#surveillance bust

[feckcops]

Secret Amazon Reports Expose the Company’s Surveillance of Labor and Environmental Groups

“Updates on labor organizing activities at warehouses include the exact date, time, location, the source who reported the action, the number of participants at an event (and in some cases a turnout rate of those expected to participate in a labor action), and a description of what happened, such as a ‘strike’ or ‘the distribution of leaflets.’ Other documents reveal that Amazon intelligence analysts keep close tabs on how many warehouse workers attend union meetings; specific worker dissatisfactions with warehouse conditions, such as excessive workloads; and cases of warehouse-worker theft ...

“The new intelligence reports obtained by Motherboard reveal in detail how Amazon uses social media to track environmental activism and social movements in Europe—including Greenpeace and Fridays For Future, environmental activist Greta Thunberg's global climate strike movement—and perceives such groups as a threat to its operations. In 2019, Amazon monitored the Yellow Vests movement, also known as the gilet jaunes, a grassroots uprising for economic justice that spread across France—and solidarity movements in Vienna and protests against state repression in Iran ...

“‘It’s not enough for Amazon to abuse its dominant market power and face antitrust charges by the EU; now they are exporting 19th century American union-busting tactics to Europe,’ Christy Hoffman, general secretary of UNI Global Union, a global federation of trade unions that represents more than 20 million workers, told Motherboard. ‘This is a company that is ignoring the law, spying on workers, and using every page of the U.S. union-busting playbook to silence workers' voices’ ...

“‘Amazon's systemic use of military surveillance methods against unionists and activists is deeply alarming,’ said Aubry, who is also a senior member of France's France Insoumise, France's main radical left party. ‘Amazon and Jeff Bezos act as if they were above the law because they have accumulated unprecedented levels of wealth and power. This has to stop.’”

#amazon #jeff bezos #amazon workers #warehouse workers #worker surveillance #workers rights #workers #trade unions #unions #union busting #gig economy #labour rights #labor rights #labour #labor #activists #activism #protestors #protests #direct action #social movements #yellow vests #gilets jaunes #policing #security services #intelligence gathering #corporate america #corporations #european capitalism #american capitalism

[aria0fgold]

Shuji is so funny and so cute and I love how well his VA did a great job on him cuz his laughs are contagious.

#aria rants #ive been playing p3p since this afternoon and having a blast at it. i just watched a surveillance footage of shuji #all alone in the command room but my guy just keeps busting out his puns its so funny

[rragnaroks]

someone has fucked up my car again

#busted taillight #no note #fuck you #maybe they have video surveillance though #uuuggghhhhhh #this KEEPS HAPPENING #internal monologue

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Don't spy on a privacy lab" (and other career advice for university provosts)

This is a wild and hopeful story: grad students at Northeastern successfully pushed back against invasive digital surveillance in their workplace, through solidarity, fearlessness, and the bright light of publicity. It’s a tale of hand-to-hand, victorious combat with the “shitty technology adoption curve.”

What’s the “shitty tech adoption curve?” It’s the process by which oppressive technologies are normalized and spread. If you want to do something awful with tech — say, spy on people with a camera 24/7 — you need to start with the people who have the least social capital, the people whose objections are easily silenced or overridden.

That’s why all our worst technologies are first imposed on refugees -> prisoners -> kids -> mental patients -> poor people, etc. Then, these technologies climb the privilege gradient: blue collar workers -> white collar workers -> everyone. Following this pathway lets shitty tech peddlers knock the rough edges off their wares, inuring us all to their shock and offense.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

20 years ago, if you ate dinner under the unblinking eye of a CCTV, it was because you were housed in a supermax prison. Today, it’s because you were unwise enough to pay hundreds or thousands of dollars for “home automation” from Google, Apple, Amazon or another “luxury surveillance” vendor.

Northeastern’s Interdisciplinary Science and Engineering Complex (ISEC) is home to the “Cybersecurity and Privacy Institute,” where grad students study the harms of surveillance and the means by which they may be reversed. If there’s one group of people who are prepared to stand athwart the shitty tech adoption curve, it is the CPI grad students.

Which makes it genuinely baffling that Northeastern’s Senior Vice Provost for Research decided to install under-desk heat sensors throughout ISEC, overnight, without notice or consultation. The provost signed the paperwork that brought the privacy institute into being.

Students throughout ISEC were alarmed by this move, but especially students on the sixth floor, home to the Privacy Institute. When they demanded an explanation, they were told that the university was conducting a study on “desk usage.” This rang hollow: students at the Privacy Institute have assigned desks, and they badge into each room when they enter it.

As Privacy Institute PhD candidate Max von Hippel wrote, “Reader, we have assigned desks, and we use a key-card to get into the room, so, they already know how and when we use our desks.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048837746204672

So why was the university suddenly so interested in gathering fine-grained data on desk usage? I asked von Hippel and he told me: “They are proposing that grad students share desks, taking turns with a scheduling web-app, so administrators can take over some of the space currently used by grad students. Because as you know, research always works best when you have to schedule your thinking time.”

That’s von Hippel’s theory, and I’m going to go with it, because the provost didn’t offer a better one in the flurry of memos and “listening sessions” that took place after the ISEC students arrived at work one morning to discover sensors under their desks.

This is documented in often hilarious detail in von Hippel’s thread on the scandal, in which the university administrators commit a series of unforced errors and the grad students run circles around them, in a comedy of errors straight out of “Animal House.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578048652215431168

After the sensors were discovered, the students wrote to the administrators demanding their removal, on the grounds that there was no scientific purpose for them, that they intimidated students, that they were unnecessary, and that the university had failed to follow its own rules and ask the Institutional Review Board (IRB) to review the move as a human-subjects experiment.

The letter was delivered to the provost, who offered “an impromptu listening session” in which he alienated students by saying that if they trusted the university to “give” them a degree, they should trust it to surveil them. The students bristled at this characterization, noting that students deliver research (and grant money) to “make it tick.”

[Image ID: Sensors arrayed around a kitchen table at ISEC]

The students, believing the provost was not taking them seriously, unilaterally removed all the sensors, and stuck them to their kitchen table, annotating and decorating them with Sharpie. This prompted a second, scheduled “listening session” with the provost, but this session, while open to all students, was only announced to their professors (“Beware of the leopard”).

The students got wind of this, printed up fliers and made sure everyone knew about it. The meeting was packed. The provost explained to students that he didn’t need IRB approval for his sensors because they weren’t “monitoring people.” A student countered, what was being monitored, “if not people?” The provost replied that he was monitoring “heat sources.”

https://github.com/maxvonhippel/isec-sensors-scandal/blob/main/Oct_6_2022_Luzzi_town_hall.pdf

Remember, these are grad students. They asked the obvious question: which heat sources are under desks, if not humans (von Hippel: “rats or kangaroos?”). The provost fumbled for a while (“a service animal or something”) before admitting, “I guess, yeah, it’s a human.”

Having yielded the point, the provost pivoted, insisting that there was no privacy interest in the data, because “no individual data goes back to the server.” But these aren’t just grad students — they’re grad students who specialize in digital privacy. Few people on earth are better equipped to understand re-identification and de-aggregation attacks.

[Image ID: A window with a phrase written in marker, ‘We are not doing science here’ -Luzzi.]

A student told the provost, “This doesn’t matter. You are monitoring us, and collecting data for science.” The provost shot back, “we are not doing science here.” This ill-considered remark turned into an on-campus meme. I’m sure it was just blurted in the heat of the moment, but wow, was that the wrong thing to tell a bunch of angry scientists.

From the transcript, it’s clear that this is where the provost lost the crowd. He accused the students of “feeling emotion” and explaining that the data would be used for “different kinds of research. We want to see how students move around the lab.”

Now, as it happens, ISEC has an IoT lab where they take these kinds of measurements. When they do those experiments, students are required to go through IRB, get informed consent, all the stuff that the provost had bypassed. When this is pointed out, the provost says that they had been given an IRB waiver by the university’s Human Research Protection Program (HRPP).

Now a prof gets in on the action, asking, pointedly: “Is the only reason it doesn’t fall under IRB is that the data will not be published?” A student followed up by asking how the university could justify blowing $50,000 on surveillance gear when that money would have paid for a whole grad student stipend with money left over.

The provost’s answers veer into the surreal here. He points out that if he had to hire someone to monitor the students’ use of their desks, it would cost more than $50k, implying that the bill for the sensors represents a cost-savings. A student replies with the obvious rejoinder — just don’t monitor desk usage, then.

Finally, the provost started to hint at the underlying rationale for the sensors, discussing the cost of the facility to the university and dangling the possibility of improving utilization of “research assets.” A student replies, “If you want to understand how research is done, don’t piss off everyone in this building.”

Now that they have at least a vague explanation for what research question the provost is trying to answer, the students tear into his study design, explaining why he won’t learn what he’s hoping to learn. It’s really quite a good experimental design critique — these are good students! Within a few volleys, they’re pointing out how these sensors could be used to stalk researchers and put them in physical danger.

The provost turns the session over to an outside expert via a buggy Zoom connection that didn’t work. Finally, a student asks whether it’s possible that this meeting could lead to them having a desk without a sensor under it. The provost points out that their desk currently doesn’t have a sensor (remember, the students ripped them out). The student says, “I assume you’ll put one back.”

[Image ID: A ‘public art piece’ in the ISEC lobby — a table covered in sensors spelling out ‘NO!,’ surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.]

They run out of time and the meeting breaks up. Following this, the students arrange the sensors into a “public art piece” in the lobby — a table covered in sensors spelling out “NO!,” surrounded by Sharpie annotations decrying the program.

Meanwhile, students are still furious. It’s not just that the sensors are invasive, nor that they are scientifically incoherent, nor that they cost more than a year’s salary — they also emit lots of RF noise that interferes with the students’ own research. The discussion spills onto Reddit:

https://www.reddit.com/r/NEU/comments/xx7d7p/northeastern_graduate_students_privacy_is_being/

Yesterday, the provost capitulated, circulating a memo saying they would pull “all the desk occupancy sensors from the building,” due to “concerns voiced by a population of graduate students.”

https://twitter.com/maxvonhippel/status/1578101964960776192

The shitty technology adoption curve is relentless, but you can’t skip a step! Jumping straight to grad students (in a privacy lab) without first normalizing them by sticking them on the desks of poor kids in underfunded schools (perhaps after first laying off a computer science teacher to free up the budget!) was a huge tactical error.

A more tactically sound version of this is currently unfolding at CMU Computer Science, where grad students have found their offices bugged with sensors that detect movement and collect sound:

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721

The CMU administration has wisely blamed the presence of these devices on the need to discipline low-waged cleaning staff by checking whether they’re really vacuuming the offices.

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387426812972646403

While it’s easier to put cleaners under digital surveillance than computer scientists, trying to do both at once is definitely a boss-level challenge. You might run into a scholar like David Gray Widder, who, observing that “this seems like algorithmic management of lowly paid employees to me,” unplugged the sensor in his office.

https://twitter.com/davidthewid/status/1387909329710366721

This is the kind of full-stack Luddism this present moment needs. These researchers aren’t opposed to sensors — they’re challenging the social relations of sensors, who gets sensed and who does the sensing.

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

[Image ID: A flier inviting ISEC grad students to attend an unadvertised 'listening session' with the vice-provost. It is surmounted with a sensor that has been removed from beneath a desk and annotated in Sharpie to read: 'If found by David Luzzi suck it.']

#pluralistic

[ennobaka]

me watching literally anything: I miss POI

#jk i'm watching levvy rn and they're trying to bust some dirty cops #so the vibe was kinda similar #and i was kinda sad bc there was no good old surveillance ala poi

[falling-endlessly]

The Lesson

Vox x Reader

Summary: Vox comes home to find you lying in a pool of your own blood.

As soon as the security cameras in your shared penthouse went dark, he knew something was very, very wrong.

His screen shut off as he focused on any nearby surveillance cameras, only to find that he couldn't get a good angle no matter which direction he turned them to. With a feral growl of frustration, he sent himself through one of the ground-level cameras, ignoring the startled yelps of unsuspecting pedestrians as he zapped into existence.

A path parted for him as he stormed into the building, flashing into the elevator and rigging it to move four times as fast.

He barely restrained himself from just busting down the door in his terrified fury, instead carefully twisting open the doorknob with a white-knuckled fist.

Silence was the second warning. The apartment was never silent, either with Vark thumping around cheerfully or you humming to yourself as you moved through the hallways or tapped away at your keyboard.

The eerie lack of background noise sent an ice cold chill down his spine. He found that he could barely breathe.

With soundless steps, he crept further into the apartment, afraid of what he might—or might not find waiting for him.

He found Vark first, nearly stepping in the growing puddle of blood if he hadn't pulled his foot back in time. Vox strangled a noise in his throat, hastily dropping to his knees as he shrugged off his jacket and tied it as tightly around the shark's mangled side as he could, trying to staunch the bleeding. A numbing thought surfaced in his mind. If Vark was in this condition, then you...

No longer concerned with being silent or careful, Vox flashed into different rooms in your apartment. The bathrooms, the kitchen, the living room.

He found you in your shared bedroom, slumped against the wall as your hair shielded your face. Vox spasmed and glitched, having to mentally force himself to shove his worries in the back of his mind in order to keep control of his movements.

"Y/n?" He whispered, afraid to approach you. Terrified of what he might discover.

You didn't respond, making the cold ball in his chest expand until it felt like his airways were freezing solid. Like his entire body was shutting down.

No. NonoNONONONO.

He half stumbled, half fell at your feet, clawed hands grasping your soft arms and shaking lightly—then harder, when you stayed unresponsive. His knees were wet, something warm—blood, his mind unhelpfully supplied—and his vision was getting concerningly blurry. His hands slid up your shoulders, ignoring the large oozing gash across your chest, and cupped your limp face, where blood was also dripping down the right side in slow rivulets.

"Y/n?" His voice cracked.

When you didn't stir, he let out a choked sob, hastily divesting himself of his dress shirt and pressing the scrunched up ball into your open wound. You didn't even flinch. Fuck.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't do this to me," he said, voice strained as he desperately checked your vitals. His heart nearly stopped when he discovered that yours had.

"Noo," he moaned, sending bolts of electricity into your chest, fruitlessly trying to restart your failed heart. Cursed his lack of proper lips that made CPR that much more difficult.

It took a while before he stopped trying, tiring himself out until crushing sadness replaced the pulsing adrenaline. Vox leaned against the wall, panting as he cradled your cooling body in his lap. He held you when your lips went blue, stroking your hair tenderly like you were still alive. He held you until the first notes of color started to replenish your cheeks once more, until your chest began to delicately rise and fall as your insides repaired themselves.

When your eyelids finally fluttered open, it was to bloodshot, red rimmed ones staring back at you.

"Vox?" You whispered softly, causing your lover to let out a ragged breath. "W-What—?" And then suddenly it all came back to you with a jolt. The demons who broke in and killed you. They didn't want anything you offered them, only to cause as much pain to the TV demon as they possibly could. And what better way to kill him than with his heart? Your bottom lip shook as the horrible memories replayed in your mind, only cut off by the warm chest your face was shoved into.

"Don't," he croaked, shaking his head. "I can see what you're doing, stop it."

Your eyes welled as you let out your own shuddering breath, weak fingers coming up to clutch at the bare skin of his back. He held you as silent tears ran down your face, holding you tighter every time your fingers flexed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

"They didn't want anything," you heaved, burying your face deeper in his shoulder. "Th-they just said they wanted to hurt you and—oh my god, Vark!" You immediately moved to get up, only to be pulled back down again.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed. "The cameras are back online, I can see him moving around in the kitchen." Internally though, his heart pounded with an incredible rage. So some suicidal fuckers thought they could break into his house and lay their hands on you? Holy fucking shit, when he got his hands on them they were going to wish they'd just stayed in the shadows. That was a promise.

You sagged with relief against him, and he let you stay curled up against him for a few more minutes, before he carried you to the shower. After gently helping you clean off, rubbing your tense muscles when your hands trembled, he dressed you in the fuzziest sleepwear you owned, before depositing you carefully under the silk covers.

"Don't leave," you pleaded, making his heart ache. He acquiesced, staying until he was sure you were asleep, before his screen went dark as he lost himself in the flowing web of information that he'd built himself.

His screen flashed red as a single eye opened. "Found you."

That morning you woke up to lean arms draped over you, a defined chest pressed tightly to your back. A small smile graced your lips.

"Morning," he whispered into your ear.

"Morning," you smiled back. And when you asked the silent question, did you do it? He nodded, pulling you closer.

You leaned your head on his chest, thank you. He squeezed your hand, of course.

***

Art inspiration for the scene “Found you.” HERE (from zerochan, as unfortunately I could not find the direct post)

Artist above (Kwiisha) twitter account HERE

#hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox hazbin #hazbin #vox x oc #hell #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #established relationship #fluff #angst #comfort #homicide #demons #love #protective vox #soft vox #but also murderous vox #lol

[jaylaxies]

THE PATH TO A NERD’S HEART

PAIRING: nerd!jay × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: sub!jay, dom!reader, smut, fluff, unprotected sex, public sex, slight biting and marking, mentions of bullying, room sharing, kissing, handjob, mentions of sunghoon

WC: 8.1k (8169) words

SYNOPSIS: the annual debate competition was just around the corner and you were thrilled to meet your partner, who turned out to be park jongseong. from you studying together to him asking you how it feels to kiss someone, how would your relationship progress? especially when you offer to give him a demonstration, even more so when he asks if he could get a bit more.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! I'm back with another fic! i've re-edited this fic and i’m reposting as per the request of my anonnie! i hope y'all will enjoy this! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <3

“What have you done to her?” The principal sighed in distress, slightly turning his head, glancing at the girl who sat next to you with an expression filled with misery, a girl with a broken nose to be more precise.

“With all due respect, sir, she was bullying a student, which clearly goes against our school policies, and further, she tried to punch me when I asked her to stop. She had it coming,” you calmly explained the whole situation, fake politeness dripping off your tone.

The girl next to you screamed like a maniac after hearing your statement, flailing her arms and legs, claiming that you were the one who attacked her first. She never failed to show her spoiled-child behaviour in public.

“I request you to please check the surveillance camera of the corridor, it'll make it more clear to you, sir,” you faked your smile as Hana Lee, the bully, started crying, knowing that nothing could save her from the upcoming punishment now.

She was soon dismissed to go to the medical room, her wound bleeding, yet she didn’t show a sign to stop protesting.

“Miss Y/N, I understand that what Miss Lee did was wrong, but that does not give you any right to punch her.” He looked at you with an expression that clearly displayed disappointment.

“It was just self defense from my side, sir,” you said with wide eyes, plastering your most innocent face in front of him, wanting to leave his office as soon as possible.

He sighed, “you’re one of our top students, miss Y/N, and I appreciate you caring for the other students, but please refrain from using punches next time. You can leave now.”

You finally smiled in victory, muttering a ‘thank you’ before grabbing your bag and rushing out of the office.

As you got out of the office, a hand immediately grabbed your wrist, causing you to widen your eyes at the sudden gesture, your own hand curling its fingers to punch until you saw who it was.

He softly pulled you to the empty staircase area.

“I’m sorry,” he slowly whispered, he had a busted lip and red eyes, the sight made your heart hurt, a frown settling on your face.

“Jay! Oh my god! Does it hurt?” You asked, hand extending towards his face.

You barely knew the boy, in fact, your first ever proper interaction with him took place this morning.

“You shouldn’t have stepped up for me,” he sighed, eyes not meeting yours as he looked at his shoes, confused as to why you would help him.

“I don’t care what you say, I cannot stand bullying, Jay,” you simply told him, getting closer to see his wound, the wound caused by Hana.

Now, the question is: How did you reach here in the first place?

Let’s start by replaying the morning events.

The yearly Inter-school English debate was two months away from now. Meaning, that you’ll soon know who your assigned partner is for this year’s competition would be.

Your English teacher had asked you to meet her, so you made your way towards the staff room. You greeted her as soon as you saw her, eyes soon moving to observe a guy with specs standing next to her.

“Y/N, c’mere! Meet Park Jay, he’ll be your partner for this year’s debate competition,” your teacher explained.

You smiled, extending your hand which he shyly took into his bigger ones, “nice to meet you, Jay.”

Your radiant smile caused Jay to crack a small smile of his own, “it’s really nice to meet you too,” he said.

Further, the teacher explained how your school won’t be the host for the debate this year, instead, the Busan branch will be the one to do so.

Conclusively, she informed you that all your expenses will be paid by the school, except for the extra souvenirs you would purchase there for yourself.

You listened to it all, giving small nods at the end of her sentences, your eyes also shifting to look at the guy standing next to you, his gaze focused on what your teacher was telling.

A hotel will be arranged and she will accompany you both for your two day trip to the competition.

“The topic will be provided to you both soon, I hope both of you will get along well, please don’t hesitate to ask for any sort of help from me,”Ms. Hwang smiled at you both and ensured that you were okay with this setting.

Park Jay. You knew him, of course you did. He’s always been exceptionally smart in studies, him being the only one in school who matched your own pace.

The only difference between you was his shy nature. Your nature screamed enthusiasm and boldness, hence, making friends came easily to you. You were one of the popular students, not to mention how you were good at academics too, which was also paired with your kind nature.

However, you didn’t know much about Jay, except for the fact that he was good at studies and closed off, with little to no friends at your school.

This piqued your curiosity.

After Ms. Hwang left, you turned to look at the shy boy, asking him if he’d be up to eat lunch with you, to get to know each other better.

His eyes slightly widened at your suggestion and you theorized it must be because he never eats with anyone else, which worried you as you thought you had crossed a line.

His small smile just after, ensured that it was not the case, “I’d love to,” he said, and you noted how sharp yet cute his smile was.

The whole student body was shocked to see Jay interacting with the popular girl herself, their eyes fixated on your table.

It wasn’t your concern though, you were enjoying having a simple conversation with him, asking him about his hobbies. He got excited that you were willing to talk to him, not forcing yourself like the other students did. And he tried his best not to show how excited he was.

He told you about his love for fashion, his smile growing at each word he spoke, you found his deep voice pretty as you paid attention to everything he had to tell and offer.

He stopped his sentence midway, looking at you as you stared at him with shiny eyes.

“I talk a lot, don’t I?” His shyness came back to him all of a sudden.

“No! I think that it’s really beautiful that you’re so passionate about something, I could hear you speak about it for hours,” you reassured him, reaching forward to hold his hand which was kept on the table.

He breathed out softly, gulping at the sight of your joined hands and your reassuring smile, his cheeks heating up and a sudden warmth spreading through his chest.

Just one conversation and he already wanted to trust you, to spend more time with you, to get to know you better.

He looked forward to it all.

You wanted the same, to get to know him better. Jay was cute effortlessly, and you were quick to notice that even slight proximity made him nervous to the point his ears got red.

You found it adorable, promising yourself to keep a check on him to make sure he doesn’t feel lonely at school anymore.

So, when you saw Hana cornering and punching him for not completing her homework, you knew you had to step in.

He watched how you pushed her away from him, standing as a barrier between them both. He noticed how you raised your voice at her, the demeanour completely changed from the sweet one which you had in the morning.

He noticed how you didn’t hesitate to block her punch, your own hand swiming to counter punch her instead with no regrets whatsoever.

He stood there in awe, he knew was thankful to you, however, he was too shocked to even form words.

You turned back to look at him, his lip bleeding and his bloodshot eyes made you worried and angry at the same time.

Before you could say anything to him, you were dragged to the principal's office.

Which brings you back here.

Jay silently cried in front of you, “you don’t deserve this,” you softly said with a sad frown before hugging him

His hands grabbed your waist as he softly weeped into your shoulder, your hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

You weren’t sure how long Hana had been bullying him into doing his homework, but now, you had this sudden urge of wanting to protect him, your hands tightening around him.

He calmed down after a few minutes, body still holding on to you.

“Thank you,” he softly whispered, taking a step back, his eyes meeting yours for a second before he turned away, rushing to leave.

He did not stop when you called out his name, thrice.

You sighed, stuffing your hands in the jacket pocket before leaving for the next class.

The boy never left your mind no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the lecture.

The news had spread all around the school as the newest gossip. Some said that Jay was your new boyfriend, while some assumed you to be his bully. Nevertheless, no one bullied him after Hana got suspended for using violence in school.

Soon after, the theme for the debate was announced and Ms. Hwang had called you both to inform you about the same.

You observed his face, seeing him for the first time after that incident and you were glad to see that all his wounds were healed and didn’t leave any scars.

When he felt you looking at him, he turned to look at you, smiling softly to say hello.

After some minutes of general discussion with your teacher, she left you both alone as she had to grade other test papers.

You never brought up the topic of Hana again, only paying attention to the debate. Jay kept on glancing at you from time to time.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly, passing you a bottle of your favourite drink, which made you tilt your head to look up at him, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I asked Sora,” he rushed to speak, mentioning how he asked your best friend about it.

“You didn’t have to.” A smile graced your face at his sweet gesture.

He felt more confident talking to you now, and he even attempted to make silly jokes just to see you laugh, which you did, heartily at that.

Your hand grabbed his arm as you tried to support yourself while laughing. He found it beautiful and he wished to hear your laugh more often. Your hand felt soft on his arm, sending tingles to his stomach.

You hugged him softly before leaving, your sweet scent sending Jay into a state of frenzy, his ears turning red while his heartbeat felt faster than usual.

Being teased was like a routine for you now, your friends did everything in their will to constantly remind you how 'soft' you have gone for that nerd kid.

“Your jealousy is showing,” you smirked at Sunghoon, who repeatedly mentioned Jay in each of your conversations.

“Of fucking course! You haven’t kissed me in weeks,” he retorted.

It had been a while since you ended your friends with benefits relationship with him, you just couldn’t do it anymore, it felt wrong to you, seeing how attached he was getting with your setting.

Yet still, you decided to humor him this time.

Laughing at his pouty face, you grabbed his chin as you kissed him, trapping him against the lockers and he eagerly kissed back, not caring if anyone saw you both.

The makeout session was short lived as the bell was quick to indicate the time for your next class, a groan leaving his mouth as he punched the locker, muttering how nothing works in his favour.

You left him there, a boyish smirk spreading on his face when you winked at him.

You were breathless, but then you realized why you had left this in the first place, the guilt seeping deep inside you, knowing that it would lead him on if your suspicions were right.

You’ll say no the next time, that’s what you decided, not paying attention to the lesson the entire class.

You didn’t like him, you just needed a distraction from a certain someone who invaded your mind at the most random times.

You weren’t going to use Sunghoon as a distraction anymore.

You couldn't.

Jay met you at the library after school, for research purposes and collecting further information on your topic to be prepared as much as possible.

“Hey,” you smiled, hugging him, which had now become a usual thing for you two.

You noticed how he was a bit hesitant somehow, his arms not pulling you closer like they always used to.

Not paying much attention to it, you both got inside and searched for your respective books and topics, noting down all the information you needed. No words were exchanged for a long time, your focus solely on the text in front of you.

“How does it feel?” A whisper was heard from beside you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, looking up at Jay, confused at his unusual antics and sudden silence. “H–how does it feel to kiss someone?” He completed his sentence, not looking up at you while he kept fiddling with the hem of his uniform sleeve.

“Wait, you saw?” You asked him, eyes widening as you thought that he might have gotten the wrong impression.

You realized that he might have seen you kiss hoon earlier today, hence his question.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before, Jay?” You enquired slowly, not missing the way his eyes turned big for a second.

“N—no,” he whispered.

“Have you ever wanted to try it?” You softly asked.

Jay was probably the purest person you had ever met, the thought of corrupting him kept on swimming in your mind, the fact that he might want to try something with you made you smile.

“Will it be fine?” he hesitated again, “isn’t he your boyfriend?” He asked, referring to Sunghoon.

“What?” you almost shouted, apologizing once you got looks from the nearby students.

Maybe the library isn’t the best place for such conversations.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jay. We’ve had something but it was not a relationship,” you revealed.

He listened to you with all his attention, a small smile on his face when you told him that you were single, which you didn’t fail to notice.

And he nodded, saying that he wants to try. His ears were red, which you found adorable.

“Of course, we’ll stop the moment you feel uncomfortable, yeah?” You assured him.

“But, here?” he kept on asking like a kid, his heartbeat beyond control as he tried not to seem too flustered.

You laughed, “we’re meeting at my place tomorrow, right? We can try it out then, if you’d be comfortable with that,” you suggested and he agreed shyly, nodding and looking down at his fingers.

You only looked at the pretty boy next to you, wondering how far he would want to go with you.

Jay was overwhelmed by the fact that you agreed to kiss him, he had been staring at your lips ever since he saw you kiss sunghoon in the morning, deeply wishing that it was him instead.

It was pretty strange of him to think this way, but he couldn’t stop, especially when he saw how you took control of the kiss, tilting Sunghoon’s head to the side and kissed him deeply.

You saw him looking dazed as you were about to leave, his actions being so cute, which left you wanting to fluster him more.

A cute yelp left his mouth as you softly pecked his cheek, tiptoeing to do so, before bidding him goodbye.

He blushed a lot in general, but you being around him took it to another level, you found it adorable to say the least, excited to see how he would behave tomorrow.

The next day, Jay woke up early. He wanted to look perfect, to smell perfect, to be perfect for you. Not that he needed to do anything, yet he did some extra research for the debate and printed them out for you, to make up for the time you’d invest to kiss him today.

He paid more attention to his clothes, for this would be the first time you would see him without his usual uniform. He even devoted his time to do his hair, finally reaching your place at the exact time you had given him.

Releasing his breath and cussing once, he rang the doorbell.

You were quick to rush down to open the door, not wanting him to wait for long, chuckling when you saw how he rang the bell at the exact time you had given him.

His breathing hitched as he laid his eyes on you.

It was the first time he saw you looking this comfortable as you wore a soft and loose top along with sweatpants.

“Jay! Come in,” your enthusiastic voice dragged him out of his daydream as he nodded.

He followed you like a lost puppy, “are you home alone?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh, yeah! My parents come home late,” you explained with a wink, “don’t worry, baby,” you said and he almost passed out with the nickname you had used.

You smirked at his state, making him sit on your bed.

“You look good,” you complimented seeing his attire and he muttered a small thank you, a shy smile spreading on his face.

He likes to be praised, you noticed.

Without much delay, you started scripting your research papers. Jay noted how you were always serious when it came to studies and the competition, he paid attention to the way you bit your lower lip while concentrating.

Some part of him wanted you to do the same to his lips, he waited patiently for you to remember your promise to kiss him but you never once brought it up, his mood turning sad.

Taking the matter into his own hands, he spoke up.

“Can we—” he took a deep breath as you stared at him with big doe eyes, urging him to continue.

“I—it’s nothing actually.” He backed away.

You laughed, “I didn’t peg you to be the impatient type,” you smirked, well knowing what he wanted.

Closing your laptop, you urged him to come near you, patting the space next to you.

“We’ll start off with a simple peck, yeah? Pinch me if you feel uncomfortable and I'll stop,” you told him and he shivered as you got closer to his face, gulping his anxiety down.

“May I?” You finally asked, searching his eyes.

“Y—yes,” he whispered, nodding.

Softly placing your hand on his cheek, your lips touched his lips in a short peck. They merely touched, yet it was enough for Jay to get butterflies, heart beating out of his chest at the sensation.

You leaned back to observe his reaction, he still had his eyes closed, a soft rosy glow spread on his cheeks.

Getting closer again, you grabbed his chin, tilting his head as you dived in to kiss him, longer this time, your lips moving in sync once he got the hang of it, low whine leaving his mouth, making you smile.

You wanted to play with him even more.

So, you gently bit on his lower lip, causing him to gasp, giving you enough opportunity to taste him.

It felt so right yet, forbidden somehow.

You had invaded all his senses, you pushed him down on the bed, his eyes looking at your every move as you made him lean against the head frame, you sat down on his lap and he cussed.

“Does it feel good?” You asked with a small, teasing smile.

“Fuck, y—yes it feels so good,” he whispered out.

“Yeah? So good that my good boy is using bad words now?” You teased.

“Please,” he whined, “sorry, I’ve never done this before and it just, it felt so good I couldn’t help it,” he rambled and you shut him up with a peck.

“Lord, you’re so adorable. It makes me want to ruin you,” you breathed out, brushing his hair away from his forehead, gripping his chin and running your thumb on his swollen lower lip.

His heartbeat sped up at your words again, head dizzy as he said, “please,” and you pulled him into a deep kiss for the second time.

Your fingers softly tugged on his hair, finally causing him to moan out loud, his pretty voice resounding all over the room.

You both pulled back from the kiss after a few minutes, breathing hard and deep to come back to your senses.

“How was it?” you asked him in a gentle voice, sitting down next to him, slightly worried if you had gone too far for his first time.

His stare on your face and silence only made it worse.

“Can we do that again?” He asked after a few seconds, trying not to sound too shameless, but he couldn’t help it, not when you had offered to kiss him so nicely.

He slowly pulled the hem of your top, and you understood, coming back to kiss him, your hand on his jaw, as he shifted his position for you to take full control.

He laid underneath you as his heart pounded harder than ever, he could only focus on how soft your lips felt against his mildly chapped ones, his eyes closed as he took in everything you were willing to offer.

The said practice of your debate ended with you making out with Jay, he didn’t wish to stop, not even after his lips were swollen, his eyes shining as he looked at you as if you were a goddess.

He had to excuse himself when his cock felt painfully hard, he was beyond embarrassed and you looked at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself back before it gets too much for him.

“Here’s the washroom,” you guided him, “let me know if you need help,” you said with a smirk.

“I—thank you,” he rushed to go inside.

You knew what he was going to do, and you wished it was you who’d be the one to please him instead, his voice wasn’t silent when he took your name, as he reached his orgasm inside the washroom.

You chuckled, wondering how he’d look while doing so into your hand. He left soon after, face red and hot.

It left him wanting more.

The debate was a week away from now, and you both were well prepared for it yet, you kept on studying from your notes. That wasn’t your concern right now though, a certain nerd had occupied your mind from the past few days.

You found it adorable how he would request you to kiss him in the empty classroom, his room, or any place where you both were alone, he wanted you guys to be alone together.

You were corrupting him, and truth being told, you wanted to corrupt him even more.

Jay had always been attractive, his knowledge was a plus point to it all. You absolutely loved his shy demeanor, no matter how comfortable you both got with each other, he could not help but blush around you.

Meanwhile, Jay was confused. He had never had girl problems before, so why did it feel so different when it came to you? Even more so when you were so good to him.

He loved how you took care of him in the most minimum way possible, you made him feel like he mattered, giving him motivational speeches (and your kisses were a cherry on top).

He knew it really well that the other students wanted to date you, or they wanted to be closer to you. Why wouldn’t they? You were perfect in their eyes, but this did not stop Jay from wanting more. He wanted you to claim him yours. You were beyond perfect in his eyes.

But he wondered if you’d ever be willing to like him back, to be with someone like him. Kissing was one thing, maybe you did it just to make him happy, but more?

He could only wish.

“All participants from the same school will be given one room to share, will it be okay for you both?” Ms. Hwang informed you both, also asking for your comfort.

Jay stiffened, he was sure to lose control if left alone with you at night.

“It’s alright for me ma’am,” you smiled.

“Yeah, for me too,” Jay shakily let out.

He wanted this, he finally decided, he’d even go as far as confessing his feelings for you.

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?” Ms. Hwang confirmed as you both nodded, you had to leave early tomorrow for the competition.

As you walked back home with Jay, saying that you’d drop him off, you spoke, “are you sure that you’ll be comfortable?” you asked as your fingers were interlocked with his, giving him butterflies.

“You’ll take care of me right?” He asked in a low whisper, suddenly stopping and looking at you.

He definitely meant more than the normal care but you were willing to give him anything.

“I will,” you promised with a smile, “I’ll take care of my pretty boy,” you said before pecking his lips and leaving him blushing on the sidewalk.

The next morning, he didn’t have to wake up, for, he didn’t get to sleep. That’s how excited he had been, the fact that you were going to be in the same room as him at night made him blush.

His excitement only grew when he saw you at the station wearing a skirt, it was short lived as Sunghoon came into view, holding your hand, holding your luggage with his other hand.

Jay frowned at the sight.

Sunghoon looked like your boyfriend with this setting, he did not like it a bit.

You spotted Jay in a second, smiling and hugging him without thinking much, it was not returned though.

You bit down your smile, making him jealous seemed like a great idea to you, knowing well how adorable and needy he is.

Naturally, Hoon got a cheek kiss as a goodbye while Jay had a frown plastered on his face, almost like a pout.

Your teacher came to the station soon, informing you that her seat is not near you both and telling you her seat number so you can approach her for anything you’d need.

You nodded and thanked her before getting into the train, which arrived right on time.

You sat down next to him on the express train, which gave you two hours to spend with him.

“What’s wrong?” You innocently asked him, your hand resting on his thick thigh.

“N—nothing.” His breath hitched as your hand neared his upper thighs.

You softly massaged that region, “you’ll be a good boy and tell me, won’t you?”

He shivered with the tone you had used, your hands making him feel weak in the knees.

He rushed to keep his backpack on his lap to hide his private area in case something went wrong.

He whined your name as quietly as possible, “tell me what's wrong, baby?” you asked again.

He grabbed your hand, staring at you with doe eyes as he placed it high up on his thigh, near to his hardening cock.

“Not so fast,” you said as you moved your hand away, “you’re not getting anything until you tell me what’s bothering you,” you urged him.

“I was jealous,” he whispered, red adorning his face.

“Yeah? Go on,” you hummed, softly brushing your fingers in his hardened and clothed member.

The thrill of you touching him in public only made his cock hard.

“You kissed Sunghoon,” he whined, placing his head on your shoulder, trying to calm himself from the pleasure he was receiving.

“Yes I did, and what about it?” You sped up, placing your hand on his cock, thankful that he had covered himself using the bag, so that others won’t be able to see you both.

It caused him to squirm in his seat.

“I—I wanted it too,” he struggled to form words.

“Being needy, are we now?” you chuckled as he softly moaned into your neck.

“What more do you want, pretty boy?” You asked, pleasuring him.

“Your kisses, y—your touch and—ah! You,” he barely spoke.

“That’s my good boy.”

You continued your actions for a few minutes, allowing him to release his mess without you having to touch him directly.

You looked at him in awe, you wanted him to be yours. Your baby boy.

“You did so well, baby,” you cooed at his teary face, kissing him swiftly.

“Go and clean up in the washroom, yeah?” You said and he nodded, somehow making his way towards the room.

He was clingy the entire ride, and it made you smile as you gave him all your attention.

“Did you like it?” you questioned.

He bit his lip, “yes, I did,” his answer was short as he was shying away again.

“How cute,” you said, “get me a list of things you like, yeah?” you requested him just before getting off at your destination.

The whole ride to the hotel was silent as your teacher was with you both, Jay still couldn’t think straight, his mind going back to when you touched him and how devastatingly good it felt.

“Here’s your room key, you are both free till tomorrow, so you can roam around a bit but be careful! Don’t forget to meet me at the same place at 11 am sharp with your proper attire on tomorrow,” Ms. Hwang commanded and you both nodded, leaving her to settle in her room.

After washing up and changing into comfortable clothes, you both sat down side by side at 9 pm. You noticed him writing something, but didn’t ask what it was, only looking at his face which had a cute pout, an expression he held whenever he was focused.

You settled down and scrolled through your messages on the phone to pass your time, even though deep inside, you wanted to spend time with Jay.

He soon came up to you, calling your name softly as you looked up at him.

He gently placed a note in your palm.

“I made the list,” he said, referring to the time you asked him to make a list of the things he liked back on the train.

You raised your brows, “come here,” you patted the place next to you before you grabbed his chin, making his heartbeat rise again.

“Let’s see now.” Holding the note in your other hand, you started reading, “degradation and praise kink? Oh, so you want to be called a dumb slut now?” you saw him nod and shiver, enjoying the way you called him a slut.

You wanted to ruin him.

“Choking? Who would have thought that our president ‘good boy’ would be into such filthy stuff,” your hand traveled from his chin to his neck, putting in a bit of pressure just enough for it to feel pleasurable.

Jay whined at the constricted feeling yet his eyes never left your face.

“You wanna be tied up? Cuffed even? And used as I wish?” Your eyes widened after reading his fantasies, the list amusing you beyond words.

You knew that Jay was willing to try stuff but you never expected it to be this wild, you loved it and you bit your lips as you looked his way.

“Please?” He requested you, eyes innocent.

“What do you want me to do, baby boy?” you finally asked as he gulped, coming closer to whisper something in your ear.

“Want you to touch me, please.”

“Like this?” You pulled him closer by the neck, your hand traveling down from his torso to his lower abdomen, and you noticed how he shivered with your touch.

“I—yes,” he let out desperately.

Switching to a better position, you got close to him, almost sitting on his lap as your fingers further trailed up to his mouth.

He was quick to part his lips, taking them in and sucking on your two digits, your head tilting as you noticed how devoted his look was, tongue swirling around your fingers.

“How cute,” you commented, amused with the boy, the same boy who you thought was innocent, however, that wasn’t the case.

All he wanted to do was to please you, and he wanted you to call him yours.

Your other hand rested on his thigh, soon going up and resting on his hard on, causing him to moan around your fingers.

“My needy pup, do you want me to take care of you?” You asked, loving how he reacted to your touch.

As you softly touched him through his sweatpants, he unconsciously jerked his hips forward, suppressing a moan.

“Let me hear it, I need your answer,” you slowed down your actions, causing him to whine.

“Yes! I w—want that so much,” he said out loud, as you took your fingers out of his mouth, wrapping them around his throat.

“Good, now, don’t move, and don’t you dare suppress your pretty noises, am I clear?” you asked for confirmation.

He nodded swiftly as you removed his pants.

His hard member came into view, thick and veiny, begging to be touched. Jay bit back his moans as you teased his tip with your thumb, your fingers wrapping around his length before you bent down to softly swirl your tongue on it, your eyes never leaving his.

“Fuck,” he cursed out loud as you took him in your mouth.

“Good boys don’t use bad language, do they?” You said slapping his dick. Your slender fingers gripped his neck again, this time capturing him in a passionate kiss.

“Y—yes,” he whispered against your lips.

“Open your mouth,” you ordered and he complied, you spat in his mouth, observing how it traveled down his tongue, “swallow it.”

And he did, opening his mouth again to show you the same, causing you to smirk.

“Such a good slut for me.” You kissed him as he whimpered at the degradation coming out of your sweet mouth.

He also whined at the lack of your attention to his cock.

He was needy, and you loved it. You had wanted to take care of him from the very start, seeing the boy in front of you, all naked, you wondered how he’d look full of your lipstick marks, which you’ll leave on his sweet hickeys.

You slowly started stroking his cock again, taking him in your mouth whilst massaging his balls. His breathing got heavier by each second, face red and voice shaky as he took your name sweetly.

Tears stained his rosy cheeks due to the immense pleasure he received, it was unlike ever before, his hands never felt this good, this perfect.

What made it better was the fact that it was you who was touching him, who was making him go crazy.

He liked you so much.

You felt him twitching and you got down to take him in your mouth before saying, “cum in my mouth baby boy,” and he did, moaning your name in the process as you hungrily gulped everything he had to offer.

You got up with a small smile on your face, seeing how he had closed his eyes, lip bitten and his chest heaving up and down.

You softly cupped his face, his eyes opening with your gentle touch.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him with a small smile, thumb caressing his cheek.

“Euphoric,” your laughter bloomed at his answer, a shy smile on his face, “can we do more?” He asked.

Your eyes softened at how vulnerable he looked at the given moment, and you knew if you’d do more, then you’ll probably won’t ever let go of him.

You kissed his forehead, “win that debate with me tomorrow and I’ll give you your victory gift, alright?”

He whined, not wanting to wait till tomorrow, but agreed nevertheless.

“C’mere, let’s get you cleaned up.” You took him to the bathroom, asking him to stay still as you cleaned him up, ensuring that he felt okay and you laughed whenever he felt ticklish at your touch.

“Can we cuddle at least?” He asked before sleeping, he loved being close to you. He had given you most of his firsts without any hesitation, and he was willing to give you even more. You grinned and took him in your arms, you both drifting off to dreamland soon.

Jay’s heartbeat clearly out of control as he only got closer to you, taking in your scent and watching you sleep, softly saying.

“I wanna be yours.”

The next morning was in a frenzy as you both tried to cramp up last minute information before your awaited debate.

Jay kept shying around after last night, and you had to pull him back and ask him to look into your eyes, making him laugh.

You couldn't help but notice how hot Jay looked in a black blazer, wondering if it was the same guy who begged you to touch him last night.

More importantly, you were also aware of that one girl who kept staring at Jay as you waited for your turn at the big auditorium where the competition was being held.

She was just behind you in the line, meaning, she might be your rival team for the final round, where you had reached with ease, courtesy of Jay.

Not being able to handle her constant stares and shy whispering about Jay, you rolled your eyes as you turned to him, calling out his name.

He turned to look at you, his face looked so innocent it made you want to smile, that’s the exact second you decided to peck him, tips of his ears turning red instantly

“W—what was that for?” He asked wide eyed, checking if someone saw you both.

“Just a good luck kiss for my baby,” you spoke loud enough for the girl to hear. A satisfactory smirk rested on your face as you saw her frown from the corner of your eyes.

Your turn came by soon, you listed out all the cons about the given subtopic with Jay smoothly.

However, you got stuck at the doubt round where the judges had to ask you questions, it was smooth until that one last question came up, which you had no idea how to answer.

You looked at Jay with worried eyes, but he kept his composure, remembering that particular piece of information from that one morning he made extra notes before going to your place, which he answered with full confidence, earning applause from the seated judges, and also you, a proud smile adorned your face.

You were sent back to the waiting area where you gushed about how cool Jay looked while answering with such confidence.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to act as if his ears weren’t turning red at your compliment.

“You’ll always be my shy baby,” you gently laughed.

He adorably rested his head on your shoulder as you praised him for being so intelligent while waiting for the result declaration.

“Now, for the most awaited first position, congratulations to ms. L/N and Mr. Park, from the Decelis Academy, Seoul!” The announcer declared.

You hugged him with joy, taking his hands in yours as you went on stage to accept the trophy, your teacher cheering and clicking pictures of you both from the audience seat.

Jay was overjoyed, somewhat because of winning the competition, but mostly for the reward that awaited him tonight. You both hugged again and got your trophy, Ms. Hwang treated you to dinner afterwards, being proud of you both and informing your principal at once.

Now that you were alone in your hotel room, without any distractions, you could easily see through Jay and how he was trying his best not to mention the reward you had promised you’d give him.

You smirked.

“My baby is so smart, shouldn’t he be rewarded now?” You asked, getting closer to him as he gulped down his nervousness.

“Please,” he breathed out.

“Please what, baby? Use your big words to tell me how you wish to be rewarded?” you encouraged him.

“Please, I want you,” he whimpered.

Your hands wandered around his torso, unbuttoning him one by one just to test his patience. He started helping you unbutton him, but you stopped him grabbing his cheeks.

“Did I give you permission to do anything?” You asked sharply while he shook his head, saying no.

“Be a good boy for me, yeah?” He nodded as your lips captured him into a deep kiss, your fingers gripped his hair while he held on to your waist, low hums and grunts were heard as you started grinding on him.

“Fuck me, please!” He cried out loud,

“Undress me,” you ordered.

He shakily took off your white blouse, leaving you in your lace bra, his eyes fixated on your body, and how pretty you looked in lace.

“Can I touch you?” He asked for your permission, you nodded.

He removed the remaining of your clothes and softly trailed his fingers down your body, as if trying to memorize you. Holding his hand, you guided him towards your wet pussy.

“Prep me, baby,” you instructed him as he hesitantly touched your core, spreading your juices in a circular motion.

He observed how you bit down on your lips and closed your eyes. Getting further validation from you, he pushed in a finger, slowly pumping it, he soon added another digit, his fingers curling inside of you sending you into bliss.

You felt your high nearing, “fuck, Jay I want to cum on your cock,” you said switching your positions so that you were straddling him, he cried out loud as your wet cunt came in contact with his throbbing dick.

“Moan louder, babyboy, tell everyone who the winner is tonight,” you said against his lips.

That let him loose, lewd sounds filled up the room.

“Louder,” you encouraged him, finally letting him enter inside you.

Your walls clenched around his thick member, adjusting to his size. You looked at him for permission.

“Please, you can move,” he allowed you.

Without wasting much of a second, you started riding him, your tits bouncing up and down in the process.

Jay couldn’t think straight anymore, his mind was corrupted by you, small dumb mumbles leaving his mouth and he loved how you were being equally soft and rough with him, considering it was his first time.

“Moan louder before I stop,” you threatened him, finally causing him extra stimulation when you clenched around him.

The pleasure was enough for his tears to run free, his cheeks blotchy with red speckles all over, and he moaned, just like you had wanted him to.

“Good boy,” you kept muttering, loving his sweet and needy voice.

“Let me cum, please?” He asked for your permission.

That is when you got off him.

“Not so fast, baby,” you replied with a peck on his lips.

Harsh whimpers left his mouth as you slowly stroked his leaking dick for the next few minutes.

“Please,” he begged after he couldn’t take it anymore, his dick twitching with how close he was.

“Impatient slut,” you slid into him again, your walls contracting around him, it was too much for him to take in.

You fastened your pace, “I’m about to—” he cried.

“Hold it in,” you warned, loved how he closed his eyes shut.

It was so fun teasing him.

You decided to be a bit gentle with him now that he was close, just like you.

“Cum inside me, love,” you encouraged

With a few more bounces, and his thrusts from below, he muttered a string of curses, emptying inside of you as you reached your high just a moment later.

You cupped his cheeks, not getting up but looking deep into his eyes.

“You did so well, I’ll arrange a nice hot bath for you to relax, yeah?” you softly caressed his cheeks.

He weakly nodded, still high from the activities done minutes back. Soon, you helped him into the tub, sitting on his lap as you softly washed his hair for him while he stared at you with stars in his eyes.

“What’s it?” you quietly asked, a small smile on your face.

“Thank you,” he pecked you, this time with adoration, catching you off guard as your heartbeat rose.

“I did nothing,” you smiled at him as he returned it.

You traced his red bruises, applying lotion to them and giving him a massage as well. Jay was thankful to say the least, eyes on your face.

“You’re staring,” you noted.

“You’re pretty,” he said, lowering his eyes as he did so.

“God, you’re so cute.” You kissed him softly, a shy smile gracing his face as you wrapped him in a towel.

“Come on, let’s sleep,” you patted the space near you.

“Can we cuddle?” he excitedly asked and you brightly nodded, taking him into your arms.

The room was silent, however, it felt comfortable, especially when you could feel Jay’s warmth in your arms.

“Y/N?” He called out your name.

You hummed, “yeah?”

“What are we?” he asked as he sat up to look at you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, also sitting up.

“I—what’s our relationship?” he gulped as he asked that, not sounding too confident, wondering if he’d be rejected.

“What do you want us to be?” you questioned, raising your brows.

Being with Jay was like a rollercoaster, you had grown a liking to him, more than you would like to admit.

His demure ways made you adore him, but he never hesitated to put a brave front for you and those cute efforts of his made you fall for him even more.

“I want us to be more than just friends,” he admitted.

You had bewitched Jay since the day you first talked to him, and the feeling only grew. He looked forward to spending time with you and soon it turned into yearning. He wanted to hold you in his arms and call you his, not wanting to share you with anyone else (ahem, Sunghoon), the phase might have been of only two months, but that was enough for him to fall for you.

“What’s more than friends?” you teased.

He pouted without even trying to, wondering if you were trying to ignore the topic because you didn’t want him, but seeing his expression, you frowned.

“Be my boyfriend,” you suddenly blurted out, not regretting it after.

Jay’s eyes widened comically, “w—what?”

You took a deep breath and laughed lightly, “Jay, baby, you’re so precious to me. Fuck! I like you so much, please be mine?” you expectantly stared at him.

His lips turned upwards and into the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face as he leaned forward and kissed you wordlessly, conveying his answer through it.

The kiss was deep and meaningful, “yes! yes, yes!” he squealed as you kissed him again.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you smiled.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he spoke with confidence, melting your heart as you pulled him down and into a hug which soon turned into a cuddling session.

Both of you fell asleep with smiles on your faces, your arms holding him tight.

Even after the competition, he couldn’t help but miss you every second of his day, texting you constantly, calling you at night just to stare at you during the two day holidays you had gotten.

The next time you met was after the competition was three days later at the school.

Jay saw Sunghoon approaching you, but he was faster as he stood in front of you, causing your eyes to widen at his sudden entry.

“Hi, baby,” he cooly said before placing a kiss on your lips.

You laughed at his childish behaviour as you see Sunghoon fuming from a distance.

“Getting protective, are we now?” you raised your eyebrow.

“You’re mine,” he tried to sound authoritative, but his voice came out in a whine.

“I’m yours,” you laughed, kissing him softly.

Safe to say, Sunghoon left after the little show Jay had put up and soon, the whole school knew about you two dating, half of them crying about how wrong the pairing is, you couldn’t care less though.

Jay was everything you needed and more, and you were going to cherish him for the rest of your life.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

TAGLIST: @ddeonuism @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @silenth1lls @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @bolliwon @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added <3

© jaylaxies | tumblr

#fic : the path to a nerd’s heart #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jay smut #enha smut #jay x reader #kpop smut #enhypen imagines #park jay smut #sub!jay

[hotchgirlsummer]

mess of mine ⤷ aaron hotchner x reader

summary ⤷ aaron hotchner never expected to find an adorable woman when he was out asking around about their unsub. turns out she's all he needs to brighten up his life.

pairing ⤷ aaron hotchner x fem!bimbo!reader

warnings ⤷ unsub takedown. unsub has a knife. mentions of typical cm violence, killing, and general disdain towards women. rossi calls the reader a bimbo lmao

word count ⤷ 6k words

a/n ⤷ bear with me as i am obsessed with the idea of a bimbo being with aaron in the most adorable way possible 😭 and i dont meant bimbo in a derogatory way! but just someone who isn't book smart ig? the reader in this fic i imagine to be so good with fashion in styling so yeah... i know i didnt do justice with the whole narrowing down the search for an unsub or the way they handled the take down but i have to admit this is just self-indulgent as i want be aaron's brainless girl ❤️ anyway, feedback is appreciated for this! might turn this into a mini series so yeah. happy holidays!

✪

“Excuse me, may I speak with you?” A deep voice made Y/N turn around from where she was organizing some of the new clothes that had just arrived. Smiling at the dark-haired man who stood in a crisp suit, she looked at his clothes and pouted, “I’m sorry but we don’t usually sell those suits, we do have some pastel ones in any case you’re interested in those instead.”

Hotch followed the direction in which she pointed and was surprised to see a couple of suits that are, to her credit roughly in his size, but instead of the neutral tones he’d go for they were in pastel pink and purple. Shaking his head and biting down a small smile he pulled for his badge and presented it to her, “Thank you for the recommendations but I’m afraid that’s not what I’m here for.”

Upon looking at the badge her eyes failed to focus on how he was part of the FBI and instead chuckled when she noticed his name, “Heh, Ay-ay-ron.” Her mispronunciation of his name caused his eyebrows to furrow as he gently corrected her, “Aaron, ma’am. Not Ay-ay-ron, I’m afraid.” Her little bubble popped when she looked into his eyes, mesmerized by the deep brown orbs she shook her head and clarified, “Oh I knew that, that was just from the Peele & Key skit. Never knew anyone named Aaron so couldn’t tease anyone by it.”

“Right,” came Hotch’s sharp reply, worried that their possible lead might be a bust due to the witness presenting signs of being dopey due to addiction. “Is there a back office where I can speak to you in private?” She pointed towards a door that had a curtain in front of it, “We can go there, we never let anyone in there because that’s where our safe and transaction lists are!”

As pleased as he was to hear that they keep a record of their transactions, he was becoming more and more alarmed at how easily she was giving away confidential business information. Inside the small room that he concluded acted as their little breakroom with the microwave placed on top of a small fridge, it also served as their surveillance room and like she said, a safe was placed there. He motioned for her to grab a seat and pulled the folder he brought with him. “The reason I’m here today is we were hoping you could point us in the direction of one of your customers.”

Looking up from the files, he was surprised to see that she was looking at him with a giddy smile, “What do you wanna know, Aaron?” Her bliss-like innocence made him think about if he was really going to taint her by telling her the horrors that brought them to this store; but it was quickly shrugged off when he remembered that there was a possibility that she was on some sort of drugs. “There has been a man who may have purchased clothes through your boutique as they have been using the clothes they purchased to redress their victims.”

“How’d you know they bought it from here?” She wondered out loud to which he replied, “We found one of the boutique’s plastic bags near the crime scene. Would you happen to have a log of your transactions?” Deciding against showing her the photos, he simply joined his hands atop the folder and looked at her. She nodded and turned to the computer table where there was a laptop, she placed it in the middle of the table, “Phoebe has me recording customers’ names, what they bought, and how they paid. Just ‘cause last time I had a mom angry with me just because their child bought a top that, like, showed too much cleavage.”

Taking it as she had given him permission to browse through their transactions, Hotch nodded, “And Phoebe is your manager, I’m assuming?” She nodded with a cute smile on her face, “She’s so nice. Real patient with me when I was training. Even taught me tricks on how I can close faster.”

As much as he wanted to direct his full attention to her, he was only able to focus on some parts of it as he was more focused on finding the masterlist of their transactions. Just as he clicked on the file he was greeted with the pop up that was asking him for a password which caused him to look up at her, “It’s asking for a password, would you happen to know what it is?”

For all the times he witnessed someone shake their head, he hated how adorable she looked when she did so with a little pout which made her glossed up lips even more tempting, “Only Phoebe knows it. She changes the password every month and I can’t keep up!” She leaned forward with her manicured nails resting on the top of the table, “One time she mixed in some capital and small letters with some numbers. It was very confusing.”

“I can see why that would be,” Aaron sympathized with her as a small smile broke out of his lipa; normally he’d be irritated with this kind of behavior but there is something endearing about her that made him think otherwise, “Would you mind if I have our technical analyst take a look into it?”

“But how? I don’t know the password and Phoebe didn’t leave a note anywhere!” She was clearly distressed about the whole thing, Hotch could also see the faint traces of frustration at not being able to help further in the investigation. His hand moved as if they had a mind of their own and held onto her smaller one, brushing the back of hers gently, “Well our analyst is like a magician, okay, sweetheart?”

Hypnotized by his caramel eyes and the comfort his touch radiated, she nodded and visibly relaxed, “In the meantime, there is something else you can help me out with, if you’re up for it.” Taking her nod as her consent he then untangled his hand with hers, he tried not to let her disappointed whimper affect him, as he opened the case file and landed on the page where they have already a profile of the unsub, “The man we’re looking for goes here often, he spends a long time looking through the clothes because he’s always looking for a particular detail or design. Whenever you speak to him, he appears nervous or shy, but he has enough charm to have you fooled that he won’t harm you at all.”

Hotch was silently cursing at himself for allowing himself to be distracted at the sight of her glossed up lips pursed as she thought hard about a customer who fit his description; looking at him in an exasperated manner as she pouts at him, clearly frustrated, “I’m sorry, but I can’t focus much right now. I could not even help you out with the password.” He grabbed for her hand once more and stroked the back of it gently, “Don’t be too harsh on yourself, pretty girl,” Instead of expressing surprise like he anticipated she would upon being called the nickname, she seems to be pleased and melts because of it, “Why don’t you close your eyes and take a deep breath,” Following his instructions, she nodded as she closed her eyes and let out a sigh while her hand clutched into his tightly, “Now, go back to a day where he comes in. What do you usually do when the boutique isn’t busy?”

“I like to rearrange the clothes — sometimes I group them by type of clothing, then by color.”

Pleased that she was now calmer which effectively made her able to recall when and how she interacted with the unsub, “That’s good. Now, he walks into the boutique. He sees you rearranging the racks. Does he talk to you right away or go browning?”

“I hear shuffling of the hangers first but I don’t turn yet because I was trying to get rid of the lint in one of the clothes,” She smiles, pleased that she’s being a bit more helpful right now. “Good,” His voice wasn’t the only one soothing her as he was rubbing her knuckles too, “What did he do that drew your attention away from what you were doing?”

“He threw some clothes on the floor, he wasn’t happy with the choices that we had that day.”

“What else did he say or do?” Hotch could see that she was working hard to think back to it, as if the frown lines that were appearing on her forehead wasn’t a clear indicator of it, “He yelled, saying what happened to this store and why did it suddenly turn into a dump. Just because we didn’t have any more available items of what he usually likes.”

She was pouting once more which made his heart flutter once more but the rational part of his brain took over as he inquired, “Were you able to get a good look at his face? Can you make out what he looks like?”

Pursing her lips as she thought about it, she looked at their hands that were still holding onto each other as she spoke, “I did see him, he picked up the clothes and apologies. Said that he just had a bad day at work.”

Hotch smiled and continued to guide her through this interview by saying, “That’s good, now do you see what he looks like, sweetheart?”

“He had very little hair, you know, like a buzz cut. Couldn’t pull it off though,” She giggled as she remembered how uneven the cut looked, “He also had this scar by his cheek,” Using her hand that wasn’t held down, she trailed the tip of her finger to her cheek from her cheekbone down near the side of her lips, “He was taller than me too!” Her excitement of remembering something completely died down when she took a good look at the unit chief in front of her — which worried him slightly but he wouldn’t admit that.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked to which she answered right away, “He was taller than me, but he’s not as tall as you. How tall are you, by the way?”

“6’2. Is there anything else you remember from when you guys spoke?” Aaron felt flustered once more upon her taking interest in him but was able to school his features to not give that surprise away. But his resolve was once again almost crumbling down as she tapped her fingers against his knuckles as she thought hard about her interactions with the unsub, “He returned an item once. Said that when he came up he only noticed a stain there. Phoebe told me to not accept items that have stains or any dirt in them, we always throw the clothes in the wash, you know? But there was this whole queue behind him that I just accepted the return even though I wasn’t supposed to!”

Her whine just added to the long list of what made her even more precious in his opinion as he nodded, “Do you remember where you placed this clothing? Would you mind if I took a look at it?”

Nodding she stood up and led him out of the little break room that they were in walked through the shop’s main floor — and what took the tenured profiler aback was how she did not let go of his hand, which definitely caught sight of Rossi wo was in the middle of a phone call with Garcia when he shot a smirk at the two. When a door opened to reveal another room with a washing and drying machine, and a small sink. “This is where we clean and prepare the clothes before we display them outside.”

Removing her hand from where it was engulfed in his larger one, she rifled and was looking through the four laundry baskets that were in there. Spotting the blouse he returned, she was about to pick out the blouse when he stopped her gently by pulling her arm, “Let me go through them, please.”

She nods and steps aside as she watches him put on some gloves before rifling through the baskets, “Why wouldn’t you let me help you look for it?” Hotch paused briefly and looked back at her, seeing how there was a somber look on her face as she wondered that. “You mentioned that there was dirt on the item he returned, yes?”

Nodding her head she hummed her agreement while he pointed at her hands, “Well I don’t want your pretty hands catching onto the dirt, not when your nails look good.” Complimenting a girl felt foreign to him as he hadn’t done so in a while, but it didn’t feel creepy at all. He felt vindicated when she smiled brightly and displayed one of her hands, “Thanks for noticing! I just got the shellac color done yesterday. I did a purple color last month and decided to go back to my favorite color, pink!”

Her giggles helped ease the dread he felt at the pit of his stomach upon finding the blouse that was definitely returned by their unsub. The stain she was referring to looked like blood and soil. Reaching for his back pocket, he reached for the evidence bag he carried with him in case they were to find any pieces of evidence that were hopefully going to be useful in their investigation.

“This is the blouse he returned, yeah?” He asked her, showing the stained article now in the bag. She nodded her head, “That is the one. Do you want me to clean it off before you go?”

Smiling at her well-meaning attitude he shook his head before disposing of the gloves he wore in the trash bin that was nearby. “It’s all good, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little self about it, alright? I’m gonna have to take this as evidence, can you let Phoebe know that?”

She nodded her head with a smile, “I’m sure she’ll understand. She’s nice like that, she won’t take it off my paycheck.” Gleaming at his earlier compliment she then smiled and opened the door for them to exit the tiny room. “Will I see you again?” Her voice sounded small and a bit disappointed, but he tried not to show he was feeling the same as he reached for his coat pocket and handed her his calling card. “Under these circumstances? I hope not.”

Tilting her head as she accepted the card and wondered what he meant, she had a small pout that looked very much like she wanted to be kissed. Instead, he clarified for her, “What I meant is you should call me the next time you see the buzzcut man, okay?”

“Oh! I can do that!” She cheere happily before continuing on, “Gonna call you and let you know that he’s trouble and he’s here!”

“Maybe don’t say that directly,” He warned her as he rubbed her forearms reassuringly, “Instead use a code. When you call me, tell me how you’d love for the food delivery to come right now. That way, he won't think that the FBI will be looking for him.”

Gasping at how well-thought his plan was, she giggled and jokingly gave him a pat on his shoulder as if to congratulate him, “That was so good, Aaron! You’re smart and handsome!” He wanted to prolong their conversation for as long as they could but of course the odds were against them when Rossi walked over to where they were standing over as he informed his former mentee, “Sorry to interrupt, but we got a hit and they need us back at the precinct.”

Nodding his head back to his mentor, Hotch then shot one last smile to her before offering his hand for a shake. “Thanks so much for your help, sweetheart. Keep in touch, okay?” Shaking his hand with a bright smile she nodded, “I like it when you call me sweetheart, but that’s not really my name, you know? It’s Y/N.”

“See you around then, Y/N.”

With that, the two sadly let go of the other’s hand and went back to normal, back to the reality that they had to work. As he exited the store and went ahead to maneuver the car back to the precinct, he could feel Rossi’s teasing grin at him. “What?”

“Sweetheart, huh?” Came Rossi’s reply which led Aaron to be defensive about it, “She was a bit unsettled at first. I was just trying to calm her down.” The Italian man just raised his eyebrows, getting even more suspicious if anything, “Sure, that’s all that was. Wasn’t like you found her attractive at all.”

“She is attractive, but I could also see that she was way too delicate for the horrors that we usually face,” Hoping that was enough to persuade the senior profiler that there wasn't any budding affection on his part. “All I’m saying is she is a gorgeous woman, but even you have to admit that she doesn’t seem all too smart though. She’s what would be commonly referred to as a bimbo.”

Thankful that they had arrived back in the police station so he would not have to hear what sounded like judgemental comments, Aaron slammed the driver’s door a little too hard before defending her, “How is that bad? Save your unhelpful judgements, Dave.”

Back at the station, once he had given the blouse to the precinct’s forensic team to be analyzed, the rest of the team had been brainstorming on their possible suspect pool. It didn’t take less than an hour for forensics to get back to them with a hit.

“Garcia, will you please give us the rundown on John Wesley please?” Spencer requested as soon as he phoned their technical analyst. “Born and raised in Fairfax, Virginia. Well, really raised by a single mom who did not register who the father to her baby was. He has a record for trespassing and peeping when he was only twelve, yikes. Said that since his mom had to work two, almost three jobs to support herself and him he had to be left alone in their apartment complex where sometimes peeped into the unit next door, turns out the not so good example neighbor would bring home prostitutes and saw how rough he was with them.”

“That would explain why there were bruises on the women, he must have thought that beating them up is some sick way of showing affection,” JJ deduced as Penelope unsealed court records and found out more about John. “Seems like John saw like a counselor or a therapist and he admitted that he liked the idea of women being dolled up after a rough session.”

“Seeing the prostitutes go about the rest of their day after a paid session must have left that impression on him. And he didn’t really fully comprehend how that set up works,” Reid thought out loud, to which everyone agreed.

“What’s his education, personal and work life like Garcia?” Rossi wondered.

“Well education, not so much finished high school but without any recognition you know? Took a couple of classes at the local community college but didn’t really graduate from it. Personal, still legally single by the looks of it. Work life? Oh, would you look at that.”

“Why? What is it, Garcia?” Derek was the one who snapped Garcia out of her shock. “Well it turns out he works at one of those mannequin factories. And it seems like he’s been getting reprimanded by his superior because he liked putting marks on them that looked similar to bruises. And for a while it seems like he also took some home or if not, he brought some clothes to work to dress them up.”

“That’s more than enough, did he go to work today Garcia?” Blake wondered. “He should be there, his boss had him scheduled for today until 6pm,” They all looked at the time and saw that it was 30 minutes before his shift ended. “He clocked in but has yet to clock out by the looks of it.”

“Garcia, we’re gonna need his work and home address, please.” Rossi said to which the peppy analyst declared “Done and done, stay safe crime fighters.”

“Blake, you and Reid head over to his workplace to see if he’s still there; if not, gather as much information as you can about him and how he treats the mannequins, maybe that will give us a clear COD. Morgan, you and JJ head over to the house, see if he’s holding another woman there. As soon as you see him, apprehend him. Dave and I will stay here in case there’s any further development, call for backup if needed.”

With that, the team dispersed into their assignments; Rossi slid over a cup of coffee Hotch’s way who was now engrossed as he was reading over Wesley’s file. “You know I didn’t mean anything bad with what I said earlier, right?”

That caught his attention as he looked up from the tablet and squinted a little, “Pardon me?” Rossi only chuckled as he sat down across from the unit chief before clarifying, “I knew what you meant when you mentioned that your sweetheart,” Hotch rolled his eyes at that but didn’t really feel any distaste towards him or his words, “Was a little softer than the ones we usually interact with. But I do see why you would be attracted to her — she’s kind, thoughtful, and can literally and figuratively bring color to your life.” Aaron knew that he was pertaining to how colorful her entire outfit and personality was and had to bite down a chuckle as he instead redirected his focus to the tablet, “You got all that from a few seconds of interaction?”

“What can I say? I’m a good profiler,” Now the two laughed at his little joke but did know that it was indeed the truth. “She’d be good for you, Aaron. She lives nearby so there’s no reason for you to not pursue her.”

“How about the fact that she’s younger than I am?” He remarked a bit morosefully to which he was surprised that Rossi only scoffed at, “So? It’s not like she’s underage or anything. She’d be providing you with her consent so there’s really no reason for you to feel guilt or anything like that.”

Opening his mouth to offer another rebuttal he paused mid-thought when he was suddenly hit with a realization, “Wait, why does it seem like you’re certain of her age?”

This time Rossi showed him Y/N’s file that Garcia had sent over to his phone, “Had Penelope do a background check on the employees of the boutique earlier. And let’s just say she has a squeaky clean record and is definitely of age.”

Aaron could not believe how hard Dave was so persistent with the whole thing; but when it all boils down, he’d rather have a supportive friend than one who discourages him to go out there and date. “Well I’ll leave it up to fate if I should make a move; besides I don’t even have her phone number.”

Just as he was about to be yelled at by his mentor, Hotch’s phone rang and on cue, he answered it despite the number unlisted to his contacts he answered it and greeted them by saying, “Hotchner.”

✪

“And I got that good girl faith in that tight little skirt,” Just as she was about to sing the next line, the bell above the door rang, signaling that someone just walked in, “Welcome to Beauty Boutique! Can I help you with anything?” The cheerfulness in her voice died down upon seeing who the man was. She gulped down her nervousness, hoping that the buzzcut man would notice her feelings of unease.

“Just browsing through; thanks though, sweetheart.” An invisible shiver went down her spine; I liked it more when Aaron called me that. Heh, Ay-ay-ron, she thought to herself. But that also reminded her that she was to call him if he ever showed up. Dialing his number on her phone, she bit the skin of her fingertips anxiously as she waited for him to answer.

“Hotchner,” Came his gruff greeting. She giggled for a little before plastering a serious face on before finding the words, “Hi, I’d like the food to be delivered, please.”

On the other end of the phone, Aaron could feel the dread in him knowing that Y/N was within arm’s reach of a dangerous killer. “Alright, we’re coming Y/N. Stay calm and don’t let him see panic in your face okay, sweetheart?” He looked at Dave and nodded towards the precinct’s doors; the man nodded and headed out to let the cops and the rest of the team know that they knew about Wesley’s whereabouts.

She nodded her head against the phone as she secretly watched the unsub’s movements — who was currently busying himself in the dress section of their store — before asking, “How long until the food gets here? I don’t want it to be too cold, you know?”

Chuckling against the phone as he watched how Dave drove with urgency he assured here, “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Y/N, do you remember if the back door is unlocked?”

“The back door? It’s unlocked but a bit heavy for me to open, it’ll be better if you come up to the store’s front for the food,” She answered as she recalled how much she hated throwing out the garbage during closing time as it was like lifting a whole tree when she opened the back door.

“Okay good, another thing — if you can try to keep the unsub, or the buzzcut guy, within the store that’d be great. If not, make sure to keep note of which direction he goes into, alright?”

“I’m not sure I can try your spicy specialty. But I’ll give it a try. How long til it gets here again?” She asked nervously, she had eye contact with the unsub and she didn’t like the smile he shot her.

“Almost there, sweetheart. I promise,” Aaron said as he hung up the phone call when he noticed that they were a block away and had to park their vehicle. As they stepped outside he gave instructions to uniform officers to take the back entrance and that it could be a little heavy when they try to open it but it is unlocked for their convenience. “I take it back, Aaron,” Dave spoke as he and Aaron cautiously made their way to the front entrance, “Your girl’s a lot smarter than I gave her credit for.”

“Not my girl,” He said, but Hotch did admit that it sounded nice to refer to her as that.

✪ “Got some food delivered here?” Came the unsub’s question as he brought some items to the till. She nodded as she began ringing up the items. “I did, it’s lunchtime,” She tried to convince him and by the looks of it, he bought it, “Did you enjoy your shopping experience today?”

“Sure did,” he pointed to the clothes, “Found great deals on these great clothes,” Shooting her a wink that didn’t do anything to make her feel attracted to him he tried flirting by saying, “Even had a pretty view when I did so.”

An awkward laugh was all that she could give him before placing all of the items in a bag before telling him, “Your total for today is $29.54, how would you like to pay for that today?”

Reaching for his back pocket, he grabbed for his wallet before answering, “On cash, beautiful.” She just smiled as he handed her a fifty dollar bill. Opening her till she had her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he counted his change but was stopped when he held her hands. Her audible gasp just caused him to smirk even more as he said, “Say, why don’t you keep the change, and in return you can just let me take you out on a date hm? That sounds like a fair trade to me.”

“I can’t do that, my boyfriend wouldn’t like it if I went with someone who wasn’t him,” Came her reply. The man rolled his eyes as he held a tighter grip on her hand causing her to yelp out in pain, “Cut the bullshit. I’ve been here a lot of time to know for a fact that a dumb bimbo like you doesn’t have a boyfriend. So when I say we’re going out, we’re going out.”

“James Wesley, this is the FBI; let go of the woman and put your hands up in the air.”

Tears pooled in her eyes upon seeing that Aaron was in the store; this time he ditched his suit jacket and instead had a bulletproof vest. Instead of following his orders he held onto her wrist more and jumped over the counter, pressing his front to her back as he grabbed a blade from his back pocket and pressed it against her throat, “One step close and I’ll slit her throat.”

Unable to hold back her whimpers, Y/N was now crying as she felt the cold touch of the blade against her skin. “Aaron, please,” Her broken cry broke Hotch’s heart, but he knew he had to be smart; she was at the hands of a sadistic man who took pleasure in beating the crap out of women.

From behind her, James scoffed, “Don’t tell me he is the boyfriend you were lying about. Didn’t think you could land a man like him.”

“You don’t have to hurt her, James. She didn’t hurt you, she didn’t give you the false promise of love, right?” Dave negotiated, on the drive over they were given new intel about how he was hurt by his fiancee when she left him for someone who was abusive to her. Thinking that he had to inflict pain on women in order for them to love and stay loyal to him — that coupled with his distorted view of the prostitutes view rough sex — set him on the course of killing and beating up women then dressing them up, much like how the prostitutes went about their night.

“Hurting women doesn’t make them stay, James. Treating and treasuring them right is how you get them to stay,” Hotch added, which didn’t sit well with the unsub as he shook his head, his hold on Y/N getting loose as he didn’t press on the knife to her anymore. “Yeah? Is that how you get this skank?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” Came Hotch’s cold reply but he was quick to think of a way to get Y/N out of the situation safely. He made eye contact with the uniformed officer that snuck around the back — which for some reason John didn’t notice, but they weren’t complaining about that — he looked at John's shoulder then to the officer's gun. “Shoot in the shoulder?” Mouthed Officer Harrison, to which Hotch mouthed back “Wait.”

“If anything I’m surprised you’re able to hold onto a woman,” Hotch goaded him, but not too much John would take it out on Y/N. “By the looks of it you can’t even hold onto her right.”

As John looked to see his hands he shouted, “Now!” As planned, Officer Harrison shot John’s shoulder while Rossi shot his elbow, causing him to release his grip on Y/N — who immediately ran into Aaron. Face wet with tears buried in his chest as Aaron pressed loving rubs on her back.

“I was so scared, Aaron. Tried not to panic like you said but he had a knife,” She recalled with so much fear in her voice. He soothed her by rubbing her back keeping her eyes focused on him and not on John who was now being assisted by Rossi and Harrison out of the store and into the cop car. “I know, sweetheart. And you did so well, I saw you talking to him and trying to not let him get away. Wasn’t your fault okay?”

Wiping her tears with his thumbs he tried to console her, “He’s a bad guy, no matter how good you treated him he would have been mean to you. But you best believe I would not let that happen.” She felt something warm — whether it were his hands that settled on her cheeks once he was done wiping away her tears or the way he didn’t stop until the unsub was away from her — but she realized she loved how safe and secure he made her feel was what made her feel warm.

“Thank you for saving me, Aaron. You’re the best, you know?” Now it was his turn to be flustered as he chuckled and shook his head, “Was just doing my job, sweetheart. Couldn’t let you have any more dirt in your clothes and hands.”

That elicited a giggle from her, and he was happy to see that she wasn’t now in tears and distressed by earlier events. “If you need someone to talk to, after how bad today was, you can always give me a call, okay?”

“And if I just wanted to talk to you? Or maybe go out with you for a date?” It was adorable to see her ask him, looking smaller than him and so nervous. He nodded and rubbed her cheeks lovingly, “I’d love that, sweetheart. I’d kiss your cute nose but unfortunately I’m still on the job.”

Nodding in understanding, she then smiled, “Don’t be a stranger and shoot me a text okay? Oh! That reminds me,” She stepped out within his reach and grabbed the pastel pink suit that she pointed to earlier and gave it to him, “Please take this! One of the things I’d love to see is you in this. I just know you can pull it off!”

Looking down at the clothing article, he shook his head as he laughed a little at how insistent she was being, “Sweetheart, I like how you have faith in me but I don’t think this will suit me really well.”

“Please? For me, Aaron?” She looked up at him with a pout and knew right then and there Hotch had found his kryptonite. So, with a sigh, he nodded and smiled, “Alright, but you’re gonna have to give me a hand on how to dress up with this suit okay?” Smiling so wide she gave him a hug and hummed, “Yes, yes! Thank you, Aaron!”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re needed back,” Rossi came and with that the two ended their hug. Y/N smiled at him as she held up her hand and grabbed a scarf and gave it to Rossi. “A little something as a thank you for saving me, Mr.”

“Rossi,” He provided, “Y/N, right?” Rossi offered his hand for a shake to which she accepted and confirmed that it was indeed her name. “Good eye, this will go well with this jacket.”

“Italian suit, right? That scarf’s material shouldn’t rub on it the wrong way.” At her input Rossi smiled at her then at Aaron, “Good catch,” Before bidding adieu to her, “See you around, Y/N.”

She looked at Aaron as if to ask what he meant with his remark but was instead interrupted when Aaron smiled at her and lifted her hand up and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll call you later, sweetheart. Take care for now.”

Feeling bold, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose, “Thank you, Aaron, for keeping me safe. I’ll be thinking of you.” And he knew that as he walked out of the store and rode back with Rossi to the station, his thoughts would be clouded by her as well. And for the first time in a while, he was glad to have this kind of distraction. She might have been a bit of a mess, but from here on out she was his mess.

part two: i’m a mess but

#aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

[reiderwriter]

Hi there! It's me :"> again I read that you're closing your request soon and I just want to put another in before the deadline haha But by no mean you should put more pressure on yourself please take all the time you need, I'm always here happily waiting while enjoy reading all of the fabulous writing you had for other requests <3 Much love to your work <3

I have a request for s smut fic when the BAU was called in for a case: the victims were workers at the local bars/restaurants, the bau!reader recognised one of the bars the unsub frequently target is the one she used to work at as bartender/mixologist while putting herself through school and asked to be the undercover while other agents supervise. After successfully closing the case, the BAU decided to celebrate at said bar and the owner was happy to let the reader personally make your friends any cocktails outside of the menu.

The reader then learned about all the mildly irritations and possessive feelings softdom!Spencer had while watching people hitting on you behind the bar, but all of that can be solved with a (almost criminally) 3-sugar-cube level of sweet of a cocktail the reader personally made for him hiding an ungodly amount of alcohol which made the night a lot more interesting ;)

I'm sorry if all of my requests are soo long I know you want to have as much details as possible but please lemme know if you feel like it's too much haha Happy writing!! :">

A/N: Thank you for your request! I was partly inspired by this post to help me out with some of the drinks orders, so go check it out for more character headcannoms!

Warnings: NSFW, soft dom! Spencer, spanking, semi-public sex, jealousy, slight breeding kink/ creampie, thigh fucking etc. 18+ Minors DNI

It had been a good few years since you quit the bartending job that put you through college, so you didn't realise just how much you'd missed it.

You thought it was the universe intervening when a case popped up in your college town, and the bar you'd spent every weekend in for nearly three years straight from the end of your undergrad to the first years of your masters degree was at the dead centre of Spencer Reid's geographical profile.

You knew the unsub had been hunting from bars, and it took only a few nights of surveillance to catch his scent, and one more of a simple cover to get the guy.

You'd taken up your spot once again, slipping easily back into making cocktails and pouring pints of beer on tap - a skill you were regretfully slow to learn but happy to see stayed with you even in your brief retirement.

You busted the bar while your coworkers tried to look inconspicuous sitting around as customers. Diligently, you served them mocktails and alcohol free beer ad regulars clapped you on the back, greeting you like an old friend as you worked to catch a killer.

JJ was the bait, and you were glad, for once, that it wasn't you, even if that thought made you feel guilty. She slipped out with a crash, and all eyed were on the man that followed her quietly to the alleyway out back.

He practically arrested himself. All in all, it had taken maybe three days to catch the guy, and you'd never been so happy to have had to work a double shift to do it.

“Y/N, if this FBI thing doesn't work for you, I'd be glad to have you back behind the bar. These college students just aren't what they used to be.” Your ex-boss grinned at you, indulging in his own glass of whiskey now that the case was closed.

He'd graciously invited your entire team to spend the rest of the evening at the bar celebrating (for at least a drink or two before his wife came to collect him). You were shocked when Hotch took him up on the offer, but happily stayed behind the bar mixing up the drinks.

“Okay, now that we've found out you're this magic mixologist, you have got to make us personal cocktails. I want to see how drunk you can get me, Y/L/N.” Emily laughed from the corner, finishing the last dregs of her virgin piña colada.

“My dear Emily, it is not the mixologist job to get you drunk, it's the mixologist job to keep you sober for as long as possible so you keep buying drinks.”

“No, come on kid, I'm intrigued as well. I'm not a cocktail guy but you've been pouring like a woman possessed tonight. Help.me out here, Spencer, hasn't she been on fire?”

Spencer's eye caught yours and your heart skipped a beat when he gave you a small smile. He'd been quiet all night, and you felt a little regretful that you'd made him stay so long in a place he wasn't entirely comfortable with. But he was still here, and surprisingly, still drinking, nursing the beer that your old boss had served them all when they'd returned from the crime scene.

“Mixology is an interesting field of study. When you think about it, it's practically chemistry.”

“I like to think of it as alchemy,” you grinned at him, enjoying the way he could turn anything into something more complicated and mathematical than it is. “Because one sip of one of my cocktails will have you thinking you've unlocked the secret of immortality.”

“Okay, if that's how drunk we're getting tonight then I'm calling home now,” JJ laughed standing from her chair and already dialling the numbers.

“Okay - here we go.” You grabbed the bottle of vodka from the counter and started, keeping your eyes focused on Reid as much as you could.

–X–

After two hours and about 5 rounds of cocktails, you'd nearly defeated the entire team. Your ex-boss had thrown you the keys half an hour earlier and called himself a cab, leaving you behind to close up just like old times.

Hotchner and Rossi had given in after two drinks each, apparently old and wise enough to know just how much alcohol was in an Old Fashioned and a Negroni each.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Emily had mocked them on the way out, but two drinks later and she was asleep in the back of a cab having been carried out by both JJ and Morgan.

You'd used the good gin in her Aviation cocktail, and it was only a matter of time before she ended up peacefully sleeping the week away.

The only member of the team left standing was, surprisingly again, Spencer.

You'd gone simple with his Espresso Martini, though you'd made a big show and dance about adding twice as much brown sugar syrup than the recipe required.

“A sweet cocktail for the man who drinks the sweetest coffee known to man.” He'd brushed his hand across your fingers every time you'd passed him a refill, and you'd felt the familiar jolts of anticipation pass through you with each shared glance.

Your old boss had even noticed that you were ‘sweet on that little coworker of yours,’ and you'd had to do your best to stop yourself from openly flirting with him whilst he was sat there at the bar.

You'd done it for tips every single shift, not caring about the consequences, buy with Spencer, you so desperately wanted there to be consequences that you never so much as tried.

“We should pack up and head home, Spence.” You said, cleaning up the final glass of Mai Tai Derek had left behind, but when you turned around to see him, he was gone.

More accurately, he'd moved to your side of the bar and was sliding his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

You gasped his name like a prayer, not expecting his cold fingers to curl under your shirt as he buried his head in your shoulder.

“Spencer! What's… what are…”

“Let me hold you.” He didn't say much more than that, but he didn't need to say more. You'd already.relaxed into his touch, eyes shutting so you could focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

“You're good at this,” he mumbled, words slightly slurred. “Everyone was watching you, they all wanted you to pour their drinks.”

You listened to each word of his voice fighting off confusion. Who was everybody? There hadn't been another customer in the bar since you'd made the arrest.

“The old men in the corner, they looked down your top when you picked something up for them. I heard them talking about it, how they thought about stuffing a couple of one's right here,” his hand trailed up to your breasts and you gasped, “like you were some stripper.”

His hands were slowly caressing you as he stood, chest pressed against your back, and you felt desire flood between your legs.

“Spencer, you're drunk, we should get you back to the motel.”

“My blood alcohol level should be around 0.11, so yes, legally I am drunk. If you want me back at the motel, be my guest, but I don't think I can keep my hands off of you tonight, Y/N.”

His words were blunt, delivered the same way he usually talked about case details, or books he'd read. There was nothing in it to indicate he'd meant to turn your world upside down just like that.

His hand had moved under your bra now, and you snapped back to reality, grabbing his hand and halting his movements momentarily as you craned your neck to look at him.

“Spencer, you're not in your right mind, you're going to regret this-” you didn't get to finish the sentence as he cut you off, pushing his lips into yours softly. With each second, his passion grew, until the two of you were caught in a battle of tongues, saliva dripping down your chin as you cared about nothing else but the pleasure you found in each other's mouths.

“The only thing,” he whispered between kisses. “That I'm going to regret, is if I let you walk me out of that door without showing you how much I want to possess every inch of you.”

His words were insistent but there was a question hidden in his movements. He'd withdrawn slightly, giving you enough space to turn him down should you want to.

You didn't.

Instead, you let a hand run up the back of his neck to his hair until you were pulling him down into you, stepping back into the warmth of his broad chest as you opened up to him.

Your other hand relinquished his, letting him explore your chest further and doing much of the same as you tried your very best to twist in your spot to get a better hold of him.

He was holding firm though, despite everything he'd drank, and had pushed you once again against the counter, hand moving between exploring your ass cheeks, and placing your hand firmly underneath you on the table so you could stabilise your position.

He worked his lips down your neck, prying your other hand out of his hair and placing it parallel to the first, before pulling your hips back slightly and encouraging you to arch your back.

You only realised you'd assumed a position for spanking when the first blow landed on your ass.

It was soft, all things considered, and he was still busy bruising your neck that you almost thought you'd imagined it.

The next one was harder though. It was real.

“Spencer!” You gasped as he stroked a hand over your asscheeks.

“Shhhhhhhh s'okay. You have a beautiful ass, I'm just making it prettier.”

His hands fumbled over your pants zipper, and then pulled them down to your knees as he continued stroking your ass and licking your neck.

The material limited your movements, trapping your knees together as he delivered one more blow. The skin to skin contact was too much and you let out a sinful moan, surprised at how loud you were suddenly managing to be.

You'd never been spanked before, never even thought about it, but something about Spencer's hands on you, the lingering scent of alcohol in the air had every hair on your body standing in excitement.

You heard Spencer unzip his own pants and were a little regretful that you didn't get the honour. You wanted to see him hold him in your hand, take him into your mouth and play with him until you knew just how he worked. But your back was still to him, and he wasn't giving you the space you needed to turn around and catch a glimpse.

“Every man in this bar tonight wanted to be where I am right now,” he whispered into your hair as he kissed the crown of your head, and then pushed your panties aside and ran himself along the lips of your cunt.

It was a night of sounds - the zippers, his whispers, your moans - bit you still weren't expecting to be able to hear your arousal.

It was erotic, near pornographic how wet his spanking had made you, and he let out small groans of appreciation as he gathered your juices on his cock.

He didn't try to breech you just yet, but rocked his cock between your thighs and cunt, teasing you just enough to keep you hooked, but nowhere near where you needed him to get you.

“Every man who was in here wanted you, and I got you. Right?” He asked again, practically rutting against your cunt.

“Y-Yes, Spencer.”

“Yes, sir.” He corrected, and you gasped as his hand struck your ass again, dangerously close to where his hips joined yours.

“Yes, sir.”

“Be a good girl for me, baby. I want to take care of you.”

With those words, he lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance and slipped in.

With your knees still locked in place by your pants, it was really up to Spencer to control the pace. You didn't spare a second for the thought that had you been completely naked with a better range of motion that he still wouldn't relinquish this quiet control of you.

With one hand on your hip, and the other curled around to reach your clit as you arched your back against him, it wasn't long before he was setting a vigorous pace.

It wasn't that he was thrusting particularly fast, or that he was doing it ridiculously hard, like some men who knew no better tried. It was the combination of how far he was able to reach with his careful concentration on your pleasure.

You felt him speed up once before quickly drawing himself back to the even tempo, doing his best to not get lost in you.

His fingers traced your cunt in a slow figure eight as first, before experimenting with different movements, shapes, words until he'd been rewarded by your cunt clenching around his cock as you came all over it.

You gasped in shock, and flushed, so shocked it took only that long.

Instead of congratulating himself on getting you off though, he used your orgasm to inform himself of what you liked, what you so desperately needed from his fingers and his cock.

And most importantly, he didn't stop.

Even as your body twitched and spasmed around his cock, he kept up his wrist movements, keeping your body warmed up as he finally took his turn.

“Tell me how much you want this,” he whispered into your ear.

“I want this so badly, Sir, I need your cock pumping in and- ahhh out of me.”

“Tell me how nice my cock feels,” he again ordered and you willingly obeyed.

“Your cock is perfect, it's so big and warm, like it was made just for me.”

“Good girl, now tell me how much you want me to shoot my cum inside of you.”

Your mouth went dry as you choked out a moan, his pace getting rougher and rougher with each thrust. You hadn't heard him correctly, surely, your brain was imagining things.

But he prompted you with a slight tap to your face, a slap that wouldn't leave any mark.

“You don't want my cum all over this bar, do you? It would be a shame for your ex boss to fail his hygiene inspection.”

“Cum in me! God, please cum in me.”

He gripped you tight around your waist as he finally pushed himself over the edge, filling you with his seed and keeping you pinned in his arms until he was sure that none of it would escape.

“I'm glad you agreed, because I wasn't asking,” he said, chest still slightly heaving as he rode out his orgasm, lower body twitching in its sensitivity.

When he finally did pull out, he'd spent so long inside you, cockwarming, that not much of his cum slipped out. He cleaned you up with a clean dishcloth you pointed to on the counter, and pulled your pants back up, quickly manoeuvring his up too.

After a brief moment of silence, you finally turned to look at him, melting into his arms again as you took in his fucked out expression.

He stroked your head quietly for a few minutes, before pulling back from your hug.

“This bar doesn't have CCTV, does it?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[your-highnessmarvel]

Repairs

Requested by @talesofreading : Would you write something where you're a close friend of Steve and one time as your Bike needs some repair, he tells you to bring it to Bucky as he's good in fixing it. You're hesitant first as you have a bad crush on him but you decide to do it. So when you get there he's wearing a muscle Shirt, is all dirty and Looks pretty hot with his metal arm. So after you watch him fix your bike you can't resist the way he also Looks at you, so it happens that you end up in his shower together with some passionate smut. Later then he asks you for a proper date? 🤭

AN: omg this was sooooo good to write omg

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, piv, oral (f receiving), fingering, language

*gif not mine

MASTERLIST

"Yep, totally busted," Steve said, looking back up at you from where he knelt next to your smoking bike.

You put a hand to your sweaty forehead. Both of you had been at this for the better part of the afternoon, trying to figure out what was wrong with your motorcycle. Steve was in his white wifebeater, stained black from oil and grim, nails coated in dirt. He'd sweated right through his shirt and even his jeans were full of mud and dirt.

You'd sweated your fair share as well, competing with dirt under your nails and sweat right into your hairline. you didn't look any better, but you didn't care; this was your best friend, after all, and you had no reason to try to impress him.

"You know what?" Steve said, putting his tools back into his box. "You should go see Bucky."

You immediately rolled your eyes.

"He's good with bikes, y/n," he commended, seeing the way you shook your head.

"Is this another ploy to set me up with your grumpy best friend?" you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve got to his feet, dirt-stained hands going right into his pockets. "I mean it, y/n," he said, almost scolded. "I'm not as savvy with bikes as he is. He'd do it if you said I sent you."

"Then come with me!" you said. "Every time I'm alone with him, there's this awkward silence and all he does is grunt as a response."

Steve smiled. "I wish I could come, but I've got a date," he answered.

"Yeah, right," you grumbled. You watched him carefully, your best friend and mentor, and something along the edges of his eyes was curious.

He was shy.

"Who is she?" you asked.

He shrugged. "A girl that I saw at the library." He cut that off pretty short, picking up his tools, his towel, and throwing the keys back at you. "Now, get to Bucky's before it's nightfall."

Bucky lived way out of the city, into the utopian suburbs. You found it funny that this was the life that Bucky chose. After everything you'd heard from him, you'd pictured him in a dingy, half-lit, half-crumbling one-bedroom in Manhattan. Not in the outskirts of the city.

Thank God your car could pull a trailer, or else you'd have had to ask Bucky to meet you at your place, and that just wasn't happening. The thousand-year-old soviet asset was known to be a judger of literally everything.

You pulled into Bucky's parking space, the garage to his tiny little house open, like a black mouth ready to swallow you in. By this time, it was nearing four in the afternoon, and the sun was searing, hot and humid, and with just a foot out of your car, you were already sweating.

You closed the door loudly, maybe trying to announce your presence so you didn't have to knock on the door.

"Hey." It was Bucky, coming out of the shadows of his garage. It took you a second to get the hinges in your jaw to work because, damn.

You'd always thought of Bucky as a man who passed as good looking. Well, when you met him, he was still in heavy therapy and on government surveillance. He still had long, matted brown hair and a face dragged down by sorrow.

But now. Now he'd taken to cleanly shave his hair, leaving a few inches of thick, curling locks on top of his hair, not totally covering his ears. And even though he was slimmer than the last time you'd seen him - he hadn't been working out as much - he still looked... better. Real better.

"Hey," you said, awkwardly waving at him. He was carrying a white rag, cleaning his hands from oil or dirt or whatever else he'd been doing. "Steve said I could come to you if I had problems with my bike?"

He pursed his lips. He came closer, out of the shadows and into the mid-afternoon sun, and you got a good glimpse at him. Golden skin, scars matting his hand, his knuckles. He was wearing a muscle shirt, the kind that was maybe a bit too small for him, molding to his muscles, straining across his metal bicep.

You'd never really seen the arm before. Only flickers of his hands or fingers, but never the entire machine.

You licked your lips, something squeezing in your lower belly.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

you shrugged. "Dunno."

He glazed his eyes, rolled them. "Alright, take it down and bring it into the garage."

With a tiny sigh of resentment - he wasn't helping you - you unlatched the ties of your bike and rolled it into the garage. it was darker, a little cooler, inside. As you settled your bike in the dead center of the room, Bucky brought two stools, effortlessly carrying them around.

He sat on his and motioned with a wrench for you to sit beside him. Even though you'd sweated all day in your black t-shirt, and God knows whatever he'd down today, there was something terrific about sitting this close to Bucky.

His tanned fingers worked to open up the bike, his metal hand working the wrench.

"Ah," he said, poking around the engine. "I see what's wrong."

"Is it fixable?" you asked.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, darling," he whispered.

You swallowed the heat climbing up your throat, watching him get to work in silence. Unlike Steve, Bucky didn't tell you what he was doing or why; he just did it.

It took longer than expected. And the more he worked, straining against your bike, the sweatier he got, the more figetting you did.

His flesh arm was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. His hand was veined, strained against the metal piece he was holding aside. His fingers were dirty with grime and dust. Even that God damned muscle shirt was stained with dirt and sweat and grime.

By the time he was done, a light sheet of rain was coating the ground outside. It was pitter-pattering against the cement, a slow drone of rain against the tin roof. Almost comforting.

"You can't take your bike out in the rain," he said, putting everything back in its place, stowing his tools and his rags.

You gulped. "Yeah, I'm sure the rain will let off soon." You dragged your sweaty palms onto your jeans nervously. It caught Bucky's eye.

He stood, dragging your eyes up to his figure. He was so tall, so wide at the shoulders, sweating in his shirt, hair a mess.

"I've got beer inside," he said, throwing the rag in the corner of the garage, placing his tools on his self-made wooden desk. Then he turned to you and gestured to the front door. "Come on."

You followed him out into the rain, walking quickly up the steps and into his home, which smelled of him, something woodsy, and air freshener.

You were humid, rain dotting your skin as you took off your sneakers and followed him into the kitchen. The air conditioning was making you cold.

his home was cozy but so boyish. No decorations but a huge TV. A grey couch with not pillows or blankets. Empty liquor bottles as props over the refrigerator, which droned on and on. There was only one magnet on his fridge, and it read "I love NY!" Which was ironic because Bucky didn't love anything.

"Here," he said, offering you an ice cold beer, but it did nothing to warm you up. You leaned back against his kitchen counter, sipping on your beer, watching him poke around the inside of his fridge. The yellow light cast on his face like a glow, and he hummed when he found what he wanted.

By the time he took out the rolled up cheese, he saw you shivering by the sink.

"I'm sorry," you said, settling the beer down. "I'm just a bit cold from the rain."

He hummed, slamming the cheese rolls on the kitchen table.

"We ought to warm you up," he said, diving back into the fridge to get a beer, which he opened and took a five good gulps before he wiped his wet mouth.

"Yeah," you chuckled, pressing your hands against your arms, searching for heat.

The super soldier, immune to any heat or cold or anything really, stood before you with his sticky muscle shirt molding to every nook in his muscles. His arms, his chest, down to his abs. Water had made it almost see-through, and you felt like a perv watching as he breathed, watching his muscles contract beneath the fabric.

"You should take a shower, y/n," he said, tone low.

You startled, eyes dragging from his abs to his face in a split second. Did you smell? Was that why he'd said that?

"You're shivering, poor thing," he said, clucking his tongue, taking another wild swing of his beer. And you noticed that he was eyeing you took, at your jeans sticking to your thighs, your hips. At your wet shirt glueing to the curve of your waist and breasts.

He set his beer down and offered his hand. "Come."

On some instinct you'd never registered before, you took his hand, flesh fingers warm and calloused.

He led you into a small bathroom with no windows. where various male paraphernalia was strewn across the sink. He pulled the shower curtian back and started the shower and you just stood there like a fish out of water; mouth slightly agape, your hand still loosely holding on to his.

"Bucky?"

He hummed.

"I don't get it," you said.

He returned his gaze to yours, satisfied with the steam rising from the shower. He gave you a small, tight smile. "Get undressed," he said, gesturing his chin at you, dropping your hand.

You stood there like a statue, examining him; from the hard jawline, the seriousness in his eyes, the way his skin pulled back when he moved his mouth.

Then, harder this time, "Get undressed or freeze, sweetheart."

The nickname, the pet name, sent a wave of fresh heat right into your face.

He watched, then slowly, he smiled. Like a rpedator trying to win its prey without having to sink teeth into flesh.

He took a tiny step towards you, watching your breath hitch, and he slid metal fingers under your shirt, pulling it up until it came right off your head. Your hair flopped back down over your shoulders, covering your bra.

He bit his lip. You watched, entranced as he moved to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs. He was agile because he took your panties off with it.

He came back to his full towering height, and he brushed your hair behidn your shoulders, exposing your chest, your full flesh to him.

He snaked an arm around your waist, and you gulped, the feel of his hands, burning metal fingers, was like a lightning bolt had erupted under your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, close to your ear, his breath in your hair. "So fucking gorgeous." He slid his metal hand up and then your bra was sliding off your arms.

"Let me touch you, y/n," he whispered in your ear. You gulped, nodded. "Use your words, sweetheart," and his voice was rugged, wretched, as both his hands slid careful fingertips up on your ribcage.

"Yes, Bucky," you whispered.

He huffed against you. And then his metal hand engulfed your breast, knead it the way he wanted, and his lips found your neck. You whimpered, taken by surprise by his sudden act of devotion. His tender fingers pulling your nipple, drumming against your ribs, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses up your jugular.

When he kissed you, his mouth was warm and wet, and he molded his lips to yours carefully, like he didn't want to scare you off.

You kissed him back just as carefully, confused and distraught, unaware that for years, Bucky had been yearning for this opportunity. For this moment where he finally had you alone.

Quickly, the kiss became rougher. Your hands pulled at the soft, thick strands of his hair and he pulled you aainst his with his metal arm around your waist. He nipped at you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, groaning as his flesh finger felt you.

He skimmed along your navel, until he could cup you in his palm. You squeaked, taken by surprise. "Easy there, princess," he whispered against your mouth. "Just wanna make you feel good."

He dove right back for a kiss, delving his tongue behidn your teeth while his fingers started working circles around your clit.

You had realized how riled up he'd gotten you, like a hardwire ready to snap.

You bent like a bow in his arms, moaning against his mouth as his fingers continued to circle your clit in slow, languid circles. And when he prodded farther, where you most ached for him, he moaned against your mouth when he felt just how soaked you were.

"Fuck, y/n," he groaned, pulling his mouth from yours.

You almost whimpered at the lost of contact, but he picked you up so effortlessly, so quickly, that you hadn't registered that you were now sitting on the edge of the sink until you couldn't see him anymore. All you could see was the steam rising from the shower, clogging the bathroom, settling on your skin in dotted water drops.

And Bucky, on his knees, pulling your knees apart. His eyes, hooded and so blue, looked up at you as he kissed the inside of your thigh.

"One leg on my shoulder, baby," he ordered, his metal hand under your thigh, helped you move until you were almost straddling his face. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, biting into the plush of your thighs.

The angle sent you backward, back against the cold mirror, and one hand hanging onto the edge. Ready to plummet or fly, you couldn't tell.

His mouth teetered around your pussy, kissing along your thighs, until he settled over your clit and gave you one long swipe of his tongue.

Your head fell backwards, eyes closing, hips searching for his mouth.

"You taste so sweet," he cooed, pressing another long lick from your hole to your clit.

A strangled moan escaped your clenched teeth when he sucked on your clit, one of your hands digging into his hair and pulling him where you wanted him.

The room was filled with the filthy sound of Bucky getting his fill, lapping you up and sucking in your clit like a man starved. Both hands leaving ink-blue marks in your hips.

He worshipped your clit, flicking and sucking to a rhythm that had your thighs shaking against his face, with you pulling his hair by the roots. He sucked and fucked your hole with his tongue until a knot formed right under your belly button and exploded in white hot lightning.

As your orgasm washed through you in waves, rocking against his face, a moan hitched in your throat.

Bucky held your thighs open, refusing to let them close, and lapped up his fill.

When you were but a trembling, babbling mess, Bucky it into your thigh, kissing up your knee until he was standing between your legs. His eyes were hooded, pupils blown, mouth red and glittering, swollen from the kisses he'd lain on your clit.

"Come 'ere," he groaned, grabbing you by the back of the neck, bringing you upright on the counter. He brought his mouth to yours in a feverish, harsh kiss that left you dizzy and scrambling to keep up with him.

You pushed him away, grappling at his shirt, pulling it over his head. You gorged on the sight, on the tanned skin exposed, the scar where his metal shoulder meshed with his flesh. You touched the tips of your fingers to his metal shoulder, skimming down to his hand.

He took your mouth again, pressing you back into the mirror, hands in your hair, on your breast, skimming down back to your dripping hole.

He entered one flesh finger, pressing against your walls, so slippery and warm. He hummed, feeling your breasts against his chest as you bowed your back at the sensation.

You patted him through his pants, feeling him warm and hard against your touch. He hissed at the sensation, nipping at your mouth.

He continued to move his digit in and out of you, pressing his palm to your clit. You continued palming him, pressing against the impressive length of him until he groaned and took himself out of his pants, dropping them at his ankles and kicking them away.

Your mouth opened in a small 'o' at the sight of him, hard and thick, tip dripping precum.

"Too much for you sweetheart?" he asked, pressing his forehead to yours, thumbs on each side of your jaw.

You shook your head, gulped, saw the faint smile that crossed his face. He watched you with keen eyes as he lined himself with your soaked heat.

He pressed his thumb against your mouth, kissing you, as he slowly inched in. He watched you take it, watched as your mouth opened, brows curving upward.

"Don't give up on me baby," he whispered, nipping at your mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw.

He slid himself to the hilt, grabbing your hip in a bruising grip, metal hand pressed against the foggy mirror over your head.

You gasped, latching onto his shoulders for dear life as he pulled back and thrust back into you, feeling you clench and flitter around him.

You whimpered, body pressing up against the mirror with one harsh thrust from his hips.

"That feel good, huh?" he asked, boring his eyes into yours, keeping a slow, languid pace with his hips. "Tell me, y/n, that feel good when I fuck you?"

You nodded, feeling him slick, sliding into you with ease, stretching your walls and hitting that spot deep in you that made you writhe.

"Yes, Bucky," you answered, breathlessly, scratching at his flesh shoulder.

He groaned, taking your mouth with his, speeding up his thrusts, making your head catch on the mirror. You moaned against his mouth, giving up full control of your body to his, at the mercy of every thrust, every change in rhythm.

"Taking me so well," he grunted, hiding his face in your shoulder, bruising grip on your hip helping him thrust himself deeper into you. Then he pulled himself up, face hovering over yours, searching your gaze wildly. "You like it when I fucked this tight little hole?" he asked, and again, his tone was scratching the surface of something wilder.

You nodded, feeling a knot form in your belly, your thighs closing around his hips. His mouth stretched into a smile, pounding deeper and faster into you. "Yeah, you do," he said, almost mockingly, pressing a sweaty forehead to yours. "I see the way you always look at me," he grunted, kissing your mouth, humming at the moan that left your lips.

"Bucky, please," you whispered, eyes falling shut, your orgasm on the brink of breaking.

"I feel you, y/n, come on," he grunted, keeping a harsh, pounding pace until your legs shook and your orgasm broke through you in waves. "Fuck, that's so tight," he breathed, chasing his own end, pounding into your tightening hole.

A stuttered moan left your lips as you clung to Bucky, rocking into your orgasm with every thrust, feeling the wave of pleasure reach your toes. His metal hand came slamming onto the mirror beside your ear, cracking into the glass as he pounded into you, breathless and wordless until he gave you a few sloppy thrusts and he was spending himself in you.

He stayed there a few moments, breathing with you, kissing you softly until he pulled out of you. You stuttered, a breath hitched in your throat, as you felt him leaking out of you.

He met your gaze, leaning back to examine his work, and then he slowly helped you to your feet. You giggled at your loss of coordination, hearing Bucky chuckle too as he helped you into the shower.

You let the warm spray wash his seed from the inside of your thighs, soak into your hair.

"Warm enough?" he asked, chin on your shoulder.

You chuckled. "I've been warm enough for a little while."

He hummed, placing both hands along your waist. He helped you wash up, lathering your skin and hair, helping you wash out the suds.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. "You're quiet."

"Yes," you answered, looking over your shoulder at him. "Are you?"

He smiled, eyes low. He raised his brows. "I am now," he whispered.

When you were done with the shower and you were both drying up, Bucky tied his towel around his waist and watched you put your hair up in a towel.

"What?" you asked.

He snorted. "It isn't like me to do...this," he said, leaning against the sink. His chest was wet, glistening spots lingering down to his abs. It was enough to make you want to do this again.

You smiled but didn't answer, focused on getting your towel around your torso.

"Do you want to go out to dinner sometime?" he asked, and you looked up, met his eyes across the steamy bathroom, and smiled.

"Yeah, of course."

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky x you #bucky x yn #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #smut #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier

[hollyseb]

BARTENDER (PART 4)

You need to make ends meet. How far are you willing to go?

Warnings; violence, blood, swearing

No permission to copy my work

AN; thank you for all the love. And the story will get saucier i promise!!!! Also, happy new year :)))

Part 3 here: https://www.tumblr.com/hollyseb/738091620032987136/bartender-part-3

“There’s been a hit placed on your girl. $10,000. Dead or alive.”

Fuck.

The mobsters from the other night, the ones he beat, must’ve seen him shield you from their attack. Fuck.

The blood in Bucky’s ears was thumping. He could no longer hear Steve. They were going to kill you.

Bucky pushed past Steve, shouldering him out the way, running to the lift. He was disgruntled, fearful, his hair sticking to his forehead, before turning around to Steve.

“Steve, I need you and Sam to organise a watch schedule. She will be surveilled 24/7, and then I need you to contact Rumlow. I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.”

Bucky couldn’t get out of his office fast enough, rushing into the underground garage and into his blacked out Mercedes. He tried to ignore the way his hands were shaking as they locked onto the steering wheel, speeding towards your apartment block.

You had just gotten home, unashamedly lightly touching your lips. He’d kissed you. That was the best kiss you’d ever had. You’d just sat down on your sofa, reaching for your phone to message Nat about the encounter. Your front door was kicked down with a bang.

What the fuck? Your head whipped around to the door, practically jumping out of your skin at the commotion.

It was Bucky. You could tell he was distraught, “you know you could’ve just knocked, right?”

“Honey, you need to come with me right now”, he rushed over to you, cradling your face in his hands. Relief was pouring from his body, his eyes raking over you for damage.

“W-what? Bucky, I’m fine? What’s going on?” Your eyebrows furrowing at his panic.

He was lifting you from your sofa, “go and pack a bag, you need to stay with me for a little bit”.

You pulled your hands out of his, “Bucky, what is this? You can’t just bust into my apartment and-”

“Go and pack a bag. And come with me. Now.”

What the fuck? You didn’t like this. The way he was pushing you. But he had a desperation you hadn’t seen in his eyes before. Was he… scared? You just nodded, grabbing a duffel bag and packing your clothes.

Bucky was scoping your apartment, checking outside the window, his hand on his left trouser pocket. He was erratic.

You emerged from your bedroom, Bucky grabbed the duffel bag from your shoulder, his hand wrapped around your waist as he guided you out of your apartment, he was holding you plush to him. You were finding it difficult to walk. He couldn’t take his hands from you.

He placed you in the passenger seat, buckling the seatbelt for you. He rounded his car, before speeding off.

“Bucky, I want to know what’s going on.”

“Just… just wait okay. We’re going to my house. I’ll tell you everything when we get there, okay? The most important thing is that you’re safe”, he reached across and gently laid a hand on your knee. A sharp, calm contrast to how he was acting.

He was just so relieved he had managed to get to you.

The drive to his house was quiet, other than his mobile ringing off the hook.

He pulled up to this house, you couldn’t see it at first. It was completely gated, and the garden fenced with tall trees. The driveway was long, and you couldnt help the gasp that escaped your lips when his house came into view.

It was huge. Gorgeous. Simple but eloquent. The garage opened automatically and again, he helped you out of the car. You tried to stop yourself from ogling his other cars. God, how rich was this man?

He guided you into the foyer, a high ceiling with a huge chandelier. Sam and Steve were standing in the centre of the room, around a table, pieces of papers scattered everywhere, both completely enthralled in what was in front of them, lifting their heads to give a stern nod to Bucky when they saw you.

They were looking at maps, blue prints, criminal records, identifiers. You’d never seen them so serious. You knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong. You were itching for Bucky to tell you.

Bucky guided you up the stairs, into the master bedroom. It was simple, but cozy. Grey hues, with books scattered around. A huge wardrobe with you assumed held all of his suits.

“Please sit, and I don’t want you to panic”, you could only nod in response as you sat on the edge of his bed.

He kneeled between your legs, rubbing circles into your knees, “Honey, those men from the other night. They have… they want to … take you.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

“They have placed a hit on you. They saw you with me, and they are using that as leverage”, the words barely sounded in your ears, he could see the panic rising in your face, “but look, you’re here, I’ve got you. You’re safe, as long as you’re with me”

Bucky explained the security system in his home, the bodyguards, the cameras, the protection. You were overwhelmed. And scared. What would they do if they got their hands on you?

You couldn’t help the fearful tears that threatened to fall.

“No, no, no honey, don’t cry”, Bucky stood up, still crouching to meet your eyes. His hands rising to cradle your face, and wipe your tears with his thumbs.

“I’m just scared Bucky”, your hands shaking.

“Shhh”, he pressed sweet kisses into your hairline and he wrapped his arms around you. He hated how scared you were.

Bucky whispered, about how he was going to protect you, how Sam and Steve were tracking down the assailants to take them out. He instructed you to get changed, still sitting in the skirt and sweater you wore to meet him earlier. That felt like a lifetime ago.

You tugged your clothes out your bag, a cozy set to try and smooth yourself.

Bucky left the room so you could change. You didn’t want to admit it but you felt a little less safe with him just standing outside the door.

Despite the weight of the topic at hand, he couldn’t help the stiffening of his cock at the sight of you sitting on the edge of his bed. So innocent, so small. He wanted to devour you. He could see your nervousness, the way you lightly perched in the corner. God, he wanted you in the middle of the bed, spread, your hair falling around you like an angel.

When he knocked on the door, you were tugging your hair from your sweater. He thought you looked beautiful.

You followed him downstairs, back to the room where Sam and Steve were scheming.

“How you holding up, bartender?” Steve said, a soft, supportive smile on his teasing face.

You couldn’t help but smile, “I’m fine, really. I think it’s this guy that you need to be worried about”, you motioned to Bucky, standing in the kitchen, shoulders drawn with tension and jaw constantly twitching.

He looked over his shoulder and sent you a small smile while Steve smirked. He had never seen Bucky so stressed.

He walked over and pulled out a chair and motioned for you to sit down, returning with a hot cup of tea in his hands and placing it beside you with a hand on your shoulder. He rounded the table to sit with Sam and Steve.

It was magnetising, really, the way he was so involved in his work. Instructing Steve to produce blueprints of the warehouse they assumed the opposing mob was inhabiting, and the way he instructed Sam to devise a discreet plan of entry. He was so… dominant. Leading. It was… hot. I wonder if he’s like this in the bedroom.

You tried to shake the thoughts, and the way you couldn't take your eyes off of him, reminding yourself the reason you were here. You turned your focus to the tea.

Bucky was constantly looking towards you, checking you were okay. He smiled when he noticed your eyes becoming droopy. You were tired. You felt safe enough with him to let yourself drop off. He adored it. It was… unexpectantly domestic.

He nudged you, “come on honey, let’s get you to bed.”

You nodded into his chest as he guided you back to his bedroom, peeling the covers back for you and helping you step in, “I’ll be downstairs, come down if you need anything, okay?”

You could only nod, your eyes heavy with sleep. You were exhausted, overwhelmed… and very comfortable. The sheets smelt like his cologne, as if he had his arms around you.

Meanwhile, Bucky, Steve and Sam were downstairs, quietly discussing and scheming how they were going to take down this mob once and for all. He knew they would never stop coming for you after they had seen how much he cared.

Tonight. It had to be tonight. Before more people recieved wind of the hit, and to show others what happened when they messed with Bucky.

They stacked up their guns, loading them into the back of the matte black SUV. Sam and Steve were built for these moments.

You softly drifted off to sleep, until you heard the floor creak open. You barely opened your eyes, assuming it was Bucky back from the warehouse. You expected to feel a kind hand rub your shoulder, or maybe a kiss pressed into your hairline. When a hand was placed over your mouth and nose, your body instantly kicked into overdrive, gasping for air and flailing under the hand.

Your legs kicked out at the tall man, as his other hand worked to grab your wrists.

“Shut the fuck up, you little bitc-“, the gritty voice seethed.

You could feel yourself becoming light headed at the lack of oxygen. No, no, no, no. You began to pass out. Where the fuck was Bucky?

AN; next chapter is ahhh!!!!

TAGLIST

@melsunshine @scott-loki-barnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @mrsevans90 @kandis-mom @blairbibi @pattiemac1 @urmom222 @km-ffluv @casa-boiardi

#mob bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #marvel #sebastian stan

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Lucky Break Prologue

Yandere Straw Hats x fem!Reader

5k words

I finally got this done, boy did it take longer than I had planned. I’ve worked hard on this and will continue to, so I hope everyone who takes the time to read this enjoys it! This fic is for the most part going to feature platonic yanderes, and the reader insert does use she/her pronouns.

There isn’t much One Piece stuff in this chapter, but there will be in the next.

Next

When you’re a kid, everything seems so simple. You look around at the world around you and assume you know exactly how your life is going to go. After you finish high school, you’ll go to college and study for a major of your choosing. Immediately upon graduation, you’ll get a job in your desired field, and have a prosperous career to be proud of. Somewhere along the way, you’ll get married, maybe have some kids, and eventually enjoy a comfortable retirement where you will look back on your life with nothing but pride!

Yeah right. What a joke.

If provided with the opportunity to go back in time, you would kick your child-self’s ass for her naivety and optimism. How dare she foolishly get her own hopes up for a good and easy life. 

Okay, so maybe you’re a little bitter, but who could blame you? Who isn’t disappointed with how at least one aspect of their life is going? It’s perfectly normal. Though, admittedly, for you it was wayyyy more than one aspect. 

For starters, your job sucked. Not an uncommon complaint, but one that wore you down dramatically. Being a waitress was hell, but what could you do? You need money to live just like anyone else. Not that you were making much, not if the late fees were anything to go off.

You couldn’t get a better job because the more desirable jobs were all long since taken. Well, what few jobs you could apply for given the lack of a college degree. Oh yeah, you’re a college drop out. Much to the intense disappointment of your parents. They kicked you out when you told them and have hardly spoken to you since. 

Seriously though, what did they want you to do? Keep going to school in hopes that you’ll magically figure out what you want to and go into horrible debt in the meantime? It’s easy to tell someone to keep going to college when you're not the one paying for it. You don’t understand how you’re the bad guy for not wanting to take your student loans to the grave.

It didn’t help that the friends you had have all slowly fallen out of contact with you since you moved away. You thought that maybe starting new somewhere else would be refreshing, foolishly not realizing how difficult making new friends as an adult is. You had some coworkers that you go along with well enough. They had even talked about meeting up outside of work to just hang out, but these plans never fully came to fruition thanks to conflicting schedules. 

Whatever. Dwelling on it isn’t going to help you. You need to focus on the here and now.

Currently, you were on a bus, and not to go to work this time. No, you were going to indulge yourself tonight with a little urban exploration. Today’s target was a somewhat recently abandoned mall. It’s been closed for around a year now, long enough for retailers to take what they wanted and for cops to be beginning to lose interest in constantly patrolling it. It was still under surveillance, but nothing you didn’t know how to navigate. 

You spent a couple weeks scoping out the place, a nearby cafe made it easy to do so without raising suspicion. There wasn’t any on site security to worry about, you just had to keep an eye out for the occasional cop car that would drive by. They only stopped to investigate if there was a car in the parking lot near the building. This wouldn’t be a problem for you given your lack of a personal vehicle.

The plan was straightforward. You’d already identified an entry point while poking around the building at night, an employee only door with a busted lock. It took a bit of elbow grease to jerk it open, but there wasn’t an alarm rigged to it, so it was perfect. All you needed to do was make sure no one spotted you as you went in, and you would be golden.

The bus was slowing to a stop, and it was your turn to get off. Shouldering your backpack, you scooted to the edge of the seat in preparation. As soon as it stopped, you were on your feet and hurrying to the door. The mall was only a couple blocks from here in a rapidly failing part of the city. The only businesses around there were the aforementioned cafe and a couple of thrift stores. Fortunately, your way in was facing away from those stores. As long as a cop wasn’t driving by as you snuck in, no one would see you.

As you made your way there, you could feel the excitement setting in. You didn’t have much in your life to look forward to, this was one of the few things that made you feel alive. The thrill of getting in and out without being caught was addictive if you were being completely honest with yourself.

There were other pros to it, too. Sometimes you got lucky and found something valuable that you could pawn. A forgotten piece of jewelry, a dropped phone, some abandoned tools, you never knew what you were going to find. Even if you didn’t find anything, it was fun to be able to explore an old building with no one around. It gave you this sense of adventure your life was otherwise devoid of.

Granted, there were risks. Cops being the biggest one. Having a criminal record sounded less than ideal to you. There was also the concern raised by the fact that you did this completely alone. If something went wrong and you got seriously hurt, no one would be likely to find out until it was too late. That, and the threat of encountering someone dangerous.

So far, you’ve gotten lucky, only ever personally running into a couple of other urban explorers that were fortunately perfectly nice. There had been a few other close calls, but you were able to avoid detection those times. Your mom used to harp on this, saying one of these days you would get killed or kidnapped while doing this. Maybe she was right, but you couldn’t say you cared that much.

At least you wouldn’t have to go to your next shift!

You shook your head at the depressing thought. It’s not good to think that way, even if it was how you felt.

The mall was just ahead now, you looked around the parking lot for any indicators that anyone else was here. Nothing. It was completely empty. Good. Despite your excitement, you keep your pace casual, not wanting to attract attention.

Taking a cursory glance around, you don’t see any cop cars on patrol. You’re officially out of sight of the nearby businesses, so you shift into a power walk, wanting to get inside quickly while no one is around. You put on some disposable gloves and also pull a facemask out of your pocket and fasten it onto your face. Partially in case the air is bad, but also to protect yourself in case there are any security cameras.

The door takes a good few pulls to open up, but that’s fine. You do one more look around, and upon seeing nothing, you go in. The second the door shuts, you’re thrown into darkness. You fish a flashlight out of your backpack and click it on. It became immediately apparent that you were not the first person to discover this way in, the walls were already covered in graffiti. That and there were some heroin needles on the ground. You know, the usual signs of life.

You carefully make your way down the hall, trying to make your way into the main part of the mall. The air was musky, the smell easily cutting through your mask. It was far from pleasant, but you’ve smelled worse. At least you weren’t smelling any shit (yet).

The door at the end of the hall was easier to open than the last, no resistance at all. You peek out, looking for anything concerning before stepping out. There was natural light coming in from some sliding glass doors nearby. Looks like this place used to be a Macy’s or something like that. Lingering near the glass doors wouldn’t be a good idea, so you hurry off away from it. Once you’re in the main part of the mall you shouldn’t have to worry about being spotted from the outside.

The former maybe-macy’s was picked clean, they didn’t leave anything behind besides the counters and some flyers advertising a long since past sale. No shelves, no mannequins that would give you a heart attack if you saw them out of the corner of your eye, nothing. 

Outlets in malls were typically very thorough when cleaning out after closing, you doubt you’ll find anything valuable here unless some other explorer left something behind. Oh well. You do this more for the experience than anything.

You found the way out pretty quick and took in the sight of the abandoned mall. Even after being closed for a year, it still had a certain beauty to it. The research you did on the mall told you it was built in the early 70’s and the architecture reflected it. The ceiling had a quirky pattern to it, with blocks of it being solid and other blocks being glass to let natural light in. 

There was also an artsy metal structure that climbed all the way up to the second floor, and a big water fountain that acted as the centerpiece. Granted, all of this was decorated with a layer of broken glass from the shattered guardrails on the second floor, but still. This kind of decor was rare to see in modern malls, with all of them wanting to be as plain as possible. This was a pleasant change of scenery.

You meandered through the open space, glass crunching under your boots with each step. The escalators were right ahead of you. Like the guardrails, the glass on was also shattered, but that didn’t matter. As long as the stairs were in one piece, you could still climb them. 

You had a specific destination in mind for your visit here. Yes, you would like to see every nook and cranny, but the movie theater was especially exciting. You’ve never been in an abandoned theater before, so you were dying to see it and made a beeline for it.

It was damn near on the opposite side of the building, but that just gave you a chance to see what other places you could check out later. While many people find places like this unsettling at best, you found an odd sense of comfort in it. Part of it was the silence. Provided no one else rocked up, the noisiest thing you would hear would be some birds flying through.

There was also the nostalgia of being in a mall and seeing the familiar, albeit vacated, stores you remember from your childhood. Malls simply aren’t what they used to be, and it’s nice to reminisce on what once was. Sure, it’s not like you could afford to shop at one, but just being able to walk around and window shop was enjoyable. At least you could still do the walking around part even when they’re closed.

As you make your way down the second story walkway, you take note of all the signs of life around you. Lots of spiders have set up shop with massive webs in every corner to make meals of the local insect population. Nests were crammed into the spaces in between letters on the remaining signs, and although you haven’t seen any, there are enough droppings here to indicate the presence of a thriving rodent society. That means there’s probably some stray cats lurking around here, too. You hope you get to see one. There’s a laser pointer on your keyring and some treats in your pockets just for such occasions. 

You look up and are thrilled to finally be at the theater. There are blank rectangles on the wall from where movie posters used to be. The sign that used to display movies and showtimes now simply says closed. Well, technically it says ‘CL S  D’, but you got the drift.

The lobby is surprisingly intact. The ticket and snack counters are both still here, even the glass around the ticket counter was unbroken. Some of the old snack machines still remained, which surprised you. It was faint, but you think you could still pick up on the smell of popcorn. It could also just be a placebo effect but shh. 

You hop over the snack counter to see what’s back there. The first thing you notice is how sticky the floor is, your boots sticking with each step. The remaining machines are in rough shape, but that’s to be expected. The nozzle on one of the slushie machines was snapped clean off, and the doors on the popcorn machine were just gone. You meticulously opened all the drawers and cabinets, hoping to find something interesting. You didn’t. Just some garbage and rat shit. 

Moving on, you head towards the really exciting part. The showing rooms. You can’t help but pick up the pace as you run into one, only to feel a touch disappointed. It was completely gutted. The screen, the chairs, nothing was left. Who the hell even wanted a bunch of old ass movie theater seats? Where did they go?

There was a problem though, the area near where the screen would be was completely flooded. You shine your light up to the ceiling and are baffled that there’s no hole for this much water to leak through. Where the hell did it all come from? It also smelled weirdly fishy? The fish smell was so potent that it almost distracted you from all the mold on the fabric covered walls. Yikes. “N95 mask don’t fail me now,” you mumbled under your breath.

Whatever. Spinning on your heels, you head for the stairs to go to the top of the room. They’re creaky and the carpet is coming off of them in bits and pieces. 

There really wasn’t much of a reason to come up here beyond it just felt like the right thing to do. You decide to peek through the window to the projection room. Surprisingly, it’s very cluttered in there, it almost looks like a storage room. Oh, you’re definitely going to have to go in there!

… But how?

Now that you’re thinking about it, how do you even get inside one of these? It must be behind some sort of staff only door. You hope it’s not locked, there was a lot of stuff in there.

You rush down the stairs, ecstatic at what a good find this was. Once you’re in the hallway, you whip your head around to locate any possible entrance, and you find it. A plain, unmarked door between two of the theater rooms. Bingo. You twist the knob, but it doesn’t budge.

Not bingo.

It’s unlikely that the keys for this door are still here… but you can’t just let this go. After testing the fortitude of the door with a few kicks and yanks, you resolve to look for the key despite the low odds of actually finding it.

The most likely place it would be would be a main office or something. You head back to the lobby, that’s probably where the door to one would be. The beam of your flashlight flits over the surrounding walls in search of a side door.

Some fallen ceiling tiles and wires almost hid it from you, but there it was. You pick up what looks like a snapped off broom handle and use it to push the debris out of the way and keep the wires off you while you try the door, praying that this won’t also be locked. 

It doesn’t turn. Dammit! Out of sheer frustration, you give it a violent shake. It snaps clean off, the knob from the other side loudly clattering to the ground. Looks like your luck is coming back around.

The door still takes a bit of rattling to shake loose the remaining bits of the old locking mechanism, but it finally creaked open. Wasting no time, you hurried in, observing the new area. While it was dirty, it was untouched by graffiti and general vandalism. It’s a simple long hallway with two doors. You get to the first and open it up, greeted by the sight of an old bathroom. 

The mirror above the sink doubles as a medicine cabinet, so you decide to check it out. When you pull it open, the whole door comes right off. Oops. The cabinet in question didn’t have anything interesting in it, only being occupied by a bottle of tums, some nail clippers, and a box of dental floss. Thrilling stuff.

You move on and head for the other door. Surely that has to be the office. The door clicks open again, thank god. You grin to yourself, it is the office. The desk is right in front of you and in good shape, not appearing to have been tampered with this past year. Excellent.

It’s surprisingly clean in here. There is some dust, but not nearly as much as you would have expected. The desk itself is old and made of wood. It honestly looks way too nice to have been left here. The chair is, weirdly enough, not present. What, that was worthy of being taken but not the desk? Whatever. It’s not important.

You’re quick to start rifling through the drawers. Paperwork, pack of gum, more paperwork, some pens, a few paperclips, even more paperwork… it’s not looking good. Your heart is sinking with each passing second. You squat and look under the desk as a last ditch effort. Your light reflects off something. Keys!

There’s a strip of tape attached to them, like someone had taped them to the underside of the desk rather than using one of the drawers. An odd decision, but who cares? These might be the keys you need! 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you run back to the possible projector room door. The key ring has several keys on it, so there’s a bit of trial and error to go through in your attempts to unlock it. Your heart rate steadily picks up as you go through each key with no success. It’s not until the second to last key that you finally hear that much anticipated ‘click’. 

The door is surprisingly heavy, you really have to pull to get it open enough to slip through. It loudly slams shut behind you and you’re met with the sight of two staircases. The room you saw through the window should be on the right. 

The stairs are carpeted but not as worn as the ones in the theater, making them less of a tripping hazard. Dust is being kicked up with each step, you can see clouds of it flying through the air and clinging to cobwebs.

Now you’re at the top and there’s another door. This one wasn’t locked. The room itself honestly resembles a boiler room to you. Pipes and cables were running along the walls, and the walls weren’t painted. There was a table in front of the window where the projector would have been.

That’s not what made you want to see this room though. Shelves were along every wall and they were loaded. You’re gonna need both hands for this. Luckily, you have a lantern type of flashlight in your backpack just for situations like this. You fish it out, click it on, and set it on the projector table before turning back to the shelves. 

There were lots of boxes, so you grab the nearest one and bring it over to the table to go through it. It’s full of what you think are spare parts for a projector, though you don’t know enough about this stuff to be sure.

The next box has some old broken lenses. Then one with tools. You even found some film, but it seemed blank. You held it up to the light and saw absolutely nothing. You suppose it makes sense for all these things to be in here, but you can’t help but wish there was something more exciting. 

You pull down another box, this one from the top shelf and open it expecting to see glass cleaner or something like that, but instead you find another, smaller box. You pull it out, and it looks like a jewelry box. There’s an image on the top of it: a skull and crossbones that’s biting what looks like a wand. Interesting. It kinda looks like something you would see on a pirate flag. What were those called again? Jolly Rogers? Yeah, that sounds right.

You give it a little shake and hear something clatter inside it. Trying to open it, however, is fruitless. It’s locked. All the keys you got earlier are way too big to fit the hole, but you think it should be easy enough to break open yourself at home. 

A genuine smile spreads across your face, you found something cool this time! The jewelry box goes into your backpack, and you’re about to resume your search when you hear something. It sounds like voices in the hall.

Quickly, but quietly, you snatch your lantern to turn it off and creep down the stairs and towards the door to try and listen better. There are two sets of footsteps but only one voice.

“-nd today WE are doing an overnight challenge in a haunted abandoned mall!”

You cringe. Oh great. Youtubers. Liars too based off that comment about the mall being haunted. In all the research you did on this place, you never saw so much as one ghost sighting.

Huffing out a sigh, you know that your fun is going to be cut short. There’s no telling whether or not these idiots parked right by the front door. You need to get out before cops show up. That, and you don’t want to accidentally end up in one of their videos. You can practically see the title now: “REAL ghost sighting at ABANDONED mall??? SCARY!!! (NOT CLICKBAIT)”

No thank you.

Lucky for you, you’ve already got a nice find, so at least you’re not leaving empty handed. You wait until they go into one of the theaters to leave the room, carefully easing the door open and closed. After a moment of thought, you lock it, too. You want this to be untouched when you come back. Naturally, this means you’re taking the keys with you. They can’t be that important to anyone if they got left behind like this.

Your escape from the mall and trip back home was uneventful for the most part. You were able to leave unnoticed and before cops got there. The youtubers did, indeed, park at the front door, so it was only a matter of time. 

The apartment complex you lived in was kinda run down, but overall not that bad. Sure, it was dingy and the bathroom had a mold problem, but it kept you warm and dry so things could be worse. 

After entering your apartment, you immediately lock your door behind you. No sense leaving it unlocked and letting some creep in. With that taken care of, you drop your backpack by the couch and go to grab some tools. 

You unceremoniously plop yourself onto the couch and toss a screwdriver and hammer onto the coffee table. You bring out the old jewelry box and really look at it now that you’re in a properly lit room. The dust was really caked on, prompting you to use your sleeve to wipe away the bulk of it.

The picture was very detailed. The skull and crossbones were painted beautifully, even the small wand looked lovely. The box was wooden, expertly varnished. You already feel bad that you’re going to have to break this open. Hopefully you’ll be able to keep the damage to a minimum, that way you can use it for yourself after this.

Experimentally, you try to pull it open again. It does have some give to it, but not enough to actually get it open. You grab the screwdriver and wedge it into the sliver of space between the lid and the box. You try and pry it open. It creaks a little, opens up slightly more, but stops short. Okay, time for the big guns.

Using your feet to hold either side of it in place, you grab the hammer, aim, and bring it down on the screwdriver handle. You hear a crack, but it’s still closed. You raise your arm and bring it down again, harder this time.

CRACK

Both the plastic screwdriver handle and the lock shatter from the force of the blow. You discard the hammer onto the floor next to the bits of handle and throw open the box.

There’s only two things in there. A rolled up piece of paper, and a necklace. The pendant on the necklace sports the same image as the top of the jewelry box over a bronze lattice patterned circle. You gingerly pick it up. It’s thin and feels brittle, like you could snap it in half without much force. What’s the point of a necklace being this fragile? 

You set it back down gently and pick up the paper. It’s almost as bad as the necklace, it looks very old and is crumbling around the edges. Slowly, you unfurl it and see there’s a message scrawled onto it with red ink.

“Congratulations on your lucky find

I wonder what desire you have in mind

Close your eyes, make a wish, and break the pendant in two

Whatever you want most will come to you”

An eyebrow quirks up and the strange rhyme. What, was this left by a genie? You sigh, and here you thought you might get something valuable out of this. 

Still… What would it hurt to play along for a second?

You grab the pendant again and examine it while you mull over what to wish for. Money? Nah. Money can be earned, however difficult it may be. If you’re gonna be using some sort of (allegedly) all powerful magic necklace, it should be something more unobtainable. What do you really want?

If you’re completely honest with yourself, you hate where you are in life right now. The monotony, the loneliness, everything. You need a new start. A new start with some new friends. Friends that actually give a shit about you. Anyone that loves you for you. Yeah, that sounds good.

Leaning back, you close your eyes and make your wish. You’re not sure you need to say it out loud, but do anyway, “I wish to have a fresh start somewhere new. A place with adventure where I can be loved.”

The pendant snaps in half easily. You hold your breath and wait. Nothing. You crack an eye open. You’re still in your same old apartment. Of course you are. Why did you think that would work? How childish.

Even though you expected this, you can’t help the wave of bitterness that washes over you. Angrily, you stuff the broken pendant into your pocket and grab your backpack. You stand up to go put this shit away, but…

You fall through the floor.

The floor didn’t break, it’s like it just ceased to exist. As you fall, everything goes black, and there isn’t a sound to be heard besides your own screaming. What’s happening? What’s going on? Shit, was that stupid thing really magical??? Was it fucking cursed???

Trying not to panic wasn’t even being considered, how could anyone not freak out from this? So here you are, screaming and crying while holding onto your backpack for dear life as if it’s going to help you right now.

Suddenly, you can see light coming from underneath you. You’re torn between being relieved to see light and being terrified that you’re about to splatter onto the ground. A wave of warmth hits you, carrying the smell of sea water. You realize that the ‘ground’ beneath you is actually a huge body of water.

And then you’re in it. 

There wasn’t enough time to prepare for the sudden immersion. Water flooded into your open mouth and you scrambled and flailed in an attempt to get to the surface. As you break the surface, you’re coughing and hacking the salty water out of your lungs. You weren’t anywhere near the ocean, how are you suddenly fighting for your life in one?

You whip your head around and are horrified to see absolutely nothing, No land or ships in sight. Oh my god. You’re going to die out here.

“HEEYYY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

You attempt to spin around to identify your potential savior, but a wave hits you, knocking you under the water again. Dammit, no! Not like this! 

Miraculously, you get back to the surface again, and the second you do, something grabs onto your shoulder and pulls. And pulls. And keeps pulling. You went from almost drowning to feeling like you’re flying over the surface of the ocean. In an attempt to feel some semblance of security, you grab onto whatever is holding you. 

It… it feels like a hand??? No, that doesn’t make sense, who could be pulling you along like this with their hand???

“Luffy, you need to slow down! You’re pulling her in too fast!”

You try to look over your shoulder to see what the hell is going on, and through your hair you think you can make out what looks like two people on a small boat. The boat is already very close and rapidly getting closer. Way too close!

THWACK

And everything goes dark again.

#one piece #yandere one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece reader insert #yandere #platonic yandere #monkey d luffy #zoro roronoa #this prologue got so out of hand it was only supposed to be like 1k words i don't know what happened #lucky break

[mysterycitrus]

Thinking about Jim, do you think he also gets this good cop good father protection because of Barbara Gordon's admiration of him? Reading it from Barbara's perspective like all her stories have Jim Gordon as the best dad and her wanting to be a cop or as a child being the gcpd little cheerleader. Like trying to tie that with her role as Oracle but then even thinking of like The Hill where Jim shot and killed a teenager and his response to the mother was that the kid was armed like... it is hard to think that she would have that blind admiration of him. I also think she is more willing to work with morally questionable characters since she has a history of working with those types of characters. What do you think DC needs to do with Barbara Gordon to get actual interest in her again?

the solution for babs is simple — she needs to be oracle again.

no ifs whens or buts — babs being batgirl again is such a spectacular downgrade from her time as oracle it’s almost unreal. babs as a character, her growth after being shot, her rediscovery and pursuit of her own autonomy, her vindictiveness, her need for control, her relationships with the birds and wendy and cass and steph, make her an infinitely richer and more interesting character than when she wears the cowl. that’s even ignoring the ableist rhetoric behind her “reclaiming” her power by getting an implant and leaving her chair, which like, vom, because it’s a whole other can of worms.

unlike batwoman where there’s a completely different identity and mantle that’s seperate from bruce, batgirl is unequivocally the subordinate to batman. the girl denotes her lack of authority. cass and helena come the closest to shaking this off, but it’s still a very deliberate character dynamic that dc upholds. batgirl 2009 also successfully orients the mantle around babs and steph, but a large part of that is that bruce isn’t present in the story.

babs was at least two years older than dick in the original canon. she was a librarian who had a life outside of the community. she was a support for other disabled women. she’d tell bruce to shut the fuck up to his face. she was singularly the most important resource to the league and all other hero teams. she was a complicated person with a lot of trauma, not the cool girlfriend archetype. i also dislike that she’s dating dick while he’s nightwing and she’s still batgirl. imagine if they made dick robin again and had him date babs as oracle. it’d be so weird!

wrt jim gordon— a lot of babs’s unequivocal support of him comes from dc’s general inability to admit that he’s a deeply flawed human being in a position of power. the narrative rarely actually criticises him over his decisions. however, i also think people forget that like…. a lot of babs’s politics is tied up with the police. she’s essentially a one woman surveillance state, and she historically struggles with boundaries around the people she loves. she does work with people that the other bats wouldn’t — isley, waller, etc, but i don’t think that necessarily separates her from the police because often the police or armed forces do the same thing. her modus operandi is also very similar to bruce in a lot of ways too.

in saying that tho, i do appreciate that she’s willing to just say fuck it, full throttle and getting a god damned law degree to bust bruce out of a murder charge. she’s an icon. let her be cunty again!!

#im in my hating cops era (i never stop) #barbara gordon #batgirl #batfam #dc comics #jim Gordon #the ask and the answer #dc meta

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A year in illustration, 2023 edition (part two)

(This is part two; part one is here.)

The West Midlands Police were kind enough to upload a high-rez of their surveillance camera control room to Flickr under a CC license (they've since deleted it), and it was the perfect frame for dozens of repeating clown images with HAL9000 red noses. This worked out great. The clown face is from a 1940s ad for novelty masks.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

I spent an absurd amount of time transforming a photo I took of three pinball machines into union-busting themed tables, pulling in a bunch of images from old Soviet propaganda art. An editorial cartoon of Teddy Roosevelt with his big stick takes center stage, while a NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's official portrait presides over the scene. I hand-made the eight-segment TILT displays.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

Working with the highest-possible rez sources makes all the difference in the world. Syvwlch's extremely high-rez paint-scraper is a gift to people writing about web-scraping, and the Matrix code waterfall mapped onto it like butter.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

This old TWA ad depicting a young man eagerly pitching an older man has incredible body-language – so much so that when I replaced their heads with raw meat, the intent and character remained intact. I often struggle for background to put behind images like this, but high-rez currency imagery, with the blown up intaglio, crushes it.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/04/dont-let-your-meat-loaf/#meaty-beaty-big-and-bouncy

I transposed Photoshop instructions for turning a face into a zombie into Gimp instructions to make Zombie Uncle Sam. The guy looking at his watch kills me. He's from an old magazine illustration about radio broadcasting. What a face!

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/18/the-people-no/#tell-ya-what-i-want-what-i-really-really-want

The mansplaining guy from the TWA ad is back, but this time he's telling a whopper. It took so much work to give him that Pinnocchio nose. Clearly, he's lying about capitalism, hence the Atlas Shrugged cover. Bosch's "Garden of Earthly Delights" makes for an excellent, public domain hellscape fit for a nonconensual pitch about the miracle of capitalism.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/27/six-sells/#youre-holding-it-wrong

There's no better image for stories about techbros scamming rubes than Bosch's 'The Conjurer.' Throw in Jeff Bezos's head and an Amazon logo and you're off to the races. I boobytrapped this image by adding as many fingers as I could fit onto each of these figures in the hopes that someone could falsely accuse me of AI-generating this. No one did.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

Once again, it's Bosch to the rescue. Slap a different smiley-face emoji on each of the tormented figures in 'Garden of Earthly Delights' and you've got a perfect metaphor for the 'brand safety' problem of hard news dying online because brands don't want to be associated with unpleasant things, and the news is very unpleasant indeed.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/11/ad-jacency/#brand-safety

I really struggle to come up with images for my linkdump posts. I'm running out of ways to illustrate assortments and varieties. I got to noodling with a Kellogg's mini-cereal variety pack and I realized it was the perfect place for a vicious gorilla image I'd just found online in a WWI propaganda poster headed 'Destroy This Mad Brute.' I put so many fake AI tells in this one – extra pupils, extra fingers, a super-AI-esque Kellogg's logo.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/05/variegated/#nein

Bloodletting is the perfect metaphor for using rate-hikes to fight inflation. A vintage image of the Treasury, spattered with blood, makes a great backdrop. For the foreground, a medieval woodcut of bloodletting quacks – give one the head of Larry Summers, the other, Jerome Powell. For the patient, use Uncle Sam's head.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/20/bloodletting/#inflated-ego

I killed a long videoconference call slicing up an old pulp cover showing a killer robot zapping a couple of shrunken people in bell-jars. It was the ideal image to illustrate Big Tech's enshittification, especially when it was decorated with some classic tech slogans.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/22/who-wins-the-argument/#corporations-are-people-my-friend

There's something meditative about manually cutting out Tenniel engravings from Alice – the Jabberwock was insane. But it was worth it for this Tron-inflected illustration using a distorted Cartesian grid to display the enormous difference between e/acc and AI doomers, and everyone else in the world.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Multilayer source images for your remixing pleasure:

Scientist in chemlabhttps://craphound.com/images/scientist-in-chem-lab.psd

Humpty Dumpty and the millionaires https://craphound.com/images/humpty-dumpty-and-the-millionaires.psd

Demon summoning https://craphound.com/images/demon-summoning.psd

Killer Robot and People in Bell Jars https://craphound.com/images/killer-robot-and-bell-jars.psd

TWA mansplainer https://craphound.com/images/twa-mansplainer.psd

Impatient boss https://craphound.com/images/impatient-boss.psd

Destroy This Mad Brute https://craphound.com/images/destroy-this-mad-brute.psd

(Images: Heinz Bunse, West Midlands Police, Christopher Sessums, CC BY-SA 2.0; Mike Mozart, Jesse Wagstaff, Stephen Drake, Steve Jurvetson, syvwlch, Doc Searls, https://www.flickr.com/photos/mosaic36/14231376315, Chatham House, CC BY 2.0; Cryteria, CC BY 3.0; Mr. Kjetil Ree, Trevor Parscal, Rama, “Soldiers of Russia” Cultural Center, Russian Airborne Troops Press Service, CC BY-SA 3.0; Raimond Spekking, CC BY 4.0; Drahtlos, CC BY-SA 4.0; Eugen Rochko, Affero; modified)

#pluralistic #illustration #collage #fair use #creative commons

[frostbitedoesart]

Hey! Do you have an original or fictional character that you'd really like to see get drawn?

Well, I'm giving out free bust shots in exchange for a couple of simple things.

For context, the Kid's Online Safety Act, or KOSA, is a bill meant to "protect children," by that I mean it will put the internet under heavy surveillance and censorship rules. What would be considered as dangerous for children would be completely determined by the government.

This is the government that has decided that conversations about race, sexuality, gender, and mental health are dangerous for kids. What does this mean, then?

It means that if you are a person of color, queer, or neurodivergent, this bill will do whatever it can to wipe you off the face of the internet.

Not only that, but people sixteen years of age or younger would be placed under HEAVY surveillance, which is an extreme breach of privacy.

If this bill passes, the internet will become operated like a fascist regime that hovers over children and completely censors the existence of anyone that isn't white, cishet, and neurotypical. We CANNOT let this happen.

All I ask of you is this: reblog this post, and DM me with proof that you've either signed all of the following petitions or have emailed your representatives. This costs you nothing except a little bit of your time.

Do this, and, as previously stated, I will draw you a bust shot of your original character or otherwise fictional character of your choice.

Here are some examples of what this art would look like:

This offer ends on Monday at 12 AM EST, the same day the bill goes to Senate to be discussed. All art will be completed and sent to the recipients by Monday evening.

#art #artists on tumblr #oc art #oc artwork #poc #people of color #queer #queer community #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+ #neurodivergent #neurodivergent community #stop kosa #bad internet bills #internet censorship #internet freedom #internet #gay #lesbian #bisexual #pansexual #nonbinary #transgender #important #my art #traditional art #original character #illustration #frostbitedoesart

[racefortheironthrone]

Which federal laws and policies would you get rid of or modify in order to help the American labor movement.

I was looking through the labor law tag on my blog and your ask reminded me I haven't actually written a comprehensive post about this on Tumblr. (Indeed, you'd have to go back to my old, old policy blog from 2009...it's been a while.)

One silver lining of the Sisyphean struggle to restore American labor law that's been going on since the 1970s is that the labor movement and their allies in Congress, academia, think tanks, and progressive media have been thinking through this very issue of "what reforms would make a real difference" for a long time. I'm not going to say it's a solved question, but the research literature is pretty robust.

For the purposes of this post, I'm going to focus on the three most recent reform packages: the Employee Free Choice Act that was the main vehicle during the Obama years, Bernie Sanders' Workplace Democracy Act (which was introduced repeatedly between 1992 and 2018), and the Richard L. Trumka Protecting the Right to Organize Act (PRO Act) that is the current proposal of the Democratic legislative caucuses. There's going to be quite a bit of overlap between these proposals, because it's very much an iterative process where allies in the same movement are trading ideas with one another and trying to stay abreast of new developments, but I'll try to tease out some of the similarities and differences.

EFCA

While EFCA contained a number of provisions that sought to close various loopholes in U.S labor law, the three main provisions largely target the flaws that have made it extremely difficult to win a union through the National Labor Relations Act process devised in 1935 that has turned into a Saw-style gauntlet thanks to the professionalization of union-busting and the Federalist Society's strategy of death-by-a-thousand-cuts:

"Card check." Probably the most common pattern of union-busting in the workplace today is a war of attrition by management waged by an industry of specialized law firms. Generally what happens is that the union files for election with a super-majority of ~70% workers having signed union cards, then management delays the vote as long as possible to give their hired "union-avoidance" firm to systematically intimidate, surveil, propagandize, and divide workers, up to and including illegally firing pro-union workers pour encouragez les autres. Over several months, what happens is that the initial 70% of pro-union support starts to erode as workers decide it's just too dangerous to stick their necks out, until the vote happens and the union loses either by a squeaker or a landslide.

Card check short-circuits this process by just saying that if the union files with a majority of cards, you skip the election and the union is recognized. And for all the pearl-clutching by the right, this is actually how labor law works in many democratic countries, because the idea of a fair election that lets management participate is an oxymoron.

Arbitrated first contract. In the event that enough workers keep the faith and actually vote for a union, management's next move is to draw out collective bargaining for a year or more. After a year, the original vote is no longer considered binding and employers can push for a "decertification" vote, which they usually win because workers either give up hope or change jobs. So this provision says that if the two sides can't reach an agreement on a first contract within 120 days, a Federal arbitrator will just impose one, so that at least for two years there will be a union contract no matter what management wants.

Strengthening enforcement. As I said above, one of the problems with existing labor law is that there are basically no penalties for management knowingly breaking the law; companies literally just budget in a line-item and do it anyway. This provision would allow unions to file an injunction against employers for unfair labor practices or ULPs (at present, injunctions are only required for violations done by unions), and would add triple back pay for illegal firings and fines of $20,000 for each ULP. This would make union-busting much more expensive, because companies routinely rack up hundreds and hundreds of them during a campaign.

Workplace Democracy Act

Sanders' proposal includes the main proposals from EFCA, and adds a bunch of additional reforms, like mis-classifying workers as independent contractors, banning captive audience meetings, making "joint employers" liable for labor law violations by franchisees, legalizing secondary boycotts, and requiring employers to report to the NLRB on all anti-union expenditures during a campaign and barring anyone convicted of an unfair labor practice from being hired for anti-union campaigns and making "union-avoidance" consultants liable for fines for ULPs (which would kill the "union-avoidance" industry, because they commit ULPs for a living).

PRO Act

The PRO Act is very much an updating of the previous efforts we've talked about. It bans captive audience meetings, allows for secondary strikes and boycotts, massively increases fines and allows for compensatory damages, ends mis-classification, speeds up the election process, etc.

It also contains a couple new and ambitious proposals:

it allows unions to sue management in court instead of having to complain to the NLRB, which opens management up to a very expensive legal proceeding and discovery.

it bans "right-to-work" as established by the Taft-Hartley Act.

it requires that any worker who's fired for pro-union activity be immediately reinstated while their unfair labor practice process or civil lawsuit is going through the process. This would be enormous just on its own, because it changes the entire veto structure of illegal firing. As it stands, employers fire people and maybe maybe have to pay some back wages in a couple years when the worker has found another job and is unlikely to come back. This would reverse the balance of power, such that the worker is immediately back and other workers can see that they can speak up without getting fired, which makes illegal firings a giant waste of time and money for management.

In terms of stuff that's not on this list that I would add, I would say that an enormous difference could be made by simply making it illegal for management to lock-out their workers or hire scabs. You do that, and unions can win almost every strike.

#labor law #labor law reform #labor movement #trade unions #unions #union movement #public policy