#Under Code Production

[yourlocalabomination]

I am not immune to funny crackships.

+ Bonus

[yuridovewing]

i think its funny how mapleshade discourse is like “mapleshade was DISGUSTING in her novella i cant believe she lied!!! shes irredeemable scum and im gonna make up weird misogynistic shit that didnt actually happen to justify hating her!!!!” and im just like mannnn why didnt she eat those babies :/

[bunnydevs]

[GoogleDocs Link] -> pictures are not the full document, just a snippet!

Hello! I've made a fairly detailed planning tutorial based off of backwards planning + character creation. You start off by imagining a character who already completed all of your goals. By the end you have a 12 week framework including bite sized tasks + one habit per week to hit your one year goals. You can use short term + long term goals with this and adjust it to your needs. There's also a little bit of "gamification" to this, you can either ignore it or you can go with it. It's up to you! I figured I'd share. I originally created this for myself (it's easier for me to conceptualize things if I pretend I'm teaching someone). But I thought someone else may struggle with planning without a guide/template. So.

If you need a printable / ipad chore chart you'd like to use in conjunction with this, here is a free set I posted. I might make a printable version of this soon :0 We will see! Feel free to send me an ask for any questions you might have regarding this / ways to make this easier for you to carry out.

[seenthisepisode]

i did something that was absolutely legal but it feels completely illegal and i am so stressed i have a migraine

[duskerot]

i just put together my year in review art summary for the year and its interesting because compared to last year i think my technical skills improved but it feels a little bittersweet overall because as soon as i got my job all of that ambition just vanished LOL

[seeminglyseph]

if I put Fantasy French in something, I'm pulling a Dragon Age and making them Fantasy Québécois exclusively to annoy international audiences into thinking all the French accents are wrong or bad.

I mean they might not be entirely incorrect in their judgements, but fuck it. Fantasy Québécois feels way more fun and interesting an accent than Fantasy Parisian.

[fabiansociety]

da2 isn't the best dragon age game *because* it's openly a tragedy, but being a tragedy forces a level of narrative coherence that the other games in the series don't have, and *that's* what makes it a better game.

okay, so. dragon age 2 runs on nested foreshadowing and a limited set of themes that almost every character and plot beat fall into: love is not enough, wealth is not enough, power is not enough, good intent is not enough. the problems you run into are structural, rather than individual, and your ability to resolve them as one person is strictly limited. the arishok is a central figure for this, because he prefigures every other tragedy and makes the game's thesis statement as clear as possible. he doesn't want to be in kirkwall, but he is compelled to remain until he gets back what was stolen. he doesn't want to lead a coup attempt, but he is compelled by qunari codes of justice to act. he does not want to die and fail his duty, but but he is compelled to by the other two impossible demands. every tragedy in kirkwall is the result of too many people with wildly different definitions of justice crammed into one place specifically designed to maximize human misery and suffering, and so you get a wonderfully nested narrative onion where each quest reinforces that idea, where there are no good options, just positions you can take — even the affinity system plays into that, where constantly gassing up your friends or constantly pushing them to change are equally correct ways to go, but ones that won't ultimately make a huge difference in their lives or characters, because no matter how much they like you, they're not under your control.

this coherence is even justified by the framing device. of *course* the moral of the game is "insisting on a dogmatic, narrow idea of justice destroys individuals and societies," it's a yarn being spun by varric the con artist to a chantry cop!

neither origins or inquisition play with that sort of narrative complexity. origins is a jaundiced hero's quest, certainly, but it's still basically a hero's quest; inquisition has a number of characters who question what you're doing and why, but the multitude of voices pulls the game in too many potential directions. DA2 was so constrained in its production that it pulled on decidedly ancient theatrical traditions, and it worked so, so well

[nerdykeppie]

So, uh, one of our biggest suppliers is shutting down.

We found out yesterday that our main supplier for clothing - everything from our skater dresses and skirts with pockets to swimsuits and joggers - is going out of business before the end of the month, entirely due to the tariffs. They sell to the United States, pretty much, and once the de minimis (no tariffs under $800 in value) goes away, they're pretty much boned.

Yes, we're devastated. Yes, we'll be okay - we are already looking for alternatives, and we may have to change a few things, but, we'll make it work.

We will cease accepting orders for everything in our Free Domestic Shipping collection at 11:59 PM Pacific Time, April 15th, 2025. Until then, use code BYE15 for 15% off these items. This is well before their final cutoff for production - we're playing it safe.

(boy, we are so tired of manufactured crises)

EDITED:

The rug got unexpectedly pulled out from underneath us - they changed the timeline on us in a way that I only found out when I logged in to put through yesterday's orders - and I'm waiting to find out if the orders we took yesterday will be able to be fulfilled. I am currently in the process of shutting down all these items so they cannot be purchased.

If we cannot fulfill orders we took yesterday, they will of course be refunded in full.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Works Hard So He Can Nap Harder

The thing about Tim is that he gets things done.

Not in a normal, reasonable, “wow, he’s really productive” way. No, Tim operates on an entirely different plane of efficiency—one that defies common sense and possibly the laws of physics.

Give him a five-hour task? He’ll finish it in two. Tell him something is impossible? He’ll stare at you, offended, before proving you so wrong it physically hurts.

Sometimes, it’s out of sheer spite. Bruce once told him a mission was too complicated for him to handle alone, so Tim completed it in record time out of pettiness alone. Jason told Tim he didn’t have the skill set for corporate espionage. So Tim hacked three shell companies overnight, uncovered Black Mask’s entire financial network, and sent Jason a PowerPoint presentation with the subject line: “Skill Set Acquired”.

Other times, it’s about time management. Tim understands, at his very core, that the faster he works, the sooner he can stop working. If he has to burn through a mountain of reports in a single hour so he can take a nap, then so be it. If he has to analyze data at inhuman speeds so he can binge-watch a show later, then he will.

The bats have learned to just… let it happen.

Dick once made the mistake of asking Tim to help him streamline his schedule. Tim, in under an hour, not only optimized his entire calendar but also accounted for every possible emergency, scheduled backup time slots for rescheduling, and somehow made Dick twice as productive without making him feel busier. It was kinda terrifying.

Barbara asked him to double-check some intel. He cross-referenced it against every available database, found three hidden links no one had noticed, and sent her a color-coded report with visual aids.

Bruce told him to track a smuggling ring in Gotham. Tim mapped out their entire operation in one night, had arrests lined up by morning, and then went home to sleep like a corpse.

Steph once sarcastically asked if Tim could figure out how to clean up the Gotham underworld in a week. Tim pulled out a ten-step plan before she even finished her sentence.

Tim doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t believe in half-measures. He works fast, works well, and then disappears before anyone can ask him for more.

The only thing scarier than Tim’s efficiency is the fact that he actively chooses to use it selectively.

Because while Tim is capable of working like a one-man army, when it benefits him, he’s also capable of weaponized uselessness. If he doesn’t want to do something, suddenly he’s the most inefficient person alive.

He’ll take weeks to answer a text. He’ll forget how to do basic tasks. He’ll act so completely incapable of anything that people just stop asking him for things.

But when he wants something done?

It’s over before you even realize he started.

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[pukefactory]

You know, I'm constantly curious about this. Because everybody makes it where the reader comes to and gets stuck in ENA's world...but what if it was the other way around? What if BBQ ENA was stuck in our world instead?? •-•

•☽────✧˖°˖ LEARNING THE ROPES ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation Of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson ENA Stuck In The Human World With The Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson ENA (ENA: Dream BBQ),

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @crepeurie

☆ ENA appeared in your world unannounced, as if dropped between seconds. The air crackled like radio static and then there she was: standing in your apartment hallway, glittering with casino dust, holding a charred mannequin head in one hand and a coupon for “half off your existential fate” in the other. Salesperson side blinked first, then grinned. “Say, is this your realm? I hope I’m not trespassing on your… emotional lease.” The Meanie side groaned. “WHAT THE HELL KIND OF DIMENSION HAS CARPETED WALLS?! WHERE’S THE BOSS??” You didn’t know whether to give her tea or a tetanus shot.

☆ She doesn’t understand your technology. Your phone? A cursed slab of mirror-glass that steals your soul when you tap it too fast. “Wait, why does the cat keep changing expressions?! Is it mocking me?” She attempts to argue with your Amazon Alexa. “WHO IS THIS DISEMBODIED WOMAN?! WHAT AUTHORITY DOES SHE HOLD?! Why doesn’t she tell us where the BATHROOM is?!” You mute the speaker. She puts a sticky note over it labeled: DO NOT TRUST THE ECHO LADY.

☆ You took her outside once. She stood on the curb and stared at the streetlight like it was a divine omen. “The lights here… blink in coded confessions. I think I saw one say ‘you’re being watched.’ Is that true?” “Don’t tell me your reality uses coloured bulbs as government signals! That’s genius. Absolutely evil. I admire it.” Then she ran into traffic to chase a squirrel. You had to drag her back by her suspenders. “I was bartering a soul exchange!”

☆ She tried coffee. You made the grave mistake of giving her espresso. Within minutes, Meanie was arguing with a ceiling fan while Salesperson rewrote your résumé, your will, and a five-year business plan to “dominate the underground liquorice economy.” You had to lock her in the bathroom for twenty minutes just so she wouldn’t take apart your microwave. “I NEED TO SEE THE INSIDES. DOES IT BLEED? DOES IT SING?” You’ve since switched her to chamomile tea.

☆ She found out about streaming services and hasn’t recovered. She watched 14 hours of reality TV and now believes that “marriage” is a televised punishment ritual. “These contestants keep kissing under duress! Why?! Is that how you humans survive the culling?” Later, she rewrote the concept of television into a tragic art form. She talks about “reruns” like they’re ghost stories. You caught her whispering to the Netflix home screen: “I KNOW HOW THIS ENDS… BUT I’LL WATCH YOU SUFFER AGAIN.”

☆ She doesn’t sleep. Not because she can’t, but because she doesn’t trust unconsciousness. “You’re telling me your consciousness vanishes nightly and that’s… normal? I can’t even trust my limbs!” Still, she gets bored in the hours you’re asleep. You once woke up at 3 a.m. to find her sitting on your chest, watching your eyelids like TV static. “You twitch when you’re dreaming. Does that mean you’re buffering?” She didn’t get off until you said “please.”

☆ She began attending your workplace with you like it was a mission briefing. At first, she was polite. Helpful, even. She made coffee for your coworkers and tried to network. “So tell me—are you also being exploited under the guise of capitalist productivity, or is it more of a consensual subjugation thing?” Then she shouted at your boss. “YOU’RE THE NEW BOSS?! You don’t even SMELL like authority!” You were asked to “take your cousin back to the psych ward.”

☆ She tries cooking. Sometimes it goes well. Most of the time it doesn’t. She once baked you a cake that bled orange juice and screamed in binary when sliced. “It’s avant-garde! A little post-mortem pastry!” She gets very quiet when you eat her food without flinching. Meanie narrows her eyes, suspicious. “You… actually like it?” The Salesperson side stares for a beat, then whispers, “My dividends… are emotional.”

☆ You took her to the park once. She watched the ducks like they were religious figures. “They know something. Something lost to time. Do you think they’ve seen the Genie?” She picked dandelions and declared them “low-tier magical implements.” You watched her tie them together and mutter prayers. When you asked who she was praying to, she shrugged. “To this world. To the idea that maybe I’m allowed to stay in it. That it won’t swallow me back into code and craters.” You sat beside her and held her sharp, clawed hand. It trembled once. Then didn’t let go.

☆ One night, after too much laughing and not enough sleep, she looked at you—really looked. “I think this place is terrifying,” she admitted. “It’s heavy and slow and filled with people who look at me like I’m… not real. But then you—you laugh at me when I’m ridiculous and smile like I’m worth staying here for.” Her voice broke into both tones. Both sides. “If I’m stuck in your world, I think it’s okay. I’m not looking for the BATHROOM anymore.” She paused. “I’m looking for your hand.”

[funishment-time]

🧠 PLEASE DO NOT PIRATE THE HUNDRED LINE: LAST DEFENSE ACADEMY ON APRIL 24TH 🧠

WHY THO? ➡️ Kazutaka Kodaka has said on many occasions that this is literally make or break for TooKyo Games due to production issues and the resulting debt while making it. The company did not have money for ports or for additional languages, or physical versions in some areas. Additionally, he will likely leave the game industry if it doesn't sell. I suppose that final bit could be a joke, but I'd rather not risk it.

In short: to pirate The Hundred Line is not sticking it to Bethesda's spaghetti coding or EA's nonsensical manufacturing line of Sims DLC, but rather an indie studio.

But we're all short on money these days and shit's expensive. I understand. I get by on an income of lint and those mint chocolates you can eat at the Olive Garden. So while I ultimately can't control what you do, random citizen, I've provided alternate means to pirating on this post.

➡️ "I would like to try the game before buying it."

Here is the Steam demo.

Here is the Switch demo.

Both provide about 5ish hours of gameplay, both story and tactical modes, and it should be enough for you to make a decision.

➡️ "I would like to play the actual game."

Digitally, you can get it on Steam or on the Switch, as stated.

(Good news: it'll also be compatible with the Switch 2!)

Physical copies will be sold in the US and Japan. (Unsure on China.) Take a look online or at your local retailer! There's even a spectacular pre-order package with eggstras.

You can also try joining a Steam Family with a friend who owns a copy of the game. Of course, you'll have to sort-of take turns playing it, but it's better'n nothing.

If you're really desperate, see if you're qualified for a short-term pay-over-time plan from Paypal etcetera. I don't recommend it, but I assume we're all adults here. Make your own financial decision!

➡️ "I don't mind if I just experience the game."

Have a friend stream it for you over Discord or another platform! Pool money if you must to purchase one (1) person the copy.

There's also no restrictions on streams and no restrictions on spoilers, so...

...your favorite Let's Players or streamers might be glomming onto the game ASAP, if you don't mind waiting a bit.

You can also politely ask/suggest that your fave content creators, if they're small enough that they still listen to individual fans, play or stream the game. (Don't be annoying, though, and make sure they're into games like this first.)

➡️ "I would like a physical copy."

See the third bullet under "I would like to play the actual game."

There is sadly no official physical copy for Europe as of writing, so I would look at the other sections if you're over yonder. I believe you can import into Europe, though.

You might also be able to flash a cartridge or USB or CD or something of the digital version if you already own it please. (Don't make a cartridge of it if you didn't buy the game, like. That's defeating the point.) I don't quite know how this works, but I'm putting it here anyway.

➡️ "You're a bootlicker/I am owed this content/sorry Kodaka but I'm built different/Danganronpa sucks and this will too/I'm not giving money to a [racist implication about Japanese culture]."

ok

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Are the means of computation even seizable?

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH in TOMORROW (May 15) at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. More tour dates (London, Manchester) here.

Something's very different in tech. Once upon a time, every bad choice by tech companies – taking away features, locking out mods or plugins, nerfing the API – was countered, nearly instantaneously, by someone writing a program that overrode that choice.

Bad clients would be muscled aside by third-party clients. Locked bootloaders would be hacked and replaced. Code that confirmed you were using OEM parts, consumables or adapters would be found and nuked from orbit. Weak APIs would be replaced with muscular, unofficial APIs built out of unstoppable scrapers running on headless machines in some data-center. Every time some tech company erected a 10-foot enshittifying fence, someone would show up with an 11-foot disenshittifying ladder.

Those 11-foot ladders represented the power of interoperability, the inescapable bounty of the Turing-complete, universal von Neumann machine, which, by definition, is capable of running every valid program. Specifically, they represented the power of adversarial interoperability – when someone modifies a technology against its manufacturer's wishes. Adversarial interoperability is the origin story of today's tech giants, from Microsoft to Apple to Google:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

But adversarial interop has been in steady decline for the past quarter-century. These big companies moved fast and broke things, but no one is returning the favor. If you ask the companies what changed, they'll just smirk and say that they're better at security than the incumbents they disrupted. The reason no one's hacked up a third-party iOS App Store is that Apple's security team is just so fucking 1337 that no one can break their shit.

I think this is nonsense. I think that what's really going on is that we've made it possible for companies to design their technologies in such a way that any attempt at adversarial interop is illegal.

"Anticircumvention" laws like Section 1201 of the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act make bypassing any kind of digital lock (AKA "Digital Rights Management" or "DRM") very illegal. Under DMCA, just talking about how to remove a digital lock can land you in prison for 5 years. I tell the story of this law's passage in "Understood: Who Broke the Internet," my new podcast series for the CBC:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/08/who-broke-the-internet/#bruce-lehman

For a quarter century, tech companies have aggressively lobbied and litigated to expand the scope of anticircumvention laws. At the same time, companies have come up with a million ways to wrap their products in digital locks that are a crime to break.

Digital locks let Chamberlain, a garage-door opener monopolist block all third-party garage-door apps. Then, Chamberlain stuck ads in its app, so you have to watch an ad to open your garage-door:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Digital locks let John Deere block third-party repair of its tractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

And they let Apple block third-party repair of iPhones:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

These companies built 11-foot ladders to get over their competitors' 10-foot walls, and then they kicked the ladder away. Once they were secure atop their walls, they committed enshittifying sins their fallen adversaries could only dream of.

I've been campaigning to abolish anticircumvention laws for the past quarter-century, and I've noticed a curious pattern. Whenever these companies stand to lose their legal protections, they freak out and spend vast fortunes to keep those protections intact. That's weird, because it strongly implies that their locks don't work. A lock that works works, whether or not it's illegal to break that lock. The reason Signal encryption works is that it's working encryption. The legal status of breaking Signal's encryption has nothing to do with whether it works. If Signal's encryption was full of technical flaws but it was illegal to point those flaws out, you'd be crazy to trust Signal.

Signal does get involved in legal fights, of course, but the fights it gets into are ones that require Signal to introduce defects in its encryption – not fights over whether it is legal to disclose flaws in Signal or exploit them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

But tech companies that rely on digital locks manifestly act like their locks don't work and they know it. When the tech and content giants bullied the W3C into building DRM into 2 billion users' browsers, they categorically rejected any proposal to limit their ability to destroy the lives of people who broke that DRM, even if it was only to add accessibility or privacy to video:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

The thing is, if the lock works, you don't need the legal right to destroy the lives of people who find its flaws, because it works.

Do digital locks work? Can they work? I think the answer to both questions is a resounding no. The design theory of a digital lock is that I can provide you with an encrypted file that your computer has the keys to. Your computer will access those keys to decrypt or sign a file, but only under the circumstances that I have specified. Like, you can install an app when it comes from my app store, but not when it comes from a third party. Or you can play back a video in one kind of browser window, but not in another one. For this to work, your computer has to hide a cryptographic key from you, inside a device you own and control. As I pointed out more than a decade ago, this is a fool's errand:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

After all, you or I might not have the knowledge and resources to uncover the keys' hiding place, but someone does. Maybe that someone is a person looking to go into business selling your customers the disenshittifying plugin that unfucks the thing you deliberately broke. Maybe it's a hacker-tinkerer, pursuing an intellectual challenge. Maybe it's a bored grad student with a free weekend, an electron-tunneling microscope, and a seminar full of undergrads looking for a project.

The point is that hiding secrets in devices that belong to your adversaries is very bad security practice. No matter how good a bank safe is, the bank keeps it in its vault – not in the bank-robber's basement workshop.

For a hiding-secrets-in-your-adversaries'-device plan to work, the manufacturer has to make zero mistakes. The adversary – a competitor, a tinkerer, a grad student – only has to find one mistake and exploit it. This is a bedrock of security theory: attackers have an inescapable advantage.

So I think that DRM doesn't work. I think DRM is a legal construct, not a technical one. I think DRM is a kind of magic Saran Wrap that manufacturers can wrap around their products, and, in so doing, make it a literal jailable offense to use those products in otherwise legal ways that their shareholders don't like. As Jay Freeman put it, using DRM creates a new law called "Felony Contempt of Business Model." It's a law that has never been passed by any legislature, but is nevertheless enforceable.

In the 25 years I've been fighting anticircumvention laws, I've spoken to many government officials from all over the world about the opportunity that repealing their anticircumvention laws represents. After all, Apple makes $100b/year by gouging app makers for 30 cents on ever dollar. Allow your domestic tech sector to sell the tools to jailbreak iPhones and install third party app stores, and you can convert Apple's $100b/year to a $100m/year business for one of your own companies, and the other $999,900,000,000 will be returned to the world's iPhone owners as a consumer surplus.

But every time I pitched this, I got the same answer: "The US Trade Representative forced us to pass this law, and threatened us with tariffs if we didn't pass it." Happy Liberation Day, people – every country in the world is now liberated from the only reason to keep this stupid-ass law on their books:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/15/beauty-eh/#its-the-only-war-the-yankees-lost-except-for-vietnam-and-also-the-alamo-and-the-bay-of-ham

In light of the Trump tariffs, I've been making the global rounds again, making the case for an anticircumvention repeal:

https://www.ft.com/content/b882f3a7-f8c9-4247-9662-3494eb37c30b

One of the questions I've been getting repeatedly from policy wonks, activists and officials is, "Is it even possible to jailbreak modern devices?" They want to know if companies like Apple, Tesla, Google, Microsoft, and John Deere have created unbreakable digital locks. Obviously, this is an important question, because if these locks are impregnable, then getting rid of the law won't deliver the promised benefits.

It's true that there aren't as many jailbreaks as we used to see. When a big project like Nextcloud – which is staffed up with extremely accomplished and skilled engineers – gets screwed over by Google's app store, they issue a press-release, not a patch:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2025/05/nextcloud-accuses-google-of-big-tech-gatekeeping-over-android-app-permissions/

Perhaps that's because the tech staff at Nextcloud are no match for Google, not even with the attacker's advantage on their side.

But I don't think so. Here's why: we do still get jailbreaks and mods, but these almost exclusively come from anonymous tinkerers and hobbyists:

https://consumerrights.wiki/Mazda_DMCA_takedown_of_Open_Source_Home_Assistant_App

Or from pissed off teenagers:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/29/23378541/the-og-app-instagram-clone-pulled-from-app-store

These hacks are incredibly ambitious! How ambitious? How about a class break for every version of iOS as well as an unpatchable hardware attack on 8 years' worth of Apple bootloaders?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/25/mafia-logic/#sosumi

Now, maybe it's the case at all the world's best hackers are posting free code under pseudonyms. Maybe all the code wizards working for venture backed tech companies that stand to make millions through clever reverse engineering are just not as mad skilled as teenagers who want an ad-free Insta and that's why they've never replicated the feat.

Or maybe it's because teenagers and anonymous hackers are just about the only people willing to risk a $500,000 fine and 5-year prison sentence. In other words, maybe the thing that protects DRM is law, not code. After all, when Polish security researchers revealed the existence of secret digital locks that the train manufacturer Newag used to rip off train operators for millions of euros, Newag dragged them into court:

https://fsfe.org/news/2025/news-20250407-01.en.html

Tech companies are the most self-mythologizing industry on the planet, beating out even the pharma sector in boasting about their prowess and good corporate citizenship. They swear that they've made a functional digital lock…but they sure act like the only thing those locks do is let them sue people who reveal their workings.

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/2025/05/14/pregnable/#checkm8

[skylin-files]

girl code ⋆ na jaemin

pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?

pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn

featuring! winter of aespa, nct members

note: this is my first work here. there will be three parts; this is part one. i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡

check part two here: part 2 | part 3 (final)

── .✦

You and Winter have been best friends for as long as you can remember, inseparable since high school. Back then, you were the duo everyone recognized, always having each other’s backs. But now, in college, life has taken you to separate universities.

You’ve remained a consistent dean's lister and an active member of the campus newspaper, carrying the title of "no boyfriend since birth." Your focus has always been on academics, firmly believing that boys would only be a distraction.

Winter, on the other hand, has been part of her university’s cheer team since her freshman year. For her, cheer takes precedence over academics, and she’s had more talking stages than actual relationships. She’s the embodiment of "pretty privilege."

A classic pair of opposites, perhaps a little cliché. Despite your differences, your bond has always been unbreakable—until a boy enters the picture.

Speaking of the boy, there’s Jaemin, Na Jaemin.

“Na Jaemin!” Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend, yells from outside his apartment, accompanied by the relentless blaring of his car horn.

“I’m not leaving until you open the damn door, Jaemin!” Jeno laughs, still pressing the horn.

“Are you insane? It’s almost midnight. Stop honking the car,” Jaemin grumbles over the phone, peering out his window to spot Jeno grinning, clearly amused. Jaemin shakes his head, slipping on his jacket and grabbing his keys before heading out.

“What took you so long? I told you we’re going to Johnny’s party. You don’t have a say in this,” Jeno remarks as Jaemin climbs into the car. “What were you doing anyway?” he adds.

Jaemin takes a moment, lighting a cigarette before replying, “Homework.”

── .✦

“He looks good—flawless. God’s favorite child,” Winter remarks, scrolling through Instagram as she admires a boy on her screen.

“Who?” you ask, leaning in curiously.

“Oh, just my failed talking stage,” Winter replies casually.

“It’s a failed talking stage for a reason, yet you’re still simping over him,” you tease with a smirk.

“You should get a boyfriend,” you suggest for the thousandth time, genuinely concerned by the growing list of Winter’s failed talking stages and situationships.

“No, you’re the one who needs a boyfriend,” Winter fires back.

“No boyfriend in high school, and now we’re in college, still no boyfriend!” she complains dramatically. You roll your eyes, amused by her antics.

“Boys would do me no good,” you counter.

“Yeah? What about Mark and Haechan?” Winter quips, referencing the two boys you’ve been close to since the start of college.

“They’re different—exceptions,” you retort firmly.

“Whatever,” Winter mutters, waving you off.

── .✦

As the typical college student you are, you decided to pull an all-nighter. Currently on a Discord call with your college friends, Mark and Haechan, what was meant to be a study session had derailed—Mark was already fast asleep, lost in his dreams.

While typing up a draft for an article for your campus newspaper and listening to Haechan’s playlist, your phone buzzed with a text from Winter.

Winter: “Please pick me up. I’m at the local club near your university.”

You frowned, puzzled as to why Winter was partying near your campus and not somewhere closer to her own. A quick glance at the clock showed it was already 2:00 a.m.

“I stayed up all night to be productive, not to fetch an alcoholic from a club,” you muttered under your breath. Still, you knew you couldn’t leave Winter stranded, so you began saying goodbye to Haechan. Winter could be a handful, but you weren’t about to let her fend for herself.

“Want me to come with you?” Haechan offered as you started to log off. “It’s late, and I don’t mind. We can just leave Mark here,” he added, the two of you laughing at Mark’s sleeping figure still visible on the screen.

“Sure, so are you driving?” you teased.

Haechan rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah, like I have a choice,” he quipped, grabbing his keys.

── .✦

You felt the strange stares as you walked into the club, clad in a hoodie and sweats, phone pressed to your ear as you called your best friend. The line was picked up almost instantly.

"Winter, where are you?" you asked, only to hear a man’s voice reply.

"This isn’t Winter," he said.

"Who are you? Where’s Winter?"

"Smoking area. Come quick," he answered before hanging up, leaving you no time to respond.

When you reached the smoking area, you were greeted by the sight of Winter hunched over, puking. Beside her stood a boy casually scrolling through his phone, holding her bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Winter!" you called, drawing the boy’s attention.

"It’s a school night," you muttered in frustration, moving to help your best friend.

"Right," the boy murmured, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear.

"I ran into her inside," he explained, finally looking up from his phone. "She said she felt like she was going to throw up."

You froze momentarily, caught off guard by his appearance. He looked good—like God’s favorite child, visuals with no imperfection in sight.

"Do you two know each other?" you asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular.

"Yes!" Winter chimed in, her voice still tipsy.

The two of you exchanged a glance as Winter wiped her mouth, straightened up, and grinned as if she hadn’t just been throwing up moments ago—far from her usual composed self.

"Please take me home," Winter slurred, swaying slightly.

── .✦

“Who’s that?” Haechan asked, leaning casually against his car as he spotted you and Winter, who was currently being carried by an unfamiliar boy.

You shrugged. “No idea, but apparently, they know each other.”

“He looks fine,” Haechan remarked, his eyes trailing over the boy. You couldn’t argue with that, but you stayed quiet.

The boy gently helped Winter into Haechan’s car, her giggles filling the air as she pinched his cheek. Haechan grimaced at the interaction.

“Stop being a hater,” you said, nudging Haechan lightly.

Turning your attention to Winter, you asked, “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Winter cooed dramatically, “You’re such a sweetheart!” Her voice was loud enough to make you, Haechan, and the boy flinch simultaneously.

Winter’s attention shifted back to the boy as she poked his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart too. You should date my best friend,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

Haechan snorted at the comment. “She’s been single since forever,” Winter added with no filter, causing Haechan to burst out laughing.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Shut up,” you muttered, placing Winter’s bag beside her in the car.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, which didn’t escape the boy’s notice as he smiled at the scene. His smile didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

── .✦

“Where were you?” Jeno exclaimed as he approached Jaemin outside the local club. Jaemin flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the trash as Jeno arrived.

“I ran into Winter,” Jaemin replied casually, prompting a frown from Jeno.

“Winter? As in Winter, your former... situationship?” Jeno asked, his tone laced with curiosity. Jaemin nodded in confirmation.

“Good thing her friend showed up to pick her up,” Jaemin added, earning an understanding nod from Jeno.

“You're lucky because if her friend hadn't shown up, you’d probably have been the one stuck taking her home,” Jeno teased with a chuckle.

Jaemin nodded. “Exactly what I was trying to avoid. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with Winter anymore.”

── .✦

It was just another day on campus when you entered the lab room, which was unusually crowded as your professor had combined your class with another.

“I wonder who my lab partner will be. Will I be paired with someone from the other class?” you mutter as you sat down and got comfortable, but almost immediately, a voice from beside you interrupted.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

Looking up, you were met with a familiar face—the same guy from last night, the one you suspected knew Winter. Once again, you were struck by his looks. He seemed even more handsome now, his features more defined under the bright lighting.

“Oh, it’s you,” the guy said, sitting down next to you without waiting for you response, his neutral expression replaced by a playful smile.

“I didn’t say the seat was free,” you remarked, watching as he settled into the chair.

He ignored your comment, instead glancing at your university ID. After reading your name, he wrote your name and his on a piece of paper.

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him scribble.

The boy gestured toward the whiteboard at the front of the room, where it read:

"Look for a lab partner—by pair only! Write your and your partner's name on a sheet of paper. " You were momentarily taken aback as he casually wrote your name next to his on the paper, "Na Jaemin," it read, before standing up from his seat and walking to the front of the class to submit it.

As Jaemin walked back to his seat, you felt your cheeks flush for no apparent reason. Clearing your throat, you muttered softly, "I guess we're lab partners now."

Jaemin sat down and glanced at you, his head tilting slightly as a charming smirk appeared on his face. He thought your sudden shyness, which wasn’t there when you were picking up Winter, was quite adorable.

"I guess we are," he says, his smile widening slightly as he looks at you.

This was definitely going to be an interesting lab class for Na Jaemin.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nine

He didn’t even say 'hello,' just, “you need to get some shoes on.”

Like Eddie’s being tested, right out of the gate. Eddie stares at the dog. The dog stares back. It’s sitting on it’s ass at the front door, right where Steve left it, neatly holding the end of its lead in it’s mouth like butter wouldn’t melt, tail swishing back and forth over the tiles as it slowly wags.

Eddie shoves his feet into some sneakers. Growing up they would have been the cheapest white sneaks going. Now they, to Eddie, look exactly the same as the ones he had growing up, and yet cost several thousand dollars more.

At least he didn’t pay for them. Brands are always sending him shit on the off chance he gets papped while wearing them. Chrissy used to try and nag him, right at the beginning, about brands and income and shit like that. Energy drink companies who send you product but actually it’s just a can of water for you to be seen with because no one ever actually drinks that chemical shit.

Eddie pretty quickly made his thoughts on all that bullshit known; he’s not playing their games. That was kind of the end of it.

Celebrity is weird; sending each other stuff. Eddie’s got all sort of shit that he’s not interested in.

He doesn’t care. The fluffy golden monstrosity in front of him definitely doesn’t care.

Eddie didn’t know golden retrievers could even get that big; he’s pretty sure if the thing got up on it’s back legs it would be taller than Eddie. The thing looks solid. Muscly and golden; a perfect fit for Steve.

Eddie pulls a hoodie out of the hall closet and puts that on for good measure. At least it has a hood.

“Okay, you ready?” Steve’s back from dropping his things off in whichever guest room it is that he’s claimed, “I swung by the kitchen, we definitely need to do a grocery order.” Falkor lets Steve take his leash, and Eddie follows them out the door, “anything in particular you want?”

“Overnight oats,” Eddie mumbles without thinking, “and the flat breads. The chicken, with the pomegranate.”

“Oh yeah, course, I’ll see how quick they can deliver, might be able to make that tonight.”

Eddie’s stomach grumbles, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t make any noise. Next to Steve, Falkor trots obediently, tongue waggling out of his open mouth, he keeps looking up at Steve and away again, Steve fussing him every time he does it. Telling him what a good boy he is.

At the gate, Steve puts in the code, and Falkor sits next to Steve while they wait for it to slide open far enough. That gets Falkor a treat out of the little fanny pack Steve has on, hidden under his own jacket.

Eddie could say something, but no, low hanging fruit. What kind of guy wears a fanny pack anyway? Even if it is a little one with lots of pockets, like Steve has somehow found the tactical version of a fanny pack. He was definitely a boy scout, there’s absolutely no doubt in Eddie’s mind.

“What’s with the dog?” Eddie asks as they head out. He hopes Steve isn’t expecting him to trek miles with the thing.

“He belongs to some good friends, but they’ve gone on holiday, and he couldn’t go. I said I’d take him for the week. Needed to use some PTO anyway,” Steve shrugs, “not always the best at remembering to take time off.”

Steve just...says it. He’s not having a go at Eddie or anything. He’s not, like, being any kind of way about it, Eddie’s sure, but, still, “sorry.”

“No worries, I’m going to take next week off instead, Robin and her girlfriend want me to third wheel with them to some convention over the weekend, so actually you kind of did me a favor.”

Eddie’s relieved that his selfishness hasn’t dicked Steve over; but he’s definitely not going to show it. “Convention? What kind?” They turn at the corner of the block, and Eddie hopes vaguely that means that they’re only going to do a loop and head back. He might be feeling better, but it very quickly becomes apparent how tough doing simple shit is when you’ve spent months doing no physical activity at all. At least the sun isn’t too hot right now, and Eddie’s rut is still at the itchy, vague awareness stage.

He prays to anyone who will listen that it’s more normal this time and doesn’t drag on for nearly a week.

“I don’t really know, they’re being kind of hush about all of it. All I do know is that we’re camping, they’re very excited to dress me up, and there’s going to be turkey legs.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Steve, that’s going to be some kind of renaissance fair.”

“Oh,” Steve frowns for a second, “hang on,” they’re at the next corner, and Steve makes Falkor sit for a second at the curb. No apparent reason that Eddie can discern, but still, the dog gets another treat and they move on. “So I might get like, a cool knights outfit or something? Maybe I’ll be defending the honor of two princesses.”

He actually sounds kind of excited about it. Which, to be honest, Eddie figures, Steve seems to be just that sort of guy. Game for anything. “More likely some sort of manservant. To carry the bags.”

“I’m far too noble,” Steve answers without missing a beat, “but I will carry their bags,” he almost immediately concedes. “So how have you been? Chrissy says you’ve been working a little?”

Eddie mentally kind of misses a step for a second, not expecting the conversation to turn to that, “yeah. Yeah- it’s. The guys are being great.”

“They’re being really nice about it all?” Steve asks, Eddie figures he’s just checking in.

“Yeah, yeah they’re great.”

“It’s infuriating?”

“I-” Eddie turns, stopping dead, “how did you know?” clearly he was not just checking in then, he’s using his magic mind powers again.

Steve shrugs, Falkor stopping at his side without having to be told, “see it all the time.”

Eddie starts walking again slowly, “what do you mean?”

“Friends and family. The people that really care, they have all sorts of funny reactions. Guilt is the big one, somehow blaming themselves for your choices. Thinking they failed somehow. Sometimes they distance themselves completely, just because it hurts to watch the person they care about suffering and they don’t know how to cope with it themselves. Anger, angry at themselves but lashing out. Honestly there’s a fucking laundry list, but just...kind of being smothering is kind of the top response,” Steve shrugs, “it’s because they care, and those feelings have got to come out somewhere, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie fiddles with his hoodie cuffs, “I think I’d prefer anger, from the guys. They’ve every right to be.”

“Uh hu, makes sense. But, like a lot of shit, that’s not your choice.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He’d somehow forgotten Steve was an asshole, “do you not have any sympathy for me, like, at all?”

“Nah. They don’t pay me enough to get emotionally invested.”

“Oh my god you’re such a cunt.”

Steve sets out a bowl of water in the kitchen. It’s a proper dog bowl, so clearly something Eddie didn’t already have, which means Steve’s brought everything with him. That doesn’t surprise Eddie at all.

Steve snaps a picture of the dog, “proof of life.”

“Uh hu...wait, do they know he’s here?”

“They know he’s at a clients place, but no details past that.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind if they knew.”

“I would.”

“Sure,” Eddie responds almost reflexively, sinking in on himself, he slinks out of the kitchen, going to hide in his bedroom. It’s understandable Steve’s embarrassed by him, or whatever the logic is there.

He knows Steve is in the room, hears the door and hears the pad of his feet on the carpet. Steve’s rattling around in the bathroom now, and Eddie is completely not at all surprised when he hears the bath filling up.

Eddie sighs. Considers fighting it. Decides he doesn’t have the energy. He strips in the bedroom, carelessly ditching his clothes on the floor, avoiding the sight of himself in the mirror. Too skinny. Pale. Sickly looking. Some nice tattoos, some a cheap mess.

Eddie gets into the bath, Steve doesn’t bat an eyelid at Eddie’s nudity, “groceries will be here in an hour, then I’ll make some lunch.”

He leaves the room, Eddie listens as Steve strips and remakes his bed. Potters around out there; leaves. Comes back ten minutes later, probably put on some laundry, Eddie guesses.

The bathroom is clean again already.

Eddie really should hire a cleaner, like fuck is he doing it himself, but for the first time he feels really bad about making Steve do it.

He likes the thought of Steve making the bed though; there’s an unfamiliar little rumble, right in the middle of Eddie’s chest. Just a tiny one. A little announcement of his Alpha approval at the thought of Steve building their nest, and then it’s gone again. It’s been a long time since Eddie’s body has produced a noise like that. His Alpha must be royally fucked up, considering everything Eddie’s put his body through.

Eddie’s never really been attracted to Beta’s before. It’s never been for him. Eddie naturally gravitates towards an extreme, likes the challenge of another Alpha, likes to have them folded in half and pinned under him. Likes how submissive an Omega can be.

It precedes a little flush of heat, that sound, exacerbated by the steaming bathwater. This feels more like the beginning of a rut; nothing like the half formed itchy bull shit Eddie was dealing with last time.

“Hair?” Steve appears in the doorway.

“Yeah, please.”

Eddie sinks down, glad that whatever fancy bubbles and salts Steve has filled the water with covers Eddie’s nudity and the fact that he is rock fucking hard.

The moment Steve's hands are in his hair, Eddie knows he has a problem. He has absolutely fucked up here; he should have said no.

Eddie’s Alpha is...confused. That is the only logical explanation for this. Steve has been present for a rut, if you could even call it a rut, doing all the peripheral things a mate would do. Feeding Eddie and making his bed and all that shit.

That’s all it is.

Eddie sits still and does his best not to be weird about it. Steve soaks his hair with that plastic jug he keeps pulling from no where, before going through the routine of washing, conditioning, combing, doing that funny little curl scrunch he does that Eddie’s pretty certain does fuck all for his hair.

And then the massage part.

Eddie sinks into it. Steve doesn’t miss a beat when Eddie starts rumbling again.

It’s heaven, Eddie relaxing into the hot water. Despite the steady rumble Eddie’s producing, Steve doesn’t act any different. Just takes his time, firm fingers doing stuff to Eddie’s scalp until he’s pliant and noddle like right down to his toes.

Eddie’s rumble quiets, half way between a purr and a snore.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Steve whispers so as not to disturb him, “don’t drown, paperworks fucking horrendous.”

Eddie’s hand creeps across his thigh almost without his permission the second Steve is out of the room. His cock is steel hard and hot even in the now cooling water. Eddie tries to take it slow; water does not a lubricant make. But Eddie’s wound up enough, apparently, that it doesn’t take much. With one hand Eddie massages at his burgeoning knot, and with the other he plays lazily with he head, fingertip pressure enough to draw his foreskin back all the way. He drags the velvet skin up and down the shaft slowly.

He’s done in about two minutes, come spurting and mixing with the bath water. It’s a proper orgasm, teeth clenched, spine bowed, eyes clamped shut. It drags right up from Eddie’s toes, the hand on his knot squeezing in an uncontrolled death grip. Eddie barely has his breath back before the pressure is dragging another load of come out of him.

It feels incredible. Probably the best orgasm Eddie’s had in months. Probably the only decent sober orgasm Eddie’s had in years.

He feels incredible, skin tingling, muscles alive with it. He feels like he could like, go for a run, or some crazy shit like that. Feels invigorated, like something inside him finally cleared through.

“Oh,” Eddie says out loud, finally realizing, “oh yeah.” Because he’s actually in rut. A proper one.

If this felt ridiculous before, it feels outright fucking stupid now. But still. Eddie humors Steve.

Feels like he owes him, at least a little. Falkor has some sort of toy that he’s rolling around on the grass; sometimes it dispenses a treat somehow, so Steve’s made allowances for keeping the dog occupied when they’re doing shit like this.

Eddie is full to the brim with Steve’s pomegranate chicken concoction.

So yeah, the least Eddie can do is sit criss cross applesauce on a yoga mat in the sun. Even if he does have an absolute rager of a hard on.

Steve’s not saying shit about it, which, small mercies.

“Are you willing to scent me this time?” Steve asks, apropos of nothing.

“I did actually scent you last time,” something Eddie recalls fairly graphically, and desperately tries to ignore the suddenly very wet feeling material clinging to the head of his dick.

“Yeah, after I nudged you into it, can we skip that this time-”

“Excuse you, there was no nudging-”

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, eyes still closed, still physically ignoring Eddie, “I had to pin you to get any kind of reaction-”

“You fucking bitch-” Eddie’s flabber is officially ghasted.

Steve does blink one eye open at that, “excuse you-”

“Are you telling me you tricked me with a- with a fucking back rub!” Which, looking back, that hadn’t even occurred to Eddie at the time, but hind sight is twenty twenty and...yeah. That’s kind of exactly what happened, “you sneaky fucker,” Eddie breathes out with the realization.

Steve still has his eyes shut, but he smirks a little.

Eddie has a bowl of fruit with ice cream, sauce, and sprinkles a la a small children's party.

Steve had thrust it upon him, and Eddie had taken it reflexively. He’s pretty sure the entirety of his five a day has been rammed into the bowl.

Steve sits next to him on the couch, “want to watch anything in particular?”

“Nah, don’t care.”

“Cool,” Steve flicks through Disney, which he must have logged into because Eddie is certain he does not have Disney fucking Plus.

Robin Hood, but they’re all animals. Eddie’s seen it, when he was a kid, kind of. He can’t say he really remembers it, and he finds himself watching it, eating his stupid bowl of ice cream, Falkor crashed out on the floor.

Steve takes their dishes after, “lets go for a walk.”

Falkor clearly knows that word.

“He’s not bothered at all is he, being in a new place?”

“Nah, Dustin and Sooz have put in a lot of effort training him, so they take him as many places as they can so he’s chill about stuff.”

“Huh.”

They walk for a while, Eddie only a little uncomfortable. Steve had very clearly said he was going to go and get changed and do dishes and a few other little jobs before they go, giving Eddie a ten minute grace period to frantically rub one out before they left. Eddie’s pretty sure Steve told him all that shit deliberately, since Eddie had spent half the movie trying, and failing, to stop himself rubbing scent on the couch cushions.

“Why didn’t you tell them where he is?”

Steve shrugs, randomly stopping at a curb with the dog. Sit. Wait. Treat. Then carry on.

“It’s no ones business who I work with.”

“Is that the only reason,” Eddie finds himself mumbling at the ground, feeling a little like an upset child over it still.

“Yeah. Yeah it is. Even though they’re good friends, and I really do trust them, confidentiality exists for a reason. I tell them where he is, and the next time they see me they’re going to ask how you are, totally innocent, totally just making conversation. It’s a slippery slope man, and it gets uncomfortable real quick, and that’s just a normal dude. I have at least one friend that I know is a massive fan of yours, I just don’t need it, you know?”

“Okay, yeah,” and that is fair, Eddie guesses.

“Plus...some people I work with are vulnerable, who they are and where they are...that has to stay privileged info, you know? To keep people safe. So, yeah, force of habit, I guess.”

“I...didn’t think of it like that,” and it genuinely hadn’t occurred to Eddie, that there could be risk in this, but it makes total sense now that Steve’s said it. “Sounds full on.”

“Yeah. Yeah it can be. Good though too, sometimes. When someone does good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s still not a hundred percent sure he’s one of those, but he guesses he’s come far enough to be committed to giving it a go.

“Come on, this is what I’m here for.”

“Feels weird though,” it kind of does and kind of doesn’t, so that’s only a little bit of a lie. Eddie really likes the memory of Steve’s scent. What if he really, really likes it this time? This feels even riskier than the hair washing thing.

Chris’s angry words seem to echo through Eddie’s head, ‘this is not a sex thing.’ And Eddie does not want to be that guy.

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t scented Steve before, it’s just...this is deliberate now. Eddie knows if he goes for this, it’s going to be part of the routine Steve is so keen on Eddie having.

“Okay,” Steve sits up again from his position in the middle of Eddie’s clean, neat bed, “what feels weird about it?”

Fucking Steve. Here’s the problem, lets find a solution. There’s is no solution to Steve being an asshole though. “I don’t know,” Eddie gestures vaguely, moving a step back so he’s closer to the door than the bed.

“Okay, so, want to start small? I could scent your pillows and leave you to it? Beta scent should make you feel comfortable.”

Eddie dithers a little longer, “what are you going to say to Chris if I don’t?” only sounding a little pissy about it.

“Client accepting support with nesting but currently unwilling to share scent. Or something like that,” Steve shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie clambers up onto the bed, trying and completely failing to make it look natural. He goes to lie a little on top of Steve, balks, rocking away again. He tries to go for just lying next to him but it feels kind of weird. One arm stretched over Steve’s middle, a hand braced on the other side of the bed, somehow, too close. Eddie shifts again.

Eddie’s fucked like, a lot of people. He’s stood on a stage in front of thousands of people. Eddie is not shy, he does not do this. He’s better than this. Steve is just one normal guy and everyone still has their clothes on.

Steve knocks Eddie’s arm out from under him and drags him down, “just do it,” Eddie face plants against Steve, body held in an uncomfortable, and an only slightly mortifying plank. “Okay, deep breath,” Eddie obeys, Steve seeming relaxed and perfectly fine with proceedings. “If this really makes you uncomfortable we can stop.”

It doesn’t though, not really, Eddie, almost involuntarily, draws a deep breath. Okay, yeah, he remembers this, and it feels like his body does too. He relaxes in a slow wave, whole body puddling half on top of Steve.

Apart from his dick which, stubbornly, is still hard as fuck despite Eddie rubbing out like, four orgasms today. Eddie takes a breath so big his whole body fills up with it, Steve's scent clean and fresh, warm and outdoorsy. Comforting.

“There you go,” Steve’s big, warm hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles on Eddie’s back, the material of Eddie’s shirt dragging a little against his sensitive skin.

Part Eleven

[acciojaeyun]

under the web | p.sh.

PAIRING. officemate!sunghoon x fem!reader

SUMMARY. there's something about the way people seemed to scurry about whenever park sunghoon from the IT department would be coming to whichever area of the office. that's something that would be all because of you, his lovely officemate. your constant teasing and mockery of that one thing you know about park sunghoon made it seem to reach the headlines, and park sunghoon was determined to let you know that you're not the boss here.

CONTENTS. smut, some angst, some fluff. smut with plot. not beta-read. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

SMUT WARNINGS. making out, humiliation, implied dom vs. dom dynamics, dirty talk, slight exhibition, curses, virginity, unprotected sex (please practice safe s), reader is a jealous menace (a bit stalker-ish), mentions of manga, mentions of other members, if i forgot some, lmk!

WORD COUNT. 4.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE. this will be my first ever sunghoon fic after a long while! i did take a hugeee slump after writing ( and had never been so inspired to write oneshots until now. and i'm such a sucker for glasses hoon and this is the product of it. thank you so much for reading! <3

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

It was an annoying morning.

Or well, for you, it was annoying. For you had to witness a group of interns gushing over the "guy with rolled sleeves and glasses making his coffee," and you scoffed when they mentioned that he looked like an Americano drinker, which, in their words, made him more attractive.

You rolled your eyes, the guy that they were talking about never liked Americano. In fact, his black instant coffee had the same amount, if not more, of cream added to his stainless steel coffee tumbler.

How did you know about that, though?

One thing about you was that you knew Park Sunghoon very well. He was the Class Salutatorian of Batch 2023, bachelor's in Information Technology. It was pretty impressive, if you were to ask everyone else. Park Sunghoon was immediately hired by the company that you are working in, and while you can say that Sunghoon did deserve both the position and the benefits, you couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve the attention men and women alike were pouring him.

Of course, if anything, it should be you showering him attention. But, you wouldn't do that. Not when you're Y/N Y/L/N. You're the darling of the company, the sweetheart, so to speak. Because even though you cannot be of the same level as that of talent, knowledge, and skill which Sunghoon possess along with his looks, you were a pretty hardworking person.

Being in the Marketing Department also had its hardships, and while you still pray for the day commoners stop shunning down your bachelors, you are able to supply yourself with your needs and wants just by exerting everything you've learned in business and people-speaking.

But there was something about Park Sunghoon that makes him your own thesis.

Your own skill in building relationships didn't seem to work on him as much as you had hoped. Okay, let's admit it, you had taken a liking into Park Sunghoon. The quiet IT Specialist that exuded looks that were enough to make women fall to their knees.

A little bit of chit-chat here and there, some subtle glances and light touches, you were still far from the starting line. Park Sunghoon still hadn't reciprocated at least a fraction of your advancement towards him.

And by now, you're almost as helpless as it could be as you're munching on your own lunch, eyes over the cubicle of the IT department, watching how Sunghoon eats his sandwich, gaze never leaving his computer as he typed in codes with his other hand.

"How's the thing with Mr. Cold guy doing?" Sunoo would nudge your side as he caught you staring at Sunghoon for the nth time today.

You rolled your eyes for the nth time today as well, "He's so annoying."

"Now, he's annoying? Please, Y/N, cut yourself some slack. You need to get humbled, too, you know?" The blonde boy laughed as he sipped on his coffee.

"I just don't know how he hasn't caught up on it yet," you groaned, stabbing your fork on the penne pasta that you had on your lunchbox, "I've been doing a lot! How come he's still oblivious!"

"That, or he knows and just doesn't want to do anything."

You furrowed your eyebrows at Sunoo, "What do you mean?"

"Please, you're practically throwing yourself at him, it's a miracle how he hasn't caught up on yet."

"Or, he's a virgin."

Sunoo laughed, "Maybe,"

A loud thud on your desk was heard throughout the department as you placed your lunchbox down, "I'll talk to him."

"Again?" Sunoo looked at you, bewildered. "And, while he's working?"

"What, can't he handle a little distraction?"

"With you almost pushing your boobs towards his face? I think not."

"You know what? Fuck you." You flipped your best friend off, making him laugh as he ate his tteokbokki happily, ready to see you in your downfall yet again.

You, on the other hand, were determined. Straightening your slacks and blouse, grabbing your laptop, you made your way over to the IT Department, greeting everyone along the way while making a beeline straight to Sunghoon.

"Hi," you greeted.

Sunghoon hummed, his eyes still not leaving his screen.

"I mean to come to you to help me with a feature on the application that we're using?"

The boy glanced at you, his chewing coming to a slow halt.

"What about it?"

"Oh, I was hoping that I can access the Network's files? I've forgotten my flash drive at home and I only have access to some of the files but it would be in Sunoo's disk."

Sunghoon flashed you an impressed look at your terms, at the bare minimum.

"It'd be against company policy to allow you to access other people's disks without their consent, Ms," Sunghoon cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "and besides, aren't you friends with Mr Kim, anyway? Why wouldn't you ask him directly?"

"Uh, well..." you trailed off, "well, Sunoo also has the copy of this file on his flash drive, and coincidentally, he has also forgotten it at home!"

The boy raised an eyebrow at you. He was not buying it, you thought.

But your thoughts were proven wrong as Sunghoon swivelled in his chair, clicking on the multiple tabs open until he had manipulated the system for the time-being upon your request.

Your hands glanced on his hands, so dainty, long, and pretty. You wondered how it would feel around your neck, or in your pussy.

"It'll be open only for your access, Ms," Sunghoon said, looking up at you, "I'll be resetting it to company's default after forty-five minutes. Would that be enough time for you to get your files?"

You nodded, "Yes, thank you,"

"Do you have anything else for me to help with?" Sunghoon looked at you with a raised brow, making you blush.

"N-No, not that I know of, thank you, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.

He merely nodded before opening his coding software, clearly blocking you out from all his senses as he returned to eating his sandwich and work.

You pursed your lips, inhaling a large breath as you excused yourself from his cubicle, greeting yet another group of people acknowledging your presence as you made your way out of their department.

You were not expecting what you are seeing.

Not at all.

Whatever it was, there seems to be a glitch in the system as you also had an access to Sunghoon's drive.

You see, it was not your fault you were a bit nosy over your crush. You had taken a liking in him, and maybe, you think, there may be some stuff about him in his drive that could let you know a little more about him.

If not him, then, maybe, technology, his trusted friend, could help you.

You've seen his curriculum vitae, all the data he's working with, his clients, as well as a folder of his personal stuff which included torrented movies.

You laughed, his degree really has his perks.

You were so close to clicking off the movie folder named "O", but as you clicked on the next folder, named "P," you gasped at the number of porn videos were downloaded into the folder.

And all of them had the same theme: office sex.

It maybe too much, but in your mind, it made sense, when you were noticing how each of the female partners had the same features as you. Smirking to yourself, you glanced a look at the IT Specialist, bingo.

Surprised would be an understatement when Sunghoon entered the pantry as he went through his usual routine: leave his things at his desk, make his creamy coffee, work, leave to buy Subway for lunch, work, leave at 5:30 PM sharp.

He was surprised when the first people in the pantry left as he entered the room, furrowing his eyebrows when he heard faint words such as, "porn," "boundaries," and "couldn't he have had downloaded it in his own laptop?"

Now, Sunghoon may have been overthinking. His quiet life at work was already enough for him. But there was something bugging him for the first time in his life as he placed water in his stainless cup, especially when after making his coffee, no one would even dare look at him as he made his way to his cubicle, men and women, alike, swivelling their chairs to move farther from him, as if he were a plague.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, it was getting to his nerves.

And if it weren't for Jake, his only friend in the department, who initially swivelled his chair away form Sunghoon, but then decided to swivel back as Sunghoon didn't even stand up for lunch, who told him about the rumours that spread about him, he wouldn't have known, and there was only one person who would have accessed his files.

You.

He snickered at the story Jake was telling him, and left Jake to his imagination whether the story was true or not, only giving him a shrug when the older did try to confirm to him.

"Believe what you want," Sunghoon responded, typing aggressively on his keyboard, "besides, I think you have, since you initially scooted away from me."

"Look, man," Jake scooted closer, whispering, "if it's not true, I could tell it to them, you know? I don't want them to think of you as some horny teenager who doesn't know about work boundaries."

"As if they're going to believe you," Sunghoon curtly responded before pressing a key harshly before looking at his friend, "if it came from Y/N, no one would even bat an eye at you."

"Y/N? Why her?"

"Only she had access to my files yesterday. Wouldn't it be too much of a coincidence if the story only spread now?" He chuckled, amused.

"So, it's true?"

Sunghoon shrugged again.

"Are you going to do something to address it?"

"Address it? What for? They already think I'm some horny dude, anyway."

"Well," Jake licked his lips, "just send me the stashes next time, too, okay?"

Sunghoon laughed.

Your plan was working.

A lot of people had taken their distances from Park Sunghoon. Making you think you're progressing at your plan to keep people away from him.

You can't help it. As long as there were hindrances in your way towards Sunghoon, you think there would be little chances to make your advances to him. You had yet to tell Sunoo, but you know that he was already aware of the rumour, and he would ask you about it after his client events.

So, while everyone had left Sunghoon alone in the pantry, that was your cue to enter the pantry. Making your way as calmly as possible to the counter as possible, you placed your food on the microwave, heating your breakfast as Sunghoon was stirring his drink in his cup.

"I never took you as the guy," you sighed, faking sympathy, getting more annoyed as you never got any reaction from the boy.

"I was expecting more from you, Mr. Salutatorian, I'm sure you know about policy since you were so high and mighty about it when I tried to get into Sunoo's files," you continued, watching his every reaction.

But he remained stoic. And that irked you.

You were about to open your mouth when the microwave had beeped, making you jump and take your food, frustrated over the fact that Sunghoon was ignoring you. Forgetting that it was still hot and you didn't retrieve the mittens beside it, you burned your fingers, finally getting Sunghoon's attention.

He discarded his coffee and immediately went his way over to you, grabbing a hold of your hand before examining your fingers, his eyes never leaving it as he tried to suck on it in attempts of both soothing the wound and seducing you.

Your breath hitched, making you look at him. What the hell was he doing?

"S-Sunghoon?"

He smirked at you as he pushed your fingers to his mouth, wetting your pointer finger with his warm tongue, only for him to retract it and swirl it on the tip of it.

"There's one menace between the two of us," Sunghoon whispered as he pulled away, leaning in to you, "and it's not gonna be you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you held as he pulled away and made his way out of the pantry.

Weeks later, you found yourself mad at Park Sunghoon.

Because after the incident at the pantry, he seemed to be hovering in your space more times than you would like. And while it did seem the best thing for you, it wasn't. For Sunghoon was not only hovering, but he made sure his presence was made known whenever he was around.

Holding on your waist, rubbing his crotch against your bum, rolling his sleeves whenever he knew you looked at him – while keeping his unbothered expression at his face.

Other than that, you were thinking he was losing his game as another person had suddenly took a liking into you. Food in carton boxes at your table by the morning you come in to work, and while you had hoped that it were him, your hopes were shut down as fifteen minutes after you had arrived from work, only had then Sunghoon, too.

Flowers were also hard to miss every week. There was a different flower every week, the whole department gushing whenever you grab a stem on your desk. And while you had hoped it was Sunghoon, again, you looked at his desk and see him in his natural habitat: working and face straight to the computer.

By this time, you had grown infuriated. Because you felt like he was toying with you. Especially when he was not paying you any attention at the Thanksgiving Party your office had held after reaching more than the targeted quarterly sales, and it was because of you! Why wasn't he giving you any attention?

Blame it on the alcohol in your system, and your innate drive to prove something to Sunghoon, a trait of yours that you have acquired overtime, you made your way towards the guy who was alone at the bar, nursing his on the rocks with his finger dancing around the rim of the glass.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" you spat, annoyed.

Sunghoon turned on his seat, smirking at you, "For being the best employee?"

"What else!"

He chuckled, taking a sip on his drink, "Congratulations, princess,"

You scoffed, "That's it?"

He grinned, "What, you'd want me to kneel for you?"

You were stunned. "You know what? Whatever, Sunghoon, I feel like I'm just a game to you, anyway."

And maybe that's what did it for Sunghoon, because the moment you uttered those words, you found yourself being pulled by your wrist outside of the ballroom you were in by none other than Park Sunghoon himself.

"Let go of me, Sunghoon!" you said as you tried to escape from his grasp.

But Sunghoon did not budge, he was determined on making you regret what you say. He pushed the fourteenth floor button, the floor where he was staying, and even though it took quite a while to get to the floor, Sunghoon didn't even try to lay his hands on you, it was better for him to do it on his bed, anyway.

Because you deserved it.

The moment the elevator doors opened, you found yourself being pulled to his room, with heavy breaths as he discarded his suit jacket on the couch, he turned around and met you in a passionate kiss, surprising both you and Sunghoon.

Ah, if there was one thing you didn't know about Sunghoon? Was the fact that he was a virgin. He never had any relationships in the past, and it had only been you whom he was very attracted by. So, it was bound to happen, perhaps. Sunghoon giving you his virginity in the hopes of you reciprocating his feelings.

But Sunghoon was a realistic man, of course, he knew that he was just your own entertainment. Having a lot of suitors here and there, he knew he had to step up his game.

That meant, letting you see through his drive because he was scared of doing the first move of asking you out on a proper date, because everyone was always first in doing so.

A few occurrences later, Sunghoon had decided on levelling his courtship up by bringing you food to your table the moment he gets to work. His bag still on his hand as he ordered your favourite meal as he sped placing it on your table before making his coffee.

Sunghoon had started realising that you liked flowers, so he had brought it upon himself to at least give you flowers every week, keeping it anonymous before he finally musters enough confidence to tell you that it was him who was giving you the gifts.

Not Jake, not Jay, and most certainly not Heeseung.

So, he hopes he had translated all of his misunderstood feelings into the kiss, cupping your jaw as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, swallowing the moan that you had blessed him.

"You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N," he groans into the kiss, "accusing me of playing with you when you were the one who started this in the first place." He trails off, his lips pressing onto your mouth up and down before stopping by the skin near your collarbones for him to suck.

You let out a whimper, too lost in the feeling of his lips on your skin, "You drive me so fucking crazy, too," you start, letting your head fall back to have the boy kiss more of your skin, "I don't know what's on your mind most of the time." Sunghoon had found your sweet spot below your ear, making you gasp.

The boy hummed, wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling your body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so you could feel his hard cock pressed against you, "Well, it's about time you know that you take over the expanse of my mind, princess."

You were already soaking wet at this point, basking in how Sunghoon looked today, you swear you could feel yourself salivating over how he presents himself. You pull his face away from your neck, locking your lips in an uncoordinated kiss. "I need you, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon groaned, kissing you for a moment longer before abiding to his girl's needs. His cock was aching, and you needed him. It was time to cut the chase.

"My needy little slut," Sunghoon growls as he teased you by rubbing your clit over your panties, and when he slid his hands through her folds, he was met by pleasing wetness, making him chuckle, "You've been trying to fool everyone with how much of a sweetheart you are, angel," he hummed, rubbing his nose on the crook of your neck, "but you really are a menace. Wanting her Sunghoon to give all of his attention to her,"

"Y-Yes," You moaned, grinding your hips on his fingers, "M-My Sunghoon,"

And when he motions to remove his glasses, you tap his wrist and shook your head, making him realise you never want his glasses off, making him chuckle.

"You liked hearing it, don't you?" Sunghoon inquires as he pushes you to the bed, pulling you over the edge of it as he bites on your panties, pulling it down to pool on your ankles, "You love the idea of me being yours, don't you, Y/N?" He smiles as he sinks his finger in you, curling as you clench around you.

"Yes, I do - shit, Sunghoon!" You managed to say, "I did everything because I only want you! Only you!"

Sunghoon docks his head in between your thighs to hide the blush creeping to his cheeks before pressing hot kisses into the expanse of your inner thighs, fluttering light kisses as his lips made its way to your folds, kissing it before he gives kitten licks to your bud.

Your back arches, satisfying Sunghoon with his little experimentation. He, then, soon, pushes another finger in as he started swirling his tongue on your clit, alternating between licking his tongue flat from your hole up to your clit, making you thrash your legs everywhere.

He moaned when you clamped your legs around his face, urging him to continue his movements, "M' close, Hoon," you whispered, one of your hands leaving the sheets to tangle in his newly-cut hair, and with one more curl of Sunghoon's fingers, you were already tumbling over the edge, your cries of his name falling from your mouth.

"God, you're so beautiful, Y/N," Sunghoon whispers as he cleans you off with his tongue, and when he was done, he pushes himself up as he unbuckles his belt and removes his trousers, discarding the article at some part of the room.

"I wanna ride you," You confess, making Sunghoon blush again, "oh, are you... is this your first time?" You asked, your eyes widening slightly as Sunghoon replied with a nod.

Your heart almost burst at his confession, making you sit up and pull him into a slow kiss, "I want to see how you'd look so damn sexy sitting on my cock, Y/N," Sunghoon breathes, "but I want- I need-"

"Take your time with me, Hoon."

A breath escapes you when Sunghoon finally gets you out of your dress, his hands immediately pinching at your nipple. And without another word, Sunghoon lifts your leg and lines himself to your entrance. And with a heavy breath in, he pushes in slowly, the roll of his hips feeling delicious until he's fully buried inside you, low moans heard throughout the room.

"I, fuck, Y/N," Sunghoon starts, groaning instead as you clench around him. Sunghoon hovers over you, his arms on either side of your head before resting his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes, "God, I love you so much, Y/N."

Before Sunghoon ever regrets he had confessed out of nowhere, you had already pushed your lips on his hungrily, meeting his thrusts, you let out a whine as Sunghoon placed your legs over his shoulders, reaching deeper of you, the same time he rubs slow circles on your clit in time with his harsh thrusts.

"God, you feel so fucking amazing, Y/N," he breathes, earning a chuckle from you as you say, "You're fucking me so good, Hoon,"

Sunghoon smiles at your continuous use of his nickname, before his eyebrows furrow as he lets out a breathless moan as he hit your g-spot, making you squeal, "Jesus, I'm not gonna last much longer!" you say, and you were quick to wrap your legs around his waist, aiming to feel him closer.

"Me either, darling," he whispers, "come with me, please?"

And with a few more thrusts, you feel yourself coming on him, your toes curling, back arching, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head, as your nails rake down Sunghoon's back from his nape. Your walls clench around his cock, making him also reach his climax. He cuts your moans as Sunghoon pulls you to him for a hungry kiss as he empties himself in you.

He slows his thrusts down as he helps you come down from your highs, his lips attached again to your jaw down to your neck, peppering light kisses. And sooner, Sunghoon pulls out and rolls onto his back, his arms around your waist to make you roll on top of him.

A silence was heard in the room as you mindlessly traced irregular shapes on the expanse of Sunghoon's pale skin. He feels like his heart is about to explode from mixed emotions, having the girl of his dreams on top of him, his virginity in your hands – but, at the end of the day, he's unsure about your feelings for him.

However, one thing's for sure: you were all Sunghoon had ever wanted and needed, no matter how much the world can prevent him from doing so.

"I mean every word I said," Sunghoon whispers, kissing your hair, a silent affirmation to the thousand words running in your head.

You giggled, "I feel like I'd look good bouncing on your cock, too, Sunghoon."

"N-Not that.." Sunghoon blushed, "I am really crazy for you, Y/N, but you know, we could just pretend it never happened and think this is a one time thing."

"That's so unfair of you," you say, looking up and leaning your chin on his chest, "because I'd rather have you bringing over lunch and flowers every time if that meant having you every day."

Sunghoon visibly relaxed, smiling at you warmly, "So, it's forever."

"It is."

© acciojaeyun, 2024.