#alert systems in observability

[virtualizationhowto]

SigNoz: Free and Open Source Syslog server with OpenTelemetry

SigNoz: Free and Open Source Syslog server with OpenTelemetry @signozhq #homelab #SigNozOpenSourceAlternative #DatadogVsSigNoz #MonitorApplicationsWithSigNoz #ApplicationPerformanceManagementTools #DistributedTracingWithSigNoz #MetricsAndDashboards

I am always on the lookout for new free and open-source tools in the home lab and production environments. One really excellent tool discovered recently is a tool called SigNoz. SigNoz is a free and open-source syslog server and observability program that provides an open-source alternative to Datadog, Relic, and others. Let’s look at SigNoz and see some of the features it offers. We will also…

[daintilyultimateslayer]

kafka management

LivestreamIQ – Kafka-hosted, web-based GUI that offers intelligent alerting and monitoring tools to reduce the risk of downtime, streamline troubleshooting, surface key metrics, and accelerate issue resolution. It helps offload monitoring costs related to storing historical data and is built on Confluent’s deep understanding of data in motion infrastructure. LiveStreamIQ empowers businesses to proactively manage their Kafka infrastructure, ensuring optimal performance, reliability, and security. It is a niche product for Kafka Environment Management that provides Intelligent Alerting, Unified Notification Gateway with a scalable architecture ensuring the Messaging system is up and running as per Business critical Needs.

Contac us at:

OUR ADDRESS

403, 4TH FLOOR, SAKET CALLIPOLIS, Rainbow Drive, Sarjapur Road, Varthurhobli East Taluk, Doddakannelli, Bengaluru Karnataka 560035

OUR CONTACTS

contact@prodevans.com

+91 97044 56015

[yasministration]

Bloody introductions - Charlie Weasley

summary: some of charlie's siblings break in to his apartment to surprise him and find out about his roommate/girlfriend wc: 1.1k+

Charlie grunted, hand around your waist tightening as he tried stablising you all whilst unlocking the front door to your shared apartment. You winced, limping slightly but Charlie tutted at you, encouraging you to lift your injured leg off the ground, using him as a crutch system. You awkwardly hopped into your apartment, immediately beelining towards your kitchen for a glass of water. Charlie locked the door, slowly following you to the kitchen, where he leaned against the doorway, observing you carefully. “Sit down, I’ll go get the healing kit, yeah?” 

You blew your boyfriend a kiss from where you stood, shuffling a chair backwards so you could sit on it as Charlie began leaving the kitchen. However, before he could leave, a loud clattering was heard from the direction of your living room. You both froze mid-movement, eyes wide in alert as listened closely for other sounds.   You stood up slowly, grabbing your wand and nodding at Charlie, who began stalking closer to the living room. You limped behind him, all pain from your leg seemingly gone as adrenaline raced through your body. You kept your back close to the wall as Charlie peeked behind the corner. His shoulders immediately slumped in relief, but emotions quickly overtook his body, and he yelled out “What are you guys doing here?” 

The four Weasley in the living room all held the same facial expression, you realised when you dipped your head out of hiding to see the situation. They were all grimacing at Charlie, glancing at each other nervously. “We were going to surprise you but Ron ruined the surprise.” Snitched Ginny, glaring at her brother profusely. You gulped, quickly hiding behind the wall again, letting your boyfriend interact with his siblings. You could tell he felt conflicted - on one hand he hadn’t seen his siblings in almost a year, on the other hand, they had broken into his apartment that he shared with the girlfriend they didn’t know existed. 

As they shared much needed hugs with each other, you heard one of the twins tease “Hey this is a pretty feminine apartment Charlie. Almost like you’re living with that girlfriend of yours.” Well, never mind then. Charlie turned around, shooting you a panicked look. He began stuttering. “You can’t tell mum! She’ll kill me if she knows I’m living with a woman she hasn’t met. A woman I’m not even married to.” You laughed nervously just in time to see a ginger haired woman peek around the corner into the hallway you stood in. She smiled at you widely, excitedly saying “Hi!” as she threw her arms out, bringing you into a hug. “Nice to meet you!” You exclaimed, turning to introduce yourself to Charlie’s other siblings.

Before you managed to though, you noticed the terrified look on Ron’s features, all blood drained from his already pale face. You glanced down at your leg, and sighed “Oh.” Attracting Charlie’s gaze, he gasped, rushing towards you. “You’ve started bleeding on the floor.” Indeed, the large cut on your leg from the ukrainian iron belly had started trailing down your leg, pooling around your shoes and leaving a stain on the floor. Around the cut from the dragon’s fiery claws, there’d been a nasty burn, undoubted what bothered the young Weasley brother so much. 

Charlie came running back to you with the healing kit, an arm wrapping around your waist and lifting most of your weight off the ground to quickly get you back to the kitchen. 

You sat on the same chair as before, kicking your shoe off as Charlie carefully wiped all the excess blood off your leg. “Um, so how’d you guys get in here? I mean, clearly if a few teenagers can break into our place, we’re not using the right protection measures?” You called out, watching as the identical gingers and their younger sister walked into the room. “Stole mum’s spare key from home.” Your eyes widened and you looked down at Charlie in disbelief. 

“Your mum has a spare key to our apartment and she doesn’t even know that we live together!?” Charlie chuckled apprehensively, eyes briefly meeting yours. “Just for emergencies. Bill has one too.” You huffed, shrugging your shoulders. “That's understandable. Bill’s stayed with us for weeks at a time but your mother? Jesus, Charlie.” 

“Bill has stayed with you guys for weeks but we’re only just finding out you live together!?” 

“Hey, for what it’s worth, I didn’t know you guys even knew I existed.”

Ginny spluttered, “What!” You hummed, wincing and gripping the sides of your chair as Charlie disinfected your wound, putting a healing ointment onto it before wrapping it up with a bandaid. “Okay Ron, you can come out now.” Charlie called, running a hand through his hair as he got up from his knees.

“So, no offense, but why are you guys here? Like not here here, but in Romania?” Charlie put his hands on his hips at your question, turning around to face his siblings. “Yeah, why are you here?” “We each have our own reason.” Ron started, “She doesn’t want me to take my internship for the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch Youth because she thinks that I can’t stand three weeks away from home.” cut off Ginny. Ron huffed at her interruption, opening his mouth once more. “And she thinks we shouldn’t open our shop because that requires 'real adult responsibilities.'” Added Fred and George in unison, causing Ron to throw his hands up in the air in annoyance. Charlie crossed his arms over his chest, humming considerately. “And she won’t let me go on a trip with Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus!” Charlie barked out a laugh, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“Well you guys can split sleeping arrangements in the living room.” He gestured towards the living room before turning to you and furrowing his eyebrows. You shrugged your shoulders, pushing yourself up to your feet, whimpering at the pain that shot up your leg. “Woah, careful.” Charlie steadied you with gentle hands on your hips, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “It’s fine, we booked a room at his motel nearby, just wanted to drop by to surprise you, and show mum we can survive somewhere else for a while. Like adults.” 

“Did you tell her?” “We left her a note.” 

You frowned, looking at Charlie worriedly “A note?” You whispered. Charlie shrugged, mumbling back “Me and Bill did way worse when we were their age. A note is good enough” His siblings fled into the living room, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. “Well, that means you only have two more people to meet until I can put a ring on that finger.” You felt your face heat up, pushing yourself up onto the tippy toes of your uninjured leg to chastely kiss Charlie. Yeah, two people who would probably come all the way here looking for their children anyway.

@mmmunson @ravisinghs-wife @starry-remus @pain-in-the-ashe

[luvxkdrama]

— reflections

pairing : frontman x reader

warnings : mentions of blood, guns, manipulation, toxic love

word count : 2.6k

summary : "We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides."

—

Y/N adjusted her pink jumpsuit and mask, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She hated everything about this place: the screams, the games, the stench of blood that clung to every surface. She hated being part of this macabre machine, but she didn’t have a choice. Or at least, that’s what she tried to justify herself with.

A year ago, when she first arrived and realised what was actually happening, she had vowed to find a way to end it all. Once she was back home, she worked silently, methodically not sharing her plans to anyone, besides one person.

Hwang Inho.

She met him after the first game as he was a pink guard as well and as much as y/n didn’t trust him at first due to his cold facade, he actually turned out to have the same ideas as her. He was different from the other pink guards y/n has met, he was quieter, observant. Unlike the others, who reveled in their power over the players or fell into obedient silence, he had a sharp wit that he wielded sparingly but effectively. He always seemed to sense when Y/N needed a quick distraction during tense moments.

And so, after they got out of the game, they worked side by side often, and she eventually found herself drawn to the rare moments when they spoke about things unrelated to the game. Cozy nights, wrapped in blankets and talking as if there was no tomorrow.

Y/N tried to stay focused on her mission and not let her mind wander anywhere else but with the time passing by, the moments spent together became significantly more important to her.

Things shifted when one particular night instead of going home, Inho suggested y/n to sleepover at his house as it was pouring rain and the roads were dangerously blurry. One thing led to another and eventually y/n found herself laying her head on his bare chest, feeling safer than ever.

“What are you planning to do once you take down the organisation?” He asked while gently running his fingers across her hair.

Y/N thought for a moment and smiled “I don’t know,” she finally answered “My main focus for now is succeeding this mission and the rest… we’ll see I guess.”

Inho chuckled and didn’t push further, understanding her answer. He then put his left hand on her cheek and slowly raised her head to plant a soft kiss on her lips, smiling into the kiss.

A year passed by quickly and it was time to return there again. Y/N felt ready, she knew what to do and when, especially after Inho somehow managed to find a sketch of the whole building where the games take place. Y/N did know that it was extremely odd to find such a thing out of blue, but knowing how helpful it was, she didn’t try to question it and simply let it slide, trusting him and being too immersed in succeeding her plan.

Before she knew, she was back, on her way to the first game, blending in as just another nameless guard in the sea of faceless pink uniforms.

Finally, the day came. It was the night after the third game when no one would expect anything as security was always on the highest alert after the first game.

Y/N was the one in motion while Inho was explaining the way she will have to make in order to get to the private lounge area. She managed to infiltrate the control room, her pulse pounding as she neutralized the guards stationed there. The room smelled of stale coffee and sweat, monitors flickering with live feeds of every horrifying corner of the facility.

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She had made it this far—there was no turning back now.

After shutting down the security systems and eliminating anyone in her way, Y/N pushed through a heavy door into a private lounge area. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a massive screen casting shadows over the elegant furniture. Her breath hitched as her eyes landed on a figure sitting on a leather sofa, his back to her.

Her hand tightened around the gun she held. “Don’t move.”

The man didn’t flinch. He tilted his head slightly, as if amused. “You made it quicker than I expected.” His voice was low and computerized due to the black mask.

Y/N quickly grabbed her walkie talkie and told Inho she managed to make it to the private lounge. However, even after waiting for a few more seconds, she didn’t get a reply. She tried once again but to no avail. She started to get nervous as to why he wasn't responding.

Her grip on the gun wavered slightly and she cursed, deciding to take matters in her own hands for now “Turn around. Slowly.”

He raised the whiskey to his lips, taking a sip before setting the glass down on the table. Then, with deliberate slowness, he stood and turned to face her, the black mask looking right at her. 

Y/N tried to reach out to Inho once again when suddenly the frontman took out something from his pocket. It was the walkie talkie y/n had given Inho. She froze, fearing the frontman somehow managed to capture Inho while she was busy fighting the soldiers.

"Where did you get this ?" She gulped, taking a few steps closer to him, pointing the gun right at his chest “If you hurt him I swear-”

A low chuckle echoed across the room, y/n looked at the frontman who shook his head before raising his hands to take off the mask.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat and her heart dropped.

It was him. Hwang Inho.

In an instant, it felt like all the walls around her started to suffocate her and that the room progressively got smaller. Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing. The man she had spent so much time with, the one who made her feel understood and the one who showed her what love felt like, was standing in front of her in a black coat with the black mask in his hand—the unmistakable mask of the Front Man.

“You—” she started, her voice cracking.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice colder now, void of the warmth she had grown accustomed to.

Y/N’s mind raced, piecing everything together. All the times he had been quiet, watching, listening. The way he seemed to know more than he let on. She felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

“Why?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“Why what?” he asked, stepping closer. “Why did I let you get this far? Or why am I standing here instead of stopping you?”

“Don’t,” she said sharply, raising the gun higher. “Don’t come any closer.”

The frontman—no, Inho—stopped, his hands raised in mock surrender. “If I wanted to stop you, Y/N, you’d already be dead. You know that.”

Her finger hovered over the trigger, her entire body shaking. “You knew. This whole time, you knew what I was doing. You were even helping me.”

"Helping is a big word. I’d rather say I was agreeing with your ideas and eventually giving you some clues from time to time.”

Her breath hitched. “What was your goal?”

He shrugged, his gaze unreadable. “I wanted to see how far you’d go. And now, here we are. I never doubted you though, I knew we'd meet here as I saw the ambition and determination in your eyes.”

For a long moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the truth settling between them. She hated him. She hated the games, the cruelty, the manipulation.

“I trusted you,” she whispered, lowering the gun slightly.

He stepped closer, this time without resistance. “And maybe you still can.”

Y/N’s heart pounded as he stopped just inches away, “What are you talking about?”

“Finish what you started,” he said simply, his voice low. “Shut it all down.”

Y/N stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears as his words settled over her like a suffocating fog. Her whole purpose for being here—to dismantle the games, to destroy everything he had built—now felt like a fragile construct teetering on the edge of collapse. And yet, she couldn’t deny the pull of his words, the horrible, awful logic they carried.

“You’re insane, Inho.” she whispered finally, her voice raw.

Hwang Inho didn’t flinch, didn’t react to her insult. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But if I’m insane then what does that make you?” He asked suddenly “You’ve killed for your cause, Y/N. You killed dozens of guards to get here. And now, here you are—standing in front of me with a gun, and yet you can’t pull the trigger. Why?”

The silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, until Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re trying to twist this,” she spat, her voice rising. “Trying to manipulate me into thinking we’re the same so I won’t stop you.”

His gaze followed her, steady and unflinching. “I don’t need to manipulate you, Y/N. You’ve already proven my point. You killed those guards to get here. You knew the risks, and you accepted them. You’re not here because you’re better than me. You’re here because you’re willing to do whatever it takes—just like I am.”

"I don't kill those people, Y/N," he continued, referring to the players “I don't force them to come here, I give them a choice. Moreover, after each game they have the choice to stay or continue. They kill the other players to survive and get more money, not me. People are so greedy for money that it makes them blind. They loose the privilege of being called human, they reveal their true nature — monsters.”

She whirled on him, her chest heaving. “Not everyone comes here by choice, some just don't have any other way. So you're wrong Inho-”

He approached her slowly, towering over her now, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “Tell me Y/N, what do you think will happen if you kill me ?” he asked, his voice cold but not unkind. “The people who run this—the VIPs—they’ll just start again somewhere else. Somewhere you can’t reach them. Do you really think killing me will end this? I'm a just a puppet who accepted the harsh reality of this world, Y/N.”

Her throat tightened, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She wanted to scream that he was wrong, that there was a way to stop it all. But she didn’t have an answer.

“Exactly,” he whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “You think you can destroy this, but all you’ll do is burn yourself out trying. And in the meantime, people will keep dying.”

“So what?” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You’re saying I should join you? Help you keep this nightmare alive?”

He didn’t answer right away. Finally, his voice softened as he said, “I’m saying you need to decide what matters more—your principles, or your survival.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “I’d rather die than become like you.”

A faint smile flickered across his lips, “That’s what they all say.”

Before she could respond, the door behind her suddenly opened, and two guards stepped inside. Y/N’s stomach clenched, her body tensing and she immediately raised her gun at them, turning her back to Inho who didn’t even flinch. 

"Don’t you get it Y/N ? We're like a mirror, reflecting the same truth from opposite sides." He gently put his hands on both of her arms, stepping behind her and looking at her side profile.

Y/N’s grip on the gun tightened, her breath catching. She shook her head sharply, the anger rising in her chest. “No,” she spat, her voice bitter. “You’re not me. You’re a killer. And I don’t care what you say—you’re not going to twist this into something else.”

His smile barely flickered. “Funny. I thought you would understand. The line between right and wrong is thin, Y/N. You kill for your cause, I kill for mine. But in the end, it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, the room spinning for a second. It was true—too true. But she wouldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let herself be like him.

“No,” she repeated, her voice quieter but full of conviction. She took a step back, turning back to look at him, his hands brushing over her sides before leaving her body completely. The weight of the gun in her hand heavy.

This wasn’t what she signed up for, wasn’t what she had worked so hard for. But standing there, facing him, she realized just how dangerous his words were, how much of what he said hit too close to home.

Y/N stood in the doorway, gun still heavy in her hand, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She suddenly raised her gun and pointed it directly at his heart, her finger twitching over the trigger. She had made her choice—at least, that’s what she had thought. The mission. The goal. It all led to this moment. One pull and it would be over. But now, standing in front of him, the room filled with the echoes of her hesitation, the lines between right and wrong blurred in a way she couldn’t ignore anymore.

She had been ready to walk away, ready to follow through, to do what she believed was right. But something inside her faltered, her resolve cracking like ice under pressure. He had been right about one thing—their reflection was too similar. She had spent so much of her life believing that she was the opposite of him, but with every step closer she took toward him, it felt more like she was staring into a mirror she had spent so long trying to avoid.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers, his gaze steady but somehow understanding. “You don’t have to fight it anymore, Y/N. We’re the same. We both do what we believe is necessary. You can either leave, and I will make sure to get you home safely, or you can stay with me and accept the world is a cruel place that can’t be saved.”

Her chest tightened, and despite her efforts to resist, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. There was something in his presence—something that made her feel understood in a way no one else ever had. She hated that it was him, hated that it was this—but she couldn’t deny the pull, the connection, the understanding that went beyond their roles in this twisted game.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. Her breath, his movements, the weight of the gun—everything hung in the balance.

She lowered the weapon, her hands shaking as she realized the truth. She couldn’t walk away from him—not completely. She had tried, had convinced herself that she was different, that she was better, but deep down, she knew they were too alike. Too broken. Too far gone.

“I don’t want to be like you,” she whispered, more to herself than him, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“You already are,” he replied softly, but there was no malice in his words—only something darker, something that felt like acceptance.

And in that moment, something shifted inside her. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Her feelings for him, no matter how twisted or complicated, were real. And maybe—just maybe—there was no escaping this dark connection they shared.

She looked up at him. She wasn’t sure if it was love or something darker that pulled her closer, but when she stood in front of him, their eyes locking, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t walking away. She couldn't.

“Stay” he said, his voice barely a whisper, but it held an undeniable weight.

He slowly leaned in and his lips met hers. Y/N didn't move away. She couldn't. She felt interlocked to him in a way she never did with anyone. She left the salty taste of her own tears during the kiss, feeling her heart betraying her own mind.

For a long moment, they stood in silence, looking at each other, two sides of the same broken coin, too entwined to walk away from each other.

The world outside didn’t matter. The game didn’t matter. In that room, at that moment, it was just the two of them. Together. Alike.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Keith Edwards at No Lies Detected:

Donald Trump has been in office for one week, but it feels like a year’s worth of events have been crammed into those seven days. That of course is by design. Trump thrives on overwhelming our capacity to react, flooding the zone with chaos until we are too exhausted to resist. He wants you to feel powerless. He wants you to surrender. But this is not about resistance; it is about reclamation. Resisting implies he is in control, and we are simply pushing back. Reclaiming puts us in the driver’s seat, taking back what was always ours to begin with. Today, I’m going to write about how not to give up, how to take back your voice in your own future, so that when a year actually has passed, you’ll be able to look back not with exhaustion and despair, but with the satisfaction of knowing you fought back. 

Give Yourself a Break – But Do Not Break

You do not have to be a political warrior every waking moment. If following every outrage sends you spiraling, turn it off. If breaking news alerts drain your energy, silence them. Stop following doomer influencers or left-wing media outlets that profit from outrage-mongering.  To borrow an exhausted but accurate phrase: this is a marathon, not a sprint. Take the time to process your anger, to feel the betrayal, to curse the failures that got us here. Be furious at the Democratic Party’s fecklessness. Be enraged at the indifference of Republican enablers. Allow yourself to mourn the election loss. But do not wallow. Do not linger in the abyss. Feel your anger, harness it, and then use it. Because we never truly processed the trauma of the first Trump presidency – like with COVID, we let it taper off without closure. Whatever you need to do to process the fact that Trump is in power again, do it, because...

Accept That This Is All Going to Suck

There will be worse weeks than this one in the next four years. Many will seek refuge in denial, pretending that the worst-case scenario is mere hyperbole. Do not indulge them. Reality, however grim, is better faced than avoided. When I lost my sister, I found that I actually felt better when I accepted that she was not coming back. I found that the alternative – resisting reality and trapping myself in an endless cycle of grief – actually caused more suffering. Once we embrace the truth, however, we can begin the path toward something new. This applies here, too: America will not be the same, nor is it lost. If we accept the darkness ahead, we can begin carving out the light. The only way through this is forward. This is going to be bad. And the sooner you accept that, the better you are prepared to fight.

Get Involved

Fighting doesn’t have to feel big. Start small. Do something that reminds you that you have agency, that you are not a passive observer of history but an active participant. 

​​When Trump was first elected, I refused to wallow in misery. I joined my local Democratic club, handed out ballot proposals, and took an active role in shaping my community. That decision put me on the path to becoming a Democratic strategist and creating a successful YouTube channel. Starting locally is the most satisfying way to get involved, because politics are most responsive when they are local. Federal politics are sluggish and hard to break into without experience, but local activism can be swift and potent. Attend a city council meeting. Get involved in your local Democratic Party. Knock on doors for a local candidate or ballot initiative. Don’t just vent your frustration into the digital void – channel it into tangible change. 

[...] Do not let Donald Trump eat your hope. He is not a king. The courts have already blocked his blatantly unconstitutional rollback of birthright citizenship. State governors are taking advantage of our federal system to prevent the rollback of rights and protections. Federal employees are pushing back against sweeping policy changes. We are only in week one, but this gives me hope.  

Keith Edwards wrote in No Lies Detected on how to survive Tyrant Trump’s 2nd reign: don’t give up.

[noctunis]

rendered in quiet light | 1.1k words

you don’t tell anyone it’s your birthday.

it’s easier that way. quieter. birthdays on the station don’t feel real, anyway — no seasons, no candle wax or dripping sunlight to mark the day. time passes here in pulses and scans, in data entries and oxygen reports. the calendar turns, but no one looks.

you try not to care.

you wake to the soft hush of the air filtration system, the sterile glow of your monitor bathing the cramped room in artificial white. your bunk still smells faintly of engine coolant and the chamomile spray you’ve been rationing. another rotation. another shift.

midnight arrives like static.

nothing happens.

you’re halfway through brushing your teeth when your terminal chimes — a low, clipped tone. one you recognize instantly. not a broadcast. not a system alert.

incoming transmission

sender: sylus

file attached: [neural.stasis.archive.v1]

you freeze, toothbrush slack in your mouth.

no message. no explanation. just a file. encrypted, locked with a code only he would use — short, clinical, and impossibly deliberate. you dry your hands. sit at the console. open it.

the room shifts.

a rendered neural map blooms across your screen — glowing filaments, pixel-threaded and breathlessly accurate. and in the center: you.

not now — not here — but then.

the memory forms slowly. the observation deck. your first time seeing the juno rings up close. how you gasped — hand pressed to the glass, breath fogging it faintly.

you remember turning to him, laughing, muttering something like, “they look unreal.”

he’d just stood there. arms crossed, a smug quirk of his lips.

you hadn’t known he was recording. hadn’t known he was even really looking.

but he was.

he had saved it — the exact neural imprint, timestamped and tagged, like something precious.

the resolution is so clear you can feel the echo of your own pulse. the warmth of your awe. the moment, untouched by time.

your eyes sting.

your terminal blinks again.

don’t act surprised.

that’s it.

no name. no voice message. just those words — his way of saying i know you. of saying i see you.

and it lands heavier than any poem, any bouquet. because this is how sylus speaks. through code. through memory. through the act of holding onto things he isn’t supposed to keep.

you press a hand to your mouth.

because the gift is simple — but it means everything.

it means he remembered the one thing you’d never ask for. it means he knew, somehow, that you wouldn’t say anything — that you’d sit here and let the day pass like any other.

you sit there in silence for a long while, watching the memory play again.

your smile. his silence. the stars bending outside the glass like they’re trying to hear you.

and sylus, just offscreen, watching you with a look you never saw at the time.

not cold. not distant.

just quiet. and full.

you close the file. open a new message. you don’t write much.

“thank you.”

“i’ll remember this.”

you don’t expect a reply. but a few minutes later, your terminal buzzes once more.

“good. that’s the point.”

@meowieesilly hopefully that was u that sent me that message about the cloud fic 😭 tried writing for sylus for u …… not sure it went so well but i tried, ill learn eventually 😔

[literaryvein-reblogs]

If it isn't inconvenient, do you have any tips on writing characters suffering from a concussion?

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Writing Notes: Concussions

Concussion

A blow or a jolt to the head can cause a concussion or traumatic brain injury (TBI).

An injury to another part of the body that transmits force to the head can also result in concussion.

Concussion Symptoms

These are symptoms of a possible concussion:

Physical

Bothered by light or noise

Dizziness or balance problems

Feeling tired, no energy

Headaches

Nausea or vomiting (early on)

Vision problems

Thinking and remembering

Attention or concentration problems

Feeling slowed down

Foggy or groggy

Problems with short- or long-term memory

Trouble thinking clearly

Sluggish reactions

Social or emotional

Anxiety or nervousness

Irritability or easily angered

Feeling more emotional

Sadness

Mood changes

Sleep

Sleeping less than usual

Sleeping more than usual

Trouble falling asleep

These symptoms may occur right away or may worsen over minutes or hours after an injury.

Symptoms may be stable or improve with various lengths of time.

Symptoms may last less than a day or may linger for months, or longer.

Causes

A concussion can result from a fall, sports activities, vehicular accidents, assault, or other direct injury to the skull.

A big movement of the brain (called jarring) in any direction can cause a person to lose alertness (become unconscious).

How long the person stays unconscious may be a sign of how bad the concussion is.

Concussions do not always lead to loss of consciousness.

Most people never pass out.

They may describe seeing all white, all black, or stars.

A person can also have a concussion and not realize it.

Exams and Tests

The health care provider will perform a physical exam. The person's nervous system will be checked. There may be changes in the person's pupil size, thinking ability, coordination, and reflexes.

Tests that may be done include:

Blood and urine tests

EEG (brain wave test) may be needed if seizures continue

Head CT (computerized tomography) scan

MRI of the brain (magnetic resonance imaging) of the brain

X-rays

Treatment

For a mild head injury, no treatment may be needed.

But be aware that the symptoms of a head injury can show up later. Your providers will explain what to expect, how to manage any headaches, how to treat your other symptoms, when to return to sports, school, work, and other activities, and signs or symptoms to worry about.

Children will need to be watched and make activity changes.

Adults also need close observation and activity changes.

Both adults and children must follow the provider's instructions about when it will be possible to return to sports.

You will likely need to stay in the hospital if:

Emergency or more severe symptoms of head injury are present

There is a skull fracture

There is any bleeding under your skull or in the brain

Alternative Names

Brain injury

Traumatic brain injury

Closed head injury

Signs: What to watch for according to your child's age

Infants, toddlers, and pre-school aged children (birth to age 4)

Irritability and crying more than usual

Seeking more comfort than usual, like needing to be held

Refusing to nurse or eat

Changes in sleeping patterns, like sleeping more or less than usual

Not wanting to engage in play or usual activities

Needing more help than usual

Showing behavior changes, such as more temper tantrums, sadness, or irritability than usual

Changes in speech, like speaking more slowly than usual

Vomiting right after the injury without other causes, such as a virus

Appearing dazed, confused, and more clumsy than usual or seeming unsteady on their feet

School-aged children and adolescents (ages 5 to 17)

Appearing dazed, stunned, or confused about recent events

Sudden difficulty remembering or concentrating, especially on topics or activities that would otherwise hold their attention

Answering questions more slowly than usual

Appearing more clumsy than usual, seeming unsteady on their feet

Vomiting right after the injury without other causes, such as a virus

Suddenly slowed reaction times

Mood, behavior, or personality changes

The following are emergency symptoms of a more severe head injury or concussion. Seek medical care right away if there are:

Changes in alertness and consciousness

Confusion that does not go away

Seizures

Muscle weakness on one or both sides of the body

Pupils of the eyes that are not equal in size

Symptoms in just one eye

Unusual eye movements

Repeated vomiting

Walking or balance problems

Unconsciousness for a longer period of time or that continues (coma)

Head injuries that cause a concussion often occur with injury to the neck and spine. Take special care when moving people who have had a head injury.

The above are excerpts from this previous post.

And these sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Concussions can present differently for different people, depending on the cause and other factors. Choose which of these references are most appropriate to incorporate in your story, considering your character, plot etc. Hope this helps with your writing! :)

[tyunningism]

ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ 1: ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄᴇ !

── .✦ pairing: k.th x reader

╰┈➤MDNI - NSFW content ahead...

Haven’t played the tutorial yet? Return to menu ! tyunningism’s note: the first main part to the series! Didn’t know where to start off at first but I’ve finally finished it!!

Game file size: 8k mb (best read in light mode)

What was supposedly a ‘dream’ has in fact wasted three hours of your new reality in staring intensely at the taunting of the ticking desk clock, and you felt every drag of the minute hand as you stared at the empty lovemeter resting above your head in the battered mirror, weighing down on your already preoccupied thoughts.

There’s no right or wrong explanation to how you found yourself inside of the dating sim- shit, you should’ve stuck to your word and never have touched it in the first place if you truly cared for your own sake.

Everything remains fuzzy in the small expanse of your room. The walls remain exact and bestrewn with posters, illuminated in thin strips by the sunbeams bleeding through the gaps of your blinds. Your bedsheets remain soaked in fabric softener, plush and soft like diaphanous clouds which nearly lulls you to sleep if it weren’t for the bother some alert of the system to complete this god forbidden mission.

Observing that everything in this simulator has adapted to a mix between fiction and reality your fingers scramble to dial the first string of memorised numbers in to your phone, because if everything else remained still and put then surely the system wouldn’t have disrupted the harmony of your close-knit bond with your best friend !!

The buzz of the ring tone becomes increasingly daunting by the second with every unanswered beat leaving you pacing in circles with a thumb slotted between your teeth. The panic settles in to your skin in a brew of distress and nauseating worries that should be nurtured and addressed upon the soothing, glazed sweetness of Soobin’s voice— yet, as the buzz of the ring tone sharply cuts in to the white noise of the other end of the line your words find themselves stiff inside your throat.

“Hello? What���s the matter Angel?” It takes a second to snap you out of your trance when you remember the system’s message from earlier, flushed cheeks quickly settled back to normal as you thought carefully through your next words.

“Soobin you can’t laugh at this or else I’ll seriously jump through this screen and strangle yo-“

“Woah— calm down now Angel, you haven’t even given me a chance yet.” His voice sounds noticeably tuned, the usual casual tone he speaks with refined in to a velvety and more expressive one. Whether it’s the system’s interference or your own fractured memories you sigh so deeply it knocks the air out of your lungs.

“About the game Ella and Megs pleaded me to give a chance— you know..Tubatu’s Dating Sim.”

If the silence you hushed yourself in during your adjustment to this new game system was suffocating enough then the heavy silence following after your recollection was puncturing. Chipped polish on your nails eroded away jaggedly as you pick and peel at them awaiting for Soobin’s response in a whirlpool of stress and misleading thoughts; starting to become unbearable in the strained stillness.

“Tuba..what?” The genuine confusion resonates within you, and without even being there to see him in person you could already make out the lodged bend of his brow and the purse or his lips.

Does he really not remember such a prominent game? The literal notice board outside of his home is vandalised with all of its promotions !!

“The dating sim..you know— with the hot— I mean..weird characters dressed in fancy suits and robes. The ones that Megs are obsessed with, look, I’m stuck in-“

Holy shit. Bewildered, your mouth comes to a close from the shock of the threatening pop-up, leaving your sentence unfinished for Soobin to decipher himself..since you’d rather not risk the implied consequences by delving in to these system messages you’re receiving with him.

“Not really, I didn’t take you for someone who plays dating simulators I mean, neither you nor Megan told me about it.”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the system had wiped Soobin— or anyone’s memory of the game for the sole reason of completing the quests. The haunting message sends shivers along your spine as you slump against the wall of your apartment with weak knees.

“What day is it Soob?” You ask defeatedly as you swipe through imaginary buttons in the air to open up the quest details, you must look crazy out of your mind right now..

“Saturday, are you going out?” The quest details load out in to one large notification, the hot pink burning your eyes from the vibrant glow of it as you murmured the striking bold letters under hushed breaths.

”Yeah, I’m heading to work, things have come up.” 20 heart points for showing up— Has Taehyun always been so easy to please? Because in that case you don’t even need to fuck him to max out your lovemeter if visiting him 5 times is enough.

The male on the other end hums in approval, although awfully curious because your plans elicit a whole brainstorm of questions out of him. In his case, your reasons for wanting to help out all of a sudden when you would’ve declined any call-ins in a heartbeat before.

“What’s so wrong about wanting to help Taehyun? I’m sure he’ll put in a pretty word for me and a nice raise from the boss!” You joke, trying to gloss over his impeding doubts.

Neither should you should mention to Soobin that you’ve got plans on fucking your coworker for some point system though, that’s a secret for you and him to keep <3

The dull roar of the city still honks and pounds at your eardrums as you strut through labyrinths of office blocks and stores with street vendors offering small samples..well..pushing small samples in to your face as you wave your hands in denial, feet rushing towards the gaming café using the soldered mental map in your head.

Something you didn’t appreciate before which you bathe yourself in now is the normality of the city you’ve grown up in without the constant pestering banners and adverts of Tubatu’s dating sim, funnily enough because you’re stuck in this bugged game as of now.

The warm bitter smell of coffee tantalises your senses as you pass neighbourhoods of coffeehouses in your kitten heels and pleated skirt, trying to make an effort if you were going to tackle the human iron wall that Taehyun is.

From your own understanding of him he’s always been indifferent to you, albeit nice, but still drowning in an awkward silence built up from your lack in conversing skills. Can’t blame yourself though; you’d probably still be swallowed by the tension if it weren’t for the fact you’re aiming to get in to his pants by the end of today.

A couple things to note are his interests; aside from hanging out at the gaming café watching his friends play league, the only other time you can catch him smiling is when he’s slacking off on those cutesy flash-drive games where you run your own restaurant or raise animals; far different in taste to his friends.

And who could’ve guessed?! As you push through the glass doors of the sound-proofed building his silver tuft of hair stands out in seas of brunettes and blacks with headsets dented in to their skulls..and who knows what other tabs they have on those computers? gross!

Once more he’s glued to his designated seat behind a monitor; most likely displaying pink glittery flash games instead of keeping behind the desk like he’s paid to do, completely absorbed in the upbeat rhythm of whatever he’s playing to greet your unexpected presence behind him, squinting your eyes to read the small text.

“Stardew Valley, hm— that’s cute Taehyun.” A gentle finger taps him on his shoulder from behind, a slow head turn as he removes his headphones turns in to frantic surprise when he takes in your striking figure in front of him; hair brushed to the side revealing your off shoulder top and the upturn of your amused lips.

“Sorry— the café’s quiet right now so I was trying a couple of random games to pass the time.”

“Level 10 on farming doesn’t sound like ‘random games’ come on- won’t you play it with me? I’m pretty good at Stardew too!”

A damn tough iron wall he is because he completely airs your offer, coughing and brushing it off as ‘childish’ with a tinge of red burning at his ears, God he’s not feeling embarrassed right now is he?! You didn’t mean to scare him off or anything :(( The way he stumbles and scurries out of his seat back towards the counter to readjust his hoodie (which is suddenly burning up even in the cool air conditioned room) is comedic at best as he finds himself the centre of attention to a group of teenage boys who know nothing better than to point and laugh at him.

You? Not a single bit bothered at all because you eye at the heart point potential depleting above his head, draining from 150 to 130 as your own lovemeter increases; a win for you in your own eyes since your taunt must’ve had somewhat of a tug on his heart strings, so what’s the harm in pushing him a little further?

Embarking on a side quest is necessary, well, if you’re planning on taking the iron wall tonight you need to get on his good side for a start. That means walking back up to the desk where the drink refill machines–that are always out of use– rumble for eternity and all that there is to do is monitor the cameras. What’s the fun in that?

One thing for sure is that Taehyun would much rather have preferred sticking to Stardew Valley if only he wasn’t putting up a front again— and even as you sit down on the spare stool beside him he averts his eyes from yours and on to the flickering of the trashy cameras.

“Did I do something to upset you Taehyun? Promise I wasn’t judging the game choice earlier!!” The curve of your lashes bat at his gently rounded eyes, darting along the ridges of your face being unsure of where to look.

“No, not at all I just..wasn’t expecting you.” His words are coughed out as you tuck your hair behind your ears, putting on the sweetest smile you could to try garner his attention which was diverted towards the water leaks and stains on the ceiling tiles, the notepad containing the wifi password, the floor with the manager’s sandals underneath the desk— in short, anything but you.

Taehyun’s about to busy himself again with another mundane computer task and a book in his hand which you can tell he absolutely despises when your hand ‘accidentally’ knocks over the pot of pens laid on his desk !! (Needlessly loud considering the whole of the gaming café turned their heads in your direction to be greeted with a sheepish face).

“Sorry !! I’ll pick that up right now— I didn’t mean to knock it over!” You falsely cover your intentions in front of an observant Taehyun who usually never lets anything slip past him.

Everything’s going to plan as you scoot under the desk space Taehyun’s graciously backed away from in his chair for you to crawl under; the sharp sting of the cold floor causes you to wince as you begin picking up a couple of knocked over markers, glue sticks and other unimportant items. The main thing you want to show off today if you really want a chance with Taehyun is the sheer fabric of your underwear which cups at your folds gently— ever so slightly revealed when you turned and ducked under the desk to search for the other missing pens, whisking your hips from side to side in the tiny pleated skirt riding up your thigh.

The curvaceous globe of your ass presses up even higher into in the air as you try to wiggle yourself further, attempting to grab a pen lost in the very corner with your outstretched hand but to no avail. Despite wavering your hands and arching your back to get down the eye-level with the dust mites on floor you just can’t seem to retrieve this stupid pen! And hence you pull your head out from under the desk , blowing the loose strands of hair away from your face and turn to face behind you with a defeated frown.

Man is this iron wall confusing!! you could’ve sworn a minute ago he was too focused on the hollow and senseless words of the dictionary he was ‘interested’ in and now it’s suspiciously placed (and slightly lifted) cover-up on the crotch of his jeans, an arm covering his nose and mouth shyly to cover the blush seeping in to his skin. Not bad Kang Taehyun, looks like he doesn’t have erectile dysfunction as you originally thought after all.

Words toil and struggle to accommodate in your mouth apart from the small scratch to the back of your head to communicate with the blushing Taehyun ,who’s automatically become as stiff as a plank upon getting a view of your panties, also leaving his seat to join you on the hardwood floor to try reach for the pen in question before your manager throws a tantrum. The usually poised male seems to have lost track of thought and reasoning though because the moment he lifts himself off the chair the raging boner not so discreetly hid under the fallen dictionary causes you to widen your eyes in delight. You’ve got him exactly where you want him to be.

Three..four..maybe 5 seconds? 5 seconds was what it took for him to realise his grave mistake, put on a whole shit show of flapping hands to cover himself without..making it obvious, and incoherent words you couldn’t piece together amidst the jeers and cussing of high school students after a victory. Taehyun speed-walks with his worker’s vest gripped tightly at the bottom to hide his hard-on, remaining composed even with his small crisis; but maybe if he didn’t dart off so fast you could’ve helped him solve it much quicker !! Like he said, it’s quiet today so it doesn’t matter if the two of you wander off for a couple minutes right?

You’re already twisting on your feet to head towards the toilets Taehyun’s locked himself in when a group hassles you over in a series of shouts and complaints; monitor suddenly shut off or something along those lines— well, if they weren’t slamming and knocking themselves on the keyboards over losing a match then they wouldn’t find the need to have you fix it for them every two seconds.

In your small kitten heels you turn a complete 180 in the direction of the group of friends, plastering the biggest smile you could for them even with the huge vein on your forehead popping as you got closer to the desk littered with crisp crumbs and left over ramen pieces that must’ve spilled; a mess that you have to clean once they’re gone..and you so badly want to strike one of them in the head for it.

“Tch. Can’t you speed it up? We’ve got a rematch to play.” What ?!! Your pupils are blown wide as you stop at their table, hands resting on the curve of your hip with your jaw agape, unsure of whether you should risk losing your job over arguing with 16 year olds or whether you should allow them to continue to spit on you.

“What bitch wears heels to a place like this?” The group of imprudent teens laugh like squeaking records as you face the perpetrator of the snarky comment, observing him dead in the eye; 5’8, barely any muscle mass on him despite the compression shirt, and he hasn’t washed his face in weeks even..not worth your time arguing over.

“Can you back up from the desk one second? You might’ve disconnected one of the plugs down here.” Snickers follow as you find yourself on the greasier side of the floorboards this time, the strong stench of sweat and seasoning packets infiltrate your airways as you ponder on how you’re supposed to get under the monitor and fix the cables without flashing everyone in the gaming café— and shit, you should’ve chose convenience over seducing Kang Taehyun because their constant ridicule really drives your head in.

It’s not until the same pacifying voice of none other than your co-worker for tonight cuts through the blares of theirs do you finally find a way out of the situation.

“What’s going on here?” He asks with a level-headed mindset in stark contrast to a couple minutes ago, back to being the same composed and polite guy you just can’t break through the outer shell of.

“One of the cables must’ve unplugged itself— I’m just finding it for the-“

“Let me do it..” His voice is shakier than before as he lends you a hand off the floor so you can regain your balance even though your heels are barely difficult to stand up in. He’s probably caught on to the fact that your skirt is way too short to be handling a task like from first hand experience.

“Awhh, Taehyun will you really?~” There’s no reaction to your cooing on surface level but the system blares up with a notification as you scan his face.

Woah— the system really is making your life 10x easier as you observe the different routes you could take— was this always an option to gather insight on how he’s feeling? Probably a pity feature since Taehyun’s hard to read in general if you’re not close to him.

Kissing him isn’t ideal, especially in front of a bunch of teenagers- you’d never live that down, the image of them mocking your kisses drives you wild just thinking about it. And plus, 20 points is barely anything than the 5 weeks of humiliation until the system returns you, and on the other hand…teasing his blushing in front of a large group of adolescent boys wouldn’t leave Taehyun being as friendly as he is right now with you anymore.

That leaves you with the only other option left, a shoulder pat of encouragement that doesn’t earn you any heart points, shame, but what intrigues you is the extra chance you earn to have sex with Taehyun— so does that mean you can’t just ask him to sleep with you? Does he have to initiate it for it to count?

Not wanting the chance to expire like your name change did, you rest a patting palm on his shoulder as he ducks down to untangle the mangled lot of cables under the desk,

“Thanks Taehyunnie! I’ll head back to the front then kay?” The softly whispered nickname only triggers him to blush harder to an entourage of immature boys as you strut back to the desk with a couple of turn-around peeks behind your shoulder to gauge his reaction. There’s something different about you today that Taehyun’s noticed, that overnight you’ve become bolder and more affable towards him. Is that a complaint? For sure not because Taehyun’s more than keen to spend a day with you on his little flash-games as you proposed, a mental curse to himself when he turned you down so abruptly but his eyes are still sparkling at the thought.

Would he ever have the guts to bring the idea up in the first place? God- he’d malfunction on the spot just by looking in to your eyes; warmer today, alluring even. And under the tumult and racket of ‘over-kill’ messages on each of the monitors he finds it embracing to listen to the coquettish hum of your voice.

Six hours in to your shift and you’ve made no progress towards a busy Taehyun who’s overworking himself in mopping the floors at 6 pm when the gaming café is bustling in its very own rush hour.

Likewise, you’re confined to the ramen counter as you boil water mindlessly for table 27, the repetitive grind of your job kicking in because this shitty system still makes you work your shift properly while trying to lure in a target at the same time.

Deafening EDM music booms above your voice as you prepare the bowls of ramen on to a tray, the small burn of the broth filled pottery pinching at the sensitive skin of your finger tips as you dissipate the heat by patting down on your apron.

“Do you want me to take that for you Angel? I’m heading over there anyways.” Tilting your head up to see an exhausted Taehyun and his tangled hair, which was slicked back with his fingers every time he was frustrated with a customer, you chuckle softly.

A hand pries away at his grabbing ones, pulling back the tray to let him know you can handle it. “Have you always been so helpful Taehyun?” The joke actually lands this time, dwelling on the soft overhang lights that carve his jaw pristinely, a subtle smile dawning on his lips as he leans his elbows on the counter of the ramen station.

Streetlights become an abstract painting of blurred droplets as the rain only seemed to worsen. Pelting at the glass doors and windows at relentless speed until the surroundings of the outside muddled in to one large mosaic of dripping water.

“You should head back early before the rain worsens, I can handle the rest of the shift.” His offers are tempting really and upon seeing the signs of an incoming storm you’d be an idiot not to take up on the offer— and you nearly do if it weren’t for the system’s quest details you recalled this morning. In pink pixelated letters they left you a hint, to stay until closing time with Taehyun if you ever dreamed of rocking his world tonight.

Sugarcoating your words to sound thoughtful, you beam at him. “Tonight’s busy, I came in on my own will to help you out! So if you shoo me away now I’ll take it as you don’t appreciate my work!” A playful slap to his wrist is all you can fuss yourself with before the bowls of ramen cool down in the air conditioning, escaping away in to the maze of desktops to table 27 with a tray lightly propped close to your chest.

“Sure, closing time..” The silver-haired male buries his head in to his neck in contemplation, does he think he can last another two hours on shift with you after your numerous flirting attempts today? over his dead body.

Shifting to have his back face the counter of the station he follows your every step and traces the endearing smile on your face with his eyes, demonstrating the best customer service you could even during such a tedious shift. Taehyun looks up to you in that sense, but he also looks up at the pleated skirt that would barely be covering anything if you happened to drop something, dirtying his single-tracked mind to wander off in to all sorts of thoughts as he replays the swell of your ass under the desk, prettily propped up all for him to see and the worst part is he can’t tell if it was intentional or not!! Even the sheer blue panties you had hidden under it, glossed and plush against your cunt which had his head spinning in circles. He had to rip his eyes off you reluctantly in case it was a simple mistake yet the memory simmers and seals in his head only to pop up again in every task he does.

So as much as he appreciates your hospitality to help him on shift, he’d probably perform better without the colour of your underwear flashing in his mind every three seconds ><

Scurrying the last couple of irresponsible teens out of the gaming café and in to the still torrential rain five minutes before closing, the pair of you slump on to the chairs in mutual laughter, another dragging shift completed at last.

Right on cue does your manager emerge from the rotting department of his lounge with a pot bellied stomach filled with the five bowls of ramen he forced you to prepare for him in the span of 8 hours. Manager Soo scratches the dead skin on his arm as he burps horrendously loud to which you feel sick at.

“You can leave once you refill the mini fridge with drinks for tomorrow, i’ll be in the toilet and then I’ll lock up the place alright kiddos?”

Taehyun bows politely which you don’t imitate, adamant on not wasting your time on fixing your already scruffy reputation in the eyes of your manager who’s trodding towards the mens.

“The drinks are quite heavy so we need to be careful, I’ll take the beer cans— you can take the cartons.” Thank the lord for Taehyun because your feet can’t handle five kilograms of drinks in your hands right now unless you want to break an ankle.

“I was planning on leaving the beer cans to you anyway. I mean, you don’t live at the gym 3 days a week for no reason at all.” A small poke to the bicep warms up the ice between between you and Taehyun, and eventually you find yourself enjoying his own jokes you’d have never thought to hear one day without thinking of the quest mission. It’s a shame that you’ll be back to the same distant co-workers once you return.

The trip to the storage room shares a comfortable silence in contrast to the actual room which is dimly lit, a single flickering fluorescent light casting a weeping glow across the cluttered space. The air is thick with a sour tang of old beer, mold, and dust as you and Taehyun squeeze in between the racks. The concrete floor is stained and cracked, littered with rolling beer cans, sticky juice cartons and liquid stains which seeped under rusted shelving units you refused to stare at for too long.

“Taehyun, where does manager Soo keep the cartons agai—“

Crackles of a beer can under your heel scares you in to leeching on an even more startled Taehyun who lets out a yelp shortly after. Worriedly, curled fingers hook on to the waist band of his apron and a face buries in to the dip of his back refusing to check what made the sound in the first place.

“Y-You can look, it’s just an empty beer can one of the employees snuck.” Mortified, you turn your head with your fingers still attached on him, staring at the further dented beer can under the pressure of your heel stagnant on the dirty concrete. There goes your whole seductive act tonight.

“The bulb looks like it’s about to rupture any moment now— the cartons are right by my feet.” Taehyun mutters completely unbothered by the embarrassment running through your veins as you load a whole weight of cartons in to your arms, following Taehyun out in to the café again.

What neither of you were expecting was the complete pitch black that haunted the whole area apart from the small fridge lights and the streetlights creeping in through the window.

“Did that knobhead even attempt to check if we were still here before he locked us in and closed the lights ?!!” Groaning, you knock the cartons out of your hands and on to the closest surface you can find as you grope the walls randomly for the light switch.

“I should call him to come back, he shouldn’t have walked that far.” Taehyun suggests and simultaneously you finally flicker on the ramen station lights to your dark-adjusted eyes.

Ultimate stage?! Right !! The hint was to stay behind on shift…so are you supposed to fuck him now?! When you’re locked inside the gaming café??

“Taehyun wait—“ you sound more desperate than you hoped as you reach out for his hand, “what I said earlier, do you wanna play with me? On the computers of course..” A cocked head points towards the computers you caught him playing on earlier, and Taehyun doesn’t even put up a fight; stuffing his phone back in to the pockets of his jeans as he’s led away by your hand.

Blue light stings at your eyes as you quickly set up two computers for each other, thinking of what strategy you could use on a softened Taehyun until he decides to dial your manager before you can even try him !!

“There’s a new game where you co-raise some kittens together..or— or we could play like..league.” His words are broken up between yawns which part of you feels bad for dragging him to stay behind another hour when he’s been working since the crack of dawn.

“Let’s stick to the kittens game, I prefer those anyway.”

Typed in to your search bar finally at an incredibly slow speed for someone who works at a gaming café Taehyun helps you log on. Simple, cute indie games that Taehyun finds enjoyable over the rush and competitiveness of MMORPGs that are popular nowadays— and you can tell that from Soobin’s addiction to his phone whenever he visits. These sorts of games are more suited towards him if you really nitpick his keyboard skills that would land him at the bottom of any game’s leaderboard.

Surprisingly enough, you find yourself immersed in the game that Taehyun must’ve grinded hours on as he trades you the Siamese you’ve been eyeing in the pet shop for a while, placing down a couple furniture items in pretty pinks and purples for ‘Tyun’ as you’ve named him to rest on. It’s a soft and tranquil game but after half an hour of clacking away at your keyboard and decorating your home you really need to get a move on with the mission. A quick glance to the 22:37 on your monitor is all you need to trigger a master plan on courting Kang Taehyun <3

“Taehyunn, I’m feeling just a tiny bit tired..can I rest on your shoulder for a second? Just wake me up in an hour when we’re ready to go.” Said male turns around in his seat to see you stretch and arch your back after staying stiff in your seat for too long. He shuffles his chair closer to yours so you could lean on his shoulder, however his breath hitches when you climb on top of his lap- arms wrapped around his neck as you nuzzled your cheek in to his neck.

It cringes you to overcomplicate how awkward this must feel out of the blue for him, climbing on to his lap without a question and marking your territory…but if you wanted your lovemeter to be filled by the end of today then you need to make the first move.

Like a statue, he doesn’t budge at all. Too lost in the fact you’re resting so intimately on top of him that all he can breathe in the floral scent of your shampoo and the natural pheromones of your skin. Quivering hands struggle to continue the game as he drags his mouse along the desk, moving so slowly he’s already wasted 3 minutes on filling up his cat’s water bowl. He really does alert you, because unless you counted it wrong he hasn’t breathed at all in the last 5 minutes since you nestled yourself on top of him.

“Ah—“ Taehyun’s pupils are blown out of proportion when he grasps the stimulus of the gasp that left his lips. Your hips shuffled forward so you wouldn’t have to bend your back as much, in the process shifting against the crotch of his pants. That’s right, you’re going to discreetly hump him until this iron wall finally takes the initiative to do something !! ><

Another gentle rock of your hips makes his legs feel like jelly as you quietly whine when your clit finds friction on the fly of his jeans, the low vibration of your noises of pleasure and your staggered breath fanned down his neck as you continued to make yourself comfortable on his lap causes him to completely shut down, terrified of what’s to come as he feels the same flow of blood rushing to his cock as earlier.

“A–Angel..are you— agh..fuck—“ Without warning two hands grip on to your hips like a vice, cutting off your antics of rubbing yourself all over him like you didn’t have a clue in the world. You’re left ‘confused’ and ‘startled awake’ as you detach yourself from the crevice of Taehyun’s shoulder; pulling back to settle your weight down on to the hard of his cock which screws your jaw loose.

“Taehyunnie, the fabric of your jeans is uncomfortable~” You mewl at him in your disheveled state, the edges of your face and hair prettily illuminated by the light of the screen while your hands plucked at the belt straps of his jeans.

“A–are you doing this on purpose?” The question leaves you breathless, capturing your lustful mind off guard as you blink at him with slender and drooling eyes. If you spoke the truth right now would the quest immediately end?

“And if I was?” Words fall flat on your tongue, leaving the short sentence for Taehyun to interpret however he wanted it, and within seconds he’s latched on to your lips. Initially rough and with fervour as he sucks on the corners of your lips, prodding his tongue through your mouth to suck on your bottom lip as you continued to grind on his bulge— nimble fingers making quick work of his zipper.

Too lost in the bliss of his gradually lenient attack on your lips you haven’t even unleashed his cock from the restraints of his grey briefs before the grip on your waist tightens again. His biceps are bulging under the rolled up sleeves of his hoodie, forcing you to stay still for him as he swipes your underwear to the side, slick staining his fingers which he carelessly licks off making you clench around nothing embarrassingly.

“So naughty, should’ve known you were planning this since you pulled that stunt under the desk.” He’s back to the stern tone he would’ve spoken to you with before, an act of punishment as he snaps the band of your under wear repeatedly until you wince and plead him.

“Taehyunnie! You were looking too !!—“ You’re cut off by his sudden grip on your ass as he manually grinds you against the hump of his briefs, groaning as your warm arousal spills and leaks in to the fabric with every calculated stroke of your hips.

“Wiggling your ass at me doesn’t seem like my fault Angel— if you really wanted my attention you should’ve just dragged me away, would’ve let you have your way if you showed some manners to your oppa..yeah? Instead you disrupted my work in this useless skirt that covers nothing, you’ve been bad, Angel, trying to distract me today.” Ending on that note Taehyun ghosts a hand behind your back which dips under the flesh of your ass to rub against your pussy gently as you continued to grind on him; the extra sensation of his fingers spreading your folds from behind on top of the buzz of your clit becoming puffy against his hard cock left you a moaning mess, fingers intertwining in to his silver trenches for support so you don’t topple backwards.

Taehyun pauses for a moment to admire the glistening pool of a slick building up on his briefs, soaked and dripping without even burying himself in to your greedy cunt yet it keeps drooling and lapping over the curve of his cock. He’s still lathered in his cotton hoodie collecting his own sweat from his abs meanwhile you scramble to rip off the dainty buttons of your blouse; feeling hot and bothered as you continue to abuse your bud against him. “You’re sopping angel, shit— is this why you wanted to stay behind? So dirty, always up to no good.” His words are growled an octave deeper which causes you to shudder under his intense gaze, the need building up inside of you becoming almost unbearable.

“Taehyunnie if— I- I’ll be good if you just fuck me, mmh! Already !!” One of his thick fingers drag and swab along the wet flesh of your pussy which flutters with want as he swirls another in unison, prodding and pushing inside of you teasingly but barely anything in girth compared to his dick you were craving to be fucked in to you !! :(

”Go on, tell me with your own words that you won’t stray away from what I told you and then I’ll give you what you want.”

Weakened legs shift closer together instinctively as heat rose to your face from his condescending stare that bore through your own conscience; filthy and judgemental of the mess you’re making all over him as he leans back on his chair expectant of your response.

“Don’t take me for a fool Angel, tricking me in to thinking you were all innocent playing those boring cute games with me when all you were set on was my cock. Do you really think you deserve it?” Humiliation brims you from inside out, nodding and whining whenever his fingers would retract only to wade themselves back in to your gaping cunt forcefully.

“Yes!! Taehyun I—I’m close please, I wanna cum on your cock !!” You’re starting to whine from how slow he’s paced himself, the heat in your stomach igniting as you feel your own orgasm bubbling inside of you, not wanting to cum on his fingers only without getting a taste of his cock first.

“Doesn’t sound sincere enough Angel, I’ll keep you in my lap apologising until I’m satisfied.” His jaw ticks in concentration as he plummets two intertwining fingers inside of you, his other hand pressing and pinching at your clit harshly until you lurched forward in a mantra of incoherent moans and drool-swashed words.

He pries your legs open with vulturous eyes, set on fucking you dumb on his fingers before he can reward you with anything else. He knows it’s wrong, dirty. There’s still on-lookers and pedestrians on the road that walk past the glass windows of the gaming café and Taehyun swears he made eye contact with a venturing couple; who ran off immediately once they saw the bounce of your spilling tits from your bra as you continued to grind on his fingers.

“Sh—Shit wait! Taehyun too hard! C—can’t cum yet!”

Your warning dismantles from your mouth a split second too late because one curl of his index is enough to burst the tension in your abdomen as you pulse around his fingers, soaking them in a large puddle of arousal that sends his head reeling in all sorts of lewd thoughts.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the sudden change in dynamics however as you push him further in to the cushion of the chair, a hand strongly pushed against his chest while the other stripped him of his briefs with a disappointed pout on your face from cumming so early. Taehyun’s by far stronger than you; one flex of him arm and he’ll be able to send your hand on him obediently back to your side with ease, but he doesn’t— he let’s you take the reigns with excitement radiating through him.

“You’ve had your fun Taehyun, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now.” Directing the base of his cock towards your entrance, the slick of your previous orgasm sheathes you in more comfortably as you embed him fully inside, bearing a sly grin when he groans with a hand covering his mouth shyly.

So you can expect to see the surprise on his face when you dangle his phone between your two fingers, swiped off the desk and in to your hands as you guide him on to the emergency contact page.

“Manager Soo’s probably still awake, why don’t we– hah– you, ask him to help us out of here?” Breathy and still calming down from your high you propose a challenge. Taehyun swallows the lump in his throat when you encourage him to wait for the line to go through, the call could be answered any moment now and he’s still sheathed inside of you.

“Don’t you know what time it is kiddo? The store closed nearly an hour ago.” Manager Soo’s voice is still booming as ever even off speaker, the frustration in his voice knocking some sense in to Taehyun who plans on addressing your problem as sensibly as possible— though it’s nearly impossible when you start to shift again.

“U-uhm, about that..we’re still in!—“ He bites on the fat of his lip to strangle out his moans, doe eyes scanning your amused ones as you whisper a plethora of lies,

“I won’t move taehyun, I’ll just cock lwarm you so finish the phone call.” Yeah right, like you’d make it that easy for him.

“Still in what, boy? Hurry and speak before I hang up!”

“We’re locked inside the gaming café- engh!”

There’s a warning look in his eyes as you lift your hips and slam yourself back down on his cock, dramatically rolling your eyes to the back of your head with fluttering eyelids to taunt him further, worse more, he was finally picking up on your plan as you continued to egg him on further with each roll of your hips. His stomach ties itself in knots as he tries to hold back his moans, gritting out his sentences through the bared canines you just had to kiss in the moment !!

“You rascals! Don’t you look at the time? It’s bloody eleven at night and only now are you telling me you’re locked in?!” But his words disperse and blend in to mush as they process in Taehyun’s head, all too focused in how your cunt envelops him perfectly, slobbering and snug against him as you perpetuate your movements randomly; never knowing when you’d start rolling your hips again greedily or whether you’d torture him right after by coming to a halt as he tries to buckle in to you to feel the heightening pleasure in him.

“The r-rain, the signal in the area cut out for quite a bit just— please, fuck– just let us out of here.” Your own eyes nearly pop out of your head when you infer that he’s cussed at the fireball Manager Soo is, and you doubt he planned to either because he’s panically swerving through different topics of conversation all the while pawing at your thigh to stop moving before he cums on a phone call to his employer.

The line hangs up abruptly before Manager Soo can get his last words in. Taehyun blinks up at you in relief as he leans in his head back— too breathless to beg of you, expecting you would resume with fucking him at last instead of the strenuous teasing he pulled earlier.

“Not bad Taehyunnie~ But I seriously didn’t have enough fun with you in that short call..so should I stay still and cockwarm you a little longer? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” There’s no mercy spared on him before you hold his hands down on the arm rests of his chair, grinning at him meticulously as he swallows the load of spit stuck in his throat.

It’s painful— so fucking painful, how you just sit there entertained as he twitches and tries to shift for some sort of relief of his aching cock which has been hard for ages now, barely any sensation reaching him apart from the short blissful clenches your cunt would pity him that lasted for a mere second. He could easily break out of your weak restraints but he fucking thrives in your sudden dominance, the way you spit and coo at him endlessly to keep still.

“Don’t you think I’ve been— ngh, good enough Angel? I need you, please— before he comes back.” There’s so much desire in you to keep teasing him but he’s right, any more dragging this orgasm and he might never have it in the end.

“Whine again, it really turns me on Taehyunnie~” Your voice is seductive and tickles the hairs on his neck as you start to fuck yourself on his cock, savouring every groove of his fat mushroom tip as it nudges your spongy walls. The clapping of skin against skin similar to the EDM that soars through the empty building during the day.

Each slam of your hips leaves a squelch of your slick oozing out around his base, dripping down and painting his thighs. Taehyun thinks he’s going nuts, biting down on his back teeth with his eyebrows pinched and eyes squeezed shut whenever the warmth of your pussy would clash with the cool air of the room as you bounced on top of him.

“Shit— agh! Angel please—keep going, s’ good..”

Taehyun’s upcoming orgasm intensifies as you continue to tease him, clenching around his tip whenever you were close to pulling off of him.

“Taehyunnie— tell me who’s making you feel this good hm? In the past you always refused to make eye contact with me,” you continue to lather him in your slick, leaning back on to the desk with your elbows to take his cock in at a deeper angle !! <3 “Now look at you, drooling just from fucking inside of my pussy, Taehyunnie, isn’t it tight? You’re just so drunk from it aren’t you?” A loving finger wipes away at the spit spilling out from his clenched teeth, his head nodding for him in agreement since he can barely form audible words when you’re ruining him like this.

“Mmh! Taehyunnie I’m going to cum soon, fuck are you close yet? He’ll be here soon— we can’t be caught!” The pout on your lips drills in to his head as he tilts his head back to see stars on the ceiling, repeatedly pounding in to you to rush and chase his first orgasm of the night.

Clashing strokes of your slamming hips and his powerful thrusts intensify the pleasure-filled pain of the constant prodding against your womb, moans so unrestrained and loud your manager would probably receive a noise complaint tomorrow from the neighbouring flats and businesses.

“Fuck! That’s it Taehyun!~ Fill my pussy up s’ good, show me how much you need this cunt to please you—“ Taehyun wastes no time in fucking you in to the desk, pumping a second orgasm out of you as you claw at his neck to muffle your heated cries.

He’s still thrusting inside of you when you cum around his dick, forehead beaded with sweat as the dye of his silver hair starts to drip and stain the sides of his head. Your cum is plowed out of you slowly with each blow before he’s lowering his head and pulling out, thick spurts of cum barely making it on to your stomach and chest, some remnants of it splattering on to the desk.

“Angel— you’re so hah, beautiful like this.” His forehead is pressed against yours as you dive in for another lust-filled kiss, lapping up at the drool leaking from his mouth and the plump of his lips.

There it is, the heart points you’ve been eyeing since the start of your shift pooling up in to your filled lovemeter immediately, honestly— this could be easier for you than you thought.

Another pink glamoured system message pops up in what’s only visible to you seeing that Taehyun’s still huffing and calming down from the intensity of his release. One out of 5 targets..god you hope the other targets aren’t downright horrible after one of the best orgasms you’ve had in a while tonight.

The puzzling look on your face is disturbed by Taehyun’s quick thinking, “his car’s pulling up in to the drive way you need to button yourself up, Angel.” Yeah, but there’s no need if you’re planning on taking your co-worker for another round at your apartment..the system never said you couldn’t fuck him if your lovemeter was full, did it?

A/n: The first character story for my series is out!! Hope it’s captivating enough for others to read the next batch of character chapters over Summer. My flight is tomorrow so I’ll be busy over tomorrow !! 🙏💕

taglist: @gyutaepie @ruinxas @bamtor1sss @chocomoas @satan-223 @whoisgami @lovesickchoi @akitfffr @komigyu @pengningie @vvjolyneee @glitteryheartbanana @bambiihee @beestvng @valthelover @sweetsoobie @seokqt @fairfootedflekk @alorring @toastmenace

taglist is open !! 🎀

Want to join the perma-taglist? Send me an ask/letter or message !!

[jeszrosse]

🧬 “Deviation”

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MANIPULATIVE!Albert Wesker x Reader | One-shot AU | Reader Unaware | Deep Psychological Control | Obsession-Slowburn

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⚠️ Possessive behavior • Surveillance • Delusional Justification • Isolation tactics • No reader realization • Smut • Stalking

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🧬 1. [Observation]

It begins, as most things do with Wesker, in silence.

Your first day on the team, you barely warranted a glance in the surveillance feed.

Another lab technician. Another replaceable assistant. Another insignificant moving part.

But then you lingered.

Stayed late. Came early.

Read the case files beyond your clearance level and didn’t flinch at the corpses.

You passed the first test.

Not that you knew there was one.

You thought it was coincidence that no one sat beside you in meetings.

That your access card opened doors you never requested.

That the intern who made a joke about your smile was transferred within the hour.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It was calibration.

He was isolating the variables.

And you, you became an anomaly worth noting.

He began compiling minor reports on your behavior, tucked into encrypted files labeled with meaningless acronyms—justifications for your existence in his system. He logged your arrival times, the hesitation in your speech, the way you handled scalpel trays with a certain… reverence. Clinical on the outside, but with the sharpness of someone who wanted to understand.

You weren’t like the others—those limp, nodding bureaucrats or ambition-hollowed researchers. You read between lines. You saw things. You didn’t ask for approval.

It should’ve been threatening.

But instead, it was fascinating.

---

🧬 2. [Containment]

Wesker doesn’t trust easily.

He trusts data.

Outcomes.

Silence.

But you unsettled the metrics.

You moved differently. You saw things. You questioned protocols he didn’t authorize you to read.

And he watched.

The way your fingers hovered over a scalpel you didn’t need to touch.

The way your reflection lingered in the biohazard glass.

The way your laugh, rare as it was, made low-ranking guards look up.

So he changed the guards.

Restricted hallway access.

Reassigned co-workers.

Built your world to orbit only him.

And still—still you never noticed.

Not when your new desk faced his office.

Not when your login synced with his terminal.

Not when your lunch orders began arriving, already paid.

You thought it was protocol. Efficiency. Company structure.

It wasn’t.

It was obsession.

Even your chair was adjusted—replaced with one designed to support your back based on posture data from security footage. Your lighting changed imperceptibly across weeks, tailored to prevent eye strain and keep you awake longer, sharper.

He scheduled briefings when you were most alert.

Redirected minor crises to ensure you'd report directly to him.

He watched the way you blinked when you were confused.

Memorized the twitch of your mouth when you were about to ask something risky.

Your coworkers left one by one. Transferred. Fired. Reassigned.

Those who got too familiar? Disciplined. Quietly.

You didn’t wonder why your inbox felt so clean.

Why no one interrupted your concentration anymore.

Why the company started feeling like a corridor, narrowing around you.

---

🧬 3. [Degradation]

It got worse.

Or—closer to the truth.

He found himself pausing the security feed just to watch the curve of your spine as you bent over notes.

He rewound your voice recordings, cataloguing the inflections in your “Good morning, sir.”

He deleted the word sir from your tongue in his mind.

He didn’t want your respect.

He wanted your obedience.

Your trust.

Your presence, constant and unrelenting.

You belonged in his space, like air belonged in lungs.

He just hadn't told you yet.

Sometimes, you left behind small things—sticky notes, paperclips, coffee cups. Harmless. Forgettable. But he kept them all.

The mug with a faint mark of your lip balm.

The pen you once clicked while reading virology samples.

A typed memo, crumpled, with a single word scratched out and replaced. "Necessary."

He examined them not with sentiment but calculation.

These were not keepsakes.

These were proofs of proximity.

You were slipping under his skin molecule by molecule, and he needed evidence of your presence in his domain.

But there were moments—dangerous ones—when calculation gave way to something darker.

Moments when you reached for a dropped stylus beneath the lab table and the hem of your coat pulled taut across your thighs.

Moments when you tilted your head to read something over a microscope and exposed the soft column of your neck.

Moments when the feed from the surveillance cameras caught just enough.

He knew every angle of your body from security footage.

The way your blouse sometimes gaped slightly when you leaned forward.

The way you stretched without thinking, unaware of how it framed you.

Unaware of the man watching—memorizing.

It was a weakness.

A flaw in his design.

But sometimes he would watch the footage at half-speed, eyes burning, jaw clenched, and tell himself it was for behavioral monitoring.

That the brief tightening in his chest wasn’t arousal, but concern.

And yet—when you bent to pick up a file one night, alone, late, and the back of your skirt lifted just slightly—

—his fingers had twitched.

Not from irritation.

From restraint.

From the raw, silent thought that he could take you. Right there.

Not in fantasy. Not in dream. But in brutal, clinical, breathtaking reality.

He could fuck you against the sterile counter and no one would stop him.

No one would even know.

But he didn’t.

Of course he didn’t.

He was control. Discipline.

He filed the footage.

Encrypted it.

And watched it again the next night.

Hands behind his back.

Jaw locked.

Throat tight with the sick, hungry coil of desire he refused to name.

You didn’t know.

Didn’t see.

Didn’t feel the weight of a man who no longer saw you as a subordinate or asset—

—but as something already his, simply awaiting the correct time to be claimed.

---

🧬 4. [Denial]

You never caught it, but he looked away first.

Every time.

Every instance your gaze met his, however briefly.

You assumed it was deference. Coldness. That clinical thing he wore like a second skin.

But it wasn’t.

It was containment.

Because the sound of your voice—the precise cadence in which you said “Understood, Doctor Wesker”—lit up some dormant, vile thing in him.

Something untested.

Something monstrous.

He was not above temptation.

He was simply better at dissecting it.

The way you smiled at your coworkers, never at him?

He noticed.

The way you stood just a fraction closer when anxious, fingers tightening at your sides?

He filed it away.

He let others believe you were isolated by accident.

But he'd engineered that loneliness. Curated it.

Suffocated anything that threatened to pull your attention elsewhere.

You never got that offer for project co-lead.

Never received the anonymous gifts left at your desk by interns.

Because Albert intercepted them.

Silently. Strategically.

You didn’t know it was his hand pulling you toward him, only that every direction seemed to fold inward until he was the only constant.

The only man who saw you.

Who understood you.

He watched you trace your notes, watched your lips form silent syllables, and all the while he denied himself.

Denied the heat pooling in his abdomen.

Denied the cruel ache behind every “Goodnight, sir” you uttered.

Denied the nightly compulsion to run simulations of what you would sound like begging.

And when he couldn't sleep, he listened to your voice on the lab’s intercom archive.

Just to hear it.

To pretend.

To substitute control for contact.

And still—he told himself he had not crossed the line.

Not yet.

Because you were still untouched.

Still pure, in the way only someone unaware of their ownership could be.

---

🧬 5. [Possession]

He began to see it in everything.

The way others looked at you—a threat.

The way you spoke about your family—a liability.

The way you said “thank you” when he passed you reports—intolerable.

You didn’t thank him.

You didn’t understand him.

You couldn’t.

But that was fine.

Understanding would come later.

He started curating your tasks more delicately.

Steered you away from field ops, too dangerous.

Assigned you exclusively to him, citing “performance optimization.”

You didn’t protest.

You thought you were being promoted.

But in truth, you were being drawn in.

Woven tighter.

Placed carefully, perfectly, exactly where he wanted you.

In his office.

In his world.

In his reach.

Your name was embedded in his daily reports. Your security log-in pinged his terminal every time you swiped a door.

The other researchers stopped referencing your work without Wesker’s express permission. He had erased your reputation as independent—you were his now.

And no one questioned it.

Not when his gaze burned through the glass walls of the lab.

Not when he stood beside you in meetings like a shadow wearing a tailored suit.

Not when his hand briefly brushed yours while reviewing samples, and he didn’t pull away.

He didn’t need to pull away.

He had already claimed what he wanted.

---

Now, his fingerprints existed on more than your reports.

He’d rewritten your schedule to end near his. Aligned your meals. Synced your lab hours. Even your breaks were subtly shifted, your elevator stops timed perfectly with his descent.

You didn’t see it.

But he did.

Every day you returned to your workspace slightly adjusted—your chair moved back in, your pens restocked, your personal mug rotated exactly one degree counter-clockwise.

“We’re optimizing,” he’d say.

“For your convenience.”

He'd begun accompanying you to biometric checks. At first, a coincidence. The second time, an excuse. By the third, he was inputting your medical logs himself.

His voice was always calm. Always formal. Always patient.

But his gaze lingered.

His presence loomed.

And his hands—always gloved—brushed against the small of your back far too often for protocol.

---

And he watched.

From behind glass. From dark monitors. From still frames and slow replays. When your blouse sat a little too low. When your eyes wandered where they shouldn’t.

You were careless with your innocence.

But he would be careful for you.

He adjusted the brightness of the surveillance feed. Zoomed in. Studied the way you leaned too close to your keyboard.

Imagined your breath fogging the screen.

Imagined how easily that breath could hitch. Could falter. Could beg.

You have no idea, he thought.

But you will.

Not yet.

But soon.

Understanding would come later.

---

🧬 6. [Infection]

The final stage was the most dangerous.

You said his name once.

Not “sir.”

Not “Wesker.”

Just:

“Albert…?”

His gaze snaps up from the report.

You’re standing in the doorway of his office, the heel of one shoe slightly kicked back, as if you weren’t sure whether to enter. The folder in your hand trembles slightly—an involuntary twitch you don’t even notice. But he does.

He notices everything.

The breath that stutters in your throat after the name escapes.

The flicker of hesitation in your pupils when his expression doesn’t immediately soften.

The way you shift—defensive, unsure—before you correct yourself:

“I mean—sir. Sorry, I meant—sir.”

But it’s already too late.

The damage is done.

You spoke it aloud.

Not in passing.

Not as a slip of protocol.

Not with bitterness or irony.

But with concern.

Soft. Tentative. Almost gentle.

And that… that is what undoes him.

You don’t know he has a file buried six levels deep into a server no one else can access—labeled with your name, storing every image of you captured on internal footage.

You don’t know he’s wiped out four internal transfer requests that would have pulled you from his floor.

You don’t know he personally selects your meals for team events—ensuring your preferences are always met, even when no one else notices.

You don’t know he’s kept you here, orbiting him, perfectly placed, under the illusion of promotion.

And now you’ve said his name like it belongs to you.

Like he does.

“Sir,” you try again, a nervous laugh escaping you. “Apologies. I—I didn’t mean—”

He stands slowly, measured, the desk separating you like a fragile boundary he’s had to respect for far too long.

“No need to apologize,” he says coolly. “You simply… surprised me.”

But inside? His thoughts are nothing but static.

He replays the syllables.

Not just the sound, but the shape of your mouth when you said it.

He files it into memory. Deep. Permanent.

And he knows—sooner than even you do—that this is the beginning of the end for the illusion.

Because from this moment on, you’ve stopped being a project.

Stopped being a subject.

You’ve become a trigger.

A fixation.

An opening he hadn’t anticipated—but cannot ignore.

You said his name once.

You won’t realize until it’s far too late:

You’ll never say it the same way again.

Because you didn’t know what you’d done.

You didn’t hear it the way he did.

Like it was already yours to say.

Like he wasn’t a god.

Like he was a man.

A man who had already rewritten every security protocol to keep you near.

A man who eliminated colleagues who made you uncomfortable.

A man who—if you ever truly looked—might shatter the illusion of “normal” with one cold sentence:

“You’re not here by accident.”

“You’re here because I designed you to be.”

But you don’t know.

You smile politely.

You offer your reports.

You drink the coffee that arrives on your desk precisely how you like it.

You go home.

You live your life.

While he rewatches your day in full.

While he listens to your voicemails and deletes names from your inbox.

While he studies you like you’re the last unexplained miracle on Earth.

While he reminds himself that love is irrelevant.

Control is what matters.

And he already has it.

---

He’d timed every entry and exit.

He knew how long you took in the restroom.

Which hallway you paused in to check your phone.

What time of day your voice grew tired.

He saw it as clearly as he saw cell degradation under a microscope.

That slow unraveling.

That quiet compliance.

You were adapting.

Your posture had shifted. Subtly. You walked faster when alone. Slower when near him. You dressed differently—more reserved, perhaps without realizing. You avoided eye contact with male superiors.

Wesker approved.

He didn’t speak of it.

Didn’t need to.

The conditioning was holding.

You had stopped asking questions.

Stopped challenging schedules.

Stopped requesting to work from other wings.

You had folded into the environment he designed—one where he was a constant hum beneath your daily routine. Where his name lingered at the back of your tongue. Where his voice set your pace and his silence set your nerves.

---

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he muttered to himself, watching the security footage replay. While he studies you like you’re the last unexplained miracle on Earth.

There you were again. That exact moment. Your eyes soft, confused, lips parted: Albert…?

He paused the video.

Leaned back.

Let the sound echo in the sterile quiet of his office.

It was not an accident.

Not some sweet slip of tongue.

No.

It was the infection taking root.

Your body catching up to what your environment had long accepted.

Dependence.

Deference.

Attachment.

He could work with that.

Love was messy. Emotional.

But dependence—he could mold.

He could reinforce it, reward it, create just enough tension to keep you needing his approval.

To keep you needing him.

---

(A/N: should I make a part 2??? I mean- I already have it. I just wanna hear it from you dirty sluts;>)

[kabr0ztrousers]

For your everyday writing, could you write something with insectoid aliens?

Like, reader (masc preferably but I could go either way tbh) works on a human ship going planet to planet studying aliens, except they’re not a scientist, instead something like a janitor or tech fixer whose never really viewed as an “important member” of the ship.

But, they, unlike their fraud higher uppers, actually are unfearfully open to alien culture, and when the aliens see this, reader is basically “kidnapped” (not actually really kidnapped bc they probably let willingly but yk) and made into the hive king/queen

Kabr0z Writes episode 83: First Contact Protocol

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: group sex; kidnap-but-not-really; Oviposition; mpreg

A/N: I wound up doing a seni-hivemind thing here, though if you were hoping for a little more sexy personality sublimation that's coming later this week. That's not even a joke, it's on the forecast

######################################

The ship was on yellow alert, shields up and no unnecessary power draw. It's been there for a week, ever since you left the borders of Federated space. A slipspace contrail had been detected above a previously uncontacted world. Xenologists had been observing from high orbit in cloaked research platforms. The hivemind on the planet below have discovered FTL transit, which means one thing: diplomacy would have to begin.

Yours was the closest ship, the xenologists having left the system in a hurry once ships started reaching orbit equipped with suspected superluminal drives, scuttling their platforms into the host star. No cultural or technological pollution could be allowed to happen before the hive made those first faltering steps on their own.

The ship rattled as it dropped from slipspace. Long and thin, like a javelin. The vessel was designed to minimise cross section while passing through a shockwave of compressed space. Travel between stars now took days rather than centuries, at the cost of slipspace vessels being laid out in long corridors.

You'd been lucky enough to be selected for the away mission, along with a xenolinguist and a comms officer. Your job was to stand there holding a rifle and looking serious.

The species were insectile, long-bodied and angular. Twitching antennae swaying to an unheard movement. The aliens were writing, their species having long since abandoned verbal communication for a form of low-level telepathy. Individuals weren't very smart, but as soon as more than two or three came together in a room, they could outpace most humans. By the time twenty got together they formed a living computer. Each individual takes on a role as a single node in a vast networked mind.

The delegation was being walked through the hive, twisting passages filled with individuals, each swaying as they watched you pass. There must have been thousands, even tens of thousands of them, each networking with the others.

You weren't looking where you were going. One corridor led to another, then another, the insectile people parting for you as you strayed further from your group. You were being herded, though you didn't know it yet.

You stepped into a round, vaulted room. A larger insect reclined in the centre, on a bed of sorts. They pushed you towards it. Antenne settled on either side of your head. A voice echoed within your mind. Your voice.

"Apologies for deceiving you. I am the King of this hive. My time grows close, and I must have a successor."

A successor? Did he mean you?

"Yes. You. I have seen your mind, through my drones. You are unfulfilled amongst the stars, the whipping boy aboard ship, no home on your planet, you took to space to fill the void. Let us fill it for you.

He wasn't wrong. Four of the drones approached you: larger, winged, with reddish markings on alabaster white exoskeletons. Their touch was gentle, disrobing you from your dress uniform, stroking your skin, caressing your chest and back. One knelt in front of you, taking your cock in its hand, while another wrapped it's arms around you from behind.

You could feel something pressing against your ass, gently pushing into your hole as its fellow fondled you. You grew harder in its hand, grunting as it rubbed the shaft in one hand, massaging the head with the other. It was remarkably good at this, you suppose it must've got some technique from scanning your mind. Or maybe the immense processing power surrounding it let it find the most effective method. Either way, it was mere moments until you were struggling to stand, knees buckling as cum leaked out of you. The drones maneuvered you to the bed, leaning you against it. One sat below you, hands still working your cock, the other pushing against your rear, a third took a place in front of you.

An appendage extended from its crotch, pressing into your mouth. You opened up, allowing it to enter you as the one behind you pushed its way into your ass. You moaned around one cock as the other ground against your prostate, feeling the ridges of it tease you to another aching, leaking orgasm. The one underneath hummed delightedly as cum dripped down from you onto it. The drones fucked you harder, reaching their own release, buzzing and humming as they buried themselves into you.

The cum tasted like cranberries. Sweet, sharp, astringent, it flooded your mouth with pearls. They felt like the tapioca balls you'd had in milk tea once or twice, soft and pliant, bursting when you applied pressure with your tongue, but mostly sliding down your throat. The one in your ass released as well, dumping its load deep into you, grinding into your ass as the pearls filled you up. It stung a little, the eggs taking root in your guts.

Days passed, your belly swelled up. You could hear the hive around you, growing stronger as the old king grew weak. You weren't one of them, your mind was your own, but the harem of those special drones treated you as if you were. The next generation grew within you, one day soon you would push them out, a slew of larvae to renew the hive.

It's good being king

[hy6erion]

Well you asked for more jayce requests and who am I to deny such magic words. My thoughts, and as always do with them whatever you want, whenever you want: an experiment goes wrong (a chemical spill?) and now reader and jayce need to quarantine for like 72h or something. Issue is, jayce has beens doing his absolute best to avoid reader and keep his feelings unknown.

I feel like I've only ever requested absolute filth for jayce here so maybe this can just be fluff or something. (Not that I think anyone would complain if you ended up writing smut tho 🤷‍♀️)❤️❤️

~🍒

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐚𝐛 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚 𝟕𝟐-𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞--𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬.

PART I: The Spill

The morning started like most did at the Academy — too bright, too loud, and too damn early. You hadn’t even had a sip of your coffee before the lab’s alarm system blared, shrill and merciless, splitting your skull in two.

The red lights above flickered. “BIOHAZARD ALERT” scrolled across the panel screen. You barely registered the warning before the heavy blast doors sealed shut behind you with a clang, trapping you inside Lab 3. You turned, heart hammering.

And there he was.

Jayce Talis.

Of course.

You could see the moment his eyes registered you — the flicker of surprise, the twitch in his jaw, the way his posture stiffened like he’d just been caught somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Shit” he muttered under his breath.

You were inclined to agree.

You hadn’t even been supposed to be in Lab 3. It had been a mistake — Professor Heimerdinger had sent you to grab the backup prototypes for your upcoming Hextech stability project. And Jayce… well, judging by the shattered flask at his feet and the strange violet mist curling from the crack in the tile, he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence sat between you, heavy with history. You stared at him. Jayce stared at the chemical reaction eating into the floor like acid. The air hummed with tension — scientific and otherwise.

Then the overhead comm crackled. A cold, mechanical voice filled the air:

“Biohazard contamination detected. Full quarantine in effect. Estimated isolation time: 72 hours.”

Your stomach sank.

Jayce ran a hand down his face and turned toward the observation window, but it had already sealed with reinforced steel. “Shit. Shit. This isn’t— I didn’t mean for—”

He glanced back at you, his expression unreadable. “Are you okay?”

You blinked. “Physically? Sure. Emotionally? I might scream.”

That earned the barest twitch of a smile from him — but just as fast, it vanished.

Jayce looked back at the mess, then grabbed a nearby tablet and began scanning the composition of the mist. You stepped toward the console, careful not to inhale near the chemical burn site.

“Do we even know what that was?” you asked, trying to stay calm. “It looks volatile.”

“It’s… new,” Jayce muttered, brows furrowed. “It was a prototype reagent. Meant to bond Hex crystals with biological tissue. I didn’t think it was unstable enough to react to open air.”

“You tested something experimental alone in a lab without a control team?”

His jaw tensed, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to replicate an earlier result—”

“And now we’re locked in together. For three days.”

The unspoken part of that sentence hung heavily in the air: You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.

PART II: The Avoidance Problem

Jayce hadn’t always avoided you. In fact, when you’d first joined the Academy as a postgrad researcher, he’d been warm. Attentive. A little cocky, sure — but always kind. He’d bring you late-night coffee. Compliment your formulas. Talk to you about your goals, your dreams.

You’d even caught him staring, once or twice. And you hadn’t minded. You’d stared back.

But then something shifted. A few months ago, he’d started pulling away. First, it was subtle: he’d leave the lab before you arrived. Then he stopped replying to your messages about joint projects. Eventually, he wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

No explanation. No fight. Just distance.

You told yourself you didn’t care. You focused on your work. But seeing him now — tall, broad-shouldered, and still so infuriatingly handsome in a rumpled lab coat — made your stomach twist.

“So“ you said finally, arms crossed. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Jayce didn’t look up from his tablet. “Talk about what?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You laughed, sharp and humorless. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious, even before this little chemical incident.”

He finally looked up — and he looked tired. Not physically. Something deeper. There were shadows beneath his eyes and something pinched in the corners of his mouth. Guilt? Frustration?

“I’m sorry“ he said quietly.

You blinked.

That wasn’t what you expected.

“I’m sorry“ he said again, voice low. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just… I didn’t trust myself.”

“…What?”

Jayce’s hand tightened around the edge of the table. “You were getting too close.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “And that’s… bad?”

“Yes“ he said. Then, more softly, “Because I don’t know how to want something without breaking it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

PART III: Quarantine Begins

The first few hours passed in stilted silence. The lab’s ventilation system had kicked in, filtering the air and reducing the chemical fog to a safe level — but the doors remained sealed.

You’d each claimed a corner of the lab, like two cats refusing to share a room. You worked at the console. Jayce cleaned up the spill site and began scribbling down notes.

By nightfall, exhaustion set in. A small cot and supply stash had dropped from the wall — emergency protocol — and you took the cot while Jayce rolled out a floor mat. Still, the space was small. You couldn’t avoid each other completely.

“I didn’t want to make things weird“ he said into the dark, hours later.

You didn’t answer at first. Then: “You already did.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Then his voice again, quieter this time.

“I liked you too much.”

You turned your head on the pillow. “Too much?”

“You made it hard to focus. I’d sit in the same room as you and forget what I was working on. I couldn’t look at you without thinking things I shouldn’t.”

You swallowed.

“And instead of dealing with it like an adult“ he continued, bitterly, “I just… distanced myself.”

“And how’s that been working out for you?” you asked softly.

“Terribly.”

He laughed, a breathless little sound that felt more like a confession.

You rolled onto your side, watching the silhouette of him in the dim red emergency light. His shoulders were curled inward. Like he’d been holding the weight of this in his chest for too long.

“You idiot“ you whispered.

His head turned. “What?”

“You could’ve just said something.”

PART IV: No More Running

The second day of quarantine passed slower. You worked together — actually worked, for once — comparing scans and running simulations to predict the long-term effects of the exposure. Jayce apologized properly, awkward but sincere, and you let some of your own walls come down.

Eventually, you laughed again together. Like old times.

By the evening, something had shifted again. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder at the console, scrolling through data, and Jayce’s thigh brushed yours. Neither of you moved.

“I missed this” he said quietly. “I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered.

You turned to face him — and found him already watching you. His expression was open, vulnerable. None of that practiced confidence you’d seen him flash at professors or crowds. Just Jayce. Honest, a little scared, and undeniably warm.

“You don’t have to avoid things that make you feel“ you said, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s not weakness.”

Jayce looked at you like you’d said something profound. Then, suddenly, he leaned in.

You could’ve stopped him. You didn’t.

His lips were soft. Hesitant. Like he was waiting for you to pull away. When you didn’t, his hand came up to cradle your jaw, the warmth of him seeping into your skin.

The kiss deepened, slow and hungry, like he was starving for something he’d denied himself for too long.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead rested against his.

“Three days in quarantine” you murmured. “This could get dangerous.”

Jayce smiled — a real, radiant smile — and brushed his nose against yours. “Too late.”

PART V: 72 Hours

The final day was a blur.

You worked. You laughed. You kissed, when you could steal the moment. Jayce held your hand while you reviewed the chemical logs, and when the moment came — when the containment door finally released with a hiss and the hallway outside blinked into view — you didn’t rush to leave.

Instead, you looked at him.

And Jayce looked at you like he had no intention of running ever again.

“You know” he said, shouldering his satchel, “we could tell them the air still isn’t safe. Lock the lab again. Buy ourselves another 24 hours.”

You grinned. “Tempting.”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“Next time” he whispered, “I’m not waiting for a containment breach to kiss you.”

[woradat]

For the ask, can I have IDW Prowl please? Maybe with with forced proximity that ended up with always thinking of the others/each others once they're apart? Hopefully it's clear enough, also love your works btw!!!

Loosen Close

SUMMARY – two cop in operation, with tension that no knife can cut through (pre-war)

PAIRING – prowl x reader

NOTE – that's clear enough, hope this one works for you! I spent quite a bit of time writing that scene, so I apologize if the rest of the writing looks bad (maybe not that bad, but still?)

⚠️ SUGGESTIVE THEME UNDER CUT ⚠️

The door hisses open with a sad wheeze. Inside: silence. Heavy. Uncomfortably well-organized silence. This is not a precinct that looks lived-in

No clutter. No discarded datachips. Not even a dent in the walls. Just a workspace arranged with such neurotic precision that it feels more like an altar than an office. One datapad lies exactly 1.75 inches from the edge of the table. You know because you’re already planning to move it—just to see if he twitches

And then you see him. Standing with his back to the door, arms folded, optic glow reflected in the screen of the crime log interface. He doesn’t turn. He doesn’t greet you. Just simply say “You’re not Firstline”

Wow. Not even a hello?

“Observant” you answer, stepping inside like the floor might eat you “Firstline’s gone. Probably somewhere quieter. Like a burning scrapyard

A pause. A long, very precise pause

Then, slowly, too slowly, he turns. Takes one look at you like he’s scanning for structural flaws. You feel like an appliance he didn’t ask for but has to keep under warranty

“They assigned you”

You nod “They did”

“They know about your incident log”

“…Which one?”

“Stairwell collapse. Shot your own knee once during a ricochet misfire. Electrocuted yourself with a.. malfunction machine?”

“Okay, I feel like you’re cherry-picking the wrong highlights from my résumé” you mutter, stepping around a chair that’s somehow too centered to trust

“Statistically, your continued survival defies several probability models. I’m still reviewing for system error”

“Thank you. I think”

He picks up a datapad and hands it to you without eye contact “Three targeted break-ins at energy redistribution depots. Each two cycles apart. Entry logs spoofed. Surveillance corrupted. Item targets: high-grade cognitive chips. Not replaceable. Not traceable”

You glance at the file, flipping through logs “This smells like an inside job”

“Good. That’s what I wrote in the report you’re holding”

“…Oh. Right. Just testing you. Team-building?”

He doesn’t blink. You're not sure he can blink

They say his last partner quit mid-patrol Didn’t even finish the field report. Left a half-full energon cube on the console and walked out with that look—the one bots get when their processor hits the force shutdown limit for social stress “Said he’d rather transfer to the sewage grid patrol than work another cycle with that code-crusher” someone whispered earlier “Tried reformatting his own emotion chip to feel less rage. Didn’t work” And now it’s your turn. Because the universe? The universe thinks it’s funny

The second you step inside, your sensors protest

The place smells like ion dust and old machinery—coated in the greasy kind of silence that only exists in buildings where something went wrong slowly and nobody noticed. Prowl is already a step ahead

Typical. He doesn’t need to speak to issue commands, he just is one. Every footstep is calculated. Every movement filtered through about six levels of tactical foresight. You? You're doing fine—aside from almost tripping on a panel hinge five clicks back. You only caught yourself because he reached back without looking and yanked you upright by the elbow

You didn’t say thank you

He didn’t expect you to

Now you’re moving in formation, side by side in a corridor not wide enough for side-by-side. His shoulder brushes yours every other step. You try not to think about it

“Stay alert” he murmurs “I just picked up a weak pulse two segments to the west"

“…someone still here?”

“Or came back”

He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. You both hear it. A footfall. Then another. Close—too close

Before your next breath, his hand snaps out and grabs your wrist. Hard. And without warning—Your chestplate hits the wall of the maintenance recess with a muted clang

Cold metal. Uneven. Narrow

You barely have time to blink before he's pressed in after you—no room, no pause, no buffer. Just hard armor against softer plating, his pelvis plating, locked behind yours, angles slightly forward every time he shifts to adjust footing. Each movement earns you the press of his abdominal plate against the lower arc of your back, and the sharp, seamless motion of a mech who never improvises—unless he absolutely has to

His hand slams against the wall beside your head. The force of it sends a small shudder through the panel behind you. Not aggressive—just final. Like punctuation. Like a closing gate

“Stay still” Prowl breathes into the narrow air between you

You try

You don’t trust yourself to breathe

But he's pressed in so tightly that every micron of movement feels amplified. Your shoulders are squared against the curve of the wall; his chestplate flattens against your back, firm and unmoving. You can feel the subtle pattern of his armor ridges brushing yours—contours slotting into place by accident… or fate. His left thigh slots between yours, almost casually—but the angle is wrong. There's no space for him to plant his stance properly, so his hip drives into your lower side with each shift of balance, forcing you closer to the wall than you thought possible. To the point that you almost kiss it

And worse still. Your hands are nowhere to go. Trapped at your sides. Pressed between your frame and the wall

And he hasn't moved. Not really. Just that slight lean forward when someone stepped too close outside and when he did that his chest curves over yours —and in doing so, your backplate presses snugly into the softer seam below his collar struts. Just that tense press of his midsection into the small of your back when your balance faltered again —The corridor outside crackles with approaching noise. Footsteps—slow, dragging. Too close. Whoever it is, they stop only inches beyond the alcove’s divider

“..They’re scanning” he mutters, voice pitched so low it sounds like it belongs inside your processor. Prowl’s mouth is beside your audio receiver now, close enough that the movement of his lips stirs the faintest shift of air

His voice cracks at the edge—just faintly as his hand is shaking slightly. Not out of fear. But out of control because now you’re both aware of everything

Of the way your back curves into him. Of the way his abdominal plate locks against the arch of your lower plating. Of the brushed heat of his sparkpulse syncing too close to yours. You shift—accidentally—and that small adjustment causes his torso to slide down just slightly, armor grinding slow over the base of your back

You hear it..He hears it

His other hand comes up, quick, firm, and lands on your waist—not gently. Not by accident. He doesn’t move it

“Don’t do that again” he hisses under his breath. It should sound commanding. It doesn’t. It sounds shaken. You try to retort. You do. You even open your mouth

Now you’re no longer just pressed against the wall. You’re bracketed. Encased. Enclosed. Caging. Pinned

Your voice falters before it makes it past your lips. But finally it came

“You’re crushing my hip actuator..”

“You shifted into it”

You swallow

His hand at your waist. No— now just below it. Palm splayed over your hip bracket, digit angled forward where armor meets the side of your abdominal plate. Not quite suggestive. Not quite innocent. And his thumb? It moves. Brush slowly, tracing the ridge just above the joint of your hip. Hard to tell whether it was intentional or an accident when he only did it once

Your field flares—just slightly, but enough that you know he feels it. He doesn’t comment. But his own field? It hums. Subtle. Coiled

“They’re gone, we're clear” he says at last. But he doesn’t step back. You can feel the restraint in him. The way every servo is holding position by willpower alone. His head lowers beside yours, lips dangerously close to the edge of your head

Your vocalizer stutters back online “..You can move now?”

“I know”

—

You sit at your terminal with a energon cube, pretending to go over surveillance logs. The lights above buzz quietly

The precinct’s unusually still. You should be feeling good. You cracked the case. You made a clean arrest. No injuries. No screw-ups. Not even a misfiled datapad this time. And yet—Your field still stutters every time your thoughts drift back there. Back to that narrow alcove. Back to his servo on your hip. Back to his frame pressed into yours like you were two puzzle pieces force-fit into one impossible frame. You groan quietly and bury your face in your hands

“I need to reboot my processor” you mutter to yourself “or smash it”

Because no matter how many times you try to drag your thoughts back to something else— they always slide back to him. The way his voice dropped.The weight of his chest plating against your back. The way he didn’t move until he decided to. You’re not even sure if you hated it. In fact, you’re very sure you didn’t. And that’s the problem

Meanwhile

Prowl stands at the end of the hallway, looking out the half-shuttered window

He’s not watching the traffic patterns. Not analyzing flight formations or reading case reports. He’s trying to process the fact that his body still remembers the exact angle of yours. And worse—likes it

He can still feel the curve of your back pressed to his chest. Still feel how snug your waist fit under his hand. Still remember the exact point of contact where your hip bracket slotted just slightly over his. Every time he blinks, the sensory map reloads like a damn glitch. He hasn’t been this distracted since training academy

“Unacceptable” he mutters under his breath

But he hasn’t filed a complaint. He hasn’t asked for reassignment. He hasn’t even deleted the sensor log from that sector of the depot. He tells himself it’s for protocol. Evidence integrity. Audit trail. But he’s lying. And he knows it

—

The next day, the paperwork and the results of the mission were all done, everything was done yesterday, which is expected when you work with regulations that have legs and a conscience, but you just got a message

Incoming message: Prowl

“If your balance actuator is still unstable, I can submit a requisition for maintenance diagnostics”

You blink at it. Then snort. Then immediately slam your hand on the desk and bury your face in your hands again “HE REMEMBERS”

And suddenly your core is on fire all over again

[reasonsforhope]

— Deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon dropped to its lowest level since March 2018, according to new data from the Brazilian government.

— Deforestation for the year to date is down 40% compared to 2023, with expectations for a significant annual decline when the “deforestation year” concludes on July 31.

— Despite declining deforestation in the Amazon, the region is experiencing a rise in forest fires due to a severe drought...

Deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon continued to plummet in May [2024], reaching the lowest level since March 2018, according to new data from the alert system run by Brazil’s national space research institute, INPE.

According to INPE’s DETER system, deforestation in May 2024 amounted to 501 square kilometers (193 square miles), an area 147 times the size of New York City’s Central Park. This tally brings the accumulated deforestation detected by DETER over the past year to 4,350 square kilometers, down 54% from the same time last year.

For the year to date, DETER has detected 1,182 square kilometers of forest clearance, down 40% from the 1,986 square kilometers recorded at this point in 2023.

[Note: January 2023 is when Lula da Silva was elected in Brazil. As you can see, after that, deforestation immediately plummeted. He is doing SO MUCH for the environment, we are SO lucky he beat Bolsonaro (the big pro-deforestation guy) for president of Brazil.

Also, in case the above chart makes you think we're doing worse than ever, that chart actually starts on a major low point for deforestation, toward the end of Lula da Silva's first term. Here's another chart that gives a longer-term picture, from 2002 to 2023. If we are lucky, Lula da Silva will bring the kind of drop in deforestation to us now that he did during his first term: an almost 80% drop in deforestation.]

Pictured: Annual deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon since 2002 under each presidential administration, according to INPE’s PRODES system. Note: Temer took office on 31 Aug 2016 replacing Rousseff, while other presidents started their terms Jan 1. Also 2023 data is preliminary.

The decline in deforestation registered by DETER mirrors the trend recorded by an independent system maintained by Imazon, a Brazilian NGO. Imazon’s system is seen as a check against official data.

The alert data suggests observers should expect a sharp drop in deforestation for the 12 months ending July 31, the period Brazil uses for measuring annual deforestation. July 31 corresponds with the peak of the dry season across much of the Brazilian Amazon, when cloud cover is at a minimum, facilitating efforts to measure changes in forest cover.

For the annual assessment, Brazil uses higher resolution satellite imagery, which requires more time for analysis. In contrast, the shorter timeframe of DETER enables authorities to take action against illegal deforestation if there is interest in doing so. Data from DETER and PRODES, the annual system, have a strong correlation.

-via GoodGoodGood, July 2, 2024

[grugruel]

Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

[microwavesaferat]

Arkham Break Out In

Jim Gordon, on a recent visit to Arkham, overheard from the guards that a certain caped vigilante kept breaking through their security to make personal visits. I mean, Arkham security is shit as is, he didn't need one of the Bats fucking breaking their system every other week! I mean, what were they thinking?

Now Gordon is faced with a dilemma, which Bat did it?

He makes an awkward housecall to the Manor, and has to relay the news to an in-cowl Bruce that one of his kids has been causing even more trouble for the Arkham guards. Bruce says nothing other than a small "mm". Gordon removes his glasses to clean them and, in that time, Bruce is gone. Well, not his problem anymore... He needs a vacation.

Bruce sends an alert out to all his kids with a memo to not, under any circumstances, break into Arkham! There's one issue though, more than one Bat was responsible.

Every Sunday, Dick brings the leftovers from Sunday Lunch to Waylon. The circus used to do a big lunch on Sundays, which became the allotted rest time with no training or shows. As such, Dick likes to keep the tradition alive when he can.

You're not allowed to bring food into Arkham, so Dick has to shimmy both himself and the food through the sewers to get to Waylon's cage cell. It's worth it though, just for the reminder that Waylon is more than his moniker, he's the oldest family Dick has.

Dick has convinced Alfred that the leftovers go to Goliath (bones and all).

Jason, as a criminal himself, finds it very easy to get into Arkham. The hard part is getting back out. Every few weeks, he lets himself get caught, purely to beat the crap out of Black Mask, laugh in his face, then break back out.

Initially, he broke in to kill the Joker, but he panicked before he could get to the whole floor used to house him. As such, Jason refuses to go below level -2 in order to stay out of range of that goddamm laughter.

Listen, if Tim wanted a villain to match him in wits, he could go to Ra's, issue is he doesn't want some creepy old man drooling all over him. So instead Tim plays board games with the self-proclaimed 'Riddle Master'.

It started with Nygma managed to get hold of a phone and sent Tim a request on Chess.com. The device was soon confiscated, but now, every Thursday evening, Tim loops the camera footage while he and Ed play various boardgames, ranging from Chess, to Monopoly, to Hungry Hippos (there are not a lot of boardgames in Arkham).

Steph typically sneaks in around the same time as Tim, the cameras are already looping after all (Tim has no idea she's there). Once in, she tracks down one or more than the Gotham City Sirens for a catch up. She keeps 3 thermoses on her for whatever siren she can find. Peppermint tea for Harley, coffee for Selina, and Vodka for Pamela.

The best days are when all three are in, then they all migrate to whatever plant-filled lair Pamela has cultivated, chilling and gossiping until Tim finishes up with Nygma.

If Cluemaster keeps finding scratches, spray paint, and foliage on his shit, well, the Sirens have no idea what you're talking about.

Cass does not have much desire to talk to any of the various costumed rogues. She does however, wish to analyse some of them. It's hard to get time to properly observe anyone when, as soon as they see her, they take off in fear. Thus, the arrangement was made.

Every Tuesday morning, Cass slips through the ventilation system before appearing in the cell of one Jonathan Crane. The two will sit on the ground, legs in a basket, and stare at each other, taking occasional notes. At the end of the hour, they will trade notes and tick/cross points depending on accuracy.

Jonathan likes the opportunity to analyse a subject without their constant jabbering (cough *Edward* cough). He's also the only person who cannot fear Black Bat.

A note from Crane may be:

Tired. Long patrol. Estimated sleep 3 hrs 30 mins.

(✔️ 3 hrs 15 mins)

And a note from Cass:

Tendon twitch, wear leg brace tomorrow.

Damian doesn't visit Arkham. He instead pet-sits for Harley sometimes. Lou and Bud are surprisingly well trained and oddly affectionate when not attacking someone. So Damian checks in on them while their mother is locked up. This has resulted in a weird situation where, after Joker tried to sick the hyenas on Robin, they instead bounded over and flopped over for belly scratched.

The only time(s) Damian has broken into the Asylum was to deliver pictures of what the two hyenas got up to in his care to Harley. These pictures have included:

Bud standing on top of Lou so that he can pull food from the higher up cabinets. (Not captured was Alfred's confusion at how paw prints were on the cabinet doors).

Lou, having tried to drink out the toilet, with the seat stuck round his head after being ripped from the porcelain.

Both hyenas fast asleep cuddled up to Batcow (the only meat they do not eat). (Also not captured was how Damian joined them straight after).

Duke patrols during the day, so no need to break in. He simply takes the time to visit every Monday morning. There's a serious case of the Mondays among the rogues as a walking lightbulb wakes everyone up on his patrol of the halls.

You ever been sleeping, however uncomfortably, when the full concentrated force of the fucking Sun suddenly appears, with a weirdly wide grin, loudly exclaiming about how wonderful a day it is outside and what not? It would make you commit crimes as well.

The villain who gets it the worst is Penguin since, by the time he gets to his cell, Duke is singing Good Morning from Singing in the Rain. It's juuuuust off-key enough to piss Oswald off even more.

After Bruce sends the alert out, all of the Birds decide to stop their break-ins for a while, at least until the heat has died down. This has unexpected consequences. By the time the weekend rolls around, Jim Gordon shows up, even more exasperated than before. He reports a change in Arkham:

Waylon has been picking fights with staff, and has been unable to subdue. He keeps ranting about birds and circuses and Sundays roasts? Then there's Sionis, who is convinced that there's something hiding in the shadows, waiting for him to drop his guard. He's even more hysterical than Jervis now, which is quite the achievement.

Then there are the Riddler and Scarecrow, who have both claimed to have been 'bored'. That doesn't seem like a good enough excuse for tearing the wires out the fucking walls in order to build a fucking robot, or for gassing almost every warden who walks past him.

Ivy, Harley and Selina have been weirdly quiet, which was very disconcerting. Well, it was until all three escaped at the same time. Harley immediately reuniting with Lou and Bud, who had been terrorising a local park for the last few days.

Throughout the weird shift in tempers in the Asylum, the weirdest one seems to be Oswald, who seems better rested than ever?

To reiterate, Gordon needs a vacation.

[hog-facts]

When threatened, wild hogs can vibrate their tusks at a frequency of 40 Hz, creating a low humming sound that travels through the ground and alerts other hogs up to 2 miles away. This behavior, known as "tusk-drumming," was only discovered in 2015 and is believed to have evolved as a warning system in dense forests where visual communication is limited. The vibration is produced by specialized muscle fibers attached to the base of their tusks, which can contract up to 40 times per second. Interestingly, female hogs have been observed teaching this technique to their piglets as young as 3 weeks old, though the youngsters typically can't achieve frequencies higher than 20 Hz until they reach maturity. Some wildlife biologists have nicknamed this phenomenon "the boar's morse code" due to its similarity to long-distance communication systems.