#turns out i really enjoy it when its on my terms and at my own pace!

[vixstarria]

Intimacy

Hello friends, have some soft Act 2 Astarion.  

Astarion’s struggle with sex and intimacy. Connected with my other fics but is a standalone, per usual. 

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, soft Astarion 

Hurt/comfort, some fluff if you squint, love, angst, mutual pining, Act 2 spoilers, some fairly softcore smut 

Approximately 1,600 words. 

AO3

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he told you. You’d replayed that conversation over and over countless times in your mind, since.  

You had no idea what you were doing either. Oh, navigating an ordinary relationship was simple enough, and you’d had your fair share of those – even if they’d all ended in disappointment at best, so far. Being with someone who’d just escaped 200 years of abuse, however... That was something new.  

“I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex.” 

Well that was a fuck-up. He was walking sex. ...Most likely due to sheer force of habit, so necessary for survival over all those years, but still.  

“I love you.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...  

You were in over your head too. Completely. Hopelessly. In love with this catastrophe of a man.  

What were you to do with him now?  

Wait for him to take the lead in every physical interaction? It wasn’t in your nature to be so passive. He knew this. And you were sure he would love to be treated like spurned glass all of a sudden.  

Continue as you were? Even though now all you could think about was whether a touch might bring up a repulsive memory? Assume that you could singlehandedly overwrite centuries of disgust and loathing, overnight? How presumptuous and overbearing that would have been. 

Communicate? Ask? Listen? Sure. Absolutely. You did. Or tried, anyway. You were about as good at talking about these things as he was. And you didn’t really trust him to be completely honest at this point. Whether with you or his own self.  

And so you explored. Slowly, cautiously and attentively.

 

The most innocent touches seemed to bring him an inordinate amount of joy. You weren’t surprised.  

Passing him a vial of poison for his weapons and letting your fingers brush and caress one another’s, briefly. Wordlessly running a stray hand along his waist and planting a quick kiss under his ear while you walked past him as he stood talking with someone. Lingering with your foreheads or noses touching lightly after a kiss.

 

He leaped at any opportunity to massage your sore muscles or help you apply a salve, and you let him. It seemed he wanted to take care of you, and was working out all the ways how.  

He still pleasured you in different ways, at times.  

“You don’t have to...” 

“I want to,” he said. 

He just chose to keep his own pants on, now. You weren’t sure about his motivations. Could it be guilt? Or a misguided sense of self-worth? Did he still think this is all he was good for? Or, maybe you were completely overthinking it, and he was still just desperately horny, even if taking a step back. He was more present than before though, you could tell that much. 

You considered his reactions to other forms of touch, careful not to make your observation obvious. 

He hated being scratched. The entire area of his back covered in scars was off-limits for anything but embraces. He enjoyed playful bites, both giving and receiving. And more than anything, he loved holding you close, feeling as much of your body at once as possible, basking in its warmth.  

In turn, you were more than happy to wrap yourself around him when you could. 

“Why do you even like this?” he asked, apprehensive about it at first. “You don’t need to pretend for my sake. I can’t give you any warmth.” 

“I can give you mine,” you said, simply. “Besides, you obviously don’t remember what it’s like to lie in a puddle of sweat with someone who runs hot. This is a nice change.” you added after a moment of contemplation.  

You meant what you said, but you were dying to drag him into a hot bath, just to know what it would feel like for him to be warmed through. Maybe you’d get the chance once you got to Baldur’s Gate.

 

There happened to be a private room available at Last Light Inn that night. The group unanimously agreed that you and Astarion would take it, while the rest of your companions bunked in the common. 

“For Shar’s sake, piss off, none of us want to see or hear you two,” were the exact words of their blessing, delivered by Shadowheart. Karlach sanctified it by throwing a (deftly dodged) half-eaten apple at Astarion’s head.  

“Especially not hear!”

 

“I know this may come as a shock, but I’m actually not too fond of beds,” he said. 

“New memories, Astarion,” you shook your head. “Beds are non-negotiable. I wasn’t too fond of rutting in the dirt either.” 

“I’ll never grow tired of how poetic you are,” he smiled, unceremoniously throwing his gear on the floor. “New memories, you say?” 

A while later, you were straddling Astarion’s hips as he sat shirtless on the edge of the bed. 

“You know, you never did tell me what you like,” you sighed, your fingers in his hair as he kissed your neck.   

“Oh, what does anyone like? It’s all the same in the end,” he said, running his hands along your thighs. 

“That’s not true,” you murmured in his ear. “I can show you some things that are pretty unique to you right now,” you said and ran the tip of your tongue along the lower inner edge of his ear, making him shudder and let out a small moan.  

“You little devil, when did you figure that out?” he breathed.  

“When I happened to brush your ear a while back, like this,” you giggled, repeating the hand movement on his other ear, making him catch his breath slightly again, “and you just about started purring.” 

He just chuckled in response. 

“So what other secrets are you hiding?” you purred, kissing around his ear. “I might just need to kiss and caress every inch of your body to find out.” 

"Sounds like a terrible chore,” he said, falling back onto the bed and pulling you with him. “You don’t want to do that.” 

“Shut up and let me cherish you.” 

You kissed down along one side his neck, slowly, taking your time, pausing to lightly lick or nibble on any spot that made him hitch his breath. He was putty in your hands by the time you reached his collarbone. 

“Just don’t go any lower,” he said breathlessly. 

You hummed your agreement. You couldn’t handle going any lower yourself – you were completely intoxicated with the scent of his skin and the sound of his sighs of pleasure, if you went any lower, you would keep going, and you didn’t think it was a day for that yet.  

You continued up the other side of his neck instead.  

You hesitated for a moment before your lips reached the bite marks left by Cazador, but Astarion made no indication that he didn’t want you to keep going, and so you continued. He let out a soft whimper as your lips brushed the scars. 

“No?” you pulled back slightly, your hot breath still on his skin. He was lying with his eyes shut, head thrown back, neck completely exposed to you. 

“Yes...” he whispered, hoarsely. “Very yes... Softly...” 

You continued, lingering with your lips on the scars, as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, snapping them against his own and grinding you against an unmistakable erection. 

“I want you to make those marks your own... Yours and no one else’s...” he rasped. 

This is probably a mistake, you thought, but you could barely help yourself as you moaned into his neck and ran your tongue over the scars, making him growl and grind you into himself harder. The friction, the knowledge that he wanted it too was driving you mad.  

“I’m going to come if you don’t stop that,” you begged. 

“Go ahead,” he groaned. 

“Not without you.” 

Something in the energy changed then, and you lifted yourself off him, sitting up. Astarion stayed on his back a moment longer, before exhaling and also raising himself into a sitting position. You were still on his lap, facing him.  

“Listen,” he took your face in both hands, looking into your eyes intensely. “I want you so fucking bad, it hurts. I want to tear your clothes off and ravage you until you’re speaking in tongues. I do.” His voice was hoarse. He paused, before continuing. “But even more than that, I want to remember this, remember you, and not have any of the dirt from my past mixed into it. It’s difficult enough to keep it at bay as it is.” His eyes teared up at that. “And right now, for now, this is the only way I know how to do that.”  

“I’m sorry.” Tears sprang from your eyes. 

“No, you sweet idiot, you haven’t done anything wrong. I love you.” He gathered you in his arms, kissing away your tears as his own started to roll down. He sighed. “Great, now no one is coming, and everyone is crying.” 

You both burst out laughing as soon as those words were out of his mouth.  

You held each other a while longer, him stroking your back, before you broke the silence. 

“So the bite scars are pretty erogenous then?” 

“Extremely. Use that knowledge at your own risk and peril, darling.” 

He lifted your chin for a kiss. 

“Shall we go piss everyone off for a while, maybe steal Lae’zel’s boots, then come back here for more ‘memories’?” he asked.  

“Sounds childish and dangerous. I’m in.” 

You needed to clear your head too.  

Maybe tomorrow would be the day one of you would get closer to knowing what it was you were doing, and tell the other. Until then, at least you were in it together. 

~~~~~ 

The “I love you” is not canon for Act 2, but it is my headcanon, damnit.  

Like what you just read? Huzzah, there’s more! - Series master list

Next in series - Communication

AO3

[theragethatisdesire]

aot men as dads - headcanon!! some 18+!!

includes: eren, jean, reiner, & levi

i'm still working on some full-fledged one-shots and parts of my series', but i'm nannying for the summer and have BABY FEVER. please enjoy my little headcanons of my fav aot men as dads <3

DISCLAIMER: some of this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

Eren

ok but eren is such a cringe dad lol

buys himself all of the #1 Dad! merch. he’s got mugs, tshirts, hats, all of it, and all of it went on his credit card.

10000% a girl dad. loves all the little dresses and bows; he puts your daughter’s hair in its first bun, nearly tears up when she points at his matching hairstyle and babbles “like da-da!”

you have to parent eren as much as the children. when you turn the corner into the living room where he’s supposed to be having “quiet time” with your toddler only to find that they’re buried in a pillow fort and eren’s signed his own name in crayon on the wall next to your daughter’s scribblings. “babe, we can just repaint it! she’s being creative.”

loves when you’re pregnant. after your first, eren keeps a calendar on the wall marking off the days until it’s safe for him to fuck you again, fuck a baby right back into you. already has a breeding kink before your first. develops a lactation kink after.

TERRIFIED (and i mean terrified) of hurting your little angel. has absolutely zero concept of “cry it out”; if he hears his baby crying, he’s sprinting into the next room, kissing a nonexistent boo-boo.

refuses to admit it but he has no backbone when it comes to your daughter wanting literally anything. she wants it, she gets it.

favorite thing in the world is matching outfits. favorite. “babe, where’s her green hoodie? i’m wearing mine today for the park!” “of course it matters, we have to match! on that note, where’s yours?”

lets your daughter use his hair to learn how to braid. usually has a few pink hair ties or glittery clips sticking out of it when you come home from a mom’s night out.

really big on your baby getting to see the world. drags you on vacation to any place he can think of, even as you try to explain to him that she can’t form any long term memories yet. “but baby, she’ll have pictures. how many kids in her class can bring a picture of them at the eiffel tower to their first show-and-tell?”

accidentally ruins santa and the tooth fairy for your daughter. cries harder than she does over it.

aggressively vets babysitters. ends up settling for a nursing student in the labor & delivery school who’s the oldest of seven children and probably more knowledgeable about child development than both of you combined, but he’s still suspicious.

wants to watch while you push, watch his baby come into the world. you’ve never seen a sweeter sight than eren in his scrubs, crying while holding your baby girl.

Jean

most people picture eren as being the roughhousing dad, but it’s jean, and i will die on this hill.

freaks out every time he drops your first boy while throwing him around like a ragdoll, but he’ll never stop because “listen!! he’s laughing!”. when it comes to the rest of them, he’s experienced enough now to tell the difference between a real booboo and an imagined one, and he simply brushes their little pants off caringly before shouting “now you tackle me!”

jean’s got no gender preference for your first, or the rest of your little brood for that matter. he raises them exactly the same, regardless: tough.

it takes him awhile to get used to the concept of babies’ minds. you’ve walked in on him having full-blown arguments with your shrieking toddlers several times. “what’s not making sense? if you let your goldfish ‘swim’ in the toilet, it dies, simple as that.”

plays “bad cop” for you because you’re terrible at it, but he’s always having to turn around and snicker into his elbow in the middle of scolding because your babies get the same little throbbing forehead vein as you when they’re mad

wants a big family, and gets it. you practically have to drag him to get his balls snipped after your fourth, him reminding you that “it’s reversible!” the entire way there.

the newborn phase is his favorite. he’s rarely home for any longer than ten minutes without scooping your most recent addition into his arms, squishing their little cheeks and marveling at their gurgling noises.

the kids never give him anxiety, but when you’re pregnant??? jean’s a wreck.

“do your feet still hurt, love?” “what do you mean you have indigestion? that could be the baby coming!” “of course we can’t have sex, what if we poke its little head?”

definitely the dad that’s got a delivery bag and a backup bag and an emergency third backup of the backup bag in his car at all times. the first week of your third trimester, he starts watching you suspiciously for any signs of labor, even though this is your fourth together. you think you’ve got it down by now, you tell him, but he won’t listen.

always gets the kids to work together on little surprises for you. every mother’s day they wake you up with breakfast, every valentines day your dining room table is covered in handmade cards, every birthday your kitchen is coated in flour from jean and four little ones attempting to bake

SO HARD to drag him out for a date night. he wants to bring them everywhere: the fancy restaurant, the couples' get away trip

jean's that dad standing in the bar, watching the game, beer in hand, with an occupied baby carrier strapped to his chest

wants to watch during delivery, but he passed out the first go-round, so now he’s content standing up by your head, trying not to turn white as you squeeze his hand hard enough to break.

talks you into just one more on your fourth’s second birthday. “they’re all so big now. don’t you miss it, babe? my baby in your belly? c’mon…” turns out he reversed that vasectomy without telling you

Reiner

another girl dad. hardcore girl dad.

buys his little princess all number of dresses and barbies, is confused when she’s more interested in the baseballs her classmates have.

accidentally raises the most tomboyish, toughest little girl. still babies her, and she hates it.

cries more than you do on your first date night out when you leave her with your mom. forgets to order his entree at the restaurant because he’s watching the baby monitor app on his phone.

definitely the best at splitting baby duties with you. reiner’s up before you most nights when she wakes, grabbing a bottle and cooing at her lovingly even as she screams. you always try to stay awake to watch him on the baby monitor, though, heart melting as his massive arms rock the tiny bundle back to sleep.

all the neighborhood kids love him because of his size. at every cookout, reiner can’t help on the grill because he’s buried in the grass in a little army of toddlers, led by your daughter, shrieking with joy.

always taking pictures. literally always. unflattering ones when you fall asleep breastfeeding, candids at the zoo, eighteen identical pictures of the lock of hair from her first haircut clogging up his camera roll.

can’t be the bad cop. literally ever. he just can’t say no to his little princess, can’t break her precious little heart by telling her that throwing her food onto the floor is bad.

takes your daughter to mommy & me classes with him

DILF DILF DILF. all the moms in the classes swoon over him and gossip about him when he’s not there; much to your annoyance, reiner never notices, insisting that they’re his “mommy friends”.

always sporting a little bit of glitter on his face or a sticker on his back from your daughter

coming from a fatherless background, reiner nearly kills himself trying to be a constant presence in your daughter’s life (you have to remind him that he has to rest too)

never misses an open house night at school, even if it nearly gets him fired. coaches all of her sports teams. literally almost cries when she makes her first soccer goal. actually does cry when she tells you the boy sitting beside her in class called her his girlfriend. full-blown breakdown on her first day of school, so bad he has to stay home from work.

the absolute BEST through your pregnancy and delivery. always cooking your craving of the week, constant foot and back rubs, stays up all night with you for the three days before the birth when you’re just too swollen and miserable to sleep.

holds your hand through the entire delivery, gets in the doctors’ way when they’re performing checkups because “i’m her father, i need to know what’s going on”

Levi

levi never pictured himself as having children, but when your little surprise arrives, blinking up at levi with his own grey, owlish eyes, levi can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.

very easily irritated with anyone asking questions about your home life.

when his coworkers ask for your newborn’s name, levi simply says “child.” are you two trying again? “why the fuck do you need to know?”

super overprotective. your baby waves at someone in the supermarket, and levi’s leaning down to explain (in words your eight-month-old can’t yet understand) stranger danger.

totally one of those parents that goes half-crazy trying to get their child into the top-notch, snobby preschool in town.

“we’re not wasting his intelligence on the public school”

levi grew up with basically nothing, so he goes all out buying the best baby products on the market. $2,500 strollers, researching “best baby toys for development”, the whole nine yards.

100% spends months trying to get your child to make a game out of picking up his own toys after playtime, but it never works.

has a meal plan for your child to “optimize nutrition” that you have to sneak around to give your baby little chocolates and junk snacks.

“why are there pringles in his playtime bag? they have no nutritional value.”

vets anyone that comes around your child, even other children. “no more playtime with that evan kid. he’s always got a cold or something.”

he’s always been a light sleeper, but once you have your child, levi snores beside them watching kids’ cartoons on the tv like you’ve never seen him, even drooling as his head lolls, arm tucked tight around your little one.

learned everything he could about labor and delivery beforehand

you almost killed him in the delivery room as he explained each medical detail of your labor symptoms to “reassure” you. he finally got the hint when you threatened to decapitate him.

he thinks it’s shameful, but watching you be a mother turns. him. on. 

wants to take you right there when he catches you breastfeeding, watches you read a bedtime story, spin your child around laughing. you’re just so naturally good at it and it makes him love you all the more, all that love going straight between his legs.

[the-tarot-witch22]

First impression of your future spouse on you! - Pick a pile

Pile 1/ Pile 2

Pile 3

Hello everyone ! This is my another pick a pile or pac reading so please be kind and leave comment or reblog, and let me know if it resonated with you!

Note : This is a general reading or collective reading. It may or may not resonate with you. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't. And it's totally okay if our energies aren't aligned!

How to pick : Take a deep breath and choose a pile which you feel most connected to! You can choose more than one pile, it just means both pile have messages for you!

I worked really hard on this pile please show some love by leaving comments, likes and reblogs!

Liked my blog or readings? Tip me!

Pile 1

The cards I got for you (8 of wands, 8 of swords, knight of cups, 4 of wands, Strength and the 7 of cups)

Love at first sight kind of scenario like you know it's them and no questions asked, that's the first thing i felt when i started your reading, You will think of your future spouse as someone who is seductive asf and very charming, like such tired eyes, or they may have some aura of mysteriousness about them, They will be very foreign to you btw, definitely not your usual type but not in a bad way, i feel some of you might also judge them based on their appearance, like some of you might say they have that player aura or their looks are like that, I see you and them talking to each other or taking steps towards each other since the attraction will be very mutual, They will be quick or have rapid movements they maybe very fast talker or quite chatty with you they like to be quick in the decisions of their life or even with small things they don't like to waste their time, for some of you it says they can be anxious or looking troubled which goes with them having tired eyes, at first, you will think of them as someone who can be very good people, or they know how to handle the crowd lol, opposite to you but in a good way, I also see them dancing with their friends or enjoying or talking loudly, and you will just see the real them and how adorable they are, They will make a quite a first impression on you, like keeping you interested vibes, they like you and they will make sure you know, some of you may fall their intense gaze their eyes plays very important role, for some of you your future spouse will have a impression of an optimistic or a very jolly person, they might also own something luxurious or can be you, you will see your future spouse as someone who takes stands for someone or defends people, for some of you your thoughts will change a lot when you get to know them, they can be misunderstood by a lot of people, I also feel they will smile a lot with you or stealing glances at you across the room, which will make your stomach flutter with butterflies, and you would just want to go and kiss the heck out of them. They will make you fall hard for them just like they have for you. They will be quite masculine or has the nice toned body, For some of you their eyes can be fiery which will turn you on. Your future spouse may come to you and offer you something to drink or eat with them, like offering you choices they won't know what you like so they will give you options lol. For some of you your future spouse will be someone who hesitates to make a decision like you see them and they will be confused on what to order not a bad thing lol, so cute.

Pile 2

The cards I got for you (7 of pentacles, Page of wands, 9 of pentacles, page of pentacles and the moon)

You will think of your future spouse as someone who is very hardworking and independent, like they will be a type of person who depict hardworking energy like the type of person who works a lot, you also might think they are workaholic and very focused and determined type of energy, but they are not spoiled brat whatever they have in terms of money its self made and by their hard work, some of you might like their dressing sense, they look very well dressed or have nice sense of fashion which you will love, They have very balanced masculine and divine energy, and they are very confident in their body which you will think is absolutely sexy, they will seem very creative and passionate person, they will seem very well put like stable financially they will exclude that ceo vibe might be their clothes, they have nice taste, they even make less priced clothes seem luxurious lol, i feel they can be average to tall height, wavy hairs for some of you, I also feel they will use some hair gel or something when you come across them, they have small or almond eyes, soft skin or nice skin texture, i feel some of you will enjoy how they will give you their attention, literally hot, for some of you your spouse will be very private about their life unless you get to know them, they have had people who have used them or taken advantage of them so they now are a bit cautious around people or who they let in, your future spouse will also show their emotions on their face, like if they are angry , jealous it will show on their face and body language even if they won't tell you, you and them will transform each other's lives, I feel when they see you they will first know you and then after years or sometime in your relationship together they will propose to you, they want you to give the love and time.

Pile 3

The cards I got for you (The tower, temperance, the moon, the fool, 6 of wands, 4 of pentacles and the empress)

Older aura, like they will look wise at first glance, they have had their fair share of past and which has made them very wise in their life, like father or mother figure, that's how you will see them. they can be quite older than you or more mature than you, they might have very slight wrinkles if they are older or got that forehead lines, Some of you your future spouse will look chaotic or has a chaotic energy at first when you meet them, I also feel your future spouse past has made them very balanced and they have grown very much as a person, they forgive and tend to be the bigger person, as i said they are quite mature, but they distance themselves from the person or people who are not serving them, They look new ways to earn money or be stable they and to be very stable in their life, they are quite ambitious and passionate too, just like pile two, this pile future spouse can be quite mysterious or private, they also might have intense face or intimidating face, but in reality they are sweet potato lol, In their life they have gone through so many transformations in their life, you will also think of your future spouse who is as very protective and possessive not in a toxic way, but they don't like to share what's their, They can look quite adventurous or someone who likes to take risks, an young at heart person, they might like animals or cats, you will admire your spouse at very first glance because of their charming beauty, they look quite attractive, your type, little by little you will see their caring and nurturing side, when you both meet it will be a very harmonious type of meeting, and you will start seeing signs, you will see your future spouse as your lucky charm and so will they, you both will help each other grow too.

Thank you for stopping by! Take care and remember you are loved <3

[marthawrites]

Between the Covers

Modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader

Word count: 3.4k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part two to Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

About: During a cozy night in at your place, Aemond discovers your new taste for “literature”. Upon confronting you about it he makes a deal. Part of you wants to say no… but, you ultimately agree to his terms.

Includes: Established relationship, fluff, teasing, banter, and smut featuring breast play (reader is implied to have sensitive breasts), minor vampire play, pussy eating, vaginal fingering, Aemond loses his mind at the mention of blood sucking, dirty talk, vaginal sex, and reader and Aemond say 'I love you'

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be ooc for Aemond but it's ic for the Aemond in my heart! My heart and pussy wrote this so if you have a problem with it up take it up with them!! Reader is non-descript! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic ♥

Autumn turned to winter, then winter to spring, and things with you and Aemond were better than ever. According to Aegon the two of you were “disgustingly cute”, and Helaena, on more than one occasion, admitted how she’d never seen her little brother so happy. 

Alys, despite her best efforts, had been fully removed from the picture after the last big fight that had you and Aemond taking a long self-reflecting break. 

Perhaps the universe really did do you a favor by making you face an ugly side of yourself–jealousy, distrustfulness, suspicion. Was it fun to look at in the eyes? No. Absolutely not. But, it made you realize things about yourself which ultimately lead you and Aemond to give the relationship another chance: a real honest chance. 

He too was far from perfect and had his own baggage and scores to settle. But at the end of the day you two were fucking wild for each other. And that’s all that mattered.

While your third floor apartment wasn’t anything compared to the sprawling Targaryen estate, it was cozy and located in one of the nicer neighborhoods in King’s Landing. Any city had its slums and dark underbellies, but thankfully you didn’t have to deal with either of those. Inwardly you were convinced that if you did live in one of those shady places that Aemond would swoop you away to his own private quarter in his family’s mansion. The idea of moving in together had been hinted at a couple times and each time your belly–and heart–did flips. One day, sure, maybe. But, now? You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. Moving in together was a huge commitment.

Perhaps something to consider for your three-year plan. 

Or, one-year plan.

You both had a free day tomorrow, so Aemond took advantage of it and stayed the night. After dinner you took a shower and he waited in your bedroom, searching for something to watch. 

There were so many choices. Why was there always so many choices? It made it such a challenge to actually decide on something!

When you came out with damp hair and your favorite pajamas–a big shirt and cute underwear–you proclaimed, “I saw an A24 movie last night I think we’d both like!”

He looked over at you from where he lay lounging on your bed in black sweats and a white tee, barely contained amusement plastered on his face. “As much as I love those, I’m less interested in movies now that I’ve found this,” he said, holding up the latest book you’ve been reading. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Did you forget to put it back on your shelf? Warmth flooded your face. “Baela was talking about it and she talked it up so much I had to check it out!” You admitted a little too quickly, hiding an embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked. “Vampire smut? If you’re so bored by The Two Towers all you had to do was say something.”

Your eyes–no, your whole face–brightened with shared amusement. “What! No, it’s not smut. There’s plot!” You said defensively (perhaps not convincingly, though, with the giggle), as you hopped on the bed and straddled him. His slim hips fit so easily between your bare, soft thighs, it was almost criminal. Mischief sent his eye twinkling. You took the book from him and cleared your throat, preparing to read the synopsis on the back. “Listen, ‘kay? This explains it really well.”

“Already read the back,” he said, sly. “And comments on goodreads. Seems to be extremely popular with women. There were… lots of caps, exclamation points, sweaty face and fire emojis… rave reviews.” Sometimes when he smiled–really smiled–he had little dimples; they were out on full display, now. He ran his wide, warm palms up your thighs, thumbs skimming dangerously close to that delicate space between your thighs he loved so, so fucking much. “Do you want to know what my favorite part is though?” He asked as if it were a secret.

Goosebumps tickled your skin as he teased you. You didn’t bother to put a bra on and you suddenly became acutely aware of your t-shirt’s texture as your sensitive nipples tightened beneath it. How easily your body reacted to his. “What’s your favorite part?”

He took the book from you and opened it. Smirking, he read Baela’s note she left for you on a post-it sticky, his voice an octave or two higher: “‘chapter 32 might be the hottest thing I’ve ever read in a book. It will change your life.’” He peered up at you with an arched brow. “Have you got to chapter 32 yet?”

You were blushing and giggling and trying so hard to not rip the book from his hands and smother his taunting face with one of your many pillows. “Oh my gosh shut up you are terrible!”

He laughed. “You’re the one reading vampire smut!”

“There’s plot!”

Aemond flexed beneath you and the next thing you knew you were on your back beneath him. His long silver-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and it hung over his shoulder threatening to tickle your face. “My pretty girl still hasn’t answered me,” he said as he pinned you down, lowering to nip your earlobe. “Or will I have to use compulsion to get it out of you, hm?”

You felt his grin against your neck, heard it in his question, and before you could stop yourself a little moan escaped your mouth because he bit you. Really bit you. His teeth, clean and sharp, clamped around a mouthful of your neck. He drew it into his mouth, sucking, and–fuck it was hot–you then understood why women in silly vampire books gave in so easily to the predator. You knew your pulse had to be jumping right there in the flesh he held between his teeth. All those giggles from before vanished and were replaced with small gasps. You squeezed your hands over his shirt-covered shoulders, answering, “n-no… I haven’t read that far yet.”

He relaxed his mouth and licked up the same bit of skin he’d been biting, kissing it softly. “Good,” he replied. “You can read it out loud to me now.”

That perked you right up. “Oh my god Aem! No!” 

“But I’m sooo curious to know what happens when she goes inside the castle. I skimmed the last chapter you were on. Something about him loving the smell of her blood, barely able to control himself around her, and she’s stuck there with him now?”

You were laughing again. “You’re such an ass!”

“Those are very important plot points,” he said smoothly, matter-of-factly. “And it’s chapter 31. So all the tension will lead up to the famous chapter 32.” He kissed you as he spoke; your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, whatever he could reach.

You were still laughing, but his kisses relaxed you, too. You pushed your hands up beneath the front of his shirt and gently scraped your fingernails over his abdomen. His chest. You felt his muscles quiver slightly beneath your touch. You loved how his body reacted to you. While stroking between the patch of hair at the center of his chest, and the trail of hair below his navel, you asked, sheepishly, “what if I get embarrassed?”

It was his turn to perk up. Pulling back, he looked down at you with a mixture of deviousness and softness that had your heart flipping. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Why am I have scared to hear this deal? But… okay, let’s hear it,” you replied, smiling and biting your lip.

“As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep eating your pussy.”

Yet another wave of heat rushed to your face and along your spine. You really, really hoped Aemond couldn’t see the blush of your features. Knowing him, however, he probably did… or at least saw the spark of desire, excitement, and embarrassment in your eyes. “You really wanna hear me read this stupid book?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I wanna eat you too. So, why not both?”

“Well, when you put it that way…,” you mumbled in agreement, grabbing your book and opening to where you last left off.

Aemond shuffled triumphantly and smiled one of those smiles that if he did indeed have fangs they’d certainly be showing. He kissed your throat as he pushed the bottom of your shirt up, grazing his fingertips along your belly as he did so, not stopping until the softness of your breasts melted against his palms. Squeezing the sensitive mounds, he gave your neck one last little nip before lowering to your bared tits. He made a noise in his throat at the sight of them–your pretty nipples peaked with need–and he held each in a hand. Looking up at you he asked, "how long do you think you’ll last reading?” He squished your tits together so your nipples were as close together as they could be. Hot mouth wrapped around one and he sucked, greedily drawing it into his mouth. He relished the sensation as well as your gasp of surprise. He relaxed his mouth and let your tit free only to repeat the motion to the other one.

Fuck. He’d barely started, you hadn’t even begun reading, and you already felt warm tension pull in your belly. Your breasts have always been sensitive. Sometimes when you were feeling especially needy, and Aemond especially wicked, he’d suck your tits until you came. Part of you wondered if he meant to do that now with how he lavished them. “Shit–Aem! Not long if you keep this up…!” You moaned, biting your lip again as your eyelids trembled closed. “Haven’t even let me start yet..!”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You’re right…,” he said, slowly circling his tongue around and between your nipples. “Go ahead and start reading then, baby. I’ll get nice and comfortable between these thighs.” 

True to his word, he did. Your boyfriend meant to murder you. Without a fucking doubt. Straight up murder.

With a shuddering breath you began to read aloud.

Aemond kissed over your covered pussy, not yet bothering to move your underwear aside or take them off. He wasn’t trying to be especially distracting yet, but he loved knowing you were wet and eager for him. He kissed the insides of your thighs–that impossibly soft dip where your thigh met your pelvis–and even the underswell of your asscheeks as your legs spilled open. He knew right where your clit was. He licked over it through your panties. Teasing. Coaxing. Hoping to hear your voice warble with want.

It did. There was no way you’d be able to keep this up for the rest of the chapter as well as the next chapter. The main female character, a human, had just re-dressed into something suitable for dinner. In this case, a gown that complimented the color of her skin and shape of her body. And the main male character, a vampire, was waiting for her to finish. Before this, the tension had indeed been all over the place. Blood, desire, lust, everything sinful about the undying charisma of vampires. At the end of the chapter she walked downstairs only to make him utterly darken with lust. And, at the end of the chapter, Aemond pulled the front of your panties aside to finally give the full length of your pussy a hot, slow lick. You gasped in time with the main female character’s gasp.

“Think he sinks his teeth into her pretty neck and finally takes what he wants?” Aemond asked, low and somewhat muffled, as he turned his gaze up to your heated face.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. You half thought he was joking about the whole thing! But… then again, you knew Aemond pretty damn well by now and knew he wasn’t the prankster type. You moaned softly at the slow, wonderful feeling of his tongue on your clit. Then, you answered in a shaky breath, “it’s the temptation. He worships her. Or… at least her blood. He won’t tear her apart. He needs her.”

He made one of his classic little ‘mmm’s in thought. “Keep reading, baby. I’m dying to see what happens.” Another lick, another kiss to your most sensitive bud, and a gentle suck. 

Fuck–if he kept this up?! Pleasure rippled up your body in goosebumps and your voice shook as you read into the new chapter.

Somehow the book tension intensified even further. Between that, and how Aemond continued to slowly eat you, your head felt dizzy. Really, honest to God, you didn’t know how much more you could take. Then, the next line started to crumble some of that tension: “The vampire lord kissed the top of the lady’s hand, and when he did his fingers grazed the delicate webbing of veins on the underside of her wrist. Her scent bloomed beneath him. A perfume. His jaw ached with the need to consume. To consume her.”

Aemond picked up pace, too, as did your pulse. He balanced you on the edge of bliss and wouldn’t yet let you go. 

You began to stammer over words. You even left some unfinished. Because now you read a scene that was strikingly similar to your current situation. The vampire had his lady laid back and sprawled on the staircase, her skirts bunched high, his starved tongue feasting between her thighs.

Aemond groaned appreciatively. He worked you higher and higher, selfishly making it harder for you to read out loud, and savored each and every little dip and rise of your voice. His good girl. So fun, and playful, and willing to entertain his silly ideas. God, he loved you. He memorized all the signs of orgasm in your body. He could hear them. Feel them. He knew you were getting close, but he didn’t want you to come yet. There was still more to be read. Right before climax could claim you, he stopped.

“Aemond!” You squealed, near breathless. You looked down at him, accusatory, blissful eyes glaring. “Not fair!”

“Did I forget to mention I’ll only let you come when I want you to? Sorry, love, my bad.”

“How convenient of you,” you retorted.

“Do keep going though? I have a feeling he’ll need a taste of her blood now that he’s tasted her cunt.”

Begrudgingly, you did. And, as luck would have it… (did he read ahead while you were in the shower!?): “The vampire lord’s cock strained in his breeches, throbbing with a pulsing need that sent his mind to delirium. He never craved anything so badly as he did her.”

Aemond made more of those ‘mmm’s in agreement as he started to slowly work you up again. He pressed his tongue into you and let his nose rub against your clit. His hands rubbed and squeezed over any part of your body he could. Waist, belly, hips, thighs, anything; he loved all of it. He could lay here and do this all fucking night–vampire smut or no.

It became harder and harder to keep reading. Between little moans, whimpers, and firm bites to your lip, you kept trying. By now, the chapter progressed to both of them in various stages of undress on the staircase. “The vampire lord claimed her body with his hot, rigid manhood. At the same time he filled her with his cock, he sunk his teeth into her neck.”

After that you were no longer able to make words. A finger replaced Aemond’s tongue as his mouth lavished your clit. You dropped the book and neither of you seemed to care anymore. One of your hands gripped into his hair–more than likely making the sleek pull back of his ponytail a mess–while your other hand played with your breasts. Seemingly effortlessly, a second finger joined the first and your hips rolled in a desperate need for more. “A-ah yes!”

A soft dark laugh rumbled from him as he watched you from below. “You’re so fucking wet your pussy just sucked my finger in. I barely had to move it. Getting close again, my love?” He asked as those two deft, long fingers worked your inner walls with blinding precision. “I love how you were blushing and fumbling with your words when you read. Fuck–you’re so pretty with my fingers in you.”

A familiar tightness began to build in your legs. The inside of your thighs started to tremble. Your head, fuzzy as it already was, buzzed with your body’s anticipation. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Your fingers tweaked your nipples for that extra little push, and apparently that’s exactly what you needed.

Aemond’s tongue was on your clit again, quick and light compared to the harsh way he fingerfucked you. This time he didn’t edge you along.

Orgasm, beautiful and consuming, swallowed you into a starless dark. When you came back to yourself your head was heavy. The tips of your fingers tingled. Everything felt light. Like you weren’t quite inside your own body yet. “What the fuck Aems…,” you whispered, smiling like a dork.

That was one of the best orgasms and he fucking knew it. He had to know it. 

He carefully rolled away from you to let you catch your breath. “Better than the book?”

“Without question.”

He grinned as he watched you regain yourself. Once he was sure you were okay he pulled you on top of his naked form. When did he take his clothes off? “Always so sweet to me,” he said with that same grin. “I can still taste you on my tongue and need to feel you on my cock. Now.”

You didn't need to be told twice. Your body was ready for him as soon as he moved you atop him. He looked so good, so handsome, so devastatingly perfect as he sat there against your headboard, your bodies meshing together so well. His lean arms wrapped around you, nails scratching down your back, as you lined up with him.

The stretch was unfuckingbelievable. 

Moaning in unison, he rolled his hips up into you with one hand gripped on your waist. Your breasts squished against the firm planes of his. Your scent, your skin, your lust all around him. The squeeze of your cunt around his entire length had him half crazy. There wouldn't be any more teasing. 

You ground onto him, desperate to fuck him as silly as he had fingered you. 

One of his hands gripped the hair at the back of your head and tugged downwards, exposing the fullness of your throat to him. Your neck. He bit you again–all but sinking his teeth into your flesh–and fucked up into you with added fervor. 

“God!” You squeaked, whimpering through your surprise. “Yes, yes, yes, keep biting me..!” You pleaded, bouncing on him in time with his upward rolls.

That's how you both stayed–his teeth on your neck, your fingernails leaving pink scratches on his pale skin, grinding and fucking each other with raw desire–until climax washed over both of you.

You were both panting, a little sweaty, and intoxicated by each other.

A couple minutes later, amidst pillow talk and teasing one another, Aemond asked, “would you read more to me another time?”

You looked at him cheekily. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m very interested in the plot,” he said with obvious innuendo. “And I don’t think you quite understand what you saying words like ‘cock’ ‘cunt’ and ‘blood sucking’ does to me.”

That sent you into another fit of giggles. “You’re insane!”

He rolled on top of you and smirked down at you. “Well?” He asked, grazing the tip of his nose against yours.

“Okay, okay. Yeah, I will.”

Pulling the blankets up around your bodies, you turned on the movie you mentioned earlier. Aemond laid on his back and scooped you against him, legs immediately intertwining with one another. Sated. Happy; even as your skin pleasantly burned where he left dark hickies behind.

“Thanks for that. It was a lot of fun,” he whispered against the crown of your head.

“Yeah it was,” you agreed. “I love you, Aem.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

See comment section for my main taglist and Aemond taglist! To be added or removed from either, please hit me up!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

My McLuhan lecture on enshittification

IT'S THE LAST DAY for the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Last night, I gave the annual Marshall McLuhan lecture at the Transmediale festival in Berlin. The event was sold out and while there's a video that'll be posted soon, they couldn't get a streaming setup installed in the Canadian embassy, where the talk was held:

https://transmediale.de/en/2024/event/mcluhan-2024

The talk went of fabulously, and was followed by commentary from Frederike Kaltheuner (Human Rights Watch) and a discussion moderated by Helen Starr. While you'll have to wait a bit for the video, I thought that I'd post my talk notes from last night for the impatient among you.

I want to thank the festival and the embassy staff for their hard work on an excellent event. And now, on to the talk!

Last year, I coined the term 'enshittification,' to describe the way that platforms decay. That obscene little word did big numbers, it really hit the zeitgeist. I mean, the American Dialect Society made it their Word of the Year for 2023 (which, I suppose, means that now I'm definitely getting a poop emoji on my tombstone).

So what's enshittification and why did it catch fire? It's my theory explaining how the internet was colonized by platforms, and why all those platforms are degrading so quickly and thoroughly, and why it matters – and what we can do about it.

We're all living through the enshittocene, a great enshittening, in which the services that matter to us, that we rely on, are turning into giant piles of shit.

It's frustrating. It's demoralizing. It's even terrifying.

I think that the enshittification framework goes a long way to explaining it, moving us out of the mysterious realm of the 'great forces of history,' and into the material world of specific decisions made by named people – decisions we can reverse and people whose addresses and pitchfork sizes we can learn.

Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It's not just a way to say 'things are getting worse' (though of course, it's fine with me if you want to use it that way. It's an English word. We don't have der Rat für Englisch Rechtschreibung. English is a free for all. Go nuts, meine Kerle).

But in case you want to use enshittification in a more precise, technical way, let's examine how enshittification works.

It's a three stage process: First, platforms are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die.

Let's do a case study. What could be better than Facebook?

Facebook is a company that was founded to nonconsensually rate the fuckability of Harvard undergrads, and it only got worse after that.

When Facebook started off, it was only open to US college and high-school kids with .edu and k-12.us addresses. But in 2006, it opened up to the general public. It told them: “Yes, I know you’re all using Myspace. But Myspace is owned by Rupert Murdoch, an evil, crapulent senescent Australian billionaire, who spies on you with every hour that God sends.

“Sign up with Facebook and we will never spy on you. Come and tell us who matters to you in this world, and we will compose a personal feed consisting solely of what those people post for consumption by those who choose to follow them.”

That was stage one. Facebook had a surplus — its investors’ cash — and it allocated that surplus to its end-users. Those end-users proceeded to lock themselves into FB. FB — like most tech businesses — has network effects on its side. A product or service enjoys network effects when it improves as more people sign up to use it. You joined FB because your friends were there, and then others signed up because you were there.

But FB didn’t just have high network effects, it had high switching costs. Switching costs are everything you have to give up when you leave a product or service. In Facebook’s case, it was all the friends there that you followed and who followed you. In theory, you could have all just left for somewhere else; in practice, you were hamstrung by the collective action problem.

It’s hard to get lots of people to do the same thing at the same time. You and your six friends here are going to struggle to agree on where to get drinks after tonight's lecture. How were you and your 200 Facebook friends ever gonna agree on when it was time to leave Facebook, and where to go?

So FB’s end-users engaged in a mutual hostage-taking that kept them glued to the platform. Then FB exploited that hostage situation, withdrawing the surplus from end-users and allocating it to two groups of business customers: advertisers, and publishers.

To the advertisers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we wouldn’t spy on them? We lied. We spy on them from asshole to appetite. We will sell you access to that surveillance data in the form of fine-grained ad-targeting, and we will devote substantial engineering resources to thwarting ad-fraud. Your ads are dirt cheap to serve, and we’ll spare no expense to make sure that when you pay for an ad, a real human sees it.'

To the publishers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we would only show them the things they asked to see? We lied!Upload short excerpts from your website, append a link, and we will nonconsensually cram it into the eyeballs of users who never asked to see it. We are offering you a free traffic funnel that will drive millions of users to your website to monetize as you please, and those users will become stuck to you when they subscribe to your feed.' And so advertisers and publishers became stuck to the platform, too, dependent on those users.

The users held each other hostage, and those hostages took the publishers and advertisers hostage, too, so that everyone was locked in.

Which meant it was time for the third stage of enshittification: withdrawing surplus from everyone and handing it to Facebook’s shareholders.

For the users, that meant dialing down the share of content from accounts you followed to a homeopathic dose, and filling the resulting void with ads and pay-to-boost content from publishers.

For advertisers, that meant jacking up prices and drawing down anti-fraud enforcement, so advertisers paid much more for ads that were far less likely to be seen by a person.

For publishers, this meant algorithmically suppressing the reach of their posts unless they included an ever-larger share of their articles in the excerpt, until anything less than fulltext was likely to be be disqualified from being sent to your subscribers, let alone included in algorithmic suggestion feeds.

And then FB started to punish publishers for including a link back to their own sites, so they were corralled into posting fulltext feeds with no links, meaning they became commodity suppliers to Facebook, entirely dependent on the company both for reach and for monetization, via the increasingly crooked advertising service.

When any of these groups squawked, FB just repeated the lesson that every tech executive learned in the Darth Vader MBA: 'I have altered the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.'

Facebook now enters the most dangerous phase of enshittification. It wants to withdraw all available surplus, and leave just enough residual value in the service to keep end users stuck to each other, and business customers stuck to end users, without leaving anything extra on the table, so that every extractable penny is drawn out and returned to its shareholders.

But that’s a very brittle equilibrium, because the difference between “I hate this service but I can’t bring myself to quit it,” and “Jesus Christ, why did I wait so long to quit? Get me the hell out of here!” is razor thin

All it takes is one Cambridge Analytica scandal, one whistleblower, one livestreamed mass-shooting, and users bolt for the exits, and then FB discovers that network effects are a double-edged sword.

If users can’t leave because everyone else is staying, when when everyone starts to leave, there’s no reason not to go, too.

That’s terminal enshittification, the phase when a platform becomes a pile of shit. This phase is usually accompanied by panic, which tech bros euphemistically call 'pivoting.'

Which is how we get pivots like, 'In the future, all internet users will be transformed into legless, sexless, low-polygon, heavily surveilled cartoon characters in a virtual world called "metaverse," that we ripped off from a 25-year-old satirical cyberpunk novel.'

That's the procession of enshittification. If enshittification were a disease, we'd call that enshittification's "natural history." But that doesn't tell you how the enshittification works, nor why everything is enshittifying right now, and without those details, we can't know what to do about it.

What led to the enshittocene? What is it about this moment that led to the Great Enshittening? Was it the end of the Zero Interest Rate Policy? Was it a change in leadership at the tech giants? Is Mercury in retrograde?

None of the above.

The period of free fed money certainly led to tech companies having a lot of surplus to toss around. But Facebook started enshittifying long before ZIRP ended, so did Amazon, Microsoft and Google.

Some of the tech giants got new leaders. But Google's enshittification got worse when the founders came back to oversee the company's AI panic (excuse me, 'AI pivot').

And it can't be Mercury in retrograde, because I'm a cancer, and as everyone knows, cancers don't believe in astrology.

When a whole bunch of independent entities all change in the same way at once, that's a sign that the environment has changed, and that's what happened to tech.

Tech companies, like all companies, have conflicting imperatives. On the one hand, they want to make money. On the other hand, making money involves hiring and motivating competent staff, and making products that customers want to buy. The more value a company permits its employees and customers to carve off, the less value it can give to its shareholders.

The equilibrium in which companies produce things we like in honorable ways at a fair price is one in which charging more, worsening quality, and harming workers costs more than the company would make by playing dirty.

There are four forces that discipline companies, serving as constraints on their enshittificatory impulses.

First: competition. Companies that fear you will take your business elsewhere are cautious about worsening quality or raising prices.

Second: regulation. Companies that fear a regulator will fine them more than they expect to make from cheating, will cheat less.

These two forces affect all industries, but the next two are far more tech-specific.

Third: self-help. Computers are extremely flexible, and so are the digital products and services we make from them. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing-complete Von Neumann machine, a computer that can run every valid program.

That means that users can always avail themselves of programs that undo the anti-features that shift value from them to a company's shareholders. Think of a board-room table where someone says, 'I've calculated that making our ads 20% more invasive will net us 2% more revenue per user.'

In a digital world, someone else might well say 'Yes, but if we do that, 20% of our users will install ad-blockers, and our revenue from those users will drop to zero, forever.'

This means that digital companies are constrained by the fear that some enshittificatory maneuver will prompt their users to google, 'How do I disenshittify this?'

Fourth and finally: workers. Tech workers have very low union density, but that doesn't mean that tech workers don't have labor power. The historical "talent shortage" of the tech sector meant that workers enjoyed a lot of leverage over their bosses. Workers who disagreed with their bosses could quit and walk across the street and get another job – a better job.

They knew it, and their bosses knew it. Ironically, this made tech workers highly exploitable. Tech workers overwhelmingly saw themselves as founders in waiting, entrepreneurs who were temporarily drawing a salary, heroic figures of the tech mission.

That's why mottoes like Google's 'don't be evil' and Facebook's 'make the world more open and connected' mattered: they instilled a sense of mission in workers. It's what Fobazi Ettarh calls 'vocational awe, 'or Elon Musk calls being 'extremely hardcore.'

Tech workers had lots of bargaining power, but they didn't flex it when their bosses demanded that they sacrifice their health, their families, their sleep to meet arbitrary deadlines.

So long as their bosses transformed their workplaces into whimsical 'campuses,' with gyms, gourmet cafeterias, laundry service, massages and egg-freezing, workers could tell themselves that they were being pampered – rather than being made to work like government mules.

But for bosses, there's a downside to motivating your workers with appeals to a sense of mission, namely: your workers will feel a sense of mission. So when you ask them to enshittify the products they ruined their health to ship, workers will experience a sense of profound moral injury, respond with outrage, and threaten to quit.

Thus tech workers themselves were the final bulwark against enshittification,

The pre-enshittification era wasn't a time of better leadership. The executives weren't better. They were constrained. Their worst impulses were checked by competition, regulation, self-help and worker power.

So what happened?

One by one, each of these constraints was eroded until it dissolved, leaving the enshittificatory impulse unchecked, ushering in the enshittoscene.

It started with competition. From the Gilded Age until the Reagan years, the purpose of competition law was to promote competition. US antitrust law treated corporate power as dangerous and sought to blunt it. European antitrust laws were modeled on US ones, imported by the architects of the Marshall Plan.

But starting in the neoliberal era, competition authorities all over the world adopted a doctrine called 'consumer welfare,' which held that monopolies were evidence of quality. If everyone was shopping at the same store and buying the same product, that meant it was the best store, selling the best product – not that anyone was cheating.

And so all over the world, governments stopped enforcing their competition laws. They just ignored them as companies flouted them. Those companies merged with their major competitors, absorbed small companies before they could grow to be big threats. They held an orgy of consolidation that produced the most inbred industries imaginable, whole sectors grown so incestuous they developed Habsburg jaws, from eyeglasses to sea freight, glass bottles to payment processing, vitamin C to beer.

Most of our global economy is dominated by five or fewer global companies. If smaller companies refuse to sell themselves to these cartels, the giants have free rein to flout competition law further, with 'predatory pricing' that keeps an independent rival from gaining a foothold.

When Diapers.com refused Amazon's acquisition offer, Amazon lit $100m on fire, selling diapers way below cost for months, until diapers.com went bust, and Amazon bought them for pennies on the dollar, and shut them down.

Competition is a distant memory. As Tom Eastman says, the web has devolved into 'five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four,' so these giant companies no longer fear losing our business.

Lily Tomlin used to do a character on the TV show Laugh In, an AT&T telephone operator who'd do commercials for the Bell system. Each one would end with her saying 'We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.'

Today's giants are not constrained by competition.

They don't care. They don't have to. They're Google.

That's the first constraint gone, and as it slipped away, the second constraint – regulation – was also doomed.

When an industry consists of hundreds of small- and medium-sized enterprises, it is a mob, a rabble. Hundreds of companies can't agree on what to tell Parliament or Congress or the Commission. They can't even agree on how to cater a meeting where they'd discuss the matter.

But when a sector dwindles to a bare handful of dominant firms, it ceases to be a rabble and it becomes a cartel.

Five companies, or four, or three, or two, or just one company finds it easy to converge on a single message for their regulators, and without "wasteful competition" eroding their profits, they have plenty of cash to spread around.

Like Facebook, handing former UK deputy PM Nick Clegg millions every year to sleaze around Europe, telling his former colleagues that Facebook is the only thing standing between 'European Cyberspace' and the Chinese Communist Party.

Tech's regulatory capture allows it to flout the rules that constrain less concentrated sectors. They can pretend that violating labor, consumer and privacy laws is fine, because they violate them with an app.

This is why competition matters: it's not just because competition makes companies work harder and share value with customers and workers, it's because competition keeps companies from becoming too big to fail, and too big to jail.

Now, there's plenty of things we don't want improved through competition, like privacy invasions. After the EU passed its landmark privacy law, the GDPR, there was a mass-extinction event for small EU ad-tech companies. These companies disappeared en masse, and that's fine.

They were even more invasive and reckless than US-based Big Tech companies. After all, they had less to lose. We don't want competition in commercial surveillance. We don't want to produce increasing efficiency in violating our human rights.

But: Google and Facebook – who pretend they are called Alphabet and Meta – have been unscathed by European privacy law. That's not because they don't violate the GDPR (they do!). It's because they pretend they are headquartered in Ireland, one of the EU's most notorious corporate crime-havens.

And Ireland competes with the EU other crime havens – Malta, Luxembourg, Cyprus and sometimes the Netherlands – to see which country can offer the most hospitable environment for all sorts of crimes. Because the kind of company that can fly an Irish flag of convenience is mobile enough to change to a Maltese flag if the Irish start enforcing EU laws.

Which is how you get an Irish Data Protection Commission that processes fewer than 20 major cases per year, while Germany's data commissioner handles more than 500 major cases, even though Ireland is nominal home to the most privacy-invasive companies on the continent.

So Google and Facebook get to act as though they are immune to privacy law, because they violate the law with an app; just like Uber can violate labor law and claim it doesn't count because they do it with an app.

Uber's labor-pricing algorithm offers different drivers different payments for the same job, something Veena Dubal calls 'algorithmic wage discrimination.' If you're more selective about which jobs you'll take, Uber will pay you more for every ride.

But if you take those higher payouts and ditch whatever side-hustle let you cover your bills which being picky about your Uber drives, Uber will incrementally reduce the payment, toggling up and down as you grow more or less selective, playing you like a fish on a line until you eventually – inevitably – lose to the tireless pricing robot, and end up stuck with low wages and all your side-hustles gone.

Then there's Amazon, which violates consumer protection laws, but says it doesn't matter, because they do it with an app. Amazon makes $38b/year from its 'advertising' system. 'Advertising' in quotes because they're not selling ads, they're selling placements in search results.

The companies that spend the most on 'ads' go to the top, even if they're offering worse products at higher prices. If you click the first link in an Amazon search result, on average you will pay a 29% premium over the best price on the service. Click one of the first four items and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average you have to go seventeen items down to find the best deal on Amazon.

Any merchant that did this to you in a physical storefront would be fined into oblivion. But Amazon has captured its regulators, so it can violate your rights, and say, "it doesn't count, we did it with an app"

This is where that third constraint, self-help, would sure come in handy. If you don't want your privacy violated, you don't need to wait for the Irish privacy regulator to act, you can just install an ad-blocker.

More than half of all web users are blocking ads. But the web is an open platform, developed in the age when tech was hundreds of companies at each others' throats, unable to capture their regulators.

Today, the web is being devoured by apps, and apps are ripe for enshittification. Regulatory capture isn't just the ability to flout regulation, it's also the ability to co-opt regulation, to wield regulation against your adversaries.

Today's tech giants got big by exploiting self-help measures. When Facebook was telling Myspace users they needed to escape Rupert Murdoch’s evil crapulent Australian social media panopticon, it didn’t just say to those Myspacers, 'Screw your friends, come to Facebook and just hang out looking at the cool privacy policy until they get here'

It gave them a bot. You fed the bot your Myspace username and password, and it would login to Myspace and pretend to be you, and scrape everything waiting in your inbox, copying it to your FB inbox, and you could reply to it and it would autopilot your replies back to Myspace.

When Microsoft was choking off Apple's market oxygen by refusing to ship a functional version of Microsoft Office for the Mac – so that offices were throwing away their designers' Macs and giving them PCs with upgraded graphics cards and Windows versions of Photoshop and Illustrator – Steve Jobs didn't beg Bill Gates to update Mac Office.

He got his technologists to reverse-engineer Microsoft Office, and make a compatible suite, the iWork Suite, whose apps, Pages, Numbers and Keynote could perfectly read and write Microsoft's Word, Excel and Powerpoint files.

When Google entered the market, it sent its crawler to every web server on Earth, where it presented itself as a web-user: 'Hi! Hello! Do you have any web pages? Thanks! How about some more? How about more?'

But every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Facebook, Apple and Google were doing this adversarial interoperability, that was progress. If you try to do it to them, that's piracy.

Try to make an alternative client for Facebook and they'll say you violated US laws like the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and EU laws like Article 6 of the EUCD.

Try to make an Android program that can run iPhone apps and play back the data from Apple's media stores and they'd bomb you until the rubble bounced.

Try to scrape all of Google and they'll nuke you until you glowed.

Tech's regulatory capture is mind-boggling. Take that law I mentioned earlier, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act or DMCA. Bill Clinton signed it in 1998, and the EU imported it as Article 6 of the EUCD in 2001

It is a blanket prohibition on removing any kind of encryption that restricts access to a copyrighted work – things like ripping DVDs or jailbreaking a phone – with penalties of a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

This law has been so broadened that it can be used to imprison creators for granting access to their own creations

Here's how that works: In 2008, Amazon bought Audible, an audiobook platform, in an anticompetitive acquisition. Today, Audible is a monopolist with more than 90% of the audiobook market. Audible requires that all creators on their platform sell with Amazon's "digital rights management," which locks it to Amazon's apps.

So say I write a book, then I read it into a mic, then I pay a director and an engineer thousands of dollars to turn that into an audiobook, and sell it to you on the monopoly platform, Audible, that controls more than 90% of the market.

If I later decide to leave Amazon and want to let you come with me to a rival platform, I am out of luck. If I supply you with a tool to remove Amazon's encryption from my audiobook, so you can play it in another app, I commit a felony, punishable by a 5-year sentence and a half-million-dollar fine, for a first offense.

That's a stiffer penalty than you would face if you simply pirated the audiobook from a torrent site. But it's also harsher than the punishment you'd get for shoplifting the audiobook on CD from a truck-stop. It's harsher than the sentence you'd get for hijacking the truck that delivered the CD.

So think of our ad-blockers again. 50% of web users are running ad-blockers. 0% of app users are running ad-blockers, because adding a blocker to an app requires that you first remove its encryption, and that's a felony (Jay Freeman calls this 'felony contempt of business-model').

So when someone in a board-room says, 'let's make our ads 20% more obnoxious and get a 2% revenue increase,' no one objects that this might prompt users to google, 'how do I block ads?' After all, the answer is, 'you can't.'

Indeed, it's more likely that someone in that board room will say, 'let's make our ads 100% more obnoxious and get a 10% revenue increase' (this is why every company wants you to install an app instead of using its website).

There's no reason that gig workers who are facing algorithmic wage discrimination couldn't install a counter-app that coordinated among all the Uber drivers to reject all jobs unless they reach a certain pay threshold.

No reason except felony contempt of business model, the threat that the toolsmiths who built that counter-app would go broke or land in prison, for violating DMCA 1201, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, trademark, copyright, patent, contract, trade secrecy, nondisclosure and noncompete, or in other words: 'IP law.'

'IP' is just a euphemism for 'a law that lets me reach beyond the walls of my company and control the conduct of my critics, competitors and customers.' And 'app' is just a euphemism for 'a web-page wrapped enough IP to make it a felony to mod it to protect the labor, consumer and privacy rights of its user.'

We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.

But what about that fourth constraint: workers?

For decades, tech workers' high degrees of bargaining power and vocational awe put a ceiling on enshittification. Even after the tech sector shrank to a handful of giants. Even after they captured their regulators so they could violate our consumer, privacy and labor rights. Even after they created 'felony contempt of business model' and extinguished self-help for tech users. Tech was still constrained by their workers' sense of moral injury in the face of the imperative to enshittify.

Remember when tech workers dreamed of working for a big company for a few years, before striking out on their own to start their own company that would knock that tech giant over?

Then that dream shrank to: work for a giant for a few years, quit, do a fake startup, get acqui-hired by your old employer, as a complicated way of getting a bonus and a promotion.

Then the dream shrank further: work for a tech giant for your whole life, get free kombucha and massages on Wednesdays.

And now, the dream is over. All that’s left is: work for a tech giant until they fire your ass, like those 12,000 Googlers who got fired last year six months after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years.

Workers are no longer a check on their bosses' worst impulses

Today, the response to 'I refuse to make this product worse' is, 'turn in your badge and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.'

I get that this is all a little depressing

OK, really depressing.

But hear me out! We've identified the disease. We've traced its natural history. We've identified its underlying mechanism. Now we can get to work on a cure.

There are four constraints that prevent enshittification: competition, regulation, self-help and labor.

To reverse enshittification and guard against its reemergence, we must restore and strengthen each of these.

On competition, it's actually looking pretty good. The EU, the UK, the US, Canada, Australia, Japan and China are all doing more on competition than they have in two generations. They're blocking mergers, unwinding existing ones, taking action on predatory pricing and other sleazy tactics.

Remember, in the US and Europe, we already have the laws to do this – we just stopped enforcing them in the Helmut Kohl era.

I've been fighting these fights with the Electronic Frontier Foundation for 22 years now, and I've never seen a more hopeful moment for sound, informed tech policy.

Now, the enshittifiers aren't taking this laying down. The business press can't stop talking about how stupid and old-fashioned all this stuff is. They call people like me 'hipster antitrust,' and they hate any regulator who actually does their job.

Take Lina Khan, the brilliant head of the US Federal Trade Commission, who has done more in three years on antitrust than the combined efforts of all her predecessors over the past 40 years. Rupert Murdoch's Wall Street Journal has run more than 80 editorials trashing Khan, insisting that she's an ineffectual ideologue who can't get anything done.

Sure, Rupert, that's why you ran 80 editorials about her.

Because she can't get anything done.

Even Canada is stepping up on competition. Canada! Land of the evil billionaire! From Ted Rogers, who owns the country's telecoms; to Galen Weston, who owns the country's grocery stores; to the Irvings, who basically own the entire province of New Brunswick.

Even Canada is doing something about this. Last autumn, Trudeau's government promised to update Canada's creaking competition law to finally ban 'abuse of dominance.'

I mean, wow. I guess when Galen Weston decided to engage in a criminal conspiracy to fix the price of bread – the most Les Miz-ass crime imaginable – it finally got someone's attention, eh?

Competition has a long way to go, but all over the world, competition law is seeing a massive revitalization. Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher put antitrust law in a coma in the 80s – but it's awake, it's back, and it's pissed.

What about regulation? How will we get tech companies to stop doing that one weird trick of adding 'with an app' to their crimes and escaping enforcement?

Well, here in the EU, they're starting to figure it out. This year, the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act went into effect, and they let people who get screwed by tech companies go straight to the federal European courts, bypassing the toothless watchdogs in Europe's notorious corporate crime havens like Ireland.

In America, they might finally get a digital privacy law. You people have no idea how backwards US privacy law is. The last time the US Congress enacted a broadly applicable privacy law was in 1988.

The Video Privacy Protection Act makes it a crime for video-store clerks to leak your video-rental history. It was passed after a right-wing judge who was up for the Supreme Court had his rentals published in a DC newspaper. The rentals weren't even all that embarrassing!

Sure, that judge, Robert Bork, wasn't confirmed for the Supreme Court, but that was because he was a virulently racist loudmouth and a crook who served as Nixon's Solicitor General.

But Congress got the idea that their video records might be next, freaked out, and passed the VPPA.

That was the last time Americans got a big, national privacy law. Nineteen. Eighty. Eight.

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?

Having 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 big coalition for that kind of privacy law.

What about self-help? That's a lot farther away, alas.

The EU's DMA will force tech companies to open up their walled gardens for interoperation. You'll be able to use Whatsapp to message people on iMessage, or quit Facebook and move to Mastodon, but still send messages to the people left behind.

But if you want to reverse-engineer one of those Big Tech products and mod it to work for you, not them, the EU's got nothing for you.

This is an area ripe for improvement, and I think the US might be the first ones to open this up.

It's certainly on-brand for the EU to be forcing tech companies to do things a certain way, while the US simply takes away tech companies' abilities to prevent others from changing how their stuff works.

My big hope here is that Stein's Law will take hold: 'Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop'

Letting companies decide how their customers must use their products is simply too tempting an invitation to mischief. HP has a whole building full of engineers thinking of new ways to lock your printer to its official ink cartridges, forcing you to spend $10,000/gallon on ink to print your boarding passes and shopping lists.

It's offensive. The only people who don't agree are the people running the monopolies in all the other industries, like the med-tech monopolists who are locking their insulin pumps to their glucose monitors, turning people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers.

Finally, there's labor. Here in Europe, there's much higher union density than in the US, which American tech barons are learning the hard way. There is nothing more satisfying in the daily news than the latest salvo by Nordic unions against that Tesla guy (Musk is the most Edison-ass Tesla guy imaginable).

But even in the USA, there's a massive surge in tech unions. Tech workers are realizing that they aren't founders in waiting. The days of free massages and facial piercings and getting to wear black tee shirts that say things your boss doesn't understand are coming to an end.

In Seattle, Amazon's tech workers walked out in sympathy with Amazon's warehouse workers, because they're all workers.

The only reason the tech workers aren't monitored by AI that notifies their managers if they visit the toilet during working hours is their rapidly dwindling bargaining power. The way things are going, Amazon programmers are going to be pissing in bottles next to their workstations (for a guy who built a penis-shaped rocket, Jeff Bezos really hates our kidneys).

We're seeing bold, muscular, global action on competition, regulation and labor, with self-help bringing up the rear. It's not a moment too soon, because the bad news is, enshittification is coming to every industry.

If it's got a networked computer in it, the people who made it can run the Darth Vader MBA playbook on it, changing the rules from moment to moment, violating your rights and then saying 'It's OK, we did it with an app.'

From Mercedes renting you your accelerator pedal by the month to Internet of Things dishwashers that lock you into proprietary dishsoap, enshittification is metastasizing into every corner of our lives.

Software doesn't eat the world, it enshittifies it

But there's a bright side to all this: if everyone is threatened by enshittification, then everyone has a stake in disenshittification.

Just as with privacy law in the US, the potential anti-enshittification coalition is massive, it's unstoppable.

The cynics among you might be skeptical that this will make a difference. After all, isn't "enshittification" the same as "capitalism"?

Well, no.

Look, I'm not going to cape for capitalism here. I'm hardly a true believer in markets as the most efficient allocators of resources and arbiters of policy – if there was ever any doubt, capitalism's total failure to grapple with the climate emergency surely erases it.

But the capitalism of 20 years ago made space for a wild and wooly internet, a space where people with disfavored views could find each other, offer mutual aid, and organize.

The capitalism of today has produced a global, digital ghost mall, filled with botshit, crapgadgets from companies with consonant-heavy brand-names, and cryptocurrency scams.

The internet isn't more important than the climate emergency, nor gender justice, racial justice, genocide, or inequality.

But the internet is the terrain we'll fight those fights on. Without a free, fair and open internet, the fight is lost before it's joined.

We can reverse the enshittification of the internet. We can halt the creeping enshittification of every digital device.

We can build a better, enshittification-resistant digital nervous system, one that is fit to coordinate the mass movements we will need to fight fascism, end genocide, and save our planet and our species.

Martin Luther King said 'It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, but it can stop him from lynching me, and I think that's pretty important.'

And it may be true that the law can't force corporate sociopaths to conceive of you as a human being entitled to dignity and fair treatment, and not just an ambulatory wallet, a supply of gut-bacteria for the immortal colony organism that is a limited liability corporation.

But it can make that exec fear you enough to treat you fairly and afford you dignity, even if he doesn't think you deserve it.

And I think that's pretty important.

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/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel/a>

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

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[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[alexanderwales]

Turning Off Your Brain and the Critical Lens

Alright, let's start with this: there is a thing called a critical lens. It is a way of looking at a piece of art, examining what it's saying to us about itself or its subject or themes or whatever.

There are many critical lenses. Because this is something that's mostly only taught at the college level, most of them are (in my opinion) mired in academic language and not actually all that interesting in and of themselves: I think if you read a dozen stories through a feminist lens, you really start to think "okay, yeah, I get it". Different readings of different texts through different lenses can be great fun though, and it's one of my favorite parts of media criticism, and something that I wish people were more explicit about.

I'm going to talk about the Barbie movie, because it's easy. The feminist lens is obvious and in my opinion intended: it's the thing that the movie is most trying to be about, and as a consequence, it's something that probably has the most critical meat. But you can also read the movie through other lenses, and ask what it has to say about capitalism, about race, about neurodivergence and queer theory and game theory and a bunch of other things.

Some of these readings are Unintended. The author (in this case, hundreds of people working together on the film) did not intend for you to look at the movie to see what it's saying about, say, American Imperialism. Probably.

I personally enjoy unintended readings. I like teasing apart a book to see what it's saying about different things, and how it's saying it, and what the assumptions it's operating under, and whether this creates anything interesting when I bring a different set of assumptions. I think the writers and actors of Winter Soldier were not trying to say anything in particular about masculinity, but fuck it, let's watch the movie and think about it.

Sometimes people will watch something and recommend that you turn your brain off. Sometimes they'll say this to you just as you're about to start in on some critical analysis of something that definitely was not made with that critical analysis in mind.

Here's how I think of "turning off your brain": it's a critical lens. It's not a critical lens in the sense that academics might use it, but you're looking at this piece of media from a specific viewpoint, and that viewpoint is "omg they're in love" or "fuck yeah" or "no, don't go into the basement!". There are certain pop genres that greatly benefit from being viewed this way, at least in terms of pure enjoyment.

When I sit down to watch a romcom, I can do it with male/female social dynamics in mind, or I can do it with "aw, I hope these kids get together" in mind. One is the intended reading, and I don't think that it should get all that much privilege for it, but I do think generally it can result in better enjoyment. I love media criticism and consider it to be one of my main hobbies, but if you fall in love with one particular way of viewing media and only use that single one, you're going to have a bad time.

I write and generally enjoy rational fiction, which comes with its own lens, which I guess we can call the rational lens. If you sit and view a work through the rational lens, sometimes you can have fun with it: you try to work through the systems as presented and the actions of the characters and think about how you could make everything make sense. The way to do this that's not very fun is to look at a work through the rational lens and conclude that the author is dumb, the characters are dumb, and the worldbuilding is shit. I guess this can be fun if you have a sense of smug superiority, but I personally do not.

One of the things that I love about media criticism is that you can sometimes extract weird and new things out of a work. One of the things that I love about fanfic is that you can take a deliberately strange reading of a work and then write as though that reading was true. You can look at Batman and say "what does this say about income inequality" and then start writing and say "this is about income inequality now". You can look at Winter Solider and find a reading where Cap and Bucky are gay and then write it out.

Where I think people fail in a way that's personally annoying to me is that they take their preferred reading and then loudly claim ("ironically" or not) that this is the One True Reading against which no other readings can stand. Sometimes "that is not The Point of [thing]". I think you get that a lot from the "shut off your brain" crowd, but I've seen it from other places too, and I would attribute it to people talking past each other, sometimes not even realizing what critical lens they're using.

If you're talking to me, you can just say "non-preferred lens" and I'll understand, or maybe I'll say "wat" because I might forget this blog post moments after I write it.

[mins-fins]

orbit of yours !

"power couple, really?" "you have to listen to me!"

synopsis: park jisung has always admired you. hardworking, effortlessly beautiful, talented, humble— you're pretty much the personification of the word 'perfect' (you would disagree though), but your relationship has never gotten past "admirers that occasionally exchange words", so jisung has vanquished the idea of possibly being in love with you because of your lack of interactions, he's just an avid admirer of yours! so when a few accidents and mishaps force (more like drive) the two of you to be in the same room more than you ever had in the past, the idea doesn't just remain a random fantasy crafted by jisung's mind, it becomes reality.

pairing: park jisung x male!reader

genre: high school au, acquaintances to friends to lovers, photographer!reader x soccer player!jisung, fluff, kinda comedy (im not funny), mutual pining, literally no angst, fast burn lowkey, sungchan helps reader realize his feelings and it's hilarious

warnings: swearing, mentions of burnout, oblivious bitches deny their feelings for a good 10k words, this is fucking cheesy, the nightmare which is senior year

word count: 12.2k

notes: GOOD LORD IT IS FINALLY DONE! i don't wanna be overdramatic or anything but this is genuinely one of my most favorite works ever, if you couldn't tell i am VERY jisung biased and im so happy to finally be done with this because it's honestly been so fun to write 🙁 i didn't beat the xiaojun fic in terms of words but this the second longest fic i have ever written and for my jisung debut its impressive that there is absolutely NO ANGST here, i'm just very proud of myself for this and i hope people like reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it.. this is for all the park jisung lovers 👍

"WHEN WILL YOU ACTUALLY GET A PARTNER?" chenle asks the question so many times that jisung assumes the sentence has been programmed into his brain. what is it— like the 3rd time this week? he thinks chenle might be more obsessed with his love life than he is with actual important things, like college, graduation preparations, his role as a member of the student council, anything but jisung's uneventful love life, because that was probably the least interesting thing going on in his own life at the moment. "come on jisungie! i heard aejung has a crush on you!" he lets out a familiar groan, giving his friends a 'cut it out' look. "i don't really care about that kind of stuff.."

he hears all the frustrated sighs from his friends, and jisung just chuckles. he knows about the many surprisingly many— people who find themselves attracted to him. he acknowledges the fact that he has a lot of admirers, that a lot of people would perceive themselves as lucky to be in a relationship with him, he isn't new to the idea at all, he doesn't really get what makes him so attractive, such an eyeopener to his fellow students, but he mostly accepts the gifts given to him by his so called "admirers" nonetheless, not wanting to make them disappointed.

now, he says mostly because there are just times where he has no choice but to turn them down. some people get into their own heads too much, and he doesn't want to give some of them false hopes by accepting their gifts. that happened once, where a girl thought the two of them were dating because he decided to accept her gift as a sign of appreciation, that's when jisung learned that he couldn't just accept any and all gifts given to him by admirers who so greatly wanted a chance with him. jisung isn't so concerned about gifts, he wants a person who will be psychically and emotionally present for him, not someone who'll just buy him random things.

"it's gotten a little annoying.. all the confessions" jisung mutters, closing the textbook he had been jotting in. "they're nice yeah but some people just take it too far" he finally finishes, earning some confused looks from his friends. he just shrugs, shoving the textbook he had previously been jotting in into his backpack.

"but you're just so boring!" chenle whines, pressing his cheek against jisung's shoulder. jisung doesn't even try shaking him off, knowing that any of his attempts will be useless. "come on! all these people who would love to be with you and your still a lonely little loser!"

"loser? oh come on!"

"you know i'm right!"

jisung scoffs, lightly shoving chenle. while yeah, it's nice to have a lot of people admire him, everyone expects him to do this and that and act a certain way. it's like they enjoy perpetuating a false image onto him rather than actually admiring him for who he really is, and jisung doesn't think he should give people like that the time of day, they piss him off more than anything.

he's a little lost in his thought when a familiar voice sounds in his ears, a couple of giggles following the sound. "you're too funny y/n!" one of them shouted, poking a familiar figure in the shoulder, and jisung's eyes fall on you immediately, as if on instinct. you were looking as you always did, a familiar dslr camera hanging from your neck, that polite smile on your face as your friend continues poking your shoulder.

lately, you'd been quite the topic of interest among your fellow schoolmates. now that's not abnormal at all, you somehow always manage to be the talk of the town in school, you could do the smallest thing and somehow people could still make huge talk about it.

jisung would never say it, not out loud or even in mutters to himself, but he's always held a unique admiration for you, one he doesn't think he could actually put into words. there's something about you that pulls jisung in, like your a magnet and he's an oblivious piece of metal, slowly getting closer and closer to you without being able to do anything about it.

everything about you is beautiful. your eyes are a beautiful brown color, your smile is a beautiful stretch that shows off your perfect white teeth, your hair is a beautiful mix of raven and brunette. oh, and your voice is so beautiful too, it's so soft, gentle, but also deep.

you're like an angel.

at least to jisung you are.

it's pretty funny, actually, your so wrapped up in your own things that you barely notice the sheer amount of people who want to date you. you don't acknowledge romantic advances a lot, and even when you do, it always ends in rejection. you talk a lot, and your words are always pure and witty, your laughter is natural, your smile is contagious.

but.. jisung doesn't like you. he only likes you in the friend kinda way, he just wants to be friends with you. you look nice! smell nice, dress nice, speak nice..

jisung knows a lot more about you than his friends do. despite the fact that the two of you have never officially deemed yourselves "friends", he's always known little facts about you, as you him. the two of you have been going to school together for seven years, so the idea of not knowing anything about each other seems ridiculous.

you're a photographer, your favorite color is blue, specifically lighter shades, your favorite subject is history, your lucky number is 2 because of your birthdate being 02/02/02, your favorite flowers are daisies, you don't really enjoy sports, but if you were to choose one to play, it'd be baseball, and you want to go to college for journalism.

but jisung can't say that he likes you, because even if you two know all these things about each other, you've never considered yourselves "friends", all you do is admire from afar—

and when you do interact, it's just short and sweet sentences exchanged between you two, mostly because the both of you are so busy, that you can't afford to just stop and talk. sometimes, jisung wishes his life was just a little less hectic and he could stop and talk to you, because that's what he wants to do.

"what's with you?" jisung immediately yelps as chenle flicks his forehead, and he resists the urge to punch the older in the face. "gawking at y/n? really?"

"i'm not—" jisung hates that he feels his face burn. "i'm not gawking, i'm just.. i was just looking at him".

"looking at him with hearts in your eyes".

jisung scoffs at chenle's audacity, as if he wasn't doing exactly that a good few minutes ago. he would never admit it out loud before, so why should he admit it now? he'd never live it down if anybody ever found out..

"you know.." chenle begins, tapping his finger onto the desk in front of him. "you two would be a great couple" and the words are enough to make jisung roll his eyes once again. "a power couple!"

"power couple, really?" jisung raises an eyebrow, chenle never fails to say something that confuses him. he finds the words to be ridiculous, but his reaction just seems to make chenle even more giddy, because he continues;

"you have to listen to me!" chenle persists, and jisung is about to check out of the conversation completely.

"y/n is a photographer for sports journalism, you play soccer, you've known each for what.. ever? he's pretty, you clearly have the hots for him—"

"i do not!" jisung immediately yells in rebuttal, much louder than he wanted to. "yeah he's.. cute but anyone with eyes can see that, i'm not in love with him or anything".

chenle raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but jisung remains stubborn, crossing his arms as he averts his gaze from his best friend.

yes, you are cute, anybody with two functioning eyes can see that.

"i think park jisung might have a crush on you".

at the words, you look up from your camera, meeting eyes with your close friend, sungchan. you blink, as if dumbfounded, then snicker. "park jisung? are you trying to boost my ego or something?"

you know park jisung, you know about how probably half the students in this room dream of having a chance with him. so many people like park jisung, so many people want park jisung.

and if you think about it, you can't exactly blame them for that..

"don't laugh! i'm serious! he looked like he was about to devour you, did you see his eyes!?"

the words just get another laugh out of you, the words seem ridiculous in your eyes, because why would park jisung, beautiful, talented, striking park jisung have a crush on you? in your eyes, your pretty much nothing to him.

"okay.. why would park jisung ever be interested in me?" you ask, rearranging your camera as you raise an eyebrow at sungchan, who simply deadpans at you, that familiar 'are you serious?' look in his eyes.

"okay let me see, your smart, pretty, everyone likes you at this point, also— the two of you are pretty much perfect for each other! you'd be a power couple!"

you furrow your eyebrows, a power couple? you'd never heard that phrase used to talk about somebody your friends had been "shipping" you with, your not even sure if you can even consider yourself friends with jisung, because the two of you can never actually talk to each other without someone coming up and interrupting the interaction.

you'd love to just be able to talk to park jisung, just the two of you, one on one.

"power couple? that's funny.."

"you think everything is funny" ironically, you laugh at your friends words. "this could be like— your only chance at having an actual romantic connection with someone".

"i don't care that much about romance, chan" you muse, humming as you turn off your camera. your eyes wander over to jisung, who is very much distracted by something stupid chenle is saying, he's laughing about something, laughing hard too.

there is no reason for him to look so pretty as he laughs like a maniac..

he's cute, you say in your mind, he is absolutely adorable.

"WHAT DID YOU GUYS GET ON THAT STATISTICS TEST FOR SONG?" a boy from the same year and member of the soccer team along with jisung inquired. they sat on the bleachers in front of field, watching as the baton club practices. they have to practice this week, unfortunately, so jisung's schedule had become tight and packed, he barely had any free time these days, it was all exams, college tours, last minute extracurriculars, and practice, practice, practice. "i got a b plus" one of his classmates responds, the other responded; "i got a b on mine". jisung was very far removed from the current conversation, his eyes on a familiar trio of sports journalists on the other side of the field, a trio which included you, mesmerizing you. he sees you often these days, with that same dslr camera around your neck, a pretty smile stuck on your face.

"you, jisung! what score did you get?" one of his classmates asks, but jisung was occupied, so he didn't answer. a tap on his shoulder makes jisung snap out of his staring fit, and he blinks a few times, assessing where he is. "what?"

"we were asking about the marks on the recent statistics test!"

"ah" jisung presses his lips together. "i got an a plus" he says the words casually, but it causes for a cheer to be sounded by his fellow classmates, who shook him and slapped his back supportively.

"you're so smart jisungie!"

the praise from his classmates get a smile out of jisung, but he isn't focusing on that, his attention is on you. even with how your across the field, he can clearly see all of your features, the sun shining on your face makes you look majestic, like an actual angel, jisung isn't sure why he's even focusing so much on your face, but he can't focus on anything else, because his eyes just naturally always wander over to you.

"will this ever finish?" you inquire, pertaining to the baton club, who were still on the field even after they were supposed to get off. "i'm supposed to take photos of the soccer players for my editorials.." you mutter, it'd be horrible if you couldn't even deliver on the promise you made to your superiors.

"they're probably going to split the field" your fellow sports journalist, taehyun says. a small groan escapes your lips, you're annoyed, you hope this doesn't interfere with the photos you have to take, it'd be horrible if you just ended up doing the same thing all over again. "see? baton club is taking one side and the soccer team takes the main area because they need to start practicing now".

"they look so cute! i've always wanted to be apart of the soccer team!" lee sohee exclaims, and you turn towards him, a look of interest on your face. he attentively watches the boys, humming to the song that's playing. "why didn't you join them then?" you inquire, interest peaked.

sohee smiles at you, readjusting his camera and fixing his posture. "i enjoyed writing the editorial articles more" he shrugs. "wanted to try out but i missed the tryouts because eunseok hyung would have killed me if i missed anton's recital" at the words, you laugh, used to the behavior from the older boy.

"maybe next year".

"you'd fit in perfectly!" taehyun muses, and sohee brightens up, seemingly loving the words.

"really!? that's what seunghan tells me too!" he cheers at the words, looking proud of himself. "i'd look cute in that uniform though.."

you chuckle at sohee's word, finding him to be absolutely adorable. "yeah, you definitely would" you ruffle his hair, smiling at the giggle which sounds from the boy.

"i'm gonna go get a closer look at them" you say, motioning towards the soccer team. taehyun nods and watches as you get closer to the field, not super close, but close enough that your camera can capture a good view of the soccer team. you narrow your eyes, pointing your camera at the busy boys who are doing their usual routine, the viewfinder shows jisung in all his glory.

you take pictures, zooming in and out. you don't mean to put all the focus on jisung, he's just too alluring to not be the center of attention. he's such a natural, he's just so amazing, you can't not focus on him.

[click.]

and another shot, another one as jisung scores the goal. jisung's posture was perfect, his back straight, chin high as he wore an angelic smile. jisung hears the clicking of the camera, and looks to his left to see you, in the viewfinder you see jisung looking in your direction, you pause for a moment and notice a baton heading straight towards him.

"jisung watch out!" you yell, at the words, he tilts his head.

you quickly take the strap of the camera off your neck, throwing it until it landed right beside your fellow journalists, who looked as confused as jisung did. you ran as fast as you could, grabbing jisung's wrist and pulling him close to you.

the baton managed to hit the ground instead, and jisung shrieks as he loses his balance, toppling forward. he quickly grabs onto the closest thing to him.

you.

you lowered your arms to catch jisung, and you feel him hold onto the sleeves of your blazer, one of your arms on his stomach, the other on his waist. all his weight was in your arms, causing for you to lose balance too.

"shit—" you swear, falling onto your back. jisung fell on top of you, the grass tickling his skin. your back immediately hits the grass, and your head hits the ground softly, but your arms remain around jisung. jisung's hands were still on your arms, his upper body laid on top of yours, his head was buried into your shoulder, and he was sat in between your legs.

jisung takes a sharp breath, a look of worry quickly flashes in his eyes as he sees you. "holy shit y/n are you okay!?" jisung asks, pulling away from your prior position and you sit up, opening your eyes to meet his worried ones. jisung kneels, leaning closer to you as he cups your cheeks with his hands. "did you get hurt? is your head okay!?" he asks, or yells, turning your head to inspect for any signs of wounds. you just stare at him, his bangs that messily lay against his forehead, his eyes that glimmered under the sunlight, and his pink lips that you totally just want to lean over and touch with your own.

"yeah.." you whisper, your cheeks squished from the force of jisung's hands.

jisung stops turning your head and sighs. "are you sure?" he asks, still holding your face. you nod, placing one of your hands on jisung's, his are soft, yours are rough, you note. you move his hand and smile. "i'm alright don't worry" you respond, still holding jisung's hand. jisung pursues his lips, and he extends his hand out, pulling you up from the ground. you let go of his hand, dusting off your pants.

"jesus y/n" taehyun's voice sounds from behind you, and you finally glance away from jisung, eyes focused on your friend. "are you okay? your not injured are you?"

"i'm fine.." you mumble again, blinking as taehyun suddenly hands you your camera. ah, he'd picked it up for you. you take it, inspecting it to make sure it's not broken.

"is the camera okay?" jisung inquires, looking over your shoulder to stare at it.

luckily, it wasn't damaged because it had fallen on the soft grass. "it's still working" you respond, and the two boys beside you let out a sigh of relief, with taehyun placing a hand on his chest.

"jisung! come back here!" his coach quickly yells, jisung looks to you, then back to his teammates. "thanks, i owe you" he says before running back towards his group, fetching the soccer ball he'd left on the ground prior.

"wow your like a hero!" sohee exclaims, shaking your shoulder with a smile. you just let out a nervous laugh, scratching your arm. you give one last glance at jisung before you feel your face heat up excessively, so you quickly turn away, putting your camera back around your neck.

"we should go back in now" you say, you don't say any more words as you quickly make your way towards the doors. your friends blink, exchanging glances in confusion, but they quickly follow you back inside.

"y/n! wait up!"

jisung watches you three leave, feeling his heart racing against his chest.

what the hell just happened? he asks himself.

"jisung are you okay!?" a very familiar voice shrieks. jisung turns to meet his fellow teammate jooyeon, looking concerned as ever.

"i'm alright, thanks for asking" he answers, gaze lowering down to his nails, which he quickly starts picking.

"are you sure? you looked like you hit your head pretty hard" the younger boy, as always, just wants to make sure jisung isn't lying, he's genuine like that. he pokes jisung's forehead, as if he was inspecting him.

"seriously, i'm fine" jisung lowers his hand, giving him his default 'i'm okay' smile. "y/n cushioned the blow anyway.."

"you were so close to him!" jisung startles as keum donghyun comes out of nowhere. "how did it feel? was it like a dream come true?"

"i—" jisung is speechless, he closes his mouth and blinks a good seven times before even actually assessing the question.

how did it feel?

jisung doesn't know how to express it. he didn't want to think about it in that way because you'd just done such a good deed, you saved him from flying metal going straight towards his head, he shouldn't have been thinking about the lack of distance between you two, he shouldn't have been staring at your lips, and he shouldn't have been thinking about kissing you.

his face must be so unbearably red right now.

"don't ask that! it was just very abrupt.. also, i can't think of him like that! he saved me from a flying baton, i'm just grateful for him".

jooyeon hums in agreement, slapping donghyun's shoulder for him ever asking such a thing. "that's right, you should probably get him a token of appreciation or something".

jisung blinks, trying to imagine what he should ever gift you. he truly has no idea, he's not sure if he should go over and beyond, or just give you a little gift as to not intimidate you. "i can't really think of anything, i don't want to overwhelm him or something, he just wanted to do a nice thing.."

"i'm sure he'll be appreciative of anything!"

at the words, jisung just sighs, smiling.

what a hero, l/n y/n— you really are something, he thinks.

"yeah— i'll think about it".

"good! back to practice now!"

jisung doesn't think he will ever fully be able to focus on practice, though.

"YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN RAN OVER BY A TRAIN" the words from the older boy, yang jeongin, snap you out of your polaroid staring daze. you flinch just the slightest, eyes peeling away from the scattering pictures which litter your desk. you rub your eyes, clearing your throat as you quickly gather all of the photos on your desk, hoping the eye bags present on your face weren't completely obvious. knowing jeongin though, they were definitely obvious. "thanks for the kind words" you respond sarcastically, a small eye roll accompanying your words. the older boy snickers, situating himself beside you, a teasing smile on his face. he props his legs up, blinking at you. "seriously though, you look like you haven't slept in years, are you alright?"

"i'm as alright as someone looking to pursue journalism can be.." you mutter back, placing the photos which were previously on your desk into your backup, a small sigh escapes your lips. "all of my applications are still pending.."

"seriously? i assume you would've been accepted into any of those schools by now!"

"you know how it all goes, they get hundreds— heck, thousands of applications every day, i just have to be patient".

jeongin raises an eyebrow, then just shrugs at you, humming. "there's no need to worry, y/n, you'll get into a good school".

you chuckle at his words, he totally read your mind when it came to that. "i'm not worried about anything" you lie; "i'll be okay, i know".

but do you?

your absolutely tired the whole entire day, you tried your best to focus in your classes, but you couldn't help your head slipping down and the way you almost slipped off to dreamland whilst your teachers were asking you very much audible questions.

"did you sleep last night?" sungchan asks you in the middle of your afternoon break, poking your arm as if to wake up. "you look like a zombie.."

"i slept a few.. hours?" your tone is very much a questioning one, as if you didn't even believe your own words. "i don't know, i was too busy fighting with lin, apparently i'm not good enough at what i do to consider journalism".

paired with the lack of response to your several applications, you weren't having the best week, it was all becoming just a little too much for you.

graduation is just too far away..

"anyway! did you choose the photos you'll put in the editorial yet?"

you think, for a while. you felt as if you had stared at so many polaroids by this point, that they're probably going to start appearing in your dreams, with the lack of sleep, constant flashing of cameras and just news news news, you've really had no time to focus on other things.

"i haven't even found time to think about the editorial" you whine, a weary sigh escaping your lips as you think about how pissed off your higher up is gonna be if you almost miss the deadline once again. "is the deadline coming up?"

"well— is four days a close deadline for you?"

you gasp, loudly, almost throwing your camera across the hallway. "four days!? four days until the deadline seriously!?"

you usually aren't like this. you are usually very calm, cool, and collected, but your week has been just the definition of a shit storm, and everything just seems getting worse and worse.

"hey, it's okay!" sungchan immediately replies, hoping to reassure you. he places a hand on your shoulder, a smile coming to his face. "it's not like this is anything new, it'll all be fine, you only have to choose two pictures anyway".

you sigh, rubbing your temples. "yeah" you breath. "it'll be fine, fine" you repeat, nodding your head as you relax yourself.

the hallway is crowded, not crowded crowded, but crowded enough that you couldn't help but begin counting the heads around you.

your eyes get stuck on a familiar figure across the hall.

park jisung, smiling and laughing with his friends. you get lost in a trance of admiring him, even though you can clearly hear sungchan talking to you. all your attention is immediately on him, and a small smile spreads across your face as you observe him, being himself.

there is absolutely no reason for him to be so breathtaking while just talking with his friend!

you are so distracted, and you don't mean to get stuck in this little reverie as you stare at the boy that you totally do not have a crush on.

he hasn't really left your mind, instead of just floating around in there like he'd been before that whole prior incident, now he occupies a whole subsection of your mind in recent days. you could be with your other friends, and all of a sudden your mind would wander off to jisung, or you could be in class and he just pops into your head.

you never thought you'd be one to get distracted easily, but you've clearly been proven wrong by just the alluring aura of park jisung.

you startle when jisung turns your way, making eye contact with you. he smiles upon noticing you, his eyes practically lighting up, and he waves at you. your a little taken aback, but jisung doesn't wait to see you wave back, just turning back towards his friend and continuing his previous conversation.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

you quickly look over at sungchan, who had just witnessed that whole entire scene. he looks at you like you just grew a second head, and your face begins to burn as the realization dawns on you.

"you and park jisung!?"

your quick to try and sputter out a response, but you shake your head, face excessively heating up, it's probably red at this very moment. "there is nothing going on between us!"

"that doesn't seem like nothing!"

you realize how guilty you look right now. with your red face and constant insistence that there is absolutely nothing going on, those are traits the guiltiest of people display, and it all just makes you look even more guilty with how your face gets even more red.

(you must look like you're dying right now).

"it's just a friendly exchange!"

"not while your looking at him with hearts in your eyes!"

he was completely calling you out, and he was right. you were staring at jisung like he was an angel that had graced your presence, you stare at him like he's a saint and everyone else doesn't matter, as if he's the only person in the room. "i— i wasn't! i was just zoned out and he just waved at me to say hi!"

sungchan narrows his eyes suspiciously at you, totally not buying it. "uh huh, sure" his voice conveys disbelief. "just know, i'm onto you y/n".

you nudge him in the shoulder, seriously wanting to change the topic. "yeah yeah whatever" you cross your arms as you mutter the words, you're sure if you take one more glance at jisung, you won't be able to look away, so you just clear your throat and walk the other way, face still red as sungchan teases you the whole entire time.

maybe if you glanced back, you'd see jisung watching as you left..

JISUNG WAS REALLY HOPING HE'D BE ABLE TO catch you before school dismissed. you two haven't genuinely had an actual talk since you saved him from the flying baton heading straight towards his head. all you two have done is give smiles, waves, and mutter small greetings to each other in the hallway. he had to admit, it upset him in just the slightest, because he really did want to just have a conversation with you (of course, he isn't exactly sure he'd be able to get through a conversation with you without blushing like a madman anyway), but your schedules just kept conflicting, so even catching a glimpse of you around the campus has become difficult for him to do.

he doesn't want to waste any opportunity he has in his hands—

"y/n!"

when jisung sees you across the hall, he realizes that he shouldn't take this chance for granted. you turn around at the call of your name, smiling as you see the others making his way towards you. jisung runs a hand through his hair, hoping he isn't making anything awkward. "jisung hi, do you need something?"

you smile politely at him, a smile so beautiful it seems like it could get rid of all the problems in the world. jisung loves your smile, he could stare at it for hours, is that creepy? he hopes it's not creepy..

"oh uh—" the words he'd been planning to say somehow get caught in his throat, but he clears his throat and proceeds. "i was wondering if i could walk you home?"

you blink, puzzled by the question. why would he want to walk you home? your mind begins to wander, trying to figure out why he'd want to do such a thing.

can't you just ask y/n? stop being an idiot..

"why?"

you don't mean for your words to come out that way, and you're almost afraid that you made jisung uncomfortable with your tone of voice, but he instead just smiles, squashing any of your bad thoughts. you love jisung's smile, you think it's underrated, so little people talk about it and the fact shocks you, you could probably compliment his smile for hours—

but that sounds just a little creepy.

"i just want to accompany you—" —and this is my only excuse to be around you— "do something nice for you after you did something nice for me".

the words make you pause. he's just.. so thoughtful huh? you've never heard of someone wanting to repay you for being nice, it's actually a little strange if you think about it.

"jisung you don't have to reward me for doing something nice.."

"it'd be great to walk with you, though, you make good company".

that's it? that's really it?

you're not sure why you're surprised about that, maybe it's just the idea that he literally searched for you just to say this, he truly just wants to walk you home, he truly just wants to spend time with you.

he thinks i make good company, just the thought alone is enough to make you giggle in your head. your inner thoughts sound ridiculous, but you can't help them.

"if you don't want me to it's totally oka—"

"no no no" you immediately cut into his sentence, hoping that didn't come off as desperate as it sounded. "i'm glad you offered to walk me home, i'd love to walk with you too".

you unsuccessfully try to mutter those last few words, a sudden shyness taking over you. jisung smiles, glad, no, elated at your agreement. he doesn't know why he's that happy, but he hopes it isn't clear and evident, he'd never live it down.

after bidding a goodbye to your friends, and telling sungchan you'd make sure to choose the photos for your editorials, you dragged jisung out of the school doors, much to your and jisung's surprise, as well as the shock of a few of your classmates, he made sure to eye the both of you suspiciously.

"what interested you in photography?"

a scene like this is something jisung thought he'd never get to, being able to talk to you, one on one. just the two of you sharing a simple conversation is what he's wanted for an uncharted amount of time, even with how straightforward it is, the two of you could never really find time to converse normally.

when jisung asks the question, you almost think you heard him wrong. he genuinely wants to know? in a way, you feel like you've always been just the slightest bit boring, yeah you wanna do journalism and love taking aesthetically pleasing photos but you've never considered what you do to be a talent by any means.

you pick at your fingers, looking down at the ground instead of at jisung. "it's an interest i picked up from my mother, i've always been shocked how she could just do that, you know? i love videography and stuff like that as well, i love how one can capture so much with just a single camera".

your words intrigue jisung, and he listened the whole entire way, not interrupting you once. he found a smile crossing his face at the clear display of passion for your creative work, he loves the way you put it into words. god if he didn't admire you before, he surely did now.

"what about you? you're pretty much good at everything, what drew you to the adrenaline rushing excitement of soccer?"

jisung pauses, allowing himself to let out a small snicker at the question. "i don't really enjoy soccer".

you raise an eyebrow. "oh?"

jisung laughs again, your tone of voice amusing him. "don't say it like that.. it's not that i hate it, i'm just not as into it like everyone expects me to be, i got onto the school team and i've been stuck there ever since" there isn't exactly distaste in jisung's tone, he just states it casually, like how it is. his voice is just simple, mundane, he doesn't dislike soccer, it's just not what he's looking forward to do.

you love his honesty.

"i'm into other things in a much more passionate sense, like dance, soccer is just a hobby" he finally finishes, pulling his sleeves over his arms as he avoids eye contact with you.

"so no professional soccer player park jisung?"

"i think i'll leave it to the other guy to be known for that".

you chuckle at his words, okay, he's funny (you knew that already, you just had to reiterate it in your head). god how can a guy be so perfect? you get why people are so into jisung, he's charming even without trying. you feel like the luckiest guy on earth knowing he asked to walk you home.

"y/n, i'm a very.." jisung pauses, as if trying to articulate the words he was about to say. "i really admire you a lot".

you almost lose it.

park jisung, beautiful, talented, hardworking park jisung admires you? he is an admirer of yours? you don't even know what to say, you try your best to sputter out a response but your brain is practically malfunctioning. your face goes red, and you go silent for a few minutes.

"i don't get it" is what you say, and jisung just cocks his head towards the side, observing you. "what's so admirable about me?"

"do you want a list?"

oh i'd love that. "i don't think you should waste your time".

"i wouldn't be wasting my time" jisung smiles, his gaze focused on you and only you, there's a way he's looking at you that keeps you still, unable to look away from him. "i never get the chance to tell you, i'd love to talk about everything i admire about you".

when did jisung get so bold? he'll never know where this random confidence came from, but he has an opportunity, he can't let it go to waste. he has to bring it up to you.

"what i do is nothing incredible—"

"i would disagree".

you should be angry that jisung interrupted you, but you found yourself smiling at his words. he's so generous, he doesn't have to tell you this, he doesn't have to compliment you like this, but he's doing it on his own accord, he wants to.

"okay then.. is it a good time to tell you that i also feel the same?"

jisung's ears go red, so red that it looks like smoke is gonna start pouring out of them. he is shocked, absolutely speechless. you admire him? does that mean he's gotten it all wrong these past few years? does that mean you return his feelings as well—

wait what?

"oh really?"

the prior confidence jisung had when telling you about his admiration has now all fizzled away, his voice almost cracks as he tries to register your words, and thank god it doesn't.

"it's kind of like what you said, you're amazing, a very admirable person, i know you don't really think of yourself like that but i do, and it's nice to be able to tell you up front".

jisung remains silent, but you don't mind, you just give him a smile and continue walking forward, allowing for him to catch up to you.

"is that actually true?"

"why would i lie to you?" you turn around, your whole body facing him. you begin walking backwards and wait for jisung's reply to your question. "don't give me that look".

jisung frowns, a playful one, he sends you a cute little glare that makes you giggle. he's absolutely adorable, you think in your head, he's the cutest person ever right now.

"you admire me?"

"yep".

"more than i admire you?"

"definitely, and don't even try to argue with me".

jisung opens his mouth to do exactly that, but you stop, turning around as you make it to the front of your house. "okay well, thank you for walking me home, ji".

jisung raises an eyebrow, noting down the nickname in his head. it's a common nickname, but he loves the way it sounds coming from you, he loves that you didn't just drop his full name.

"it's no problem.."

"i—"

you're cut off by the sound of the door opening, and your met with the face of your mother, whose face immediately brightens at the sight of you. you smile at her, and jisung just kinda stands there awkwardly.

"hi honey" she wraps her arms around you, and you let her, leaning your head onto her shoulder. "i thought you were staying late today?"

you shake your head. "not today, it's friday remember?"

"ohhh, yeah".

jisung glances down at the ground, playing with his feet. he doesn't know what to say, he doesn't want to interrupt the conversation you're having with your mother—

but he doesn't have to say anything, because your mother pipes up.

"oh! and who might this be?" she narrows her eyes at jisung, cogs in her brain seem to turn but then she snaps his fingers and gasps, seemingly getting it. "oh my god! park jisung?"

jisung smiles, a little laugh escaping his lips. "that is me".

"holy, you've changed so much? the last time i saw you you were barely up to my knees!"

at the sound of your mothers words, you give jisung a teasing stare, one which he quickly turns away from. "you and y/n are finally friends? i was wondering when it'd happen.."

your face goes bright red at the words, and an awkward chuckle escapes your lips. "seems he was too, he always talked about it—"

"haha! what!? that's hilarious mom!" you quickly cut in, not wanting her to talk about your former ramblings about park jisung, park jisung who was right beside you. "yeah okay, jisung i'll see you monday?"

jisung nods, a little too desperately for his liking, luckily you don't notice. "yeah, monday, have a good weekend, y/n".

you smile, blood rushing through your cheeks. "be safe".

he gives a small wave and turns around, beginning the walk back towards his home.

"he's such a nice kid, you sure you're just friends?"

your jaw pretty much drops, and you give your mother a look you don't think you've ever shared with her before. "yes! just friends!"

"hmm, sure".

"WHO ARE THOSE FOR?" CHENLE asks as he immediately notices the goodies in jisung's hands. he raises an eyebrow suspiciously at his best friend, examining the bouquet of flowers and box jisung held. jisung ignores him for a couple of minutes, placing the box in his locker and closing it behind him. "for someone" he just replies, hoping he could just remain vague instead of telling chenle about his true plans. the older narrows his eyes, clearly curious about this 'someone'. he flicks jisung in the forehead, resulting in a yelp from the other, who glares. "ow! what was that for?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing his forehead, a frown now coming to his face.

"what you're hiding stuff from me now?" chenle rolls his eyes at jisung's frown. "who are those flowers for? you got a boyfriend or something?"

chenle was right in assuming it was a boy that was making him go crazy, but you aren't his boyfriend (not yet at least, he's trying, really). he doesn't want to exactly divulge his plans to his nosy best friend yet, just because he'd go around telling everybody he could about what jisung was doing, he didn't want anything to be spoiled.

"they're for.. y/n".

jisung winces the moment he says those words, because chenle goes absolutely crazy.

"FOR WHO!?"

jisung is quick to slap a hand over chenle's mouth, glaring at him for how loud he said those words. "could you be any more obvious?" he asks, gritting his teeth as he continues to glare at his shorter best friend, whose eyes just widen even more. "yes they're for y/n—"

"what are you two dating now?" chenle doesn't care about anything jisung has to say, he slaps his hand away and stares in interest, wanting to know more.

"no! were not dating! it's just—" jisung pauses, how is he even gonna explain this without looking super guilty? blood rushes through his cheeks as he thinks about it, about how these are your favorite flowers, about how you might react. "i wanted to get him something nice! he did a good thing and.."

and i am just so in love with him, i think i might be going insane.

"i just want to do something nice!"

"okay but are you doing something nice or are you getting ready to ask him out?"

jisung's face goes a dangerously red color, and he immediately shakes his head, denial coursing through his veins. "i'm not going to ask him out, i mean— i get why you think that but it's not what it looks like!"

chenle raises an eyebrow, staring at his totally lovestruck best friend. "it sure does seem to be what it looks like".

"chenle—"

"look, jisung, there's no need to deny that you have such an obvious crush on y/n" chenle states like it's a matter of a fact, because it is, they both know it very well, he's better at assessing jisung's feelings than jisung himself is. "he thinks your cute, you think he's cute, you two just need to ask each other out".

"um.." jisung presses his lips together, the two falling into a weird silence. he clutches the daisies in his hands, thinking about you, but he shuts off his thoughts to respond to chenle's little analysis of him.

"i just don't know where we stand, i mean we're barely even friends".

"you two are pretty much already more than friends considering he can't talk to you without looking like he's about to devour you whole".

jisung's face must be an astonishing shade of red right now. "it's not—! i don't know how to explain it okay!?"

"yeah and how are you gonna explain the flowers?" chenle points at the daisies jisung is practically squeezing to death. "other people are probably gonna get another idea".

"well i'll let them think what they want" jisung responds, his only focus is you, who cares what other people think? your his main priority. "y/n is my main focus, i don't care about what other people are saying".

chenle chuckles at his response, oh park jisung is so down bad, he's so in love with you, a kind of love chenle has never seen him have for another person. yes park jisung, love avoiding extraordinaire, is head over heels in love with a boy, chenle cannot believe it.

"okay jisung, go ahead with your wooing y/n mission or something".

at least chenle is supportive.

jisung has to go through so many interrogations to explain to your fellow photographers why he's giving you flowers, while a few of them just shrug and get it, the rest of them make sure to eye him suspiciously while he goes on with his explanation and bright red ears.

he knows most of them probably won't keep their mouths shut, and jisung knows that you told him he shouldn't get you anything for preventing him from getting any future brain damage, but jisung disagrees, he thinks you deserve gifts.

"who are those for?"

your brain doesn't register the flowers, or the connection that they have with your not-so-secret admirer, you just stare at them puzzled. "they're for you!" sohee yells from somewhere else in the room, focused on another important thing.

your eyebrows furrow, and you blink as you stare at the daisies on the table. daisies are your favorite flowers, but everyone knows that! these could be from anyone! you're no stranger to getting random gifts from people, so these could really be from anyone.

but you only have a certain person in mind..

"from who?" you ask, but you really already know who, considering the knowing look sohee sends to you.

"jisung".

of course, you say in your head, your fingers trace the packaging of the bouquet, admiring the pretty flowers before you (the pretty flowers given to you by a pretty boy), a small smile comes to your face as you think about it. you told jisung not to get you anything, but he obviously wasn't going to listen to you, he's made that very clear.

"did he tell you anything?"

sohee doesn't spare you another glance, but you can just tell he's grinning like a madman with the way he's clearly trying to hold in his laughter. "he just told me to make sure to get them to you, he was very insistent".

the teasing tone of your friends voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, and your barely able to stifle your laugh, not at sohee exactly, but at jisung's actions.

of course he didn't listen when you said for him to not get you anything, he remembered what your favorite flowers are, did he spend his weekend thinking about it? you wonder what kind of florists we must've went to.. your mind races with just jisung thoughts, and you're just so lost in them that you don't realize your zoning out.

oh park jisung, why do you have to be so sweet?

"DID YOU REALLY HAVE TO?" YOU immediately ask the moment you come across park jisung in the hallway. the boy blinks, smiling at the sight of you, his face practically brightens at the sight of you. "what do you mean?" he inquired innocently, a small tilt of his head adding to his question. you send him a glare, not a serious one, but it's still a glare. you can't even believe his audacity, for him to look at you with such beautiful eyes, make your knees feel weak without even having to do anything? park jisung is just such a crazy man, you don't know if you can stare at him any longer, you might end up passing out from heat exhaustion (the heat from your face, of course, something that's become so normal for you when around park jisung).

"don't 'what do you mean?' me, i told you not to get me anything!" you complain, lightly shoving jisung's shoulder. "seriously, i said it was fine.." you mumble those words, but jisung just smiles.

"i wanted to get you something anyway, i needed to show you my appreciation somehow".

but just your admiration is enough appreciation for me, just you being around is enough, just you is enough.

your own thoughts weird you out on occasions.

"i told you not to—"

"but i wanted to, it's fine y/n, seriously, just accept my gesture".

you bite your inner cheek, he just always has to be nice, doesn't he? your cheeks flare up and you swear your face goes a shade of red you've never seen before, how does one boy even affect you like this? you don't think you've ever acted like this around any of your other admirers ever..

"ah" a small smile comes to your face. "thank you" you whisper, you're not sure why you get so shy all of a sudden.

"it's no problem" jisung responds, a smile coming to his face. he closes the door to his locker, and then leans onto it. "walk with me?"

you blink, jisung really likes walking with you, huh? is this gonna become your thing? you wouldn't really mind when you think about it.. you enjoy walking with jisung, you just enjoy any time you can spend with jisung.

"what's with you and asking to walk with me?"

"walking with you is just.. nice".

"do i ease your stresses or something?"

your tone is meant to come off as teasing, and your question is mostly unserious, you don't register how you sound like your flirting with jisung, probably because everything just feels so natural with jisung, you love how you feel around him, it's confusing to explain.

"i guess you could say that" jisung's response snaps you out of your jisung focused thoughts, thoughts which are difficult to not get stuck in considering park jisung is constantly occupying your mind these days. "anyway, can you walk with me?"

you pause, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek. you have class in twenty minutes, and you don't really want to walk back all the way with only five minutes left to make it to class. "i don't know.. chen might kill me".

"please?"

that catches you off guard, you seemingly forget how to think for a second. jisung really wants to walk with you so bad, he's reverting to that easily convincing voice of his? you'd be an idiot to say no, you'd be an idiot to deny anything given to you by park jisung, you sigh in your head.

"okay, fine".

a smile of victory places itself on jisung's face, and he takes your hand, to your own surprise, as the two of you begin making your way down the hall. you wanna bring it up, but you don't want him to let go of you, so you don't. your face goes a bright shade of red, jisung doesn't seem to mind, or maybe he's always wanted to hold your hand, you aren't sure.

you focus way too much on it, on the way it feels, how jisung's soft hands contrast your rough ones, how warm his hands are, you don't want to let go, you don't want him to let go. god, you feel like such a loser, freaking out over a boy holding your hand.

but it's not just a boy, it's park jisung, park jisung makes you feel things you thought you'd never feel before..

"why do you seem so worried?" jisung chuckles, his hand holding yours. he nudges your shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow.

"because, i don't wanna be late".

jisung snickers, not making fun of you, though, he hopes you don't think that. "have you never skipped a class before?"

your eyes widen as large as saucers, model student park jisung has skipped classes? a small chuckle escaped your lips. "no, i could never bring myself to, it always made me feel strange.."

now it's jisung's turn to look surprised, you laugh again, why does he assume you skip classes? or have even attempted to skip? you wonder what goes through his mind. "are you serious? you've never tried to skip before?"

you scoff, pinching his arm. "i tried to once in the sixth grade because of a dare from friends, but i literally couldn't do it, they called me a wimp for the rest of the year".

"aww sad".

"don't give me your fake pity, also— you've skipped class before!?"

jisung chuckles at your surprise, giving a small smile. "it was a few times as a sophomore, some classes are just so boring i can't resist".

"wow, model student park jisung skips his classes? i cannot believe the information that has been bestowed upon me".

the words, paired with your sarcastic tone made jisung let out yet another snicker, he hopes he's not overdoing it in your eyes, you're genuinely just a very funny person. "oh no! don't use this secret to tarnish my pristine reputation!"

"you're such an idiot".

a cute idiot.

"be quiet, you still love me" jisung rebuts, adding a small nudge to your shoulder along with his words.

it's weird to say, but you like this. even with your totally non-romantic feelings for jisung, you find this nice. is this what dating him would be like? you get to hold hands and joke around in the halls without a care in the world? you think you'd enjoy that, you'd enjoy dating park jisung.

wait what?

you snap out of your thoughts when jisung stops, so you stop too. he lets go of your hand, and you resist the urge to frown, because you don't want to come off as desperate. (but you are desperate, you're so desperate, having park jisung hold your hand was so nice, you want him to hold it again).

"this is my stop, thank you for my walking with me".

the words are simple, basic, but you find your face heating up at them anyway. you clear your throat, not wanting to stay silent any longer. "it was no problem, i couldn't disagree anyway".

jisung laughs, he is so pretty, so pretty without even having to do anything significant. "of course you couldn't" he looks down at his feet. "anyway! have a good day y/n, don't be late to your next class!"

you blink as you watch jisung walk into the auditorium for his next class, you watch as he walks away, standing there for what seems like forever. how could a guy, just a guy affect you so much? what is it with park jisung and making you stop in your tracks? he's mesmerizing, just so easily draws you in.

your eyes widen as you realize the time, you're going to be late for your next class, mr. chen is going to kill you!

and as you totally sprint down the hallway to get to your next class, your mind is racing with thoughts of park jisung the entire time.

"AM I NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND?" YOU CAN practically hear the pout in sungchan's voice as he said those words. you place the extra polaroids on your desk, then glance up at your friend, who stares at you with an expression of defeat on his face. you raise an eyebrow, puzzled at what the actual hell he's talking about, he's always just bringing stuff up so randomly, you can't even keep up with what he's referring to now. sungchan just frowns, letting out a groan of frustration as plops down beside you, a small huff adding to his words. you chuckle at the way he decides to present himself, and he groans once again, very frustrated. "where is this coming from?"

"why didn't you tell me about you and jisung".

you pause, an expression of surprise comes to your face, your face which heats up astonishingly quickly. "me and jisung? me and jisung what? we aren't—"

"y/n there's no point in denying it, everyone already knows".

"everyone already knows what?"

"that you and jisung have a thing, it's fine if you don't wanna tell everyone but excluding me? your best friend in the whole entire world from the news?"

"jisung and i aren't dating!" you say immediately, clasping your hands together as you try to calm your rapidly beating heart. why do people even think that? yeah you like park jisung but how did people even reach the conclusion that you were dating? you're not even sure if jisung returns your feelings. "i don't even know where people got that idea.."

"so your constant yearning stares and pitched up giggles are all not apart of that?"

"i don't—" you are definitely showcasing all guilty characteristics, your red face, your shrill voice, and your very obvious lying, sungchan sees right through you, anyone would be able to. "yearning stares are stupid i don't do that!"

"yeah, sure y/n" sungchan sighs, and you groan, screaming into your pillow. "i'm not trying to be mean or anything, but it's disgustingly obvious that you're into jisung, and i mean in a cringy way".

you gasp in offense, turning away from your best friend. you want to remain stubborn, but you can't, of course you can't, how can you even deny your feelings for jisung anymore if other people can now tell that you like him? your face heats up in embarrassment, and you cover your face with your hands. "is it really that obvious?" you mutter, hoping the answer isn't what you think it is.

"yeah, very, i wouldn't even be surprised if the two of you were actually dating and this was a little trick of yours".

sungchan points at you, an accusatory look in his eyes, but he immediately lets it go, because he knows you, and he can tell that you are telling the truth. you don't even have the courage to look at him, still covering your face with your hands. "have you not told jisung how you feel yet?"

your silence tells sungchan everything he needs to know, and the look he gives you is absolutely criminal.

"YOU HAVEN'T!?"

"i haven't found any time too!"

"how much time have you been spending around jisung these days!? you haven't even tried to bring it up to him!"

you let yourself fall to the side, half your body hanging off your bed. "i don't know how to" you whine, mind immediately rushing to thoughts of park jisung, thoughts you probably shouldn't be having. "it's awkward!"

"well i'm sure jisung feels the same with the way he always has to resist the urge to kiss you in the hallway".

"with the way he WHAT!?"

the words are enough to make you rise from your formerly fallen state, a look of astonishment on your face. did jisung really return your feelings? or was sungchan just trying to start something that would end up absolute humiliation?

"y/n, not trying to be rude or anything, but it's so obvious that jisung wants to date you, he doesn't even have to say it for everyone to know!"

you feel like you just discovered the secrets of the universe with those words, park jisung likes you? like likes you likes you? once the realization dawns on you, you gasp loudly.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME!? OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WAS SUCH AN IDIOT UGH!"

sungchan watches you freak out, he truly can't believe that he had to tell you for all of it to finally set in.

it's actually pretty funny, and he snickers as he watches you go absolutely ballistic.

"HAVE YOU SEEN Y/N?" JISUNG ASKS the first recognizable person he sees in the hallway. he hasn't seen any seniors anywhere for a while, but that's because the days keep getting warmer, meaning graduation keeps getting closer, most of the seniors only take two classes and then go on to do their extracurriculars, so they don't really have to spend the whole entire day at school, but it's weird today because he usually always sees you, even when he isn't purposefully looking for you (which has become a common thing for him to do, he's just loves the time he can spend with you). he hopes you aren't absent, because today is friday, and if he doesn't tell you his important news now he's going have to wait an extra two days.

"y/n? uh..." the unfamiliar boy pauses for a moment, as if thinking, and jisung is hoping that it isn't the worst, because he really needs you to be here today. "well i'm not sure where he is actually! probably with his other photographers".

"but he's here right?" jisung doesn't care if he comes off as desperate, his only focus is you, you are his main priority, he doesn't care about the impression he's making on others, he can truly only think about you at the moment.

"yeah! i'm just not sure where exactly!"

"okay thank you!"

the guy gives him a strange look, a mix of teasing and giddy, but jisung walks off too fast to see it, he's set on finding you. he doesn't exactly know where he's supposed to go, he's just hoping to somehow spot you and be able to get you alone.

"what are you rushing for?" chenle comes out of nowhere, noticing jisung's urgency and the way he's clearly focused on something specific strikes him as odd, but he already has an idea of what's making jisung so fidgety. "you're gonna confess your love to y/n or something?"

"yes, actually i am chenle, it'd be great if i could find him, though".

maybe it's jisung's surprising honesty, or the way his main priority is you. chenle finds it amusing how quick the switch flipped, but it's also kind of cute. the usual pessimist, mr 'i don't really care about love' park jisung is down bad for a boy, it's adorable. "have you tried the photography room?"

"where do you think i'm heading?"

chenle chuckles at jisung's attitude, simply smiling and pulling his cheek. "alright then! don't forget to tell me how it goes!"

jisung doesn't spare chenle another glance, just turns back around and focuses on the task at hand, finding you and telling you how he feels.

jisung wonders how you'll react, based on what he's seen, it's not completely guaranteed that you'll reject him, it's probably more likely that you return his feelings rather than don't. does that make him horrible? thinking because you've exhibited the traits of someone who has a crush that you have a crush on him?

maybe you don't like him and he's letting it all get to his head, it all just seems too good to be true.

jisung doesn't even have to go all the way to the photography room, because he bumps right into you whilst on his way there, and a small yelp escapes your lips. "oh my god.. sorry!"

jisung cannot contain his excitement, and his nervousness. there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about, this is y/n. kind, understanding, charming y/n, it's not like he's going to scream at you for telling him you like him. it’ll all be fine.

"it's alright" you whisper, shaking your head for a moment. "i was looking for you" you immediately say, not allowing for jisung to speak before you.

jisung's eyes widen. you were looking for him? it makes his brain go haywire, figurative cogs in his head turning. "that's ironic, i was looking for you too".

jisung swears he can see the red coloring on your cheeks, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"i have to tell you something".

the two of you say that sentence in unison, the same amount of anxiety coursing through your veins, the same red hue on your cheeks, the same look of surprise in your eyes. "you can go first" you whisper, picking at your fingers, you aren't exactly sure if you want to hear what he's about to say.

"are you sure? it seems you have something more important to say.."

"it's fine! really, i can just say it after yo—"

"i'm in love with you".

the words strike you like a punch to the gut, a slap to the face. your stomach drops, your face is burning horribly, and your legs feel like they're about to give in. you cannot believe it, you hope you don't pass out, you hope you don't just die right here, that'd be so embarrassing.

park jisung is in love with you. beautiful, talented, model student park jisung who you've never truly known how you felt about is in love with you. you are so happy, giddy, and it disgusts you, but the disgust is quickly replaced by the feeling of joyousness. park jisung is in love with you, he feels the same way.

"jisung, i'm—"

"it's okay if you don't return my feelings i just wanted to tell you!" is that really what he thinks? that you don't love him back? he must be crazy, you've only ever exhibited reciprocal feelings. "i'll be off now!"

"no! don't go!" you grab jisung's wrist before he can walk away. smart move y/n, you're acting so natural right now. "i just, i return your feelings! i just don't know how to explain it, also my hands are very sweaty right now and i feel gross.."

you let go of jisung's wrist and feel your face get unbearably hotter. it's embarrassing, you feel so embarrassed, but it's park jisung, and jisung just stares at you lovingly. you're so cute, how did it take him this long to tell you how he felt?

"you're so cute".

jisung doesn’t even realize he says the words until you give him that look, and your red face just makes him giggle more. "this isn't— that is not fair! i was supposed to confess first!"

"you're the one who told me to go first!"

"i didn't know you were going to tell me you liked me! i prepared a whole sentence for you and everything!"

you whine, covering your red face with your hands. jisung removes your hands from your face, and a small smile graces his pretty features. he's absolutely gorgeous, he has such a pretty smile, you have the sudden urge to tell him about it. "your smile is beautiful".

now it's jisung's turn to become the red faced lovesick fool. "ah, really?" he responds, voice shaky, hands even more shaky, but they're so soft, your mind always reminds you to note that.

you hum in agreement. "it's very pretty, i can't believe more people don't talk about it".

"well you can talk about it, aren't we technically dating now?"

the question makes you pause. you feel like your about to go insane, you're dating park jisung? park jisung is your boyfriend? this is like a dream come true, a dream you thought would stay a dream and only a dream. "dating? dating! yeah yeah!"

your natural act is not natural at all, you are very nervous, so nervous you feel like your about to collapse onto the floor. "there's no need to be so nervous.."

you groan. "says you!"

"alright y/n" jisung lets go of your hands, much to your dismay, because you frown. he takes note, and reaches over to grab your own once again, intertwining your fingers. "we’re dating, you don't have to go red faced every time i compliment you now".

"but it's you, how do i not?"

jisung sighs, leaning forward and pressing a small peck on your lips. oh he is such a stupid little—

"why would you do that!?"

"i'm sorry!" jisung giggles, he was definitely not sorry. "it was an instinct, i had to!"

"you— ugh!"

park jisung can't just not make you nervous, he's such a crazy man.

one that you love, of course.

"I THINK I LIKE THIS ONE THE MOST.." JISUNG states, admiring the polaroid photos which litter the desk. you hum at his words, rummaging through the box on the counter, you are very much focused on finding that estranged camera taehyun had pointed for you to find. your boyfriend glances up, looking over your shoulder, silently watching as you get frustrated about this stupid camera you couldn't find. "which one?" you inquire, glancing over at him. jisung holds up the polaroid, a picture you'd taken of you and sungchan at the beach when you were nine. a pretty photo, you aren't even sure how you pulled it off. "ah, that is a pretty one" you whisper, and you smile the moment jisung smiles. his smile is so pretty, a cute stretch which is enough to make you smile, even if you feel down.

"what’s with your face?"

"searching for this old camera is pissing me off" you remark, knowing that you have to search for this is just making you even more mad, why do you have to pack the photography room right before graduation? you hate it. "who even left it in here?"

"a former student maybe?"

you close your eyes, sighing. "i need this to be over so much more quickly" you complain, and jisung just laughs at your misery.

"we graduate in a week, y/n, just be patient" the younger pokes your cheek, then he cups your face, trying to make your frown disappear. "an old camera is not the end of the world".

you glance down at jisung's lips, then narrow your eyes. "are you trying to seduce me?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

"no?" jisung responds, adding a small tilt of his head to his words. "do i sound believable?"

"not at all" you say, pushing jisung's hands away and looking back to the box in front of you so you can continue to scour for this camera you have to get for your friend. you continue to search through the box, trying to find this old dslr camera for your friend. "so don't distract me".

"i'm not!" jisung whines, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin onto your shoulder, watching you try to succeed at your mission of finding a camera. "you don't want to give me, your lovely, amazing boyfriend attention?"

you merely roll your eyes at jisung, he's so annoying (in a cute way), you're about to call chenle to drag him away from you, but you also don't want him to let go of you, his arms around your waist make you feel safe, loved, park jisung makes you feel so loved.

"i found it!" you shriek, victory soaring in your voice. "fucking finally".

"okay so can you give me a kiss now?" jisung asks, puckering his lips and leaning closer to you.

he's so desperate, and you are too, it's adorable, park jisung is adorable. "hmm" you pretend to think about it, an inquisitive look making it's way to your face. "nah".

"y/n! that's not fair!" jisung whines, shaking you with his arms that are still around your waist. he frowns, trying to give you his best puppy dog eyes.

you almost give in, but you push him away, taking the camera you'd been searching for. "later, babe".

"you said that this morning!"

you sigh, turning around to stare at the pouting park. the cute pout remains on his face, how can you ever resist him? you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, ruffling his hair. "there, are you happy you big baby?"

"you could do better".

"uh huh, and you could be patient".

jisung frowns once again, but it's not a serious one, just the cute one he likes to do when he pretends to be mad at you. "don't be mad, you know i love you".

jisung does know, he knows that very well. he smiles at you, he's so in love with you, and not even in an embarrassing way, there's nothing embarrassing about this, he feels joyful, a sense of euphoria overtakes him whenever he’s with you.

"i know, i love you too".

and he isn't lying when he says that.

because he truly does.

[aheathen-conceivably]

New Year’s Day 1934 had come and gone. In the desert, it hadn’t seemed that much different than the height of spring or the dawn of fall. The day had been hot while the night was filled with the rage of dusty wind. Only with it had come the news that they would have celebrated with gusto five years prior: Prohibition Ends At Long Last! Instead it was marked in a silent kitchen, the first bottle of legal liquor they could purchase in over a decade sitting precariously between them. No one knew if it was there to enjoy or to numb.

Each one of them clutched their own glass in guilty silence, maybe even imagining the clinking of champagne flutes that could have once accompanied this occasion. Rather than carouse in a frenzy of dance, they studiously avoided each other’s eyes, afraid to break the silence with even a sip. Everyone except Josephine. 

She threw back her drink so that when she spoke her voice was slurred with anger and alcohol, “So you’re telling me you don’t even own the goddamn farm, Gio? The farm you lured us all out to.”

“Of course I own the farm, Josephine. It’s just a loan, it just means…”

“I know how a loan works. Better than you do apparently. It means if you don’t have their money in six months they take the house. It means they own you.” She turned to Antoine and Zelda, pointing her finger and her blame directly at them, “And you two knew? What the fuck have you been doing, lying and playing at being farmers while the roof over our heads slowly falls into someone else’s hands?”

Antoine remained impassive, the anger and guilt swirling in his glass turning him to stone; but Zelda’s eyes watered as she futilely tried to answer. Gio saw her panic and spoke for her, “Its my loan, Jo, and mine alone. I was supposed to have until the end of the year, okay? The bank moved up the terms on me. I mean this can’t be legal — just scooping up someone’s land like this when we had an agreement.”

“Oh the end of the year, was it? Then you could have swept it under the rug so that poor little Josephine never found out, huh? That it? Well you’re an idiot. All of you. Idiots.” She covered her face in her hands, unsure if the burning in her throat was from the whiskey or the sob she had suppressed, “Does it even matter if it’s tomorrow or December? You don’t have the money. Antoine barely earns shit, and your little farming pipe dream does nothing but keep us hand to mouth. Where’s the money going to come from? The same imagination that told you any of this was a good idea in the first place?”

Her insults finally succeeded in burying the sob so deep that she could look back up at Zelda, “I’m right aren’t I? We can’t make shit off this land?” Jo’s eyes dared Zelda to so much as try to challenge her, so all she could do was muster a guilty nod of her head in affirmation.

Jo looked back toward Gio, the anger rising as the words she really wanted to cry out stayed trapped in her throat. You all let me think you were happy. That our life was perfect and I was the problem. You let me sink and disintegrate while you lied to my face! I stayed because I love you, and this is how you repay me!

Instead she sharpened her words and her eyes into razor sharp daggers, “I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m going into town tomorrow. It’s been over a month. The saloons and the bars have to be opening back up. I’ll sling a drink, I’ll do anything. We lose the roof over our heads and it’s right on the route with the rest of the Okies, fighting for scraps and scrounging for gas while Violette starves. Pathetic, Gio. All of you. Idiotic and pathetic..."

Her speech was cut short by the sound of Gio’s chair scraping against the wooden floors, “Enough, Josephine! I told you to leave them out of it!” Then he went quiet, hands gripping the table as her steadfast gaze told him she would never be the first to back down. When he spoke again it was in a low, chilling voice that none of them had ever heard before, "And I won't let you do that. To go down there and sell yourself again."

Antoine and Josephine rose to their feet at the same time; the former’s eyes burned with threats all the while Gio stayed staring at Jo. Within a split second his voice returned to normal, full of remorse and pleading as he ran after her in a rush of apologies and reassurances.

Their footsteps echoed on the hollow porch before they disappeared on the sand below. Zelda’s fingers remained locked on Antoine’s wrist, anchoring him in place until his rage could subside. His mind was vibrating with Gio’s final words; but he looked down to Zelda, internally counting to ten as he let her face replace the images of wrapping his hands around Gio’s neck, making him feel just as trapped and suffocated as his sister did before he let him go, gasping and desperate for air.

By the time the image faded, there was nothing left in the room but silence.

He sank back into his chair, moving it closer to Zelda. The look of guilt still hadn’t left her eyes, and seeing it, Antoine’s anger settled into worry. She didn’t hesitate to speak to him the way she had to Jo, “I should go after her, shouldn’t I? I should have told her. I’m her friend. Her sister…”

As her words dried up his stepped in, “I know, Zelda. I know. But we couldn’t. How could we?” He already knew that she didn't have to answer, because they had tried to absolve their complicity a dozen times. At their most avoidant, they had told each other it wasn’t their lie to tell. But beyond their deepest desire to avoid the conflict at all costs, they both knew that with each lie to Josephine’s face they had made it their betrayal just as much as Giorgio's. Only they were backed into an impossible corner, simply hoping the loan would be paid off and it would never come to this; otherwise, it meant they might lose Josephine or their home, perhaps even both.

Now that it had, all they could do was repeat what they had told themselves and each other for years. “They love each other, you know that. They’ll work it out. They have to.”

Zelda answered with a small nod, still unable to take her eyes off the door left open to the desert beyond. Across its stillness she could swear she heard arguing. She knew that she couldn’t convince Josephine to stay, the same way that she couldn’t have told her and jeopardized her daughter’s home and happiness.

So she let Antoine pull her head down onto his shoulder, gradually coming to the real question boiling under the surface. But where are we going to get the money? Only it was no use voicing it, not when they and Gio had already discussed it a dozen times over. Both of them had looked for work, and however many times Zelda offered to do the same, they all came to the same conclusion: they couldn’t sell what they grew, but at least they could eat it. She was the only one who could really ensure they wouldn’t go hungry, and the one who’s presence at home was actually the most vital of them all.

So all they could do was sit and wait to see if Josephine would stay. Wait and hope.

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 23 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake has found everything he needs in one person. He knows deep inside that nothing is going to change Jessica's love for him, but he's nervous to tell her what's been on his mind. When he opens himself up to her even more, she gives him everything he wants.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, pegging, anal, language, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Epilogue Part Two

Five more months later...

Jessica was just settling down on the couch with a mug of tea when Jake got home from work. "Hey, Baby," he said as he undid the top buttons on his khaki uniform shirt. "How was your day?"

"Not bad," she replied, absolutely loving that her Fridays ended early this term. "I started making a list of what we need to pack for Cabo, and I printed out my final exam sheets. Dinner's in the oven, and I'm about to email Luca back. He asked me if I wanted him to stop by with his skateboard next week. Isn't he adorable?"

Jake smirked as she reached for him. "You made dinner? Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes as she said, "Don't be silly, Smart Boy. I took the pan of lasagna that you left in the refrigerator and put it in the oven."

"Yeah, that makes more sense," he drawled as she looked up at him from the couch. 

"Your uniforms are ruining my life," she whispered as she ran her hands along his thigh and took his zipper pull between her thumb and index finger. "Ever since I actually flew with you in your flight suit, I can't get enough of all of these things. I've been enjoying all the role playing."

Jake pressed his lips together, a thoughtful look on his face. "I noticed you've been having a lot of fun bossing me around lately."

She hummed as she kissed his zipper. "That's an understatement. I loved it when you called me Admiral Reed while you wore your dress blues. Speaking of which... I haven't seen them recently."

"Special occasions, Baby. Can't wear them every day," he told her, and she made a disappointed sound as he took one step away from her.

"Where are you going? I was about to give you a blowjob."

To her knowledge, Jake had never turned her down. Ever. Not once in over ten months with him. She sat still on the couch and watched him rake his fingers a bit nervously through his hair. The more she looked at him, the more she realized he didn't quite seem like himself, and she hopped up from the couch and went to him. 

"You can tell me what's wrong, Jake," she promised softly. "Did I do something?"

"No," he replied with conviction. "You didn't do a damn thing wrong, Baby. I've just had something on my mind."

"Oh." She was trying to think of a single positive thing that would get this reaction out of him, but she could only come up with negatives. Her mind was supplying scenarios that would be enough to break her heart as he studied her with pensive green eyes.

"I really like that," he muttered, gaze falling to the floor. "When you kind of... take control." His face was flushed a pretty shade of pink, and Jessica couldn't stop staring. He was so obviously nervous, and he didn't meet her eyes until she pressed her palm to his warm cheek. "I like it when you do that."

"Okay," she replied with a little nod. "Then I'll do it more often."

He huffed out an exasperated breath and looked up at the ceiling now. "Jessica... I've never asked for anything like this before. And I don't really know how to do it now."

She used both hands to tip his face down again so he was looking at her once more. His pupils were wide, and his lips were set in a firm line, and she had no idea what was running through his mind that was making him react this way. "You can tell me anything, Jake. You can ask for what you want. I do it all the time. I ask you to buy me lingerie and toys, and you always do."

"This is different," came his immediate response. "I don't know if you'll like it. Hell, I don't even know if I'll like it."

She scraped her nails gently along his stubble and tried to imagine what he wanted. She'd give him anything. "Is it something kinky?" she asked, tracing his lip as he nodded. "You're just going to have to tell me then, and I promise I'll at least consider it."

Jake seemed to be gathering his thoughts as her hand drifted down his neck to his shirt where she slowly traced the letters in SERESIN over and over again until he whispered, "Okay. Baby, you know how we bought all those toys from that one website?" When she nodded, he added, "And you know how we kind of skipped the one category?"

She could picture the night they were curled up on the couch with her phone, adding things to the shopping cart with reckless abandon until they'd spent over five hundred dollars. She could also clearly picture the collection of dildos and straps that were available that they didn't touch at all. 

"Oh."

He swallowed hard, his eyes growing wide as he started to pull away from her. "Yeah."

But Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tighter against her body. He was getting a little hard, and then she whispered, "You want me fuck you like that? With a strap-on?"

She really didn't even need the verbal confirmation, not with the way his body reacted and the soft moan that came from the back of his throat. But she kissed him as soon as he said, "Yes."

-------------------------

Jake was waiting for things to shift. He was bracing himself for Jessica to look at him differently or change her mind. There was a difference between wants and needs, and he knew that. He wanted to experiment with her, because he trusted her. She brought out emotions he'd never felt before which opened them up to some exciting exploration in the bedroom. He was nervous to tell her what he wanted, but he did it anyway. 

But what he needed was for Jessica to say yes when he proposed on vacation in Cabo with the three carat diamond ring he bought. He needed her to say she'd spend the rest of her life with him before they went to Texas for Christmas. But if it were possible for someone to fulfill all of his needs and his wants too, it was Jessica. It was always going to be Jessica.

So he was surprised but not unpleasantly so when after dinner, she stretched out on the couch with her head on his thigh and brought the topic back to the items she mentioned earlier. She looked up at him and said, "We should make sure you're happy with what we pick, but there are a lot of options. And I guess if we buy something and you don't like it, we could always try again?"

"I love you," he whispered, now knowing he hadn't done anything to change the way she felt about him. She smiled softly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

"I love you, too," she promised. "And I'm really excited about this."

Jake sighed in relief. "If you don't think it's fun, we definitely don't need to try it a second time." But she was already pointing out a few different dildos that she found on her phone and holding it up for him to see.

"Oh, Jake," she said with a grin that made him pulse with need. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a great time. And this one comes in navy blue... I'm just saying, it would match your uniforms perfectly."

That comment alone left Jake in a state of constant need for the next week while he waited for the goods to arrive. The box was dropped off the following Friday, and Jessica was wearing his robe and smiling like the cat who got the cream when he got home from work. "How was your last day of the semester, Dr. Reed?" he asked softly as she held up the pink box.

"It was good," she replied easily. "And it's about to get even better. We leave for Cabo in the morning, and the new toys are here."

Jake swallowed hard as she handed him the box, and when she untied his robe sash, he was treated to the sight of her in her navy blue lace bra and thong set. "Jessica," he croaked, already turned on and beyond excited. 

"Look in the box," she told him, and he realized she had already cut it open. Everything was the same blue color as her lingerie, and he moaned softly when he ran his hand along the smaller of the two dildos. He didn't know if this would feel good or not, but the idea of his girlfriend wearing it was making him hard. 

He met her eyes as she said, "If it looks good to you, I'll clean everything and get ready while you change into your dress blues."

"My dress blues?" he asked as she took the box from him. 

She bit her lip and moaned. "Do it, Lieutenant Seresin. Put on your dress blues and wait for me in the bedroom."

"Yes, ma'am," he grunted, heading right for the closet without delay. His hands shook slightly as he pulled his uniform from the hanger. He was so excited, he could barely get the tie on himself. He looked at the shoes. Would she want him to wear the shoes? Did he want to skip them and hope for a reprimand? Would she reward him more if he was wearing the full uniform?

He ended up putting them on, and when Jessica walked into the bedroom, he was standing at attention. But his jaw dropped when he saw that she was already wearing the strap-on. No sound came out, but he was gasping for air as she ran her hand up and down the length, casually strolling closer to him. 

"This looks good on you, Lieutenant," she purred, and his cock stirred a little more. "I like it when you're dressed for the occasion."

"What's the occasion, Admiral Reed?"

She took his hand in hers and turned the palm up, and then she squeezed out some lube. Then she guided his hand to the dildo, and he helped her coat it up. "You're the one who told me this uniform is just for special occasions, so I'll make it a very special one for you. I'm going to fuck you in the ass until you come."

Jake gasped, his hand tightening around the length, pulling Jessica closer to him. "Please," he whimpered, and she adjusted his hat on his head with her clean hand. 

"I can't guarantee this will stay on," she mused, grabbing him by the bicep and turning him so he was facing the bed. Her hands came to rest on his hips from behind, and the toy poked him as she said, "And these definitely won't be staying on." 

She reached around and started to undo the front of his pants. This was his Jessica. This was the self assured, beautiful woman of his dreams, and she started jerking him off as his pants fell to the floor. The strap on was rubbing his backside. He could come simply from this.

"Bend over, Lieutenant," she demanded, squeezing his cock with her slick hand before releasing him. He did as he was told, and when his cheek met the bedding, her hands met his ass. "Don't forget, Jake," she said softly. "If you're not enjoying it, the safe word is Sam Adams."

"Thank you, Baby," he whispered, actually feeling a lot more at ease than he imagined. And that's precisely when Jessica's hand landed on his ass with a hard slap. 

"Lieutenant Seresin," she barked out. "Your uniform is sloppy. Your pants are on the floor. I have told you so many times to straighten this out!"

"Yes Admiral Reed, ma'am," he replied, his voice shaking with need as his cock twitched against the bed. "I'll do better next time."

She laughed, and Jake could hear her uncap the bottle of lube just before he felt her squeeze it onto his backside near where she spanked him. "You need to be taught a lesson. Or you'll keep strutting around here like the rules don't apply to you."

"Yes, ma'am," he gasped as her fingers slid through the slick mess before easing from his balls right up to his asshole. He was already bucking back against her fingers as she teased him, and he'd never been more aware of the fact that he'd never had anything inside him before. 

He looked back at her over his shoulder, his blue jacket all bunched up on his body along with his shirt and tie. When she met his eyes, she smirked and said, "Relax, Lieutenant. Be a good boy. It will all be over soon."

The words Sam Adams were right there on his tongue, and he was ready to shout them out, but he found himself relaxing at her touch as she eased her fingertip along while she whispered, "Just be a good boy."

He grunted at the stretch, because it felt incredible. "Admiral Reed," he whined as she inserted her finger deeper. God, he'd wanted this in the worst way, and it felt so fucking good. Her other hand rubbed circles along his lower back, and when he pressed his hips back for more of her finger, she started to withdraw it instead.

"You want more," she whispered, a statement rather than a question. She could tell he did, but he nodded against the bedding and told her yes. Then her finger was back, slipping inside him as he took fistfuls of the blankets. This was different than he usually felt when they were intimate. Not better or worse, but a different kind of pleasurable. She was easily gliding along a spot inside him that left him a little short of breath, groaning her name.

After long enough that his cock was starting to ache for relief, she said, "I think you're ready for the strap, Lieutenant. And I can't wait to give it to you."

He knew she would be gentle amidst the roleplay, and she was. Jake could feel her coating him up with more lube before she leaned down and kissed his back through his uniform. Then she eased the blunt silicone head to his hole and swirled it around while he did his best to try to relax. Jessica's other hand wrapped around to his cock which was devastatingly hard, and she started to slowly jerk him off again while she pushed. 

If the stretch from her finger felt good, the stretch from the strap felt both incredible and also alarming. He was gasping, knuckles white as he clutched the bedding. Jessica pushed deeper and deeper, still stroking her hand along his cock as she filled his ass completely. Her hips were resting against him as he moaned and whined loudly. 

He squeezed his eyes closed, sucking in air as she paused, fully seated. "How does that feel, Lieutenant Seresin?" she asked, voice breathy as she kissed along his back again. 

Jake tried to find the words to describe the juxtaposition of pleasure mixed with slight pain along with the thrumming desire for more. More of Jessica's voice, more movement, and more pressure. "I like it," he managed, and that was all she needed to hear.

Inch by beautiful inch, she withdrew until that blunt tip was the only thing inside him, and Jake moaned loudly as she thrusted into him faster this time while his body grabbed at the length. "Oh god," he whined when he was full again. "Feels amazing."

She slid her slick hand along his cock and whispered, "You're my good boy," while she fucked him. "You're doing great." She rolled her hips, fucking him with rapid, shallow thrusts while he grunted her name and balled the bedding up tighter. She stroked his length slower as her hips went faster, and Jake's hands shook with anticipation. 

"Baby," he moaned as her hips pressed against his ass, holding herself in place as she filled him completely. 

"Admiral Reed," she corrected, letting her hand drift slowly back down his shaft so she was squeezing his balls. She rolled her hips back and snapped them forward in one fluid motion, and Jake buried his face in the bedding as he cried out. 

"Admiral Reed! I'm close! I'm so close!"

Without slowing her tempo, Jessica grabbed him by his hips, and Jake's cock pressed against the bed. She was rubbing him in all the right places, keeping him full with thrust after thrust, and his cock was throbbing in need. 

"Come, Lieutenant. You earned it," she promised, grabbing at his hips and waist and grunting as she finished him off with all of her remaining strength. Just a few more thrusts as she found every spot inside of him that needed relief, and he was coming all over the bed.

"Fuck!" he growled, lifting his upper body slightly to chase that perfect pressure, and he watched his cum shoot across the bedding as Jessica rubbed his electrified skin. Jake collapsed back down onto his own mess, the sticky warmth on his hands and cheek as he whined and whimpered. 

He felt Jessica remove the strap one inch at a time until she was free of his body, and she hugged him from behind, kissing at his shoulder. "I love you, Jake. I love you so much," she crooned breathlessly, and he at least had the wherewithal to realize she might need some relief now as well. But he couldn't stand up yet. Not when she was whispering the sweetest things in his ear while his legs shook.

When he lifted his head, she kissed his cheek while he tried to formulate words. Then she moaned and licked the cum from his face. Nothing had changed. She was still his in the same way she had been, and if anything, he loved her more for what she just did with him. 

"Jessica," he whispered, kissing her lips, finally. She tasted like him. She tasted perfect. Then he stood, and she was smiling up at him, wearing that pretty strap. And Jake knew. He fucking knew damn well that it was time to ask her. 

"Where are you going?" she asked when he reached for his pants, pulling them up high enough so he could walk. 

He rushed out to the kitchen and opened the cabinet that contained all of the spices and seasonings. She was still apprehensive about cooking on her own, and this was the last place she would have looked for anything. He grabbed the small box and popped it open as he ran back into the bedroom as quickly as he could. Jessica had removed the strap and set it on the bed, leaving her in that sinful looking navy blue set. She adjusted her glasses just before her gaze fell to his hand, and then he dropped to his knee in front of her.

"Jake?" she gasped as her eyes went wide.

"Marry me. Please, Baby. Marry me. You're a need. A necessity. But you're also somehow the only thing I want. I was going to propose in Cabo, but I can't even wait until tomorrow. Will you marry me?"

Her pretty face crumpled as she sobbed, but she was nodding and reaching for him. Her voice shook as she smiled through her tears. "Yes. I'll marry you. You're my needs and wants, too."

Jake stood and scooped her up as he laughed. She ended up beneath him on the bed next to his cum, kissing him and running her fingers through his hair while he tried to get her to hold her hand still. "Let me put it on you, Smart Girl," he whispered, unable to stop smiling as he took her left hand and slipped the ring into place. He loved the way it looked. And then, as if the massive diamond didn't matter much to her in comparison to him, she had her hands back in his hair. And he kind of loved that, too.

"I can't wait to tell everyone how we got engaged," she said as she laughed and buried her face against his neck. 

"You can tell them anything you want, Jess. Just make sure you pack that strap for Cabo along with the rest of the toys."

---------------------------

Thank you so much for coming on this little journey with me! It was really fun to fit Jake and Jessica into the Beer Boy and Sugar universe, and I hope you'll stick around to read about Bob and Anna soon, too! IYKYK...if you follow along with Beer Boy and Sugar, you already knew about Jake and Jessica's upcoming nuptials. More surprises are in store in every corner of this universe soon! Big thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @sylviebell for all your help!

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[dreamingumbrellas]

why tua s1 is a masterpiece and 2-4 give me a migraine

i gotta use my english degree for something so lets talk about it

i’d like to note beforehand, that i’ve only seen about half of season 4. but given everything i’ve heard about it, i’ve decided to avoid watching it for my own mental wellbeing. i really haven’t enjoyed the last three seasons much, mostly i’ve been dredging through because of how much i love season 1. it feels painfully like seasons 1 and seasons 2-4 are for completely different fucking shows–particularly in tone.

i think tua season 1 attracted attention to its unique themes that are lost in the rest of the series. the primary themes are of trauma and dysfunctional family dynamics. it’s a story about seven severely abused siblings learning to cope with their trauma and reconnect as adults. season 1’s tone is somber. it shows us glimpses of the characters’ childhoods, and how it affects them in their adult lives. the characters in season 1 were, most importantly, flawed! they were assholes, because trauma turns people into assholes sometimes! 

you can directly trace back the siblings’ character flaws to the shit reggie put them through. Luther was the golden boy, which put too much responsibility on his shoulders and isolated him from his siblings. As a result, Luther is ultra-loyal to his dead father, in obvious denial of the abuse he endured because he was never able to form an identity for himself outside of reggie and the academy! he is the only one that never moved on. and then reggie turned luther into (for lack of a better term) a giant monkey without his consent, causing him to hate himself and even further alienate himself from the rest of the world. 

diego never left the ‘number 2’ headspace. he fights with luther even into adulthood. despite how much he claims to hate his father, he became a vigilante likely as an effort to finally be good enough for his dad. and lets not forget (unlike the writers) about his stutter–something that formed in childhood and came back as an adult when he was triggered with memories of his childhood. he’s inherently defensive because reginald pit the siblings against one another constantly.

allison is a narcissist–though, when we meet her in season 1, she’s more of a narcissist in recovery. she’s recognized how her childhood affected her and wants to become a better person to make up for the mistakes of her past. what mistakes again? well, she used her powers on her daughter because 1. she was never told no. reggie encouraged the usage of her powers, and the household where she grew up was violent, manipulative, and competitive. she had no sense of real normalcy, so she never learned how to build a happy, healthy family for her daughter. to cope with her trauma, she clung to her fame–this is shown both in adulthood and childhood flashbacks–leading her to become a movie star, and not accept her own faults.

klaus, well, klaus is the most obvious example of trauma. mostly due to reggie forcing his powers on him when he was a young childhood. locking him in a mausoleum for hours on end. he became a drug addict as a result. living on the streets, in and out of rehab, and stealing for money. we see him struggle constantly throughout season 1–through his interactions with ghosts (when its very possible he wouldn’t have developed such a fear of them if it weren’t for reggie), with flashbacks to his childhood and (later) to the vietnam war. his inability to take things seriously and his self-destructive behavior are both coping mechanisms. his siblings don’t trust him because of his lying and kleptomaniac tendencies.

five is a character whose development is utterly abandoned after season 1. he was only thirteen years old when he accidentally travelled in time to the apocalypse, where he remained for 45 years. i remind you of this because the writers won’t. he survived those years for his family! because he felt immeasurable guilt for leaving them! he was so lonely for these years that he developed a romantic attachment to a mannequin (something only referenced for a joke in later seasons). he was in an extremely vulnerable position when he was recruited by the handler (a character who was very creepy in her own right) and he was forced to use his childhood ‘superhero’ skillset to essentially become an assassin, a job he loathed himself for. all so he could have a chance to save his family. five is cocky, sarcastic, and yes, wants to save the world, but we forget that he wanted to save his family first. he was willing to sacrifice the world if it meant saving his siblings. and even once he returns to the present, he experiences ptsd flashbacks to his time in the apocalypse. five is severely traumatized and stuck between childhood and adulthood, has lived for far too long and has done too many terrible things to be a child, but is stuck in a childs body and never got the chance to emotionally mature past the age of 13. this in no way resembles the five we get in later seasons.

in season 1, ben is a tragedy. he is the character that haunts the narrative (literally). his death was the reason the family split up. he experienced an incredibly traumatic childhood, forced to slaughter people against his will. all so that he could die tragically young (we’ll get into his cause of death later). he’s stuck following klaus around for years, unable to interact with anyone else. he watched his brother deteriorate in front of him with no way to help. he’s angry about his death and sometimes takes out his frustrations on klaus. but at the same time, he was ‘the kindest’ of all the siblings. he cares deeply about his family, but can’t do anything about it.

i think it’s easy to forget that the initial focus of the show was viktor. viktor, who was told how unremarkable he was again and again. who was isolated not just from the world but from his own family as well. who was drugged up from an incredibly young age and forced to ignore his emotions. yes, the umbrella academy was abusive. but being isolated from his siblings was just another form of abuse. he grew up to resent his family on a lot of levels, writing his book as a method to vent his frustrations but only ended up in driving his siblings further away. viktor went through a lot of shit in season 1, and resulted in him ending the world. but did his family kill him? no. because that was the point of the entire show. that despite their trauma and how much they might resent one another, the siblings still loved each other more than the rest of the world put together. 

everything ive outlined are the elements that make up season 1, and are almost entirely forgotten about later. but by losing the integrity of the characters, they lost the narrative. the point of the umbrella academy was never saving the world–it was about a broken family reconciling with one another despite everything. these points of trauma are taken seriously. it was the complexity of these characters, at least in my opinion, that attracted attention towards them. and sure, we didn’t love every character all the time. remember how much luther was hated in season 1? but it’s because he was realistic. these characters, and the shit they went through, weren’t a joke. and the season ended off in a way that forshadowed these elements being explored more in depth. remember how it ended?

with the seven siblings holding hands as the world exploded around them. and for only a few seconds, we saw them transform back into their child selves.

now, this plot point (whatever it might have been) was instantly cancelled and forgotten about in season 2. but it really makes you think about the season we could have gotten: the characters being forced back into their childhood, having to confront the root of their trauma and essentially, all their problems. they could look back at what happened to them with a mature perspective and worked through it, realizing that they were not each other’s enemies. they could have made up for lost time, helped eachother heal, and ultimately prevent the apocalpyse by being family. you know, something that would have actually wrapped up the narrative nicely.

so, what happened?

the shows original themes of trauma, and repentance, and family were abandoned in favor of humor and spectacle. it seems like the creators misinterpreted what made the first season so successful. sure, the first season had a lot of funny moments and great fight scenes. but it was the emotional depth and complexity that made the show what it was. but worse than that, it continued to spit in the faces of the characters trauma, downplaying it in almost every way possible.

klaus’ relapses were played for comedy. his fear of ghosts was drastically downplayed with the use of cartoonish ghost-buster ass looking ghosts. five’s ptsd was never acknowledged again; his coping mechanism, dolores, became a joke. luther lost all character complexity entirely, instead becoming a himbo (who we love, but, still). viktor rarely brought up the feelings from his childhood, and nobody acknowledged his tell-all book again.

one of the things that infuriated me the most was the incorporation of reginald in later seasons. lets remind ourselves of some things: he purchased seven children, treated them like objects without names, trained them tirelessly and deprived them of a childhood, traumatized them by turning them into murderers, pitted them against one another, and literally tortured them. and that’s only the things we see him do on screen. you cannot convince me for a second that any of the siblings would ever be able to be the same room as that man without having serious flashbacks. I don’t believe for one second that they’d work with him, trust him, or empathize with him in any capacity (except maybe luther) except they do, consistently. even five, who is easily the smartest member of the academy, and extremely protective of his siblings.

and- LEST WE FUCKING DISREGARD- reginald MURDERED ben.

the moment that happened on screen felt like the last shovel of dirt on tua 1’s grave. supposedly all the siblings REMEMBERED this incident in seasons 1-3. and yet they went to their fathers funeral, spoke to him (relatively) civilly, and teamed up with him after seeing for themselves their father shoot their brother in the back of the head for seemingly no reason. not only did they apparently not hold this against their father, but they never mentioned it once in three seasons.

and yes, i know, there is a very simple reason for this. it was obviously made up at the last moment for plot convenience. but the implications for this being retconned in are damning for the characters. by writing this in, the writers decided that the siblings commitment to one another is meaningless. that the foundations upon which this show was created, are fucking meaningless. they threw away not only the individual complexity of each character, but also their relationship as a family.

[toxicanonymity]

Hi fren.

I looooove your writing. It’s like the perfect blend of horny, horror, and hilarity. It really speaks to my debauched soul.

I had a thot. How do you think RaiderJoel would react if Sweet Pea mustered up the courage to nibble (ok, bite) him? You know how in the first ep of TLOU when Joel gets the call from Tommy that he’s in jail? And Joel leans back on the couch and rubs his eyes in frustration? There’s a shot of his tricep that looks so tender and I just wanna chomp it.

Let’s say he’s got Sweet Pea caged in and she just turns and grazes her teeth on his arm. Would he be mad? Or would he just completely lose his shit and immediately cum like a volcano?

Anyway. Thank you for your brain!

xoxo

biting raider joel's arm.

700 words, raider!joel x f!reader | raider master A/N: Thank you for your kind words anon. xoxo WARNINGS: I8+ Biting, non-penetrative somnophilia, dubcon (long term stockholm syndrome) p in v, manual restraint,  a little rough, premature ejaculation, f masturbation using Joel’s big meaty thigh, unedited. 

In your sleep, you turn over to face him. He reflexively cages you in with an arm and leg over you. In the early morning, you wake up first and lie there enjoying the closeness. His arm twitches, then he adjusts his position. His scent wafts from his exposed armpit and it stirs something in your belly.  Your hips press forward on their own and his arousal twitches against you, leaving a drop of wetness that makes you salivate. You've got to do something with your mouth.

His breath stutters and both arms tense for a split-second.  They're so strong and thick. The bicep over your cheek flexes. You open your mouth, turn your head toward his arm, and let your teeth graze his skin. You lightly press your lips into his skin, mouth still open. Then you can't help but gently bite down. You’ve barely pressed your teeth into him when his arm jerks up and away.  For a moment, his bicep comes down heavily on your throat, making you cough.  You try to turn your head back toward him and whisper, "sorry."

He abruptly rotates toward you, his body pushing yours onto your back. He pins you to the bed with his weight. His arousal is pressing right between your legs. He grabs one wrist, then the other, and pins your hands above your head, held with one hand.  He brings his mouth to your bicep, opens wide, and bites down. He bites harder than you did, but not hard enough to be unpleasant. The ache feels passionate, like he needs you. His tongue grazes your skin then he seals his lips and sucks before releasing your arm. The air cools his spit on your skin. His cock throbs against your thighs and mound. You whimper under his heaving chest.  

"Hmm?" He asks rhetorically before moving his mouth to your neck and repeating the action. The hand above your head grips your wrists harder as he sucks. While he's latched onto your neck, his hips beginning to move, grinding himself against you.  His cock nudges its way between your thighs and slides wetly against your folds.

You tilt your hips for him and catch the head of his cock. He pushes the tip inside, then sheathes himself entirely, like he can’t hold back. He whispers, “fuck,” as he bottoms out. The sudden stretch faintly burns despite your arousal, then your body is quick to catch up. While he's all the way in you, his cock throbs like a warning. He withdraws some, then slams into you again, holding you in place with his hand pinning your wrists.  He grunts under his breath as he pounds you. Your breasts bounce with the impact of each thrust.

It feels like less than a minute before he grunts and mutters, "oh god, fu--ohh," and his cock erupts violently. He sighs and releases burst after burst, truly filling you up, with some of it seeping down his cock as it slowly moves. He stays inside for only a minute and your walls twitch around him, but you don't quite get there. He lets his length slide out before releasing your wrists and settling in stomach-down, half on top of you. His dick rests against your hip, wet with your combined mess.  He drapes his arm over you and nestles a leg between yours. He falls back asleep just as quickly as he came.

You experimentally lift your hips for friction against the heavy thigh between your legs, and he keeps snoring. You squeeze your thighs together and subtly grind yourself on him, then your body jerks and you stifle a moan. You manage to keep mostly still through your waves of pleasure, then fall asleep.

Once the sun has risen, Joel stirs and it wakes you up.  When he rolls off you he sees your arm and finds his body sticking to yours.  He looks confused for a moment. He studies your arm and brushes the bruise with his thumb. It feels like an apology.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him. “Sorry I woke you up.”

His brow furrows and his eyes search your face for something. "Hm," he ponders. "'s'okay, sweet pea."  He leaves it at that. 

-------

Thank you for reading <3 I saved some more meaningful arm love for the real story.

[wiliowisp]

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons | Pt.3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: i promised you nsfw headcanons and they've been eating away at my brain since! as always, characters are aged up 18+, and this is just a little bit of fun!

What Sebastian is like in bed (18+ only):

➻ he is a switch through and through, but naturally bottom-leaning. sebastian enjoys sex in all its forms and will happily go with the flow; his main concern is that his partner is enjoying it, therefore he can fulfil whatever they desire. they like someone who is rough and can take charge? easy. they like someone who begs and whimpers for them? say less.

➻ his true nature unearths itself as he's about to come, though. no matter how the situation has been set up, as he gets closer to finishing he always becomes a brainless, whimpering mess. any kind of act or decorum leaves him and he's just chasing the pleasure.

➻ on that note, sebastian is vocal. he's not afraid to moan, or whine, or grunt, and he's not afraid to be loud. it comes naturally to him, even pleasuring himself, he has to exert effort to be quiet—which is part of the fun, really.

➻ further to this, he loves talking during sex. words of praise especially. if his partner likes degradation he can play the part, but he naturally leans towards mindless horny babble. "you look so good like that—fuck." "cannot believe how well you're taking my cock, just like that—ohfuckohfuckohfuck." "I'm so close, love—ngh—feels so good."

➻ he has this intoxicating quality of acting in disbelief every time he's intimate. it's like he can't quite believe how lucky he's gotten. his expression when looking at his partner is a mixture of a desire-addled haze and awe.

➻ this is where his 'bottom-leaning' side comes in. if he finds a partner that is happy to take charge, sebastian melts. when he doesn't have to think about his own pleasure, when the reins are taken out of his hands, so to speak, he turns into a raw, hot, mess.

➻ he likes having his nipples played with. he likes being called a 'good boy'. he likes being teased and edged until he's begging for it. "please, please, i wanna cum. i've been a good boy, please." he likes being pounded into the mattress until he can't think anymore. he finds it liberating.

➻ however, on the off occasion, sebastian likes doing the same to his partner. forgetting all the pre-tense and pouncing on them like an animal, bending them over and fucking them until they can't think. "merlin, you're taking me so well—just like that—mmh, so perfect."

➻ he's playful in bed too; cracking jokes, making innuendos. flirtatious until the second his partner's hand flies to his cock and every thought exits through his head like an open dam gate.

➻ his libido is also very high. after graduation when he and his partner are away from prying eyes, sex is almost a daily occurrence. from his teen years, sebastian has been one to wake up horny and go to bed horny; god help his lover who is now the subject of all those desires.

➻ all in all, sebastian is very easy with sex. he enjoys it, he finds it liberating, and most of all he loves the connection. he's devoted to his long-term partner and that devotion never strays. he wants only to please them, whatever form that may take.

(now im thinking of fleshing out my ominis headcanons and starting some garreth ones too! stay tuned!)

[pvrkacciosan]

Hearts stops

A/n: I can appreciate this may not be entirely accurate, but if you happen to have any ways in which you think it may be improved to feel free to message me or pop a message into my inbox, Also got this idea from a video I saw on TikTok, my heart goes out to the family who dealt with this situation beautifully

Synopsis: The Daughter of Max and reader suffers from seizures, and one night Max just happens to trust his instinct.

Pairing: Max Verstappen X Fem!Reader + their Daughter

Warnings: details of seizures, swearing, mild panic, poorly explained medical terms

Word Count: 1.8K

The day you had made Max a father, was the happiest he had ever been.

During your pregnancy he had vowed to you, out of fear more then anything, that he was not going to be anything like his own dad. And you had fully believed him,

Everyday with Zoe was a blessing, the little girl, a spitting image of her father, had touch the hearts of millions, and everything had gone amazing. . . until her third birthday.

It had been the night before she was due to turn three, and you had settled her down for the night, and were sitting waiting for Max to return home.

His usual routine of coming in and going straight to his daughters room wasn't broken, so when you heard your front door, and then the noise of your husband moving to your daughters room, you thought nothing of it.

Until you heard Max's panicked cries, yelling for you from down the hall, you had raced in there, to find Max kneeling over her little body which he had moved from her bed to the rug in the middle of her room. Her limbs jerking at an unnatural rate with a vast amount of inhuman like twitching,

Even a year on, that night still played in your mind, forever haunting you both. It hurt you more that you had sat not more then a room away and hadn't known. How long had your poor baby been suffering before Max went in and found her.

The underlining reason for her seizures was yet to be confirmed, a fact which usually frustrates your husband too no end. Since her first one, Max had been amazing at making sure everyone who was a frequent visitor in your house, knew where the medication was, everything down to some of the other drivers having small packets of her meds for when she sometimes came with him to a race weekend.

All his effort was just a reminder of how much he stuck to his vow, and despite everything, Zoe was still the jubilant young girl she had been since day one.

Any day down at the track, with Zoe had been amazing, Today she had particularly enjoyed it, with her uncle 'Lano' sneaking her vast amount of sweet behind Max's back, your husband had pretended not to notice simply because your little girl enjoyed the secret of it all too much.

But no matter how much Max tried to hide it, you could tell something was putting him on edge, you eased into the seat beside him as he watched Zoe playing about with Danny. Her laughter bringing a broad smile, to both you and Max.

You watched your husbands expression drop the more he watched Zoe.

"What's bothering you?" you placed a single hand on his leg to slow it from its erratic bouncing.

He inhaled deeply, not really blinking, Max leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees, he twisted to look at you, before glancing back to Zoe.

"She gonna have another seizure, I can feel it"

Your attention snagged back onto you daughter who began racing away from the other driver who chased her around the small area the staff had cleared for the little Verstappen to run around wild in.

To you, it appeared as though nothing was wrong, she would fumble on her words a little and had at first been a little confused throughout the day.

But to Max he had always been closer to Zoe, perhaps he picked up on something you hadn't quite noticed yet. Max was quick to place a smile on his face as Zoe came running up to you both, Max picked her up and hugged her tightly,

"No, daddy let me go"

He nudged his face into her neck, and began blowing raspberries into her skin, she squealed in laughter, trying to pull away from her father,

"Never" Max continued tickling her sides, it was moments like this that made everything easier. Max's unease however didn't disappear if anything it got more prominent when you all got home. But he hid it well.

Zoe was fine however, and when she finally climbed into bed you tried to coax Max into the living room to relax before you both shut down for the night but he wouldn't even settle then.

He was fidgeting beside you, sitting forward on the couch, his body leaned towards the hallway, listening in for any little sound that could be emitted from her room.

"Max, there is nothing we can do to prevent it," without any reasons for why she had them, the doctors hadn't figured out how to manage the frequency of them, the meds she had was to stop the seizure from progressing so that her brain wasn't deprived of oxygen for too long.

"Y/n .. I just... It doesn't feel right"

You moved closer to him on the couch, rubbing a hand into his shoulder blades, you could tell he was tired, the muscles of his shoulders were tense beneath your palms,

"We still have the monitor set up, How about we head to bed, and we can put the screen on your side?" you offered hoping that might suffice enough for your husband to actually go to bed.

The fear in his eyes when he met your stare, broke something inside you, "Would you like to sleep in her room?"

At the suggestion, Max met your stare, matching it with a small nod.

And that was that. Your bed never felt the same without Max in there with you, but somehow you knew he needed to be with Zoe, although it wasn't as pronounced as what Max was feeling, you could just tell something was going to happen tonight.

So it was of no surprise that sleep did not come easy, with ever movement you jerked awake, you could only imagine what Max must be doing right now,

Doubting sleep was going to be complacent with you, rolling across to the other side of the bed you reached for the monitor which had been sat at your husbands side of the mattress.

Switching it on, you rolled back and placed the small device in view from where you could comfortable snuggle into your pillow,

On the grainy feed on the tiny screen, you could make out the figure of your husband, sat cross legged on the carpet beside Zoe's bed, watching over her.

You couldn't quite be sure for how long he sat there, until he finally lay down on the rug, with nothing but a small Disney princess blankets draped over him, it only covered half his body. But he didn't seem to mind as he watched her from where he lay on the floor.

At some point your body gave into sleep, you hadn't realised this until you were awoken by the sound of Max yelling,

"Y/n I Need her meds!"

It was instinct by this point, ripping the cover off of yourself, you crashed into your door frame on the way out, using the wall to propel yourself toward where you could here the noise, using them to guide you in the dark.

Reaching Zoe's room, you flicked the lights but moved to the draw where all her meds where kept.

"You're okay baby" Max was kneeling beside the bed, talking to Zoe, hand carefully stroking back her hair

"Y/n, come on", your heart was hammering in your chest at his plea

You fumbled with the drawers, "Spray or needle?"

"Needle" Grabbing the small syringe you made sure it was prepped, being careful to not touch it directly,

As he heard you approach, Max shuffled towards the head rest of the small bed, you dropped next to him, he had already managed to pull the leg of her pyjama trousers down to exposed the muscle of her little thigh,

Her fitting wasn't as violent as it usual was, which made giving the emergency meds so much easier,

"You're okay baby" you whispers, pinching the skin of her leg lightly,

When you went to insert the point, you caught Max looking away, focusing on Zoe's face, It was not pleasant, having to do this,

Once it was in, you could relax a little more, the dosage usually worked fairly quickly, and considering this wasn't one of her worst seizures, you could say you got off lucky.

Max also seemed to relax when her erratic movement began to slow, to small twitches.

Sighing you squeezed her knee while resting your forehead to Max's bicep. There was not a chance either of you were going back to sleep after this, with the adrenaline jackhammering through your system,

"How long?" you whispered watching as Zoe's expression began to scrunch,

Max's breathing was barley even as he cast his eyes down quickly to his watch, "Almost a minute."

"Fuck,"

Just as you predicted, neither you nor Max got a wink of sleep that night, you curled into your husbands side, leant into the frame of Zoe's bed, while you both watched her sleep the night away, it gave you a little bit of peace that she appeared as if she was merely sleeping,

But you knew when she awoke, her reaction would be far from it.

The room had began to glow in the rising morning sun, and Max, Noticing his wife's state gave your head a quick kiss before rising up to make a start on some coffee.

Turning you rested your head next to Zoe's watching her little face, it still shocked you how you made and carried this amazing little girl, a copy and paste of her father.

Gently you run the tip of you pinkie down the ridge of her nose, a comfort you have learned she loved from even before her seizures first begun.

You could hear Max clattering about from the kitchen, no doubt feeling the need for sleep after such a long night,

But you couldn't bring yourself to look away from your little girl, how fragile she was, she never deserved this.

You stopped stroking your finger down her nose when she moved slightly, She was usually quite uncoordinated after a seizure so when she tried moving but couldn't get her arm to reach for you like she wanted to, a small cry left her.

"Oh baby.." she rubbed a circle into her back,

"Da-" she sniffled into her bedding, a muscle in her back twitched like she was trying to lift her head to look for her father,

"MAX!"

At you calling his name, you distantly could hear the clatter of a spoon hitting the countertop, his footsteps hurried in your direction.

"It's okay baby" you whispered, gently lifting Zoe up, careful to keep her head and body fully supported. Easing her little frame to rest against yours, you look up to Max when he stopped in the doorway,

"She's awake" you said softly, she most likely would be quite vacant in her presence for a while after, usually you or Max would simple sit with her while waiting for Zoe to 'return'

Your husband took his place beside you on the floor, rubbing at his lower lips quickly he held up an arm to re-tuck you into his side, Where Zoe could then reach you both if she needed to.

His body was warm against your own, allowing you to relax with Zoe nudged securely between you,

"We'll get through this" Max kissed the side of your temple, "We always do"

[oddballwriter]

hello! Could i please request a one shot where Steven and Marc know about Jake's existence and they have been trying to get used to him and get to know him, and during a mission where they need help they found out Jake has been having like a long term relationship with the reader (who is Sekhmet's avatar)

And Steven its totally freaking out but also crushing on her but Marc its like "wtf how long has this been going on?"

Unexpected Addition

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Part Two

Summary: Life with a new addition is a bit tricky, but Steven and Marc are getting the hang of having Jake around. But what they don't expect is that Jake has a bit of a life of his own, including a love. Which sort of adds another addition. 

Warnings: The boys are fighting. Steven being a love sick puppy. Marc is kind of a dick in this not gonna lie. Mentions of some factors of D.I.D. . It's mentioned that Jake told reader about Marc's past, to a degree. There's some arguing about you and Jake being a thing for so long and kind of referenced that you and Jake technically overlap with Marc and Layla by a hair.

This fic is actually more of Steven just having a big stinkin' crush on you and Jake and Marc yelling at each other.  

Author’s Snip: I feel like this is good but not completely on the mark. Anon, if you want to throw me another scenario that's Jake centric with this idea/world then feel free. Just give me a sign.

Notes: I semi-proof read this so if there's weird grammar and shit just ignore it.  

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

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Jake was a surprise. Well, in the logic of common D.I.D. systems not really, but in the sense that neither Steven nor Marc knew he was there. It felt like a bit of a privacy breach to think that Jake's just watched everything go down from the shadows only to leave as soon as he came, and it was a bit unnerving to know that Jake was more off the hinges. But it's not like they could really do anything about him. Jake's a part of the system, whether they like it or not.

Jake honestly wasn't that much of a change up though. He usually did his own things and kept in his lane for the most part. Even if his tactics were more... forceful than Marc and Steven's were. Otherwise Jake would be something of an allusive one. He didn't seem to do much but they had a hunch that there was more than just Jake Lockley, the third alter, cabbie by daylight, and system parachute and low key Khonshu's hitman. And there was.

Because there was you.

Marc and Steven found out about you because they were on a mission that Khonshu demanded that they do. And it turns out Sekhmet had the same idea for you.

It wasn't like the two were in on it and it was a ruse to get you to meet the others. It was genuinely just an "Oops, did know you were gonna get it." sort of thing.

"Jake? Wasn't expecting a surprise team up with you. Usually boyfriends surprise their girlfriends flowers." you laugh under your breath as you try to not catch any unwanted attention. You didn't need anymore than the " Excuse me?" from Marc to know that it wasn't Jake you've bumped into. "I'll explain once we get this done. Just follow my lead for now." you say as you move on with what you were planning on doing.

"Okay... so..." you roll out trying to think of what to say after having just handled the mission, and now sitting at an empty park bench in your regular clothes, "My name is Y/N. What's yours?" you settle on as you lift your hand for a handshake, trying your best to have a non-nervous smile. "How do you know about Jake?" Marc asked, ignoring your polite gesture of formality.

"Marc. That is so rude. She's trying to be nice." Steven scolded from the puddle at his feet.

"Me and Jake are... together." you mumble out. "How?" Marc demanded. He looked so angry and menacing while he interrogated you. You've seen a lot of mean looking guys but when it's the face of someone you recognize as your boyfriend, you felt a bit trapped by the tense energy. You barely squeak out "I met him a while back.".

"Marc, if you just let me explain without making a scene it'll all make sense." you quickly speak out before he almost interrupts you, "How do you know my name. You were acting like you didn't know it a seco-".

Marc violently twitches before the tense scowl on his face disappears and is replaced with a softer worried expression after a second less violent twitch.

He looks at you, he sees that you looks a bit frightened, and then he speaks, with a British accent "I'm sorry about that... that-that wasn't me. I didn't switch us." he says, "Must have been-" he tries to say before you speak. "Steven, right?" you ask in a soft voice. He's caught a bit off guard that you said his name. He points to himself with a "Me?" and nods "Yeah.".

You stare at each other for a bit before you speak up. "Jake hasn't told you about me, I know. He just barely started being known to you guys and he didn't want to rush anything. I understood that and did my best to stay clear so that I wouldn't shock you two but I knew that there would be a fumble at some point." you explain.

Steven listens intently till you're done. It was either that or listening to Marc and Jake yell at each other in the reflection of the puddles.

"I only know about you guys because he wanted me to be ready when the time came for him to think that it was a good time for us to actually meet. I didn't mean to throw any of you through a loop like that. It's just been a while since I've seen him and I got excited." you apologize as you explain more.

"It's okay , love. It's just that we hardly know anything about Jake and finding out something so personal was a bit jarring." Steven says. You feel a little flutter at being called "love" for a second before Steven speaks again. He subconsciously touched your hand. "And I'm sincerely sorry about Marc's behavior. You were being courteous and he was acting like you were a danger when you were making it clear that your and Jake had some type of acquaintance." he apologized.

"It's okay." you comment. "Jake told me that Marc would be a bit... apprehensive about me. That's just how he is." you add.

"And me?" Steven questions with a bit of curiosity to what Jake might have said about him. "He said that if I meet you then you might be a bit flighty. Said that you were easy to spook." you say in a bit of a laugh.

Steven got to see more of you after that. You would spend some time to get to know each other more, which Jake approved of. He thought it was nice to see the two parts of his life that he kept separate finally meet. It was kind of like having cats meet for the first time where you watch them interact and then get comfortable with each other.

Steven, admittedly, and a bit too obviously, took a huge liking towards you. And you the same. You were fascinated with the other. He liked hearing about what you did as the avatar of Sekhmet and what that entailed for you both in mission and personal life. Along with what you just did in your regular civilian life. As for you, you were amazed to see a person who acted, talked, and even moved so differently than the person you usually associated his face and body with.

Unfortunately, you and Marc weren't taking to each other too nicely. Well, you were still perfectly friendly towards him any time you saw him. It was Marc who wasn't very enchanted by you.

Matter of fact, he and Jake were still at it with each other.

"How long has this been a thing?" Marc asked with the same demanding voice he did to you. "Three years." Jake answered in a nonchalant tone. "Three years?!" Marc repeated, unpleasantly surprised by the answer. Jake scoffed "Didn't she say we've known each other for a while?" Jake mentioned.

"So you've just been seeing this random woman for three years behind our back-? Behind Layla's back?" Marc fumbled out with anger. "You," Jake interrupted, "- Sent divorce papers to Layla. Not me." Jake clarified. "Not to mention. She was your wife. You made it very clear to Steven that she was off limits and I already knew that she was off limits. So sorry I went and found my own woman instead of hitting up yours." Jake quipped.

"Yeah and now it seems like Steven likes yours too." Marc said making his own quip.

"Good!" Jake bursted, "At least he's courteous enough to treat her with some respect and get to know her.". Marc would have spoken again but just beat him to it. "You're acting like I was going to hide you from each other forever. I would have had you two meet at some point once you were used to me. You three just met earlier then I would have liked." Jake explained.

"Did she know about Layla?" Marc asked. "Of course I told her about Layla! I was open and honest about my situation and what that would spell out for our relationship." Jake answered with an emphasis on the words open and honest. "How much did you tell her about us?" Marc demanded again before Jake exploded.

"Everything!" Jake barked. "I told her fucking everything I could! I told her about you. About Steven. Layla. Our condition. Everything about us, she knows. I wanted her to be ready for when you cross paths. I told her how to behave and what to watch out for so that she wouldn't startle either of you. And you know what? She did! She was going to explain everything to you if you would just let her fucking speak instead of grill her like that." Jake lectured.

Listening to the two fight was something that Steven would usually ignore. It seemed like arguing while getting to know each other was a thing in the system. Usually Steven would intervene if it was getting too bad or he was brought into it. But neither of those caught his attention because he was busy paying attention to you. Again.

"You look so different." you say almost out of the blue. "Excuse me." Steven spoke. "You look so different from Jake even though it's the same body." you remark.

"You have such different eyes. Yours are all doe eyed and round. Jake has a resting angry face. It's so weird." you smile. "And you smile different too. Jake only smiles a little and with the corner of his mouth, so it looks like a smirk. You smile with your cheeks." you add.

Steven flustered and felt shy under your gaze. The way you were talking didn't speak ill of neither him or Jake. You were speaking in admiration at what made them so different.

"You also don't have the little paperboy hat or gel." you point out as you look at the curls on his head. "Jake usually wears a little bit of gel to slick back some of his hair. I sometimes forget just how curly it is." you say as you gently reach to play with a few little curls. Steven honestly felt like he should be coughing up wings by now with the amount of butterflies he had going in his stomach and chest as you touched him. Even if it was just to admire him for a moment.

He did feel a bit guilty for enjoying your words and affirmation a little too much. He wasn't entirely sure if Jake would act the same as Marc did when he accidentally made contact with Layla. But then again, he hasn't had Jake barging in and being defensive about you. It felt weird to think about it this way but at least Jake was, seemingly, sharing. That or he's too focused on Marc when he's not the one fronting.

Steven did wish that Marc was nicer to you and more open to meeting you. You were very sweet and treated them nicely.

Maybe Marc would get to see you look at him and complement all the details about him like his eyes and his smile. You could get to know him and what he likes and how that contrasts with you. maybe you two could get used to fighting together in the cases that you bump into each other again.

[mountainsandmayhem]

You're a Brat, Little Dove

Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You play with Joel at your 25 year high school reunion to get exactly what you want. CW: Dom!Joel, Sub/Dom, blowjob, throat fucking, gagging, nipple play, Brat!Tamer, unprotected p in v (they’re in a long-term relationship), oral (f and m receiving), anal play very briefly, pet names, cream pie kink, praise kink, degradation if you squint, denial and edging, NO AGE GAP (Joel and reader are in their 40’s)  A/N: I am absolutely BLOWN AWAY by the love that You're Mine and Stay Still have gotten. Truly, from the bottom of my cold, dead heart I really appreciate your likes, comments and reblogs. Hopefully you enjoy this one, as well. Dividers and banners by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 5.6k

Dress. Check. 

Nude heels. Check. 

2 daytime outfits.  Check. 

Drive home clothes. Check. 

Make up bag. Check.

Stop worrying so much. You’re not even leaving the country, you can buy what you forgot.

“You ok?” Joel asks as he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Just the usual pre-travel anxieties.” You say, leaning into his warmth. Your arms unconsciously cross over his, hands resting on his forearms. 

“We’re not leaving the country, you can buy whatever you forgot,” you smile to yourself at how well he knows you as his lips press lightly to your temple. “Remember when I had to go out of town at the last minute before our Disneyland trip and you packed for all of us?”

“Mmhmmm,” you say. The memories come flooding in of those two little girls; one dressed as a princess from head to toe and the other refusing to take off her Darth Vader helmet. The latter was far braver on the “scary rides”, and held her sister's hand until they were both giggling and screaming with delight.

“You didn’t miss a single thing - for any of us. Including the nightlight that Sarah couldn’t be without and the granola bars that Ellie claimed were the only things she could have for breakfast.” 

You turn your head and gently press your lips to his. This is the kind of love that people write about. Supportive. Caring. Complete and unwavering trust. Each person is 100% in for the other, willingly giving when the other needs to take, and never keeping score. You don’t judge the other for any sort of anxiety they might be having or help they might be needing. Partners. Through and through. 

A noise from the kitchen brings you back and you break the kiss. “What is that incessant beeping?” 

“That’s your phone,” he laughs while pulling out of the hug and squeezing your sides. “It’s been going off all morning. Someone is messaging you on Facebook.” 

You squirm free of his wandering hands and go to brush your teeth. When you come back out to the kitchen he’s scrolling through the messages in your phone. 

“Who is it?” You ask, getting your morning coffee ready. 

Joel throws his head back, laughing loudly as he reads in a mocking voice, “Hi. Long time no talk. I saw your name on the guest list for the reunion this weekend. Can’t wait to catch up. Looks like you’re single. At least based on your profile. Glad to see you got rid of that goon you were dating in your 20s.” 

Your profile is blank, a picture of you holding baby Ellie the day you officially adopted her is the only thing on there, and you have maybe 15 friends. Truthfully, you aren’t even sure why you have it, even in the heyday of Facebook, you weren’t exactly a share-everything-about-yourself-on-the-internet type of girl.

“Oh god,” you laugh. “It’s Zack, isn’t it?” 

Joel wipes away a tear from laughing so hard. “Each sentence is its own message, but I’m a goon?” He slides your phone across the counter to you adding, “Can I punch him again when we see him?” 

Years ago, while visiting your parents, Zack got a little too handsy when you ran into each other at a local pool hall. Joel was and very much still is, a ‘touch her and die’ type of lover. 

You both laugh as you kiss him goodbye and head to work.

On your lunch break, you updated your profile picture to you and Joel with the girls at their high school graduation. Hopefully, Zack will get the message. By 5 pm you’re rushing home to get out the door and drive 5 hours to your old hometown. 

The minute you walk into the reunion you see women’s heads turning to look at Joel. You can’t say you blame them, Joel Miller is the dictionary definition of a DILF! And tonight, in perfectly tailored black pants, a crisp black dress shirt and black tie, his slightly outgrown curls pushed back, and grey scruff perfectly trimmed, he looks hot as sin. And then, just to add insult to an already smoldering hot injury, he recently came to terms with needing glasses for driving at night. Those black frames should be illegal. 

Over the last few days you’ve been sending him articles about spanking and on the drive up had an open and honest communication about what you both wanted out of it. Deep down you’re hoping tonight is your night, you’re tempted to just go back to the hotel and let him do whatever he wants. Instead, the two of you hit the bar to get a drink before finding a table to sit at.

“Who is that lady in the gold sequin dress with the black hair, almost directly behind you?” Joel asks awkwardly, sipping his whiskey.

You glance around the room, trying to not make it obvious when you catch the one person you don’t want around Joel staring right at him. 

“Lucy Garfield.” You say flatly. “She’s the one that slept with Zack seconds after I left for university. I thought they were married but she is eye fucking you so hard.”

“Gross,” he laughs, his nose crinkling up in disgust. He’s so endearing when he’s joking around with you, “Don’t say eye fucking.”

You laugh, “It’s what she’s doing Joel. I wonder how long before she’s over here talking to you.”

You start pushing your chair out from the table and he grabs your leg, “Leave me alone and you’re dead to me”

“Joel,” you giggle and try to push the chair more, “I kinda have to pee though.” 

“Babe, I'm serious. She scares me,” he says with a shudder. “I can feel her looking at me.” 

“Oh, she’s doing more than looking…” you tease, sliding your chair back in.

“Don’t say it.”

He squirms as you lean in to his ear and whisper, “Eye fucking.”

“I hate you.” 

After a few hours of catching up with old friends, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and grab another drink for you and Joel. When you come out of the bathroom Lucy is alone at your table with Joel. You can see the discomfort on his face as she shows him something on his phone. You’re not jealous or worried, but when Zack approaches you at the bar you decide to have a little fun.

“So you didn’t break up with him after all?” He’s leaning back cockily on the bar, arms crossed, eyes locked on Lucy. 

“No,” you laugh while ordering drinks; whiskey neat for Joel and a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for you. “I never planned to.” 

“I figured. Lucy seems to take a liking to anyone you set your sights on.”

“You would know best, Zack.” You’re still facing the bar, but you see Zack glance quickly in your direction at the dig. “Any advice for poor Joel over there?”

“Don’t leave the best thing that ever happened to you for a gymnast with...” he stops speaking when he looks back to you, seeing you with one eyebrow raised as you sip your wine. “She and I are getting divorced.” 

“I assumed.”

“Oh?”

And that’s when you hear it. Your song with Joel. 

‘I know what you look like in the morning

Your kisses are soft and warm’

Joel looks around the room for you, when he spots you at the bar a mischievous grin crosses your face and you lean in close to Zack. 

“Dance with me?” You whisper, giving him the puppy eyes he never used to say no to. 

‘I can draw you with my eyes closed 

Seen you with nothing on but the radio’

He places a hand on your lower back and leads you to the dance floor before pulling you in close. Huh, you think to yourself, 25 years later and still got it.

You look away from Joel and give Zack a tight lipped smile as the first verse of the song melts into the chorus. 

‘I know the kind of thing that makes you laugh 

The way you tilt your head for a photograph

What other guy knows you like that’

You fight the urge not to look past Zack’s shoulder and over at Joel as Zack’s voice drones on in the distance, telling you about his divorce. 

‘And I can name the first guy you ever kissed’

You can’t help but sneak a glance at Joel. Zack is the first guy you kissed and Joel knows it.

‘I can name the perfume on your wrist’

Joel crosses his arms, staring at you darkly from across the room. Fuck, you think maybe you bit off more than you can chew.

‘What other guy knows you like that’

Joel stands and strides over to you. 

Yes. Got him. He doesn’t look mad, if anything he’s looking at you with dangerous desire in his eyes. Your heart flutters as heat travels between your thighs.

“Babe, we gotta go.” 

Zack starts to protest but you release yourself from his arms and say with a big smile, “It was lovely catching up. Thank you for the dance.” 

As Joel leads you off the dance floor he growls quietly in your ear, “You’ve been a very bad girl, Little Dove.” 

The car ride back to the hotel is silent. Not a word is uttered between either of you, the second the elevator door closes Joel presses you back against the wall.  Towering over you, one of his hands roughly pulls down the right cup of your dress and bra, he pinches your nipple hard between his thumb and pointer finger. 

You gasp out in pain, but he doesn’t say anything, just glares down at you. As the pain morphs into pleasure you squeeze your thighs together, your panties starting to soak through. He releases you when the elevator stops and turns his back to you, you cover your abused nipple back up before you follow him into your room.

“Clothes off and kneel,” he growls, throwing a pillow haphazardly at your feet.

“Joel-I…” you stutter out. He stalks across the room, only the discarded pillow separating you. 

“I said,” he starts harshly. “Clothes off and kneel, Little Dove.”

You swallow the dry lump in your throat while sliding the zipper down the side of your black dress, letting it fall to the ground. A deep, guttural moan escapes Joel as you kick the dress aside and remove your bra and panties. You’re completely bare for him, nothing but your nude heels left. 

“That’s better. Now kneel.” 

You do as he says, getting into his desired position; hands on your lap and eyes aimed at the floor in front of you. He bends, cupping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You expect to see his eyes dark and lips tight, instead, you’re met with softness, his chocolate brown eyes boring into you.

“Little Dove,” he starts, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I am going to punish you for being a brat tonight. Everything I plan to do is things we’ve talked about.” 

“Like what?” You ask as your mouth goes impossibly dry.

“No, you don’t get answers tonight. You’re in trouble. Do you remember your safe words?”

You nod, “Yes sir.”

The colour coding system is how Joel prefers to do things. Red if you need to end things, yellow if you need a break or to slow down, and green to keep going.

His thumb caresses your cheek, “That’s my girl.” 

Joel stands abruptly and your gaze follows him. When he looks down at you, his features are no longer soft. His eyes are almost black, eyebrows slightly knit together and jaw clenched. He snaps his fingers and points at the ground and you immediately obey, shifting your gaze back to where he prefers it. He walks across the room, uncuffing the sleeves of his black dress shirt and rolling them up his thick forearms. You hear the unmistakable sound of him removing his tie and his glasses being placed on the table.

“You were a brat tonight, Little Dove,” he says darkly. “Remind me, do I like brats?” 

“No, sir.” It comes out in a nervous squeak.

Joel stares at you for a while and it’s nearly impossible to keep your eyes on the ground. If Joel had to classify himself, he’d say he was a pleasure Dom. He’d rather use pleasure until you’d beg him to stop, but pleasure is earned, and you used that song and your ex-boyfriend to get to him tonight. He saunters back over and pets your head, just as you start to close your eyes and lean into his touch he grips your hair hard and pulls until you’re once again looking up at him. A shocked yelp comes out of you as you make eye contact. 

“I think you did this on purpose because you so badly want me to spank you.”

“N-no, sir.” 

“No? I bet if I reached in between your legs and felt your pretty little pussy she’d be soaked for me right now. Am I right?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“Take out my cock, Little Dove.” 

His grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as you reach up with shaky hands to undo his belt and pants. As you slide his dress pants down his thick thighs you can see him already hard under his tight black boxers. As you lower those, his thick cock springs free, brushing against your face.

“Hands on my thighs,” he barks.

You jump slightly at the harsh tone and move your hands to rest along the sides of his thighs. He moves his free hand to one of yours and taps on your hand 3 times. “You do that if you need to stop. Show me.” 

You tap 3 times on his thigh like he showed you. “Too bad you were such a bad girl tonight. I wanted to please you and not punish you.”

He moves his hand to fist his cock a few times. It brushes your lips as he continues to speak. “Who do you belong to, Little Dove?”

“You sir,” you answer firmly but quietly. 

“That’s right. Open.”

You lick your lips and obey his orders. He lines himself up and slides the tip of his cock in your mouth, pumping his shaft slowly with his hand, the other still locked in your hair. 

“Mine,” he says it like he’s claiming you as he works more of himself into your mouth. You’re surprised how he takes his time, inching in a little before pulling back, letting you swirl your tongue around to get him nice and wet. When he’s finally all the way in, pushing against your gag reflex he groans out, “So…completely…mine.”

You look up at him through your lashes and remind yourself to relax your throat and breathe through your nose, moaning around his cock before he pulls it all the way out. Saliva falls from your mouth and he smirks at you cockily while he fucks himself with his palm, the tip of his leaking dick resting on your tongue. The salty taste of his pre cum sends a fresh wave of arousal to the apex of your thighs, you can feel it gathering on your calves that are tucked underneath you. 

Without warning, Joel starts to fuck your throat. He pushes himself all the way in and you gag around him before he pulls out halfway. He continues this punishing rhythm for a while, muttering darkly about how you’re a bad girl and you deserve to be punished.  

You’re taken aback by how much you fucking love it. Watching him tower above you all big and strong but you know he’s falling apart. He’s becoming putty because of you and your mouth. It’s filthy and slightly degrading, but you realize that you’re the one in control here. You could do this forever and make a mental note to find times to act out more often.  Tears start to run down your cheeks as his thrusts turn sloppy. You know he’s close so you hum around his cock.

“Oh fuuuuck, baby.” He pulls himself out and steps back, strings of saliva falling from his cock and landing on your chin. Your hands hit the ground in front of you as you gasp in a full breath for this first time since he started using your mouth.  The heat between your thighs is starting to become unbearable.

“What did you think was going to happen - huh?” he says in a deep and condescending tone. “That I’d spank you and then make you come?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You’re not sorry though, you’d do it again just to feel that gush between your thighs when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Only good girls get spankings. So let me make myself very clear.” You straighten your spine and look up at him as he goes back to petting your hair. 

“You are not allowed to cum.” His voice is deep and scratchy, you’re sure he could make a living by narrating erotica, but that voice is yours.

A small whimper escapes you as he continues. “I’m going to continue to use you how I want. If I think you’ve proven yourself to be my good girl, you’ll get that spanking you want so desperately. Understand?” 

He almost purrs as he says good girl and it turns you feral. “Yes, sir.” 

He reaches a hand to you and helps you stand. He gently wipes the tears from your cheeks before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get on the bed.”

As you walk to the bed you bring one leg up to remove your heels. “Leave them on. Hands and knees, Little Dove.”

Fuck, he knows this is your kryptonite. And fuck, you’re back to thinking that maybe you bit off more than you can handle. Joel is predictable about his Sunday plans during football season and nothing else. 

After stripping off his clothes he comes up behind you, rubs the warm tip of his cock through your slit and he lets out a deep moan. Both of you can hear the wetness as he moves from your clit to your ass. “Mmmm - my bad girl clearly liked having me fuck her throat. You’re soaked for me.”

A firm hand pushes down between your shoulder blades and your upper body hits the mattress. at this new angle, everything is bare to him. 

“Mine,” he says again before placing a few long, slow licks from your clit to your ass, swirling and pressing his tongue in all the right places. “So…completely…mine.” 

His tongue teases your clit as he lightly teases your ass with the pad of his thumb.  The heat begins to spread to your spine, the world falls away and all you’re left with is Joel.  Joel and his wonderful and magic tongue.  Joel and his ability to make you cum.  His voice from earlier rings through your cries of pleasure, ‘you are not allowed to cum.’

“I…n-no…” you stutter, squeezing all your muscles to stop the orgasm that’s fast approaching. “That’s gonna…I’m gonna!” 

“Don’t you dare, Little Dove.” He bites down on your ass cheek and you yelp in pain, but glad for the distraction from how close you were to finishing. 

“Such a bad little girl tonight.” He says into your skin before continuing to tease you with his tongue, swirling your clit, moving to gently flick your ass, then back to your clit. You never know where his tongue might explore next and you find yourself mentally mapping out each aisle of your favorite grocery store with your eyes clamped shut to distract yourself. 

“I wanna be a good girl,” you beg, utterly desperate to follow his rules tonight. “Please stop. I wanna be good, sir.” 

“Poor thing,” he says mockingly, rising and sliding himself inside you so slowly that you feel every inch, vein, and ridge. 

“Fuuuuuuuccccck,” you gasp as he bottoms out. A small, pleading ‘please’ escapes your lips but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. Your body feels like liquid at this point, every muscle relaxed and every bone somehow missing. It’s a complete state of nirvana, if only he’d let you cum.

“Not yet,” he drags out of you and slams back in, a complete juxtaposition to how he first entered you. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “This is my pussy, mine. Say it.”

“Y-yours…” you manage to whine. “oh fuck…yours Joel.”

“That’s right, babygirl.  Mine. So…completely…mine.”

One of your shoes falls to the ground as he continues to slam into you.  You no longer know the difference between right and left, you just know that one shoe is missing. As you reach back to touch him, he pins your hand to your lower back, sliding almost all the way out before slowly pressing his hips flush with your ass. 

“No,” he says sternly. “Only good girls get to touch.” 

You scream out his name, begging him to let you cum. Joel leans forward and pulls you up, still fully inside of you, he holds you still against his warm chest, the combination of your sweat and his sweat feeling sticky along your back.  

“You like when I use you like this, Little Dove?”

“Yessss,” you whine. You force yourself not to roll your hips even though the need to orgasm is almost painful. The word yellow flows through your mind. You could say it. You could say it and get what you want, but you trust Joel. You trust that he has bigger and better plans for you. 

“Say it,” he commands while rolling your earlier pinched nipple between his fingers. 

“Use me, sir….Please. I want to please you.”

“That’s my girl. My perfect little submissive.”

He pushes you back down into the sheets and fucks you harder. The sounds of skin slapping skin and your moans and squeals fill the room. You tense every muscle again to stop the orgasm that’s right on the surface. 

“Where do you want it, Little Dove?”

“Inside me, sir.”

Joel curses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby.” 

“Fill me, sir.”

“Such a filthy little girl. D’you know that?” His voice is strained, you know he’s close and you just have to hold off a little longer. 

“Only for you,” you say through moans and gasps.

That’s what does it and you push him over the edge with your words, the heat of his spend filling you as he lets out a loud moan. “Good fucking girl.”

He moves his hips into you a few more times, filling you so much it starts to leak out. “Fuck, takin’ me so well, soundin’ so goddamn sweet as you beg.” 

He doesn’t stay in long after he cums, which you’re thankful for because you’re sure a faint breeze could make you detonate at this point. He steps back to admire the mess he’s made, using his fingers to push his cum back inside you before sitting next to your knees.

“Get over my knee.” 

You rush on shaky limbs to get over this lap, wiggling your ass in nervous excitement. He uses one hand to pin your wrists behind your back. “Mmm - that’s my good girl.” 

Joel uses his other hand to draw slow circles along your cheeks. His warm and calloused fingers send shivers across your body.  “How many do you think you should get?” 

“10,” you respond sheepishly. 

Joel laughs deeply to himself. “You were a brat. Do you really think 10 is enough?” 

You audibly swallow in response to what you know is a rhetorical question. You didn’t think your pussy could throb any harder, but his voice, his hands, and this position has every nerve in your body aflame. 

“20, and if you behave, I’ll stop at 15.” 

“Please, sir.” The anticipation is killing you.

“Ok. I am going to spank you with my hand 20 times. You are going to count and say ‘I’m sorry’ after each one. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir.”  You try not to whine, but you need to be touched,

“Give me a colour baby”

“Green,” you whisper needily. 

2 sharp and quick slaps hit your ass.

“1 and 2,” you squeal, “I’m sorry” 

Light finger strokes tickle along the back of your thighs and up towards the now stinging skin. Joel’s hand disappears from your body and you tense. 

“Shhh,” his thumb holding your wrist strokes the soft skin. “Take a deep breath, Little Dove.” 

You inhale shakily, as you try to relax on your exhale, his hand comes down again. When the two of you did your research on spanking, all the experts said you’d know the sound of a good spank, and Joel being, well Joel, has taken it to a new level of perfection. His third spank stings, but it’s quickly replaced with a fresh wave of warmth in your core. 

“Three. I’m sorry,” you love how quickly he can turn you into a whining mess.

From that point you’re in a trance. You almost feel like you’re floating outside your body as Joel continues your punishment. You hear your voice counting each strike of his hand.  A rush of adrenaline courses through you after each one and you can feel his spend leaking out and dripping in between your thighs.

“Eight. I’m sorry” 

“Messy messy girl.” He says, swiping a finger up your thigh and through the folds of your swollen pussy, he stays away from your clit but you could scream with how good it feels. “I should make you clean this up.” 

You turn your head, glancing over your shoulder to face him, readying yourself for him to slide his fingers down your throat. Instead, he licks his fingers clean and then lays 3 quick smacks across your ass. 

“Eleven. Oh god,” your body jolts with the first one but by the third you’re rolling your lips into him for friction, you need more. More pain. More of his fingers. More of anything and everything he’s willing to give you. “I’m sorry.”

Joel isn’t surprised to see that you like the pain, but he is surprised by how much he likes seeing you in pain. He was hesitant about this whole thing, worried about hurting you, but you’ve never looked more beautiful. A blush lights your face and neck, a thin sheen of sweat across your body. Your squeals and cries slowly become wanton moans. He knows it hurts you, but he can also see how that pain is temporary followed by a rush of adrenaline and pleasure. 

“Good job, Little Dove,” he rubs the red hand prints gently. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” 

You relax into his lap as his praises wash over you. You feel completely submissive to him and for the first time, you feel what he said earlier. You are his. So completely his. 

“My,” SMACK 

“Perfect,” SMACK

“Little,” SMACK 

“Submissive,” SMACK 

They happen so quickly that all you can do is moan loudly in ecstasy, heat flooding your core to the point that it’s unbearable.  Pressure behind your eyes builds as your neediness grows.  

“Fif-fifteen. I’m sorry, sir.” You’re squirming uncontrollably, tears threaten to spring from your eyes.

“Please - please. It huuuurts.” Joel knows it’s not the spanking that hurts, it’s the animalistic need to cum that’s causing you so much discomfort. 

“There’s my good girl,” he growls, sliding 2 fingers deep inside you. He curls them forward into your tight and messy heat. The squelching of his cum mixed with your arousal fills the room.

“Does this feel good, Little Dove?” 

“Please Joel,” you sob through stuttered breaths, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “P-please - don’t stop.”

“Fuck I love when you say please. Did you know that?  How it makes my cock twitch hearing you whine sweetly, asking so nicely.” 

He slows his fingers, he knows how sensitive you are, he can feel your pussy gripping tightly to his fingers and he wants to bring you pleasure now, not push you into overstimulation. “You took those so beautifully, Little Dove. I’m so proud of you.” 

You cry out a thank you, your orgasm is right there, the heat in your stomach and spine ready to erupt and spread to the rest of your body. As you squirm on his lap you can feel his erection growing beneath you. Joel continues curling his fingers against your most sensitive spot, his other hand letting go of your wrists and moving to soothe the handprints he left. The gentleness of one hand combined with the demanding desire of the other sends your mind swirling. 

“Get up, baby girl.” He slides his fingers out from you and you want to cry out and complain before he adds, “I want you to cum on my cock.” 

Joel steadies you as you stand up in front of him, “Hold on, spin around.” 

You do as he says, albeit slightly confused until he presses his lips to the bright red handprints he’s tattooed across your skin. 

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m His. So completely his. 

You lay back on the bed, Joel crawling between your legs. He’s looking at you the way he used to when you first met, taking in every inch of your skin almost as if to commit it to memory. It’s the complete opposite of how he looked at you while you danced with Zack. His dangerous desire has turned to an overwhelming softness. 

“Lift your hips, baby,” he slides a spare pillow under you. 

His strong hands massage your hips gently as his eyes rake over your red and swollen pussy. “Oh - that looks painful, baby. Do you need me to take care of it?” 

You whine out in frustration, “Please, sir. I need to cum. Please.” 

He lets out a whispered ‘oh god’ at your pleas, hooking one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, the other wrapping around his waist as he lines himself up and then leans down to softly press his lips to yours. He slides inside of you slowly and you’re instantly shaking underneath him. 

“Shhh, you’re ok,” he whispers into your lips before kissing you harder, rocking his hips with perfect precision. “I’m right here. I got you, baby. I got you.”

The soft part of his belly grazes your clit and you cry out into his mouth. “Oh god - I’m gonna cum.” 

“There you go, baby. Cum for me.” 

You fall apart around him, your head falling back in a silent cry to the ceiling. A buzz of electricity shutters through your whole body, your walls clenching around him harder than you thought was possible. 

“That’s it,” he says into your neck as he licks and kisses. “Let go for me.” 

His words spread more tingles along your skin, you tangle your hands in his curls and pull his face to yours. Kissing him deeply as you start to come down. He stills inside you as he comes again, sending you into a wave of aftershocks. You swallow his moans in your kisses, you never want this to end.

“Stay here honey,” Joel says, getting up to walk with wobbly legs to the bathroom. He comes back with a warm cloth and carefully wipes you clean. Your body jolts and you cry out when he gets near your clit, he whispers apologies while drying you with a towel.

You start to get up. “Are you ok?” he questions. 

“I have to pee,” you laugh. As you wash your hands you take in your reflection. Your poor nipple is purple from the elevator, you have mascara down your face, and as you predicted, you are already bruising from his grip on your hips. You spin to see angry, dark red splotches along the globes of your ass and you smile at yourself. Fuck, is there something wrong with me? 

Even though you’re exhausted, you practically skip back out to the bed where Joel is holding a big glass of water and some soothing lotion that he purchased weeks ago for this exact moment. He laughs and shakes his head, he knows he’s in for it now seeing how happy you are with yourself. 

“Drink this and then lay on your stomach please,” adding a quick, “you little brat.” 

“So bossy.” You joke and roll your eyes, but you both love this part and as elated as you are right now, you know you need the aftercare so that your anxieties don’t get you later. So, you do as he says. You drink the water and then lay on your stomach. Joel rubs the cooling lotion on your marks and then places long, light kisses along your spine.

“How are you feeling?” He coos between kisses.

“I’m great. That was amazing. How are you feeling? I know you weren’t too sold on spanking me.”

Joel lies beside you and pulls you in, his front presses against yours, both of you using your own arm as a pillow. “Honestly, I’m surprised by how much I liked it. You looked so beautiful the entire time. I didn’t think I would like it, but….” He trails off looking slightly embarrassed, using his free hand to play with your hair. 

“But?” you push.

“But…well a man my age doesn’t get multiple orgasms very often, makin’ me feel like we’re in our 20’s again.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to act out more often. Any cute guys on the job site I can eye fuck?” 

Joel growls as he pulls you over to rest on his chest. “Mine. Now go to sleep, Little Dove. And stop saying that.” 

Tag List: @corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @mermaidgirl30 @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

Also a special tag for @javierpena-inatacvest because I'm not on a mission to make her a Joel girlie.