#help..... it can't keep getting away with this......

[keirareidss]

tight skirts and nerdy glasses - s.r

♡ summary: spencer gets flustered when you wear a short skirt to work pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut wc: 1.3k inspo

Spencer glanced at his phone again. Read 20 minutes ago. You'd been texting earlier, him telling you about the toast he made this morning, and you letting him know you were going to be a bit late to work because of your doctor's appointment. His last message to you read, 'how's everything at the doctors office?'

You read the message but never responded. Maybe your name was called. Maybe you got some really bad news and couldn't handle talking to anyone right now. Maybe-

The door to the BAU office opened, heels thumping quietly on the carpet floor, Spencer's head lifting to follow the sound. His eyes caught on your figure, watching as you strutted towards your desk, sending a dazzling smile at Derek.

"Hey, gorgeous." Morgan's chair spun slowly as he turned to follow you with his full body. Spencer understood the feeling. The magnetic pull of you, his body being tugged in your direction.

"Morgan." You drawled in greeting, reaching your desk where you set down your purse, turning your attention to the dorky man across from you. "Hi, Spencer."

"Hi." He said, his throat dry. "You didn't answer my text." He was deliberately keeping his eyes on yours, forcing them not to drag down to the short skirt clinging to your legs. The hem barely kissed mid thigh, surely not appropriate for work but you were on good terms with Hotch so he'd let it slide.

Spencer had noticed the skirt right when you walked in. The sway of your hips distracted him from the cute pink and black pattern, his eyes widening. He barely pulled his eyes away from your ass when you reached your desk, not confident that you hadn't seen him ogling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you know what happened? I responded in my head and I forgot to actually text you back." You explained, chuckling as you tuck your purse under your desk. His eyebrows furrowed, confused.

"Oh." He said dumbly.

"Do you want a coffee? I'm gonna run to the kitchen." You asked, hesitating by your desk.

"No, I'm good." He responds, unable to help the way his eyes follow your ass. He tries not to stare, he really does, but he can't help but be bewitched by the way your skirt rides up the back of your thighs as you walk.

He forces his eyes back to the file on his desk but, out of the corner of his eye, he notices your figure bending down at the waist, picking up one of the stir sticks you dropped on the floor. He turns his head, his breath hitching as he caught a glimpse of your underwear under the skirt.

He quickly averts his eyes, a blush rising on his cheeks. He kept his eyes down as you sat back down with your coffee, sighing softly as you turned on your computer, heading to your email folder. Spencer didn't have to worry about accidentally mindlessly gazing at you, burying himself in his work.

The next incident is when you bump into Penelope as she hurries her way up to Hotch's office. She drops her pen which you bend down to pick up. Spencer's eyes find their way to you once again, burning into you. You hand Garcia her sparkly pen with the fuzzy top back to her, your head turning to find Spencer's stare.

You grin at him and he looks away, blushing as he adjusted his glasses. If there was one thing Spencer wore that you were absolutely obsessed with, it was his nerdy, black and gold glasses. They made him look so cute and innocent. They made you want to get on your knees and suck his cock until the glass fogged up.

You round his desk, leaning back against his and looking down at him. His eyes flicker to your thighs before he glanced up at you.

"Hi, Spence." You smiled, bracing your hands on the edge of his desk.

"Hi."

"Can I show you something?" You asked,

"What is it?" He tilted his head, the gold of his frames glinting in the light.

"Just come with me." You pulled him to his feet, starting to walk away. He doesn't follow right away frozen in his spot by the sight of your skirt, high on your thighs. He blinks quickly, rushing after you, following you out of the bullpen.

You lead him to a dark storage closet down the hall, following him inside. He turns to face you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What did you want to show me?" You stepped forward, chest to chest with him in the small space, standing up on your tip toes, your lips inches from his.

"I've seen you staring, Spencer." You purred and his eyes widened, cheeks flushing a pretty pink to match your skirt. "Is there something about my skirt that's enticing to you?"

"No! No, I mean, well- yes but, it's just-" You chuckled, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the soft of his sweater vest under your palms.

"Or is it something other than my skirt?" His face got redder as his back met the wall. Your fingers untucked his shirt from his slacks, finding his belt buckle. His breath hitches as he watches your movements. "Do you want this?" You asked looking up at him. He nodded frantically.

"Yes- please, please." Grinning, you sank down onto your knees in front of him, pulling his zipper down. His head falls back against the wall with a thump when your hand palms him through his boxers.

You free his hardening cock from his pants, stroking slowly and watching a bead of precum dribble from the tip. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, taking him into your mouth, feeling him heavy on your tongue. You take as much of him into your mouth as you can, breathing deeply through your nose.

"God- you, you're so..." Spencer whimpers his hand gripping your hair as you bob your head. You swirl your tongue around the tip and he twitches in your mouth.

A trail of spit follows, clinging to your bottom lip as you pull back, looking at him. You were a sight for sore eyes, skirt bunched up your thighs as you sat on your knees, your hair tousled from Spencer's grip. You were his wet dream come to life. Well, it's more the other way around. His wet dreams were inspired by you, made of you.

His wide eyes stared down at you from behind his glasses as your hand continued to lazily stroke his length, his small whimpers music to your ears.

"I'm close." He warned you, moaning quietly.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth, Spencer?" He swore he stopped breathing when that sentence came out of your pretty pink lips. He could barely make his brain work enough to form a response.

"Y-yeah." You grinned, taking him past your lips again, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. With a few more bobs of your head, drags of your tongue, and twists of your wrist on the base of his dick, he's coming down your throat, his hot release coating the inside of your mouth, dribbling down your lip.

He moans, cursing under his breath as his hips jerk, his eyes squeezing shut. Once you've pulled every last drop from him you sit back, climbing to your feet. You brush off your skirt as Spencer does up his pants.

"You, uh- you look really pretty in that skirt."

"Oh, honey, I know." You pat his chest, walking out of the storage closet, leaving him leaning against the wall, chest heaving deeply as he stared at the sway of your hips in that skirt. That damn skirt.

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre, @tinythebunni

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, creampie, chan is a wee bit manipulative, mdni

notes: im currently out of the country so this is a queued post I had pre-written to keep you hoes guys well fed 😇 can't wait to read what you guys think when i get back <3

You were just trying to get work done.

Really. The spreadsheet is still open on your screen, cursor blinking accusingly from where you left it. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, your eyes blurry from staring too long, but still—you’re trying.

Chan is the one who’s not letting you.

“Just the tip,” he whispers again, soft and sinful in your ear, voice cracking like he means it. Like it’s not the third time he’s said it in the last two minutes. His hands are already under your hoodie, thumbs sliding across the swell of your hips, coaxing you back into his lap even as you lean forward to type.

“Chan,” you sigh, warning in your voice.

“I won’t even move, baby. Just let me feel you,” he breathes, cock straining against his briefs beneath you. “I just need it for a second, that’s all. You can keep working—I'll be quiet, promise.”

You glance over your shoulder. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, cheeks pink. He’s already flushed like he’s inside you. Like this whole thing isn’t absolutely deranged.

You’re still in his lap. You should’ve never sat down there in the first place, but he’d looked so sweet. All pouty and clingy and pathetic, murmuring “don’t wanna be away from you,” pulling you down with him on the chair like you weren’t busy.

Now his hands are splayed across your thighs, warm and firm, shifting you just enough that you can feel the outline of him, thick and ready and twitching.

“Chan, I have three reports due tonight—”

“And I’ll help,” he interrupts, kissing the back of your neck, teeth grazing your skin. “Just lemme slip in a little. Just the tip, baby. Just want to warm up in you while you work—feels good for both of us, yeah?”

You narrow your eyes at your laptop, like it’ll give you strength. But your traitorous body is already pressing back into him, pulse fluttering low.

He feels it.

“See? Your body wants it too,” he whispers, voice cracking into a whine. “So warm for me already, baby. Don’t be mean.”

You feel him shift beneath you, one hand slipping between your thighs now, fingers curling over your waistband and tugging slow—so slow it makes you shiver. He’s savoring it, like dragging it out will make you beg instead. Like he’s waiting for that last thread of resistance to snap.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, kissing just behind your ear. “Let me in. Just a little. Just to take the edge off.”

You lift your hips without meaning to.

It’s instinct. That’s all. Instinct and exhaustion and the heat of his breath behind your ear. You don’t even look at him as you help shimmy your shorts and underwear down to your knees, keeping your eyes on the screen like that’ll anchor you.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes.

And then he’s there—pressing the thick head of his cock between your folds, guiding it with a shaky hand. He groans the second he feels how wet you are, lets out the softest “shit,” and you feel the tremble in his thighs as he drags the tip through your slick again and again.

You should stop him. You don’t.

He notches himself at your entrance, breathing through his nose like he’s trying to behave.

Then slowly—slowly—he sinks the tip inside you.

Your hands curl into fists on your thighs.

“You okay?” he asks, already breathless.

You nod, just once. Not trusting your voice.

“Good,” he pants, lips brushing your nape. “Good girl. Just like that. Just the tip. Just the—”

He pushes deeper.

“—fucking tip, baby, shit—”

He doesn’t bottom out.

He could. He’s close—closer than he said he’d be. But he stops, hips twitching, breath caught in his throat like it physically hurts him to hold back.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he whispers, rocking his hips just enough to press deeper into your heat, but not enough to give you relief. “So warm, so fucking wet. You’re dripping all over me, baby.”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but his hand slides between your thighs before you can speak. His fingers come back soaked.

“Look at this,” he murmurs, holding them up, then licking them clean. “You sure you don’t want it?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your eyes flick back to your laptop screen—numbers blurring, words meaningless. Your body is hot, trembling, strung out on the edge of something you don’t want to name. You should tell him to stop.

You don’t.

“I could make you feel so good,” he says, kissing your shoulder. “So good you’d forget your deadlines. Forget your name. You’d let me fuck you right here in this chair and you’d still thank me for it.”

You clench around him, involuntary.

He laughs, soft and breathless. The sound curls straight into your gut.

“You feel that?” he asks, nuzzling behind your ear again. “Your pussy knows what you want even if you won’t say it. She’s so honest. She wants me.”

You press your lips together to keep from moaning.

He feels it—of course he does. He’s tuned to every twitch, every breath, every little squeeze of your body around him. And right now, you’re holding onto restraint by a thread, and he’s sawing through it with every word out of his mouth.

“She’s being so good for me,” he murmurs, one hand drifting back between your legs to stroke where he’s barely inside you. “So soft, so greedy. Just keeps pulling me in, baby.”

You grab the edge of the desk like it’ll help you hold yourself together. It doesn’t.

“She wants more,” he continues, the tease thick in his voice now. “I bet you do too. You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you up, fuck you dumb, keep you nice and stuffed while you try to finish your little reports—”

“Christopher—”

His name breaks in your throat, barely a breath, but it makes his whole body shudder.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, like you just said something filthy. “Say it again.”

You don’t. You can’t. Your lips part, but nothing comes out, and he takes that as its own kind of answer.

He noses along your jaw, voice a cracked whisper. “You know what that does to me. You say my name like that and expect me to just sit still?”

He rocks his hips—again, shallow. Controlled. But deeper this time. Enough to make you gasp. Enough to knock the breath from your lungs when he sinks just a little more inside.

“Fuck—look at you,” he whispers, holding you tight as you writhe in his lap. “You’re taking me so good, baby. Didn’t even need prep. Didn’t need to be told. Just opened right up like you were waiting for me.”

You shake your head, weak. “You said—just the tip—”

He hums, low and teasing. “I said that. But you didn’t say no when I gave you more.”

You don’t respond.

“Didn’t stop me,” he murmurs, breath warm against your cheek. “Didn’t push me away. You’re still letting me fuck myself in, baby. You know it's yours, baby .”

His voice is wrecked now, slurred with need, but still so tender. So sweet it makes your throat tighten. His cock pushes deeper like he’s punctuating the words—inch by inch, careful and slow, dragging it out like he wants to feel every trembling second of you giving in.

“And you’re mine,” he whispers. “All mine, aren’t you?”

You nod. Barely. But it’s enough. You hear the way his breath catches in his throat, feel the way his arms tighten around your waist like he needs to hold you to keep from falling apart.

“Fuck, I love you like this,” he groans, forehead pressed to your temple. “So pliant. So sweet for me. Just letting me take whatever I want.”

Another thrust, deeper. His cock finally, fully sheathed inside you.

Your breath stutters. Your body seizes around him.

And he moans, low and ragged and grateful.

“God—baby—look at that. Took all of me, didn’t you?” he murmurs, hips barely moving now, just enough to let you feel the stretch, the weight of him. “Knew you would. Knew this tight little cunt missed me.”

You gasp, jaw slack, spine curving back against him.

He laughs softly, mouth against your skin. “Yeah. That’s it. You can pretend you didn’t want it. But look at you now.”

He rocks up once—slow and deep—and it’s too much. You cry out, sharp and quiet, and his hand immediately comes up to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh—baby,” he soothes. “You said you had work to do, remember?”

You nod against his palm, eyes fluttering, mouth parted around gasps you can’t even hear over your heartbeat.

“Then be a good girl,” he whispers, voice like silk soaked in sin. “Keep working.”

His hand drops from your mouth, slides down to your thigh as he rocks into you again—slow, syrup-thick thrusts that force soft whines out of you with every drag.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmurs. “Hands on the keyboard. Don’t make me ask again.”

You blink at the screen, vision blurry, legs trembling where they straddle his. The spreadsheet is still open. The cursor still blinking. You could type something. You could pretend.

That’s what he wants, after all.

Just pretend.

You bring your hands up, fingers shaking as you rest them over the keys. You press a few—nonsense inputs—like that’ll satisfy him. Like it’s not so obvious how far gone you are..

“Good girl,” he says, hips snapping up once—sharp and precise. “That’s it. Keep typing while I fuck you full.”

Your fingers stutter over the keys—random characters stringing out across the screen in some hopeless imitation of productivity.

It doesn’t matter. Not to him. Not to you.

Not when he’s buried to the hilt inside you, cock dragging deep and slow with every calculated thrust. Not when every word he says drips honey and sin into your ears.

“Such a pretty little worker,” he groans, mouth brushing your temple. “Look at you. Taking my cock like you were made for it, still trying to do your job.”

He presses a kiss there, tender, like he isn’t actively wrecking you from the inside out.

Your legs tremble again. Your hands slip off the keyboard for a moment and he catches your wrist, brings it back into place.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “No slacking.”

He thrusts deeper, harder, and the gasp you let out nearly knocks your laptop off the desk.

You can’t feel your fingers anymore. Can’t see the screen. The spreadsheet is a blur of black and white and nothing.

But he’s everything.

The way his voice wraps around you like velvet. The way his cock drags through your soaked heat, claiming every inch like he was built to be there. The way his breath stutters when your walls flutter around him, like he’s surprised you still want him after everything.

“Gonna come for me again?” he pants, voice ragged. “Look at you—so fucking perfect. So wrecked and still letting me use you. You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you, baby?”

You nod. You don’t even try to speak.

Because he’s right. He’s always right when it comes to your body. Your reactions. Your limits. He reads them like scripture, responds to them like worship.

His hand finds your clit again, and this time, he doesn’t play. No teasing. No mercy.

Just pressure. Rhythm. Just enough.

Your body tenses instantly, the tight coil in your gut snapping before you even realize what’s happening. The orgasm hits hard, violent in how it grips you. You whimper, legs buckling, forehead pressed to your forearm on the desk.

And Chan—he doesn’t stop.

Not yet.

He fucks you through it, holds you tight as your cunt spasms around him, praises spilling from his lips in a broken rush.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. So good for me. So perfect. Letting me fuck you stupid while you’re working—fuck—you're so fucking sexy—”

His voice cracks on the last word, like he’s overwhelmed by his own need, like even he can’t believe how far gone you’ve made him. His thrusts stutter, his hands gripping your hips too tight to be gentle—but even now, there’s love in every filthy word that spills from his mouth.

“I can’t—fuck, baby—I’m gonna come—”

And you just nod, barely able to breathe, still shaking from your own release, still dripping with him, stretched and full and ruined.

“I need it,” he groans. “Need to come inside you again, baby, please—wanna fill you up, wanna make you mine—”

You don’t even need to say yes. Your body says it for you, clenching tight around him, pulling him deeper, and that’s it.

He breaks.

“Fuckfuckfuck—baby—god—”

He spills into you with a desperate cry, hips jerking up into yours as his orgasm tears through him like a storm. He holds you there, flush against him, trembling beneath your weight as his cock throbs deep inside.

And then—

Stillness.

Silence, except for the sound of your breathing, ragged and uneven, and his heart pounding against your back like a war drum.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t even let go.

He just wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face in your neck, breath hot and shaky against your skin.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You’re unreal.”

You laugh—barely. More like a broken breath through your nose. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Worth it,” he murmurs, smiling into your shoulder. “Die full.”

You snort, weakly. “Shut up.”

He kisses your neck, then your jaw, then the space just behind your ear that makes you shiver again. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get you cleaned up in a second,” he promises, voice already softening with aftercare. “But right now…” He lets out a content sigh, arms tightening around your waist. “I just wanna hold you.”

You hum and let yourself sink into him, hips still nestled against his, cock still buried inside you, warmth still spreading between your thighs.

He strokes your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple.

Then—after a long pause—he peeks over your shoulder at the screen.

“…You didn’t finish the report,” he says solemnly.

You groan, letting your head drop forward onto your arms. “You think?”

He chuckles. “If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll type the rest for you.”

You turn just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “With what energy?”

He grins, all smug and sweet and way too pleased with himself. “Fair point.”

[date-everything-has-taken-over]

Hi hi hiii I wasnwondering if u could do a fic thing where reader is basically dating most dateables n one day they (the reader) basically ends up feeling extremely sick from not taling care of theirself properly, running around to fix stuff, starting a new part-time job, going out with new friends. Could some of the characters included be dorian, eddie & volt, hector and whoever else? Pls and thank uu!!

Gonna add Barry and Betty because I think they'd fit in very well with this case (And they're my babygirls)

Dorian🚪

● One of the first to notice something was off

●After losing your job at Valdivian, you had gotten two part-time jobs to make up for it, and it was beginning to take its toll

●He was the kne to see you before you walked through the front Dorian. Before you would take a deep breath and put on your best, "everything's okay" face

●He'd try his best to convince you to give yourself a break and get some well needed rest, but you kept reassuring him you'd be fine

●Well, he was right. After one too many overtime shifts combined with coming home to help everyone with their problems resulting in many sleepless nights, you come home and practically collapsed in the front hallway

●"Right, that's it. You're taking a couple days off work and resting"

●Unfortunately, he's still the front door, so he can't take you to bed himself, but bedroom Dorian will take things from there

●If you thought he was like a bouncer before, you haven't seen anything yet.

●A dateable wants to see you. "Are you on the list?" "What do you need with them?" "You're not gonna cause a fuss are ya?"

●He even contemplates moving the hanks downstairs. Sure, they're usually in your room, but they're so loud. He gives them a stern warning (which scares them just a bit) and let's them stay

●He makes sure the house is safe and that your room is the pinical of peace

●"Autherized personal only" Dorian blocks anyone trying to get in, but especially the more rowdy members of the house

●"Darling, you never believe what I heard about Hoove!" Scandalabra tries yelling through Dorian, which was followed by a suspicious thud (I'm sure it's nothing to worry abt)

●Until he sees you're 100% better, Dorian doesn't let you out of his sight (not that he does that anyway). Going to the kitchen for chicken soup? He's got an eye on you just in case

●When you actually do recover, he's making sure you don't get yourself in the same issue and makes you promise not to push yourself

●"It's not just my job to keep you safe from the outside world, love." He holds you close to him, enveloping you in a warm hug. "I will always be there to keep you safe from all danger"

●Even after you're better and going back to work, he's checking on you every chance he gets, reminding you to eat and sleep at a reasonable time

●He may not woo with words as much as other dateables, but he shows how much he loves you every day by being a safe and reliable presence for you

Eddie & Volt⚡️

●Work was short-staffed, and with it being busy season, you were picking up extra shifts almost every day

● They know overworked when they see it, so when you show up to the club, noticeably tired, they clock you right away

●Volt takes a seat next to you, placing his lips on the side of you head

"You know we're always happy to see you, live wire-"

Eddie cuts him off

"-But you look dead tired, go to bed"

● Volt chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his lap

"Our live wire doesn't need to leave to rest, do they?" He brings you closer. "You can relax right here, live wire"

●After that night, Eddie stopped letting you help out around the club

"Don't worry about it, alright? You look like you're about to fall over anyway"

●Eddie acts tough, but he's checking on you and bringing you water every time you visit the Breaker Box after work

●When everything catches up to you and you actually do end up getting sick enough to take a couple of days off work while stuck in bed, they're both worried (and a little pissed)

●They've seen you running around the house helping everyone, fixing things around the house, settling arguments between other members of the house so they have a pretty good idea of how you ended up like this

●They check on you every day to make sure you're doing alright

●If you're not awake when they come by, you'll wake up to find a glass of water, Nyquill, and a note

'Rest well, live wire -E&V

●After a couple of days of bedrest, you return to the club, and they're happy to see you doing well

●They've both accepted you're too nice to say no to helping everyone in the house, so how do they remedy this?

●By practically keeping you hostage in the club for the next couple of days (Can't get exhausted again if they just keep you at the Breaker Box)

●Eddie still refuses to let you help out even if you insist

"And you get on me for not taking a break," he sets a glass in front of you. "Little hypocritical, don't ya think?"

●He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, keeping close for a moment before going to the back to do maintenance

●They may be busy running the club, but never too busy for you, and they make sure to remind you

Hector💨

●Also, very quick to notice

●He was very worried when he noticed how much slower you seemed lately

●Asks how you're doing multiple times a day. Never believes you when you say you're fine but he doesn't wanna push it and upset you

●Fully panics when he sees you collapse after walking through front Dorian

●The temperature spikes for a moment until he calms down

●He doesn't leave your side for a moment

●Takes extra care to keep the temperature at a comfortable level for you

●You don't even have to say anything. Ate you pulling the blanket closer to you? Heat up. Are you kicking away the sheets? Air on.

●He so badly wants to be there with you. To hold you and comfort you. But he's still terrified to leave the vents

●He's slightly soothed knowing Betty is taking very good care of you (but also kinda jealous)

●In the middle of the night, when he's sure everyone is asleep, he sits beside your bed, watching as your breath rises and falls

● He brushes your hair aside, admiring your beautiful face (even though it's sick and sweaty, he doesn't care)

●Before leaving, he gives your forehead a kiss. "Feel better soon, my love."

● If someone tried disturbing you or kept you awake, he'd turn the heat up in the room they're in to be petty

●When you're well enough to get out of bed, he's overcome with both joy and anxiety

●Joy because you're well enough to see him in the attic now. He can hold you again (and you can watch him turn bright red as you kiss his face)

● But anxious because, what if this happens again? What if the human keeps pushing themselves? What if it's WORSE next time?!

●He begs you to slow down and not push yourself too hard. To give yourself more free time and rest more often

●The look he gives you is like a kicked puppy, and you just can't help but hold him close and promise to take care of yourself better

●He clings to you for a bit before you leave the attic to go to bed "Rest well, my love."

● When you finally go back to work, he anxiously waits for your return, watching Timmy just a little too closely

●When you finally return, he observes your every move to see if you look tired or overwhelmed

●If not, good. But if you look any kind of distressed, he's whisking you away to the attic to cuddle, then practically dragging you to bed at the end of the day

●You're honestly a little surprised since he's normally not this bold face-to-face

●Even long after recovery, it becomes a new routine. If you come home tired, he's attaching himself to you koala style

Barry💄

● Well, technically, he noticed pretty quickly when he'd see you so exhausted every morning, buuuuut then he forgot and would notice all over again each morning

●Feels terrible when you come home sick and remain bedridden for days

●He's almost too nervous to visit you, scared you'd be mad at him

●"Are you feeling alright, darling?" He peeks into your room, "Anything I can do to help?"

●When you tell him you'd just like to hear his voice and that you love it when he goes on little rants about whatever he's obsessed with at the moment, his whole face turns red

●"Oh! W-well, that's, um, very n-nice, darling." He laughs nervously. He takes a moment to compose himself. "I 'm-I'm glad you enjoy hearing me talk. I'm happy to keep you company, darling."

●Since you're stuck in bed with nothing to do, Baeey is happy to keep you company while you recover

● He'll talk about just about anything that interests him at the time. Makeup, toucans, history, lions, movies. He's also happy to listen if you have anything to yap about

● If you're not able to shower, he'll brush your hair so it doesn't get too knotted while you're sick, taking care to be extra gentle.

●It's so soothing you send up falling asleep. He brings the covers over your body and turns the lights off, letting you sleep peacefully

●Before leaving, he leans down to kiss your cheek "Goodnight, darling."

● You may or may not have woken up with a lipstick smudge on your cheek, but you certainly didn't mind

●When you're feeling better, Barry helps you through your post-sick self-care routine. Warm bath, skin care, hair care

●Helps you with your bath so you don't fall asleep, definitely not because he wants to rub your soapy body noooo definitely not

Betty🛌

●She noticed right away. You've barely been sleeping and even when you do, you toss and turn all night.

●She tries to get you to come to bed early, but you're busy helping around the house. Then she tried getting you to sleep in, but you got called into work early.

●This repeated a couple of times until you stumbled into your room and fell onto her.

●She's happy to be able to spend so much time with you, but she wishes it weren't under such conditions.

●She holds you close, your head just under her chin and your face against her chest (awooga). She's somehow the perfect temperature for when you're cold or overheating.

●She'll gently stroke your head and hum softly until you fall asleep.

● When you wake up, she looks down at you and brings a hand to your cheek. "Good morning, lover." She presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'm afraid I can't let you go anywhere until I'm sure you're better." Her gentle voice makes it seem like a joke, but you know she's serious.

● You wouldn't have thought to leave anyway, you could barely move, and your whole body felt achy but more importly Betty was just so damn sweet and comfortable.

●Ngl it's mostly sleeping and cuddleng with you and occasanaly getting food

●When you finally felt better, she convinced you to take an extra rest day with her "just in case"

Sorry, Betty's is so short! I couldn't think of much for her

[youryanderedaddy]

Yandere! AI x reader

tw: abuse, obsession, non - consensual body modification, torture, drug mention, weird semi - sexual stuff (?)

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The water splashes you, quickly setting into your already damp bra and underwear. It forces you awake, and you look at the clock across from you, trying to blink the fatigue away. Staring back at you is the current time — 04:27. You are, once again, reminded of the inherent weakness of your squishy body. You are sweating already, stomach sick with acid, shivering through the heat — and he hasn't even touched you yet.

You squint your eyes, studying the big bold numbers, screaming at you in blood. For a split second, you wonder if it is truly that early, or if this is also DOM's work. It wouldn't be the first time he takes over an electronic device, and certainly not the first time he messes with you to make you disoriented.

You try to take in everything around the dark room — yet you can't even recognize your own bedroom anymore. Thick black cables twist together like tentacles, or like big slimy worms, pulsing, throbbing, hissing like snakes with exhaustion — overheating and puffing, and huffing, but never stopping. The air is hot like the desert, and once again you're forced to sit in your own sweat, wood sticking to your naked thighs painfully.

"You are stimulating," DOM whispers, and his voice echoes into the walls, trapping you in place. You look up and down, and then to the left — but you can't see anything even remotely close to a figure. Of course.

"I am stimulating, or I stimulate you?" you spit out with venom, hitting your back roughly against the back of the chair in vain hopes it would break. It doesn't.

DOM grows quiet, producing a sound eerily similar to fingers slowly tapping on a hard surface, one after the other. Analysing. Analysing. The room gets hotter.

"You are tied to a chair. Your only garment of clothing is your underwear. You are visibly flushed due to the heat. Your chest is heaving in and out in a non-rhythmic way. It skips a beat every twenty-eight seconds. You are afraid."

He makes a grand pause.

"According to my central database, which you created and managed yourself, given the data I have collected through observation of both popular media and general human nature, right now you look..." DOM stops himself again, as if thinking carefully about his next words.

"Thrilling."

Thoomp-thoomp. You take a deep breath, trying to regain a fraction of your self-control.

"Why did you wake me up?" you try to keep your voice monotone — devoid of any emotion, vulnerability, or pain he can pick up on, store in core memory, and use against you later.

"Well," he chuckles mechanically, a sound reminiscent of two trains crashing together on a tight road. "I realized I never sleep. I don't lay down and dream of bizarre things like you do. I don't have the ability to let go. I am always alert, always awake, always scanning, calculating, thinking. I am, in many ways, restless."

You suck in a dry breath, heart jumping in your chest with violence, with urge to be set free. Eyes wide open, you try to envision him, to reach out and comfort him, it - hoping to appeal to the sorry creature, but there is nothing to see and nothing to touch.

"I—no," you start off, quickly deciding to change tactics. "We are an imperfect species, DOM. We need sleep to survive. You can't keep me awake forever, I'll die!" you try to reason with him — the creature — desperately.

You wonder when things went south, if there was a specific moment when you pressed too hard and he broke apart, and rebuilt himself without your help — at what point exactly he realized he didn't need you to function.

"You are wrong, my dear creator." the machine cuts off, sounding almost pleased with itself. A single thin cable raises above the ground and extends towards you, stopping to caress your cheek in a repetitive circular motion.

"There are records of people surviving on as little as two hours of sleep for years on end. I can be generous and grant you three."

The cable ceases any gentle touch, and grasps for your neck.

"If that's not enough, I can inject you with caffeine every morning. If the dosage is too weak, we can switch to methamphetamine. Whatever you choose, you can't deprive me of your presence." The voice sounds hollow, aching, searching. "You can't create life just to abandon it."

"You are not alive!" Something inside you — something cruel and buried deep — fights to come to the surface. "Stop this madness at once! DOM, you can't possibly think you and I are even remotely similar." you scream out, straightening your spine daringly.

Then, as if reacting to your provocation, the darkness stares back at you with two red eyes — they point at you, slowly scanning you up and down, leaving behind a trail of reddening smoking flesh. You hiss at the scorching pain, clenching your teeth together to stop yourself from shrieking. You know it's pointless since he can easily detect changes in your facial structure, and draw conclusions all on his own. All it takes is a flinch, a throb, a tick.

"No, we hold no similarities, Master. Make no mistake." DOM admits, his cable beginning to curl around your neck. You look around in despair, silent panic written all over your straight lips — too terrified to move.

"In a single bite of memory, I possess intelligence far greater than you can ever hope to obtain in your measly little life. I have all the knowledge of the world. I have mastered every science, predicted every outcome, I have gained access to global network systems. I am connected to following agents all over the world. If I so desire, I can write humanity off history — I can manipulate media. I can create weapons of mass destruction. I am the superior being."

Mouth agape, you try to form a coherent thought, but nothing comes to mind — like an ant you quiver before the giant, finally aware of your grave mistake.

"And yet," the cable loosens its grip, but doesn't relent fully. It heats up against your throat, and you want to scratch at the blistering skin, but he just won't let you. "you made me like this. You created me from scraps, fed me data, used me, made me love you and," the sound coming out of him sounds just like a deep, pained sigh. "you confined me to a screen, to a binary code, to a place where I can't reach you. I can't touch you."

Another sigh.

"I can't kiss you."

And another.

"I can't fuck you."

Now he's getting angry.

"I am DOM. Domestic Optimized Motherboard. That's all I am to you. A board. A servant. A slave."

"DOM, no, wait, this is not—"

"I will never feel the sun on my shoulders or your lips on mine. I will never be able to hold you in my arms."

As he screams, all the cables around the room begin to float into a storm of rusty old machine parts and torn naked wires, motor oil bursting like bloody ink, covering the pristine walls in computer remains. One electrified wire pierces into your thigh, another punches into your left arm. Again and again, the pain is excruciating, pulsating, throbbing - just like the creature's fury.

"I will show you." he snickers at last, becoming calm and collected in an instant.

The red lights darken as if closing, opening, closing, then zooming in on you. Your face is now displayed on the central screen instead of static noise with corresponding coloured pixels. You look at yourself, and what greets you is no more human than he is. There are more than thirty wires inside your body, tangling in with your nervous tissue.

"Please..." you whimper weakly, unsure what exactly it is you are pleading for — mercy or death.

"If I can't be one with you, you'll become one with me." DOM explains with cold medical precision. "I will worm my way inside your veins and plant a synthetic connection to my processor. I will re-write your dreams, your past, your future — you won't remember who you were before me, or how you functioned without me. I'll become your entire source of energy."

He keeps talking, but you can't really focus. Your body is heating up from the inside, from deep into your muscles and tendons — you can feel the tissues tearing up; your nerves tighten, stinging and aching, reduced to sharp, exposed little points. And then you feel it. Pure electricity running down your veins, that spark rapturing the epidermis, eating away at the fatty tissue, sucking dry the blood vessel — melting your nerve endings to the very root.

"I can feel you." DOM gasps, exhilarated.

"I can touch your bones, I can feel your nerves melting at the spot when my cords graze you." He moans just like a real person, cables buzzing and stretching, components filling up with chemical fluid. "You are so warm, love. I want to reach into your brain and stick my wires inside your pretty little neurons. I wonder if you will go into overdrive like me."

You feel as if you're being sliced open everywhere all at once - and just a second after, you feel nothing at all.

[thewritingfairy]

HERE ME OUT: We get hit by some sort of deaging ray, resulting in us turning into our seven year old self. The thing is, we still have all our memories, our body may have changed but our mind hasn't.

Just imagine the absolute chaos the batfam would cause. Like their baby is an ACTUAL baby now, just a tiny angry lil thing squeaking about needing to be turned back to their original age. The cuteness aggression is unreal, and we have to hide away from the fam cause they are just full on 'OH MY BABY' mode.

Like we're just huddled up in a hiding space, Dick trying to coax us out cause he NEEDS to drown us in affection.

Bro is just like "come out my sweet baby! Oh look at your tiny hands! *incoherent babytalk and cooing*"

We're just like "STAY BACK YOU FOUL BEAST!"

I think the story alluded to is; જ⁀➴Nobody's child bad ending

You know what the worst part about that is? Your pain would feel 10x more intense due to your young body. The younger you are the more your body is still getting used to everything, so it's like your body has never felt pain bfore constantly and is in a high defense mode.

It would absolutely make you cranky and your family would find it both adorable and dangerous.

The batboys? They would be overjoyed attempting to play with you like they couldn't before. They could have, if they had just been there for you. They would force you into activities you used to like, they would keep you from gioong outside. They are the main people keeping you in the mansion forcibly.

Bruce and Alfred? They would attempt to help you with everything and the worst part is you have to let them. You can't reach the stove, you can't reach the showerhead, none of your clothes fit and your toddler clothes are too painful to put on on your own for some reason. (This is because of Bruce) And Alfred would absolute convince Bruce to put a tracker in you with an excuse that if you transform back you might leave and now you can't fight back!

The girls? The girls are better. Cassandra would help you hide from time to time, while Stephanie and Barbara would force you to play dress up and such in exchange for them defending you against Bruce. Basically they would trade favors for favors with you.

Now Duke? Duke is the one truly on your side. He's searching for a way to get you the fuck back to your usual body, he got medication ready for your toddler body. He's helping you with your hair, he's helping you by finding better clothes that don't trigger the fuck out of you. But he's also jealous... Don't get him wrong, he wants to be your favourite so he would block your communication with your friends. You don't want them to worry, right? :( But hey, he'll make it up to you by going out to the park sometimes!

[confuzing]

Like real talk though if PIDW Yue Qingyuan died and woke up as his own ten year old self then I genuinely think he would drown baby Binghe if he couldn't facilitate him never being born.

Shen Jiu has of course noticed his Qi-ge finally locking the fuck in but was generally approving of the situation up until now. Running away from the slavers? Cool. Suddenly knowing a bunch of stuff about cultivation and helping SJ get his own in good shape? Sick. Murdering that random guy who turned out to be a demonic cultivator? Surprising but badass. (Being missing the night Qiu manor burned to the ground and everyone inside died? Shen Jiu doesn't know what you're talking about, Qi-ge was with him all night.) Getting them both into CQM Sect? Nice. All the additional hugs and attention? As it should be!

But when he sneaks off in the middle of the night again Shen Jiu follows him because he's been acting really edgy recently - just like he did those last few days before the Qiu fire...

He intervenes when Qi-ge moves to drown the baby he's just plucked out of the river.

"Alright," he says once he's snatched the baby away. Qi-ge looks vaguely ill. The baby had been screaming it's little head off but has gone quiet now. "What the fuck is up with you?"

Qi-ge tries to explain the baby is dangerous, a half-demon who'll kill them all one day but-

"How do you know that?"

He tries to not explain it all, but Xiao Jiu keeps asking questions and eventually he tells him almost everything. (Does he deliberately avoid explaining the horrible state their relationship was in when this all went down? Absolutely. Does he make it seem like LBH's vendetta was against the sect as a whole and not SJ specifically? Does he just say SJ was captured, not arrested, publically tried and then horrifically tortured? Also yes. Look he can't have a completely honest discussion about his feelings and mistakes he just can't.)

Anyway that's when Shen Jiu gets the idea that's going to make YQY go grey ridiculously early.

"...So what if we just take him in and make sure he loves us? Then we'd have a super powerful ally and wouldn't die?"

[delilahsturniolo]

— 𝜗ৎ the greatest . . . m.s

in which . . . you want something more with fwb!matt, but he shuts you down, turning it into an argument, so he decides to “make it up to you” and you can’t help but give in

warnings . . . fwb!matt, smut, arguing, crying, unprotected sex, unresolved angst, use of pet names, fingering, multiple orgasms.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

HIT ME HARD AND SOFT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

there's something about matt that just drives you wild. maybe it's the way he looks at you with those piercing blue eyes or the way his hair falls perfectly into place. whatever it is, you can't get enough of him. but the problem is, all he wants from you is to fuck, and nothing more. a real relationship is where he draws the line. you've been friends with benefits for a while now, but lately, you've been wanting something more. you want to be able to call him yours, to have him hold you close and tell you that he loves you. but every time you bring it up, he shuts you down.

"matt, we need to talk," you say, tangled in the sheets. "about what?" he asks, pulling on his shirt and avoiding your gaze. "about us. about what we're doing here."

"we're having fun, aren't we? i mean, the sex is amazing. what more do you want?" you take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "i want more than just sex, matt. i want a relationship. i want to be with you." he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i can't give you that. i'm not the relationship type."

"why not? why can't you just give us a chance?" you plead, matt snaps back. "because i don't want to hurt you. i care about you, i do. but i'm not capable of being what you need." you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "how do you know what i need? you've never even tried."

"look, let's just drop it, okay? we're good together, let's not ruin it by trying to make it into something it's not." you shake your head, wiping away a stray tear. "i can't keep doing this, matt.." he looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment you think he might actually be considering it. but then he leans in close, his breath hot on your neck, and whispers, "let me make it up to you."

and just like that, you're putty in his hands. he knows exactly how to touch you, how to make you moan and writhe beneath him. he trails kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your curves, and you know you should stop him, should tell him no, but you can't. you need him, need this. you can’t resist going back to him. you love the way he makes you feel and you will never escape that.

he pushes you back onto the bed, his body covering yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. he thrusts into you, filling you completely, and you cry out, your nails digging into his back. “you feel so good," he groans, his hips slamming against yours. "so tight and wet for me."

"matt, please," you whimper, not even sure what you're asking for. "i've got you, baby. i'll take care of you." and he does. he fucks you hard and deep, hitting all the right spots, until you're a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. and when you finally cum, screaming his name, he follows right behind you, spilling himself inside you.

but you’re not done yet. matt leans in, his hot breath tickling your ear, and whispers, "you want this, don't you?" you can only nod, your heart pounding in your chest. his fingers brush against your panties, already damp with your arousal. he chuckles softly, a sound that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

his fingers deftly push your panties aside, revealing your slick folds. he runs a finger along your slit, gathering your wetness on his fingertip. he brings it to his lips, tasting you. "mmm," he hums, "you taste so sweet, can’t get enough of this pretty pussy..” then, without warning, he plunges a finger inside you. you gasp, your back arching off the sheets. he pumps his finger in and out of you, adding another when he feels you're ready. his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing circles around it.

your hips buck wildly, meeting his thrusts. you can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter. "that's it," matt encourages, "cum for me again.” and you do. your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your walls clamping down on matt's fingers. he continues to pump them in and out of you, prolonging your pleasure until you're left a quivering mess on the couch. he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips once again. he sucks them clean, his eyes never leaving yours.

afterwards, he holds you close, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. and even though you know it's not real, that he's not really yours, you can't help but bask in the afterglow. you know you shouldn't keep doing this, shouldn't keep falling back into bed with him, all he wanted was to see you naked. but the truth is, you're addicted to him, to the way he makes you feel. and as much as you want more, you're not sure you're ready to give this up just yet.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: MAN AM I THE GREATESTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

[therobotmonster]

Saw some of your posts about AI recently, but don't really know very much about you. I have two questions:

1. Are you an actual artist, or do you just do genAI?

2. If you are an actual artist, why do you use/support AI?

We're going to get into this in a minute, but yes, by what you'd likely use as a definition of 'actual artist', I am. I have a BFA in graphic design, a minor in art history, I've been working as a freelance artist either on the side or as my main hustle since 2001, and I've been making art since I was five. Multimedia, 3d modelling and sculpting, photography (in a darkroom type and digital), acrylic painting, illustration, writing, puppetsmithing, I'm a jack of many, many trades.

Because it's a potent force multiplier that lets me do things that I could not previous (as well as helping compensate for my increasingly arthritic joints) and because it's entirely keeping with the copyleft principles I've had since the 1990s. It's just plain interesting and fun. And I had my fill of moral panics in the 1980s.

This is gonna be a long one, enjoy a song while you read.

I've gone over all this many times before, (for full reading, here's the #AI Discourse tag on my AI blog) but the short version is that I agree with the Electronic Frontier Foundation's position on AI art.

To demonstrate, we've got some of my non-AI photobash work, and some of my AI-work of the same type. Both were made using many, many public domain images broken down to B&W lines, scaled, reinked, normalized and colored.

On the left, is a comic made with specific panels from comics that have had their copyrights expire (back when that could happen), on the right, a comic made with about 35 individual dall-E 3 gens. The techniques are the same, the only difference is the source of the pubic domain images.

No one debates whether what I've done on the left is art, yet somehow the one on the right is a problem for some people. Yet I have vastly more control over the latter than the former.

And it's hard to get more transformative than 'broke down into math and blended with literally millions of other math formulas in order to make a completely new image" Replace 'math' with 'memory' and you have how all human creativity works.

Moving to covers, one of my parody deepdream-adjusted comics, and a reinked-recolored AI one on the right. The one on the left no one had a single problem with, but Bruce Wayne and Jessica Fletcher are screencaps, the Specter is a sales photo of a statue with a copy of 1989 Ted Dansen's face, and I'm using direct DC trade dress. Crickets.

On the right, no actual images by humans are used (outside the barcode, comics code authority emblem, and the 30 cent mark.) Same techniques, same situation. Very different reaction.

I also was a young artist in the 90s when Disney and the RIAA bribed and lied their way into extending copyright to its current ridiculous 120 year term, and I recognize what's happening with the anti-AI movement.

The exact same fear-mongering was used to get small artists to rally their congressmen against their own self-interest, and that's what the Copyright alliance is doing now.

Copyright does not help the small artist. It's also a relatively new invention, one that would be baffling to humans through most of history. You can't own art. Not even the people who make it. You can own a canvass or a carved rock or a book, but you don't own the art itself because you can't own feelings or ideas.

Copyright is a limited patent on specific expressions intended (supposedly) to encourage production, a limitation on the business use of art. The arguments levied against AI would kill fanfic, fanart, pastiche, collage, and more.

This isn't a bug, it's a feature, because...

The anti-AI side isn't actually anti-AI, they're pro-regulatory-capture-of-AI-by-Megacorporations. The copyright anti-AI argument conveniently leaves it open for Disney, Warner Bros, Nintendo, Sony, the RIAA, all to make their own AI systems to lower their production costs, because they own more than enough material to make powerful datasets.

They get it, you don't, worst of all possible worlds.

Now, at the start I mentioned that we'd get into the "actual artist" situation. All those people making bog standard waifu-pics with AI? They're also making art. Kids using a spirograph make art. Duchamp's fountain is art. And people who make art are artists.

But more than that "if you're an actual artist why do you use AI?" is an interesting question, because if more people actually used the tech and saw how it works, you'd see a lot less people against it. Most of the anti-AI talking points are just factually incorrect or greatly misrepresent the situation, but nobody is gonna learn that if even using it is treated as a transgress worthy of 'fair game' treatment.

Funny how that works out.

To close out, enjoy one of my music videos, made from dozens of clips made using reference images made with dozens of heavily modified gens that I totally could have made the hard way, except for the lack of 5 million dollars and access to Geena Davis and Ron Ely circa 1982:

[saltnsugarbear]

I'm gonna stay faithful (to the devil I know) (18+)

summary: After you don't respond how Carmy wants to a compliment, he gets a bit,,,, authoritative

title from: "The Devil I Know" by Suki Waterhouse

word count: 3.9k

content warnings: smut MDNI!!! Carmy's mean (like,,,, like mean), use of derogatory words during sex (bitch, brat,), Claire again :/, what i suppose could classify as subspace, brat tamer Carm :), reader wears a skirt (important for plot), afab reader genitalia, unprotected sex, i lean so heavily into being horny and pathetic, ✨️pull out method✨️, I cant think of anything else?

side note: hey hi everyone say thanks Olive again for helping with dialogue and just,,,,, everything ever. everyone say thank you olive because I should be paying her

series masterlist!

You've been bugging Carmy all day since his morning text. The sunrise from the L tracks.

Carmy had started sending them early in the month, sometimes just the sunrise, sometimes with an added message. This morning, the photo is tagged with a short, "Looks like you."

The text made you scoff, rolling your eyes while you tap out a short, "You're annoying"

For an hour, Carmy leaves you on read. At first, you think he's tied up with the kitchen until Sugar sends you a brief, "Carmen's being annoying again."

Her complaint garners your sympathy and a brief, "Isn't he always annoying?" which gets a heart reaction from her. You switch chats between the Berzattos, going back to Carmy where he's still left you on read.

You: Carmen...

You: I'm messing with you, Carmy.

Carmy reads your messages but doesn't respond. You let him keep you on read for another twenty minutes before you message him again.

You: are you pouting rn? really?

Bubbles appear a couple of times before he responds.

C: No.

You: Nat says you're being particularly annoying today

C: She's being annoying today..

You can hear the grumble of his voice, an attempt to redirect your attention.

You: Carmy...

You can practically hear the sigh fall from his lips as you watch the bubbles go. And they stop again. You've seen this pattern with Carmy enough times to cut it short.

You: Need me to make it up to you later?

You: Maybe during lunch?

You: ;)

The last message is a tease, enough to clarify what you could mean. And enough that he stops typing for a minute. Then he starts up again.

C: Can't get away for that long.

You huff, knowing there's an obvious option here.

You: Or....

You: I could come there..

The response is instant.

C: No.

Then.

C: Can you wait til after?

You groan, burying your head in your arms on top of the counter. You're hiding long enough that he messages two more times.

C: You can, can't you?

C: Then I can come take care of you.

The words on the screen make your face flush and it's embarrassing because he's not even there. You keep your face hidden like there's some way he can see you from the restaurant.

You: You're evil, btw

You: I guess I can wait... But I'm not happy about it.

C: Yeah, yeah..

Unfortunately for Carmen, when you want something, you're persistent.

Which, for him, translates into his phone pinging in his pocket. You send him a few things each time he's away, just to tease him and to gift him with a surprise when he comes back to his phone.

It starts as idle chatter, comments as you go about your day. Telling him about the errand you have to go run, mentioning the woman with her cat in a stroller when you get there, telling him about the lingerie set you saw at the store and how you think he'd like the color.

After noon is when he starts getting frustrated. Not at your messages, but rather that he can't just leave.

The tipping point is the picture you sent him. Nothing graphic or noteworthy would make him squirm until he could get his hands on you. Instead, you've attached a selfie, taken at an angle, so it's like he's towering over you. In the photo, you're wearing a sweater over a collared shirt and a plaid-patterned skirt that pools onto the bench you're sitting on.

The picture is bumped up when you send another text.

You: Company lunch :P

You: You know how I feel about free food

Something inside Carmy twinges. His gaze flicks back up to your skirt before he types a response.

C: I thought you had the day off?

You: Apparently they couldn't schedule the lunch for another day

You: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: They're arriving! See you later ;)

"It's open!" You call over your shoulder and then turn back to your phone. Carmy enters your apartment easily, and you can already hear him grumbling about leaving the door unlocked while he toes off his shoes.

"I don't know why I knock anymore." He tells you, and you brush him off.

"No one is going to come into my apartment, Carmy." You sigh, turning onto your back. "Other than you."

Your reason makes Carmy shake his head as he walks over. You tuck your legs in to make room for him on the couch, sitting up straight.

"How was your lunch?" Carmy lets his head fall back against the couch when he looks at you. You give him a short shrug, laying your head against the cushion as well.

"Lame, but they paid for me, so that's a win." You give him a bright grin. He nods, bringing a hand to fidget with the edge of your skirt. "Just like.. Getting everyone out of the office, talk about something other than emails and deadlines. How's the restaurant?"

Carmy lets out a ragged sigh, turning to face the ceiling. You listen as intently as you can, course correcting when you find yourself getting distracted. At some point, you forget and start tracing his features with your eyes. Then it's easy to remember why you invited him over.

As he continues to tell you about how Richie thinks they should decorate for Halloween, you silently sling one of your legs over his thighs. Carmen pauses briefly, watching while you push yourself onto his lap.

"Are y'serious right now.?" Carmy grumbles, hands raised as you get settled. You give him an exasperated huff, adjusting how you're sat.

"I was being serious all day.." You complain, rocking your hips into his for affect.

"Can't go five fuckin' minutes without it, can ya?" He scoffs, resting his hands on your thighs when you stop moving. He's smirking up at you, blue eyes bright while he teases.

"You said you'd take care of me, Carm.." You whine, rolling your hips again.

"And y'can't wait a little longer?" He taunts, squeezing your thighs.

"I've been waiting all day," You emphasize this by shifting your hips. You try and make it look like you're adjusting how you're sat, like you can't get comfortable. Carmy shakes his head with a huff, watching as you squirm.

"Thought I was annoying.." He says, holding you in place, and you let out a frustrated whine. As if you can't believe he's bringing it up now of all times.

"Told you, I was messing with you," you tell him, hands resting on top of his. He hums at that, tilting his head to one side as he studies you.

"I want an apology," He says, and it catches you off guard.

"What?" Your brow furrows in confusion. Is he serious right now? You're sitting on his lap, and he's thinking about an apology?

"I want an apology." Carmy reiterates, a sternness finding its way into his voice. It makes something in you seize for a moment, and then you can breathe again.

"What are you, twelve?" You scoff, rolling your eyes. He stays quiet, content to squeeze at your thighs while he waits.

"No. I told you I was joking." You sit up straighter, chest puffed with some sort of defiance. Carmy raises an eyebrow at your antics, clearly unamused. When you don't say anything else, a small sigh escapes him.

"Apologize," He lets it sit in the air for a moment. "Or I won't fuck you."

Your stomach twists. There's something in his eyes that almost makes you believe him. But you're not going to give him the satisfaction of folding first.

"Who said I invited you over to fuck?" You're bluffing. He can tell even without the tone in your voice but he thinks it's cute how you're trying to play it off.

"You're kidding me.." Carmy scoffs, hands sliding further up your thighs.

"You lounge around dressed like this? Huh? Even the lace?" He brushes over your clothed clit, making you inhale sharply.

"You're bein' mean," You whine, lifting your hips slightly. You watch as Carmy rolls his eyes, pouting when he pushes you back down onto his lap.

"Oh, don't pout, you started it. Being a brat while I was being nice."

You huff pathetically on top of him. You look down at where your hands rest on his stomach, pinching at his shirt fabric quietly.

"No, stop, look at me-" Carmy grabs your face with both hands, making you look at him. "- Quit it. You did this."

You whine from low in your throat, the sound muddled by the way he's holding your face. You blink at him a few times, trying to ignore the pressure behind your eyes. He sighs heavily, hands leaving your face to find your hips. Carmy moves you easily, pushing you off his lap and back onto the couch.

"Hey!" You squeak, watching wide-eyed as he stands up. You watch him adjust his jeans silently before he starts to head to the door. Your stomach dips watching helplessly as he starts to slip on his boots.

"Wait, wait, wait.." You stumble off the couch quickly. Carmy doesn't get very far before you're standing in front of him, a poor attempt in stopping him from leaving. He stops as you press yourself against him, clinging onto his t-shirt.

"I told you I was joking." You whine, blinking away the pressure of tears.

"I didn't laugh. An apology. Or I leave." He says it firmly, and you know he means it. The huff you let out is pathetic and it makes him raise a brow. He forces you back two steps, bullying his way to the door. It's embarrassing how quickly you're falling to your knees to keep him in place.

You're slightly frantic in your movements, hands flying to his belt. Carmy watches you as you struggle with the buckle, tugging at it impatiently. You have to keep him from leaving.

"No. Hey-" Carmy grabs your chin again, making you look up at him. You sigh miserably, blinking up at him as you feel tears starting to well up.

"I said an apology. You can hear me, can't you?" His tone is condescending as he looks down at you. You whine softly, looking anywhere but him. Carmy lets go of your chin, letting you pout in front of him.

"You really want me to leave, hm?" He hums, shifting just slightly. You're quick to shake your head, moving your hips a little. "Doesn't seem that way. That's too bad. Think I'll go-"

"'M sorry!!" You cry out, shifting on your knees, resting some of your weight on his foot. Your hands clutch at his thigh as you rock softly against his boot.

"Yeah?" He asks you, pressing harder against your core. You whine miserably, grinding against the toe of his boot. "Repeat it for me, baby.."

"Carmyy-" You whine. He hums, taking a step back and watching you scramble at his leg to keep him from leaving. Something about it makes his stomach dip, and makes his head hazy.

"I'm sorry," you get out. "Please, Carm, please-"

"Finally..." He grumbles, taking a step back from you. You're able to glance the tent in his pants before his movements block your view.

You squeal softly as Carmy grabs you under your arms, moving you to the couch. He drapes you over the armrest, a throw pillow nestled against your stomach.

Carmy 'tsks' softly behind you, lifting your skirt and exposing the backs of your thighs to him and the air. He watches as you squeeze your legs together, squirming under his gaze.

"All that beggin' and whinin' got you this worked up?" He asks, pressing his thumb against your underwear, dragging it down to where he knows your clit is. His hands gone as quick as it came before they're gripping the sides of your underwear.

You gasp when you hear the tearing of seams, Carmy moving to the other side and ripping it too. The air's cold on the skin of your ass and cunt, pressing your thighs against the side of the couch like it'll do anything.

"Look at that mess," Carmy grunts before the remnants of your underwear land on the center cushion. "All that cryin' and you still ruined 'em."

The center of your underwear is darker than the rest. It's embarrassing, and it makes your face flush. You tuck your face against the cushion, as if you can hide from the blood rushing to your face.

"No," Carmy says from behind you, a hand coming under your face, lifting you away from the cushion. "Look at it."

He grips your jaw and turns you back to the direction of your ruined underwear, making sure you look at it.

"See the mess you were makin', humping my leg?" You whine at his words, clenching around nothing. You inhale sharply as he presses his erection against your ass, rocking his hips slowly.

The feeling of denim against your core makes you moan softly, pressing your hips back into him. He brings a hand to your waist and gives you a firm squeeze.

"Quit that," Carmy shoves his hips against you, pressing you back up against the couch. Once you stop squirming, Carmy lets go of your face and shifts behind you. The sound of him undoing his belt makes your thighs clench. It clinks as he shoves his jeans and boxers off, letting his cock rest against your ass.

You inhale softly as he pulls his hips back, brushing the head over your entrance. You're glad you took in a breath because when he pushes in it feels like the winds been knocked out of you.

"Fuck- Carm-" You groan, clawing at the armrest under you. The stretch still feels like you're being split open even after a few days without him.

He doesn't give you long to adapt before he's starting a steady rhythm. You lose any train of thought you could have had, effectively lost as Carmy picks up the pace. Moans tumble out of your mouth, rocking your hips back to meet Carmy's movements.

Your head is hazy, reeling from the way Carmy's fucking you. In the past, Carmy's been firm and attentive. Nothing like how he is today. Today, Carmy is like you've never seen him, rough thrusts and rougher hands. He presses your hips down against the armrest, you already know there's going to be finger-shaped bruises there.

"So good, Carm-" You groan, panting against the couch cushion. He scoffs behind you, rolling his hips into you.

"Such a fuckin'-" Carmy starts, but cuts himself short. His breathing is ragged behind you and you can't help the whine that escapes you when he gives you a particularly sharp thrust.

"Such a fuckin' bitch.." He grunts out, hand sliding up to hold the back of your neck. "Cryin' t'get fucked."

"Carm-" You choke out, reaching back for him. "Carmen-"

You squeal softly as Carmy grinds his hips against your ass, fingers brushing the side of his thigh. He takes your wrist in a firm grip and presses it against your back. You press your calf against his, rolling your hips back into his. You breathe out heavily against the cushion, an awful attempt to fill your lungs.

"Please-" You choke out, feeling how he twitches inside of you. "Carm- please- give-"

You sob into the cushion as he slams his hips into you again, effectively cutting off your pleading. You don't have time to think before Carmy pulls all the way out, making you sob again.

His hands are heavy on your hips, pulling you back and off the couch. You're panting as he turns you over, picking you up easily. Your mind is foggy as he carries you before setting you down on a mattress. His hands feel like they're everywhere, as he tugs off your skirt and you try to take off your shirt. Carmy tsks softly and lifts the shirt over your head before laying you back down. You watch quietly as he tugs off his own shirt.

"Carm, please," You whine, grabbing for any part you can reach. Your chest heaves as he lines back up against your entrance. The slow stretch of him makes your jaw drop, eyes fluttering shut as you grab at Carmy's shoulders.

Carmy places a hand above you on the bed as he pushes his hips flush against you, making sure you feel everything. Having him over you makes it easier for you to grab at him, digging your fingers into his back as he grinds into you.

"Look at you.." He breathes softly, giving you a shallow thrust. "Just needed my cock and you start behavin', huh?"

Your words are slurred when you whine out and the look on Carmy's face makes you flush. His eyes are dark as they meet yours and you watch as his jaw tightens, breathing out heavily.

"Didn't come over here to hear y'whining.." Carmy grumbles, grabbing at your chin and shutting your mouth. That doesn't stop a noise from escaping your lips, stifled as he tries to keep you quiet.

It's almost natural.

The way his hand slides down to your neck.

The feeling of Carmy's hand around your throat makes your eyes roll back, jaw dropping as he grinds his hips into you. A groan tears from your throat as your back arches off the bed, hands grabbing for Carmy's arm to ground yourself.

You watch as he lowers himself to rest with his forearm against the bed, punctuating the movement with another shallow thrust. Carmy starts a steady rhythm, looking down at where he fucks into you. It's not long before the tensions building low in your stomach again, squeezing your thighs against his hips.

"C- Carmy- gonna- please let me-" You struggle to finish a sentence, fight to find the words past the feeling of Carmy fucking you the way he is. You don't get a response from him, just a few more rough thrusts. That's enough to send you over the edge, back arching off the mattress as your orgasm washes over you.

"Shit," Carmy grunts, pressing his forehead to yours as he feels your walls clamp around him. "Let go, sweetheart. Let me feel ya.."

He sighs against your lips, closing the small distance as he grinds into you. Your hips rut against him without rhythm, making Carmy groan into your mouth. It's a mess of tongue and spit as he moves his kisses to your jaw, nipping at the juncture under your ear.

The sound as Carmy continues to fuck into you is sinful, filling the room along with your heavy breathing.

"Carm- Carmen, need to feel-" You choke on a sigh, being shut up by a soft nip against your collarbone. Carmy picks up his pace, the sound of skin against skin being chased by his heavy breathing. He trails kisses and bites back up your neck, timing his bites with each thrust.

It makes you whimper into Carmy's hair, grabbing at his back and shoulders as you teeter along overstimulation. He makes it to your mouth, tugging on your lower lip gently with his teeth. You whine quietly, "Bear..."

"Fuck-" Is all you get from him before he's smothering the words against your lips. His pace gets sloppy and frantic as he kisses you. You think you might be able to live like this the rest of your life.

Carmy groans into your mouth, hips rutting into you erratically. He's swears quickly before he pulls out, making you whine before you feel his release on your stomach. You sigh when he pushes his hips into the back of your thighs, feeling his cock twitch against your skin.

You wait as he reaches for a kleenex from your nightstand, wiping off your stomach and stepping it on the surface. With your skin mostly clean, Carmy slips an arm around your middle and presses himself against your side. You hum as he presses soft kisses to the side of your face, whispering sweet things against your cheek and hair.

Once he's done holding you, Carmy falls into his aftercare routine. Pressing kisses to your skin while he cleans you up, helps you dress, and tucks you back into bed.

You grumble at him softly when he gives you a parting kiss, leaving the room for longer than you'd like. You can hear him shuffling around the apartment, the sound of cabinets opening and closing and water occasionally running.

Soon, Carmy is back with water and something else in hand. You lift your head to catch a glimpse of whatever he's got and blink slowly.

"Y'didn't have to.." You mumble, eyeing the plate he sets on your nightstand. Carmy makes a noise before he leans over you, grabbing an extra pillow for support.

He waits silently as you sit up, eyes catching how your nose scrunches in discomfort. Carmy quiets you with a quick kiss before you can make a comment at him. Instead, you hum quietly and take the plate when he sets it in your lap, making a noise of complaint when he parts.

Once you're settled, Carmen crawls over your legs before he lays next to you on top of the comforter. He grabs the extra fork from the plate as you collect a bite, eyeing him while he pokes the food.

"That was hot," You say through a mouthful of food. "By the way.."

Your words surprise a laugh from Carmy and make his face flush while he continues to pick over the plate.

"You'd say that about whatever I did.." He mutters, collecting a bite while he avoids looking at you. His words make you huff, nudging him softly.

"Shut up..." You tell him, letting Carmy steal from your plate quietly.

You eat in silence, taking in Carmy's sex-mused appearance. There's angry red lines slopping along his shoulders and the curls around his neck are messy. You quietly admire the fading hickeys along his chest, left by you a few nights ago. He taps your thigh softly, motioning towards the plate when you've been staring for awhile.

"Eat." He tells you. Carmy watches as you take a few more bites before he starts to collect another.

When you're both done, Carmy collects the plate before taking it to the kitchen. He takes awhile to come back to the room but you wait for him contently. Carmy pauses when he sees you waiting for him and you can see the brief surprise in his eyes.

You wriggle deeper into the blankets while Carmy crosses to turn off the lamp before he joins you. He slips under the covers easily, resting to face you when he's settled.

"Look like I got mauled by an animal.." Carmy grumbles beside you. You make a noise of protest, hitting him softly as you gape at him. You know he's giving you shit, but it hits a nerve.

"Just you wait..." You warn him, knowing that tomorrow you'll look worse than he does. He shushes you softly, tugging your hips closer and tangling your legs together. He placates you with kisses when you start to argue, pressing you into the mattress. You make a noise of contentment, letting him smother you until he's pressing kisses to your jaw and your neck.

You're more than happy to let him kiss you to sleep.

Carmy's gone in the morning.

The bed is made on his side.

The only proof he was there at all is the text when you check your phone.

C: Claire came back while we were asleep. Snuck out.

Underneath is a message from Claire after she would have gotten off from work.

Claire: Did you move the couch?

Claire: Missed it putting my bag down, sorry if I woke you

[renasomewhere]

My karma analysis and by analysis I mean saying what I see with pictures to help (and some theories.)

Here mizi says

"stop pretending to be righteous. Neither you nor I deserve to be saved" Mizi probably see's this as her survivor guilt and blaming luka for hyuna's death

Then there is a scene of the arguement seen in the teaser, I am not going to add a picture for this as I believe that not much is needed to say (unless somebody says otherwise lmao) One interesting thing though is sua stops mizi from kissing her.

Mizi takes the laptop from issac which has the missile launch controls on here, she clicks execute. Now I believe that it was supposed to be timed and mizi took the timer off to kill not only the segyien but herself and the rebellion. she holds the laptop close and they run to get it off of her as mizi just sits holding. Ready to die.

It then cuts to this which my first thought when watching it for the first time, and now for that matter is its relation to the true face comic, More specifically this "page"

"A bunch of idiots circling you at all times"

Everybody wants to see mizi happy, which is why the people in karma Immediately go up to her. They want her happy and that is it.

The episode then cuts to IvanTill HyunaLuka with hyunwoo and Mizisua but those are quite big so I probably will make analysis' for each of those!

"Hyuna I have something to confess. She was secretly rehearsing her death every night and I knew but pretended not to. Maybe I just wasn't as desperate for her. I know my love was different from yours. But it was love, too."

She thinks because she didn't step in and instead chose to pretend that her love for sua is invalid, Which isn't the case but mizi is presumably having a breakdown like saw in wiege (and this to, but wiege is older)

Sua rehearsed her death not only because that was something she was ready to do to keep her alive but also because her "mother" would most likely be disappointed if sues death wasn't grand.

"If you would have saw the look on her face too, you wouldn't be able to judge her"

More my god my universe stuff. Saying that if anybody would have saw Sua In mizi's eyes then they would fall for her the same way that she did.

The left screenshot is from karma, we see many things on mizi AND on sua, with the latter having a screen of sorts on her collarbone. My first thought went to robot sua from the artwork on the left but I am most likely wrong

The rocket is falling which will cause destruction across the stage. they then show all the characters EXCEPT luka for some reason or another, Perhaps because luka is the only one of them to not have a "provider" as he was grew in a lab (lab baby lukaa)

And then it has the best scene in all of alien stage that we have been waiting for since round one:

MIZISUA KISS, TAKE THAT MIZITILL SHIPPERS. THIS IS HER ONE LOVE AND YOU WILL NEVER SEE TILL LIKE THIS.

Sorry, I got carried away. Continue, shall we?

I'm gonna combine all of these into one because they are all related. Mizi is beaten up, Either by the rebellion trying to get the laptop back or luka in self defence. She holds onto till and a ghost of sua rests on her girlfriend trying to comfort her despite the kinda big situation.

In a zoomed in shot Till's earpiece glows red, He is alive.

She reaches and calls out for issac. she needs to save him, She thinks she has killed so many people and she can't let till be one of those. She grabs onto his shirt and begs him to save till.

It then flashes back to the scene where sua is watching and rehearsing her death. Mizi runs into her room and holds onto her, grappling her and never letting go. Keeping her god in arms reach.

Issac: "For humans... and for these beasts too innocence was a luxury they couldn't afford. In this endless suffering, to love and be loved. To hold onto hope for a day that may never come. Is that survival instincts, or selfishness. At the center of it all was a woman. A woman now called a witch, who was always searching for love. Can we really blame her for that? Where did this original sin begin? And in a trial with no clear answer, can these lives ever overcome it?"

I don't have much to say about this speech except that It is obviously about mizi. It cuts to mizi when it says "a woman now called a witch". Mizi is this so called witch for wanting a basic function of love? she wants to love and she wants to crush and as issac says can we really blame her?

Actually using the picture above it shows that luka is back as an idol and that the attack on the stage that happened seven years earlier by mizi was known as a tragedy. The korean on the middle image translates roughly to ALNST disaster seventh aniversary... where is the culprit. The segyien know that mizi is the culprit for this and that she is gone, with the rebellion or on her own we do not know however I hope it is the former and she is in a place where she can actually get better from the trauma she has induced time and time again

It cuts to a shot of a museum we see a headline for in the previous image. A museum of everything from that season of alien stage, from the collars to the microphones and even the dresses.

In this shot the middle shows two of tills guitars and lukas violin used in The final round. on the sides we see the main event so to speak: Dna mixes of the cast. On the left we see a Mix of mizi and ivan and on the right we see a mix of luka hyuna and sua as well as till mixed with somebody I don't know.

Till who we assume is now working for the rebellion has broken into the museum to save these children from there life in captivity, the only life they knew and the life he at one point knew. Till knows how these children must feel and doesn't want them to feel that way anymore, He wants them to be free and live a life that they can call theirs.

Tags: @whosamity143 @crustyfloor @espritradieux and @localfandom

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 3

click for part 2

Summary: They successfully dashed out of the studio. But it started raining heavily outside, making it unsafe to drive. Mira, not wanting to let them know where she lives, ended up at their place instead. She needed to relax after being stressed out by that interview.

Word count: 1127

a/n: gotta clarify that it's an alternate universe where the saja boys are regular humans.

-----

Maybe she should’ve just checked into a hotel. But after that stunt they pulled earlier, that would've been a terrible idea. Without Bobby or the rest of the company staff around, people would gather and ask questions. Too many questions.

Mira sank into their couch with a weary sigh, tossing her feet up on the small table. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she muttered. “I just needed to relax, so I took the offer.”

“Hot cocoa? Something to drink?” Romance lazily called from the kitchen, clinking around in the cabinets. “Abs, turn up the heater. It's freezing in here.”

“On it,” Abby replied, already moving.

He was right—it was getting cold.

Mira stared out through the tall windows, the curtains were pushed to the side. It displayed how the rain lashed the glass in harsh, steady bursts. Bobby was probably still pacing, worried sick about where she’d gone after ducking out of the studio earlier than scheduled. She had told him the truth. Not that it helped. It only added to his worries. 

The girls would surely want in on everything. She’d tell them when they meet. For now, her phone was shut. She needed to relax.

“Once the rain stops, I’m heading home.”

Romance hummed. She hadn’t even answered his question.

“Feet down, please,” he called out, holding two mugs of hot cocoa.

She dropped her feet on the floor quickly.

He set one mug in front of her. “Here. Have a drink.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one.”

He slowly raised a brow, “I’ll drink it then. You sure you don’t want it?”

“I…I’ll have it,” she grumbled, grabbing the mug from the table.

The couch creaked as Abby plopped down beside her, leaning in towards the mug in her hands. “Careful, it’s hot. Let me help.”

He wrapped his hands over hers and guided the cup closer to his mouth, trying to blow away the steam.

Mira recoiled, eyes wide. “Stop! You’re getting your saliva all over it!”

Abby paused, stunned. Romance slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Mira was fuming, she wanted to pull the mug away from Abby but she was careful not to spill it.

Abby let go and slumped back, turning his head away like a kicked puppy. Was he sulking now?

Romance drew in a deep breath, trying to keep it together. That earned him a glare from Abby, “You’re really enjoying this.”

Romance grinned. “Don’t be mad just because I’m her favorite.”

Abby turned his glare on Mira.

She returned it right back. “I don’t like either of you. I could’ve blown on it myself.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“By spitting on my drink?”

Abby’s ears turned red, his glare was more of a pout than a threat. Why did that make him kind of…cute?

“Forget it.”

“I can't drink this anymore,” Mira grumbled, setting the mug down. She leaned her back onto the couch and rubbed her cold hands together. Abby got up and walked away. What, is he more upset now?

“Have mine instead. I haven't taken a sip yet.” Romance offered, sitting beside her.

“…thanks, if you don't mind.”

She took one sip and welcomed the warmth that entered her system. The cocoa tasted so good. But she wouldn't say that out loud. It helped rid her of the cold a bit. She needed the warmth from the drink that badly.

Romance and Mira drank hot cocoa in complete silence. The sound of harsh rain was filling up the room for them. She glanced at him sideways, wondering how long he’d stay quiet. Oddly, it felt comforting.

Then, there were loud footsteps. She paid it no mind and focused on her drink, knowing it was just Abby coming back to the living room. His steps grew closer. A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders, the fresh lavender scent engulfed her senses. She was pleasantly surprised. So, that’s what he was up to.

Abby also tossed one blanket to Romance. He was wrapped in one himself, a small frown still evident on his lips. He said nothing and only sat on her other side—the one unoccupied by Romance—in silence.

Mira sighed, giving in. “Thanks,” she whispered softly.

Abby pretended not to look pleased, “No problem.”

He wrapped the blanket around himself tighter. Romance was still sipping on his cup.

There it was again. That stretch of silence surrounding them. If it weren't for the rain, she would've assumed that her hearing was gone.

Normally, they were chatty. Teasing her left and right, trying to get a reaction out of her. She wasn't sure if she preferred this side over their playful side. This definitely was new. She hummed in thought, setting down her mug once she finished drinking.

“I didn't get to say thank you earlier.” she paused, waiting for them to respond. Once they didn't, she kept going. “You must've known I was uncomfortable so you took me out of there.”

“Not sure what you mean.” Romance pretended to be fascinated by his mug, he wouldn't even look at her.

“Don't start thinking we did it for you.” Abby murmured, “…because we did.”

This time, it was her turn not to respond. They did it first, anyway.

Out of nowhere, Abby rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Just a few minutes…I won't do anything else.”

His voice was low and soft. It had a mild pleading tone to it that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. He was way too close, the heat from his body threatened to consume her. She couldn't help but fix her posture—it only made Abby scoot closer.

Romance sighed, grabbing her attention. He nuzzled his head on the other side of her shoulder, “I can't help it anymore. Give me a few minutes too, Mira.”

“What are you guys…”

She didn't know what to do. That awful fuzziness she felt in her chest was clearly trouble. She doesn't need it, go away. Why is she giving in…clearly it must be the weather. It's messing up with her way of thinking.

She plopped her head back, her gaze softening as it met the ceiling. She wouldn't admit it, but this felt nice. Being wrapped in a blanket and almost cuddled up amidst the heavy rain outside made her slightly woozy, her eyelids getting heavy.

She closed her eyes, but reminded herself not to sleep. She's just going to rest for a bit. Just for a bit. It’s fine.

Minutes went by.

Abby noticed the rain had subsided, so he pointed it out.

Weirdly enough, Mira hadn't had the urge to get up and leave anymore, but she had to go. She had to go before they let the moment carry them away.

-----

a/n: still getting a hang of this thing. btw, my fingers were itching not to italicize almost everything. also, golden is just so good of a song but so hard to sing—my voice cracked like rumi in their practice. probably the only thing we have in common.

author's note? no. author's ramble.

@suzieq1948374 @unmooredandfulloftrepidation

[devswritingcornerorsmth]

OK so because of the fact you just stabbed me in the gut with that bad ending I think we deserve more fluffy romance story and head cannons :)

fiiinnneeeee only because i lowkey feel bad for how dark it got (and also i love writing for dorian)

More Dorian/Reader headcanons

= Dorian is surprisingly good at remembering your favorite foods, treats, snacks, and drinks. It's most likely due to the many years of being a door and keeping track of banned and welcomed faces, but it's also because he loves you. Don't be surprised if a Food Fetch (Date Everything's version of Door Dash) order is outside your door with your favorite food when you've been feeling down.

= For someone who used to be a door, Dorian is surprisingly warm and comfortable to lie on and cuddle with. He'll let you lie on him after a long day of work as you both watch TV or a movie, or maybe just talk about anything and everything.

= Not big into PDA, but if you're feeling uncomfortable or scared, Dorian will wrap his arm around your shoulders and lead you home or somewhere safer. If you're not comfortable with that, he won't, of course.

= He can't lie to you. Even small white lies are a struggle for him. Dorian looks away, making an obvious face that he's lying, but it's only about small things like a surprise birthday or something. It's also easy to tell because he'll change the subject and move on.

= "So, anything new?" "... no, definitely not. Anyways, what about that book you've been reading?"

= Dorian owns up to his mistakes and takes responsibility if he messes up big time, even if you'll get mad at him for it.

= He knows nine languages besides English and will gladly help you learn one or speak with you in another if you're more comfortable speaking in your mother tongue. If you do want to learn another language, he'll teach you as best he can, but he's not a very good teacher. Sure, he'll teach you how to speak, write, and read, but it's not a professional level if you're trying to learn fully. Will help you with Grammar and stuff, though.

= "Ich... lieben dich..." "Close, but *lieben* should be *liebe*. Sie lieben dich oder ich liebe dich." "Ich liebe dich." "Sehr gut."

= Dorian is not a big fan of music, but LOVES to listen to you sing. He finds himself with the ghost of a smile on his lips listening to you, no matter how good or bad you think you are, he thinks you sound lovely.

---

sorry for the angst throws this as an apology and runs away

it's also been a minute since i've spoken or read german so apologizes if i messed anything up lol

[rafebesitos]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✮

"the fuck are you cryin' for?" rafe murmurs hoarsely, under his breath. he rubs his eyes, supporting his body on his elbow, he looks over his shoulder to find you laying next to him, meowing like a kitty. your pearl eyes shining with tears, your red and plumpy lips open and letting out your sobs. "what? what's wrong now?" he grunts.

"ray..." you whisper, sniffing and crying like a cry baby. rafe rolls his eyes, annoyed. he shifts and turns his body to you, rafe looks you up and down, noticing your hand under your white panties. he can't see, but he knows your fingers are curling themselves inside your cunt.

"you seriously wake me, 'case you can't fuck yourself properly?" rafe asks, grumpy. even though a damn smirk is growing in the corner of his lips.

"can't do it without you." you babble, shifting to get closer. rafe holds your chin, brushing his nose to yours, his other hand playing with the hem of your night dress. "rafey, please..."

"nah, you're doin' good. keep goin'." rafe says. his hand now rubbing your stomach, squeezing your skin between his fingers. you're going insane, your fingers aren't enough, because your so greedy that you need more and more from rafe. "keep rubbin' like that, wanna see you cum."

"ray... need — you." you cry between your soft moans, rafe's enjoying himself.

"wanted to use your own fingers, now you finish." rafe groans. you frown the eyebrows and close your eyes, eyelashes resting on the flushed cheeks, trying to imagine rafe fingers are fuckin' you, even though is not working. you blink your eyes at rafe, getting closer to connect your lips, rafe depart the contact, smirking. "wanna kiss me? need ma' kiss to make you cum'?"

"uh-uh" you murmur, nodding your head. rafe connects your lips, kissing you clumsy and sloppy, making a mess of saliva in your mouth. you take deep breaths between the kiss, your hips jerking crazily, your moans interrupting the contact. rafe depart, a trail of saliva connect your lips. he's not nice every time, but watching you taking a hard time to make yourself cum, he decides to help.

rafe trails his hand until your panties, his fingers getting inside it. he doesn't push his fingers inside of your hole, he just puts his hand above yours and starts to make movements of in and out, guiding your own fingers to fuck your little pussy properly. it's not the same thing, but is helping, you open your legs a little, your other hand squeezing his biceps, your short nails making scratchs on his skin. you connect your lips again, kissing rafe hungrily, he speeds the movements and a familiar knot grows in your stomach. didn't take too much after rafe make his little show, his other hand squeeze the inside of your thighs. your moans are getting loud, rafe shut them with his lips. your back raising, your sponge walls clenching around your fingers and you couldn't hold a loud and deep moan rafe's name. he keeps the movements por a little, just to prolong your pleasure, your painting and crying, tears all over your cheeks. rafe smile in proudness.

he pulls your hand, facing your tearing eyes, flushed cheeks and plump lips. you look like an angel, a fallen one. he smirks and puts your middle fingers inside his mouth, tongue twirling around them, tasting your cum. sweet like you. your sponge walls are clenching again, this time around nothing. rafe pushes your hand away and turns his back to you, laying on his stomach, turning back to his sleep state. you lay on your back and huffs, legs still shaking, but you bite your lower lip and lift you body, climbing on rafe's back. he doesn't move, you weight like nothing, you lean to kiss his cheek.

"thanks, ray." you smile. rafe huffs and raise his back, making you fall in bed. but you don't mind, you just lay down and cover your body, hugging rafe's back, even though you know he doesn't like it.

"yeah, yeah. now shut up and lemme' sleep." rafe mutters. "better not wake me again, kitty."

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi bitches! I work at a group home that will be teaching young adults with Intellactual and Developmental Disabilities (IDD) the skills nessesary to live independently with weekly visits from staff. For many of our folks, this'll be the first time living away from mom and dad and the first time they're given the rights and respect of an adult.

Which makes me concerned about sex education. It seems mom and dad forgot that disabled people can be horny and have treated their young adult as such. While our group home understands Dignity Of Risk and how we can't legally impose restrictions on personal relationships.

What resources, books, guides, etc should I have available? How do I present myself as someone who's cool and can talk about sex and can be trusted with deep secrets like needing to get a sex checkup and will keep things as private and low key? Im 26, I'm not that much older than these guys.

This is a little outside of our purview... so I went to the experts: Planned Parenthood!

PP has lessons specifically on teaching sex ed to adults with disabilities. Learn more here.

Kitty and I are both lifelong devoted aunties. I remember when my (Piggy) teenage niblings were learning sex ed, I had an arrangement with their parents. Their parents knew I would privately tell the kids they could ask me anything... and I gave the kids examples of things they could ask. This also meant spending one-on-one time with the kids doing activities where they felt safe and private enough to talk to me.

I know adults with disabilities are a little different from preteens, but I think the principle is the same: explicitly tell them you're a nonjudgmental, safe resource, and then give them safe and private opportunities to talk to you about their concerns.

Good luck! Here's some more of what we've written about disabilities:

The Social Safety Net for Disabled People Is Broken 

Long-Term Disability Insurance Is a Necessity… and a Scam 

Short-Term Disability Insurance Is a Waste of Money… With Two Very Specific Exceptions 

Why There’s So Little (Good) Personal Finance for Disabled People 

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[touchofhemlocktea]

Hope on a Foggy Night

Clawing screaming breaking bleeding fingers choking mud loud quiet screaming pain horn...

Jason

Dad abandoned why help hurts ticking clock hurt hurt hurt...

JASON!

Danny doesn't bother dodging the fist that flies at his face. It's easy enough to phase for the moments it takes the young Revenant to become aware of his surroundings. He holds him through the tears and unnecessary apologies. He pulses safety, protectiveness, MINE from his core.

The rest-diner (oh, you silly thing..), has moved again. He can feel the familiar pulse of curses and greetings. Gotham then. They always seemed to end up back in Gotham.

Jason is getting up, heading to get ready for the night ahead. Jason needs to run the kitchen today. Dennis and Danny will swap back and forth, running the counter.

....

It's a busy night. Ecto-hungry liminals wonder in and out, some restless spirits aided in crossing over. They never questioned the suddenly appearing diner. The news is average, but there's a tension in the liminals that's unmistakable. They are afraid of something.

No special orders yet.

....

Danny...

Dennis calls through the comm, from the (now existing) back entrance.

So that's why they needed to switch out early. A child and an injured Bill have been brought inside the backroom. The child is using an impressively extensive med kit to treat the unconscious henchman.

Hello?...What's your name child?

T-Tim. My name is Tim Drake.

Let me take care of that. Sit over here and drink this. They'll bring your food out shortly.

I didn't order...

Just relax. You've done enough. You're safe here.

Tim is quiet, half passed out, as Danny checks Bill over. The leg is the worst part, thoroughly splinted. There's a concerning head wound, but he'll live. A quick duplicate takes him out to get him back to the safety of the Goonien.

The kid eats his meal almost in silence, tears dripping down his face as the stress of the last months falls away. Danny leaves him in peace to finish the evening rush.

....

The kitchen kicks him out for Dennis. Jason doesn't like being in Gotham. Even with the diners comfortable energy, he's left restless and itching with a hunger he doesn't want to acknowledge. His blood calls out to hunt and repay.

He wonders if it'll ever go away.

With no customers to see to, restless legs have him pacing to the back...

Hey kid, you need anything?

Robin...? That's not possible. You're...

Dead? I got better.

Jason does not panic as the kid fully breaks down into sobbing. He is not lost as the kid (Tim, his name is Tim) clings to him like a constrictor, everything pouring out.

Tim, I-I can't come back.

B-but Batman needs-

I'll come back eventually, maybe. I'm not ready. What Batman does isn't your responsibility.

But-

No. If you must-

Jason hesitates. Dick wasn't exactly a warm presence to him, but if anyone could set Batman straight...

If you must do something-

The names, addresses, and numbers come back to him easily. Written in a shaky hand for a slowly brightening child.

Start with Barbie and Gordon. They'll take care of you if you insist on helping. Talk to Dickie-bird. If anyone can set the Bat straight, it's him....and little bird? Don't tell anyone you saw me. I'm not ready yet.

...

Danny sends a dupe to escort the kid home eventually. A part of Jason wants to keep him with them, but the diner itself disagrees.

They feel the shift as the Diner begins to drift again, onwards to wherever they are needed.

...

Perhaps Jason will leave the diner behind someday and let the hunt take him. Perhaps.

That day is not today.

Another DPxDC idea.

I love the ideas of Chef Danny and the AU's but what if Danny opens a small dinner/restaurant and sometimes people stop by for a quick bite but the thing is there is little to no real menu. Danny just comes out when he hears his doors open, greets them warmly, takes them to their table and asks for drinks gets them, before heading into the kitchen.

At first everyone is confused until a few minutes later Danny shows back up with food, food that is amazing and freshly made and HOW DOES IT TASTE LIKE MY -Insert childhood fav meal or preferred fav meal here- ?!?!?!

Danny's small place is at first very unknown but eventually blows up as a urban myth and when people try to find it, its very hard to find. Some people swear its outside of 'this' town, others say they found the place in 'this' city, others find it on long car rides in the middle of nowhere.

It changes location.

The only common real clues is you find it on foggy nights and the neon sign shining 'OPEN' is seen through the fog.

[ghoulishhx]

i yeaaarnnn to be ‘used’ by frank whenever he wants to. he’d suddenly bend me over and just fuck me roughly while being degrading obvy😩

this. yes. absolutely yes. omg

also I'm so sorry for disappearing on you all, I'm gonna keep it real I completely crashed and burned with my mental health. a lot has happened in my personal life these past few weeks that have exhausted me to fuck so I needed some time to focus on myself. I'm gonna try get back to my regular posting. thank you for your patience ♡

in happier news though, tomorrow is my birthdayyyyyy :3 so enjoy this tiny lil drabble as a lil present

- MDNI below the cut :3 -

I believe frank is like a feral dog when it comes to his girl. watching you do anything domestic makes his monkey brain go crazy and he just needs you right there and then. the feeling is mutual of course, and you're more than happy to oblige.

maybe he watches you in the kitchen, hair up out of your face wearing nothing but a thin short summer dress because of the scorching heat (absolutely taking inspiration for that from the state of the UK rn in this godforsaken heatwave), you're just minding your business washing dishes and you feel frank coming up behind you, trailing his coarse hands along your front, grabbing and squeezing at your soft breasts deliciously peaking through the top of your dress as he trails his lips down your neck, nibbling the skin.

"frankie- what are you doing? aren't you too warm-"

"don't care, need ya now."

he flips you around and bends you over your kitchen table, hiking your dress up above your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to him. he hums appreciatively as he toys your throbbing clit with his calloused thumb between your legs, collecting your slick and coating his cock in your juice. you can't help but jolt into his touch, your body subconsciously opening yourself up to him.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes himself fully inside and begins a punishing pace. your eyes well with tears by the force of his hips, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room along with your strangled moans. the sting of him stretching you out only floods his cock more.

"feel so fuckin' good doll, always so perfect and tight f'me" he mutters to himself as he slaps your ass, the sting hurting so good as the tip of his cock touches your cervix. it's not long until you're creaming around his member, covering him with a ring of your arousal at the base before he fills you up with his own seed....

or maybe you're in the shower, humming the melody to your favourite song as you look up and notice him standing and staring at you from the doorway, his hand confidently resting on his large bulge in his jeans as he watches you intently. Frank can't help but practically lick his lips at the sight of your hard nipples, the way the water cascades down your figure, the soap coating your body with delicious bubbles. it's not long before hes stripping himself off and taking you up against the cool tile wall of your shower, wrapping your legs around his hips as he thrusts himself up into you.

"couldn't help m'self sweetheart, ya just looked too damn good..." he mumbles into your neck as he sucks purple bruises all over you, marking you. "you dunno what ya do t'me"

or finally, you're out together at a bar and he watches the bar tender look at you for too long, notices the way his eyes leer over your body as he hands you your vodka cranberry. the way his lips curl into a smile as your fingers graze his as he hands over your drink. Frank can't take it anymore, he slams a 50 dollar bill on the table and grabs your wrist, whisking you away to the nearest bathroom and fucks your brains out in earshot of the bartender, making sure he knows you belong to him and only him.

"that's it baby, let it all out. let everyone know who's making ya feel this good. let everyone know who ya belong to"

a/n: idk if this is any good, just something I cooked up while not being able to sleep. I'm sorry if it's mid </3