#I'm rusty and didn't remember the

[can-of-slorgs]

Completed the Shenkuu Stamp collection some time ago, so it was only fair to draw my girl Mirsha

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Well, I finally transferred my KHIII and FFXV save files from my PS4 to my PS5 and I'm super happy about it.

I missed playing you, KHIII, but it honestly got tiring to get my PS4 out whenever I wanted to play you again. Same thing with FFXV, of course.

[uravichii]

"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

[littlelovelunette]

okay. this is weird. I apologize..

roommate!sevika.. who gets drunk makes a mold of her girl penis and makes a dildo out of it... BUT. she was drunk. and probably forgot... but the reader was SOBER AND REMEMBERED, so when sevika fell asleep, the reader took ittttt

(and maybe sevika walks in on reader and they fuck. but with both.. her pp and the mold of her pp)

if that makes any sense..

you don't have to, tho

have a good day <3🩷🩷

Why Were You Wet?

Roommate!Sevika x Reader

Contains smut, amab!Sevika, makeshift dildo, very slight implications of breeding, no protection

You were VERY sober when you saw your roommate Sevika stumble inside the shared apartment. She sunk down onto the couch, manspreading so you could see the clear bulge starting to form at the crotch of her pants.

Perhaps she was too drunk, perhaps she chose to ignore you on purpose.

You didn't know and you tried to ignore her, not saying anything as you scrolled through your phone although your mind was elsewhere. You were wondering just how big was her dick?

As you gazed at her through the corner of your eye, you saw Sevika starting to hastily unbuckle the belt of her pants.

Your cheeks flushed but you kept them focused on the screen, trying to suppress the alarms blaring in your brain telling you to get out of the living room but you didn't. You wanted to watch.

With a soft exhale, you shifted where you were seated once you saw her humongous cock, the reddened swollen tip spilling precum.

It looked almost uncomfortable to be that hard. You watched, eyes running down the vein of her cock and you could almost feel your mouth salivate. It'd been a while you'd sucked a dick, so your skill at a blowjob was probably a little rusty but nothing confidence can't fix.

Fuck, what were you thinking?

Sevika was your roomie.

You groaned internally. This woman had hookups every Friday night, and who knew how many girls she'd slept with in this month alone?

You got up, walking out of the living room after you witnessed something that would haunt you for life in the best way possible. Sevika was making some mold of her own cock, it was borderline disgusting and hot. The type of thing a girl sees and says “Oh, that's depraved but I'm in.”

You couldn't sleep that night, tossing and turning with the imagery of Sevika's big twitchy cock burned into every bit of your brain. You were restless, and once you felt your wet crotch with your fingers, you muttered, “What the fuck..?”

Why were you wet thinking about Sevika's cock? Did you really want her that bad?

It had actually been a while since you have had sex so you didn't quite understand whether you were sexually attracted to her or not. So you got up when you were sure Sevika was asleep.

She always slept in during weekend mornings. You tiptoed into her room, looking around and rummaged through her things before you finally found the mold.

It was laced with her scent, and slickened with slight precum. You made your way back to your room in complete stealth. You laid down on your back, slipping your white panties off slowly before looking at the mold.

“Fuck.” You whispered to yourself. “What am I even doing?”

The makeshift dildo sunk into your pussy slowly, inch by inch and you couldn't help wondering, “Is Sevika's cock really this damn big?”

It wasn't the length you were worried about, although the inches were concerningly large, you were worried about the girth. Your little pussy has only had so much, you cried out as you pushed it deeper inside yourself until all of it was snuggly fitted inside your cunt.

“O-oh, Sevika, your dick is so big.” You rubbed your clit. “So— fuck!— big…”

Your other hand covered your mouth, clenching down on the big dick mold lodged in your pussy as you desperately rubbed yourself.

“Sevika.” You mumbled although it was muffled.

Your hips raised off the mattress and eyes closed tight once your finger pressed on your clit. You moaned loudly. Your fingers worked faster on your clit.

Your hips laid back on the mattress before bucking again from the overwhelming pleasure only to be forced back down with a hand bigger than your own.

Sevika smirked. “Wasn't gonna invite me to the show?”

You could see she was in a tank top and boxers, the tent in them so prominent you swore you could see them from a mile afar. Was she ever NOT hard? Then again, it was morning and she just woke up so you guessed it woke up too.

“S-Sevika, I am so—” you began.

“—wet. I know.” Sevika cocked a brow.

“No, what I meant was— I— please um—” you sputtered.

“Shhh…” Sevika leaned in and captured your lips on her own, never leaving them as her tongue entered your mouth. You were more shocked than anything as you felt your roommate romantically kissing you.

You had no idea Sevika was such a good kisser, and you didn't want her to pull away. Sevika's hands worked to take the dildo out of your pussy with a soft popping sound, pulling her boxers down to reveal her warm hard cock, pressing it against your entrance.

“Coulda’ told me you wanted the real thing.”

“W-wait, Sevika.” You blushed. “It's actually… I'm not a virgin but I haven't had… sex in a while so…” you looked away shyly.

Sevika's eyes softened and she brought her hand over to your face, holding the side of it.

“You're more pure than I thought.” And with that, she thrusted inside.

Your eyes widened and nails dug into her shoulders as you felt her huge length penetrating you. You could feel the warmth that radiated off her body, your hands coming around her broad back in a desperate attempt to seal her close to yourself.

“Sevika.” You moaned her name in her ear and you swore you felt her twitch inside before her fingers wrapped around the mold of her cock, still covered in your juices and her own from when she made it, lining it over your tiny little asshole, giving it a good shove, just enough to get the bulbous head of the dildo inside.

Your eyes widened. “I'm a virgin back there.”

“Well, not anymore.” Sevika said, biting down on your neck as she forced the toy inside despite your reluctant rectal muscles, it hurt a little but the moment you relaxed your muscles— it slipped in with ease due to the slick of your cunt travelling down.

“Oh, it feels so weird.”

Sevika chuckled before she started moving, her movements slow at the start but she was slowly building up pace. Her name was at the tip of your tongue but you couldn't bring yourself to moan it out. Your throat felt choked up due to the intense pleasure you felt. Although the mold of her dick in your ass felt strange, you started liking the burning stretch.

You buried your face in the crook of her neck as she pounded into your clenching hole. Wet squelching sounds filled the room paired with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You felt Sevika's length twitch inside and your eyes widened.

“Not inside, Sevika!” You cried out.

Sevika didn't answer you, rutting her hips against yours until you saw the twitch in her brow, and she pulled out, spraying your stomach and tits with her semen. A little bit of it got on your face as well. You exhaled in relief.

“If I knew you'd look so good covered in my cum, I would have fucked you sooner.”

[ogwintersmind]

Bakugou Katsuki headcanons

When you first meet:

He HATES you. He hates everyone, but something about you just really makes his blood boil.

Everytime Aizawa forces him into a group with you he complains nonstop about how "stupid" and “annoying” you are and now he'd much rather do the project/assignment himself.

He hates it when Kiri or any of his other friends talk to you because he doesn’t understand now anyone could hold a conversation with someone as annoying as you.

Dare I say he finds you more annoying than Deku? (No that's impossible… right?)

After he gets to know you:

He's learned to tolerate your presence these days, though he still finds you annoying.

He'll attempt to have conversations with you over text but he ends up forgetting to respond most of the time.

He “helps” you with your homework while throwing insults about how stupid you are out the whole time.

He also doesn't mind you talking his "friends" anymore.

When he starts catching feels:

He tolerates your presence even more now, dare I say he loves it? (Winkie wink).

He initiates conversations with you first over text and in person, the name calling doesn't stop tho. It’s just apart of who he is.

He’ll offer to help with your homework and training and gives his own... Katsuki compliments. (though you swear they're just less harsh versions of the usual insults he gives others.)

Kirishima is the only one who has conformation that katsuki likes you, everyone else definitely has their speculations.

After you guys start dating:

He listens to you ramble about whatever it is that's on your mind, whether it be good or bad. (He doesn't even insult you!)

If he goes to the store he'll pick up items he knows you like and things that remind him of you.

If you don't respond to his message(s) quick enough he'll think you hate him and text kiri a bunch asking what he should do and if he's a bad boyfriend or not (he's not.)

When listening to music he adds songs you like to his playlist so when you're around you two can enjoy the playlist together.

He holds your backpack/purse for you even if you don't ask.

After you marry:

He was nervous to propose ... What if you say "no" what if you didn't like the ring???

Good thing you said yes and loved the ring.

The wedding was a small intimate event with close friends and family, kirishima as his best-man.

You two buy a nice sized home together and a cat (he swears he hates "that damn thing” but it's really his best friend.)

Housework is 50/50 you clean, he cooks, etc.

After a few months of marriage you're begging for babies and so... He gives them to you.

The end.

Hi friends!! I hope you enjoyed reading! I haven't wrote in a longgg time so its rusty I'm sorry lol..

This post is not proofread so sorry for any grammar mistakes!

Thank you for reading, have a good rest of your day/afternoon/night!

XO - winter.

(I really rushed the end because I bored sorry)

Dividers not mine (i don't remember who i got them from sorry )!

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Instacrush

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, daddy kink, pining, flirting, possessive behavior, one bed trope,...

Word count: almost 7k 

Note: I'm gonna add a smau at the end so keep reading!

My masterlist

The engagement ring on your finger suited you perfectly. It wasn’t overly large or flashy, but the single diamond gave off a subtle, delicate sparkle. It was beautiful and felt just right, symbolizing the love and unity of marriage. When you looked at it in the light, you almost thought you could feel the love Max had for you.

If only that were true.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you asked, sitting down at the table across from Max.

“So we can practice and make sure we seem like a real couple,” he replied.

You sighed, your gaze once again drifting around the hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a dining space connected to a kitchenette, one bathroom, and a bedroom. You had already pointed out the single bed, and Max, ever the professional, reminded you that part of the assignment meant you were expected to share it. After all, this was a couple’s retreat. It wouldn’t have been a problem—if only you didn’t have a crush on him.

If only it were that simple.

You were completely enamoured with Max Verstappen, the handsome three-time F1 World Champion. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was the first time you met him on your first day at work. You were so caught up looking around the paddock, so excited for your first time ever set foot in the land of speed. You were just an intern working in the social media department. Landing a job during the global economic recession was a dream come true for you, not to mention, working for such a big and top-tier team like Red Bull. And that’s where you bumped into him, his can of Red Bull splashed all over your new team uniform. And honestly, you didn’t remember much since you were busy looking staring at his eyes. The bluest eyes you have ever seen. It was like the water in the ocean in  Maldives that you once saw in some travel magazines. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Max, you aren't a terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty,” you said. 

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you added.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a few months just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Max. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much-needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at the track. Both slammed into each other. Both said sorry at the same time”

“And you gave me your hands for me to get up,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And we immediately befriended at first,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “We did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went on that reserved dinner with the team and talked a bit about ourselves.” 

It was all the truth, except for the fact that you guys were never more than friends since he was with Kelly, and you. Well, you were just you, there’s nothing really special about you for him to like. You aren’t those supermodels he used to date, nor have the skinniest body type, you are chubbier, with red hair and freckles across your cheeks. Before accepting his request to be in a PR relationship with him just so he gets along with the image of not being a notorious playboy who drives a fast car as an occupation, you did ask him WHY YOU? WHY NOT SOME OTHER GIRLS? AND LET’S BE HONEST ANY OTHER GIRLS WHO ARE PRETTIER WOULD DIE TO FILL IN THE JOB, SO WHY YOU? He just stood there looking at you once again with the deepest set of blue eyes that made your knees go weak, We are friends so this is what a friend should do, right? Help each other out. And y/n I really need your helping hands now. 

“Even proposed to you at the same restaurant,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone. 

The silence between you two was deafening, filled only by the sound of your own heart breaking. You longed for his words to be true, for him to truly want you as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew it was all pretend. Your fingers fidgeted with the ring again, a constant reminder of the lie you were living. The weight of the situation was almost unbearable. 

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, what a briliant story you have in mind,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“Well, it was true, y/n.” 

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. 

“Most of it only, Max. Anyway, enough of that. Let’s move on,”

Max looked unsatisfied with your response, his blue eyes searching your face. He could tell you were deflecting, which was both attractive and frustrating. “Okay then. How about we move on to the next part of our relationship? The first date.” He leaned back in his chair and you mimicked his movement. 

“Ah, our first date,” you said, the memory bringing a smile to your face. “It was a classic dinner-and-a-movie type date, right?”

Max chuckled at your summation of your first date. “Yeah, it was pretty basic, but it was our first date,” he said, his voice low. “I wanted to keep things simple and focus on just the two of us. No fancy restaurants or anything like that.”

You recalled how nervous you were leading up to the date, spending hours trying to figure out what to wear and worrying about what to say. In hindsight, you didn’t need to have been so worried.

“But you looked beautiful that night,” Max continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You always do.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart quickened at his compliment. How was it that Max Verstappen, F1 World Champion, and certified heartthrob, could say something so casually that made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? 

“Thanks, Max,” you said, your cheeks starting to heat up. You twisted the ring on your finger, your nervous habit making its appearance. “You looked pretty good yourself, if I remember correctly.”

Max chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on your hand. “Are you nervous, Schatje?” he teased, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. “You’re fiddling with your ring again.”

Your cheeks flushed even more. You should be used to his teasing by now, especially after the time you two had spent together recently while preparing for this PR mission. And yet, every time he called you darling, your heart would do somersaults in your chest. 

“No, I’m not,” you denied, knowing how unconvincing you sounded. “Just… practicing my part, you know. For the acting thing.”

Max’s eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He knew that you were avoiding something, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

He began to recite the next bit of their cover story. “What’s our favorite couple activity?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the mention of couple activity. "Well," you began, your voice shaky, "our favorite couple activity is definitely cooking together. It's a great way for us to bond and spend quality time together." 

“Well it must be you will be the chef and I’m your assistant then, since I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life, Liefje.”

Max's self-deprecating comment took you a little by surprise. You were used to seeing him as the confident, world-class athlete on the track, not as a hopeless cook in the kitchen.

You chuckled softly at his admission. "Well, I guess you'll have to stick to being my sous-chef then. I can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."

Max groaned exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to stick to fetching the ingredients and looking pretty," he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes, you can be the pretty one, Max. I'll do all the hard work in the kitchen."

He chuckled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I guess I should be thankful that I have a gorgeous girl doing all the cooking for me, then."

His compliment left you feeling warm and tingly, but you tried to brush it off and stay focused on the task at hand.

"But you have to promise me one thing, Max," you insisted, trying to maintain your composure. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your condition. "What's that, Schatje?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You leaned forward a bit, your eyes meeting his. "You have to be my personal taste tester. Gotta make sure everything is just right."

Max chuckled at your condition, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah, so I'm not only your sous-chef, but I also get the privilege of being your taste-tester?" he teased.

You nodded, a sly smile of your own on your lips. "That's right. You'll be my human guinea pig. No complaining, just eating." Max groaned dramatically, pretending to look disappointed.

Despite his initial reluctance, Max couldn't help but smile at your cheeky request. "Okay, okay, I'll be your taste-tester on one condition," he countered.

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "And what's that?"

Max leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, "You have to give me one of your special desserts afterward."

You laughed, surprised at his audacity. "Oh, now you're pushing it, Verstappen," you quipped. "But I suppose I can throw in a dessert for you, as a token of my appreciation for your taste-testing services."

Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Deal," he said, a playful grin on his face. "Let's hope your cooking skills are as good as your baking, Liefje."

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, your life was dominated by work, leaving little time for relationships. But if you explained that to Max, he'd probably just call you a workaholic and laugh. He was the epitome of work hard, play just as hard.

"I don't know," you finally said, trying to sound casual. "I guess I just haven't found the right person."

Max scrutinized you but didn't press the topic further. Instead, he took a sip of his water, his eyes never leaving your face. Max wasn't buying your nonchalant attitude. He leaned back in his chair, still watching you closely. "I don't believe you. You're a beautiful woman, and yet you're single."

The compliment caught you off guard. Coming from Max Verstappen, the three-time FIA Formula One World Champion, it was a lot to take in. Trying to keep your cool, you retorted, "You don't have to flatter me, Max. I know I'm not some supermodel or something."

Max's lips curled up into a sly smile. He leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who said anything about comparing you to a supermodel?" he teased.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his proximity. He was even more attractive up close, with his sharp features and those intense blue eyes. Despite your best attempts to keep your cool, you found yourself blushing again.

"Come on, Schatje," Max said, his voice dropping an octave. "Just tell me why you don't have a boyfriend."

The intensity in Max's eyes was almost overwhelming. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, feeling increasingly flustered under his gaze. Why was he so insistent on this topic? You tried to come up with a witty retort, a clever way to deflect, but your mind was drawing a blank. His intense gaze made it hard to think straight. "It's not a big deal, Max," you finally managed to say, your voice betraying your growing nervousness.

"Bullshit." He leaned back in his chair, studying you once again. "You're avoiding the question. There must be a reason why you don't have a boyfriend."

Max's persistence made you feel inexplicably flustered. He was so adamant about knowing the reason behind your single status. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a convincing answer that wouldn't give away your secret. But the more you fidgeted and avoided his gaze, the more he seemed to be onto you. "Come on, y/n,” he coaxed again, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his legs. "Just give me a straight answer."

Max's smirk widened as he saw the effect he was having on you. He could tell he was making you nervous, and that only made him more determined to get the answer he wanted. "You're making this even more suspicious, you know," he said, his voice laced with gentle mockery. "The more you avoid the question, the more interested I become."

There was something about the way Max said that that sent a shiver down your spine. Was he just teasing you, or was there a hint of genuine interest in his voice? It was hard to tell. "You're relentless, you know that?" you mumbled, trying to cover your nerves with sarcasm.

Max chuckled, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. "I can be very persistent when I want something."

Max's admission sent a flutter through your stomach. He was relentless in his pursuit of an answer, and it was both frustrating and exhilarating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" you retorted, aiming for a tone of sarcasm.

Max chuckled at your attempt at sarcasm. He seemed unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixated on you. "I do, usually," he agreed. "But you're proving to be quite the challenge, y/n."

He took in your flushed cheeks and shifting eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

Max's gaze seemed to pierce through you, reading your every reaction. "You're blushing like a schoolgirl, Schatje," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His observant nature was both impressive and irritating. You tried to compose yourself, to appear unfazed by his words. But the more he teased, the more flustered you became.

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,”  you muttered, “It’s Christian. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” he said, “I think I'm going to call it a night. It was simply lovely to have such a conversation with you, Lief”

You watched as Max stood from the table, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he stretched his arms over his head. The way his shirt pulled tight against his muscles didn’t escape your notice, but you quickly turned your focus to your phone. Christian’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that despite the playful teasing and lingering tension, you were still on assignment.

Clearing your throat, you answered the call, doing your best to sound professional. “Hey, Christian. What’s up?”

Max lingered by the doorway to the bedroom, his blue eyes still watching you as he leaned casually against the frame. The man was frustratingly calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes flustering you beyond belief.

“Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything’s running smoothly with you and Max,” Christian’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied, glancing at Max again. He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the conversation. “We’re just going over the cover story. Making sure we’re on the same page for tomorrow.”

“Good, good. Remember, we need you two to look convincing as a couple. This retreat is high-profile, and we can’t afford any slip-ups. Play the part, but don’t overdo it,” Christian said.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Got it. We’ll be convincing.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set your phone down, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Max was still standing in the doorway, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied, though your heart still raced from the earlier tension. “Just… trying to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

Max pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to you. “You won’t. You’re doing great, Schatje. Better than I expected, actually.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—there was more behind his words than simple encouragement. But you couldn’t afford to let your hopes get the better of you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“Well, I guess I should get some sleep too,” you said, standing up from the table. “Big day tomorrow.” Max nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the bed in the other room. “Right. About the bed…”

You froze, realizing that you had been so caught up in the conversation earlier that you hadn’t given the sleeping arrangement much thought. But now, with the two of you standing there in a hotel room alone, the reality of sharing a bed with Max Verstappen hit you like a freight train.

“I can take the couch,” he offered quickly, sensing your hesitation.

“No, Max. It’s fine. We’re supposed to be a couple, right? Couples share beds.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, summoning what little courage you had left. “I’ll be fine. It’s just sleeping. No big deal.”

Max didn’t argue, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable. He gestured towards the bedroom. “Ladies first.”

You swallowed hard and walked towards the bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Max followed close behind, and as you both climbed into the bed, the space between you felt like an ocean. You were hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

Max lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, while you kept to your side, facing away from him. The silence was thick, the air filled with unspoken thoughts.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Max,” you replied, your voice tight with nerves.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep. But the warmth of Max’s body next to you, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all too distracting. You tried to push the thoughts away, reminding yourself that this was all pretend. That Max Verstappen didn’t see you as anything more than a colleague helping him out.

But as the minutes ticked by, sleep continued to evade you, and you couldn’t help but wonder—what if?

What if this wasn’t just pretend? What if Max felt the same pull, the same unspoken connection that you did? What if, somewhere in the midst of this fake relationship, something real was beginning to bloom?

You shook your head at the thought, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining such a ridiculous idea. Max was a superstar, a world champion, and you were just… you.

But as you lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you, it was hard to ignore the tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest.

Maybe—just maybe—there was more to this story than either of you realized.

You shifted slightly in bed, careful not to disturb Max, who was still lying quietly beside you. You glanced over at him, only to find that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.

You shook your head, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Max smiled faintly. "Same here."

There was a brief silence between you, and in the quiet of the night, it felt like the weight of unspoken words was suffocating. You wanted to ask him if this was all just a game to him, if he felt the same tension you did, but you were too afraid of the answer.

Instead, you settled for something safer. "Do you ever get tired of it? The pressure, the constant spotlight?"

Max turned his head fully towards you, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes. It’s part of the job, though. I’ve learned to live with it. But yeah, there are days when it gets overwhelming."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I get that. It’s hard to find balance when the whole world is watching."

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls between you two were crumbling. "Yeah. But it’s not all bad, you know? There are people who make it easier."

You looked at him, your heart fluttering at the implication of his words. Was he talking about you? Or was this just part of his charm?

Before you could respond, Max shifted closer, closing the small gap between you. His proximity made your heart race, and you held your breath as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You make it easier, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no more pretending, no more acting for the sake of the mission. It was just the two of you, lying in the dark, and suddenly, it felt like everything you had been holding back was on the verge of spilling over.

"Max," you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words.

But before you could say anything more, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. You imagined Max kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered. You never really stood a chance before him. 

“So, you like me? Was that why you kissed me, or, ” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole acting and pretending thing ahead and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and teasing you.” He said. “You know Kelly dumped me because I remembered your coffee order when we were at the hospitality not hers,”

You stared at Max in shock, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Kelly dumped him over... you?

"You remembered my coffee order?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max chuckled softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as he held your gaze. "Yeah," he replied. "Every single time. It wasn't something I planned to memorize, but I guess I couldn't help it. You’ve always been in the back of my mind, even when I didn’t realize it." You blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. All the late-night conversations, the teasing, the moments when his touch lingered a little longer than necessary—it all clicked into place. He wasn’t just playing a part. He liked you. Max liked you.

"You really are an idiot," you said with a breathy laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. The tension between you two, the unspoken feelings, had been weighing on you for so long, but now everything felt so clear.

Max grinned, his face inches from yours. "Takes one to know one," he teased, his lips brushing against yours again.

You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. This time it wasn’t tentative or cautious. It was everything you had been holding back, all the feelings you had suppressed because you thought it was just part of the job, part of the act.

But this was real. You were real.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Max’s forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hands.

"Guess we’re going to have to make this mission even more believable now, huh?" Max murmured, his voice filled with that same teasing warmth.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "We might have to practice a little more, just to make sure we’re convincing enough."

Max laughed, a sound that sent warmth coursing through your veins. "I think we can manage that." 

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Max Verstappen liked you. Wanted you. “Please do,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the driver was an entirely different level of gorgeous. “Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth, suckling gently as his hands continued to explore. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Please,"

He chuckled, the vibration making your breast hum in his mouth. "Please what, baby?" He asked, his free hand moving to your other breast, pinching the nipple gently. You whimpered, your hips bucking against the floor. "Please touch me, please kiss me, please fuck me,"

“You are such a needy baby,”

"His hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against your core. "You want me to touch you here?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing your folds through your underwear."

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of confusion and realization. "Because of me?" He asked softly. "Because I'm always around, and no one else can compare?" He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching you for the first time.

His finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before pushing inside gently. You let out a sigh of relief, your hips tilting to meet his finger. "Is that it? Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, curling his finger inside you, rubbing your g-spot. 

“Y-yes… It's you, has always been you, Max.” you gasped.

He added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. His voice was low, filled with a dominance you'd never heard from him before. "So, every time you went on a date, every time they kissed you, it was me you thought of?” 

His fingers moved faster, curling and rubbing against your g-spot. "And every time they tried to touch you, hold your hand, it was my hand you wished was there instead?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "Is that it, baby?”

But what can you say more besides moaning at his touch. 

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can't speak because you're so turned on, thinking about me instead of them. Isn't that right?" His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles onto your swollen nub. "Say it.”

But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when all he did was teasing you like that.

He growled, his face hovering over your core. "Say it, or I'll stop." His fingers paused, buried deep inside you. You squirmed, your hips bucking, silently begging him to continue. "Say it," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

“Max” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

He tsked disapprovingly, prying your legs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not until you say what I want to hear." His golden eyes bore into yours, filled with desire and determination. "Say, 'Only you, Max. Only you.'" His fingers remained motionless. 

“Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

His expression softened, and he rewarded you by moving his fingers again, crooking them inside you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice gentle. "Now, wrap your legs around my shoulders. I'm going to make you come with my mouth.”

You eagerly wrapped your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his neck. He lowered his face between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet flesh. "You're so ready for me, baby," he murmured, his thumbs spreading you open. "So swollen and needy.”

And without further teasing, he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked. Hard. His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that perfect spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Oh god oh god oh god,"

Max smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue. "Feel good, baby?" he breathed. His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions. You didn't know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Max flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking. "You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?" His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the sheets and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside.

The act surprised your lover almost as much as it did you-not quite, but almost -upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him. When you whined a loud, protracted, 'FUCK!' he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this. Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Max knew you were close. He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else's. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

 "Come on my face, Liefde. Show me what a good girl you are.”

And suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his head you feared you might snap it in two.

He slowly licked you clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "You taste even better than you look," he murmured, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours. "And you look... like a masterpiece.

You took his face in closer and sucked your arousal off his tongue. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his, where your juices had no doubt collected too. That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Max could’ve wanted.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as you sucked his face clean, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your head in place. He groaned into your mouth, his own arousal spiking at the filthy, careless way you were using your tongue.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to explore and taste every inch of it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer against him, letting you feel the hard length of his cock pressed up against you.

“I need to fuck you now,” he said.

His voice was rough with desire, his patience worn thin. He reached between your legs, grabbing your thigh and tossing your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. "Hold on, Schatje,"

He slammed into you with no warning, burying his cock deep inside your pussy in one brutal thrust. You cried out in surprise and pleasure, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely. He grabbed your other thigh, holding you in place as he started pounding into you with ruthless intensity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Max kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his dick wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking Schatje, so good at taking my cock.”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Max wanted you.

"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.

He pistons his hips, fucking you with abandon, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches up to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly as he snarls in your ear. "Gonna fill this fucking pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to pound into you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "Not till I say so, baby. You gonna wait for me, aren't you?" He grunted, his own release barreling down on him. 

“Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open.

“I'm Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Max practically growls, not missing a beat while still thrusting in you.

He grunted approvingly at your desperate pleas, his face contorting with effort as he held back his own release. "Not... till... I... say... so..." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, his voice harsh with command. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you beg."

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please, daddy.” 

“Jesus, you’re making me so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

His face contorted with pleasure as you finally gave him what he wanted. "Good girl," he hissed, his pace becoming frenzied as he finally let himself go. "You're gonna take it all, aren't you? Gonna take every last drop?" 

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-you-daddy-I'm gonna-" 

“ I’m 'yours sweet girl, all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum daddy" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Max right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair now disheveled. 

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course Liefje" Max presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

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yourusername first day at work, welcome to the playground - newbie.

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user1 what a dream job 😭

user2 I wanna be there toooooo 😭

urfriend my baby's dream finally came true

yourusername wish me luck bestie

user4 what is your job?

yourusername i'm the new intern in social media for RBR

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maxverstappen1 this new (intern) social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently the fans like me doing this…I’m yet to be convinced 😂 might need a long nap after this.

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username12 fyi we absolutely love photos like these 😂

landonorris I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post 😂😂😂

username13 thank you the new intern for convincing max to bless us with a world of meme worthy content, i beg for more

username14 he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???

username15 pls promote ur new intern to be ur lifelong admin @/redbullracing

redbullracing let me ask my boss first ferrari we still have open position for the new intern, wanna join? redbullracing back off mercedesamgf1 or u can work for us instead, why be an intern when u can be our new admin for a very demure, very mindfull team! username16 are they battling for the new intern 😂 username17 on track and offtrack battle

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 26,882 others

yourusername life lately as the new intern at @/redbullracing

view all 2,728 comments

username18 so u r the new intern that blessed us with so much max's meme

yourusername no need to tks me 🤗 username18 u r so pretty, might be my new wife

username19 oooooh max's in the like

username20 aww so cute

username3 the outfits slay

landonorris uhhh 

username21 WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE maxverstappen1 she's not on ur team, mate landonorris so i can not say hello to her ???

yourbff you are so effortlessly gorgeous please 😫 and whose hand is that wifey

username22 wtf is max and lando beefing in the comment

username23 shut the f up she's a swiftie OMG i need a challenge with max and checo with taylor

yourusername working on it, but these two know nothing 'bout the pop culture 😭 username24 OMG the devil works hard but u gotta work harder girl

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, yourusername and 1,826,882 others

redbullracing Taylor Swift 1 - 0 Chestappen

view all 550,128 comments

maxverstappen1 do not shame ur drivers publicly like that

redbullracing we do not 🤗 landonorris how can they not know about THE TAYLOR georgerussell63 i would have won this charlesleclerc if the ferrari's challenge could be this easy

username30 they cant even score a point

username31 OMG Chestappen

liked by 826,882 others

f1wags new wag alert!!! This might be the new gf of Max and she also works for Red Bull too

username32 OMG is she y/n the old intern now admin

f1wags that's her

username33 i follow her too and she is soooooooo pretty

username34 her new ideas for all their challenges are cool too

username1 😒😒

username2 BOOOO👎

username3 so it’s official then huh?

username13 BODY IS TEAA

username24 HOLYYY

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 3,344,234 others

maxverstappen1 i think this called hard launch and yes this is my new gf @/yourusername took all the pics since she thought i'm not very good at it

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[tropical-sharkkinq]

[primalsharkman]

Ce n'est pas censé être.

Kim Minjeong x M Reader | 🔞 Smut

[idol x fan, childhood friends, best friends, falling out, farewells, reconciliation]

Word Count: 2,854

You woke up on a rainy morning, gathering your thoughts as you stare into the ceiling. You start doing your routine, getting up from bed, going to the bathroom to freshen up just enough for your morning jog, and wave at your neighbors along the way.

It was the quiet moment back at home that broke the standard practice that you've cultivated for years ever since you graduated. It was your phone, ringing.

"What could it be?" you thought to yourself as you picked up the phone to check. The message that you read was not something you'd ever expect in a million years. It was your old best friend, Aespa member, Kim "Winter" Minjeong.

Minjeong was someone very near and dear to you. You grew up together, living at the same street from each other, you'd always come to her so you two could walk to school together. She would always greet you with a smile, and even share her biscuits and lunch whenever you would forget to buy some.

It is a distant memory now, but she was the closest person in your life at one point. You shared many moments with her, like falling off an old rusty swing, her just laughing at you while you writhed in pain, the time she got dumped by a boyfriend, and you brought tissues and ice cream to her room to comfort her, you two almost did everything together. Inseparable, as many uncles and aunts would say about the two of you.

You continued reminiscing through your memories, like going to high school together drunk after a karaoke room date the night before, being each others' prom dates because you two were dorks and didn't care about looking for dates, and even the time you shared a kiss in the back of your car after she dared you to do it. It put a smile on your face while thinking about those memories, staring blankly at your phone, seeing her name pop up on the screen.

"Hey, are you in town?" That was what her text read, and you clutched your phone tight, thinking about what to say, since you already had mixed feelings ever the fight you two had, that basically never repaired your once tight-knit friendship.

It was a surprise, the day you told your mom you and Minjeong were no longer speaking, she was beyond devastated to hear it, and even made you cookies to cheer you up. You never told her the reason for it, and mostly kept that to yourself throughout college. You tried dating other girls to keep your mind occupied from thinking about her, but to no use.

"I am." That was the only sentence you could come up with before hitting send, and leaving your phone at the nightstand so you could get a shower in and change clothes.

That day was burned into your memory. It was a weekend, you two were at the park, and she was right there, next to you, looking nervous.

"What did you call me out for? I have exams tomorrow Minjeong." You say as you sit on the swing beside hers.

"It's important that you hear it directly from me." She said, not looking at your direction.

"Go on then?" Staring at her direction, while she still looked away.

"I'm going to leave town. I finally got the letter to become a trainee."

"That's great! I'm proud of you!"

" ... You don't understand, I'm leaving, for good. I can't come back to you, I cannot risk having my image tainted when people know we're very close, they're going to think we dated." She said, tears running down her cheek, but never making eye-contact with you.

"What? That's not going to happen." You try reaching out to her, but she stood up, away from you.

"I know nothing ever really happened between us, but I can't stay. I'm sorry, goodbye." Those were the last words you have heard from her before her debut, when you found out through your old schoolmates that Minjeong had debuted in a girl group under the stage name Winter.

It snapped you back to reality when you suddenly realized how she still remembers your phone number, you never changed it, but you never got another text from her from years ago.

"Okay, can you meet me at that ramen place we used to go to? I need to talk to you." She texted back.

You were unsure, but you replied back anyway, "Alright, what time do you need me there?"

"6pm, please."

"I'll see you there then." You left it at that and put your phone down to go about your day.

It was a weekday, so you were at work. Attempts to concentrate on your tasks were futile as you kept seeing Minjeong in your head, on your screen, and even in the reports you printed. It was staring to get really annoying, but you pushed through it.

You got off at exactly 5pm, and walked through the streets going straight to that ramen place you used to love to go with her to. Sure, it has changed over the years, but the overall flair and feeling of the place never changed, it was just that you grew up.

You got there early, and found a table in the corner of the room for two people, exactly like the spot you and Minjeong used to love to hang out on. Dropping your bag beside you, you took out your phone and waited for her.

As Minjeong went through town, she thankfully wasn't bothered by the locals. She is indeed famous, but she had immense respect from her hometown, and they mostly smiled and waved at her while giving her the space she needed to operate freely.

She was walking slowly, walking around to check the surroundings and admire how everything was better from when she was a kid. She bid hello to her old neighbors, and even the old shopkeepers that she knew from her time there, as she got closer and closer to that ramen shop, her heart starts sinking as she still feels the sting of what she did to you all those years ago.

At this point, you got bored, and asked the owner to make you two bowls of ramen, one for you, and one for Minjeong, customized the way she liked it every single time.

When she arrived, you were there, fiddling on your phone, and the way she looked at you was with both relief, and regret. Her footsteps got heavier the closer she started to get to you, and you didn't even bother to turn to greet her.

She sat down, put her bag down, and put her hands together. "Hello, Y/N. It's been a very long time, huh..."

As soon as she says that, the ramen arrives, and she saw her bowl, made exactly the way she wanted, indicating that you still know her, even after all this time apart. "Oh wow, you still remember."

"I never forgot, Minjeong. You also remembered my phone number." You say nonchalantly as you picked up your chopsticks.

" I never forgot, Y/N." She kept staring at you.

You finally look up to meet her eyes, and immediately, you knew that look. It was of sadness, pain, fear, and regret. The only thing missing was her tears, and it already started flowing. You reached out to her, and wiped it away with your thumb.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." As you shushing her.

"Don't say that, Minjeong. Don't you dare, say it."

"B-but I really am! I regret... everything..." Tears kept flowing down her cheek.

"Eat your ramen first, okay?" You say as you dig in to yours.

Minjeong just nodded while wiping away her tears as she enjoys a warm meal. The taste still felt the same to her, and she breathed in to feel all of it.

It wasn't long that you two finished your meal in silence, and you finally spoke up, "Is that all you came here for, Minjeong?"

"No, I got you something." She starts fiddling in her bag as she pulls out a tiny box.

"What's that?"

"Think of it as a reminder that, I'm not afraid anymore. I miss my best friend, and damn, am I a big fool for not seeing it earlier." She bows her head and hands it to you on both hands.

You take the small box, and open it to see a bracelet, custom-made with her initials and yours together. "This seems like something for couples Minjeong. What are you trying to say?"

"I want to make up for lost time. I want you to take the one thing you never took from me."

"Which is?" You raised a brow.

"Me. Take my first time. I've always wanted you to take it, and I've never looked for anyone else." She reaches out and holds your wrist.

"How are you sure I haven't lost mine?" You ask.

"It doesn't matter to me. I just... I just want the man who kissed me first, danced with me, sang with me, to fulfill his destiny of making me whole." Minjeong says genuinely.

It all ran by too quickly. You hailed a taxi, told the driver to head to your place, and sat quietly with Minjeong. It was the longest 15 minute drive of your life. The tension was high, you could tell Minjeong was blushing red, you were not showing it, but he is a little excited, and the traffic was excruciatingly slow for your own good.

You held her hand as you took the elevator up to your unit, making sure she had a cap and a mask on to protect her identity, and punched in the code to your place.

As soon as that door opened, you dragged Minjeong inside, closed the door, opened the lights, and tossed her cap and mask across the room.

In that same motion, Minjeong pressed her lips against yours, without hesitation, kissing you passionately. It was a long and sensual kiss, with her yearning for your touches, and grabbing your hair in the process.

You grabbed her ass, earning a small yelp from her, as you got to work undressing her. Starting with her top, which you carelessly removed and tossed across the room, her pants, which she unbuckled and kicked off, and your shirt, removed and tossed as well.

She was absolutely ready, wearing a red lingerie with barely anything to hide. Her panties was absolutely soaked, and you could tell by the darker shade of red where her pussy is waiting.

She bit her lips and unbuckled your pants, kneeling down along with it as she took it down to your ankles. You stared down at her, with her looking back up at you as she slowly admired the growing sensation inside your underwear.

Minjeong doesn't say anything, just grabbing the hem of your boxers and pulling it down, your length hitting her in the cheek.

Blushes formed across her face, but she composed herself and held it in her hand, as she stroked it softly and dry.

Small moans and groans escaped your lips, and you find yourself brushing her hair as she continued working your cock dry.

Her lips came close, and her tongue lashed out, hitting the head of your cock, which was a wonderful sensation, so you asked her to do it again. She nodded and complied, licking the tip of your cock and stroking your length.

"Stop teasing me, suck it." You commanded, and she complied, giving you a nod as she envelops those thick, soft lips around the head of your cock and humming to herself.

It was a wonderful sensation, sure, you are getting a blowjob from Winter of all people, but to you, this was your best friend, someone that you had feelings for, someone that broke your heart, and someone that will always have a place in its debris.

Having her slowly suck your cock is more than just a horny feeling, but a symbol of her apology to you, mending those broken bridges that she once destroyed herself by letting you have a very important aspect of both of your lives.

She slowly started taking in more of your length, getting even deeper as she continued to bob her head slowly up and down your cock, and damn, it felt good.

"Don't forget the balls." You say.

Minjeong deepthroated you, without any problem, and used her free hand to use the dripping saliva from her lips to lubricate your balls and fondle them softly.

It felt heavenly having her play with you like this, and it feels like you're about to bust from just her inexperienced mouth working on you.

"Okay, that's enough." You say sternly as you removed her from your cock and wipe her saliva off her chin.

"Was I good? You didn't cum yet." She says as you guide her towards your bed and helping her lie down.

"Yes, you're good. But I am not going to waste my time on your mouth when I can just have the best part." You say that as you grab her pussy and rub her clit through her panties.

Minjeong moans, " Yes... okay... please..." she pleads as you continue rubbing and stimulating her clit.

You climbed back on top, and slid her panties to the side. The glowing sheen her wet pussy gave is absolutely salivating. Your mind went blank just staring at the beautiful masterpiece that is her wet pussy.

"Hey.. stop staring.. I'll get shy." Minjeong reminded you after you started spacing out.

"Right, sorry." You grabbed the base of your well-lubricated cock and tapped it on her, garnering small whimpers.

She bit her fingers in anticipation of you finally taking her virginity once and for all. You kept rubbing the head of your cock along the slit of her entire pussy and Minjeong just can't stop moaning. She absolutely loves the feeling and it doesn't matter to her how you approach in taking her.

Your cock finally slides in her wet pussy, without any effort, like she's done it before. You know she hasn't, since her reactions say otherwise. She's shaking, blushing, and moaning at the same time.

Her face kept turning side ways as her body starts to adjust to the feeling of having you inside her, and you take her cheek to make her look at you as you slowly kept burying inch after inch deeper and deeper into the caverns of her wet pussy.

She's absolutely ecstatic, not helped by the way you're making her look directly at you, the only boy she ever liked, and the boy she left years ago in fear of her dream being crushed.

The only thing that is being crushed now is her pussy, and you're the number one suspect in making sure it gets used properly.

The feeling throws you off, it was very good, you start to doubt whether you're gonna make it long, but you persevere, and start thrusting deep.

Minjeong couldn't stop herself, moaning louder with each thrust and with each inch she feels withing herself.

"Y-yes! Just like that... Oh yes...!" She is absolutely losing control and she couldn't compose herself.

Minjeong was drowning in pleasure, and so were you. You picked up the pace, and started fucking her faster like your life depended on it.

Your thrusts banged on her again, and again, and again, creating skin to skin sounds that both you and Minjeong loved.

"Minjeong? Promise me something." You say as you're drilling her in balls deep.

"W-what is iT?! Oh! Ah!" Minjeong says with each thrust hitting her spot.

"This pussy is mine. Mine only."

"Yes! only yours! Yes!" She says as she moans and hisses with every strong thrust.

"Good girl."

Those words sent her over the edge, screaming and groaning as she came hard. "Yes! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

You slow down and come completely to a stop while rubbing her clit to let her ride out the orgasm, and pull out to let her breathe.

"No... give me that." She reaches and grabs your cock to jerk it off.

"I'm close anyway... I'm going to fucking cum Minjeong."

"On me." She points it at her face while she gives your cock long strokes.

You couldn't hold onto it anymore and release streak after streak of cum on her face.

"Yes... that's warm..." She says with her eyes closed as she catches some of your cum with her mouth.

After cumming, you lied down and gathered a minute or two to compose yourself. She cleaned herself up with a tissue and a towel before wrapping her arms around you.

"Thank you." She said as she slowly closed her eyes.

"You're welcome, Minjeong."

"I'll stay this time. Come with me to Seoul soon?" She asks.

"Okay Minjeong, let's make this work."

"I love you, Y/N. I always have."

"I love you too, my Minjeong. I forgive you."

She smiles as she allows herself to sleep in your arms.

-FIN-

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

A/N: Hey, I know it's been a long time, it's kind of been a rollercoaster year for me. And I've been struggling recently so, I hope whatever I cooked here can help me out. Thanks again for reading and uh, yeah, I hope everyone can get the happiness they need.

[muddyorbsblr]

bad feeling

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Loki's entrance into the Avengers Compound depends on your approval

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warning/s: minor character that's teeming with douchebag energy and doesn't age check before sliding into the DMs; language (nope still not sorry, Rogers); my rusty af writing (it's been months and honestly this might be cringe but if it is don't tell me i'm sensitive--) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: metahuman Reader in denial; instalove trope alert (i didn't think i'd ever be writing that but here we are)

"Brother, this is truly unnecessary," Loki groaned, fighting every urge to drag his feet as his brother led him down the halls of the Avengers Compound, avoiding the mix of curious and alarmed stares from the Midgardians donning near-identical jumpsuits. "Rogers' begrudging approval of your truly asinine idea was enough, you need not lead introductions. I am quite sure that Stark and the rest of your comrades have not forgotten who I am."

Thor simply rolled his eyes in response. "Of course they have not forgotten, Brother, but we have had quite the number of newcomers, and I will run not the risk of them reacting with hostility if they cross paths with you. So I shall conduct a simple extemporized introductory session with them so they may…acclimate to your presence in the Compound. And not think it a clandestine invasion and trigger a security lockdown."

As if right on cue, two faces, one familiar and the other quite new to the god of mischief approached, the sounds of their jovial exchange coming to a deadening halt. The smiles on their faces quickly morphed into furrowed brows and battle stances. "Thor, why have you brought him here?" the woman with auburn hair questioned, a red energy that he recognized as Chaos Magic forming in her hands while her companion, Romanoff, looked ready to strike.

"Please, stand down, my friends." The blond god held his hands up in front of them. "He means no harm, I promise you. I've brought him here so that perhaps he could join--"

"Not a fucking chance, Barbie," Romanoff seethed. "I still remember the mind job he did--Wanda what are you doing? Why are you actually listening--"

"Because some time ago I did what you call a 'mind job' on the rest of you," she answered the former Russian spy simply, standing down and waving her magic away. "And now here I get to stand, calling you all my friends. Because you forgave me for my misdeeds. Gave me a second chance. I think we should all extend the same kindness now."

"I commend the way you think, Maximoff," Rogers' voice echoed across the common area, bystanders not so subtly beginning to crowd the area surrounding them, only parting to let the super soldier through and take his stance in the middle of the group. "Much as I'm not the biggest fan of Mister Leather and Metal 'you will all kneel before me', Wanda's right." He took a step back and addressed the room. "Everyone, Loki will be joining us for the foreseeable future. I expect you all to make an effort to help him adjust to his new life here on Earth. Or at least not get in his way. Now, back to work. All of you."

The curious agents all scattered about, returning to their tasks prior to the Asgardian brothers arriving.

"Thank you, Steven," Thor spoke up once the bystanders made themselves scarce. "You will not regret--"

"Not so fast, Odinson." Rogers threw his hand up, stopping his brother's words short. "I want him to meet Y/L/N first. If she says he won't give us any grief, then he can stay. She says no? You'll have to find another place to park your brother."

"Hey--!" Loki fought back the urge to throw a dagger in the soldier's direction. "I am not some meager property that needs to be set down--"

"If you would rather Strange lock you back in an eternal fall, that can be arranged," he shot back, the muscles in his jaw twitching in a telltale sign that he was fighting back a smug grin. He motioned toward the interrogation area, showing the way. "Meet Y/L/N, and we'll go from there."

Thor led the way further into the Compound and past the common area, the temperature dropping significantly and impelling the god to cast an enchantment that would raise his core temperature so as to not trigger his Jotun form to emerge. "Apologies, Brother," he spoke as they made their way down the hall. "There have been suspicions that an intern for one of SHIELD's departments has been a HYDRA operative attempting to pilfer data to fuel some form of invasion. This individual is in one of the interrogation rooms now awaiting Y/N's arrival, and the temperature was her idea. Put the young man in a sense of high discomfort to lower his guards."

"Have him focus on making his body cope with the temperature rather than his mind on deflecting her queries," he surmised, nodding his head as they stepped into the viewing area, laying eyes on the clearly novice employee in that same jumpsuit the others wore outside. His breathing was jittery and labored, rubbing his hands furiously to generate even some form of heat. It wouldn't be difficult to break through his defenses. "She's a clever one, that mortal. Though I could save you all the interrogation and read the lad's mind--"

"No no," Thor waved him off, motioning for him to look into the room once more. "I want you to see her at work. It's rather fascinating watching her work, and the machination of her mind is rather…perplexing."

"Should we be contacting one Doctor Foster to inform her of his…fascination of yours, Brother?" he gibed, raising an eyebrow in suspicion and finding himself a touch more curious when Thor simply laughed off the question.

"My heart is Jane's and Jane's alone, Brother. You know this," he answered, giving his brother a pointed look. Guilt sat heavily on his heart, knowing full well the words that the god of thunder chose to omit. Considering that I destroyed the Bifrost just to protect her from you.

It would take time before amends were made for making that particular threat, no matter how empty it truly was.

Before Loki could say anything, the door on the other side of the two-way mirror opened, a hard-faced Agent Romanoff entering the room and taking the seat opposite the suspected traitor. She made a point to shrug off her jacket and bare her arms, the action making the young man's face twist in derision, undoubtedly because it challenged his quite fragile ego even more.

"I have nothing to say to you," he said, the shaking tone of his voice betraying him. "Why aren't you cold? You all did something to me, didn't you? Made your freaky witch friend cast some curse on me?"

Romanoff leaned back against her chair, her smirk growing as his scowl deepened. "Where I was from, this is what summer felt like," she shot back casually, keeping her tone even despite the bold-faced lie. "And I don't need you to say anything." She jutted her chin in the direction of the door, a proud look on her face as you walked in to the room. "I just need her to look at you."

"Mister Park…" you droned, taking your time to cross the distance from the door to the cold metal desk. "I'm Agent Y/L/N, I'll be your interrogator."

You leaned in to the edge of the table, gripping the corners. Your body stiffened for a few seconds as you took a sharp breath, adjusting to the frigid cold. There was a distant, calculating, enigmatic smile on your face as your eyes roamed his features. Almost as if you were picking away at the fragments of his protective shell, exposing the answers he refused to give with just that one look.

It was a sight that was all too familiar to him. Something his mother would use on suspected traitors to the Realm back in Asgard. Perhaps that was what you were doing, after all. Or perhaps it was a well-crafted facade. Something that Romanoff or another former spy within SHIELD's ranks had taught you to unnerve its recipient.

"Like I told Agent Hot Stuff over there, I have nothing to say to any of you," he sneered.

"And like Agent Romanoff told you, we don't need you to say anything. All you have to do…is sit there." You squinted your eyes at him, sighing deeply as you said the words that apparently cemented the suspected traitor's fate. "I've got a bad feeling about you." You leaned in close, invading his personal space and making him even more visibly uneasy, not even bothering to mask how his body was shaking. "Nice contacts."

In a heartbeat, Agent Romanoff leaned across the desk and grasped the bottom of the apparently confirmed traitor's face, the man they called Park now wincing and groaning in even more discomfort as she inspected his eyes. "Implants?" she asked you.

"Seems buddy boy here's really committed to the cause," you remarked, mocking their organization's salute. "Helium Hydrogen or some shit."

Park slammed his fists down on the table, neither woman even flinching at the outburst. As if you both saw it coming. "It's Heil Hydra, you stupid bitch!" he screamed, fighting against Romanoff's hold and trying to stand up from his seat to charge at you.

You, however, simply responded with a self-satisfied grin as you called out toward the other side of the door, "And there's our verbal confirmation! Lock 'im up." And just to goad the traitorous intern on further, you ruffled his hair and looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Thank you for your cooperation."

Right as you said the words, Rogers burst into the room along with two other agents, flanking him and restricting his movement so he couldn't charge at anyone in the room. "Put him in the holding cells until transport gets here," he instructed the agents, who simply nodded and walked the traitor out of the room.

You and Romanoff turned off the lights and walked out arm in arm. Loki caught a smidgen of your conversation about meeting the significant other of another new Avenger. Something about "earning your stamp of approval".

"What did I tell you, Brother?" Thor prompted, nudging his arm.

"Fascinating," he mumbled, unable to wipe the image of that enigmatic smile of yours from his mind. Wondering what you looked like when you were genuinely beaming at something. Or someone. "It seems she's somewhat telepathically inclined."

"That is what many of us have been trying to tell her, but she refuses to listen. Insists that she is simply better inclined at reading others from her years of dreadfully flawed relationships of 'every kind'," he explained, leading him down the same hallway that you and Romanoff had disappeared to moments ago. "Repeatedly tells us that her most effective and only teacher has been, in her words, her life's revolving door of shitty people."

"And Rogers wishes for me to meet this Y/N so that she may what? Approve of my being here? He defers to her when it comes to newcomers in your merry band of his realm's mightiest heroes?" He tried to mask his curiosity with his signature smarm, trying to seem disinterested in what seemed like an initiation rite.

But in truth he was all the more looking forward to being face to face with you.

"She has not yet been incorrect in the years that I have known her. And you have nothing to fret about, Brother. You will make a fine addition to this team," the blond said proudly, both of them finally arriving to the considerably warmer common area. Loki finally lifted his enchantment, no longer concerned of his Jotun form emerging as his brother raised his hand and called out in your direction, "Y/N! I have returned from Asgard and there is someone I wish for you to meet--"

"In a minute, Barbie. Carter's bringing in her latest beau. Something about her wanting me to have a read on him before she gets too invested," you answered him, throwing your hand up in their direction. You threw a cursory glance their way, barely registering the raven-haired god, before returning your gaze to the door where another unfamiliar face walked in, arm in arm with a man whose entire aura screamed 'philanderer'.

"Y/N, I'd like you to meet Nathan. Nathan, sweetie, this is my friend--"

"Wow you're stunning," the man said, raising his hand in front of him, seemingly to shake yours. But the positioning seemed…off. As if he were to turn your hand and kiss the back of it the second you even brought yours a fraction of an inch upward.

One look into this Nathan's thoughts all but confirmed it. Along with all the other deplorable indiscretions he had stacked against him.

If the god's suspicions were right and you truly were telepathically inclined, you would see those indiscretions, too. With the right guidance, you could explore the true scope of your abilities. Perhaps even advance them.

Your unmoving stance brought along a disquiet to your friend's features, her smile fading into a grim line as her eyes drooped and her posture slumped. She'd seen this reaction from you before, and she seemed to already brace herself for your next words.

"I've got a bad feeling about you," you said in an ominous tone, standing at your full height before tilting your head slightly. From where he stood, Loki could see the man grow visibly anxious, his pulse quickening and beating furiously against his neck.

"What--Why what'd you see?" your friend croaked out, fighting back sobs.

You chose to instead address the deplorable excuse of a man. "You checked out no less than three women since you walked through the front door, and at least twice you wondered if any of them would be down for a threesome. You have a secret social media account that you use to sext other women and send them your dick pics, ohh and by the way…that pump that you're using? Doesn't do shit."

The god had never seen someone's complexion visibly pale until now, Nathan losing all color in his face as if he'd been drained of blood. "You--You d-don't know what you're talking about, you fucking freak!" He looked to Carter, his eyes rife with panic. "Babe, your weird friend here's just pulling this all out of her ass, she's lying--"

His paltry laughable excuses were cut off with a chorus of hissing sounds and "ooh"s and "yikes" from your team, as if his words were so offensive they physically stung. Stark spoke up, clapping his hand down on the man's shoulder. "Now see here, Rudolph the horny reindeer, you've made at least five mistakes since you stepped through that door. But calling Y/N here a liar? Yeah, that dug your grave, dick for brains."

"Well then she's wrong!" he whined, grabbing for his lover's hands and holding on with a death grip. "Baby, you know me, I'm your pookie bear. I would never hurt you--"

"Oof goddamn now I wish I was lying," you quipped, a mixture of surprise and disgust coloring your features. "You couldn't waterboard that nickname out of me. Maybe try going for something that doesn't sound like a name a toddler would give a stuffed animal for the next one? You probably have her all lined up, right? Somewhere in all those DMs and FaceApp'd shrimpy photoshoots?" You took a step closer, not seeming to care about how his free hand was clenched so tightly into a fist that it began to shake. "By the way, I hope you age checked those girls. I'll give you two pieces of free advice. First? Age of consent in New York is seventeen. Second? Don't treat it like a damn target."

Your friend Carter finally jerked her hand out of his and struck him across the face, the sound reverberating through the common area. Stark raised his brows and nodded at her in approval, making a remark about how he wished he had some popcorn.

"It's over," she told him. "I don't ever want to hear from you again." Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she said the words and motioned toward the same door they walked through just minutes before.

"I'm not going anywhere," he insisted, acting like a misbehaving toddler and stomping his foot. "Why would you even believe this freaky little bitch over your own boyfriend, I thought we had some--"

"Because we trust her, cradle robber. And to this day she's never been wrong about a damn thing," Stark sniped, walking over and putting himself between you and the increasingly belligerent Nathan. He placed a tablet in Carter's hands. "I took the liberty of getting into his second account and sending screenshots of his messages to…well, just about everyone in his contacts list. But I figured you ought to see it and scroll through the messages first hand, Sharon."

At this moment, Loki caught another glimpse into the philandering man's mind, seeing a vision of him intending to attack you and strangle you with his bare hands. And just as the god suspected, you had glimpsed the same thought running through his mind, side stepping out of the way just before Nathan could get a hold of you. He watched with more than mild amusement as Thor stepped forward next and grabbed the whining man by the back of his shirt and lifting him into the air.

"Any mortal capable of even the tiniest amount of coherent thought would know better than to attack my friends," the blond said in a low, authoritative tone that eerily reminded Loki of their father. He promptly walked Nathan to the same door that he and Carter had walked through; Loki could see that his brother was physically fighting the urge to give the impudent puny mortal a swift kick to his rear as he gave him a nudge out of the premises.

"Thank you, Barbie," you spoke, an equally amused look on your face after witnessing the whole ordeal. "Always knew it was a good idea to have an Asgardian bouncer guard dog around."

Once Thor had made his way back to you and the rest of the team, you and he grasped each other's forearms. A show of respect that the blond oaf usually only had reserved for his closest comrades, the Warriors Four. Only recently had he even done that with Loki, and while the god of mischief would never admit it aloud, the gesture had him fighting back that traitorous prickling in the backs of his eyes.

"Speaking of having Asgardians in the Compound, there is someone I wish for you to meet, Lady Y/N," he spoke, motioning toward his brother. You tilted your head, a smile so starkly different from the one you had in the interrogation room brightening your features the moment your eyes met Loki's. "This is my brother, and he could be quite an invaluable asset to the team."

"With your go ahead, Agent Y/L/N," Rogers spoke from his seat, intently watching the scene play out before him. Once again agents had begun to crowd around them, completely halting their movements to bear witness. "Like Stark said, we trust you."

You barely gave a response, the only indicator that you'd even heard Rogers' words being a slight jut of your chin in his direction. Loki took your considerably smaller outstretched hand in his, taking every bit of his strength to stay upright as the visions bombarded his mind. The smallest gasp slipped from your lips. You took a moment to compose yourself before you spoke, addressing the team.

"All clear, he can stay," you announced, a boisterous whoop coming from Thor the second you gave your judgment. Neither of you made a move to let go of the other's hand.

"Okay not to take a page out of your book here, jellybean, but…" Stark spoke, breaking you two out of your own little bubble. He pointed his finger back and forth between you and the raven-haired god. "I've got a bad feeling about the two of you."

Stop smiling, you literal idiot, you chided yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment. There was no logical reason to even be thinking of the new member of the team now that you weren't around him, and yet you couldn't get the jet black-haired Asgardian dressed in dark emerald leather out of your mind.

The bar must have been in hell if all it took to get you to actually smile was the fact that the second you two met eyes, no alarm bells went off the way that they did for that newbie traitor…or Sharon's now ex boyfriend. The only hunch that you got looking at him was that he was definitely there to watch the interrogation and trying to figure out how you clocked the iris implants on Park.

"Maybe if he figures it out, he could clue me in on it, too, because I don't have the foggiest fucking idea where that came from," you muttered into the emptiness. And then like clockwork, you found yourself thinking about his blinding brilliant smile again.

And the way his hand completely dwarfed yours.

And how even in those few moments in the common room, being around him for some reason blanketed you in this feeling as if, for the first time in a long time, you didn't have to be as careful anymore. Like you no longer had to constantly be looking over your shoulder because someone might actually have your back and--

"Now you're just being ridiculous, Y/N," you grumbled at yourself, staring down your reflection. "How many times have you had your heart shattered from trusting too easily? Feeling safe around him is exactly why you shouldn't feel safe, why is it that for all the people that trust your instincts, you can't seem to listen to them yourself? And have I lost my freaking mind I am talking to my own--"

Knock knock knock

The sound came from your front door, snapping you out of your rant. "Who in the fuck?"

A lump formed in your throat when you opened the door, looking up at the exact stormy blue eyes that refused to leave your mind since you met him a little over an hour ago. The ones that made a question form in your mind that you couldn't bring yourself to voice out.

Why do I have a good feeling about you?

"Loki…" you said his name slowly, trying your best to ignore how bizarrely right it felt to say it. As if you were meant to. As if you were going to say it -- scream it, even -- for years to come.

"Good evening, Y/N." What you couldn't ignore was how the sound of your name from his lips made your knees want to buckle. "I wish to speak to you about something that I saw when I touched your hand earlier. A vision. Of the future."

The lump in your throat suddenly got bigger. "Ohh God am I gonna die? Soon? Because if I am I don't want spoilers, not even hints, what's gonna happen is gonna--"

"I saw us," he cut you off, reaching for your hands and rubbing circles on the inside of your wrists. "Years of stolen glances and missed opportunities and unsaid words. And it was only at the brink of losing you forever that I finally would find the courage to tell you of my affections."

There were no words, all you could do was blink at him as you tried to process his words. Looking desperately for the telltale signs that there was a disconnect between what he was saying and what his actual intentions were for coming to you like this. The disconnect that was present with most men that you were face to face with.

And yet your intuition, that hadn't failed you for as long as you could remember, was practically squealing with glee that you could feel safe around the god.

"Why are you telling me this?" you asked him. You were surprised you could even form words. Or that you somehow managed to bite your tongue from letting slip a more abrasive question.

He stepped closer to you, a soft smile on his face as he gently framed your face with his hands. "I don't wish to spend the next years pining away and foolishly waiting for the timing to be just right. I had glimpsed our future, and it was…" His smile widened into a brilliant grin, his thumbs tracing along your cheekbones. "It was resplendent. Having even the most fleeting glimpse that what we would have, it had me awash with…peace. The kind that I had longed for for centuries."

Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips to your forehead, your heart pounding away furiously in your chest. You knew a little too well the feeling that he was describing. That feeling of peace. Of a calm quietude that put you at ease even if the world would have been crashing down around you.

That feeling like you were home.

"Now as for your unspoken question," he whispered, breath warming your skin. "Of what am I doing here…I wish to change that future. Or rather, hasten it along. If that is what you want as well, of course."

He pressed his forehead to yours, loosely wrapping his arms around you. All you could do was nod, secretly grateful that he was holding you upright because the violent fluttering in your stomach was making it hard to stand.

That feeling spread throughout your entire body like wildfire when he briefly brushed his lips against yours; you could feel how much restraint he was exerting to pull away. To test the waters. To wait for you to tell him it was alright.

And you let out the words that were fighting to break free since you first saw him earlier today. "I have a good feeling about you."

A/N: *peeks out from behind the laptop* ohai there…long time no see 🙈 Imma say it again because it bears repeating: I'm rusty as all fuck and I might be for a while, but I'm trying to get back into writing since I haven't really done much ever since starting the new job. But things are finally beginning to settle down and normalize, so I'm trying to somehow find a groove again.

I'm gonna be so real w/ y'all, the next stuff on my queue is RTC and 'the final Lady Sharpe' and with how rusty my prose feels, I'm so scared to touch them 😂

Also this is another story that was inspired by a TikTok pov trend. The one where people lip sync and act along to the song that goes "Oompa Loompa doopadeedoo I've got a bad feeling about you", as if it wasn't cringe enough 🥴🫡

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[murmiss]

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part 3

(No special warnings, possible unpleasant descriptions,mistakes in words and grammar ,but in this chapter I go back to thinking "what if those assholes hadn't caught her then?".

I think I'm going to be putting up different chapters with different developments now, and this chapter will be one of the alternatives and there will be more to follow.

I'm putting this up as a warm up, and I intend to post the sequel in This week)

A sudden scream from the TV, telling about another promotion "two packages of milk for the price of one" wakes you up, and you, breathing deeply, try to come to your senses.

Was it a dream? Then it was the shittiest nightmare of your life.

As if Soap would leave you alone and you lost yourself, becoming a hostage of someone else's dirty hands.

You shift from foot to foot for a long time, unable to remember what you need, and why you came here in the first place and with whom?

Soap? Oh, yes, Johnny.. - you turn back, but do not notice the cheerful mohawk next to you, so you slowly and sleepily shuffle your feet on the old tiles of the store, intending to find your alpha. The store is almost empty, except for the occasional people and the seller. From somewhere You hear a woman's laughter. You quicken your pace, but unfortunately, you only bump into the back of Johnny as he leaves, then you rush forward faster, screaming: "Johnny!", but he is already leaving the store with bags in his hands and girls nearby.

This asshole didn't hear you, but you don't want to stay here, not now, when you're tired, when you want to go home and damn it, you don't want this bastard to go home with some girls.

You sigh angrily, leave the basket on the floor, and run out of the store, but Soap's car is already pulling out of the parking lot, and no matter how hard you try to catch up, it seems futile. Your hand reaches into your pocket, straight for your phone, quickly dialing numbers, but the calls and messages still don't get you anywhere. It's as if you've been blacklisted and left here on purpose.

A dim light illuminates the steps of the store. A cool breeze ruffles your hair, which falls irritatingly over your face, into your eyes and mouth. You toss your hair back carelessly and snort irritably, keeping your eyes on the deep darkness in front of you. An empty parking lot, if you don't count the wreck at the very end, with its wheels off and rotten doors, abandoned by its owner like a relic of the past or maybe just plain rusty garbage.

Your hand reaches for the tincture, and with a decisive movement, the cork flies away. Your gaze drops to the dark liquid, whose origin you don't know. It's just some alcoholic tincture, a cheap drink, for which the last pennies you found in your pocket, carelessly left behind, were spent.

Oh, yeah, you wanted to throw your change in the piggy bank. The same piggy bank your grandmother gave you before you left. That flower-shaped piggy bank.

What would have happened if you hadn't left then, stayed home, torn up the letter calling you to the pack?

Maybe you would have had a bus to University, a home-cooked dinner with your parents and your father's silly jokes. Walks with friends, and a free university life. What would it be like to live if there weren't all these obligations of omegas, alphas and betas. If all that didn't exist, would life be better?

you take a sip. The alcohol burns your throat, forcing you to frown, but the pain blooming in your chest forces you to take another desperate sip, hoping it will help shut the aching feeling inside, spilling through your veins along with the blood.

Not so bad. The second sip hits you right in the head, right where you need it, giving you a long-awaited release from all the thoughts that parasitize you. You lean back, cover your eyes, and just listen to the scrambling of bugs, the almost soporific chirping of birds that peeked out of their nests as soon as city life died down.

You hear the girls' laughter, Soap's laughter, and see them before your eyes. Your Johnny puts his hand on one of the girls' thighs, pulls her hard against him, forcing her to let out a loud sigh or a defiant hot moan.

A whimper escapes your lips, and a new wave of disgusting grinding under your ribs reappears. You try to open your eyes, but you realize you can't, being a mute witness to their caress. Johnny runs his other hand through the girl's hair, drawing her into a rough kiss. You try to move your arms, but it's as if the straps are holding you in a torture chair, forcing you to watch, hear, and see everything that's happening as if you were in the worst nightmare.

There's a slamming door right behind you and you open your eyes sharply. Your heart beats at a furious rhythm and your breath hitches, forcing you to gasp for air. Abruptly you turn around and try to focus your vision, aggressively trying to wipe the tears from your eyes, but they won't stop no matter how hard you try.

The woman across from you looks at you with disdain, frowning and backing away squeamishly as if she's seen something dirty. Her ringing voice echoes above you, pierced with pity: "We're closed.

You know. You know perfectly well that the store is closed, just as you know that that usual squeamish voice is probably because you're just a goddamn beta - a completely unnecessary character in this whole story. Perhaps the world would do just fine without the beta.

You frown as you watch the woman walk away, remaining in near total darkness with only the streetlights working.

Scary. You take another deep sip straight from the bottle and wait again-Who the hell wants you anyway? Just a tasteless beta, with a perfectly ordinary figure, an ordinary face and an ordinary stupid sundress.

You rise to your feet, bottle in hand, and walk straight ahead with firm steps. If this bastard isn't planning on picking you up, you go home and fuck them all. Just fuck everyone, them, the Omegas and every goddamn Alpha you know.

You try to walk with confidence, but the cheap booze makes your gait a little sloppy and loose, but even that doesn't stop you. As you pass by the same wreck, you unconsciously reach for one of the doors, touching the stupid and crude graffiti with your fingers.

And indeed some idiot managed to leave his car in such a state, probably having traded it for some cool car, like a BMW, and let hooligans, dirty people with itchy hands break the once native and beloved car, consciously turning it into a pile of iron trash.

It's silly, but right now, in this moment, you felt like this car-just as lonely and abandoned on the outskirts of town. Or maybe it was just the alcohol making itself felt. Again you reached for the phone in your pocket and checked it, but it was still unavailable and turned off. It seemed to be about an hour or two walk from here to home, and the dim streetlights, though not frequent enough, were still present along the way.

The highway was empty and everything around was so dead, quiet and almost silent, if you didn't count the sounds of nature, the rustling of leaves and the swaying of trees from the increasing wind.

And inside, it was like worms were swarming, painfully eating away at your flesh, along with the swarm in your head. You try not to analyze, not to imagine how everyone is having fun now, not noticing that you're not there, You take another sip in frustration and it's already disgusting. It's like drinking the cheapest pure alcohol diluted with water or juice.

Somewhere far away, in the depths of the forest, you hear someone's voices, someone's insidious whisper, calling to you. You frown, take another sip, and quicken your step, but you can't go any faster, only more wobbly.

"Die, go, get out of here, come, hear."

The words echo throughout, blending into the general cacophony of sounds. Nervously you turn your head and look back at the extinguished streetlight a few meters away and unconsciously squint, as if hoping to see no one there.

A pair of red eyes stare at you, as if looking into your soul, making you stiffen, but drunken brains are brave brains, and part of the reason is that you don't break from your seat and run screaming wildly wherever you go. Even if sooner or later you have to do it.You just quicken your step, dark liquid splashing in the bottle, scarlet eyes popping up everywhere. You take a step and two scarlet spots appear somewhere among the forest foliage. Another step and it is already on the left standing under the lantern, there are many of these silent witnesses. You speed up your step, almost running, frowning and shouting "disappear! Disappear goddamn it! ", running as fast as you can. The voices get louder and louder, the whispers are discouraging, coming from every crevice, and you can't even identify the words, just multiple different intonations, an active conversation as if arguing.... The red color differentiates under your feet and the whispering becomes like the noise of a crowd on a rush hour train. A hateful shriek escapes your lips and a painful burning sensation in your legs prevents you from continuing to run, forcing you to slow down.

Everything stops and subsides. You no longer hear voices, no longer see scarlet eyes. Just silence and nothing more. You freeze, breathing heavily and staring into the deep darkness, no longer seeing any ugly eyes.

Maybe that alcohol wasn't the best solution, you think to yourself, and slowly turn around, intending to continue towards home, especially if you look closely, the turn towards the houses, lit by a dim streetlight, was starting to show. Just a little more and you're here.

When you turn around, the headlights are blinding, illuminating your figure in the night with a bright glow, as if letting all creatures know you're here. Reflexively you raise your hand and cover your eyes, wanting to look and just stand there, as if waiting for something.

You expect the fool with the Mohawk to come out of the car, throw himself at your feet and apologize, but hell no. A big guy comes out of the car, not one of your big guys, but-- A freakin' giant.

You frown, unconsciously taking a step back, but the man stands, just staring at your figure in silence.

It starts to rain, small drops falling annoyingly on your face, and gradually, over a short period of time, it turns into a downpour.

You still stand there silently looking at each other like this, until the second guy that peeked out of the jeep shouted: "Get in!"

Standing in the darkness, in the rain, like a wild abandoned kitten, with a bottle of cheap alcohol in your hands. a disgusting sight, striking the big man to the depths of his filthy soul. He'd seen it many times, how you follow your pack like a puppy, hoping to be accepted, but in reality you remain just... Just a nobody, never noticing that to the other pack you're a goddamn godsend.

To the Konig pack, you're like a ray of sunshine, forbidden to touch. was. But now the sight of your frail figure standing in the night was driving the Konig mad.

How dare those wretched 141 dare leave a diamond on the street? Don't they realize that this bird could be taken away at the first opportunity?

"Where's your pack?" comes the growling voice of Konig, wanting to deal with everything at once, but Horangi, who was sitting behind the wheel, peers out of the window again with an indignant snarl: "Konig, damn it, get the bird over here, it's about to get wet because of you, damn it! "

When you come to your senses, Konig holds out his hand to you, and you, not sure if you remember them, but vaguely guessing who they are, frown, stand for a few moments, and then do climb into the back seats, meeting your gaze with another big guy. He picks up almost immediately, helping you climb in and sit down. The lights in the car help you finally distinguish the figures and you finally remember this murderous pack. And that Asian jerk, always teasing you about everything. And Krueger, sitting next to you, you remember too, always giving you weird compliments, if you could call them that, because his rude tone sounded like an insult and made you wonder if your appearance was okay. "Nice hair"-a common phrase, but for some reason Krueger's voice sounded like a sneer, though it was a ridiculous attempt at flirting on his part. Horangi had explained that they would all get slaps from Konig for compliments like "Hot Figure".

Konig was always silent and scared you with his stare, because every time you showed up at the base, he looked at you like a typical slasher, almost without blinking.

(You can also offer me your scenarios or headcanon, and I'll be happy to write about them,)

(it seems that I have specified all,I'm sorry if I missed anyone)

@other-fandoms-reblogs @this-is-me19 @iconic-bubonic

[ghostcam4812]

Dandy's World Finn Redesign!

(My version/AU) Finn!!! Our favorite pun-making pal… Remember these r just my headcanons and you don't have to agree! ^_^

Also I'm so sorry the cartoon vers looks worse than my usual ones 😭😭😭🙏... I forgot how to draw it since I got rusty and didn't reference my past ref sheets LOL. why does he have fingers 💔🙁. Opposed to many other Toons, Finn is not very complex; outside of his strange physical properties. Finn is a Toon made of glass and filled with water, with biological fins and webs, as well as a fish tail. The glass is flexible, bendy, yet still somewhat fragile and breakable. Unlucky for him, he is clumsy, and prone to falling and hitting things, causing him to crack and require fixing. And after the Handlers leave, it becomes a real responsibility- he can't FIX glass... so a crack is a real danger to his well-being. It's made him more nervous to do the things he likes, and be as hyper as he usually is, because he knows one day... it won't just be a crack. And a bandaid won't be enough to fix it. But hey, as long as there's water to refill him, he can't really die or anything silly like that. Right??? ...Finn loves all things aquatic or semi-aquatic, and dreams of nothing more but to be able to swim in the ocean! Unfortunately, he is too heavy to swim, as he just... sinks. In result, he must wear a life jacket and floaties when around water or when "going swimming"...so he floats instead of sinking... but that's not really swimming, is it? :( He is a joyous Toon, whether he's nervous about his glass body or not. He loves to make puns, he loves to be around his friends and talk to everyone about everything!! And by everything, of course I mean everything aquatic. Fish, sea plants, water itself, but especially the fish. Who could not like something that breathes water? I mean, it's just SO cool!!!!! It doesn't really matter if Toons don't understand his puns all the time. He gets them, and he loves them!! As his head is shaped like a fish bowl, and he has such love for fish, of course he had to get a pet fish! And they're always together, of course. Chancey is his best friend, a beautiful and intelligent gold fish! Except for when she tries to swim down his throat. That isn't as fun. But hey, of course there's always risks with his body! He could never hold it against Chancey. (Also, I know he has a toy fish in canon with a pre-existing name, but, I forgot about it while working on him for the AU/MV, and I like Chancey too much to change it now!) I don't know what else to put here, besides that he's forgetful (unlike Chancey!), and uhm... have a reel fin-tastic day?

Dandy's World art & hc/au info requests open (including OCs for art) in my ask box! I will have delayed responses (as of posting), especially to things I want to give art with on my answer! :}

I'll do my best to keep posting frequently!! But if I go silent for a while, do not fear, I shall return! 🤺

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

(This might be a bit dark, feel free to ignore)

In my head this is spoken by reader to AK!Jason:

"Then go ahead. End it. I don't want to live in a world where I failed you like this."

~800 words (someone sedate me)

You had been a vigilante, a good vigilante. Sharp, quick, and resilient. But good wasn't enough when Jason Todd had disappeared. With all your skills, all your desperation, and pleas to the universe, you still didn't save him.

The video tape of his death destroyed you. How could you be a hero to anyone if you couldn't save the one person who mattered? So you hung up your cape, retreated into yourself, and tried to find a way to keep going.

You find solace in the little things, the quiet evenings, the brisk Gotham air, and the city lights that shine so brightly. It's the night wrapped up in blankets with a thermos of tea on the roof of your apartment that eases your heart the most.

You've been out of the game for months now. It's why you're not expecting an unfamiliar figure to stalk towards you. It's certainly why you're not expecting him to attack you.

It's on instinct, that you manage to avoid the hand that juts towards your throat. You stumble to your feet, only driven by the primal fear to protect yourself from this stranger.

But your best never seems to be good enough. Even if you weren't rusty and out of practice, he's better, stronger, more cutthroat than you'd ever be.

He has a gun pointed to your head before you've even managed to get a hit in.

So, you're going to die. It's the only thing that makes sense. Strangest in tactile gear don't attack civilians on roofs for no reason. He has to know who you are– who you used to be.

You're not sure if it's a will to live or simply out of curiosity that you start to talk, "Who are you?"

He scoffs, cocking the safety back, "Don't tell me you haven't recognized me? I knew you had gotten weak," he spits out, stepping forward to punctuate his words, "But I didn't think you'd gotten stupid, too."

"We've never met," you protest, but he sounds so sure, so venomous, that doubt creeps into your voice.

"We've done more than that, doll," he snaps, and your face drops. The nickname, his fighting style, his instance that you know each other– it can't be possible.

He laughs at you, and raises his free hand to press a latch on his helmet. The eyes that greet you are angry, dark, and oh, so familiar.

"Jason," you breathe out.

He scowls at you, and jerks forward to press the barrel of the gun against your forehead, "So, you do remember me."

"Remember– of course I remember you," you choke out, eyes darting frantically over his face. The cold metal of the gun proves that he's real, that this is real, but you really wish you tough him instead, ground yourself with his warmth as you've done so many times before.

"I've never forgotten you, Jason," you finish weakly.

"You did," he snarls, "all of you did, when you left me rotting in that cell with him! You. Abandoned. Me."

"I tried–" You start desperately, then stop. It's not enough. What you did wasn't enough. His anger towards you is justified. What protest could you offer? What could you say to make up for your weakness?

There are none. So you lean into the muzzle of his gun, "Then go ahead. End it. I don't want to live in a world where I failed you like this."

Your words make him stiffen and narrow his eyes untrustingly, "You're just saying that. Trying to play mind games."

You memorize his face for a moment, then close your eyes. It wouldn't be so bad, if he was the last thing you saw, "I'm not. You can do it, Jason. If it would help. If it would fix something. It would be okay."

He sucks in a breath, and the pressure against your head vanishes. You wait, and wait some more. You half expect him to be gone when you open your eyes.

But he's not, he's still there in front of you, staring like you're crazy. Maybe you are. You find that you don't quite care as long as it keeps him looking at you.

"I should hate you," he mutters, dropping the gun to his side.

"You can," you whisper, afraid to break the moment.

That makes him glare at you, "What is wrong with you? You're not– supposed to act like this," he finishes lamely.

"I don't know," you admit and shift your weight, "I'm just glad you're here."

His face curls with disdain, "Just out of my way." He steps back, fingers lifting to the latch that will cover his face again.

"Wait," You gasp out, practically falling forward, "I want to see you again."

He laughs, it's empty of humor, "You know what? You can see me as much as you'd like if you manage to find me."

It's a challenge. You can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. All you can do is nod as he shoots his grappling hook into the shadows of the night.

You don't intend to fail him again. No, you won't fail him again.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

All Tied Up

The Wizard/Oscar Diggs x female reader (NSFW 18+ only)

Summary: You've been The Wizard's pet 'plaything' more or less for a while now after ending up in the land of Oz by accident. One night he decides to try a new trick in the bedroom.

Warnings: unprotected sex, age gap (much older man/younger woman), power imbalance dynamic, slight daddy kink, nonconsensual mildish bondage, mentions of kidnapping and imprisonment, drinking, drugging

Word Count: ~6,471

A/N: Ever since watching Wicked when it debuted in theaters, I cannot get over Jeff Goldblum as the absolute sexiest Wizard of Oz and so this was born out of a little self-indulgence that I'm happy to share with others who are also down horrendously bad for this man. Takes place before the main climatic events of part one of the movie and obviously not entirely accurate to canon. Reader is AFAB for this (I might write another fic that is more gender neutral) and no use of Y/N in dialogue. Also, this is my first Oz fanfic, and I haven't written smut in a hot minute, so forgive me if it's a bit rusty!

Oscar Diggs.

That isn't his full name of course; all he ever told you was that it was embarrassingly long and unnecessary. Here in the Emerald City though, he is just known as a godlike figurehead deemed The Wizard. The Great and Powerful Oz. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Oz the Great and Terrible. His Supreme Ozness. All that jazz.

You know now he is a farce, a carny drifted the wrong way west, a two-bit con man that you have no business screwing with. But you do not know the extent of his wickedness and besides, he is just too damn good at wooing and making your heart stutter triple its normal rate for you to dig deeper beyond your feelings. He has an inflated ego, sure, but he's fairly quite kind, at least to you.

You first remembered him when you were a small child visiting the traveling carnival at the state fair in Kansas. His warm olive complexion was complimented with a clean-shaven face and a head full of dark hair and he was so, so tall. He still is, but you have a different perspective now. Back then at your low vantage point, he was so up towards the sky that he might as well have been wearing stilts.

He'd crouched down to your level and displayed out a standard deck of playing cards, and exclaimed: "Pick a card, any card!"

You randomly (or thought so) plucked out the Jack of Hearts and he took it back and shuffled the deck with a flurry of motion, then fanned them back out. You didn't see your Jack among them, and you puckered, lower lip jutted out. His eyes went wide at that, and he feigned concern.

"Ohhh, no, where is it? Is it in here?" He dug frantically into the flap of his jacket to no avail, then the bottoms of his tap shoes.

"Hmm, I don't suppose it could've..." He yanked off his top hat to reveal the same card hidden under there.

You'd gasped, equal parts confused and delighted, and he looked relieved at the successful reaction.

"Here, keep it. I have a dozen of these decks. It's something to remember me by and show all your friends." He pressed the colorful illustrated card into your palm with a grin and your eyes had sparkled with wonder and enchantment.

Thinking back on it, you knew he'd probably done that trick with twenty other kids that day, it was just a ploy to make you feel special, like sure he'd picked you out of the crowd to gift that Jack of Hearts to. But that didn't stop you from hanging onto it as a prized keepsake and keeping that card tucked safely in your jewelry box.

Years passed and you grew up, temporarily forgetting about the nice funny carnival man and shoving it to the back of your mind to solely focus on your simple and hardworking life helping your folks manage the acres of farmland and homestead. One late spring day you were out feeding the flock of chickens when you noticed that off in the distance to the west, dark clouds had gathered into an angry mob, a swirling mass of foreboding. You squinted, dropping the sack of feed. That sure didn't look nothing like an ordinary twister...

A vicious wind blew up and you struggled to walk towards the house, your skirt whipping around like a flag in the pummeling gusts. Ma and Pa were in town with the farmhand picking up supplies, so you were all alone and having never been caught out in the middle of a storm that seemed out of the ordinary, you were terrified.

The tornado spun across the fields, churning up the pastures and few buildings and wooden fences in its wicked wake, until it was no more than a football field's length away. There was no time get to the safety of the cellar, there no time to save anything, and with a scream, you bolted into the barn because it was nearest and covered your head as you flattened to the floor. It occurred to you too late that you should've tied or hitched yourself to a post or something...

Within ten frantic beats of your heart, the monster twister was directly overhead, the roaring and gnashing of its raw power nightmarish. Before you knew it, the barn walls around you started to rip and shudder and then the twister had violently sucked you and what was left of the barn straight up into the air and you promptly blacked out, certain this was it.

********

To your immense surprise, when you regained consciousness some time later, you crawled out of the remaining rubble of the barn to have ended up in a strange colorful place where there were joyously curious multitudes of strangers - people that called themselves citizens of Munchkinland. You were certain you had hit your head on the way down and went bonkers, but somehow it was all very real.

After you had recovered from shock and explained your situation, they advised you to head to the imperial capital, named Emerald City, to plead your case to the ruler who resided there, referred to as The Wizard. A kindly older Munchkin couple lent you their horse and a basket of bread with a canteen of water for the journey. For miles you rode through the farmland and north through mountainous regions to what the Munchkins said was Gillikin Country, home to the Great Gillikin Railway. The train station was gleaming and shiny, and the judgmental and disgusted looks from boarding passengers and workers made you feel like a filthy stray dog. You tried your best to ignore them and strode straight up to the conductor taking tickets.

"Excuse me, sir? I need to get to the Emerald City."

He wrinkled his nose and held out a white gloved palm expectantly.

"Oh, but I haven't any money for a ticket; I lost everything from the freak storm that brought me here."

His thick bushy brows had furried together and he sniffed once.

"A storm, you say?"

"Yes, I ain't got a cent. I was told by the Munchkins to go see The Wizard for my troubles."

His eyebrows shot straight up into his high forehead, and he scoffed loudly. You started to turn away, dejected.

"Well, why didn't you say so? It's your lucky day, miss! Come aboard!" the conductor suddenly exclaimed joyfully, ushering you on.

"Only this once though. You'll go straight to Emerald City where our wonderful Wizard can sort you out."

You boarded and found a private seat by the window, instantly falling asleep as soon as the train sped off. You missed out on the wonderous views of rugged thick moody forests and bright fields of crimson poppies and only awoke when the train jolted to a halt. Once let off at the station, you took to exploring the overwhelming oasis that was the Emerald City. You'd never seen a big city before and certainly not one like this...

It wasn't hard to figure out signs of this mysterious Wizard and the most obvious was a huge statue planted in the center of the town square. With a loud gasp, you recognized the figure as the very carnival man you had met as a little girl all those years ago.

After getting directions to the palace from a couple of citizens on the street, you went hurriedly to the entrance, only to run up against the stationed uniformed guards.

"I need to see the Wizard, please," you begged of them.

They'd been extremely skeptical, but after much desperate explaining and exasperation, you were begrudgingly allowed in and warned that if you were told to leave by him, you must obey and that nothing could be done about it.

The stretched-out hallway that was the walk down to where you were supposed to meet this Wizard was ominous and your boots had clacked loudly across the shiny tiled flooring, each step echoing tenfold.

The room itself was enormous and intimidating with bursts of fire and noise almost as bad as the tornado. Somehow, you'd mustered up some gumption to tell off the ghoulish moving mechanical head mouthpiece that you weren't scared off by its overdramatic display and that you weren't going to leave until you saw the voice behind it.

"I know who you are, Mr. Deck of Trick Cards!" you yelled at it and with a great whirring of the machine shutting off, it then clunked silent.

He'd come out from behind the hanging ropey curtain of thick twisted fibers, purely flabbergasted more than angry, and declared in humbled bemusement that no one had ever told him that before. Seeing him in the vivid flesh instead of a dim memory had made you falter. He had aged, yes, but he was actually rather handsome and so well dressed, radiating off quirky charm and charisma. You properly introduced yourself and recounted how you'd recognized him from your memory of that distant festival day.

"I see, but I'm afraid I don't remember you, sorry?" He coughed into his fist while his right shoe tapped restlessly.

Your heart sunk even though it was perfectly logical, and you didn't even know why you expected any remembrance when he never even knew your name, for Pete's sake! You had been just another cute face in the crowd, a country bumpkin kid to play card tricks with at the fair for a minute of his day. He had no reason to selectively recall you at all.

"I figured as much, it's my fault. I guess I'll get going though I haven't a clue on how to get home. But darn it, you know I didn't ask to be swept up by a tornado and plopped into this freakish land! I didn't mean to travel all this way through hot fields and cold mountains and the long railway just to get turned away by a silly man who runs a giant talking head!" You hadn't meant to sound rude and whiny, but you were so tired, hungry (the bread you were given depleted hours ago), dirty, and utterly exhausted. And the hope you had pinned on this one man was extinguished.

The Wizard crossed his arms tight to his chest and his eyes casually roamed up and down your body, perhaps surveying the pathetic condition you were in. If he was offended by your statements, he didn't show it.

"You know, it's funny, I had something somewhat similar happen to me back in Omaha and that's how I ended up here... I made the most of it, though. You came from the great state of Kansas, you said?"

"Yes, sir."

He had smiled at that, perhaps enjoying the way that respectful reply just automatically slipped out from your lips, and then he had waved a hand uselessly behind him.

"I don't know how to send you home. Well, I have a hot air balloon for travel, but it's more strictly emergency purposes and I don't think it would be wise to cause a ruckus and panic the people, so... You know what? How about you, uh, stay the night? You must be so worn out and clearly need a bath."

You winced, knowing you were caked in the unappealing smell of dust, muck, and sweat, but nodded eagerly.

"There's no sense traveling now anyhow, it'll be too dark soon. How about you stay with me for a while, and we'll figure things out, alright?"

You were near tears, yet very grateful, and accepted.

You almost wished you hadn't.

Guards, which were a mix of both normal humans and (bizarrely) blue faced monkeys with wings had come in and dragged you off to a secluded room of the palace where you were scrubbed down and dressed in green pajamas by a small team of maids before being put in a bedroom.

You were stopped at every turn you attempted to leave your room to find an exit and finally they deadbolted it. You spent two nights in confinement with delivered meals before The Wizard had entered and gently explained it was too dangerous to let you leave, that you were safer with him and better off staying with him. At first, you were upset because surely your folks were worried about how you had presumably fallen off the face of an earthly existence, but then you remembered you were definitely an old enough adult to live on your own now and maybe there was nothing left of the homestead anyway if that nasty storm had its way. You didn't miss your work on the farm, nor the pressure your family had been applying to find a young man to marry. You never admitted it out loud, but you had bigger sights than being a simple country girl who let some drunken boyish hick boss you around.

This palace was just so grand compared to anything you'd ever seen in your life, and it was complete with a man you were increasingly infatuated with. It took several weeks of being locked up to come to terms with the realization that you had a raging crush on the man who was playing captor, and you wanted him very badly, but his interactions were limited, and you wondered why the heck he kept you around and alive if all he cared about was hiding his identity.

One night though, he broke down the invisible barrier: as you were knelt down in your room removing your slippers for bed, he grabbed your chin to tip upward and within a matter of two seconds, he kissed you right on the lips before you could make a peep. After a second, you kissed back hungrily without restraint, letting desire overrule fear.

"I'm sorry," you and him both said at the same time when he pulled away.

After that, you shyly admitted your blooming feelings for him and by a stroke of splendid luck, The Wizard reciprocated. He invited you to his private room and you slept with him for the first time. Afterward, he told you a bit about himself, how he really started out just a simple man named Oscar who had become a magician and one day the man in charge because people happened to be so gullible. He was intelligent, inventive, and intoxicating with a dash of cunning.

Of course, you weren't sure if the "love" that he extended was out of pure benevolent generosity or you were merely just a glorified whore, but either way you were happy because you loved him, albeit stupidly. He must genuinely love you back though; what else could all the flowers left on the nightstand and weekly gifts of expensive jewels tucked into tiny ornate boxes with trailing lime green silk ribbons mean? He even gifted you an entire handpicked wardrobe of fine clothing from pressed skirts and beautiful dresses to day-to-day blouses to pajamas and revealing lounge wear, many of which match the colors of Emerald City.

The only downside to this whole odd arrangement was that due to the fact that you already knew too much about him, he'd grounded you to the palace indefinitely. From day one you were not allowed to step even a toe outside the palace walls, you weren't let out to leave the premises even accompanied by guards, and you had to keep to yourself in the designated permitted rooms, of which he had many for a single man. When you asked why he needed the excess of rooms, he chuckled.

"They're for my inventions and all the things I collect. I'm rather sentimental, you see."

"Am I now one of your 'things'?" you asked, to which he had smiled almost impishly.

"You could be, if you want."

********

So it is without resistance that now, many months later, at eight o'clock in the evening (he insists on an earlier bedtime, strictly nine o'clock at the latest) in his grand bedroom, you splay fully naked on your back across the rich emerald green satin sheets like a starfish waiting to be swept away by the power of the tidal force he thinks he is (maybe sometimes he's more of a lukewarm swell but no matter).

The Wizard, or Oscar as he prefers only in private, is a surprisingly fit man for his age with a decent sex drive in bed when he's in the mood, which is at least once a week, but there are dry spells when he's too busy or unhappy. While you spend time reading in the library, he spends hours off somewhere building things and tinkering with models which you've never touched. You sleep in separate bedrooms, but on such nights he's ready for passion however, you're expected to be there and stay the night with him. Enjoying his company isn't hard to do - you've fallen head over heels for the man.

Presently, he's removed his long coat to hang up and is in the process of undressing further, the bits and bobs and chains clinking softly from his vest, when he pauses significantly, humming to himself in the depths of the spacious walk-in closet off to the side.

"What is it?" you ask, perplexed and a smidge annoyed at his distraction. He'd promised - no, ordered - an intimate evening after a long while of leaving too much alone. He's been swamped with work and meetings with other influential folk and plotting and planning that he always keeps quiet and stuffed away from you.

"Do you want a drink, my beauty?" he asks abruptly, turning around and holding a tiny green bottle of his famed elixir that he procured from somewhere.

"What kind of game are you playing at, sir?" you wonder suspiciously, watching candlelight glint playfully off the glass.

"It'll loosen you up, just a sip or two."

"It's just alcohol, isn't it?" You can hear the uncertainty reverberate through your tone and the guilty twitch of his eyebrows doesn't deny anything.

"My very own special blend. Take some," he insists, coming over and pressing the cool bottle into your tender hands.

"Why?"

"It's, uh, for a surprise. I promise it's not poison, by golly."

"Not funny." You narrow your eyes but pop the cork and bring it to your lips to take a quick swig. It goes down smooth like syrup, just not as sweet.

"That's my girl," he praises, and you shiver in delight as he climbs up on the bed, holding his hand out expectantly for the elixir, but you aren't done with it. You drink more, feeling the inexplicable urge to quench your thirst. You finally press the nearly empty bottle back to his hands, swallowing before lying back with a flump onto the plush pillows.

Within two minutes, you feel entirely airy and floaty, like your mind has taken an extension cord out of your body to stick somewhere up on the ceiling.

"This'll 'ad better be gooood..." you slur out.

"I guarantee it will, at least for me." He watches in satisfaction as you doze off to dreamland in a daze, a heavy weight of comfortable numb blackness settling over your bones. The room is bathed in a cozy glow from the candles, and it smells deliciously heady.

********

Not too long later, you stir awake from your short-lived nap and when you roll over to your side, you find you can't. Your back is flush against the satin sheets, arms raised up above your head and pinned to the headboard.

"W-Why am I... all tied up?" you ask groggily, looking down at your spread apart legs and ankles, which are stuck in place to the bedposts by a sturdy soft green rope snaked expertly and securely.

"I thought, uh, we'd try something new here..." Oscar says, seeming hesitant now, as if he's two inches away from regretting playing out this fantasy. Or maybe he's not guilty at all and only perceiving the act of being so (you could never tell with a sleazy con man after all).

You tug uselessly at the bindings, which aren't that uncomfortable; the mossy green rope coils around your wrists and ankles snugly, leaving a bit of room for circulation. The only part that truly bothers you is the restricted mobility and lack of control.

Oscar approaches slowly, as if gauging your reaction and his self-preservation if you should decide to fight back... How exactly, you don't know. Yell at him, cuss him out? Bite him like a lowly animal? Scream until a guard comes in to see if you are being murdered?

You writhe slowly, testing the limitations as he settles down at the foot of the bed, a patient parental expression painting his face, coloring with concern yet intrigue. In the time while you were asleep, he's removed his button down and trousers, leaving just a white undershirt and green boxers that pronounce his male package quite well.

He runs a slow hand up along the length of your left thigh and then alternates to the right, his fingers tracing lines of pleasure into your veins. You automatically whimper and he rigs a sly smile up to one side of his cheek.

"Do you like this?"

"I don't know..." you murmur truthfully. It's not exactly unpleasant, but the loss of control is unsettling.

"Well, I happen to like it. You know, the sight of you like this." He gestures a wide sweeping path across the whole of your body, and you grin sheepishly, chest rising and falling with anticipated breaths.

"You can't squirm from me as much."

"I don't squirm," you protest, raising eyebrows.

"Oh yes, you do. I know you don't mean to."

Before you can react to that, he lunges forward and his hands go to your sides, stroking up around to your breasts, fondling them like priceless treasures. You moan, arousal heating your core even more than before, and he rubs a thumb over the hard buds of your nipples while speaking lowly.

"I thank my lucky stars that you were blown in from that storm, it sure was a lonely handful of years before you stumbled into this place. And to have someone so obedient to all my whims..." he trails off, a hungry glint in his eyes.

He bends down to lick and smooch along your throat, inching upward until he nuzzles the nape of your neck with his nose. His close cropped and trimmed mustache/goatee tickles and scratches at your skin as he leans so close, cupping the opposite side of your face with a firm hand. You whimper as he latches onto your mouth possessively, his tongue hot and heavy in your mouth. He tastes faintly like Oz's finest toothpaste and his aftershave should be sold as a candle. Maybe you can suggest to him to market his own line of merchandise; the people of Emerald City will buy anything with their great ruler's handsome face on it even if the product is utter shit.

You feel your hips trying to buck up, needing more contact than of the oral kind, but he's teasing tonight.

"Just keep making those pretty noises, darling..." he whispers, sucking numerous hickeys.

"Please, Oz..."

He moves his head, hot breath on your earlobe as he mutters the words.

"What is it that you desire?"

You struggle to speak, all senses haywire, and he waits patiently as you breathe erratically.

"You-I, please, I need... Oscar, please! Touch."

"Oh, you want me to touch you there? Now we're getting somewhere, darling."

He backs off to run a hand down the length of your body and two of his solid warm fingers slip down into your entrance and out, a give and take motion he does for a bit just to get you hot and bothered. His fingers toy expertly with your moist clit like one does with levers to machines, pressing up and down, rubbing a swiping warm thumb over the knob... When he curls them internally, you cry out cataclysmically, stomach undulating in peaking waves of pleasure as you squirt on his fingers. He chuckles, keeping his grip on your hips, and without the ropes keeping your limbs in place, you'd be thrashing. It's torture, but in the very best way.

When you calm down enough to gaze at him heavy lidded with blown pupils, he focuses on removing his undergarments, taking the white undershirt off first and throwing it to the floor for a maid to pick up later. Then he gets to the main event, the showstopper. You don't focus long on his erect cock because his fingers get in between your legs again. He dips one in, two, then three to stretch you out and your warm slick folds welcome him back in with relief. He holds his free hand down on your stomach and you orgasm once more, yanking in frustration at the bindings that dig into your skin.

"Easy, easy," he says as if trying to tame a wild mare.

"I want... to touch you!" You've fondled his balls and cock before, but even just throwing your arms around his neck would be better than this look-but-don't-touch load of hooey.

"I know, I know. Hey, I'm doing the work here alright? Just enjoy the ride and you'll thank me later."

He looms over before settling down over you and it's strange not being able to grab him in return, to claw at his back, to wind your legs around his waist and claim him as your own for the evening. This power play dynamic is right up his alley, to make you feel utterly vulnerable and pliable underneath him, and it's only fitting for a man who loves to pull the strings of everything and everyone around him. He prefers being on top in bed, but you're definitely known to ride him cowgirl style a time or two (this is your favorite position).

The head of his cock pushes in at a tasteful pace to bottom out and burrow inside that it feels like up in your stomach - and it's taken practice to get to this point; the first time (and a few times after that) hurt and he couldn't get too far mostly because he was just so big. You wonder dimly if taking elixir and being in a relaxed state of mind affects your ability to take his girth. Either way, he never gets angry on nights he can't go all the way; he finds his climax just as well outside. Tonight, though, he's persistent and when he glances at your face which is not screwed up and wincing, he gradually nods in approval to continue.

Oscar moves slowly in rocking rhythm, gentle and deliberate at first, then faster and rougher, nearly growling in pursuit of his own pleasure. His silver hair falls out of its careful coifed style to hang over his forehead, and he keeps his melted milk chocolate-colored eyes dead set on yours as he fucks, a predator to his prey. He has you right where he wants, you can't move away, and you moan as your walls clench tight around his cock. He holds his stare steady, but his frame is shuddering and it's clear he's close to his pinnacle, the one he's been aiming for since you entered this bedroom.

He has made it no secret he has cravings to be a father, even though you're sure he'd be a somewhat inept, possibly even lousy one due to his measurable amount of selfishness. Not to mention the detail that he's old enough to be your own daddy and you oddly don't have a problem with that... But he knows he mustn't intentionally knock you up (a scandal that would cause if word got out) and it was you who had to sadly school him on this fact of life, having been around enough farm animals all your life to know how babies are easily made and knowing friends who had become mothers at the ripe age of 18 back in high school, and you do not want to be that careless. It's lucky there hasn't been any "mistakes" so far in your bedding with Oscar, but you know he almost can't resist spilling inside.

Instead, he pulls out with difficulty at the very last minute, and hot ropes of gooey cum splatter your stomach and splash against your chest. He groans in ecstasy before heaving, out of breath.

"You okay?" you whisper as his lightly sweating chest rises and falls with exertion. He cracks a lopsided smile, steadying himself by using his arms to brace against the headboard above you.

"Are... Are you kidding? I've never been better. Just - just give a man a minute, will you?" He retracts an arm back and holds up a single finger with a dangerous glance.

"And don't you dare make a joke about my age. I'm as fit as a fiddle, just like when I was thirty."

You nod absently, thinking of him as a younger man. The portraits and statues scattered around are decent, but could never do him justice. He's aged like the finest high-quality wine and the silver hair and sprinkling of wrinkles only enhances his austerity.

"You're incredible, your Ozness."

"Flattery always works best, my dear." He ducks his head down and sloppily kisses you softly on the cheek.

"And you deserve to be untied, don't you?" His hands wind around behind your head and with one quick motion, both your wrists are untied. He does your ankles next in a flash and flimsily bundles the short ropes up to toss onto the bedside table.

He climbs off and helps you up ease up to a seated position. You feel suddenly dizzy and droop forward, your brain rushing with slush, and blood flushes into your cheeks.

"Woah, it's okay." He sucks in a breath, catching you against his chest.

"Spinning," you gasp out and he keeps his arms securely around you for a minute before you wiggle, antsy, and he props you up.

"Still on the Tilt-A-Whirl?" he asks, lines deeply creasing his face.

"I... It's gettin' better." You shake your head as though that will dispel the imbalance that you have a strong hunch is a side or after effect from his mystery elixir, not just the sex.

"Thank goodness. You scared me for a minute there, if this is too much..."

"No! I love you," you blurt out and he comfortingly pets your head, raking fingers through and tousling your hair.

"Alright, sweetheart. And to think in addition I was going to experiment with a blindfold and gag- uh, never mind. Maybe that's too advanced; we'll hold off on that one for the foreseeable future."

You gape at him as he gets off the bed with no further word but a grunt and reaches over for a towel on the bedside table to give to you. You take it to wipe up some of the mess while he leaves momentarily off to the nearby bathing chambers to freshen up.

He comes back five minutes later dressed only in a fresh pair of tight fitting boxers predictably of his favorite color that you have to tear your gaze away from lest you foolishly admit to wanting another go around. He clears his throat at your staring, rubbing his jaw and jerking his chin towards the door.

"You can go clean up now," he says a bit gruffly, pointing.

All of Emerald City is extravagant and even the humble washroom is no exception. The first night he'd fucked you, Oscar had given a tour of it.

"See what money and power can buy? It'd do you good to remember that," he'd said as he ran a hand across the shiny marble tiles and gilded gold faucets.

"I came from humble beginnings just like you and now look at me!" He spread his arms out wide in exaggeration and you giggled, utterly enamored.

"Just don't let it go to your head." He chuckled deeply at the ironic fitting joke.

You shuffle off now to wash and wipe down your body in there, using an dark green washcloth that has his moniker of "OZ" stitched on it, and you feel aching soreness all over your body - but it's a good kind, like a full day's work of physical labor accomplishing what you really needed to do.

********

Once you are done in the washroom, you tug on a plush robe the color of jade and return to the bedroom to go to lay back down on the king size bed next to him. He pulls you in with the crook of his arm, the other holding a different bottle than the elixir. This one smells very much like whiskey.

"I should tell you..." he begins with a pause, clearly not in any hurry as he takes a breath and then a couple sips. You can tell by his slightly unfocused gaze and relaxed body that he is getting a tad drunk.

"We're gonna have a special visitor soon from Shiz University, you know Madame Morrible?"

"Yes." You've seen her come and go around the palace, but aren't advised to get within ten feet of the powerful older woman, let alone speak to her. All you know is that she can do impressive magic (unlike him) and is a very close loyal confidant who provides important insider information.

"Well, she invited a very special student with promising magical abilities here for something I'm working on, and I'll need you get out and to stay out of our hair for a while," he explains causally, playing with the neck of the bottle in his fingers.

"You're casting me out?" you ask, disappointment surging up like a muddy river during a flood. This set-up is only too good to last, isn't it? You're so in love that you've almost forgotten all about home, not that you'd really loved your old life there much anyway. But if you truly can't get home ever again, you'll have to start looking for some kind of work in the city to make meager money and hopefully figure out how to cobble a life together if that's even possible. You'll never find another man to depend on like Oscar, that's obvious. Funny that mere months ago, you had been somewhat distraught at the notion of being held against your will in this unfamiliar palace and world. Now you just feel stupid for letting him lead you into a false sense of security and preying on when you were most desperate.

"No, no, of course not," he replies in a scandalized tone, slicing sharply through your spiraling thoughts.

"I greatly value your, uh, commitment to me and keeping my secrets. You're a very delightful girl who doesn't go snooping for trouble and you try to keep out of my business."

You don't mention that you are technically locked indefinitely in this palace, forbidden to go outside off the grounds, and hadn't really had a choice in the first place. But he appears so sad and frustrated, so you nestle and snuggle further into his side, your hand tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"Perhaps only though for your safety, if the upcoming meeting and arrangement doesn't go well, you might have to leave permanently. But, uh, in that case I'll make sure you get you set up with decent accommodations outside the city. Perhaps Munchkinland, Governor Thropp there owes me a favor..."

"Okay," you murmur quietly even though this prospect partially frightens and worries you, and you feel relief oozing from his bones.

"Thank you for always understanding my dear. You know I have such a responsibility and I need everything to go right when this special young lady comes - Morrible is counting on it and you damn know it you don't want to get on her bad side."

"This student of hers must be something else," you mutter more to yourself than him. How much does she know, anyway?

"She sure fucking is from what I've been told. She'll change everything and put me in a greater position than before if I can get her to work with me. Morrible seems cautiously confident and cheered as well by the prospect, which is a sign to be taken seriously. She can often have a stiff stick up her tight ass, huh?" He laughs, deep and throaty, and you know his guard is down when he swears openly in conversation.

"Right." You're silent for a little while, just letting him hold you and trying not to dwell on the implications of whatever this mystery meeting could hold. You could ask for more information, seeing as to how he could be looser lipped from the effects of the alcohol, but you frankly don't care. The post orgasmic state you're basking in is too all-consuming to break out of (plus you are fatigued), and so you let the less business side mood of tonight seep back into the conversation.

"Hey, I liked this tonight, what we did. I really thought the ropes were, um, creative and even though I was nervous at first, it was actually... pretty hot? Maybe we could do that again sometime, sir?"

He smiles tentatively, the gears of his diabolical mind whirring on another track, and your words clumsily snatch him back to the present.

"That's just what I like to hear, sweetheart. That's what I love best-"

"-making people happy," you finish for him, having that line down pat after overhearing him parrot it as part of his political approach.

"Atta girl," he replies with a smarmy smirk and then a contented sigh, ducking his head and resting his chin on top of your head as you lay on his bare chest, listening to the even drumming of his heartbeats.

The palace is delightfully quiet this time of night, the guards in immediate range having been dismissed for the evening so there would be no eavesdroppers. Light from the waxing moon outside the large glass windows curtained with heavy drapes parted a couple inches beams through weakly down, leaving a six inch pale strip to highlight the heavily polished floor.

Kansas and its cornfields feel like worlds away. This is almost like a dream in of itself, but I know it isn't because every day I wake up and I'm still here, you muse sleepily.

Maybe you're staying with the wrong man, and it will end badly between you two. But honestly at this moment, you are too smitten by this lavish lifestyle you stumbled into, his seemingly sincere ongoing affections, and the raw primal love you extract from his flesh on passionate nights like this to give too much of a hoot about it.

[miles-crow]

Here it is! Finished character line up with designing process breakdown :)

Cowardly Lion

There's little to no description of the Cowardly Lion in the books, so I always imagined him as rather ironically big with thick, dark mane (the darker the mane, the stronger the lion). He's mainly made of soft, delicate curves, which are incorporated into his whiskers and hair as well. I wanted to incorporate bits of 'you had it all along' in Dorothy's friends designs, so classic tail and mane ribbons were not enough. Such big and proud animal has to have at least a bit of courage to wear lace collar. Lions have darker spot on their heads, which I turned into something fitting for a magical land - star. Since lions can be identified by whisker spots, Cowardly Lion's are little hearts.

Dorothy and Toto

I have carefully noted all descriptions of Dorothy's clothing, which is as follows: sunbonnet, gingham dress with white and pale blue, silver shoes, basket with white cloth and apron. The dress should have pockets. Even though the classic illustrations suggest that her hair was blonde, I decided to go with dark brown. It just fits way better. I added lace to the apron and sunbonnet. All garments were inspired by vintage clothes from early 1900s. Toto is based on Scottish Terrier, since he's been described as small, black and hairy, especially around the nose.

From now on beware spoilers for Wicked part 2

Scarecrow

His eyes will kill you. No, but seriously, they're not dark like other characters, because they're painted. He's made mostly of triangular shapes. Straszek's description is the most detailed: painted blue Munchkin's hat (with little bells), head is a small sack, painted face, blue suit of clothes, old boots with blue tops (I have no idea what tops are, I hope I did well), painted ears and padded hands (that's why his hands are too big + he's the only character with four fingers). Now, I didn't stick to the entire description for various reasons (f.ex. painted ears looked weird and blue hat didn't cooperate with cape), but mainly, because I wanted to add something from myself. And here's where the Wicked part 2 spoilers begin. Fiyero is quite tall, so I have abandoned the idea of Munchkin sized Straszek. He's ragged and dirty, because he was beaten. Torns in suit are remnants of Fiyero's wounds with golden straw spilling out instead of blood. If you look closely straw on his left shoulder should look like epaulet. If it doesn't, then it's my fault. The one shoulder cape was made from what was left of his chieftain outfit and it covers a big rip in the suit (which is his 'brainy' feature). Golden ornament depicts wheat and crows. I wouldn't be myself if I hadn't put unnecessary objects on a big hat, so there you have it: wheat & Elphaba's poppy. And last, but not least: straw sticking out of his face forms light facial hair (everyone say 'thank you, Jonathan Bailey').

Oof. That was long.

Tin Woodman

Standing proudly next to his boyfriend, Tin Man was created from hard, square shapes, quite summetrical as opposed to Scarecrow's absolute chaos. He has his little iconic cap and I can't really say a lot about him. The bowtie is his remarkable feature that I could never take away. It was red for a moment (just like Lion's ribbons were royal blue), but all my friends said that he looked like Freddy Fazbear, so I had to take the red away. I'm sorry, Nick. Let your husband housemate be colorful. Anyway! I might have accidentally incorporated some of Dark Cacao Cookie's armor in here, because that's the only armor I had drawn more than once. He's rusty all over and all that crying turned his eyes brown and left rusty tear marks. His jaw is hinged like it was in the books. If I remember correctly it was never stated that Nick Chopper was a Munchkin, but after Wicked turned Boq into Tin Woodman it would be such a waste to not deisgn a character sturdy, yet small. Spring hair is inspired by movie Boq's curly hair (thank you, Ethan Slater). His you 'had it all along' feature is... Less functional than others. The collar around his neck forms a heart.

Sketch page including some notes:

You still here? Wow. Hey, look!

Wicked part 2 looks great!

[nanamiskentos]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY — gojo satoru

prologue. → gojo was always charming, maddening and impossibly brilliant. a gift and a curse to the world. the love of your life, the loss of your life, the one that got away. you can only sit alone with his cold, lifeless form and wonder where it all went wrong. how do you mourn a star that burned itself out for the sake of the sky?

pairing. gojo satoru x on/off ex!reader

warnings+. heavy angst, flashbacks of a whirlwind and not so healthy relationship, description of death and injuries and what comes after the heart stops beating, suggestive content but nothing explicit. u could interpret this as unreliable narrator who didn't quite see gojo properly, or that gojo just wasn't a good partner to keep things interesting?

word count. 1.9k song inspiration. i love you, i'm sorry — gracie abrams

a/n. this was actually meant to be sweet but suddenly reader became an ex. and well...it snowballed 😁 peep the ttpd reference in the prologue

mp3. a habit to kick, the age-old curse. i tend to laugh whenever i'm sad, i stare at the crash, it actually works. making amends, this shit never ends. i'm wrong again.

there was no funeral for gojo.

and right now, the room smells of heavy antiseptics and medicated disinfectant. sterile white walls seem to echo every tick, tick of the clock, every scrape of shoko's surgical tools against the metal tray. but there is little that cuts deeper than the silence.

gojo's body lies in four neat pieces on the long table, stitched in places that cannot possibly hold him together, laid out like a broken constellation. shoko has allowed you to stay here, perhaps some form of pity?

you just sit in the corner of the lab, knees pulled to your chest and trembling with the effort it takes to keep breathing.

gojo satoru was always meant to burn out, wasn't he? he had been a lit match, vibrant and untouchable, like a streak of blue wildfire that seared much too hot, too fast.

satoru had been bruised fingertips on your rocking hips, he had been clashing teeth and tugged cherry-bitten lips, sweet caramel dissolving on your tongue.

he had been screaming matches in the rain, slams of an apartment door, a vicious and cruel tongue when provoked.

what he wasn't meant to be was a multitude of patchwork pieces, coated in patches of day-old rusty blood and shards of bone.

you just didn't think that someone like him belonged in this fragile, porcelain world. gojo had laughed too loud for it, fought too hard, loved too recklessly. its bitter to think of now — a cosmic power in a body of flesh and blood.

how could someone like him have ever lived to see his twilight years?

but you still always thought that he would. you thought of his arrogance, the small curl of his lips as he crowed on with a shadow in his jewel-tone eyes, "don't worry, i'm the strongest, remember?"

and so, you thought you had time. time to heal wounds that you had both inflicted on each other. time to try again.

but now there was no time. no gojo. just you, left to pick up the pieces of sukuna's little mercy.

shoko works quietly, and her hands are steady, a mask pulled over her face as tools gleam under the harsh light. she's running stitches through flesh that was once warm under your skin. you watch as she runs rolls of small bandages over his bisected waist, bandages imbued with special spells for gojo's posthumous...plan.

"i can't promise anything, you know. even if i put him back together, it will never be him. just okkotsu." the shadows around shoko's pretty eyes are ever deeper, violet and blue bruising the tired ache that paints her face.

what an awful and cruel plan. the ache in your heart is too great to even consider the trial that the young yuta is yet to face, to have to step into another's body. what a perversion of the world. but your mind lingers on the harsh reality that gojo must have known that there was no other ending to this story.

and you wonder briefly about whether he had finally reached the peace that he had sought. whether that those last moments, lying in the snow like a butchered and wounded animal had been painless. had the world gone quiet in his ears as snow fell around him? had he been glad of the end?

you don't respond to shoko. what could you say? there's nothing to fix. gojo is gone, and no amount of polypropylene sutures or reverse cursed technique could sew him back into the man who had leaned against the doorframe of your room last week, grinning with his haori thrown around his shoulders.

"you just take things too seriously," he had teased, mirth tickling his voice, poking around for a provocation, "i didn't even mean it like that. let's go get something to eat downstairs." "fuck you, satoru!" you had been furious with him at the time, he had drawn your ire with some pointless tussle and barbed comment. you had been launching a comb at him which only just deflected away from his infinity, when he had laughed. "all right, let me know when you feel better, pretty," and he had tugged his haori back over his broad frame, "we can do other things too, if you like. y'know, if you're still feeling hot-headed." "get out, you dog!" "love you too." and the great gojo satoru, a fuckin' grown man, has just giggled. and winked audaciously, as he practically sauntered away.

now his ridiculous smile is a ghost, and you wonder if you’ll ever stop seeing it when you close your eyes.

you've risen from your chair slowly, every joint stiff as if the grief has taken root in your bones, curling poison ivy around your limbs that make you want to tear your nails into your own skin.

the surgical table feels close, too far, too unbearable. but you reach out still, as your fingers tremble, and you let them hover over whatever is left of him. it's his right arm, only loosely held together by rough stitches.

touching him now is like plunging your hand into a winter river. it's cold, unyielding and so profoundly wrong. the skin beneath your fingers has lost all the elasticity of life, no longer soft of warm, but stiff in an alien way. there's a bitter clinging in the back of your throat when you wonder how shoko does this everyday. it's like touching the husk of something that was once sacred to you, and you trace the faint lines of veins, now a ghostly blue beneath waxen skin. the arm is heavy, dead weight against the table.

and there's the smell, faint but inescapable. the metallic tang of blood, now dried to a dark, rusted maroon. it lingers in the air, and you close your eyes to stop yourself from losing the contents of your stomach.

It’s like touching the husk of something once sacred, a relic robbed of its divine warmth.

your hand trembles as you pull away, the cold clinging to your palm like a memory you can’t shake. you want to scrub it off, to erase the feeling, but it’s already etched into your skin, into your mind. the absence of warmth feels like a punishment, a reminder of what you’ve lost and what you can never have back.

"i should've —" the words choke in your throat, sharp and jagged. you swallow them, but they’re stuck, just like the tears that refuse to fall. "i should've done more."

shoko glances up, her gaze as piercing as the scalpels she wields. "you did everything you could. so did satoru."

your eyes blur as they fix on his lifeless form, but now you're no longer seeing cold flesh on the table. no, you're somewhere else, far softer and far sweeter. somewhere before the world had turned to ash in your hands.

you're seventeen again, standing outside your favourite bakery after school, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. because gojo had just tried to bribe the shop owner for an extra box of mochi with a lopsided grin and misguided charm. the elderly woman behind the till had told him to get lost, before muttering something about the youths of the day were rude geezers.

gojo had always been like that, over the top and dramatic, dragging you into his whirlwind without asking, but you hadn't minded. not then.

every day he had brought home something, a sugar-dusted pastry, a delicate cake, a flimsy excuse to see you smile as he'd thrust the treat into your hands like he had conquered the world, and didn't he say that there was nothing in the world as sweet as your kisses?

you drank him in like honey, not realising how it would one day sour on your tongue.

and you still remember the day that gojo came home, buzzing with energy, his usual swagger somehow dialed up to an eleven. he could barely sit still as you watched him pace your shared apartment, his words tumbling out in excited burst. you had laughed and asked what on earth was going on with your sweet boyfriend, but had only grinned before reaching into his pocket and kneeling on the worn, wooden floor.

the ring had been small and simple, a thin silver band with a single shining gem — but knowing the spending habits of the head of the gojo clan, it must have been illustrious in its price. wide-eyed and earnest, for once, he had been stripped of all his bravado.

"i'm going to marry you," he had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. as if you weren't already his, body and soul. heart and hands.

god, you had wanted this more than anything. you had said yes, a squealing and gushing yes! gojo had slipped the ring on your finger with hands that shook just a little, and the two of you had...rechristened almost every surface in the apartment that night.

but then, it was over. slowly at first, like the creeping edge of frost, until one day it felt like you were standing in the middle of a blizzard.

the kisses turned sharp, fleeting, like a blade grazing your skin. loving hands became cold and distant on one another, pulling away as if the other’s touch burned. you started slamming doors in anger, avoiding him in the quiet spaces of your home. and when you couldn’t avoid him, your words became weapons, dripping with venom and spite. he gave as good as he got — every snarky comment from your lips was met with one from his. pride clashed with pride, and neither of you would bend, not even for love.

the breaking point came after that mission. the one where everything had gone wrong. a cursed spirit of impossible strength. you’d taken a blow meant for him — too fast, too reckless — and nearly didn’t come back from it. you remember the blood, the way it soaked into the earth beneath you as gojo shouted your name over and over again, a sound you thought might split the sky.

you’d lived, somehow, but the cracks in your foundation were too wide to ignore. that night, you’d stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the ring on your finger, and finally let yourself bawl. when you’d slipped it off, it felt like your heart had gone with it.

what gojo didn’t know — what he never found out, would never find out now — was that you hadn’t discarded it. you couldn’t. even in the worst of it, when the fights left you shattered and raw, you couldn’t let it go. the tiny band of silver stayed tucked in your pocket, a quiet weight against your heart, a reminder of what could’ve been.

now, as you sit here, staring at what’s left of him, that weight feels unbearable. you reach into your pocket, your fingers brushing against the cool metal, and pull it out. the gem glints faintly in the fluorescent light, as if mocking you.

i still loved you, you think, the words echoing hollowly in your chest. i’m sorry.

but it’s too late now. too late for apologies, too late for second chances, too late for anything but this — grief that swallows you whole, a storm with no end in sight.

the ring slips from your trembling hand, clinking softly as it falls to the floor.

[therobotmonster]

I know I wasn't supposed to.

But I went into the woods.

Another me came out.

We seem to be equally suspicious that the other is the imposter. I keep checking him for roots and he keeps doing the same to me. Is it a double bluff? Is he gaslighting me into thinking I'm the neverwas thing and he's the human being with organs and anxiety? Is he truly unaware he's a mockery given shape? If he can be unaware of it, I can be too.

That's kind of a lonely thought, really.

-

It's been several days and the tests are all inconclusive. We both bleed normal blood that doesn't turn into a spider and jump to the ceiling when you touch it with a hot wire. We know the same trivia. We pretended to know the same stuff we forgot that we were embarrassed not to remember. We both got uncomfortable at the exact same time when we walked into the cathedral.

We arm wrestled and didn't tie somehow, but we weren't sure if winning meant he was more likely to be fake or less likely.

I worry that we don't really know anything about accursed other selves from the woods.

Wikipedia has been less than helpful.

-

Mom claims she knows which one of us is her 'first boy' but refuses to tell us on the basis that she loves us both and thinks we should get along.

He thinks she can't tell and is too embarrassed to tell us. I think its because she wants to double her chance at grandkids. The difference in opinion is interesting, but is it a sign of an imposter, or the divergence of our experiences?

-

We've decided to flip for the job. I won, so I don't have to find new work. I don't know if that's a win.

I think the curse is that neither one of us is an unnatural imposter out to kill the other. Or else whichever one of us is the monster has realized they don't think my life is worth killing to steal.

I know I think about smashing that copy of my own face open with a rusty fire axe, a gush of sea water and blasphemous screams roiling from the empty hole that should contain bone and brains, and it just seems like a lot of trouble and effort.

I think I'm going to start going by my middle name.

-

Another me just showed up on our doorstep.

He's caked in mud, sticks and twigs in his hair, babbling about harrowing experiences. I'm fixing him some tea while the other-other me hands him the pamphlet we made just in case.

Now he's telling us about the Night King. Like we don't know.

I need a bigger place.