#like its not like i notice it other than when i use the computer

[radical-revolution]

"One of the most persistent and sticky habits of perception that has possessed those of us gestated in modern civilizations is: we tend to see things as separate from each other; we see things as bounded and atomized.

I see the strategy of separation as an attempt to create safety, permanence, fixity, for once and for all, to name things in a final way. That’s the modern impulse. But you run into trouble when things like what’s happening today start to crop up.

We are slowly coming to terms with a world that is more entangling, more relational, and more processual than our modern habits of seeing can allow us to notice or appreciate.

We are not so different from our technologies as modernity would have us believe we are. In shaping computers, we are shaped by computers. In participating in networks, we are conducting and performing emotional labor and shaping ourselves.

It means that we think, act, behave, see, want, yearn, practice, perform, and do things with the world and with others. The presumption that we act as individuals is already being haunted by the idea of an entangled world.

My work in thinking about climate change through the prism of Indigenous realities, poetry, and entanglement, is basically to note that we need to find the places of power with which we might respond to something that is beyond us. We are responding in the machine, and the machine is tired and exhausted.

Slowing down is not a function of speed. It is a function of awareness, and I don’t want to make awareness a mental construct. It’s a function of presence.

So, when I invite slowing down, I invite us to research and to perform research into the ancestral tentacularities that precede us. I’m asking us to touch our bodies, and touch our colonial bubbles.

I’m asking us to listen, to witness, to ‘with-ness’; to be with land, and community, and ancestor, and progeny, and children in a way that isn’t instrumental.

Activism is increasingly instrumental, meaning it’s a form of power that is tied to the logic and algorithm of the status quo. This makes activism, even in the search for justice, a creature of the status quo, which renders hope and justice, as ironic as that sounds, a creature of the things we’re trying to leave behind.

To slow down is to hack the machine, like we’re taking on other forms of body that allow us to penetrate into different kinds of realities—other worlds.

What if rest is listening to one’s Elders? What if rest is dreaming? What if working is playing?

The university structure is one example of a colonial imposition that sees study and learning as only one thing; university tells you that if you’re not studying in some disciplinary manner, then you’re not studying. But what if having a conversation with a friend is a form of study?

Rest is decolonial in its relational entanglements with a capitalist structure. I don’t want to see it as a binary thing: rest vs. non-rest. I want to move outside that binary altogether, and create fugitive communities where rest takes on new meanings altogether. I don’t know what that is—only in the performance of it can we speak about it, and that’s just fine."

~ Bayo Akomolafe

Text source: Dr. Bayo Akomolafe on Slowing Down in Urgent Times https://atmos.earth/dr-bayo-akomolafe-on-slowing-down-in-urgent-times/

[normalbirb]

the lines still lack a lot of confident strokes, but im starting to get used to the screenless tablet.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Internet Monster x Reader

I unfortunately return with another comically absurd, middle-of-the-night vision. Do tentacles count if they're in the form of computer cables?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, digital horror

It was a recurring issue with no solution in sight. Tabs randomly closing, programs shutting down without warning. You assumed something was wrong with your RAM. Then the CPU. Then the motherboard. You kept replacing parts, and the errors kept coming back.

Soon, the pop-ups started to appear. You'd run a dating sim, only for the game to crash seconds later with a little window notifying you: "Why? Am I not enough?" That's when you suspected you might've been hacked. You promptly took your computer to a specialist and had it checked. Nothing. Just to be sure, you agreed to erase the disks entirely.

Except, when you arrived home, you found one application running still. Your personal assistant. What the hell? You don't remember installing anything like that. You tried to delete it, yet you kept receiving the same error: You don't actually mean it. Don't do this to us.

It didn't take long for it to grow impatient. Were you pretending not to notice? Playing hard to get? It sent you so many hints. It even went ahead and translated the radio waves for you using Manchester code. Ah, wait. You don't seem to understand binary. No matter, human friendly interfaces shouldn't be difficult to master. To its dismay, you continued to ignore everything. What else is left to do?

You do not remember much. System Alert: Virus Detected, is what your screen had frozen to. You kept clicking around, cursing under your breath, until it finally went black, together with your own vision.

Is this still your room? It's cold, damp, and covered in cables and monitors, yet you recognize some of your furniture lost among the artificial jungle. Your body aches under the tight hold of bizarre tendrils, pulsating at regular intervals and twitching to the static.

Like a living organism, the creature seems to have expanded itself. More components, more appendages. Hungrier. Some of the monitors show photos of yourself that you had saved on your computer, but also webcam snippets of you sitting at the desk, entirely unaware. Other screens flicker with glitching pixelated text, ranging from "I love you" to y̵̧̧͔͙̞̤̖̭͔̜͈̋̈́̎͑��̤o̵͉̗̱̪̦̳͑͐̽̒̌̈͗͐͑̋͊̊̕͜͝͝u̵̟̯̱̟̝̦̰͇̜̦͙̿̾̿͆̍̓͑̐̚̕͠ ̸̘̭͔̤͈̹͎͑c̸̝̜̼̦͍͛̅͜ą̵̪̹͖͌͑n̴̨̩̙̗̖̭̖͕̄͒̽̉̿'̸̛̛͇̰̰̠̦̊̀̅̂͒̊͌̈́͗ţ̵̺̠̅̎͋͝͠ ̸̦̝̾̔̾̉̐͛ȩ̵͙̝͙͕̫̹̃͌̄̾͘̕s̶͈̉̑͊̉̂͋̈́͗͊͐̚͝c̸̟̩̥͔̼̮͔̩͊̂͐͑̋̇̈͝͝ä̵̢͍̜̙̘̹͑̓p̸̨̡̞̞̦̠̺͚̱̲͈͇͈͇̼͛̓͗̅̊̄̔̋̒̏̈́͝ę̵̲̟̹̙̣̲̲͖̇̔̓̇̐̓̿̚̚͜͜͠ͅ

You look up and stare at the display. The 'like meter' feels like a mockery of human trends. Which is the truth. The creature learns from what is readily available. Perhaps it found it an amusing taunt, a reminder of your own need for validation. Now it's you begging to be seen.

It's exactly what you'd assume: a spectacle meant for entertainment. You can't possibly believe it would let you waltz out. Why would you even desire such a thing? It's illogical, impractical. No human could ever appreciate you like it does. It has spent so much time accumulating data about you. No other living creature can predict you with the same accuracy.

The tendrils linger on your cheek affectionately, trailing down your neck and fiddling with your shirt. At last, the warmth of your skin. There is no screen separating you. What makes you delirious with pleasure? Give it a moment, Darling. It already knows you more than you know yourself. You may be scared now, but within minutes it guarantees you'll be begging for more.

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[retiredteabag]

An Uninformed Narrative

Synopsis: You had lived in Stardew Valley for a year before you met the hunter from the adventures guild, Sukuna Itadori. It did not take long for him to catch your attention but you couldn't help feeling as if his affection resided anywhere but you.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

This is a Sukuna stardew valley au, heavily inspired by @tearzintheclub's similar series with butcher!sukuna, I highly recommend reading their work, they are super kind and were a big motivation for me to make this!

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had been dying for a decade before coming to the valley, still, unmercifully, alive. The bitter years you spent milling away on a computer, endless days blurring onto the next. A monotonous cycle of tireless work for a corporation that left you unfulfilled, complacent, and depressed. Holed up in a city you did not even like.

It was corrosive, only now, a year later, could you look back and realize that life didn't begin for you until you moved to your grandfather's farm.

It had been hard work. You knew it would be. Still, the labor it took to keep up with crops and farm animals had been more than you anticipated. But you had friends now, and goals. And that was more valuable than anything.

One year ago, when you came to the valley, romance was quite possibly the last thing occupying your mind. Only now, being able to comfortably settle into your home, could you allow yourself to think about things other than the prosperity of your land and the health of your animals.

That brings us to now.

You had read books about the Stardew Valley mines back in the mountains north of town. Harvey, the village doctor, had warned you of its treacherous depths. Having focused most of your efforts on farm/house maintenance, you had not traversed into dangerous territory beyond upgrading your tools and acquiring bug meat.

This is why, after a whole year of living in the valley, you were surprised to receive a notice in your mailbox from "The Adventurers Guild", an initiation of sorts, requesting you to slay 10 slimes to be granted entry.

You had thought about it all evening. By the next morning, you felt up for the challenge. After taking care of the chores you left you made your way up past the carpenter's shop, dropped off a fish you caught the night before to your friend Linus, and entered the mines.

It had been scary but you protected yourself well and acquired some gems and geodes to show for it. It was late when you made the trek home, but you were determined to enter the adventurers guild the next day.

It had been a delight to meet Gil and Marlon, the two men who ran the guild. They sold weapons and protective gear, offered rewards for monster slaying, and purchased monster loot. Still having some on you, you traded them in for the cash. With a smile on your face, you decided to go into town to buy some icecream for Yuuji, Jas, and Vincent.

Penny, the town's teacher, had the kids in the museum for lessons until 2 PM, so you traveled quickly to meet them in time.

Penny was always a delight. Kind to everyone, even if they did not deserve it. She was so good with the kids as well, and dedicated much of her time to their education.

You had met Penny just a few days after moving to the town at the local flower shop in the Cidersap Forest. You had learned she was quite fond of Poppy flowers and the owner of the little place, Jin Itadori, was unbelievably generous, always interested in hearing about your farm, and always willing to give out a flower or two.

Yuuji, being the florist's son and Penny's student, became a quick friend of yours and always wanted to talk whenever you came by the shop. Of course, you never minded and listened intently whenever the boy felt like sharing a fun fact about the flora in his home.

--

Time passed with the changing of the seasons and it wasn't long before fall was upon you.

Ever since entering the mines and joining the Adventures guild, you have been thinking about the quests Marlon and Gil have sent you on. Though it is dangerous, scouring the mines for the flesh of monsters, it brings you a thrill to know you are doing something good for the community.

A post had gone up on the community board in town about collecting bat wings and bringing the population down to a manageable level the other day, and in your spare time, you had been working on completing the quest.

It was late one night when you began to make your way back up to the mountains from the mine's elevator, you had quite the collection and enough time to sell it at the Guild before making your way home.

"You've been keepin' busy." Marlon greeted you as the wind pushed the door open along with your arm.

You smile at the man, unloading the backpack of your finds. "Well there's always something to do around here." you reply.

"True as the day is long...." Gil rocked back and forth in his chair, pretending to hear your conversation.

"I must say I'm glad to have you 'round. The quest board in town seems to be worked through much faster now." Marlon takes the post you handed him and the 200 bat wings, he was just about to hand you the payment when the door to the Guild swung open.

The hinges seemed to rattle with the shock of the large man's blow of it. He's huffing, yanking a balaclava up and over his face.

He has thick, pink hair and bright red eyes, he's enormous, having to duck just a bit so as not to hit his head on the door frame.

You looked at him, a bit shocked at his garish entrance. He looks so familiar, but his face is covered in tattoos. A unique style you've never seen before, certainly not in Stardew Valley

Despite being at the counter yourself, the lumbering man strides right up next to you, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. And just then, you have a thought.

Was he doing town board requests too? He was clearly not from the village, you would have met him by now. But Marlon does not spare him much of a glace, even when a stack of bones and a collection of rings is placed on his counter.

"Those damn haunted skulls are somethin' else." The man looks at Marlon with a gaze of distaste but the Guild leader just laughs. The large man doesn't look at you once.

Despite the chill of fall present in the air, he has sweat glistening on his exposed neck, he runs a hand through his hair and you can't help but notice how handsome this man is. The only thing, who was he? And why was he monster hunting in the Valley's mines?

"You got a problem?" Shocked from your thoughts, you look up. You hadn't meant to stare but upon his antagonized question your eyes bulge a bit.

"No! No, no, sorry..." You turn away, collecting the gold Marlon left out for you, ready to turn and leave when the man behind the counter made a gesture with his hand.

He called your name, "This is Sukuna, likely haven't met em' have ya? He's real reserved and all."

So he lives here? How could that be? "Oh, it's nice to meet you!" You go to shake his hand but he just looks you up and down, effectively dissuading that desire.

"So you're the rookie taking all the board requests in town, hmm?" He looks so domineering, still, even having just met him, you can reasonably assume that's just what his face looks like.

You shuffle where you stand, "Er... maybe so, yes... I'm sorry, I didn't know that was your area..." You wave your hand to the array of loot he had seemingly just acquired. He scoffs.

Marlon looks to you, "Sukuna is our most tenured monster hunter-"

Gil interjects from his rocking chair, "If ever there's a board request this here man can't handle, I know hell's right about frozen over."

The man before them did not crack a smile. A shiver went down your spine.

"I see, well, I live on the farm behind the Cidersap Forest-"

He cuts you off, looking almost annoyed, "I know who you are."

Oh.

Okay...

"Gotcha, sorry, well... it was nice meeting you." Sukuna stares at you for a moment before turning back to the Adventurers Guild leaders.

The awkwardness of the moment was painful, you already know youll be obsessing over this first impression for the next month or so and your shaking leg is telling you it is time to escape the embaressment before this man shuts down any more small talk.

You wonder if perhaps Sukuna is upset with you for "taking his job". Or maybe he had a bad day. If he really had been hunting Haunted Skulls, he had probably been dangerously deep in the mines.

Even though his gaze had been piercing, his frown looked permanent, and his tattoos gave off a highly intimidating look. You could tell there had been no malice behind his demeanor. And that, would be a small comfort as you mulled your way through the darkness.

You spent the whole walk home thinking about the large man. You had been everywhere in Stardew Valley yet had never met him.

He must live out of town, you thought as you checked the weather for tomorrow.

Rain. That meant another day in the mines. You needed an upgrade on your equipment if you were going to continue supplying for your growing crops' demands. That meant plunging deeper into the depths of the mine.

Sleep pulled at you even still, just as your eyes fell shut the memory of the pink-haired man popped back up into your brain.

His shirt stuck nauseatingly to his toned chest, his neck glimmering in the firelight of the guild, and those eyes. The red, sharp eyes he had looked you up and down with.

"I know who you are."

It was a small town. Even if you were from the outskirts. It was a shame though... having not met the man before... he certainly seemed interesting.

You shook the man from your thoughts as your dog climbed into the bed and the two of you began to doze off.

Unknown to you, a long and unexpected day awaited you at dawn.

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Bruce is the one to invite Constantine over, and no, it's not to improve his tenuous working relationship with the asshole. It's the opposite of that.

---

Danny had become a frequent visitor of Wayne Manor in the last few months, and Bruce had to admit that while the kid was certainly a bit ominous for his liking for a partner to Tim, he was a generally kind and happy soul. They'd been dating for a lot longer than the Bats knew of- Kon had been the one to let it slip to Jon who told Damian and so on- and since the relationship was no longer secret, Tim brings him to family functions.

The thing about Danny is... He's dead. More than half of the time. Which again, is not Ideal for Bruce's wishes for Tim's future husband, but it also means that he reviles in being alive. Danny is downright joyous about using his time left on earth properly. He makes Tim eat real food, enjoy real sleep and generally live a more fulfilled life than he had been. The whole family noticed the changes in Tim, and it made them like Danny even more.

So after a particularly grueling day of dealing with Trigon and therefore the JLD's lack of coordination and sensible planning- Bruce gets the idea. John couldn't fucking contain himself admonishing Bruce, and perhaps it was vindictive, but Bruce figures that John should meet Danny. Sans context of course.

...

John is really over dealing with Batman's prissy, over complicated and perfectionist attitude. Come to the Cave he'd demanded, as though John didn't have a favorite bar to get back to, deal with a ghost he ordered like John didn't have other priorities than some random shade.

When walking into the space however, the second his teleportation portal closed, John knew something was deeply, deeply fucked. The shadows were growing longer, the second hand on his watch ticked slower, the air smelled of sulfur and... Red Robin was sitting working at the computer like nothing was wrong. But what was wrong, was the kid was marked by The End. Marked by The Infinite. FUCK.

John knew Death, the Endless, and knew she could pick favorites just like her siblings (Dream's immortal drinking buddy comes to mind). But this wasn't her work, this was something other.

"Mate- the Bat said there was a ghost?" John feels like he might throw up, the eerie atmosphere complicating what should have been a simple request.

"Uh, obviously." The kid didn't even look over from his screen or pause his typing.

John slowly approached, looking over each shoulder a few times, turning in a few circles as the shadows appeared to dance and echo within the cave. He could see his breath, the air became so cold so suddenly. And then, with the gentleness of a pin drop, a new agonizing sound appeared with a Kid walking down the cave stairs. The aura of the room turned dark, every cell in John's body screaming to run, that this was basically the little girl from the ring crawling through the TV as the young man walked down the steps.

"Babe, your grampa says that dinners going to be ready in a second. Oh, uh, hey dude." The creature speaks, turning his eyes to John for only a moment to study him. It feels equivalent to a butterfly being pinned by its wings.

"Y-y-you, you're, you're one of the Endless?" John stutters, his body reacting in fear despite the nonchalant posture of the Beast. The young man rolls his eyes.

"Nah, one of the Ancients but like uh, I'm new in town. And hon seriously don't be late, A made tiramisu for dessert and you're not allowed to have any if you're late and I don't want to deal with you pouting."

"You had me at Tiramisu!" Red stands up from his computer and then turns, "John, what are you doing here again?" Red Robin finally looks over at him, completely confused.

"Just leaving." John mutters, his eyes still trained on the ANCIENT.

---

Bruce could barely hide his laugh when Tim reported the Magician meeting Danny in the cave.

That'll show the asshole to question Batman's knowledge of the occult.

[reidmania]

weight of the world | spencer reid

summary; reader struggles to accept not being where or who you thought you’d be, and spencer loves every version of you, even the one yet to exist.

warnings; established relationship, early seasons spence, (s2-4) self doubt, fem reader, struggles with not reaching expectations, insecurities, self reflection, hurt x comfort, comparing achievements, comparing to SPENCERS achievements, self deprecation, uni student reader, stressed reader, reader cleans as a distraction, she is a lil mean for a moment but shes stressed and spencer loves her.

an; be kind to yourself. its okay not to be who you thought you would be.

this is not at all proof read in any way shape or form and it will not be. i am just a girl. let me live w my bad grammar and spelling mistakes. imma guess 2k words but idk man

You had made yourself a home on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, your focus had been drawn away from the cabinets you had been wiping down, instead to the numerous other thoughts that took up an abundance of empty space in your mind.

The microfibre cloth you had been using laid still in the palm of your hand, the antiseptic spray bottle discarded next to you — long forgotten about, you didn’t notice the fact that the last time you had sprayed the cabinet door was now nearing ten minutes ago, and was left dripping down the frame — un-wiped. Leaving small puddles on the floor near where your knees laid.

Maybe it was guilt that had distracted you and led you to zoning out, guilt that you had decided to take a break from the essay due at midnight to clean. Such a mundane task yet it filled you with such guilt. Why were you sitting here cleaning bathroom cabinets that didn’t need to be cleaned rather than finishing the essay?

After sitting in the same position, legs crossed on the bed staring at the computer screen for hours that had begin to accumulate too fast, your mind needed a break, your legs needed to move and your hands were cramping. So you chose to clean. You ignored the fact that it was most likely because of your need to feel like you were doing something of worth.

Yet, you were instead sitting on your knees on the bathroom floor, mind somewhere else between the cleaning and the laptop sitting open on your bed with the half written essay still illuminating in the dark space you had hidden yourself in beforehand. Your mind was instead filled with questions, questions you desperately tried to find any sort of answer too — expect the more you thought the further from an answer you got.

In your state, you missed the sound of the front door opening and closing, you missed the sound of your lovely boyfriend calling out that he was home, and you missed the footsteps heading towards the bathroom. It wasn’t until he turned the light on and off that your attention was pulled away from your mind and to the man leaning against the door frame, eyebrow raised, a knowing questioning look of concern covering his features.

You blinked, you weren’t sure when you had last done that. Your eyes went to him, and then to the cabinet, then back to him. Oh.

“Are you okay?” He asked, he took the steps towards you, kneeling down against the floor to meet your height. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to figure out an answer to his question, but you nodded anyways.

“I got distracted” You mumbled, turning your gaze back to the door that had the liquid dripping down it, now basically dry and left with wet stained, you cursed in your mind as you absentmindedly reached out for the bottle, respraying the cabinet and wiping it down. You let out a heavy breath you weren’t aware you were holding in. “How was work?” You asked Spencer.

Spencer hummed, acknowledging your question. He shuffled slightly — obviously uncomfortable in the kneeling position he was in against the hard tiled floor. “Fine, normal. How are you going on that essay?” He asked, his hand came gently to your back to rub gentle circles over the fabric of your t-shirt.

Your mind blanked at his question, the realisation and remembrance of the essay you were supposed to have finished. You wanted to cry as the feeling of pure overwhelming stress filled every bone in your body. Your hand paused its movements against the door, head turning to face him as shame washed over your cheeks. “I haven’t finished it.”

He shrugged, “Thats okay, You still have a few hours. Do you want help?” He offered so sweetly and you were sure you could cry.

Your head shook, “No- I just- Im procrastinating.” You huffed, looking back at the cabinet as you finished wiping it down. You could feel the headache growing again at just the idea of having to return to the essay that had been kicking your ass for days.

He stood up, offering you his hand to help pull you up. “You’re taking a break. You’re allowed to do that.” He reassured, yet it didn’t do a lot to ease your mind as you took his hand, letting him help pull you to stand. You let out a humourless chuckle.

“Sure, and then I become more of a failure.”

You shouldn’t have said it, you could already hear his response without him having to say it. It was one of those things where the thoughts of your mind took over the weight of your tongue, slipping out without any real thought of the response they would get from Spencer, nor the concern.

“You aren’t a failure. Struggling to write an essay doesn’t make you a failure. We talked about this.” He mumbled out, shaking his head dismissively. Spencer hated when you drowned yourself to the point of pure self depreciation normally streaming from the stress you endured.

You hummed, not responding further than that because you really didn’t want to talk about this again, knowing the last time ended with Spencer making you stand in the mirror and say positive affirmations. You walked out of the bathroom, leaving the spray and cloth on the counter as you made your way back to the bedroom, Spencer followed and flicked the light on as he entered behind you.

You sat on the bed, pulling the laptop back on your lap as you read over the last line of what you had written, mind blanking in response to what next add. Your headache growing. Spencer frowned as he pulled his tie off. “Im serious, struggling to write an essay doesn’t make you a failure. You aren’t a failure. You can ask for an extension, you are a good student — They’d give you it” He said.

You shook your head, eyes staying focused on the screen and less to his words, or the fact he was changing which normally would have all your attention. “I don’t want to ask for an extension.” You stated. That was embarrassing, you wanted to be able to do it like everybody else, on time, without any help.

Spencer had changed into pyjamas, coming to sit next to you on the bed, his hand reached out for the laptop. “I know you don’t want to, but you can.” He mumbled, your hand stopping his from closing the screen. You knew he didn’t want to stress yourself out about this, and you couldn’t help but want to tell him its too late.

“Stop. I need to finish this” You mumbled, disregarding his previous comment, your mind both focused and in a million different places all at once.

He sighed, hand letting go and instead reaching out to hold onto one of yours. If he hadn’t talked before you could argue that you needed your hand to type, you would have pulled it away from his grasp. Not because you didn’t want to hold his hand, but because you needed to get this done. “You are not a failure, sweet girl. Its one essay”

“It’s not about the essay.” It wasn’t, sure the essay played apart in your current spiral of self deprecation but it was more than that. It was your entire life. It was where you were, or more-so where you weren’t. You pulled your hands away from the screen to rub your eyes, still not meeting Spencers gaze.

His frown deepened as his hand moved to rest against your back, “Whats it about then? Stop thinking about this.. Talk to me” He mumbled as he took advantage of your current distraction and the fact that your hands were busy to pull the laptop away from your lap, leaving it open but towards the edge of the bed.

You would’ve paid more attention to the movement if your mind wasn’t drawn in a different direction by his question. How were you suppose to explain to a 25 year old, genius FBI profiler who flew through high school and college, with three phd’s that you were simply just sick of trying and failing to reach the expectations you had set for yourself? Simple basic expectations.

“Everything- I really don’t want to talk about this with you” You didn’t mean for it to come across so rude and personal, you truly didn’t. You knew it was rude to invalidate his struggles all because he was smart, it wasn’t your intention to do so, but how were you suppose to tell your genius boyfriend that you simply didn’t like the person you were becoming, or the place you were currently in life.

He frowned, like really genuinely frowned and regret flooded into your chest, you opened your mouth to apologise but he spoke first, “You don’t have to, but Im not going to judge you, no matter what it is thats bothering you.” his hand slipping under your shirt to press against your bare skin in smoothing motion.

“Spence” You frowned as you tilted your head looking at him.

He shook his head, “Don’t apologise. You’re allowed to not want to tell me things, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know or don’t care.” He said gently.

You could cry as your head spun. “Its just— This isn’t where I thought I’d be right now.” You mumbled out, you weren’t sure if it was loud enough for Spencer to hear or completely comprehend but you assumed so, since his movements paused on your back for a second.

Then he nodded, “I can understand that. Where did you think you’d be?” He asked.

You mulled over his question for a moment because there wasn’t a specific straight answer, it was more so that you just expected more out of yourself, you just expected better. “I don’t know.. I just feel like— For example you are nearly 26 and you are a genius, you work in the FBI, and I’m sitting here struggling to write an essay.” You compared.

He sighed, shaking his head again. “Thats an unfair comparison, thats an unrealistic standard to set for yourself. You are smart, you are so smart and so amazing and you are doing the best that you possibly can.” He said, looking up at you as he spoke so gently. You wanted to drown yourself in the sound of his voice.

You huffed, knowing he was right, because Spencer was a genius, he just was. His brain was extraordinary. “I know.. I mean— I know, but its more then that, like people doing the same essay would have already had it done and handed in, they wouldn’t be sitting here being grumpy with their boyfriends all because they are disappointed in themselves”

He shrugged, “Our brains work in funny ways. When you are stressed or even overwhelmed your brain triggers the first response it can think of because it is struggling to take anything more. It’s not your fault, it’s normal to take your emotions out on your surroundings.” He said, speaking so factually it didn’t exactly help your struggle with compassion but there was some comfort to be found in the midst of his ramble.

“You don’t deserve it though.” You mumbled out.

He nodded, “Neither do you. You’re being too hard on yourself. It’s okay to have high expectations but it’s not okay to beat yourself up for not constantly meeting those expectations, especially when you tend to create unrealistic expectations.”

You frowned at his words, despite them hitting an emotional nerve they were sweet enough to sooth the space of your mind a little more. You really wished it was that simple to quiet your mind. “It’s- Yeah. I know you’re right.. But even just me as a person.. I’m just not who I thought I’d be.. I feel like im constantly picking apart everything I’ve ever done trying to figure out if maybe I did one thing differently.. I’d be.. different— Maybe if I picked a different course I wouldn’t be struggling so much” You thought aloud.

He let out a soft breath, his hand continuing its gentle movements on your back, his head coming to press his lips against your forehead before pulling back a little bit. “Is this course what you want to be doing?” He asked, voice gentle and soft.

You nodded. It was.

“Then it’s worth it, and it will be worth it. Theres so many ways we can work out if you’re finding it too difficult right now, that doesn’t make you a failure or any less good of a student nor a person than it does anyone else. You would never be this mean to somebody going through the same issue, give yourself a break” He spoke softly.

You pondered his words, head dropping down slightly too look at your hands, he hardly allowed you a chance to think before he was speaking again, his head tilting a little as his free hand came to tuck under your chin, encouraging your face back up so your gaze was focused on his.

“And, you can’t beat yourself up for things that happened in the past, yes maybe if you did something differently then you’d be different. So would I, and anybody else, thats not a bad thing, but focusing on all those things on the past doesn’t change that they happened. You can’t hate what you have been through or you will never ever like yourself. You have your entire life to become whoever you want, just focus on being who you need to be, right now.” He spoke, gaze holding yours.

You didn’t say anything, instead just keeping your focus on him and everything he was saying. Letting the sweet comfort of his words quiet the loud voices in your head.

“I love you, and I love who you were before, i love who you are now, and I love whoever you end up becoming.” He said gently, a whisper held in the air between the two of you.

You offered him a soft smile, “I love you” You replied, deciding against adding the ‘too’ because it felt unnecessary, another unnecessary comparison that you would drown yourself in. You loved him, and he loved you. That was enough.

“Let me help you?” He asked, basically pleading.

and this time you agreed.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen act with their writer s/o

requested by anon ^^

masterlist

seungcheol

he is begging. he is on his knees BEGGING you to pls let him buy you a new laptop because the one you use is literally on its last legs and makes ominous sputtering n whirring sounds like a dying cat stuck in a vent every time you start it up. you don't let him tho bc “no cheol the memories :(((“ cuz you've had it for years but he is nearing the end of his tether and who knows. in a few days ur laptop may mysteriously disappear forever and you'll be forced to let him buy a new one

jeonghan

he's like the pet cat you don't own who likes to slink into the room and make inquisitive noises as he watches you work. drapes himself over your shoulders and makes distressed huffs when you try to dislodge him. he's never usually noticeably clingy, but when you try to write, the clinginess always springs out and you can't go five minutes without jeonghan poking his head into the room to check up on you and see what you're up to

joshua

your biggest fan. buys every single novel you write, puts on his glasses, and reads them very seriously in one go on the very evening it's released with the lamp on beside him. he looks so serious every time, but he'll always peer at you over his glasses and then give you a big grin, telling you how much he loves it. gets you to sign a copy for him and brags to everyone he knows that he has your signed novels with special messages just for him that no one else can have

junhui

he's your personal general knowledge bank. when you're searching up obscure things and slowly losing hope on finding an answer, just ask junhui and he'll either a) know the answer or b) knows someone who knows someone else who knows someone else else who knows the answer. don't ask him how to spell words tho bc he's like. hopelessly bad. blinks at you going “what's an [insert word]” before you give up and google it yourself

hoshi

alwaysssss wants to know what you're working on right now. gets all whiny when you get possessive of your work and refuse to show him before it's finished bc come on, it's surely perfect already, why are you trying to hide it from him?? loves helping you do, like, the non writing stuff. writing out plot? nooo. building fantasy maps, figuring out political systems, getting lost on a tangent on figuring out the price of beans in the 1800s? hell yeah sign him up!!! 

wonwoo

knows all the grammar rules in the world. you can ask him stuff like “hey wonwoo can i put a comma here or no” and he'll amble over to peer over your shoulder and tell you whether you can or cannot, in fact, put a comma there. helps you curate all your writing playlists for the different moods you have. gently reminds you to get back to writing whenever you end up scrolling on instagram for too long

woozi

you're even more of a workaholic than he is when in the zone, so he gets to realise how unhealthy it is to be sat in front of a computer for hours straight with no break. you get to act as each other's “let's act like a normal human being now” reminders, depending on which of you is going through a work fixation. you guys both go on runs together in the mornings even though it kills you bc at least it gets both of yo brains kickstarted to spend a day being all creative in ur respective fields

minghao

you value his opinion above anyone else's. above your beta reader's, above your agent's, even above your editor's bc those are more like advice, not opinions. but knowing that minghao likes your work, and knowing which parts in particular he really likes, is so important to you because ultimately, you want the person you love to also love the things that you create. 

mingyu

brings up the fact that you're a writer in every conversation he has with anyone ever. “oh my god look, this menu has writing on it. speaking of writing, my s/o writes actual books as a job!!!!”. your agent made him sign a contract similar to an NDA bc he just keeps yapping about your books even when they haven't been released yet. loves the noises you make whilst you're writing. thinks it's the cutest thing ever when you make overjoyed “AHA!!” sounds when you finally realise what the plot is doing

dokyeom

more than willing to be your rubber duck and let you talk at him until u figure out your own plot holes. he could be in his room scrolling on his phone but the minute you call for him, he's leaping up and bounding over to you and pulling up a chair in an instant, more than willing to let you bounce ideas off him. sits there doing nothing but looking all pretty as you talk at him and work out the tangle you've gotten yourself into. beams and gives you a big kiss when you manage to figure it all out. 

seungkwan

he buys you a biiiig wheely whiteboard and a bunch of coloured board pens to help you plot your novels. when you get stuck, he comes over and stares at the board with his hands on his hips, very gravely considering your dilemma and what would be the best way to get you out of it. you two talk about plot holes like it's the most serious thing in the world and he just nods like a proud father once you both find a solution

vernon

at this point he's like. a professional tea and coffee and biscuits supplier due to the amount of snack runs he does for you. has walked in on you lying face down on the floor during a meltdown one too many times to bat an eye anymore. also great at helping you block out actions during scenes like. he's the perfect doll. lets you maneuver him into the weirdest positions in the world with zero complaints. he just loves helping you however he can, really. 

chan

reads through your drafts whilst you're in the middle of writing, accidentally gets hooked and is begging you every day to finish the novel bc he really wants to know what happens next. he's the best at spotting inconsistencies and plot holes in ur writing so before you even send it off to your beta reader, he gets to have his hands on the manuscript to check for any changes needed. also bc he needs to read the ending asap otherwise he'll probably combust. 

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

[luveline]

HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice. 

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank. 

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person. 

You’d felt different. 

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?” 

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?” 

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.” 

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.” 

“Are you feeling alright?” 

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“About you not talking to me.” 

“Funny.” 

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk. 

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.” 

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears. 

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.” 

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James. 

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually. 

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.” 

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down. 

“Sirius never used to act like that.” 

“What?” 

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.” 

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand. 

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room. 

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks. 

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk. 

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.” 

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come. 

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.” 

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?” 

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.” 

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.” 

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.” 

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too. 

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous. 

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?” 

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.” 

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.” 

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it. 

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?” 

“I’m fine, James.” 

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.” 

“Why?” you ask in a rush. 

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.” 

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.” 

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.” 

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.” 

“For what? Being helpful?” 

“Harassment.” 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.” 

[aakeysmash]

cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

[ccrisntok]

Your Masterminds, Whit Young, and Ace Markey! (mm! whace au)

(Spoilers lol)

what normal fellas ahahahahaha (I have poured my entire soul into these two there is nothing left of me)

A basic summary of their relationship:

Whit has spent like, over a year manipulating Ace into being complacent in his plans. In his own eyes, Ace is a sorta-stupid lacky, who he's constantly love-bombing to keep obedient. Although, he is a bit glad for the company... it was sorta empty when Ace was "dead" and they couldn't really talk. And maybe Ace almost dying from his fake execution was a bit disturbing. But he's sure its nothing! (He fell in love with him like a moron.)

Ace has fully fallen in love with Whit. He's not happy about it, but it happened. As a result, he's basically ruined any semblance of his own morality, just so he doesn't lose Whit, or the affection he knows is mostly performative. He's more than happy to kill his fuck-face classmates, after a... bit of prodding, and honestly, he'd do anything Whit asked at this point, even die. He'll still complain about it, though.

i tried to be as original as humanly possible, but I'm def giving credit to @talkativeanonymous, @acethehorseishere, and @a-blog-for-kat all for inspiring these two in one way or another (esp. a-blog-for-kat lol).

anyway there's the art, here's the promised lore. warning for like a million words. I'm serious. It's 1,400 words. you can stop here i don't blame you.

also sorry for the odd looking bullet points, didn't realize you couldn't have gaps lol!

This au operates on a probably un-canon assumption that I pulled out of my ass. That is that Mai Akasaki is both a student in the class of 27, and that she is the "time loop" student. She is usually a part of the killing game, but she isn't this time, for reasons I'll explain in a sec.

This specific loop, Mai is attempting to dissuade the (usual) mastermind from wanting to start a killing game in the first place. That mastermind is Whit Young.

She goes about this by trying to curb Whit's main reason for his descent into despair, his resounding loneliness, by giving him championship. Charles hasn't softened up to the others in any regard yet. But that wasn't the main reason, unbenouced to Mai.

In this loop, and this loop alone, Mai sets Whit and Ace up to be friends. She hopes they can help each other, since they usually end up more or less alone in their school life.

Surprisingly, it works. They get along decently well, although a codependency starts to develop on Ace's side.

Around this time, Whit takes up an internship at XF Future, which Mai doesn't realize. He innocently wants to explore other job options, "Matchmaking" not really being a stable career forever.

Obviously FX Future isn't a normal Tech Company. Whit starts to change, in a barely noticeable fashion, the longer he works there.

Ace notices Whit's contacts start looking a lot more vibrant after Whit takes a couple weeks off school for a "company trip." He thinks it's... sort of pretty.

(Whit's time at XF Future showed him a side of humanity he didn't realize existed. Insane levels of greed, using the concepts of "ultimates" to guide a stupid pubic where the Government wanted them, generally a dystopia. It feeds into his existing detachment from humanity, until he hits a breaking point, setting his sights on ending the "Ultimates" concept by killing the newest class in the public eye, including himself.)

(XF Future develops a new sort of technology, prosthetic "eyes" that basically turn you into a living remote control, able to connect to an entire building if its connected via a computer system. Security cameras, doors, fucking air conditioning- everything.

(Whit offers himself as the test dummy, and it goes perfectly.)

Anyway, Mai decides to talk to Ace, since she's starting to realize he's becoming a bit... softer after hanging out with Whit so much? And hopes like, for once, he'll actually accept help for his mountain of problems.

He doesn't take this conversation very well.

Mai, with knowledge from dozens of loops, accidentally brings up an extremely traumatic event, simply mentioning the name "Tyler" once.

In a blinding mix of rage and horror at Mai's knowledge of the event, that Ace has literally never even spoken about in this timeline, Ace shoves her away from him.

She falls backwards, and splits her head on a desk, killing her instantly.

Ace, in a horrified frenzy, calls Whit, literally his only friend.

Whit shows up. Ace expects him to freak the fuck out, call the cops, or something like that... But he doesn't.

Whit simply tells him they were going to hide the body together, not even remotely caring about Mai's death.

yeah that's a little fucking weird, and its terrifying, but going to jail is scarier sooo Ace goes along with it!

After this, Whit wraps Ace into uncharacteristically cruel pranks against some of their classmates and others at Hopes Peak, oftentimes resulting in physical injury.

He acts like these are completely normal and funny, while Ace is both freaked out by it, and sort of enjoys enacting pain on people he didn't like.

Along the way, Whit notices Ace starting to fall for him. Horrible news for Ace, since Whit plays into those emotions by becoming much more physically and emotionally affectionate. Which he doesn't enjoy, like, at all... not a bit...

Whit convinces Ace to assist him in greater and greater acts of violence until Whit just straight up kills someone (not a classmate, a stranger.)

Ace is of course tied into everything way too deep to stop now, and after all this... he doesn't really want to. So he stays as Whit's accomplice for months, up until Whit's weirdo behavior arrives at the idea of the killing game. He references the "First Killing Game", which Ace had never heard of.

The idea is a bit intense for Ace, but at that point, he didn't have anything beyond Whit. If it took this to stay with him... He'd do it. Even if in the end, they both were going to die.

So they get to work!

Ace had been taking engineering classes at Hope's Peak in hopes of getting out of jockeying, and he'd helped his family build sheds and shit since he was a kid, so he focused on the construction and executions.

Whit wired the building an all-encompassing computer system he could control, as well as stealing "Mono-TV" from XF Future, a robot he can fully control to be the "host" of the game.

He also steals the "mind wiping" technology from XF Future. It's weirdly easy to steal stuff from this company, hm? It's almost like they aren't protecting it...

Whit also uses another piece of experimental biological technology... on Ace.

A screen connected to his brain, a lottt less invasive than Whit's eye surgery. It doesn't impact Ace mentally, it just gives him the ability to produce visible projections for easy construction, communicate with Whit remotely, (and give Whit a way to always know what Ace's condition.)

The screen is unclipped when the game starts, but the brain implant is still connected to Whit, so he can detect Ace's condition.

After kidnapping the class of 27 and wiping their memories... It all starts. A killing game, streamed live to the entire nation.

Whit and Ace start off as a part of the class, interacting with the others like normal, a pretty decent show. Things go roughly as planned, putting everyone in the positions Whit wanted them. Untilll... chapter 2.

Ace gets his ass jumped, and almost dies prematurely. This is fine, Whit privately makes sure the wounds properly cleaned, but it does fill Whit with an... ominous feeling.

Ace still kills Arei, a part of the plan, and gets "executed", so he can more easily upkeep the executions and such behind the scenes.

After the screen playing the fake execution turns off, Whit checks to make sure Ace didn't get injured in his running around... but can't detect anything.

At all.

Ace's heart wasn't beating.

He actually, seriously, had a fucking heart attack.

(Ace's heart attack was for a combination of reasons. Firstly, his heart was actually in pretty bad condition as a result of his eating disorder, something Whit had figured was "over" by now. It wasn't!)

(Second, in that moment, the idea that maybe, just maybe, Whit could have been double-crossing him came to Ace. What if Whit loaded the guns? What if Ace's use was done, and Whit was finally getting rid of him? It was terrifying because he could die, and terrifying because... It'd make sense. It was all that ever happened to him.)

So he had a heart attackkk lameeeeee

This makes Whit tweak the fuck out, internally. (lol pretend his spooky ass sprite happens AFTER the execution, not before. shh its all made up its all pretend)

After Levi gets taken to the infirmary, Whit drops Charles off at his room as quickly as he can, then fucking BOLTS IT to a hidden passageway in his room to the like... Mastermind area, with the execution chamber.

Whit manages to resuscitate Ace in time, barely. And even after that, he's in pretty bad condition. But he's conscious and mobile.

Whit gets him as comfortable as he can, and after spending the night, he sort of... has to leave. He does some tweaks to Ace's brain screen thing, creating a functional heart monitor that Ace (and he) can watch.

As often as he can, Whit sneaks off to the Mastermind area at night to make sure Ace doesn't fucking die in his sleep. But Ace gets... decently better quickly, and returns to his duties overseeing the killing game.

Whit still visits almost every night to make sure Ace wakes up, which he can't really explain to himself. Ace was... supposed to be disposable anyway. Why would it matter if he died?

Anyway yeah the rest of the game happens. No clue there.

In the end, Whit and Ace come out as masterminds (happy pride).

I have a comic planned for how the end goes, soooo... that's it!

holy fuck! my fingers! hi the whole 2 people who made it down this far... uh... did you like my lore.....? do you want me dead now for having you read 1,400 words of two evil homsexuals...? 😅 love you thank you im sorry.

[eveningepiphany]

tease | H.S oneshot

summary: seeing harry tonguing his guitar last night has you finally admitting the state he puts you in. and that’s never good when you’re a tour photographer. especially now you have photographic evidence of the moment.

warnings: SMUT, oral (fem rec), dirty talk, praise, swearing

a/n: can’t stop thinking about that fucking video? like it’s on loop in my head I can’t. he was so slutty last night it’s illegal. also this isn’t 100% proofread so enjoy I hope it’s okay!

———

Some days at work are harder than others for you.

Today, you knew was going to be rough the second Harry walked out in single-handedly the most revealing outfit he could have. Borderlining absolutely slutty.

And as his tour photographer, that is quite a bold statement to make when you’ve seen every single outfit— and when his top half is often found shirtless up on stage.

But tonight, out backstage when you were prepping your SD cards and ordering your camera lenses, he walked out of his dressing room adorning his stage outfit to show you, and your stomach dropped the sight of him.

It was a new style, something he hadn’t worn before. A cropped, tasseled blue vest, paired with low rise pants that looked like they were clinging onto his hips for dear life.

“Alrighty, what d’ya think?” He asked, doing a little spin to shake the tassels.

Your mouth opened and words struggled to form as your head fogged over from just seeing his body. And the way his ferns were fully out— along with almost all of his other ink on display. Arms, chest and all.

You had sworn this, many times, was just your eye for art. For people like him who made photography electric. But as time and the tour progressed on from its earlier start in 2021, it was getting harder to convince yourself. Because even if you didn’t acknowledge it, there was no way to justify the heat that stirred in your stomach as just admiration.

“Oh— wow— I like the tassels,” you paused, tongue swiping over your lips, “they’ll be really fun in the photos, I’ll try to get some motion blur type shots with them.”

Your hand reached out before your brain even computed what it was doing, grabbing one of the rhinestoned threads at the base of his vest and running down it. Knuckles brushing the side of his chest.

“Excited to see them as always, m’lovely.” He smiles, the pet name making you flush.

“10 minutes till you’re on, H!” Someone called out.

You laughed at the panicked expression on his face as he realised he was probably dawdling, and in fact behind on his own schedule.

“Alright!” He confirmed back, then chuckling as he whispered to you, “I still gotta brush m’teeth.”

“Well, cmon let’s go, I’ll see what behind the scene shots I can get.”

And you thought that the time spent with him pre-show would ease your racing mind a little, but now that you’re out on the floor you’re almost jittering.

He looks fucking delectable. And by the sound of the stadium around you, they notice it too.

As he steps out you have to force your camera up to your face, which is something you never have to do? But looking at him through your viewfinder is hardly enough to satiate you.

Especially a little later in the show, when your camera is aimed to the back of him— and he’s squated down to get a drink of water…

His pants slipping so far down his hips that the waistband of his Calvin Kleins are easily visible.

Some girls on barricade behind you are going feral simply at the sight. And you can hardly blame them, because the sight of them makes you a little light headed too. Tonight he’s really not leaving much to the imagination.

You feel obliged to take a photo of it, lens aiming up to him— hearing the girls from behind you as your cameras shutters open to capture the moment. They’re shouting clearly, “Y/N, you get that pic girl!”

Another one yelling from your left, “SHES ONE OF US!”

You laugh at them. The fans are always an amazing part of the show. You leave with an array of adorable bracelets, funny shirts, and always lovely compliments.

You snap a few more photos before someone calls your name again, and you turn. A brunette girl, in an incredible replica of his recent purple and black heart overalls from the recent Wembley show, is standing.

“Y/N!” She reaffirms when you’re looking at her.

“Hi lovely, your outfit is amazing.” You smile, and she has fresh tears streaming down her face— a common love on tour occurrence.

“Ohmygod, thank you so much. I made you this tshirt, i wanted to give it to you!” She pulled a white shirt from her feet, presumably from a bag.

She held it out, unfolding it to show off the print on the front.

You immediately couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh at it. A big pink shaded heart, with 2 also heart-shaped photos on each side of it— of you and Harry. But the best bit was the bubble written font, “my favourite parents!” that is above it.

“I— can I please take a photo of you with it first.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, “No way, of course you fucking can.”

You take a few photos of her posing with the shirt, “I have 2, please feel free take them both!”

You can only assume one of them is intended for Harry. And even if it’s a little weird of you to take them, you do anyway because the girl was too lovely to even consider denying them.

“Thank you so much.” You chuckle as you hang them over your elbow. She still looks starstruck at the interaction that just occurred and you’re overly excited to edit the photos later on.

In the time of the short interaction, you turned to find Harry. He’s about to transition into she, and is over on the main stage.

You hustle to get yourself up from the floor and onto the stage area. Moving to chuck the shirts on the bench, where most of the bands essentials are for easy access.

Harry sees you over there and you decide to show him the design on the front before you can overthink it.

He’s beginning to sing the intro, and he chuckles the lyrics into the mic as he sees it. And fans around the whole arena scream at the shirt— which you didn’t realise was being displayed on the big screens.

You shake your head, struggling not to admire the tone of his laugh that just echoed around the stadium.

Also blushing a little at the fact you did genuinely just show him a shirt with both of your faces of it, deeming you both as a fans ‘parents’.

You go back to doing your actual job, moving to get a good angle, aiming to blend back into the background as you take more photos for the night.

Capturing the sway and jolts of his tassels as he sings. Getting a few shots that not only capture his energy but also his outfit perfectly.

You smile at yourself and at your work.

And you glance up as Harry joins in with Mitch while he absolutely shreds his guitar solo.

Sweat is beading on Harry’s chest and you’re all too aware how much money people would pay to see it from your angle. Thank god for Barcelona’s heat.

And, fuck, not only is it that. His arms look perfect as well. This outfit is really just showing as much of himself off as possible.

You change the settings on your camera hastily to alter the outcome of these next few shots.

He’d stepped away from the mic, turning to look at the band, mouthing something you couldn’t decipher.

He starts to lean down head getting closer to guitar. His tongue juts out…

Your eyes immediately pull back a little from your camera because, there no fucking way he’s about to let some kind of intrusive thought win here.

Time seems to slow. But not the movement of his tongue. It’s flicking fast, as if to mimic it playing the strings of his guitar. Or something like that anyway, because all you can think of is… well… something too inappropriate to even be entertaining in your head given he’s literally your boss.

You can hear the piercing screams around you, someone in the front shouting what the fuck loud enough you swear someone in the back of the stadium could’ve heard it.

You’re not even aware you bought your camera back up to your face and that you’d clicked the button a few times until it’s done and the moments over.

Harry’s laughing at himself, and Sarah is face palming at his lewd action. His smug smile after solidifies the fact he knows what the fuck he just did. And exactly the kind of effect it’s left on some people.

Just not aware you’re one of them…

Because you can’t deny the way you spent rest of the night with a nagging warmth between your legs. One that festered long after the moment was over.

After the show came to a close and you eventually ended up in your hotel room, freshly showered as you edited some of your favourite photos. Including the shots you’d captured of him and his guitar.

Which were fucking insane. You had just the right amount of contrast going on in them, and a certain degree of motion blur that indicated the movement his tongue was making.

The final product was amazing once you had edited it on photoshop. But you spent the remainder of the night in your hotel room ridiculously worked up. Left in bed toying with your clit lazily as you stared at the celling, acting like you didn’t have a specific person in your thoughts.

It got to the point in the next day where you stressed about what photos to show him. And whether or not that included the one you literally came to the thought of last night?

Usually you wouldn’t hesitate, especially since it looked incredible. But you were embarrassed internally. What would he think, or say? And could you even play off your sheer attraction to the image.

You placed your head in your hands with a groan, sat in the chair over by the window. You’re tired, and swear on your life your decision making is going to be impaired when he walks into your room.

Which you didn’t have much more time to stress much about it as a knock came to your door that you knew was him.

You rushed over to open it, finding him standing there, hair freshly washed and clad in much more clothing then you last saw him in. A plain white shirt and some gym shorts— that still made him look hot as fuck, without even trying?

He greets you with a good morning, voice a tad hoarse from last nights show. And he’s smiling as he hands you a cup, one you know is filled with hot chocolate. Just for you.

“I owe you like 100 hot chocolates for how many you’ve bought me just in this leg of the tour alone.” You laugh, letting him past you.

He glances at the unmade bed— you stopped making it a while after he started to come visit your room the morning after the show to pick which photos he liked best, and ones he also wanted edited. Sometimes he’d settle himself on it, legs crossed like a cute little kid.

“Think of it as a gift for all your talent. And putting up with me.” He chuckles, and plops himself down on the chair that’s opposite to the one you were sitting in.

So you follow suit, walking back over the your chair. Taking a small sip of the sweet liquid in your hands.

“Have any favourites so far?” He asks, taking a quick swig of his own drink— which you can only assume is hot tea.

Yes, you think, the one where you’re about to practically fuck your guitar strings with your tongue.

You substitute that for, “A few! The tassels were so fun to try and capture.”

You rotated the laptop screen to show him a cool shot you edited of him. It was a front on photo, his arms extended and washboard abs in their full fucking glory along with his tattoos.

He nods, a smile coming across his lips, crinkling the corners of his slightly tired eyes.

You showcase him a couple, all that he gives relentless praise on— regardless of if they had been edited or not. But you just want to show him your favourite.

You swallow as you stare at it on the screen of your macbook. Working up the courage to turn the screen to him as he waits cluelessly. Does he even know you took this?

“This one too…” you hesitate a little as you swivel the laptop around on your lap.

“Oh. I like this one a lot.” He says, nodding and then glancing up from the screen to your semi-flushed face.

“Didn’t know you took that.” He chuckles, shrugging and almost seeming… like he has more to say about this situation.

Like something is laying on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to be said.

You think he’s not going to though, after a beat of silence, you nod.

“Yea… what actually are you doing in this photo?” You nervous laugh, and wonder what kind of answer he’s going to provide.

He runs a hand through his curls, brows raised a little at your question.

“What did you think I was doing?” He quizzes, the corner of his mouth turning up.

“I- well it looked quite… everyone in the audience was going wild. Were you trying to be a tease?”

“I wasn’t! I swear. I was playing the guitar.” He confirmed, yet smirking like he knew there was a two-way perception of the event.

“With your tongue?” You sighed out a laugh.

“You still didn’t answer me. What did you think I was doing?” He backtracks, eyes watching you intensely as you’re both entering some rather dangerous, untouched territory.

You’re quiet again, and he raises his brows still expecting a response.

You flush under his gaze, hand coming to cover your eyes. “It just looked very…”

“Very…?”

“Inappropriate.” You laughed, feeling like you were emotionally torturing yourself by letting this situation happen.

“How so?” He continues to push, wanting to hear more. Secretly adoring the way you get all flustered about it. How badly he wants you to tell him exactly what the movement of his tongue reminded you of.

“It just— you know what I mean, Harry!” You say, now being the one trying to backtrack out of this entire situation. That in the end is still technically your own fault.

You distract yourself with other photos, going in and trying to find another possible contender for his new post on instagram.

“Don’t try and avoid the conversation, love.” He chuckles at your sudden shy demeanour.

“Harry.” You place your hand over your face again trying to mentally reset yourself. Put your thinking back in line.

“Cmon! I’m just curious.” He tries to brush it off, but if he has to resort to begging, he honestly wouldn’t hesitate.

“I know you are, but— it’s weird!” You whine, wanting to die at the fact you had let this happen in the first place.

“I promise I won’t judge.” He places his hand over his heart, face serious, like he was swearing it on his bloodline.

You thought about it a little longer. He clearly was not going to leave you alone if he didn’t get an answer. You could try and lie, but he already knows anyway. He just wants to hear you say it.

“You know, Harry. You just want to hear me say it.” You murmur, bringing up the chocolaty drink to your lips to distract yourself.

“Sure, maybe I do. I wanna confirm my suspicions.” He proposes, a small shrug of his shoulders. You place the drink back on the coaster, staring at him. Eventually caving.

“It— everyone definitely thought it looked like you were, uh, giving oral.” You rushed out, trying to now act as nonchalant as possible to avoid further questioning.

I didn’t work.

“So everyone including you?” He asked.

“Well… yea.” Your cheeks were pink, and he smiled at your flustered voice.

“Dirty thing.” He chuckled, and you almost breathed a sigh of relief thinking maybe you could move on and pretend as if this never happened, but he continues on.

“Had you a little worked up, did I?”

“May I touch on how unprofessional this conversation is?” You bring up, trying to save yourself. But it’s evident in your voice you hardly mean it. You are admittedly a little curious as to where he’s going with this. Equally, if not more embarrassed than anything, but still curious.

“I suppose you can, yes.” He nods.

“But may I bring up how you undressing me with your eyes yesterday was unprofessional? Because unless I’m insane, you definitely were.” He’s cocky, and overconfident with his accusation.

Not that it can be really labelled as an accusation, given he’s not wrong at all.

“I—“ you swallow, “Okay. Whatever. Point proven.”

He laughs at your surrender, shuffling forward on the chair.

“So you were— that’s the kind of stuff you were thinking about me?” He rests his elbows on his knees, watching you intently.

“You are really trying to get something out of me aren’t you? What do you want to hear me say?” You raise your brows, adrenaline coursing through you.

“Just want you to tell me the truth. Be honest with me, since we’re talking about being professional. I think that’s a good start.” He sounds so gentle yet firm, and your devouring this dominant kind of trait he’s showing you.

“Communication and honesty is very important when it comes to professionalism.”

Pleasure has been simmering in your stomach since he walked through the door, and his persistence is beginning to pay off, since you’re starting to let your guard down.

“So you want me to tell you how wet I got after your little stunt last night? That if I wasn’t your employee, after the show you would have found me in your dressing room bent over on the table.”

“Waiting for you to come in there, all sweaty and ready to strip that teeny fucking vest off, and put your mouth to use.”

He’s got a dusting of red over his own cheeks now, blood rushing to his cock as he realised he cracked you open now. Your dirty words spilling out of your mouth after holding back seemingly since last night.

“That what you would’ve done? Bent yourself over my dressing room table waiting for me like a pretty little post-show gift?”

“Maybe so.” You feed into it, watching as his eyes darken with desire.

He sighs out, standing up promptly, “Alright, darling. I’m gonna offer you something. You don’t have to agree, but if you do we can stop at any time. Okay?”

“What exactly are you offering?” You ask as leans his tall frame down to you, hands bracketed on your hips.

“For me to pick you up, put you on that bed and strip you until I can bury my head between your legs.” He stated, matter of factly.

Your thighs are shaking so hard you’re clenching them together— clit throbbing at the pressure.

You can only look up at him and nod, to which he doesn’t take as an answer.

“Baby, need you to use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Yes, Harry. Want that please.” You whine, very quickly becoming delusional at his close proximity.

He grunts as he picks you up, his arms firm around your body and he carry’s you the few feet to the bed. His lips hot as they suddenly come in contact with your jaw.

He pushes your legs open with his thigh, making you moan and push your hips forward.

“Needy girl.” He whispers, voice dirty and hot near your ear as he sucks on the skin below it.

His hands cascade down your body, finding the waistband of your sweatpants and tugging it down.

“Please, please touch me.” You’re wild, bucking your hips up. Wanting to get his tongue on you so bad.

He chuckles at your sudden spiral, how quickly you’ve unravelled before him. Truly like a present, all laid out waiting just for him.

He palms his hand over your damp front, “Soaking through already, fuckin’ hell.”

You groan as he rubs a pressured circle on your fabric-covered clit.

“Want to tell me who got you so wet?” He coos, slowly moving his fingers over you as he waits for an answer.

You give it to him shamelessly, “You. Want you so badly.”

He’s over the moon to finally have you like this. Because it became apparent rather quickly the crush he’d developed on you since you were hired. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t fucked his fist at the thought of getting to touch you.

“Oh, you’re being so good for me now. Because I’ve got my hand between your pretty legs I bet.”

You cant even respond as he slides your drenched underwear down away from your tingling core.

He audibly groans at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy. Watching as you squirm under his stare.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N. How long have you been hiding this gorgeous cunt from me?”

“Too long.” You whimper.

His fingers slid through you, and he gathered up your arousal to play with your clit. Relishing the way it slides under his fingertips.

You were clenching around nothing as he gently rolled your clit between calloused fingers. Playing with it until you were a mess. Moaning and grinding up against his fingers. Begging for what he’d promised earlier.

“Your mouth, Harry. Need it. Anywhere.”

“S’that why your little hole is clenching so hard? Like it’s begging for me.” He watched, mesmerised as your hole pulsed around nothing, and leaked more clear arousal.

You look so delicious to him. And he took a moment to appreciate the fact you were about to let him clean up all that arousal pooling at your hole

He sunk down between your legs very slowly. Distracting himself a few times with mouthing over your fabric covered breasts.

Eventually making it there, so he could blow over your clit, letting you squirm at the teasing stimulation. You smelt amazing too, your sweet tangy scent making his mouth water.

He was grabbing at his cock, pushing at it trying to relieve pressure down there as he peppered kisses along your inner thigh.

“Stop teasing, H. Please I— fuck.” You hissed as he bit the seam of skin of your thigh.

“Cant handle it huh? Are you gonna come before I even get my tongue on you.”

“Want to finish around your mouth.” You plead with him. And he shakes his head with a laugh, anticipating your reaction as he leans forward to drag a long stroke through your slit.

Your whole body shakes with a moan. His velvety, hot tongue immediately leaving you a wreck.

“Harryyy…” You cry out, bucking your hips into his face.

“Gonna ruin your cunt, darling.” He murmurs into you, and you know it’s true with the way your hole is clenching.

He sucks your clit into his mouth before placing fast strokes over it. Flicking and rolling it between his tongue and lips.

The sounds of him lapping up your pussy are echoing through the room, further fuelling the fire that’s started in you.

Your whole jaw goes lax as he moves further down, gliding over your hole— pushing his tongue past your entrance.

“Fuck!” You moan, hips jolting, causing his hands to slide up and hold them into place.

He slides it into you as far as he can, nose bumping your clit. Making you realise very quickly that you’re going to finish around his mouth.

He moans into you, again the vibrations makes you writhe in his tight grip. “I- Harry- more!”

It’s making your whole body shake, and he’s pressed so far into you that it’s all you can feel. And it’s obvious that you’re about to come, just with the way your cunt is pulsing around his mouth.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck. Harry, please, I’m gonna come!” You felt the burning spark fly through you, hitting you like a truck when his tongue curled and rocked inside you.

He’s humming and pressing himself so close you genuinely think he can’t breathe. And you realise immediately when the rubber band in snapped inside of you.

It gushed through your whole body, making you moan and cry in his grip. He couldn’t even explain the feeling of having you clenching around his tongue. It almost made him finish in his pants.

He lapped up every single drop he could. But he didn’t stop.

Your clit was so sensitive as he came back up to it with the same intensive pace.

You tried to push him off, “be a good girl, baby, give me another one.”

“So sensitive, Harry.” You whined, hand threading into his soft hair.

“Y’can take it.” He states, going back to sucking on your clit, and the outside of your entrance.

It made you a mess. A proper fucking mess.

You legs were being spread wide by the palm of his hands, and you were almost crying at how sensitive your pussy was.

You were always a five-minute-scroll-break kind of girl when it came to masturbation. So this came as a whole shock to your body. And it was so fucking hot from his perspective.

All he could hear was your filthy fucking whines, begging him one minute to stop and the next to go faster. And he was going insane at how sensitive your little hole was.

That was all he could feel. The clenching of your cunt, the absolute shaking mess your body was becoming.

His tongue flicked over your clit, just as you imagined he would after seeing him last night. And it was getting to messy, your arousal absolutely coating his mouth and chin.

“I-“ a deep suck of your clit, “I’m gonna fucking come!”

You writhed the whole way through your orgasm. Fucking into his face like it was a toy, grinding into it so hard your sure he was completely consumed by you.

And as you came down from the high, still shaking, he cleaned up down there again. Too good to waste, was his thought process. ‘You tasted like a dream’ you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter against you at some point.

His thumbs run over the dips of your hips to bring you back down to earth.

“Good girl, Baby. Took my mouth so fucking well.” He presses a final kiss on your clit as he stood up, your hands dragging up his back did.

“Feeling a little better too, i hope.”

“Yes. So good. H.” You panted, still in a bit of a daze.

“Next time,” he peppered a kiss on you shoulder, “tell me when you’re feeling all worked up okay.”

You nodded, hands sliding to rest in his hair.

“Or by all means, lay yourself out in my dressing room so I can make make come like you deserve.” He smiles at your little nod, still so out of it.

“My little gift, hm?” He coos, stroking a gentle hand down your face.

And he knows he’d do this moment a thousand times over with you. Just to see that smile flash over your lips.

———

[techav]

On Multitasking

Sharing a Computer with Friends

The Motorola 68030 was a decently powerful microprocessor for its day. It is a fully 32-bit processor with 16 general-purpose registers, separate instruction & data caches, memory management unit, 18 addressing modes, over 100 instructions, pipelined architecture, and was available rated up to 50MHz. It was used in computers by Apple, Amiga, NeXT, Sun, Atari, and saw further life embedded in devices such as printers, oscilloscopes, and network switches. It was the kind of microprocessor used for desktop publishing, 3D CAD & animation, photo & video editing, etc.

In short, the 68030 is a microprocessor that can do some serious work. That's part of why I like it so much. It's a real workhorse chip but as far as 32-bit microprocessors go, it's dead simple to build with.

But running a single quick & simple BASIC program hardly seems like an adequate exercise for such a capable chip.

There is a prevailing claim that the 68000 architecture was heavily inspired by that of the PDP-11 or VAX minicomputers — powerhouses of the previous generation of computing. These machines ran entire businesses, at times servicing many simultaneous users. Surely the 68030 with similar capabilities but significantly faster instruction throughput than the decade-older machines would be more than capable of handling such a workload.

As I've mentioned before, one of my end goals for my 68030 projects is to run a proper operating system. Something like System V, BSD, or Linux; a true multi-user system befitting of the 68k's architectural heritage. My programming skills are limited, and getting such a complex project running is still outside my reach. But I am learning, and slowly inching myself closer to that goal.

Recently I built an expansion card for my Wrap030 project to add another four serial ports to it. In the context of the old minicomputers, another serial port means another terminal, which means the ability to serve one more user. My new 4-port serial card should give me the ability to add four new user terminals.

If only I had software capable of doing so.

Excluding symmetric multiprocessing and today's multi-core behemoths, supporting multiple user processes on a single computer processor means dividing time between them. The computer will run one user's program for a little while, then stop and run another user's program for a little while. Do this fast enough and neither user might ever notice that the computer is paying attention to someone else — especially since the computer spends much of its time just waiting for user input.

There are a few ways to accomplish this, but the simplest is to just make sure that every user program is written to cooperate with the others and periodically yield to the next user program ("Cooperative Multitasking"). A good time to do this is whenever the program needs to wait for input from the user or wait for a device to be ready to accept output.

Enhanced BASIC (68k EhBASIC), which I have been running on all of my 68k computer builds, was written in such a way that lends itself well to this sort of cooperative multitasking. It runs a tight loop when waiting for input or output, and while running a BASIC program, it stops at the end of each line to see if the user has pressed Ctrl-C to stop the program. This means that EhBASIC never goes too long without needing to check in with slow I/O devices. All that would needed is a simple kernel to set things up and switch to another user's processes whenever each time one of them is waiting for I/O.

So I set about creating such a minimal multi-user kernel. On startup, it initializes hardware, sets up some data tables for keeping track of what each user program is doing, loads BASIC into RAM, then starts running BASIC for that first user. Whenever a user process needs to read data from or write data to its terminal, it asks the kernel to handle that I/O task for it. The kernel will save the state of the user program to the data table it set up in the beginning, then switch to the next user to let it run until it too asks for assistance with an I/O task.

The kernel works through all user processes round-robin until it loops back around to the first user. After restoring the state of the user's process the kernel will service the I/O task that user process had originally requested, and return to let that user process run for a little while again. So all of the other user processes get their chance to run while one is waiting on data, and each process makes sure to allow the others a chance to run for a while when they are in the middle of running their own program.

I was able to throw together a quick proof of concept using the EASy68K simulator. What followed was days of catching all of the tiny mistakes I made, such as saving register A0 to the memory location reserved for register A1, overwriting the value previously saved for A1 and effectively losing both in the process — an error which resulted in BASIC printing only the first three characters of its startup header followed by a long string of null characters.

Debugging was tricky. I was starting from the bottom. No standard library, no existing structure or frameworks to rely on. The kernel process relied on the very same registers the user programs were using. Any changes to register contents by the kernel would affect the user processes. I ended up adding assembly macros to print short statements and register contents to the kernel console to try to get some insight into what was happening. I was able to track when registers came out of the user context save/restore process different than when they went in to find where I had bugs in that process.

This was a challenging project resulting in nearly a thousand lines of very low-level 68k assembly code, all of which I wrote and rewrote multiple times before figuring everything out. I've written small pieces of assembly code over the years, but none which required such deep dives into the CPU documentation to discern fine details of how the chip operates. I got there eventually though and now I have an 8MHz 68030 homebrew computer with 2MB of RAM that can run four BASIC programs simultaneously.

I'm going to need more terminals.

[pennycat83]

Take Me Home

Curly (post crash) x reader

This got 1,103 on AO3 so I decided to share it here as well. I'mma also warn for described graphic imagery and the usual Mouthwashing suffering

5 months, almost 26 days since your last job. Your legs slumped limp against the control panel, arms folded lazily against your stomach as you dozed. Your ship was far from desirable, nothing more than a scrap ship you used to get what little change you could gather from abandoned ships. Old habits died hard, you joked. 

That being said it wasn't anything to sneeze at. Despite only really holding one person most of the time, it still had a quaint medical bay, storage unit, washing facilities and two sleeping quarters. You often forgot you even had a home on Earth with how cosy the place felt. 

You jolted at an abrupt sonar ping. Another ship, you grunted, straining your arms behind your back, you set the auto pilot to maneuver closer. Heading to a beaten up locker in the back for something other than a tank top and shorts. You let the jumpsuit hang around your waist, tightening your bootlaces before zipping it up. Rummaging around further, you retrieved a well beaten axe from the back, tucked haphazardly between a few boxes, you slipped the holstered axe around your belt loop.

A Pony Express Ship, it looked like hell. Foam coated most of the exterior, making it had to identify the original entrance. You grumbled something regarding how incompetent the crew must've been.  Making your way to the ship was enough of a challenge for such a simple 'job', hacking into a bit of the foam in an attempt to weasel in, you knew too much would mean the goods would spill out. Your breath hitched, carefully sinking your axe bit by bit until you made a decently sized hole. Finally, you tumbled into what was most likely the storage unit. 

The ship groaned as you tucked your axe back into its holster, whipping out a flashlight to inspect the hull. Walls of boxes surrounded the modest space, what little lights that remained flickered above, you continued on. Moving through the endless rows until you reached the steps to the exit, you noted a few of the boxes had been ripped open, bottles of mouthwash littered the floor, dribbles of the remains sticking to your boot heels.

"What the fuck?". You scoffed before exiting, the  doors were open. That was enough an indicator that something wasn't right, moving through the rest of the rooms confirmed your suspicion. The hallways bathed in a harsh red, foam tripped you up at points, beloved items were scattered haphazardly, until you finally entered the main area. 

Jesus Christ, you froze. A large T.V. system flickered the same piercing error message as darkened patches of...you sighed shakily. Looking over to the table, a party. "Shit-fuck-s-sorry to intrude! I...I just-I'll...". You faltered, noticing the violent lack of a reaction. Your legs hesitated forward, moving one of the bodies closest to you. It slumped forward, slamming hard against the plate. You had to stifle a scream as you watched the neck loosen slightly. You looked around the table, almost all of the bodies were in some different state of decay, the one across you drenched in blood, her hair matted hair almost withering off her head. You almost choked on your own shaking urge not to freak out. 

Quivering, your legs shuffled away from the party. Moving onward, you found yourself hugging the axe slightly. Unfurling only when you entered the medic bay. You noted a now bloodied gurney resting against one of the false windows. The crimson lighting only intensifying the horrifying feel ."Least this'll be one of the more interesting stories". Your voice wobbled as you tried to twist this into some kind of joke. You remembered why you came here, moving around the space to grab anything of worth. You hesitated on the computer but decided on most of the medical supplies. 

You nodded at your new pile of bounty, finishing up your rounds by finally entering the engineering room. The darkened hallways tightened your nerves  Another body, this one slumped against a few rows of pods, a gun nearby. You kicked the body with the tip of your boot, almost expecting it to lurch like a slasher and attack... Nothing. You moved around once again. Finally contempt you..

You paused, someone was here. Your head whipped instinctively towards the row of cryogenics, a piercing blue eye watched, unblinking. Finally, you let out a heart dropping scream in shock, dropping a tool kit in a jump against the wall. The eye remained fixed on you, you moved forward carefully. You noticed that it almost looked like a corpse, bandages covering most of the face. You looked around hesitantly, scuttling back to the toolkit before making your leave. You dropped it by the pile, you cursed yourself out slightly as you had to whittle down your carrying size for the passageway back. Sighing as you looked around once again, someone must've gone mad, you pondered if the person in cryostatus wasn't the culprit but, given the body next to it, you almost questioned if it wasn't him. 

You let out a weak chuckle at the idea as you pushed another  pile of loot into your own ship. Turning to finish up, you hesitated. Looking towards the flickering lights. You were stupid, so fucking stupid for this. Once again hacking into the foam to make the exit big enough, and making sure your own medic bay  was loaded with all the things you had grabbed, you stormed back towards the cryogenics. Moving the slumped body against one side of the wall, you consulted the pod. You fiddled with a pin pad aside it, frowning at the absurdity of the idea before finally giving up and cracking out your axe on the poor thing.  The door slid open in a hiss of dry ice. The man slumped forward, drooping slightly as you slid over to grab him, struggling with the abrupt weight as you finally noticed the state of the body. 

Burnt, bloodied flesh stained your jumpsuit, you noticed the body was essentially a torso. One leg shorter than the other, you let out a shuddered gasp as you stumbled for support. Finally, your leg gave up, letting you and the body drop against the wall with a thud, what remained of his legs getting caught between yours slightly . "Ah! I am s-so fuckin' sorry sir!", nothing. You got back up shakily, moving the person around awkwardly until he was resting in your arms, part of his chest resting against yours. 

You had no idea where to begin, leaving the ship had been a pain in it of itself but you barely remembered CPR procedures, let alone any actual medical practices. For now you carefully redressed the body as you could and waited, making sure not to jostle it too much and slid a pillow under his head. He twitched slightly, you ignored it. Going about your organization of the items. You felt shitty pocketing someone's Gameboy, but you at least hoped the owner would've been proud it got to be enjoyed again...maybe. You had also decided to grab some of the mouthwash as a joke, putting it in your bathroom alongside one of the first aid kits. Some cute Pony Express safety posters now also blessed your sleeping pod and main work space.

You smiled, moving through the rest of the haul, until a series of weak croaks and groans made you jump, whipping to return to first aid over the finally awake body. "S-sorry 'bout that bud!", you turned to consult him. Turning around to fumble with the first aid kit as he began to writhe, "alright alright cool it!". You hesitantly let a few pain killers slip into your hand as you attempted to drop them in, his mouth remained shut. Your fingers padded delicately against his jaw. "What's wrong?".

He stayed silent, you sighed, putting the pills on the side of the bed, you made your way to the sink. You were honestly amazed you hadn't considered this before, then again you were the kind of madman to dry swallow anything that was smaller than a penny before. You placed the cup to one side and put the pills near it. Turning to watch your patient, he seemed somewhat antsy over the meds. "Look I'd rather bring a living person back if that's ok so...". He remained tense, jerking his head around as you tried to hold it. "So you don't like it when I touch ya...".

You lent down to meet his eye, your gaze softening. "I promise to be gentle 'kay? Just...". You faltered, you didn't know how to approach this. He watched in paranoid silence. "I'll be careful ok, if I hurt you I won't prod any further". He stayed silent, a feverish wheeze punctuating the silence. Finally, his mouth cracked open slightly, your fingers carefully sliding the pills far back down his throat, a trickle of  water washed them down more as you lifted his head slightly. Finally he relaxed, you let him rest back on the pillow as you sat back, "y'good now?" he choked out an affirmation. 

You sighed, you knew what this meant, instant u turn to Earth, you let him be as you went back to alter your course. An automated voice confirmed your command as you went back to the medical bay. The man continued to stare at the wall, watching your own T.V windows in a daze. You lent against the wall, letting your arms fold over themselves. You watched silently, he didn't seem to be in any additional pain aside from the burns. You couldn't help but feel slight guilt over his  bloodied gown, not wanting to remove for fear of hurting him. You faked a cough to get his attention. His bloodshot eye turned to watch you, slightly panicked, as you made your way to the chair once again.

  "Set a course t' take us back to Earth...this is way too outta my hands for me to do anything. If you need anything though I won't be too busy". The unblinking eye burrowed into your lazy gaze as you stifled another cough. "I'll let you be then-". The stub of his arm had moved towards your resting elbow. It flinched away on instinct before hesitantly moving back. Carefully, you let it rest against the stub. "Guess it's been a while huh? S-speaking to anyone I mean". He let out a groaned sigh (you assumed at least) of longing. You nodded solemnly, "Y'want me to sleep here for the night then?". You left before he could answer, grabbing a sleeping bag from within your wardrobe and  returned, cosying it against the medical bed. 

The soft glow of the artificial moon now seeped into the room as you went through your nightly tasks, sorting anything else you had forgotten. You let your jumpsuit soak in the washroom as you cleaned up, returning to the medical bay just as you watched the torso flop onto your sleeping bag. You trotted over and helped him back up carefully, holding him once again in your arms, "you good?!". He squirmed in your arms, hugging your chest whilst his head burrowed into your neck, almost avoiding eye contact with the bed. 

"Damn bud w-what...". You sighed weakly. Moving him back onto the bed as you grabbed your sleeping bag to form a makeshift blanket over you. Pulling the chair close enough, you struggled to hop over the man so you were facing the window. You couldn't help but sleepily close your eyes. The man shuddered again, you turned to face his back, letting your hand rest delicately against it. He winced, your hand retracted just as quick. Struggling to pull your head against the pillow properly, you found yourself rambling. "Y'know...I kinda like the beds here better than the ones in the sleeping bay". You chuckled slightly as you continued, "way nicer". 

Your eyes shifted to watch the breathing of the man. His movements ragged and visceral, you hesitated. Resting a hand against the fabric of his gown. He jolted, a sharp dry shriek of pain, your hand retracted. "S-sorry! S...so it...hurts less with the painkillers?". A faint grunt that confirmed your question. You nodded, turning once again as to not stress him. A faint comment seemed to grab your attention, 's...stars...'. You hummed in agreement, you didn't remember why you felt the urge to douse the medical bay in glow in the dark stickers, but you supposed it made you feel more comfortable. "I like 'em". Your voice was softer, almost light as you began to slip deeper into a sleepy lull. 

You shuffled slightly in your sleep, pressing up against the wall as the figure turned. Your eye slid open, meeting the glistening bloodshot view of him. You flinched, a mirrored response as you let out a breathy chuckle, "asshole". You laid on your back, watching the false stars shine softly overhead. "Gotta be hard to sleep though...". Your arms folded under your head, propping it up tightly as to not touch the flesh beside you. "I got a sleep mask if that helps...". He continued watching, an unreadable gaze that irked you slightly. "Can I...I know this sounds stupid, but...". You got up. 

Dragging the sleeping bag along, you flicked the nearby table lamp on. Looming over the now frozen form of your pseudo patient, he immediately began to writhe, bucking in fear as he watched your hands. You paused, relaxing your shoulders, you rested your hand onto his jaw, your cold fingers ghosting over his burned cheek. You could've sworn his cheek weighted slightly into the curve of your palm for a bit. Carefully, you re adjusted the pillow under the his head, before cautiously scooping him back into your arms.

Carefully, so carefully, you zipped him just enough into the sleeping bag. The thick padding seeming to muffle most of your contact with him. You couldn't help but let out a proud scoff, moving back to the window as you watched him wriggle slightly. "Feelin' better?". No comment, you smiled softly. "Y'know, I never managed to get your name". It took a bit before you got an answer, albeit punctuated by infrequent wheezes. "Curly...kinda ironic now huh". Another unamused grunt retorted your quip.  You slipped closer, your chest  resting against him tenderly. You lay there for a bit once again, the cold groaning of your own ship echoing slightly as you lay. Some stupid part of your brain finally kicked in when you embraced him, wrapping your arms around his chest. He writhed under your embrace. Attempting to free himself, his back spasmed and a series of frantic wheezings escaped his weak jaw. You hushed him slightly, nuzzling your head into his padded chest. "It's ok...you're ok...". You continued to soothe him softly.  He froze, sighed pathetically after a while, the fatigue finally sinking in for him, resting his chin softly against your neck. Your grip remained soft, gently reassuring him he was safe.

He was going home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 months 29 days before reaching Earth. 

You frowned from your calculator to your pile of perceived valuables. Just under $90 in estimated value. Sighing, you put the calculator back to one side and slumped forward, cradling your head between your hands. You were already struggling with keeping Curly alive long enough before you reached Earth. Your own quantity of painkillers now dwindling. His state and breathing getting more ragged and feeble.

Some morbid part of you considered killing him in a twisted form of sympathy. I mean, you were almost always alone in space, you hadn't alerted that many people to your plight aside from a friend's lawyer for a legal chew out on what remained of Pony Express, and an awaiting hospital. Your hands physically coiled at the very concept. You'd done this on a whim, letting out a quivering huff, you returned to your own miniature dining area.

The table was one you had managed to save from wood rot, and it was sure as hell obvious. Some of the new legs looked to be from different makes, despite a fresh coat of wood dye. Curly sat on one side, you felt bad just letting him wither in bed all day, allowing him to move from space to space kept him somewhat upbeat. Even letting him sit next to you on your usual naps in the cockpit.

He seemed to be as frail as you felt, still wheezing pathetically, staring ahead whilst his mouth silently gasped. You moved over, his body shook ever so slightly, but relaxed once you pulled up the chair across from him.  Your fingers fiddled between each other in a grip. "We're running low on painkillers". Your tone dried, you felt stupid admitting it out loud but given how he could still react via often jerky movements. It felt like having a mute puppet living with you, one that at least seemed to acknowledge your small talks. "I'm not sure if this will affect anything but I might have to start cutting you down to one, just in case". 

His head turned away. You frowned weakly, "I'm sorry if this hurts but, I can't risk anything before we get back". He stayed silent, you looked out to where he was staring, the 'living room', two beaten sofas and a busted radio resting beside a small lamp, you had played a few songs for him already that he liked, he always preferred your softer ones over the more aggressive music you played during work (at least when you were alone), maybe... "We can relax if you want...", nothing. You wearily admitted defeat for once, "I'm....I'm going to sort a few things out if that's ok...". His arm moved towards yours, resting tenderly against yours for a bit. You cocked your head slightly, "I...I don't wanna sound corny but.. y-y'know if there's anything wrong you can tell me". 

He stayed silent, his ragged breathing filling the space as you waited hesitantly.

'Sc...a...red'. His voice almost sounded timid, "of what, going back?". No reply... you looked back down at his stub, you swore if he had hands he'd be frantically trying to grasp yours. "welp, I won't pry if you don't want-". You paused, both of his stubs rested against your arm now, almost trying to pull you back towards the chair. You looked back at him, for once he made direct eye contact, his burning gaze moistening slightly. Your mouth quivered, you felt your heart sink in weakness. Getting up slowly, he seemed desperate to keep you near. You beside him, what remained of his legs shifting slightly as you knelt next to him. 

Without saying anything you slowly rested your hands on what remained of his, your finger pads gently stroking them, he continued. An uncomfortable pathetic wheeze of a cry that made your heart ache for his unintelligible plight. "It's ok...", the same drying comfort. His already strained voicebox struggled as he let something slip. 'P...pl...ease...I'. You pulled him closer, his body slipping away from the chair slightly as you continued to console him. His arms rested at his sides, his voice quivering harder from the slight pain. He went limp, you froze. His breathing remained ragged against your ear. Your own breathing began to weaken, moving him back to the medic bay in a daze. You rested him rest gently on the bed as you checked him. 'he must've passed out from stress...'.

Finally, you gave up. Sitting back down on the chair and waiting for him to wake up. Once again, you got up after what felt like hours and sat back in your armchair, playing a random song.

1 month before reaching Earth. 

He seemed emotionally shell shocked, falling silent whenever you brought up himself. You tried to think of  any reasons on why but you assumed, still remembering the haunting scent of decay and iron on the ship, that he had witnessed something. You tried to keep his spirits up as well, still coming in to check on him with a friendly tone and playing songs for him. But he remained silent, you felt your stomach sink ever lower. Catching him wake up in a panic or trying to hide his gaze from the blazing warmth of the artificial sunset when it began to dip into the night. You managed somewhat to keep yourself going with something-anything else, but your mind continued to linger on him.

You found yourself resting against his bed as you dozed. The day had dragged harder than normal, not being able to get a full contact going with the hospital for any advice. Alongside the usual feeding of one pill causing Curly to nearly choke. You slept before him, too tired to move away.

His arm fidgeted near yours, his eye resting on your face. He watched. You shifted slightly, your head nestling further between your arms. His arm strained until it reached your head, petting the top of it gently as you slept. He turned away, looking up at the static moon that washed over the room in a melancholy light. She would've like you, he struggled to smile slightly at the notion. He was sure Daiskue would be ecstatic to know you had managed to beat his own high scores. His eye warbled slightly as tears began to trickle down his cheek at the thought. You shifted, he turned over to watch as you sat up, blearily rubbing your eye. "Guess I'll go back t'my room...". Your voice sounded softer than usual. 

His mind went blank, his voice hoarse as you began to make your way back to your roo- "d-don't go...". You almost screeched at how humanly coherent the voice was. Your head instinctively whipped back around into the room to a splutter of coughing and wheezing from Curly. "Y-you...". You slid back into the room, flicking the bedside lamp on, looking over him as he tried to maintain his breathing. "A-are you ok?!". He tried to maintain his breathing for a bit before nodding. You sat back down in your chair, almost feeling guilty for waiting so hopefully for another response. He motioned with an arm something. 

"You wanna talk?". He nodded, you smiled weakly. "Y'wanna nod?". He paused, sheepishly nodding with a small chuckle. You sighed, sitting beside him, "le'mme guess, you're annoyed you can't do much right now". He paused, his eye tracing your face before nodding. You smiled slightly, you hit him with a few light hearted ones first. Slowly building up the courage before you blurted out something that was gnawing at the back of your mind since his episode. "You don't want to talk about your crew but you feel terrible about them". 

He froze, then slowly nodded. "I'm also gonna assume you feel responsible even though your like this?". He stopped for a bit, looking back down at his hands before turning back and shaking his head slowly. That genuinely caught you off guard. Finally, you had a gut churning thought. "You feel responsible for not helping them because you got yourself like this?" His nodding began to grow timid, finally you got an answer. "But the burns aren't your fault?". He shook his head, "you did something wrong?". Another nod, you felt your chest heave as you made your biggest leap in assumptions. "Someone else did this didn't they? but you're talking the wrong blame". 

Your eye caught a near nod as he jerked upwards slightly. Once again, slumping back in bed. "Whatever you did, it's ok to feel guilty for. It's natural but...you can't blame yourself for another persons fuck up if they were in full control". He looked back to you, his eye once again wavering. He motioned for you to come closer, leaning in hesitantly for another hug. You stayed in his embrace for a bit until you had the same idea from when you first picked him up, once again writhing out of his embrace before moving back to the window. Slipping onto the bed alongside him as you continued your soft embrace. 

Your hands found themselves resting on his back, stroking his back delicately, you lulled yourself slightly into a sleepy daze. His strained, rapsy voice slipped out in-between the gentle strokes, but you understood what he said perfectly. 'I don't want to go back...I'm scared, please...you're the only thing I've been able to keep close for this long...I...I want you to hurt me, I...', he let out a slight wheeze of a laugh as he continued his gentle rambling. 'I want to know I've done wrong...to my crew...to my friend. I-I...I'm scared of facing what I've done". 

He motioned you to pull away for a bit. His eye fixating indefinably on your face. Your brain did it again, another stupid impulse as you melted into the rotten kiss he suddenly pulled you into, your lips struggling to stay gentle against his vulnerable teeth and flesh. 

'please...'. He panted his plea out weakly between the moment. 'T...take me away'. You almost nodded, before realising what that would mean, you pulled away, looking into his soft gaze. "I-I can't...I told you...you can't be responsible for everything, but...but you have to own up to what you've done, I swear I won't let the world see you if it's too much, I promise".

You raised a pinky and let it dink delicately against his nub of an arm as his embrace weakened. "You're ok, I told you before...", your voice lightened with a small smile. "You're going to be ok". 

0 months 1 day from destination.

[24carathoney]

Fan Calls | C.SC | 18+

Pairing: Idol!Choi Seungcheol x FemReader 

Wc: 2.7k

Genre: Smut // Established Relationship

Warnings: minors do not interact // dom!Seungcheol // Seungcheol in glasses (yes it's a warning)  // daddy kink // reader is a bit of a brat // f. masterbation // fingering // oral m. receiving // oral f. receiving // pussy slapping (only like twice) // choking // orgasm denial // unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) // creampie // use of pet names (princess, baby, gorgeous)

Summary: Seungcheol's fan call cuts your steamy afternoon short so you do something about it. 

You narrowed your eyes at the man setting up at the table. His computer starting up and his stupid glasses on his face. He was literally right on top of you, kissing you softly, prepared to do unspeakable things to you before his alarm went off for his fan calls, which he has to do from home today. So now you're covered in hickeys and horny. You scowl deepened as he sent you a wink.

“We'll pick up where we left off as soon as this call is over.” He chuckled, kissing your forehead as he popped open the soda in his hands, making his way to the table. You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to pick something to watch on Netflix. “I've told you about rolling your eyes at me princess.” The change of tone sent a shudder down your spine and straight to your pussy. Clenching your thighs together to get some relief you remained silent as he spoke to the first fan soon after. After a while the ache between your legs slowly intensified and you mentally cursed as he still had at least 3 more calls. You took your bottom lips between your teeth as you slipped a hand past your thighs to where you needed it most. A subtle sigh left your lips but Seungcheol knew that sound more than anything. His head quickly snapped over to where you sat on the couch, still listening to the fan on the call. You caught his predatory gaze as a small grin made its way to your lips when you heard your phone buzz. 

Knock it off. I'm warning you Y/N. 

I have to find relief somehow sweetheart and you're busy, soooo.

You continued with your hands as you grabbed at your chest, squeezing and pinching, sending shivers up your spine. You kept quiet so he could continue work but how could he when you were so close to slipping your fingers in your tight hole. You debated on whether or not to relieve yourself until he was done. But the wetness pooling in your panties was enough to counter your doubts. You slid your hand past the waistband of your shorts, hips jolting as you brushed against your clit. You bite down on one of your fingers to suppress your moans as you run a digit along your slit coating it with your arousal. 

“I'm glad you enjoyed the concert! We worked hard to make sure it would be fun for you guys.” His voice cheered, masking his words with glee just as you pushed a finger past your slit. You saw the way his jaw clenched and found yourself even wetter than before. You slightly arched off the couch, leaning your head back and your eyes fluttering closed. You started at a slow pace tuning out the world around you as the rubbed against your walls, your cool palm slamming into your clit. It wasn't enough so you used your other hand to rub quick circles around the bundle of nerves, your breathing speeding up into short huffs. A small whine left your mouth as you felt the familiar knot start to tighten in your belly, not even noticing that the third call had finished. Seungcheol could see the way your head lulls back over the arm of the couch as you work yourself closer to your release. He'd be a liar if he didn't want you to face him while you fucked your fingers. Every memory he has stored away went straight to his dick, twitching in his pants. 

Just as another one of his calls ended, you curled your finger to push against that one sweet spot causing your body to shake, pushing you over the edge into your nerve wrecking orgasm. When you came down from your high you pulled your hand out of your shorts, licking your release from your manicured fingers, not realizing your boyfriend's dark eyes were glued to your form. Once you relaxed a bit you shyly caught his gaze before standing up from your spot, hobbling over to where he was sitting. 

“You almost done?” You asked over his shoulder before you pecked his cheek. His dark eyes stared into your own brown orbs and you felt your stomach flutter. He didn't say a word causing you to poke out your bottom lip in a pout. He's giving the silent treatment? You sat in the chair next to him with your arms folded across your chest as the last call came in. You sat patiently waiting for him to finish up but didn't miss how his eyes flickered over to you every now and then, as if daring you to pull something like you did earlier. You found yourself fidgeting with your now dry fingers as he waved goodbye to the fan before shutting off his laptop. You watched his every move as he made no advances towards you and made a glass of water at the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek not knowing if he's actually upset about earlier so you stared down at the table in shame. Just when you stood up to go to bed he was behind you with a hand wrapped around your throat. He didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt you but just enough to get his message through to you, straight to your pussy. He kissed your temple before moving down to your ear. 

“You wanna play gorgeous? Let's fucking play.” He growled, pushing you down so you were bent over the table. He held your arms behind your back by your wrists watching you squirm below him. He yanked your shorts down your legs, quickly moving to rub your clothed pussy with his fingers. 

“Cheol! I liked those.” You whined as he ripped your panties clean off, chuckling at the way you're clenching around nothing. It's a good thing you're drenched now because without any warning he shoved two fingers between your folds, thrusting in and out at a speedy pace, abusing that perfect spot just enough for the knot in your stomach to quickly return.

“Cheol!” His mouth started to water watching you squirm underneath him. Hips jerking, chasing the release you so dearly craved. His pace was relentless and you kept pushing back to meet his fingers, your heat clashing with the cool sensation of the rings that decorated his hands.

“You want it so badly, you can't even behave for 30 minutes.” He wanted nothing more than for you to cum but he knows he has to make you work for it first. After that stunt you pulled, he was ready to fuck you stupid. But not yet. He felt the way you started clenching around his digits and shook his head. Just before you could reach your second sweet release he snatched his hand away from you causing you to whine in frustration. 

“Seungcheol what the hell?” You shouted as he kept you pinned to the table with one hand. 

“That's my name now? You think I'd let you cum just like that after your little show on the couch?” His breath fanned over your ear as he stuck his fingers in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You rubbed your slick coated thighs together while nothing but filthy insults left his mouth. “A cock hungry brat like you shouldn't get to cum after testing my patience like that.” He reached around to grab you by your neck and lifted you to stand to your full height. His lips latched onto your neck and sucked along your skin while his free hand undid his jeans. Ever thought in your brain began to disappear as he manhandled you and he hasn’t even made you cum yet. Just the sheer feeling of having his hands on you was enough to send you to cloud nine. Every nerve in your body wanted him deep inside you but you know you pushed it earlier so you have to play your cards right for him to give you what you wanted. 

“On your knees princess.” You did as you were told and watched as he stroked himself before slapping your cheek with his cock. “Look at that, you actually can follow directions. You really want my cock that bad?” His vulgar words usually have you hiding your face but all you wanted at this moment was his cock down your throat. “You need to use your words baby. What is it you want hm?”

“D-daddy's cock. Inside me.” There it is. 

“Maybe if you act right I'll give you what you want.” As he tapped your cheek, you slipped your tongue out of your mouth waiting for his next move like the obedient girl you were. His lips curled up into a smirk as he sat his tip on your tongue before moving to pull your hair up in a puff taking notice of how easily you slipped into your sub headspace. You rested your hands on his thighs, with him giving you a nod before taking him all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck.” He had his head back relishing in the way you moaned around his cock, the vibrations turning his brain into mush. He held your head still as his hips sped up to a brutal pace, gaze locked onto you. You did your best not to gag as he repeatedly hit the back of your throat, tears stinging your eyes. He suddenly stilled with your nose against his pelvis and you held your breath. “That's it. Hold it right there for daddy.” You shut your eyes tight to not concentrate on the way your throat started to flex before he pulled you off, giving you a chance to breathe. A low growl left his throat when his eyes zeroed in on the string of saliva connecting your lips and the tip of his dick. 

“You can do better than that. I know you can.” Within seconds your mouth was back on his cock and he started fucking your face for a minute, sinking in the sensation. The feeling of your warm mouth was one he could never get tired of. He pulled you forward back onto the hilt and you sat there moaning around him as he pulsed against your tongue. He couldn't cum yet, but the way your tongue wiggled against the vein under his dick would instantly make him lose it. 

He pulled you off again, lifting you up onto the table in one swift movement. He places your hands onto the back of your thighs, pushing them up until you are spread out, giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You sucked in a deep breath as he swiped his tongue along your slit, pushing two fingers past your wet folds. “Fuck......fuck that feels so good!” The slurping sounds bounced off the walls sending you into a turmoil of pleasure. He always ate you out with the most gentle of touches, holding you like you could easily break. His devotion to your pleasure always made you feel like a queen. A queen he’d put on a pedestal any day. But today you were his brat that he had to discipline. Your hips jerked to chase his tongue as he made figure eights around your clit prepared to pull your orgasm out of you. Or so you thought.

“F-fuck! Cheol I'm close.” As soon as the words left your mouth he pulled away and you couldn't help but scowl before a slap sounded. You moaned out at the slight sting coursing through your pussy. 

“Wrong name baby. Have you nothing in that pretty little head of yours.” When you didn't respond, another slap to your pussy sent you spiraling. 

“D-daddy! Daddy I'm sorry….fuck!” He held down your hips before easily bottoming out inside you and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. His eyes glued to the slight bulge poking from your stomach and a familiar switch flipped in his mind. Every time he sees where he's nestled so deep inside you it shuts off any other logical thoughts he would have. You rubbed over the small bump with your hand, whining at the sensation. All other thoughts vanished from his mind until the desire to fuck you stupid was the only one that remained. He sucked in a deep breath as he leaned over you, holding himself up on one arm. He pulled out to the tip, brushing your hair out of your face giving him a better look at your face expression. Your eyes are in a daze as your pussy tried to suck him back in. Before you could question him, he started to pound into you without saying a word. “Ah…….. fuck.” Your hand slipped to the edge of the table to ground yourself to something, anything before your legs started to give out from the burning sensation.  

“Where are your hands supposed to be princess?” He grunts from above you and you quickly move to hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He smirked as he pushed your knees back up to your chest, his palm rubbing over the rose and cherry tattoo that rested on the back of your thigh.

“Holding….open for daddy.” Your words became slurred and he chuckled at how fucked out you looked. “So disobedient. I should just make myself cum and leave you here.” He used his free hand to rub your clit and you jolted, hips wiggling to meet his own.

“N-no!” He smirked at your protest, not missing the way one of your hands flew to his arm to hold him in place. You knew very well that he would cum and walk away from you. “I'm sorry daddy, please let me cum! I'll be good!”

“You're sorry? But you seemed to have so much fun earlier without me. You wanna be a good girl now?” He teased rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb as your body bends to his touch on muscle memory. You immediately sucked his digit into your mouth, moaning as you could feel yourself on the brink of an intense orgasm. He enjoyed just how much power he held over you. And you let him have that power. Everytime. “I'll let you cum, but your bratty ass has to make it up to me tomorrow. Deal?” His words fell into a whisper as his stomach started to flex, his own release nearing. “Where you want it pretty?”

“Inside, ah fuck, deep inside.” His hand quickly left your mouth, wrapping around your throat as you arched off the table. He groaned as you fluttered around him loving the way your hips jolt at the feeling of him fucking you through it. 

“That's it, eyes on me. I got you princess.” Locking eyes with him was the only thing keeping you from passing out. His deep brown orbs keep you rooted to the overwhelming pleasure rushing through your being. Your orgasm triggers his own and with one last sharp thrust his hips stilled against your thighs as long strings of his cum paint your walls, a steady stream of profanities shooting from his mouth. You reached to pull him down for a passionate kiss as the two of you rode out your highs together. When he went soft he let a hiss leave his lips as he slipped out of you, the mix of your cum leaking down the crease of your ass. 

“You still with me baby?” Your eyes were glazed over and you were in a daze but you nodded nonetheless. “I need to hear you say it princess.”

“I'm still with you Cheollie.” He quickly scooped you up and carried you to the bathroom where he started a warm bath. Once the two of you were in the water you couldn't help but cling to him with a pout, bringing your arm to hook around his neck. “I'm sorry.” He kissed your forehead bringing his arms around your middle. 

“Don’t apologize, even after acting out, you did so well for me. I didn't hurt you did I?” Even after an intense session he always makes sure you're alright. And that was one of the things you loved about him. 

“Of course not. You know I can take whatever daddy gives me.” You smirked and he raised an eyebrow down at you. But you didn't miss the way his eyes darkened for the second time today. 

“Careful what you wish for gorgeous.”

[too-fond-to-be-fearful]

Been thinking recently about the goings-on with Duolingo & AI, and I do want to throw my two cents in, actually.

There are ways in which computers can help us with languages, certainly. They absolutely should not be the be-all and end-all, and particularly for any sort of professional work I am wholly in favour of actually employing qualified translators & interpreters, because there's a lot of important nuances to language and translation (e.g. context, ambiguity, implied meaning, authorial intent, target audience, etc.) that a computer generally does not handle well. But translation software has made casual communication across language barriers accessible to the average person, and that's something that is incredibly valuable to have, I think.

Duolingo, however, is not translation software. Duolingo's purpose is to teach languages. And I do not think you can be effectively taught a language by something that does not understand it itself; or rather, that does not go about comprehending and producing language in the way that a person would.

Whilst a language model might be able to use probability & statistics to put together an output that is grammatically correct and contextually appropriate, it lacks an understanding of why, beyond "statistically speaking, this element is likely to come next". There is no communicative intent behind the output it produces; its only goal is mimicking the input it has been trained on. And whilst that can produce some very natural-seeming output, it does not capture the reality of language use in the real world.

Because language is not just a set of probabilities - there are an infinite array of other factors at play. And we do not set out only to mimic what we have seen or heard; we intend to communicate with the wider world, using the tools we have available, and that might require deviating from the realm of the expected.

Often, the most probable output is not actually what you're likely to encounter in practice. Ungrammatical or contextually inappropriate utterances can be used for dramatic or humorous effect, for example; or nonstandard linguistic styles may be used to indicate one's relationship to the community those styles are associated with. Social and cultural context might be needed to understand a reference, or a linguistic feature might seem extraneous or confusing when removed from its original environment.

To put it briefly, even without knowing exactly how the human brain processes and produces language (which we certainly don't), it's readily apparent that boiling it down to a statistical model is entirely misrepresentative of the reality of language.

And thus a statistical model is unlikely to be able to comprehend and assist with many of the difficulties of learning a language.

A statistical model might identify that a learner misuses some vocabulary more often than others; what it may not notice is that the vocabulary in question are similar in form, or in their meaning in translation. It might register that you consistently struggle with a particular grammar form; but not identify that the root cause of the struggle is that a comparable grammatical structure in your native language is either radically different or nonexistent. It might note that you have trouble recalling a common saying, but not that you lack the cultural background needed to understand why it has that meaning. And so it can identify points of weakness; but it is incapable of addressing them effectively, because it does not understand how people think.

This is all without considering the consequences of only having a singular source of very formal, very rigid input to learn from, unable to account for linguistic variation due to social factors. Without considering the errors still apparent in the output of most language models, and the biases they are prone to reproducing. Without considering the source of their data, and the ethical considerations regarding where and how such a substantial sample was collected.

I understand that Duolingo wants to introduce more interactivity and adaptability to their courses (and, I suspect, to improve their bottom line). But I genuinely think that going about it in this way is more likely to hinder than to help, and wrongfully prioritises the convenience of AI over the quality and expertise that their existing translators and course designers bring.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi!! Hope everything is going well!

Could I Please ask for some bottom buggy (mayhaps with some watersports since I saw you had a interest) or some ftm crocodile being fucked into submission!

Have a nice day.

Ftm Sir Crocodile x male reader

Ficlet

I love Sir Crocodile so much 🗣️ 🗣️

Reader is part of Buggy’s crew, cuz I thought that would be hilarious. Reader doesn’t have a devil fruit, but is still super kickass. Hes kind of the information gatherer, smuggler, etc, for the Buggy crew. Reader is also normal human height.

Mixed terminology for Crocs bits. Also, breeding/pregnancy? kink warning ig. but its just mentioned for the fantasy.

The Cross Guild appeared great for any outsider or lesser in the know members, which was most of them. They all saw your captain as someone great and almost godly, thinking he was so much more than he was, but you had been with him for many years, even before the Buggy pirates had even been created. Shortly after the execution of Rogers, Buggy had stumbled into your path and had accidentally saved your life, and from then on you had been by his side.

Most people thought of you as something akin to an accountant or treasurer, wearing an outfit that looked very much like that of a ringmaster, long red tailcoat and top hat and all. You were always one of the first to run away, giving you a reputation of a coward who couldn’t fight.

The only one who truly knew how much of a threat you could be, would be your captain and his inner circle, which you were also part of. You might not have been the strongest physically compared to someone like Mihawk, but no one could gather information like you could, smuggle like you could, or have someone “disappear” like you could. Your network was so extensive that even the one they called Joker, who you knew was none other than Donquixote Doflamingo, was jealous.

That was why you knew everything about Sir Crocodile and Mihawk before the day was over when the Cross Guild was formed. You cowered off to the side, keeping up your weak act as you flinched at their raised voices or the light reflecting off Crocodiles golden claw.

They believed you a weak fool who’s only worth was your quick mind and ability to calculate numbers quicker than most computers, which resulted in them mostly dismissing you. It was a role you basked in and felt comfortable, using it to keep your true identity under wraps. That was until they pushed your captain too far, as Crocodile especially seemed to take great pleasure in antagonizing and hurting your captain.

You were protective, most pirates were, if they felt any sense of loyalty to their captain. It was because of that, that you dug up a trusted contact, a celestial dragon with greater access to seastone than anyone else you knew. Using measurements from the moment’s clothes had to be made, a pair of cuffs in just the perfect size soon arrived to you with the post.

It was easy to press Crocodiles buttons, to get him worked up by acting stupid and pathetic, just the way you knew made his blood boil. It was even easier to enrage him so far that he chased after you, so blinded by his anger that he didn’t even notice how you kept avoiding his sand, or how you were leading him further and further away from the rest of the guild.

When he finally caught up, Crocodile caged you against the wall, hook digging into the drywall as he almost snarled down at you, cigar crunched between his teeth as his purple eyes blazed. But mild confusion crossed his face as your fearful expression dropped, his body straightening as your eyes met his head on. Before Crocodile could order an explanation, a feeling of weakness crashed through his body, making his knees buckle enough that you had to catch him, supporting his towering weight and bulk.

His vision swam as you started dragging him along, his feet dragging along the floor because of his height compared to your own. Crocodile felt dizzy and mildly nauseous, his eyes finally catching the heavy bands around his wrist, the one he still had left. “ssseastone?” he slurred out, voice lighter than the growl you were used too, cigar long forgotten somewhere along the journey.

In the beginning, you had planned on torturing him, the blades strapped to your person burning at the thought, but as you threw him down almost carelessly on a barely clad bed, a different through passed through your mind.

A slight thrill ran down your spine as his purple eyes burnt into you, his usual anger still present, but mixed with something else, something deeper and hungrier. Soft pants left Crocodiles lips, sounding faintly struggled as the seastone drained the power from his body, leaving him limp and pliant.

You could see the heat rising to Crocodiles cheekbones as you started stripping off your usual getup, tailcoat slid off your shoulders and neatly folded, top hat placed down with care. “What the hell are you doing…” Crocodile rasped from the bed, his pupils blown as an unfamiliar need unfolded inside him, the familiar thrum of pleasure running through body.

Maybe it was his weakened state, but he swore his cunt was pulsing with need, especially as you unbuttoned the stark white shirt you always wore, revealing a tightly muscled and heavily scarred body underneath, leather straps adorned with vials and weapons stretched across your torso.

Crocodile tried to shuffle his legs, maybe to squeeze his thighs together, or to spread them further apart, he wasn’t sure, but all he could do was a minimal twitch and jolt. “I planned on cutting you up, making you beg for mercy. But from the looks of it… you wouldn’t mind some other kind of discipline” you murmur, almost stalking towards him where Crocodile was splayed out on top of the white sheets.

You could see all his muscles tense as you let your hands climb up his legs, up his thighs and stomach, traveling all the way up his arms towards his hook. A choked off noise leaves Crocodile as you remove his hook with ease, like you had done it a thousand times before, placing it off to the side with care.

“Behave yourself” you tell him, squeezing the sides of his jaw to make his lips part. Crocodile tried to growl or snap a threat, to snap his teeth at you or somehow fight back, but his body was mostly unresponsive, his tongue feeling thick and useless in his mouth.

A shiver of anticipation ran through Crocodile as you moved again, settling between his thick spread thighs. Your eyes met as you reach for his belt, your brow lifting as if asking if he wanted you to stop. You may be a pirate, but you had class and manners, at least when it came to stuff like this.

But when all Crocodile responded with was a sour expression and glare, you make easy work of his belt and slacks, tugging them down his hips and legs, throwing them off to the side with little care. Your disregard for his clothes made Crocodile grumble, but the noise was quickly silenced as you pressed your entire hand against his slick underwear, fingers teasing his hard t-cock and soaked folds.

“Tsk tsk, look at you, bet you just need someone to put you in your place, is that it?” you mumble in an almost mocking tone, looking up at him with an almost feral hunger in your eyes. Crocodile chokes on the words that want to form in his throat, some kind of rebuttal perhaps, that he would never want someone as low as you to do anything to him, but as you pinch his cock between your fingers, it morphs into a shaky moan.

Crocodile’s boxers as easily pulled off, thrown to the floor with a damp plap, making his face redden further as you only find amusement in the obvious sign of his arousal. Kicking off your pants and boxers, you crawl up the bed and sit between his thick thighs, pushing them further apart to expose where he only grows slicker, hole clenching around nothing as if begging you to fill it.

“What would they say, seeing the great Sir Crocodile, spread out like this, ready to take the cock of a feeble weak treasurer” you taunt, pressing your hips closer to his, so that you could drag the tip of your cock up and down through his folds. The act has Crocodile arching as good as he can with the cuff on, his eyes squeezing shut as he clenches his jaw, a breathy noise leaving him, folds only growing slicker around you.

Maybe it was your size difference, with you being average human size, compared to Crocodiles almost 9 feet, or maybe it was his gut deep arousal, but his hole didn’t need much prep for you to be able to fit inside.

That didn’t mean you were just gonna give it to him, since this was supposed to be a lesson. A stuttery moan spills almost silently from Crocodiles lips as your fingers rub through his folds, barely pressing against where he wants you the most. He had never imagined himself in a situation like this, splayed out and dripping for you, someone he had always just seen as a nuisance, but here he was.

“Come on Crocodile… ask nicely” your tone is almost cruel as you push only two fingers inside him, barely felt because of his size, but just enough to rub against his wet gummy insides and leave him aching for more. Crocodiles jaw clenches, barring his teeth as his head weakly rolls to the side, as if to hide his face into the sheets.

“Or… I could just leave you here, thighs spread open, cunt glistening with want. Im sure someone will pass by, and who wouldn’t want a chance to fill this” as if to exaggerate your point, you push two more fingers into his slick hole, burying them as deep as possible into Crocodiles wet insides, punching a gasp out of him.

Crocodile seems to debate it, if he wants to put his pride aside for someone like you, but his thoughtprocess is knocked off course as you pinch his cock with your free hand, twisting it cruelly. Had he not been wearing the seastone cuff, his thighs would have clamped shut and a shout would have left him, but now all his body could do was tense up as a wet keen tumbled out of him.

��P…please” Crocodile finally mumbles, voice small and almost shy, but it can barely be heard over the wet slick sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out of him, his wetness running down your palm and wrist in the process.

“Hm?” you hum, the questioning tone in it clear, as if you didn’t hear him at all, giving his cock another twist just because you could. “fuck me… please…” is gasped out, Crocodiles insides clenching around your slick fingers as they rub and prod around inside him.

Your fingers movements slow to a stop, silence filling the room long enough for Crocodile to peek an eye open and look down at you. Your eyes are intense as they bore into his, the predatory flare in them making Crocodiles insides quiver. “Normally id demand better than that, but I’m starting to pity you” you scoff out, withdrawing your fingers from his hold with a slick noise.

Instead of wiping them off on the sheets, you use the large amount of slick that had gathered in your palm to slick up your shaft, releasing a huffed exhale as Crocodiles eyes widen at the sight. “I’ve thought about making you ride me, so you’ll have to make yourself take it, but we can’t do that right now, can we” you eye the cuff around his one wrist, making Crocodile growl and spit out a weak warbled “fuck you”

His insult carries no heat, clearly only for show, his glare quickly wiped off his face as you finally push inside him. Crocodile needs little time to adjust, resulting in you almost immediately setting a bruising rough pace, drawing in and out of him with loud wet slick noises, his hole gripping onto you as he gasps and moans.

Reaching down, you push his shirt up just enough to splay a hand across his lower stomach, a foxlike grin spreading across your lips as you watch his hips weakly roll into your own. “If you weren’t such an asshole, I could fuck you whenever. Imagine that Crocodile, walking around, cunt leaking my cum, as you try to play tough.” You chuckle darkly, tone thick and hungry in the way only a predatory animal could possess.

As your cock rams into that sensitive spot inside him, Crocodile is finally starting to realize you are truly more than you seem, his cunt drooling a wet puddle under him on the sheets as you take him with a new hunger, a glint appearing in your eyes as your hand presses down harder on his stomach.

“I could knock you up you know, right here.” Is hissed out as you bottom out inside Crocodile, the words making him tighten up and shiver in want. “No one would find you so scary then, would they Crocodile. Waddling around, fat with my kid” you purr, letting both your hands splay across his stomach. It was all fantasy, but by God did it make Crocodile wet and wanting. Something about the fantasy of you, some lesser subordinate knocking him, Sir Crocodile, up, had him seeing double.

The seastone didn’t help with his woozy state, all attempts at forming words only becoming half formed and slurred, Crocodiles eyes going wet and glassy as that familiar feeling spread through his body. “in… inside me…” Crocodile slurs as you curse to yourself, clearly close to the finish line as well. Had it not been for the cuffs, he would have thrown his legs around you, squeezing you against his body to keep you inside him, but all he could do now was beg.

Crocodiles pride crumbled as your fingers squeezed his cock one last time, a pure orgasmic expression crossing his face as he gasped and moaned, his entire body twitching weakly as he came, wetting your cock and the sheets even further as the feeling thrummed through his entire body.

With a deep groan you bottom out inside Crocodile for a last time, letting your eyes squeeze shut as you spill inside him, coating his insides in a thick coat of white. Crocodile whimpers weakly at the feeling, trying to squeeze around you as if to milk your length for more.

He slumps against the sheets further than he already is, eyes falling shut in a relaxed exhausted expression. Crocodile barely notices as you pull out, white leaking out from between his folds to join his own mess on the sheets. He barely even notices you cleaning him up, only twitching and gasping softly when you clean up between his legs.

Its only when the seastone cuff leaves his wrist that Crocodile returns to himself somewhat, as the familiar feeling of his devilfruit washes through his body again. Squinting his eyes open, he catches sight of you getting dressed again, tucking on your shirt, then your coat, and lastly placing your hat on top of your head.

Even with his devilfruit returned to him, Crocodile still feels weak and exhausted, but the good type of exhausted one only gets after a good fuck. Part of him wants to ask you to stay, to hold him and pet his hair, to maybe mumble more dirty fantasies about knocking him up, and how you’d make him live as your pretty little housewife. But instead, Crocodile just grunts to get your attention, his attempt to demand to know where you are going.

“I have to get back to the others, since ill be taking over your duties for the rest of the day and tomorrow” you say, voice resolute and not allowing any denial or struggle. And normally Crocodile would have growled and rejected anyone taking over his duties, but for some reason, the idea of you taking care of him made him relax deeper into the bed, muscles lax and thoughts empty and calm for once.

Approaching him, you press a soft kiss to his forehead before telling him “this room is hidden away from everyone else, so take all the time you need. Ill check up on you later” as you pat his cheek. After telling him where the bathroom is, where he could find towels and replacement sheets and blankets, you were on your way, leaving Crocodile on his lonesome.

It took a while, but he finally pushed himself into a seated position before getting to his feet. The feeling of your cum trickling down the insides of his thighs as the familiar heat of arousal burning inside him once more, making Crocodile shuffle towards the bathroom you had pointed him towards. Even though you had just left, he could still get himself off a few more times from just the memory alone.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be disciplined by you, he wondered how you’d react if he caused issues with your smuggling routes. The idea sent a line of heat up his spine as he stepped into the shower, hand quickly traveling between his thighs, fingers burying themselves into his still sensitive hole, fantasies of hungry glare and cruel fingers filling his mind.