#because I find that kinda unethical

[morninkim]

Congratulations! As of today, you are a Kamen Rider.

OKAY I’m done with designing my Geats OC, Kamen Rider Haunt. They’re based on a greyhound and use the Phantom and Racer Raise Buckles.

The Phantom Raise Buckle grants the Phantom Chain, a weapon that can pass through solid objects as the user wishes with an expandable length to attack any Jyamato at a distance or up close, while the Racer Buckle grants the Racer Spoilers, twin blade that allow the user to make up close attacks at great speed.

Haunt keeps their wish close to their chest and, despite outwardly presenting very friendly, will take any opportunity to sabotage other DGP Riders. But only if they’re sure they won’t be caught.

[whompthatsucker1981]

you said you think gay sex cats is the new duchamp's fountain. i dont disagree and i kinda see what you mean already but please elaborate

it was a silly and tongue in cheek way to say that a lot of people are getting mad about it in a way that implies reactionary views on art, and that there's no way to say gay sex cats isn't art that wouldn't also imply that the fountain isn't art. a funny meme image is a funny meme image, but it is also funny to overthink and recontextualize them as art.

and the reaction makes the comparison even more apt. neural net generated artworks are anonymized mass produced images, vast majority having no artistic pretension or meaningful content such as a thomas kinkade painting. gay sex cats was made with no intent to be art, but the discourse it has with audience reaction and its appropriation in derivative works make it so. why is gay sex cats not art if people talking about it negatively allow it to be called art? is art only things you find beautiful and valuable? if so, what is value and beauty, and how do you draw the line? if gay sex cats was still ai generated but had more "aesthetic qualities" would it be art? if someone copies the original image by hand with all its ai generated faults where is the value generated? does the original still have no merit of its own, even after appropriation as a digital ready-made?

but the main reason as to why gay sex cats is comparable to the fountain still is because it made a lot of people with bad takes on art really really mad. and that the pissed off tags wouldn't look out of place as reaction to modern art in the 1920s. art is a flat circle

EDIT: well. putting an addendum because in retrospect more people took either or both the op and image in face value and much more self serious than ever intended. a lot of people understood the tone i was getting at, and i still stand by the questionings i added on, but still for clarification. the original comparison is not serious. it's self evidently ridiculous to compare a meme image to a historically significant artwork, the comparison was only drawn because they were both controversial to an audience, who reacted denying their status as respectively as an image and as art, and that it was funny that the negative reaction people had to the original image explicitly denied its status as art, even if the meme never had pretension to be art, so it was funny to draw a comparison and iterate on that.

i did think it was valid to bring in questionings about art and meaning because that's the reaction i saw most and wanted to make people think about the whys, and that also i do not think it's valid to base your dislike on ai art on either grounds of questioning its position and value as artwork, or even as a question of ip theft. regular degular handmade art can be soulless, repetitive, thoughtless, derivative, unethical, open and blatant theft, and much more, and that does not make it any less of an artwork. neural nets are tools that generate images by statistic correlation through human input.

the unambiguous issue with neural nets in art is its use as a tool by capital, to threaten already underpaid and overworked working artists and to keep their labor hostage under threat of total automation. in hindsight i regretted not adding the paragraph above as it was a way in which people could either misinterpret or assume things about me, but hindsight is hindsight and there's no way to predict how posts would blow up. so shrugs. i had written more posts in my blog that elaborated on that because asks would bot stop coming. and i think my takeaway is that people will reblog anything with a funny image without reading the words around it, or even closely looking at the image.

[tangents-within-tangents]

Hot take:

Crosshair does not have the Imperial disillusionment and redemption arc of The Bad Batch

Emerie does.

Crosshair has an arc for sure yes but it's not that.

I was thinking about this scene:

and how it got right what this scene kinda didn't:

(It was so close but then bad writing decided to undercut the moment with a joke rip)

And I think it's really interesting that these characters who were more or less raised into the Empire/First Order and chose to leave it are all directly asked why.

But take a look at Crosshair's answers in comparison:

Different context for the asking, yes, but still, compare that to clones like Howzer, Cody, Slip and Cade who left or turned against the Empire because they knew what the Empire is doing is wrong and they weren't just going to blindly follow orders:

Crosshair - Loyalty, Purpose, and Survival

Crosshair didn't choose to join the Empire (though the show isn't very clear or consistent about how much control the inhibitor chips have) but he did, for whatever reason, choose to stay. By the end of S1 we know his chip has been removed and as he definitively says "This is who I am." There were likely still other influences on his decision, but listen to how he talks about the Empire in the S1 finale:

Hunter: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire is doing. Occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right. Crosshair: You still don’t see the bigger picture, but you will. Hunter: Can't you see they're using you?

Crosshair: We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior. The Empire can’t protect the galaxy without strength, this is what we were made for. Think of all we could do, together!

Crosshair: You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It’s time to stop running. Join the Empire, and you will have purpose again.

Hunter: They destroyed an entire city! Crosshair: They did what needed to be done. Kamino, regs, the Republic, that time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it. Hunter: Don't fool yourself. All you'll ever be to them is a number.

He undeniably knows what the Empire is doing, but he does not care. In fact it sure sounds like he actually supports it and finds self-meaning in it. Hunter spends those episodes trying to convince him it's wrong, he doesn't change his mind. In the end they offer him an out and he doesn't take it.

Wrecker: You coming with us? Crosshair: None of this changes anything. Hunter: You offered us a chance, Crosshair. This is yours. Crosshair: I made my decision.

The next we see Crosshair in "The Solitary Clone" (S2:E3) he follows orders and shoots the Desix governor, right after Cody heartbreakingly tries to do what's right and find a peaceful solution.

Cody: Tell me something, Crosshair. This new Empire, are we making the galaxy better? Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

After this (glorious!) conversation, Crosshair stays. Maybe this began to seed some doubts, but he actually smiles a few scenes later when Rampart assigns him another mission. It seems like for him it truly is as he said in S1:E1 (chip not enhanced yet but still influencing him enough for his brothers to notice he's acting strange):

Crosshair: Republic, Empire... what's the difference.

Crosshair: Orders are orders.

This unethical mission that finally pushed Cody over the edge does not change Crosshair's mind about the Empire, at least not enough for him to take action.

But what does?

Mayday: And here we are, the survivors. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments. Crosshair: Mission’s a mission. Mayday: Yeah, I used to say the same thing.

Mayday: After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed. We’re good soldiers, we followed orders. And for what?

This mission has nothing to do with how the fascist Empire treats the galaxy, it's about how they treat their soldiers. It's about how Mayday loyally fought and served his whole life and Lieutenant Nolan let him die

Lt Nolan: He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire. Crosshair: You could have saved him! Lt Nolan: Perhaps you didn’t hear me, he is expendable, as are you.

Crosshair thought he could find purpose within the Empire, and Nolan shows him exactly what that will be.

His turning point is accompanied with this powerful visual of the ice vulture, a symbol (and threat) of death, and also set up within the episode a symbol of survival:

Mayday: Vicious creatures, but you have to admire ‘em. They find a way to survive.

This critical moment (that gives me chills, oof this episode is a masterpiece!) comes right after Nolan calls him expendable and directly threatens him:

Lt Nolan: And if you speak to me again with such disrespect I'll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.

then Crosshair sees the vulture's shadow and turns to Mayday's dead body (ahh visual storytelling my beloved) then makes his decision:

Crosshair turns against the Empire not because he believes Hunter was right about this:

Hunter: I've seen what the Empire is doing ... You know it's not right.

but because he was right about this:

Hunter: All you'll ever be to them is a number.

Redemption (both in fiction and irl in my humble opinion) comes with making amends and reparations (which is why death 'redemptions' bother me so much but that's a rant for another time). Unlike Emerie, Crosshair never explicitly denounces the Empire or his own actions within it. He never says anything to specifically show if and how his views have changed from what he said on Kamino. He makes amends with his family (sending the warning message, helping Omega escape, making up with Hunter) but that's about it. The most we get in terms of acknowledgement is this:

Crosshair: I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire. I thought I was being a good soldier. Hunter: Nobody really understood what was happening back then. Crosshair: I’ve... done things. I’ve made mistakes. Hunter: I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better, and who knows there just might be hope for us yet.

Which is nice and all but it's more about them making up as brothers so it's way too excusing tbh ("no one knew what was happening back then" ummm? "The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it" remember? And even if at first Crosshair was being controlled by the chip, the fact that he chose to stay after it was removed* means he condones and is therefore still accountable for those actions).

There's also a bit of self-destructive guilt:

Crosshair: Omega, don't risk anything for me. I belong in here.

Crosshair: Omega needs you both. So I’m doing this alone, it’s what I deserve. Hunter: Don’t even think about plan 99, Crosshair. Omega needs all of us.

(which thank you Hunter for pushing back on the death redemption bs and oh look is that a wrap up for the purpose thing?)

But there's no action taken on his part to make up for what he's done or to stand against the Empire (aside from the bare minimum of help with Tantiss, only after it became personally relevant, which like yeah he had trauma to deal with but still).

While I do think the implications/follow-up of Crosshair's turn should have been handled better in S3 (like rip Howzer! he deserved an apology, but that's a rant for another time), I don't necessarily** think this arc is a bad writing choice. It's just saying different things than we expect:

Maybe Crosshair's story is not about standing up against an unjust system, like we see with many other characters (who deserved more screen time but that's a rant for another timeeee). Maybe his story is about how even those who are loyal to the Empire, who actually believe in it, still suffer under and within it's rule. Not to garner sympathy, but to show that there is no winning.

Crosshair has another 'so what changed' convo in S3:E14 with Rampart, in which they draw parallels to each other:

Rampart: You used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair: Depends on who's giving them. The Empire betrayed us both. Rampart: And you think you can fight them? That's not you. You're like me, loyal to no one but yourself. Crosshair: I've changed.

(note how he says who's giving the orders, not what the orders are)

"Loyal to no one but yourself" describes Rampart much more than Crosshair, since we often saw Crosshair pride himself as a loyal soldier of the Empire whereas we saw Rampart abuse power to be self-serving within the Empire (like when he killed Wilco to save face). But they were both betrayed either way. Vice Admiral Rampart, snively Imperial opportunist through-and-through, shouts "I was following orders!" as he is arrested for the Empire's purposes. (Edit: and where Crosshair rejected the Empire and found new purpose fighting for his family, Rampart was still self-serving in the finale. He still tries to gain power for himself and he gets his comeuppance).

Even Hemlock, the final boss immoral Imperial scientist, who has to be benefiting the most from this system, echoes the expendability idea:

Hemlock: What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire it makes me indispensable.

Then there's CX-2, also set up as a parallel/foil to Crosshair (fight me), who in the end is discarded as no more than a weapon, a tool that served it's purpose, showing us what would have become of Crosshair if he had stayed.

There is no winning in the Empire. Loyalty is not rewarded, it "doesn't go both ways." Everyone has to fight for their value. Even high ranking individuals** who for a time benefit from the injustice, in the end are just pawns to be used up and cast aside at a whim for the Emperor's gain. Even people who are motivated by self-interest alone cannot survive within this system, the only viable option in this galaxy is to fight the Empire and dismantle that system. (unless you conveniently find a magically safe island to hide away on but that's a rAnT fOr AnOtHeR tImE)

Which brings us back to...

Emerie - Cooperation, Compassion, and Choice

(Okay this post has already gotten away from me but I still want to talk about her to show the contrasts.)

Emerie may not have been given a lot of screen time to really flesh out her development, but there is a lot that is pretty clearly implied with her:

Crosshair: They’ll never turn her [Omega] over. Hemlock: They don’t have a choice. She is a clone, and therefore Imperial property. *Camera cuts to an angle more centered on Emerie’s face*

Crosshair: Give me your access card! Emerie: It won’t get you outside!

Emerie: I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the Doctor.

Emerie: Prisoner? Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there.

Emerie: You should go back to your room. Crosshair: You mean her cell?

Emerie: Why children? Hemlock: Children are easier to attain and more agreeable to the subjugations. They are unaware of why they are here and what they possess.

Emerie: They're children. Like I was... Was your plan to discard them too? Nala Se: The Empire will keep them in order to control them.

We don't know a lot about Emerie's background, but it's clear that she had a lot less choice than Crosshair and less opportunity or ability to leave. Unlike Crosshair, we never directly hear Emerie's views of the Empire (and she was most likely 'taken under Hemlock's wing' before the Empire even came to power), but lets look at how she talks about the Tantiss:

"Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive."

"Don't make this worse, Crosshair! There is no escape!"

"All of us serve a purpose here."

"The Doctor will inform me, if it's necessary."

"It's best not to ask questions."

"Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good."

She honestly does the best she can within the system she is also trapped in. She tries to help Crosshair, Omega, and the vault kids in the only way she knows how (warns Crosshair about the hounds and security, tries to protect Omega from Hemlock, tells Scorch his "actions were extreme" with Jax, insists on overseeing Bayrn's retrieval, double checks his m-count (to give him an out), and tries to find out where he came from). When she gives Omega, and later Eva, the doll, I think it shows just how little she really is able to do here (and it's kinda heartbreaking imo).

The framing of this shot especially (after Jax's escape attempt) visually shows how Emerie herself is trapped/imprisoned:

Despite the fact that very little of this is Emerie's fault, she has very little power and she is doing all she can, the narrative does not excuse her role in the Empire:

Nala Se: What will you do, Emerie? Emerie: There is nothing I can do. I don't have that kind of power. Nala Se: Don't you?

Emerie: I- I was doing my job. Echo: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. You’re a clone. How can you be part of this?

These fighting-the-Bystander-Effect conversations parallel these exchanges:

Hunter: We made a choice, and so did you. Crosshair: Soldiers follow orders. Hunter: Blind allegiance makes you a pawn.

Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

which did not change Crosshair's mind. And honestly, all respect to Echo's disappointed mom glare™ but I think it's clear Emerie had already made her decision, she just needed help to actually be able to do anything about it. When she stopped Echo, with her voice wavering on the verge of tears (ahhh v good voice acting), she clearly had no intention of turning him in. She's on her own in the Empire's most secure facility with very little resources, if she had tried anything on her own she most likely would have failed and been killed

Omega: Emerie, you don't have to do this. Emerie: (sigh) I’m sorry, but I do.

but as soon as she is enabled by an ally, she immediately turns around to help: giving information and getting Echo through security, helping the kids escape, and giving Omega the tablet that allows them to free the other clone prisoners.

Where Crosshair's turn is accompanied by the symbolic imagery of the ice vulture, Emerie's is the removal of her (literally rose-tinted!) glasses:

Symbolizing how she has shed her previous views/indoctrination that altered her perception of the Empire and blinded her to it's wrongs. It's disillusionment.

Emerie's story shows us that even those who are raised and indoctrinated into this system can, should, and will escape (with needed help). Even those who did not choose to be apart of the Empire and are not making the decisions still have the responsibility and ability to act on what they know is right.

Emerie, whose name means 'Home strength' 'Brave' and 'Powerful', and "reflects the importance of leadership and authority in the workplace".***

While Emerie is only in one more scene after her turn, so the wrap up is a bit rushed, she still very simply does what Crosshair does not:

Emerie: Because I was wrong about this place. And I'm trying to do the right thing.

Echo: I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find what you have to say very helpful for our cause. Emerie: I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.

She admits wrong, takes accountability, commits to making amends, and leaves with Echo to go take on the Empire (which hopefully we will get to actually see more of some day).

So, in short, she's showing us how redemption is done right!

---

Notes:

*Whether this writing choice was good/logical/in-character or not is another discussion entirely, but I'm going off of what we were given, what the show is presenting in the canon text and (reasonably inferred/intentional) subtext. Crosshair is pretty multifaceted and I could only touch on so much here. There's a lot of ways to interpret his character/choices, but I tried to avoid the realm of speculation or fanon explanations (even if they sometimes make more sense lol).

**History and political theory are not my area of expertise at all, so I have NO idea how well this aligns with real-world fascism stuff and therefore what implications this storytelling choice could have. I think the message of like 'if you think you could survive or gain power by doing what the Empire/fascist system wants you are wrong' could be good (like how everyone is actually harmed by the patriarchy type of a thing), but I hesitate bc maybe there are those who would benefit, since it's a hierarchal system, right? If anyone more knowledgeable than me has incite to share, by all means

Either way, I do think it works in-story and in-universe though. It's just in the execution. The main problem (even from a strictly theme/character arc stand point) is the lacking follow-up/consequences for Crosshair in S3. Like you gave your character accountability by removing the chip and I think that's great setup for an arc but you gotta follow through with that and actually hold him accountable!

***I'm always curious when clones have 'normal' names, like why did they chose the name Emerie of all things? So I looked it up. Idk how reliable sources are for name meanings so take it with a grain of salt but it's still fun. Fits pretty well, and clones names have definitely had significant meanings in the past (like how Rex and Jesse both mean 'king') so I'm pretty sure it was intentional.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[missmimii]

✪ 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓- 𝐂~𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

୨ৎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - In which the two ex high-school sweethearts cross paths in their final night in Las Vegas, tension from their pasts building as they make the last night the most memorable.

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. 18+, dom!matt, fem!reader, smut, language, public(kinda?) dirty talk, light degradation, pet names, teasing, light fluff, risky sexual encounter, fingering, detailed intercourse.

✩－ℳ𝒾𝓂𝒿’𝓈 𝓃ℴ𝓉ℯ | I’m not a huge fan of this, and I’m still working on improving my smut, but it’ll have to surface because if I have to edit this one more time, I’ll probably die.

୨ৎ －Graduating Class of 2021 －୨ৎ

✰－ Since kindergarten Y/n had dreamt of the day she officially entered adulthood. She found the idea of being bossed around by adults had been overwhelming, and being bribed into eating green vegetables that looked disgusting, was unethical. In the little girls head, being an adult was being free. And freedom to Y/n, was graduating high-school.

－ Never once did the girl think she’d find herself filled with more joy seeing a boy cross the stage, more than herself. But here she was, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks dramatically as she watched the brunette boy cross the stage. Chris shook hands with the grey haired man before gently taking his diploma, holding up the certificate proudly.

✰－ The blue cap that rested atop his head of tousled hair slid down every now and then, making the triplet’s hand fly up to steady the awkward position. Y/n had resisted the urge to giggle every time she saw the pink tint his cheeks, knowing exactly what the shyness had been stemming from. God, he was so pissed about wearing the gown.

－ She laughed over the tears, sniffling as she watched him awkwardly smile toward the crowd of parents. “Your boyfriend is such a dork, Y/n.” Nick, who stood aside the girl snorted, saying the silly remark as if it wasn’t his little brother. Seconds before Chris had stepped onto the stage, Y/n had walked across. She’d been practicing that damn walk for months, keeping her posture perfect as she smiled and waved with etiquette.

✰－ And during the full 43 seconds she stood on the podium, Chris watched from the crowd, waving his two hands in the air while grinning like a fool. “That’s my girlfriend!” He screamed, numerous times. The girl, not being one for the spotlight, slouched in the centre of attention, her cheeks flushing.

－Nick leaned back on the bench beside her, eyeing up his triplet with a mischievous glint his eyes. Y/n looked at the eldest brother for a second, giving a second glance as she caught sight of the smirk on his lips. “What’s the look?” She inquired, her own lips tipping up slightly. He shrugged, grinning as he stood up from the bench, making the girls eyes widen. “Nick,” She warned, reaching out to grab his hand.

✰－ “That’s Y/n’s boyfriend!” He shouted in between laughs, making the girls jar drop open. “Oh my god, Nick!” She attempted to pull him down into a sitting position through laughs, eventually giving up as she realized he wasn’t budging. Chris’s cheeks almost immediately reddened, eyes darting throughout the large crowd of people, now staring at him.

－Chris’s hat, once again, slipped from his head. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, catching it before it fell. The grey haired man who stood beside him gaped at the foul language, making Chris’s face pale. Oh he was so dead. The triplet’s eyes roamed the crowd, prepared to send a glare to eldest, but instead was met with her.

✰－ He watched as her knees bent as she laughed, one hand gripping Nick’s as the two laughed at the scene he’d caused. Her hair blew flawlessly in the wind, and he swore he could almost smell the coconut aroma it carried. It suddenly occurred to him that the girl he once lamely asked out in freshman year, wasn’t the same as the one he gazed at now. She’d grew a full foot, the god awful jaw length haircut, now grown into wavy tendrils that swayed below her shoulders.

－And him. Chris had even changed. His heart fell with an unsettling emotion as he realized time had flown by, memories of the past seemingly vanished. The buzz-cut he constantly sported had now grown out into its thick brown tendrils, and he even had a job. Chris’s eyes glazed over with tears, that he at first fought back, but failed beautifully. He wasn’t a kid anymore. And she wasn’t the same girl he fell in love with as children, now matured into a perfect young woman.

✰－Chris felt the principal pat his shoulder and say something that went deaf to the boys ears. “You’re set, Sturniolo.” But he wasn’t done. The males hand rose to shield the crowd from his sensitive state, index and middle finger rubbing his one eye as he felt tears coat his lower lash line.

－Y/n watched the boy’s head lower, as well as the motion of his chest moving up and down increase in pace. Oh. She could’ve spotted the body language of his anywhere, the mannerisms he carried looking awfully close to the ones he’d use when overwhelmed or upset. “Sorry, sorry.” She whispered to a few parents as she slipped past them through the rows of bleachers, aiming straight the short steps at the end of the stadium.

✰－“Baby,” she breathed out softly, a sympathetic smile on her lips as she stood at the last step. Chris silently wiped the wetness away as he met her at the last stair. “what’s wrong?” Her hand reached out to carefully remove the graduation cap from his trembling palm.

－Getting on her tippy toes, the girl threaded her one hand through his disheveled locks, pushing the brown strands away from his lashes. The sweet touch, that was meant to soothe the boy, did the exact opposite. More tears threatened to fall as he felt her nails scrape against his scalp comfortably, knowing it would be the one of the last times he’d feel it. “Are these happy tears?” She murmured in an undertone, tilting her head up at him.

✰－ Again, he just shook his head, knowing that if he were to speak he’d end up a blubbering mess. Chris pressed the ends of his index finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes, praying his girlfriend wouldn’t have to see him so fucking weak.

－A part of the girl’s heart tore off as she saw the pink in his eyes, the glaze of water that coated both of them as he avoided eye contact. “Awh, baby.” She cooed softly, using her thumb to swipe away the pool of tears just below his lower lash line. Chris kept on shaking his head, over and over. She didn’t understand quite why, watching as he continued to repeat the action.

✰－It didn’t matter to her though, she just wanted Chris to know she was there. “I’m such a fuckin’ loser.” Chris scoffed to himself, lips quirking up as his chest shook with a few laughs. His blue eyes looked heavenward for a moment, before the slid back down to his girlfriend. “will you marry me?” He blurted out.

－The girls mouth went ajar as she let Chris’s hand fall from her own. “Sorry- what?” Chris spotted the horror on her face, making him instantly reach out of cup her cheeks. “hey- not like now,” the triplet rushed out, pulling her closer. “I just saw you in the crowd and I realized how fast everything went by- yesterday we were seniors in high school and now you’re leaving for college while I- do other things.” What?

✰－“wait- what do you mean?” She shook her head, face scrunched with confusion. Chris’s shoulders dropped with a sigh, before he tugged her closer once more. His lips pressed against hers softly, a far contrast between the usual quick and meaningless ones he’d give her passing in the halls of school. More tears threaten to fall as he squeezed his eyes shut, his thumb moving back and forth against the side of her cheek as he finally pulled away.

－Resting his forehead against hers, “I don’t think I could ever live a life that’s not with you.” Chris whispered, lips flushed as he ran his tongue along the bottom one. Y/n looked into his eyes for a solid ten seconds, throat bobbing as she took in his words.

“Marry me? Someday, today, tomorrow? Hell- marry me three years from now.”

✪ Current year － Vegas, Nevada ✪

✪ The girls arms rested on the cold island countertop, grimacing at the sticky feeling of of spilled alcohol under her forearms. “Jesus.” She mumbled to herself, looking around discreetly while reaching a hand down to tug the skirt further down, desperate for some kind of extra coverage.

－How short does a skirt have to be until it’s considered a belt?

✪ Y/n rolled her eyes, sensing that the material hadn’t covered much more from the attempt. An orange hue lit the venue, the aroma of heavy liquor and cigar smoke engulfing the girl’s nose. Jewels from chandeliers above glimmered along the ceiling, reflecting against the crystal glasses behind the bar.

－ The girl had been standing in the exact same spot for over twenty minutes, making her feel the lamest she could ever imagine. She was at a wedding for goodness sake. Everyone was mingling around, dancing, before sneaking off to throw back a few shots to numb the embarrassment of their god awful moves.

✪ And then there was Y/n. Swirling a cocktail straw around her strawberry daiquiri while her thoughts drifted off into space. How is it that everyone here knows everyone else? It was as if they’d gotten together prior to the ceremony and told each other their life story’s. Conversing, dancing － taking shots off of each other’s midriffs.

－ “You’ve been sitting here for a while,” Her head rose with widened eyes as the blonde bartender approached from behind the counter, throwing a small towel over his shoulder. “could I pour ya’ anything else?” Even this guy knows I’m a poor excuse for a wedding guest.

✪ Clearing her throat, she sat up further in the barstool. “Uh- I’m alright.” The girl past off, sending him a small smile. He nodded, waving his hand in the way of her forearms. “Do you mind..” he rose a brow. The girl looked at him for a few seconds, before the stupid little lightbulb in her head practically shattered. “Oh.” She mumbled, moving her arms from the counter as he swiped a cloth across the surface.

－In the girl’s short experience, she’d gathered that Vegas wasn’t what people had raved about. Sure, it had its spark, and she’d be a liar to say she wasn’t having fun, but it wasn’t … it. She’d spent far too much money on poker, encounter many Elvis impersonators, and got into lots of drunk escapades.

✪ And her excuse was always the same thing. It’s Vegas. When she got cuffed behind a Sephora for dumpster diving for the shoes she’d accidentally tossed in, it’s Vegas she told the officers. When her friend poured a glass of rum & coke on a douche who was hitting on her, it’s fucking Vegas.

－ And she had to give it to the newlyweds, the wedding was absolutely gorgeous.

✪ Y/n tipped back the remaining liquid in her class, humming to herself softly as she swirled an ice cube around her tongue. “Thank you for enduring me during these last few hours.” The girl mumbled mostly to herself, sliding the glass back onto the marble countertop. Her Saint Laurent heels scraped the backs of her ankles irritably, a painful contrast the usual air forces she’d sport on a regular basis. Rose petals sticking to the pointed backs of the black shoes as she stalked across the venue, cursing to herself while adjusting the slim fitting top that hugged her chest.

－ How am I even breathing? She pondered to herself.

✪ She made her way to the closest exit, pushing the door open as she stumbled in her heels. “Holy.” Making a soft thud behind her, the door slowly closed behind her as she leaned against the concrete wall. The brightness of her phone screen illuminated against her face as she held her finger on the power button.

－ Stay on task. 12:38 AM, she read across the screen, eyes widening. “I’ve been here for six hours?” Jesus. Her thumb swiped up on the screen, showing the icon to type in her passcode after Face ID had declined due to the darkness outdoors.

✪ She watched as dozens upon dozens of messages popped down the top of her screen, all from Alyssa, a friend who was also attending the wedding with Y/n. Where are you?, Are you dead?, answer me. Most of the messages contained the same wording, the last one catching the girl’s attention. Holy shit

－ The girls eyes flew open as she read the hoards of texts, Alyssa, a childhood friend of Y/n’s, sending text after text. Most of which containing the same context. Where are you?, are you dead?, answer me. It wasn’t until Y/n read the last message that she felt her jaw drop, as well as her heart.

‘Chris fucking Sturniolo just walked past me and Leah’

✪ The name had trouble written all over it, memories from the past revealing themselves in the girls head as she realized that she was in the same city as him. It had been at least three years since she’d faced the boy, the period of time not nearly long enough.

－ Her skin ached as she remembered the faint of his touch, remembering every single inch of her body that he grazed his sinful hands upon before the fallout. The freckle neck to her left eye, his lips pressed against the beauty mark below her lip, his one hand shakily gliding up her pink camisole while the other drifted below the lace of her first thong. The whispered apologies against her neck as she came undone below him.

‘I’m so sorry’

✪ Y/n inhaled with a shiver, a pit building in her stomach as she fought both arousal and pain. Tears begged to fall as she leaned off the brick wall, brushing the hairs that had fallen from her ponytail from her cheeks. “Shit.” She whispered, voice wavering as she stared at the door. Do I even go back in?

－ She suddenly remembered the gift she had for the bride, the small box with diamond earrings lying in the girls purse. Fuck me. Her hand gripped the door handle, softly shoving it open before briskly stepping onto the marble flooring. Music still played throughout the huge venue, few people dancing along to an oldie.

✪ Dizziness clouded her vision as she walked past many tall brown haired men, knowing that one of them is －or could be him. was this affecting her so damn much? It’d been years, years that should’ve been filled with healing and forgiveness.

Either of which never took place, the void of him filled with resentment and hatred.

－ Her chest tightened from both the top she wore, and the stress of her current dilemma. Fuck everything, fuck me and fuck Christopher Sturniolo － “Jesus!” The girl gasped and stumbled as she slammed into a hard chest, her phone clattering to the ground with a crack. “no, no no －” she bent down, brushing her hair from her face in frustration as she reached to grab her now shattered phone.

✪ A grunt was heard from behind her, before a deeper voice spoke in a quieter octave. “Y/n －stand up.” That voice .. Y/n’s entire body froze, doing the exact opposite of the man’s demand as she felt her skin go ice cold with goosebumps. You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

－ Chris’s hand twitched in the pocket of his slacks, before slipping from the fabric and tugging at his tie. It was merely a gesture to help him from grabbing the girl by her hips, forcing her body upright so he wouldn’t have walk around all night, hot and bothered as he fought the memories of her bent over, ass slipping from the obscenely short skirt.

God, he needed to repent.

✪ The girl winced as she swiped her phone from the ground, shards of glass prickling her palm as she stood. “What’re you, following me?” Y/n grumbled, spinning around with a glare plastered across her face. Chris’s eyes narrowed at the accusation. She’s .. changed. Running a hand across his jaw, he replied after taking in her inquiry. “Cocky of you to assume I’d pay that much mind on you.” He murmured, lifting a brow.

－ Y/n’s mouth fell open at his words, hating how the distasteful remark made her feel. Who the hell does he think he is? The girl’s jaw rolled as she looked away, holding in the scoff that sat on the tip of her tongue. “I’m not cocky, I’m correct.” Both of his eyebrows rose at her words, but failed to reply as she stormed past him, her shoulder slamming against his. Feisty, he thought, the grin of amusement growing.

✪ Chris’s impulsive part of his brain blurred between the critical thought process, anger filling his chest as he turn around. “Running away like usual?” He said before she made it any it further. Y/n halted, jaw clenching as well as her fists as the words registered in her head. Sucking in a deep breath, she slowly turned back to the male. His eyes widened slightly as she stalked back toward him, daggers thrown his way.

－ Oh－ her hand gripped his yellow tie as she appeared in front of him, tugging the fabric with a harsh pull. “You are such a dick.” The girl hissed in an undertone, not wanting to make a scene at her friends wedding. “And fuck you,” Chris cocked his head as he waited for her to go on, only making the girl’s anger grow by ten. “you knew I’d be here- Maddison’s my friend too.”

✪ Chris ran his tongue along his bottom lip, withholding the urge to smile at her amusing behaviour. She wasn’t like this in high school. It was almost －refreshing. “Someone’s finally grew a backbone.” And like that, a switch flicked in her head.

－ Within seconds Chris felt a pain erupt on the left side of his jaw, the girl’s hand lowering to her side with a shouting pain going down it. Holy fuck －I didn’t do that. He went silent for a moment, rolling his jaw as an attempt to relieve the pain and discomfort. “hm,” Chris hummed, tasting the iron in his mouth as he slid his eyes back to Y/n’s. “Sweet.” He uttered.

✪ Shoulders falling, she let out a aspirated sigh while spinning around. She could never win, at least not when it came to Chris. Chris watched as she sulked away, catching sight of her hand raising to shield her face as she crossed paths with friends and strangers. She was crying. He knew it from the way she walked with a stumble, and the way the hand by her side shook gently.

“Fuck me.”

－ His eyes flicked around the room for a moment to make sure his brothers were out of sight, knowing that if they saw him chasing after her of all people, they’d lecture him until the end of time. He’d never hear the end of it, you were supposed to let her go, Chris, you promised to let her heal.

✪ And the worse part was that it was true. He should let her heal, let her find someone who is capable of loving her in all the ways she deserves. Because after all, if he couldn’t, then it he needed to let someone do it for him. The triplet would’ve been a liar to say he hadn’t lurked on her social media accounts over the years, not regularly －maybe every few months. He’d stare at the pictures of her and her friends, a cheesy smile on her lips that he knew －felt, was fake. And it killed him.

－ It broke every single piece of the male’s heart, knowing that she couldn’t be completely happy or unbothered until he fixed the mistakes he made as a teenager. It was a curse, he always thought. Chris had cursed himself with past actions made, holding a deep inner grudge with that boy he once was.

✪ After all it was Chris who’d decided to take another route for his life. If anything the male should’ve prided the girl for her motivation, but instead he loathed her. She knew what she wanted to do, and he didn’t, setting off an insecurity inside him. The nail in the coffin was always the things they aspired for, were far different from each other.

－ Rolling his eyes, he leaned off of the wall and began to stalk after her rushed steps. The long strides he took kept up with her pace perfect as she turned corners, effortlessly keeping up with the girl as she unknowingly was being followed. He had to, didn’t he? Chris wasn’t some monster －well, not really.

✪ “Y/n,” Chris breathed out, catching the girl’s wrist just as she went to enter a washroom. The girl, who was completely unaware of his presence, jumped at the touch. Heart racing as she lurched forward, pulling from the grip she once craved －needed.

－ The coldness of the wall pressed into her cheek as she rested her face against it, eyes fluttering shut as she felt tears glaze the surface. “Let go of me.” He heard her whispered, making his affirming grip only tighten. He didn’t want to. “Chris－” he cut her off by softly tugging her from the wall, nudging her around to face him as he cornered her.

✪ “I’m sorry.”

－ Chris’s tense frame faltered, shoulders falling with relief as he uttered the words. The words he’d been dying to whisper against her neck as he pressed feather like pecks around her jaw. I’m sorry －I’m sorry－ he was so fucking sorry. The sorrow felt by the male consumed him every day for three years, eating away at him whenever his mind allowed rest.

✪ Many mistakes made by the male, but the current one in front of him, taking the cake.

－ Y/n’s chin shook as she bit down on her tongue, forcing the spewing words to leave her mouth impulsively. “You left me.” The girl whispered, voice cracking. “I know,” Chris breathed out, reaching his hands out to cup her cheeks. “I know baby－” she brushed off his touch, turning her face to the side with a shake of the head. “No.” She mumbled.

✪ Sucking back the tears, she inhaled deeply. “You promised me that night,” Meeting his eyes, feeling her own heart fall as she saw the realization twinkle the blues. “I let you－” she cut herself off as a sob threatened to escape her throat, lifting the back of her hand to cover her mouth. “I let you take me, Chris.” Oh god, he knew.

－ Like a whirlwind of memories, the night before the two parted flooded Chris’s thoughts. It was wrong of him, he knew that. He was a stupid fucking kid, and in his defence, it seemed less －terrible then. The lies he whispered against her trachea while he slipped a hand down her garment, the promise he made to love her, cherish her, until they were too old to remember the sealed promise.

✪ Resting his forehead against hers, he unintentionally leaned into the warmth of her body. Coconut, Vanilla, tea tree. The aromas he’d hid away in the back of his mind, all of which reminded him of the girl. Now engulfed in his nose as he lulled his eyes shut, breathing in the comforting scent he missed for years.

－ The rational part of the girl told her to pull away, leave before he could do any more damage. Though, the little part that loved to wreak havoc, convinced her she deserved this, wanted it －needed it. “Just let me make it up to you.” Chris whispered, lulling his eyes open to meet Y/n’s.

✪ Teary eyed, she batted her eyelashes unintentionally while lifting her gaze to hips. “Nothing you could do could fix the pain and hate you’ve left inside me.” Crack. Chris felt his heart fall to his stomach, blowing out a hurt breath as guilt flooded his chest. Chris could only take in her words for a moment, knowing that nothing he could say would make the circumstances right. No words, that is .. The blue eyes fell to her lips, seeing the pink tainting the no doubt soft skin. God, they looked so kissable.

So he did the only thing he could.

－ The triplet slowly leaned in, gently pressing his lips against her supple ones. He felt as her body tensed, but almost immediately fell in place with his actions, breathing a soft elicit gasp from her mouth as she returned the act of tension and need. Chris swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, making her moan softly, his lips twitching at the slightest feeling. “Did I ever fail you back then?” He murmured in between kisses.

✪ Y/n broke apart for a second, a scoff coming from her raw lips. “Any promise you’ve ever made me has been empty and void.” Chris, speechless, leered down at her with a hooded gaze at the remark.

－ He pulled back an inch to look deeper into her eyes, searching for the hesitation or fear. Nothing. Chris felt his tongue twinge the inside of his cheek, muscles tensing as chuckled a bit. “Yeah?” One, two, three. Y/n yelped as she stumbled backward, Chris’s hand effortlessly twisting the door nob behind her as he nudged her through. “Guess’ I’ll have to change that.” He whispered against her jaw, spinning her around.

✪ With a surprised grunt, she felt her hips being slammed into the hard countertop. “Jesus!” Snapping her head up she met his sadistic gaze through the mirror. “That hurt, you dick.” Chris let his gaze bore into hers through the glass, cocking his head a bit as he examined the beautiful pained expression painted across her face.

－ Chills trailed up her back as she felt his warm hand press against her back, slim fingers dragging from the span between her lats to her lower back. “Whoops.” He said with a grin as he looked her in the eyes, chuckling a bit. Y/n rolled her eyes, head lowering as she felt her thighs clamp together shamefully. “Yeah you sound real apologeti－fuck.” She gasped, feeling cold air hit her backside as a split tore through the room.

✪ He didn’t －oh my god he totally fucking did. “Chris,” she muttered, slowly lifting her head from the counter as she peered at the male from the glass. “tell me you did not just tear my $500 skirt.” Chris heard the ware in her tone, only intensifying the immense satisfaction he felt. “Okay.” He shrugged, lips twitching as he heard her breath hitch, his two index fingers slipping down the sides of her lace thong.

－ He watched in entrancement as the rough garment drug down her plump ass, unable to ignore the far difference in the lingerie she usually wore. She kept it tame back then, panties that would show a little something, and if she was feeling risky, sheer with some lace. But this, this was new.

✪ A sign that he’d lost touch with the new Y/n. He bit down on his lip, pressing down on her lower back as she bent further. “Always such a sweet girl,” he muttered, hearing her whimper as he slid a finger down her glistening slit, applying pressure to the sensitive bundle of need. “now dressin’ like a slut.” Chris tutted softly, eyes lifting to meet hers in the mirror, watching as her eyes rolled back at the motion of his middle finger easing its way into her pussy.

－ He felt as her walls clamped down on the digit as if it was his cock. Letting out a huff of amusement, he added another finger, the push becoming more reluctant against her tight cunt. “That’s it,” he mumbled, thumb slowly rolling over her clit as he eased his other two fingers into her heat. “jus’ open up for me, baby.” He whispered, the pace of his middle finger torturously slow.

✪ The girl’s head fell against the cold marble, whining in pleasure as she felt the ball in her stomach building. It almost was too much, such a foreign sensation after using her own, smaller hands for her pleasure for the few years. As she felt her body react so differently to his touch, the idea of him fucking her, seemed simply impossible.

－ Chris was definitely more than well endowed, if her memory served her correct. Even after fucking her the first time, the occasions after were just as harder to get her through. It was the additional discomfort and pain that got her. She had always described it to be tore in half, a shooting pain as well as heat coursing up her core as he slammed himself into her.

✪ Chris hushed her softly as she began to struggle against his touch, shifting with discomfort, but pushing her hips back against the touch despite her body’s reluctance. “I know, I know.” The triplet murmured, feathering kisses against the opening of her skin tight top. “You can take it.” Y/n moaned at the words, pussy pulsing around his slim fingers that scissored up into her.

－ Hardness pressed into the girls thigh from behind, Chris’s hips pathetically rutting against the soft skin as he impatiently waited to slam into her sopping cunt. “M’gonna fuck you s’good.” He breathed against the shell of her ear, his free hand flattening around her trachea, squeezing gently.

✪ He uttered the words like he meant it, unfulfilled promises he’d never made up for, finally being made. “Please.” She practically whined, pushing her hips back into his erection.

－ Tight walls of the girl’s pussy clenched around nothing as he slid his fingers from her the dripping core, a trail of arousal slipping down her inner thigh as she feigned to be filled. The sound of the triplet’s zipper being tugged at echoed throughout the washroom.

✪ Chris’s hand slipped into his slacks after tugging at the belt, immediately palming over the raging hard on with a guttural moan. Pre-cum tainted the end of his calloused thumb as he ran the pad along his sensitive tip, whimpering as he bucked his hips into his own hand. Fuck this.

－ “Sorry －I gotta’ fuck you baby.” Please. She almost cried the plea, opting to whine in desperation as he lined the tip of his cock up to the entrance of her dripping cunt, one hand placed on her waist as he adjusted himself. Slowly sinking himself into her heat, she moaned breathlessly, nails scraping the marble countertop as he barely got an inch in. “Chris,” she whined.

✪ The male threw his head back with a grunt, chest heaving as he tugged at the button of his dress shirt. “I’m not even halfway in yet, sweetheart.” He said airily, running a hand through his hair. “Be a good girl and hold on for me, yeah?” Chris said, squeezing her waist warily.

－ Huh? Y/n’s eyebrows met with confusion, but she complied to the request with the slightest hesitation. Just as her hands mounted around the counter top, her whole body was being forced forward with one sharp buck of Chris’s hips. “‘Holy fuck!” Her nails dug into the counter, Chris’s hips meeting her backside as he bottomed out.

✪ A shooting pain ran up her core as heat swirled within the drenched folds, pulsing with need as she clamped around his cock snuggly. Chris’s eyes were squeezed shut, hips still from any movement as he forced himself not to come the second he slammed inside her pussy. God she was fuckin’ tight. “Jesus, baby,” He moaned, neck bent back with the overwhelming amount of pleasure he felt as he slowly pulled out of her. “you’re tighter than when I first fucked ya’.” Pressing a hand on her lower back, he sharply thrusted back into her, a startled moan emitting her lips.

－ She felt him everywhere. “S’so good,” she panted, whimpering as she felt the ridge of his cock sliding against her clit sensitively. The pain subsided with each rut of his hips, until it was just an overwhelming tingling sensation with every single movement.

✪ Her walls tightened around his dick with every single retraction, making him groan as he gripped her waist. “You’re suffocating me here, baby.” Y/n whimpered, the words itself allowing her cunt to squeeze around him as he pulled out. “Can’t’ help it.” She whispered, whining as he swiftly slammed back into her. “Fuck.” It was so good.

－ The girl couldn’t tell if she was jealous with his new experience, or thankful. While Chris did know how to make a girl feel good back then, it was mediocre. His hips moved with the need to find his own pleasure, lazy thrusts as he whined and whimpered next to her ear. But this, was something else.

✪ She watched as Chris’s face scrunched with pleasure, neck craned back as he watch his cock fuck into her little hole, before his eyes lifted to meet her’s through the glass at the feeling of her stare. She breathlessly smirked at his darkened expression, pushing her ass out to meet every slam of his cock. “Couldn’t even wait, had to fuck me in a bathroom.” He bit down on his bottom lip, shaking his head a bit.

－“Why? So I would have to walk around all night, with my brothers, feeling like I need to shove my cock into this little cunt?” The male grunted, using two hands to lift her hips, sharply fucking into her from a new angle.

✪ She moaned, nails scraping the countertop, laughing at the sinful statement. Chris’s eyebrows came together, teeth gnashing as he fisted his hand around her ponytail, lifting her face from the cold marble. “Somethin’ funny, doll?” She shook her head, chest still heaving as she panted and laugh.

－ “No- no, it’s just that you’re the same selfish little boy you were three fucking years ago.” She grits out, glaring at him through the mirror as he fucked into her with a darkness twinkling in his eyes. “Worried about getting it up, instead of the girl who fell- ah －” she was cut off as his hips snapped forward, her body going limp as he slammed into her hard.

✪ The hand that was pressed against her belly slid up until it pressed on her neck, slim fingers wrapping around the area as he held her up, set on keeping the eye contact. “That girl, is the same little bitch, that would rather spend time with frat boys then stay with her boyfriend.” He hissed.

－ Y/n felt him slowly pull out, making her breathlessly pant out. “No, no －” she cried out, sinking into the counter as Chris’s hand made contact with her right ass cheek, his hand groping the pink skin afterward. “Hush.” Her body was limp, thighs trembling as she struggled to stay upright, the only balance she held was the triplet’s grip on her.

✪ Which she didn’t know was a good thing or not. “Put your hands behind you,” He murmured while turning her around, two large hands rubbing the underside of her thighs as he stepped closer to her, wrapping them snuggly around his hips. The girl complied, two palms falling against the marble as she leaned back, lifting her hips with need. “someone’s impatient.” He chuckled.

－ Her eyes narrowed into a glare, chest heaving as she looked at his disheveled frame. “Someone’s needy.” Chris rolled his eyes at the bratty reply, hands gliding to grip her backside. “Yeah, yeah.” The male muttered, looking into her eyes nonchalantly as a smirk graced his lips. “Hold on f’me.”

✪ And just like that, he was bottoming out in her with one thrust, the girls eyes flying open. “Chris!” Every fucking inch, she felt as he slid into her violently, a new spot inside being brushed against with every movement. His hand swatted her’s away as she pressed it against his abdomen, “slow- slow down,” gripping her smaller one in his, he tutted softly. “Hands to yourself, doll.” Her face scrunched with pleasure, feeling an iron like taste in her mouth as she nipped at her tongue.

－ Her back aches into him as he ruthlessly fucks into her, the length of his cock rocking back in forth along her pulsing walls. Chris’s head fell back with a low moan, feeling the way her hips raised as a silent plea to continue despite the harsh thrusts of his dick. “Always takin’ it like a good fuckin’ girl.” Bobbing her head silently, he sunk himself deeper in her.

✪ The girls hips roll to alleviate some of the pressure, only causing a whole new shockwave of arousel to come over her. “Yes, yes －” her whined echoed through out the bathroom, no doubt heard by passing guests. Chris couldn’t help himself, the sound of her lewd whines flooding straight to his cock.

－ A strangled moan escaped her parted lips as he buried himself inside her to the hilt, so deep that she swore she could feel him up her throat. “Chris,” she gasped out, head hitting the mirror with a soft thud as it fell back. Chris panted softly while pushing away the hairs that stuck to her face, using every bone in his body not to give and press his lips to her’s.

✪ She swallowed deeply, sucking in a breath as she flicked her gaze down to her abdomen. “Your cock,” she whimpered, seeing the faint outline of hid cock in her belly. He hummed, his veiny hand pressing to her stomach as he drug the top of her shirt up further, just until it was below her breasts. “Yeah? You like that? seeing my cock fuck into ya’?” She nodded dumbly, moaning silently as he pressed down on the outline.

－ Chris couldn’t get enough of her ass. Groping the skin as he lifted her up onto his cock, just before slamming down into her. She moaned in pleasure, he groaned in agony. “Fuck － baby,” so damn tight. She was squeezing the life out of him, clamping down in every inch of his length.

✪ “Oh my god －” tears of pleasure threatened to fall as she released over his dick, feeling him reach places she didn’t even know existed. “That’s it my girl,” He grunted while fucking into one last time, groaning as he felt ropes after ropes of cum spew from his sensitive tip. “Thats. Fucking. It.” All he needed.

－ His forehead pressed to her’s as the two calmed from the aftershocks of their orgasam’s, eyes fluttering open to meet her’s. The look in her eyes was one of the few things Chris noticed hadn’t changed. They gleamed with such love, a love she was so willing to share with him once.

✪ And if he knew one thing, it was that he missed that fucking look. If he could do it all over again he would. He’d take everything back with a snap of the finger, go back to the simple times where they’d sneak from class to meet up, share messy chaste kisses as they dodged the hall monitor.

－ Chris flicked his gaze from her lips to her eyes, over and over, debating what his next move would be. He couldn’t, could he? No －it’d be wrong of him … right? Being the irrational individual he’d always been, he slammed lips against her’s, despite his better judgment.

✪ Y/n’s eyes flew open, a sound of surprise emitting her lips as she felt the impact of his making contact with her flush ones. He cupped the one side of her jaw as he moved his lips against hers, chasing the feeling of pure melancholy he did as a teenager. And god, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t feel it.

－ His heart practically pumped from his chest, lips twitching against hers as he felt a smaller hand softly tug at the brunette tendrils atop his head. He missed it so much. Chris hissed as she nipped at his plump bottom lip, eyes glaring into hers for a moment.

✪ She laughed. Pressing a hand to the back of her lips as she giggled, chest shaking as she concealed the laughter that wanted to emit from her mouth. His eyes softened at the sight, glare no longer as he looked at her with pure amazement.

－ He missed her so much.

✪ They both looked into each other’s eyes, silently searching for the correct thing to say after the moment they’d shared. Hell －it wasn’t a moment. Chris had fucked her in a bathroom, at their friend’s wedding. There was something so .. ironic about it, though he couldn’t put a finger on it.

－ Should he thank her? Apologize? Maybe he should express how much he liked it － no, no. His eyes flicked to eye to eye, throat bobbing as he blurted out the words he been fighting for years.

“Marry me.”

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓈 ♡︎－

@fratbrochrisgf @jetaimevous @sturnstvr @sturnrc @stonermattsgf

[llamagoddessofficial]

I have a question related to the prison au. Sorry if this has been asked before but what if Mc didn’t com in as a nurse but rather a therapist. Like the jail’s first therapist and it was all mc’s idea because Mc thinks that if the prisoners have more of am emotional outlet they won’t be as aggressive to one another and will become better people/monsters after they get out. And Mc wants to make a difference for them because Mc knows that their jail life isn’t the best. Mc can tell sans is trying to manipulate them, and isn’t affected much by reds attempts to charm her as much, and Mc can see threw skill’s scary and can understand him more and teaches him how to communicate how he is feeling better.

Oooooo...

Sans: Unlike pretty much all her other counterparts, this Mc is onto Sans' shit from the very start. Originally assigned to him as a mere formality, she immediately clocks that this motherfucker is much scarier than anyone has noticed before. His 'therapy sessions' are more like mental chess matches between two very perceptive people. Her aim is to genuinely try to treat him, genuinely try to get to the bottom of why he's turned into this terrifying mastermind, and perhaps even help him; there's not much else she can do. No one will believe her. Sans knows that, too.

Sans loves it. At last- someone who really, actually understands him, and the monster (not Monster) he's become. Not someone from his past lingering endlessly on who he used to be, not another pawn buying his 'harmless' persona. He loves having someone who is finally, finally in on his game. He was already fascinated with her from the start, this just makes it so much more intense- he loves being able to drop the mask. He loves the challenge of having to find ways to manipulate that are outside of his usual routes. He loves her, she's all he lives for.

She wants to help him? Cute. He'll show her what the world is really like. Then they can be puppetmasters together.

Red: She's assigned to Red to 'help' with his constant violent outbursts, after he gets in a particularly brutal fight and has to choose between attending therapy or lengthening his sentence. He's not the first violent offender she's dealt with, and he's definitely not the first flirtatious patient... but he's definitely the first that seems so utterly determined to charm her. She's firm on not breaching her ethics and she won't allow herself to do anything more than just get along well with him.

Mc actually makes a big impact on his mental health. The instinct to open up to her is a hard one to ignore, given his affection for her and their great rapport, and Red just likes her more and more with every issue she helps him work through. He doesn't like that she absolutely refuses to be with him, and he sees it as more of a challenge than anything.

When he gets out, he'll make sure she knows he's still very interested in some private sessions...

Skull: Giving Skull a therapist kinda feels like putting a band-aid on a completely severed torso. But it was a legal requirement. He cycles through therapists who either immediately refuse to treat him, or get a few days in and THEN refuse to treat him. Mc is just another in a long line of therapists that the prison expects to see rolling in.

... Except... he's so good for her. He tries to talk, he's calm and never bites, he's highly engaged with the tasks she gets him to do with her, he quickly notices that the better he does the more they make her spend time with him. The less violent he is, the more she talks to him in that lovely soft voice. Anything for more of her voice.

... Issues arise when Mc starts to understand that Skull has developed feelings for her. Deep feelings. He's always trying to kiss, nuzzle or hold her- it feels unethical to keep treating him. But it's also a well established fact that her presence in his life has probably saved several lives. If she tried to tell the prison that she didn't want to treat Skull anymore, she'd probably get a response along the lines of "we don't care, just keep him from eating anyone's hands".

She's not really got much of a choice.

[yukipri]

Some thoughts on Cara

So some of you may have heard about Cara, the new platform that a lot of artists are trying out. It's been around for a while, but there's been a recent huge surge of new users, myself among them. Thought I'd type up a lil thing on my initial thoughts.

First, what is Cara?

From their About Cara page:

Cara is a social media and portfolio platform for artists. With the widespread use of generative AI, we decided to build a place that filters out generative AI images so that people who want to find authentic creatives and artwork can do so easily. Many platforms currently accept AI art when it’s not ethical, while others have promised “no AI forever” policies without consideration for the scenario where adoption of such technologies may happen at the workplace in the coming years. The future of creative industries requires nuanced understanding and support to help artists and companies connect and work together. We want to bridge the gap and build a platform that we would enjoy using as creatives ourselves. Our stance on AI: ・We do not agree with generative AI tools in their current unethical form, and we won’t host AI-generated portfolios unless the rampant ethical and data privacy issues around datasets are resolved via regulation. ・In the event that legislation is passed to clearly protect artists, we believe that AI-generated content should always be clearly labeled, because the public should always be able to search for human-made art and media easily.

Should note that Cara is independently funded, and is made by a core group of artists and engineers and is even collaborating with the Glaze project. It's very much a platform by artists, for artists!

Should also mention that in being a platform for artists, it's more a gallery first, with social media functionalities on the side. The info below will hopefully explain how that works.

Next, my actual initial thoughts using it, and things that set it apart from other platforms I've used:

1) When you post, you can choose to check the portfolio option, or to NOT check it. This is fantastic because it means I can have just my art organized in my gallery, but I can still post random stuff like photos of my cats and it won't clutter things. You can also just ramble/text post and it won't affect the gallery view!

2) You can adjust your crop preview for your images. Such a simple thing, yet so darn nice.

3) When you check that "Add to portfolio," you get a bunch of additional optional fields: Title, Field/Medium, Project Type, Category Tags, and Software Used. It's nice that you can put all this info into organized fields that don't take up text space.

4) Speaking of text, 5000 character limit is niiiiice. If you want to talk, you can.

5) Two separate feeds, a "For You" algorithmic one, and "Following." The "Following" actually appears to be full chronological timeline of just folks you follow (like Tumblr). Amazing.

6) Now usually, "For You" being set to home/default kinda pisses me off because generally I like curating my own experience, but not here, for this handy reason: if you tap the gear symbol, you can ADJUST your algorithm feed!

So you can choose what you see still!!! AMAZING. And, again, you still have your Following timeline too.

7) To repeat the stuff at the top of this post, its creation and intent as a place by artists, for artists. Hopefully you can also see from the points above that it's been designed with artists in mind.

8) No GenAI images!!!! There's a pop up that says it's not allowed, and apparently there's some sort of detector thing too. Not sure how reliable the latter is, but so far, it's just been a breath of fresh air, being able to scroll and see human art art and art!

To be clear, Cara's not perfect and is currently pretty laggy, and you can get errors while posting (so far, I've had more success on desktop than the mobile app), but that's understandable, given the small team. They'll need time to scale. For me though, it's a fair tradeoff for a platform that actually cares about artists.

Currently it also doesn't allow NSFW, not sure if that'll change given app store rules.

As mentioned above, they're independently funded, which means the team is currently paying for Cara itself. They have a kofi set up for folks who want to chip in, but it's optional. Here's the link to the tweet from one of the founders:

And a reminder that no matter that the platform itself isn't selling our data to GenAI, it can still be scraped by third parties. Protect your work with Glaze and Nightshade!

Anyway, I'm still figuring stuff out and have only been on Cara a few days, but I feel hopeful, and I think they're off to a good start.

I hope this post has been informative!

Lastly, here's my own Cara if you want to come say hi! Not sure at all if I'll be active on there, but if you're an artist like me who is keeping an eye out for hopefully nice communities, check it out!

[gimmethatagustd]

blunt rotation | pjm

Supplying your law school classmates with weed on the regular might as well be a full-time job. It's lucrative, but lately, you've seen a dip in profits. Maybe it's because you keep giving out the Pretty Boy Discount to a certain guy in your ethics class…

↳ pairing: prettyboy!jimin x weedgirl!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | law school au | classmates to lovers | smut

↳ wc/date: 7.5k | april 2023

↳ warnings: marijuana | a somewhat subby!jimin | consensual sex while high | choking (in a sexy way) | fingering | cunnilingus | spit | protected vaginal sex | self-indulgent rants about capitalism and classism | jimin makes a lame dick joke

↳ notes: on god, this fic is probably more about weed than anything else khskdjfs i would apologize but i already warned y’all, so you get what you get. these 420 fics are probs especially bad, and i decided i do not care. #blazeit

↳ masterlist 

↳ what was jai listening to? a weed playlist made by yours truly 

“What is the difference between ethics, morality, and law?” 

Professor Kim leans against the desk at the front of the lecture hall with his hands gripping the edge on either side of his hips. The action makes the muscles in his arms flex, and you eat up the tan skin exposed by how his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. The tight white button-up accentuates plump pectoral muscles that threaten to pop and lose a few buttons. It wouldn’t surprise you if it happened. Professor Kim is known for being accidentally destructive. 

It is unethical to fuck your professor because it would create a conflict of interest; you’d imagine it would be hard for Professor Kim to ethically assess your academic performance if he’d been balls deep in you. 

It’s morally wrong to fuck your professor because you know he’s married, not because he has ever provided your class with information about his personal life, but because you sit at the front of the class. From your position, you can see the glint of his wedding band. 

Legally, you’re pretty sure there isn’t a law against fucking your professor. It probably goes against your university’s code of conduct, but that’s not a law. 

You sink further into your seat and let your eyes wander the room. Everyone diligently takes notes as Professor Kim turns to the presentation projected on the large screen behind him. Ethics and Professional Responsibility isn’t your favorite class, but no one said getting your J.D. would be fun. On the contrary, everyone you knew said it would fucking suck. And it kinda does. 

One thing that doesn't suck, though, is having a class with your program’s resident pretty boy, Park Jimin. 

Pretty boys aren’t your type at all. You prefer boys who are rough around the edges. You're not interested if a guy doesn’t look like he’s a one-way ticket to jail or hell. Maybe it’s the rebel in you. Maybe you like the idea that opposites attract. A lawyer and a criminal sounds like a cute ship, no? 

Pretty boys are too soft for you. They’re the type to have skincare routines and listen to Jack Harlow. No thanks. 

Yet your eyes always manage to find Jimin. 

He’s sitting to your left and a few rows behind you, but close enough to see him when you turn your head. He sits with perfect posture as he scribbles notes on his iPad, plump lips puckered in a cute little beak of concentration. 

Fuck, no, not cute. Ridiculous. Soft and childish. Everyone in the room is at least in their mid-twenties, some even in their late fifties. A prestigious J.D. program has no room for beaks and squishy cheeks. 

You’re about to look away when Jimin lifts his stylus to his mouth. The end presses a small dent into his plush bottom lip. You instinctually lick your lips, though your mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Jimin sits that way for a few more seconds with furrowed eyebrows as he focuses on his notes. At Professor Kim’s mention of the end-of-the-year oral argument, your classmate finally lifts his head to face the front of the room. His eyes are bright and wide, unlike the haggard look of your peers, and you watch them shift back and forth as he reads whatever is on the screen. You have no idea what Professor Kim’s talking about; your roommate, Hoseok, will fill you in when you get home. 

All you know is that Jimin finally pulls his stylus away from his lips and casts a sideways glance in your direction. You lock eyes for a split second before he quickly ducks his head, suddenly interested in his notes again. 

You snort loud enough for the woman sitting next to you to give you an odd look, but you ignore her and return your eyes to Professor Kim. 

Your eyes don’t stray from the front of the lecture hall for the rest of the class. It’s not difficult; there isn’t anything else you find interesting enough in the room to distract you. Nothing. Especially not Pretty Boy Jimin. 

🍃

“Hey, can I come over tonight?” 

Two pale hands splay across your desk once the class is dismissed. Chipped, black polish adorns each nail, except for the pinkies, which are painted white. 

“Why are you asking me? You don’t need my permission to visit your boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“I’m trying to work on my manners, jeez.”

You roll your eyes and slide your tablet into your backpack. “Where were your manners when you and Hobi fucked on my couch? Hmm, Yoongi? Where were they then?” 

Yoongi lets out a low groan as he steps to the side to let you fall in line with him as you exit the classroom. Your roommate is waiting in the hallway, always the last student to arrive and the first to leave. 

“That’s different,” Yoongi huffs, though this time, the sound is due to Hoseok crushing him in a hug once they make it into the hall. “Besides, I’m asking because I’m bringing my friend. We aren’t going to stay. He just wants someone to come with him.” 

Hoseok untangles his arms from Yoongi’s and adjusts his backpack. Your best friends act like surviving a three-hour class is like surviving a lifetime apart. 

“Ohh, a friend?” Hoseok leans against Yoongi with his eyebrows arched. His questioning tone is fair. The three of you don’t have many friends aside from each other. It’s hard to maintain friendships with people outside of law school. There’s simply no time. 

“What is this, the buddy system?” You snicker as you follow the two men to their cars. “Sorry, I only do business with adults.” 

There is quite literally no reason for you to be judgemental about whoever this mystery friend is, but class has put you in a cranky mood. Probably because of stupid fucking Park Jimin with his distracting lips. Your unpreparedness for the oral argument is slowly causing anxiety to creep into your chest. 

Yoongi gives you a light smack to your bicep. “Some people get nervous about this shit, you know that.” 

“It’s weed, oh my god. You act like we’re cooking meth in our basement.” 

Yoongi stops walking to give you a stern look with narrowed eyes and a cocked head. “You don’t even have a basement.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s 2023, and weed is legal.” 

“It is legal to purchase weed at a licensed dispensary. However, you are not licensed to sell weed, nor is your apartment a dispensary.” 

“It’s got enough weed in it to be one,” Hoseok snorts, but the sound quickly morphs into a severe cough when Yoongi’s glare is directed at him. 

Yoongi yanks his car door open and slides into the driver’s seat. Then, with one leg still on the ground and his arm holding the door open, he lets out a long sigh. “You two are insufferable.”

“Love you too, babe!” Hoseok giggles and sends his boyfriend a flying kiss as Yoongi drives out of the parking lot. 

“For an anti-capitalist, Yoongi is so old-fashioned. I’m providing a product to the everyday person at a reasonable price,” you grumble while you fasten your seatbelt in Hoseok’s car. “Dispensaries are classist. They’re way too fucking expensive, and they’re all in affluent neighborhoods, anyway. The gentrification of marijuana in this country is ridiculous. Where does Yoongi think those tax funds end up? Not in neighborhoods that need them. And what about expunging people’s records? Is the government ever going to do that?” 

You slump in your seat, the sudden energetic burst of social consciousness in you dying out. “I hate rich people.”

Hoseok hums in agreement, keeping his eyes on the road as he drives. “We’re about to be rich people, though.” 

“Not me. Civil rights law isn’t going to make me rich, and I’m not touching corporate with a ten-foot pole.” 

Yoongi and so many other people in your program are too dependent on what is and don’t stop to question what can be or what should be.

Ethics is a social construct, morality is subjective, and law is arbitrary. 

Going to law school is less about learning how to be a lawyer and more about learning how to play a game. 

🍃

When Park Jimin walks into your living room, all you can do is blink at him. Your eyes are red and glassy, your mouth dry even though you’ve been sipping water, and your limbs feel too gooey to bother getting up. Maybe you’re hallucinating him, which would be very upsetting because you don’t want to explore why he’s sticking around in your head. 

But then Yoongi is ushering the guy to sit next to you, and the dip in the couch as he eases down feels too real. 

“Ah, Jimin! You’re the friend!” Hoseok gives the newcomer a blinding smile. Smoke punctuates each word, billowing toward the ceiling. There’s already a thin haze to the room; you and Hoseok have been smoking for a while. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a small smile. He also turns to give you one, but it falters when you meet his gaze. 

You’re not sure what expression you’re wearing. It could be anything, really. Or nothing at all. 

“Hi,” he says quietly. His lips are so pink. You want to ask him how soft they are. 

“How much do you want?” Is what you ask instead. 

Jimin turns to Yoongi, who is now cuddled up with Hoseok on the other side of the room. The chair is made for only one person, but they have never known personal boundaries. You suppose if they’re dating, it doesn’t matter. 

“Just give him an eighth,” Yoongi says with a dismissive wave. He’s more focused on plucking the blunt from Hoseok’s lips and bringing it to his own. 

“Of what?” You huff your words, twisting the joint you’ve got between your middle finger and thumb. It’s clear that Jimin knows nothing about weed. He can’t even come up with a measurement or a strain. 

Yoongi glares at you as if this is somehow your fault before saying, “Anything. Maybe not Girl Scout Cookies or Sour Diesel, though. I don’t want his brain melting out of his ears.” 

Jimin makes a slight noise of surprise at that. 

“Kidding,” Yoongi teases. “Well, about the brain-melting part. I mean it about the strains, though.” 

Leaving your joint in an ashtray on the coffee table, you stand up with a groan. Moving is low on your list of things to do right now. The indica you’ve been smoking makes your movements feel slow, though you can’t tell if they actually are. 

“Come on,” you mumble, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall. He goes without a word, eyes wide as if he’s about to discover something profound within the walls of your apartment. You don’t want to admit how cute he is, just as timid in your apartment as in class. 

“We keep everything in the office. It’s super organized, but I guess that’s expected.” You don’t know why you’re rambling (yes, you do, it’s the weed). 

Jimin nods. “Makes sense.” 

He’s so cute, you think, when he asks if he wants you to close the door once you’ve reached the office. As if there is something to hide in here. Hoseok and Yoongi are the only other people in the apartment. 

“I’m going to give you a hybrid. You know what that means?” 

Jimin hovers over you when you crouch next to a dresser with multiple drawers. Numerous glass jars, all labeled with pieces of white tape and messy handwriting, are stacked in the drawer you open. You sift through them, taking a few to inspect before placing them back again. 

“I do not.” At least he’s honest. 

“It’s the happy medium between sativa and indica. Sativa gives you a head high. People tend to feel alert and creative sometimes. Indica gives you a body high. It’s the stereotypical kind of weed people talk about that makes you lazy and get the munchies. It’s because sativa has more THC than CBD, whereas indica is more CBD-heavy. Think about how people use CBD products when they’ve got joint pains or anxiety, right?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” The statement is redundant, but you don’t mention it. Jimin looks like he hangs onto your every word as though his life depends on it. It’s funny, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at him.

Finding what you’re looking for, you hand a jar to Jimin. “It’s already weighed, so you can take the whole thing.” 

Jimin holds the jar like it’s a newborn. This time, you let a few giggles slip out. 

“Do you have something to smoke it with? A piece or a bong?” 

A shake of his head is no surprise, but you act shocked because you’re high and feeling good, and you love how he looks when his eyes grow wide.

“Wow, you’re so cute,” you say with a grin that starkly opposes the shy blush that paints Jimin’s face. “You probably don’t know how to roll either, do you?” 

Another shake of his head. Of course. 

It’s not difficult to show Jimin how. You pull up another chair at your desk and push away all your notes and textbooks for school to clear a path to work. You show him how to grind the weed and roll a blunt and a joint — so he can figure out which one he likes better. 

Jimin’s body is warm as he presses against yours, your shoulders bumping into each other every time you move your arm. He keeps close, eyes glued to your hands as you work slowly but diligently. It’s a bit disarming having him so close. Aside from the occasional hello during class, you’ve never really talked to Jimin. Concentrating with all his Pretty Boy energy fogging up your mind is tricky. 

Or is it the weed? Nah, it’s the weed. 

“If you end up not liking either, go to a head shop to buy a bowl — it’s a pipe. Maybe don’t go with a bong yet. Yoongi can help you. He likes bowls better, so he’ll have good recommendations.” 

Once finished, you slip the blunts and joints into a ziplock bag. When you pass it to Jimin, you can’t help but let your fingers brush against his. The touch sends waves of hot electricity up your arm. The shock of it makes your entire body tingle. Sure, the weed is making your body extra sensitive, but it’s not only that. He’s so fucking hot. 

You don’t realize you’re staring at him. It’s hard not to stare or even know where to begin. His plush, pillowy lips? His fluffy, dirty-blonde hair that falls into his eyes? So cute that you don’t even care when he has to do a Bieber flip to get his bangs out of his face? 

And, fuck, he’s not wearing the usual crisp white Oxford shirt and black chinos get-up. He must have gone home to change after class because now he’s wearing a form-fitting black t-shirt (probably designer from the looks of it) and grey jogger sweatpants that do nothing to hide how thick his thighs are and you’re sure if you get a chance to look at his ass you’ll find that that part of his body is thick, too. Expensive athleisure wear looks even better on him than professional clothing. It makes him look soft. 

“Thank you,” Jimin says, speaking your name softly, and you feel like your knees grow weak at the sound of it tumbling from lips like those. “I’m sorry, I feel like I barged in here and took up your time. Not knowing anything… I’m sure you’re used to people with more knowledge than I do.” 

Shaking your head, you guide Jimin out of the office and lock it behind you. “Don’t worry about it. Everyone has to start somewhere, right?” 

It’s funny that he’s concerned about something like this, as if marijuana knowledge is so embarrassing not to have. 

When you turn around, you realize the two of you are standing way too close. Your apartment isn’t a shoebox, but it certainly isn’t large. The hallway is slim, and Hoseok has a million and one plants and decorative furniture scattered around for the “aesthetic,” which makes it even harder to navigate tight spaces. 

You’re not complaining, though. This close, you can see that Jimin is wearing contacts that make his eyes hazel, little flecks of orangish-brown highlighting his naturally dark irises. 

Jimin’s eyes drop to your lips, and you feel your stomach drop along with them. Even though you’re not touching each other, your skin tingles with the knowledge that you could be touching. He’s so close. All it would take is one tiny shuffle forward, and you could slot yourself against his nimble — but what you assume is a very solid — frame. 

“Yeah,” he speaks as he releases a soft exhale. You feel his warmth and shudder. “Thank you, still.”

“No problem,” you whisper. 

Jimin’s tongue darts out to run across his bottom lip. His teeth draw it in slightly, and when he lets go, you can see how his lip bounces back into place. 

Dragging your eyes back to meet his takes an embarrassing amount of effort. He’s finally looking at your eyes, too, with an expression you don’t understand because you don’t really know him. 

“How much do I owe you?”

Right. Because he’s here with Yoongi for a reason. You swallow, turning your head to the side to hopefully break whatever spell Jimin and weed have put you under. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Jimin inhales sharply, but you keep your eyes down. “I must pay you something. I don’t know what’s a standard amount.” 

If you were anyone else, you could honestly rip him off. The guy has no clue — he is even admitting that he doesn’t! But there are embers smoldering in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nope,” you say with a tone of finality. You can hardly think before your following words slip out of your mouth like snakes. “Pretty Boys get weed free of charge.” 

“W-w-what?” Jimin looks unbearably cute when he’s confused. It’s almost too much for you to handle. 

So you don’t. 

Without another word, you head back to the living room. Jimin follows silently. You’re sure his face is still painted with shock because Yoongi gives the two of you an odd look. 

“Right where I left you,” you tease.

Untangling his limbs from Hoseok’s, Yoongi lets out an old man grunt and stands. You hadn’t believed him when he said he wouldn’t be staying, but it’s clear that he’s sticking to his promise when he starts patting down his legs to make sure he has his keys. 

“Got what you need, Chim?” 

Chim? How close are Yoongi and Jimin? And why are you only now learning of this friendship? 

Jimin nods, his bottom lip between his teeth once again. He insists that you’ve been a great help to him, all while keeping his eyes locked with yours. It’s so different than his shy avoidance in class. 

“Don’t worry, Yoong,” you insist as you plop back on the couch. Your joint is patiently waiting for you. “I took good care of him.” 

🍃

You’ve never been very good at math, but it doesn’t take a mathematician to know that Pretty Boy Jimin ends up costing you hundreds of dollars as the semester progresses. 

All your peers will walk away from law school making six figures easily. But not you. You just had to give a shit about the world, didn’t you? You just had to pick an area of law that values protecting human rights over making a profit. 

God, being a good person is so hard! 

And now, Park Jimin is sucking you dry before you can even earn money. Every time his fat little ass sashays away from your apartment with another jar of free weed, you can practically hear the chime of money signs ringing out with each step. 

There’s a worse feeling, though. It hadn’t occurred to you until now, as you stand in the entranceway of Jimin’s apartment unit, your backpack carrying precious cargo inside slung over one shoulder. 

Allowing Jimin to walk out of your apartment with the Pretty Boy Discount of free marijuana hurts your pocket, but doing a free weed delivery is even more pathetic. You're wasting your own time and gas money to drive to Park Jimin’s motherfucking apartment to deliver him weed that you aren’t even going to charge him for simply because he’s hot. 

Maybe this is the terrible consequence of abstaining from sex to “focus on school” — as if smoking weed with Hoseok all day isn’t a distraction. But, on the other hand, maybe you just need to get laid. 

Dipping on this commitment would be easy, you think as you bounce on the balls of your feet. You could leave right now before Jimin answers the door, ask Hoseok to handle Jimin’s future requests, and put all of this behind you. But, of course, the entire situation is ridiculous anyway. You don’t even know Jimin. Not really. 

There’s a clicking sound from the other side of Jimin’s front door. Logically, you know it’s the sound of him unlocking the door, but your nerves tell you it’s the sound of your fate being locked into place. It may as well be because Jimin opens the door with a smile that puffs up his cheeks, his hair looks damp, and he smells like body wash. 

Fuck. 

“Hi!” His voice squeaks, but a deep cough returns it to a normal tone. “I mean, uh, I appreciate you coming by.” 

Your tongue presses into your cheek as you regard him for a moment. He might consider your silence as negative because he quickly sidesteps to allow you into his apartment. 

You give Jimin a smirk. “I think you should at least give me a tip.” 

“O-oh, I mean… oh, um,” he stutters, and you can’t help but laugh. 

A rush of air escapes your nostrils in a low-energy, nearly silent laugh. While coming to Jimin’s place might seem like a lot of effort, the truth is that you’re bored, and lately, you’ve been seeking anything to get your mind off the loneliness you feel when your apartment is dark and Hoseok is with Yoongi. 

So, even though part of you chastises yourself, you’re willing to risk looking pathetic or desperate if it means you can have someone to smoke with and get some time away from your too-quiet apartment. Not because Jimin is the most attractive person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 

Jimin’s pretty eyes widen, and you quickly wave your hand to brush off his sudden panic. 

“I’m kidding,” you confess as you twist your backpack around your body to pull out a small glass mason jar. It��s cute how concerned he is. 

No, not cute. Naive. You shake yourself out of the feeling. 

”Well, come on then.” You walk through Jimin’s apartment into the living room. It’s your first time making a delivery with him, so you’ve never been to his apartment. Yet you walk through the building with unearned familiarity. You’ve got manners; sometimes, you choose not to use them.

“How have you and Hoseok been?” 

“Prepping for finals. And that fucking oral argument Kim’s got us doing,” you groan. School talk wasn’t something you had in mind when you showed up, but in the months you’ve spent getting to know Jimin more, you’ve learned he’s a total nerd. He’s probably excited about the assessment. 

“Sometimes I think he’s trying to kill us,” Jimin says with a slight grin. “Is it ethical, moral, or legal to terrify your students to the point of throwing up before evaluations?” 

“Don’t tease Yoongi like that! You know he has public speaking anxiety!” 

Jimin does a little half-skip to avoid your attempt to slap his chest. Although you know the both of you are drowning in student loans and law school tuition fees, the apartment is much nicer than expected. You wonder if Jimin has a roommate. He’s never mentioned one before.  

“Don’t tell him, or he’ll beat me up.” 

Eyerolls aren’t a commitment to anything, but you know Jimin knows you wouldn’t dare repeat his words. 

Plopping onto his couch, you scoot the coffee table between your knees and set the jar down. Beside the jar, you place everything you need to roll for Jimin, including a grinder and swishers. You could have rolled it all in advance, but you don’t like to feel rushed. Prepping is the best part. It relaxes you.

Jimin slowly slides into place beside you on the couch. He leaves enough room between the two of you to be respectful, although something tells you it’s less about his desire to make you feel comfortable and more about his discomfort. 

He’s nervous, but you don’t know why. He keeps dragging his palms against his thighs, roughly rubbing his jeans. Every once in a while, he lifts his hand to touch his bottom lip. Then, when you sneak a glance at him, he quickly turns away. There’s nothing of note to look at in the apartment, but he seems engrossed in something for those fleeting moments before you’re sure he’s looking at you once again. 

“I should probably learn how to do this… Like, properly… I can’t remember everything you did the first time,” Jimin mumbles. When you look up, his cheeks are dusted a light pink. 

“Sorry, I probably went too fast that time.” You give him an apologetic look that makes his face redden even more. “It’s not as hard as people make it out to be. Just need a good teacher.” 

If Jimin expects you to be his teacher again, he doesn’t say so. You could be. You can’t stop yourself from giving the guy free weed; you might as well add comprehensive rolling lessons in the mix. 

By this point, rolling a blunt is about muscle memory; you don’t have to use an ounce of brainpower. Your eyes can wander, sweep over the contents of Jimin's living room, your thoughts floating off to wonder about the little details of the man’s life you aren’t privy to. Who are his friends? Where is his family? You look for photographs on shelves or hanging on the walls, items that are a staple in your and Hoseok’s apartment. Would Yoongi be in any of his photos? So many people in the city come in like ghosts.

“Do you, um, would you like to stay?” 

Jimin's voice pulls you back to the living room, where your hands have already finished two blunts without you realizing it. 

"Isn’t that what you meant when you said I could smoke with you?" You question around the blunt you’ve brought between your lips, pausing to light it.

Jimin shakes his head, not as an answer to your question, but to himself. “Yes, of course.” 

“You wanna share this or smoke your own?" You can keep working on rolling the rest in the meantime.

Rather than answer your question verbally, Jimin does something that makes your heart fall into the pit of your fucking stomach. The supposedly shy, naive man parts his lips and juts his chin toward you. 

The meaning behind his action hits you in the chest immediately. You let your eyes drift over his mouth, and you try not to react when his tongue swipes across his bottom lip while he patiently waits for you to give him what he wants. And you’re gonna do it, too. No questions asked. 

Pinching the blunt between your middle finger and thumb, you twist on the couch to face Jimin with your legs tucked beneath you. Of course, if your fingertips brush against his lips when you place the blunt between them, that’s no one’s business, and you fucking plead the fifth, thanks. 

Jimin’s eyes never leave yours when he wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales. He takes the hit like a champ, not coughing once despite the smoke’s thickness when he exhales. It’s been a few months since he started coming to you for weed. You shouldn’t be proud of his improvement, but you are anyway. Even if it’s weird to be. 

“Thanks.” Jimin looks like a droopy-eyed dragon, eyes heavy and narrow when he expresses his appreciation. His voice is low and thick, and it makes your stomach swoop. 

You nod your head and take the blunt from him. “No problem.” 

Time is hardly discernible in normal circumstances for you, especially when you’re high. So you can’t imagine how long you sit with Jimin on his couch, watching smoke billow in the air and talking about how unfortunate it is that Frank Ocean and Rihanna ghosted the music industry. 

For a while, the two of you fall silent. You lean your head against the couch and close your eyes, content with listening to the music Jimin put on until another thought enters your mind. One you can’t bring yourself to ignore.  

“You ever fucked while you’re high?” 

You ask the question once you and Jimin have finished the first blunt and move on to the second. The lighter you’re using is hot pink with blue and purple flowers printed on it. Something feels fitting about that. 

The question takes you by surprise even though you’re the one asking it, unsure why you’re asking it aside from knowing the weed will make you more likely to speak your mind. Jimin, though. The poor guy is even more startled. As he should be, you think. 

His hand trembles slightly when he passes you the blunt when it’s your turn to take a hit. “Uhh, um, have I— what?” 

You roll your eyes and blow a smoke ring in Jimin’s direction. You wait for his coughing to subside before you repeat yourself. 

“Have you ever had sex while under the influence of marijuana, Jimin-ssi?”

“No…” 

“Hmm, you should. It’s really fun. Feels good.” 

“Oh.” 

“Do you wanna try it now?” 

It’s comical how Jimin gulps, literally gulps, like a fucking cartoon character. “Now?” 

Marijuana is an aphrodisiac. It won’t make Jimin want you, but it’s clear from his suggestive behavior that he already does. The weed will simply, hopefully, make him less nervous about it. 

You pretend you don’t notice how he shifts to press his thighs together on the couch. 

“Come on,” you encourage him. “Stop thinking so much.” 

You know you’re too forward and sudden, but it feels justified because you’ve been thinking about Jimin for months. The buildup over the past few months has been stifling. 

Giving consent is what finally unlocks something in Jimin. One moment he’s staring at you with wide, timid eyes; the next, he’s got his hand around your throat. 

With a light squeeze, Jimin pulls you into him to slot his lips with yours. Holding back a moan is nearly impossible when his tongue pries your lips open. It’s wet and hot, and your skin tingles when you taste the smoke on him when his tongue curls around your own. Smoking always makes you feel warm, but you feel like you’re on fire when Jimin whimpers into your mouth. His pace is unrelenting. You feel like you’re tripping over yourself as you attempt to keep up with the quick work of his lips. The effort has you practically straddling his lap. 

Tightening his grip on your throat, Jimin uses it to tilt you how he wants you. A pleased hum vibrates against your mouth when he hears you moan from the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft skin of your neck. It’s only when you start to get lightheaded, and your lips slow that Jimin finally pulls away. 

His eyes' heavy, sensual look remains, but you’re surprised to find his slick lips forced into a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You could ask why, but you assume Jimin’s forwardness isn’t typical behavior. The good thing is that it is for you.

Rather than address the unnecessary tension, you let your lips do all the work and pull Jimin in for another ruthless kiss. 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies from you,” you murmur against his mouth. “The only thing I want your lips doing is eating me out.” 

Jimin lets out a high-pitched whine that sets something dangerous off, buzzing through your body. “Please.” 

Maybe you’re pathetic with how quickly you strip yourself of your clothes, but Jimin doesn’t seem to care. His eyes never leave your body as you toss the clothing onto the floor. “You’re so beautiful…” 

“Yeah?” You lean with your back against the arm of the couch, scooting down slightly so you can let your legs fall open. 

He nods sharply and is silent momentarily as he rubs his palms down the length of your legs, settling between them. 

"I've always wanted to talk to you," Jimin speaks with a hushed tone. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. "I just get nervous. I'm sure that seems pretty lame." 

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Every touch sends goosebumps pebbling across your skin. It’s exhilarating. You feel like your entire body is a hot wire, sparking and buzzing at a dangerous frequency. 

"Yoongi said this would be a good way for us to get to know each other. The weed, not this this!" It's shocking to you how adorable he can be at the same time he sucks the skin of your inner thigh into his mouth, swirling his tongue around after biting down hard enough to make you gasp. 

Your head falls back as you feel the tip of Jimin’s tongue drags along your clit. He swirls it around, drawing small circles in a steady rhythm. Every time his tongue pulls back, you can hear a soft smacking sound of his lips. He’s likely swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth. You’re sure he’s probably getting a bad case of cotton mouth from the excessive sound. 

It makes you smile knowing he’s that sensitive. It takes much more weed in your system to start feeling dry in the mouth, but you’ve been smoking more years than Jimin and at a higher frequency. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan out a misshapen puff of smoke when Jimin’s tongue returns to your clit. 

This time he wraps his plush lips around it and suckles lightly, using his tongue to flick from side to side. His little grunts and moans make your pussy vibrate, sending a tingling sensation through the inside of your thighs and down to your toes. 

Your hand shakes as you bring the blunt back to your lips. A whine tries to break through, but you force it back down your throat as you inhale more smoke. It’s hard when your body feels like it’s burning up. 

Every gentle touch of Jimin’s lips and tongue on your skin feels like a punch to your stomach in a way that is so deliriously delicious you can hardly take it. Wetness drips down your pussy and smears against your thighs, either from your arousal or Jimin’s drool or both, but you don’t care how messy it is when Jimin pulls back enough to spit more onto your clit. 

You let out a surprised sound, lifting your head slightly to see a string of saliva connect Jimin’s pouty bottom lip with your skin. 

Fuck, you didn’t think Pretty Boy had it in him. 

Using two fingers, Jimin spreads his spit around your clit, pushing it down until he slides into your pussy with ease. You didn’t need the extra lubrication, but you groan at the wet sound that echoes through Jimin’s apartment as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you. He brings his lips back to your clit, sucking harder and massaging your skin with his tongue even faster to match the pace his fingers take. 

When he finally locates the spot that makes your legs shake, hitting it repeatedly, you dig your fingers into his fluffy hair and yank his head back. 

“H-h-here,” you stutter, pressing the blunt against his lips. They’re shiny, and the idea of sticking a wet blunt between your lips makes you want to cringe, but you don’t care because his lips are shiny with you. 

Jimin doesn’t stop thrusting into you, but his pace slows as he concentrates on taking another hit. 

“I’m so fucking hard,” he groans. With the blunt between his lips, Jimin’s hands fly to unbutton his jeans. Another groan sounds around the blunt once he’s freed himself of the retraining pants. 

You let out a quiet sigh as you try to collect yourself while Jimin smokes. “I told you it feels good. It’s different, isn’t it?” 

“Mhmm…”

There’s a large wet patch staining the front of Jimin’s briefs. It makes the fabric stick to his cock, clearly outlining his length and girth — big enough to make you drool but small enough that you won’t go home sore and regretful. 

“Lemme ride you.” You use your free hand to push Jimin into the back of the couch. He plants his feet on the floor and spreads his thighs as you get comfortable in his lap. “Wanna smoke the rest while we fuck.” 

Your head is in the clouds, your body melting like butter as Jimin skirts his hands along your sides. He eventually pauses to squeeze your hips, and you swear you can feel him all over you. 

It’s quick work, tugging down the final article of clothing separating the two of you. It’s hard not to stare, especially when Jimin twitches and shivers with every light touch of your fingertips along the ridges and veins of his cock. 

Your clit drags against the head of his cock when you adjust in his lap, and you let out a ragged moan. 

“Soaked,” Jimin murmurs, “You’ve got me all wet.” 

It’s true. Jimin’s thighs glisten from where you’ve leaked all over him. Your clit throbs so much it’s beginning to hurt from the sensitivity. 

“Condom,” you practically wheeze out. “If you go in raw, you’re probably gonna bust a nut immediately, and I’m not interested in that for many reasons.” 

Jimin’s face turns even pinker. 

“O-okay, give me a second, please.” So fucking polite, and for what? 

He holds you at the base of your spine with one hand as he leans forward to snatch his jeans with his other hand. There’s a condom in his wallet, so you assume your classmate isn’t all innocent. 

It’s quick work rolling the condom on. Uninterested in teasing yourself further because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t orgasm soon, you push Jimin hard against the back of the couch. You slip down his cock with ease, with no stretch or sting, from how turned on you are. 

“I feel like I’m already gonna come.” Jimin throws his head back against the couch. 

His lips fall open, and you quickly snatch the blunt from them so it doesn’t fall and burn one of you. He looks beautiful, angelic even. His lips are puffy and pink, his cute little mismatched front teeth peeking out. His tongue flicks around his mouth as his breathing grows heavier. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders with your free hand while your other keeps the blunt pinched to your lips. As you take a drag, you lift your hips and quickly bring them back down, your ass slapping Jimin’s thighs as you engulf his cock again. Your skin sounds wet and sticky, but Jimin’s whine drowns out the sound. 

“Shit,” he hisses. Blunt nails dig into your skin, but it doesn’t hurt; it only feels good. Everything feels so good. 

You hardly notice how hard you shake as you slam yourself down on Jimins’ cock again. Your head is too spacey to go fast, but you do your best to set a steady pace of bouncing on Jimin’s cock. It doesn’t matter if he’s already going to come. You feel your orgasm building up with every squeeze of his fingers and the pathetic moans from his mouth. 

You lean forward to latch your lips to the base of Jimin’s neck when he again drops his head. Pulling the skin into your mouth, you suck hard. You know the shock the discomfort will send across his body, pain that quickly morphs into pleasure and makes his cock twitch inside you. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jimin reaches up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Sweat makes the hair remain in place, pushed up, making him look as wrecked as he sounds. His cheeks are bright red now, and the color bleeds down his neck, where you’re sure his chest is bright red, too. 

Fuck, why didn’t you take off his shirt? It feels like a quick and dirty fuck, although you’re not sure you want it to be. You’re unsure what you want this to be or mean. Or how you want it to feel. 

All you know is that you feel like you’ll come at the sight of Jimin’s toned stomach and chest when you pull the hem of his shirt up to bunch it right above his nipples. 

Holding onto the fabric gives you more leverage to pick up your pace. It’s needed because Jimin is a puddle beneath you. His arms are tossed to his slides like they’re made out of rubber, flopped onto the couch cushions. He can barely lift his hips. He only makes a few weak attempts to thrust into you before he’s whining again, head lolled to the side with furrowed eyebrows. He looks so fucked out. 

“Please, ahh, fuck, please,” Jimin begs, though you’re not sure for what. 

“Wanna come, pretty boy?” You squeeze his t-shirt harder and yank it slightly, just enough to pull Jimin’s back a few inches from the couch. “You’re gonna have to work harder. I already gave you so much.” 

Jimin’s eyes roll in pleasure when you clench around him, little “oh’s” and “ah’s” punched out of him. “Okay, yes, yes, fuck, yes, I’ll be soooo—”

You bring his hands back to your waist as he babbles. The contact must give him a bit of clarity because he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and begins to thrust into you hard. 

“I’ll. Be. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word is punctuated by a mind-shattering thrust as Jimin pulls you down onto his cock. 

If you were on the edge before, you’re falling by the time he picks up the pace and thrusts into you even harder. The buildup was long and hot, yet your orgasm hits you so hard it might as well have been a surprise. 

You curl into yourself and press your face into the crook of Jimin’s neck while he continues his unforgiving rhythm until he comes with a choked-out moan of your name. 

The silence should be uncomfortable. How awkward and irrational was it to simply… tell Jimin that you wanted to fuck? And for Jimin to go along with it? Casual hookups aren’t really your thing. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to be the exception for everything, though. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence as the two of you try to calm down, your chests rising and falling in tandem. It’s comforting to lean all your weight on Jimin, despite how his bunched-up t-shirt presses uncomfortably into your chest. Even the feeling of his cock softening inside of you doesn’t bother you any. 

At some point, Jimin had placed the blunt in the ashtray on the coffee table. It's shocking that he had the mind to do so; you would have accidentally burned a hole into his comfy, expensive-looking couch. It's a good thing you had the mind to use a condom. Imagine burn marks and cum stains. Sheesh. 

The kiss Jimin presses to your temple when he turns his head feels way more domestic than you deserve. You smile, teeth pressed against his skin, despite yourself. You can blame the giddiness you feel on the weed, and not whatever Pretty Boy Jimin has done to trigger warmth inside your chest. 

“I think I gave you more than the tip…” 

With narrowed eyes, you lift your head from Jimin’s neck to look him square in the face so quickly that you’re worried you might pull a muscle in your neck. “You’re not fucking funny.” 

Jimin lets his head fall back to laugh hard enough that his eyes squeeze shut. It’s so endearing that you overlook such a bad joke. Pretty Boy Jimin seems to get away with a lot. You don’t mind it as much as you act like you do. 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[shewolf-sinclair]

I HATE when people dumb down Jason Todd “he’s impulsive/irrational/erratic/brash/dumb/the angry robin!”

WRONG

let me break it down for you fools because he’s actually like one of the most nuanced and complex characters to ever bless my presence (and he’s the best ((my fav)) robin argue with the wall) (tldr at the end but please read the post)

Starting out as robin they are ALL orphans. because that’s like bruce’s thing. BUT dick and tim had families before bruce adopted them. Jason did not. HE GREW UP ON THE STREETS. (+10 points for truama✨) which led him to grow up to be independent and resourceful. Bruce literally met him because he was trying to steal the bat mobiles tires with the intent of reverse engineering them to sell to the people of gotham because bullet proof tires in that kinda city would save lives source

As for being brash. Yeah. he is. he lacks people skills because HE GREW UP ON THE STREETS. yet he still knows how to sympathize with people and not be an ass ALL the time. he’s cocky sure but it’s a defensive mechanism after years of being treated like he doesn’t have value/having to prove himself. and damien is worse lets bsffr.

He’s impulsive. (likely adhd) Teenager. next question.

He’s the angriest robin! he only ever wants vengeance! WRONG. dick is angrier! he was so petty he left gotham and got a new identity just as a fuck you to bruce. any anger Jason has is not unmatched or outdone by other robins and he is rightfully angry he’s been dealt a crappy hand in life. he’s jealous of dick because bruce was ALWAYS comparing him and telling heroic stories of dicks feats. it’s hard not to push yourself to be as good as or better than the og and not to crack under said pressure.

He’s dumb! NOPE. he is as smart if not smarter than tim. He is BRILLIANT when he wants to be. (see above: resourceful) if you take titans (cw) as canon (why wouldn’t u its as canon as any other tv show??) he is a GENIUS. he taught himself chemistry so he could invent and mass produce drugs. he had a genius strategy to fuck with the titans; the puzzle of clues for which dick needed scarecrow, kory, gar, and conner to solve. Not to mention him finding doctor light earlier in the season. He leads the outlaws bc he is a natural leader and good at handling the details!!

He’s a villain! OKAY AND? SO WAS HARLEY BUT WE LUV HER !! DAMIEN WAS A TRAINED ASSASAIN! he puts so much effort into helping people (see above: resourceful) HE RISKED/LOST HIS LIFE FOR IT. HE IS FIERCELY LOYAL. even as red hood he obtains a strict moral code; no drugs to kids or by schools, don’t kill innocent uninvolved people(depends on which media you’re looking at). serve karma on a gold platter. unlawful but USUALLY NOT unethical. he also becomes a vigilante (and the JL for a bit) and does so much good! none of them are perfect ALL of the time. and considering the other DC villains, he’s not that evil.

strength?? no problem! he almost beat dick and bruce several times in the comics!! source

not to mention his proficiency for new things (see above: chemistry) his whole time as robin he uses bat tech. but redhood uses guns and knives. he just picked that up and was a skilled marksman immediately. (also truama response after nearly dying to death stroke)

so what hes kinda fucked in the head. aren’t they all? isn’t that… the point? it’s justified after everything he’s been through AND it makes hims a better character, more 3D more realistic and relatable.

also for the sake of this thesis partially disregard the wonderful work of art that is WFA it’s a fixit. for a reason. because the it was broken and needed fixing.

TLDR; you don’t have to like Jason Todd, or think he’s the best Robin, but you have to admit, he is a complex, layered, well written character. And stop mischaracterizing him and dumbing him down to this impulsive, angry, weak kid.

bonus: my Jason playlist

[itsmadamehydra]

Doll Face | Fezco Euphoria

part 1 part 2

Pairing: Fezco x Latina!Mouse sister! reader

Summary: Mouse's sister was an excellent girl, a good student even, until life happened and she had to leave every dream behind. A particular friend was left behind too in the process. Years later, they meet again, but they aren't the kids they once used to be.

Warnings: 1.8+ words, mouse sister, drug life, language, non-desired-sexual situations, forced sexual labor, exploitation of teenage girl, abuse, abusive household

a/n: Ok, Spanish is my first language and English second, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. Second, I tried to research if Mouse was of any latin american origin, but I couldn't find any information. The actor is referred to as Lating King, so I'll use that as a reference. Thank you for reading! Hope you like it. Any suggestions will be highly appreciated <3

It had always seemed funny to you. The reaction on people’s faces when they came to know whose sister you were. At first, you were proud, sort of. You knew your family didn’t dedicate themselves to an average 9-5 job pretty early. But that never stopped you from feeling happy by having them around you most of the time.

It was like a dream at first. You would come from school, and your mama would always be beside your papá, talking about something you were too young to understand thereupon. Your big brother was known to be in his room with his friends, and you weren't allowed inside.

That didn’t bother you. It never did because at the end of the day, you would all sit down to dinner together and it felt amazing having to see people gather random things to use as chairs because there were just too many people.

It all just seemed like a big diverse family. You loved it.

You were a straight-A little girl type, and papá always made sure to share with you that you would be the first of the family to ever go to college. You were going to become the pride of your family.

Teachers loved you and never had any problem when you asked for extra help. Even your classmates were always helpful and nice towards you, especially one guy that you had math class with.

Fezco

He was one of the nice weird kids. He didn’t talk with anyone much, but you like to believe you were his exception.

It all started due to you not noticing the exercises at the back of the page at that time, you were sitting in front of him, and he noticed this.

“Uhm, hey, sorry, but I think your page is kinda…blank” he drew your attention by tapping your shoulder softly.

“What do you mean?” you stared at him, confused.

“Well, yeah. The back side is blank.” he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to make you understand

“There was a backside!”

“There’s always a back part in math, little girl.”

“Shit- Sorry!” you covered your mouth, embarrassed.

“What are you sorry for?” he looked at you confused.

“I- well… I cursed. Ladies aren’t supposed to curse.”

“Why?”

“It’s unethical.”

“Huh,” he inhaled, “Well, the teacher is about to collect the homework, so if you want to copy from mine, go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ok, thank you so much, Fezco.”

“Call me Fez.”

“Fezco.”

“Alright.”

After that, it seemed like he had chosen you to be his partner in any class you had together. From that moment on, he would always whisper the answers in your ear, making sure you always had the same as his.

He would even grab your homework and correct your mistakes. It seemed so easy for him that you started to believe he was a genius.

“You are one smart mathematician,” you murmured once as you lay beside him on one of the school’s rooftops.

“A what?” he moved his head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you.

“Mathematician, you will be a great one day.’

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Oh, you know…a person who likes and is good at math.”

“Hell yeah. I'll be one, doll face.”

“Fezco! No cursing.” you giggled.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

You smiled, looking at each other barely, holding in your giggles.

And then everything went to shit.

“Mami! Papi! I’m home!” you entered your home with your cheeks painted and a big smile, hoping to see your parents in the living room, but only your brother was to be found with a bottle in hand.

“Hey, have you seen-”

“They ain't coming back home, little one.” he took one sip.

“What do you mean? They went on a field trip and didn’t take me?”

“Yeah. But more like they went to heaven.”

“Heaven? But that's a few hours away,” you tried, you really tried to be oblivious. Act stupid, “I read it on a map!”

“You can’t be that dumb,” he chuckled sourly, “Mom and pops are dead, and you know that.”

You stayed quiet. Looking at him and trying to keep your tears inside, hoping to be a cruel joke from your big brother.

“Now, I need you to understand something else,” he stood up, walking towards you, completely towering over you, “No more school for you.”

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t need some governmental shit to be put inside your brain when you could be doing something more beneficial for me, us.”

“But I don’t wanna leave school,” you whined sweetly, “Papi said I would go to college!”

“Pops said it, not me,” he grabbed you from your low ponytail without pulling, twisting it around his fingers. “You’r ‘bout to learn about the family business, little sissy.”

And just like that, your life went spiraling into a deep pile of shit and more shit.

It started simple, nothing too hardcore. You prepared his pre-rolled, and he said your petite fingers were perfect for the job. Then, you started addressing him as “Mouse” since he has some respect to show or something along the lines.

And you did that for quite a long time, being grateful to keep some sort of young teen childhood innocence. Until one of his friends mentioned something about your changing body.

“Yo! Mouse! Your sister si que tiene unas lindas tetas eh! ¿A cuanto por una sobada?” they all laughed, but you knew your brother had a realization. (Your sister has a nice pair of tits, how much for a touch?)

His little sissy wasn't so little anymore. And lucky you, the neighborhood home strip club was taking applications, and they loved young girls.

“Pero mira que lindo lugar te conseguí hermanita, ¿a que no?" he laughed, licking his lips at the sight of the bare chest and intimate parts by the women dancing or waitress. (Look what a nice place I got you lil’ sissy, pretty isn't it?)

“I don’t want to be here, Mouse,” you said with a scared tone, “I don’t feel comfortable.”

“What you mean!?”

“I want to leave now, Mouse,” you said, trying to sound stern and covering your eyes to bring the different color neon lights.

If you had not, you would have seen him before he pulled you by your hair.

“Mouse!”

“Shut your fucking mouth and listen!” he spoke in your ear, spitting saliva, “You ain't eating nor coming home hasta que me traigas minimo mil, got it?” you nodded. (until you bring me at least a thousand)

“But how am I going to get you that?”

“Well, why else would I bring you here!? You got the place and a job start dancing!”

You looked at all sides, looking for some type of explanation or help, but all you could notice were a few pity looks from the women already working there.

“But…I am just fifteen, and I do not have any clothes like those,” you tried hard to convince him to take you away from there.

“C’mon I was thirteen when I banged my first chick, besides you got underwear underneath that, right?”

You nodded, unsure.

“Then don’t come back until you have that money in hand we clear.”

“Como el agua,” you murmured (like the water)

It took you some time to gather the money. It took you long enough to gather the courage to walk out of the dressing room in your underwear. Thankfully, some women there pitied you and gave you some money so you didn't have to socialize too much with the customers.

That day you became aware of how disgusting looks from men and women could be. But you became happy when at the end of the third day, the money had been collected. Until you were about to leave, the place and the owner took half of your money.

That’s when you knew that they take half of the tips, more if you get opinionated about it.

You had to work for it, they said. To start showing some more for some extra bills. To hide it somewhere, they won't see it.

Took you some time, but you felt elated when you knocked on that worn-down door you loved.

“Here’s the money,” you placed it in his hand with a smile, and he threw 100 back at you.

“Go get some work clothes and your food for a month.”

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen”

“At seventeen, you start paying rent.”

Then, you were his investment. His friends and co-workers wanted to see you dance. They wanted to see you shake your chest and back for them. They wanted to touch you. And if you objected? A dislocated shoulder, 3 broken ribs, and black-eyed followed you for a month, and you objected…a lot.

But you learned how to handle it. You had to and became a pro. The favorite one in the club, and the best one of Mouse’s girls, even if you had to do some things you despised.

At least you were treated better.

And then, you saw him.

You were at home, doing some dances for Mouse’s people along with two other girls.

You had numbed yourself and your emotions. You had created an alter ego and a safe place in your mind where you could wander off whenever you were working. Funny enough, you had come to like dancing with a pole. You found it artistic, just not the other things it came with.

You were concentrated on grinding on top of the man beneath you, concentrated in your safe place. Ignoring his wandering hands beneath your work clothes, his groping. But some voices distracted you. You switched positions so you could stare at the men coming in.

It was a redhead, and he seemed…cute.

You could hear them going and on about quantities and deadlines, and you better pay me up before blah, blah, and more blah.

“You know what, I liked you, carrot boy,” Mouse smiled, rubbing his palms against each other, “Let me gift you with one of my best girls. Sweetcheecks, com’ere!”

“She’s busy, my man,” said the man underneath, simulating pounding into you while you kept grinding him with him groping your chest.

“Not‘nymore, fuck off,” he grabbed him by the arm and pulled the redhead to your seat, “Treat him good, will ya?”

You nodded and started doing your job. It was actually easy to please a man. Just some elaborate touching and grinding, especially grinding, and to let them touch whenever and wherever.

You could feel him looking at you, his eyes locked. Almost making you feel embarrassed by what you were doing. He seemed like the gentle type. He even kept his hands to himself. You could be wrong, and when you felt his hand grabbing you by your neck and taking you near his lips. You knew you were wrong. He needed some time before he felt full of himself and started groping you like the others.

“Doll face, is that you?”

part 2? Let me know...

[run2yoongi]

after hours | myg x reader

for whatever reason, your boss liked to work you to the bone. your countless hours of overtime and extra work never seemed to tide him over, he always expected more. after a year, your patience was wearing thin, so you finally decide to ask him what it is exactly he wants.

↳ pairing: boss!yoongi x reader

↳ setting: office worker au, kinda angsty, smut

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, bondage, unethical power dynamics/abuse of power, degradation, unprotected sex (dont do it bbyz), hurt and comfort, dacryphilia, mean dom!yoongi, teasing, spanking, creampie, no aftercare, female prefixes for reader (miss).

↳ side note: word count is 3.3k!

masterlist

"goodnight!" your coworker called out over his shoulder, waving at you as he rounded the corner and left you alone in your cold, clinical office. you hadn't even bothered to look away from your screen, just humming in response. you were tired. exhausted, if you were being honest with yourself.

you couldn't afford to be honest with yourself though, you didn't have the time. your boss, min yoongi, had asked you to send another updated report to him due in twenty minutes. you were scrounging through emails, looking to find a reference number that you knew your coworker probably hadn't even thought to send to you. it was getting impossible.

you glanced over to the corner of your desktop screen to check if you'd missed yet another dinner with the guy you'd been seeing on and off again for the last year.

7:12pm

not only were you meant to meet him at 7, but you were meant to finish work at 4. before you could even let out a frustrated sigh and search for your phone to apologise, you felt the weight of a hand rest on the back of your chair, tilting you backward, making you lose your balance.

your panicked eyes flew up to the perpetrator, coloured with a mix of anger and confusion. "do i need to enroll you in training for how to sit in a chair now?" yoongi spoke, an arrogant smirk tugging on his lips. if only he wasn't your boss, you'd think about slapping him.

you gathered yourself and swiftly sat upright, twirling the chair around slightly to break his grip. it had been over a year yet, you were still stunned by how beautiful your boss is. his dark hair was swept softly behind his ears, allowing the harsh office lighting to highlight the peaks of face, his nose and cheekbones. you'd accepted the job offer the second he'd extended it. how could you refuse a face like that?

you remembered how soft his lips looked when he'd smiled at you for the first time, right when you came in for your interview. if you'd known then that you'd be working 11 hour days, maybe you'd have realised that he was likely smiling because you'd fallen right into his trap.

"how's the report coming along?" he asked as his smirk faded into a stern line. you sighed, glancing back at your monitor. "i'm just looking for one last item, and i'll be done." you explained, attempting to keep the fatigue out of your tone to no avail.

"you're still new, but you should be working on your efficiency, y/n." he sighed, shifting his weight to lean on your desk. you swallowed the anger growing in your throat, nodding in response. "yes, sir." you bit the inside of your cheek, lost for words at his condescension. silence filled the room, and the tension in your stomach was growing unbearable.

what the fuck did he want from you?

none of your other coworkers had to submit daily reports, and you were the only one expected to bring everyone coffee in the morning, the only one expected to set up meeting rooms for yoongi without being asked, the only one who did almost four hours of over time every day.

"d-did everyone have to do all this when they started here?" you asked, gulping as you suppressed the anxiety that rose from questioning your boss. he raised an eyebrow at you, crossed his arms across his chest, and sighed, not breaking his scolding gaze. "what do you mean?"

"oh, i- uh." you stuttered, heat spreading across your face. "the reports, and the..." you trailed off, eyes darting across the empty office. "the overtime." you finished quietly.

yoongi stared at you, examining the pink flush growing across your cheeks and ears. his eyes flashed with amusement as you squirmed under his gaze, desperate for him to break the silence and answer the question. "i- i don't mind, it's just..." you stuttered, unable to look anywhere besides the floor beneath you.

"...you just?" he asked, voice dripping with levity.

"i mean, tonight, for example," you swallowed, struggling to find your words. "i had plans that i had to miss because of all the extra work." you heard him let out a short exhale, a silent laugh at your desperate plea. "extra work? you think you're working harder than your coworkers?" he mused. your eyes flew up to meet his teasing grin, shocked at his misinterpretation of your words. "that's not what i meant-" you began to explain, shifting in your seat.

"is there somewhere you'd rather be, miss y/n?" he asked smugly grinning at your panicked state. you hesitated, because yes, of course, there was somewhere you'd rather be. he stretched his hand out on your desk, sliding his pointer across it before checking for dust. "how about you finish the report, and then we can talk." he added, standing up from his position on your desk before straightening his blazer jacket and nodding his farewell at you.

-

after yoongi's brief intervention, you'd finished even later than you anticipated. the printer jamming didn't help either, you'd only managed to place your report on your boss's desk before 8pm. it was already dark out and you were contemplating calling an uber instead of catching the bus when yoongi interrupted your train of thought. "before you go," he spoke, gesturing to the seat in front of you at his desk. without a word, you took a seat, placing your hands in your lap.

"tell me about how you're being overworked." he invited, leaning back in his chair. your eyes flickered to the small of his waist, and you noted that he'd taken his jacket off, now tossed on the couch against the wall. you eyed his collar, the loosened tie, the top button undone. you'd never seen him disheveled like this.

"well?" he asked, noticing exactly where your eyes were going.

"i- i mean, i'm the only one here so far after hours." you spoke, stumbling over your words as you snapped out of your sinful thoughts. "and doing the team reports, i- i don't..."

a smile spread across his features as he slowly stood up from his chair and sauntered over to you, seating himself on his desk, his thighs only inches away from your knees. "i'm here too, you know." he spoke almost in a whisper, drawing you in. "you know the saying about diamonds being forged under pressure?" he added, not expecting an answer.

you shook your head, frustration building up and spreading across your body. "i guess i just don't know what you expect of me, sir." you sighed, unable to prevent the anger you felt slipping into your speech.

yoongi tutted, crossing his legs in front of you. "only the best from you," he laughed quietly. "you want to know how to please me, y/n?" he asked, fingers tracing down the length of his tie as his facade of professionalism seemed to vanish. you nodded, ignoring the icy sensation of butterflies in your stomach. he leaned over, lowering his face until it was just above yours. "be better." he spoke.

your eyes started burning and tears formed at their corners almost instantly. the sinking feeling in your stomach was almost painful as your chin quivered at the insult. you couldn't look at him. you had been working hellish hours, day in and day out at his request and this is how he regarded you. your view of the floor began to blur as a tear fell down your cheek and onto your thigh.

you flinched and closed your eyes as yoongi extended his arm to you and cupped your face, the pad of his thumb smearing a tear across your cheek. his touch was cold, providing relief for you in your heated state. you couldn't help but lean into his hand, despite your anger. "so pretty," he said under his breath as it hitched. you opened your eyes and looked up at him, confused. through your blurred vision, you saw him swallow.

"fuck," he breathed, staring into your eyes as his hand went from your face to his mouth. you wiped your eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to save yourself from the humiliation of crying in front of your boss. "stand up." he demanded, face deadly serious while you stared at him, bewildered. after you sat there, still, his hand reached out to pull you from the chair. you felt how hard and fast your heart was beating, how the confusion slowed your brain down, heat stirring deep inside you.

"you're such an obedient worker," he spoke, still looking down over you as he leaned on his desk. "always do whatever i say,". silence filled the room again as your heart hammered in your chest. you hated him for doing this to you and you were embarrassed, but his hot-and-cold tone made it impossible for you to leave. his words made you feel something, a mixture of humiliation and heat. you wanted his approval, his validation and you wanted him. you wanted it so bad you ached.

"that's why i keep you around, y/n." he finally spoke.

you gulped, the frustration and confusion mixing to form a mess of arousal and eagerness to please your boss. "y-you keep me back because i do what you want?" you ask, trying to keep what was left of your professional composure, although yoongi's had clocked out a long time ago.

he nodded slowly, breathing you in as you stood before him. "bend over." he instructed, finally standing. "that's what i want." he added, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. you contemplated it, mulling it over in your mind. yoongi wasn't going to make you do it, he was waiting to see how far you'd go.

"you'll let me go home at a reasonable hour?" you asked, it slowly dawning on you what exactly you were negotiating over. yoongi hummed and walked behind you, pulling the chair away from the desk. "i don't think you'll want to, but we'll see.". the thought sent a wave of electricity through you.

you didn't know what to expect from yoongi. of course, you'd thought about fucking him, but in your fantasies you were made to share a bed at some work trip, it had been romantic and critically, hadn't started with you crying. nevertheless, you stepped forward towards the desk and placed your hands on the cool wooden surface.

you felt his hand press against the expanse of your thigh, rubbing it over in soothing motions before he retracted it and landed a cruel, hard slap against the tender spot. you groaned at the lingering sting on your skin, knees buckling beneath you as your jaw clenched. "what you really lack," he spanked your thigh again, harder and higher up your legs. "is discipline."

he placed a hand on your back, pushing you further down and bringing your face flush against the desk. you felt your skirt hitch up and rest against your hips, revealing your plain black underwear. you certainly hadn't expected anyone to be seeing your ass today, otherwise, you might have worn something a litter lacier. yoongi didn't seem to mind as he groped the flesh of your ass before landing another slap, this time on your behind, earning a strangled moan.

"this is what you're good for," he growled as he brought your hands behind your back. you heard the rustling of fabric before feeling him place his tie around your wrists, wrapping it tightly around them before pulling it into a knot with a swift yank. he spanked you again before stepping back to take in the sight with an approving smile.

"so tell me where you'd rather be, y/n." he mused, rubbing the reddening hand marks on your skin. "getting fucked by some fucking low-life who can't even pick you up from work? was that one of the plans you've had to miss because of your mean boss?" his fingers drifted over your aching core and you shifted your hips, desperate for relief from the stinging his ruthless slaps had caused. he responded by applying more pressure as he stroked you over your folds.

"so fucking desperate," he chided, pressing your underwear into your soaked core. "you should hear the way your coworkers speak about you. such a pretty thing, such a tight ass." he was mimicking someone, you couldn't tell who.

you let out a hum, unable to answer as the reality of the situation was still forming in your mind. you just wanted him, you didn't care anymore. you wriggled your hips, backing them into his palm. his free hand slipped onto your hip, pulling your underwear down until they were at your knees. from the corner of your eye, you saw him bend down onto his knees as both of his hands regained their grip on your ass. "please," you whined, pleading for his taunting to be over.

his tongue was hot and wet, licking long stripes and pushing past your folds. the foreign feeling sent you reeling, and you let out a high-pitched moan as you felt your face heat up against his desk. he stood up and leaned over you, his face behind your ear as his fingers found their way to your clit. "obedient little slut," he hissed, his venomous words shooting straight to your core. "you come into my office every day after hours wearing your tight skirts and heels,"

he rubbed your clit in fast, tiny circles making you moan whenever his index finger passed over it with a little too much pressure. "and you wonder why i always keep you back?" he laughed incredulously, you could hear the disbelief in his voice. he stood back up, removing his hand from your soaked pussy. you heard him fiddle with his zipper before pulling his cock out of his slacks. you wished you could see it, you just knew it would be as pretty as he was. he pumped it slowly, looking over you as you squirmed in your powerless position. "can't fucking take it anymore," he sounded desperate. you wondered how long he'd been thinking about this, planning this.

you weren't prepared when you felt his cock press against you, its smooth length coating itself in your arousal. he groaned as he rubbed himself against you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you into him. "tell me to stop," he said, almost begging. you knew how bad this would be for him, for you, for the company, but you couldn't. you needed him.

"i want you," you replied in your softest of voices. "please, sajangnim"

you felt him line himself up behind you before slowly entering you, filling your core as you fluttered around him. you let out an unrestrained moan in tandem, finally feeling a ripple of pleasure wash over you. he didn't ease you into it before pumping himself into you, using a firm grip on your hair as leverage for his merciless thrusts. "fuck," he exclaimed, throwing his head back as he fucked you over the desk, papers and pens falling to the floor. "you're my slut," he panted.

you nodded against the desk, his unrelenting strokes invoking waves of ecstasy every time his cock filled you up. "yours," you agreed mindlessly. "only yours."

he slapped your ass, the pain adding to the spreading pleasure taking over your body. "you'll fuck when i want you to fuck," he spoke through his grunting. "say you'll suck my dick whenever i ask."

you could barely register his words through your moans and the deafening pleasure. "yes, sir, whatever you want." despite your concession, he slapped the side of your thigh. he fucked you, unrelenting and unforgiving like he'd been deprived for years.

he used your tied wrists to pull you flat against his chest as his other hand snaked around your front, rubbing between your folds and stroking your clit as you moaned at the overstimulation. "greedy slut." he spat, sharply impaling you with a powerful thrust that hurt. you felt the tie come loose from your wrists.

you whined, needing him to be satisfied and continue pleasing you like he had been. he pulled out of you, forcefully turning you around and pushing your ass into his desk. for the first time, you saw his crazed expression, lips wet, coated with spit and your essence. his pupils were blown out and his expression was serious, almost furious. if you weren't so turned on, you'd almost be scared.

as he pushed you further onto the desk, you used your palms to keep your balance as he carelessly brought one of your legs up and around his waist. for a brief moment, you eyed his cock- thick and hard. pretty, like you'd expected.

you couldn't look for long before he slotted himself between your legs and entered you again, his eyes trained on your chest as your tits bounced in response to his thrusts. his lips were parted as he fucked into you, cockily driving into you like he knew how good it felt.

moans passed your lips before you could register them, your orgasm building even quicker now that you could actually see what he was doing to you. "lie down." he grunted, pushing you down before you could respond. he lifted your other leg and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk, the tip of his cock pumping your hilt, drawing a pained groan from your throat.

this position was almost too much for you to handle, allowing yoongi to reach deeper inside of you than he had before. or really, deeper than anyone had before. your palms tapped against his arm in desperation as you gasped, ready to reach your orgasm. "please, i'm going to-" you began. he slapped your thigh, cutting you off and breaking your train of thought. he continued rolling his hips into you at a tireless pace, desperate to reach his own end. "such a slut for me, cumming on my cock already?"

you hummed, nodding eagerly at his words. one of your legs fell as he released his hold, his hand finding its way to your pussy to rub soft circles over your clit. you were almost sobbing, the pleasure ripping through you pitilessly. you arched your back as his cock slid in and out of you while the first wave of your orgasm began to crash, wetness spreading down your legs and onto the desk. "yoongi!" you exclaimed as he fucked you through the peak your orgasm, your fingernails digging into his toned arms. your vision began to whiten as you came, unable to think of anything besides how incredible and intoxicating he felt inside you.

the fluttering of your walls and increasing tightness around his cock became too much, and yoongi lowered his gaze to where the two of you met. a thick ring of white had formed at the base of his cock, and it sent him over the edge. he dug his fingernails into the flesh of your thigh as he released a whiny grunt at the realisation. you felt him pulsate inside you, his thrusts becoming unrestrained and rigid as his eyes crammed shut. his grunts became moans as you felt him release inside you, your name falling from his lips in breathy pleas. his thrusts finally slowed as his tip became too sensitive to continue.

he unsheathed himself and tucked his wet cock back into his pants, you could still make out the hard, thick shape underneath. silence filled the room as you began to move, closing your legs and hopping off the desk. yoongi raised an eyebrow and bent down to pull your underwear back up against your pussy. "don't waste a fucking drop." he whispered before winking at you. you straightened out your skirt as you processed his words.

he'd finished inside you.

he rubbed your clothed cunt before standing back up and fixing your collar, as if he was getting ready to send you back off to work. though, you had a feeling he wasn’t done yet. "i'll drop you home." he spoke, turning on his heel to grab his jacket from the couch.

like he hadn't just completely changed everything for you.

[inked-spirit]

Another random DpxDc au thought...

Came up with all this while playing gotham knight today lol

Aight so base line of the au, this is a Jason adopts baby Danny kinda thing.

And because I like all the other angsty things that can come with this one, still a halfa baby Danny:)

---

The portal was completed when Danny was just shy of 6 months old.

Jack and Maddie never really paid that much attention to there children and so most of Danny's care came from 7 year old jazz.

In the living room on the day the portal was complete, an exhausted jazz was passed out on the couch. Her little brother climbing out of her arms and following the strange green light he saw permit from the basement door.

Jack and Maddie were too engrossed in there work to notice there 6 month old son make his way over to the portal before his little delicate hand tripped a loose wire and the portal activated itself.

They find little halfa Danny and decide to keep him as a specimen down in the basement.

Tests, experiments, ect: all unethical. They belive there son is gone and that little phantom is just an exhausted of him.

Jazz tried on many occasions to help her baby brother get out and to a safe place, eventually one of her attempts succeeded when a ghost in purple robes came to her aid with a promise to bring him to a family that would love and protect him, to a man who's similar to Danny and would make a perfect father.

Jazz agrees with the promise that she'll get to meet him one day when he's older to see who he'd grow up to be.

Cut to Jason who was just passing through crime alleys docks when something stirred the pits and he heard a cry.

He followed the pits to find a bundle of writhing fabric behind a crate.

Inside was a baby who looked almost identical to Jason from the hair to the eyes. Little baby Danny. He quickly stopped up the child and finds a green (glowing?) Sticky note poking out of the side.

"To the man who's walking dead,

This is Daniel, a child in need of a safe home."

A closer look showed the infant had small scars and a few nicks/bruises. Something that should never be apon a child. Especially this young.

The child's eyes flashed a Lazarus green in retaliation to Jason's own.

He cooed reaching his little hands towards Jason. With a little happy smile.

Jason felt something tug in his chest at the sight of the little guys show of affection.

Fuck Bruce, this little one is his.

---

I'm terrible at writting little things of information but much better when just writting it as a story. Sorry if it doesn't really make sense.

I have so many little scenarios and the base storyline down in my head that I may talk about tommorow if anyone would allow me to elaborate. For now I'm tired and going to bed.

[clownhara]

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

[simplepotatofarmer]

could you tell us more about the c!rivals duo soul eater au please? /nf

i really like soul eater with its concept despite not having gotten to watch it and would love to hear about the au

OKAY.

so it's really bare bones, but the concept is that c!dream's former meister (as in the one that he's technically still with when he meets c!techno) did some pretty unethical experiments on dream which left dream very messed up, honestly.

he eventually gets away and meets techno who is also a weapon and he doesn't have a meister.

anyway, they both can wield each other! they have a lot of trust and resonance because they've kinda been through some crap, y'know?

as far as weapons: dream is a dagger/knife but one of those with a chain and fairly large ball on the end. perfect for getting in close and disabling, immobilizing people. techno is a big battle axe! sometimes i think maybe he'd have one side that's actually a hammer head though?

but basically, they fit each other's fighting styles. c!techno doesn't use a shield: he gets in close, he uses other things (like potions in canon, the chain here) to augment his fighting. where c!dream hits hard! he uses an axe literally in canon but he's also fast.

anyway, i've just always loved the idea of these two both being weapons, knowing what it's like to sometimes have a shitty partner, and finding that they work so well together!

[winterrrnight]

omg could i also get meet me in the hallway with zach and prompt 14?? (i think that was the icing on the ceiling one LOL)

(if you can’t tell i want to feed your zach maclaren fever)

I absolutely love every single prompt you've requested like they've all turned out so good so thank you sm bestie 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

baking fail

PAIRING: zach maclaren x gn!reader

SUMMARY: all you wanted to do was bake a cake for your boyfriend.

WARNINGS: reader absolutely sucks at baking and cooking, a lot of usage of nicknames like babe & love, reader is sensitive and kinda a crybaby, fluff towards the end :)

EDITH SPEAKS: I wrote this in one sitting and absolutely loved the outcome so I hope you all enjoy reading it too!! 💖💖

PROMPT REQUESTED: "how did you manage to get the frosting on the ceiling?"

300 followers celebration (now closed) || navigation

You’ve never really thought of yourself as a baker, always allowing your boyfriend to take up on all the cooking tasks in your home. But when he played regionals with his soccer team and came out a winner, you knew you wanted to do something extremely special for him.

You decide to bake a little cake for him, and generously coat it with frosting. You go on the internet to find a quick and easy recipe for a beginner like you, because there is no room for you to make a mistake.

Zach is on his way back to your home after the long tournament, and you have around 2 hours to finish making the cake. It’s a tight margin, but you’re absolutely determined to finish it in time.

As you read the instructions on your phone, you smile to yourself. “This seems easy enough, just follow the steps exactly as it says and I’ll have a beautiful cake by the end!” you wonder.

But boy, oh boy, no one warned you that it’s not easy as it seems.

You’ve seen Zach bake around the house often, and it always looks effortless, as if it’s the easiest thing on this planet.

But when you get your hands on his baking equipment, trying to whip one up as if you’re Willy Wonka, you realize you just aren’t made to bake.

With one and a half hours passed, you don’t have your cake baking in the oven, which is way behind your schedule. You wanted to have it in the oven at the one hour mark, so you can take your time to make the frosting perfectly, and even maybe clean a bit around the house in the time you’ll have left.

There is a mess of cake batter all over your kitchen counters, along with random boxes of ingredients opened, their contents spilling due to the unethical way they’re placed in. Your apron, which was once white, is now covered with flour and cocoa powder, some wet mixture you aren’t very sure what it actually is, and you are feeling absolutely gross in this condition.

Before you can even think what to do next (which could’ve just been surprising him with a store bought cake), you hear the door of your apartment opening.

“Babe I’m home!” You hear Zach, and your heart almost melts on hearing his voice, which was only a mere static noise through your phone all these past days. But your condition right now is the worst surprise to give him after he’s coming home with a big achievement.

“Babe, where are you?” He calls out, walking around the house to try and find you. You don’t have the strength to call out his name or run up to him, feeling tired from your failed attempt at baking.

Zach wasn’t expecting you to be in the kitchen (when are you even in there?), but when he can’t find you anywhere else, he walks to the kitchen. Just as he enters, he looks at the counters, opened cabinets, a drawer which is almost on the peak of falling out, a completely full sink, and in the corner, you, covered in all sorts of junk.

“Hey bub,” you mumble from your place, wanting to hug him but you don’t want to get his clothes dirty.

“What happened?” He asks, walking to you.

“I just… I just wanted to bake something for you,” you whisper, starting to feel your eyes blur with tears, your mind screaming at you and calling you a hopeless partner.

“Aww love, that is so sweet of you,” he smiles, kissing your forehead.

“I couldn’t even make you a simple cake Zach,” you cry. You just wanted to show a little gesture of love, just the way he does with you. He always makes something special for you when you come home after a long day at work, or when you’ve had a bad day, or if you’re coming home with a promotion. You only wanted to do the same.

“That’s nothing to cry about love, I love that you tried. And it’s the thought that counts,” he gives you another kiss on your forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” you try to start cleaning up the kitchen, feeling confused on where to start but you decide to just pick up the utensils first.

Zach stands there watching you, not sure on how to make you feel better. He sighs, tilting his head back to think. But something on the ceiling distracts his thoughts.

“Babe,” he calls you out, and you hum in response, “how did you manage to get the frosting on the ceiling?”

Confused, you look up to see a pink blotch of your “frosting” on the ceiling.

“How did that get there?” You wonder, your tears vanishing immediately as you look up at the ceiling. Instead of feeling even more stressed, you let out a giggle, realizing it’s all just hilarious.

“You’re the one who should know that love,” Zach chuckles. He walks closer to you and takes the dirty whisk in your hand, placing it somewhere on the counter.

He moves his hands to hold your face gently, caressing your cheeks as he kisses you on your lips.

“Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up yeah? We can deal with this mess later.”

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @assmaaaaa

[fatuismooches]

Hi!!! This is my first time saying anything here, so yayyy! But I say that one ask from another anon talking about how Dottore had never recorded fragile!reader's voice before and then forgot what it sounds like, and my brain made some jumps and--

I like to think that sometimes, whether when Dottore is just working in the room while reader sleeps (I like to think that he's modified himself enough that he doesn't need as much sleep as regular humans) or if he's also in the bed with you, that sometimes, reader's sleeping form reminds him a little too much of when reader was in a coma. Or perhaps, even worse, and that reader's time had come while he was sleeping/working. Immediately, he has to reassure himself that you're not, in fact, dead, by either going to check their pulse and keeping his hand there longer than it needs to be (what if they die the second he takes it off??) or, if he was closer to them or sleeping with them (in the literal sense), by even just listening to it. And he tries to rationalize it with himself (bc he's so i denial, I already know it) by being like "noooo, i'm not worried!! I'm a great doctor, and I have nothing to worry about!! I'm just... checking for abnormalities!!" as if he isn't just doing it to make sure they're still alive.

Idk, the thought just popped into my head. He's lost them before without a chance of saying goodbye, and he never wants it to happen again, especially if this time they'll be gone for good.

I'd like to think that reader wasn't really aware of it until one night when he was making a little more noise than usual, and they woke up groggily to find him with their ear on their chest, desperately holding onto you as if you were going to die any second. And then the second he realized you were awake, moved off was like "Hello, I'm not doing anything sus whattt"

So now reader knows he does it, but allows it because they think it's kind of cute, but also because they know that he would never admit his fears.

Anyway, I'm kinda tired, so I don't know if this actually makes any sense. But slay!!

Thank you for feeding us Dottore content, and I hope you have a good day or night!!

You've known Zandik for a long time. So you are very aware that he has weaknesses. Yes, even though the scholar tried to hide it, his walls would slowly chip away during those late nights spent in the dorm or on expeditions. But Dottore? After you woke up, you wondered if Dottore had any weaknesses. Dottore seemed to be a man of no fear, but perhaps you should have expected that because what would someone as God-like as him have to fear now? He has much power in his grasp, surely there is nothing that could bother him. He's no longer the same Zandik you once knew, and that's okay really, but you just wonder to yourself sometimes. Little did you know Dottore's one and only fear was about you.

Il Dottore considers himself a rational man in every possible subject area. Yes, he does not allow himself to be swayed by anything as irrational as emotion and instead focuses on logic. Whether his final decision is cruel or unethical is not something he cares about. But you... you are the exception. You are the variable he cannot control. And so irrationality is one of the things he despises, swore to himself he'd never be a victim of, but here he was anyway. Succumbing to an irrational mindset is the last thing he thought he'd do.

Often times when Dottore sleeps with you, he doesn't actually sleep. He gets into the bed to appease you, because it brings you comfort, (your words) lays there for a bit until you fall asleep, and resumes his work. He is just far, far too busy to stay. But, nowadays, he finds it even harder than usual to say. Why? Because of his irrational mind, once again. He needs to know that you are alive. Which is a dumb fear really, you're not going to die, you're not going to leave, your body is stable (for now) so there's no need to worry. But he needs to know. He needs confirmation. You know. He really hates that you've done this to him. He hates it. But he can't blame you, only himself, because if he cured you already he would never have to deal with irrationality again.

Dottore is used to the quietness of a human heart, from his experiments of course, clicking his tongue in annoyance from how easily they died and feeling no emotion. But your heart, if your heart stopped... well, his madness would not be transcribed to paper very well, because it would be too hard to describe. But he denies that. And he especially denies it to you. He denies it, so that's why he finds himself counting your heart's beats per minute anyway. But now you know that even the great Il Dottore has a fear and weakness. After all, when it's only the two of you, he is only Zandik, the same man who fell hard for you all those centuries ago. But that's okay. You promised to always be there, even if he doesn't want you to be.

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LBGTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 3, Wave 1, Poll 3

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. 

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Wei Wuxian-The Untamed / Mo Dao Zu Shi

Qualifications:

Goes through a somewhat unethical organ transplant (in that the person he is giving the organ to doesn't realize that's what's going on) where he gives up his "golden core." This is like his center of power and by giving it up, not only is he not able to do most of the more "magic" things he could do before, but he's also noticeably physically weaker and gets injured much more easily (and takes longer to recover) as well as faints more often (iirc he only faints once pre-golden core removal and that was after sustaining major injuries and going on for a significant time without any healing while also fighting and traveling). Like he finds ways around it and invents new methods so that he can still do some things that he did before, just via a very different method. In the show we don't really see any characters who aren't cultivators, or at least part of that world, so Wei Wuxian is like the only character we really get to see without a golden core.

Also gotta say that this boy is severely depressed. Like "I'm-going-to-ask-my-doctor-friend-to-perform-a-mutliple-day-long-surgery-on-myself-in-which-I-will-be-awake-where-she'll-rip-out-the-core-of-my-being-and-transplant-it-into-my-adopted-brother-who-I'll-make-sure-never-finds-out-what-happened-even-though-he'll-come-to-hate-me" depressed. he has no value for his own life other than what he can give to others, even if it's his own body. like I think some fans unfairly classify him as being insane when he's really just depressed as all hell and having the worst possible things happen to him one after another and every time he breaks down it causes more trouble and usually people end up dying because of him.

Propaganda:

https://youtu.be/swbXAVADjxY ^ok this clip kinda explains the whole thing better (and obvs spoilers)

https://youtu.be/2wO5nsnkSBk ^and this video is just for fun but it's a little thing about Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng because their relationship makes me unwell

Additional Qualifications/Propaganda by @transparent-internet-maker

Kinda surprised ADHD!Wei Wuxian isn't included I thought that was a popular hc. There are several signs: He seems to forget a lot of things, but at the same time he clearly remembers other things that happened a long time ago. He invented a. lot. of things. His mind is almost never where he physically is and he's really smart in that thinks-way-too-much-out-of-the-box-in-a-short-time way. (1/2)

Then there is the fact that he's actually knowledgable, more than most of the others at times, but we see him doing whatever else he wants to instead of studying more often than not. The inventions point and this put together hint at him not being focused and having hyperfixations. And the general view of not studious but still smarter than everyone else just clear adhd I think. NOT trying to hate anyone, I thought I'd just mention this since I've seen a lot of adhd wwx.

Wade Wilson / Deadpool-Marvel

Qualifications:

pansexual who has cancer and [has] chronic pain

Propaganda:

Deadpool is all our favourite mutant/mutate merc with a mouth who suffers from chronic pain and makes others suffer by killing them, he is also pansexual and heartmates with Spiderman (they even have a ~genetically engineered evil~ daughter ~clone~ together)