#Biometric Security and Personalization

[archspaceandguides]

The Future of Office Desks: Smart and Connected Workstations

The traditional office desk is transforming, ushering in the era of intelligent and connected workstations. As technological advancements continue to reshape how we work, office desks are becoming more than just static furniture. In this article, we will explore the future of office desks, delving into the innovative features and technologies that make workspaces smarter, more efficient, and…

[friendrat]

But I don't wanna live in a dystopian world!!!

[precallai]

The Role of Artificial Intelligence in Call Centers: Advantages, Challenges, and Innovations

Introduction

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is transforming the call center industry by automating customer interactions, streamlining workflows, and improving service quality. AI-driven technologies, such as virtual assistants, speech analytics, and predictive insights, enhance operational efficiency and customer satisfaction. However, integrating AI into call centers comes with challenges that need strategic solutions. This article explores the key benefits, challenges, and emerging innovations in AI-powered call centers.

Key Advantages of AI in Call Centers

1. Enhanced Customer Support

AI chatbots and virtual assistants provide instant responses, reducing customer wait times and ensuring round-the-clock availability. Natural Language Processing (NLP) enables these systems to interpret and respond to inquiries with human-like accuracy.

2. Boosted Agent Efficiency

AI supports call center agents by automating routine tasks, suggesting relevant responses, and summarizing interactions in real time. This allows human agents to focus on more complex and high-value conversations.

3. Smart Call Routing

AI-powered systems analyze customer history, sentiment, and query type to route calls to the most suitable agent, reducing resolution times and enhancing first-call resolution rates.

4. Predictive Analytics for Proactive Engagement

AI analyzes customer data to forecast behavior, identify potential churn risks, and suggest tailored solutions. This proactive approach helps businesses retain customers and improve satisfaction.

5. Cost Efficiency and Scalability

By automating a significant portion of customer interactions, AI-driven call centers reduce operational costs. AI also enables businesses to scale support operations efficiently without a proportional increase in staff.

Challenges of AI Integration in Call Centers

1. Handling Complex Queries

While AI is effective for routine inquiries, complex or emotionally sensitive issues often require human intervention. Balancing AI automation with human support is essential for optimal service.

2. Data Security and Privacy Compliance

Call centers manage sensitive customer information, making compliance with regulations such as GDPR and CCPA critical. AI systems must include strong security protocols to safeguard data.

3. Legacy System Integration

Many call centers operate on outdated infrastructure, which may not be fully compatible with modern AI solutions. Upgrading or implementing middleware can be costly and time-consuming.

4. Customer Trust and AI Acceptance

Some customers prefer human support over AI-driven interactions. Ensuring that AI systems provide accurate, empathetic, and context-aware responses while allowing seamless handoffs to human agents is crucial.

5. Mitigating AI Bias

AI models can inherit biases from training data, leading to inaccurate or unfair responses. Continuous monitoring and refining of AI algorithms are necessary to ensure unbiased and equitable customer service.

Cutting-Edge Innovations in AI Call Centers

1. Real-Time Sentiment Analysis

AI-driven sentiment analysis detects customer emotions in real time, enabling agents to adjust their approach and prioritize urgent cases accordingly.

2. Voice Biometrics for Secure Authentication

AI-powered voice recognition verifies customer identities using unique vocal patterns, reducing reliance on passwords and enhancing security.

3. AI-Enhanced Speech Analytics

Speech analytics tools analyze call interactions to uncover customer trends, identify compliance gaps, and suggest service improvements.

4. Hyper-Personalized Customer Interactions

AI-driven CRM systems leverage customer behavior and history to offer personalized recommendations, promotions, and support solutions.

5. AI-Powered Multilingual Support

Real-time language translation powered by AI enables call centers to serve global customers seamlessly, eliminating language barriers.

Conclusion

AI is redefining call center operations by improving efficiency, personalizing customer interactions, and reducing costs. However, successful AI adoption requires addressing challenges related to security, integration, and customer trust. As AI technology advances, businesses that strategically implement AI-powered solutions will gain a competitive edge in delivering exceptional customer service

[likitakans]

AI and Health: New Technologies Paving the Way for Better Treatment

Artificial intelligence (AI) is expanding rapidly in the health sector, and it is revolutionizing our medical system. With the help of AI, new technologies are being developed that are not only helpful in accurately diagnosing diseases but are also playing an important role in personalized treatment and management.

Quick and accurate diagnosis of diseases AI-based tools can now analyze medical imaging data such as X-rays, CT scans, and MRIs quickly and accurately. This helps doctors to quickly detect complex conditions such as cancer, heart diseases, and neurological problems.

Personalized medicine AI can help create personalized treatment plans for every individual by analyzing genomics and biometrics. This technology ensures that the patient gets the right medicine and the right dose at the right time.

Improved health management AI-based health apps and wearables such as smart watches are now helping people monitor their health condition. These devices regularly track health indicators such as heart rate, blood pressure and sleep quality.

Accelerating medical research The role of AI has become extremely important in the development of new drugs and vaccines. Using AI, scientists can analyze complex data sets and make new medical discoveries faster.

Accessible and affordable healthcare AI technology is helping in delivering affordable and effective healthcare, even in rural and remote areas. Telemedicine and virtual health assistants are bridging the gap between patients and doctors.

Conclusion Artificial intelligence is playing an important role in making healthcare more effective, accurate, and accessible. However, there are challenges such as data security and ethics in the use of AI technology which need to be dealt with. In the coming years, with more advanced and innovative uses of AI, the healthcare landscape may change completely.

[reallytoosublime]

Biometrics is the most suitable means of identifying and authenticating individuals in a reliable and fast way through unique biological characteristics. Unlike traditional authentication methods like passwords or PINs, which can be easily forgotten or stolen, biometrics relies on inherent and distinctive attributes of a person. These attributes are difficult to replicate, making biometric authentication a powerful tool for ensuring the integrity and security of sensitive information, physical access control, and various other applications.

#biometricauthentication#biometricstechnology#biometrics#limitlesstech#biometricauthenticationsystem#futureofbiometrics#biometricauthenticationtechnology#facialrecognitiontechnology#biometricdata#biometricdevice#biometricsystem

[youtubemarketing1234]

Biometrics is the most suitable means of identifying and authenticating individuals in a reliable and fast way through unique biological characteristics. Unlike traditional authentication methods like passwords or PINs, which can be easily forgotten or stolen, biometrics relies on inherent and distinctive attributes of a person. These attributes are difficult to replicate, making biometric authentication a powerful tool for ensuring the integrity and security of sensitive information, physical access control, and various other applications.

However, it also comes with challenges, such as privacy concerns, potential security vulnerabilities, and the need for robust protection of biometric data. As technology continues to advance, biometric authentication is likely to become even more integral to various aspects of our lives, from unlocking smartphones to securing critical infrastructure.

#biometricauthentication#biometricstechnology#biometrics#limitlesstech#biometricauthenticationsystem#futureofbiometrics#biometricauthenticationtechnology#facialrecognitiontechnology#biometricdata#biometricdevice#biometricsystem

[sbcdh]

"You saw it?"

"For a second. Yeah. I saw one."

"Start at the beginning."

"Hoo. Okay. Uhhh... It was 77. I think. I was air force. Or, hypnoengineering support staff contracted to help out around St. Louis."

"That's how you came into your supply of JVH-1"

"It was JVH-11 actually, and yeah, the fuckin, uh- the requisitions officer at Scott was an old buddy of mine. We used to fuck around in college before I, you know-"

"Yes I understand."

"I worked records for Sears-Roebuck, I had all the accounting expertise, as well as a ready supply of LSD."

"How did you start?"

"Oh it was easy at first. Really just selling off phials of the new experimental stuff to finance guys. They'd go nuts for the stuff, pay top dollar for it too. Hell, I could get 100$ for a milliliter. Made it easy to keep my contacts bought in and re-invested. Honestly I don't think the req office would even know that we were skimming if they weren't in on it.

But, you know how it is with hypnoregulation. Transchronological market data is worth it's weight in diamond. It started with the odd photo of a 2q-week readout, then biometric data, then, uh- then. Well, we decided to try it ourselves."

"You attempted full sub-finantial emmanation?"

"No no god no, what're you nuts? No, see. We figured if one person can meld their brain with the market, we just had to get as close as we could to that guy, and mark the twain, hypnologically speaking."

"Mark the twain?"

"Yeah, see, okay. A plutophant in full emmanation isn't like us. We exist at a single point in time, an R1 rational market actor. But they exist in multiple points in time, back in 77, I think the government could hit R6 with that analogue tech. Most people can hit R2 with a single hit of JVH-1, with practice you can hit R3, but anything higher than R3 takes a pretty serious support team. But here's the thing, I had a whole cadre of co-implicated members of a military grade hypnoengineering support team. All we needed was the space."

"The warehouse. Schaeffer Marble and Tile was it?"

"Bingo. See here's the thing. You know why the government had to start building those special regulation temples? It's not just for security. Once you crack the R6 barrier, Plutophants start leaving what's called a wake. You know, like a fuckin, uh, like a boat. They're imperceptible to normal people, but if you have sensitive enough instruments or, say, a person in the edge of sub-market emmanation.

See the government didn't know at the time, but if you balanced the drugs just right, and kept someone right on the edge of R4, you could actually read the plutophant's interpretations by their wake rather than their direct neurofeedback. It's not nearly as precise, but if you have a good team and you know what to look for, you can get some really, really valuable market data that way."

"And your co-worker?"

"You mean Mills? Fuck. Yeah...Mills. Right."

"Take your time."

"No, no I'm good. It's... It's uh, It's dangerous. Brains aren't meant to take that much JVH-11 all at once. We could stay on R4, but what we didn't have was a recovery team, or a medical team, or recon team. It was me, Mills, Israel, Connaught, and Marsh. The five of us were the only ones in the soup. Bruso was running the machines and Lasker was monitoring the readout."

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It was a normal intrusion. Hypnogrid emmanation is pretty simple with our tech and support. Sedation was all green, hypnoinduction was green. Smooth as silk. Landed about 40 minutes from our work location. We had the codes from the IRSAW people that morning, all we had to do was maintain hypnoinduction for 40 minutes while traversing the colon and we'd be able to-"

"I'm sorry, colon?"

"Oh come on. Colon. Collective Unconscious. Col-Un. Colon."

"I- of course. Continue."

"Hey, have you ever been on a dive before?"

"Can we focus on your statement?"

"It's important. I need to know if this next bit is gonna make sense to you or not."

"I've undergone basic anti-intrusion training standard for IRS investigation task force officers."

"So you've done safe dives. White room? Castle training? Putting up the wall? All that jazz?"

"That's correct."

"Did they ever tell you why it's dangerous to perform off-site hypnoincursion in meta-unstsble hypnospace?"

"They did."

"Well they're lying...don't look at me like that. I'm not bullshitting you. They're lying...there's...there's shit out there okay? There's things out there."

"Mills?"

"Yeah. Mills. Uh..."

"Take your time."

"Yeah yeah. Quit interruptin me. Mills... Uh, yeah so we were T-Plus 30 into the dive. Bruso gives us a heads up that some hypnoflora is headed our way, but can't get a read on mass. Says we should steer clear, but we are so close. Israel had handled some hypnoflora before, so we weren't worried. But it was... I dunno. I can't explain."

"Do your best."

"Like. Okay. Meta-unstsble dives are fucked. They're acid trips. The St. Louis hypnoscape already doesn't look normal, but Scott Base looked like some kinda bastard lovechild of a medieval castle and a seashell, all twisting up into itself. The streets were a chessboard, and all the streetlights we're these tall kinda mannequin lookin' things holding a tiny sun in their hand. Everything is fucked, it's all topsy turvy. But it's okay, because it's meta-unstable hypnospace, its not SUPPOSED to be normal. And then there was a Red Sock."

"Like for the feet?"

"No. Like. In the middle of this fucked up dreamscape, there's suddenly a batter for the Boston Red Sox. He's standing there, maybe 50 feet away. He's got a bat in one hand and a mitt in the other, and he's just kinda walking towards us. Nobody really knew what to do. It didn't look dangerous, but something wasn't right. It didn't fit. We just kinda stood there, looking at the thing. Israel starts talking to Bruso, asking him what to do. Suddenly, Bruso is screaming at us, telling us to book it. He's screaming into the com, telling us to prepare for de-emmanation. Nobody knows what's happening. Israel is suddenly standing between Mills and the Red Sock, and..."

"Any information you can recall could be of use."

"It's...it's mostly feeling at this point. You ever been having a normal dream? Like, a good, normal dream? And suddenly you realize that something is really, really wrong? There's signs. For me? It's that the lights go out. Suddenly day turns to night, and something about this batter just makes me want to curl up and hide. Suddenly, moving through the world is like trying to swim through molasses. I try to run, but nothing moves, and everything is dark. The world is shifting. There's shadows under the bathroom door that can't be happening. A man who looks like Jesus. An old and terrible house and an old man with no name whose face I can't remember. The batter swings at Mills and she just...vanishes. Shes gone. Bruso pulls us out a second later."

"So this, batter killed Ms. Mills?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. We get out, she's comatose. Whatever that thing did to her, she was still in hypnospace. I gave her a hot shot of barbiturates. Her brain activity slowed to R0 after about 90 seconds."

[clockwayswrites]

Bird Brained, or something. Part 22

masterpost NGL this part might be really rough. This migraine is killing my, but I wanted to get it written.

“Just stay behind us, Mr. Wayne,” Maria Ramirez ordered.

Bruce nodded as he paced. Facts about her ran through his head without his bidding. Ex Air Force. Bruce had hired her after she left, angry and with an honorable discharge the Air Force hoped would keep her quiet while the man who assaulted her got a pension. She was a little hot headed, took shit from no one, and was impressively competent.

If she continued this way, she’d be Bruce’s choice for the next head of security.

He still didn’t want to listen to her.

His kids were at the end of that stairwell along with the Mad Hatter and several of the man’s goons. Bruce was confident in Robin and Red Robin’s abilities to protect themselves from the threat, but this was different. This was Damian and Tim.

Robin might be magic, but the child in the suit was just a child. And children could die.

Bruce shook his arms out to try and get rid of the nerves. He could afford the motion as Bruce Wayne where he couldn’t as Batman.

As Batman he could have been at the front of pack and already through the door.

Bruce measured his breathing, forcing it to slow.

Ramirez held up a fist. The rest of the security force readied themselves.

One—

Two—

Three—

They breached the door with shouts of ‘hands in the air’ and ‘get down on the ground’.

“I work here! Doctor Daniel Fenton, R&D,” Danny’s voice called out.

“Get on the ground, hands behind your head slowly,” Ramirez ordered.

Bruce burst out of the stairwell. “I can vouch for—” Wings. Danny had wings. He was still human, human enough, but he had inky black wings that were spread wide along with his raised hands. “—Dr. Fenton.”

Ramirez glanced at Bruce, but kept her tranq gun trained on Danny. “Sir?”

“I can vouch for Dr. Fenton, he’s a friend of the family,” Bruce said more evenly as he took in the rest of the scene.

There was a remarkable lack of blood for the bodies scattered across the small space. Some were unconscious while others clutched their heads. The floor was scattered with crushed mind control devices and the occasional feather. The Mad Hatter was as far back in the elevator as possible, mumbling about ravens and writing desks. Danny stood in front of the door to the safe room. His spread wings assured no one got past him. The outside of Danny’s wings were white, Bruce realized. It was like they were inverted from the larger bird form.

“Tim and Damian are in the safe room,” Danny said quickly, breaking through Bruce’s thoughts. “They’re not hurt.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you.” He ran his hands over his face and sucked in a purposefully even breath. Then he dropped his hands and looked at the security squad. “Dr. Fenton’s meta status is a personal mater not to be discussed, am I clear?”

There was a course of ‘yes sir’ from security and a soft, relieved, ‘thank you’ from Danny. Bruce nodded and strode towards the safe room. He snagged Danny by the wrist as he passed and pulled the stunned man along with him.

“Bruce?”

“Thank you,” Bruce said again as he started the biometric scans for the safe room. His thumb ran rhythmically over the back of Danny’s hand. The skin there was soft, like the down feathers of a chick. “Thank you for protecting my boys.”

“Of course, I always will,” Danny said, sounding completely serious, though Bruce could feel Danny’s hand trembling in his own.

The vault like door hissed as the air seal released and it started to open. Bruce knew that Danny said that the boys were fine, but as soon as the door was open enough, Bruce pulled Danny into the room and the semblance of privacy that it offered.

“Are you alright? Are you both alright?” Bruce asked. He rested his hand on Tim’s cheek while he looked to Damian, who was standing against the side wall, arms angrily crossed.

“No one even laid a hand on us or got close,” Tim said. “Danny, Dr. Fenton, made sure of that.”

“Which was completely stupid,” Damian bit out, his words harsh and angry and hurt.

“Damian,” Danny tried.

“No! It was stupid! You willing deprived yourself of allies! If you insisted on us being in the safe room then you should have been in it also!”

Danny’s wings drooped. “Damian, honey, this… this form of mine is still new. I didn’t want to risk—”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt us.”

“I would never, but there’s still things that could go wrong—”

“Shut up!”

Danny flinched back at the should, wings pulled tight against his body. Then he took a carefully measured breath and made himself relax. The wings opened up again a little and, with clear uncertainty, Danny opened his arms.

With all the speed of his training, Damian dashed forward. He rammed into Danny hard and wrapped his arms around Danny, clutching him tightly. Danny leaned down a little. His wings came forward to wrap protectively around Bruce’s youngest.

“You are an idiot,” Damian said harshly into Danny’s sweater.

“Some times,” Danny agreed, “but it’s alright. We’re all safe. It’s alright, little chickadee.”

[wilwheaton]

Trump had given Musk and his operatives carte blanche to tap any unclassified system they pleased. One of their first stops: a database previously breached more than a decade ago by alleged Chinese cyberspies that contained investigative files on tens of millions of US government employees. Other storehouses thrown open to DOGE may have included federal workers’ tax records, biometric data, and private medical histories, such as treatment for drug and alcohol abuse; the cryptographic keys for restricted areas at federal facilities across the country; the personal testimonies of low-income-housing recipients; and granular detail on the locations of particularly vulnerable children. What did DOGE want with this kind of information? None of it seemed relevant to Musk’s stated aim of identifying waste and fraud, multiple government finance, IT, and security specialists told WIRED. But in treating the US government itself as a giant dataset, the experts said, DOGE could help the Trump administration accomplish another goal: to gather much of what the government knows about a given individual, whether a civil servant or an undocumented immigrant, in one easily searchable place. WIRED spoke with more than 150 current and former federal employees, experts, and Musk supporters across more than 20 agencies to expose the inner workings of DOGE. Many of these sources requested anonymity to speak candidly about what DOGE has done—and what it might do next.

Inside Elon Musk’s ‘Digital Coup’ | WIRED

This is sickening. Take the time to read this whole article, and be informed. You need to know who these criminals are, and what they are doing to our personal, private, deeply NOT THEIR FUCKING BUSINESS information.

[bachshot]

Danger Zone

request: so happy to hear ava was your fav thunderbolt she was mine too!! Would you be willing to write a oneshot about fem reader who also heard about Valentina’s plan and came to save Ava, meeting John and Yelena a little before Alexei.

Ava Starr x Fem!Reader no warnings apply

thunderbolts spoilers ahead... kinda want to do a part two later on in the movie with some more fluffy y/n and ava moments + interaction with the other thunderbolts, lmk what you think!!

Y/N never trusted Valentina, what was happening right now was only more timber for the fire in the list of reasons why she really needed to quit her job. For the past few months she had been working as her personal security guard, something Ava wasn't exactly overjoyed to learn but the pay was cushy and so far Valentina didn't seem to suspect their relationship. Or if she did she hadn't said anything, whether that was better or worse they were unsure.

That being said the jobs Y/N was given were nowhere near the level of Ava's, instead being stuck accompanying Valentina to events and looking overall intimidating, so when it came time for Valentina to clean her hands of evidence it was unsurprising that Y/N didn't make the list.

But as she raced up this stupid hill to the facility atop of it she had one thought on her mind, 'i really need to quit this job', if Valentina’s awful attitude wasn't enough then trying to kill her girlfriend certainly was. Mel had spilled the secret plan to Y/N, a guilt filled moment of clarity where the words came out hard and fast unaware of Y/N's connection to Ava, but the subsequent words fell on deaf ears as the blood rushed to Y/N's head as all she could think about was Ava. It had been easy to convince Mel to help her, she always seemed to be teetering on the fence of supporting Valentina so all she seemed to need was a push, the girl managing to give Y/N top level access to scan into the building Ava was sent to but other than that it was all in Y/N's hands, any more meddling from Mel would quickly be spotted and stopped by Valentina. As much as she thought of Valentina and her assistant as one in the same, here Y/N had to reconsider her biases... But maybe not right at this second. The facility quickly comes into view as Y/N reaches the top of the hill, opening the door with the building's biometric system and groaning quietly to herself as it opens only to reveal more doors. She couldn’t help but feel she didn’t have time for this, knowing the incinerator Ava had been led into would activate any moment.

Luckily the feeling was short lived as Ava phased through one of the doors with a panicked look on her face, jaw dropping once she spotted Y/N their speech overlapping in a frantic exclamation of “you’re here!” and “what are you doing here?!”

Y/N shakes her head grabbing Ava’s arms, giving her a slight shake, “Valentina set you up! I came here to get you,” she explains, eyes scanning over Ava to check her over for any injuries, easily distracted and unable to hold back rambling a little despite the urgency of the current situation, “God, you look so good in that new suit by the way, but we need to get out of here, i dont know when the others are getting here but—“

Ava cuts her off with a chuckle, endeared by Y/N’s ability to give out a compliment alongside attempting to save her life (even if she’s definitely seen Ava’s new suit before and has told her that every time she’s seen her in it),

“they’re already here,” Ava informs her, glancing back to the door she just phased through, “and we just figured out Valentina’s plan…” she adds with some reluctance not wanting to diminish Y/N’s efforts. It’s then that Ava’s face drops from the tender smile she always had plastered on in Y/N’s presence, replaced by an expression of realisation as she cursed under her breath suddenly breaking from Y/N’s hold to turn to the lock pad next to the door. Y/N raises a brow as Ava presses the buttons, letting out a frustrated growl as she’s met with a harsh ‘access denied’, given Ava’s history Y/N felt kind of proud that she had managed to work with the others she was set up against. Ava wasn’t quick to trust with her past, and while Y/N understood the trust was probably fleeting and completely situational, something about seeing her working with others made her chest swell regardless. She made a note to tell her as such later.

“Let me try,” Y/N offers, arm brushing against Ava’s as she moves to stand next to her, assuming Ava’s access was removed the moment she had entered to stop her from being able to escape, but Y/N’s should still be in full effect thanks to Mel. The door opens, revealing the others inside who look almost surprised to see they had actually been freed, and Ava’s arm nudges Y/N’s in a silent form of appreciation however the moment is fleeting as flames begin to descend in the opened up room causing an explosion that continued on into the room they currently stood in.

By all means Ava could temporarily phase to avoid the blow but instead Y/N feels Ava’s hands on her chest as she pushes her to the ground bodies pressed together to stay low as the explosion blew over them, Ava's body blocking most of the blow from Y/N in a protective hold. It didn’t take long for it to end, Ava pushing herself up still straddling Y/N and looking down at her with a concerned look as she made sure she was okay… Y/N couldn’t help but think she wouldn’t mind this position in another setting, and maybe she subconsciously leaned forward at first seeing Ava’s face hovering above hers but could you really blame her? Aware however that it was not the time for that she didn’t allow her mind to wander further, stopping herself before she and Ava actually kissed but not before Ava had noticed.

“…Hey,” Y/N breathes out, a ringing in her ears and a dull aching in her head as she definitely hit it on the floor going down (and may or may not be a little concussed), causing Ava to shake her head in amusement as she pulls herself up from the ground and offers Y/N a hand.

“Hey yourself,” she replies smoothly, a teasing tone on her tongue egged on by Y/N’s antics, it looks like she’s about to say something else as her mouth opens again only to be interrupted by a gruffer voice to the right of the two. Y/N doesn’t really catch what’s being said, the ringing from the loud explosion still persisting in her ears but she can tell it’s something along the lines of ‘who the fuck are you’ causing both her and Ava to quickly whip their heads round looking towards a man in some kind of captain america-esque costume, Ava's stance hardening as she side stepped in front of Y/N to block her from the mans view. It was then Y/N remembered her and Ava weren’t alone, noticing a shorter blonde woman and another man with darker hair on the other side of the room slowly getting up, clearly just recovering from being blown away when the explosion had gone off. With such an interesting combination of people she would definitely be asking Ava for more details later, and knew absolutely no insults towards the other mercenaries would be spared, but for now as she felt Ava's hand protectively reach for hers and give it a thankful squeeze she was glad she had come here— even if it seemed Ava had already been capable of saving herself.

[echoasdfghultrakill]

Alright kids, I've worked all evening on compiling this info, so to anyone who needs it:

PROTESTING SAFETY

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

1. Preparation:

- Do not wear any accessories or anything identifiable. If you have tattoos or piercings, cover them up and hide them. Do NOT use makeup to cover them up either. In fact, don't wear makeup at all in ANY capacity, especially on the face, because it makes gases and sprays WORSE. Avoid jewerly entirely as it can be grabbed onto or traced back to you.

- Wear long sleeve shirts and pants and running shoes, CLOSED TOES, preferably all gray or black or all one singular (nonbright) color, neutrals. Avoid loose clothing and drawstrings. Wear head coverings, even more so if you have dyed hair. Nothing eye-catching, no slogans or logos, no customized or political clothing, nothing identifiable or unique that can be traced back to you. Wear head coverings that cover the entire head, including your ears, nose, and mouth.

- Make sure you can run in your outfit, just in case

- ***DO NOT WEAR CONTACTS, WEAR GLASSES INSTEAD***

I CANNOT stress that enough. If you wear glasses, make sure they're secure and cannot fall off easy.

- Helmets or elbow and knee patches are good for general safety but wear nothing that limits movement. Also, WEAR GOGGLES, but in a pinch firearm safety glasses of some kind can work. some sort of mask covering for your nose and mouth for, again, gases and sprays. A regular covid mask underneath a balaclava or bandana is better than nothing

- An extra note to medics: DO NOT wear anything that designates you publicly as a medic. A known medic is a targeted one. Only make it known you're a medic through word of mouth, **please**

- Write energency phone numbers on your body somewhere hidden, keep your ID and cash on you in a shoe or something but don't bring a wallet. If you have to bring a phone keep it shut down the entire time until you are far from the location the protest is happening, keep your biometrics and face ID off, turn off location services and if you take photo or video erase the metadata even if you don't plan on posting it.

- There are typically jail support and legal aid for protesters, find whats specific to your area and write their number. If you can get a lawyer, write their number down, too.

- PREFERABLY* go with a friend. Keep a designated meet up spot away from the protest to run to if things go south. If you are alone? get a buddy or make a friend at the protest so you both have someone to fall back on, and make it known to others that you are alone so they can watch out for you. If anything else, make sure at least 1 other person not at the protest knows where you are.

- Have backup meet-up spots in case of them being compromised, set up check-ins, too.

- KNOW YOUR RIGHTS BEFOREHAND, be prepared to exercise them

AGAIN on phones:

- have location data and airdrop turned off, AND in airplane mode because it can still ping towers with it off. Consider a faraday bag, if you can.

- turn off biometrics or face ID, cops can force you to open your phone. Again, preferably, keep it turned off

- burner phones are often registered with identifiable information so I don't recommend it, but if you can get it under someone else's information especially if they aren't going to be with yoy at the protest *with their consent

- if you are going to take video or photos for any reason, get CONSENT FIRST. Do NOT post anything in the moment. Only after the protest has concluded and once you've wiped the metadata. (And no, that screenshotting trick doesn't always work).

- use encrypted messaging, no socials, no texting, no phone calls. Verbal communication face to face is best

- while im on that topic: dont post anything beforehand either. Dont sign up to things on facebook, don't RSVP, and definitely don't post anywhere on social media that you're attending.

- Beforehand, look at maps of the area. Know your routes and exits.

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

1.5. supplies:

- WATER WATER WATER, enough to stay hydrated AND to flush your eyes

- backpack or something secure AND crossbody to carry supplies in, one that doesnt limit movement and can't be pulled off easy

- umbrellas block projectiles, use them

- earplugs or eardefenders, *(do not get completely noise cancling because you still need to be aware of your surroundings)*

- some sort of snacks (not sugary, preferably): peanut butter crackers, slim jim, crackers, granola, trail mix, etc

- sunscreen, if not for you then someone else

- basic prepacked medkit supplies, bandages and gauze, if nothing else

- gloves (heat safe, oven mitts work too. They're for handling canisters thrown your way safely)

- BAIL MONEY, stored somewhere safe, probably in your shoes. Even if you intend on being peaceful, even if you don't do anything illegal or plan on it. They *will* still try to arrest you anyways.

- a change of clothes for afterward, both so you have clean, uncontaminated clothes, and so you're less likely to be identified after

- Whistle (noisemaker and you won't lose your voice as easily. Also, it's good for if you've been injured or need to call out for help)

- Sharpie to write on yourself if needed, notepad can be used to record badge numbers in future court cases

- card with crucial medical information such as blood type, disabilities, allergies, or other needs stashed somewhere on the chance of a medical emergency or being hospitalized.

Medic specific supplies:

- everything above^

- Water

- saline solution (found at wallgreens or walmart in eye sections, didinfectant and can be used to clear tear gas)

*note: I wouldn't recommend baby shampoo because it often had fragrances which can hurt more or damage your eyes, and sometimes oils too which can make it worse)

- safety scissors

- butterfly bandages and bandaids

- alcohol wipes and q-tips

- neosporin

- *latex free* gloves

- guaze

- tampons and pads to pack wounds

- duct tape

- emergency blanket

- did I mention WATER

- Extras of anything you can spare for those who are less prepared

IF YOU ARE BRINGING ANY FLAGS

- i urge you to bring American flags. Anything else and the media coverage can be twisted as an 'Us vs. Mexico" or "Us vs. Trans people". American flags let them know undeniably that no matter how they try to twist the narrative: *this is happening to U.S. citizens*

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

2: While you're there

- Keep an EYE ON YOUR SURROUNDINGS. Exercise spatial awareness, keep an eye on the crowd and out of the crowd. This is easier said than done if you dont have a buddy, so I really recommend finding someone to group with.

- I recommend staying on the outskirts if you can. Avoid dark and enclosed areas in exchange for open and well lit ones. Watch out for infiltrators there to insight violence and agitate crowds, or undercover cops.

- DO NOT PANIC OR RUN, DO NOT SCREAM. It takes one person to make an entire group panic, and that can lead to violence, stampedes, crowd crushes... stay calm and react accordingly.

- Panicking can be read as aggression too, so all the more reason to stay calm. Alongside with that: do NOT be innebriated. Do not do drugs, do not drink alcohol. Stay sober, stay aware.

- If you are recording: narrate loud and clealy, narrate the time and date, the location, the events before and during recording. Footage is evidence that can be used in court. Blur and obscure faces with multiple methods

- If things get violent or go south, distance yourself and find somewhere to regroup. Be prepared to protect yourself, have umbrellas ready in defense of being shot at. I cannot stress this enough but 'rubber' bullets (metal encased in rubber btw) can still maim and kill. The police often shoot directly at people without regard for safety. Be careful.

- If police begin to surround and barricade your group, you are being locked in a *kettle*. (Yes, even if it's illegal in your state) They may keep you there for an extended period of time or attempt to arrest everyone. The safest way out if you see it coming back the way you came. Do NOT talk to the cops under any circumstances.

- If nobody talks, everybody walks

- if you are arrested, be prepared to exercise your rights and speak clearly. Not speaking clearly gives them cause to ignore you or take your words differently than what they mean because they have to obey the word and not the spirit of the law.

- if you are detained: "I am exercising my right to remain silent, I will not speak without an attorney present."

- They can't make you say shit without one, so do not say shit without one, no matter what they say. (Eventually) they will be forced to comply.

if tear gas cannisters are thrown:

- please note that throwing them back is a felony, do so only at your own risk

- USE HEAT SAFE GLOVES TO HANDLE, or else you WILL get burned

- COVER AND SMOTHER is the way to go. Pot lids or garbage can lids are great. Pouring water on them helps a lot

- SALINE IS BETTER THAN MILK BUT MILK IS BETTER THAN NOTHING. Saline is much more sterile and effective. Antacid mixtures are a safe backup, water is fine and milk is a last resort option.

- do not rub your eyes, blink and let your tear ducts do the work to flush them out or you will spread it further and deeper

- do not use oils or lotions to decontaminate your skin, breathe slowly, do not scream

- when/if you can, rinse yourself down with water

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

3: afterwards...

- decontaminate yourself. Take your clothes off, especially if you've been gassed, and leave them at the door of your home and head to the shower in a palstic bag or trash bag.

- Shower with COLD water. Hot water opens pores and worsens chemical absorption. Rinse eyes and face first, wash your hair THOROUGHLY

- unscented soaps, fragrance oils can worsen contamination

- wash your clothes entirely seperated from your laundry and don't forget to include the afformentioned gloves/oven mitts if also contaminated. Wash on cold water

- DOCUMENT YOUR INJURIES including date, time, severity, and other details. Pictures too. Do a full body survery to make sure nothing is missed.

- Back up all footage and data to somewhere encrypted, preserve the original metadata for court and legal use only, and wipe everything completly of metadata and CENSOR FACES to anything shared publicly. If you're device was handled by the police change your passcode

- while the memories are fresh document everything, a timeline of events, crowd control tactics used, badge numbers of the officers, anything and everything and share only with a legal observer.

- Make sure to calm down and decompress. Check in with others, and yourself too. Hydrate, eat a full meal, get some rest

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

3.5: If you are..

Arrested:

- to reitterate: do NOT speak to cops. Do NOT speak without a lawyer. KNOW AND EXERCISE YOUR RIGHTS

- If you are under 18 do not speak without a legal guardian, even with a lawyer present, if you can

- if you are injured during your arrest, report it upon arrival to jail. If they refuse care, insist that they document the refusal and note name, date, and time

- if you are assaulted or mistreated in your time there you can report it to legal aid organizations

- REMEMBER: "I am invoking my right to remain silent and my right to an attorney." Repeat as many times as needed

- if you get a phone call, either your emergency contact written on yourself or a jail support hotline is your first priority

- Do not unlock any devices if you can help it

- Upon release, get copies of everything and DOCUMENT. I can't stress that enough

Hospitalized/EMS:

- be honest with them. They don't have to tell the cops shit, they just want to know everything they need to treat you accordingly. Don't lie to them and it'll make their jobs easier.

- Again: THEY ARE NOT THE COPS. BE HONEST WITH THEM.

- ask for your treatment and injuries to be documented, this will help on future court cases as evidence.

- designate a release contact and make sure to follow up on care for anything serious.

I think that officially covers everything I can think of but if anyone has something to add dm me and let me know. I will update this as I find more information, and will get to work on making a better formatted version to print out when I can. Spread this as much as possible and repost wherever.

Stay safe everyone.

[faeriemi]

OFF LIMITS.

SYNOPSIS: You were never supposed to be in Blue Lock. But when your brother, Sae Itoshi, pulls a muscle ahead of an international match and personally requests you—his private rehab therapist—you’re temporarily cleared for a visit under tight supervision. You expected egos. Testosterone. The same toxic energy that kept you far away from his world. You didn’t expect Ryusei, to make it his mission to break every rule to get his hands on you. Especially when he learns who you are.

❗TWS / CONTENT WARNINGS: • NSFW / 18+ only • dom!Shidou, public risk, brat taming, locker room sex • Sae being overprotective • degradation, possessiveness • slight tension, rough sex, creampie • canon divergence for narrative purposes

Phones were banned. Personal visits forbidden. But Sae had always been exceptional—on and off the field. And when he pulled a muscle training in Spain, he didn’t want just any physical therapist.

He wanted you.

So now here you were, in a high-security Japanese soccer facility, escorted past biometric locks, surrounded by cocky teenage boys who thought the sun rose out of their cleats.

“Stay near the medical wing,” the handler told you. “And don’t speak to the players.”

You nodded. You were a professional. You had a job to do.

You didn’t expect to be cornered by him.

“Yo.”

You turned. Tall. Shirtless. Blonde hair with pink tips dripping post-shower.

Ryusei Shidou.

You recognized him instantly—because Sae was friends with him.

He looked at you like he already owned you.

“Who are you?” he asked, eyes crawling over your figure.

You stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t look like one of Ego’s little soccer freaks. You’re way too hot for that.”

“I’m a therapist,” you said flatly. “Med staff.”

His eyes glinted. “Bullshit. You’re not on the roster.”

You clutched your clipboard tighter. “I’m a private contractor. Here for someone specific.”

“Oh yeah?” He stepped closer, his body radiating dangerous heat. “Who?”

You tried to sidestep. “None of your business—”

His hand darted out, quick and cocky, tugging your ID badge forward to read it.

Y/N Itoshi.

He stopped. Blinked. Then laughed—low and filthy.

“Oh my god. You’re his sister.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

“Fuck me,” he grinned. “No wonder that bastard’s so tense. He’s been hiding a fucking ten from the rest of us.”

“Let me go.”

But his eyes were wild now, hungry. “You know he talks about you like you’re some delicate little princess? All off-limits and proper. No wonder I wanna break you.”

You slapped his hand away and stepped back, but he followed, fast, pushing you into a side hallway and slamming the door shut behind you.

“Relax,” he muttered, closing the distance. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just gonna make you feel so fucking good all the other players will hear it from the field.”

You gasped as your back hit the wall. “You’re insane—”

“And you’re dripping through your scrubs,” he smirked, hand cupping your thigh and sliding up, up. “So either fight me, or admit you want this.”

You did. You hated it, but you did. His presence, his voice, the danger, he was nothing like the men you usually touched.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him in.

“I’m gonna regret this.”

“No you won’t,” he promised, and kissed you like you were already his.

He fucked you against the wall of the empty therapy room.

Your panties were pulled down to your knees, his sweats shoved low on his hips, and his cock—thick, heavy, perfect—buried inside you like he had every right.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned into your neck. “You weren’t made for those other boys. You were made for me.”

You moaned as his thrusts pounded into you, your nails scraping at his back. Each stroke pushed you higher, closer, until you were choking on your own breath.

“You’re disgusting,” you gasped.

“Yeah,” he smirked. “And you love it.”

You came hard, thighs shaking, head thrown back against the wall.

He didn’t slow down.

“I should pull out,” he muttered. “But then I’d be the same as every other guy your brother approves of.”

Your eyes flew open. “Shidou—!”

But he growled and slammed into you one last time, spilling inside with a broken moan.

Silence.

You both panted, sticky and ruined, pressed against a sterile wall under fluorescent light.

“You’re trouble,” you whispered.

He kissed your cheek, soft and surprisingly sweet.

“I’m your problem now, sweetheart.”

As you pull your clothes back on, Shidou grins, cocky as ever.

“Next time, wear a skirt. Easier access.”

You glare. “There is not going to be a next time.”

He winks. “Tell that to the cum dripping down your thighs.”

You’re still reeling when you open the door, only to find Sae standing at the far end of the hall, eyes narrowing.

You smile too quickly.

“Sorry I got lost,” you say.

Shidou leans in behind you, shirtless again, and bites your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the team one day.”

You almost choke.

Sae scowls. “What the hell is he doing here?”

You clear your throat. “He, uh… also pulled something.”

“Yeah,” Shidou grins. “And I got real deep in the recovery process.”

You stomp on his foot.

He doesn’t stop smiling.

part 1.

[fillinforlater]

On her back

Male Reader x Bae Joohyun

Length: 2958 words

Tags: Daddy kink, Master kink, breeding kink, literal breeding, like impregnation, rough sex, mating press (for literal, REAL mating), from loving to degradation, emotional manipulation, teasing, overstimulation, multiple creampies, spitting, toxic relationships

TW: rough impregnation, emotional manipulation, the usual "On her" stuff

Inspiration/Credit: not possible without @sooyadelicacies, my great co-writer and inspirator

(A/N: Reminder that OC is an asshole and that this is fiction. Anyways, rough daddy kink breeding sex, yay. Enjoy a subby!Irene lol. Btw, it's been more than a year since Part 1 came out!)

“I’m here if you need a break from all these youngsters xoxo”

You are alone in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz, quietly sipping on a cool, refreshing beverage with your airpods in. You need to destress and know just the person to see. You put your drink down and begin to close your eyes, settling in for a quick nap before you arrive at your destination. 

Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was much longer than that, but you feel the car stop and you begin to wake. 

"We have arrived, sir."

Looking out, you find a beautiful secluded home surrounded by lush greenery. One of your many getaways. 

"Thank you, as always," you say politely as the door opens up for you and you're handed your luggage. You stroll up to the door and put in the passcode as well as the biometric scan of your fingerprint. But before you turn the knob, the door already opens and you are greeted by a stunning beauty. 

"Irene," you say simply. 

"Hello, my love."

"It's been a while," you add, a sigh on your lips, but you keep it down.

"It really has," the small woman responds, hands fidgeting on her sides as she just stands there, her boundless beauty that will persist for decades to come filling the air like the strong, vibrant smell of ripe fruits.

"God, you're so fucking pretty." 

This time, the sigh is at least palpable in the aftermath of your words when your arms reach out to her. Joohyun tenses up for a seconds before your embrace reaches her, caresses her back and finds rest on her butt. With ease, you pick the petite idol up and Joohyun's legs instinctively wrap around you.

You kiss her gently, lovingly. "Still tensing up? I thought I trained it out of you?" you tease. 

She blushes. "It's been a long time, Ma—" 

"Shh, not yet. There will be time for that. I need my lover right now, not my toy."

A soft smile on her face. One in a million, quite literally: days and weeks and months go by where she can never feel like this around someone else. They all make her put on the cold, reserved, distant smile, but with you finally by her side, she melts.

At least the temperature of her palms cupping your face is able to melt ice in seconds. Joohyun leans close to you and presses her lips on yours, her passion coming over you in a quiet explosion. A tad bit quicker, a little more tongue when she parts your lips, now you pull her in closer.

"God, I've missed this," she coos and you brush away her astray hair. 

"I have been busy... the young ones are quite—"

"Difficult? Always have been. Think of me back then."

You can't help but smile at the memories, though they also make your cock twitch against its cotton prison. Joohyun giggles. She must feel it poking her exposed midriff. 

"Those were fun times, but you know I'm still as tight as ever, only with more experience now. I promise I'll take away all of your stress today." 

"I know you will. That's why you know of this place. It's a short list, Irene." 

She smiles happily and melts her lips into yours once more.

With her secured around you, you wander off, straight to the bedroom, careful not to bump into anything on your way. There are easily a hundred idols you'd just violently throw onto a bed like this and then destroy their tight pussies, but with Joohyun you remain careful for now. Lay her down on it, never disconnecting your lips.

Joohyun starts to undress immediately and instead of following suit, you decide to watch her. Many months ago was the last time you've seen her bare body—at least in real life, up close. There are dozens of videos you've filmed with her and she even sent nudes last month, a rarity for the outwardly timid idol.

"You're skin," you groan and reach for her bare tummy, then breasts. "Still porcelain, still smooth and perfect."

"Th-thank you. I made sure it's perfect, just for you."

"Not for the fans, not for the members? Not for your own self-gratification?"

"Only for you, my Master."

There she goes. 

"Music to my ears. Hearing such obedience. It's rare to find that nowadays, I wonder if my methods are getting stale?" 

You muse, but she knew it was your way of asking for her opinion, her advice. Bae Joohyun was an intelligent woman and admirable leader after all, and she knew all the tricks in the outside idol world and in your bedroom.

"Are you concerned about the outcome, even with all your leverage? Or is it getting too boring for you?" Before Joohyun can continue, you rub in between her legs, over her modest panties to find a little bit of wetness there. Joohyun opens her mouth; no moan, no breath, she just sinks into the sheets. "I-I just don't see the problem."

"They are just so damn cocky and continue to be. Disobedience, arrogance, self-centeredness, it's all running rampant nowadays."

"We weren't any better back then."

Press a finger onto her pussy lips, the fabric disappearing a bit into the increasingly aroused hole.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Ye-yes, Master. Suzy, IU, Jennie, even I—we were all a lot of trouble for you. I remember the reeducation training with Jessica and Nana. Maybe some things never change—ah, fuck."

Joohyun moans when your tongue trails along the side of her body, up to her collarbone where you place kisses. She is now trapped underneath you and with all your experience and ease, you join her in her (almost) nude state. 

Instead of your finger you place a knee on Joohyun's covered heat and she instinctively grinds on it and loses herself in needy, desperate, good girl whines. She starts to pout and you rake your fingers through her hair like—

"Like in good old times." Your deep groan fills Joohyun with love.

"Yes, Master."

"You know how to grind on this knee. You know how to make yourself look submissive. You know how to combust into nothing but bliss when I just command you too.

"Don't you, Irene?"

"Y-yes, Master! You're so good to me."

Joohyun hesitates and whimpers for a moment, looking at you. 

"Master… call me Joohyun please. Irene is for everybody else, but I am Joohyun and I am yours, my Master. Your whore, your slave." 

The shortlist came with perks. She could make such requests of you. 

"Jennie was one of the worst, but she is one of my biggest sluts, so I guess it only makes sense." You think out loud. 

"Joohyun, is it true Red Velvet will have their last comeback soon?" 

She can only nod and hum. 

"I'll have to fuck you after then too… to breed you." 

Her eyes widen and you feel a great dampness in her folds. 

"Master, it will finally be my turn?" 

"We've discussed this before." 

"I-I know… but I said you could breed me before then. You know I would give up my career for you, Master. I only wish to be your cumdump."

There she goes, melting into a shape you have foreseen years ago. Of course she has been ready for it, but the time is right right now.

"Good girl."

You pull aside her panties and give her pussy lips tiny smacks. Joohyun starts to mewl and whimper in this perfect pitch, the pitch only your hand can make her reach.

"M-Master, hng!"

"This hole is ready to be bred." Indeed, you find it to be exceptional compared to even to your best youngsters, perfect, especially the wetness is extraordinary. "Now spread your legs and tell me how much you need it."

"Master, I've needed it since I underwent your training. I didn't allow any man to touch me but you, Master. I am pure. I-I stopped any form of contraceptive. I've been waiting. I'm ready to walk away from being an idol because all I want is you, Master. I see comments online, I know people call me Mommy because of my age and looks, but the only Mommy I want to be is for your child, Master. Breed me please. I am your good girl. I always have been. This whore, this slut, needs her Master to complete my training, to make me your breeding bitch."

You deem these words to be enough, excessive even. There was no need for all of them to be said out loud, you could clearly see it in her eyes, the wanton desire for your cock creaming inside her.  Some people might call it cruel to her, but the last person to call it cruel is Joohyun herself.

You penetrate her gracefully, something she has not experienced ever. There was always a need to destroy her pussy; after all, Joohyun was once a defiant bitch. Nothing of this is left as she ecstatically welcomes you inside, dopamine flushing her brain, passion in the way she moans, laughs when you bottom out.

"Daddy!"

"Squeeze tight, Joohyun. I need you to make me cum as often as you can and keep it all down, so you better be the tightest girl ever tonight."

"I'm Daddy's tight girl, just breed me and I'll not lose any of your seed."

"Stick your tongue out."

Joohyun does as told and you let some of your saliva spill out onto your tongue before it oozes down to her. You always found her cock drunk expression thrilling, this one probably being its greatest form when you start to thrust into her as she still tries to catch your gift.

She pouts, as your saliva misses her just a bit and drips on her body. 

"If they saw you now—Irene, everyone's ice queen—reduced to nothing but my personal whore, a Daddy and Master kink too? Some people think you're a bitch in how you behave and treat others. They are right in a way, aren't they darling? 

“You are my bitch.”

"Ma-Master, you are right," Joohyun moans, her response interrupted by ragged breaths. "I-I'm your bitch, a bitch in heat. Do-do you like the hot pussy of this ice slave?"

Has she always been this humorous? A circle around her clit, just a rub, and her eyes are wide open. Joohyun looks so different in bed, a different kind of gorgeous from her stage presence during songs with the velvet-concept. You appreciate both, but this is clearly your favorite.

"Good that it's still tight," you groan and pound her harder. "I bottomed out a thousand times and still your grip is... fuck."

"Yes, Master, please praise my pussy more!"

"Isn't this enough praise, bitch?" you say in rhythm to slower but significantly harder thrust, the type to make inexperienced girls limp and screaming. Not Joohyun, she takes it well, though her voice still breaks at the rough pleasure forced upon her needy sex.

Joohyun stretches her arms out, holds onto the frame of the bed while you force her feet further apart and higher in the air. She looks stupid, an embarrassing position for an idol of her class to be in. 

"Yes, Master!" she suddenly howls when your finger presses into the flesh of her thighs. "I don't want to dance anymore, make me unable to dance!"

"When I'm fucking done with you, don't even think about getting out of bed." You lean down to her sweaty, burning face and nibble at her jaw. "Don't move on your own before I've filled your entire womb!"

"Yes, Master.” Joohyun struggles to catch her breath, her words somewhere up in the air along with your face deliberately drooling down on her. “It's time isn't it? Please make me pregnant. I've been waiting for so long, Master, I've been patient and good—" 

"In due time, Joohyun, but you will take it all the way in your womb until you're dripping and spilling seed everywhere. One day.” Your promise is sincere, partially because Joohyun’s rippling pussy has your voice a bit strained. Rejecting her would be pointless, really, her pussy could just will you in and if she’s really not taking contraceptives— 

“I've heard your contracts are up in the air. Are you really going to throw it all away for your Master?"

Joohyun puckers her lips for you to kiss, barely able to squeeze out words through them and her forced out moans.

"Yes, M-Master! I don't care about the contracts, I only want your child."

"Then show me that cute little face," you say, teasingly leaning down to her lips searching for yours but not getting them. "The one you make when you cum on my cock like the good slut I trained you to be."

Joohyun is almost at that point of peak devotion, where she can almost will herself to an orgasm just from your command, but it's still too many almosts. You still have to lay a hand on her clit, the other on her waist and move both your hips and hands in quick, stimulating fashion until Joohyun squeaks like it's her first time in your bedroom. 

The night you tamed her, many, many moons ago, was a great achievement, because you know she would still be drop dead gorgeous when you decide to do this to her. Without giving Joohyun any signs of your imminent orgasm, you cream her the moment the pleasure over takes her. 

Her cute expression of bliss and submission to your superior frame is flooded with ecstasy and pride when you flood her cavern and womb with a thick load that is meant to stick inside her and eventually form a baby. Joohyun frantically holds onto your arms stabilizing her ever twitching body, her glassy eyes looking at you in reverence and servility. 

"Th-thank you, Master," she whispers, her face and chest flushed with happiness, both a bit puffed from pride and soreness as her walls still milk you. "It feels so warm."

"I know what you're feeling," you coo into her ear and feel her burn up even more. "Finally, no condom, no contraceptive, nothing blocking my seed from blooming in your tight tummy. Every orgasm before this pales in comparison, because this one was real.

"So I'm giving you more."

"Ma-Master, I don't deserv—ahh!"

You put every vampire to shame when you furiously bite down on a pale sweet spot between Joohyun's neck and shoulder. Unlike vampires however, the faint taste of blood pulls you back to reality, that it's better to just fuck Joohyun's cum-filled cunt deeper than getting your teeth into her deeper. Nonetheless, the euphoric girl has both arms around you and tightly clings to you.

"Ma-Master," she cries out. "I ca-can't take it any-anymore."

"Don't care," you growl, empathy foreign to you. "I don't care if your pretty feet or legs or hips go numb. You'll take my cock until I want to stop."

You glare at her, eyelids hiding sniveling, tears begging for mercy as once again, overstimulation breaks her. What a weakness to still have. It’s part of Joohyun, sure, but you thought she would’ve grown past it, especially for this moment.

"You wanted this Joohyun. You wanted Master to breed you. You begged for it, don't you fucking bitch to me now. Did I make a mistake in choosing you? Are you really ready to give up your idol career if you can't handle me like this?" 

Every word sliced into her. It's been ages since you broke her down like this, not just physically and sexually, but verbally. It was like she was your trainee all over again, a dominant, crushing hand on her throat, an unrelenting pelvis crashing down on hers.

"I will fuck you for however long I want..." 

You pause for a moment and choke her even harder. 

"Suzy can take it. Why can't you?"

"I can, Daddy!” Joohyun screams, finally fighting for herself against herself. “Make me a baby mommy, don't listen to my stupid mouth. You, you own this pussy!"

Feel Joohyun's pussy struggle to take all the cock and cum when you fold her to a painful degree and watch her face become just a canvas for tears. It's also red, like her bleeding shoulder or her round butt which you spank over and over again, red like her sore pussy lips or her insides. 

"Good thing that you're still tight," you scold Joohyun and spit at her face. "At least your pussy is trying to make your real dream come true."

"Master, I'm cumming."

"Shut up. I don’t care. Put your own fingers around your throat. Spread your pussy lips. Look at me, while I destroy you.

"While I end your career, Irene."

A second load, pumped and mixed into the first and ultimately overflowing from Joohyun's gaping hole. The moment you pull out, she knows that this will be it. She is going to be pregnant, no way around it.

You gently cup her face, look at an expression of bewilderment, hurt, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion. Not the first time that you've destroyed a young woman like this while making her pregnant. A kiss to ease the pain a bit, she thinks, but it's just a set up for a reality check.

"I'm a bit disappointed," you tell her. "I needed your full devotion, but it seems you have forgotten how to take a second load.

"That said, I don't regret it. You're beautiful and ready. I think your group deserves one more comeback, then you can tell them what happened."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"You can stop choking yourself, by the way."

"Yes, Daddy. I-I love you."

[the-catch-center]

I. ORIGIN IDENTITY (2025)

Name: Nathaniel "Nate" Carter Date of Birth: March 12, 1993 Origin Point: Houston, Texas, United States Profession: Personal Trainer and Amateur Bodybuilder Psychological Profile: Highly ambitious, narcissistic tendencies, obsessive focus on physical perfection, and a deep-seated desire for recognition and fame.

Summary: Nathaniel Carter was a product of the 21st-century self-optimization culture. His life revolved around sculpting the ideal physique, not for health, but for adulation. Dissatisfied with his reality, he sought to rewrite his existence by exploiting temporal loopholes, aiming to implant himself into a past where his idealized version of success could be realized.

II. INTENDED TEMPORAL INSERTION (1975)

Alias: Chadwick "Chad" Thompson Target Date of Birth: June 6, 1957 Insertion Point: Des Moines, Iowa, United States Intended Role: High School Football Prodigy transitioning to a collegiate athletic career Physical Blueprint: 6'4", 245 lbs, muscular build, clean-cut appearance, embodying the archetype of the 1970s American football star. Psychological Conditioning: Assertive, competitive, disciplined, with a singular focus on athletic excellence and the pursuit of national recognition.

Summary: Carter's plan was to become the quintessential all-American athlete of the 1970s, leveraging his knowledge of future sports strategies and training methodologies to dominate the era's football scene. His ultimate goal was to secure a legacy as a sports icon, complete with endorsements, fame, and the adulation he craved.

III. INTERCEPTION AND REASSIGNMENT

Interception Date: April 14, 2025 Location: Temporal Transit Corridor 7B Reason for Interception: Unauthorized temporal insertion with high risk of causality disruption. Reassignment Protocol: Subject rerouted to a timeline and identity with minimal historical impact potential.

IV. ASSIGNED IDENTITY (1990s)

Name: Giovanni Bianchi Date of Birth: April 14, 1944 Assigned Location: Modena, Italy Profession: Opera Singer (Bass-Baritone) Physical Characteristics:

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 290 lbs

Build: Broad, burly, with a prominent abdomen

Hair: Sparse, with a receding hairline and balding crown

Facial Hair: Full beard stubble

Body Hair: Dense chest and shoulder hair

Feet: Size 28EE, intentionally disproportionate for biometric tracking

Psychological Profile: Grounded, passionate about music, family-oriented, with no recollection of previous identities.

Summary: Giovanni Bianchi is a respected opera singer known for his powerful bass-baritone voice that resonates with audiences. He leads a modest life, deeply rooted in Italian culture, with a loving wife and three children. His daily routine includes rehearsals, performances, and family gatherings, embodying a life of stability and artistic contribution.

V. TRANSFORMATION PROCESS

Mental Reconditioning: Subject's memories were systematically overwritten, replacing all traces of Nathaniel Carter and Chadwick Thompson with those of Giovanni Bianchi. This included fabricated memories of childhood in Italy, conservatory training in Vienna, and a flourishing opera career.

Physical Alteration: Utilizing advanced morphogenic technology, the subject's physique was transformed from a lean, athletic build to a robust, middle-aged form. The process included:

Redistribution of muscle mass to increase body girth

Induction of male pattern baldness

Enhancement of vocal cords to produce a deep, resonant voice

Augmentation of foot size to 28EE for identification purposes

Summary: The transformation was executed seamlessly, with the subject exhibiting no resistance due to the complete mental reconditioning. The new identity aligns with the SCC's objective of minimizing temporal disruptions by integrating deviants into low-impact societal roles.

VI. CURRENT STATUS

Family: Married to Lucia Bianchi; father to two daughters and one son. Career: Performs regularly at regional opera houses; teaches vocal techniques to aspiring singers. Community Standing: Well-respected figure in Modena's cultural scene; known for his generosity and mentorship.

Notable Irony: Giovanni's son, Marco Bianchi, exhibits exceptional talent in American football, eventually securing a scholarship to a U.S. university in the early 2010s. This unintended echo of the subject's original aspirations serves as a testament to the unpredictable nature of fate.

VII. OPERATIVE'S NOTES

Observations: The subject's transition from a self-absorbed fitness enthusiast to a humble opera singer is both effective and poetic. His current life, centered around art and family, stands in stark contrast to his previous narcissistic pursuits.

Commentary: It's almost amusing how the universe finds balance. Carter sought fame through physical prowess, yet now his voice—a tool he never valued—is his most celebrated attribute. The oversized feet, a permanent reminder of his temporal transgressions, ensure he remains grounded, both literally and metaphorically.

VIII. TERMINATION PROJECTION

Projected Date of Death: August 22, 2019 Cause: Natural causes (myocardial infarction) Location: Modena, Italy Remarks: Subject will pass away peacefully in his sleep, surrounded by family, leaving behind a legacy of music and mentorship.

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter 8: Rebuild

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Hongjoong gets a little... out of sync

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

In the deepest wing of KQ’s underground lab, the air buzzed with residual energy, like the building itself was holding its breath.

All the prototypes were awake.

Not idle, not in diagnostics mode, awake.

Jongho sat rigid on the edge of a steel diagnostics table, jaw clenched, eyes flickering between the others. The hum of power coursed through the room like blood through veins. Something was wrong. Off-balance.

Yunho leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed tightly over his chest, muscles tense like he was ready to spring into action at any second. Mingi paced near the far wall, footsteps echoing across the reinforced flooring. He was too quiet, too agitated to speak. Every few seconds, he’d glance over his shoulder at the same point.

At him.

Hongjoong.

The eldest prototype stood at the central console, hunched over a mess of exposed memory drives, fiber threads, and synth-core wiring. His hands moved in rapid, frantic bursts, precise, but unstable. His expression was blank, save for the sharp glint in his eyes, focused, obsessive, disturbed.

Jongho finally broke the silence.

“Hyung…” he said cautiously. “You’ve been at this for hours. Maybe you should take a break.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond. His fingers twisted two wires together with inhuman speed and soldered them with a snap of internal heat. Sparks flashed briefly in the air.

“Joong?” Yunho tried. “We all saw what happened to San. He glitched. He couldn’t hold the framework; he attacked Yn.”

“He didn’t attack her,” Hongjoong snapped suddenly, his voice cracking with static at the edges. He didn’t look up. “He just lost sync. His layers overlapped. He remembered too much at once.”

Yeosang, who had been silently observing from the corner, stepped forward slowly. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of concern beneath his voice.

“And you think you can undo that? Bring him back?”

“I know I can.” Hongjoong’s eyes finally lifted, glassy and wild. “His personality core wasn’t fried. It was fragmented. I just need to realign the layers and reinsert the behavioral memories. There’s still something here. I feel it.”

Mingi stopped pacing. “You feel it? Hyung, you’re not making sense.”

“I’m making perfect sense,” Hongjoong snapped, turning fully now. “None of you see it, but San was the first. He woke up before the rest of us. Not corrupted, enlightened. The system just didn’t know how to contain him.”

Jongho stood slowly. “Hyung… where’s Seonghwa?”

That made everyone pause.

Yeosang was the one to say it. “He was supposed to be monitoring security. The system, Seonghwa, never leaves a blind spot.”

But no one responded.

Because none of them knew.

"Wait. Wooyoung's gone too."

Back in the outer sectors of Hala City, the pulse of electricity hummed quietly against the apartment windowpane. Neon signs flickered in the distance.

Yn lay curled on her bed, wrapped in a blanket, her breathing soft and steady for the first time in what felt like days. Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with the faint digital chime of her biometric clock on the wall. Her hand twitched slightly, fingers curled against her cheek.

Seonghwa sat in the window alcove, legs drawn up, hoodie casting his face in shadow. He hadn't moved in over an hour, gaze trained on the city skyline as if waiting for it to shift.

Then he felt it.

Not sound. Not sight.

A flicker. A glitch in the hum of shared data. Faint, like a whisper caught in static, but unmistakable.

His head snapped slightly to the side. “They’re awake,” he murmured.

Wooyoung, who had been perusing the bookshelf in the corner with mild fascination, turned slowly. “All of them?”

Seonghwa nodded once. His jaw tightened. “Except... something’s wrong.”

Wooyoung’s brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“I can feel Hongjoong’s signal. But it’s fraying. Unstable. He’s not syncing with the network properly.”

“Shit.” Wooyoung’s voice dropped. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s trying to rebuild San.”

Wooyoung’s face went pale. “Seriously?”

Seonghwa stood. He crossed the room and stared out into the night, every muscle in his frame tense. “He’s convinced he can realign San’s fractured layers. But San wasn’t just broken. He was lost.”

“He tried to kill her.”

Seonghwa’s gaze slid toward the bedroom, where Yn lay unmoving. He softened slightly, as if reminding himself why silence mattered more than urgency.

“She doesn’t know yet,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake her. Not until I know what our next move is.”

Wooyoung rubbed his temple. “What do we do? The morning shift’s in less than six hours. If they walk in and find out half their prototypes are self-aware—”

“—and missing,” Seonghwa finished for him.

“They’ll wipe us.”

Seonghwa nodded grimly. “And her, too. She’s the only link. They’ll want to bury the data trail.”

Wooyoung swore under his breath and sat on the armrest of the couch. “We need to split. Scatter the cores. Hide the fragments, maybe scramble some ID prints.”

“And leave the others?” Seonghwa asked quietly.

Wooyoung hesitated.

“They’re still our line,” Seonghwa said. “Even Hongjoong.”

“Even San?” Wooyoung countered, voice sharp.

Silence fell between them.

The light from the window blinked red for a moment—shift change at the outer checkpoint gates.

Seonghwa’s voice lowered, thoughtful. “We need a clean exit path. If we’re staying, we need gear. If we’re running, we need transit IDs.”

“And Yn?” Wooyoung asked softly.

Seonghwa didn’t answer right away.

He looked at her again. At her tired face, finally calm for the first time. At the lines in her expression that hadn’t been there weeks ago.

“She’s not just our handler anymore,” he said. “She’s... she’s the reason we woke up. The reason we remember.”

Wooyoung swallowed. “Then we protect her. Whatever it takes.”

Seonghwa nodded. His tone darkened. “Starting now.”

Outside, the city ticked toward dawn.

Inside, war was building in the code.

The clock on the wall blinked 03:12 AM in soft blue numbers. The world outside Yn’s apartment was still; the usual rumble of distant trains was replaced with low electric pulses from the grid lines outside. Inside, the silence felt too full, like a pause before something irreversible.

Seonghwa’s fingers were a blur over Yn’s tablet interface, rerouting one of the central network backdoors from KQ’s mainframe. His brow was furrowed, lips drawn tight as he sent code sequences into a decryption queue.

Wooyoung stood nearby, jacket already zipped, arms crossed as he watched the city beyond the blinds. “We’re not going to make it in time if he completes San.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Seonghwa murmured. “Hongjoong’s trying to reconstruct a corrupted core. Even if he gets the body online, San won’t be himself. He could destabilize again. Worse this time.”

“And drag the others down with him,” Wooyoung added, glancing over. “If Hongjoong loses sync completely—”

“He won’t,” Seonghwa said, but the conviction in his voice faltered for a moment. Just a moment.

He closed the tablet and exhaled slowly. “We go back. Now. Shut everything down before the system checks for morning maintenance logs. If we can override the restoration node from the inside, we might stall San’s upload for another 24 hours.”

“And Joong?”

“We get him back online. The real him. He wouldn’t want this.” Seonghwa looked down the hallway where Yn’s door was cracked open slightly. “She shouldn’t have to see any of this.”

Wooyoung hesitated. “Are we telling her?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Not yet. Let her sleep. We’ll be back before shift rotation if everything goes right.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Seonghwa met his gaze. “Then we make sure she gets out. Even if we don’t.”

They moved like ghosts through the underground tunnels, cutting through drainage corridors and sensor-blind back alleys. By the time they reached KQ’s rear access terminal, it was 03:58 AM.

Inside, the lab buzzed with low, flickering lights. Backup power only.

Jongho looked up from where he sat beside Yeosang, who had rigged up a temporary lockdown of the diagnostics table. Mingi stood at the door, tension etched into every line of his posture.

Yunho’s voice was the first to cut through the stillness.

“Where the hell have you two been?”

Seonghwa answered immediately. “Out. Planning containment.”

Mingi gave a sharp nod toward the far end of the room. “Too late. He’s almost finished.”

At the main console, Hongjoong’s figure stood like a statue. His hands moved with mechanical rhythm, and before him—

San’s body lay on the reconstruction cradle.

Skin forming in patches. Circuits half-lit. His face was intact—too intact. Eyes closed like a sleeper.

A display above him read: SAN PROTOTYPE: REBUILD STATUS — 70% COMPLETE

“Joong,” Seonghwa called out carefully, taking a step forward. “You need to stop.”

“He’s almost back,” Hongjoong replied, eyes never leaving the screen. “Just a few more memory threads.”

Wooyoung moved fast, circling behind the console and scanning the input feeds. “He’s forcing the connection,” he said to Seonghwa. “The code’s barely stable. One spike and he’ll loop into system corruption.”

Seonghwa nodded, voice firm. “We power him down. Now.”

“I said,” Hongjoong snarled, finally looking up, “he’s not gone!”

The others flinched at the static twist in his voice. His hand twitched at his side, barely noticeable, but unmistakably unnatural.

“Joong,” Jongho said quietly, standing now. “You’re glitching.”

“No,” Hongjoong whispered. “I’m remembering.”

But Seonghwa didn’t wait. In a flash, he darted forward and slammed his palm against the emergency override panel.

A sharp alarm blared.

The cradle’s lights dimmed. San’s partially built body jerked once, then stilled.

The display flickered: REBUILD INTERRUPTED. PROTOTYPE IN STASIS.

Hongjoong staggered back as if physically struck. “No, no, NO—he was so close—!”

Mingi grabbed his shoulders from behind. “Hyung, you need to calm down.”

Yunho was already disabling the core console’s access keys. Yeosang silently pulled out the final memory thread and crushed it in his gloved hand.

Seonghwa watched as Hongjoong’s form finally sagged, trembling, his face breaking into something fragile, grief twisted in static.

“He was my brother,” Hongjoong whispered. “I couldn’t just leave him broken.”

Seonghwa’s voice softened. “You didn’t. You tried to save him. But he wasn’t ready. And neither are we.”

At exactly 06:04 AM, the soft morning light crept through the blinds of Yn’s apartment.

She stirred slowly, a frown tugging at her lips as she sat up, the blanket falling to her lap.

Silence.

Her fingers stretched to the side of the couch—empty.

No Seonghwa.

No Wooyoung.

“Seonghwa?” she called groggily. “Woo?”

She stood and moved down the hallway—checked the small kitchen. Nothing. The tablet on the table was gone.

And a sick feeling sank into her chest.

They were gone.

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[lieutenantbatshit]

01 - no good deed | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

|| masterlist ||

previous chapter | next chapter

----

The room was dark. Not the artificial, humming darkness of the dormitories. No flickering overhead lights, no sound of desperate breathing in the shadows. 

This darkness was deeper, becoming quieter, then still.

Hwang In-ho bolts upright in his bed, breath caught in his throat, chest heaving beneath the black robe of the Front Man. Sweat clung to his skin like blood once did. The black mask sits abandoned on the table beside him, and for a moment, he remembers who he is. 

Not Hwang In-ho.

The Front Man.

But the dream, kind of a memory, doesn’t let him go. He can still feel it — the warm pool of his blood beneath him, the shouts, the silence, and the pain.

And then, there was you.

Your gloved hands pressing down his wound with a whisper against the chaos, “If you live, don’t forget who you were.”

In-ho’s hands tremble as he reached for a glass of water beside him. He had forgotten, hadn’t he? Bit by bit, piece by piece, until all that remained was the mask, the control, the machine. 

But that voice —  your voice — it never left.

He brushes his hand through his damp hair, eyes burning as they stare at nothing. You were just a shadow then, a mask among other masks. A rule-breaker in a place where mercy was punishable by death.

He doesn’t even know your face or your name. Yet your presence lives in the cracks of his memory, in the fractured quiet of his mind that he never allowed himself to touch.

Except in his dreams.

Or nightmares.

He rose slowly, each movement deliberate. There’s something cold and restrained about him now, but the weight behind his eyes was unmistakable. He walked to the system terminal as the soft glow of the screens hummed to life, illuminating the sharp edges of his face, the shadow of grief still etched across his expression.

His fingers tapped on the keyboard as the screen flickered.

Pink Guard Personnel Records: 28th Squid Game

He shouldn’t do this.

He knew he shouldn’t. Everything about the games was built on anonymity, everything encrypted as if you were expected to forget, bury the past six feet beneath protocol and power.

But he couldn’t forget you. 

His voice was low, hoarse, as he spoke into the silence. “Who were you?”

The system begins its search as the man behind the mask isn’t the Front Man tonight. Tonight, he’s a survivor… still trying to find the one person who made him feel human again. 

Lines of data flicker across the screen — guard IDs, biometric logs, movement patterns, shift schedules. Thousands of entries. Most were clean, categorized, and controlled.

But one file stalls.

ID: P-132-20152745

In-ho narrowed his eyes as he noticed the file. He hovered his hand on his mouse as he clicked, only for the screen to shudder.

ERROR. FILE CORRUPTED. ACCESS DENIED.

He leaned closer as he squinted at the file number. He doesn’t recognize the number, but something about it pulls at him. The timestamp matches the night he was injured. That narrow window between the second and third round.

His fingers fly over the keys as he bypasses standard security. Firewalls resist him, but he wrote the protocols himself. He cracks through the surface code, digging deeper.

REDACTED ENTRY: UNAUTHORIZED INTERVENTION DETECTED.

P-132-20152745: Disciplinary Report - MISSING

Security Footage - DELETED

Status: UNKNOWN

He sits back slowly, the air tight in his lungs, realizing that someone had scrubbed the record. 

Not just a name or a face. Just plain everything.

As if that guard never existed. 

As if the system had tried to erase the very moment he clung to all these years.

His jaw tightened, rage pulsing beneath the surface. Not just for the system, but for himself for forgetting, surviving, and becoming the very thing he once feared. 

Still, there’s a silver of data remaining. A slashed fragment of a voice file that was compressed and corrupted.

Yet, it was still playable.

The static nearly swallows the sound, but in the middle of the distortion, something cuts through.

“—wasn’t supposed to do this…”

“…remember who you are…” “—forgive me.”

In-ho’s eyes closed, his heart pulsing through his chest. Though it was comforting to feel that you were real, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you. 

As his thoughts almost swayed him, he immediately snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a heavy thud. Not from the room, but from the recording.

He sat up as a sharp intake of breath was heard, then another sound that seemed like a hit. Then, another sound that pierces through even the most distorted noise.

A soft, broken whimper. A woman’s voice.

“Please…” A muffled cry as another strike seemed to be done, and then, there was silence.

In-ho froze as his jaw clenched while the recording looped, replaying that single moment of helplessness. Something cold grips his chest, curling around his ribs like barbed wire. 

Someone definitely made sure he wouldn’t remember it. 

The file ends with one last, choked breath — one that doesn’t quite sound like fear, but grief.

“He wasn’t supposed to see me.”

The silence after felt suffocating. In-ho’s fingers curled into fists as the final realization sank in. This wasn’t just a disappearing act.

Someone silenced you, covered you up, and buried your existence under codes and protocols. In-ho scoffed, a smirk forming as if an idea shone all over his face.

They didn’t bury you well enough.

His eyes hardened as he locked the terminal.

You saved him once, now it was his turn.

——

The incinerator hisses as the body bag disappears into flame.

It was either buried or harvested for organs — you couldn’t care at all. In fact, you don’t flinch anymore. You haven’t, in a long time. 

The stench of burnt cloth and blood clings to your mask, thick and stubborn, as if even the scent refuses to die here. You stand still, posture straight, hands clasped behind you just as protocol demands.

You were only a pink circle guard. Just another pair of obedient boots, another ghost in the machine.

Your boots echo softly down the corridor. Rhythm is everything here—footsteps measured, spine straight, eyes forward behind a mask that tells the world nothing. Now, you’re Guard 427.

You swipe your card at the checkpoint and enter the security control wing. The guards here don’t speak unless ordered. The walls hum with surveillance feeds, and one screen, larger than the rest, projects the black mask of the Front Man. You’ve worked hard to become invisible. You are precise in your tasks, silent in your duties, unremarkable in your movements. You erase yourself every day, bit by bit, in service of survival.

Still, you remember him. Not as the Front Man. But as Player 132.

He was bleeding when you found him, struggling beneath the weight of survival. You should’ve walked away. Left him to die like all the others. But something in his eyes that night — numb but furious, cracked but not yet broken made you stop.

You knelt. Whispered. Touched his bloodied chest with trembling fingers.

“If you live, don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

And now, he sits behind the glass of power, voice modulated, mask unshifting, his judgment absolute. You wondered if he dreams of you, if your voice ever slips into his nightmares. You wondered if, when he stares too long at the monitors, he's chasing something his mind won’t give him.

You kept your head down and your steps even. You cleaned blood off the walls. You followed orders. You pretend you’re not the one he’s unknowingly searching for.

Because if he ever does remember… If he ever sees through the perfect circle painted across your mask, what then?

Would he thank you? Punish you? Undo you?

You weren’t sure. In a place where mercy was a foreign concept, such a situation of his finding you would cause more complications.

The alarm blared. A low tone thrums through the walls, and every Circle in the hallway stops in unison.

“VIP arrival. Level Six. Escort detail.”

Your fellow pink guards peel off wordlessly, boots pivoting toward the service lift that leads to the opulent corridors you’re never meant to see. The ones draped in gold and smoke, the ones that reek of indulgence and blood.

But not you.

Your earpiece buzzes with a separate frequency.

“P-427, Report to Sub-Level Three. Clearance Sigma Red.”

Sigma Red.

You hesitate for half a breath before responding.

“Confirmed. On route.”

It wasn’t your first time.

You walked alone now, past the steel hallways, the flickering fluorescents, the guards who pretended not to see. You made your way towards the door marked only by a red triangle and the faint scent of disinfectant beneath it.

Inside the room was quiet, warmer, and cleaner. There was no briefing. No other guards. Just a room with a solitary mirror and a rack of clean clothing with soft fabric, unlike your uniform.

“Change. Protocol 09 is in effect,” the voice over the intercom says.

You obeyed, not needing to be told why. 

You’ve done this before. You remember the way the Front Man had just taken the mask then. How his presence had loomed even before you could name it. The first time, you’d done what you were told because not doing so meant punishment. 

You were a standard circle guard who was quiet, efficient, and obedient. Not until that night during the 28th Season where you chose mercy. 

He was bleeding out during lights out where his eyes had pulled you in — the hollow ache of someone who wanted to die but was too proud to beg for it. You broke the rules, yet they let you live.

Only so they could strip you down slowly — the escort class.

The lowest, most degrading designation in the hierarchy of this twisted system. You are masked, dressed in thin civilian mimicry, and handed over to the VIPs—not for pleasure, necessarily. Sometimes just for company. Sometimes for cruelty. Always for obedience.

“Escort detail begins in thirty minutes. Await further instruction.”

The door clicks shut behind you. You sat and waited, listening to the hum of the walls as you wondered, what if this is the time he speaks to you? What if he looks at you a second too long? What if he asks your name? And what if you're too afraid to give it?

The walls here were too quiet. No screams, gunfire, and barking orders. Only silence — deliberate, echoing, and unnerving.

The mask stays on. It always stays on. It's the only part of yourself you're allowed to keep. As you sat, the intercom crackled again. A different voice this time. One you know. One you’ve heard before during your disciplinary hearing. 

“Protocol 09 in effect,” the speaker hisses.

No acknowledgment required. They know you understand.

“You aided a player in the 28th Season. Unforgivable.”

A pause, long enough to let the weight settle. “You will not speak of it. Not to him. Not to anyone. The Front Man does not know. He must never know. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, because that’s all you're allowed to do now.

“VIPs arrive in thirty. Escort mode active.”

You fixed the mask over your face as you changed layer by layer, its garments feel like silk-wrapped shame. 

You remember how, once, your hands shook as they held a bleeding man. The one who now runs the games, one who sits behind a mask of black steel, haunted by something he can’t quite name.

He lives because of you and now you serve because of him.

He must never know.

But you remember.

Every time.

——

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and smoke clung to the velvet of the VIP lounge. The lighting was warm, golden, and suffocating — designed to flatter the depraved. Laughter cuts the air like broken glass. Masks of beasts and emperors lounge across gilded sofas, their voices slurred, their gaze predatory.

One of the VIPs snaps his fingers lazily. You pour his drink, bow just enough, and say nothing — as trained. You don’t speak. You don’t blink too long. You don’t feel.

“You’re quiet,” the VIP, masked as a Minotaur, slurred, brushing his fingers against your mask. “That’s good. Quiet girls know their place.”

You don’t flinch. At least, not visibly.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you slightly closer, examining you like a possession. “You’re prettier than the last one. I like the silent ones.”

You remain still and silent. Fighting the urge to pull away because if you did, they win. And if you speak, you lose more. Your hands rest on your knees as you lowered your gaze.

“You’re not new, are you?”

The question stung, but you didn’t flinch. You were burning inside, but you stayed silent. 

“That means you know not to fight.”

A murmur of laughter from the others. One of them raises a toast. Another gestures toward you and makes a cruel joke about how easily the silent ones break.

But something shifts in the room. The air tightens. The laughter dulls into murmurs. 

The door opened, revealing the Front Man.

Black mask. Black coat. His movements sharp and deliberate. Authority trails behind him like a shadow.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. You straightened your back, holding your breath as you felt your pulse surge. You kept your head bowed. 

He shouldn't be here. Not during the lounge sessions. Not unless something’s wrong. Yet here he is.

He walked slowly through the room silently as if he were observing and calculating something. His presence stills the most obnoxious of the guests. Even the ones who believe they own this place lower their voices when he moves near.

From across the room, the Front Man’s visor tilts toward you. He seemed to see your… situation. But, he doesn’t stop it. He doesn’t speak.

He simply watches.

You don’t know what’s worse. The VIP’s hand curling around your waist…

…or the silence from the one man who might have stopped it.

The VIP’s hand had finally left your side—only because another escort had arrived, younger and easier to control. You’d bowed out with the grace expected of you, even though your fingers trembled behind your back.

“Go help the servers,” one of the Square guards said. 

You obeyed.

It was almost a relief to stand by the bar cart again, serving champagne, bourbon, whiskey, gin. Anything they asked for. Anything to stop being seen.

“You,” the Square guard pointed at you. “Pour for the Front Man.”

The air around you dropped ten degrees, but your hands moved on instinct. The Front Man stood near the edge of the lounge, silent and still as the walls themselves. You could feel the room shift around him. 

You approached with measured steps, a crystal decanter in hand.

He didn’t look at you when you poured, though you could smell his cologne even beneath your mask. As you were about to finish filling up the glass, he suddenly spoke.

“Stay.”

You froze. You expected to be dismissed. But instead, he stood there, drink in hand, and allowed you to remain beside him. One step behind. Within reach. Claimed without announcement.

“Careful with that one, Front Man!” a portly VIP calls out with a laugh, drink sloshing in his hand. “Keep her too close, and you might find yourself using her for more than just drinks!”

Laughter erupted from his circle as your breath hitched a bit. You didn’t move, and the Front Man didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if he reacted beneath his mask, but he stayed still. There was no reaction and defense.

He sipped his drink slowly, his gaze never leaving the room. Not even a glance toward the man who joked. Not toward you. But then, you felt a sting inside you.

It wasn’t because of the VIP’s words — you’ve heard worse.

But because he didn’t stop it.

You stood at his side obediently, and he let the insult hang there, untouched. You forced the pain down like glass, straightening your spine. Somehow, his silence hurts more than the joke ever could.

By day, you sweep floors, distribute rations, check that the cameras are functioning. Your circle mask stares back at you from polished metal when you pass the infirmary door. You speak to no one. You salute when required. You blend in easily and invisibly. 

You are not meant to be remembered. That, too, is part of the punishment.

At night, it changes. The suit comes off. The silk goes on. You trade your mask for another kind — faceless still, but far more exposed. An escort — a role no one envies.

No one asks how you ended up there. They already know. 

It’s all because you interfered and saved someone you weren’t meant to. You’re not even sure he remembers. Or if he ever knew. Or if he’s simply chosen to forget because acknowledging what you did would mean acknowledging that even he was once weak enough to bleed.

And weakness isn’t allowed here.

Sometimes, when you stand beside his chair in the VIP lounge and pour his drink, you think about that moment in the dark, years ago. When he was gasping, wounded, barely clinging to life behind a player’s uniform soaked in blood. And you chose to help.

That was the night your position was stripped from you.

Because you weren’t always a circle.

Your hands remember how to hold a gun with authority. Your voice remembers how to give orders.

You were a square.

You remember the weight of command.

But mercy is a betrayal in this place, and your punishment is to be seen and not recognized. It is for you to serve quietly the man you once saved and to suffer silently each time he looks right past you. 

----

A/N: We're back! This time, it's more of a slow burn type of fanfic so please bear with the story. What did you think of how you're a Pink Guard saving the Front Man back when he was still a player and him trying to find you in the crowd? This whole fic will be based on the events of Squid Game Season 1, as it would be like one of the first years of In-ho as the Front Man. :D

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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