#something that hours later is already gone

[celuere]

kiss it, bite it, can i fit it?

pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader

context: your first time getting dragged into a lesbian bar after you came to therealization that men are simply just not for you. little did you know, your friends already had someone set up for you…

cw: modern au, dilf arle, implied age gap, shameless flirting, reader is lowkey inexperienced, strap-on, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, arle introduces you into the world of awesome sesbian lex, body worship, modern arle has her whole arms tattooed and you cannot convince me otherwise, no shade thrown on my bisexual icons, i am one myself pookies

word count: 2.9k

i‘m watching snapcubes sonic fandub while writing so i‘m sorry for any lack of braincells in this one

 „furina i… i really don‘t know if this was a good idea…“

it was currently 8:47pm on a saturday night and you were stuck in a lesbian bar  to which your friends furina and navia dragged you to, insisting it‘s a… great way to get you started!

one hour later navia sneaked off to talk to the purple-haired bartender and furina just nervously checked her phone every few minutes while she seems to be friends with quite a lot of todays visitors.

and you? you just stared holes into your cocktail you didn‘t touch for a single time. debating wether or not you should excuse yourself and drive home. you felt a little out of place here in this small community.

finally, furina‘s phone blinked up and her eyes widened before they found yours, a mischievous grin slowly spreading over her face.

she planned something. no wonder she kept checking her phone every few minutes.

„oh, this was a fantastic idea… you really thought i‘d just drag you here for fun…? i actually got the perfect match for you.“, patting herself on the shoulder for how good her plan seems to go so far, you wanted to choke her.

„that is not what we talked about-!“

„oh, this is exactly what we talked about! i pinky promise you will like her! she is an entomologist at the nearby institute, can name every insect and spider by a simple look and-“

„o-okay, okay, I get it-! still, i would have liked a little warning!“, you bent over the table to pinch her into the cheek.

„ow-ow-ow!! i-i knew you‘d have dipped if i told you about it-! now let got o-of me-!“, you sighed as you freed furina‘s cheek from your deathgrip and looked back down into the distorted reflection of your face in your drink.

„i‘m still new to all this so-“, you halted mid sentence when you noticed that the seat in front of you was suddenly empty, even her drink was gone.

oh this little-

„furina wasn‘t exaggerating when she told me about you being good on the eyes…“, a rather deep female voice spoke up behind you over the music before she came into view.

and all you wanted to do is get on your knees and thank furina over a million times for forcing you out of your apartment today.

because it was so worth it for the woman currently standing before you.

with her white-black hair being put up into a rather not so tidy bun, down to the fancy silken shirt being half unbuttoned… and the tattoos running both of her hands up to her forearms before disappearing underneath the fabric.

what in the world.

„i…“, you were forced to clear your throat before answering her, „y-yes… i think that would happen to be me…“, you looked her down once again. twice again. thrice again.

„sweetheart, if you‘re done undressing me with your eyes, i would love to get us both out of here. i‘m not exactly a fan of bars and clubs…“, flashing you a short smile, she put both her hands into the pockets of her pants.

„i- o-oh, goodness i-i‘m so sorry-! let me just-“, quickly gathering your stuff, you threw your jacket over your shoulder and got up from your seat, „good to go now-!“.

„and i haven‘t even properly introduced myself to you… a little excited, hm?“, she chuckled lowly before holding our her hand to you, „peruere. and your name is…?“, she couldn‘t help but let a chuckle slip past her lips at your almost humiliated expression.

that smile was driving you fucking insane.

 „my uh name is [name]! it is nice meeting you, peruere-!“, taking her extraordinarily warm hand into yours and giving it a light squeeze, suddenly leaving your apartment for tonight sounded like the best idea ever.

„the pleasure is all mine. now shall we get going…? it is a little too crowded in here for my taste…“.

peruere turned out to be a pleasant conversation partner. whatever topic you choose, she had a vast knowledge on almost everything and a charismatic touch to it too. it also came to your attention that she has three adopted children, a son aged 13 and a set of 16 year old twins.

„may i ask how you realized that just… men were not for you? that is a huge realization after all, not everyone can so easily come to term with.“, taking a turn with you to the left leading slowly to the exit of the park you were currently strolling around.

„it was… a little scary to be fair… but after countless failed relationships and dates, i slowly started to maybe consider that i‘m just not really interested in men. and after i went on yet another date i realized mid conversation that this is just… not for me? if that makes any sense… furina and my other friends certainly didn‘t seem surprised at all on the other hand, which was… a little embarrassing if i am being honest.“, you scratched the back of your head as you nervously laughed your own words off.

but peruere just looked straight down at you, not a hint of amusement in sight at your story, „it‘s not embarrassing at all. sometimes you have to try things out and make a few wrong choices before coming to the conclusion that you maybe have to handle things differently. you are not weird for discovering yourself fully in your mid twenties. look, my youngest son ist 13 years old and just now realized that he in fact does not like his astrology themed bedroom… after we had it completely decorated from ceiling to floor. guess we have to go for the undersea theme he has been wanting so dearly now. that is just part of growing up.“, she couldn‘t help but shove a few strands of your hair behind you ear.

„just like i am now realizing how beautiful you actually look in this particular light…“.

your body felt suddenly too hot for the clothes you were wearing, you weren‘t used to such… personal compliments from an almost stranger. even tho you never had as much chemistry with your previous dates as you did with her…

„y-you really are too sweet…w-we barely know each other, yet you speak to me as if it were ages…“

„i‘m not a fan of idle chitchat were i‘m simply listing up my favorite colors and how many steps it takes me from my bedroom into the bath.“, she is crossing her arms now and blowing a bit of her own hair out of her face.

„well… i would still like the answer to both of these things…“

something flashed up in the much taller woman‘s eyes.

„red and 14.“

you didn‘t know how the both of you made it to your apartment complex without clawing your clothes off. as soon as the elevator was closed, she was all over you. hands grabbing onto whatever curve they could as her lips moved against yours in an almost sexual manner. sucking on your tongue before pushing her own inside your mouth, teeth clashing together as if she wanted to eat you right up. your mixed saliva was running down the corner of your mouth when the elevator reached its destination.

„forgive me my… urgent behavior… it has been a while since i left the house for something like… a date…“, she stepped away from you, but not before wiping your chin clean of any spit with her thumb and stepping aside, „be so kind and lead the way, dear.“.

you just laughed her off as you walked into the hallway to your door, already fishing out the keys, „really this long…? i guess coming around is a little difficult with three kids to take care of and a career.“, sticking the key now into the hole and twisting it.

„it‘s not exactly something i mind. i choose to adopt them willingly. sure, a little more time to myself would be nice from time to time… but being a father has been nothing but fulfilling to me. i just wish lyney would stop setting things on fire for his magical tricks…“, she followed you inside your lofty abode, immediately taking her shoes off.

„that sounds… not really fun to worry about…“, you barely hung up your jacket when peruere‘s hand wrapped around your waist, tugging you back against her. hot breath hitting your ear as she leaned down to your height.

 „i have something much better on my mind right now anyways.“, pressing a gentle kiss to your ear that sent shivers down your spine, „which way is your bedroom, lovely…?“

„it‘s right at the end of the hallway… i just…“, you looked completely embarrassed away as you turned around, a light blush adorning your cheeks as you avoided eye contact.

„since i uh… did not expect this evening to take such a… turn… i did not take any appropriate measures beforehand…“

that woman looked never more puzzled in her life.

„as in…?“

„i did not shave…“, it was barely an inaudible mumble.

„excuse me, i did not quite catch that… try speaking up a little.“, she almost looked a little amused.

repeating yourself never felt more embarrassing, „i… did not shave… i‘m sorry…“

silence.

 „get your ass into that bed.“

she might as well just slapped you across the face.

„i- how?? isn‘t that the standard?“, you were literally getting shoved into the direction of your bedroom.

„if you think a bit of body hair is scaring me off, then i must disappoint you.“

as soon as you reached your bedroom, she was already fumbling with the buttons of your shirt.

„i-it‘s just that my previous dates were usually never fond of it-!“, a moan slipped out your mouth as she suddenly found her lips plastered on your neck, licking and sucking and search of your most sensitive spot.

her next words came out slightly muffled against your skin.

„they must have been cowards.“

the next moments were a mess of clothes just getting ripped off of you and herself unti you were left in nothin but half opened bra as peruere left a trail of hot and greedy kisses down your stomach. 

„relax and lay back for me. mhm… just like that…“, watching you as you laid back on your mattress only to feel her parting your legs and throwing them over her shoulders, you soon felt her lips caressing the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

„so beautiful… all ready for me… don‘t mind if i do…“, she didn‘t give you the chance to reply before she buried her head between your legs, tongue lapping up and down your folds and making sure to savor every drop of your arousal, prying your lips apart with her two fingers as she plunged her tongue finally into your aching pussy. she had you gripping the sheets with one hand her hair with the other in a matter of seconds. one moan after the other stumbling out of your mouth as quite literally fucked you with her bare tongue, her own groans of pleasure being drowned out by your cunt. she was treating you like a gourmet dinner, and holy mother on earth- you never experienced anything like this. she had technique, rhythm, everything. when she slipped the two fingers that were spreading you apart for her tongue, inside of you, it was as good as over of you. 

it took her merely a few experimental thrusts and curls of her hands before she found an enjoyable rhythm for you, and your g-spot along with it. with her mouth now wrapping around your already sensitive clit, you were hanging by a thread. her name was everything occupying your mind while you were swiped empty of anything else other than the woman feasting on your pussy like she has been starved for the past centuries. 

with the occasional spread of her fingers inside of you and her digits rubbing your sweet spot to mush, it unsurprisingly did not take long for you until your legs were quivering around her head, your juices spilling right over her fingers, you were technically fucking her face.

„mh-“, she allowed you to let you ride out your high on her hand before slowly rising back up from between your legs  and withdrawing her fingers.

„my… such a good girl… that certainly looked like it felt good, didnt it?“, licking over her lips before moving her soaked fingers up to her mouth, she didn’t break eye contact when putting her fingers between her lips to lick them clean of any of your remains.

holy mother of god.

you could only stare. panting. leaking. as she swirled her tongue around her fingers, even having the guts to slightly moan at the taste of you.

did she plan on killing you? because it was working.

„my… out of words, dove…?“, slowly letting her gaze glide over your shaking figure, a slight smirk tugged on the woman‘s lips. she was satisfied with the results of her works.

when you nodded lightly to her question she chuckled, „adorable… the chances are low, but you don‘t happen to own a strap-on do you?“

another reason to thank furina. she thought it was a funny idea to gift you one as your „coming-out-gift“. you thought she was being ridiculous. now you couldn‘t stop praising her in your mind.

„a-actually I do… left nightstand, l-lower drawer…“, you watched her hum in delight as she followed your instructions.

„now isn’t that just convenient for the both of us…“, peruere eyed the harness for a few seconds before it was buckled on around her hips with nothing more than a few smart handgrips. this woman couldn’t get any better. right…?

„my love, you are staring again.“, now laughing slightly as she leaned over you, a hand running down your thigh before pushing it up against your chest, you soon felt the tip of the dildo pressing against your drenched entrance.

„i just… i-i‘m just wondering… hah… what about y-your pleasure…? let me return the favor- ah-!“, peruere looked down at you as if you just said the cutest thing in the whole world as she pressed the tip inside.

she only spoke up after grabbing your chin and adding a few more inches into your clenching cunt.

„my pleasure? this. this right here…“, she slowly bends down to your face as you felt the tip kissing your cervix. you were now panting and whining right into her face.

„…is my pleasure.“, dragging her hips back before thrusting them right back into you as the older woman watched you fall apart underneath her with each of her movements, she angled her hips differently with each thrust, trying to see which one you enjoyed most before picking up the pace. 

everything was too much. her hitting your sensitive spot with each fuck of her hips back against yours. the hungry and desperate kisses she was showering you in. her free hand pulling and massaging your tit. it was simply too much for you. you had plenty of men before her but none of them ever cared to make you feel this fucking good. to make you moan right into the kisses she was drowning you in until you were gasping for air, running your hands through her messed up hair. then grabbing onto her toned shoulders when you begged her between soft whines and desperate pleas to fuck you harder. to show you what you have been missing out on with her.

she did not stop after you came a second time. nor after the third time.

you were all sobby and sweaty by the time she had you propped up in her lap, ramming her hips into yours while she gently encouraged you to ride her.

„just like that, doll… look at how great you are doing for me. does that feel good hm? i‘m sure it does… just look at how drenched my lap is in your arousal.“, she reached up to pull you into a hot kiss by your neck.

„one more, my pretty thing. you can do that for me. can‘t you?“, whispered words against your lips before pulling you right back against hers. her free had guiding you by your ass over her dick as you poor fucked out thing could do nothing but ride her like a good girl. she is going to have so much fun with you in the future. she still had to show you so many things, you surely want to experience it all with her.

right?

she quickly recognized your body growing shakier and weaker once again „mhm, that‘s right, come all over my lap…“

and you obliged. not like you had any other chance.

she let you calm down first, coming into your ear before carefully lifting you off of her lap.

„so good… now relax while i am cleaning up our mess, alright?“

you managed a soft smile and thumbs up. you weren’t capable of more right now.

all hail to furina.

[rubiehart]

LOOK AFTER YOU…

pairing: jj maybank x bsf!reader

summary: an alternative universe to my own bsf!reader, where her parents aren’t supportive of her and jj’s relationship and the consequences of that.

warnings: graphic description of injuries, mentions of physical, mental and verbal abuse, underage use of tobacco, hurt/comfort.

a/n: literally came up with this in ten minutes and binge wrote it in an hour, wasn’t even initially gonna be based on any song but this one just fit so well so why no lol. i guess this is kinda the start of my comeback for the new year, hope you all love ♡︎

♪ Look After You - The Fray ♪

Honestly, JJ didn’t know how he ended up dating the girl who’d been his best friend since elementary school, how sharing beds after a long day of surfing in middle school turned into them smushed up against each other only three years later, limbs tangled and breath mingling, completely drunk off of each other, completely enamoured by the other like it was the first glimpse.

He knew she was a bitch sometimes, he knew she was sweet sometimes, but only ever around him and when they’d completely stripped each other of every wall they’d put up, emotions raw and throat’s even more so from whatever had gone on with their own parents in the place they were supposed to call home. Neither of them knew the meaning until that night.

That one night that changed the entire rest of their lives, for better or worse? Neither of them knew. The night when they both separately hit rock bottom. Absolutely nothing to lose, now. The lowest of the low. Hell.

She’d just been kicked out by her parents for good, and it really was official this time. Something stupid she’d done with JJ that really wasn’t as serious as they were making it seem, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, the final push that made them force all their walls up against JJ, but they were a team, two halves of a whole, so in her eyes, if they were denying JJ they were also denying her, and she didn’t have time or the energy to deal with people like that, so she up and left that night. Sending JJ a quick text before shoving her dying phone in the pocket of her battered shorts and setting off to where she knew he’d go to first.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ’s situation was similar, something simmering on a low heat in Luke’s body for a few days previous, a few too many pills popped and he was ready to burst, and who better to take it out on that his sixteen year old son? No one, supposedly. This is how JJ ends up shoving open the door to the wooden lodge he’s supposed to call home, body aching as he forces himself down the steps, stumbling on an already bruised leg, until he reaches the edge of the lawn of the Maybank residence. The last thing he hears is the raw, blood curdling yell of his father, ‘Run and pray I don’t find ya, boy!’, the blood rushing in his ears and the soft beating of his combat boots against the dead grass, a baffling contrast to the absolute war in his mind.

His bruised legs carry him all the way across the island, the only thing in his mind is her, and it’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, head spinning, as he continually tells himself, ‘Just a little longer, J’, ‘A little longer than you can take a break.’ He doesn’t let himself stop until he gets there, lungs gasping for a breath of fresh air as the wind rushes past his ears, legs aching and stinging but he fights it until the image he’d been imagining comes into view through the weeds of the marsh. The lighthouse.

He’d found her on the rocky island, as expected slumped against the rocky wall of the structure, red and white painted chipped to hell. She was wearing an oversized black tank top, assumably his, the usual pair of denim shorts, and some beat up sneakers, hair falling in front of her eyes, cigarette already burning between her lips.

It’s late, the moonlight bathes her body, forearms resting on her knees, friendship bracelets dangling from her wrists and brushing against the grazed skin of her legs. He wordlessly slumps down next to her, groaning softly as his beaten body hits the rocky floor, a streak of white hot pain passing through his chest.

She obviously senses his presence, it’s completely un-ignorable. She makes brief eye contact with him in the pale light, a warm glow casted over her face from the flame at the end of the cigarette, highlighting the tear marks down her freckled cheeks, now dried and assumably sticky in the soft wind of the late night.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, and neither does he.

That’s one thing that was so special about them, even before they’d gotten together and were just best friends with insane sexual tension, they could always read the other’s mind without sharing any words, could read each other fluently with just looks and body language.

The toe of her beat up sneaker digs into the rocks scattering the floor, and he watches her from the corner of him eye, chest still heaving, her head falls back against the concrete wall of the lighthouse, exhaling into the cold night as she passes off the burning stick to him. He notices how her fingernails are painted shimmery purple, or were, now they’re all chipped and her fingernails are bitten.

He accepts the cigarette, the familiar bitter tobacco and smoke slip past his chapped lips, gash on the lower corner re opening as he inhales. He couldn’t care less in this moment as they both sit wordlessly in the moonlight. She could practically feel the tension in his shoulders and the inevitable tightness in his chest, maybe this cigarette wasn’t the best thing for him right now, but everyone’s got their way of dealing, so she keeps her mouth shut for once.

He glances at her through his peripheral, pulling his legs up into a similar position to her, arms aching as he rests his forearms against his bloody knees. His hooded eyes frail over her tear stained cheeks. She’s tough. Tougher than anybody he’d ever met. He knew not to push her to talk. She’d talk when she was ready, and he wasn’t exactly eager to tell her about what went on tonight, either.

Her softer fingers brush his calloused ones when he passes it back, taking a drag and holding it in her lungs, letting it burn, because in this moment she wants to hurt, the pain is almost a comfort.

She exhales, smoke clouding his image of her for a second as she passes it back off to him, the orange glow lighting him up for once as her lips part to speak.

It’s raspy, like she’d been screaming, or crying, or both. He assumes both because he knows how it is in her house, much like she knows how it is in his. The precise reason why she doesn’t question the cuts on his cheekbones, or the grazes on his knees and elbows, and knows that there’s bound to be a ton more all over his body, concealed by his threadbare shirt and cargo shorts, curtesy of his deadbeat father.

“Got thrown out.”

Her voice pierces the bitterly cold wind that blows, blowing his sweaty, blonde tresses every which way, he lifts a hand to cover the end of the cigarette, blocking it from the strong gusts, the silver of his rings glinting in the orange glow.

He nods once, taking a hit as he takes in the information, he’s not all that suprised though, it was only a matter of time, he knows they’d been waiting for anything to happen to get rid of her for good.

“Same here.”

He says with a soft chuckle, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes and she doesn’t wonder why. He doesn’t want her to know the extent of it though, he doesn’t want her to know how bad it gets. Doesn’t want her to worry.

A small smile graces her lips, the skin stretching tight from the cold, licking over her lips once as she glances at him. She doesn’t even know why, she’s got absolutely nothing to smile about, sixteen, homeless, not even a dollar to her name, but just a glance at him smiling lifts a weight off of her, like maybe things weren’t going to be so bad.

She takes the cigarette back from him, mock forcefully, a ghost of a smirk still lingering as she takes another drag, shorter this time, sucking and blowing before speaking again, forearms adjusting on her grazed knees with a silent hiss, teeth gritted.

“What for?”

He lets out a bitter scoff, staring at his shoes so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. The moonlight is making her look a fallen angel, all soft and pretty but still a little rough around the edges, just like him. He shrugs like he doesn’t know, pretending like he doesn’t know she can read him like a book.

“Same old bullshit.” He mumbles around the cig, taking a second drag since she’d passed it back, like he was trying to drown out the memory. She scoffs, mirroring his own reaction. Two halves of a whole. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering to his side profile, illuminated by the soft amber glow of the flame, highlighting the slope of his angular nose, the chisel of his cheekbones, already blooming with black and purple splotches, but he’s beautiful to her nonetheless.

She forces her eyes away and nods. “Same.” Picking at the chipped polish along her nails as she glares out at the horizon, the waves lapping ever so quietly at the rocky shore, the light from the lookout flickering dully above their heads.

He huffs softly, shaking his head, passing back the cigarette with trembling fingers.

Of course that was the reason, on her end anyway, and without her explicitly stating it he knows what her ‘same old bullshit’ is. He had pretty much known from the start that her parents wouldn’t be supportive of their relationship. He was a troublemaker, a bad kid, the kind of boy parents warned their daughters about.

He looks up at her, fiddling with his fingers between the gap in his bent knees, blonde hair flopping over his sweat slicked forehead, tickling at the gash above his eyebrow. He studies her profile as the glow of the cigarette lights her up. Even with her hair messy and her eyes red rimmed and her eyeliner smeared down her cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of them, the gravity of the situation hitting them both at different speeds. Two homeless, empty pocketed sixteen year olds, only their love for each other keeping them above water. Dodging whirlpools and massive swells with just each other to stay afloat. She digs the toe of her sneaker into scatter of rocks again, the soft clink of them the only thing heard other than the soft lapping of waves and their breathing, which had now synced.

He keeps his eyes on her, studying her and taking in every single detail in the moonlight. He can see every single freckle on her skin, every single eyelash. She’s perfect. Gorgeous. An angel amongst a sea of demons. He leans in closer, gently knocking his knee against hers.

“We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

He mutters under his breath, so close she can feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She turns her head, hair falling infront of her black rimmed eyes, framing her blood rushed cheeks in the moonlight, nursing the fading cigarette between her fingers. She nods once, it’s small but it’s there, and it’s all the reassurance that he needs that they’re gonna be okay.

She leans a little more into his touch so they stay close, shoulders occasionally brushing and knees pressed together.

“Yeah.” She breathes out, a small smile making its way onto her lips.

He’s tempted to reach for her hand, to tangle his fingers in hers, to hold her as tight as possible for as long as possible, because she’s all he has left, and he’s afraid if he doesn’t hold her close, she’ll disappear like every other ounce of hope in his life.

But he doesn’t know if she’s okay with being touched right now. He knows she can be sensitive sometimes when she’s like this, closed off and thinking. So he keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to overstep. Instead, he just lets himself lean into her a little more, head tilted a little to the side to give her more than enough space if she wants to lean her head against his shoulder like she does sometimes. He’s making it clear that if she needs him, he’s here. Always.

Then, almost as if reading his mind, her hands finds his, soft skin brushing callouses along his pinkie finger, it’s hesitant but it’s not accidental as their fingers intertwine. She doesn’t look at him but he doesn’t need her to to know what she’s thinking. She stubs out the cigarette with her other hand, the ash hissing softly against the concrete wall behind her head before she flicks the butt into the rocks. Waves lap against the shore, sea foam clotting and sticking and forming pretty consolations, her thumb brushes over his bruised knuckles thoughtfully, but it’s natural and unpracticed.

He lets out a shaky exhale as her delicate fingers wrap around his. They’re smaller than his, more nimble, and yet they’re strong. Stronger than normal, like she’s solidifying every word she’s conveying through his simple touch. That this is real. Once that contact is made he feels like he can breathe again. Her skin feels electric against, sending sparks up his arm and signals to his brain that stop him feeling the dull, everlasting ache all over his body, that thrums low but never truly leaves for good. But this feels right. It feels good.

The winds starting to pick up a little now, she has no idea what time it is and neither does he, but it’s a distant worry. She’s got a little niggling at the back of her brain that there’s a storm incoming, but she’s not sure when or where’d she’d heard it, every memory from the past few days blending into one, where she can’t pinpoint any individual words or emotions.

She lets her eyelids flutter closed, head laying down softly onto JJ’s shoulder, incase there was a nasty bruise underneath the worn cotton, he wouldn’t have told her even if there was. She breathes steadily, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the warm skin of his neck: sea water, sweat and a hint of the old spice cologne he’d stolen from his dad in ninth grade, and then kept stealing bottles whenever it’d run out.

She squeezed his hand in hers: once, twice, three times. A silent ‘I love you’. Neither of them had ever been any good with words, but they didn’t need to be.

She doesn’t know whats going to happen and she doesn’t know what they’re going to do after tonight, when they wake up tomorrow morning in the abandoned lighthouse with less than a dollar to their shared name. But she doesn’t let the thought cloud her memory too long, because with JJ by her side it’s hard to worry about things that aren’t facing you yet, it’s easy to just live in the moment with him.

With her head leaning against his shoulder, breath from her nose tickling his skin, he takes the time to study her for the billionth time that night. Taking in the slope of her nose, her jawline, her eyelashes. His heart does all sorts of crazy things in his chest, things he’d never felt before her. But it’s not from fear, or uncertainty, or anything of the sort. Instead, it’s from love. From adoration. From everything he feels for her.

“I love you.”

He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear him over the wind.

Her eyelashes flutter open, kissing at her eyebrows, fingers still interlocked with his as she zones in on him, he notices the way her eyes are glazed over with tears.

It had always been harder for her to say those three words, even though she’d come from a more conventional family than JJ, his full of physical abuse, hers was full of mental and verbal abuse, the pushing down of her feelings to avoid manipulation is second nature to her. Usually.

But now with JJ, she lets out a soft exhale through her nose, pressing it against the side of his neck, breathing him in as she whispers, hot breath ticking the sensitive skin.

“I love you too.”

He can feel his cheeks heat up when her hot breath brushes against his skin. He doesn’t know why it makes him so flustered, because by this point he should be used to her touch, her quiet little declarations of love. He’s spent countless nights wrapped around her, his arms holding her to his chest like she’s his lifeline.

And yet, when she whispers that she loves him, his heart races in his chest. His fingers squeeze around hers so tight it’s bound to bruise. He doesn’t need to say anything back and she doesn’t expect it, he conveys everything he wants to say through the way his breath hitches and his heartbeat quickens under her ear.

Her eyes flick up to his profile after a minute or so, eyes roaming all over his features from this new angle, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching him fiddle with his rings on his fingers, twisting at them, pulling them off and putting them on again. She breaks through his quiet thoughts with a soft question, that he misses because it’s caught in the whisper of the wind.

“Hm?” He mumbles, hand reaching down to find hers again, squeezing it reassuringly as he looks down, hooded eyes completely captivated by her.

“Does it hurt?” She repeats softly, no irritation in her tone like normal when she has to repeat herself to him. He’s confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing until he realises she’s talking about the series of bruises across his cheekbone, her wide eyes lingering on the skin. It’s only then he remembers he was even hurt in the first place, and the low thrum of pain comes back all over his body, wound above his eyebrow stinging when a gust of wind blows.

She squeezes his hand again softly, not forcing him to speak if he doesn’t want to, being patient with him. His gaze stays on her, and he’s coming up with a lie, telling her he’s fine and not to worry about him. But the words get caught in his throat at the worry in her soft gaze. He doesn’t want to lie, not to her.

“Like hell.”

He mutters, bringing his free hand up to his eyeline, the one that’s not gripping hers. He stares down at his bruised knuckles, some starting to scab, others not, starting to turn an ugly shade or reddish purple.

“Yeah?” She replies softly, she seems to have thawed off a little, anger not so red hot, scalding in her fingertips. Not so angry at the world. Her free hand comes up to softly brush against the blossom of purple along his cheekbone, and his jaw ticks under her touch, refraining from flinching away from her. She notices, though, and tears spring to the corners of her eyes, tear ducts working overtime tonight, it seemed.

He lets out a shaky exhale, it’s covered by the wind but she doesn’t miss the quiver of his lips. Her gentle touch feels electric against his skin. He doesn’t want to flinch, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her touch is soft and delicate, tracing over the bruise with a feather light touch. His skin is heated and tender, and any contact makes the thrumming under his skin stronger. But at the same time, it feels good, because she’s touching him. Loving him.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, searching them for any sign of fear. Or disgust.

There’s nothing even close reflected in her eyes. They’re soft, softer than he’s ever seen them. That hard exterior she puts up is broken through as she looks at him, beaten and bruised. It makes her heart physically ache in her chest.

“You wanna talk about it?”

She whispers softly, he hears her through the soft gust that comes in, blowing his hair out of his face a little, exposing the gash across his temple. He’s so tuned into her right now, overanalysing every movement she makes, every word, every breath.

He lets out a soft scoff, shaking his head. The last thing he wants to talk about is his piece-of-shit dad. Talking about the events of tonight wouldn’t change a single thing, and it’s just gonna make her worry.

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

He mutters under his breath, avoiding her gaze. He knows she’s trying to be sweet, and care for him but he doesn’t want her to pity him. He doesn’t want her to think he’s weak.

She notices his walls coming back up, him pulling away from her a little, if not physically definitely internally. She doesn’t force anything, just nods softly, blinking back the tears in her eyes and slips her hand from his cheek, slumping back against the concrete wall with a soft sigh, knees and shoulders brushing.

The last thing she wants to do it push, make him cramp up and close himself off like he did sometimes.

The part of him that wants to lean back into her touch, to be held and loved and cared for after being beat to a pulp wars with the part of him that doesn’t want her pity.

He settles for somewhere in the middle, their thighs pressing together and shoulders brushing. He’s still avoiding her eyes, staring down at his bruised knuckles, biting back the tears that lodge his throat.

Her gaze stays on him for a long time, even if he’s refusing to reciprocate her longing gaze. She doesn’t mind, she just quietly watches, admires.

He feels her gaze on him and he can’t fight it anymore, he never could. His eyes flick to hers, fiddling with the rings on his thick fingers, forearms rested on his knees.

She’s giving him this look that makes him want to melt, like she sees right through him, for everything he is and everything he will be and the only emotion in her moonlit eyes is love.

“Do you..” She trails off, the wind picking up a little around them, the waves splatter against the rocks, sea foam clinging to the pebbles only a few meters away and JJ’s eyes flick from the shore, and then to her. He knows what she’s trying to ask, or along the lines of her question.

His heart’s doing that fluttering thing again, like a caged bird. He doesn’t need to be told what she’s asking, because he can read it in her eyes. He knows she’s not asking out of pity, or even out of lust. Just a pure, unconditional adoration. A need to hold the boy she loves. A need to be as close to him as possible. He knows there’s no point in denying her, and he doesn’t want to, anyway.

He nods shakily, letting his eyes flutter shut, pleading with him himself internally to not break, not yet.

“What do you need?”

She whispers softly, fingers itching to touch him, to comfort him, but she wants to touch him however he wants to be, and she don’t want to push anything.

He wants her. Needs her. He wants to run his fingers through her hair, feel her heart beating against his, breathe in the scent of her skin. And it’s not out of lustful desire, it’s out of a deep-down desperate need to feel safe. To feel wanted. He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. His eyes flick open, the saddest look she’d ever seen gracing his features, and she can tell he’s about to break.

“C’mere.”

He mutters under his breath, voice scratchy and quiet as he reaches his arms out for her, wincing softly at the stretch of the skin of his chest, littered with purple and blues.

She doesn’t wait to crawl into his lap, slowly, listening intently to every little gasp he makes to make sure she’s not putting any pressure on his major bruises, if they weren’t outside on a rocky beach, slumped against a wall, she’d be the one holding him, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made, and right now JJ needs her, no matter how.

Her chest is pressed against his, strong arms wrapped around her back and keeping her as close as possible to him. He’s holding her tighter than he should, afraid she might slip away if he loosens his grip.

His hands find her hips, snaking under the loose material of the tank top and digging affectionally into the warm skin there. The feeling of her finally being against him is driving him crazy, but in a good way, caged between the wall and her.

He lets out a shuddering breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his nose nuzzling at her soft skin.

“You’re okay.” She whispers, resting one hand at the back of his head, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck gently, pressing her lips to his crown. She feels his shoulders begin to shake and the meltdown that he’d been holding back from all night crashing down and overtaking him now.

You know all you can do is be present, and reassure him. “Everything’s gonna be okay..”

He feels the dam inside of him break, like the floodgates had finally opened, and before he knows what he’s doing, hot tears are springing to his eyes.

She’s saying all the right things. She’s touching him like no one’s touched him. And it’s too much. Too much to handle. He buries himself against her chest, his arms wrapping around her torso to hold her close. He lets out another shuddering breath, a soft crying shortly following, and it’s guttural and soul shattering as he shakes against her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” She mumbles into his sweaty hair, blonde tresses tickling at her chin, leaving kisses anywhere she can reach, hands carding through his hair, offering the maximum amount of comfort she can in his arms.

“You’re okay, baby.”

Her calling him ‘baby’ isn’t something he realised has such an effect on him until now, and the way her voice is so soft, so sweet and caring, has him melting against her.

Her touch and her words are like a balm on his frayed nerves, extinguishing the fire burning under his skin.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He chokes out, like a mantra, into the warm crook of her neck, over and over again, soaking the skin with his tears.

“I love you more.”

She whispers against his head, leaning sitting up a little straighter against him for a sec, but he’s pulling her down just as quick, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone as he cries.

“Hey, listen for a sec.” She mumbles, and waits for him to nod against her before continuing, fingernails scraping deliciously against his scalp as she speaks, her words attempting to calm him down from his spiral.

“‘Member what we said? After we figure all this shit out.. gonna get a house t’gether and get married, yeah? You listenin’?”

He nods shakily as she holds him, her hands brushing his sweaty hair at his temples, her kisses along his forehead keeping him grounded to reality. He swallows hard at her words about the future, his heart seizing up in his chest. But he nods again, desperately needing to hear more. He needs to hear about their future together, because it’s the only thing keeping him together right now, when he feels like nothing’s going right, his only way out is her.

“Yeah-yeah, ‘m listenin’.” He murmurs against her hot skin, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, making sure she was really still there, and this wasn’t some hallucination.

“Good, keep breathin’. And y’know what else? Gonna have so many babies together, yeah? All of our little mini us’s runnin’ ‘round. We’re gonna be so happy, J. Soon as we get outta this mess.”

The very thought of having kids with her has him choking up again.

He can picture it all so clearly, the cozy fish shack by the marsh, a whole football team of kiddos, the little girls beautiful like their mama, getting dressed up all pretty, the rowdy boys the spitting image of JJ, with unruly blonde hair as big blue eyes, tackling and wrestling with each other on the grass outside whilst he tries to teach them to fish.

He can’t help but grip her tighter at the imagery flashing through his clouded mind, ringed fingers digging into her hips.

“Lotsa babies. Lotsa babies. Our babies. Promise?”

She nods with a soft smile, eyes reflecting the same expression as his when his eyes meet hers, glazed over and filled with an emotion unlabelled. Her thumbs swipe at his under eyes, wiping away the hot tears, careful to avoid any gashes or bruises.

“Promise. But none o’ that’s gonna happen if you don’t make it through tonight, baby. You gotta breathe for me.”

Of course she’s exaggerating, and it’s in a hope to bring a little light to the emotional rollercoaster he’s going through right now, and she’s on the same ride internally, but she needs to be strong, for him.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his chest heaving against hers as he forces his body to breathe.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out-

He wants that life. With her. A life with her in a homey beach shack, a physical place he can call home, instead of the girl he’s holding in his arms.

In, and out, In, and out, In, and out.

But the only way he’s going to get that life is by surviving, together and by getting through tonight, together.

He slowly nods, squeezing her hips again.

“M breathin’.. ‘M breathin’..”

She nods tearfully, sniffling and swiping at her own eyes before he can see them. “Good.. that’s good..” She mumbles in praise, hands still holding his face and stroking at his cheeks with her thumbs gently. “Can you look at me a sec?” She’s careful to keep her touch featherlight over any bruises.

He nods shakily, slowly lifting his tired eyes to look at her, the day weighing heavy on his shoulders and now he’d really let everything out, he was exhausted. His cheeks are still tear stained and his chest heaving. He slowly brings a hand up, cupping the side of her face so he can run his thumb along her tear stained jaw.

“Lookin’.” He mumbles, breath hitching.

“You breathin’ properly now?” She mumbles, jaw moving under his calloused palm as she eyes him sweetly, eyes reflecting all the love he feels for her in this moment.

He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes slowly raking over her face, taking in all her features like he’d never seen them before, and he’s lost count of how many times he’s got lost in her tonight.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself. Stunning in an effortless way, always has been. Like she woke up this morning and was effortlessly gorgeous.

His hand is still on her face, his thumb brushing against her skin.

“Yeah.. yeah baby, ‘m breathin’ normal. You’re makin’ it all messed up ‘gain, though.”

He mumbles, breathing a little heavily out of his nose and it tickles at her skin, a soft smile makes its way onto her face at the look in his eyes, completely enamoured by her.

She lets a breath of laughter slip from her nose, it’s soft and sweet and his eyes visibly soften at the sound, ears perking up.

“You’re so handsome, J.” She mumbles, thumb never stopping it’s comforting ministrations against the damp skin of his cheek.

Her touch on his skin makes him shiver, his mind and body always being so receptive to her. He wants to hide his face when he calls her handsome. He doesn’t think he’s handsome. Hot, sure, he’s been called that many a time. Pretty, meh, makes his heart flutter a little when you mumble it against his ear in bed, but he’d never admit it. But handsome? He’s not handsome.

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he averts his gaze.

“Don’t. ‘M not handsome..” He mutters under his breath.

Her heart breaks a little at his immediate denial of the compliment.

“You are, J.” She mumbles, hand coming under his jaw to lift his gaze back to hers.

“You are, JJ.” She reassures him again, making sure he really knows it, believes it.

“‘n our babies are gonna be too.”

His heart is doing the fluttering thing again, his stomach flip flopping inside of him as he meets her gaze.

Babies, plural.

Oh, Jesus.

The thought of having little babies running around looking like the perfect mix of the both of you has him reeling. He’s always had a hard time picturing his future, but mostly the father part, after everything he’s been through he could never see it for himself. But with her, the image never seemed so impossible.

He lets out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down his rosy cheek, fingers squeezing at her hip again.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” She smiles, thumb stroking over a larger bruise at his temple.

“‘N I know things are hard right now, but we’re gonna get through this rough patch together, yeah? We can sleep here, at the lighthouse, we’ll get jobs, then eventually buy a house, get married..” She speaks softly, the wind picking up a little and making her cheeks cold and frost bitten. They’re sixteen and homeless, but all they need is each other.

That night they hold each other closer than ever before, knocking out on the old mattress up in the look out tower, limbs tangled together and content just for the night. JJ had calmed down now, stripped down to just his underwear, her too, pressed up against his good side in bed, head rested against his shoulder as she sleeps soundly, for the first time in what feels like forever.

JJ eventually manages to fall asleep, too, her previous words on his mind all through his slumber, dreaming of Maybank family fishing days, and the beautiful house that he would raise his babies in, the love of his life by his side, dreaming of a future where he wasn’t ashamed of his last name, and everyone he loved dearly shared it with him.

[andersonsprincess]

Emily Prentiss

a/n: this is my first time actually posting something nsfw NOT about abby so pls bear w me

cw: mommy kink (might've went overboard), overuse of commas and ellipses, strap, fem!reader, praise kink (?), i started writing this as 2am and finished it over 12 hrs later so... NOT proofread , no use of y/n, CME emily

a/n 2: i've only watched a few scattered eps of cm but im in love with this woman so yeah

your head was lolled back on her shoulder, your nose pressing into her neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume. her pretty crimson strap nestled deep in your needy cunt.

it'd been a few hours since you got to her office; the sun had long been gone. it didn't matter how much you whined and whimpered, you knew better than to move, and emily knew that.

she knew that you'd be good for her. all you wanted was to be her good girl. but even good girls had their limits.

soft pants left your pretty lips as tighten around the strap in a pathetic attempt to feel something. anything.

"no, none of that, honey."

a pathetic whine escapes from your throat.

"mommy, please? i've been good..."

she places her pen on the desk and pushes you forward, further deepening your arch, the action causing you to let out a mewl at which she chuckles at.

"you're making a mess all over mommy's lap..."

"m'sorry, mommy.."

she places her warm hands on your hips and begins to grind you on her lap, the strap already stretching your pretty cunt out.

"don't apologize, sweet thing. you've been such a good girl for mommy today..."

she rearranges the files scattered on her desk into a neat pile on the other end and pushes you against the desk, making sure to keep the strap in you.

you hiss as the cold surface meets your burning skin.

emily wastes no time fucking you. starting off slow, kissing along your spine, leaving little bites littered all over your heated skin. her pace was smooth and consistent, dragging the soaked toy in and out of your velvety walls. quiet hums and whimpers falling uncontrollably from your lips.

her slow pace didn't last long. between your soft noises and the hilt of the strap providing friction to her own aching clit, her actions began to increasingly quicken.

"you make me crazy, sweetheart, you know that?"

all you could do what let out a lengthy whine as she reached between your legs and began to play with your clit.

"m-mommy--"

"i know, i know, sweet girl, just hold on a moment, hm? can you do that for mommy?"

that was a rhetorical question, of course you could, you would.

your once soft whines rise in volume quickly as you thighs begin to shake. you squirm in her firm grasp.

"mommy, please! i can't hold it-!"

emily's thrusts become more sloppy and uncoordinated, she was moaning as she ground against the strap, fucking deeper into you.

"cum for mommy, now, sweetheart..!"

your body stilled as you let out a high pitched squeak, panting as your high began to wind down.

she leaned over you back, resting her head on your neck and the two of you laid there for a minute, dwelling in each other's intimate comfort.

[igotanidea]

The talk : Dick Grayson X reader ( with Bruce Wayne)

A/n : it's a snippet, I might consider writing it fully

Warning: suggestive but not explicit

Summary: it's time for the bees and bird talk with Dick

***

Bruce walking in on a young adult! Dick and his girlfriend y/n getting cosy between the sheets.

Obviously, as a normally functioning adult and a father, even if just a foster one, the batman takes it upon himself to have a talk about bees and birds with his favourite son.

He got it all planned out, schemed, thought out to avoid surprises and misunderstandings.

He actually had the contingency plans from A to Z drafted for a while, only hoping that those would never come to use.

Unfortunately, seeing y/n, with her blouse undone, hair a mess and Dick's hands (and apparently more) on her, forces Bruce to retreat to hide the blush creeping on. The last piece of his dignity is gone and he is pretty sure there's no good way to recover from such a failure.

He had reached the ultimate botttom.

"Hey B, you good?" Hours later Dick found him in the batcave, engrossed in some feigned, quickly fixed work. It was too easy to figure he would hide there to avoid seeing or - god forbid - hear anything.

"Hm."

"You wanted to talk to me about something, didn't you?" He grinned, delighting in a way Bruce seemed to develop an eye twich.

"Hm".

"Great. I got some time before I get back to y/n, so?"

"Get back?" Bruce turned to face his son and immediately regretted it. He seriously wished to erase the sight of lipstick and love bites on his neck.

"Something wrong?" Once more dick flashed a smile, trying to force a reaction out of Bruce.

"hm."

"we're being safe"

"Amazing"

"and she's okay with it"

"Great"

"And I've studied female anatomy so I know a thing or two about --"

Oh dear lord...

"Dick." Bruce was an inch from having a spasm. How ironic it would turn out to be if gotham lost its protector because of certain golden boy growing up.

"hey did you know that --"

"Get out, Dick."

"But I thought you wanted to--"

"I said get out"

"-talk?"

"I believe you got it all wrong. It was Alfred. Yes. Alfred wanted to talk to you. Not me."

"You sure about it B? You want me to talk to Alfred about -"

"yes. Absolutely. Now go. I'm sure time is of essence"

"it is. Though Alfred took some time off, thanks to your generosity, Bruce. So I'll go, sure, but I've already got so many questions that I don't want to search online and--"

"Dick?" Y/n voice sounded dangerously close to the batcave entrance "Where are you? I'm gonna have to go soon and I need a proper goodbye --"

"coming!!!" Dick yelled rushing off the room " great talk, Bruce. We'll continue it later."

Dick left and Bruce was finally able to let out a groan. The masterplanner forgot to acknowledge the fact that sweet kids tend to turn into feral, hormonal young adults and require actual upbringing.

***

"you're so mean to him, you know that?" Y/m muttered, once again with his lips on hers

"mean? Who, me? Ouch! You're hurting my heart here princess."

"you are. He could easily be a DILF, yet is alone and you're tormenting him."

"but if you saw the look on his face --"

"you're only proving my point of you being mean".

"I'm sure he'll get some, some day--"

"but still- mmm!"

"I remind you that you enabled the plan baby.... Played quite an important part in it." Dick started kissing her a little harder, not even trying to hide where he was heading. "Wonder why that is..."

"cause you're also a -- ohh!"

"you were saying?" He smirked, looking up at her.

"-prick"

"Am I?" His hands moved where she liked it "what else?"

"liar..." She gasped. While it was true he didn't tell her why he invited her over and that his father was in, his movements were serving as a pretty good apology.

Even if knowing Dick it was obviously also a way to boost his ego and prove his point and complete his twisted and deranged plan.

"you know what, I've already had one talk, I don't really need another.... Rather keep my lips occupied with something else --"

***

Bruce came out of the batcave only after making sure it was safe.

Mentally cursing himself for having not one, but four boys under his care.

Which meant that this - whatever it was-- was about to happen again.

[cy-cyborg]

Big vent about Centrelink and Australia’s welfare system ahead.

I’ve known for a long time how cold and uncaring Australia’s welfare system is, especially Centrelink, but I don’t think it really clicked until today.

Im on the disability support pension meaning the government acknowledges I can not work full time. A few years ago, I messed up on some forms and never declared to them that my partner and I were in a relationship. I had meant to, but had a moment and forgot to hand them in. By the time I realised my mistake it was years later. Just before Christmas I went in to fix it and to get help with the forms because I always panic when I do Centrelink forms, I always miss something or misunderstand, I always do something wrong, so this time I went in for help with it. My partner and my support worker came with me to help make sure I was understanding everything, and to make sure I remember what they told me, because I tend to forget more when stressed.

Because my partner is an immigrant and self employed but not earning much, the process actually ended up being a bit more complicated so we’ve had to go in to do the forms over multiple appointments with the last one being last Thursday.

I was informed that because I didn’t declare the relationship right away, I’ve been overpaid and I’ll have to give that overpay amount back because, fun fact, just being in a relationship is enough for them to cut your payments here - not being married, just in a relationship. I knew that though and was prepared for it. At the last appointment I was finally given an estimate of how much I need to pay back.

It’s over $20,000.

I’m not entirely sure how they got that number, I’m going to ask for a break down of it once the amount is confirmed, but you want to know what sucks? I was relieved to hear that amount. I was mentally prepared for it to be double or triple that, and it would have been if the worker at the office didn’t pull me up and inform me I’d misunderstood some of the questions (so yeah, going in for help was a good call). Thankfully, because the disability support pension is already below the poverty line even before the cuts they made, I don’t have to pay it back at once, they’ll take a percentage of my pension out every fortnight to pay it back. Unfortunately, because I’m already below the poverty line, reducing my pension even further means I can’t afford rent anymore, even in a place that is already way, WAY below the current rental market value, so I can’t really afford rent…anywhere. Not even in remote and regional areas (I checked). Not a single private rental in the country is low enough for us to afford now. The only ones that were close weren’t wheelchair accessible. The pension will also go down if my partner earns anything, and it limits his hours (though I don’t know how that’s supposed to work if he’s self employed since pay isn’t really based on hours like typical jobs, I’m going to ask about that at the next appointment). Thankfully we had already planned for that and we’re planning to move in with my mum, but that means basically being cut off from the internet since her place is very rural and signal doesn’t really reach their place consistently.

But the shittyness doesn’t end there, oh no.

Today, I woke up to the dreaded “you have a myGov message” text. Only to open it and for them to tell me that they’re cutting my whole disability pension, it was just canceled. No ifs or buts, it was just gone. A few days before rent and all my bills are due. What was the reason you ask? Because one of the fields (asking for my partner’s tax info) on the form wasn’t filled out… the form I got the Centrelink office to check over before handing it in, that was definitely filled in. I know it was. There wasn’t even any “we’re missing information, you have x amount of time to fix this or your payment will be cancelled” warning, it was just, you didn’t fill out this one field that could be easily fixed so your pension is canceled, and you have to pay us that $20,000 out of pocket now, bye!

Obviously rattled and confused, I went back to the office (which is only a few minutes from where I live) and asked what the hell happened, the lady who helped us last time even vouched for us and said she knows we filled that out and gave it to them, she was there, only for them to go into my file and realise the way the file had been scanned cut off part of the field, so the automated systems didn’t see it and auto-cancelled my whole pension over it. So we had to wait an additional half and hour for the office staff to argue with whoever was in charge of that decision, to let them fix it because as far as Centrelink was concerned the issue wasn’t negotiable. It did eventually get sorted, so I’m at least not loosing my pension and being forced to pay back the dept out of pocket.

My partner, before coming to Australia was in the US military, he describes his experience with them as being treated like “numbered cannon fodder” and his dealings with the VA as being treated like “a piece of dog shit on their shoes”. He fought with the Australian immigration department for years to be allowed to stay here, the department that openly and proudly discriminated against him and me for our disabilities, that insisted he jump through countless hoops for the most ridiculous of reasons to prove he “wouldn’t be a burden on the system”. But today he just sat in the car after all this and stared off into space, saying this is the worst treatment from a government agency he’s ever seen. They didn’t see us as people, we were numbers. That automated cancellation over an automated mistake would have put us on the street if my mother wasn’t in the picture and paying off $20,000 of dept out-of-pocket. And they just didn’t care. We made a mistake, yes, but it was a mistake that is in-line with the diagnostic criteria of one of my disabilities (forgetfulness from a brain injury) and we did everything we were supposed to do to make it right once I noticed. we fessed up and did what we needed to fix it, we got help from multiple staff members to ensure we did everything we were supposed to, but a machine made a mistake and nearly ruined our lives anyway.

Im not saying any of this to ask for money btw, I couldn’t accept it even if I wanted to because I’m pretty sure that would count as income too and would mean my pension would go down even more or just be cut (again) entirely. We’re safe and as stable as we could be in this situation for now. I just wanted to vent a bit and explain where I’ve been. I’m probably not going to be back online again for a bit while we get the rest of this situation sorted, and once I move to mum’s, so the messages and ask box are staying closed for a bit longer.

[postm0rt3m]

“GHOST!”

You’ve yelled.. and yelled.. and yelled. It’s been hours, judging by the setting sun that was once set high in the sky, shining down tauntingly over the many bodies you’ve dropped and the blood pooled everywhere.

You don’t know what happened. Everything was going fine; perfect, even. A regular clear out. You and Lieutenant Riley were dropping zombies left and right, as if it were any normal Tuesday brunch session.

The number one rule on duo missions? You should always be able to see your partner. At all times.

But somehow.. Ghost is just.. gone. Vanished, into thin air. It’s normal for him to disappear, but not like this. He knows the rule, and he’s not idiotic enough to break it, so you know something’s wrong.

And, of course, your mind jumps to the only plausible conclusion. Somehow, someway, one of the zombies got him. It doesn’t make sense, because let’s be real here, it’s Ghost. The man could very well vanish into thin air if he wanted to.

But at the same time, the unnerving silence in the air is leading you astray. Not even your radio is making the normal staticky noise, considering it died out about an hour ago.

“Riley.. please.”

Your voice has been withered down to a hoarse whisper, your throat raw from the sheer power behind your screams and wails.

You’ve finally found your way to the evac helicopter, met by Soap and Price who are quickly trying to usher you on and out of there before another wave breaks loose.

For some reason, maybe your survival instinct, your brain was telling you to turn around. So, before you even started walking towards the chopper, you turned. And there he was.

Standing out in the distance of the green fog was the familiar bulky figure you’ve come to know as your lieutenant.

You feel that instant wave of relief, now knowing he’s okay. You’re already preparing the words for the absolute scolding he’s getting later.

“LT! Let’s go, this place s’givin’ me tha creeps!”

Soap yells out, beckoning for the man to come on with a wave of his hand. But, he stays still.

Then, the dread starts to fill in. Why is he staring like that? Why is he standing like that?

He takes one step. Then another. Then another. Each one is shakier than the last, his form hunched over as he practically trips over his feet.

Normally, in any other circumstance, you’d think he’s injured.

But you know that walk.

And when he starts to full on sprint towards you, not Price, not Soap, YOU, his arm outstretched and his completely white, glossy eyes locked on yours,

you know, thats not your lieutenant anymore.

———

c.ai link

hello! i tried to post this earlier and it didnt work so if u see this twice then no you dont

i actually hate this but i saw a tiktok and was like hmm.. what if..

[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch.18

Dick Grayson(Nightwing) x Reader

Author's note: Things are starting to get heated hehe ;) No smut yet, but lots of making out and as usual, fluffiness. Also, some people were having concerns about where the smut and fluff are-- BISH-- hold your horses! This is a slowburn, dragged-out romance bruh. Not some kind of wham bam thank you maam nonsense. Let me live out my fantasies. The smut will come, and it's in the tags BECAUSE it's to come.

The faint knock on your window made you glance up from the book you’d been reading. You weren’t startled this time—it was becoming something of a habit. You got up and crossed the room, pulling back the curtains to see him perched on the fire escape, the blue of his Nightwing suit catching the light from the streetlamp below.

Sliding the window open, you stepped aside to let him in. “Nightwing,” you greeted with a teasing smile. “What brings you to my humble abode at this hour?”

“Figured I’d drop by,” he replied, climbing inside with practiced ease. He set down a small overnight bag and straightened up, his sharp silhouette softening as he stepped into the cozy light of your apartment. “Hope I’m not crashing your night.”

“You mean besides literally crashing it?” you teased, shutting the window behind him. “What’s in the bag?”

He glanced at it, then back at you. “I was hoping I could stay the night. Bed at the Tower isn’t exactly calling my name.”

“You brought an overnight bag to ask if you could stay the night?” You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “That’s bold.”

“Planning ahead,” he said with a crooked smile, his voice warm despite the fatigue it carried. “So… can I?”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only because I like you.” You gestured toward the bathroom. “Go freshen up. You look like you’ve been through it.”

He nodded, picking up his bag. “I’ll be quick.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, you moved to the kitchen. Simple comfort food felt right tonight. You began chopping onions and prepping for dal, rice, boiled eggs, and caramelized eggplants. The familiar rhythm of cooking grounded you, filling your small apartment with the soothing aroma of home.

By the time he emerged, his suit replaced with sweatpants and a loose shirt, his damp hair curling slightly at the ends, the food was nearly ready. He leaned against the doorway, watching you with an easy smile.

“What’s on the menu tonight, chef?” he asked, his voice softer now, the edge of Nightwing gone.

“Dal, rice, eggs, and eggplants,” you replied, looking over your shoulder at him. “Simple but filling.”

“It smells incredible,” he said, stepping closer to peer into the pot.

You smirked. “Wait until you try it.”

Minutes later, you set the dishes down on the low coffee table in your living room. He sat cross-legged across from you, eyeing the food appreciatively.

“Where are the utensils?” he asked, glancing around.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No utensils. We eat with our hands.”

“Seriously?” His brows lifted in surprise.

“Seriously.” You reached for some rice, mixing it with the dal before scooping it up with practiced ease. “Like this. It’s the best way to eat. More personal.”

He hesitated, watching you for a moment. “I’m going to make a mess.”

“You’re already a mess,” you teased, scooping up another bite and holding it out to him. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He blinked at you, clearly caught off guard. “You’re going to feed me?”

“Do you trust me or not?” you challenged, your tone light.

He leaned forward, letting you place the bite into his mouth. His eyes widened slightly as he chewed. “Okay, that’s really good.”

“I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to baby me,” he teased, though he leaned in again for the next bite.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trust me, you’re impossible to baby.”

As the meal continued, he grew more confident, mimicking your movements. It wasn’t long before his initial awkwardness gave way to laughter, both of you teasing each other between bites.

“Okay, I take it back,” he said at one point, licking a stray bit of dal from his finger. “This is kind of fun.”

“Told you,” you said, smirking.

When the meal was done, you leaned back against the couch, your heart light. Nights like this—simple and unguarded—were rare but precious.

He stretched out beside you, one arm resting along the back of the couch as he looked at you. “Thanks for dinner,” he said softly.

“Anytime,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

…

As the evening wound down, the air in your apartment grew quiet and soft, punctuated only by the hum of the city outside. After clearing the dinner plates and ensuring everything was tidied up, you both retired to your room, the space now feeling unusually small with him in it. Dick stood by the edge of the bed, casually folding his clothes into his overnight bag, while you fussed with the pillowcases, trying to distract yourself from the way your pulse quickened every time he glanced your way.

“You sure you’re okay with me crashing here tonight?” he asked, his voice tinged with a soft uncertainty as he moved to sit on the bed.

You turned to him, tossing a spare blanket onto the chair by the window. “Of course. Where else would you go? You’re welcome here anytime.”

A quiet smile played on his lips as he leaned back on his hands. “Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks warm.

...

When you finally slid into bed, you found yourself immediately enveloped in the comforting warmth of his presence. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your head rested against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and calm, served as a rhythm that lulled you into a state of quiet contentment.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, your fingers absently tracing circles on the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

“You always say that,” he teased, his hand trailing lazily and down your back.

“Well, it’s true,” you countered, earning a quiet chuckle from him.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was filled with unspoken emotions, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood. His hand continued its slow journey across your back, and your fingers stilled against his chest, simply feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

When you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, you found him already watching you. His blue eyes, illuminated by the faint city light filtering through the window, held a softness that made your heart ache.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nothing. I’m just… happy to be here.”

The sincerity in his tone made your breath hitch, and before you could overthink it, you leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. The simple gesture was meant to be light, fleeting, but when you started to pull away, he turned his head, catching your lips with his.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. His lips moved slowly against yours, coaxing you into relaxing. You responded just as gently, your hand coming up to rest against his shoulder. The warmth of his mouth was intoxicating, and you leaned into him, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

As the moments passed, the kiss deepened, the initial hesitancy giving way to something more raw, more demanding. His hand slid from your back to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the quickening of his heartbeat, matching the rapid rhythm of your own.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair as he tilted his head, angling the kiss to deepen further. The air between you grew charged, the soft hum of the city outside forgotten as you lost yourselves in each other. His lips moved with a fervor that mirrored your own, both of you giving in to the months of restraint that had built up.

When you gasped softly, his hand slid up to cradle your cheek, grounding you as his thumb brushed against your skin. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the heated intensity of his lips against yours. You couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped you, and his response—a low, quiet hum—only spurred you on.

Your bodies shifted, your leg draping over his as he pressed you closer, the space between you all but nonexistent. The kiss grew hungrier, more desperate, each movement conveying the unspoken longing that had simmered between you for so long.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, your foreheads rested together, the room spinning around you. His eyes searched yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He smiled, a soft, breathless chuckle escaping him. “Yeah… wow.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment, simply soaking in the closeness, the lingering warmth of the kiss still buzzing in the air. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb absentmindedly brushing against your side, while your fingers stayed tangled in his hair.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with a rare uncertainty.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small smile. “Mhm.”

His smile widened, and he pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before pulling you back into his arms. The intensity of the moment ebbed, replaced by a quiet intimacy as you nestled against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back once more.

As you both held each other, the world outside fading into the background, there was a softness between you, something that felt comforting, intimate, and entirely new. His lips brushed your forehead in the quietest of kisses, a gentle reassurance that melted away any lingering doubts.

When he pulled back just slightly, his breath was warm against your skin, and his gaze was soft, tender, full of something you couldn’t quite put into words. His lips hovered over yours, just a whisper away. There was no rush now.

Without a word, he leaned in again, pressing his lips softly to yours in a lingering kiss, one that wasn’t filled with urgency but with sweetness—an affirmation of everything you’d just shared. The kiss deepened ever so slightly, the pressure of his lips building just enough to leave you breathless, but not enough to pull you away from the intimacy of the moment.

He pulled back again, his forehead resting against yours. “I never thought I’d feel like this,” he murmured, and you could feel the honesty in his voice as it lingered in the air between you both.

Your heart swelled, and before you could say anything, you found yourself closing the small gap between you, kissing him once more, this time with a gentleness that made the world outside seem far away, as if it was only the two of you in that small space. His lips were warm and comforting, and every kiss made you feel more at home, more connected to him.

Each kiss was a promise. Each touch a reassurance. Your fingers gently brushed through his hair as you kissed him again, this time with a little more urgency, a little more need, but still with the same tenderness. His hands moved to your back, pulling you in closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, as if he wanted to savor every moment.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, you were both left with the lingering taste of each other, your lips swollen from the soft bombardment of affection. You both sat there in the quiet, your faces inches apart, breathing in each other’s air, hearts thudding in sync.

“Promise me,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, “that you’ll never stop kissing me like that.”

He smiled, his thumb gently tracing your cheek as he leaned in again, this time pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, a kiss full of promises, full of the vulnerability you both had found in each other.

“I’ll never stop,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt his words settle deep in your chest, comforting you in ways you hadn’t even known you needed.

Another small kiss, sweet and slow, and then his lips moved to your forehead, placing one more lingering kiss there, as if sealing the promise with tenderness.———————————————————————————-

TAGLIST:

@mybones537 @thereeallink @ziziriaa-blog

[eavangeek]

While I agree Emmrich wouldn’t let Rook mess around with him in public, I feel like Rook would do something like go to a meeting with a plug or something and the knowledge would drive Emmrich up the wall.

🤝🤝🤝

It's the art of SUBTLETY that gets this man. You gotta be SUBTLE if you're gonna do anything remotely public with this man.

He'll bat your hands away if you try to sneak your hand in his pants during a meeting, but if you rub at the exposed skin of his wrist, or while adjusting his coat you pinch a nip? He's a Goner and will find ways to get you to keep touching him.

Those public chain chokers with a name placard ❌

Wearing his jewelry, just a grave ring, on a chain around your neck ✅

Pulling a Yzma and flashing your garter in the middle of the street while he's talking to someone ❌

Getting dressed in said garter in the morning with him, and then slipping in a toy telling him you'll let him take it out later ✅

Listen, you have to be subtle about it in public. This man is willing to kiss and hold your hand a la Addams style but also!!! He's very much Aware of what it looks like to others

[tittyinfinity]

contemplating deleting my blog soon I might make a new blog but idk

[takecarelove]

got flipped off...for driving behind someone? 😭

[fadelsburger]

Sometimes I get reminded again why I do things less

[unproduciblesmackdown]

i'm the first to admit i'm doing a bad job of not liveblogging, but i gotta be nogblogging

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Simon Riley who after coming back to his flat (courtesy of the government) from his first deployment as 'Ghost', finds a momma cat yowling and crying. She's hurt and has four kittens tucked into her side. Simon takes them to the vet only to be informed that only one kitten survived and the momma is dead.

So he raises the kitten. Bhe bottle feeds it every two hours, keeps it warm and safe inside a box with a heating pad and a hoodie of his. He's sure that it'll die but he keeps trying anyways with the heart wrenching hope that he's wrong.

The kitten pulls through.

Now six years later, he has a sassy sphynx cat who cries and meows whenever she isn't fed on time. When his usual pet sitter bails on him just days before his next deployment, he scrambles. He never knows how long he'll be gone and that's an issue with pet hotels. He has to find someone trust worthy and capable of caring for his darling pet.

Then he meets you by pure coincidence. Ruthie had slipped between his legs on his way out to grab some more of the wet cat food she liked then made a bee line right towards you. She meowed and meowed until you crouched down to pet her. Simon swears he had never heard her purr that loudly before.

You smile up at him and comment on how he has a sweet cat (he doesn't. Ruthie knocks everything over and has broken so many mugs, plates and cracked so many screens he owns plastic versions of everything plus keeps his phone on him at all times). Simon says something about trying to find a pet sitter to you and immediately realizes what he said when you smile. "I can keep an eye on her for you. She seems like a sweetie." You coo and gently scratch under her chin. Traitor, it took him weeks to get her to let him do that. But how can he say no when she's already taken a liking to you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How I got scammed

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I wuz robbed.

More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!

Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).

A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.

That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).

I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.

"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"

He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.

We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.

I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.

One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.

"That was the fraudster," she said.

Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.

Wait a sec.

He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.

I'd given him my entire card number.

Goddammit.

The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.

But I'd been conned.

Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.

Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.

I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.

Oh, shit, I'd been phished.

If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).

There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!

The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.

The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.

The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.

The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.

There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.

I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.

Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.

One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.

As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.

This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591

This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.

I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.

This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.

On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.

So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[ohmygraves]

simon who came back really, really late at night and was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. he was out for a really tiring mission and returned to his spouse sleeping soundly on the bed, didn't even bother showering and just stripping his clothes down because it was just god awful nasty after being marinated in it for days. he was out in seconds, on his side of the bed, likely flopped his arms and legs over his spouse too without realizing.

he was awake like twelve hours later, still so tired and didn't even notice that he was alone on the bed. his old clothes were gone from the bedroom floor, he's got some water on the nightstand and his nasty, dirt-crusted phone is clean and charged next to it (you could only clean so much of it, that thing is likely beyond dirty but he refused to get a new one unless it died on him).

taking a long swig of the water, he heard faint chopping sounds from the kitchen, and a nice tasty smell wafting through the air. it smells really good, you're likely in the middle of cooking something, and he already missed work anyway.

he went to grab his old t-shirts (likely the one you were wearing sometime before he came home) and walked towards the kitchen, following the yummy scent. he didn't even check the time, but he was so hungry that time is no concern of his at this point.

there he sees you, standing over the counter chopping some vegetables, and he was instantly transported to his childhood home. watching his mom cook from the doorway to the kitchen, hearing that chopping sounds from the wooden cutting board, and something tasty boiling over the stove. some soup, maybe?

you didn't notice him, you were too busy trying to cook something, dropping some of that vegetable into the pot and letting it boil, and only noticed him when you turned around to grab something from the fridge. simon didn't even approach you, just standing there staring at you, and you're wondering if everything is okay. he was usually quiet but this was odd seeing as somehow he seems like he's got his mind somewhere else.

"simon, i didn't even hear you come in." you sighed, trying to calm your racing heart when he spooked you, "sorry, food will be ready in a bit, just wait for a moment."

simon snapped out of his daydream, shaking his head as he approached you, hugging you from behind. he didn't say anything, just hiding his face at the crook of your neck.

you're not sure what's wrong with him for being so quiet, but you could assume the gist of it as you felt his tears dropping against your skin.