#‘kids’ as if they are not the same age as me

[pidgeonlaguz]

OKAY OKAY listen tho: if you're a teacher or are otherwise around kids often for any reason (especially middle school aged), PLEASE take like 25 minutes to go watch part of a compilation. that's 55 episodes worth and tbh you could probably still achieve the same effect with 10 or 5 mins or reading the start of a synopsis, the episodes are wicked short

Most of them just say the word skibidi and have not actually seen it. Being more knowledgeable about their memes than they are will provide ENDLESS COMEDY for you in the same way the 'im out of touch' 'oh yeah those pokey-mans' routine does

i have this one student who says the word 258 times a day and i brought up that i'd been watching it while they were working on a project, his eyes nearly bugged out his head and he asked me about skibidi lore to test me

about two minutes later the whole class (including the kid who asked) went from 'wait there's lore??' to mortified, all going "OH MY GOOOOOD MISTER STOP WITH THE BRAINROTTTT" as I explained the factions and the technological advances that each side was going through for the war between the cameras and the toilets

They were Distraught and it brought me so much unbridled joy to be the cringe one, if you need a laugh please play along with them

[vampiredaisiesss]

❝ all a ghost can do

is haunt ❞

— part one

★ dofp! logan howlett x younger reader

tags & warnings - mentions of domestic violence and daddy issues, age gap, (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of logan being referred to as an 'old man' and him calling the reader a 'kid', fluff, itsy bitsy angst, time has softened logan a bit.

word count - 1.7k

★ ★ ★ ★

The whiskey burns, but not enough. Never enough to dull the edges of memories that cut deeper than any blade could. 

Logan sits at the kitchen counter of the mansion, darkness pressing in from all sides. His demons always seem to find him here, in these quiet hours when the world narrows down to silence.

Even the adamantium in his bones feels heavier tonight.

He catches your scent before he hears you—that vanilla body lotion you always use. Your bare feet pad against the hardwood floors, and he takes a long gulp of his Jack Daniels when he feels your eyes land on him.

Your eyes are full of worry, as they often are for him. You can’t help it. You both know he drinks too much, smokes too much, gets angry too fast and doesn’t sleep enough. You might be a lot younger than him, or seen half the world he has, but that doesn’t mean you are incapable of distinguishing his self-indulgent tendencies from self-destructive ones.

"You're brooding again," you murmur, voice soft in deference to the midnight hour. The gentle concern in your tone makes something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

"Ain't brooding, bub. Just thinking." The lie tastes bitter, worse than the whiskey.

"Same difference with you," There's no judgment in your voice as you pad closer. You slip onto the stool beside him, close enough that he can feel the heat of you against his arm. "Share your demons with me, old man."

Logan's grip tightens on the bottle, knuckles white. "They ain't your burden to bear, kid."

"Seems like they should neither be yours to carry alone anymore," Your hand finds his forearm, fingers gently coaxing his own to uncoil from the bottle. "They’re tearing you apart, Lo."

“I’ll heal,” his voice turns assertive.

For the first time since you walked in, Logan looks at you. There’s no real heat behind his hazel eyes, but the intensity of his gaze makes your mouth go dry. 

Logan's the kind of handsome that gets better with age, with grey starting to streak through his dark hair at the sides. You've spent more nights than you'd care to admit thinking about running your fingers through that hair, wondering if it's as soft as it looks. 

“There are some scars that can’t heal on their own.” Your voice catches, vision blurring as memories surface. His expression softens, recognizing your demons as they dance in front of your eyes.

You grew up in a small house on the outskirts of town, where the screams couldn't carry far enough for neighbors to hear. Your father worked construction, coming home with anger burning through his veins, fueled by whatever poison he'd picked up at the local store. The bruises started small—a grip too tight around your wrist, fingers digging into your shoulder. By thirteen, you'd mastered the art of layering clothes in summer without breaking a sweat.

Your mother watched it all happen through a veil of willful blindness. She'd whisper "I love you" while dabbing antiseptic on split lips, promising "things will get better" as she covered the marks with a drugstore concealer. But she never left, trapped in her own web of shame and financial dependence.

The day Charles Xavier found you was the day your powers manifested. 

Your father had been in one of his rages, when something inside you finally snapped. The resulting telekinetic burst had sent him flying across the room. You ran, terrified of what you'd done, of what he'd do in retaliation. That's when the professor's black car pulled up, offering sanctuary within the walls of his school.

Xavier's became more than just an escape—it became home. A home with an unlikely collection of mutants who’d soon turn into family. As far as you were concerned, Charles Xavier was your father and Storm had taken on a motherly inclination when it came to you.

And then there was Logan… gruff, protective Logan who understood you without you having to explain. You both sat in this very kitchen the night you finally told him everything.

You'd watched his knuckles whiten, saw the rage build in the set of his jaw—not at you. Never at you. You remember thinking that your father wouldn't survive the night if Logan decided to pay him a visit. But instead of violence, Logan had offered something far more precious than revenge.

Understanding. 

And that was the first time you fell a little for him. 

Logan lets out a breath that shakes more than he'd like to admit. "Been thinking about Stryker. The lab." His voice roughens as he admits. "Sometimes it all just... comes back. Can’t close my eyes, for the life of me."

You don't flinch from the roughness in his voice—you know too well how memories can become monsters in the night. Instead, your fingers slide down to cover his hand, "Would you like to spend the night with me?"

"That's how rumors start, you know." The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his hand turns beneath yours, rough fingers catching against your skin. He shouldn't enjoy your touch this much, shouldn't let himself notice how perfectly your small hand fits in his giant one.

"You worried about your reputation, Howlett?" You lean closer, unable to help yourself. Everyone else might see your relationship as purely paternal, but the thoughts that race through your mind when he looks at you are anything but daughterly.

"Hell nah, never been." His voice drops lower, rougher, allowing himself this small indulgence. "You sure you wanna be associated with a sleazy old bastard like me?"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that." The words come out playful, but your mind floods with memories. 

Ever since you joined the team, Logan's been your shadow, protecting you during every mission. You think of training sessions in the gym, how good his hands feel when they’re adjusting your stance. You think of the day he carried you through the mansion when your leg broke after a mission gone sideways. You'd been mortified at first, but when you felt him cradle you against his chest, you'd buried your face in his neck.

When it comes to Logan, it's more than just physical attraction. It’s the way he’ll jump in any fire to save you. It's the way he'll sense your fear and comfort you whenever you have nightmares. It’s the way he can make you laugh just by raising that eyebrow in exactly the right way at exactly the right moment.

You felt safe with him. You wanted him to know he could feel the same with you too.

Logan watches you lose yourself in thought, fighting the urge to brush back the strand of hair that's fallen across your face. 

He's spent too long trying to convince himself that his feelings are purely protective, that the way his chest tightens when you smile at him is just paternal instinct. But there's nothing fatherly about the way his body responds when you're close, about how often he finds himself thinking about the sound of your laugh.

"And call it daddy issues or whatever," you add with deliberate casualness, though your heart is hammering against your ribs, "but I like older men. So you're in luck, old man."

Logan knows he should say no. Should keep his darkness away from your light. But when you stand and offer your hand, he takes it, letting you lead him through the silent halls like a ship following a lighthouse home.

He has been in your room before, though never like this. Your room is almost the same as his. Almost, with bits and pieces of you sprinkled throughout. A huge antique bookshelf, courtesy of Charles, is one of them, covering an entire section of the four-walled space. 

You watch Logan from your perch on the bed, the way his hands are curled into loose fists at his sides. "It's okay," you let him know softly. "Let me help."

He draws a breath at your words. His hand falls from the doorframe, and the door closes behind him with a soft click, separating the two of you from the rest of the sleeping world.

The mattress dips beneath his weight when he finally sits. You resist the urge to immediately touch him, letting him arrange himself comfortably, until he's lying down with his head in your lap. 

His breathing is too measured, too even to be natural. You watch his hands, curled still into loose fists against his chest, and wait.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the rigid line of his spine begins to soften. He drapes his left arm over your legs, and your fingers find their way into his hair. And fuck, if it isn’t as soft as you imagined. 

"Is this okay?" you ask softly, working your fingernails through his scalp; The first stroke sends a shiver down his spine.

He responds with a barely perceptible nod.

"You're safe here," you murmur, tracing patterns against his scalp. "No labs, no Stryker. No pain. Just you and me."

His eyes flutter close, though he fights it at first but all protests die in his throat. Your fingers continue their gentle journey through his hair, across his scalp, and you feel him surrendering inch by inch to the comfort he's denied himself for so long.

"Those memories? They're just ghosts now. They can haunt you, but they cannot touch you. They can't hurt you anymore, because you survived. You got out, Logan. You're here. You're loved. You're safe."

A soft whimper escapes him. Slowly, so slowly he almost doesn't notice, the tension begins to leak from his muscles. The metal in his bones feels lighter now, smoothing the worried crease between his brows.

"That's it," you whisper, and he feels the smile in your voice. "I've got you, Wolfie. Rest now."

Wolfie, he smiles sleepily. The nickname is the last thing he registers before sleep claims him whole.

★ ★ ★ ★

a/n: Do we want a part two???

[bluebirdsfeathers]

Her Intern

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: You get a look into what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Wanda’s temper, but she could never be mad at you.

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), mention of stocks, Yelling if that stresses you out.

A/N: Wanted this to be longer but I’m starting class again on Monday and I’ve had way more work to do than I thought. Hope you enjoy this. I’ve tagged everyone who asked, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know.

Inspiration

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

The silence in the room made every minuet feel like an eternity. No one dared to speak. You could feel your pulse rise as the clock hand inched closer to the number nine. This morning you had gotten ready on auto piolet, showered and once again put on your wrinkled shirt. You hadn’t bothered investing in any new clothing since you began working with Pietro. The lack of dress code made you feel like it wasn’t necessary, so this was still your most professional shirt. It was the same one you’d worn your first day here, now you worried this would be your last.

Sleep hadn’t come fast last night. You’d stayed up for hours running possible situations and outcomes, planning what you’d say for each one in excruciating detail. But by the time morning came all those preparations were gone from your mind. The only thing you could focus on was the memory of Wanda catching you in her office.

She looked so angry.

You blinked away the sting in your eyes and nose, not wanting to cry, not now at least. That could Wait till after the meeting, when you could lock yourself in the bathroom away from prying eyes.

The clock reached nine and the doors to the conference room flung open, Wanda entered leaving the door to slam shut behind her. Everyone in the room sat up straight and turned their attention to the red head, everyone but you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, instead keeping your head down hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

“Good morning,” Wanda began as she retrieved some papers from her briefcase, “I know I’m taking you away from your work, but I wouldn’t have called this meeting if there wasn’t something important that needs to be discussed.” Her tone was polite, but anger was bubbling underneath. As she finished speaking her eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on you. Wanda faced twitched with annoyance at fact you weren’t looking at her. She cleared her thought before continuing. “Once I have everyone’s attention, I’ll tell you why you’re all here, or better why one of you isn’t.”

You took the hint and slowly raised your head, not expecting to find Wanda staring directly at you, stern eyes softening for a moment before hardening back over. Her words finally reached your brain, and you glanced quickly around table, the other interns seemingly doing the same.

Theo.

Theo wasn’t there. He hadn’t come in with Wanda, which was strange considering how he’d normally be following her around like a lost dog.

“I expect you to already know this, but Westview Paper is the most trusted news sources in the country,” Wanda paced at the front of the room, her voice and posture portraying nothing but power. “We take pride in being able to provide the American public with honest unbiased reporting. So what do you think might happen if an employee threatened that reputation?” She was now stood directly behind you; the room fell so silent you could hear your heart as it raced.

“They would be fired.” The silence was broken by an intern sat across from you. Despite his suit probably being worth more than you all make a month, fit him like a kid playing dress up in his days wardrobe, and he looked like he’d just been caught. Wanda let his words hang in the air for an uncomfortably long time.

“Yes, thank you Jake. They would be fired.” As Wanda moved back to the front of the room her fingers ghosted the nape of your neck, something so innocuous it could have easily been an accident. “Theo had gone behind my back, fed information about stories we were publishing to outsiders, and all to boost his stock portfolio.” Her voice dripped with distain. “He is no longer working here, in fact, he will no longer be working for any publisher this side of the Atlantic Ocean.” She gave her words time to breath, making sure we all understood the gravity of the situation. Your mind went back to yesterday, standing in her office when she came out angrily yelling down the phone, that’s what she was talking about.

“Now I called this meeting as a warning to all of you. You aren’t children anymore, this is the real world, your actions have consequences that go far beyond timeouts, or early bedtimes. So if any of you even think about trying anything that will tarnish the reputation of this organization, I want you to really consider what it means to throw your life away! A life that, I might add, for most in here was handed to them. Dismissed.” With every sentence her voice grew louder, the anger finally bubbling over as she slammed her fits onto the table.

There was a mad scramble for the door as everyone collected their things and piled out the room.

“Y/n, I want to have a word with you.” Wanda called out with a lingering trace of rage. The other interns turned to look at you as you awkwardly shuffled back from the door. Your anxiety was already high and now you truly felt like you were going to combust. It took a moment for the room to clear but once it had, and the door closed you jumped into speech.

“Ms Maximoff, I’m so sorry, Pietro said it was okay, not that it’s his fault, I should have never invaded your privacy like that.” The word vomit just kept coming. “I was just meant to drop off the magazine and leave, I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I’m so sorry, I understand if you want to fire me.” With those last words your lip wobbled, and you could do nothing to stop the tears.

Wanda, who up until now had been watching you ramble with slight bewilderment, moved to comfort you. “Y/n. I’m not going to fire you, don’t be silly,” she shushed, placing a hand on your shoulder and motioning for you to sit down, “quite the opposite actually.” You sat down trying your hardest to steady your breathing. “What do you mean?” You asked, wiping your nose with your sleeve before Wanda instinctively handed you a tissue from the box on the table.

“First, I wanted to ask if you were okay.” She leaned in placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Yesterday, in my office, you left so quickly. I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Yes, y/n! I was because…” Wanda stopped herself and leaned back in her chair. “Because you are my employee, and I think you have a promising future here at Westview.” You go to speak but Wanda continues, “Which is why secondly, I wanted to ask if you would be interested in taking over as my intern. I can give you some time to think about…”

“Yes!” You blurted out a little louder than expected, your cheeks flushed as you saw Wanda’s shocked expression. “I mean yes Ms… I would… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. It’s just… are you sure you want me?” Before you could start to spiral again, you were brought back to reality by the sound of Wanda giggling.

“I’ve wanted you from the start.” She stood up and began walking to the conference room’s door. “For the position of course.” She added before leaving.

As you sat alone in the room you couldn’t help it as a smile crept across your face. You were going to be her intern! Then the reality of the situation hit you. You were going to be her intern.

──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

Tag list: @wandaslittlehorns @starfire1008 @mirage018 @viosblog112 @nebthetautora @ciaoooooo111 @cowboy-hunter

[kamospeach]

that smile on your face makes it easy to trust you .ᐟ

plot: tattooartist!geto wants his favorite canvas to show off his work.

content warning: oral f!receiving, choking, piv sex, fingering, praising, doggy, breeding, a lot of dirty talk

peachy's yap: wc! 5.1k. placed in Tokyo, but i didn't use conversions, and i specified that when speaking about money. i wrote this before i started writing on tumblr so it might be a lil bad.

"mmm, sugu..." you moaned, trying to stop the force of his thrust with your hand.

"be a good girl and take it all for me, okay?" he groaned out, intertwining your fingers behind your back and holding your hand in place.

now, you're probably wondering how you got here. hours before the incident you and your friends sat around on your bed. you all were scrolling through pinterest, trying to help your youngest friend build the courage to get a tattoo. you had friends of all different ages, races, and types since you transferred to a school in tokyo. your college in the us had an exchange program, which you were eager to sign up for. in all honesty, you were excited to meet the famous tiktok star satoru gojo.

living in tokyo was still new to you, and you had been going to school there for a year and a half. you made a lot of friends who were from the same program as you. you were the oldest and most obvious mom of the group. you treated the others like they were fragile babies, even though some of them were only a few months younger than you. one of your friends had just recently turned 19 and had never gotten a tattoo.

"come on, tattoos aren't that bad." you stressed to your friend. you were littered with tattoos, 25 in total, so of course, it seemed like nothing to you.

"that's not fair you have so many this will be my first one." he complained, and you laughed at his nervousness.

"what about your artist that did the majority of yours? can he do it?" another one of your friends asked, and you nodded at her statement.

"yeah, he's very gentle, so it won't be bad. i'll facetime him." you said and called suguru. 

the whole time you had been in tokyo, suguru had been doing your tattoos. out of 25, he did 20 of them, which made you get closer. sometimes, he did your tattoos when you just popped up or even after hours when he was fully booked. most times, you would call him and talk while he sketched a large tattoo for you. you guys had become friends and even got some tattoos for free, small ones, of course. it was also oddly convenient since you're a major fangirl for his best friend, satoru.

"you must need something." he blurted, answering on the third ring. you giggled at his assumption, looking at the way his phone was sitting.

"you're doing a tattoo?" you asked, slightly dodging his statement.

"yes, my only appointment for the day, you need to come by?" he asked, he never passed up a chance to take your money for something he loved doing. especially getting to see your pretty face sit in his chair and the look of satisfaction on that face when he finished the tattoo. 

"my friend wants a tattoo, and i recommended you because you're not too heavy-handed." you said, throwing in a smile, and he chuckled. he looked good to you, maybe better than usual. he had on a white shirt, which was different since he usually wore dark blue or black. you couldn't see his lower half, but you suspected he had jeans or sweats on. his long hair was in the usual bun at the top and hair down in the back.

"why do i feel like you're trying to sweet talk your way into my chair, kid." he joked, and you grumbled at the 'kid' nickname. 

"i'm doing it for my friend." you reminded him.

"oh yeah? so you're not doing it for the tattoo i sent you a couple of days ago." he raised a brow, and you laughed. he had sent you a very large sketch of a dragon that he said would look good on you. he offered to do it for 300 us dollars instead of 700 as long as you modeled it for him. you swore you would promote him on all platforms since you were pretty popular.

"if you want to do it today, we can." you offered, throwing the ball in his court.

"you guys can come i should be done in 30." he laughed, and you smiled, standing as all your friends began grabbing their belongings to leave. you walked away from them, noticing he had his airpods in his ear.

"i missed you, you know." you said lowly, not trying to draw attention to yourself. he glanced at you, and his eyes showed everything he couldn't say aloud.

"i missed you too; you'll hurry and get here, yeah?" he said, making your stomach churn from the naturally seductive tone he carried.

"we're 15 minutes away, but it might be some traffic." you informed him, and he nodded understanding.

𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩

"woah, it's nice in here." your friend said loudly, making everyone else agree. 

"sugu!" you yelled, seeing him grabbing the cash from the client. when the client left, you went to suguru, immediately hugging him tightly. 

"you act as if we haven't seen each other in months." he joked still returning the hug as enthusiastically as you.

"2 weeks is a long time." you huff, sitting in a chair next to him. all your friends followed behind you, standing at the end of the chair. your friend getting the tattoo sat in the chair and explained the idea to geto. he began to sketch as you scrolled through your instagram messages, responding to brands that wanted to work with you. before you knew it, you heard the buzz of the needle, and he began to work. "oh! sugu, i need to tell you about what happened last week."

"i'm listening." he said, yet you could tell in his voice that he was interested. he was focused, and that was when he looked the best. the right side of his lip was tucked between his teeth, and his eyes were low. the veins in his arm protruded due to his grip on the needle, and the vein in his neck that never went away was more prominent. you rested your chin on your palm as you talked to him and watched him work on your friend's arm.

"he's really good." a friend of yours complimented him, and you nodded.

"thank you." he mumbled out, still focusing on his work. after another 30 minutes, he was finished with the tattoo. it was a song lyric, so it didn't take long to finish it and wrap it up. 

"you guys don't have to wait for me; this tattoo is pretty big." you assure your friends.

"you sure? will you need a ride home? i can always come back and get you."

"i'll take her home," suguru interjected, and you smiled, nodding at my friends.

"okay then, bye, see you later!" they all said in unison, waving at you as you walked back to suguru's chair. suguru followed behind your friends to turn off the open sign and lock the door. he closed the curtains and turned off the main lights to ensure no one would assume they were open. he walked to his station and turned on the extra lights he had to brighten up the specific area.

"nobody's here today?" you asked a little late, but your mind was distracted by the white shirt he had on.

"choso only had one client, so he went to pick up yuji. yuki never came, and the other guys left early, too." he explained.

"so, where did you want to put this one?" you smile, looking down at him as he sits in his usual chair.

"your back." he said printing out parts of the pre-sketched tattoo.

"cool! i've been wanting a back tattoo it's so empty." you admit, look at his back muscles flexing as he cleaned his station. "why a white shirt today?"

"is it a crime to wear white?"

"i mean, it is when all you usually wear is dark colors." you smile, and he nods.

"laundry day." he admitted, and you chuckled.

"maybe next time i can get you to wear pink." you smirk.

"maybe not." he said blandly. suguru was an avid pink hater, and light purple came a close second. you always teased him about pink and light purple and even bought him a pink and light purple gift for his birthday (along with tons of black and dark purple gifts). 

"i'm nervous now," you said, taking off your shirt and holding your chest. you had become comfortable with being in minimal clothing around him. he was even there when you got your nipples pierced, which would make sense since he owns the place (you invited him back because you were scared).

"what happened to that kiss you promised me?" he asked, ignoring your statement as your face got hot. 2 weeks ago, geto and you had kissed for the first time. he asked for another, and you told him you would the next time you saw each other.

"you would ask that now that i'm shirtless." you roll your eyes, and he just chuckles. you walk to where he stands, and his tall frame leans down. his hands gripped your waist, bringing you closer, and he whispered in your ear.

"nothing i've never seen before." he kissed your neck under your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. goosebumps formed on your body as if you were cold, but his body kept you warm. the way he spoke about seeing your chest made it almost feel inappropriate, yet it was because of the body piercing.

"so lewd." you sighed as he grabbed your face, bringing it close to his.

"yeah?" he questioned.

"y-" as you began to answer, he cut you off, connecting your lips. your mouth open from speaking, let him insert his tongue in your mouth. forgetting you didn't have on a shirt, your hands went to his hair, slowly massaging his scalp. 

he moaned in the kiss from the feeling of your fingers, loving how it felt. his hands traveled from around your waist to under your breast. your tongues fought for dominance, and he inevitably won as he explored your mouth. without thinking, his thumbs began to lightly caress your nipples, which were sensitive from the piercings you had gotten not even a month ago. he pulled away, looking down at your breast that rested perfectly in his large hands.

"i'm sorry," he apologized breathlessly. he quickly moved his hands, and you tried to catch your breath.

"it's okay." you said honestly, sitting in his seat. your chest pressed against the cold leather. most of your sessions with suguru weren't sensual or sexual. to be honest, this was different for the two of you; you just couldn't deny your attraction to suguru.

"you comfortable because once i get started, you need to stay very still." he said, and you scoffed.

"i know suguru." you said as you heard him laugh. for a second, he paused, letting the soft r&b play through the speaker. you internally chuckled at him playing the shared playlist that was full of music you told him to listen to. he began to place the stencils on your back and draw with the pen to fill in the empty places. as he did these little movements, your eyes closed as partynextdoor 'no chill' played. per usual, your thoughts drifted to suguru. 

now, it hit you like a bullet train going close to a million miles an hour. those times he called while sketching and said he'd want to see you with a back tattoo. or those times he said tattoos would look good around your neck. you always frowned at the idea as he smirked, saying 'went right over your head,' and you cluelessly shrugged. his hand around your neck? he wanted to see you with an arch in your back that emphasized those tattoos? sneaky.

suguru's signature smirk as you talked about tattoos. it wasn't the only thing you had in common, but it was where he could throw in dirty jokes, and you not even notice. before you knew it, your breathing was steadied, and you had lightly dozed off. suguru noticed your breathing and removed the needle.

"hey, love, you need to wake up just in case you twitch." he said, lightly rubbing your hip near where he was working.

"mhm." you mumbled, waking up and looking at the tv that was muted but played a program that you'd never seen. two hours had passed, and you were trying not to nod off. "sugu, i'm sleepy." you told him, and he nodded. 

"we can finish it tomorrow you probably have an hour and a half left." he said, and you shook your head. 

"i have work tomorrow i can't come." you pouted look back at suguru, who nodded.

"okay, if you twitch, i'll stop, and we just gotta plan a different day." he warned you, and you tried extra hard to stay awake. "what has you so tired anyways?"

"had three classes today from 7 to 2." you explained, and he nodded. 

"and how are you doing in those?"

"i'm doing good, i promise, just stressed. this is making it better." you tell him, knowing he acts like your father when it comes to your grades. he chuckles, and he works diligently on the tattoo. although you did nod off a few times, you were still enough for him to finish the tattoo all in one day. 

"maschocist?" he asked, joking, and you laughed.

"a little." you played along.

"you did good, love." he said, and the butterflies erupted in your stomach.

"t-thank you." you stuttered, immediately embarrassing yourself.

"thank you because i did your tattoo or because i praised you?" he questioned, reaching a hand out for you to stand as your legs felt weak from sitting for such a long time (and definitely not because his voice was hot). he kept his hand in yours, and you both walked to the mirror to see what he had done.

"maybe both." you shrugged, turning around and looking at your back in the mirror. "sugu..." you gasped, looking at the tattoo that was beyond the word beautiful. 

"do you like it?" he looked up at you, and your jaw dropped.

"like it? i love it." you say as he laughs.

"you always make me feel good about my work, " he says, wrapping his arms around your waist as you look up at him. you look at his face, caught in its beauty, as he waits for your response. his teeth play with the hoop of his side labret piercing on his plump lip.

"people must tell you all the time how good your work is." you say and he smirks at your assumption.

"sure they do, but your opinion matters the most." he says as you begin to realize he's leaning into you. you summon all the positive self-talk you can to reassure yourself that you can handle this without embarrassing yourself. like you figured his lips crashed onto yours and the two of you began to kiss vigorously. your teeth touched here and there and his tongue was exploring your mouth all in a matter of seconds.

"sugu..." you hum as his lips leave your mouth and attack your neck. he began to lightly bite and suck at your neck as you let out a light moan from the feeling of his lips.

"yes, y/n?" he says, and you sigh at the feeling of his lips. "show me how much you love my work, baby. show it off to me, hm?" he says, and your heart begins to flutter at his words. his voice was smooth like silk and his words were sensual.

"okay." you say lowly letting go of your chest and putting your hands in his hair. it was your favorite place to put your hands, to busy yourself, and hearing his groans was music to your ears.

"this is what you want right?" he asks leaning back to look you in your eyes.

"yes, i want you, suguru." without a second word, he picked you up and placed you on the chair you had previously sat on. your hands quickly went to his belt to open it.

"slow down, let me please you." he whispered in your ear as he removed your hands from his belt. his hands slowly grazed your sides his fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. he slipped his hand slipped into your shorts pressing your covered clit. your breathing became ragged, and you whimpered in his ear. he slowly rubbed your clit barely putting any pressure just enough for you to know his fingers were there and moving.

"sugu please." you begged looking him in his eyes and he smirked at your begging state.

"please, what?" he asked as your head began to spin. you didn't even know what you wanted from him at this point. you just knew that you wanted him.

"i... i" you started still lost in your words.

"you what, baby? you want me to touch that needy pussy for real?" he hummed, and just from the words, your hip bucked at his hands needing to feel him.

"yes, please touch me, suguru." you asked, and he smiled at you, finally being able to ask for what you wanted. he finally put his hands inside your thin undergarments, pressing his cold fingers directly on your warm cunt. you're insanely wet and would be dripping if your juices weren't restrained. his middle finger grazed over your core seemingly testing to see how aroused you were for him.

"you're so wet for me." he breathes out as he slips his middle finger in you without warning. you moan at the simple girth of his thick and long digits. he skillfully maneuvers his fingers as your cunt squelches. the only sounds in the tattoo studio are you and suguru's heavy breathing combined with the sloshing sounds of your juices. 

"fuck..." you moan throwing your head back and enjoying the pleasure that suguru was giving. although you imagined having him all for yourself taking his big dick up your tight virgin-like cunt. you never imagined it would feel this good just from one of his fingers.

"you can take another finger for me, right?" he asked, not awaiting an answer he added another finger searching for that rough and spongy spot in you. once he found that spot, he continued to simulate, rub, and push on that spot as you clenched around his fingers. he removed his fingers once he could feel you even getting slightly close to finishing. 

"hah... hey," you huff as a pout immediately finds its way to your face. without saying a word he put his fingers to his lips. he licked your essence off his fingers while maintaining that almost unbearable eye contact with you. "suguru..." you tried to warn him but it mainly came out in a whisper.

"i want you to cum on my dick not my fingers." he whispers as he leans down to suck on your right breast. you moaned loudly at the feeling since your nipple was still sensitive from the piercing. he rolled your left nipple between his fingers and massaged your tits. he let off with a 'pop!' switching to the left before repeating the process of giving your other nipple attention. once he felt he was done, he began to unbutton your pants.  seeing that as a green light, you rush to remove his shirt. "you can't be in that big of a rush." he teases.

"i been waiting a long time for this." you admit to crashing your lips to his so he can feel your urgency. he eventually gave up trying the slow approach and hastily helped you strip down. after you had finally got him to just his boxers you lightly pulled at the band and he smiled. "i can do it?" you asked shyly and he laughed.

"go ahead." with his permission, you pulled down his boxers, watching as his girthy dick slaps his stomach. he was unbelievably hard; his tip was bright red and dripping precum. you couldn't take your eyes off of it as you shamelessly stare at his throbbing dick in fear. "you ready?"

"yes." you squeaked, and he smirked, grabbing your legs and lifting them to your chest. unexpectedly, he leaned down, sending one singular lick to your soaking wet lips. your legs begin to tremble at the feeling while suguru sends kitty licks, purposely ignoring your clit. "suguruuu..." you whine, and he stands up, smiling as his lips glisten from the juices. 

"i got you." he says, putting his hands up to your mouth. "spit." knowing you were getting closer to the goal, you immediately spit in his hand. he begins to jerk himself with your spit eyes rolling to the back of his head from the feeling. 

he had to snap himself out of it, remembering that this was real he wasn't dreaming of you. he could really fuck you and feel the way your warm cunt feels around him. you both being too intoxicated by each other's scent threw caution to the wind and didn't even think of using a condom. he lines his dick up with your entrance slapping his tip on your clit a few times before slowly pushing his way in.

"oh my..." you both gasp in unison at the feeling, his head is pressed against yours as he continues to push his way into you. he had you in a mating press as he tried not to put his full weight on you. he filled you up perfectly you felt full and stuffed just from half of him. he continued to push himself into you until he completely bottomed out. you both took a second he was allowing you to adjust while he tried to not nut already. your breathing was matched and you both looked each other in the eye.

in. out.

in. out.

in. out.

in. 

and suguru slammed into you as you took a deep breath, knocking all the wind out of you. he smirked as you gasped for air, and he continued with his bullied thrust. he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in not even letting you catch your breath again.

"you hear that? you hear how wet you are for me." he whispered in your ear as you babbled out 'yes, yes, yes, yes' in response. your moans were loud and echoed around the tattoo shop. he leans up and begins to speed up his pace both hands on the back of your knees pressing them closer and closer to your chest as his thrust begins to get more and more ruthless. 

"s...s...s..." you tried to speak but you were so cock drunk you couldn't even get the words out. you were embarrassed and you couldn't even look at suguru who gripped your jaw roughly turning you to face him again. 

"spit it out." he says in a mocking tone, and you roll your eyes at him. "you want to roll your eyes?" he asked as you ignored him, gripping his forearm tightly at the pleasure. "answer me." he spat, and you whined shaking your head.

"no!" you moan out as he hit that perfect spot in you that had you almost ready to come undone. he rapidly pounded into you so hard that you felt the pressure in your chest. it almost felt as if his cockhead was poking at your heart begging you to love him and his dick. 

"can i leave marks?" he asked, remembering all those times you complained to him about men leaving hickeys on you without permission.  your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your moans became more and more guttural. 

"mhm," you hummed out, and he immediately began to work on your neck, leaving hickeys. once he felt he was done with what he called his 'masterpiece,' he looked at you. fucked out with his marks on your neck, collarbone, and chest. he laughed at you as he grabbed both of your legs and crossed your ankles. he placed your crossed legs over his right shoulder as he continued to watch your fucked out face. 

"maybe you should get my name on you." he says as he kisses your ankle making your eyes widen in shock. he couldn't mean what you thought he meant. "maybe a necklace?" he says as he gives you a forceful thrust that has you screaming out his name. "yeah, you like that?" he says as he wraps one of his hands around your neck squeezing lightly.

"yes, sugu i love it." you say not even realizing you admitted to loving the idea of having a necklace with his name on it.

"you love it? you didn't even... hah... hear my other ideas... fuck." he says as his statement is broken up with his moans and groans. he's in bliss loving the feeling of your warm gooey walls wrapped tightly around his cock as you clench and hold on to him with every thrust. "fuck baby, you feel so good. you're taking my dick so good. such a good girl for me." now it was suguru's turn to babble about how good you feel. his thrusts are getting sloppy as he feels you clench even tight.

"sugu 'm cumming." you whine out as he makes his thrust more pointed at the spot he knows drives you crazy.

"cum on your cock, make a mess on me." he coaxes you to your end as you moan your loudest moan of the night. "look at the mess you made." he instructs you as he keeps fucking you through you high. you looked down at the ring of cream that wrapped around his base. he slides out of you and quickly flips you over. "now that you're warmed up, you can show off that new tattoo, hm?"

"wait, i'm sensitive." you whine, and he doesn't say anything, just rubs his tip up against your entrance. he gave you maybe half a second if you were lucky and pushed into you again. "shit.." you mumble as he pushes himself fully in, your back naturally arched at the feeling. without letting you adjust to him, he begins to snap his hips into you quickly.

"you look so good taking me, sweetheart." he says as he watches the way your ass ripples each time it hits his pelvis. one hand was on your hip, and the other sent a hard slap to your ass cheek. his thrusts were relentless and your moans were getting louder and louder each time.

you grabbed his wrist as your face was squished into the chair. suguru didn't say much his jaw was slack hypnotized by your ass and the way you gripped him. he couldn't take his eyes off of you the way you looked under him was better than anything he could've ever imagined.

"mmm, sugu..." you moaned, trying to stop the force of his thrust with your hand. you were getting closer by the second and still sensitive from your previous orgasm. it was starting to become too much as tears spilled from your eyes due to the pleasure.

"be a good girl and take it all for me, okay?" he groaned out, intertwining your fingers behind your back and holding your hand in place. using your hand as leverage he gives you slower and longer strokes. slowly out and roughly back in, hitting that spot that made you mewl out. "are you close?" he asked as your body began to twitch from the feeling.

"so close, baby, so so close." you say and he grunts loving the way you sounded moaning out his name.

"where do you want it, sweetheart?" he asked and you being a fucked out mess yelped out without even thinking.

"inside me, please cum in me, fill me up, sugu." you begged, and how could he deny his beautiful muse what she desired? as both of your climaxes built up, he grabbed the front of your neck, choking you lightly as he pulled you up so that his chest was against your back. his free hand reached down to rub circles on your clit as he continued fucking you. "i'm cumming, shit."

"me too, cum with me." he whispers deeply in your ear as the both of you cum together. your body jerked as you violently came, and he continued to send sloppy thrusts, filling you up. he grabs your jaw, turning your face to kiss you sloppily. your tongues explored each other's mouths until you both decided to catch your breath.

"that was... amazing." you panted as he slowly slid out of you. the emptiness makes you whine and the sensitivity makes him shiver. 

"you were so good." he says, rubbing your cheek as you look away from him shyly. he walks away to get a wet paper towel. "this is as good as it's gonna get." you laugh as he cleans you both off and throws away the paper towel. he grabs your thong and helps you get dressed, sitting you back down on the chair. your legs were already getting sore, and you could only imagine how bad it would be tomorrow morning. 

after suguru got dressed, he double-checked the shop, making sure everything was good for him to leave. you just sat watching as he walked around, in shock that you actually got to fuck him. maybe the next time you should do it in the mirror, you thought to yourself as he handed you your purse. 

"ready to go?" he asked and you nodded walking alongside him. "now i'm going to have to take you on a date to ask the real question." he said raising his brow and looking at you.

"what question?" you asked, acting dumb, wanting to hear it now, but suguru wasn't falling for it. he opened the door, letting you out first as he hit a light switch.

"guess you'll have to find out during the date. how does friday sound?" he asked and without even thinking you obliged.

"friday is fine!" you say, concluding if you did have anything planned it would just have to be canceled.

"sounds good." he smirks, taking one final look around and turning off the final light switch. suguru locked the doors and thought to himself: i'll never quit. he wouldn't dare forget the memory of your fucked out face every time he'd do a tattoo on that same exact chair.

[erinwantstowrite]

Hi! Purely out of curiosity because I am always interested in people’s thoughts on the subject, how do you feel about “batcest” in au’s where the children were never adopted/didn’t meet until adulthood/etc? Any pairing with Bruce makes me genuinely nauseous, but I feel like I’m more lenient with situational stuff with the kids since they’re closer in age/didn’t grow up together in my very loose understanding of canon/not actually related/etc. (ie: I think Steph and Cass are cute together even though they’re both “batfam” members, etc etc)

please feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable! I just really love your writing and this seems to be a subject you’re passionate about, so I just wanted to know more of your thoughts. Hope you’re having a wonderful day!

anon in the nicest way possible, it's disgusting even then.

because it doesn't matter if they didn't know each other as little little kids, they are family in every sense of the word. it would be the same as two characters who are siblings having being raised in two different households as children getting into a relationship even though they knew each other later. it spits in the face of adopted families by claiming that they aren't actually family, and the people who defend batcest are hurting people who are victims of the exact dynamic that they're shipping. it's gross, like genuinely vile. knowing their canon relationship and "changing" it to fit what they want is nasty because they *had* to change it. they know it's wrong if they had to "fix" it in order to ship it. it implies that this person thinks they should be in a romantic pairing in canon, too, but they're trying to justify it to themselves.

and with Steph and Cass, Steph is a friend of theirs. she dated Tim previously and they are not related. she didn't want Bruce to adopt her, she doesn't consider them siblings. yes there is a found family dynamic but it's not the same as the others, who are not only legally family in most cases, but have considered each other family for years and years and years. they call each other their siblings. yes, even jason and tim. tim and jason are only a couple years apart, but jason is still family even if he died? tim considered himself dick's brother and his relationship with bruce was rocky sometimes but he also considered bruce like a father figure, and later on he was adopted so that was always there. they are siblings.

and in some of their dynamics, it's pedophilic dick and damian, dick and tim, jason and damian, tim and damian, even dick and jason because dick was an adult when he met jason. automatically that puts you in a spot where you deserve the deepest pit of hell. truly. i'm not religious but i hope they get their karma. i don't care if it's fictional, this reflects who they are as people in the real world and that's why i know these people are gross monsters. not to mention these people don't understand boundaries (shocker) and have and probably will again, ask me to include a batcest ship in LoF or to draw batcest for them. they have asked for peter and damian. one person claimed that peter and jason would be "cute" because of peter thinks he's cool and has "an innocence" about jason's life and what he's done. another asked for peter and dick. the blood related father and son. so it truly doesn't matter to them, i can guarantee it to you. the way i look at it, no matter which way they are shipped, you are automatically associated with the rest of them. nothing justifies it and it's wrong

and because i know someone is going to try to start an argument with me: i can't stop them from writing it. i know that. and you can scream at me until you're blue about your opinion on the matter, but i do not care and you will be wasting your breath. i am not pro cecsorship because it is a slippery slope and people will dig their claws into that. however. i can let them know that they aren't welcome on my page, i can talk about my opinion on the matter, i have every right to block them and say whatever i want. if you don't like this post, i'm telling you to block me so i don't have to take the time to do it myself 🫶

[dailyfigures]

Unpopular opinion: I hate hate HATE loli figures. idc if people collect them because they’re ‘cute’ it’s still weird asf imo, there are so many other and much cuter figures. It disgusts me how popular and normalized they are among the anime community.

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

oh god anon allow me to specifically rant about one of my worst pet peeves. i used to see this mostly on tiktok when i still had the app, but i've seen it happen on most social media.

it really grinds my gears when people own a suggestive/nsfw figure of a minor, and then accuse anyone who dares to say something about it of sexualising children. if you want to own figures of a child/teenager in lingerie, i'm really not a fan of that but at least own up to it. don't act like everyone else is weird when you own a figure made with a certain intention and refuse to admit it.

maybe it helps to give an example; i saw someone on tiktok own a figure of ram from re:zero in lingerie, on hands and knees with an arched back. i think ram is 17 and later in the series an adult, arguebly not the worst figure ever but i can imagine people finding it a little weird. op started accusing everyone who made a comment about the figure by pulling an uno reverse and going "wow....how deeply SICK of YOU to see a child and make it sexual....i would NEVER see her like that.....". ok good for you but i can assure you that was the intention the figure was made with, the target audience is adult men and it's strange to deny this. they even claimed that it was fine because "everyone who collects ram is sapphic anyway" i can assure you that is not true 😭😭 this is very much a case of being in your little online gay bubble and thinking the whole world is the same as you. the target audience of all (female) suggestive/nsfw figures is simply straight men. i'm not saying it's the only people who can own them, but it is who the companies have in mind when producing the figures and it is the largest part of the market. it reminds me a bit of when kpop stans think only gay 17 year olds stan their favourite girl group and then you watch a perfomance where the crowd cheering isn't filtered out and it's all 40 year old men. i'm not stoked about it either, but it is simply the truth.

ofcourse i've seen people reaching, it does happen on tiktok that people get overly sensitive/woke/whatever and blindly hate anyone who collects normal nsfw figures or anyone else who didn't do anything wrong. not every tiktok comment section is filled with the brightest minds of our generation (shocker, i know). i do however think it's a common thing, even with real life children, where people try to question something inappropriate and somehow get the blame. i saw this happen when mothers thought it was strange that target sells swimsuits for babies/toddlers with hip cut outs, and then people accusing said moms of being the weird ones for "thinking a children's swim suit is sexual". guys am i losing my mind. am i going crazy. the concerned mothers are not the problem here for pointing out a weird thing. why in god's name were the swim suits designed like that. can we get an ounce of critical thinking in the chat.

AND ANOTHER THING! sorry guys this is like 5 years of built up irritation you have to let me go for a moment. anyway LOOK at this same shit i saw yesterday. i will not share the video but it was a video of very young middle school girls wearing heavy (gyaru?) makeup, fashion, wigs and nails which was honestly already a bit baffling because it was so much on such young kids. they were all wearing that fashion trend where you wear low rise pants/skirt and then pull up your thong strings to the high heavens so they're on your hips and sticking out off your pants/skirt. not a trend i usually mind but these were very young girls and the whole look, the visible underwear especially, was very inappropriate for their age so people in the comments were uncomfortable. i took one single peak at the comments and had to leave for my own sanity. you guys cannot be serious.

and let me get this very clear: i have also seen people sexualise children doing normal things many times. both extremes are a problem. i think it's fucking weird to sexualise a child giving their parents a kiss or telling a child they shouldn't wear their bathing suit around their male family members, etc. however it is ALSO fucking weird for children to do/wear things that were specifically made for adults doing adult things (like wearing visible lacy thongs when you're in middle school) and no adult stepping in for the child's own safety. both things are weird and i hope everyone dies. anyway what were you saying anon? ah right, no i don't like loli figures either. not a fan.

send me your unpopular figure opinions

[floatinginlilspace]

can't relate personally because I've always been a immature-childish-interests-scared-to-grow-up-and-do-grown-things kinda kid my whole life ! it's actually one of the main reasons why I'm an age regressor !

the second I was old enough to be socially deemed "too old" for certain things - that I was at the age kids "usually stop doing/liking those things" - I still continued doing/liking those things! for example, when I was around 9-12 I was told I was "too old" to play with baby dolls. when I was 13 and up I was told I'm too old to want to play at kids play places. but i still enjoyed those things !! and never felt the need to stop just because society deemed me "too old" !!!

I'm still the exact same way, I haven't changed a bit :P even though years and years ago I was deemed too old to like those things then, I still like em ! at 17 years old ! and I have no shame about it !

mature for your age to age regressor pipeline

[goldenocie]

Hey there, I wasn't sure if someone already asked this but I had questions (2)

1. what is the age gap of the seaside kids

2. Do you had a bits of headcanons of them

Caly is the oldest, probably about 3-4 years ahead of Argo and Argo is likely 4-5 years ahead of TJ!

Their canon ages that I usually depict them as has Caly at 9ish, Argo at 6, and TJ at 2.

As for headcannons: they all have winter birthdays same as Ocie! The younger two all were pretty similar to their due dates but Caly was a preemie.

Argo’s chest plate is a hand me down from Oscar and he refuses to take it off. Bathtime every night is a struggle and he has to be bribed. He wears it to sleep. (No it’s not comfortable)

Caly is wicked smart and excels in science specifically. Besides her fins she mostly resembles Centross. Not even just in color pallet, if you look closely at her you could probably pick out his features in her own. Additionally, she likely gets along with Arisanna a lot.

TJ is the quietest of them, probably non-verbal most of the time. Though I imagine he’s the type of kid who would cry scream if handed to anyone who isn’t his parents. Besides that, he’s a big apple slices fan. I imagine Momboo being able to win him over fairly easily with plants and flowers.

[redrose10]

so i was told 'maybe in another life' pt. 2 was a possibility and here we are.... PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU GIVE ME A PART TWO AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I hope this lives up to your expectations…

There will be another part to this one too. Sorry

This is a part 2/continuation if this one here.

Non Idol Yoongi x Loan Shark Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Warnings: Violence, guns, kind of suggestive, mentions of orphanage, murder, swearing, name calling

*******************************************************

Over the years, lifetimes really, you grew to hate the idea of soulmates. You used to think the idea was sweet. The thought of being tied to someone else so tightly that destiny would force the two of you together somehow seemed romantic. If only your other half had felt the same way.

The last time you saw Yoongi in person he was a famous idol that you happened to have to work with while he was completing his required military service. Once again he rejected your soulmate status though. He told you to move on and find someone else like he had. Because just like he said he would, he married another woman who wasn’t you. She was an idol just like him. Famous, talented, and beautiful. The wedding photos that were plastered in every magazine and all over the city were beautiful. Even you couldn’t deny that he looked at her with so much love and affection, something you never saw from him. They ended up having two kids, a boy and a girl. He had his own little happy family while you struggled every day to get by. Yoongi went on to live a long successful life filled with fame, money, and happiness from what you could see.

You can still remember the way you felt the day you saw the news of his passing. There had always been a part of you that hoped that maybe he would realize his love for you, especially after it was announced that him and his wife had divorced. Then the two of you could be together and finally put an end to the lifetimes of suffering you had endured, but you never saw him in person again.

And in that moment as you stared at his smiling face plastered on your tv screen while the newscaster discussed the upcoming funeral it sealed the deal and forced you into yet another life once your current was over.

In this new life you no longer cared to find Yoongi and instead accepted the fact that you would be forced to live a million different lives possibly for eternity. All of this lead you to be the cold, bitter, ruthless person you had become today.

“Please!”, the man in front of you sobbed, “I’ll get the money. I promise. Just give me another week.”

You pushed the end of the pistol a little harder into his forehead sure to leave a mark. “That’s what you said last week.”, you spat, “I’m out of time. The boss wants his money or a body. Which is it gonna be?”

“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll have it next wee-“

The man dropped to floor lifeless as you put away your still smoking gun. “Clean this up and get him over to the boss.”, you ordered to one of your men before pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up.

The first time you killed someone you cried yourself to sleep that night. Their crying, sobs of desperation, the way they called for their mother… You had nightmares for weeks. But now, years later, it was just another day on the job. Tonight you will go home, crack open a beer, and forget everything that just happened. It was the only way to survive.

“Let’s go. Boss sent the next location.”, one of your men spoke from the doorway, “Said it’s a big one.” You nodded and put out your cigarette before following behind.

You don’t exactly remember how you ended up as one of the lead loan sharks for the biggest and fiercest mob boss this side of the planet, but somehow you got there. You were orphaned at a young age. Bounced around from home to home most of which not equipped to properly provide for you which resulted in stealing to get what you needed. One evening you smelled something that made your stomach growl even harder than it had been. A steaming loaf of fresh baked bread was left out in front of a bakery to cool. You were starving and cold and after making sure no one was looking you grabbed it and ran. You didn’t get very far before two men caught up to you grabbing you by your arms. They carried you back to that same storefront and into one of the back rooms where you were thrown on the ground.

“We don’t tolerate thieves around here.”, someone spat before forcing cold metal against your head. You closed your eyes not having the strength or motivation to fight back and hopelessly just wished for it to be over soon. You heard another voice enter the room demanding the gun to be put away. After some protests by your captor and a stern warning from the other man the gun was removed from your skin and the grip around your neck loosened. The man who saved you left the room without a word. You never even opened your eyes to get a look at him.

Before you knew it you were being driven to a large mansion just outside of the main city. You were given a bedroom and clean clothing. Three meals a day were provided which was more than you’d ever had. All of this was free of charge, you just had to promise to sign your life away to someone they only referred to as The Boss.

Regardless of what others think, to this day you’ve never seen him. Haven’t heard his voice since that day he demanded your release in the back of the bakery he used as a front for a gambling ring. You agreed to work for him because you had nothing else to loose and now many years later you were his top worker being trusted to lead his teams while doing all of his dirty work. It gave you a comfortable life by keeping you fed and housed and most of all kept your mind busy to the point you hardly ever thought about Min Yoongi.

“Ready? Boss says he wants this one alive if he refuses to pay. Wants to take care of him hisself. Guess this one has been extra mouthy.”, Baek said next to you. Baek was your right hand man. One of the few people in this business you trusted.

“Good, means we can be a little extra rough. I need to let off some steam anyways.”, you sighed checking to make sure your gun was loaded.

In the middle of an old abandoned factory you found a group of your men standing in a circle hurling insults and expletives, a few threw in a kick or punch at the man who was on his knees with his hands tied behind his back and a blindfold blocking his vision.

“Alright boys, step aside.”, you said pushing your way through the crowd of taller bigger men that you were never afraid of.

“Great. The princess is here.”, one of them groaned. “Wonder how often she has to fuck the boss for him to keep her around.”, another scoffed. You cocked your gun and pointed it directly in the middle of his forehead, “Who I fuck and when or where I fuck them is none.of.your.business.”

“Whoa whoa whoa Y/N let’s put the gun down. It’s late and we need to get this over with so we can all go get some rest.”, Baek said while he gently, but firmly forced your hand down.

“Yeah watch your mouth bitch.”, another in the crowd said, but before you could figure out who was the culprit someone else decided to interject.

“I’d be happy to keep her mouth occupied for a while.”, the man on his knees said making your stomach twist into a knot. That voice was oddly familiar.

Your head whipped to the side so fast you lost balance and when you composed yourself and got a good look at him you froze.

That smirk. You could recognize that smirk anywhere. That same smirk has haunted your dreams for centuries.

[suzukiblu]

okay I SLIGHTLY dragged my ass writing/getting this up, it's been kind of A Day(tm), BUT: first day of the first February weekly WIP behind the cut; "the puzzle trap sex-room". content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he's FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon's . . . entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Is the possibility of having given Robin an STI the only reason you can think of to be concerned about the events of the night?” Batman asks, perfectly neutral like another fucking trap–like he thinks Superboy’s the stupidest thing alive and gonna fucking fall for that again–and Superboy actually almost does disassemble this whole stupid cave. Or at least that huge-ass computer Batman’s got taking up half a wall over there or maybe some of those fancy Batsuits and all their utility belts full of souped-up gear, anyway. 

He’s real fuckin’ tempted to disassemble the Batmobile. 

Besides, if anyone gave–gave anyone a fucking STI, it was obviously the fucking prick who lied about not having fucking condoms on him. 

“I saved your fucking sidekick’s fucking life, asshole,” Superboy bites off roughly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. The muscles that try to tense under Superman’s grip can’t–not as much as normal, anyway. Superman’s grip is just–it’s not something Superboy can do anything about, and that is pissing him the fuck off right now. “You could at least pretend to be, I dunno, fuckin’ grateful instead of just being a dick about my goddamn personal life.” 

“You haven’t described your personal life,” Batman says in that same bullshit neutral tone. “Or your dating history, or anything similar. You’ve described predatory adult women taking advantage of their age and experience to manipulate and take advantage of you.” 

“Let the fuck go of me or I’m gonna fucking make somebody sorry about it,” Superboy says to Superman, his voice flatter than the goddamn floor. Like–very literally flatter, since some of the floor’s clearly kinda just hacked out of the rock. 

He is actually about to go fucking nuclear on this bullshit non-conversation where no one’s fucking listening to him. 

Getting fucking lectured is not, in fact, any kind of a conversation. 

And he’s not–like, what the fuck is this bullshit, where they’re pretending like they’re asking him things and all they’re actually doing is making fucking assumptions and twisting everything he does say and not even fucking listening to him! 

“Kid, we just–” Superman starts in that bullshit voice like he’s trying to sound concerned instead of ever fucking listening to him or, you know, letting him the fuck go, and well–Superboy fucking warned him, didn’t he. 

So he grabs every single piece of the Batmobile down to the absolute last, and then he rips it all apart all at once and drops it. 

Though once he’s done that, he just to rip apart a whole lot more. 

The Batmobile collapses every which way and all its parts and pieces hit the floor in a massive cacophony of clattering and crashing and Robin jerks in alarm, whipping his head towards the pieces of it as they scatter across the floor. Superman startles a little too, and Superboy’s still not done being fucking pissed, actually, so he just–he still wants to rip apart this whole fucking cave and everything in it and just–just rip it apart, just–just–

“Let me go, you fucking prick,” he hisses up at Superman. “You have literally never cared before and I don’t give a fuck about your opinion about who I’m fucking anyway!” 

“Superboy,” Robin interjects carefully as he glances back towards them–fucking carefully, like he thinks Superboy’s somebody who needs handled carefully, who can’t handle his own shit, the patronizing piece of–“You did describe crimes. Legally, like . . . at least a couple of those situations are crimes.” 

Of course that’s what the asshole decides to fucking speak up about, Superboy thinks as a spike of fury stabs into his gut. 

[weedpicnic]

I’m gonna derail just a little bit to tell a relevant story but do hear me out; I am 22 years old meaning I only graduated highschool like 3 years ago. I am also Canadian and attended highschool here. I DID go to primary school in America, and at least back then everybody stood for the pledge every single day. Obviously kids of that age aren’t as likely to have any sort of fully formed political opinions as older teenagers so I can’t speak for what it’s like in American highschools.

However the equivalent here in Canada, is that the national anthem plays over the loudspeakers every morning in every school, and we are all expected to stand. When I was in grade 9 I started disregarding this rule. Was this out of pure apathy rather than a particular political motivation? At first, sure, maybe. But only AT FIRST. Did it have consequences? Yes, to me, but eventually to others too. I was caught walking around during the anthem by our vice principal who already had several reasons to dislike me, and he demanded I stand still. He told me I would be pulled from class if I kept walking so I sat down on the ground in front of him while the rest of the song played. At this point it started to feel very political to me at the time, because I have a very strong general dislike for authority, I had been told I had oppositional defiance disorder. I was 14 years old and only just at the very beginning of forming my understanding radicalism/liberation. I would go to protests, why not have my own small form of protest. I didn’t yet know what I know now about canadian imperialism. I would sneer at him and tell him I wouldn’t participate for religious reasons (I am not religious lol.) I basically just knew that the same guy who would confiscate peoples weed and police the bathroom use of trans students was trying to tell me what to do as to police my bodily autonomy and movement, and I did not like that.

So, I started doing it every morning in every one of my classes, even having some of my own peers starting arguments with me about it; and then got sent to the office by an English teacher. This man was gay, liberal, and he basically told me “I know you’re trying to make a point or something, that’s cool, but, not in my classroom. If you’re gonna do that next class you can go do it in front of the office.” This was the same man who was teaching us standardized curriculum about Canadas history of indigenous genocide. This would’ve been in like, 2018.

In 2019 protests began spreading out west in British Columbia about indigenous land rights and the plan to destroy millions of huge, 100+ year old old growth trees in order to build the coastal gas link pipeline. Protesters were chaining themselves to trees until they got bulldozed and being mass arrested. The concept of protest by mass occupation became more prevalent in the media. Activist groups led by indigenous leaders and land defenders were stopping cross country freight and passenger trains by blocking the railroad. In 2020, the unmarked burial sites of thousands of murdered children, victims of the abuse within residential schools, were uncovered. Survivors started speaking up about the violence and trauma that the church and the state had inflicted on them and their family. Priests were getting sent to trial for abuse they had inflicted years and years ago.

Over the years since my freshman year I watched something… interesting happen. More students, sometimes just one or two people, small insular friend groups, but, sometimes the majority of a classroom, would also refuse to stand for the anthem. Some of them said it was because it was 9AM and they were just too tired for that shit (the anthem is a lot longer than the pledge of allegiance lol.) But this meant I no longer got shit for it because they can’t suspend almost a whole classroom of us, right?

I did a “victory lap”/fifth year there to finish up some more courses and by my last days there, no one and I mean literally fucking no one stood for the anthem anymore. It was only a few short years ago that I had been threatened with suspension over doing this, and yet at that point I could not imagine any faculty member having the gal to tell me that I simply had to stand up for the imperialist anthem knowing what we all know now. My apathy had evolved into ideology/ further understanding of what my own actions could mean. What started out of vague distain, a tendency towards disobedience, and a bit of laziness had become a small form of protest that later became the norm among the student community. It was no longer in the hands of the authority figures. And if seeing me continue to do that every day despite sometimes getting in trouble in the earlier years gave even a single one of my peers pause to stop and think about why we have to do this, why SHOULD we have to do this, why should we stand for “our home and native land” that we colonized and stole through violence and genocide, are we really “the land of the free and the home of the brave” if we hid so much of our history for so long, then, that’s not nothing, and it was worth every bit of trouble.

But here’s the even scarier part: my sister is two years younger than me and she attended the same highschool. At some point in her final year in 2023 when I was long gone I asked her what the deal was with that now, and she told me most of the students were standing for the anthem again, and that most of the people her age always had been and usually did. It was pretty much just my grade and older that had been rejecting this en masse.

There are so many studies out there indicating that the younger generation, current teens and young adults, are becoming more conservative at a faster rate. The propaganda machine doesn’t ever just stop because one group at one time and place resisted it. I grew up as someone who is has always been very outspoken and proudly transgender. So I certainly had PLENTY of adults telling me as a teenager, “your generation is going to save the world” and all that bullshit and trust me I fucking hated it. It’s absolutely infuriating and I totally sympathize with powerburials frustration. But I think regardless of whether OP is actually in fact an “embarrassingly aged millennial” (whatever that means lol) giving teenagers ideas, information, resources, big or small, of how to fight back against oppressive power is truly very very fucking important right now. Many of them want to and don’t even know why they want to and that’s okay because they will learn, but they won’t learn and many of them won’t have any place to start without the authority/adults in their life (even if that adult is simply a blog on Tumblr) pushing them in that direction. I didn’t have adults in my real life to materially do these things with me as a teen, I had other trans teens, and I had anger issues, and I had this fuckin website teaching me about communism, decolonization, mutual aid, and direct action.

My school was at the edge of a highway next to a bridge that was essential to connecting the two sides of the city. I would sneak out of class and go for cigarettes by myself and stare into the valley and feel so so angry at the government, at the world, at the medical system, and I would think about all the people who killed themself by jumping off that bridge and wonder what powers made their lives so hard for them, I would wonder if they were like me, and I would feel so, so alone. I would let the sound of the cars on the highway drown my thoughts out. A couple years after graduating I participated in a protest demanding policy reform for climate change and environmental protection that shut down this highway right in front of my high school for the entire day. I was relieved to even see a few of my former peers there, although not that many.

Today I am currently organizing a student strike at my college to demand their disclosure and divestment of funding of the genocide in Palestine. At our first walkout, the dismissal I received from so many of my peers primarily my age and younger was fucking brutal and extremely disheartening, but, we reached a lot of people. We gave people resources to learn about the issue at hand and we strengthened our movement. We will be going on strike in the next year. I have been tirelessly organizing with the help of so many volunteers from my community a fundraiser event tomorrow, which I anticipate will raise a good amount of money for Palestinians, a local food bank, and an organization that helps youth access gender affirming care. If you told that angry kid all those years ago that he would be doing these things today he very well might’ve laughed in your face, he probably would’ve thought it to be a ‘nebulous fantasy’ too.

What I would tell my 14 year old self (who I could even argue only started rejecting the anthem for attention) and what I would tell highschool aged kids everywhere who want to fight fascism and imperialism, is to start organizing locally sooner, trust that you WILL find your people and you will find strength in numbers. start online if you have to, but use these tools to connect with likeminded people in real life. Material direct action is much more important than the symbolism of rejecting participation in something you disagree with. It’s deluded to think that mutual aid and activist organizations in your community don’t exist whatsoever. But as this story hopefully sort of illustrates, symbolism is also important. Start small if you have to but don’t you dare stop there. A tree can’t grow without a seed, so plant that seed and water it. Even if you really do sometimes have to sit there sweating and embarrassed and alone. Because it is ALSO deluded to think the world doesn’t need teenagers to be doing stuff like this lest they become fascist adults as many of my own peers and so much of the younger generation unfortunately now have.

dear usamerican high schoolers looking for a way to resist fascism: sit through the pledge of allegiance.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.

everyone will be looking at you. you'll be sweating like a fucking hippopotamus. your teacher will sternly tell you to get up. you'll feel stupid and that maybe its not worth it because you're just a kid in a classroom. but I'm here to remind you that there are no real life consequences to detention. there are however real life consequences to resisting a thoughtless performance of nationalism.

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread

part I - part II - part III - ...

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　

Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough tho because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　　　

That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　　　

It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

“Alex, hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting her pen down. Morgan.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Alex’s voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　

The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Bennett, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

Alex kept her voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.

Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

　　　　

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　　

The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, her cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. A quiet pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain and for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

　　　

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　

You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　

Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[hotasfahrenheit]

i've had some thoughts rattling around my brain about Keen since episode 9 showed us flashbacks of the boys as kids when they were adopted and then a little older when they started their training for real, and this week's episode just added more fuel to the fire.

i think one of the saddest things that the last couple episodes have really exposed that a lot of people might miss because of the other bombshells that have been dropped is the fact that Keen was set up possibly even worse than Fadel and Bison were in this life. they were adopted together, told they were going to be a family, and then Lily manipulated them all into becoming who they are as adults. she lucked out that Bison and Fadel liked each other so much and bonded so strongly to each other, and she used that bond to isolate and control Keen in a completely different way.

Keen's desperate to be in the field like the other two and to be sent on missions; he doesn't have the same set of skills that they do and wasn't able to develop his talents in the same way, and it's clear that Lilly took the natural aptitude of Fadel and Bison and turned that into what they are now, but she chose to push Keen into the behind the scenes aspect of the business. she's also made it clear from the start which set of talents she values more as is clear from the way she glares at Keen when he can't shoot his bottle in the flashback.

Keen isn't given any kind of reassurance or support for missing his shot, or told to try again; Lily answers Bison's questions about why they need to learn to shoot by telling them that they have to learn to protect themselves, then she gives Keen a few more judgey looks, implying it's something she doesn't expect him to be able to do. the next scene in the flashback is her giving Bison and Fadel their first assignment, and by this point Keen has already been relegated to being the paper guy and having an office job.

these kids all lost their parents and are gathered up by Lily at the same time and told they're going to be a family; they look like they're all roughly the same age. we all know how seriously Fadel and Bison take to the brother relationship, but Keen is pushed to the outside of this by Lily and her priorities. i had figured before episode 10 that they had been trained together for a longer period of time and maybe Keen had just not gotten along with them because he was jealous of their talents, but Fadel telling Style that he doesn't really know anything about Keen besides that they were adopted at the same time says to me that Lilly purposefully kept them apart instead of it being their choice.

Fadel saying they don't care about Keen makes me so sad for him. the fact that he only really knows that Keen was adopted at the same time and does other work for Lilly that's not in the field means they don't care because they don't know him at all. they haven't had the chance to bond with him the way that they did with each other. they weren't pushed together with him; they were pushed to each other, and Keen was pushed off on his own to watch them be the favoured children and struggle by himself.

imagine your parents are murdered in front of you, you're scooped up by this woman who says she's going to take care of you and build a family with you and two other boys your age who have been through the same experience, but then you're not as good as the other two boys at the tasks she sets you, plus the two of them deeply connect to each other and fall into a sibling bond and leave you outside of it. that you're kept so separate from them that despite being a "family" for years, they know basically nothing about you, while your shared mother keeps dangling the things you want right outside of your grasp.

she's driven a wedge between the boys so deep that Keen resents Fadel and Bison enough to WANT try to kill them himself, while they don't have any idea that he would even be willing or able to. he's been kept so far out of their notice while their successes and talents have been constantly waved in front of him as well as being consistently put down by Lilly for his mistakes and inadequacies. she's pushed Keen into a corner and made him think that it's Fadel and Bison's fault for putting him there instead of it being a way for her to control him and keep him under her thumb.

Fadel and Bison have given the impression from the first episode that it's the two of them against the world; brothers bonded so tightly together that nothing can shake that. they have a Mother, but really they only have each other. it's the two of them and it always will be. but there were three of them. there were three boys when this started. and they don't care about Keen. he's alone.

i'm really hoping that the current situation snaps Keen the rest of the way out of Lilly's control. he should have already figured out what his future looks like if he really wants out of the family business like he's promised Thanon, because if he's known the entire time that Fadel's last boyfriend got murdered instead of just leaving, he should be fully aware that they face the same fate if he tries to leave Lilly. with that knowledge plus finding out that Lilly killed his parents along with Fadel's and Bison's, hopefully he turns on her and helps the others take her down. her lack of hesitation to send him or other hired hitmen after the two favoured sons should be a pretty clear signal to him about her willingness to off him as well at the drop of a hat.

fingers crossed that Keen and Thanon get to have a happy life far away from Lilly and that he finally gets to have an actual family that doesn't involve manipulation, abuse, and murder.

[ihavethedreamies]

Kept Secret | Changbin [NSFW]

Seo Changbin - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.6k

Pairing: Wonsanghwa! Changbin x Princess! AFAB! Reader

(A Wonsanghwa was essentially the guy who trained the Hwarang.)

Genre: Historical AU!, Pre-Joseon Era, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Friends-to-Lovers (ish)

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Pet Names (Princess [also her title]), Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, First Times (Readers), Big Dick! Changbin, Cockbulge (slightly), Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…)

Summary: You are the youngest princess, and because of that you get the most freedom. The only thing your father refuses is to let you learn to fight. So, you get rid of the middleman and go straight to the Wonsanghwa.

Author's Note: Holy crap, I'm back! If you didn't read my pinned post, I basically took a hiatus to write my book, and...that didn't happen so I'm back owO

This one is not in the Joseon era, this is set much earlier, probably around the 9th century. I know most of what I do of the Hwarang based on The Great Queen Seondeok which is, from what I understand, at least somewhat more accurate than the show Hwarang.

P.S. At the bottom I will have a guide for all the untranslated words I use, including the clothing they wear and some other terms.

P.S.S. Also, if any of my historical information/words are inaccurate, I apologize, I did the best with what research I could and what I know from watching too many historical K-Dramas.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Bang Chan's <-

-> Lee Know's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

Birds chirp in the trees, the leaves casting a shadow from the late morning light over your face. Your cheek is pressed to the wood of the table you’re sitting at in the palace pavilion with your sisters. Rocking the chair under you in boredom, you just sigh.

“What's the issue now?” Your sister next to you, Seoyoung, three years older, doesn't even look up from the scroll she’s writing on. Probably a letter to her husband.

“Probably the same issue as before.” The second youngest, Miseong, hums, popping another piece of fruit in her mouth, “children get bored so easy.”

“You're like a year and half older than me, be quiet.” You sit up straight so you can sneer directly at her. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear coyly, batting her eyelashes and you can’t help but huff in amusement.

“I don't see why you want to learn to fight.” The eldest of your sisters, Daeyoon shakes her head, picking through her tray of beads to find another for the piece she’s making.

“I don't see why you keep asking father.” Miseong scoffs. She has a point.

“Because father said no, neither Gaeyong nor Taseok will teach me.” Your brothers are too obedient for your own good. They never help you do anything fun.

“Then ask one of the hwarang, even just a nangdo.” Wonyoung finally speaks up. She’s the middle sister and sits in a weird place socially among the family. Your two eldest sisters get away with nothing, and you and Miseong get away with almost anything. It’s a toss-up what your mother or father will do if she gets in trouble. Especially because she rarely does. Since you’re the baby, you’re treated as such. Any misbehavior is brushed off as childish fun and you’re praised for minor things. You were a spoiled brat as a kid, and you know it. The one thing you want most is the one thing you’re held back from. Your father restricts you from learning to fight more for your protection than even you being a woman, which honestly pisses you off more.

“I don't know any of the nangdo. They're even stricter though because they get in trouble easier. I think the hwarangdo are too close with Taseok…”

“What about that younger guy that is the trainer? I think he's about Gaeyong's age.” Seoyoung speaks up, just wanting you to stop whining about learning to swordfight.

“Oh, yeah, he was so good he got promoted when the last Wonsanghwa retired and the senior sangseon got really mad!” Miseong nods, then grins evilly, “he's handsome too.”

“He's short.” Wonyoung adds and you honestly don't mind. You’re short too. She probably mentioned it because her fiancée is so tall. All of your sister's partners are, and of course you’re the only single one. But that’s beside the point, you want a trainer not a spouse.

“Can you try and help me meet with him?” You look at Daeyoon and she shoots you a withering look. Her husband is a gukseon, so he would be able to.

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease-” You rub your hands together, ready to get on your knees to beg.

“Heavens! Fine!” She aggressively throws a silver bead back into her tray.

 ~ò3ó~

“W-wait, unni, don't leave me alone!” You hiss at Miseong as she begins to leave.

“I'm not getting in trouble with you!” She shoots back and then dashes away, leaving you alone in the courtyard of the hwarang housing, the moon shining high among the stars above your head. The dull, warm light of the lanterns seems eerie when out alone, even the normal peaceful cricket noises put you on edge.

“Gongjunim?” An unfamiliar voice catches your attention, and you flinch, spinning around to see the owner. Judging by what he’s wearing, he’s the Wonsanghwa. And…he is short. However, he’s very handsome as well. Plus, the fabric of his uniform seems to strain against the muscles of his chest and arms underneath. Your face suddenly feels warm, and you’re glad for the lowlight.

“U-uh…” you clear your throat, then stand straight like you’ve been taught all your life, “yes.” He bows deep at the waist, then comes closer so he’s standing before you. Just because he’s short for a man, doesn't mean he isn't still taller than you, nearly five chon.

“Gukseon Bodam told me you want to learn to fight?”

“Yes! I don’t care if it’s a sword, or even just a little dagger,” you motion with your index fingers, “or maybe a pong stick of something? A spear?”

“You could hurt yourself with something like that.” He hums, looking you up and down. You sneer at his derisive look, and he raises a brow. He scratches his forehead under the headband he has tied around his head.

“I…I could. That’s why I want to be taught.” You insist, trying to sound assured of your own statement. He turns his head away, seeing if anyone is around. He has his hair up in a full top knot unlike many of the hwarang who normally keep their hair half-down. It suits him though. When he looks back at you, he sighs.

“Fine. I’ll train you in martial arts, no weapons.” He turns around and motions for you to follow him toward what you presume is the actual training grounds.

“Is everyone asleep, Wonsanghwa?” You ask, walking next to him. It’s nice to just be beside someone since you’re so used to being followed by a handmaiden instead of her next to you.

“Should be. Don’t worry, even if we get caught, no one knows exactly who you are to snitch.” You finally arrive and he motions to a small shed at the back of the area.

“Go change, you'll ruin your dress, Gongjunim.”

“I see. I…what is your name?” You turn back to him after stepping toward where he pointed.

“Seo Changbin, Gongjunim.”

“Ah. Thank you, Changbin-ssi.” He nods and you scurry off to do what he said.

The clothing is a bit too large, but that’s understandable. You even decide to tie your hair up much like the hwarang do, with the headband and everything.

“I’m ready!” You smile at him, proud of yourself and he casts you an amused grin, then raises his brow.

“You ready?”

“Yes!”

 ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

“Keep your feet spread more, and put more force with your calf and shin, not your whole leg.” Changbin uses his ankle to press on yours and get you in the right stance. He’s been working with you for about three weeks, even managing to get you some training during the day instead of at night. You’re getting better to the point that he decides maybe, one day, you can try a practice sword.

Following his advice, you go to deliver another kick to the straw dummy he’s set up. You knock it over and he nods in approval. As he instructs, he’ll often maneuver you into the right pose or stance with his hands or feet. Sometimes, he’ll be close enough that his chest presses against your shoulder or back, and you have to fight back a blush. The longer you work with him, get to know him, you realize you’re falling…fast. He’s actually extremely sweet despite being a rather strict trainer. And he’s good too. Strong. You really want to see him underneath all those layers of his uniform…

“Eyes ahead, Gongjunim.” He snaps in front of your face; his smirk becomes clear when you zone back into reality.

“R-right!” As you go to demonstrate the next move, you ankle twinges and you yelp in pain, twisting wrong and falling onto your shoulder.

“Ow!” You land on a rock or something and when you sit up, there’s a tear in your borrowed clothing, a bit of blood staining the white fabric.

“Hey, let me see.” Changbin is immediately at your side, looking over the cut and you press your lips together, eyes flitting all over his face. You didn’t and still don’t believe him when he said he was a scrawny kid and teenager. Can’t really even picture it.

“I can help you clean this up, it’s not too deep.” He stand and when you go to follow him, your ankle screams, making you stumble. He catches you with his chest and you just want to press closer.

“Your ankle again?”

“Yeah.” You’ve been twisting it a lot and it seems more likely to happen the more often it does happen.

“May I?” You’d gotten more informal with each other, but you are still a princess. You nod and with great ease he lifts you into his arms to carry you to the clinic room of the hwarang housing. Changbin gently sets you down onto a chair inside and begins to tend to the cut.

“Um…so, you mentioned the other day your dad is trying to match you with a girl?”

“Yeah, but most of them haven't wanted to continue courting when they see my height.” He sniffs in dismissal, and you wrinkle your nose in annoyance.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re sweet, and funny, and handsome.” He looks up at you then and you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him. His crooked brow falls, and he smiles gently.

“I’m glad at least you see me that way.” You flinch when he dabs at the cut with a wet cloth. There’s some sort of herbal poultice he just adds water to and applies with a bandage to your cut. It stings a bit, then feels much better.

“Why did you really want to learn to fight?” Instead of brining you back outside, he leans against the wall, crossing his arms. You look at your lap, fiddling with your fingers.

“A year ago, my sisters and I got…well, mugged basically while we were in the market and when we tried to get our money back, I got punched and I…I couldn’t do anything to defend myself or my sisters I…hated it. Even to just learn something, to do anything…” It wasn’t the most terrifying experience since it was just some teenager that did it, but you hated feeling so helpless.

“Then we should stick with martial arts. You don’t need to be able to fight with a weapon for something like that.” He stands back up to lead you back out, but you bump into him when he stops right before the door. He turns to look at you softly, “I don’t want you to get hurt even if it’s just learning to fight. I don’t want to be the one who lets you get hurt.” His eyes flick to the cut he bandaged on your arm. Changbin then leaves the clinic, and you wait a few seconds to follow him, patting your cheeks that you know for sure are red.

~◕‿◕✿~

“Changbin?” You’d arrived at the hwarang compound of the palace at your designated time, but the Wonsanghwa isn’t there. Looking around to see if you can see even a trace of him…nothing.

“Gongjunim?” An unfamiliar voice calls out instead and you turn to look, panicked. From the uniform you can tell it’s another member of the hwarang, probably a nangdo. Luckily, you aren’t in your training uniform yet.

“Y-Yes?” You stand up straight, readopting your regal posture you had let relax.

“Can I help you?” he asks, stepping closer; his face is vaguely familiar.

“Oh. I-I'm looking for the Wonsanghwa.”

“Ah, he's not here now. He had to return to his father's home to meet with a family friend's daughter.” Daughter? A woman…

“Oh.” Your entire posture deflates, and you know why the information upsets you so much, but you are a bit ashamed showing it in front of the nangdo.

“Are you (Y/N)-gongju?” he asks, and you look up at him a bit, nodding.

“If you want to wait, I'm sure he'll be back soon. You know, he won't stop talking about you?” The younger man smiles, and your head shoots up to focus on him.

“Really?”

“Hm. I wouldn't worry too much, I'm sure he'll be back soon, just as single.” The nangdo smiles and leaves and you sigh. It’s too risky to wait out in the open, but you aren’t sure where to go to wait either without going back to where you are technically allowed. Heading back to the clinic where Changbin had tended to several little cuts and scrapes you tend to get; you sit at the same table to wait.

~

“(Y/N)?” You jerk away, lifting your head from your folded arms, then rub your eye. It’s dark out, only the faint light of torches from outside shining in the room.

“Huh?” The door opens then, and Changbin steps in, dressed in normal clothes rather than his hwarang wear.

“How long have you been here?” He huffs, setting he lantern down on the table, letting the stick it hangs from rest on the surface as well. He sits across from you and licks your lips nervously.

“Um…around shinshi…” You admit.

“Aigo, it’s been hours… Why did you wait for me?” He shakes his head in disbelief. He only looks a little different without his headband, but somehow, he’s even more handsome.

“Well, um, because-”

“Was it because I was meeting Lord Bak's daughter?” Your silence is telling enough.

“(Y/N),” you’d told him a while ago to just use your name when it’s just you two, “were you jealous?” Changbin smiles, not a smirk, he’s grinning like an idiot. Your silence is, once again, telling enough.

“(Y/N). Do you really think I’d even want to look at a woman who isn’t you?” His voice is gentle, but his giddy grin doesn’t change.

“H-huh?”

“When I got to my family’s, I told my father I didn’t want to court anyone. Well, not no one, only you. That’s why I was gone for so long, we had to get a bigger dowry put together. My father’s meeting with the king now.” He gets up, going around the table to you, and kneels on the floor so he can look up at you. Tears are already gathering in your eyes.

“I hope it wasn't too forward of me to assume you would say yes?”

“Of course, yes you handsome jerk! I was so worried you’d come back engaged to some other woman!” You nearly fall out of your chair when you hug him and he laughs, standing up and easily lifting you with him, spinning you around. 

~θωθ~

 “So, how does it feel to be a prince now?” Your fingers mess with goreum of his white marital jeogori. Changbin smiles.

“It feels better to be your husband.” You nearly whimper, resting your head on his shoulder and he chuckles. You thought he was sweet before, but you’re pretty sure you’ll never want sweets again.

“I love you, so much.” He hugs you, strong arms feeling so comfy around you. Stepping back, your eyes flit over his face and down to where the fabric of his top stretches over his chest. Your fingers go back to the tie, and you pull on it, watching the knot loosen. Biting your lip, he watches with a cocky smirk as you grip the sides of his shirt and pulls them open.

“Oh.” You sigh and he can’t help but grin, looking away and clearing his throat to hide his giggle.

“Every other woman is a fool.” You declare, gently resting your hands on his bare chest. As soon as your skin touches his, you whine, pressing harder, feeling the muscle under his skin. Changbin smiles like an idiot, loving how enthralled you are with him.

“C-can I…?” You have a hard time working up the courage to ask the full question.

“Do whatever you wish, (Y/N)” He kisses your forehead and then his eyes widen, not expecting your next actions. You lean forward, kissing his collarbone, then whimper. You fall to your knees and lick a strip from just above his belly button to as high as you can, right at the base of his sternum. He shivers softly at your actions, fingers weaving into your hair.

“What…are you doing?” He huffs a laugh, bemused and slightly in awe.

“Tasting~” You hum, kissing over his abs, then licking his stomach again. You’ve never acted so boldly before, but he isn’t complaining at all.

“Hm, sounds like fun~” He grins and what he does next makes you squeak. He easily picks you up, nearly slinging you over his shoulder like a sack, carrying you to your bed. You let out a puff of hair when he quite literally drops you onto the bed and he starts to untie the fasten of your sokchima. He gets frustrated quickly with the knot however and just tears it at the seam and yanks it off of you. As he tugs it off, the action flips you over onto your stomach and you barely have time to react before you feel his hands on your hips, his hot breath right against your cunt.

“C-Changbin?” Your breath then leaves you when he swipes his tongue up through your folds, the sudden intense pleasure instantly makes you dizzy. You had never even so much as touched yourself with your fingers, the lack of attention making you extremely sensitive.

“Fuck, you taste so good, princess~” He groans, thumbs spreading your pussy open and he licks up from your clit to your entrance, then shoves his tongue in as deep as he can. All you can get out are gasps, as soon as you can get your breath back, he takes it away again.

“C-Changbin-! S-something feels- weird-“ You heave out and he can feel your gummy walls pulsing around his tongue. The strange sensation kind of scares you, almost feeling like you need to relieve yourself, but feels so much better.

“You’re gonna cum, princess, my princess~” He practically giggles, then sucks at your clit and you nearly scream as your climax hits you. Your fingers dig into the bedding, knuckles going white as your vision does. Your pulse races in your ears and the first thing you can hear when the waves finally die are Changbin’s near-giggles and your heaving breaths.

“Did that feel good, princess~?” He leans over you where you’re still face down on the bed, nearly fully laying on top of you. You whimper when you feel his fully hard cock press against you through his pants.

“T-thought I died…” You huff, then giggle softly when he laughs.

“You taste so fucking good~” He whispers in your ear, and you whimper.

“Please, Changbin…I wanna taste you too.”

“No you don’t-

“What, why not?!” He gets off of you so you can roll over to glare at him.

“I promise I won’t taste nearly as good as you do.”

“How do you know-“ He cuts you off by gently cupping your jaw in his hand, thumb running over your cheek.

“Maybe one day, love, but right now, I need to fully claim you.” His voice lowers to a rough timbre, and you shiver at it.

“Get to the head of the bed.” He tells you and you scooch back to do so, watching intently as his fingers go to the tie of his sokbaji and the white fabric pools at his feet. You’ve never really seen a guy naked, the one time you kinda did, he wasn’t even hard, but…

“That…will it even fit?” You gawk at him, not in horror or disgust, but with genuine awe.

“We’ll make it work~” He smirk smugly, crawling on the bed over you. You huff when he pushes you to lay down then his strong hands go to your thighs, and he leads you to wrap your legs around his waist. You gasp a soft moan as he grinds his cock over your slick folds, a shine transferring to the skin of his cock, and when it slides over your clit, your hips twitch.

“That feel good, princess?”

“Yes~” He slides his cock over you a few more times, then drops your legs, pumping his hand over his cock, enjoying the glide your wet allows.

“Let’s get you ready for me…” He leans down, sealing his lips against yours and you sigh, letting his tongue into your mouth easily. You moan into the kiss when his fingers slide through your folds, then he slowly sinks two of his fingers into you. It stings, but not so bad it hurts, just feels odd. As he slowly moves his fingers, he presses up against your back wall and all of the slight discomfort disappears, replaced with a wave of pleasure.

“A-ah-!” He pulls back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips still and he adds a third finger. His hooded, dark gaze skates all over your face and body, watching your breasts heave with your breath as he fucks you open with his fingers.

“Wait-!” Your back arches, hands flying to grip at his shoulders, blunt nails digging in as his thumb flicks at your clit, the already intense pleasure spiking and you cum again. Changbin chuckles as he feels your tight gummy walls spasm around his fingers, and he helps you ride it out. He finally pulls his hand away from you once you’ve calmed, breath still a bit heavy. You watch with hazy eyes as he brings his wet fingers to hit mouth and obscenely sucks your essence off, groaning as he does it. With his still slick fingers, more from his saliva, he pumps his cock again and lifts your leg with his other hand and brings the head of his dick to your dripping core.

“Changbin~!” You whimper, hands reaching for him. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. As he starts to sink his fat cock into you, he lifts your other leg, and you once again wrap them around his waist. He goes slow, the searing heat stinging. He coaches you to breathe through it, and you wince a few times as he gets deeper.

“I-I don’t- I-I can’t-“ You pant out and he shushes you, laying gentle kisses over your face, his thumb going back to your clit. The pleasure of his finger working you eases the pain of him carving into you and you keep breathing. He knows he’s bigger than most, and when he finally bottoms out, he swears he can see a slight bulge in your lower stomach, outlining where his dick sits inside.

“Fuck, that’s hot…” He lets out a breathy chuckle. He feels your nails in his skin ease up and you move to wrap your arms around his neck, leaving behind crescents in his skin, but he by no means minds.

“You’re doing so good for me, (Y/N). You’re taking me so well, love, don’t worry, it’ll feel good soon.” Changbin whispers sweet things to you as your body gets used to him, he uses that as a way to distract him from the hot vice of your core. He’s holding back so much so he doesn’t just plow into you, he doesn’t want- he can’t hurt you. It pains him to see you even a bit uncomfortable, but it’s worse that he’s the cause of it, but he assures you it’ll be worth it.

“Y-you can…move…” You whimper, hips twitching, and only a very slight burn is still present.

“I’ll go slow, my love.” He kisses your cheek, his hand grabbing yours and as he leans down over you, his fingers weave through yours, holding your hands up by your head. You tighten your legs around him and he pulls out slowly, only an inch or two, and it feels like he’s sucking all of your air out of you. Your head swims, but the sharp burn only heats your body further. As he sinks back in, he grinds down into you, your clit brushing against his groin and you let out a sharp whiny moan, fingers in his tightening.

“Does that hurt?”

“N-no-! P-please, keep going~” You whimper, and he smirks, knowing your start to feel good as well. He slowly pulls out again, only a bit further, then sinks back in again, your pussy sucking him in letting out an obscene wet noise.

“You’re so wet~” He chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours, nuzzling. You giggle breathily, then wheeze out another moan as he keeps moving, pace still slow. You appreciate him making sure you’re ready and used to him, but the pleasure is taking over fast, and you need more.

“Changbin, please, more~” You mewl, and his hands tighten their grip on yours.

“I don’t want to hurt-“

“You’re not, you’re not I swear, please, need more-!” You nearly squeal when he picks up the pace, rapidly building. You’re moaning loudly now, not able to hold back, and the wood frame raising the bed up starts to creak. His breathing is heavy over you and he’s grunting with each thrust, the fat head of his cock battering against your cervix over and over. Your cunt is so tight and hot around him, he’s starting to lose control, wanting to fuck you stupid. He originally wanted to make love to you, sweetly, but your tiny squeaks and fucked-out expression is tainting his thoughts. Something about your delirium and whimpers makes him want to ruin you.

Changbin’s fingers weaved through yours leave, and he instead wraps them around your wrists and pins your hands up over your head. He holds them there with one hand, the other going to your left thigh, and you gasp when he moves to hook your knee over his elbow, shifting the position so his cock somehow buries further into you, the fat head pounding your sweet spot.

“A-AH-!” Your entire body jerks and twitches, cunt spasming around him as you cum again, slick spurting out from you and he laughs.

“Fuck, you’re just beautiful (Y/N), so fucking perfect for me~” He lets your wrists go, but you leave them over your head, mind foggy as you let out little whimpers with each of his thrusts. He hooks your other leg over his arm, leaning over you, nearly folding you in half and starts to thrust hard and shallow. You’re air leaves you at the angle change and his hips stutter as your cunt clenches him tight.

“Gonna fuck you full, (Y/N). Gonna breed you, fuck a baby into you~ You want that, yeah~? Wanna have my cum, have my baby~?

“Yes~! Yes~ please, ah-!” Your cunt spasms again and he can’t hold back anymore, getting as deep as he can and pumps your womb full of his cum and the rapid heat searing into you sends you over the edge as well.

As you both come down from your highs, he catches his breath faster than you do. He looks down at you with a soft smile, your eyes closed as your chest heaves, body limp on the bed under him. You hum softly when he leans down and kisses you, then hugs you when he pulls back, rolling over so you’re laying on top of him, his softening cock still sitting inside you. You feel yourself already starting to fall asleep as he rubs your back, kissing the top of your head.

“You were loud, love~” He huffs a laugh, and you hum sleepily.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asks softly and you hum again.

“I wanted to be gentle, but…”

“But?”

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met…so I couldn’t hold back anymore.”

“Can I tell you a secret too?”

“Of course, love~”

“I’ve wanted you that long too.”

hwarang - a group of young noblemen that became somewhat like educated knights in the royal palace from around the 6th century to the 11th. hwarangdo - leaders of groups of nangdo. nangdo - lowest members of the hwarang hierarchy and would form groups led by the hwarangdo. Wonsanghwa - the first officer of the hwarang who is in charge of training in martial arts and combat. sangseon - training offices of the hwarang. gukseon - a chief officer of the hwarang. unni - older sister to a girl. Gongjunim - formal address for a princess. gongju - princess honorific. chon - historical unit of measurement, close to an inch. pong - also known as a bo stick used in martial arts, typically made of wood. shinshi - designation for the ancient Korean hours of the Monkey which is about 3-5 pm. aigo - kind of like an exclamation like "sheesh" or "geez", still used in modern times. goreum - the ties that fasten the top of a hanbok. jeogori - the top/shirt part of a hanbok. sokchima - basically a dress/skirt like under-garment. sokbaji - pants-like under-garment, mostly worn by women actually…

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

Taglist: @huldrelokken, @estella-novella, @astrobebba, @kayleefriedchicken, @minghaosimp, @cassandramrn, @qwonyoung23, @stresskidz, @rhonnie23

[fromtherift]

To say I’m heartbroken by what happened with BioWare and EA regarding dragon age would be an understatement- however, at the same time, I saw it coming a million miles away.

From the development hell DA was put through, to the final result not having DLCs, to the final result also being a shadow of the previous instalments in the series in terms of writing and gameplay- it was clear to me they wanted dragon age done and finished as fast as possible.

I’m sorry, but I really didn’t like Veilguard. I loved it at first play through, and my opinion sharply declined on my second. It felt like a shadow or a mockery of the games I love. It felt like the equivalent of giving your kid sibling an unattached game controller and letting them play just to shut them up.

The game spent so long trying to be cinematic that it forgot to be good- or rather, it never had a chance to be good. It just needed to be shiny and it needed to sell. That’s the shape of all things lately- and it makes me rage and it breaks my heart.

More importantly, the people fired are going to have an incredibly hard time getting employed again. I know Trick Weeks was talking about how difficult it was to afford raising a child in Canada, and now both they and their partner are unemployed.

What EA and BioWare did to dragon age was cruel on multiple levels. I hope one day we live in a world that allows these stories to be told by people who love to tell them, who get compensated well for telling them, and in a way that is authentic to the story itself and not to any speculative market.

[writefullyrobin]

No spoilers past the current ep if possible folks! I’m going in blind!

3x01 – Kids Today thoughts

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ENDING?!

Guys you could’ve warned me I needed to give myself time to watch the next couple of eps at the same time! Note to self, just assume all openings are now multiple ep arcs. 

OK, skipping back to the rest of the ep.

I celebrated Buck’s full recovery too soon. Seeing him cough up blood like that was alarming. Although if you’re gonna do that, do it in a room full of trained medics.

Buck quitting when they were concerned about him returning to active duty felt drastic but I understand. He’s not really got a whole lot else going for outside the 118. He doesn’t have a significant other or kids like everyone else. He just wants to get back to what he does best. Could he slow down? Maybe but I’m just surprised he has his leg at all so what do I know?

I’m not at all surprised Buck’s recovery’s going to be a focal point for the first part of the season considering how big a deal it was for the entire team.

Side thought – does Eddie have a key to Buck’s apartment because Buck certainly didn’t let him in. He was wallowing in bed. I like how Eddie just sort of left Chris with Buck and ran. I get what he’s going for though, who could be sad around the literal ray of sunshine that is Christopher Diaz? He’s just too precious!

The opening emergencies in this ep were fun! The kid with his dad’s out of control car and using the fire engine to stop it was clever.

The retirement home call was just bonkers and a perfect example of why I love this show. I was not expecting this type of call at this location! Old folks are clearly made different in LA. My friend works in a care home and the old folks she works with are more likely to have a heart attack if they even so much as get the pulse rates up even a little bit!

Lesson for all ages though, you’re never too old to practice safe sex!

Chris is a special kid, isn’t he? Eddie is raising a very compassionate young man. I loved his conversation with Buck at the pier. Other kids would be off wanting to play and not really listening, but Chris is aware Buck’s struggling even if he doesn’t understand exactly why. The you’re gonna be okay kid just about killed me. 

Now again, I ask, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ENDING?! This has to be a tsunami right?! I know this is a legitimate real-life concern for Santa Monica but I’m still kinda stunned they went with this.

A few of you have said I’ll enjoy this season so not gonna lie, both super excited and super nervous for what the hell is gonna go down this season! From this ep alone, it looks like its gonna be a helter skelter!