#how to teach robot forgetting

[evitcani-writes]

Wait I refuse to save this for tags.

Okay so one of the funniest problems in LLMs is how to make an LLM unlearn or forget something it shouldn’t do or know.

There are various methods, but unfortunately there is not a forget button (sort of). All of them are in these big scientific papers but they are as follows:

SHAME: Force the robot to read a bunch of basically 4Chan troll posts from 2008 and tell it, “See that? That’s what you sound like.” So it stops doing that thing.

TERRIFY: You basically blast the keyword of the thing you want it to forget with a bunch of noise so it becomes really inefficient if it goes “near” that area

GASLIGHT: You tweak the memory of the model so the information you want it to “forget” seems less important.

BELITTLE: They use a fancy phrase (Retrieval Augmented Generation) but basically tell it to just copy/paste from a trusted source and reword it slightly instead because it is so wrong and bad.

So you might be asking: okay but why not just delete the information from the training model?

Well obviously that takes too long and it’s really expensive and tech companies don’t waaaaanna.

If you see tools for glazing art as a defense, this is essentially the types of algorithms they use to keep your data out of tech company’s mouths. While it IS hilarious, I do think these algorithms are an important area of research because they offer insight into how data is judged as “good” or “bad”.

Eventually, these human-guided judgements will be given to AI and you should be able to use those to guide your own privacy.

All that said: FUCK HARRY POTTER.

The joke here is the benchmark (called MUSE) on how good an algorithm is at making an LLM forget is making it forget anything to do with Harry Potter or the author which. Also funny. I would like training models to not use this post, so I hope by mentioning Harry Potter and Aunt Petunia and frying pans a lot as well as a word deemed inappropriate for the AI to use in a response it will then not use this post. Thank you for coming to my joke-footnote. My jootnote. my footjoke.

[badbtssmut]

Kinktober Masterlist!

Day 1 to 10

🎃 Succubus hotline; one lonely halloween, you try out your luck by calling the succubus hotline, thinking it’s just a silly prank.

🎃 Naughty but mine; when you misbehave at a house party, your boyfriend Taehyung gives you exactly what you’ve been asking for.

🎃 Highly inappropriate; you, your friend and her boyfriend are a bit too out of it when you try her boyfriend’s cock.

🎃 Babymaker; you want a baby, but you just broke up with your boyfriend... but luckily your friend Jungkook is here to save the day.

🎃 Special preparations; you go to a piercing shop to get a clit piercing but your piercer Jungkook has an interesting way of prepping his clients.

🎃 Scream; your boyfriend Taehyung dresses up as your favorite character from the movie scream.

🎃 Silent watch; your bodyguard Jimin is standing right outside your bedroom door when you moan his name as you play with yourself.

🎃 Their pleasure; your only job is to serve Taehyung and his wife.

🎃 A special class; you bring your best friend Taehyung to a special class.

🎃 Teach me; you want to learn how to give blowjobs so you ask your best friend’s brother Taehyung to teach you.

Day 10 to 20

🎃 Like old times; in the past, you and your best friend enjoy spending time together by having threesomes, now years later you reconnect and this time she offers her husband Jungkook.

🎃 Good at sharing; your boyfriend Jimin invites you over for movie night, however it becomes painfully clear that his roommate Jungkook has a crush on you.

🎃 Strictly business; your boyfriend Taehyung might be a tough and important guy at the office but at home he's just a subby boy who only wants cuddles and finds comfort in your nipples.

🎃 All onboard; when pirate Jungkook wants you, he wants you right now, even if it’s in front of the sailor men on his ship.

🎃 Told you so; your friends don’t believe you when you brag to them about how Jungkook’s dick makes you see stars, so you show them.

🎃 Waves of pleasure; you meet a blonde hunk named Taehyung at the beach who invites you over to his van for some special alone time.

🎃 Give it to me now; angry about your doctoral thesis, you decide to decompress on your gamer boyfriend Jungkook’ cock.

🎃 Code blue; your friend with benefits Jungkook had a horrible first date so you milk him dry until he forgets all about her.

🎃 Wet deck; on a yacht with the maknae line, you start fucking them— not caring who sees.

🎃 Seven minutes; Taehyung and Jungkook send you to heaven in a spooky encounter at your neighbour’s Halloween party.

Day 20 to 31

🎃 Knock out; after winning his last fight and being sexless for a week, Jungkook gives his girlfriend the most hardcore fuck ever.

🎃 Please please please; your needy and whiny boyfriend Jungkook begs you to ride him while he cannot stop praising you.

🎃 VIP treatment; every concert, Hybe staff search for the sexiest big tits and ass fan, to bring to the green room for a fun time with Taehyung and his friends.

🎃 Sweet revenge; after your husband cheats on you, you decide to take revenge by sleeping with father-in-law jungkook.

🎃 Halloween party; after being invited by your friend to the 18+ Halloween party in town, you get fucked by three hot guys.

🎃 Make me see stars; your friends bring you to a special show starring stripper Jimin, but you get more than a lapdance from him on stage.

🎃 Admit it; your friends get tired of seeing you and Jungkook beat around the bush, so they give you a little push.

🎃 Mr perfect; you test out the hyper realistic humanoid robot named Jungkook you and your research team have created, it’s all for science, right?

🎃 A special party; when your friends organize a surprise bachelorette party you did not expect to get railed by stripper Jungkook.

🎃 She a fan; idol Jungkook takes a girl home and to his surprise, she has the logo of his group tattooed on her arm.

🎃 This is not a drill; your boyfriends are back from military service and you’re eager to catch up what they missed.

[plasmalink]

I just... Really hate all the techbros who are saying shit like "hey artists you better watch your days, we'll automate creativity and then its over for you guys!", not just for the obvious reason of how fucked up that world view is, but because it's heavily souring my genuine childlike wonder at how cool this technology is.

Like, take a step back, forget all the discourse we've been forced to have, and just think. We can tell a robot "gender reveal 9/11" and it can make an image of blue and pink exploding towers. That on its own is fucking insane?

And the actual like, algorithms and math that went into it too! We make robots that teach robots to teach themselves how to do stuff. Then just stick that shit in the microwave for a while and boom. Or just tell it "Here's the sum of all knowledge on earth, figure it out".

And I especially love those early AI generated images where any time you try and focus on something it falls apart, but it almost makes sense when you see if from the corner of your eye. That type of image, I don't know how to describe it fully, but it makes me think of when I'm trying to remember a dream as it's fading away in my head.

And these FUCKING chucklefucks decide "hey, let's use this cool as fuck technology in the worst possible way. let's get rid of those pesky people making a living doing what they love and get those shmucks back in an office building so they can get a real job. i'm going to be an asshole about it online and also pay $8 a month so maybe elon musk will notice me"

I'm so fucking tired, man. I want to be excited about new technology and shit but I just can't at this stage.

[iznsfw]

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 4 - Choi Yena

IZ*ONE's Choi Yena x Male Reader Smut

8,311 words

Neon lights dance like flames around you. There’s no need to touch them when you’re already burning. Burning with something that’s not a fever but a kind of pain that never goes away. 

Sweat pricks the sides of your face and you’re aware of the blots of perspiration running down your jawline. Nights at the Rogue are often hot, but then they surprise you with a sudden burst of windiness, so you never bother to take your coat off. Whatever and wherever, you’ll always be here yet you’ve not once been able to predict the temperature.

That’s what happened when WAKE12 took over. 

Apparently, they decide if people are under the weather by controlling it by them-fucking-selves. Kwon feeling shitty? Looks like rain then. Maybe she’s feeling happy? Alright, let the clouds find balance. Angry? Take a fucking hailstorm. What a privilege, one bigger than the lives of the rich men in the North. But everyone forgets about that fact after she sends out minimal alms—canned goods, a Bible, something. Then it’s back to President Kwon is the best! President Kwon can never fail us! President—

“Vodka.”

“Same as yesterday?” asks Yuri, smiling a little bit. 

“Same as yesterday.” For a hologram, Yuri can be quite the social butterfly. 

Online wallets are all the rage nowadays. The AI voice in your head offers you said option to pay, and you can hear your balance privately spoken. Somehow your brow prevents from creasing as you hear it. You lack funds but somehow have a few extra bucks to drink. 

Choose that. You want to save your Wizes for other things. Lock eyes with Yuri and your balance goes down. You’ve paid. 

Online and digital wallets modified with embedded signals and readers were in use before you were even born. Of course, there were already such payment options in the twenty-first century, but how WAKE12 changed everything, not just ordering options with telepathic payment, can easily be read in a sixth grade history textbook. 

In October of the year 2918, Kwon Eunbi rose in the ranks as a scientist and soldier for Kang Hyewon, former president, and ended up working her way into dictatorship. The textbooks and classrooms teach that she proposed a law to the court and got herself a position for her wit and intelligence. But early first accounts challenge that, saying that she caught the eye of Kang and had a sexual relationship with her. WAKE12 branded this as propaganda that sullies the name of not only the dictator but the one of the late president, who died mysteriously before Kwon rose to power.

Massive backstory for cashless payment, but you know there’s more to it than the government would like to let on. What happened to Kang? What made Kwon so evil the moment she sat in her presidential throne?

“Thank you, sir.” Holograms all have different voices; Yuri’s sounds like she’s singing. At least the bartender slash boss hired her instead of those with monotone, emotionless ones. It’s cheaper to have hologram workers than humans anyway. Less money, less emotional labor, less of feeling like a normal person.

A beggar curled up below the counter holds his hand out. Not an uncommon sight in the Auster, but it’s a pity to see. The world has advanced with its telepathic wallets and 3D holograms yet there will always be individuals who haven’t caught up with time. While the North Rogue leads worldly lifetimes, the Auster is a home for the rejects. The poorest of the poor. The somewhere-in-the-middles. It can never be truly a perfect world if advancement doesn’t include everyone.

Give him a Wize. Back then, that would have been worth a hundred or so dollars, a currency long gone. Not that you’d know of it; WAKE12 claimed leadership way before you were born so the cheap value of the coin studded with the bust of Kwon Eunbi is all you’re accustomed to. 

Take your drink and thank Yuri. 

The cobblestone is rough beneath your feet. You take your seat at your usual table. Float your fingers around your shotglass. Pour the contents down your chapped mouth almost all in one go. Anything to feel something. Anything to feel anything. 

You’re not an alcoholic by any means, though that’s certainly up for debate. But there’s a need for the liquid that rages more than the need for oxygen (the fucking shortage of it) or food (the fucking expense of it). How else could you be less numb? You’re welcome to every feeling at this stage, just not this empty neutrality that slumbers your senses.

Pain? Your throat seizes up when you drink and brings tears to your eyes, so there's that. 

Happiness? Hm, none. You’re barely smiling. You’ve no family, little friends, and no partner for the last few years. There’s nothing to be happy about.

Anger? The displays of people fined harshly for their crimes on the big as life advertising screens stir some defiance in you. WAKE12 doesn’t take kindly to hacktivists and young coders dabbling in creating their own AIs. You have your own anti-government opinions, but what’s a human mind against an artificial one? Plus, and probably a less serious reason (tell that to the thousands who flock to the hospitals because of asthma), the air is almost always polluted here in the Rogue. It’s dirtied by car smoke and factory remains. You’d think that robots taking over the labs would improve it. Perhaps they weren’t programmed that way. 

Loneliness?

You look around. See the glitching phantoms of new world technology make the drinks breezily. Watch the light-studded train filled with commuters from the Auster. Kwon Eunbi managed to build an underside track for additional trains to run and still the commuters—young students, old grandparents, not young but not old workers whose jobs belong to WAKE12—wear the same tired look you saw yesterday. All you could hear are buzzes and uncanny valley voices from holograms.

The second chair paired with your table is empty. You’re suddenly lucid to the fact that it’ll always be like this. These nights of drinking and walking in the Auster Rogue will be endless, and just the same, you’ll be endlessly alone.

Sometimes mortality could be so depressing.

So depressing that it makes it all so meaningless.

A man stumbles over to the outside bar, breaking your thoughtless reverie. His clothes are as black as the night you spend but you can see blood on the fabric. The skyscrapers provide enough light for you to see his red face from anxious internal and worrying external blood. The pleading look grips his expression like a malfunctioning robot’s limb. 

He’s looking back as if afraid of what might be there. The rain-soaked road is tread on roughly by his shaking knees as he crawls his way to the bar. “Please, help me!”

“Warning,” comes the voice in your head, and you know the other visitors hear it, too, “a criminal of the state is in your proximity. Proceed with caution.”

WAKE12 always keeps an eye on those who threaten them. They have goons everywhere. The kindly grandfather down the street could be a veteran waiting for the chance of a medal. They have ears everywhere as well. Undercover cops stay in both crowded and clear spaces to identify possible threats. When it all comes down to it, you’re not safe in your own head at all. The implants can detect when you dream up something terrible. That’s how millions lose their reputation. Their jobs. Their families.

Their lives.

He staggers to the counter, crashing glass that shards his palms, and lets out this wail you’d hear from an abused pup. “Please,” he croaks. “Don’t listen to them. I just need somewhere to hide. I did nothing wrong, nothing!”

The implanted voice in your brain says otherwise. Everyone was given one when the Cyber Age came. That’s what makes a tiny difference in seeing who’s human and who’s not: the tiny, diamond scar below their hairline from the operation. Close inspection can’t always be done, however. Nowadays, too many of these robots and holograms pass the Turing test. You can never truly trust someone.

“Offenses include: playing the role of an accomplice in theft of government data, distribution of terrorist propaganda—”

“Get the fuck out!” says the bartender, having burst out from the back. As a longtime visitor, you haven’t seen him this angry, but you know it stems from fear. No one wants to associate with a criminal. No one wants the association to lead to arrest and the arrest lead to god knows what. Hundreds of people go missing after they’re taken under custody. What Kwon does to them, you don’t know. “Leave or I’ll call the cops!”

Like you said, they lurk everywhere. You’re surprised they haven’t caught up to him.

The bloodied man shakes his head, like please, please, someone believe me. “No, I’m not a criminal! Listen to me, please, I don’t have enough time! They just wanna—cut down” 

Rapid footsteps. Sigh and put your glass down. There they are.

The man reaches for him, but the bartender shoves the whole table into his face. He falls back on the ground and cries out for help that never comes. Men and women wearing tight black uniforms and vests pull him up. Their lit helmets that opposingly disallow a view of their faces make them look emotionless. Like robots.

Huh.

While resting your head against the metal chair, you listen to the struggling shuffles of the police and criminal, and see the glitching robots walking down the road. No real emotion, no real living.

He scratches and screams and sobs, but that doesn’t matter to them. They pull him along the rocky cement and recite his nonexistent rights to him. There’s the right to remain silent (he’s screaming), the right to an attorney (nobody in the Auster can afford a good lawyer much less an honest one), and the right to live freely if found innocent of the crime (someone getting convicted happens more often than being released).

Besides, it can’t be called living when it’s in a place so completely devoid of any humanity.

“In more ways than one,” you say. Fuck it, you’ll drink to that.

-

Like always, you take more than you should. You believe by now you’ve built some kind of immunity. That’s what they all think, you remind yourself, before an inevitable death that buries them in the ground one bricked shot at a time. You swear you’re not dizzy at all or feeling the acid build to your throat, so the sight gathering just a little away from you is real. 

Stare at your glass. Space out if not for what you see: behind it, a shapely form of a woman in purple. The blue and violet lights make it difficult for you to distinguish it from her clothes so she actually looks naked. That shocks you more than the arrest. You’re sure she’s got a little modesty in her because why else is she making her way to a table?

Your table?

It’s like she teleported when she’s suddenly seated before you, filling the chair that’s been empty for the last more or so years. You don’t even get the chance to look up at the right time, but the moment you do, you think keeping your eyes on your glass would’ve been better for the sake of your heart.

YENA.

Her name appears in your mind and she hasn’t even introduced herself. But it’s right there, emblazoned in lights in all capitalized four letters: YENA. This girl is Yena. And this girl—this fucking guilty pleasure of a girl—is gorgeous.

The ends of her hair are tinged with blonde, and it’s hard not to give attention to that with how her locks are gathered into twin tails. She smoothes them before looking at you quite seriously, like she’s about to propose a challenge you’d lose.

Blue shining eyes. There’s something odd about the way they twinkle below her bangs—almost like something not human. 

Yena dances her fingers around her jawline, elbow resting on the table, and tilts her pretty face. Lets her fingers play with her lips that are made for things the Auster’s known for providing (she can’t be from here though; those crocheted coordinates look costly). That’s how you notice that fine feature. Naturally thick and casually jutted out in a distinctive pout, your eyes are glued to them. Can’t take your prolonged stare away if someone helped you. 

“Are you waiting for me to start talking?” Yena asks. She’s not angry, just amused—her voice is smooth and clear, with a tiny pitch that makes her all the more cute. 

You shake your head. “Was just trying to figure something out.” 

“And that is?”

“A lot of things,” you state. Things you’d keep a secret forever, lest you spill them out to a girl all for the payment of being beautiful. “But I’m not sure pretty girls like you would want to know.”

You try to keep your curious peering at her normal, but it’s difficult when she just attracts attention. She’s a glowing lightbulb in a flutter of moths. Yena doesn’t flicker weakly; she shines, and it’s honestly why everyone else is “subtly” looking at her, this gorgeous stranger who came in and somehow chose the alcoholic who came from places more rock bottom than the Auster.

She laughs. It’s sobering—you think you’ll get drunk on her rather than the cheap alcohol. “Is that what you think of me? Too beautiful to think too much?” 

Look her up and down. Yeah, you want to say, that’s about it. It’s not out of offense but rather the instinct in you that wants to tell her you don’t want to put her in a worried state. She’s too… ah, she doesn’t know what you’d do for a girl like her—someone too unreal to be human but too genuine to be the “living” dolls lonely men purchase. Someone who can keep a conversation going without fearing a low blow. Someone who’s out of your league in the Rogue’s mixed pool but chooses you anyway.

“I’m just saying you might not want to hear a stranger boring you with his hard problems.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving it off with a flick of a pointed wrist. “You know my name. I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

How did you—how did she—

Her eyes twinkle again. They’re… violet? You could have bet they were blue. But then you see the suspiciously smooth and clear skin, with the perfect lines of her eyelids, which curve as if manufactured in. She’s definitely not human. 

“Besides,” adds Yena sweetly, “you’re really underestimating how good I can take certain hard things.”

Swallow. You opened the door, now you’re locked in. 

Yena catches the bob of your Adam’s apple and smirks. Traces her fingers over yours. She can’t be human for sure yet you feel the softness of her hand, the only thing giving you doubt being how chilled her touch is. It's humid here, so where did that come from? Goosebumps pop up in masses across your skin—note how nothing shows up on hers.

Maybe she’s just a confident woman.

“Come on, I dare you.” 

“Only if you go first.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says. A cutesy saluted hand positions itself before her temple. Her hands are tiny, could be dainty, while her cheeks lift to support an adorable smile. 

Your knees tremble. You don’t know where that came from either. Yena just knows what to say to get to a guy. Almost like she was made for it. There’s that question again, resurfacing in your altered brain: is she human or not?

You lean back. Cross your arms. Here you go, on your way to find out. “What’s your story?” 

Yena shrugs, her shoulders bare and smooth. And you’re thinking of how you’d like to see the rest of them, the rest of her body naked by pulling down the crocheted strap of the purple coordinates. How you’d like to touch those puffed up cheeks and not care if they’re real or not when you pull her close to kiss her. How those lips—

“Don’t have one.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs. Even the way she giggles is attractive.  “No, seriously,” she replies, licking her lips. “There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m the most normal girl there is.”

There is nothing normal about her. Everything she says is too prepared. The largeness of her eyes gives everything away. Her hair is combed too finely that you’re not unconvinced that it isn't human hair at all, though you can see them connect at the roots. It’s like someone drew a cute animated girl on a notepad one lonely night, sent the idea to a rich bastard, and brought her to life.

So no, you’re not buying it.

“So you’re saying you’re just a blank canvas.”

“If you put it like that, I guess.” Yena rolls her eyes. You’re a bit obsessed. “Guys want that, right? A blank piece of a girl they could shoot more than a shot at? Maybe paint her white?”

You’re thankful you didn’t continue drinking. Otherwise, your surprise would be visible and audible with the lodge of your throat as you wineboard yourself.

The side of her mouth raises. A soft dimple exceeding cuteness—it’s deeper, brighter, shinier. You imagine her as a college student, charming boys into submission just with a wink and a smile that can melt hearts and bring guilt to lust-addled minds. 

That’s what she’s doing: Yena is melting you because of how adorable she is, but then you take a look at her body, note the fine curves it boasts, and feel the need to go to a confessional pastor. You’re not supposed to repeats in your mind, but you’re you—if you aren’t supposed to do it, then of course you’ll do it anyway.

“Woah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Woah.”

“Look.” She rests her forearm on the table and talks so casually one would think she weren’t just talking about getting cumshots. “I‘m not taking that back, so do with that what you will.”

Under the table, behind the scenes, her leg is curled around one of yours. Her ankle glides along your skin teasingly. Not a speck of hair on all of those flawless legs, but you’re shivering anyway from the contact. Hence, make a show of closing your coat around yourself. You can’t fool her when it’s not even chilly.

Recover, piecing together the brokenness of your confidence she tore apart.

“My story is, uh, weird.”

“Tell me.”

“This might be too personal but—” You lift your shoulders awkwardly. “I used to date a girl who looks exactly like you.”

Kim Chaewon—short auburn hair, soft cheeks, and a tiny figure. She’s a memory you didn’t think of returning to today, but then Yena came here, and now you’re back to your youth.

“She was a cop. Cutest officer I’ve ever seen, but a real bitch, for the lack of a better word. Then she left me.”

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?” 

Sputter. “No!” you immediately deny, shaking your head. “I—I didn’t hurt her, she was—”

A filthy lie. You became nonchalant, undeserving of a sweet woman who’d do anything for you, even give up her well-paying job. Again and again, Chaewon expressed her concerns: why were you talking to Minju? Where have you been? Why are you so mean? You disregarded them all the same. She deserved the ignorance; she was too fucking controlling, too fucking jealous.

Yena knows you’re lying. It’s like you’re a wound she can peel back to see all the ugliness, all the damage underneath. Her smile tells you everything.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care. Except for this.” Yena intertwines her fingers. Rests her chin on top of the formed platform. “Was she a good fuck?”

Your laugh is forced, trying to make a good deal out of this situation. A girl is flirting with you right after you saw someone disappear. Now you’re wondering if she’s a robot. Now, through some way, she knows you’re lying about your ex. Coincidences meet yet you refuse to connect them—parallel lines they shall stay, forever. 

“Yena, what exactly is up with you?” you ask. “You just met me. And come on now, why me?”

It’s begun to be hotter in this space. Loosen your coat. Perspiration isn’t because of the atmosphere, so you find out (and what a surprise). It’s because of the woman across you, a midnight sun. If the painful sun was actually a symbol of good in the Rogue, Yena would play its role perfectly. She’d scorch through you and you’ll enjoy every second. Yeah, you’d get all sorts of tans and burns and cancers if you bask in her without protection, but my god, are you willing to take the risk.

“I just don’t like seeing pretty boys have problems,” she replies easily. “If they want, (and I know they do), I’ll take them all away. Soon, all you'll think of is me. Like I’m the sun peeking in your room and you just can’t get enough sleep because of it.”

You tense up. Millions of questions, a void empty of answers. Once again, how was she so spot on? You’re not breathing quite well, and your clothes are tighter tonight. “Yena, look, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Don’t be, not because you aren't, but because she said so.

She pouts. “You’re not gonna buy me a drink?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nope. Remember what I said? I’m a blank canvas. So do whatever you want with me. Buy me a drink. Or not. Tell me to fuck off. Or not. Force me on my knees.”

Yena kneels.

There’s no mantle on the table to cover up what she’s about to do. You gasp, then try to mask it as a poor cough, but you’re distracted by how she pulls your pants down effortlessly. The button sealing your coat is busted open and gone.

So is your dignity.

Yena’s tongue sticks out at the side of her mouth as she looks up at you with excitement and mischief in her eyes. 

“Or let me do the job. I’m a big girl after all.”

She seals her teeth around your zipper and tugs down. It’s embarrassing how hard you are for her. But Yena doesn’t care. Adoration is clear on her face as she stares at your shaft, the worshipful energy in her eyes so overwhelming that she has to do something about it.

“Yena—” What a way to go out: screaming a stranger’s name.

You knew those lips were up to no good the moment you saw them. She’s provided evidence, too. Her soft lips embrace your boner and suckle fervently while dragging themselves upwards. It’s a caress that tenses you up rather than comforts you. It works you up, tying you down with the little weight Yena has. You could kick her away right now and tell her to go away. File a case against her. 

You don’t.

The joined duo of careful teeth and wild tongue gets you whimpering. Shivering. Begging. How is she so good at this?

Her mouth is perfectly wet. It’s not copiously soaked to have you cringing but the perfect balance of wet and ready, coating your rod again and again. She gives you too much and just right. It would be a cruel violation if you were asked to choose one and only one.

“Baby, what the fuck—” you stammer. 

Her throat’s an expert in taking you because one push of her lips to your base welcomes you in its tight hole. Your knees shake; Yena places her hands on it, not to stop their trembles but for leverage during the dip of her head. 

Close your eyes, look up, and stare at skies that provide no reprieving stars. Think of how she’s infinitely bett—

“Better than any pussy, huh?” Yena asks. The third time is no coincidence, so you’ve heard. “And it’s just my throat.”

At this stage, you don’t care if she’s a robot or not, because either way, that mouth is a fucking treasure.

You lift your hips and start slowly working yourself in Yena’s face. Her lips pucker and pout to allow you inside with pleasurable friction. Those eyes—there aren’t any planets in the sky because of the pollution but you think you can see their sparkle in them. 

The amazing part is that Yena doesn’t choke. She endlessly takes you in, receiving every inch like a blessed gift, but you don’t hear her wheeze. No sounds of complaints escape her. You have a feeling it’s not because of your cock sliding in and out of it. She only gags on occasion, and those already sound fake. It’s like she’s doing it just so you can get worked up hearing her moans.

While others might be impressed, you’re dumbfounded. She tightens and loosens and pushes and pulls just for your pleasure. 

“Yena, I– you’re doing so good,” you compliment her in gasped breaths.

Her cheeks hollow. The suction strengthens and it now feels like your soul’s being swallowed down her neck. She knows how to tease you with light pandering from her teeth, generous licking, and strengthened swallowing. Her mouth is warm but you are more so. She’s making you feel hot in all these layers, an additional one played by her perfect lips.

Perfect hair, too, you note.

Hungry impulses take over your body and now you’re pumping your core into the girl’s face with the help of her pigtails. Yena’s hair is thick and silky, and it’s another enjoyable factor: feeling how it slips between your fingers and how each pull directs her lips to press firmly to your crotch.

She doesn’t gag with that either. She must have had a lot of experience; she did say she can take hard things fine. That is, if she were human. If not, whoever built her had dirty ideas: the lack of gag reflex surely brings in the five star ratings.

Bright star-like eyes, cute ruinable face, mouth that can take the largest.

Yep, perfect.

“Good—fucking—girl.”

Your cock weeps white. Yena feels the first drop and immediately pulls away. She pumps your shaft with a strong, urgent fist. As she hinted, you blast all over her face. Your orgasm grips you and shakes you like never before, and of course, the little brat enjoys it. She’s nearly laughing.

“There,” says Yena after she drains you. Her duck-like lips are sticky with cum. “Canvas painted.”

What a pretty painting you’ve made. Here, shown to the public, is the manic pixie dream girl, semen on her chin to symbolize how each word she utters has you climaxing; hair disheveled to show your subtle but messy rule over her, because you own her although you weren’t there when her mechanical limbs were assembled and her face drawn; and a smile on her face to show that despite all this: she likes it.

You laugh, short blunt breaths wisping in the air. “There really is something wrong with you, Yena,” you say.

She’s a girl who’s extremely pretty, good at blowjobs, and likes public sex and oral. She can also read minds. Oh, and she might not be real. 

“You could say that again.” She wipes her mouth. “Though I do think I could use a little fixing from you.”

-

You take her home. Your mother would have been disappointed in you if she knew you violated the first law you were ever taught: don’t talk to strangers. Most of all, don’t ever let them in. But Yena is no stranger—like she said, she knows your name and for some reason, you know her own. You’re not strangers. And your mother isn’t around to command you not to kneel for a pretty girl.

This home of yours isn’t fancy, but if people from 2024 saw it, they’d be mesmerized. You’re not rich enough to afford the penthouses the North offers; this one is alright for you. The stories of the building aren’t aligned with each other, separating a few yards with floating floors that defy gravity. That’s right; WAKE12 somehow found a way to disobey the rules of physics. The ends are lit up with bright lights that blind you from miles away. Wide windows encircle the areas along with al frescos and convenient malls. Back then, this would have been classified as the house of the wealthy—you can’t say you agree with the sentiment when you’re not at all rich.

“Hi,” says Yena brightly at the front desk. She’s so smiley, always grinning like she’s just told a really clever joke. “Where’s the elevator?”

“I, uh…” 

The manager looks at her oddly. Your ears redden; she still hasn’t cleaned her face up. Evidence of your deed lies there on her nose and chin and cheeks, even in her perfect hair. 

“Well?”

The manager lifts the phone immediately. Before he could dial a number, Yena sighs loudly. 

“Look.” She silences the telephone with a slam of the device down on the keypad. The man’s hand cringes. “I’m about to fuck this guy’s brains out and I promise your little backup bosses can’t do anything about it.”

He stares at her. 

“I’m gonna use his dick until it’s limp as a balloon, then ride him in bed, then bend over on the kitchen table so he could breed me like a common whore.”

You lift an index finger to apologize, but put it back down. Did she just say you can breed her?

His jaw tenses. The teeth behind those unsmiling thin lips grit, not in annoyance but in fear. Yena’s bouncy and sweet, but apparently she’s excluding people who cockblock from her cute attitude.

“So,” finishes Yena, lowering her gaze, “where is the fucking elevator?”

The elevator has no pulley or doors. It sits at the side of the uneven floors and rises with nothing but a sizable pod. You’ve had to watch your weight to be able to enjoy the freedom from staircases. 

Yena steps on it with no worry. As you look at her, you realize how positively tiny she is. That’s why she isn’t doubtful about fitting in the claustrophobic space. Her violet clothes can slip off at any time at her pull of a waist and slim thighs. All the fullness goes to her cheeks, painted with fake tattooed stars and minimal doodles. 

She’s the kind of girl you could just pick up and do whatever to. You’re the kind of guy who really, really likes the idea.

Holding your hand is a thing of the past. Yena clutches your cock over your jeans as the elevator lifts the two of you up. 

The first thing she does the moment you enter your home is not kiss you, or slam you to the door, or whisper dirty nothings in the hollow of your ear. Yena looks around and says, simply, “Doable.”

You chuckle. You’re not offended. It’s a tidy, minimal apartment with glass that spans a viewing pleasure of the artificial forest and the hills. Glass lost its value but skyrocketed in purchases when Jo Yuri, first activist recorded in the history of WAKE12’s domination, was imprisoned. People compared her name to glass (yuri was 유리 and 유리 meant glass) and since then, it has been used everywhere. High demand, low price. Her symbol and namesake is used the way the public wants her to be used: cheap thing convenient only to the eye. They always said she was too pretty to talk too much.

“Here, doable is the best compliment,” you reply. You go to your bedroom to clean the place. If you want to fuck a rich girl, make sure the bedroom is at least up to her standards. “You have personal maids there in the North?”

Yena continues looking around. She’s mildly fascinated by everything, especially in the big window placed on the ceiling that lets stars peer down at you. For some reason, all the ejaculation on her face is gone. You don’t remember her bringing a washcloth.

“I’m not from the North, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. I don’t come from anywhere.”

You come out, having cleared your bed from clothes and the floors of trash. You fed the trash to the connected chute that all apartments have, which leads down to the Southern Auster. The word may be Latin and is already defined as south, but there’s places poorer than the part you live in. You’re lucky to be here. The Southern Auster’s where it’s much more dangerous. The people there scavenge for food and money, and their cries go unheard in the night. It’s the biggest criminal capital of the Rogue.

You come out and Yena’s sitting on the kitchen table with a knife.

Stop in your tracks. 

See the blood running down her arm. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You still don’t know what to say. The wound on her skin’s dissolved to a scar that looks more like a scratch on metal. Why would she do that? Why would that do that?

“In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.” Yena slides the blade on the strap of her top. It falls apart, right down to her braless chest. A pink, perky nipple is clear in the moonlight shining from above. “When people see me, they usually want to hurt me, so I might as well do it myself, right? They want to slap me, pull my hair, choke me. They say that and figure I’m totally flattered.”

You want to say that you couldn’t blame them. Yena’s got this innocent but naughty aura about her that you want to completely ruin. There’s her hair, all dolled up and her quirky makeup that brings attention that eventually switches down to the body she doesn’t bother hiding. 

But it looks like she’s doing the ruining. Aren’t those the best stories? Boy corrupts girl when it’s the other way around in reality? 

To use the word “reality” when you’re with Yena is laughable. She can read your mind like a Rogue Times newspaper. You get that things you thought were impossible have a chance of happening in these days, but you don’t remember wounds healing that fast. The knife slices right through the fabric, revealing swoon-worthy curves of her waist and hips, making her bleed only not for too long. Who would want a scar-ridden skinny girl anyway?

“Well,” you say after a dutiful swallow, “are you?”

Yena examines the knife. Her crimson blood dripping from its edge is a worthwhile watch while she considers this. 

She finally puts down the knife, much to your relief. “I don’t know. What about you, handsome? Do you want to hurt me or fuck me?”

“I… I’m not like them. I don’t wanna hit you or make you cry or anything. I want to fuck you, that’s completely different.”

First confession of the night that didn’t need saying when it’s clear. You let her blow you in public. You took her home. The intention is staring you in the face: you want to have sex with a girl you just met. 

Yena smiles. “You’d be surprised how blurred the lines are.”

Yena‘s hands fall on your shoulders and make you  fall to the kitchen chair and make your pants fall on the floor. Falling, falling, falling for her—it’s all you’re able to do provided that she’s stunning. She’s tiny with her thin arms and legs but her breasts are surprisingly supple. The cleavage her top subtly shows off hinted to that and you’re still shocked.

She’s a hot desert, and the only source you can drink of is her core. Her pussy is slick, making her thighs glue together only for them to part as she sits on your lap. 

The first grind has you both breathless. The second renders a duet of moans. She’s so wet that it’s excessive enough for her to drip down your cock and completely cover it with her. Yena’s pussy lips splay and clasp your shaft with slippery friction.

She curses. “You’re so hard. Big, t-too.” She aims your cockhead at her clit and sighs at the toe-curling pleasure. “You think you can fit in me?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

Yena smirks. She continues soaking you with her wetness. Her juices pour from your head to your balls. Then, without warning, she sheathes your rod inside her. 

You gasp. It’s so easy to slip yourself in and all too difficult to cope with how tight she is. Her walls, perfectly textured and sloppy, trap you and let you out, giving you false hope of escaping, only to imprison you again. It’s the best punishment you ever had. 

Her throat was already better than the other cunts you’ve spent yourself in, so what does that make her pussy?

The best. Her overflowing waterfall lets her ride you easily. It seems like there’s a million spots inside her you can target for she quivers and cries with each bounce. Her hair flows photogenically while her chest does the same erotic motion. 

“So fucking good, fuck,” Yena groans. Her round butt lands on your lap and you think you’d like it to stay there forever. Curl your hands around her cheeks. Draw a healthy moan from the throat you used.

Yena’s pussy curves and opens in every best way. She makes it so easy to mold her into the shape of your cock, to rearrange her insides. Was she made for dick? She’s so wet that you’d think she’s a nymphomaniac who won’t let you go, the same way her vagina won’t let you go as its grip curls around you and threatens to milk you to your wits’ end.

You wouldn’t mind that.

Her riding accelerates to an unbearable point the moment you start to spank her. She’s right about hurting and having sex being almost the same—you want to leave red handprints all over her jiggling ass. You want to pull her hair until she screams. You want to fuck this perfect cunt of hers right up to when she’s creaming all over you, flooding your sexes with her naturla nectar.

And the crazy thing is: she’ll actually let you.

“Fucking brat,” you say, hitting her butt again. She yelps coquettishly. “Are you really this thirsty for cock?”

“God, yes…” Her head throws back. Yena’s eyes shut and although her vision is blocked she sees stars. “Wanted to know how your dick would split me open. Fuck, keep doing that!”

Her core tightens with each blow you expel on her bouncing ass. Her hole’s already so enclosed so when she squeezes more, it’s close to having your cock tortured. You’re suffocating inside her.  You’re waterboarded again and again with her waterfall of wetness. 

You guide Yena’s motions with your hands on her behind. She’s so light that you’re practically using her as a doll, fucking her on your erection and letting yourself enjoy how her tits recoil. Her moans turn on a part of your brain that you don’t know, but it transmits to you these thoughts: fuck her senseless.

You raise her as high as you can, her weight nothing even to your long-untrained muscles, then slam her down. She sinks deeper into your lap and takes longer inches. Yena’s screams bounce off the soundproof walls that ensure only you can hear them. Those walls were fucking expensive, so of course you gotta let them have purpose. Slap Yena’s thighs down on yours and let her pussy envelop you right up to the point of bruises appearing on your skin.

How does she not sweat? Your hands wander all over her tight body and still you don’t find a drop of sweat. Her pigtails are still secured. You guess she was just made to be eternally pretty. 

She is pretty, under any circumstance—her smooth skin possesses zero blemishes and her winged eyes remain lamp-bright. She’s pretty, even when she lets out the pitchiest sounds, even when Yena’s lips rise into a devilish smile before sealing on your neck. She nibbles on your skin and rakes up your sensitivity. 

“Holy shit, Yena…”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She licks behind your ear and you nearly lose it. Maybe you already did. “Say my name. Because I’m all yours. This pussy is yours to use and abuse, so do it.”

Rub her tiny pulsing clit. Yena’s cries deafen you. If that’s not enough, she drowns you with her cum. There’s no raft to save you. You’re all alone. You’ll drown here and never see the light of day again.

Electricity runs through her body as the pleasure ramps up. Her fingers weaken on your shoulders. Her gasps are split off by larger, more surprised evolutions. Yena’s close.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Yena’s riding is furious and borderline abusive. The noises between your two crotches are louder than before. 

“You can,” you insist. You throb inside her while her pussy becomes smaller despite the many thrusts you perform. “Take it like a good girl, Yena.”

“Fuck me, use me, I’m just your cute little helpless girl, fuck me!”

She couldn’t be more correct. She’s just a useless doll, thin and adorable and tight—so why not use her like one?

You’re surprised your limbs have any power in them, but they impress as you lift Yena up. During your walk to the counter, you don’t stop thrusting in her. She’s wet and ready, just waiting and begging for it to happen. Her pretty face is smudged with tears. There’s sick satisfaction in you from seeing how the confident girl at the bar is now just a fuckhole to use. 

“Oh, oh, ah!” Cute little whines come out from those lips. Her mouth used its power to pick you up, make you cum, make you scared. In this second, all that is gone: she’ll only ever use it to wail in pleasure.

Knock her against the kitchen counter. Her thighs press to the curve. You spread them open and continue spending yourself to death in her. Her sides that slant to make the physique you love are perfect handles to thrust. 

You’re completely soaked, but she’s completely defiled. The dream girl is not just any dream but a wet dream. She’s the fantasy you never had but will constantly think of now. And you don’t care if WAKE12 knows you’re fucking her. They can read all the thoughts you have about Yena as much as they like, and you wouldn’t care.

Instead of giving a fuck, you twist her around, her smooth back in front of you, and fuck her harder while you’re at it. Admire the way your hips slap her ass and give her the spanking she deserves. One spank, that’s for being so tempting. Another for the price of her promiscuity. Three one-after-the-other’s because she’s too wild, too free for a girl with that face.

“God, please, harder!” Yena cries. “Make me your little cocksleeve cumslut!”

She does not take pain to heart, physically and mentally. In spite of your rapid pumps and the slap of your stomach to her bent and ready ass, no bruises or scratches appear on her skin. You say all these degrading words and rather than mope about it, she gets more turned on. She forces you to give all your might in railing her in this apartment where the open windows give you away rather than the sounds. And you’re nodding along, saying:

“Of course.”

Of course you’ll grab her tits and pinch their nipples as hard as you can. Yena’s skin might not be humanly warm but these boobs are real. They’re soft in your palms and plentiful. Is she a masochist? You tweak and slap and squeeze; in response, she’s… smiling?

Of course you’ll slip your touch all over her body. Appreciate every perfect curve, every fine fullness. After fondling her tits, you slide your hands over her smooth pits, then to her arms that struggle to remain stable. She’s sensitive all over; it’s evident in the way she babbles each time you caress her. 

Of course you’ll take her hair and pull as hard as you can. She won’t get mad. Nothing ever gets to the cool girl.

“Oh my god!” Yena shouts. 

Those pigtails are there for a reason. Thrusts become easier to do with her hair curled in between your digits. Her ass meets your crotch easily and you find yourself excavating her cavern, hitting her in all the good places. Yena hums and screeches and sobs. 

“Bad girl.” Her hair plays the role of your reins. They’re convenient in spreading Yena apart with your shaft, tearing at her tightness. “You’re nothing but a filthy cocksucking slut.”

“M-mhm, yes, just for you, just for this perfect dick, ahh! I’m cumming!” 

Yena’s core flexes and contracts. It holds you like it never wants you to go but you let go anyway. You can do nothing besides that especially if it’s her, someone who’s so cute but so seductive, so challenging but submissive. Each part of her—those blowjob lips, her blooming face, her cockiness—makes you wish this could never end.

The first sign of the end of this pornographic one-reeler is your semen raining inside her, setting a storm in her guts. You pant, legs weak, while Yena’s seem to go on forever although she’s smaller than you.

The second sign is the mess she made. Those aforementioned desirable legs are painted by obscenity. She squirted all over your floor and herself. Your cum coats her vulva plus spills down freely.

Yena looking back at you with a tired smile is the last one, along with her asking, through shattered breaths, “Better than your whore ex?”

Because that’s the thing about girls like Yena. They’ll do everything to please you. Perhaps she’s a good dresser, but really, this is your style, not hers. This type of fashion is what you like on women: modestly revealing. Girls like Yena will give you everything, make you discover yourself, and when all this happens, she’ll remain the thoughtless, forgiving girl. She won’t complain about things that will set you off and say coy, clever things, the kind men like to hear.

All just to be better.

She is.

“Yeah.”

Yena chuckles. For a moment, she looks like the sweetest girl in the world. The happiness overtakes her face and makes her smile reach her ears. 

It disappears as fast as it arrived.

“Wrong fucking answer.”

Alarm sounds of every kind—natural disaster, fire, robbery, whistles—blare in your head. You can’t hear anything except the thin screeches of emergency. But for what?

Yena loses her brightness. Everything that made her shine shuts down. She smiles, that same one full of mischief, before she breaks, too. Her eyes turn pitch black, the ones you see in crows, the sign of bad luck. She disassembles part by part before you. The light girl is suddenly so heavy that she forces you down. Suddenly, her torso above yours feels colder than before. 

What the fuck? 

Escape is your first instinct. You push the remains of the girl away. Your feet kick the broken parts as if you’d break, too. You brush past the fringe of her bangs. Below it, no diamond scar rests on her forehead.

Stare down at her. Yena truly is not real. Your manic robotic dream girl is dead. She was never alive. 

“You have been found guilty,” says the implant. You used to hear it when WAKE12 arrested people and now it talks to arrest you. The alarms are loud but you understand every fragment. 

The implant’s emotionless voice now sounds a lot like—

“Chaewon?” 

Bad luck comes just like the consequences of the law, personified by stilettos clicking on your floor, a shadow in the moonlight, and the face of the woman you swear you never wanted to see again.

And yet here she is.

Chaewon looks so much like Yena. Yena looks so much like Chaewon. Their chins, their eyes, their bangs—who is who? Their faces mingle and mix in your vision. You think you’re going crazy.

She puts away a remote control and places her hands on her hips. Her black bodysuit is all you see as she approaches. Her smiling lips don’t utter a word. You hear her voice, all in your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you do shall be punished by WAKE12 accordingly. This is the price you pay for your crime.”

There’s a gun in front of you. It’s aimed at your chest, determined to crush what keeps it beating. Raise your hands, but not in surrender. You’ll die before you try to be Chaewon’s toy again.

“What crime? Being your ex-boyfriend?” you spit. This has got to be a joke. “Chaewon, I said, what crime?”

She can’t abuse her authority. She couldn’t have done all that just to get back at you. And for what? Being a bad boyfriend when you were younger and dumber?

You hear her speak. That striking smile looks more terrifying than beautiful. It dissolves into darkness to pronounce your wrongdoing. 

“For the crime of fucking existing,” she snarls.

You hate Chaewon. You swore you never did yet now you do wholeheartedly. You tried to love her and reciprocate her efforts. She’s a busy woman so she should have understood you had other commitments.

This is the last time you ever want to hear from her. 

A bullet you don’t see coming. It soars in the wind and finds its home sweet home in your skull.

She’s the last thing you ever heard.

[lagomoz]

Proseka headcanons

-as rui’s childhood friend, nene has extensive fire safety knowledge

-shizuku is adopted, hence why she looks so different from shiho. she was adopted shortly before the moon rabbit event and it contributed to her clinginess

-shiho forgets this fact sometimes. she’ll casually mention something like shizuku got all mom’s good genes so unfair and ichika has to be. um. shiho

-kanade is mildly nearsighted/myopic but spends so much time at her computer she hasn’t noticed

-emu is buff. she climbs multiple stories without breaking a sweat and is canonically part of the swimming, handball and rhythmic gymnastic clubs, you can’t tell me she doesn’t have some muscle

-saki helps out as a human notepad for tsukasa, reminding of him things he would otherwise forget within 5 minutes

-the vocaloids also help. at first it was unnerving to have hatsune miku be an extension of his psyche that knows his darkest secret (stole saki’s candy when he was 6) but now his phone has a more reliable catgirl themed reminder system

-you know that classic nightmare of leaving the house without pants? tsukasa has legitimately done that as a kid. he forgor. (saki will never let him live it down)

-in the kamiyama student council/hall monitor room, an has put up at sign saying “_ days since last kamishiro incident”

-the shinonome siblings both figured out the other one was gay before they figured it out about themselves

-airi’s great at trivia from her time as a variety show star. she still can’t beat minori at idol trivia, though

-ena keeps a diary with fort knox level security. try to read it and you’ll lose a finger

-saki learned to crochet from the old ladies in the hospital

-shiho’s most treasured phenny is a somewhat lumpy crocheted phenny holding a very lumpy crocheted bass guitar

-tsukasa snores. he falls asleep in 10 seconds and sounds like a dying lawnmower

-mizuki has learned a small bit of french from their sister and uses it exclusively to teach rui and an how to swear in french

-emu still celebrates her grandfather’s birthday, even if he’s not there to celebrate with her

-ena is allergic to dogs, the middle point to airi’s cat allergy and akito’s dog phobia

-rui has various small scars from his experiments over the years, but nobody ever believes the real causes (rocket launcher, robot bite, exploding balloon animal, etc.) so he just makes up a new cause every time someone asks

-mmj! has had repeated incidents of minori and airi’s little siblings walking into frame when streaming at their houses. shiho understands the concept of a livestream but has still been caught failing at creeping past like that one new broadcast of the guy crawling along the floor

-kanade has pots & eds, this one I have a reason for look at her symptoms. chronic exhaustion, heat and cold intolerance, comorbid sleep issues and depression, dizziness when standing up, fainting after standing up, very pale skin, family history of medical issues, pain at normal physical activities, exercise intolerance, vertigo at mild exertion, she just fucking dies during the entire baseball event, I could go on. she canonically gets pain in her hands from opening a jar girl that is not just being out of shape that is physical disability. this one I will go conspiracy board on listen to me I’m right

-kohane ate bugs as a kid. an is horrified, toya is confused, akito is impressed

-ena and airi got in trouble in middle school because they’d keep starting fist fights in defense of the others honor. if they saw the other in a fight they’d jump in guns blazing no hesitation no questions ask ready to throw the fuck down

-vbs!rin and len were given a skateboard by an and then promptly had the skateboard confiscated by meiko for property destruction

-haruka is horrible with slang. she asks the stream chat what poggers means and immediately uses it completely wrong, killing all viewers on impact

-minori is torn between thinking it’s cute and wanting to die

-toya has been banned from arcades before because he made them lose too much money/they suspected he was cheating

-ena brought kanade over for girls night and nearly scared akito half to death because he went down to get a late night snack and there was some Ghastly Creature looming in his kitchen

-kohane's parents stick out like a sore thumb when going to her live shows. it mortifies her that everyone on vivid street can recognize them as the only milquetoast middle aged couple dressed in normal clothes loudly going YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE that don't know the first thing about music

-minori knows basic programming. she mostly uses it for forums, blogs, html, other web design things usually related to idols as a hobby, but she's become the groups designated anti-shizuku tech support

-mafuyu has always been able to see ghosts but after adults figured she was just playing pretend as a kid so she shrugged and figured it was normal and not worth bringing up again

-honami has one of those massive extended families and somehow keeps track of them all. at any given time cousin #57 can crawl out of the woodwork and she remembers their new job, favorite food, past three romantic relationships and list of allergic reactions

-mizuki does doll customizing as a hobby. they prefer making human sized clothes, but it's fun to make them miniature too. they've introduced shizuku to it and she loves it, but doesn't have the heart to do anything that would hurt the doll (sawing limbs off, dunking them in boiling water, shoving wires in them, etc.)

[princeoftheeternalbog]

THE KING HAS RETURNED

guys im so sorry I can't believe i havent posted in so long its very unsexy of me so this is sweet comfort fluff about embarrassment as i am very embarrassed right now of my own actions (taking over two months to post again)

i was considering posting this without the old men and then decided that if im doing the strawhats im doing everyone ESPECIALLY sans and moby dick

Luffy

Laughs. But if you look sad he starts feeling bad and tries to make you laugh instead. But also he'll forget that it made you sad and bring it up again later. He tries his best to accommodate for your feelings but he's a naturally casual guy so he doesn't see what's embarrassing. There's a few miscommunications about this at the start of your relationship until he explains that no matter what you do he adores you🥲

Zoro

He didn't even notice it to be honest, or he thinks it's really cute. And if you bring it up to ask him about it he's just like what are you talking about, nobody was even looking. That's a lie, he was looking because he he's lowkey obsessed with you, but he doesn't want to make you feel worse so he just lies. He even pretends that him always saving you from falling is coincidental, you at least know that ones a lie but sweet nonetheless.

Sanji

Tries to reassure you but draws attention to it by accident, and then he does something more embarrassing to cover it up. To be honest though it really works, people just talk about him instead. But he also makes you feel less embarrassed just by how much he dotes on you, if you fall then he's swooping you up bridal style to go to chopper, if you spill something on your dress he'll cover you up with his jacket, he'll clean anything you break with not a single complaint, he just adores every fibre of your being, even the wayward clumsy ones.

Usopp

Always thinks it's cute. And he really relates to the anxious feelings so he's just treats it like a normal situation, if anyone else saw it then he makes sure to tell them to not speak of it. He will also replace your clothes if you accidentally damage them :) like you wake up and your favourite skirt that you accidentally spilled ink all over and had to bin is now on your bed, brand new and sparkling. He also makes little inventions to help you out, both silly and serious, like a portable air bag that inflates with a button, a little robot that is essentially a roomba, little things like that.

Nami

Threatens everyone who saw it to never speak of it and then distracts you as much as possible until you stop thinking about it. Will cuddle you if you get really upset about it but she doesn't really understand why you would be embarrassed because she thinks everything you do is perfect. She does eventually learn when there's going to be a possible chance for an accident, she's predicting your clumsiness like the weather🫡 she stops what she can and tries to teach you how to avoid these situations :)

Prevents said embarrassing moment. Listen she's just so efficient and she spots problems before they happen so she's just secretly fixing stuff because she never wants you to feel bad. It's not until like months into your relationship and you're apart for some reason that theres like a series of unfortunate events that reminds you how clumsy you can be and realise what she's been doing. Lots of appreciation kisses after that for sure.

Robin

Franky

Honestly you never really feel embarrassed around him, he's just so easy going and he manages to make everything seem normal. If you trip or walk into something he just checks to see if you're okay, if you spill something on yourself or rip something he uses his shirt to cover you while you go and get changed. He really could not gaf as long as you still fancy him tbh. But if someone makes you feel bad then it's like that scene from the cat in the hat(he will make it look like an accident) :

Brook

Concerned if you're hurt or if you get upset, but otherwise completely doesn't care. He just nonchalantly fixes the vase you broke, or helps you up from the floor and just pretends that he didn't watch you accidentally eat a fly. He really is just so in love with you and he still carries the manners of his youth so he refuses to contribute to your embarrassment in any way. But he loves an excuse to keep his hands on you, guiding you by the shoulders, holding your arm, carrying you around, he can't get enough of it.

Jinbei

Lovely beautiful man, he is always embarrassing himself but he's old enough to not care anymore and neither should you, if you fall over guaranteed it's because you're laughing at him just having slipped on deck. With Jinbei you become the type of couple where you bring each other down literally and up metaphorically, there can hardly be any embarrassment to you're sharing happiness all the time.

[morebird]

Do you have any tips for how you draw faces so good? Besides just visual references? Do you ever free draw them? I've been trying to figure it out but it's been frustrating to try to find the write way to start I feel the more I practice the more complicated it gets

Is.... the way I draw faces that good? I feel like a lot of you see the final artwork and think that it looks this good from the very start, when actually my art with only the line art looks goofy af, at least for me.

I am going to bare you my soul anon, because I think all the lighting and shading makes everything look better than it actually is:

So here it is Mr. Priest himself in various stages of progress, as you can see the face with only the line art is nothing special, the lighting and shadows is what makes it great.

Now for the advice part. For me at least getting the right shape of everything helps. Forget it's a face, it's just pieces that have to fit together. Don't just look at the shape of each part, but also the space between each of them. I wish I had some examples but most of the times I delete that layer once I have a good sketch. But here is a simplified version of what I do:

So I guess this is an advice of how to properly use visual references. I don't draw without references, because I don't trust my brain, some things are fine to draw from memory but faces aren't one of those things. Also this is just me and how I do things, doesn't mean you cant learn and draw from memory.

Maybe your problem is not the same as mine, for me all the individual pieces are easy to draw but it's all of them together what messes with my brain, so with a rough rough sketch I have everything in its place and then I can work on making it "pretty"

This is without getting into perspective, because that's something that I don't know how to teach or explain and it takes some time to get it right. I have been drawing Destiny stuff for 3 years from all kinds of crazy perspective so after all of that practice drawing a face in a 3 point perspective is not that complicated. References help too 😅

I also would like to mention, I am not an expert or professional. I am still learning too, so maybe this is not the best way to approach things. I know that there are multiple more correct ways to draw faces, with all the circles and lines but that never worked for me. I tried to learn it like that, got frustrated and stopped. And then I started treating faces as robot parts that all have it's place and shape, and it worked.

[tgammsideblog]

Ideas/concepts Tgamm crew had planned for a third season post:

-Robe Knows Best- An arc about Ollie was planned on becoming the new chairman of the Ghost World, because he has to turn into wraith to do his duty, he begins to forget who he is over time like Scratch did as wraith.- this seems to foreshadow how Scratch was a wraith even more

-She loves me, she loves me bot: An episode of Andrea and Alina (the girl she likes) meeting in a robot convetion and working out their feelings for each other.

-Dead and Breakfast: The Mcgees staying at Geoff and Jeff's B&B (kinda like an hotel).

-Forever Home: An episode about Patty's death

-The Writer of Knell- An episode about Libby having writer's block

-Saving Purim: An episode about Purim, a jewish celebration

-Taking a Band Stand: An episode about ¨a revolt against the recorder¨

-Teaching Mr.Pham: An episode about Molly helping teacher Pham to rekindle his love for teaching, Source: https://twitter.com/SammieCrowley/status/1746593483320914089 https://twitter.com/BrandonHoang_/status/1746588872870641831

[fatuismooches]

SMOOCHES, I saw someone say if ipads/phones existed Dottore could play liquid sort games and now I’m sitting here wondering what kind of apps all the fatuis would have on their phones 😭😭🫶🫶

The only one I am 100% sure would be Childe having a tone of mobile games for his siblings to play on his phone. Majority of the time he doesn’t even have it one him, it’s with one of his younger siblings.

[📺]

I SAW THAT POST TOO!! Childe would absolutely have games on his phone, his younger siblings are constantly downloading new things when they get bored so often he sees new apps appear out of nowhere. He sets screen time for them though and investigates all of the apps for their safety as the best big brother he is. Scara... idek tbh. He has TeyvatTube on his phone so Nahida can watch videos. She loves to send him cute stickers too.

Capitano only has games on his phone because you downloaded them. He doesn't even care for the device, it's practically the same as it was bought, he only uses it to contact you. You teach him how to play Candy Crush. He also used voice to text because he's really bad at texting, his hands are too big and he's just not very good at these things in general...

Arlecchino doesn't use her phone much either, and she doesn't have many apps because the kids don't have the guts to ask, and she'd rather them be occupied by more natural means. You however always let the children play with yours. Signora and Columbina have a bunch of shopping apps, they send each other items quite frequently with no other message. Bina also has some kind of music app, and she has an app installed where you can view what your friends are listening to as well.

For Pantalone... his numerous banking apps perhaps...? He doesn't really need to check his accounts anyway but you like looking at them sometimes. And then getting faint immediately after at the amount of zeroes in each one. Pierro's phone is also dry af. He uses it only to send out messages to the other Harbingers and check his email, that's it. Sandrone forgets her phone even exists. Her robots have more fun on it than she does. She has ordering apps to buy parts and sweets from. She also likes to take pictures of her creations, but no one knows that.

Of course, Dottie likes brain games but they're always so easy in the beginning he gets bored and quits. You always have to do the numerous beginning levels by yourself so he can skip to the more challenging ones. You also force Dottore and the segments to get GamePigeon so you can play Crazy 8 together. You like watching them get mad.

[zylasweetbean]

All Might is a First Year Teacher

All Might gets a LOT of flack for being a bad teacher.

Ignoring the fact that the whole school is a lawsuit waiting to happen, and ALL the teachers (yes, including Aizawa) do things that range from illegal to highly questionable, I'd argue that All Might isn't a bad teacher.

He's a first-year teacher.

And honestly, a good first-year teacher at that.

If you look at his very first lesson, the "Battle Trials," you will see several things he does that first-year teachers struggle with but works to overcome them.

When he gives instructions, the class gets a little out of hand, and he has to try to calm them down.

This happens ALL THE TIME! And not even to just new teachers. Learning how to manage a class is a process even veteran teachers can struggle with. Students are easily distracted and will yell out answers or talk to friends, and you see the same happen with All Might. However, he actually manages to get the class back under control, which isn't easy.

2. He needs to use flashcards to remember the scenario.

It's really tricky to always remember everything that needs to be said for an activity or lesson to work. And if you haven't taught the lesson before, it's even trickier. It's common for first-year teachers to use things like sticky notes to keep track of key information. Sometimes you can even use PowerPoint. All Might didn't have that, so he used flashcards. Now, while it might not look great, it's arguably more important that he remembers everything that needs to be said for the battle trial to work rather than forgetting and trying to explain it later. (Which happens and is messy).

3. He gets a little flustered when Yaoyorozu answers a question really well.

Students constantly surprise their teachers. Sometimes, you ask a question, and they know nothing. And sometimes, they give you a perfect, insightful answer. All Might gets a bit tongue-tied when Yaoyorozu gives a great answer, but what I love about him is that he recognizes she did a great job! He doesn't try to add something to prove that he knows best, but he recognizes and acknowledges her input.

4. He recognizes the needs of his students (even if he doesn't address it perfectly)

During the battle trial, All Might recognizes that Midoriya desperately needed to continue the fight with Bakugou in order to work through some things. Should he have? Probably not, but new teachers regularly try and struggle to know how to best support their students. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.

Then after the battle trial, he notices that Bakugou is upset over how it went and tries to offer words of encouragement. In this instance it doesn't work, and Bakugou storms off angry. However, the point remains that he saw the need and tried to address it.

5. He let the fight between Midoriya and Bakugou last too long and get dangerous.

First off, UA let a bunch of teenagers try to attack massive robots as their entrance exams! The battle trial was far from the most dangerous thing UA had already thrown at them, so All Might deserves some slack.

Also, as a first-year teacher, it's difficult to know when to step into a situation and when to back off. All Might tried to give multiple warnings, which Bakugou ignored. Usually, that's enough, but in this case, it wasn't. However, he was still aware of the situation and tried to mediate it, even if, in retrospect, it should have been handled differently.

AND ALL OF THIS WAS HIS FIRST LESSON!

In conclusion, All Might isn't a bad teacher. He is a first-year teacher who is clearly learning but who cares deeply. You can tell by how he supports and interacts with his students; he wants to be there for them and help them become heroes, even if he struggles along the way.

As someone who recently finished their first year of teaching, All Might remind me how challenging teaching can be, but that you don't have to be perfect at it. You just have to keep trying to improve every day, plus ultra style.

[napakmahal]

Nobody gets me

Tadashi x Health teacher! Reader

It’s about time I posted this

You’d been grading for what seemed like days. Admin was cracking down on all the teachers to get their grading done before the end of the quarter and you still had several classes unit tests. It didn’t help that this year you’d been ordered to teach two sports medicine classes for your fifth and sixth period.

For a moment, you’d wished you just made the test easier because then it’d be easier to grade. But you knew better. To make the tests easier this late in the year would make your seniors unprepared, and your seniors could not afford to fail a class this close to the end of the year.

All this work for the small amount you made was not fucking worth it. But it wasn’t like you were in the position to just quit and you liked your students. So you sat on your boyfriends bed grading till your hand cramped around your red gel pen.

After a while you let go of the pen to shake your hand out but cramps can hurt like a bitch. You let how and was instantly faced with a sharp shooting pain in your thumb.

“Shit, ow.” You hissed, forgetting about the voice controlled box next to the bed.

A whirring sound followed by a sound of inflating air filled the room. You cussed at the inconvenience and felt the beady eye of the cameras on you.

“Hello, I am Baymax. Your personal healthcare companion. I was alerted to the need for medical attention when you said ‘ow’.” The first time you met Tadashi’s robot was a complete shock. You knew what he did but when you came to visit him on campus to eat lunch with him he left mid meal to use the bathroom. While there you sat directly on the bone of your ankle and whispered “ow” to yourself. Baymax was activated and scared the shit out of you.

“Hi Baymax, I’m alright. I just had a little cramp.” You sighed.

He said in his robotic voice, “On a scale from 1-10 how would you rate your pain?”

“A zero, I promise. It’s gone now, I’m all good.” You try again.

“I will scan you for injuries…scan complete. You have a contraction muscle spasm in your hand. I would suggest taking a break and hot and cold compress.”

You laughed through your nose. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Then he said the magic words. “I can only deactivate if you say you are satisfied with your care.”

“Thank you, Baymax. I’m 100 percent satisfied with-“

You paused. In the corner of your vision you could still see the stack of tests you were going to grade. “Actually, could you help me with something?”

Tadashi was coming back from a nighttime lecture. He felt bad leaving Hiro at the lab by himself but he’d insisted he needed to do more work and frankly, Tadashi was exhausted. He walked into the cafe with a small amount of customers still lingering getting late night meals and typing away on their laptops.

Aunt Cass was clearing out the remainder of the freshly baked goods into boxes. “Hey rockstar, how was class?”

“I’m tired.” He sighed and reached into one of the boxes to grab himself a donut hole. “My professor decided to write especially small and quickly today.”

“Have you eaten? I think there’s some leftover pasta.” She ran her fingers through his hair.

Tadashi rubbed his eyes. “Hiro and I got food earlier.” He eased her. “Is she upstairs?”

“Hasn’t come down since you left. I tried to get her to take a break but she refused.” Aunt Cass took another pot of coffee off the counter and began doing her refill rounds.

Tadashi made his way up the stairs, basically dragging his feet. He could hear two voices coming from his room, both he knew very well. One voice he loved and another he created. “Hey love…and Baymax.”

You smiled and took off from your bed to greet him. “Baymax is helping me.”

He kissed your forehead. “Yeah I can see that. You guys getting a lot of work done?”

“We are grading Unit test 1B: Macromolecules and nutrition.” Baymax responded robotically.

The two of you laughed and flopped onto his bed. The stack of graded paper was now higher than the ungraded ones. Tadashi scrolled through the questions on the test and was shocked at how surprisingly difficult they were.

He joked, “I’m so glad you feel comfortable using my robot to grade your papers.”

“Well you made him to help people.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “He’s helping me! Right Baymax?”

“Correct.” He simply responded. The two of you laughed and Tadashi joined in on your grading party.

When you were finished, Baymax went back to his cherry red case and you were left to watch a movie with your boyfriend.

“Does this mean I get my girlfriend back?” He asked, muffled into your neck. All the grading had you booked and busy for the past two weeks.

You gently pet his hair and laughed. “Yes, you get her back.”

“Yay. I miss her.” He pressed a few lazy kisses to the side of your neck. “Your kids are doing good. You’re doing good.”

You often vent to Tadasi about your students scores and potential. Your philosophy being: if they did bad you were doing a bad job. “Thank you. How was class today?”

“Tiring. My professors are being especially difficult this time around.” He said still pressed against your neck. “But this is nice.”

You kissed the top of his head and pressed your nose into it. Both of you exhausted from your weeks resting and recharging against one another. You breathed out with relief and calmness, “Yeah, this is nice.”

[evelyn-is-eccedentesiasts]

Ninjago Headcanons (HOT TO GO)

The Ninja after being asked and taught HOT TO GO by Chappell Roan

Lloyd

Lloyd would try his absolute best and might forget a few of the moves. But definitely doesn't lack spirit. He is mainly interested in doing his best to make you happy and see you smile.

Kai

Kai definitely already knew how to do the dance. But lets you "teach" him and proceeds to do way better than you. He's probably already done this dance before and posted the video to his social media. Still, he finds himself enjoying it more dancing alongside you.

Jay

The best way to describe Jay is invested, he's happy you included him. He genuinely takes joy in learning the song and the steps. Showing off his moves, with someone he knows doesn't judge him. You can probably expect him to invite you to dance with him more.

Cole

Cole probably comes off at first as uninterested even bored. But know that he is happy you thought to teach him and show him the song. He secretly hums the song softly under his breath as he does his chores.

Zane

Zane at first doesn't quite understand the objective of learning the dance. But he's more than willing to learn if it makes you happy. While his movements might be a little stilted and robotic at first. He eventually gets into the groove, and you can tell he's having fun.

Nya

Nya might be a little self-conscious at first, but after seeing how much fun you're having. She soon forgets and just starts having fun. Sure maybe she's not doing all the moves correctly and she might be singing off-key. But both of you are having fun and that's all that matters.

Pixal

Pixal like Zane might not understand at first, but she's more than willing to try. Even after a while she still doesn't get it. But she can see you're having fun and to her, that's more than worth it.

Skylor

Skylor knows the song and dance by heart. Honestly bold of you to assume she wouldn't. She probably even came up with her own moves for the song as well.

[mountingpulisic]

FAR FROM DONE

mason was aware he didn’t own you, however you were his girlfriend. 

observing you from across the room, he watched as you harmlessly flirted with christian. 

you were trying to teach him a lesson.  

you had come to him about your concerns with his natural flirty charisma, explaining to him how sometimes women could perceive it in a different way.

you had asked if he could dial it back a few notches and he took it as the relationship lacked trust on your end. 

the fight that occurred shouldn’t have gotten to this point, but the two of you were equally headstrong and had a vigorous time swallowing pride so a reconciliation wasn’t in the near future. 

eyes never leaving your figure, mason watched as your delicate hand softly gripped christian’s shoulder, pulling him towards you while you whispered something into his ear. 

you glanced over christian to make sure mason was watching as you playfully ruffled the midfielder’s curls. 

you wanted him to feel like you had the dozen times he mindlessly flirted with others.

“y/n, i don’t think this is the best idea.” 

christian was in on your plan to make your boyfriend jealous, he owed you a favor from a while back and you were cashing in it now at kai’s birthday party.

“pulisic, it’s going to work. I know mason, he is breaking as we speak.” 

and that he was. 

mason couldn’t fathom the thought of another guy getting to experience you in the ways that he has. however, he knew christian wouldn’t ever dare to make an actual move on you, but how the american was currently looking at you made mason’s blood boil. 

trying to distract himself from the scene that played ahead, he zoned in on the conversation reece and ben were having next to him. 

noticing that your boyfriend turned his attention elsewhere, you knew that you needed to up your transmission. grabbing christian’s wrist you pulled him towards the center of the makeshift dance floor at the german’s house. 

“wha-what are you doing, y/n? I have two left feet, i’m just going to embarrass myself and you.” christian argued. 

“just follow my lead, pulisic.” 

you pulled christian respectfully close to you as you helped guide his hips to the beat of the current song that was playing. It was initially a lot harder than you thought since he wasn’t lying when he said that he had two left feets. 

“pulisic, oh my gosh, you're dancing as if i’m your grandma.” you laugh. with the way he was moving mason was just going to find the situation funny. 

“okay, one. I already told you i couldn’t dance and two, i’m trying to live to see my twenty-fifth birthday y/n.” even though he owed you a favor, christian wasn’t going to disrespect one of his best friend’s relationship and cross a line that was clearly drawn between the two of you. 

“okay, forget making mason jealous, just let loose and have some fun pulisic.” 

you knew that christian was having a tough time recently, not only with his knee injury but with the rumors of a transfer as well. your heart breaks at the thought of losing the american you’ve grown to love as a brother but you couldn’t help to think that the transfer was something that could be good for him, he didn’t seem happy here anymore. 

the two of you had entered your own world as you jokingly danced around each other to the music, christian had shown you his robot and it had sent you into a fit of giggles that everyone attending the party could hear. 

mason included.

“what’s so funny?” 

you didn’t even hear him approaching, spinning around you were met face to face with a stoic mason. his eyes traveling down to where yours and christian’s hands were friendly intertwined as you had been previously swinging each other around. 

“oh it’s nothing man, just having some fu-” christian answered, voice slightly dying off at the end when he caught wind of your boyfriend’s unamused look. 

“flirting is what you call fun, y/n?” 

“it’s a hobby of yours that i decided to take up.” you hit back.

mason’s nostrils flared as he looked down at you, a smirk nursing your face as you had an intense stare off with your boyfriend. 

“i’ll just excuse myself.” christian spoke, wanting to flee the scene before any casualties were made. turning around to migrate into the opposite direction his movements were stopped by you placing your hand on his shoulder for the second time that night. 

“no, mason can excuse himself. you and i were enjoying ourselves.” 

if mason wasn’t irritated before, he was now. 

gripping your forearm, he dragged you alongside him to the nearest vacant bedroom, pushing you into it while following close behind. 

“okay, i’m done playing your stupid game y/n. you wanted my attention? look you got it now.” mason was fuming, he didn’t appreciate you dismissing him in infront of his friend, as if he was some type of groupie. “you still wanna act like a brat?”

a brat? was he being serious right now? you were being a brat because you were giving him a taste of his own medicine?

sticking your tongue out to your cheek, you had to count to ten in your head to calm yourself down. 

racking your mind for the best possible comeback, and after a while you found one. 

silence

you knew how much mason absolutely hated the silent treatment so you rarely did it. 

but you felt as if this was the perfect moment to start the treatment due to him being a grade a asshole when it came to not properly acknowledging your concerns about his behavior. 

now you were not going to properly acknowledge his existence. 

choosing not to give him the reaction he was desperately looking for, you brushed past him out of the bedroom, making sure to add a little force. 

“hey, i asked you a question? you done now? can we go back to normal? he called after you. 

however, he was only meant with silence again as you slammed the door behind you. 

fast forwarding to a week later, you still hadn’t uttered a word to mason. 

he asked what you wanted for dinner? silence.

he asked if you wanted to watch a movie? silence.

he said an i love you before bed? silence.

it was killing the portsmouth alumni that you weren’t speaking to him, walking around your shared home like a kicked puppy, hoping you’d break and comfort him in cuddles. 

that never happened though, you promised yourself you weren’t going to speak to him until he realized his inappropriate behavior. 

you had taken up baking as a pastime to help distract you from mason walking around in self-pity, purposefully letting out loud sighs of distress when you were near. 

zoned in on reading the recipe for the cake you were baking, you hadn’t heard mason make his way into the kitchen. leaning against the wall, mason took in the scene infront of him. 

you were bent over reading the recipe off your laptop. this caused for mason to suppress a groan as his eyes traveled up from your exposed thighs to your perky ass that the shorts you were wearing showcased nicely. 

mason was touch starved nonetheless, beside craving your voice, he also craved your body. 

deciding that enough time has passed and he was ready to get off punishment, mason pushed himself off the wall and settled behind you, your ass now grazing his pelvic area.

“princess, i wanna get off punishment.” mason whined, pressing his semi further into you. 

mason took the advantage to wrap his fingers around your throat, easing you out of your bending position to stand up right. pressing opened mouth kisses to your neck, mason thought you had folded when you didn’t move away from his displays of affection. smirking to himself, mason lips moved to ghost over your ear. 

“finally, you’re done being a brat.” 

instantly you stiffen, grabbing his arms and removing them from your waist, you slowly turned around. 

mason’s face appeared confused about your sudden change in demeanor. 

pulling your hand from behind your back, mason noticed that you had an egg nesting in between your fingers. before he had the chance to ask, he heard the crack and saw what followed behind, a oozing yellow mess

you were far from done.

a/n : this will be a three part series, super nervous because i'll be including smut in this as well ;) thank you for reading

part two

[chowadoe]

Heyyy I just have a question about your au (which I'm obssessed with btw)

How did Robotnik stumble across Sonic? How did they find eachother and why did Sonic choose to work with him? (I noticed you used quotation marks on the word "raised", this is why I'm asking)

(Also I'm sorry if you have explained this before I'm just dumb and forget things alot😭)

hehe yes!! i touched vaguely on it but in the AU, but i have more thoughts

the AU is set in a Mobius/Earth that's heavily-industrialized, nearly robot-run and almost-dystopian backdrop.. rather than it being a case of man vs robot, its more like Earth vs the over-industrialization done by humans.

I'd like to think Robotnik found Sonic when he was pretty young, before his teens. since it's a role reversal where Sonic takes on more of Shadow's "ism"'s, I'd think there's lapses in sonic's past/memories that's simply a result of his upbringing in an machine-operated unnatural world. possibly found him orphaned and beat up from an unfortunate run-in (with either a robot or something else) in some junkyard. also toying with the idea that Robotnik suspects a rodent problem in his lab because whyyy is stuff going missing :/ and it seems to be connected to this little hedgehog over here.

Robotnik, having a lapse in his usual evil scientist judgement, decides to take him under his wing under the self-disgusing excuse of 'yes! haha! i'll teach him for taking my stuff! he can become my minion! my protege!' (when really Robotnik probably has a soft spot for kids). Robotnik is also quite interested in Sonic's extraordinary speed, thinking he'll prove quite useful for his future endeavors if he can train him. of course, Sonic is like a stray dog and kind of feral, because who can he trust in this world other than himself, so used to fighting for scraps where he can. the socialization process is long and arduous process LMFAO (as for the clothes, Sonic isn't interested in things that are readily given to him, he likes pissing Robotnik more, so lets say its something he "borrowed" from the scientist's closet and modded to his own liking. hes silly like that)

Robotnik at first tries to placate him with clothes and "toys" and "treats" (like fidgets and building sets and small robots. Sonic always ends up breaking them.) with little success. Sonic probably escapes several times, only coming back for something he needs- and its a routine that they both get used to because Robotnik can say "this is your last chance!" all he wants but when is it ever. and it's a habit that Sonic never really outgrows either.

Robotnik comes to the conclusion that Sonic is better left treated like outdoor cat that lets himself in when he's bored or whatever else (Sonic's quite good at sneaking into places. hedgehogs and burrowing and all that). eventually the machines and robots Robotnik builds do pique Sonic's interest-- but mostly in breaking them. he's more invested in the ways he can take things apart than anything else and that's a reoccurring headache Robotnik imposes on himself by dishing out new tech for Sonic to try out and they come out worse for wear at the end of the day.

They both mind their business at the end of the day, their relationship is rather estranged with little-to-no familial regard, Sonic's more of a thorn in his side than anything, but Robotnik still does have a soft spot for the rodent. Sonic is like the adoptive son that just never left his rebellious phase, wanting nothing to do with his guardian but bothering them when its convenient. he's Robotnik's contractual accomplice but only when it's on Sonic's terms, only agreeing to certain requests if it's interesting enough, like trying out Robotnik's new "toys"/weapons/robots or if it's tech that happens to boost his existing abilities (that he can try out on Robotnik's robots or G.U.N. soldiers or whatever gets in his way first).

[shroomiewrites]

Private Lessons || Professor!Price x F!Reader

Professor!Price x F!Reader || 7.4k words || NSFW || 18+ || Minors DNI

Warnings: AFAB reader, explicit sexual themes, alcohol consumption, degradation, creampie, spanking, dry humping, praise, power play if you squint, blasphemous behavior.

⁠✧.*⁠Next chapter || Assignment Tutoring*⁠.⁠✧

Synopsis: You couldn't be happier when your failure of a professor was being temporarily replaced with a substitute teacher, however, your happiness is quickly replaced with panic as you meet your new professor.

The clock ticked slowly. Agonizingly slowly. It usually did when you were seated in the uncomfortable joint seat from the auditorium, behind your laptop as the bright white blank page stared back mockingly at you. Not an unusual situation by any means, that, however, didn't make it any better as you repressed a yawn for the third time in the past two minutes.

Your professor paced around in front of the full board, hands gesturing wildly, rambling about some nonsensical story that had nothing to do with the subject he's supposed to be teaching and you're supposed to be learning. Clearly you were both failing at your tasks, but, ironically enough, only you'd fail at the end of the semester when the lack of attention and study notes came back to bite you in the ass.

The bell finally rang and you felt your body physically slack in relief. Your hands mindlessly putting your laptop away in your bag in a robotic manner from pure habit. Your mind was only thinking about what you were going to eat that evening and how long of a nap could you fit into your afternoon before you had to spend the rest of the day actually studying whatever was supposed to be taught by your incompetent teacher.

"Thank you everyone for coming, and don't forget that I'll be away for an international congress for the next month, so a substitute teacher will be taking my place. As always if you need me my email is–"

Is God real? Or did you just think so hard about having someone that actually knows how to do their job that it you manifested it into existence? Whatever it is, whatever divine entity that allowed for those words to come out of your professor's mouth were sure to be working in your favor and you promised you'd owe them one would you ever figure them out.

Your coffee tasted that much better that afternoon, a taste of accomplishment and contempt that doubly warmed your throat as the hot liquid ran it down. 

"Celebrate the small victories," you thought.

If God was real, he was a dick. The absolute fucking worst. Him or whatever other deity played a cheap trick on you when all you wanted was to get a damn good grade in possibly the most boring class in your curriculum. 

Given, it wasn't that boring anymore, thanks to the mountain of a man who had his back turned to you as he unceremoniously wrote on the board, clapping his hands softly to rid it of the excess chalk powder before he turned to the class once again.

Professor Price, the words read.

You would've relished a bit more in the absence of your previous failure of a teacher, but you could nearly physically hear the universe laughing at you as you tried to pry your eyes away from the man's giant arms that escaped his rolled up dress shirt, without any success whatsoever. 

You were fucked. If you were failing before thanks to your teacher's lack of any teaching skills, now you are failing because the way this man's thighs were furiously trying to break free from the confinement of his pants was making you want to get up and scream about how incarcerating innocent subjects was a miscarriage of justice. Maybe you could throw in some fancy precedent that'd show him you were actually a good student of the law and not just some whore lusting after your own fantasies of being bent over his table and feeling his muscular thighs hit your legs from behind as–

"Morning, class." His thick British accent nearly made you jump your seat, eyes focused on his figure but your mind far away.

His voice. His fucking voice. Hoarse and throaty. Like he just stretched relaxedly, sprawled in bed after a long night and was greeting you with a sly smile on his face. Or maybe you were just a little too deep in your headspace. Either way. It scratched your brain just right, sending tingles down your spine, you watched as he put his hands inside his front pockets, wide stance giving you a perfect look at his broad chest. It probably felt nice to lay on, to place your palms on to steady yourself as you– God. 

"I'm Professor Price and I'll be covering this class for the next few weeks as Professor Wilson is away," The way he scanned the room was focused but unpretentious, not in judgment, more like curiosity. 

When he glanced over you, stopping to take you in for a split second that you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't making a living out of studying his every feature, you felt butterflies in your stomach. A familiar warmth traveling down to in between your legs as you scolded yourself for acting like a damn college girl, soon reminding yourself that you were, in fact, a college girl. Not that it was terribly on brand for you to lust after your professors, however it was painfully often that you found yourself falling for men that would be charmingly referred to as DILFs. And Professor Price? Was a fucking huge one. 

"I hope we can make great use of this short amount of time we'll be together, and I'm here for any assistance you may need. I know this subject can be quite a challenge," he chuckles, deep and rusty, and you make a mental note to check if you need a panty change when the class ends. 

The rest of the class goes by so fast you actually find yourself disappointed when the bell rings. Professor Price was as good of a teacher as he was eye candy. Never once had you seen a class so thoroughly focused on a lecture about corporate law, and you suspected a few other students shared your same fertile imagination when it came to your new educator. For the first time in weeks you were actually able to look proudly back at your laptop screen, paragraphs of text and citations adorning the screen. Sure, you had to fight your instinct of drooling over the way Professor Price's back muscles shifted as he wrote on the board, unaware of all the vile, lascivious thoughts that plagued your mind every time he cleared his throat to start a new sentence.

You scoffed putting your stuff away while looking at two girls in class go up to Price's desk, twirling their hair as they asked him a question about the lecture. But you weren't dumb. You saw it in their little mischievous eyes that corporate law was the last thing in their raunchy heads as one of them touched his arm, oh, so accidentally. Please. At least you hid it. 

Right?

If you were ever an atheist, you couldn't remember. You were pretty sure God was real and present, but above all else, that he had a personal vendetta against you. Maybe that was narcissistic to think, but you sure got that impression as you recognized a certain pair of blue eyes and combed beard coming through the bar's double door. Because, of course, your male's-underwear-catalog-model of a professor just walked into the place you've been drinking and trying to forget about him for the past hour. And, of course, he's wearing a tight white shirt that outlined his spec muscles so well it might be illegal, not to mention the glasses?! The fucking glasses. Thank goodness he didn't wear them in class or you might've just cum right there and then. He looked so entirely different with them but recognisable still, it was infuriating. Who does he think he is? Clark Kent?

You had plenty of plans for the night. Convincing yourself you deserved a little treat after spending the evening looking through and editing your class notes. His class notes. It was a simple course of action you had in mind, truly. Go down to your usual bar, drink yourself away, maybe kiss a guy or two, go back home and regret it all as you woke up on a Saturday with a massive headache and books to read. But now, your body was getting side tracked. Insisting on traveling the entirety of his body, not feeling a drop of shame as you stopped at his crotch, taking notice of the big bulge there. 

Fuck. He was big. You could sense it, you could imagine it and you desperately wish you could feel it.

Shaking your head, you tried to erase the mental image of being on your knees in front of him and focus on the average looking blond guy who had been eating you with his eyes ever since you stepped foot into the place. You were betting with yourself on how long it'd take him to actually make a move on you. Needless to say, he had the rush of a monk. But at least it'd keep you busy as you tried with every fiber of your being to forget your professor.

"Hey," A familiar croaky voice came from behind you,"You were in my class earlier right?"

Now this just has to be some sort of sick joke. How long until cameras popped out from behind the bar and footage of you staring at his dick was all over the internet? Could you just double it and give it to the next person?

"Uh– professor!" You whipped your head, putting on the best sober smile you could, "Yeah, yeah. I was." Maybe that's all he wanted to know, just being a nice, courteous man before he went on his merry way.

"Ha! Knew I recognized ya." He sat down on the stool next to you. 

Well now this is just tragic, frankly. Both the way he was oblivious to how much of a mess you were by as much as his presence and how the blond guy was apparently very taken aback by the wardrobe sized man talking to you and started flirting with another girl shortly. Pig. 

"How was it? I was a bit unsure on how to approach it, I remember I found the topic so bloody boring in my time, thought I could spice it up a bit." And spice it up he did. Maybe a little too much. 

"It was great!" you nodded, hoping he wouldn't ask you to quote your favorite part because right now, the alcohol in your system and his musky cologne wiped your brain out completely, leaving only a deep burning desire to be absolutely fucked senseless, "Professor Wilson is a great teacher," A lie, "but I could comprehend it a lot better with the way you explained it." Not necessarily a lie. 

"That's great to hear, then." His smile was genuine and bright, of someone who had no idea that if he ordered you to get down on your knees right there and then you would with zero hesitation.

An innocent smile adorned your lips as you took another sip of your third drink of the night, barely feeling the burn that went down your throat anymore. You were embarrassed, honestly. Being this hot and bothered by a poor teacher who was only putting effort into doing his job right left you feeling like the biggest slut to set foot in town. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, not missing the way Price's eyes glanced subtly to your legs as your mini dress rode up a few inches. 

Just an involuntary reaction, you were sure, or your devious mind was playing tricks in you.

"Recommend me anything?" Your attention turned back to him as he pointed at your drink.

You thought for a second. He didn't look like he enjoyed the fruity sweet drinks you were downing like a mad man, no. He looked like he was more of a 'something strong and a little bitter on the tongue' man. 

"You look like you might be into scotch." You note and he raised an eyebrow, a low hum echoing from his lips.

"Read me like a book, I see." His smirk was as amused as it was surprised.

"Try the godfather." The bossy underline of your tone was definitely not on purpose… Grinning to yourself as he bit his lip before nodding and turning to the barista that arrived to take his order.

"Well, ya heard the lady. One godfather for this old man." The barista nodded and you contemplated whether to jump onto the opportunity or not.

Fuck it.

"You don't look old at all," you giggled. Disgusting truly, as low as the girls in his class, but could you honestly be blamed? 

The low chuckle that came out of him made it all worth it. Putting one arm on the counter as he shook his head. You noticed how his biceps flexed as he moved.

"You know what they say, 'age isn't a number, it's an attitude'."

Cheesy. Would absolutely turn you off if he wasn't the one saying it. In his voice it became a rather sexy mantra. You wanted to show him an attitude alright.

"Means more experience no?" You brought your straw to your lips, never breaking eye contact. The innuendos of the question were to be judged by God and God alone. You're lucky being horny isn't a crime.

"Indeed it does… in a lot of areas." His gaze was fixed on yours and you nearly choked on your drink.

He didn't– he wasn't… flirting with you? Was he? 

"Law?" You asked cheekily, trying hard not to think about the wet patch in your panties.

His laugh was easy and genuine. A treat to your ears, not being able to hold a smile yourself.

"Sure," he concluded, drink being posed in front of him by the bartender.

He thanked the man, bringing the cup up in between you two.

"For learning new things, aye?" You smiled, bumping your cup softly against his, a small clink sound coming from between the glasses before you two brought it to your lips.

And, man, did you learn new things. 

You learned his name was John, which you immediately tested in your head about how you'd sound moaning it (pretty good), he worked at a firm in the UK for nearly 10 years before deciding to take up on teaching full time. He'd been a professor for 6 years now, was unmarried with no kids, "My hectic life couldn't hold up a proper relationship," he said. 

You also learned he was an avid football fan and loved hiking. Both which explained his top notch physique. Not that you were staring, of course… 

"But tell me more about you," he finished his second drink, "You have a boyfriend?" 

The question caught you by surprise, erupting something very unholy inside of you. Was this a casual get-to-know-your-student question? Did such a thing even exist? As far as your experience went, professors weren't really going around drinking with their students.

"Uh– no, no. You know, with the whole last year of college thing and trying to find good opportunities it's just… hard to find the time," you answered truthfully.

Not that you were a lonely, sad woman by any means, having your fair share of lovers here and there. Ultimately they all ended the same way, you slowly fell out of touch as your schedules got more and more conflicting. Not that it bothered you that much, you were more than fine with the freedom of being single and the pleasure of an occasional fling.

"I get that," You thought he actually did, "but I'm more than sure a pretty lady like you won't have trouble finding a nice young guy," he stated, eyes looking for your expression.

His choice of words stuck with you. Nice young guy. You stopped momentarily, it could either mean two things — he was giving you a hint that he didn't want anything with you, or… he was trying to see if you were open to the idea. You pondered for a moment, your next words needed to be expertly chosen if you wanted to cover both terrains until you figured out which was right. 

You took one last sip of your drink, head slightly dizzy as you thought hard, "I don't know if those young nice guys are really for me, Professor." 

The way he sucked in a breath at hearing his title was nearly too much for you, sending you spiraling into your carnal thoughts about moaning it as he spanked you on his lap. 

"Have they not been taking care of you right?" There was a dark undertone to his words, a palpable tension as you both tiptoed around the blurred lines, the alcohol serving as a catalyst to send your mind into a frenzy with each look he gave you.

You bit your lip, noticing how his eyes darted down to them, Adams' apple bobbing in a contained gulp.

"Not in the way I want them to." He visibly tensed at your words, veins getting more visible as he grasped the empty glass tighter, knuckles turning slightly white. For a second you were scared he'd bust the cup, fully aware that even if he did, it'd be the hottest thing in the world.

Another second of silence went by and you started to panic. Had you gone too far? Did you step on a landmine in the little minesweeper game you were playing? You were about to backtrack, come up with a bullshit lie when he interrupted you.

"I think it's getting late. You should head home as well. I'll pay for your taxi." Your heart dropped to your stomach. It felt like a slap to your face.

You stood there, mouth agape as you tried to comprehend what went so wrong in so little time. Above all else, how would you still attend his class after this? Maybe you could just retake it next semester? Wait until Professor Wilson came back and tell him you had come up with a mysterious case of the flu and couldn't go to class for the past month. 

Your internal rambling was interrupted by John taking his wallet out and laying two bills on the counter, paying for both your drinks. You were about to tell him to stop and that you could pay for your own drinks, feeling embarrassed enough. Before you could, he dragged his arm off the counter, hitting your purse that rested above it to the ground. You watched as he immediately bent down to grab it, grunting an apology.

His fingers curled around the purse beside your leg and he agonizingly slowly brushed his other hand on your leg all the way up to your thigh, where he rested it for a second in a subtle and discreet move. Anyone looking from afar would just think he was giving you back your clutch. He placed the small bag in your lap, being as close to your face as he ever was and you could clearly see the lustful gleam behind his glasses. 

"Black Ford, parked on the end of the street. I'll take 5 minutes checking something on my work bag…" He whispered, sending a heat down your body, "If you decide for whatever reason to go there help me…" The brittled tone of his voice along with the mixed scent of his cologne and the scotch was sending you to paradise, "I'll take good care of you, darling." 

You definitely needed a panty change. Hell you might've felt your slick run down your legs slightly, feeling cold where his touch was after he took his hands off, nodding a courteous goodbye to the barista before going out the doors and making a right.

Heart stammering against your chest, you took a second to try and think straight, failing miserably. Whatever was left of your logical thinking begged for you to reconsider the idea of getting into your professor's car. But it was to no avail as you slowly got up from your seat, grabbing your purse and walking out, turning right.

The short walk to the end of the street where you thought you saw a black Ford was filled with your anxious thoughts. God, were you really about to sleep with your teacher? Well, he'd only be there for another few weeks anyway, it's not like you were officially his student anyway. Or that's what you'd tell yourself at night to be able to sleep after letting out all of your fantasies with the hot mountain of muscles that currently stared at your small figure approaching the car. You glanced around once before opening the passenger door and getting inside, a small sigh leaving your lips as you settled into the comfortable seats.

Price's eyes were glued onto your figure, unabashedly skimming his eyes over your exposed legs and your chest and neck.

"Drive us somewhere a bit more… private." You don't know where you found strength or courage to order him around, but he clearly didn't mind, smiling and spitting out a 'yes, ma'am', starting to drive out of the busy street. 

You took the opportunity of having him focused on the traffic to take him in completely, how his arms flexed as he grasped the steering wheel, how his thighs barely had any free space to move on the small driver's seat and the giant boner he sported. It made your mouth water and you bit your lip, repressing a premature moan from spilling out your lips.

"Like what you see?" He was clearly amused, a side smirk playing on his face as his eyes were still glued to the road in front of him.

"Maybe…" You decided to tease a little, two could play that game.

He chuckled, a small breath coming out of his nose as he wet his lips before talking, "I think you do, since you've been fucking me with those eyes ever since class this morning."

You considered opening the door and simply throwing yourself out of the moving car. How much more pathetic does the universe need you to look? 

"Oh. I– well–" He was full on laughing now, a husky, delicious laugh that had you rubbing your thighs together for any friction you could get.

"Can't say I didn't find myself getting distracted by you a couple times, love…" he confessed, taking a quick side glance at you and you felt utterly naked under his gaze, completely exposed.

"You fuck your students often?" Was it necessary? No. Did it please you to see the way he looked at you pointedly, almost angry? Absolutely.

"Who said I'm gonna fuck you?" 

The bastard. How dare him. You turned your head in his direction, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What are we doing? Private lessons?" He chuckled once more, one hand moving from the steering wheel to your leg, giving it a squeeze. Your breath hitched, biting your lip.

"I'll definitely teach you a lesson." His smile was playful but his tone… he was serious. Deadly.

The words went straight to your core, if it was physically possible for you to get wetter you would've. You cursed yourself for not being able to keep up a cool act near him, your body constantly betraying what your mind wanted you to do.

"And you're the first one. I'm not a pervert." You chuckled at his words, but felt a weird sense of pride. Like he was your dirty little secret.

"We'll see about that." He looked at you curiously, hands squeezing your thigh one more time, a bit harder this time, "You're not killing me right? Cause technically, you're taking me to a secondary location and the odds of me surviving that are slim to none." 

Price threw his head back, a genuine string of laughter coming out his mouth. Surprisingly enough that one warmed your heart more than your pussy and you were utterly disgusted with yourself. Fantasies of riding him until you passed down were fine, but you drew the line at imagining how his chest would bob up and down when he laughed as you laid over it on a chilly Sunday evening. 

"I wonder if you'll still be that cheeky with my cock in your mouth, love," he said nonchalantly and you stood dazed as he winked at you.

Where had this man been all this time? 

"I think this is good." The car stopped and you looked around.

You recognized the neighborhood, not too far off where you lived. It was quiet and peaceful, a lot different than most places in your city during a Friday night. There was a small hill close by that stood in front of a river that crossed the city, the soft sound of rippling water filling your ears. 

"I see you chose somewhere near the river so it'll be easier to dispose of my body," you joked, John undid his seatbelt and turned slightly to you, or as much as he could with his giant legs.

"Or I could take you up there and hold you while we watch the stars," he said softly, but you still picked up on the gentle sarcasm of his tone.

"Now that's a psychopathic thought." You turned to him, licking your bottom lip as you mapped his features, the slope of his nose, the way his mustache grazed his upper lip, how his blue eyes looked down at you ferociously behind the thin frame of his glasses, like he was about to jump at you anytime. You found it thrilling.

"If you want to stop this…" he began, voice barely audible, "Tell me now. Because after we start, I know I won't be able to hold myself anymore." 

You inhaled dizzily, unsure of how could every single thing he did turn you on so damn much. Your hands moved to rest on his chest, you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles underneath your hand, traveling up until they rested on the collar of his shirt. His breathing was ragged and you watched him close his eyes for a moment.

"Eager much?" you whispered back, hoping your bratty behavior would stir up something in him. He scoffed, his own hand trailing up your inner thigh, taking your dress with him.

"They'd need a fuckin' crane to tear me off ya." It sounded a bit comical, but with the way he looked at you, like you were prey, and his fingers groped the flesh of your thigh, you actually believed him.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." You pulled him harshly to you, crashing your lips. 

His kiss was exactly like you imagined, like you hoped. The taste of scotch filled your mouth as your tongues lapped against each other in a messy kiss. His guttural moans sent you off orbit, worrying that if his dick wasn't inside you in the next 20 minutes you might just drop dead. 

Your hand slid up from his collarbones until they rested at his nape, you pulled his short hair harshly, parting his mouth away from yours by mere inches, relishing in the way his half lidded eyes looked down at you, watching attentively as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, softly biting into the skin. John let out something close to a whimper and you were sure that that was the single hottest sound in the entire world and you'd kill to hear it again. 

"Fuck, c'mere." In a swift movement, he pushed his seat back a bit, grabbing you like you weighed nothing and placing you straddling him, his hands immediately going from your waist to your hips, before giving your ass a firm slap.

A sound moan went out your lips, closing your eyes and nearly falling forward on his chest. You could feel the outline of his dick under you, providing you with not nearly enough friction, pulsing with the whimper you made as he squeezed your ass harshly. 

"Sound so fuckin' good, baby." His head was now in the crook of your neck, kissing, licking and biting his way to your breasts. 

You wanted to answer with a little quip, keep up your bratty attitude. But the sheer stimulus from his hands and mouth on your body, being slowly rocked on his hard on, was just too much already and you could only moan and whimper broken cries of his name.

"Already daft for me, sweetheart?" He let out a throaty small laugh, one hand traveling from your ass, up your waist, gently squeezing your boob before setting down on your cheek, "Thought you'd last longer with your little attitude, hm?" He whispered darkly into your ear, biting your lobe softly and rocking your hips against him again. 

"J-John…" you whimpered, the fabric of his jeans against your wet panties, sure to leave a stain, torturing your pussy.

His fingers grazed your cheek and your jaw, before his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, dragging it down slightly.  

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?" he asked, his hand coming down on your ass in another loud slap, you steadied yourself with both hands on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly as his thumb invaded your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it, nodding your head to his question, a low hum echoed from his throat as he shook his head, "Use your words like a big girl, hm?" He grazed your tongue one last time before taking his finger out, your spit dripping from his finger to your chin, he gently smeared it around, eyes fascinated as he watched your drunk eyes and parted lips, body squirming on his lap.

"Y-yes." You gathered the strength you had to mutter, little huffs coming out of your mouth as you tried to grind yourself harder against him.

"Yes what?" He raised your chin to look at him, eyes fiery and dark.

You trembled over from another slap he gave your ass, rocking you forward in his covered dick, the friction sending jolts up your body and you threw your head back, hissing. John grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of your head, turning your face back to him in a surprisingly gentle movement.

"Y-yes, sir." You could feel his dick twitching under you at the honorific, the side of his mouth going up slightly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.

"That's my girl." 

By God, you nearly came at that. You barely had time to bathe in the way his raspy voice echoed in your ear with the praise, feeling the straps of your dress be pushed down your arms, the fabric at your chest now bunched over your hips. John sucked in a breath, admiring your naked body lustfully, biting down on his bottom lip.

"Bloody hell, love, look at you…" He used one hand to mold the flesh of your right boob, kneading it with furrowed brows, completely focused on the way you panted in pleasure. He rolled your nipple on his fingers and you jumped, making him chuckle.

"A little jumpy, are we?" You groaned in complaint but he just laughed at you, mouth flying down to capture your other breast. He sucked and twirled his tongue around your hardened nipple, humming in satisfaction, while humping up, grinding into your pussy.

"S-sir, please–" you begged and he let go of you with a pop, you looked down seeing his shiny lips from sucking on your boob, trying your best to take in so you could relive the moment when you were alone.

"What do you want, baby girl?" He was teasing you, taking the most pleasure in breaking you apart. 

"You in– fuck– inside me," you spoke in between breaths, his grinding getting harder and harder as your panties got so soaked you could only feel the friction of his jeans against you.

"Well looks who's eager now," if you had any strength you would've slapped his chest, but your arms were already shaking, your inebriated state along with your desperate need for him down there making your head spin.

Maybe it was mercy, maybe he wanted it just as much as you but was that much better at hiding it, whatever it was you thanked the heavens when he pushed you back slightly to open the zipper of his jeans, a wet stain in the spot you were seated before. Price looked rather amused at it, almost proud that if he left you there for another 5 minutes you would've probably come on riding his clothed dick alone. 

You salivated at the sight of his boxers, a huge bulge outlined by the thin, stretchy fabric of his underwear. Your hands immediately flew down to it to break his cock free, feeling the absolute girth and length of him. Your belly ached with the sheer prospect of having his massive dick in you, certain that you would be sore for a few days at least.

"Shite–" he threw his head back in a hoarse moan, biting hard on his lip as you smeared the pre cum on his tip, imagining all the positions you wanted to do with him.

He looked back at you, eyes narrowed in pleasure as he witnessed you spit on his cock and move your hands up and down faster, the wet, unholy sounds paired with your cock drunk appearance driving him to the edge. He gathered the strength to grab both your wrists and pull you to him, your lips connecting once again in an even messier kiss.

His beard tickled your skin, but it wasn't as prickly as you thought it'd be. His hands moved to the small of your back, while the other nested into your hair again. Your tongues met again, groans erupting from him while you whined to feel more of him. You moved your hips forward until you were grinding your clothed clit against his hard member. The pleasure making you moan loudly into the kiss as he pulled your hair.

"You want my cock inside you, baby? Want me to pound into you like a whore?" He bit hickeys on the column of your neck, licking the sore spots after, drowning in your soft moans and begs of his name that just rolled of your tongue in a messy string of pleas.

"P–please, sir. Fuck me like a slut, pl–please," You whined and he gave you one final bite, right between your shoulder and neck, before ripping your panties completely from you. 

If you hadn't been so damn wet already, that alone would've been enough to get you dripping. The way he just effortlessly tore the lacy fabric from your body with a growl. His gaze was sinful as he pulled your hair back, chin pointing to his face.

"Open up," he ordered and you immediately obeyed, "Good girl," he uttered  satisfied as he stuffed your mouth with your panties, a guttural groan of pleasure escaping from him as he enjoyed the beautiful sight of you as a panting, drooling and moaning mess, begging for him to fuck you. He could cum just by looking at you like that, completely disheveled thanks to him.

He used one of his hands to raise your hips, the other one guiding his cock to your entrance, sucking in a breath as you sank down on his shaft.

"Oh– fuckin' hell, so bloody tight," he rasped and you could only moan loudly, the sounds muffled by the crumpled fabric in your mouth. 

He barely gave you time to adjust, grabbing your hips and guiding you up and down, your hands bracing yourself on his chest, hair falling all over your face. The sploshing sounds your wet cunt made whenever his cock entered you were loud and filthy, permanently ingrained in Price's memory, along with the way you shook and whined over him. 

You could hear him panting and hissing, strong legs giving you leverage as you rode him, feeling the tensing muscles of his chest against your hands, his own altering between running up your sides and your tits, giving them a hard squeeze, nipples hard against his palm.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, baby," he all but growled, "Such a good cunt for me. C'mere, wanna her you scream my name." He latched his hands onto the panties in your mouth, discarding then somewhere. 

The immediate lewd sounds that erupted from your mouth could surely be heard by anyone passing by the vicinity, but you found that you didn't quite care, thoroughly enjoying the way his dick twitched inside you as broken pleas of his name dripped from your mouth like honey, driving him to insanity.

"So f–fucking good," you cried, hips faltering as he hit a deep spot inside you that stung so good you could practically see stars.

"Those f–fuckin' bastards can't give it to ya like I can, hm?" Another sharp slap came down to your red, sore bum, sending you flying straight into his chest. He used the new angle to lift his thighs rapidly, pounding into you with vigor as you scratched his chest and shoulders, screaming his name, "That's right, need– need someone like me to fuck you j–just right…" His own voice was breaking, low grunts of pleasure coming out with his ragged breath as his cock disappeared inside you again and again.

"I–I'm close, s–sir… please… need t–to cum…" You buried your head on his neck, barely having the strength to hold yourself up. Not that you needed to, his big hands holding your hips locked in place as he hit a spot that had you reevaluating every single fuck you had before.

"Gonna cum on my cock like the dirty little whore you are, darling?" He nipped at your ear, going harder and deeper as you felt your high approaching. You couldn't even think straight enough to nod your head yes, biting his neck as you whimpered and squirmed, "Will you let me cum in you, hm? Fill up this pretty little pussy full of cum so you can walk around dripping? Fuck… you'd look so fuckin' pretty," he moaned the words through gritted teeth, legs shaking ever so slightly as his own orgasm started to build. He grabbed your chin harshly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, his eyes narrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as low grunts mixed with the sound of his thigh hitting your ass.

"Look at you," a moany laugh left his lips, mouth quivering up in a smug smirk, "So cock drunk for me, what would people think, hm? A pretty, smart lady like you– completely fuckin' ruined. Does it turn you on? Being put in your place and railed by your bloody professor?" That's all you needed to come undone above him, a string of incoherent babbles and broken cries of his name dancing out of your lips as you shook violently on his lap, hands coming down on his thigh to support yourself as the strongest orgasm you ever had washed through you. Head spinning in complete daze and disorientation.

You fell on top of him, body pliable like playdough as he continued to fuck into you, his own moans getting louder and out of breath as his own high came down on him.

"Oh shite– fuck, princess, let me cum in you. P–please…" The sound of this 6 foot man begging and writhing under you was nearly enough to get you ready for another round, if it weren't for your completely exhausted body. He didn't have to ask you twice as you moaned and nodded.

"F–Fill me up, sir, please. Want you to– to stuff me full of your cum." That was the only permission he needed as one his fingers dug into the flesh of your hip, sure to leave a bruise, his other hand moving from your face to your nape, gripping your hair and pulling you back. 

His head got lost in your neck, leaving bites all the way down to your breast, sucking on it hard and pulling your nipple between his teeth as he moaned, the gruff noises sending vibrations down your body as you felt him shake, burying himself inside you as a warm, thick liquid filled you to the brim, spilling down your leg and onto his lap. He desperately tried to catch his breath, resting on the seat with you on top of him, the sounds of your respiration the only thing you could hear along with distant sounds of sirens and cats from the city.

You both stood there for a minute, one of his hands coming down to your back as he brushed his fingers softly in a random pattern, sending small shivers through your body, his other hand still nestled in your hair, but now gently massaging your scalp, the sheer comfort of the movement would be enough to lull you to sleep in other circumstances. You also had your fingers on nis nape, playing with the little tips of his hair absentmindedly, head resting on the curve between his shoulder and his neck as you inhaled his scent, now a mix of sweat, his musky cologne and a bit of alcohol, you could get drunk alone through his smell, wanted to bottle it up and keep it to yourself forever.

"You okay, bunny? I hope I wasn't too rough with ya…" The low volume of his voice, a bit louder than a whisper, the obvious care that laced his words and the cute completely out of nowhere pet name made you melt into him even more. Your heart skipped a beat, a gentle sigh escaping your lips.

"You were perfect." You managed to get out amidst your dazzled state, your other hand squeezing his arm reassuringly. You felt his soft chuckle under you, his throat bobbing slightly with the sound before you felt him turn his head towards yours.

"I'm glad." Was all he said before planting a kiss so chaste, so caring and full of tenderness on your head you nearly passed out, unsure of how the man behind those soft lips and featherlight touch on your skin, as if he was afraid of tainting you, was the same one that fucked you senseless not even minutes ago. 

The sheer loving and innocent nature of his actions were almost enough to make you forget he was still balls deep in you, his liquid running down your sore thighs. You unglued yourself from him, looking down at the hot mess you made, the sight making you get wet all over again.

"That's quite the mess, innit?" You looked back at him, noticing the smirk and pure delight in his voice as he said it. You could feel his damn pride in the air, could see it in his eyes that he'd do it again ten times worse if he could. The thought alone sent you spiraling again.

"I'd offer to clean it up," you started, running your finger on a drop of his cum that ran down your thigh, taking it to your lips and locking eyes with him as you lapped it up, sucking your finger clean before removing it with a pop. The way his eyes darkened all over again, his cock twitched involuntarily inside you, made you smile in victory, "but my body would definitely give out and you'd be obligated to throw it in the river," you quipped and he just stared at you smiling, an odd, bewitched glimpse to his eyes, you felt even more vulnerable than when he was fucking you. 

"I won't let that happen," his hands brushed gingerly from your collarbones to your jaw, feeling your soft skin under his touch, he glanced down your lips, licking his, before going back up to your eyes, "I told ya I'd take care of you, didn't I?" 

You couldn't move away your sight from him, from his fucked out, half lidded look, the way his mustache was slightly wet still and his glasses fogged up near the bridge of his nose. Your mind was screaming for rest, but your body ached for him, for more. You unconsciously rolled your hips, relishing in how he threw his head back, exposing his neck, littered in purple blossoms, a hiss leaving his mouth, feeling his hand squeeze you involuntarily.

It'll be a long night. But perhaps, God doesn't hate you that much after all.

A/N: Whew, this was something. This absolute piece of filth and profanity was inspired by this lovely drawing and this video. I highly suspect that this concept will still make my imagination go wild, so expect perhaps a part 2?

Constructive criticism and feedback are always more than welcome! I hope you enjoyed reading~

Tag list: @thychuvaluswife

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings React To Their Partner Who Age Regresses

Now I myself do not age regress, but I may be trying it out! To help cope with trauma. There is something so comforting about it, so some cute and pure fluff!

((Also, people in the agere community, hi! You are valid, real, and loved. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’ll be ok, sug!

Writing Commissions open

William ‘Bill’

He doesn’t really fine it odd. He’s been through multiple tips of therapies, as he is a curse breaker. Curse breakers need to make sure their minds remain sharp, and clear, so they have to keep mental health a priority. There is also the fact he was attacked by a werewolf, so he’s been through even more. And lastly, he is the eldest sibling to six. That means when you go into his little space you are in safe hands. He will make sure you are very safe, and taken care of. It comes naturally to him. He doesn’t really need to know a thing, because his body just knows. He knows what to do. Given his werewolf quirks as well you get to have a boyfriend that can sense your needs far easier. So when you need your care giver, he’s already holding you close. Also, well, big puppy stuffy.

Charlie

He’s also an older brother, and works with infant dragons all the time. So dealing with someone who goes into a little space isn’t as difficult as you would think. He is rather curious by it all, however. Not weirded out, but curious. He’s a man that’s traveled the world, somehow more so than the likes of Bill. It’s dumb to not live life with an open mind. He’s willing to learn, and wants to take care of you. You develope a rather maternal nature, when you work with new borns all the time. It’ll be nice to have a more human little to work with. Given his strength, and warmth, he makes for a wonderful cuddle bug. He makes you feel so small, with how easy he can pick you up. It helps you drift into your little space alot easier, and doesn’t feel as weird. Just into his arms you go, and you know you couldn’t be safer

Percy

He’s found it very strange. He’s always been very prissy and uptight, after all. What do you mean you just act like a child? Fred and George do that already! He’s honestly a big ass about it, until Bill pulls him aside. Trying to explain it more properly to him, before he goes and says something he will regret. It takes a while, but he’s soon reading up on it. Might as well learn about it. That’s kinda how it started, really. You would come to him, when you needed your moment, and he would read you stories. He won’t lie, it was comforting. Reminded him of when he helped teach his younger siblings how read. Maybe there is something to this age regression thing. There’s a weird comfort. How he can just take care of you, and you trust him enough to know he will. It takes a while, but he is willing to learn. For you

Fred

He runs a joke shop. If anyone is going to know how to handle a kid, it’s him. Also, older brother quirks. Doesn’t really phase him either. You act younger sometimes? Don’t we all? He’s going to be the best care giver. Especially since he did mature a bit, from running a shop. So don’t think you weaseled your way into endless candy. Can’t have his precious kiddo sick! As being a bit more mature, he also has things a bit more calculated. A designated toy box’s to keep your kid stuff secure, and private. Willing to drop everything if you need him. Even happily have you play with your toys, in his office, as he works. Very much taking on a very solid dad role. Wouldn’t be to surprising if he knew about age regression before he met you. He likes to keep up to date with the kids, so he can better care for them. Such as what products they would like. He’s calculated, but not like a robot. Like an actual dad, wanting the best for his kids after all. You included. Oh and don’t you dare forget, they are two for one. Uncle George is going to steal you, when Fred needs to work. Never fear!

George

Much like his twin, you are in safe hands. However, he has a bit more of an emotional approach. He likes to be a bit more hands on with it all. The type to make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, and always have a bottle of apple juice ready. He took on the food love from his mother. So you are given plenty of sweet snacks for every occasion. Always finding a way to make sure you meet your nutrient needs, even when small. That way you stay healthy, but not sacrifice the things you love. He knows how that can mess with you. Especially after losing Fred. So, to take care of someone is helping him take care of himself. The ability to just take time out of his day, and be with you, it’s healing. It really is. Your bravery in admiting to this is helping him live such a better life. Just able to hold you, and know that he can protect you. He couldn’t save Fred, but he was able to save you

Ron

Hope you don’t mind, but his ass went running to Hermione for advice. She’s the smartest person he knows. If anyone knows anything about anything, it’s her. He finds it a bit confusing, but Hermione does a beautiful job in explaining it to him. Such as how his brothers do certain things to cope, or do things different because of trauma and stress. You were the same. That helps him figure it out better. Still, it’s a bit complicated for him. He’s worried about messing up, because you are in a rather vulnerable position. Luckily, similar to how the twins are two for one, he’s a three for one. Hermione is more than happy to help you, and Harry is in the same boat as you. He had to cook his uncle, aunt, and cousin, breakfast every morning by the time he learned how to walk. If anyone’s going to understand, it’s going to be him. a pair of parents, and an uncle sometimes sibling. you would be in safe hands.

Ginny

She, more so, went running to her older siblings for advice. Especially Bill. He knows stuff like this after all. It’s confusing, until he explains it. Much like how Hermione would with Ron. After some time, she figured out how to make it work. She didn’t really know if she could pull it off, but she is a Weasley. She is too stubborn to back down from a challenge. Her care taker role would follow more of an older sibling dynamic. She’s found it pretty nice, really. She was always jealous that her brothers got to have younger siblings. She had to be the last one, and that takes a toll after a while. Especially in a family so big. It’s a nice way to live out something like that. You can’t complain about it. Especially since, similar to Charlie, she’s yanking you into the air. All that Quidditch sure pays off. A older sibling is rather comforting. Familia love is soothing to the soul. You both get that gentle moment. She gets to be a big sister, and you get one. So warm, and safe.