at you with skeptical eyes, as if he is not believing any of the piping hot shit you’re serving him on a platter. Phase two was to gaze at him with winsome eyes, ones he was definitely familiar with. They always worked on Yeosang, but Hongjoong was harder to subdue.

“Don’t.”

“Joong, I’m telling you, there’s nothing more for me to answer here.”

You employ a small pout to boot.

“And you think I believe that?”

“I think you should believe it.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance. Meanwhile, your eyes inconspicuously search for Yunho in the sea of classmates flooding the hallway; there was a very important conversation you had hyped yourself up to finally have with him. One that surely would not be done if it didn’t get done today, at this very moment. That would obviously fail to happen if Hongjoong kept pestering you with his concerns. Suddenly, your eyes spot the tail end of Yunho’s styled hair turning the corner and leaving the hallway. Goddammit!

“Joong, I really gotta go,” you say frantically and secure your backpack onto your back. His lips open slightly in puzzlement, but there’s nothing he can say before you’re already shoving people out of the way to make it through the hallway to follow him to his office.

You take the stairs while he takes the elevator to waste some time; hopefully, he'll be set up and comfortable by the time you get to his floor. When you make it to his office, he’s indeed already seated and filtering through sheets of work from students during the last class. You don’t bother knocking before entering; he hadn’t afforded you the comfort of manners lately, so neither would you.

Honestly, had anyone else burst into his office so unannounced like this, he might've cussed them out by accident. But before he can get any words out, you can see the physical shift from annoyance to puzzlement wash over his face as he realizes it’s you, then, genuine dread graces his face before downcasting his gaze.

“I need to talk to you,” you insist, “Now.”

He’s having a hard time even meeting your eyes when you’re speaking and it’s pissing you off tremendously.

“I’m a bit busy right now,” he sighs, now in the process of looking through his desk for a pen that works. “It’ll have to wait for another time.”

You ignore him entirely, “Why are you avoiding me, Yunho?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Yunho quickly objects. “I’m just–”

“You’ve blown me off twice this week already,” you counter. “Now I can’t even come see you at your office?”

Yunho puts his head in his hands and tries to collect his thoughts. He’s too sensitive to handle this conversation with no preparation beforehand. Then again, the longer he keeps isolating, the longer he’s going to keep feeling like shit. He can hear the undertone of hurt in your words, but he’s only doing what’s best for you, right?

“The least you could do is give me a real reason,” you continue. He finally lifts his head and meets your frustrated eyes. “Just give me a real reason to and I’ll fuck-off all you want.”

“____, that night was a mistake,” he tells you simply. The look in his eyes says otherwise. You know he’s lying but it still feels like a punch in the gut.

“A mistake?”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have happened, and it was inappropriate of me to do that with you. Let’s just forget about it and move on, please.”

You furrow your brows in agitation, “You really feel that way?”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes falling back to the papers in front of him. He visibly hesitates for the briefest moment before picking up his pen and resuming his grading. This feeling of rejection hurts a little more than usual. Why do you feel like a failure? Why do you feel like a fuck-up? Maybe it’s because of the effort you put into this man, unlike many others. You stand there in his doorway uncomfortably silent until you find it in yourself to offer some final words.

“We’re both adults, Yunho,” you remind him in a voice that airs on the more serious side of yourself. He’s never heard you sound such a way with him. “No one has to know what two grown adults do in their free time. And you don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

When he doesn’t look up from his paperwork anymore, you finally leave and gently close the door behind you.

Nearly a week after that day, your phone begins to ring while you’re out at a bar with friends. Yeosang’s nosy eyes catch the name on the screen and he gives you an incredulous look. His name still has a heart beside it and you haven’t updated him on anything regarding Yunho since telling him that you both were texting each other outside of class.

“What is he doing calling you at 9 PM, miss?” he teases as you move your phone to your lap, “Booty call?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” you snort.

“Boo, why can I never know anything–”

“Oh but when I mention the obvious hickey, I’m imagining things, huh?” Hongjoong interjects with narrowed eyes when he overhears you both bickering. “Who’s the mystery man?”

“It’s nobody,” both you and Yeosang say in unison.

Hongjoong quirks a brow at how you both are gazing at him with matching smiles, suspiciously. He lets it go quickly and instead butts into Mingi and his girlfriend’s conversation. By the time you glance at your phone, Yunho’s call has already gone fully unanswered. Subsequently, you chose not to return the call later when you’re done and home. You didn’t necessarily want to talk to someone who called such an intimate moment with you a mistake. And especially not intoxicated. If he wants to talk to me that bad, he’d just send whatever he needs to say in a text, you tell yourself. But, of course, those texts don’t come. Yunho doesn’t know how to express himself like that over message. However, after getting wasted, it takes everything within you not to text him first in a fit of overwhelming horniness. What’s the worst that could come from letting him know that you’re craving the feeling of that thick cock of his splitting you open, or how maybe this time you should test out your gag reflex? Yeosang knows you well enough to take your phone from you after a certain amount of shots, so you don’t get that opportunity anyway. God bless your best friend.

A couple of days later, you still find yourself unable to let things go. How can you when Yeosang brings it up any time you speak alone? For someone so sure you were making a huge mistake, he sure is desperate for the tea. It’s like he’s your frontline cheerleader (which he usually is anyway). If he found out you both fucked, surely he’d lose his mind.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, I’m still dying to know how much progress you’re making with Mr. Jeong after seeing him call you that night,” Yeosang pleads, “Have you both met up in private off of campus yet?”

“That’s classified info,” you state and try to stifle your subsequent laughter when you hear him grumble. You still hadn’t found it within yourself yet to tell him that your plan had failed. “You’ll know by if I pass this class or not.”

“Just a little hint, please? I’m on my knees.”

“Progress is being made, Yeo,” you disclose in a sing-song voice. Surely a little white lie wouldn’t hurt in the meantime, “He’s a very good conversationalist, you know. With that deep voice of his, and especially late at night.”

Yeosang groans in annoyance, “You’re killing me ____, I’m too curious! You didn’t entertain a single man at the bar, something juicy has to be happening.”

You debate on at least telling him about the extra study sessions you and Yunho had been having before things were soiled, the innocent stuff that he could gush and tease you over. But, just as you’re about to say something, he cuts you off unknowingly.

“Shit, Mingi’s calling. Le’me call you back,” Yeosang groans, and you offer a hum of affirmation before the line clicks. Maybe it’s for the best that you had been interrupted before you put your foot in your mouth.

You quickly fill the silence by shuffling one of your ‘Doing Chores’ playlists and focusing your mind on cooking the remainder of your dinner. A couple of minutes later, the chime of your phone interrupts your music. You continue to focus on stirring while your other hand carelessly presses the answer option.

“That was quick,” you giggle.

“Felt like forever to me,” a familiar, deep voice replies. You freeze and glance over to see Yunho’s name on the screen of your phone in place of your best friend’s.

  Fuck.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeong,” you reply instead. “I thought you were someone else, my apologies.”

“Have we really already reverted back to the formalities?” he sighs and his voice already sounds a bit defeated.

You roll your eyes, “I’m a bit preoccupied right now. So unless you’d like to discuss my class work, I don’t have time to entertain this.”

“Just give me five minutes, please.”

You turn off the stove and snatch up your phone before ambling to your bedroom.

“Spit it out already, Yunho.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you ____,” he admits.

Hearing you say his first name makes him feel a smidge better, even if it’s in irritation. He wonders if you can feel his heart pounding through the speaker or the way it makes his fingers tremble while holding the phone. “I was just scared, you have to understand that at least. I told you I’ve never done that kind of thing before, ever.”

“Thought it was a mistake–”

“I only said that because you left without saying anything. I thought you regretted it!”

“I literally told you why I did that, you decided to not believe me apparently,” you counter, voice laced with the slightest bit of frustration as you sit on your bed. Then you add in a mutter, “Instead of talking with me like an adult.”

There’s a long moment of silence. He doesn’t hang up though, so neither do you. You stare at the timer under his name, continuing to count up seconds full of emptiness.

“I’m really sorry,” Yunho finally sighs. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean. I was just scared.” You remain silent and it eats at his confidence slowly. He’s desperate and doesn’t really care if it shows at this point, so he goes on to fill the silence again, “You were right, we’re adults. It’s not anybody else’s business what happens outside of campus. That’s why I’m trying to fix things now. Please.”

You sigh heavily while stroking your temples. This conversation is not something you had prepared yourself for, but the desperation in his voice is hitting you right in the gut. You know he’s being sincere, but it’s just hard to make yourself that vulnerable as well. You both know the truth is that it’s not okay, none of this is. It’s all extremely inappropriate. What you are doing with each other could ruin both of your lives if found out before you graduate. It’s risky; and yet, you still find yourself saying a sentence you definitely shouldn’t be saying:

“Listen, I genuinely like you Yunho.”

“And I genuinely like you too, ____. So let me take you on a proper date,” he says a little too hastily, but he can’t stop himself from the excitement that bubbles inside of him, stemming solely from you even reciprocating his feelings, “And not just a dinner like usual, I mean something thoughtful.”

“Something thoughtful…” you repeat after him, accidentally punctuating it with a giggle at how foolish the whole situation seems. “Are you serious about that?”

“Absolutely,” he assures you, “Only if you want to, of course.”

You sigh and smile to yourself at how heartfelt he sounds. Sure, there are millions of ways this could go extremely wrong, but you decide to ignore those thoughts and take him up on his offer. If you were one to listen to the better part of your judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this situation in the first place. It would be a shame to let that work you put in go to waste just because of a little hiccup in the road. Besides, Yunho was surely the best fuck you had received in quite some time. There was plenty of time through the rest of the semester to explore that side of him again as well. The conversation ends with you both agreeing to meet with each other in a few days, Yunho promising to make it enjoyable even though it’ll be discrete.

♡ taglist for those who replied to my interest post: @yeos-bunny @sharksandminhos @sannieluvrr

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“Disenshittify or Die”

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

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

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

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

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

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

==

What the fuck happened to the old, good internet?

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

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

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

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

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

I’m talking about enshittification.

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

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

There’s so many ways to lock in users.

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

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

No way.

Can you agree on where to go next?

Hell no.

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

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

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

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

Sometimes, it’s a grab bag:

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

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

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

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

Think Different, amirite?

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

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

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

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

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

Bullshit!

Bull.

Shit.

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

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

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

"But wait!" I hear you say!

[Come on, say it!]

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

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

[Any guesses?!]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I mean, you love to see it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enshittification: a tragedy in three acts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except you can’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So companies aren’t constrained by competition or regulation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Any guesses why?]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To do that, we have to install constraints.

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

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

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

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

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

[Can anyone guess why?]

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

So yeah, that was pretty fucking epic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next up: regulation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@fak3r@mastodon.social (cropped)

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

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

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 19] || [Chapter 21]

Rating: E Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost x Soap || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 2.1K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, protected sex, ejaculation, voyeurism (in person and digital). Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: he's their (under)boss for a reason.

My dumbass was in such a hurry I forgot to tag my lovely @mothymunson who encouraged me to write this when I was lost where to fit it + gave me extra ideas for the dynamic! 🫶

Chapter 20: Control

It’s been two weeks since that lazy Sunday you spent with Johnny. He had to leave in a hurry, departing on a mission, unable to tell you where he’d be going or when he’d be back…

Simon and Kyle were already on a mission of their own by Sunday so… You’ve spent these last two weeks alone.

It’s been quiet without them… And frankly… a bit lonely.

You used to like having time to yourself after the break-up… But now?

You’ve been with Leah and Mia for dinner a couple times… And although you love your girlfriends, and enjoyed yourself greatly while gossiping with them (and my, my, did you gossip) you find yourself missing Simon, Kyle and Johnny.

It’s 5:30 P.M. on Wednesday and you’re in your kitchen, making something quick for dinner, when there’s a knock on your door.

Eyes squinting in surprise at the lack of expected guests, you immediately think the worst. It’s Ethan. It’s Ethan and he’s pissed that Johnny and Simon fucked him up and he’s here for revenge and you’re alone and-

“Sweetheart, it’s me.” Simon’s voice from the other side of the door relaxes you and you rush across the sitting room and pull open the door.

“Bloody hell, you spooked me!” You say softly as you look up at him. He’s still in full gear and slightly out of breath, as if he ran over to your house the moment he landed on base.

“Hi!” You greet as he pulls off his mask and wraps his arms around you. He steps inside, making you step back with him as he spins you and kisses you, closing the door behind him.

You feel him guide you over to the living room couch and lower you onto it, making you squeal and giggle in surprise. “Simon!” You’re able to murmur as he lowers himself atop of you.

“Missed you… missed you…” He grumbles as he kisses you again, one of his hands on your hip, the other supporting his weight on the throw pillows by your head.

“Missed you too…” You admit, causing him to groan under his breath. His fingers find the straps that hold his vest in place and he quickly undoes them and takes it off, dropping it haphazardly on the floor next to you.

“Simon…” You whisper before he captures your mouth with his again, his tongue finding yours and making you moan. Oh, how you’ve missed him… Your hands trail down his chest and arms, unzipping his fleece jacket and he allows you to take it off him, leaving him in a black t-shirt underneath.

Your hands trail down lower, finding the utility belt at his waist. Your fingers just barely graze the thick, hard bulge in his cargo pants as you try to undo his belt, but one of his hand sharply stops you by gripping your wrist with three fingers.

You pull back from the kiss, the two of you out of breath. Your eyebrows are lowered in concern and your eyes softened. “What?” You asked him softly.

“I’m not-” He trailed off for a moment and huffed before burying his face in your neck. “Not ready for that.” He told you softly. “My body isn’t… I don’t want you to…”

“Oh…” You said, a bit surprised. You had noticed his reaction had been the same he used to have whenever you touched his mask in the past… And if back then you didn’t probe, you certainly wouldn’t now. “Okay.” You told him.

“Can we just…” He trailed off and slowly grabbed your waist with his hand, grinding his crotch lightly against yours. It jostled you a bit and you bit your lip. 

“Yeah… we can dry-hump, Simon…” You told him in a reassuring tone, which only made him groan again and hump against you once more. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and neck as he fixed his grip on you and rubbed his bulge against your body in the thin lounge pants you had changed into after work.

Just as you’re just starting to kiss again, with Simon murmuring more sweet nothings of how much he missed you, there’s a new knocking on the door. Simon groaned in complaint and buried his face in your neck again.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell… He’s fast.” Simon grumbled and pushed up to his feet, sliding off you and helping you sit up.

“Who…?” You asked, a bit light-headed from the intense make-out session.

“Kyle.” He complained as he fixed his bulge in his pants with his hand, while waddling his way over to the door and throwing it open.

“You sneaky bastard.” Kyle said to Simon and pointed a finger at him while coming into the flat.

“Hi, Kyle…” You said softly, receiving a ‘Hi, lovie’ in response as he took off his shoes.

Kyle’s also out of breath but, unlike Simon, he’s changed clothes. “Guess what, Simon here waited until I got in the shower before he ran off to come see you. Left me stranded back at base!”

You can’t help but giggle as Simon’s scarred mouth morphs into a smug, proud-of-himself smirk. “Oops.” He said.

Kyle gave the two of a you a once over. “Ah… I see. Someone was… eager, huh?” He teases and uses his chin to point at the obvious bulge in Simon’s pants.

The younger man moves over to the couch and stands behind it before kissing you on the lips just as hard as Simon did, taking your breath away and making your shoulders sag as you sigh in delight at the feeling of his warm mouth on yours.

Pulling back, Kyle licks his lips and winks at you. “Good thing I got here when I did, hm?” He teases and looks at Simon before returning his gaze to you. “Now we can really get the party started…” He adds.

-

“Oh… Oh, fuck…” You whine at the top of your lungs, your eyes rolling back with each thrust inside of you.

Kyle’s lying on the bed under you, his thighs spread as he has you in a full nelson. His hands hold you behind your neck, fingers intertwined, your knees hooked up on his forearms to keep you spread open.

Kyle’s big. Really big. More than you expected. Considering the only points of comparison you’ve got are John and Ethan… It’s not like either of them was exactly small, but Kyle’s constantly bottoming out inside you without having to throw his whole weight into it. He’s also perfect shaved, not an inch of hair on him… anywhere. Other than his face, of course.

Your bodies are slick with sweat and your moans and his grunts and groans echo in the bedroom. You can barely keep your eyes open and if it weren’t the fact Simon in your field of view, you’d have given up altogether.

Simon’s sitting across from you and Kyle, having cleared your clothes’ chair and taken a seat in it, watching you and Kyle with keen eyes… His large, rough hand is wrapped around his own cock, a long one, the tip red and angry. He strokes it slowly, almost lazily, as he watches you get properly fucked by Kyle.

Unlike John (and Johnny, as you found out during your bath), Simon and Kyle are both cut… And Simon has something that you didn’t expect. Piercings. A Jacob’s ladder, you’re pretty sure it’s called. Four barbells stacked on the underside of his shaft, which he only leaves visible for a few seconds every time his fingers uncover it.

Considering Kyle’s stayed quiet about it, you’re pretty sure he hasn’t spotted them, either from having his own eyes closed, or because you’re in the way. Either way, you don’t mind it, at all, that you get the view all to yourself, even for just a second.

The sight of Simon sat there, legs spread, his cock on display, his big hands and strong arms moving slowly as he watches you and Kyle is an amazing one… And hearing Kyle losing his mind behind you, too into the moment to succeed at any amount of dirty talk or at saying anything coherent just makes it better.

“Fuck… Yeah… Fuck… You feel… Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell…” Kyle grunts behind you as he keeps rocking his hips against your ass, making sure to plunge hard and deep inside you, not giving you time to breath before he’s bottoming out again, the pace unforgivingly fast.

You watch closely as Simon stops for a moment and shifts around on the chair he’s sitting on before pulling out his phone. He lets out a chuckle as he looks at the screen, then, he fidgets around with it for a moment, texting someone.

It’s barely a minute later when you hear the signature sound of a FaceTime call blasting from the phone’s speakers. Simon accepts it and aims the back camera at you and Kyle.

“Say hi to Johnny, sweetheart.” Simon demands, his tone surprisingly bossy, as he goes back to stroking his large cock.

“H-Hi, Johnny…!” You whine aloud, just barely able to speak without melting, your mind slowly emptying of all thoughts beside the feeling of Kyle inside you and Simon masturbating across from you.

Your breath is ragged as Kyle speeds up his thrusts even more, his grip on the back of your neck tightening and tensing up, his hips moving so erratically that it makes you squeal louder. “Kyle! OH FUCK!” You whine, eyes rolling back and your face wincing lightly from desperation.

“Slow down, Kyle.” Simon demands. “Slow and deep.” He adds. You hear Kyle grunt and he murmurs something incomprehensible in response as he does what he’s told. His motions slow and become more paced and calm as Kyle himself tenses up underneath you.

You notice how Kyle’s thighs tense up, his veins bulging and throbbing as he controls himself not to squirm, clearly trying his best not to lose it and to obey what Simon says.

“Mmm… that’s it… That’s it…” Simon praises, his eyes going back and forth between the sight of you and Kyle, and Johnny on his phone. “Nice and slow, Kyle…” He continues saying.

Kyle quakes underneath you, his breath getting a bit more ragged and you swear you hear him gulp down as he tries to be good for Simon and for you.

“Johnny’s enjoying it, aren’t you, Johnny?” He speaks to the phone. You can’t hear the reply from the Scot, but considering how Simon’s chuckling, the answer seems to be a yes.

“Simon… Fuck…” Kyle grunts. “This is… t-torture!” He’s able to get out, his thighs twitching and his arms tightening their hold on the back of your legs. “I’m going to- Fuck!” He grunts.

“Go on, pretty boy.” Simon teases. Something about the look in his eye, the little mischievous smirk on his lips… God, for someone who’s afraid of being touched, he sure knows what the fuck he’s doing… It’s almost intoxicating, the way he’s exerting control on everyone in the room and even Johnny over the phone.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening more and more as you experience all these feelings at once, your mind steadily clearing of any thoughts other than the prickling of stars in the corner of your eyes and the heat increasing more and more.

“Aaah-” Kyle hisses as he keeps moving slowly and deeply, gritting his teeth behind your back and huffing through his nose with barely restricted euphoria. “Fuck… Fuck…” He grunts. 

“F-FUCK!”  His voice shouting as he loses his composure and buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp motion of his hips… and another… and another… Completely disregarding Simon’s commands to go slow… And it makes your eyes roll as your orgasm hits, causing you to shudder and twitch… 

But, instead of moaning his name, you find yourself moaning Simon’s, your head unable to dip back due to Kyle’s grip on it, and forcing you to stare right at Simon as you fall over the edge of your climax.

Behind you, Kyle is losing his own mind, spilling his come in the confines of the condom… And you watch through a lidded, barely-aware gaze, as after a few more strokes, Simon’s cock throbs and twitches… before a few ropes of cum shoot in quick succession all over his lower stomach, which he had the presence of mind to lift his t-shirt out of.

The bedroom falls into complete silence as Kyle pulls out and slowly lets go of you, carefully helping get you out of the strained position that’ll likely leave your legs and joints sore the next few days.

“Good job...” Simon breaks the silence as he tries to catch his breath, his head dipped back against the wall behind him, his eyes lazily trailing the sight of you and Kyle on the bed, and then back to Johnny on the phone.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell…” You can finally hear Johnny speak through the speakers now that the room is silent. “You lot better repeat that when I’m not overseas and can join in…!” He quips, drawing laughter out of all of you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[pascals-doll]

aint ya’ girlfriend!

⋆ ˚ . * · analysis— in which ellie doesn’t know the meaning “commitment”, well she does but chooses to not stay loyal. you’re her roomate and unattainable—or so she thought. venturing into your own dating life causes her to spiral, she aint your girlfriend & neither are you. | WC: 1.5K

₊˚ପ ellie williams x reader | photo cover obvi from Pinterest!

₊˚ପ MEOWW IM BACK !! gotta run it back with some toxic ellie 😇!!

₊˚ପ description: MODERN ROOMATE AU! NO PHYSICAL FEMALE DESCRIPTION! ANGST & SMUT, PORN W PLOT! (lol), toxic!ellie, roomate!ellie, PLAYER! (coded) ellie, JEALOUS!ellie, no use of Y/N, the mention of commitment issues, MUTUAL PINING, blatant flirting, secret crushing, heavy yearning, very small reader x dina, heated arguement, mention of ellie sleeping with multiple women, POWERPLAY, mix of dom!reader & dom!ellie, sub!ellie partly & sub!reader, pent-up sex (😇), teasing, HIGHKEY MAKEUP SEX (👅), possessive!ellie, finger-fucking ( E receiving), face riding (E receiving), 69, praising, pussy eating (both receiving), slight biting (both), slight choking (both), use of pet names ( baby, mama)

90% percent of things in this world are easily accomplished and achieved, being Ellie Williams roommate wasn’t one of them.

Since the day you met through a roommate finder site, after a few phone conversations getting to know each other t’ill the moment you arranged your meeting. Ellie's been enamored, secretly, nonetheless.

You would lie if you said that from the moment; she came to help you move out t’ill now—dealing with sleepless nights because of her lack of sexual resistance—that her consistent affection didn't sway you.

it's been exactly six months since you've moved in with Ellie and you could recount her daily routine like it was your skincare.

You weren't sure, if you genuinely thought Ellie was sure you were dumb or straight-up shameless.

At dark hours of the midnight, you might've been asleep but that didn’t stop her by the agonizing moans that echoed through cheap plywood walls. You groaned as you muffled your entire face and ears with your pillow, praying for them to shut the fuck up or stop.

Three days, twice a week.

Ellie had to have some type of sex problem. You thought to yourself. You're never one to hate someone's game-but living with the player is absolute fucking hell.

Every morning, you’re an early bird as Ellie is not, due to her nightly ventures.

You felt bad for the women who left disheveled, sneaking through the apartment at 7 AM to leave while you step out your bedroom; an empathetic smile shot their way before hurrying into the bathroom.

Your morning routine consists of cleaning yourself up before stepping out to cook early breakfast.

By the time, Ellie awoke and stepped out cockily, "Thank you, beautiful. You didn't have to cook me breakfast." She coaxed happily, pouring her cup of coffee at 12 PM. You sat on the couch reading your book, legs crossed and rested onto your coffee table.

You chuckled, "That shit's cold by now, I made it when tonight's booty-call left." Unphased and focused on your book. You could hear her footsteps begin to lead towards the living room area, closer, and closer to the couch you relaxed on.

You would never admit it. Although, her lack of respect for your peace—doesn't mean she should starve.

She joined you on the couch, empty space right beside. Ellie's presence tensing your muscles for some reason. She somewhat annoyed you but when you got to talk to her, it went so well. You guys actually had so much in common.

It felt serene to connect with her on many levels besides her surface actions, she was a timid person throughout the small cocky remarks. She was a great listener along as a storyteller over everything.

It was truly remarkable the balance she carried, also interesting. Something you couldn't quite wrap your head around still. You were willingly delusional, but it was clearly evident, you soaked in every moment with this person.

You lowered your book while she asked, "Hmph-touchè, you got any plans for today?" Calling your attention. Eyes sulked, the forest she carried within her eyes; it wasn't hard to comprehend why these women want a chance with her.

Ellie’s eyes were impossible not to get lost in, like compulsion. You never held eye contact too long, taking moments to break away, and retain from fluttering to the brown kissed freckles along her face to the shape of her soft lips.

You squint, a small smirk creeping through "Wouldn't you like to know what I'm up too." Your tone teases before going back to reading.

"I know what you been up too," Ellie tries to push further, reaching forward to delicately grasp your legs that rested on the coffee table. Your legs laid into her lap, sprawling across, and hanging off.

Another thing that consists of her routine the most? Spending the rest of the hours, days, and weeks flirting with you.

Ellie loved physical touch—as if she wasn't physical enough. She loved her hands on you.

Watching herself caress the exposed skin of your legs, massaging down t’ill your ankle high-socks. Wether it was platonic or flirtatious, affection was key with you.

Once again, you lower your book to meet her eyes.

Ellie’s hands worked their way down, her fingers pressuring skillfully onto your heel and tingling the palm of your foot. She continues watching you read, "Oh yeah? What am I going to do today?" You question her, disregarding your book.

Sinking herself into the couch, her hands moving up from your legs to your thighs. Softly squeezing on of them, goosebumping your skin.

Ellie smiles confidently, "Cuddle with me and watch movies." Her eyes shimmering. You gaze at the big grin she spoke with, unsure if she was ever genuine.

You sat-up and leaned closer towards her till met face-level, "I'm sorry Els, someone else booked my time for today! I'm sure you will find a way to entertain yourself, hm?" You patted her shoulder with a smile as you got up.

"Wait, What the fuck do you mean?"

"Oh Williams! I've got a date, gotta' get ready."

It was insane, truly.

Ellie thought she was going crazy; she couldn't ever date you.

You're too good for her, representing everything she should want but isn't ready for. She was aware of how clearly toxic and intoxicated she was off, and with you.

No. Fuck no.

Ellie repeated to herself mentally, alongside questioning her existence—had she really been so caught up on trying to get a reaction out of you to see your time focused on someone else? —Yes, she was.

It wasn't as bad as the delusions Ellie's paranoia was creating in her mind. You had hung out with your friends where you happened to meet Dina. She was a mutual friend that you were introduced too.

Ever since then, you've been flattered, and hoped for a dinner date with her. For you, it felt like an escape of emotional dread that came after every touch, sentence, and epithet that left Ellie's lips.

You hated the way you loved how affectionate she was, catching yourself vulnerable every time she touched you. Always dwelling the feeling of her soft warmth that soaked into your own invisible bliss, never allowing yourself to look too pleased; Yet, never pulling away.

Ellie headed down the hallway to your room. She was desperate to get you to stay, creating small and stupid conversation to slow you as she loved hearing her nickname fall from your lips even though she was practically seeping jealousy.

Ellie was her own ticking time-bomb, her patience melting, and mustering “Who's the lucky girl?" She bugged, trying her hardest to conceal that greened tone.

You swirl your chair around, now completely facing her as you couldn’t help your jaw fall agape. You examine her demeanor while speaking up, “I don't ask about your daily rendezvouses." You were quick to quirk back, feeling uncalled for.

Ellie's brows knitted together, "We-well—are you gonna' bring them back? I deserve to know that." She stumbled but spit back.

It was clear, now, you offended her. It was true. You never asked about the women she brought into your shared apartment. The women she brought to make you jealous.

The laugh you let out was priceless, "I don't get a say on who you bring home, why would you?" You called her out.

Ellie stepped closer to your chair. She looked into your mirror, leaving you no choice but to face her as your swirled around, her eyes gandered through your vanity mirror.

Your facial expressions were clearer as she continued to push, "It's different, you know that." She tries to prove.

You wanted peace and relaxation, something Ellie makes a sure mission of that you never fucking receive.

"You can't go out," Ellie began.

"Who's gonna stop me? Are you serious?' You thought she must've been fucking with you; you weren't going to hear another word of it.

"Just get out, get out now." Standing up from you chair, holding it open as she walks out, and slamming the door behind her.

You had left and most of all, you had left Ellie feeling like complete shit.

She couldn't believe you did this, did this to her. It felt like you had shot right through her heart, torturing her with her own distasteful antics, and leaving a sour tang to her soul.

In her mind, she thought you were utterly selfish. She couldn't see past the fact that, you, didn't owe her anything.

Ellie wanted you, beyond pleasure, more than anything. You became insatiable to her.

She didn’t allow herself to soak in tangled feelings she felt for you, knew she had, even if it ate her alive at night. You would come to visit her in her sleep or while she mindlessly fucked some girl—sometimes, even pretending it was you.

You are treasure to her, too valuable to touch, but always curious with growing desperation to obtain and protect.

Ellie's peace was founded in you, a safe place she loves calling home. Unknown to your knowledge and you disrupted it.

As she disrupts your peace by being with anyone, but you.

Ellie finally understood what you meant by those backhanded insults.

She sat there with her hands palmed to her face, fingers running, and scratching through her short soft locks. Messing her own hair up, contemplating on how she could turn such a deep pattern.

This entire time she had been failing and failed to see that.

Out of everything, she thought blowing up your phone was the answer.

When you finally opened your phone, you saw your notification inbox full.

ⓘ Els ❕50+ messages

ⓘ Els ❕50 missed calls

You excused yourself to the restroom at fhe table with Dina, "I'm sorry, is it okay if run to the restroom really quick?" You requested through a thick forced tone and hidden irritation.

Your date had been going amazing. You may not have a lot in common with Dina, but she's a cheerful person who brings a refreshening energy. It was nice being in her presence.

It wasn't enough though.

You found yourself comparing your conversations to the conversations you have with Ellie, who is just your fucking roommate.

Dina was picture perfect, absolutely stunning, and she respected you more than you imagined Ellie ever could. That was the thing; even if talking to Dina tonight was full of laughter.

Everything you wanted wasn't her.

Never able to shake the anticipation of her touches, and the absence of her presence. Which make you crave it. Crave her. She was pure risk and you never wanted her to change.

You had a crush on your roommate, and you were fucked.

You were in the restroom ringing Ellie's phone. Hearing the beat of your heart thumps.

"You better say something good." You wanted to scream out as the line connects. You had every right to be, never once have you blown up her phone.

"Where are you? Let me come get you." She hurried through her words, hearing her surroundings of cars driving with a swish of wind.

You paced around, shocked and even more angry, "Are you out? Where are you?" You throw her own question back at her, whisper-yelling in a stall.

Ellie was so desperate to find where you were out like a girlfriend gone rogue.

"On my way to come get you, now tell me, where." She states blatantly and impatiently.

"You fucking wish! what happened? your hookup ain't text ya' back?" Your tone was laced with pure spite. It was silent for a small moment over the phone.

"Tell me where you are or come home." You could hear the desperation through her roughed-up tone.

Not a word was said. Your mood had been completely killed and you were hanging on by a thread. Repeating herself, “Come home or tell me where you are, please."

For the first time, you heard Ellie beg. She was pleading for you to come home, and you hated to admit it; yet, again.

But it worked.

When you finally saw her, you didn’t bring yourself to look or speak while you walked completely past her.

The silence was piercing the whole way. You could hear a pin drop.

“No side piece tonight?” your tone, only bashful. You were exhausted and enraged.

Ellie's white wife-beater was roughed up and you could smell the stench of marijuana roam off her neck. She looked sullen, her eyes low, bagged, and her jaw seeming clenched; her hair staticy.

You observed her body language, scanning her lean figure. Her sweatpants hung loosely onto her hips as her gaze shifted between you and her own feet.

Huffing, "Just why." you state, disassociating yourself by looking at the ground. It was continued silence for a moment.

"You came back for a reason, though." Ellie finally spoke and it just made everything worse.

"You know what? I did. I came back because I actually care for you. I thought you were in trouble or something, so I thought, hey, maybe I should go back—" You began, your voice shrieking as it raised louder.

"Something you never fucking think to do, too busy fucking to show me an ounce of respect!" You yelled. Weight had been lifted.

It was like screaming a keyword at Ellie, budging from looking at ground to look at you "What are you talking about!?" Ellie's eyes widen, her eyebrows raising as she retorts.

"You don't fucking get it!" you didn't say anything as she raised her hand angrily into the air, then running in through her hair.

"It is so fucking hard trying to resist you." Ellie's eyes were piercing into yours, her steps stalking closer.

"No matter how many women, they are never you. You are all I think about." You could hear her voice grow lower and lower as you froze.

You were at a loss for words, lips parted as you try to focus on your breathing.

"I want you. I need you." Ellie continues, whispering. Feeling her warm breath feather your lips. Ellie closed any space between you both, pulling you into her.

You opened your mouth to speak—only for her to bring a finger up to shush your lips, "I can't stand the thought of you with someone else." Ellie continued, leaning in closer and slowly removing her finger.

So many parts of you wanted to scream rejection, but as you feel her warmth, and her words you’ve dreamed. You could feel your blood rush and heat you up, feeling Ellie's body haze you, your mouth desperate and shaky.

"Kiss me, then." you tut.

Your lips met passionately, an automatic fight for dominance as the pace got hot. The thirst shared was unquenchable.

The personal echoes of each other's kisses smack as your hands got lost in her hair. Your fingers slightly tug onto her loose locks. Ellie's hands greedily rapturing you further into her body—till she couldn't; craving to feel every part of you.

You were lost into the feeling of Ellie's lips, her tongue swiping at your bottom lip as she's desperate to explore more of you.

Your bodies fiend for each other, one of your hands tugging on her muscle tank, and the other lowering from her hair. Ellie's hands roam from your waist, trilling at the feeling of you grazing her neck. She passes your hips till she reached thigh, and hiking it up onto her hip.

Ellie's grasps and grips onto the thick of your thigh, slowly dipping to cup the cheek of your ass. She sneaked a firm squeeze on your ass causing you to shriek, allowing her tongue to explore every crevice of your mouth.

Ellie giggled into the kiss at your muffled moans, amused by how she's effecting you. You push her off slightly, catching your breath. You were both left breathless while she kept eyes on each part of you.

Taking a step closer, reaching your hand out to caress her cheek. Indulged by the freckles painted into her as your thumb brushes her soft cheek. Slowly traveling your hand to her nape before coming around full circle, choking her, and pulling her chest to chest.

You smirk at the way her pupils dilatated. Ellie's mouth was agape, leaning in to lick a teasing swipe along her bottom and top lip. "I'm not your girlfriend." you state.

A soft quick squeeze on her neck causing a weak whine to fall from her lips. Oh, this was better than you imagined.

Ellie gripped your arm, pulling you around and into her chest. Walking you back, you felt your back eventually hit against her door with a hasty thud. Her tongue explored you, intertwining with your own as you sucked softly.

Each grope and wet lick electrified a craving in your stomach, pulsing into your arousal. She struggles with the doorknob, jiggling it open as her other hand held you. Ellie would never admit how soaked you get her.

Your needy grinds contra the pleasure dripping through her briefs as her lips learned every secret love spot within your precious body. You both tumbled onto her bed, not a care in the world besides this fervid momentum shared between you both.

Ellie toppled you, slowly lowering closer. Taking a chance to catch her by suprise, pulling her down with your leg hooked, and flipping her over. Now, you were on top.

Your lips quickly find their way to her clavicle, pecking, and licking alongside her neck. Almost ripping off her wife-beater while leaving open-mouthed kisses onto her shoulder. Continuing kissing down and around her exposed tits.

Your eyes switched watching her face and the way the cool air perked up her nipples. Ellie's back arched as you teased your teeth onto the plush above her tits, right above her sensitive erect nipples. you leave an array of hickeys, enjoying each squirm let out from under you.

This was your sweet revenge, her punishment for every time; she could've been with you, but wasn't.

You didn't stop tricking her with your tongue. Maneuvering down from fondling one of her tits, twiddling your finger around her nipple, and sliding into her loose sweats.

Your hand hasty as you reach the warmth of her panties, middle, and ring finger curve into the soaked patch that leaked through her panty. Thumb pushing up on her clit softly while Ellie turns her head laying head on the bed, watching you tease her; growing embarrassingly wet.

It was primal instinct, playing, and pushing for her weaknesses. You studied every small moan and squirm left form her body. Your fingers continuously circle her clit through her panties. She was quick to spread her legs for you, allowing you access.

Ellie's tits perked and red by your teeth and feverish sucking. You kept finger firm, pressing down onto her covered clit as the fabric of her soppy panty rubbed into her, pulling her panty to the side, coating your two fingers with her slick.

Ellie's chest heaves with a loud moan as her thighs tremble. You watch her struggle to reach up and stop your arm. She was on the border of giving in and still anxious for control.

She grips onto your wrist, slimed finger following down to her vulnerable entrance, toying with her, torturously. You kiss and lick your way back up, meeting her berried lips.

Your middle finger pushes into her, curving upward, and enticing her walls which immediately knocked a desperate strangled moan out of Ellie, throwing her head back.

The sound of her slick swirl and smack within gliding in and out of her whetted pussy brought you a gluttonous satisfaction. Her addictive cries encouraged another finger to join your soaked middle, stretching her out completely. Ellie’s grown in nail tips dug into your incensed flicking wrist.

Ellie on a frenzy of choked whines and unstable string of moans, "Gah-fuck me!".

You admire the work you've sucked onto her body. A fleeced giggle leaves your lips as you plant feathered kisses onto her cheeks, "Already am, baby" You murmured.

The pace you fucked her with was exquisite, your fingertips fluttering against her g-spot as they plunge deeper. Quickening your thrusts with every squelch given by Ellie’s gushed pussy. She held her mouth agape, allowing yourself to dive your tongue in, swallowing her lewd noises.

Ellie clenches around you, her pussy guzzling every inch of your thickened fingers. You could feel and hear her heartbeat pound against your smushed chests, "Ya'like it? like how it feels, honey?" Your question was coy, sliding your fingers fourth, pressing your tips verse her walls.

"Ah! yes, fuck, fuck yes!—I'm gonna'—" Lecherous shrieks fell from her lips as you help ride out her orgasm. Your fingers relentless in her pussy, juicing itself around your fingers; coating your fingers.

"Let it out, Els", You start to praise into her ear, "I know you've been dying too."

Your coo finishes her off with a loud grunt as you pull out your lustered up fingers. Without looking or a second thought, your free hand grabbed Ellie's jaw and attempted to focus her dazed vision to watch you.

Both of your eye's leer into each other as you plop your fingers into your mouth, coming sucking off her cum with a pop.

Ellie's eyes turned dark, her lids hazed, and hooded.

Slowly lifting yourself and shifting your hips below her stomach, Ellie was quick with her movements, flipping you over, and trapped under her. The feeling of her hands running up and down your clothed body, leaning down your ear, “Time, I took all this off…” She weakly whispers as she hovers over you.

Your body was completely sprawled onto her navy-blue sheeted bed with your arms raised above your head, and her knee pushing into your clothed heat. Mimicking your exact position, each sloppy kiss was followed by a piece of clothing being thrown off.

Seconds. How quick it was for you to be in nothing but your panties. Ellie’s kisses were precise and every nonverbal praise by the unconscious grind of your hips and bit-back whines.

She flows herself between your legs, pulling each one onto her shoulders as her lips pecked from your thighs till, she met your damped panty. "You had your fun," She started muttering into you.

"Only fair if I have mine, right mama?" Ellie cocks her head to the side, meeting your eyes before biting your panty-lining and proceeding to hike down your panties with her teeth.

Your eyes peered into her, watching the way she intently focused every part of you. She kissed every beauty mark that was blessed up your body. The feeling of her breath inching closer to your dewed pussy-lips; arching your back in temptation.

You thread your fingers throughout her hair, tugging slightly. You were no longer challenging her, giving complete submission to Ellie.

She watches the way arousal drips from your slit; her hands massaged the goosebumps perking the hairs on you. Ellie couldn't believe she was granted with such a divine privilege, drooling at the thought.

Ellie kitten-licked the delicious nectar that trickled, her tongue dragging flat against your pussy, and licking up your pulpy clit. Indulging in every moment spent between your legs with every keen lick trailed across your heat.

An inflamed jolt seeds through your spine, your entire body to thrash further into the bed as you cry out, "Ah!—Fucking god!" Your pleasure enthralling you to your ankles.

The wet smacking from her saliva coated sucks mixed with your core's elation. A train of vulgar slob laps your pussy while she gets lost in between your furred lips and swallowing you up, “It ain’t god, baby.” Smirking at your sensual vulnerability.

The tone she used was condescendingly sweet. Trembling your legs and jerking your hips which pushed Ellie’s head further into your pussy as the heel of your foot digs into her shoulder, and hands wrestling through her brunette locks.

Your head was thrown back in tempestuous joy, “Mmph! Ellie!—so fucking good!” Ellie’s tongue danced on your clit before making her way towards your soppy entrance.

Pure ecstasy marauded its way up and through your internal, tightening your abdomen. Every strike of her tongue inched closer to cumming all over her. You felt your hips cramp as you try to push Ellie off, backing away desperately.

You struggled, meekly crying out, "F-fuck! stop! stop!" Ellie immediately pulled away with wide eyes. She looked up at you alarmed, "Did I hurt you?!" her tone sincere and worried as she got up, standing above you.

Trying to catch your breath, sweat glistening your naked body. You lean up on your elbows to look at her, "Get on the bed..." your voice was breathless and clear. Ellie walks over slowly, hovering next to you on the empty side of the bed while licking the corners of her lips deviously.

Ellie leans over, her hand threading through your messy hair as she kissed you ferociously. Tasting yourself on her tongue as your own greedily twirled around her mouth. Both of your tongues swirl around each other as your arms find their way around Ellie's body.

You pull away from her lips, "Put your pussy on me." you sulk, regaining your strength.

"Aren't you charming." She jokes out sarcastically and smirking, "Oh, just sit on my face." you huff with a fun grin.

Just like that, Ellie turns around, holding herself up onto your thighs. Your hands run through the back on her thighs till you made your way to her ass, fondling, and squeezing her plush flesh. Mouth’s salivating at each other.

Ellie lets out a gratifying groan as your tongue swipes her sensitive slits, twirling around her hole and thumb circling her clit. Arching herself down onto you more while leveling herself in-between your thighs, leaving sloppy opened kisses on your pussy.

Your stomach bubbles up lewdly, chasing after her swirling tongue within the impatient trial to get her to cum all over your face. The mix of each other's nibbles and starved slurps, propelling bodies together as your legs convulsed and her own thighs shook with inched erotica.

You feel your orgasm coarse and itch closer as Ellie continues to drag between your slits. Starting to move faster, hips grinding against your face. Ellie is soon following close behind, both of you moaning and panting while reaching each other’s simultaneous climax.

A string of choked out moans bouncing off her white walls, “Don-Don’t stop!” you gasp out before closing your mouth around her clit.

Continuous harmony between both of your moans as you both cum all over each other, creaming your faces.

You and Ellie lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow. Eyes dozed, sweaty bodies entwined, and sharing a first tender moment of silence.

You lifted your nuzzled head from the crook of her neck, breaking the silence.

“I don't want you to touch anyone besides me.” Voice hoarse and clearer than ever.

“I dont want to ever see anyone besides you.”

A/N: I FEEL BEYOND GRATEFUL FOR REACHING 1k WHILE I WAS GONE 🥹 i thought it was about time i post cus i finally feel like ? confident ? i spent most of my time if it wasn’t personal life duty, id be writing a bunch of self indulgent fictions (THIS WAS ONE OF THEM LOL) and practicing and differentiating my writing style to my liking.

THANK YOU SO MUCH GENUINELY IT MEANS THE WORLD! i cant wait to continue :)

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updated taglist link here! (other was corrupted)

[the-teufort-nine]

The BLU Chemist Reader returns for their final fic! 11k words and about a week of work and beta reading by @pinkypiechar have led to this! I hope it lives up to expectations!

If you like the idea of a Chemist Reader, please consider checking out my longer, RED Chemist Fem!Reader fic, whenever I actually get around to writing it.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction PART 3: Chem and RED's Excellent Adventure

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort, Discussion of Poly Relationship, Crossfaction Flirting | NSFW, because while technically no sex happens, its definitely discussed/implied| Cw: starvation, mentions of graphic death/description of a corpse, mentions of pet death (non graphic), possesive behaviours ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here, as well as a particularly charming duo from the enemy team.

Scenario: Having been stranded at the new base with no hope of making it back to their team alone, the BLU Chemist must ask their mortal enemy for help. Thankfully, even a RED Engineer has some good ole' southern hospitality, and the Texan offers to get the BLU back to their team. (Un)fortunately, someone else has joined in on their little quest...

The RED team's Engineer had seen many things during his time working for Mann Co., but the sight before him now may have been the strangest yet.

The BLU Chemist, whom everyone knew had died during that horrible Respawn failure, was standing on the other end of his trusty shotgun.

Well, standing might have been too generous a word. The Merc was swaying like a sapling in a storm, trembling from the effort of staying upright. Their usually vibrant eyes were dull behind their safety goggles, which didn't hug their face like usual. Everything they wore looked baggy and ill-fitting, barely hanging onto their gaunt, thin form. They looked dead, as though their soul had been dragged back from the afterlife and shoved into their corpse.

“How the hell…” he lowered his gun, blue eyes narrowing in disbelief, “Ain't you supposed to be dead?” 

“I was.” They shrugged weakly, stumbling slightly, “Now I'm not. I actually just died again a few hours ago, and I'm pretty sure my team might think I'm actually dead. Again.”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph.” The Engineer cursed, before opening the door wider. “Well, I reckon since it's a ceasefire, ah ain't bein’ paid t’ kill ‘ya, so y’ may as well come in. Just try ‘n keep the noise down, otherwise you're gonna have 9 curious bastards pokin’ atcha.”

“I'll be as quiet as a church mouse.” The BLU replied, wincing as they stepped into the illuminated interior. “Jesus, that's bright.”

“It really ain't.” The Southerner arched a concerned brow, “You’re just sick as a dog.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Came the Chemist’s grumbled response.

“Where’d you come from? Ain’t much ‘round here that could get ‘ya killed, aside from us.” He asked, extending a hand to steady his unexpected guest as they tilted towards the wall.

“Uhhhh,” The Chemist scrubbed at their eyes, letting their hand drag down their face. Their E/C eyes stared blankly at the wall as they tried to call forth an answer. “Colorado. Yeah, we were in Colorado. We had to stop at this little town called Limon ‘cause there was a tornado.”

“A tornado?”

“Yeah. It knocked down a utility pole. That’s how I died again, actually! Biggggg ole electric shock.”

Engineer let out a low whistle. “Nasty way to go. You are one unlucky sumbitch, huh?”

The Chemist inclined their head. “Or, I’m a lucky ‘sumbitch’, depending on how you look at it. I’ve cheated Death twice now, after all.”

Engineer snorted at their attempt to mimic his accent. It reminded him of his own team’s Chemist, who was tucked away upstairs, sleeping peacefully. She often copied his countryisms, and he would sometimes catch her unconsciously copying the accent or speech mannerisms of whomever she was speaking to.

“Maybe.” he acquiesced, “Yer a right tough bastard, ah’ll give ‘ya that. No wonder yer such a pain in the ass when we’re scrappin’.”

The other Merc grinned a bit. “Being a pain in the ass is my specialty.”

Before he knew it, Engineer found himself standing in the Intel room, where the base’s phone was located. Thankfully, their Intel was still packed away in a secure safe, but even if it wasn’t, the man was fairly sure that this BLU wouldn’t try and snag it.

“Here ‘ya are! Hope ‘ya get through to someone.” He said, offering the phone to the exhausted Chemist.

“‘Preciate it.” They said, taking the phone and punching in a few numbers. They leaned against the wall, head resting on the wood as they listened to the phone ring. After a minute, they frowned, letting out a soft curse.

“Pauling’s not picking up. The storm must have knocked out her signal.” They sighed, “Great. Guess I'm waiting back at our base for them to show up. Whenever that is.”

“Are you gonna be able to hang on that long?” The Texan questioned, “No offense, partner, but you look like yer gonna drop.”

The Chemist sighed again, in a long, drawn out way, the way someone did when bone deep exhaustion finally caught up to them. The way animals do when they've given all they can, and now simply must lie down and wait for the inevitable.

“It's not like I have much of a choice. I mean, what else am I supposed to do?” They asked.

“Well,” The RED Merc scratched at his chin, contemplating if what he was about to do was a good idea, “Ah don't know if you know this, but we're in good ‘ole Texas, and Colorado really ain't too far from where we're stationed. If ‘ya want, ah could drive ‘ya on over there.”

The BLU raised their head off the wall, eyes widening in surprise.

“You- you'd do that? For me? Why?” 

Engineer shrugged. “Ah feel bad fer ‘ya. ‘Sides, if you die, then they're gonna replace you with someone new, and ah rather prefer the enemy ah know to the enemy ah don't.”

The two mercenaries stared at one another for a long moment, the only sound being the cricket song coming from outside. Finally, the Chemist let out a dry, wheezing laugh, their teeth bared in a vicious grin.

“Good God I must be insane, trusting a RED.” They chuckled, “You know what? Sure, I'll take you up on that offer, cowboy.”

They reached forward and playfully tugged down the brim of Engineer's hat, causing him to lightly bat their hand away.

“Cream gravy! Alright, let's mosey on out then. Ah wanna be back before mah team starts wonderin’ where ah went.” He said, starting off in the direction of his truck, which was parked faithfully outside.

The Chemist plodded along behind him, and there were a few times where he had to glance back to make sure that they hadn't fallen behind too much. When they finally did make it to the truck, Engineer let them climb into the passenger seat while he nipped over to the trunk. Flipping it open, he pulled out an old, well loved blanket. It was black and white and gray striped, something he'd gotten for his childhood dog, Bucket. Bucket had been a fat, lazy beagle who did nothing but lounge around and bark at guests, but the man had loved him more than anything.

Bucket had passed away some time ago, but he'd never stopped taking the blanket along with him. Now, it would finally get to see some use again.

“Here,” he passed the blanket to the shivering Merc, “It ain't much, but it should help keep ‘ya from freezin’ over ‘till the heat kicks on.”

“T- Thanks.” The Chemist replied, gingerly taking the offered fabric. They thumbed the worn fabric, setting it across their lap.

“No problem.” Engineer replied, shutting the door to his side. 

For a moment, it almost sounded like one of the back doors had shut as well, and he looked back over his shoulder, eyes squinting in the low light. His gaze lingered for a moment, but when nothing revealed itself, he slowly turned back around and started up the truck.

“Ah’ve got a map in ‘m glove box. Pull it out and let's find that little town of yers.”

The Chemist nodded, and Engineer put the truck into drive.

It was going to be a long drive.

A couple of hours into their trek, the RED Engineer noticed that his passenger was starting to droop more than usual. Worse than that, he could hear their stomach growling like an ornery gator every few minutes.

Wordlessly, he eyed up the nearby fast food places before pulling off the road they'd been driving on. The Chemist didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with just staying somewhat awake.

“You up for a snack, Darl’?” He asked, gently nudging the BLU.

“Mnhm.” They mumbled back, “C’n I have m’ cheeseburger yet?”

“Sure, we can do a McDonald's run.” Engineer replied, turning into the nearest drive through.

He quickly placed an order for both his guest and himself, paying and grabbing the food before finding a spot to park.

“Here ‘ya go. One genuine American cheeseburger.” The Texan said, handing the Chemist their food.

The Chemist stared at the offered meal, gently cradling the wrapped burger in their hands, as though it were some sort of priceless treasure.

“Engie, I could genuinely suck your dick right now.” They said softly, before sinking their teeth into the cheeseburger, not even bothering to take off the wrapper.

The RED Merc’s face turned the same shade as his uniform, and he pulled down his hat to hide his rosey cheeks.

“Don't- y’ cant just-” he stumbled, trying to make words come out of his mouth properly, “Jesus, don't eat the wrapper!”

“Sorieh, ah can't heawr you.” The Chemist replied through a mouthful of cheeseburger and cheeseburger wrapper, “Ahm too buwsy eaghting.”

“At least slow down.” He muttered, tucking into his own food.

And yes, he did take the wrapper off, thank you very much.

“Yes, please do. I have no desire to see you hork down that disgusting slop like a wild beast.”

Both BLU and RED mercenaries choked as a third voice piped up from the back, scaring them out of their wits. 

“SPY!” Engineer whirled around as the Chemist hacked up their mouthful of food, the BLU thankfully having the wherewithal to stick their head out of the window, “What the hell do you think you're doing here?! How did you even get in mah truck?!”

“I followed you and slipped into the back when you were rooting around for that rag.” Spy replied, indicating to the blanket, which had halfway slipped down onto the floor. “What are you doing here, labourer? Having some sort of illicit affair with zhe enemy?”

“If- If you actually thought that,” the Chemist coughed, pounding on their chest, “then you hiding out in the back is super creepy, dude.”

“Yeah, well bein’ a creep is about all this one knows.” Engineer grit out, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull, “But usually, he knows better than to try that with me.”

“I was simply curious as to why you were sneaking off with someone who is supposed to be dead.” The masked man said, producing a cigarette from one of his pockets, “Zhe Administrator is not going to be pleased when she finds out you have been acting rather… friendly with each other.”

“Yeah, well, what is she gonna do, kill me?” The Chemist snarked. “If she wanted me dead, she wouldn't have let Pauling go ‘n get me. I must be worth more to her alive than dead.”

“She ain't got no eyes here anyway.” Engineer added, “Trust me. Ah personally go over every inch of mah equipment and vehicles at least once a week, t’ check for any bugs or cameras. Mah Betsy is as clean as a whistle.”

Engineer moved like a striking cobra, his prosthetic hand closing around Spy's suit jacket. The Frenchman dropped his cigarette as he was jerked forward, a flicker of fear coming over his face.

“And you, spook, ain't gonna breathe a damn word to Her ‘bout anything that happens on this trip, ‘cause if you do,” he tightened his grip, the metal components straining slightly under the pressure, “ah’ll know, and you won't like what happens next.”

Spy rolled his eyes, but both the Chemist and the Engineer could see that the man was sufficiently intimidated.

“Very well, I shall be silent about your little ‘road trip.’” he sneered, “And zhe Chemist's generous offer.”

“Great.” Engineer said cheerily through gritted teeth, “Ah can tell this is gonna be real fun.”

“Yippee.” The Chemist added dully, before taking another bite of their burger.

“Wh- TAKE OFF THE DAMN WRAPPER!”

Travelling with the RED Engineer had been surprisingly nice. It was almost like being back with your own Engineer, what with the southern man being so kind and polite to you, despite you both being on opposing sides.

Travelling with the RED Spy was not nearly as pleasant.

Him and the Engineer bickered almost constantly, and when they weren't bickering, Spy started semi-flirting, semi-picking on you, which usually led to yet another round of bickering.

Truly, it was almost like being stuck in a car with two overgrown toddlers.

“Is he always this insufferable?” You hissed to Engineer after Spy started listing off all the ways your outfit was offending the very concept of clothing.

“No.” Engineer sighed, looking very much like he'd like to drive all three of you into a ditch, “He's purposefully bein’ more of an ass than usual ‘cause you're here. Usually, he's a lot more quiet.”

“I'd like to see that.” You groused, before refocusing on the map in your lap. Your previous consumed cheeseburger and fries felt uncomfortably heavy in your weakened stomach, but they did help to restore some of your lost energy.

“Okay, it looks like we need to take a left in about 6 miles. We'll be turning onto Canyon Rd.” You read aloud, “We'll be on that one for a while.”

“It's real nice to have someone along who can actually read a map.” Engineer chuckled, “Usually, it's either Scout, Solly, or Pyro who rides with me into town every time we need t’ get supplies, and none ‘a them are any help when it comes to navigatin.’”

“Heh, yeah, mine aren't real great at that either.” You smiled, thinking of all the times you'd heard the three of them bickering on missions.

“Are zhose three good for anything besides destroying zhings?” Spy asked, lounging in the back like a smug cat.

“Sure.” You replied, not looking up from the map, “My Scout's actually really good at impersonating other people, Soldier is a baking whiz when it comes to bread, and Pyro can sniff out backstabbing French bastards like nobody else.”

Spy definitely didn't start pouting as Engineer started cackling like a madman, his shoulders shaking with mirth. You grinned at the sound, your own quiet chuckles joining in.

“Hooo-wee! They gotcha there, slim!” he laughed, wiping at his eye.

Spy glared. “I'm glad you find zhe idea of me dying so amusing, toymaker.” 

“Oh, lighten up, would you.” You glanced back over your shoulder to look at the masked man, “Are you seriously going to tell me you guys don't joke about killing us?”

“I don't joke about killing,” Spy sniffed, “I just kill.”

Engineer snorted as you rolled your eyes, turning back to your map. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say, frog legs. Turn left up here, Engie.”

“No insulting names for zhe cowpoke?” Spy arched his brow.

“Considering he's been nothing but nice to me? No. Maybe if you turn your attitude around, I'll think of something nicer to call you, too.”

“I have no desire to be as, ah, close as you two seem to be.”

You gripped the seat as you whipped around again, eyes widened in anger-tinged disbelief. “Holy shit are you still fixated on that? What, do you want me to offer to suck you off too?!”

Spy recoiled back a bit, stiffening up as the exposed skin of his upper cheeks turned a shade of pink usually reserved for flowers. However,

He didn’t say no.

“Oh, my God.” You said, raising your brows as a smirk pulled the corner of your mouth upwards, “Oh, my God.”

“Merde, no, zhat’s not what I-”

“Well,” You relaxed your grip on the seat and folded your arms, tilting your head slightly as you watched Spy squirm, looking every bit like the cat that got the cream, “you’d have to be very nice to me to get that sort of offer.”

“Je vais t'éviscérer comme un poisson si tu continues à parler!”

“Now, see, I don’t know what you just said, but it didn’t sound very nice.” You turned back around, barely holding in your laughter, “No blowjob offer for you. I guess you won’t have to share, Engie.”

“Well don’t that beat all?” Engineer replied playfully, “You sure yer team won’t mind, though?”

“The way I see it,” You said, readjusting the blanket the man had given you, “you have gone out of your way to bring me back to them, and you let me actually eat the cheeseburger you bought me. They can suck it up.”

“Sounds like you’ll be the one suckin’.” The Texan murmured under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

“What was that?”

“Nothin!” Engineer replied, “Just talkin’ t’ m’self.”

“Is that a thing all engineers do?” You asked, “My Engie does that too, usually when he’s working on something.”

“Maybe. Mah Pa used to do it fer sure.” The RED Merc shrugged, “Wait, does yer Engineer let y’all into his workshop?”

“Well, he let’s me and Pyro in.” You said, recalling all the times you and the firebug had hung out in the space, “Sometimes Medic is allowed in, but everyone else gets the boot, unless he calls them in to help him with something.”

“Interesting.” Spy said, apparently having recovered from his embarrassment enough to speak, “Zhis one has barred us all from entering his sacred domain. Not even our Chemist get’s zhat privilege. You must mean quite a bit to him.”

“If y’all didn’t go ‘round putin’ yer grubby mitts all over everything, maybe I would let y’ in.” Engineer smacked the steering wheel, frustration in his tone, “Honestly, it’s like herdin’ cats when I let y’all anywhere near mah stuff! ‘Sides, don’tcha remember what happened the last time I let someone play around with mah equipment, Spy?”

“Oui.” Spy shuddered, “I don’t zhink we will ever fully get zhe smell of bread yeast out of zhat base.”

“I’m sorry- bread yeast?” You shot the two RED members a confused look, “What does bread have to do with you not letting anyone near your stuff?”

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we got the time.” Engineer cleared his throat, “It all started one afternoon. We’d just got done killin’ yer team and makin’ off with yer Intelligence…”

Engineer and Spy’s wild tale of love, RED victory, and bread monsters kept you entertained for the next few hours or so, the three of you eventually getting sidetracked by various other topics. By the time the sun started to rise over the Colorado horizon, the conversation had switched to being about everyone’s favourite foods.

“Look, there ain’t nothin’ better fer breakfast than a nice cup’ a coffee, bacon ‘n eggs with a side of buttered toast, biscuits, and sausage gravy ‘n grits.” Engineer said, voice full of confidence.

“I think I would actually explode if I ate all of that.” You stuck out your tongue, feeling ill at just the thought of eating so much food. If this man ate like that every morning, then it was no wonder that he sported such a plump figure in comparison to most of his other teammates.

Not that you were complaining.

“I agree, mon petit saphir.” Spy said, curling his lip. “Zhat is a disgusting amount of food for zhe very first meal of zhe day.”

“Ooh, whatever that name was, it sounded a lot nicer.” You said teasingly. “See? I knew you could do it!”

“Well would ‘ya look at that? You actually got him to simmer down.” Engineer grinned, ducking when Spy swiped irritably at his head, “Maybe you should come join up with RED. We could probably stash you away somewhere, hand y’ over to Spy when we need him to settle.”

You laughed, imagining yourself with a little service animal harness. “Tell you what, If my team decides to murder me for dying again right in front of ‘em, I’ll switch sides.” 

“Heh, partner, you’ve got yerself a deal.” Engineer stuck out his hand, and you gripped it, giving it the best shake your weak arms could manage. 

“It seems as zhough you’ll be making your decision sooner rather zhan later.” Spy leaned forward and pointed at an upcoming road sign, which read “Limon Welcomes You!”

“Oh SHIT we’re here!” You sat forward quickly, before wincing and holding your head, “Oh, woof, headrush. That was a bad idea.”

“Good Lord, this place has seen better days.” Engineer said, gazing at the many fallen tree branches and damaged buildings, “Where did you say y’all were stayin’ again?”

“We sheltered in an old garage near the outskirts of town.” You replied, wincing at the amount of damage you saw, “I hope they haven’t gone too far, but I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to get away as soon as possible.”

“I doubt zhey wanted to linger around your charred corpse.” You nodded grimly at Spy’s comment, not particularly looking forward to seeing it yourself, but needing to check if your team was still around.

Soon enough, the three of you pulled up to the abandoned mechanic shop. The building looked even worse than when you had last seen it, and the lack of nearby vehicles did not make you feel particularly hopeful that you would find your team here. Still, your temporary RED companion pulled over and hopped out of his truck, putting a steadying hand on your shoulder when he saw you struggling to maintain your balance. Spending so many hours sitting down did not help your already weak legs to support your weight. Stepping inside the building proper, you were careful to avoid the downed utility pole and various cables. Only a few feet away from the door lay an unmoving mass with a familiar colour scheme.

Seeing your own dead body never got any less unsettling. Usually, it was blown into unrecognizable pieces, or shot so full of bullet holes that it resembled red and blue swiss cheese, but this time it was wholly intact, save for the skin that had burned and blackened from the intense heat of the electricity that had rocketed through your body. The stench of burnt clothes, hair, skin, and the early stages of rot permeated the still air, and you quickly tugged your respirator on in disgust. 

“Eugh, thank God I ate earlier, because I think I just lost my appetite.” You scrunched your nose, pulled down your goggles over your eyes, and began gathering chemicals from the various pockets and vials on your person. “Step outside, gentlemen, I’ll have this gone in a moment.”

The two RED’s quickly nodded and left, eager to get away from the smell and knowing exactly how dangerous your materials could be.

After a few minutes and a decent amount of hydrogen fluoride and antimony pentafluoride later, you emerged from the workshop’s interior to see Engineer kneeling on the ground, looking at some tire tracks that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Looks like they turned themselves ‘round and went back the way they came. They’re probably takin’ one’a the nearby backroads.”

“Think you can catch up to them?” You asked, praying that you wouldn’t have to return to your new base without your team. You wouldn’t be able to make it by yourself, and you doubted that the rest of the RED team would be as kind and hospitable as their Engineer had been.

The Texan gave you a sharp grin as he pushed himself up, dusting off his overalls.

“Do sheep wear sweaters? Hop in, and ah’ll show ‘ya just how fast ol’ Betsy can be.”

If you asked Florence if she knew her mercenaries well, you’d probably end up with a bullet in your skull, because you were not supposed to know about her mercenaries. Well, technically, they were Reliable Excavation & Demolition and Builders League United’s mercenaries, and, really, the Administrator’s above even them, but she was the one who scouted them out, checked in on them, interacted with them, gave them their assignments, and helped cover up their fuck ups. 

So, yeah, they were her mercenaries. And you weren’t supposed to know about them, so now you’re lying in a shallow grave after getting very well acquainted with her hacksaw.

But if she pondered your question after the fact, then she’d say that, yeah, she did. She’d spent almost all of her very limited free time around them for the last few years, after all, and she kept an eye on them through the various hidden cameras almost as much as her boss did. She knew both teams equally well, easily picking out each of their many similarities, as well as all their little quirks and differences. For example, she knew that the RED Scout had far more freckles than the BLU one. She knew that the BLU Soldier was actually slightly more tame than his counterpart, and that he wore earplugs more often than not, though he is dedicated to never ever letting anyone find out. She knew that both Pyro’s were afraid of the dark, and she knew the exact brand of cigarettes the Spies liked to order.

She knew that both teams were full of loud, borderline rabid, bat-shit insane lunatics that enjoyed the thrill of killing almost as much as she did, maybe even more. She knew, from experience, just how difficult it was to get most of them to quiet down.

Which is what made the situation she was in so damn eerie.

She was back in Spy’s car, having taken the now available passenger seat. Her eyes kept flicking to the neatly folded blanket in Spy’s lap, its minky blue fabric still damp from the rain. The car was silent, save for the occasional muffled wheeze from Pyro, who had just about cried themself hoarse. Medic was sitting next to the arsonist, hands folded as he stared out the window. To a regular onlooker, he likely would have appeared chillingly nonchalant or uncaring. However, as has been established, Florence Pauling personally knew the men she hired to kill each other, and so she was able to see the little cracks in the man’s facade; the way his lips twitched occasionally, like they almost started to wobble before he caught himself, the slow, controlled breaths he was taking, the way his eyes were wet behind his glasses.

Spy was much the same; a perfect picture of poise and aloofness, unless you knew where to look. His suit had been left lightly rumpled, his expensive leather gloves creaked when his hands shifted, showing just how hard he was gripping the wheel, and his mouth was set in an unnaturally tense line. Occasionally, one of his hands would release their death grip on the steering wheel and slip down to feel the blanket in his lap, gently rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

None of them spoke. 

What was there to say? What could any of them possibly say to make this situation better? 

What could she say? ‘Sorry for your loss, let me fax you those application forms Medic shredded?’ ‘I know you’re mourning, but we need to hurry up and get back so you can all go back to killing the RED team, which still has their Chemist?’ 

No, silence was the better option here by far.

The purple-clad woman leaned back in her seat, head resting against the window as she committed to memory the sound of a tired yet happy voice saying her name, and the feeling of gloved hands pushing her back towards safety. It was better to think of that, rather than the sight of the BLU Chemist’s body spasming wildly before collapsing to the ground, their smoking body giving a few last jerking, dying nerve reactions. 

As she stared out into the vast, dusty nothingness of the New Mexico landscape, something odd began to appear in the corner of her vision. At first, she thought it was a mirage, a strange flash of red in an otherwise sky blue and sand yellow landscape. 

But then it didn’t go away. 

In fact, it actually began to get bigger, becoming clearer and more defined as whatever it was drew closer. On instinct, she reached for the radio and tuned it to a specific frequency, drawing confused looks from her fellow passengers.

“Guys, I don’t want to alarm you, but something’s coming at us. Fast.” she said, leaning in close to the speaker.

“What zhe hell?” Spy said from her left, taking his eyes off the road to squint towards the horizon.

Pyro and Medic peered outside as well, squeezing in close so they could both get a look at the strange thing that was approaching.

“Sniper, can you get eyes on that thing?” Engineer asked over the radio.

Yeah mate. Just gimme a sec.” came the marksman’s reply.

Turning around in her seat, the raven could see Sniper’s van through the rear window. The man was in the passenger seat now, holding up his rifle and peering through the scope. After a moment, he jerked back, a look of shock on his face. He ducked his head back down to look again, as though he wasn’t sure he’d seen something right. In the driver’s seat, Heavy, who had taken the wheel, gave his teammate a confused and slightly concerned look.

Sniper lowered his rifle after another few moments passed, sliding back into his seat as he shouted something to Heavy, who’s confusion visibly deepened. The Russian did a double take when the marksman said something else, and he quickly said something back to the Australian, who shook his head and pointed out towards the still encroaching… whatever it was.

“Sniper wants team to slow down.” Heavy relayed, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t onboard with the idea. “Says that he… believes he saw leetle Chemist.”

“Oh joy,” Spy snarled, baring his teeth in clear disdain as he spoke into the radio, “our Sniper has finally lost it. I knew too much time spent in zhat deathtrap of his would eventually get to him.”

“Ah hate ‘t say it, but ah agree with Spy. We all- we all saw what happened to ‘em. Even if they survived comin’ back again, they'd have died of exposure, thirst, or starvation by now.” Engineer added glumly, “‘Sides, how in the Sam Hill would they get all the way out here? Snipes, ah think you should maybe go lie down for a bit while we deal with whatever's chasin’ us.”

“What is that?” Pauling asked in a low whisper, rolling down her window to get a better view.

Tuning out the sound of fully grown men bickering behind her, she focused on the anomaly. It was a bright, almost familiar shade of red, and it was kicking up quite a bit of dust as it moved across the desert. Pushing herself slightly out of the window, she picked up on the faint sound of… an engine?

Wait a damn minute.

Wait a Goddamn fucking minute.

Faster than a striking rattlesnake on cocaine, Pauling whipped her phone out and began dialing, holding it up to her ear. After a few rings, a man answered in a thick, smug-sounding Southern drawl.

“Why hello Miss Pauling! To what do ah owe the pleasure?”

“Engie, you fucking asshole!” Florence screeched, getting a confused, offended yell from the BLU Engineer, who could still hear what was being said over their shared transmission, “Did you seriously find the BLU Chemist and not tell me?! Do you know how mad the Administrator was going to be at me?!”

She could hear the RED Spy's telltale snorting cackles in the background of the call, while his BLU counterpart looked the farthest thing from amused.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est? Il vaut mieux que ce ne soit pas une mauvaise blague, sinon je jure devant Dieu que je tâcherai de rouge le sable autour de moi.” he growled as he began to slow down, shooting a deadly glare at what was now obviously a RED vehicle, likely their Engineer's truck.

“Woah now lil’ missy, we didn't mean any harm by it. You were outta range back at the base, and ah just figured it'd be easier to just deliver ‘em right to ‘ya.” The RED chuckled, “Iffen y'all are lookin’ t’ shoot us as soon as we come near, though, then we can always keep ‘em. They make pretty good company, and ‘ah know Spy likes ‘em well enough to help vouch for ‘em to the rest of the team.”

“Shoot you, what are you-” the young woman turned around, spotting several members of BLU pointing their weapons at the approaching REDs, “Scout, Soldier, Sniper! Put your guns away- Engie DROP IT!” 

The other Texan had been gearing up to toss down a mini sentry, but paused at his boss’s shout. Disgruntled, he acquiesced, dropping the beeping little robot back down onto the seat.

“Now that's a might bit better. Chem, you wanna take over communications?” The RED Engineer said, before sounds of rustling fabric and a quiet ‘Thank you!’ came over the line.

“Hey, P.” Pauling could almost hear the smile in the other's voice, something that was rather impressive, given the explosion of noise that came over the radio at the sound, “Guess who's two for two on kicking Death's ass?”

“Hello, Chemist.” She replied softly, smiling back, “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine!” The mercenary replied quickly, sounding tired, but cheerful, “These two have been great company. Well, Engie has, at least- Spy I'm kidding- and guess what? I finally got my cheeseburger!”

“Zhose are not vhat you should be eating!” Medic chastised from the back, “Zhey are nothing but empty calories! 

“Shut up! I was hungry, and Sniper didn’t let me have mine!”

“Chem,” Pauling interrupted, not wanting to be caught in the middle of another argument, “I’m happy you’re alive, really, I am, but how did you get here?”

“Oh, I Respawned at the new base. I guess the system kicked on because the other team was already there.” the Chemist explained, “I tried calling you, but it didn’t go through, so Engie offered to take me so I didn’t, you know, curl up and die.”

“I… wow, that was really nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was. I seriously owe him for this. I’ll have to buy him a nice dinner some time, or, uh,” they snickered, clearly trying to muffle their laughter, “do something for him.”

Florence got the feeling that she was missing something here.

Judging by the intense glares and scowls Medic, Spy, and likely Pyro were directing towards the truck, which was now close enough for her to pick out details, she knew she wasn’t the only one who picked up on the Chemist’s friendly tone.

“Whatever it is you two end up doing, just remember that, if you want me to not have to rat you out, the Administrator cannot know about it, which means I can’t know about it.” the purple-clad woman stressed.

“I would certainly like to know what zhat cow-boy analphabète believes our Chemist shall be doing for him.” Spy muttered lowly, finally bringing the car to a stop as the RED Engineer’s truck parked on the dusty scrubland a few feet away from them.

“No fighting guys. We don’t need anyone else having to risk not coming back.” Florence warned.

Like a pack of stalking wolves, the nine BLU mercenaries leapt out of their respective vehicles and formed an almost defensive group, most of them having only heard bits and pieces of the phone call, but understanding that they were not here to fight. They walked with an air of tenseness, hands flexing as they resisted the urge to reach for their weapons, clearly feeling uneasy in this unprecedented situation.

Still, there was a clear feeling of nervous excitement. The emotional whiplash of the past few hours had left their emotions raw and more sensitive than usual. All of them stopped when the passenger door of the dusty red truck opened with a soft ‘click!’, the wearily smiling face of their teammate popping up over the metal as they shuffled carefully towards the road.

“CHEM!” Scout yelled, unable to hold himself back anymore. A fond smile made its way onto Pauling’s face as she watched the young Bostonian dash over and scoop the other mercenary up, spinning them around for a moment before gently setting them back down on their feet.

Like deadly, man-slaughtering ducklings, the rest of BLU followed after, warmly welcoming their missing friend back into the fold. Medic was on the Chemist in an instant, examining them while asking more questions than was probably necessary. Soldier gave them what was likely meant to be a gentle pat on the back, but which ended up nearly sending poor Y/N to the ground. 

Meanwhile, Pauling, Spy, and Engineer moved to greet the RED team members, who were stepping out of the vehicle themselves. The two men at Pauling’s side kept their professional appearances well, but she knew they’d like nothing more than to give into their instincts and go for their counterparts’ throats.

“Hey guys,” Florence started, hoping to make this conversation as smooth and bloodshed-free as possible, “thank you so much for bringing the Chemist back. I’ll arrange for your team to get a bonus or something for this, I promise.”

“Aw shucks,” the RED Engineer replied, tipping his hat, “it weren’t no trouble. Ahm sure y’all woulda done the same if y’ were in our shoes.”

“But of course.” the BLU Spy responded, “We’re mercenaries, not monsters.”

“What you are is lucky. Your Chemist should have never survived zhe first time, let alone a second.” the opposite colour Frenchman said, producing a cigarette to light, “Tell me, has your team figured out why Respawn went down?”

The BLU Engineer frowned. “Can’t say we have. I reckon y’all haven’t either, then?”

“Unfortunately not. It's got our team all twisted up with worry, ‘specially our Chemist. The stress has been makin’ her feel just plum awful these past few days.” the crimson-clad Texan sighed, pushing up his goggles to pinch the area between his eyes, “To be honest wit ‘ya, ah’d somewhat hoped that travelin’ with yer one might’a given me some answers, or at least an idea of what went wrong, but ah couldn’t find one single tell. If yer feelin’ amicable enough, ah’d like to work with ya t’ find the problem, so we can all stop bein’ so damn nervous.”

“Hmm.” the BLU Engineer hummed, resting a hand on his chin before glancing over at his boss, “Would that be alright, Miss Pauling?”

Florence adjusted her glasses and nodded. “Usually it wouldn’t, but under these circumstances, I’m sure the Administrator will understand.”

Suddenly, she jumped, remembering something.

“Oh, shit! Guys, we actually need to get going! I need to give the RED Chemist a contract and, like, a thousand other things that have been piling up since I’ve been gone.” She said apologetically, before turning to the RED team members, “Do you two mind if I ride back with you?”

“‘Course not.”

“It’s always a pleasure to have you around, mademoiselle.”

“Okay, great!” the raven said, smoothing down her skirt. She looked over at her companions, tilting her head slightly, “You’ll be fine getting back, right?”

They nodded, and started walking back over to rejoin their teammates. They explained that their employer wouldn’t be coming back with them, and, to her surprise, Chemist pulled away from the rest of the BLUs, walking as fast as they could over to her.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask if you were alright before you left.” The goggle-wearing chemist said, their worry clear in their voice as they laid a hand on her shoulder, “You were pretty close to that powerline too, and I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten injured or not.”

“I’m fine, Chem.” Florence reassured, giving her friend a smile, “My clothes are going to smell like burned cloth and skin for a bit, but that’s it. You got me out of the way in time. Thank you, for that, by the way.”

The Chemist inclined their head, smiling back before turning their attention to the two RED Mercs. “You two get her back safe, understand? I’d hate to have to kill you permanently after all this.” they joked, pointing a ‘stern’ finger at them.

The RED Engineer raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Darl’, she’ll get there right as rain.”

He stepped forward, took the white cowboy hat off his head, and plopped it down onto the Chemist’s, tugging it down gently to secure it.

A few feet away, the other Engineer’s mechanical hand nearly crushed his gun as he shot daggers at his counterpart. 

“Y’ can give me that back when y’all finally show up at the base.” he smirked, “And, iffen yer still up for it, ah think I’ll take ‘ya up on that offer of yours from earlier.”

The Chemist turned a very interesting shade of pink as they tipped the brim of the hat up slightly, revealing that their pupils were blown wide.

“Mnhm, sounds good.” they replied softly, before spinning on their heels and making a beeline for their teammates. 

“I-” Florence started, before cutting herself off, 

“You know what? It’s better if I don’t know what that’s all about.”

You watched as the RED Engineer, Spy, and Miss Pauling drove off, waving to them as best you could.

“Well, ain’t you ‘n them real close.” Engineer said in a tight voice. While it was quite hard to tell where the man was looking most of the time, you got the distinct feeling that he was staring at your new accessory.

“I had to listen to them argue for, like, half the trip.” You replied, “If you come out of that having not murdered them or killed yourself, then it's because you learned to like them.”

“Kinda sounded like you didn’t just like ‘em.” Scout pouted, crossing his arms, “What the hell did youse three get up to?”

“Well let’s see.” You raised your hand, ticking off your fingers as you recounted your joyous road trip shenanigans, “I got the ever loving shit scared out of me by the RED Spy, melted my own corpse, got a cheeseburger so absolutely scrumptious I offered to suck off the RED Engineer,”

“You did what now?!” your Engineer yelped.

“I listened to two fully grown men bicker like toddlers, got regaled with a tale of bread monsters, got my outfit called every French insult under the sun, and passed out from, like, severe malnutrition, probably.” You finished.

“Uh, can we walk that back a couple’a steps, mate?” Sniper asked, flushing pink.

“What, you mean the bread monster? Yeah, no, I didn’t believe it at first either, but Spy swears-”

“Not the bloody bread monster, ya daft tit!” Demo groaned, slapping a hand onto his face, “Why the bleedin’ hell are ya offerin’ t’ give our enemy a gobble?!

“Dear GOD, have they brainwashed you?!” Soldier gasped suddenly, “I swear, I will hunt down each and every one of those communist RED bastards if they so much as touched-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You rushed to clear up the misconception, “Easy, Sol! No one did anything to me, I promise. I’m still one hundred percent me.”

“Zhen vhy…?” Medic questioned, coughing into his gloves as he trailed off.

“It started as just a joke, honestly. I wasn’t seriously thinking about acting on it at first, but when their Spy accidentally revealed that he was jealous, I started thinking about it a little bit more.” You shrugged, “Plus, well… he’s hot! And he’s nice! And he’s clearly into the idea, so… why not?”

“Why not? Why not?” Spy growled, “Because you are ours! You wear zhe same uniform and kill zhe same men as us! You are a member of BLU, and your standards should be higher zhan zhe first, non, not even zhe first, man who shows even zhe slightest interest in you! Il n’y a aucune raison de se prostituer à ce gros, analphabète Texan!”

You threw your hands up into the air, letting out your own growl of annoyance.

“Look, unless one of you is going to help me take care of my needs when I’m better, I’m walking my ass over to that pretty little base they have!” You stated firmly, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up in a petty, almost defiant way. “Maybe I’ll even proposition the rest of ‘em, I don’t know!”

“Oh my freakin’ GOD!” Scout yelled, “We are literally right here! I don’t know a guy on this team that wouldn’t fuck you if you just asked!”

There was a moment of silence after that sentence, the Bostonian’s words echoing slightly in the empty desert scrubland. The ten of you all stood there, turning red from something that wasn’t the harsh New Mexico sun.

Heavy made a sound first, awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“Scout is- what is word- tactless, but he is also… not wrong.”

“Er, yeah,” Sniper scratched at the back of his neck, “the big guy's got it right. It's just we, uh…”

“Mh muph mmnmnh mhmh.” Pyro finished, talking animatedly with their hands.

“The arsonist is correct.” Spy agreed, still looking a bit flustered under his mask, “This is far from something that is easily brought up.” 

You blinked slowly at your team, absorbing the information. Now, technically, you'd heard this all before, right before you'd died, but hearing it again solidified it in your mind as being real. 

“Well shit.” You swore, planting your hands on your hips, “We all could have been a lot happier ages ago, huh?”

The gathered mercenaries made various sounds of awkward agreement.

“Okay, we definitely need to talk about this, and I mean a real conversation, not all of us standing around like idiots, cooking our brains in the sun while we all blush over the fact that you'd all like a piece of me.” You said, “But I think I'd rather talk in the comfort of our base, wouldn't you all agree?”

Your teammates nodded in agreement, dispersing into their chosen groups as they started back towards your vehicles.

“Yo, Chem, you ridin’ with us?” Scout asked hopefully, hooking his arm beneath yours instinctively as you wobbled slightly. He looked as though he was still feeling a bit hot under the collar, but was doing his very best to keep your conversation casual. 

“Sorry, Scout, but I think I’m gonna pass out soon if I don’t lay down.” you admitted. “I promise I’ll spend some time with you when we get back. Maybe I could help you pack when I’m feeling a bit better?”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout it. You should focus on gettin’ bettah first.” Scout replied, leading you towards Sniper’s campervan, “‘Sides, I already packed up most of my crap, and I think Pyro handled your stuff, so you can just take it easy. Pretty sure the Doc is gonna make you stay in the Medbay, anyway.”

“Scout is correct, mein Chemiker.” Medic piped up, matching your slow, careful stride as he came up beside you, “Now don’t give me zhat face; it vill only be for a few days. I just want to ensure that jou are okay after going through Respawn again in jour state.”

Your expression, which had been one of pouty, light annoyance at being forced into mandatory bedrest in the Medbay, softened a bit. You could hear the genuine concern in the German’s voice, and you knew he had good reason to be. You yourself were worried that something might have gotten messed up, and you knew you were due for another round of supplement shots.

Still, it was going to suck to not be in your own room, surrounded by your familiar comforts. You knew that you’d have a lot of pent up energy by the time you got out.

Huh, actually… you could think of a few fun ways to burn off any excess energy.

“Okay, Doc, I’ll come to my appointment, I promise.” you said, smiling, “But this time, I get to choose the operating room music. You’re not cutting me open to Lili Marlén again.”

“But jou said zhat jou enjoyed it last time! Lale Andersen has zhe voice of ein Engel.” Medic pouted.

“Yeah, but if you keep playing it while you're dissecting my spleen, I’m always going to associate it with getting picked apart like a biology student’s frog.” you explained, “I won’t pick anything too bad, swear on my good beakers!”

“Hmph, I vill hold you to zhat.” the doctor warned teasingly, “Zhere vill be no more ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch’ in my operating room.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.” you teased right back, sticking your tongue out at the man as Scout handed you off to Sniper, who had a fond, lopsided smile on his face. “Hey there, Stretch. Mind helping me to the bed?”

“Not at all, mate.” Sniper replied, laying a warm, sturdy arm across your shoulders, “Not at all.”

Sure enough, after around two weeks of being kept in the Medbay upon your return, your prediction of being just about ready to explode with unreleased energy had proven to be true. Your organs had actually suffered a bit of damage this time around, which had necessitated a longer stay. On top of that, you had needed to move to the new base midway through your treatment, which hadn’t helped things. However, this also meant that Medic could focus on accelerating your healing, and by the time you pranced out of those swinging double doors, you were feeling like your old self again.

Scout and Soldier were waiting there for you, just as they had been on the day you’d failed to come back.

“Heyyyyy, there you are! Freakin’ finally.” Scout whooped, bringing you into a tight hug. You returned it, squeezing back with all your regained strength, “Oof! Yup, you’re bettah alright!”

“Sure am.” you grinned, before releasing the Bostonian to tackle Soldier, who grinned and crushed you to his chest.

“It’s good to have you back in fighting shape, private! Your presence has been missed on the battlefield.” he said, patting you in between your shoulder blades, “Also, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, Solly.” you replied, knocking your forehead against his helmet gently, “Show me around the base? I saw a bit of it when I Respawned here, but I wasn’t exactly taking in all the finer details.”

“Of course!” Soldier set you down, taking the lead as you, him, and Scout headed off down the hall.

He gave you a tour of the base and the battleground, loudly and excitedly chattering about all the great places to set up ambushes and assaults that this new location provided. You nodded along, adding your own ideas occasionally as you took in your surroundings, inhaling a lungful of warm, apple-scented air for the first time without pain. In a few days, the RED Chemist would be returning from her contract, and you would be returning to the fray, but for now you got to revel in the relative peace of the time between battles.

Eventually, Soldier led you to the barracks, showing you to your room. It had been partially set up; your bed was made and your uniforms had been hung up in your closet, but your casual clothes and personal belongings had been left in their moving boxes. You smiled softly when you flipped open the first box and spotted Pyro’s drawings sitting on top. The firebug had added a few new ones, depicting a healthy you and them frolicking through a shimmering candyland, or petting beautiful unicorns. You snorted with laughter at one of the last ones, which showed you and Pyro sitting aside a golden, fire-breathing dragon, flying high above the base, the arsonist flipping off the RED Spy and Engineer, who were being roasted by the beast.

Speaking of…

“Hey, has anyone seen my hat?” you asked Soldier and Scout, who were peering into one of your, currently empty, terrariums. The two mercenaries glanced at each other.

“Uh, I think Engie took it.” Scout rubbed his chin, “Kept mutterin’ something about the ‘cowboy hat rule.’ He sounded real pissed about it too.”

You tilted your head and frowned. “Cowboy hat rule? What the hell is that?”

“Dunno.” Scout shrugged, “You’d have to ask Hardhat.”

“Maybe I will.” you said, putting the drawings down, “Where is he?”

“The grease monkey is in his workshop!” Soldier said helpfully, “I saw him go in there before I went to wait for you.”

“Perfect,” you smiled, “I’ll be back soon, fellas. Oh, actually, could you two do me a favour?”

The men nodded.

“Tell the others I’d finally like to have that conversation we talked about.” you winked, stepping out the door, “We’ll talk at dinner, yeah?”

Slipping out into the hallway proper, you left two very warm-cheeked mercenaries behind.

“What are the chances we actually score tonight, you think?” Scout asked, biting his lip slightly.

“If Engie doesn’t make ‘em mad?” Soldier grinned, tipping up his helmet slightly, “I’d say I like our odds.”

“God, he bettah not screw dis up.” Scout huffed, folding his arms, “I hope he’s smart enough to just give Chem that hat.”

“Ah ain’t givin’ you that hat.”

The Texan and the Chemist stood almost chest-to-chest, locked in a standoff. Engineer folded his arms and fixed his colleague with the firmest look he could muster, standing absolutely resolute in his decision.

Chemist set their jaw, squinting in annoyance.

“Engie,” they started, voice firm and tone indicating that they were done with this argument, “that hat was a temporary gift. I need to give it back. I don’t know why you’re being such an ass over this, but-”

“Because it ain’t a gift!” the man finally shouted, gritting his teeth.

Chemist reeled back as if they’d been struck, shocked at the man’s outburst. They blinked, then slowly shifted to a more passive stance.

“Okay, clearly I’m missing something here, and it’s making you upset.” they said, backing up a step to give Engineer some much needed space, “Mind filling me in? Does it have something to do with that ‘cowboy hat rule’ Scout mentioned?”

“It has everything to do with that.” Engineer sighed, deflating slightly as his anger returned to a very low simmer, “A cowboy’s hat is considered an extension of his body, a real special article of clothin’. If he puts it on someone’s head, or if someone takes it and puts it on, then that’s basically the same as sayin’ yer real interested in ‘em. The ‘rule’ is basically that if you wear the hat, y’gotta ride the cowboy.”

He folded his arms again, looking into Chemist’s wide eyes. “Him puttin’ that hat on ‘ya like he did and bein’ all flirtatious was almost like him brandin’ you; a real bold move to pull right in front of all of us. You bein’ so friendly ‘n receptive ‘bout it all was just salt in the wound, and now he’s been down right gloatin’ about it ever since we got here!”

Chemist winced, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Aw, jeeze, I’m- I’m sorry, Engie. I didn’t realize how much that might bother you. This has really been eating at you, huh?”

“It has.” he confessed, feeling slightly ashamed by just how much it bothered him, “Ah know yer a grown adult, and ah obviously can’t control what ‘ya do in yer free time, but as ahm sure you’ve figured out, we’re all rather fond of ‘ya, and I ain’t no exception. Seein’ you with him? And then having to work with ‘im these past few days?”

The man shook himself, scowling. “It’s like swallowin’ glass.”

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up outside of battle.” the other mercenary said, before reaching out and taking Engineer’s hands into their own, causing the Texan to jolt slightly in surprise, “Look, I might joke around sometimes, but I am one hundred percent loyal to BLU and everyone who’s a part of it. That other Engineer might get me once, but you can have me as many times as you like.” 

Chemist winked, and Engineer’s eyes widened like saucers, his mouth turning dry as cotton as any words he might have intended to say died in his throat. The other BLU leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Engineer closed his eyes, burning the sensation into his mind as he swallowed.

“And if you’re still worried,” they whispered into his ear, “you can always leave your mark on me.”

“Careful, Darl’,” he growled lowly, wrapping a hand around their waist, enjoying the feeling of muscle and fat, “you don’t know what yer askin’ for.”

“Oh, I think I do.” they grinned ferally, nipping at the Southerner’s neck. Engineer inhaled sharply and let out a curse, tightening his hold when he felt a warm tongue lave the area lovingly.

Suddenly, the contact was gone, Chemist pulling away with a satisfied grin and leaving the poor Texan stunned.

“You can hang onto the hat for now, but I really do need it back.” they tapped his nose, causing him to blink, “Now, we’re all gonna have that little chat at dinner tonight, so don’t be late.”

And with that, they sauntered right back out the door they'd come through earlier, leaving Engie to try and collect himself. Eventually, he managed to shake himself out of his stupor, a grin coming across his face.

“Well, this ought to be mighty interestin’.”

The conversation at dinner had been, to absolutely no one’s shock, awkward as all hell to begin with.

Once everyone had gotten a plate of food in front of them to stare at when things got too uncomfortable, you started laying out basic ground rules. You stressed, through your many stutters, the importance of boundaries, consent and communication, and you made it very clear that if anyone was at all uncomfortable with what you were proposing, then they were more than welcome to voice that without judgement. You were firm as you warned that if you caught wind of anyone teasing or pressuring another teammate about this was going to lose any and all privileges, as well as getting a face full of acid at any given time. 

“Any objections or questions so far?” you asked, taking a bite of your dinner, which was macaroni and cheese.

“If ve’re really going to to zhis, I vould like to propose regular STD tests und use of condoms.” Medic said after a few moments of silence passed in the room, folding his hands in front of him, “Zhis isn’t exactly a closed relationship ve’re talking about here, und I for one vould feel a lot better vith zhat reassurance, zhough I know jou’re all clean as of right now.”

Everyone made noises of agreement. No one wanted to take that risk.

“Do we have to do stuff with everyone? ‘Cause, uh, I definitely ain’t cool with that.” Scout asked, rubbing his arm in discomfort.

“No, of course not.” you reassured, laying a comforting hand over his. “You’re free to be with whoever you want, and you certainly aren’t going to be forced into a relationship.”

Scout relaxed, some of the tension leaving his body. Around the table, a few others seemed to relax as well.

“We will have to keep zhis a well-kept secret. If zhe Administrator finds out, zhen I suspect we will be punished in some cruel and unusual manner.” Spy added, resting his chin on one hand.

“Yeah, she’s real good at that.” Soldier mumbled, still sore over the fact that he’d be tricked and threatened into breaking off the best friendship he’d ever had, one that still hadn’t recovered.

“So no flirting, or anything else, on the battlefield or during work hours.” you nodded, “We’ll save it for contracts, ceasefires, and late night meet ups, I suppose.”

Sniper raised his hand slightly, swallowing his mouthful of food. “And how exactly are we plannin’ on deciding who gets to do what, and when?”

“Scheduling.” you replied, having pondered that very same question, “We’ll come up with a schedule. You guys can draw straws or wrestle or something. I’ll leave how the order gets decided up to you.”

“Battle’s comin’ up in a few days.” Demo said, taking a sip of his Scrumpy, “How’s about we use our performances to decide?”

“Heavy likes that idea,” the large Russian man nodded, “it means I will be first.”

“Hey, woah, back it up, tons ‘a fun!” Scout protested, jabbing his fork in the other’s direction, “You musta hit yer head or somethin, cause everyone knows I’m gonna be the one comin’ out on top, as usual.”

“You? Do something aside from running your mouth and getting shot full of bullets? Please, don’t make me laugh.” Spy snarked, picking at his dinner while side-eying the Bostonian.

“Don’t get too cocky, Spook. God knows yer gonna end up on the hot end of the enemy Pyro’s flamethrower more often than not.” Sniper teased, “Meanwhile, I’ll be rackin’ up kills left ‘n right.”

“Hey Py, ah’ll share mah time if y’ team up with me.” Engineer offered, smirking when the arsonist mumbled in cheerful agreement, giving the Southerner a fistbump.

“Ooh, ve’re making alliances?” Medic perked up, “Heavy, team up with me, ja?”

“конечно, доктор.” 

“Oye, that ain’t fair!” Demo shouted, banging his fist down on the table, “Soldier, yer with me!”

“Affirmative!” the American saluted, “We are going to crush each and every one of your pansy asses!”

“This is bullshit!” Scout yipped, realizing that his teammates were absolutely willing to partner up if it meant having a better shot at first pick, “Yo, Snipes, we teamin’ up?”

“Bettah you then Spy.” the marksman leaned over the table and shook hands with the runner. “Alright, jackrabbit, let’s do this.”

“Feelin’ left out, Spy?” Engineer asked, reaching for his cup of sweet tea.

“Not at all.” came the Frenchman’s smooth reply, “I am confident enough in my abilities to not feel zhe need to rely on zhe help of another to win. Unlike you, toymaker, I am not willing to share my lovers.”

“Keep a good hold on that confidence ‘a yers.” the Texan chuckled, “You’ll need somethin’ t’ help repair yer shattered pride once you come dead last.”

You took another bite of your macaroni, enjoying the growing sense of… friendly competition. The next battle was going to be a bloodbath, and you absolutely could not wait to see it.

And, of course, you were very excited to see who came out as the victor.

The sound of gunfire and dying men was like music to your ears as you finally returned to the battlefield. Your limbs ached from the lack of use, and you could certainly feel the strain now, but you welcomed the pain, grinning into your mask as you lobbed another vial at a passing Scout, your smile widening as you snickered at his howls of pain.

Your team was dominating the battlefield today, each member striving to get the most amount of kills. The energy of the battle was even a little bit lighter than usual today, likely due to the fact that the mystery of the Respawn malfunction had finally been solved on the Sunday before the battle.

Apparently, according to Engineer, the issue had been caused by too many units being active at once, which all but confirmed your theory of other teams existing out in the world. It had nothing to do with you specifically, you’d simply been the unlucky bastard who had come through at the boiling point. The information had come as a huge relief, even if the answer had left you with quite a few questions. You would have to ask Miss Pauling about it the next time she came around the base, though you doubted you’d get any real answers. Something told you that, if the other teams had never been mentioned to any of you before, then you weren’t supposed to know about them.

Actually, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut this time. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction wouldn’t be enough to bring you back, if the Administrator decided to disable your Respawn capability.

Shaking your head, you dashed forward, side-stepping the sizzling corpse at your feet. Running across the dry Texas grass, you threw yourself against the side of the nearest building, a smaller, ramshackle barn at the edge of the treeline. From where you stood, you managed to catch a glimpse of Pyro, Soldier, and Engineer taking a new vantage point to set up a sentry, before the arsonist suddenly spun around, blasting a plume of flame at your helmeted friend. You winced, watching as the RED Spy’s illusion melted away, along with his skin.

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be seeing too much of him today. That was a shame; the Frenchman could be surprisingly funny, when he wanted to be. You’d hoped to get a chance to tease him and see if you could make him blush again, or perhaps some part of you wanted to provide your own Spy with an easy kill.

Just as you started off towards your teammates, ready to help them secure the nearest point, you saw something whip over your head. Before you knew it, your arms were suddenly pinned at your sides, and you’d been tugged backwards, landing on your rump with a sharp yelp of pain. The white cowboy hat that you’d managed to get back from Engineer, which had been sitting snugly on your head, slipped down over your eyes as you were dragged back towards the trees, leaving you blind.

You panicked for a moment, struggling against the tight rope. However, you paused upon hearing a familiar voice, chills running up your spine, both from fear and from pleasure. A gloved hand plucked the hat off your head, the mechanical movement clicking softly in your ear. You tilted your head back, looking up at the man who was holding the lasso that had left you so defenseless.

“Hello there, Darl’.” The RED Engineer purred, leaning against the trunk of one of the apple trees, “Ready to make good on that offer?”

Annnnd that wraps up Respawn Malfunction! Again, big thanks to @pinkypiechar for reading along with me in the wee hours of the morning, keeping me motivated and catching any mistakes I made. You a real one pookie. <3

[band--psycho]

Poly!141 x Reader - Stop The Wedding (Part 11)

I'm just gonna say that I'm sorry in advance for this part 💛

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you for all the continued support 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Catch up on the previous part here: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 /Part 12 / Part 13

Warnings: Crying with your best friend, conflicting feelings about love/who to love, car chase, car crash

COD Modern Warfare Masterlist /Taskforce 141 Masterlist /Join My Taglist

“Y/n/n!” You heard Y/f/n shout again, knocking harder on the door this time. 

“Sounds like she’s gonna break the bloody door down,” Kyle said, he, similarly to the other men around you, were staring at you as you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket. 

Y/f/n had messaged you at least twenty times and called you another ten.

You were scrolling through all the messages quickly reading them; your eyes lingering on the last message she’d sent. 

‘Phillips just messaged me??? What the fuck is going on?’

“You okay?” John asked softly, still holding your hand. 

You gave him a quick nod,pulling your hands away from John and Johnny before standing up and walking out of the kitchen towards the front door. 

You felt a pair of hands wrap around your wrist and pull you back a little, shaking his head.

“Y/f/n is my best friend, I trust them,” 

That was exactly what he was afraid of; knowing all too well that betrayal always came from the people you would least expect.

You understood why he struggled to trust anyone: 

Especially now. 

But you’d been fringe with Y/f/n for so long; you trusted them with everything, and this current situation was no different. 

“Trust me,” you whispered reassuringly; feeling his grip around your wrist soften. 

“Call us if somethin’ happens,” Simon instructed you before letting go of your wrist completely. 

“I will,” you promised, giving him a small smile before walking down the hallway with Simon following closely behind you.

The second you opened the door and Y/f/n saw you they started bombarding you with questions. 

“Y/n! What the hell is going on?” They began, their f/e/c eyes scanning over you with concern, confusion and slight shock. 

“Why are you here?” They continued as you stepped out of the front door; their eyes snapping to Simon who was standing in the doorway the minute they saw the sadness in your eyes, “What the hell have you done to her?!”

You had to admit, in different circumstances, you may have found it quite funny, watching your friend size up to Simon. 

But right now, you couldn’t muster out a laugh. 

The only thing you wanted to do right now, was talk to Y/f/n about everything that had happened over the last few days. 

“I swear to god-” you heard them shout at an unflinching Simon.

“Y/f/n, it’s fine,” you assured them, grabbing their hand lightly and leading them back to their car, “let’s just go,”

Thankfully they didn’t argue with you; they just shot a death glare at Simon a few more times as you walked down the driveway, but that was it. 

“How did you know I was there?”you asked once you were finally in their car. 

“I tried everywhere else other than the base,” they explained simply, beginning to drive away from your exes house,

“What’s going on?” They questioned, glancing at you before focusing back on the road in front of them. 

They were confused. 

Of course they were. 

You let out a long sigh; trying to work out how to word it in a way that made sense. 

Your fiance betrayed and tried to kill your exes whilst you were dating them, and your exes boss, who was also your fiancés boss, betrayed your exes and is now in hiding. But he managed to send you and your fiance a card to congratulate you on your engagement. Oh and your now not sure if said boss if the reason for your relationship with your fiance.

God it sounded like a reality show the more and more you thought about. 

A simple life. 

That’s all you’d ever wanted. 

Fall in love, buy a house, maybe have some kids….that was the dream. 

And now that dream seemed to be further from you than ever. 

It soon became apparent to you, that there was no way to make this situation sound normal. 

It wasn’t normal. 

So you just started talking, explaining everything that had happened from the moment they’d seen Johnny and informed him of your upcoming marriage, to now. 

You got about halfway through your explanation before Y/f/n pulled over onto the side of the road, continuing to listen intently to what you were saying. 

You felt like you were word vomit but eventually you finished, taking a very deep breath in an attempt to ground yourself so your mind didn’t spiral like it had done earlier.

They were quiet for a few minutes, the mouth opening and closing a few times, trying to work out what to say to you as they processed all the information you’d just told them. 

“Right,” they finally said; grabbing your hands and looking directly at you, “We’re gonna go to yours and you’re gonna pack a bag and come stay with me for a bit.”

You felt instant relief in your heart at their words; knowing that what you needed right now was some space. 

Space from Phillip. 

Space from John, Simon, Johnny and Kyle. 

Space to comprehend everything you’d been told…

“Then we’re gonna work out what the fuck to do and who to believe,”

You nodded, trying to blink away the tears that were trying to form in your eyes. 

Without hesitation, Y/f/n reached over and wrapped their arms around you.

“You can cry if you need to,” they assured you; and for some reason having that type of permission made the tears fall from your eyes before you could stop them. 

You didn’t really know how long you were crying into Y/f/n's arms, but it was long enough that you were pretty sure your eyes were already swollen from the tears you’d shed. 

“Here,” they said softly, pulling a pack of tissues from the centre console.

“Thanks,” you replied back with a small smile, taking the tissues from her and pulling one out of the packet, as they began driving again. 

“Do you love them?” Y/f/n asked, breaking the small comfortable silence the two of you had found yourself in for the last few minutes.

You didn’t know how to answer the question. 

You truly didn’t. 

Because part of you did love them.

If you didn’t you wouldn’t have let Simon kiss your cheek. You would’ve have let Johnny hug you and hold your hand along with John. 

You didn’t choose to end things with them; and the fact that you knew the real reason why now, changed things for you. 

But that didn’t remove the pain they put you through. 

Didn’t take away the countless nights you spent crying instead of sleeping; thinking they’d fallen out of love with you, wondering what you’d done wrong… 

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. 

“Do you love Phillip?”

That was another loaded question. 

Because you automatically went to say yes. 

But you couldn’t ignore what you’d found out; nor could you deny the questions that new information created. 

Does Phillip love you, or is it simply all just part of a scheme to hurt your exes. 

“I don’t know,” you repeated again; knowing that the person you were in the car with was never going to judge you for your conflicting feelings. 

“We could just drive away from here, go and find a nice cottage in the countryside, just live out our lives running a bookshop cafe,”

Although the offer sounded like they were joking, you knew they weren’t. 

It was an idea the two of you had spoken about often, more so in the most recent years of your lives. 

You knew that if you told them that’s what you needed; then that’s what the two of you would do. 

You wanted to take them up on that offer.

But you wanted to know the truth about Phillip and the potential plan he’d made with Shepherd… 

“Maybe one day,” you replied back with a smile, knowing that depending on what Phillip told you, that day might come sooner rather than later. 

“Gotta say Y/n, your taste is men is absolutely fucking shocking,”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the truthfulness of their words; making them in turn laugh too.

Y/f/n's laughter quickly faded though; as they began driving faster down the road.

You sent them a confused look; wondering why the sudden change in speed was occuring.

They glanced at you briefly, a worried look in their eyes, “I think the car behind us is following us,”

You looked into the side mirror; noticing a black suv driving behind them with tinted windows, trying to recall how long they could’ve been following them for. 

You knew your friend must’ve been right, because as they continued to speed up, so did the car behind. 

“Shit,” you whispered, quickly grabbing your phone and calling the number you’d called a night prior. 

“Hello,”

“Si, there’s a car following us,”

You tried to keep your voice calm; collected...but you were sure Simon could sense the real emotions lingering in your voice...

“What?” He asked, his voice low through the phone. 

“There’s a black SUV following us,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah were pretty fucking sure!” Y/f/n shouted through the phone, obviously hearing Simon’s question through your phone, just before you put it on loud speaker.

“Turn the car around and drive back here,” Simon instructed clearly; you couldn’t help but be somewhat surprised when Y/f/n did just as Simon said when they had the opportunity to. 

But you had to admit you were relieved that they did so. 

Unfortunately; the black SUV continued following you; driving faster and faster until it was ramming into the back of Y/f/n's car. 

“Shit!” They shouted, the force of the SUV making their car begin to swerve a little. 

“What’s happening?” 

It wasn’t Simon’s voice you heard through the phone now, it was Johns. 

You went to answer but as you did; you felt the SUV smash into the back of the car again; this time though it made Y/f/n lose control of the car. 

The last sight you saw wasn’t the tree that lined the road that the car was crashing into, it was the panicked look in Y/f/n's eyes as the crash seemed to happen in slow motion.

You attempted to grab their hand; but before you could, you felt the impact of the car crashing against the tree....

Taglist:

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[edamameimei]

crawling back (daniela avanzini x reader)

"do i wanna know if this feeling flows both ways?"

synopsis: daniela knows you and her live completely different lives, and maybe that's why she couldn't admit to herself what she has truly felt for you all along. tags: mostly angst, friends to sort of lovers to strangers to ??? an: this is a part two of do i wanna know? if you haven't read that fic yet, i highly suggest you do! also, as always, i just want to put out there that this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. wc: 3143 words

⏯ now playing: do i wanna know? (live at the bbc) - hozier

The reason why you joined Dream Academy in the first place was to escape. 

After one too many mental breakdowns, you took a chance at the skeptical email that was sent to you. The rest after that was a blur. The auditions, the training period, all of it was not what you expected. When you first started training and development, you knew you weren’t on the same level as the other girls. You didn’t even come close. You were a random girl from a very small town. Your current TikTok following doesn’t even compare to the others whom consider themselves “influencers.” Deep down, you knew you didn’t have the personality to be a “Global Pop Star.” What was supposed to take a year ended up taking two years of your life and still, to this day, you aren’t sure if it was worth it. 

Especially when you ended up losing more than a chance to debut. 

The first day of training was hell for you. So much so, you found yourself during the 15 minute break crying in the bathroom. You hunch over the toilet, sobbing. You feel pathetic. Quite inadequate. The dance teacher had to repeat herself so many times to you and you still couldn’t get it right. You knew you were way over your head and this exact moment proved it. You continue to cry, debating if you should just give up and go back home. 

But at some point, you hear the door to the bathroom open. You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your cries but you know you’ve been caught. The person begins to approach the stall you were currently occupying and for a moment, they don’t say anything. They stand there, silently. You try to think of an excuse if the person were to ask you what was wrong but before you could say anything, the person finally speaks up. 

“I can help you with the dance… one-on-one…” Daniela’s voice echoes throughout the bathroom and it makes your cheeks flush slightly. You don’t say anything. You just sit there quietly, biting your lip. Daniela speaks up again, her voice soft. “Let me help you… Honestly…” You can hear the sincerity in her voice and it makes your chest flutter. You sigh, knowing you won’t be able to back away from the proposal Daniela gave you. You stand up, smoothing out your shirt before unlocking the stall door. You look at Daniela, a pout evident on your face. The Latina frowns when she notices how red your eyes are and your tear streaked face. She places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“Come on… Let me show you… She’s kind of a bad teacher, anyway…” The comment makes you giggle softly. You look into Daniela’s eyes, searching for any pity in them. But the only thing you can really focus on is how pretty her eyes were. You used to think Daniela was so intimidating. Her eyes always held an intense look in them, somewhat fiery. But the way she looks at you right now makes you second guess your judgements. 

Daniela takes your hand and basically pulls you out of the bathroom. 

And after that moment, Daniela knew you would turn her whole world upside down. 

She knew how particular you are about certain things. You were put together, collected, always one step ahead. Your bed was made every morning no matter how tired you were and you always had to stick to your routine. Your view on the world was perfectionistic, orderly. There wasn’t a single wrinkle in your clothes and you kept everything tidy– just how you like your life. 

Daniela, on the otherhand, was none of those things. 

She lived her life freely, with no cares in the world. Life is too short to worry about the little things. Life is too short to make your bed every morning. She proudly embraced the chaos and wanted to live in it for as long as she could. She was young, she had every right to. 

But when Daniela meets you, it’s almost magnetic. She never met someone like you. Someone so gentle, so kind. She couldn’t believe someone like you existed, especially at the same time as her. You could be ripped to bits and pieces, chewed down to the bone, and spat out like nothing but you’d still find the strength to go back to the practice room. You could sit in the studio and pretend it was another Thursday. The other girls on Dream Academy always found this trait of yours intimidating. Even under the pressure of the whole world and so much more, you still fought your way until the very end of Mission 3. 

Daniela wonders if that’s why she was so enthralled by you. She had to know what was underneath that calm exterior. Day after day, she made it her own mission to understand who you really were. Maybe, she would have an excuse to love you less. Maybe you’d be so flawed, there would be a reason to give up on whatever feelings she found herself developing for you. 

But after that night you two shared, Daniela got up extra early that morning. She quietly slipped out of bed, kissing the top of your head. She left the hotel room with a weight lifted off her shoulders and a wide smile on her face. She returns with two cups of coffee in her hands. However, her smile falters slightly when she sees that the bed was made. She hears you humming in the shower and when she thought the weight she felt before has finally gone away, it comes back tenfold. 

When you finish showering, you walk out of the bathroom, expecting to see Daniela. However, you return to see the sweater she always borrowed from you messily thrown onto the floor. 

You pick it up, folding it nicely. You place it back on the bed, intending to put it in Daniela’s suitcase so she won’t forget it. 

She has a tendency to do that, forgetting things, no matter how important. 

When Daniela is told there would be a Dream Academy reunion for their one year anniversary, her mind instantly becomes filled with thoughts of you. 

No matter how hard she tried, she can’t seem to rid herself of the memories that contain you. Every picture she took, every thing she ever did, you were right there next to her. It never dawned on her how much of you consumed her life until after her debut. When asked questions about Dream Academy, it almost pains the Latina. 

(What’s her favorite memory? Late night walks outside the dorm because you two couldn’t sleep. 

What did she do in her down time? Read a book, curled up next to you in either her bed or yours. 

Who was she closest to? You.) 

So a whole event dedicated to that era of her life makes her sick. Especially when she hears not only did you say you’d return for the reunion, but Ezrela accepted the invite as well. Not only that, but made it clear you two would show up together. That ugly feeling that always gnawed away at her chest, the one that would only show up when she saw you and Ezrela together, comes back with a vengeance that she didn’t even think it had. She clenches her phone tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning ghostly white as she rereads the attendance list over and over again. 

This time around, she doesn’t have the right to pull you away. 

She won’t be able to insert herself into your conversations. 

It would be as if you two were two world’s apart, yet only five feet away. 

“You know, if you stare even harder, I’m scared she would end up blowing up…” Daniela whips her head towards Manon, glaring. She scoffs, taking a sip from her cup. “I’m not… Staring.” The Latina’s response causes Manon to raise an eyebrow, sneaking a quick, knowing glance at Lara and Emily whom are standing right next to them. They all follow Daniela’s gaze, their eyes settling on you. You’re engaged in a conversation with Ezrela, Adela, and Megan. They watch as Adela says something that causes you to throw your head back, laughing loudly. When Ezrela places a hand on your shoulder, the girls turn their heads back to look at Daniela. They watch the evident frown beginning to form on her lips and Lara decides she has had enough. 

“Dani, I love you, but this isn’t fair.” Daniela’s glare hardens even more at her member’s words. She looks at her, rolling her eyes. She responds, her tone a bit harsh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lara crosses her arms and lets out a loud sigh. “Look. During Dream Academy… We all thought the obsession you had with Y/n was funny…” Daniela is about to counter her statement but Lara holds her hand up, not wanting to be interrupted. She continues, her tone serious, “but then shit happened in Korea– which we still have no idea about by the way– and suddenly, it wasn’t even funny anymore. It was just… Sad.” The mention of their trip to Korea causes Daniela’s mouth to go dry. She looks away, silently confirming everyone’s suspicions that something did happen in Korea that caused you and Daniela’s relationship to go awry. 

Manon places a hand on the Latina’s shoulder and squeezes it gently. She looks at her, concern written in her eyes. “Dani… Just talk to her. It might help with… Whatever ‘this’ is.” Daniela looks up at the girl, pouting slightly. She knows she’s right but Daniela has always been so stubborn. But as she looks at you, sees you smiling with that crinkle in your eyes that she has missed so much, she almost considers it. 

Instead, she finishes whatever is left in her cup and walks away from the group, getting farther away from you. 

But as fate would have it, with its genuine sense of humor, Daniela walks into the bathroom and sees Ezrela fixing her makeup in the mirror. 

Daniela freezes. She wants to turn around and walk away. She wants to pretend that she didn’t feel her heart drop seeing the small girl and wants to act as if she has not held a dislike towards her for years. But, Daniela stays, not wanting to make the situation even more awkward than it already feels. Ezrela looks away from the mirror and smiles widely, immediately putting down her lipstick to greet the Latina. She runs up to Daniela, wrapping her arms around her tightly. The action makes Daniela feel even worse than before because there really isn’t any other reason for the Latina to dislike Ezrela. The Aussie always showed Daniela kindness to which she was only repaid with the cold shoulder.

When Ezrela pulls away, she beams at Daniela, walking back to the bathroom counter to continue fixing her lipstick. She takes a glance at Daniela, her eyes twinkling with excitement. She says, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you! How is everything?” Daniela stands there awkwardly. She isn’t really in the mood to talk to Ezrela. If she were being honest, she isn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Since she got to the reunion, she has wanted to go back home and continue pretending Dream Academy never happened. But of course, she would find herself having a conversation with the last person she would ever engage with. She puts on a brave face, knowing she will have to get through this conversation for it to be over. 

She smiles small, responding softly, “everything is great. It still feels unreal…” The Latina’s words causes Ezrela to giggle. She nods, putting the cap back onto her lipstick. She looks at Daniela with a sincere smile. “I bet. I’m really proud of you guys, you know?” Daniela smiles in response, a genuine smile. They continue talking, catching each other up on their lives after Dream Academy. At some point, Daniela finds herself so comfortable in the conversation that she isn’t able to stop the words that come out of her mouth next. “You and Y/n look happy together.” 

The statement causes Ezrela to freeze. Daniela’s eyes widen when she realizes what she just said. 

Ezrela looks at Daniela with a confused look in her eyes. She tilts her head, chuckling. “What are you talking about?” Daniela stammers out a response, a bit embarrassed, “well… You know… You and Y/n have always been close so I just thought…You guys finally got together…” But the thing is, Ezrela has no Earthly idea what the Latina is talking about. Sure, you and her had a very close friendship but to the Australian girl, that’s all it ever was. She knew like everyone else who you belonged to at the end of the day. Ezrela shakes her head at Daniela’s words, surprised that the Latina would even consider that a possibility… That you were ever not Daniela’s. 

She speaks in a matter-of-fact tone, as if the words that were coming out of her mouth were common knowledge. “Are you… Kidding?” She can’t help the giggle that escapes her lips when she continues, “Y/n was always in love with you… If anything… Everyone else is surprised that you two aren’t together.” The Latina feels her breath catch in her throat at Ezrela’s words. She looks at her, her eyes wide with disbelief. Ezrela looks down at her hands and shakes her head, smiling. “She always came to my dorm and talked about you… You were all she could ever talk about, actually.” She looks up from her hands, looking at Daniela with an incredulous look. 

“All the girls were making bets on how long it would take for you two to start dating…” Ezrela clicks her tongue. She walks up to Daniela, jabbing her pointer finger into the girl’s shoulder playfully. “I lost $20 because of you two! I really thought you guys would have at least got together at the end of Dream Academy…” The playful look on the Aussie’s face is suddenly replaced with a more serious expression. She places a hand on Daniela’s shoulder and speaks softly, “Do… What you will with that information…” Ezrela takes a step back from the Latina, walking past her and out of the bathroom. Daniela stands there, her bottom lip trembling. 

Daniela had always been so curious about you and Ezrela’s relationship. But now that she was given an answer, she isn’t really sure how to feel. 

Right now, she just feels so stupid. 

She remembers going to Ezrela’s dorm one morning, wanting to grab a charger to borrow from the girl. 

Daniela remembers how when the door opens, she is met with Ezrela already put together at 8 AM. Her hair perfectly curled, her makeup done, and her smile wide as if they didn’t have a late practice last night. 

When Ezrela walks away to grab said charger, Daniela peers into the dorm and sees Ezrela’s bed made neatly. Her things were in order. Daniela could even describe it as being perfect. 

And as Ezrela hands Daniela her charger, the Latina realizes something. 

She realizes, you will never belong to her. Not when her life is so chaotic. Not when she can’t even make her bed Every. Single. Morning. 

Daniela finds you alone, standing outside, looking up at the sky. 

When she looks at you, the memories you two share comes at her with a force that takes her breath away. She thinks about your late night drives, watching you from the passenger seat and seeing you sing along to a song at the top of your lungs. She thinks about cozy nights spent in the dorm, you two cuddling and talking about everything while a show plays in the background. Daniela remembers the way your hand felt in hers, the way your arms felt around her waist. She remembers your daily routine like the back of her hand, she remembers your quirks, all of the little things that makes you you.

And it suddenly clicks in Daniela’s head. 

Daniela Avanzini is in love with you. She always had been. 

Daniela walks up to you with determination in every step she takes. She speaks up, her voice firm, “every time you were around Ezrela, it drove me fucking crazy and I didn’t know why,” you turn immediately, looking at the Latina with wide eyes. You were sure the girl would avoid you all night. Not only does it surprise you to see her right in front of you, but it shocks you even more that this is the way she would greet you. You try to respond, your voice shaking, “Dani-?”

“I wanted– no, I needed your attention to be on me 24/7. If it wasn’t, I’d literally crash out because what if–” she stops for a moment, taking a deep breath. She knows the ball is in her court, she knows she can’t runaway this time. Daniela takes a step closer towards you, her tears falling freely down her cheeks. She whispers, “What if… When you aren’t with me, you’ll realize how much of a mess I am?” She shakes her head, gesturing to herself wildly as she continues, “What if you realize that I’m not what you need?” 

You look at Daniela, shock evident on your face. Her words stir something inside you. It’s a feeling you have pushed away for so long. Ever since you left Dream Academy, you told yourself you’d leave it all there. You told yourself for a whole year that you would never find yourself back here again, especially with Daniela. 

But who were you kidding? This was Daniela. Your Daniela. 

You reach out to her and for a second, you hesitate. The last time you reached out to Daniela, she wanted nothing to do with it. The Latina senses your hesitation and immediately wraps her arms around your neck, buying her head into your chest. You wrap your own arms around her and you can’t help but feel as though you are finally home. The emptiness that settled in your chest after Dream Academy is finally full and it’s all because of her. It will always be her. 

“I always needed you, Daniela.” She pulls away slightly to look at you, a sad look in her eyes when she realizes your statement was in past tense. 

She whispers, “needed me?” 

You chuckle and whisper back, “still need you.” You look at her, your eyes challenging her to make the next move. 

She holds you tighter, her face inches from yours. Daniela smiles softly, placing a hand on your cheek. 

“Still need you.”

a/n: hopefully for those who wanted a part two are satisfied with the ending i came up with <3 giving these two either a happy ending or a sad ending was a mixed poll so i honestly flipped a coin LMAO fate said: a happy ending! let me know what you guys think and just know i am open for any requests or any random messages/thoughts!