#Weekly TV Guide

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Chicago Tribune TV Week, March 4-10, 1973, Section 10

[celebclippinz]

NZ TV Weekly

[lablakelystress]

Found these listed online… and now I’m starting to hate myself bc I feel like one of those “born in the wrong generation kids” lmao

[deus-ex-mona]

i never moved on from this tbh

[flieslikeamoron]

oh hey, I have that Quark one

cunty DS9 magazine covers save me

[gentlyouttatime]

nooo what will i do without dungeon meshi thursdays nooo

[cbn-communitybasednews]

Top 50 Countries of 2024: Must-Travel Destinations for the Adventure Seeker

The world is a huge weaving of social orders, scenes, and experiences fit to be researched. As we step into 2024, the desire for development has never been more grounded. Whether you’re a painstakingly pre-arranged traveler , the going with overview of the best 50 countries to visit in 2024 is specially crafted exclusively for you. From shocking ordinary supernatural occurrences to socially rich metropolitan networks, these complaints ensure phenomenal endeavors and memories to persevere for eternity. Read More

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[girlypopbops]

⋆˙⟡Ultimate Self Care Sunday Guide ⋆˙⟡

☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆

When I think about Sundays I think about rejuvenation and pleasure ; enjoying the day while doing a weekly reset.

On Sundays I like to sleep in and get that well deserved beauty sleep, the key to any successful reset is being well rested and grounded.

♡ (10:00am) Wake up, take my time waking up & lay in bed for a few mins, stretch and take some deep breaths, positive affirmations

"Today I am grateful for..."

"I deserve to treat my body with love and care today."

"I am committed to improving myself and achieving my goals daily."

♡ Open the blinds, straighten up room, and make bed. Starting the day with a bright and neat room is a simple and refreshing way to start the day off on the right foot, a small achievement as soon as you step out of bed will inspire you to keep going.

♡ Drink water & take my meds and supplements. Since it had been hours since I had any water hydrating is super important, and since I'm already taking my medicine might as well finish the glass off.

♡ Journal and plan day. Having a game plan and a clear mind before doing any real tasks sets the foundation for a productive day and promotes mindfulness. I like to have rose quartz, clear quartz, and amethyst on my desk while I journal to set peaceful intentions and promote self love. I have a five minute journal so I begin by thinking of 3 things I'm grateful for, one affirmation, and 3 things I can do for the day that will make it great. Typically on Sundays taking my time, being attentive, and being proactive are my goals for making the day great. I'll then make a to-do list for the day.

♡ Skin care and comfy clothes. Washing my face, moisturizing and putting on sunscreen is the perfect simple skin care for running errands, I usually wear some sweat pants and a t-shirt to finish the fit.

♡ Breakfast! I always like to have lots of fruit and a sweet treat on Sundays as part of my breakfast as a treat for getting through the prior week.

♡ Reset cleaning session. I like to do a full vacuum of my space, mop, wipe everything down, run the dish washer, and do my laundry. Other cleaning tasks vary based on the week but I like to make sure I am doing those tasks weekly. I also like to make sure to wash towels on Sunday since sometimes I'll do laundry on Wednesday and don't do towels then.

♡ Ultimate shower vibe time. The everything shower of my dreams after being all sweaty from cleaning. ( I have a post about this already on my page!)

♡ Light a candle and set the vibes with some mood lighting.

♡ Do my full skin care routine, face mask ect...

♡ A nice filling dinner & tv show. I love a Sunday night pasta dish with a Diet Coke while watching Pretty Little Liars.

♡ Journal. My five minute journal has a section to do in the evening, it asks to write down 3 highlights of the day and what lesson you learned for the day. It's a nice way to look back fondly on the day.

♡ Read. I like to read before bed since it helps me to fall asleep! I've been reading The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and Conversations on Love by Natasha Lunn!

♡ (10:30pm) Night time meds & slumber!

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Just Desserts

And Tuesday:

2:30 PM: Helix/Just Desserts

Wednesday:

2:30 PM: Just Desserts

Thursday:

2:30 PM: Helix/SCII

Friday:

2:30 PM: Handplates ft. Webkinz

Saturday:

2:30 PM: Handplates

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Resident Evil

Thanks for tuning in! (Patreon)

[magic-shop-stories]

how would bts react to their kids being disrespectful towards their wife?

💌 Reply:

Ahh, I hope this is what you wanted... I took me way too long, but I got so many ideas while writing this.

This blog is honestly turning into BTS Parent AU (crying in orphan) - I started with a J-Hope Dad fic and end up writing Dad Headcanons for whole Bangtan - well, it kinda heals my childhood lol...

Thanks for the Request and feel free to reach out 💜 and HAVE FUN reading ✨️✨️

“Respect isn’t a rule, it’s the soil we grow in. If you poison it, nothing blooms.”

NAMJOON

Philosopher-leader

introspective

values growth through empathy & dialogue

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

when he hears the disrespect, his grip tightens on whatever he’s holding, knuckles whitening

closes his eyes for a beat, exhaling through his nose

you know how his jaw clenches? THAT!!!

his voice is low but steady, deliberate calm masking his hurt

“That language isn’t acceptable. Let’s take a walk.”

Internal Feelings: 

disappointment curdles in his chest

mentally files it away to process later

blames himself first before focusing on guiding his child

Teaching Moment

Nature Walk

takes his child to a quiet park or riverbank

points to tangled tree roots: 

“See how they hold each other up? Families are like that. When you hurt Mom, you shake our roots.” 

asks them to find a smooth stone and toss it into water

“Words are like ripples, once they’re out, you can’t take them back.”

Punishment

1) Apology Letter & Reflection Essay

his child writes two things

heartfelt apology to their mom, including specific examples of her sacrifices

A 1-page reflection on “How My Words Impact Others,” using a metaphor; e.g., “Anger is fire,it burns the person holding it too”

2) Community Service

would volunteer with his child at a local community garden for a weekend

“You’ll water plants and see how care grows something beautiful. Like Mom does for us.”

3) Lost Privileges

no screen time (tablet, TV) until both letters are completed to his standards

Internal Conflict

Self-Doubt:

later, he vents in his journal

 “Did I overreact? Am I too abstract for them to understand?” 

worries his calmness comes off as indifference

Frustration & Compassion

part of him wants to yell "How dare they hurt her?" but he swallows it, knowing anger won’t teach

instead, texts his wife: 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that. We’ll fix this together.”

Guilt

buys her favorite latte and leaves it on her desk with a sticky note

“You’re our bedrock. Thank you for enduring my learning curves too.”

Follow-Up

Family Meeting

gathers everyone to discuss “healthy communication.”

uses a whiteboard to map emotions

e.g., “When you’re angry, here’s how we express it without explosions”

lets his child lead part of the discussion

Ritual

starts a weekly “Gratitude Stone” tradition

each family member drops a painted stone into a bowl while sharing something they appreciate about the others

the bowl stays on the dining table as a visual reminder

_________________________________________

“Respect your mom, or I’ll revoke your WiFi and your right to laugh at my jokes. And trust me, you need both to survive.”

JIN

playful disciplinarian

fiercely protective

humor as a bridge to vulnerability

nurturing with a side of theatrics

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Dramatic Flair

whirls around, clutching his chest like a K-drama lead

“Yah! Did I just hear disrespect in this household? To the woman who gave you life? Are you a villain in a weekend drama now?” 

his voice drops, dead serious

“Apologize. Properly. Now.”

Body Language

looms over his child (playfully intimidating), arms crossed

winks at his wife to reassure her he’s handling it

Internal Feelings

hot flash of anger - How dare they hurt her?

masks it with humor to avoid scaring his kid

secretly wonders - Did I joke too much about respect? Is this my fault?

Teaching Moment

Cooking Lesson Consequences

drags his kid to the kitchen

“You think parenting is easy? Let’s see you handle dinner.” 

carefully forces them to peel garlic, chop onions, and stir a bubbling pot while he “supervises” from a stool

Metaphor Time

 “Mom’s like this stew, holds everything together. You insult her, the whole family falls apart. You wanna taste chaos? Here...” 

lets them sip over-salted broth

“See? Without her balance, life’s spicy in the worst way.”

Punishment:

Apology Performance

he'd make them sing an apology parody of Super Tuna (Jin writes lyrics if they're younger/need help) (too personal opinion)

“I’m sorry, Mom, I was a fool / I broke the golden respect rule!”

complete with fish-themed choreography

Mom’s Personal Assistant

for a week, his kid acts as Mom’s “manager”

bringing her coffee, massaging her shoulders, and taking notes on her daily tasks

“You’ll learn how hard she works and say ‘Yes, Queen’ with a smile.”

No Joke Privilege

bans his child from his dad-joke sessions (their favorite bonding time) until they earn back trust

“Comedy’s a privilege for people who respect their co-stars.”

Internal Conflict

Guilt & Second-Guessing

after bedtime, he stress-eats kimchi pancakes in the kitchen

mutters to his wife: 

“Was I too harsh? Should I have hugged them first?” 

(if she reassures him, he still texts his mom at 2 a.m.)

“How did you not disown me when I was 13 and edgy?”

Protective Fury

secretly grinds his teeth remembering the disrespect

Humor as Armor

buys his wife expensive skincare “just because”

glares at hiskid’s homework like it personally offended her

cracks a joke during the apology song

“Your high note needs work, but the remorse is chef’s kiss”

makes sure his child knows he’s dead serious underneath

Follow-Up

Family Dinner Theater

institutes a weekly “Appreciation Roast” where everyone playfully roasts each other, but he'd end up praising his child and wife

“Your mom’s so amazing, she makes the sun jealous. Fight me.”

Secret Spy Mission

assigns his kid to stealthily document Mom’s daily acts of kindness (e.g., packing lunches, fixing Wi-Fi)

“Mom Appreciation PowerPoint.” = Jin adds meme slides for flair

_________________________________________

“Your anger’s a tool. Use it to fix what you broke, not break what she fixed.”

SUGA

stoic realist

quietly protective

values actions over empty words

emotionally reserved

deeply introspective

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Cold Silence

freezes mid-task (producing beats, fixing a coffee)

eyes narrowing to slits

voice drops to a low, icy register

“Repeat that. Slowly.” 

room chills, even the air feels heavier

Body Language

leans back in his chair, fingers steepled, jaw clenched

a vein pulses at his temple, the only tell of his simmering rage

Internal Feelings

visceral flashback to his teenage self snapping at his parents

guilt claws at him

“Am I failing like I thought he did?” 

referencing his own father’s emotional distance

Teaching Moment

Studio Session

drags his kid to his home studio at midnight

slams headphones onto them

“You’re angry? Scream. Spit it into the mic. Let’s hear exactly what’s rotting in your head.” 

records their raw, unfiltered outburst

plays it back, deadpan

“This what you want your legacy to be? Noise?”

Lyric Exercise

forces them to transform the rant into structured rap verses 

“Anger’s useless if it doesn’t build something. Mom’s your hook, write a chorus thanking her.”

Punishment

Gratitude Ledger

his child must document every thing Mom does for them for a week, down to folded socks

present it as a spreadsheet

 “Numbers don’t lie. Now apologize in data.”

Manual Labor

assigns them to clean the studio top-to-bottom

“You wanna disrespect the woman who cleans your messes? Learn the weight of it.”

Tech Ban

confiscates their phone/laptop until the rap is perfected

“You’ll communicate face-to-face like we did in the trenches.”

Internal Conflict

Fatherhood Ghosts

stares at old family photos late at night

his father’s stern face haunts him

“Will my kid remember me as a wall or a weapon?” 

texts his mom

“Did I ever make you feel small?” 

she replies with a heart emoji, he saves it but doesn’t sleep

Emotional Paradox 

wants to hug his child but fears coddling

leaves a new pair of sneakers (their size) outside their door -no note

Protective Rage

slips cash into his wife’s purse with a scribbled 

“Buy silence. Spa. Dinner. Whatever. I’ll handle the chaos.”

Follow-Up

Family Cypher

hosts a living room rap battle

he goes hardest on himself

“I’m a flawed king, but Mom’s the throne. Diss her again, and you’ll rap alone.” 

his kid’s verse earns a nod

“Better. Still trash flow, though.”

Silent Ritual

every Sunday, he and his child cook his mom’s kimchi jjigae recipe

no talking, just chopping, stirring, and passing ingredients

“Respect’s in the labor,” he mutters once, and his kid finally gets it

_________________________________________

”You can’t fake respect like a bad dance cover. Nail the basics, or you’re benched from my WiFi."

J-HOPE

radiant disciplinarian

structured yet warm

balances positivity with unwavering principles

thrives on growth through accountability

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

The Judge Face Activated

the moment he hears the disrespect, his signature smile evaporates

eyes narrow into a laser-focused stare

brows furrowing into "courtroom glare."

stands tall, arms crossed, fingertips tapping his biceps

silent countdown to explosion

Voice

sharp and clipped, volume rising just enough to sting

“Hold. Up. Did you just speak to your mother like that? Do you need a mirror to see how ugly that sounded?”

Body Language

steps between his child and his wife, a protective shield

his usually animated hands now rigid at his sides, fists briefly clenching

Teaching Moment

Choreography of Consequences

”Respect Rehearsal”

forces his child to practice bowing and polite phrases

”Yes, Mom,” “Thank you, Mom” 50 times in front of a mirror “You wanna act up? Perfect your performance as a decent human first.”

Gratitude Graffiti

hands them poster boards and markers

“You have one hour to turn this disrespect into art. Every color is a reason Mom deserves better.” 

stands arms crossed, critiquing laziness

“That’s yellow effort. I’ve seen your TikToks, do rainbow.”

Hope’s Homework

assigns a essay titled ”How My Words Dance on Others’ Hearts”

must include a choreography metaphor

“If you can’t write it, we’ll literalize it. Ten pirouettes per paragraph.”

Internal Conflict

Post-Punishment Panic

“Was I too much? Did I break their spirit? What if they hate me now?” 

after sending his kid to their room, he paces the kitchen

stress-eating gummy bears

texts Jimin: 

”Hyung messed up. I went full dance captain on them 😭”

Guilty Glimpses

peeks into his child’s room later, heart aching if they’re crying

leaves a bowl of their favorite fruit with a note

”Anger fades. Love doesn’t. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Wife Reassurance

kneads his wife’s shoulders that night, voice small

“Did I… overstep? I just... I couldn’t let them think it’s okay to dim your light.” he exhales shakily

Follow-Up

Apology Showcase

makes his child present their poster and essay at a “family meeting.”

he claps loudest, eyes misty

”This… this is hope, right? Growth!”

Kindness Choreo

creates a ”Respect Routine”

his child must perform one act of service for Mom daily (e.g., making her coffee, tidying her shoes)

Dance Floor Therapy

blasts upbeat music, pulling his kid into a silly dance-off. 

”Life’s a stage, yeah? But Mom’s the main audience. Never forget.”

_________________________________________

“You’re my blood. But if you cut her, I’ll bleed harder. Fix this.”

JIMIN

affectionate empath

fiercely loyal

balances warmth with unexpected intensity

prioritizes emotional harmony

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Surprising Fury

his doe eyes harden into a steel-gray glare

voice dropping to a razor-sharp whisper

“What did you just say to her?” 

steps closer, posture taut as a bowstring

“You don’t ever speak to Mom like that. Apologize. Now.”

Body Language

hands tremble slightly, not from fear, but suppressed rage

he grips his child’s shoulder, not roughly, but firm enough to ground them

“Look at her. Look at how you made her feel.”

Internal Feelings

flash of his own childhood guilt surfaces

that time he snapped at his mother during trainee stress

his anger is laced with panic: 

“Am I repeating cycles I swore to break?”

Teaching Moment

Emotional Bootcamp

Apology Art

forces his child to create a “Heart Map” collage

photos of Mom’s sacrifices, surrounded by handwritten apologies in every color

“If you can’t say it, show it.”

sits silently beside them, tears brimming as he points to a photo of Mom staying up late with homework

Role Reversal

makes them act out a skit where they’re the parent

Jimin plays them, mimicking their harsh tone

feigns sobbing into a pillow

“Feel good? Proud? This is what you did.”

Service Sentence

his child must take over Mom’s chores for a week, packing lunches, folding laundry

he supervises, arms crossed 

“You think her love is free? It’s labor. Respect it.”

Internal Conflict

Guilt Spiral

after confrontation, he locks himself in the bathroom, splashing water on his face

“Did I scare them? What if they think I’m a monster?” 

texts Jungkook: 

”Messed up. I sounded like a monster”

Midnight Check-In

creeps into his child’s room at 2 a.m., tucking them in

whispers

“I’m sorry I yelled. But Mom… she’s my soul. You can’t break her.” 

leaves a handwritten note: 

“Anger is love that’s bleeding. Let’s heal together.”

Wife’s Reassurance

clings to her that night, forehead pressed to her shoulder

“Tell me I’m not failing. Tell me they’ll still love me.”

Soft Family Resolution

Pillow Fort Summit:

builds a blanket fort in the living room

stuffed with snacks and fairy lights

initiates a feelings circle

“I’m sorry I yelled. I felt scared; scared we’d lose us.” 

“Love is sticky, yeah? Messy. But sweet when you knead it right.” 

encourages his child to share

pulls them into a cuddle pile

Baking Therapy

bakes cookies together, Jimin guiding their hands

feeds Mom the first bite, eyes soft

Dance of Apology

plays a slow song, swaying with his child

“This is how we say sorry without words.” 

by the end, they’re both laughing through tears

_________________________________________

“Disrespect your mom, and you erase the art of our family. I’ll burn the palette until you paint her properly.”

TAEHYUNG (V)

artistic empath

whimsical yet profound

values emotional depth and creativity

fiercely protective with a tender heart

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Quiet Intensity

his playful demeanor evaporates

tilts his head, eyes narrowing into a piercing gaze

voice low and steady

“Did I just hear you disrespect the universe that holds our family together?”

his tone is velvet wrapped in steel

Body Language

steps closer, crouching to his child’s level

hands clasped tightly behind his back to avoid trembling

“You think words are just air? They’re echoes. Let’s make sure yours don’t haunt us.”

Teaching Moment

Metaphor-Driven Lesson:

”Broken Vase” Analogy

brings out a delicate ceramic vase

smashes it deliberately

“This was us. Now fix it.” 

hands them glue, forcing them to piece it back

“Apologies are glue, but cracks remain. Choose your words wisely.”

Songwriting Therapy

drags his child to the piano

“Turn your anger into music. Write a chorus for Mom, every line a reason she’s our melody.” 

plays minor chords until his child’s lyrics shift from defiance to remorse

Silent Gallery

curates a “Mom Exhibit” in the living room

photos, her favorite scarf, a recipe card

forces his child to stand there for an hour

“Breathe in her soul. Then tell me she deserves disrespect.”

Consequence

1) Art Ban

revokes access to paints, instruments, or cameras until the vase is repaired and the song is performed for Mom

“Creativity is a privilege. Use it to heal, not harm.”

2) Memory Journal: 

assigns a diary to log daily acts of kindness from Mom 

“Fill 10 pages. Then burn one and see how it feels to erase her love.”

3) Shadow Day: 

his child must follow Mom for 24 hours, documenting her tasks in a sketchbook

“You’ll learn her language of love—it’s spelled S-A-C-R-I-F-I-C-E.”

Internal Conflict

Doubt in Darkness

late at night, he stares at the fractured vase on his shelf

texts Jin: 

“Hyung, what if I’m too abstract? What if they don’t see?” 

vowing, “I’ll be the parent who stays in the frame.”

Guilt in Gestures

secretly films Mom’s daily routine, editing it into a montage set to his child’s song

leaves it on their laptop with a note: 

“Her love is your legacy. Don’t let it be a silent film.”

Protective Poetry

writes a letter he never sends: 

“I’d raze galaxies to keep you safe. Both of you.”

Resolution

Family Portrait Session

dresses everyone in coordinating hues

directing a photoshoot where Mom is the focal point

whispered to his child: 

“See how she outshines us all? That’s why we orbit her.”

Midnight Storytime

gathers them under fairy lights

recounting a fable about a boy who lost his voice after hurting his mother

ends with, “Love is the only language worth speaking.”

Collaborative Art

paints a mural together titled “Home.”

guides his child’s hand to outline Mom’s figure

“Without her, this canvas is empty. Now fill it with light.”

_________________________________________

“Disrespect Mom, and you’ll spar with me until your heart matches your mouth, strong enough to lift her, not tear her down.”

JUNGKOOK

gentle protector

resilient softie

leads by example

values hard work and emotional honesty

channels intensity into growth

Reaction & Consequences

Initial Response:

Silent Fury

freezes mid-rep at the gym, dumbbell hovering

his muscles tense like coiled springs

jaw clenched so tight his cheekbones sharpen

sets the weight down with deliberate calm, turns slowly, and locks eyes with his child

“You think you’re tough enough to disrespect your mom? Let’s test that.”

Body Language

cracks his knuckles, rolling his shoulders back

his gaze is volcanic

his voice stays eerily quiet

“Gym. Now. You wanna act hard? Be hard.”

Teaching Moment

Boxing Bootcamp

drags his kid to his home gym

forces them into gloves, pads him up, and drills combos

“Hit the pad. Harder. Harder. That’s your anger? Mom’s felt worse from your words.” 

makes them sprint between rounds

“Respect isn’t a game, it’s a discipline.”

Breakdown: mid-session, he stops, chest heaving

“You think I’m mad? I’m terrified. Because if you break her heart, I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Punishment

Labor of Love: 

assigns 100 burpees (he does them too)

“Every rep is a ‘thank you’ for Mom’s sleepless nights.”

Gratitude Gauntlet

forces his kid to handwrite 50 reasons Mom “outworks them daily.”

critiques each one

“’She drives me to school’? Weak. Dig deeper. Sacrifice.”

Tech Timeout

confiscates gaming gear until they’ve detailed Mom’s daily schedule in a spreadsheet

“You’ll see her 18-hour shift. Then we’ll talk ‘fair.’”

Internal Conflict

Regret & Vulnerability

after the workout, he sits alone in the gym, head in hands

texts Yoongi:

”Hyung, did I go full drill sergeant? What if they hate me?” 

stares at a family photo on his phone, zooming in on his wife’s smile

Guilt Gifts

sneaks into his kid’s room at dawn, leaves protein pancakes and a new hoodie (their favorite anime print)

scrawls on a napkin

”Anger fades. My love for you doesn’t. But never hurt her again.”

Protective Paradox

books his wife a solo vacation, "growling" at his kid

 “You’re stuck with me. We’re rebuilding what you cracked.”

Soft Resolution

Sparring Therapy

returns to the gym days later, gloves on

this time, he lets his child hit his pads while venting

“I get it, anger’s easy. Loving’s harder. But Mom? She’s worth the reps.” 

ends with a fist bump

Tattoo Talk

shows them his “ARMY” tattoo

“This means I fight for what I love. You’ll earn yours when you learn to fight for her, not against.”

Family Night

teaches self-defense moves

positioning Mom as the “VIP to protect.”

his kid must shield her from his playful attacks

“Guard her like she’s your last round.”

_________________________________________

[jinnirev]

9th member reader would be a fan favourite, getting shipped with every member, and people writing crazy ship fanfiction and art

☆ pairing: ot8 x f!reader

☆ T/W: reader is sexualised a lot, implied non-con somnophilia, Prof x student trope, exhibitionism, sex on livestream, degradation, implied gangbang, spanking

☆notes: dark content ahead, please read trigger warnings before proceeding!

🔞 nsfw under the cut!

you were the one member who every single member got along with, ever since debut. you've never fought with any single one of the members.

which is what caused you to be a fan favourite when it comes to shipping. there would be thousands of fanfiction written about you paired with every single one of the members.

you were scrolling on your twitter timeline, until you stopped when you saw an explicit video with a caption saying: "y/n btm leeknow top, this is a visual representation of what happens whenever y/n fucks up during dance practice." you pressed into the video, a full HD video of a girl getting her pussy pounded, laying on the wooden floor, obviously reminding you of the training room. you hate the admit it, but this did infact happen before, and not just once but several times..

this led to you falling down the rabbit hole of reading and watching sexual fan made content. there were accounts dedicated to describing how good your pussy would be. (you were flattered)

your personal favourites would be those crazy alternate universes where fans would depict the most graphic and vile things.

"y/n would be such a brat during her lecture, not paying attention at all to what mr hwang was saying. showing up to class in an unbelievably short skirt with the tightest tank top, y/n was basically slutting out her body. mr hwang refused to let this slide, asking her to stay behind after class: *insert a video of a girl in a skirt getting railed on a table, getting her ass spanked, leaving angry red hand marks on the soft flesh of her skin.*"

"y/n made seungmin mad while doing a live so he fucked her live infront of over a million people: *insert a video of a girl bouncing up and down a cock, a pair of hands guiding her hips, slamming her down on his cock*"

"thinking abt how creamy and wet y/n's pussy would get during a fan meet when she couldn't get her slutty pussy filled by the rest of the members. so she had to whore her pussy out to the members on stage, they fucked her right there, infront of all the fans."

"y/n would be such a pretty sleeper that roommate!han can never resist touching her when he sees her passed out on the couch. jisung couldn't help but pull down her tiny short, revealing her wet little cunt, all creamy and ready for him to fuck. she let out a whimper of his name in her sleep and jisung gets impossibly harder. he couldn't resist it anymore, pulling out his fat cock and slamming it into sleeping y/n's creamy cunt. her eyes would slowly flutter open, waking up to her pussy getting filled with jisung's cum, clit getting rubbed and pinched by her roommate: *insert a video of a girl laying on her back, getting fucked stupid by a fat cock*"

needless to say, most of them were vile, but made your poor little pussy so wet, you had to start rubbing your clit while scrolling. but you were to used to the members making you cum all the time, you couldn't even take care of yourself :(

you walked into the living room, where the members were all sitting and watching their weekly movie night. "can't cum," you mumble, somehow they all heard you.

all it took were those two words for all of them to turn of the TV and spring into action. not before arguing with each other about who should get to make you cum.

[ridethecyanide]

It amazes me every time that you were always there for Bobby! You saw every performance of him at the time. You had stuff about him from the 90s, that's so amazing! I'm a bit jealous, but good for you good <3 I assume you must be a big fan of him since day one? 🤔 How was it like back in your days to be a fan? If you don't mind sharing ♡

@toddsmind-neilssoul I don’t mind sharing!

So, my parents rented DPS when I was 10, that was 1993 and all I can remember was the cute boy with the sad eyes that caught my attention. My grandmother took me to see Much Ado About Nothing that same year after a lot begging and even though I didn’t understand one word of it at the time, I got to see my cute boy with the sad eyes. He was definitely my first celebrity crush and I’ve been following his career ever since and didn’t miss a movie or TV event. This was before the internet really exploded so I had to rely on TV Guides, newspapers/magazines to keep up with any of his appearances and record on my VHS tape recorder 😆 Fast forward to 2001, I told my parents I didn’t want to go to my high school senior prom and asked them to use the money that would have been spent on a dress towards a graduation gift of seeing Robert in The Invention of Love. So, my Mom and I flew out Memorial Day weekend 2001 and saw him perform and I just couldn’t believe I was seeing him live, he was wonderful. We waited by the stage door after the show and I got to meet him. There was nobody else hanging around so I had him all to myself for a moment. I didn’t say very much because I was a bit nervous but he couldn’t have been nicer. Exactly one week later, he won the Tony! That was so exciting!

When he was on House, I thought I hit the mother-load as a fan because I actually got to watch him on a weekly basis for 8 years so when it ended in 2012, I got a bit sad because I knew he was going to head back into his hibernating book-nook and maybe show up on a random TV show every once in a while and continue to perform on stage. I wanted to see every play he did but life gets in the way.

I figured enough time had passed (15 years!) and I had the time so I flew out to NYC in 2016 to meet up with a friend and see him in Prodigal Son. Again, he was wonderful and again, I got to say Hello to him afterward but this time I actually spoke to him (briefly) and quickly told him about skipping my senior prom in 2001 to see him perform, how it was a decision I will never regret and showed him the photo; he smiled so sweetly at me as if he was saying, why would you give up a teenage right of passage to see me, I’m not worth it…I asked if we can take a photo as a sort of Then and Now kinda thing and we did! No surprise, he was so nice.

I adore Robert and wish nothing but good things for him. Since he’s not always out there like a lot actors, I feel so genuinely happy to see him when he does decide to come out of hibernation. (Thank you Cynthia Nixon for coaxing him out to act in The Gilded Age) I’m flying to Chicago in March to see him in his latest play. Perhaps I can say Hello to him again? Stay tuned!

[phantomdreamgirl]

thinking about scoops steve again 🍦

The light from the TV illuminates the living room, casting your boyfriend's face in half shadow. Mtv's weekly video countdown plays in the background as you climb onto his lap.

"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?" He asks, with a sigh, while his large hands settle on your hips.  Your tight, denim skirt uncomfortably bunches between you and he helps push it up higher.

"Nope," you smile.

You straddle him with ease, while he gazes up at you, slightly biting his lip with every move of your hips. The scratch of his hairy thighs against the backs of your legs causes your eyes to briefly close, unaware that you'd like that feeling. You quickly reopen them, as you want to commit everything about the boy below you to memory.

Especially the way he's looking at you with total adoration, almost as if he's in disbelief that you're here, gazing back at him with the same look in your eyes.

His hand leaves your hip to cradle your face before he pulls you in for a slow, sensual kiss. It has you both softly moaning into it, as he begins to slowly move your hips back and forth, with his other hand.

You whimper his name into another kiss, already unraveling for him.

"Yeah? Does it already feel that good?" He asks, his voice thick with lust.

You nod. "You know how I feel about your uniform... especially your shorts..." you breathe, pressing your forehead to his.

"I remember, angel," he smiles, while his thumb gently caresses your cheek. "I remember how you literally drooled over them. I almost ruined that pair because of you and your slutty mouth."

You flash a proud smile before he guides your lips back to his.

"Hottest fuckin' thing I've ever seen..." he breathily adds, between kisses. "Never had anyone be that desperate for me before..."

His words have you moaning against his lips, with your hands gripping the back of the couch, needing to stabilize yourself, as he tightens his hold on your hip.

"Want you to always feel like that," he breathes with his wet lips on your cheek.

"I will..." you reply, panting, as you shamelessly grind yourself against him.

A soft whine leaves his lips, before he kisses you again.

"As good as this feels now, imagine how much better it'll be when I'm buried so deep you can feel me here," he says, placing his hand underneath your shirt and against your skin.

"You wanna try that tonight, honey?"

He then smiles as you whimper into his kiss.

"Need you to tell me you want it," he murmurs against your lips.

You let out a tiny sigh of frustration.  "I want it, I want you..." 

His smile widens when he feels you press kisses to his cheek.

"...please, Stevie."

Your voice is so sweet and breathy, it makes him shudder. A smirk forms on your lips as you temporarily gain the upper hand.

"Let's go upstairs then, angel, and I'll give you everything you want," he breathes, nuzzling his nose against yours.

"You always do," you softly reply, moving your hand from the back of the couch to affectionately run your fingers through his hair.

He groans when he feels your fingernails lightly brush his scalp.

"Gotta show my girl just how much she means to me, and how lucky I am to have her," he adds, with a lovesick smile.

"How you spoil me..." you tease, as he playfully rolls his eyes.

"Surely you're not complaining..." he half whispers, his words almost muffled by your lips.

"Of course not," you quickly defend. " Its nice having an overly affectionate boyfriend." 

"I'm glad you realize just how valuable that is," he replies, pulling you close again.

"I absolutely do," you smile, ghosting your lips over his before finally giving in and kissing him.

[911actually]

GENERAL

⤷9-1-1: Jennifer Love Hewitt Is Abducted by a Serial Killer After Angela Bassett Realizes 'Something's Not Right' (Exclusive) | PEOPLE.COM ⤷Stills from 8.09 'Sob Stories' | DGEPRESS.COM ⤷ Thursday TV Ratings | TVSERIESFINALE.COM ⤷ Thursday Ratings: ‘9-1-1’ on ABC Hits Season-High Among 18-49 in Spring Return | PROGRAMMINGINSIDER.COM ⤷ Who Plays Amber Braeburn In 9-1-1 Season 8? Where You Know Abigail Spencer From | SCREENRANT.COM

INTERVIEWS

Jennifer Love Hewitt — EW • Collider • The Wrap • TVLine Oliver Stark — US Weekly • TV Insider • TV FANATIC Ryan Guzman — Parade • HELLO! Magazine Tim Minear — Decider • EW • Screenrant • TVLine

REVIEWS & RECAPS

⤷ 9-1-1 Recap: No Tears Left to Cry | VULTURE.COM ⤷ 911 - Sob Stories - Review: The 118 Returns with an Intense Midseason Premiere | SPOILERTV.COM ⤷ 9-1-1 season 8 episode 9 recap: Maddie’s dangerous call takes a sinister turn | SPORTSKEEDA.COM ⤷ 911 Season 8 Episode 9 Guide: Cast, Guest Stars, Plot Recap & Images for 'Sob Stories' | THEDIRECT.COM ⤷ ‘9-1-1’ Is Setting Things in Motion for Buck and Eddie — and I Couldn’t Be Happier About It | COLLIDER.COM ⤷ 9-1-1 Season 8, Episode 9 Review: The ABC Show Plays With Fans' Hearts | CBR.COM ⤷ 9-1-1 season 8 episode 9 recap: 67 thoughts I had while watching ‘Sob Stories’ | PINKNEWS.COM ⤷ 9-1-1 Season 8, Episode 9 Review: I Can Feel Buddie Canon Coming After This Layered Episode Featuring A Devastating Jennifer Love Hewitt | SCREENRANT.COM ⤷ 911 season 8 episode 9 recap: Is Eddie really leaving 911? | ONECHICAGOCENTER.COM ⤷ RECAP: 9-1-1 Season 8 Episode 9 — “Sob Stories” | BUTWHYTHO.NET ⤷ Tales From the 118 Episode 9: Season 8 Episode 9 "Sob Stories" Review | FANGIRLISH.COM ⤷ 911 season 8, episode 9 finds the Buckley siblings both spiraling in different ways | PRECINCTTV.COM ⤷ 9-1-1 Season 8 Episode 9 Review: Sob Stories | TELLTALETV.COM

[daisynik7]

“S&M” by Rihanna for Toji Fushiguro - smut

S&M

I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.0k

cw: smut - PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, mild S&M practices - whips, blindfold, handcuffs, protected sex (for once lol), use of safe word, rough sex, pet names (cutie, sweetheart)

Summary: You are next-door neighbors with a man named Toji Fushiguro. You don’t know much about him, except for the fact that he’s a divorced father who spends every other weekend with his young son, Megumi. On the weeks he doesn’t have him, you notice the same trio of women visiting his house. One night, his package gets incorrectly delivered to your door. Too curious, you walk over to return it, only to find the front door unlocked and a naughty secret to discover.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for the request anon! I love Rihanna, so it’s no surprise that she’s on the y2k karaoke party playlist! I personally am not well-versed with S&M practices, so this was an experience to write, definitely a little bit out of my comfort zone, but I hope it’s still okay! This is more on the milder side, I'm sure. Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks for reading! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

You’re not usually this nosey when it comes to your neighbors, but something about Toji Fushiguro draws you in. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a divorced dad who takes good care of his adorable son, Megumi. Or maybe it’s the mysterious trio of women who frequently visits his house on the weeks he doesn’t have his child. Or maybe it’s his obvious good looks and impressive physique that you can’t help but notice every time he steps foot outside. Whatever it is, whether it’s a combination of all of the above, you just can’t get Toji Fushiguro off your mind. 

On this particular Friday night, you’re staying in, binging a TV show with a glass of white wine in your hands and a frozen pizza that you just baked in the oven. There’s a knock on your front door, which surprises you because you aren’t expecting anybody at this hour. You give it a few moments, seeing if there’s another knock. When none comes, you get up to scope it out, finding a large package directly in front of you and a delivery truck driving off in the distance. You check the shipping label, reading Toji’s name on it instead of yours. You glance at his front yard, spotting his car parked in the driveway and no one else’s. His girlfriends must have already left; you noticed their vehicle earlier beside his. 

Not bothering to change into anything presentable, currently wearing your sweats and fuzzy slippers, you carry the wrongly delivered package to its rightful owner, hoping if you can find some truth behind your neighbor’s unique bi-weekly ritual. You’ve thought about it before, the most likely answer being a polyamorous relationship or group sex. Still, it’ll put your mind to rest to know exactly what he does in there when little Megumi is away and Toji is free to play. So, you carefully lift the box, which isn’t heavy, over to his front door, setting it down to ring the bell. You push the button, then notice that the door is already open, slightly ajar. Another ring, and no one comes, though you’re certain you hear movement inside. 

You should turn around. Go back home, sink into your couch, continue the night as normal. Yet, your feet guide you in, closing the door shut behind you, tip-toeing farther into the house, waiting to catch Toji in the act, whatever that could be. Eventually, you make it to the living room, where you stand in the doorframe, searching for your neighbor, who you find sitting on the couch with his shirt off, scrolling through his phone. 

You knock on the wall, announcing your presence. He looks up, confused, inspecting you carefully before saying your name. “What are you doing in here?” He’s way more cavalier than you imagined he’d be, which you’re thankful for. 

You present the box to him, a nervous grin on your face as you explain, “This just got delivered to my house on accident. I rang the bell, but no one answered. And your front door was open, so I figured I’d just come inside to give it to you.” It’s a poor excuse; you really shouldn’t have barged in without permission. 

He seems to buy it though, rolling his eyes, muttering, “Damn Kimi. She’s always doing that.” He approaches you, grabbing the box from your hands. “Thank you for getting this to me. Been waiting for it all night, so I was bummed it didn’t come in on time.” He sets it down on the floor, kneeling beside it, ready to unwrap. 

You search the room, trying to find any clues of what they could be doing inside here. It looks normal, nothing nefarious standing out. Slightly disappointed, you take this as your cue to leave, turning on your heel to make your way back home. Before you can, Toji calls out your name and asks, “Don’t you want to see the little present I got? After all, it was almost yours. Would have loved to see your reaction if you opened it by accident.” His tone is playful, yet there’s something wicked behind his words. Something naughty.

You swallow hard, mouth already salivating. This isn’t how you planned your night to go, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t thought about it before. You face him again, stepping towards the box slowly, sitting on the other side. He uses a pocketknife to slice through the tape, eyes lighting up as he reaches inside, holding up his delivered item like a treasure. It’s a riding whip, soft leather on one end, handle on the other. He smirks at you, slapping it against his palm, making a loud crack sound. You jump up, startled by the noise. He barks a laugh at your reaction, laying the whip down on the coffee table next to him. He reaches in again, pulling out three sets of fuzzy handcuffs, twirling one around his fingers. “Damn, would have been fun to use these tonight.” Glancing over at you, legs squeezed tightly together, arousal seeping through your panties, he scans you up and down, giving you a wicked smile. “You want to try these out, neighbor? I promise, I’ll go easy on you.”

It's ridiculous, right? Completely silly and irresponsible for you to agree to this, right? You blurt out your answer before you can even contemplate those questions logically. “Yes.”

He chuckles, biting him lip, eyes focused on your loins currently throbbing against the fabric of your sweats. You really wish you dressed up now, but it doesn’t matter, as he commands you to, “Strip.”

Almost too eagerly, you obey, kicking your slippers off and undressing, starting with your shirt, which you toss behind your shoulder. He studies you carefully, eyes following your every move as you slip out of your pants, down to only your underwear and bra now. He licks his lips, stepping closer to you. “Yeah,” he purrs, breath hot on your skin. “This will definitely work.”

~~~

Within minutes, you find yourself naked in his bedroom, blindfolded, wrists handcuffed behind you, face buried into the pillow, and ass up, perfectly vulnerable for him to do as he pleases. The two of you establish a safe word: mignon, because he thinks you’re cute, and the filet mignon is his favorite cut of meat. He suggests several acts he wants to perform on you and lets you decide which ones you want to go through with. You make your choice, asking to be spanked with the new whip he received. Something about breaking in one of his new accessories turns you on. 

Not being able to see anything, you listen carefully to what he’s doing behind you. You hear him unwrap the condom wrapper, sliding the latex over his cock. Then, there’s a squelch, most likely the lube he’s pouring into his hand, coating his shaft with it. “Are you ready, cutie? I’m going to start with the whip first, okay?” You nod, heart pounding in your chest, nervous and thrilled all at once.

“Words, sweetheart. Use your words. I have to hear you say it.”

You swallow your spit, trying to speak coherently. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Good. That’s a good girl.” You feel the cool leather against your skin, anticipating it as he counts down. “Three, two, one.” Then, smack. It’s quick, painful for only a few seconds. You can tell he’s holding back, cautious of you. “Did you like that?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say, wiggling your ass to him. “Give it to me harder.”

He chuckles, swearing under his breath. “Fuck, okay. I’ll go harder then.” He counts down once more, the slap definitely more intense this time. Your skin stings from the contact and it feels like you’re already gushing from your cunt, core tight with pleasure. 

He continues this until he’s delivered ten smacks to each of your ass cheeks. Your body is sweltering now, the skin on your ass surely hotter than the rest of you. Your pussy flutters, aching to be filled, clit throbbing, desperate to be licked. “Toji,” you whimper, drooling from the sides of your mouth. “Fuck me.”

There’s that laugh again, low, taunting, so fucking sexy. “Not yet. Want to make you come before I fuck this pretty cunt.” He positions himself beneath you, between your legs. “Fuck my face. You can be rough with me. I can take it.”

His grip is firm on your hips, guiding you as you ride him, spreading yourself over his wide tongue and gaping mouth. He’s eats you better than any guy you’ve ever fucked before, sloppy and wet, as if he thoroughly enjoys slurping at your juices. He slides his hands over your ass, massaging the skin made raw from his spanking. And before you get a chance to warn him, you come all over his face, gushing into his mouth. 

“Fuck yeah,” he muffles, lapping up your slick. “So fucking good for me.”

Desperate now to be filled, you beg, “Please, Toji. Fuck me. Need you inside me.”

He slides out from beneath you, positioning himself behind you with his cock pressed between your ass cheeks. “I need it too, cutie. Need to pump my fat cock inside this perfect pussy.” He moans loudly as he slides himself inside you, stretching you out, inch by inch, until you swallow him whole. He thrusts into you, slowly at first while you adjust to his length. Gradually, he picks up the pace, pounding you hard and fast, his grip on your wrists, still bound by the handcuffs. The stretch in your shoulders is starting to burn now, arms pinned way back as he uses it for leverage. It’s not enough to coax the safe word out of you, yet. You need more of him to satiate this overwhelming desire.

“You’re taking it like such a good girl,” he moans, pumping himself into you. “Did you ever think about this before? Think about me?”

“Fuck yes. All the time,” you admit, drooling onto the pillowcase. 

“Shit, I knew it. I knew I should have slutted you out sooner,” he growls, bullying his way deeper. It’s almost too much. Almost. A couple more strokes and it actually is, your shoulders sore, nervous they’ll pop out of its sockets. You’ve had your fill of him, your guts feeling like they’ve been rearranged by his massive cock. You’re tempted to stay quiet, not wanting this to end just yet. But your body is begging you for a break. 

“Mignon,” you croak out, throat dry from the incessant moaning.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling out, immediately unlocking the handcuffs on your wrists and untying the blindfold. “You were taking that so good.” He flips you over on your back, inspecting you. For the first time since you started, you make eye contact with him, your heart swelling from the genuine smile on his face, gazing at you fondly. “Are you okay, cutie?” He brushes the tears from your eyes, cupping your cheek in his calloused palm.

You nod, mumbling an exhausted, “Yes,” closing your eyes to lean into his touch. 

He cuddles you, kissing your neck as he continues to stroke himself off. He trails down your chest, latching his lips around your nipple, sucking until he comes inside the condom. When he’s done, he removes it, tying the open end closed and tossing it into the waste basket next to him bed. 

It’s silent for a few moments as the two of you relax in each other’s arms. Eventually, he clears his throat to say, “This was fun. I usually don’t do this outside of the group.”

You understand that he’s referring to the trio of women who you saw earlier, and finally, the mystery is solved. Slightly disappointed, you respond, “I’m sorry if I messed anything up.”

He smiles at you. “You didn’t.”

You snuggle closer, kissing him softly. His lips melt into yours, tongue slipping inside your mouth. When you break apart, you ask, “Then, should I only show up when they show up?”

He shakes his head, smirking. “No. I think I want you as my own special plaything from now on.”