#proceed formulations

[rabbitrah]

It's soooo crazy how when Thornton proposes and Margaret shoots him down like a dog in the street, she thinks to herself "I never liked him. I always acted totally indifferent to him. I never thought about myself and him." But then after they have no interaction with each other for a while after that, she thinks "I miss our antagonistic friendship :/" and then, after that, when she knows that he knows that she committed the unforgivable and shameful sin of Lying to a Police Officer she deadass thinks to herself "It seems so hard to lose him as a friend just when I had begun to feel his value." Like GIRL! The revisionism!!! The self deception! Is the friendship you had with Mr. Thornton in the room with us now?

[retouraffectifduvoyant]

Rituel pour gagner un procès en justice

Puissant rituel Pour gagner un procès, c’est un rituel extraordinaire qui peut vous aider gagner un procès déjà en une journée, ingrédients Amon man wé +avi poudre noire qu’on trouve sur le mur dans une cousine ou derrière les marmites +badékpèvi dé, un petit bambou +ado urine zanzan ton kpédé +bliki brique kabi sè pierre wéfaire le mélanger de l’ado urine avec du avi poudre noire sur le mur de…

[daydreams-after-dark]

Free Use Jail Cell, Part 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final) | extra: Police Reports | extra: Dinner date with Minho

full master list for additional installments

Police Officer Skz ot8 x female reader

Premise: you're arrested and held for 24 hours by 8 police officers at the local police station / reader has her fantasy play out.

Word Count: 3k (part 1)

Chapter Summary: Officer Seo Changbin arrests you and has some one on one time with you before taking you to the station. You meet the other officers. (This chapter is Changbin focused, but a little bit happens at the end with the other officers.)

a/n: This fic will be in multiple parts because I get too impatient not to share what I’ve written so far. There will be two, possibly three installments turns out it will be more like 6 (tag list is open).

I refer to the officers as “Officer Hyunjin”, “Officer Minho” etc just to make it quick to identify the characters. 

The whole premise is planned and explained in the fic. The story is purely fantasy, but please be mindful of content warnings, as it has potentially triggering content. I want you to be safe here on my blog.

CW: planned fantasy role play, police arrest, nudity, unprotected sex in a semi public space, pain kink, roleplay pain, anal play, blow jobs, cum eating, name calling (both praising and degrading), reference to sexual acts, imprisonment, restraints (handcuffing).

🚨🚨🚨🚨

The lights of the police patrol car reflect in your rear view mirror, signaling for you to stop your car.

“Dammit.” You sigh as you pull your car over to the side of the road.

You watch in your side mirror as a police officer emerges from his patrol car, and your heart rate increases when you see the well built figure approach your window. 

“Everything okay, Officer?” You say innocently.

“I’m gonna need you step out of the vehicle, Ma'am.” He says sternly.

“But I wasn’t speeding.” You protest as he opens your car door and pulls you out.

“Ouch! You’re hurting me!” You writhe against him, but he’s too strong.

“No. But you’ve just resisted arrest, so you’re in big trouble little bunny.” He slams you front first against the side of your car and proceeds to handcuff your hands around your back.

“You’ve got the wrong woman, Dude!” You cry.

“That’s Officer Seo Changbin, to you.” He tears you away from your car abruptly and tugs you towards his police car. “In.” He throws you in the back of the car like a rag doll.

“But my car!” You wail, as he slams the door and hops into the driver’s seat.

“Shh. It’ll be impounded. Now not another word.”

“But you haven’t read me my rights! You can’t do this!”

But Officer SEO Changbin ignores you as he drives away.

After half an hour of you demanding he explain what you’ve actually been arrested for, and half an hour of being met with silence, Officer Changbin pulls off the main road and parks his car in a deserted space under a bridge.

Alarm bells go off in your head as you look around. The area is absolutely deserted. You frantically try to formulate a plan to escape. But even if you did escape, you’re fucking handcuffed.

The Officer opens the back door and slips in beside you, holding a tablet and stylus. “Y/n. Twenty five. Female. Submitted a ‘free use jail fantasy’. That is you, is it not?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

You stare at the man, but remain silent. Isn’t that one of your rights?

Changbin sighs. “This is your contract. I need you to understand the terms of our engagement.”

He holds the tablet in front of you so you can read exactly what you signed yourself up for. 

I, y/n, agree to being held prisoner in a police station setting, where eight men have the right to use my body how they see fit. This includes: degradation, humiliation, spanking, oral sex, vaginal penetration, anal penetration (includes use of fingers), double penetration, rough sex, use of props and restraints. 

Please read below for further details.

You scroll through the rest of the pages. Details of the acts that may take place, photos of the men and their role, special interests and skills. They are fucking handsome as hell too.

What the fuck have you signed up for? It sounded good in your head. It sounded good when you applied. But now it’s real.. You gulp and look at the Officer. 

“Sign here.” He points to the space at the bottom of page 12.

“Umm…”  you nudge your head towards your restraints.

“Oh yes of course.” Changbin releases your cuffs, opting to secure them in front of you instead. You take the stylus and sign on the dotted line.

You only live once right?

“Great. So as of now you belong to us. Well, for the next 24 hours.” He says matter of fact.

You suck on your lower lip. “So, like right now you could get me to do…things?” You say in a small voice.

“Yes, that’s right. I could instruct you to do things. Or, I could just do things to you. Free use, remember?” He takes the tablet from you and places it next to him in the seat. Your eyes fall on his thick bicep and you feel an ache between your legs. He sits back, slouching against the backseat, and his eyes drop to your bare leg.

A heavy silence fills the car. 

Changbin reaches out to squeeze your thigh, just above your knee and you hold your breath as his hand slowly slides up under your skirt.

“Show me your panties.” He whispers, lifting your skirt up. You open your legs for him. 

His plush, pink lips part slightly.  “Take them off.” He instructs.

You shimmy your panties off and wait for your next instructions. 

“Unbuckle my belt.”

The chain of the handcuffs rattling, and his heavy breaths are the only sounds as you bring your hands to his belt. “Uunzip my pants and take out my cock.”

Your heart begins to race, and your mouth becomes dry, as anticipation and fear bubble in your stomach. Your fingers shake as you unzip his fly and pull his length through the opening of his boxers. Fuck, he is so thick. Your eyes flick up to his.

“Suck it.” He says, staring at you.

You take a deep breath and bring your mouth closer to the fat tip, wondering you you’d even be able to stretch your mouth around it. You kiss the slit. Changbin hisses. “Don’t tease.” He says with a gravely tone. 

You swirl your tongue around the tip, then along the shaft, moistening it up. But Changbin is impatient, and he presses his hand on the back of your head, indicating that he’s had enough of your chaste ministrations.

You stretch your mouth around his girth and sink your head down over him. God, he’s not going to fit. You’re going to choke. 

“C’mon, deeper.” He pushes your head, coaxing you to take more of him. Your eyes immediately water, but you do your very best to suck him enthusiastically.

You feel his hand slide down your back and over your ass. You whimper when he lifts your skirt up and he spanks you on the ass. “Deeper.” He moans. 

You lift off and take a big breath before taking him back in your mouth, forcing yourself to take even more of him. His fingers finds your pussy, sliding them  through your wet folds. He gathers some of your arousal and brings the pad of his finger to your asshole. 

“Hmm… you feel like you’re gonna be so tight. The boys are going to have fun stretching out this little thing. You won’t be able to sit for a week.” He chuckles. 

You moan at the thought, excited to be used.

Changbin’s finger breaches the tight ring of muscle as he presses inside. It’s just to the first knuckle but it’s making you hungry for more.

“That’s enough for now.” He decides, withdrawing his finger and pulling your mouth off his cock. You sit up whining at the loss. “Are we going to go to the police station now?” You inquire.

Changbin scoffs. “Greedy little thing. Can’t wait for what’s in store for you.” He strokes your tear stained cheek. “We’ll go soon. But not until you ride me. Climb on.” He nods towards his cock. “I want first feel of your pussy.”

You straddle Officer Changbin, wrapping your still cuffed hands around his neck, and he holds his cock steady for you as you lower yourself down on him. “Fuck!” You squeak as you feel the tip against your entrance. “You’re so big Officer. I’m not sure I can take you.” 

You swallow, looking into his eyes. There’s lust there. You can see it. He looks like he could hurt you, but there’s a kindness in his expression too, and you wonder if the other men will be like him?

“If you can’t take my cock, how are you gonna take two at once?” He whispers. “Sit on it. I want to feel your walls wrapped around my dick.”

“What if I say no? What happens?” You challenge him.”

“‘No’s not your safe word.” He grips your hips and slowly lowers you down onto his length. “Just keep your eyes on me, sweet thing. Shhh. I know Binnie’s thick.”

You shake your head. “It’s too big.” 

“It’s gonna feel good. I promise. Let me stretch your tight little walls.” He breathes against your cheek.

You feel yourself stretching for him, slowly relaxing to accommodate his size. Inch by inch you feel him fill you. 

“You are tight aren’t you? Fuck, like a vice.” He closes his eyes and tries to steady his breath.

You push yourself down all the way and pause. 

Changbin opens his eyes again and lifts your skirt so he can see where you’re impaled on him.

“See. Look at that.” He says in awe. Your eyes follow his as you lift up slightly and lower yourself again, watching him disappear inside you. 

“Bounce on me. Show me what a good little girl you are, and I’ll put in a good word in my report.”

He digs his hands into your ass cheeks, spreading them and using his grip on them to bounce you.

“I need you to scream for me. No one’s gonna hear you, but I want you to scream your lungs out anyway.”

He grips you tighter, and as though you weigh nothing, he lifts you up and slams you down. You cry out. “Again!” He growls as he slides you up his cock, and drops you back down. “Scream.”

You cry out, screaming loudly.

“Hurts doesn’t it, bunny?” He uses his hips to fuck up into you ferociously.

“N-no…feels goo-”

“Say it hurts. Scream like it hurts.” He growls and throws  you off him and pushes your face into the car seat. He lifts your hips to meet his cock and thrusts into you forcefully. Every thrust is deep and hard. Your pussy feels stretched to its limits. 

He’s relentless, pounding into you harder and harder. The sound of your bodies colliding filling the car. The windows are steamed up, and you're certain the car is rocking wildly.

“Stop… please… too hard…it hurts…” you scream. But you don’t use your safe word. It actually feels incredible.

“Is Binnie too much, hmm? Poor little cunt struggling to fit me?” He mocks you.

You scream louder. He picks up the pace. 

“Fuck…I’m coming!!!” You let out the loudest scream your lungs can muster, as you clench your walls around Changbin’s cock.

“That’s it, so nice and loud for me.”  He helps you ride out your orgasm and then withdraws from your still quivering cunt.

“Good, compliant little bunny. Come, drink up.” He strokes your hair as he helps you turn around so you can wrap your lips around his cock again. He pumps the length a few times until you feel his hot, thick cum coat your tongue. 

“Open. Show me.” The tilts your chin as you present to him your mouth full of semen. “Swallow it up for me.”

You keep your eyes locked on him as you swallow the thick, salty substance, and then open back up to show him.

“Good girl. We need to get you into your cell.” He smirks and gets back into the front of the car.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

It’s almost dark when you get to the police station and you’re feeling incredibly nervous about what lies ahead. 

Changbin helps you get out of the vehicle, leaving your panties on the floor, and escorts you up the front steps of the building. It actually looks like a real police station too, and you wonder how on earth they managed to have access to this place.

The seven other men are waiting for you. They eagerly stand up from their desks as Changbin walks you past until you reach the cell at the far end of the room.

“In.” He grunts, removing your handcuffs and pushing you inside and slamming the door closed behind you. You quickly take in your surroundings. There’s absolutely nothing in your cell except a mattress with two folded blankets on top.

“So this is the sweet thing we have to break?” One of the men jeers. 

“This will be fun.” Another adds.

You turn back towards the men, who are all lined up on the other side of the bars. They watch you. So many eyes. On you. Some look mean. Others look kind. You recognise each of them from the photos, and you know from your research you need to watch out for the ones named Seungmin and Minho. 

“Y/n. Come meet the officers.” The Chef, Chan you believe his name is, says firmly.

You take a step forward.

“No.” He stops you. “First, strip.” 

“Oh!” You squeak. You hesitate. Are you really ready for this? But there’s something thrilling about this situation, and you know, deep down, even though you’re nervous, scared even, you don’t want to stop. Your hands tremble as they grasp the hem of your top and you pull it over your head. Leaving your top half In merely a flimsy sheer bra.

“Fuck. She’s hot.” One of them men whistle under his breath.

“The skirt too..” Chan barks.

“B-but-“ you remember you’re not wearing underwear.

“Skirt. Off. I don’t like repeating myself.” Chan snaps.

You lower your eyes as you peel your skirt down and let drop it to the floor.

“No panties. What a slut.” Minho smirks.

You can feel all eyes on your bare pussy. 

“Look at the officers before you y/n.”

You lift your head and look at the men.  

“For the next twenty four hours these men own your body. They want your cunt? You let them have it. They want to fuck your ass? It’s theirs. They want to take you two at a time? Tie you up, use restraints? You do not resist. They feel they need to punish you? You take it willingly. They want to degrade you, humiliate you?” 

Seungmin laughs at that.

“They can. If they want to treat you nice, be sweet, they’re allowed to do that too. But you don’t come without permission. They control your orgasms.”

Chan basically recites  your submission request back to you.

“Alright. Come forward to meet the officers who will be taking good care of you over the next twenty four hours.” 

You take a step forward. “On your knees.” Chan corrects you.

You drop to your knees, the floor is cold and hard, and you crawl over to where the men wait.

The one named Minho comes forward and presents his erect cock to you, sliding it through the bars. “Come say hello, kitten.” He says coldly.

You look up at him as you wrap your mouth around him, and he immediately takes hold of the back of your head to keep it still while he fucks your mouth. You hear several belts being unbuckled around you.

So this is the introductions then?

“Changbin and I will leave you to it.” Chan informs the group and he and Changbin leave you with the remaining six officers.

From what you can tell from the way Minho holds your head and watches you with intense eyes, is that the man can read your limits. He pushes in just enough to make you gag, but not quite making you choke. His rhythm is smooth and consistent, and when he cums you know he’s holding back a pretty moan. He’s definitely a dom, but one that really understands a sub.

Felix, the pretty and gentle blond, is careful with your face, he doesn’t push too far, and he lets you use your hand on him. But there’s a glimmer in his eye that tells you he doesn’t mind the kinkier side of things, or that he might like seeing you in pain.

Hyunjin. He doesn’t even have to speak and he’s got you blushing. Just the way he’s looking at you, his tongue licking his pretty lips, has you dripping down your legs. The man is beautiful, sensual, and  the way he’s working with you as you work his cock, moving with your mouth and hand, makes you believe he finds sex to be about connection. You’re not entirely sure how that will play out.

Jeongin. Seems sweet and innocent, but his entire expression changes to demonic once his tip hits your throat. You’re not sure what he has in store for you, but you know it’s not going to sweet, and you find yourself imagining all sorts of scenarios with him.

Jisung is next. Confident, demanding with his cock. Mumbles “slut” a few times, and thrusts his hips erratically. He’s unpredictable, and you splutter when he pushes far too deep for you. A flicker of fear and concern crosses his features, and you get the urge to help him stay in the character he’s trying to portray. You moan enthusiastically, and he quickly recovers, fucking you without restraint.

Seungmin is last. He’s cruel with his words, and careless with his thrusts. He’s energy is cold, and you know that if you need to be punished, he’s the guy to give it to you. That is until he comes back with an oversized shirt and a tray of food, and asks you if you have any questions about the agreement.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You sit alone in your cell and eat your dinner, wondering what the night will hold. You don’t have to wait long though, because Chan is walking towards your cell. 

“Y/n. It’s time for your interrogation with Detective Minho and Officer Seungmin.”

Fuck.

↣↣ up next, interrogation time with 2min here

↳ tag list : open

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[natlovesls2]

Romeo and Juliet

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: no use of y/n, set some time in the 19th century, angsty fluff or fluffy angst?, shit post/ rushed, let me know if i missed anything, Part 1 of 2, not proofread

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.2k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Oscar love each other despite not being allowed to even interact with one another. Or just a forbidden romance trope fanfic.

part two

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

You stood at the edge of the ballroom looking out at the dance pairs twirling around the dance floor, glancing down at your nearly empty dance card– your father's presence no doubt contributing to that lack of young men approaching you. 

“Would you happen to have any space left in your dance card? Perhaps you could pencil me in,” a voice said, from beside you, snapping you out of your entranced state. 

You couldn’t even begin to formulate a thought before your father intervened, “She cannot,” he replied for you, his voice full of contempt for the young man who stood in front of you. 

The young man frowned slightly, quickly regaining control over himself and smiling again, “What a shame,” he said, giving you and your father a curt nod before walking off. 

You turned to your father, your exasperation and frustration clearly present in your expression. How could he turn away such a fine-looking gentleman when you had only danced with two men? All he did was shake his head at you disapprovingly, turning to speak to your mother. You would find a way to dance with that gentleman one way or another. 

Your opportunity to slip away from your father's attentive, hawk-like supervision came when an old friend of his had him engaged in conversation. Your mother gave you a slight nod, signaling that it was the perfect opportunity to proceed with your plan— you did just that, wasting no time to escape your tyrant of a father. 

“You’re a bit of a rebel, aren’t you?” Said a slightly familiar voice as you scanned the ballroom for the gentleman who had asked you to dance, causing you to startle. 

“It’s you.”

“You were looking for me?” He asked slightly amused. 

“Yes, I wanted to dance— only if you would still like to,” you nervously stumbled over your words. 

“Of course, it would be an honor to dance with such a beautiful lady,” he extended his hand to you, taking your gloved hand in his own, leading you towards the dance floor. 

“What's your name?”

“Oscar, and what might your name be?” 

You danced for what seemed like an eternity, song after song after song. No doubt turning heads at such an inappropriate scene, though you couldn’t have cared less. 

“Will I see you again?” you asked as you finally parted ways. 

“If you will allow me the pleasure.” Of course, you would let him see you again, as many times as he wanted. You had, so many times, scoffed at the idea of love at first sight but you finally understood. It was as if the stars had aligned and brought Oscar to you. 

The content sigh you let was short-lived as your father approached you with a stern look. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out as he pulled away towards the exit of the ballroom, your mother trailing behind.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You continued to meet in secret, your lady's maid guarding your secret love with her life– it was nice knowing that at least someone was on your side. She often snuck in and out the letters you both wrote to each other. 

Your father clenched the letter he had intercepted, glaring at you, his anger rising as you reached out for the letter. 

“You cannot do this— tell him he can’t, mother… it’s unfair,” you desperately watched as he tore the letter into pieces.

“You do not tell me what I can and cannot do! I am your father, I know what is best for you!”

“Perhaps you’re overreacting, dear,” your mother attempted to calm your father. 

“She deserves better than him, better than a man of such… a dishonorable family” your father scolded both you and your mother, continuing to voice his disdain for Oscar and his family. 

“I deserve what I very damn please!” You say, challenging your fathers words, to his face, for the first time in your life. 

“Who do you think you’re speaking to with that tone, young lady? Mm? Have you lost your mind?” 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold night air bit at your skin as you stalked through the empty streets in search of your lover. 

“I knew you’d make it” he said as he saw your figure approach the alley in which he was hidden. 

“I almost didn’t. My father knows, he intercepted the latest letter you sent.”

“It was purposeful.”

“Purposeful?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, squinting your eyes at Oscar to catch a glimpse of him with the dim light of the moon. 

“I need him to know about us” he began to explain, his hands reaching out to grasp your own.

“Why?”

“I love you,” he began again, “You are the stars of my night sky. The center of my universe. My beginning and end. You are all that has been and will ever be. Without you… I cease to be, love. Don’t you get it?” 

“My father will never let us be,” you tried to reason, knowing it would be of no use. There was no changing his mind; he was set on loving you. 

“We could run away. Forget about your father– forget about who they want us to be. It could just be us. Just the two of us, happy and in love forever.”

“Oscar,” you futilely attempted to interrupt him.

"Can’t you see that I am a fool– blinded by the most dangerous weapon we as humans have ever created, love," he whispered into your hands, placing small kisses on them, “Please, tell me you love me. Tell me you feel the same as I do— that you feel that undeniable urge to destroy everything we’ve ever known to have the privilege of loving each other.”

“You cannot say such words, Oscar. You know the implication, it’s not as easy as we want to make it seem,” you whispered, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail.

“I know, you’re right, but you have irrevocably marked my being with your presence– and I find that I cannot live without you. You have bewitched me: mind, body, and soul. You, my beloved, hold my heart in the palm of your hand. I feel as though I am suffocating without you. You are the very air that brings life to me," Oscar said, pulling you closer, searching your eyes for any sign that you loved him just as much as he loved you. 

“I– we… cannot be. You know this–”

“No, I will not take that as an answer,” his grip on your hands tightened, eyes blown out wide and wildly scanning over your face with a hint of betrayal. He was sure that you would immediately reciprocate his all-consuming love, but you had failed to confess as he had done, “I love you–”

“As do I,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his own. 

“Then let's go, tomorrow night.”

“Alright.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Can you believe it, Mary– He loves me and tomorrow night we shall finally be together,” You sighed longingly as you spoke to your lady's maid of your night with Oscar. 

“You’re so lucky to have each other” she helped you into your nightgown before slipping out of your room. 

She made her way towards your fathers study, knocking softly, waiting for permission to enter before slipping into the room. “Sir, I have some news that you might find interesting.”

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I was going to write more but my classes have been kicking my ass. I'll probably make a second part. I just wanted to post something since I haven't posted in so long.

[my-alter-ego777]

His Nose

Eminem fanfic, 18+, dirty talk, suggestive, language, Sry for any poor grammar or cringe; I'm still new to writing fanfic and am not fully confident in my work yet.

Marshall's sitting at the kitchen counter, answering some emails on his laptop, when you come walking past him.

You planned on getting a little something to snack on, since you were only a little hungry and dinner would be in a couple of hours, but when you see his cute, concentrated face, a familiar urge delays you from your intended task.

"Boop," your fingertip departs from the tip of his nose just as swiftly as it made contact with it, and Marshall's head jerks back in the opposite direction in response.

"Would you quit that?" His voice comes out a hair raised and irritable, and you stop in your tracks, turning fully towards him.

"What?" you chortle, only slightly taken aback by his mini outburst. He gives you a stink eye.

"Don't play dumb with me; that's like, the 100th time you've done that shit to me today." With a shake of the head, he looks back at the screen. "Enough."

Okay, it was more like 6, but who's counting?

Your eyes flicker over, noticing the "I'm feeling..." blue-colored frame of Marshall's "Mr.Potato Head non-verbal mood magnet" on the fridge has been placed over the Stressed Mr. Potato Head, before flickering back. (It's something you got for him last Christmas as a stocking stuffer, to which he rolled his eyes, but you'll catch him using it sometimes.). You don't really comment on it, though; you just smile to yourself, then move about your day.) Which is understandable. He's been pretty overwhelmed lately.

With the weight of his upcoming tour, getting everything to run smoothly, and a big shipment of his new merch getting sent to the wrong location, you'd be stressed too, at the very least frustrated, and you are, because you sympathize with him.

He's your husband, for God's sake.

What affects him affects you, and you care so deeply about him; you just want to see him happy and taken care of. Marshall works his ass off, and there are times when he can forget to take a break and other times when he just flat out rejects it.

Like now, for example. He may not outright say it exactly, but his body language oozes with the unhealthy amount of strain he's putting on himself.

Isn't this stuff what he has Paul, Tracy, and other members of his team for? You inwardly ask yourself.

This man does too much, I swear.

But knowing Marshall, it'll be difficult to pull him away from his determined task at hand, so... you start formulating a plan in your head.

"Ooo," you express playfully, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. "Someone is grum-py."

"Babe, for real," he warns, not even glancing at you now, "I don't like my nose bein' touched." and mumbles, almost to himself, after, "I don't like my nose, period."

"But, I love your nose." You argue softly, resting your cheek on his shoulder, getting a closer view of the adorable side profile of his snoot, and tightening your arms.

"Stop playin'" he grumbles, about done with your antics, and carries on typing out a response to one of a hundred emails.

"I'm not," you justify, "I love it." then proceed to speak with a mellow fondness. "I love how it flares when you get angry..."

"I love how it crinkles when you laugh... or when I boop it."

You smile when he rolls his eyes and continue,

"I love how it tickles my neck when you nuzzle your face into it..."

"...And I especially love how it presses against my clit when you're eating out my pussy."

His fingers go still for a moment, but it's just a moment too long that you notice before they're tapping the keyboard again, clumsily this time, you might add.

Hook.

"Makes my legs get all shaky, but I still manage to suffocate that gorgeous head of yours with my thighs, huh?" Your voice has slid into a sultry tone with ease, and you watch as his jaw flexes and his chest begins to rise with heavier breaths. "... and my hips just grind harder and harder into your face while those sweet, desperate sobs rip from my throat, begging you for more." One of your manicured hands draws lazy, teasing small circles into the skin right above the band of his sweatpants, and you feel his stomach muscles tense.

Line...

"You like that, baby?" You purr in his ear, and his hands have then formed into tight fists atop the marble countertop, and those cerulean eyes are relentless in breaking their stare on the cupboard straight ahead of him, like he's trying his hardest to hold onto that last thread of self-control. "'Cause I'm getting so fucking wet just thinking about it."

The blue that once invaded his eyes is swallowed whole by a deep, dark, and deliciously dangerous black.

Sinker.

You don't have a reaction time fast enough for what Marshall does next.

This man is out of his seat at the speed of light, and you tumble backwards in the process, about to land on your ass, but a pair of strong hands stops that from happening, and instead, throws you over their owner's shoulder.

Your yelp, from being handled like a rag doll, is quickly followed by bubbly laughter.

"You enjoy messin' with me, huh, minx?" His voice is rough as he makes large strides out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your shared bedroom. The incomplete email on his laptop was completely forgotten. Good. "Think you're so fucking cute..."

"Mm," you hum in feigned thought and a coating of innocence, your hands placed on his back to support yourself, "I think I'm pretty freakin' adorable."

Your comment earns you a firm smack on the ass, causing you to bite back a groan and your walls to tighten in response.

"Keep talkin', baby," he taunts, gravely, his thick fingers squeezing the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs, "keep talkin'..."

When you enter the bedroom, Marshall doesn't hesitate to throw you onto the bed, making you burst into giggles with anticipation.

"Now," he demands lowly, stalking towards you like a predator, "here's what's going to happen." The closer he gets, the faster your heart races. "You're gonna be a good little girl and show me exactly just how much you love my nose," His fingers grip your chin, tilting it up so you lock eyes. "Understood?" It wasn't a question, but you nod dumbly anyways.

"Good girl," he smirks darkly, admiring your submissive body like a starved man offered a feast, and it sends a shiver down your spine. "Take off your clothes."

Well, not that you care at the moment, but it looks like you're not having a little snack or, as a matter of fact, dinner anytime soon, because the way he's devouring you with just his stare alone tells you that you're in for a looong night.

[angelremnants]

A TALES OF... l Tides and Mishaps

OR.. After your strange ordeal, you find yourself brought to Asgard, where you're to face a trial for your unusual bond with your necklace. With Loki forcing his company onto you, you both go through a tense encounter that leaves both of you soaked, disheveled and wondering what will happen next.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), mild suggestive content, power dynamics, flirtation and teasing, unresolved sexual tension, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 11.4k

author's notes : I am back, baby! Finally finished with my exams, and we're celebrating with this ficlet! It adds more depth to the series' lore while sprinkling in some playful moments. Writing this felt essential to set the stage for the spicy plot I’ve been itching to dive into.

Find the continuation here.⠀(18+—MDNI.)

(ao3 version)

The Bifrost roared to life, a maelstrom of light and sound that seemed to swallow the world whole. For one heart-stopping moment, you felt weightless, as though the very air had been torn from your lungs. And then, just as suddenly, it was over.

Your feet hit solid ground, though it didn’t feel it as much—it didn’t have the same firmness as Earth’s soil. The surface beneath you was smooth, crystalline, and alive with shifting colors. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself against the closest steady presence, which just so happened to be Loki.

“Do try to stay upright,” he drawled, steadying you with a hand on your arm before stepping back with exaggerated grace.

You blinked, regaining your balance as you fixed him with a glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that look of sheer terror? Absolutely not,” he replied with a smirk, releasing you as if it were beneath him to linger too long.

Your retort died on your lips as your eyes took in the sight before you: Asgard. The city glimmered like something out of a dream, its golden spires piercing the heavens, the sky above it painted in hues you couldn’t name. Rivers of light wove through the air like threads in an invisible loom, casting an otherworldly glow over everything.

Your jaw dropped. “It’s… it’s…”

“Glorious?” Loki supplied, clearly enjoying your reaction based on the indubitable edge of pride in his voice. “Magnificent? Breathtaking? Go on, I’ve got all day.”

“Overwhelming,” you finished, still gaping.

“Ah, a new one,” he said with mock surprise. “How refreshing.”

Before you could formulate a response, the sound of footsteps echoed across the bridge. An imposing figure approached with the deliberate, measured pace of someone who carried the weight of millennia on his shoulders. His golden eyes swept over you, lingering for a moment longer than you were comfortable with before settling on Loki, narrowing slightly.

“Prince Loki,” he saluted with a small nod, his voice low and resonant.

“Heimdall,” Loki replied smoothly, his tone laced with feigned civility. “No need for that intimidating look. I am precisely where I’m supposed to be.”

“Rare, but true,” Heimdall said, his gaze shifting back to you. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You are the one who bears the gift.”

You hesitated under the weight of his gaze. “That’s me,” you said with an awkward smile, trying for a tone that sounded casual but landed somewhere closer to nervous.

Heimdall’s piercing stare softened slightly, though a flicker of something unreadable danced behind his golden eyes. “Perhaps…” he murmured as if speaking more to himself than to you.

“Perhaps?” you repeated, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He ignored your question, instead turning his attention to Loki. “And you brought her here in due form? Color me surprised—perhaps your talk of redemption isn’t entirely hollow after all.”

Loki’s smirk deepened, as though the mere idea of Heimdall questioning him brought him endless amusement. “Oh come along, Heimdall, have some faith in me will you? Thor was otherwise occupied, so yes, I am the one who delivered our little anomaly to Asgard. Do try not to look so surprised.”

Heimdall’s gaze flickered back to you, and this time his expression was unreadable. “You assume much, Loki, as always. There is more to this one than meets the eye.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing. “Uh, hello? Cryptic much?”

Instead of gracing you with an answer, Heimdall turned and began walking toward the city, his stride as unyielding as the bridge beneath your feet. “Come. There is much to discuss, and the Allfather will not wait.”

You exchanged a confused glance with Loki, but he only shrugged, clearly uninterested in dissecting Heimdall’s cryptic words.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Loki said, following after the gatekeeper with an air of feigned indifference. “He enjoys making everything sound mysterious and profound. It’s practically a pastime.”

But you couldn’t shake the weight of Heimdall’s words as you drew closer to the city. More than meets the eye. It was an idea that gnawed at you as you stared at the golden gates ahead, a growing knot of unease twisting in your stomach.

Whatever awaited you inside the halls of Asgard, you suspected it would be more than you were prepared for.

⠀⠀

Soon enough, the small group reached the golden gates of Asgard which opened with a slow, reverent creak, revealing the splendor within. As you stepped across the threshold, you felt your breath hitch. The palace was impossibly vast, its ceilings arching so high above that they seemed to disappear into the ether. Columns of gleaming gold lined the grand hall, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly as though alive. Sunlight poured in from massive windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished floors.

“I’m starting to think you people don’t do subtle,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loki, walking beside you with his usual swagger, smirked. “Subtlety is overrated. What you see here is the peak of sophistication and culture.”

“I get where your dramatic flair comes from now. Feels like you’re compensating for something,” you shot back, unable to resist to the temptation of the snark.

“Compensating?” Loki scoffed, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Darling, if Asgard were compensating, we’d have built two palaces and made them float.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Right, because subtlety really is your strong suit.”

“Subtlety,” he said, stepping ahead with a flourish while twirling his cape as if to make a point, “is for those who have nothing worth showing off.”

Ahead of them, Heimdall paused and turned just enough to give Loki a pointed look. “Do try to behave,” he said dryly. “We are in the presence of the Allfather’s court, after all.”

Loki sighed dramatically. “Always the stickler, Heimdall. I assure you, that my behavior will be exemplary. Can’t guarantee the same for our invitee over here.”

You raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, you focused on the grand hall ahead, where grand statures loomed at the far end seemingly watching over the entrance of the throne rooms. God, must all Asgardians be so tall?

Two guards in shining armor led you through the labyrinthine halls, their expressions stoic, their silence impenetrable. You clutched your neck where the artifact had affixed itself weeks ago, the golden runes etched into your skin glowing faintly under your touch. It hadn’t hurt, but it had refused to let go, as if it had claimed you. Those wretched SHIELD scientists on Earth had no answers. Neither did you.

A voice broke through your thoughts as you reached the throne room. "The Allfather will see you now."

The massive doors creaked open, revealing a short but intimidating old man seated on his throne, the ever-watchful Heimdall leading the troupe and striding to pay his respects. Guess not, after all. A gorgeous and graceful lady sat beside him, her serene expression offering a sliver of comfort amidst the tension. You stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like you had sinned for even letting your feet brush against the polished floor.

"Come closer," Odin commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. You obeyed, feeling small beneath his gaze.

Even from a distance, his presence was imposing. Draped in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, the Allfather sat upon a throne that seemed carved from starlight itself. His one remaining eye fixed on you as you approached, sharp and unyielding. The queen beside him held an elegance that was a stark contrast to the weight of Odin’s authority.

As you drew closer, you felt the weight of their scrutiny settle on you. You were acutely aware of your attire—a basic white shirt, paired with a burgundy leather jacket and jeans, entirely impolite for the occasion. The contrast between the modern, casual outfit and the ancient, sacred setting was striking, and it felt as though you were wearing a banner of your inadequacy. The artifact bound to your neck—the ornate, ancient-looking jewelry you hadn’t been able to remove—seemed to pulse faintly under their gaze, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

However, beneath the surface, there was an almost surreal feeling tugging at you. You had been stripped of your usual layers, your defenses, your control—forced to stand before these gods and be judged.

You stopped at the base of the dais, and Heimdall stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Allfather. I present the mortal who bears the artifact.”

Odin’s gaze shifted to you, and the air seemed to grow heavier. You swallowed hard, unsure whether to bow, curtsy, or just stand there and hope you didn’t offend anyone. Your voice faltered as you glanced at the ground and stuttered, “Do I... Do I bow, or—?” Your words trailed off, feeling absurd in the silence that stretched between them.

Odin’s expression hardened, but there was a brief flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—before he spoke. “You stand as you are, mortal. Your presence here has already spoken volumes.”

The silence hung thick, and you straightened, hoping you hadn't overstepped, but unsure if you had done enough. Loki’s absence of protest was loud in its own way, though.

“You’ve brought her here safely,” Odin said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of eons. “Good.”

Then his gaze moved to Loki, narrowing slightly. “And you. I had expected Thor to complete this task, yet it is you who stands before me. Explain.”

Loki’s posture straightened, his usual smirk fading into something more restrained. “Thor is off-world, tending to a matter of great importance,” he said smoothly. “I was the logical choice to retrieve her. After all, who better to guide a mortal through the complexities of our realm than I?”

“Or to exploit her presence for your amusement,” Odin countered sharply, his tone cutting.

Loki’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t falter. “I’m here because I was entrusted with the task. And I fulfilled it.”

“You are supposed to be on house arrest, boy—”

Frigga stepped forward then, her voice gentle but firm. “And had he not gone, we wouldn’t have the chance to meet her, would we, my king? She stands before us unharmed.”

You sneaked a glance at Loki out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you saw something entirely unfamiliar. The usual sharpness in his demeanor, the endless supply of biting wit and bravado, seemed dulled under Odin’s glare. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and his hands clasped behind his back as if restraining himself. You’d never seen him so repressed before, so small beneath someone else’s authority. It unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Odin’s gaze lingered on Loki for a moment longer before he shifted his focus back to you. “What do you know of the artifact you carry?”

“Not much,” you admitted, your voice steadier than you expected. “I found it during a trip to Sweden. The moment I picked it up, it latched onto me. I’ve tried everything—pulling it off, cutting it, even letting some organization poke at it with their fancy tech.”

Loki smirked beside you. “Charming.”

You ignored him. “It doesn’t hurt me, but sometimes it feels like it’s… alive. Like it’s trying to tell me something.”

Odin’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eye—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “It is no ordinary artifact,” he said at last. “Its origins are older than even this realm. We will determine its purpose and its bond to you, but the process will not be easy.”

You frowned, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the artifact. “What does that mean?”

Instead of answering directly, Odin raised his staff, Gungnir, and tapped it once against the polished floor. The chamber darkened, and the golden light of Asgard’s magic rippled through the air. A projection began to form before you—a shimmering, ethereal image of Yggdrasil, its vast branches stretching infinitely. At its roots coiled the immense, terrifying form of a serpent, its scales dark and glimmering with an otherworldly sheen.

“This,” Odin began, his voice reverberating through the room, “is Níðhöggr, the wyrm who once gnawed at the roots of Yggdrasil, threatening the very balance of the Nine Realms. Long before my reign, even before the reign of my father Borr, the great serpent clashed with my grandfather, Búri. Their battle raged for days, shaking the very foundation of existence.”

The projection shifted, showing an imposing figure clad in ancient armor, wielding a glowing axe as he fought the massive serpent. As the battle raged, one of Níðhöggr’s scales fell, pulsing with the chaotic energy of Yggdrasil’s roots.

“When Níðhöggr was finally defeated by my grandfather the late Búri and cast into obscurity, this single scale remained—a fragment of its power, imbued with the raw magic of Yggdrasil itself,” Odin continued. “It was believed lost, hidden from both gods and mortals alike, until now.”

The projection faded, and the light returned to the chamber. Odin’s gaze fell heavily on you, his expression unreadable. “That scale, the Wyrmscale, has bound itself to you. Why it has chosen a mortal remains to be seen, but its attachment is no trivial matter. It may seek to awaken something within you—or to serve as a harbinger of something far worse.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as you processed the weight of his words. “And… what does that mean for me? What happens now?”

“That is why you’re here,” Heimdall interjected, his tone solemn, stepping forward. “To be tested.”

Odin nodded gravely, his expression unwavering. “The Hollow of Trials. It is a place where the balance of the realms is tested, a sacred site known only to a few. It is said that those who enter must confront the deepest parts of themselves, for the cave reveals not only your strengths but your weaknesses, your fears, and your potential. It is a place of transformation, where even gods must face their trials to gain wisdom and power.”

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing the seriousness of Odin and Heimdall before turning to Loki, whose face was as unreadable as ever. You had to admit, that the description sounded intense. But you weren’t about to let the solemn atmosphere throw you off. “So… it’s just a cave, then?”

Odin’s eye twitched, his gaze shifting from the projection of the cave to you with a sharp, piercing look. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as if trying to decide whether to address the disrespect or simply let it pass. He chose the former. “It is not ‘just a cave,’ mortal,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of centuries. The side-eye he gave you was cold and unimpressed. “The Hollow of Trials is a place of great significance. It tests those who enter in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”

You met his gaze without flinching, but there was no hiding the slight grin tugging at your lips. You leaned toward Loki and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess it’s not just a cave then.”

Loki’s lips twitched into a brief smile before he straightened, looking back to Odin. “It is a place of trials, yes. Much more than a mere cave.” His voice was smooth, but there was a slight edge to it, the kind that came from having spent too many years around Odin’s more… imposing presence.

Odin’s side-eye lingered for a moment longer before he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “You will see for yourself soon enough. But remember this, Midgardian,” he added with quiet authority, “you are on sacred ground. Show it the respect it demands.”

You gave him a nod, not entirely convinced, but fully aware that disrespecting him further would probably not end well. “Got it. Big, serious cave.”

Heimdall stepped forward, eyeing you now with a hint of disapproval, though he didn’t speak. Odin’s gaze shifted to Loki then, seemingly dismissing you for the moment, though the weight of his earlier words still hung heavy in the air.

Frigga, who had remained silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice light but with an undercurrent of motherly warmth. “You are brave to face this trial,” she said, her gaze flicking over you with a faint smile. “The cave will bring out what you least expect, but it will also show you the truth of yourself. Be prepared for what you may learn.”

You weren’t sure if you should be reassured by Frigga’s words or if they were meant to prepare you for something worse. You gave a tight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

Frigga’s smile deepened at the respectful tone. “Good. Trust in the process. And remember, you are not alone in this, no matter how it feels in the moment.”

Before you could respond, Loki stepped forward, his usual swagger replaced with a more persuasive tone. “And while [Y/N] faces these trials, surely it would be wise for me to accompany her. As her guide, I could—”

Odin’s piercing gaze snapped to Loki, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room thickened. “You will do no such thing.”

Loki’s smile faltered for just a moment. “But father, surely my presence would be—”

“No,” Odin interjected, his voice cutting through Loki’s words like a sharp blade. “This trial is hers alone to face. You will remain here, where you are needed.”

Loki hesitated, pressing his lips together as if weighing his words. There was an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes, one that wasn’t lost on either of his parents. Frigga’s brow furrowed slightly, and she exchanged a rapid glance with Odin before turning her attention back to Loki.

“You seem... unusually determined to accompany her, Loki,” Frigga remarked, her tone soft but laced with concern. “Is there a reason you are so reluctant to let her face this alone?”

Loki’s smirk faded, his posture stiffening. He quickly recovered, though, leaning into his usual charm. “I’m simply looking out for her well-being,” he said smoothly, though the edge in his voice suggested there was more beneath the surface. “Surely you both can see that this trial will be taxing on her. It’s only natural for me to ensure she isn’t harmed.”

Odin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding his expression. “And you think you are the best one to protect her in this trial? You, who has only recently earned back our trust?”

Loki didn’t flinch at the accusation, but there was an almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw. “I am capable of more than you know, Father. You needn’t worry about me.”

Frigga studied him with a piercing gaze, her motherly instincts keen. “Loki,” she said gently, “it’s not the protection of [Y/N] we question. It’s your reasons for wanting to accompany her. You’ve never been one to shy away from danger or intrigue. What is it that you fear in her doing this alone?”

Loki’s eyes flickered toward you, his voice lowering. “It’s not fear. It’s caution.” He looked back at Odin and Frigga, his expression a little more guarded now. “This is a unique situation. One I believe requires a guiding hand.”

Odin’s piercing gaze remained fixed on him, his silence speaking volumes. There was no anger in the god’s eyes, only a quiet understanding that Loki’s behavior was anything but ordinary. Frigga placed a hand gently on Odin’s arm, but her eyes never left her son.

“You are not to accompany her,” Odin finally decreed, his voice firm. “The Hollow of Trials requires solitude, and it is not your place to interfere.”

Loki’s face remained neutral, but his eyes darkened with unspoken emotions. “As you wish,” he said flatly, stepping back. “But I’ll be close, Father. You know where to find me if you need anything... or if the trial proves too much for her.”

Odin and Frigga exchanged another look, their suspicion deepening as they watched Loki’s retreat. Frigga’s voice softened, though, as she turned back to you.

“Do not mind him,” she said, her tone comforting. “Loki’s path is… complicated, but his concern for you is genuine, in his own way.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of sympathy and wariness toward the prince. Loki had certainly been a puzzle to you so far, but right now, you had more pressing matters at hand.

“Well, I guess I’m off to this ‘Hollow of Trials,’ then,” you said, a nervous smile creeping onto your face. “Hopefully I can avoid turning into a snack for whatever’s in there.”

⠀⠀

As you stepped into the lavish room, Frigga followed close behind, her presence both comforting and commanding. The regal chambers felt foreign to you, the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and victories. It was strange to be in a place so full of history, knowing you were now a part of it, however briefly.

Frigga smiled gently, her warmth radiating in the cold, cavernous room. “You must be feeling overwhelmed,” she said softly, watching you as you looked around.

You gave a weak smile, your hands still nervously twitching. “You could say that. I never expected any of this. One moment I’m just a regular exchange student on a school trip to Sweden, and the next I am here, about to enter a sacred cave... and probably face some weird, magical thing."

Frigga’s eyes softened, her smile never faltering. "This is a lot to take in, but you are stronger than you realize. It is an honor to be here, and this trial will help you find out what you're truly capable of."

You glanced at Frigga, then down at yourself. You were still dressed in the simple clothes you had worn for the journey, and though they were practical, they wouldn’t do for such an occasion. "So... what exactly am I supposed to wear? Not that I’ve had much time to go shopping for sacred cave attire."

Frigga chuckled, the sound rich and full of warmth. "Fear not, I will take care of that." She moved toward a large wardrobe at the far side of the room, filled with gowns and outfits woven from fine silks and materials that shimmered like the night sky. "These aren’t the usual gowns of Asgard," Frigga explained, "but they are practical for such a trial."

She motioned for you to sit as she began pulling out garments, her eyes assessing the materials with a practiced hand. "I know it may seem strange, this idea of dressing up for a trial, but appearances can be important in Asgard. There is honor in how we present ourselves, even in the most difficult of moments."

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. "Seems a bit... extra, don’t you think? For a cave trial?"

Frigga smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," she said softly, as she began to unfold a simple yet elegant outfit made of light fabric. "But this trial will reveal your inner strength. You must present yourself as you truly are—strong, capable, and unafraid of the challenges ahead."

Frigga laid out the attire, a soft, flowing robe of pure white that shimmered faintly under the dim light of the room. The fabric was delicate, like the finest silk, but not overly elaborate—its simplicity lent it an understated elegance that would suit your unassuming nature. The robe draped down from the shoulders in soft folds, the design was minimal but graceful, with no heavy embellishments to distract from its quiet beauty. The sleeves were long and fluid, cinched at the wrist with a thin silver band, and the hem barely brushed the floor, giving the robe an ethereal quality, like a soft cloud in a moonlit sky.

Around the waist was a subtle, golden-threaded sash that tied loosely, giving the robe shape without constricting it. It didn’t cling to your figure, but the soft weight of the fabric promised to mold your body in a way that would emphasize the graceful movement of your form. There was nothing ostentatious about it, yet the robe exuded a regal aura—its simplicity accentuated by its luxurious fabric.

It was clear that Frigga had chosen this robe not just for its beauty, but for its practicality. The lightness of the fabric made it seem almost weightless, yet its soft sheen caught the light in a way that would make it appear even more beautiful when wet, the material clinging gently to the skin, tracing every curve in a way that was both delicate and stunning.

She held up the clothes and turned back to you, who was still seated, unsure of how to approach the situation. "I know this is unfamiliar," Frigga continued, her voice warm and soothing. "But let me help you, child. You don’t have to face this alone. Not truly."

As you began to change behind a nearby screen, you felt an unusual sense of comfort in Frigga's words. Despite the regal atmosphere, the queen’s presence was grounded, maternal even. It was hard not to feel a little at ease.

Frigga, seemingly reading the mood, smiled faintly. "You have a strength about you, dearest. Something I see, even in the way you carry yourself, the way you’ve managed to survive what you’ve been through. You may think you’re just a mortal, but I sense something different in you."

You peeked out from behind the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What, you mean I’m some kind of hero-in-the-making?"

Frigga’s eyes glinted with wisdom, a knowing smile on her lips. "Not exactly a hero. But there’s more to you than meets the eye. The bond between you and the artifact... It’s no coincidence. There’s something in your soul that the artifact recognized. Something ancient and powerful." She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, almost as if she were considering the weight of her words. "And something that might be more connected to Asgard than you realize."

You tugged the tunic over your head and emerged from behind the screen, feeling more yourself in the simple yet elegant clothes. "Connected to Asgard? You mean the whole ‘grand destiny’ speech? Because I’m still waiting for the part where I get my cape and superpowers."

Frigga’s smile softened. "Not quite that. But there’s a connection in you, something unseen. My gift of sight allows me to see beyond the surface—into the hearts and souls of others. And I’ve seen it in you."

You paused, looking at Frigga in surprise. "Wait, you’re telling me you can see... beyond your eyes? Like, the future? Or some deep, dark secret about my life?"

Frigga chuckled gently, her gaze never leaving yours. "No, nothing like that. But I can see the essence of who someone truly is. And you... you have strength that even you don’t fully understand yet. It’s as though you’ve always been destined to walk a path that will lead you here, to this moment. You may not see it yet, but I do."

You were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Frigga’s words settle in. "I guess I never really thought of it that way," you murmured. "I’m just a regular-sized human being from Earth—or, Midgard as you say. Never thought I'd be standing here, in the middle of a royal family’s palace, about to face some huge trial... and all because of a shiny rock I picked up on vacation."

Frigga smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. "You may not see it now, but perhaps the journey you are on will help you understand your place in this world—here, with us, with the Asgardians. And in time, you’ll understand why the artifact chose you. Everything happens for a reason, my dear. Even if that reason is something you can't yet comprehend."

There was a long silence as Frigga finished adjusting your outfit, and then stepped back to admire her work while you studied yourself in the mirror, noting how the robe cascaded around you with almost divine grace. The robe felt both foreign and natural on your body. The cool fabric against your skin gave you a sense of being part of something larger—something ancient. It was as if you were wearing a garment that had been crafted not for you, but for a version of yourself you hadn’t yet discovered.

Frigga’s eyes softened as she gazed at you. “It suits you,” she said gently. “Simple, yet powerful. A reflection of your true strength.”

You smiled faintly. "Strength, huh? I might need a lot of that. Mentally, especially."

Frigga laughed softly, a sound full of affection. "Yes, perhaps you will. But you are capable, and you will face this trial with courage. Trust in yourself."

You gave a hesitant nod, feeling a mix of nerves and determination wash over you. "Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything."

Frigga placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but kind. "It is my duty, child. Know that you are not alone, no matter what happens in that cave."

As you turned to leave, the queen's voice stopped you for a moment. "Remember, this trial is not just about strength. It’s about finding who you truly are."

You gave her a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind." With one last glance at Frigga, you walked toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited you in the Hollow of Trials.

Frigga led you through the palace, her presence calm and steady despite the looming uncertainty of what was to come. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, but Frigga’s quiet confidence was a grounding force.

“You’ll need to remain calm,” She said, her voice soft but firm as you walked down the stone corridors toward the cave. “The sacred cave will reveal to you the truth of the artifact, but it will test you. Tests are not always kind, but they are necessary.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. You hadn’t expected it to feel this real, this heavy, despite the absence of a clear threat. It was as though the cave itself was waiting for you, and you weren’t sure you were ready to meet whatever it held.

“The trials within will challenge your mind, your body, and your spirit. But most importantly, it will reveal the bond between you and the artifact, and the deeper purpose it holds for you. To the land of Asgard, to the ancient power that lies beneath,” Frigga continued, her gaze distant for a moment. “The scales of Níðhöggr are not just a relic of old, they are a key to understanding the future. You must enter the cave, and what you see may shock you, but you mustn’t lose yourself in it.”

The more Frigga spoke, the more you felt the weight of the task before you. “What exactly will happen when I enter?” you asked, your curiosity mixed with an edge of nervousness.

“You will be shown what lies dormant within you,” Frigga explained, “The cave is connected to the heart of Yggdrasil itself, and it will guide you through what you need to see. Focus. Don’t let fear take hold.”

You reached the entrance to the cave—a massive opening, shrouded in mist. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsating softly, almost as if welcoming you into their depths.

You swallowed hard. “I’m ready.” You weren’t sure if that was true, but the words felt like something you needed to say.

⠀⠀

They arrived at the entrance to the cave—an imposing archway shrouded in mist and darkened stone. The air felt thicker here, charged with an almost tangible energy that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Frigga paused, giving you a steady, reassuring glance before stepping back to lean against the stone just outside the entrance.

“You must enter alone,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but firm. “You will know when the time comes to act. Trust yourself, and remember what I’ve told you.”

You gave a nod, a mix of apprehension and determination in your heart. You stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the cave. As your foot touched the cool stone floor, a slight chill seemed to seep into your bones. You shivered but didn’t stop.

The inside was dim, shadows stretching from the walls as if the cave itself had a life of its own. The faint glow from the artifact around your neck illuminated the path before you, casting eerie reflections against the wet stone. You continued to move deeper into the cave, the silence pressing in on you like a weight.

As you ventured deeper, you could feel the air grow colder, and you felt the pulse of the artifact beneath your skin. The longer you walked, the stronger the pull—it was as if it was calling you, urging you toward something deep within the cave.

A sudden voice broke the stillness, echoing off the walls.

“Are you really planning to do this alone, little mortal?”

You spun around, startled. Before you could even process who—or what—it was, your instincts kicked in. A sudden rush of panic and irritation propelled your fist forward, swinging at the mysterious figure standing in the shadows.

But just as your punch came within inches of its target, you froze, your eyes going wide.

Loki stepped forward into the faint light, a sly smile curling at his lips, completely unfazed. The blow had missed him by mere inches, and he watched with amusement as you lowered your fist in realization.

“Loki?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation. “What are you doing here? I thought your mother said I had to do this on my own.”

Loki didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, she did, didn’t she? But I thought I’d just... make sure you’re not getting yourself into trouble. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get lost in here or something of the sorts.”

You blinked, still trying to steady your breath. “You’re not subtle.”

Loki’s grin widened, clearly unbothered. "I already told you, subtlety is overrated."

Suddenly, you felt a surge of irritation—at yourself, for being startled so easily—and without thinking, you swung out with a fist, aiming straight for him.

You didn’t even land a punch.

Loki’s grin only grew as he effortlessly dodged the swing, leaning to the side with the fluid grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before. "Is that your idea of defending yourself, mortal?" he teased, standing completely still as your fist missed by inches.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide with embarrassment. "I wasn’t... I was just—"

"—Trying to punch me? Well, I suppose it was a valiant effort," Loki said, unruffled, his expression mocking yet somehow fond. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hit me."

You scowled, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks."

Loki chuckled softly at your annoyance. "You’ll need a lot more than a surprise swing to face what’s ahead, mortal. But don’t worry—I'll be here to help," he added, his voice turning more serious, though there was still that underlying amusement in his tone.

You scowled, feeling your blood rise to your cheeks. “Great. First, I punch a god, now I’m being scolded and tailed by one.”

Loki smirked, clearly entertained by your flustered reaction. “And here I thought I was the deranged one.”

You crossed your arms, doing your best to hide your embarrassment. “Well, you are.”

“Only on special occasions.” Loki chuckled, his grin widening. “Now, let’s get on with this, shall we? I’ll stay close in case you need me... even if you insist on attempting to hit me again.”

“Oh trust me, I’d love to make you my personal punching ball. But you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “This is my trial, not yours.”

Loki’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something else. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not here to interfere. Just think of me as an... observer. I’m actually quite good at observing, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine, but you stay out of my way, Peeping Tom. I’m not in the mood for your tricks.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he stepped closer, seemingly unbothered by your resistance. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. Who else could keep you company on this grand adventure? Your noble Asgardian family? Heimdall is too busy watching the horizon, and moth—Frigga, well, she’s always so proper.” He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”

You didn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused, but you felt a little of the tension in your chest ease up. “Fine. But if you do anything to make this harder than it already is, I swear I’ll—”

“—you’ll what? Throw me out of here?” Loki interrupted with a soft chuckle. “You can try, but I’m rather skilled at slipping past... inconveniences.”

Just then, they heard Frigga’s voice echo from outside the cave, calling out in a tone that barely masked her amusement. “Loki, if you’re going to follow her, at least try to make yourself discreet.”

Loki’s grin widened as he turned to you. “See? Like I told you, not subtle at all.”

You huffed but followed, rolling your eyes as you muttered under your breath, "I’d rather be doing this on my own."

Loki’s soft laugh echoed around you. "Oh, I’m sure you would, but where’s the fun in that?"

You gave him a pointed look before stepping deeper into the cave, determined not to let his presence distract you. The further you ventured, the more the air seemed to hum with energy, the walls of the cave narrowing around you as if closing in, but you kept your focus.

Loki followed closely behind, his presence bringing a mix of annoyance and reluctant comfort.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here,” you said after a moment, your voice a little softer.

Loki raised an eyebrow, the humor in his voice fading for just a moment. “You’ll know. Trust me. The artifact has a way of showing you what you need to see.” He paused, then added, “And if you don’t, well, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t do anything... rash.”

You sighed, your eyes scanning the dark cave around them. Whatever was about to happen, you were ready—or at least, you hoped you were.

The further you ventured into the cave, the more surreal it became. The air grew cooler, and the light seemed to dim as you descended deeper into the cavern. Soon, you emerged into an expansive, otherworldly space. The chamber stretched high above you, the walls lined with shimmering minerals that cast faint glows, giving the place a mystical feel.

At the center of the cavern was a clear, glowing pool of water, rippling ever so slightly as if something ancient and powerful stirred beneath its surface. The water shimmered with an eerie blue light, reflecting the faint beams of light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling. The surroundings were so calm, so peaceful—it almost seemed too good to be true.

“This is it?” you asked, taking in the sight. You felt a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Loki, who had been walking in silence beside you, stopped a few steps ahead, eyeing the pool with a thoughtful expression. “Yes. The pool of trial,” he said, though his voice was laced with a touch of amusement. “Step into the water. It will reveal what you need to face.”

You froze, your heart sinking as you stared at the pool. “Wait, step in? That?” You gestured toward the glowing water, the nervous energy creeping up your spine. “What if it’s, I don’t know, scalding? What if it burns me?” You glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be turned into a crispy bacon today, thank you very much.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your concerns. “You’re overthinking this,” he said, his voice laced with mild amusement. “It’s not as dangerous as it looks.”

Your anxiety didn’t seem to ease. You slowly stepped toward the water, your eyes scanning the surface for any signs of heat or danger. “You’re sure it won’t burn me? Because I’m really not equipped for magical burns.”

Loki watched you, fighting back a grin. “You’ll be fine. It’s not as dramatic as you're imagining.”

Still, you hesitated, your heart racing. Your mind ran wild with all the possibilities—maybe it wasn’t just water. Maybe it was some sort of curse in disguise. Maybe it was boiling acid that would eat through your skin. Or worse, maybe it was a test to see how long you could stand the pain before... You shivered at the thought.

As you took a tentative step forward, Loki raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little water?”

You shot him a glare. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious. There’s a difference.”

Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please.” Before you could respond, before you even had the chance to think it through, he took a sudden step forward and with a swift motion shoved you into the pool, sending you stumbling into the water.

“Loki!” you yelped, flailing in surprise, your feet slipping beneath you as the cool water splashed around you. The shock of the sudden fall took the breath out of you as you splashed into the pool, sputtering as you broke the surface.

Loki stood at the edge, watching you with a satisfied grin, arms crossed. “You were taking too long,” he said, unfazed by your glare. “Besides, you were overthinking it.”

You glared at him, brushing your wet hair out of your face. “I wasn’t overthinking! You just pushed me in without warning!”

“Really now,” Loki drawled, his smirk widening as he noticed your flustered expression. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you would have acted on your own? Consider it a favor—one I’m sure you’ll thank me for later.”

You were drenched now, water dripping down your clothes, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sting in your chest at the sudden, unexpected splash. “I was thinking about it... slowly.”

Loki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No time for slow thinking. Now, let’s see what happens next, shall we?”

⠀⠀

As you mourned your state, the cold rippled across your skin, but it wasn’t the chill that caught your attention. The water around you began to shimmer, glowing brighter with every passing second. The air itself seemed to hum, pulsing with an energy you couldn’t quite comprehend. Slowly, an aura of light began to envelop you—faint at first, but growing steadily stronger. Your body began to glow, not with harsh light, but with an ethereal radiance, as though the northern lights had taken form within you. Soft, shifting hues—pink, green, blue, and violet, colors reminiscent of the Bifrost—wove through your skin, with a faint touch of gold cascading across your form like the flowing branches of a great tree, stretching to every inch of your being.

The glow, fluid and seamless, surrounded you in ribbons of light, as if you were the very embodiment of the auroras themselves. For a fleeting moment, it was as though you were no longer entirely tangible. Your edges blurred, your form rippling like water, the colors of the aurora intertwining with the essence of your very being. You seemed weightless, suspended between realms, as though the cave had absorbed you into its ancient roots, your presence melding with the very magic of the place.

Your glow was hypnotic, a thing of beauty and power. You seemed both present and absent, solid and ethereal, bathed in the light of a thousand unseen stars. The colors shifted and swirled, weaving through you, a dream only half-remembered, a story half-told. The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath, caught in the magic radiating from you.

Loki barely noticed the way his breath caught in his chest. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath.

For the first time in a long time, Loki felt small.

His gaze was locked on you, entranced. He had seen many forms of magic before, but nothing like this. It was as if you were a bridge, a living conduit for powers older than time itself. The air around you thickened, vibrating with an ancient force that seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat. It was a weighty energy, something primordial, something far beyond the grasp of any ordinary god.

There was something more, something familiar, yet elusive. A pull, deep within him, that resonated with the core of his being. For a moment, he almost felt as though he were standing before something divine, something ancient beyond measure. The glow around you flickered briefly, revealing an intricate symbol—tree-like, its roots sprawling across your form like a reflection of your nervous system. It was so subtle, so fleeting, that Loki almost questioned if it had been real. A vision? A trick of the light? But the connection, the sensation, was undeniable. You were tied to something vast, something far older than anything he had ever encountered.

Then, as the colors of the aurora deepened, he could have sworn he saw it—the roots of Yggdrasil, stretching across the cavern, whispering through the light, intertwining with your very essence. The vision was brief, but the connection between you and the great tree was unmistakable. You were no longer merely a mortal. You were something far more. Something much greater.

Loki snapped out of his trance, shaking himself from the dizzying pull of your presence. His thoughts needed to settle, but the image of you, radiant and unknowable, had left an indelible mark on his mind. You weren’t just a mortal anymore. You were tied to something far greater than any of them. Something even he couldn’t comprehend.

But then, there was a shift.

The air in the cavern crackled with magic, and for a moment, Loki could only watch, intrigued, as you glowed with an otherworldly light. Your body shimmered like the northern lights, colors shifting in mesmerizing waves, casting ethereal reflections across the water. He couldn’t deny the effect it had on him—your beauty was undeniable, but it was the strange, potent magic swirling within you that truly captured his attention.

A subtle distortion rippled across your body as the pendant around your neck began to pulse, glowing with an intensity that made the air around them feel charged. Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing something was about to happen. This wasn’t just a glowing display of power—it was something deeper.

The pendant’s magic stirred, and from the center of your chest, a shadowy, serpent-like form emerged. It moved sluggishly at first, as though testing the air, then, with an unnerving speed, it coiled outward, slipping from the pendant like a living nightmare. Loki’s eyes flashed with surprise as the serpent’s body unfolded, scales shimmering with a dark iridescence, its glowing eyes narrowing as it circled the room ominously. It didn’t seem like a natural creature; more like a manifestation of some ancient magic.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Loki mused, his tone light but edged with intrigue. He watched the serpent glide through the air, its tail cracking against the cave walls with a hiss that seemed to rattle the very stone. “Should I be worried?”

He wasn’t exactly concerned—it was just another magical oddity—but there was something about the way it moved that made his curiosity flare. He had seen many strange things in his long life, but this? This was unlike anything he’d encountered before.

He looked to you for a reaction, but your gaze was locked on the serpent, your expression a mixture of awe and hesitation.

For a moment, the serpent paused, hovering directly above you, its eyes fixated on your face. It was as if it was waiting for something—waiting for you. The air grew thicker, charged with a tension that Loki could almost taste. Then, without warning, the serpent lunged, its massive body streaking toward you like a bolt of lightning.

Loki’s eyes widened, his reflexes kicking in as he moved forward, his hand outstretched, ready to intercept. But before he could act, the serpent vanished into your body, slipping right through you with eerie ease. The force of its intrusion jolted you, and you were thrown backward, crashing into the water with a splash that sent ripples across the surface.

Loki stood at the edge of the pool, momentarily stunned. His pulse quickened as he peered into the water, watching you disappear beneath the surface. For a split second, he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation—if he had waited too long to intervene.

The seconds stretched on like an eternity before, finally, you resurfaced.

Your appearance was… quite different from before. The faint glow that had enveloped your body earlier remained faintly, but now it clung to you like a second skin, subtle and ethereal. Your hair, damp and flowing around you, cascaded in waves down your back, each strand catching the light in a way that made you look almost unreal—like a siren from the depths of myth. Your robe, soaked through, clung to your form in a way that left little to the imagination and left the god breathless, and the water that trickled down your skin only seemed to enhance the otherworldly glow that surrounded you.

Your eyes met his, their usual sharpness now softened by the strange, lingering magic that swirled through you. There was a quiet moment between them, one that felt far too heavy for the situation at hand. Loki’s gaze lingered on you—on the way the water clung to your skin, tracing every line of your form, on the way your wet hair shimmered in the dim light.

For the first time, he felt something stir within him that wasn’t just idle curiosity or his usual inclination to tease. His eyes flickered downward, and a rush of warmth settled in his chest as the realization hit him like a force of nature.

You were stunning. No—more than that. You were... captivating.

It was the kind of attraction that came suddenly, like the snap of a string. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but there it was. The light clinging to your skin, the way your body moved through the water, the delicate way your robe shifted, revealing more than it concealed—it was impossible to ignore.

Loki swallowed, his pulse quickening before he could rein in his thoughts. Focus, he told himself, but it was harder than usual.

His mind raced as he forced a casual smirk on his face, his usual playful tone returning. “That was... certainly a display. You might want to be careful about who—or what—you attract next time.” His gaze flicked over you, lingering just a second longer than he intended, before he shifted back to his usual playful teasing.

He wasn’t sure if he was still speaking about the magic or the effect you had on him. Maybe both.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, still trying to compose yourself, but the moment of vulnerability—the way your eyes still held that same faint, ethereal glow—stuck with him. It was difficult to keep his mind from drifting back to the image of you, glowing like some otherworldly being.

Loki scoffed softly to himself, shaking off the sudden jolt of desire that had swept through him. He was Loki, after all. He was in control. But as he turned away, he couldn’t deny that something had shifted in his perception of you. Whatever power you had, whatever strange magic clung to you, it was only amplifying the attraction he hadn’t quite wanted to acknowledge.

It was a dangerous thought, one he didn’t dare explore too deeply just yet.

Your voice, though still shaken from the strange encounter, snapped him from his thoughts. “What just happened?”

Loki stepped closer, his gaze sharp and laced with amusement as he took in your glowing form. “Well, it appears you’ve made quite the impression,” he remarked, his tone light but tinged with intrigue. “I’d say I’m almost envious. Whatever that... entity was, it seems you’ve caught its attention—and perhaps more. Care to explain, or shall I start guessing?”

He crossed his arms, his mind already working through the possibilities, analyzing every detail. His gaze lingered on you a little longer than he intended, noting how the glow still radiated from your skin, subtle but undeniable.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of control. “That’s not exactly comforting, you know.”

“Not my problem,” Loki quipped, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “But I will admit, it’s an interesting little magic show you’ve got going on. I’m curious what comes next.”

Your eyes flickered with frustration, but you took a breath, regaining your composure as best you could. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to say it, but it seems it’s never enough: I didn’t sign up for this.”

Loki shrugged, his smirk curling wider. “Oh, I’d say you did more than that. At the very least, you provided some amusement.” He crouched near the edge of the pool, his gaze locking with yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “But I suppose you’ve earned a passing grade. It appears you’ve won its favor—or at least its tolerance.”

There was no immediate danger—just a strange, powerful magic coursing through you—but Loki’s mind spun with questions. And if he was being honest, there was something about you now, something different that made you undeniably more intriguing than before. He wasn't sure if it was the magic or your new... presence, but he couldn’t look away.

You wiped a droplet of water from your chin, your eyes still narrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. You didn’t appreciate being mocked, especially when you'd already gone through whatever strange ordeal had just occurred. But Loki, of course, couldn’t resist taunting you.

"Yeah, real funny, Loki," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I’m sure you're quite entertained by this, aren’t you?"

His grin widened, the gleam of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. "I’m simply admiring the show," he teased. "You know I’m an amateur of the fine arts. I barely get to witness such dramatic performances these days."

You stood there in the water, trying to reign in your frustration, a slow smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He was so confident—so smug—like he didn’t have a care in the world. You had a feeling he wasn’t quite expecting what was coming next.

"You do love a show, don’t you, Loki?" you said sweetly as you stepped closer to the edge of the pool, your posture shifting in a way that was almost predatory.

Loki, caught off guard by the tone of your voice, tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking over you with the same playful smirk. There was something about the way you moved—too graceful, too calculated—that gave him a sense of unease, but he couldn’t quite place why. His curiosity only deepened. You were as unpredictable as always, and that made you endlessly fascinating.

You braced yourself on the edge, pushing yourself up with a fluid motion, lifting your body out of the water slightly. Your eyes met his, and you leaned forward just enough for your faces to be mere inches apart. The air between you was charged, and you couldn't resist the chance to tease him back.

"You should really try it for yourself. It’s quite refreshing, being all… dripping wet," you murmured, your voice low and sultry, your lips barely brushing his as you spoke.

You tilted your head just slightly, allowing the water droplets on your skin to catch the light as you took another step closer. Your robe, still clinging to your form, glistened with water, and the ethereal glow clung to your skin like a second layer. Your eyes glinted with something so peculiar, and the slightest smile curved your lips. The air between you shifted, charged with tension, and Loki’s smirk faltered for a brief moment as you leaned forward just enough to invade his personal space.

"Hmm, I think you have," you teased, your voice low and enticing, drawing him in closer. You raised yourself a little higher, leaning just that bit more, your lips almost too close to his. "Maybe you even like it. Maybe you like watching me struggle helplessly..."

For a moment, Loki forgot the situation entirely. His gaze drifted downward to your lips, and he barely noticed the slight shift in your posture. You were so close now that his heartbeat was racing, his body nearly responding before his mind had a chance to react. It was that subtle, but enough to get Loki utterly captivated. She had ensnared him with a soft look, a playful gesture, and it was all too easy to get lost in your presence.

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but you were so close now—close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath, your scent all around him. Your lips were mere inches from his, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if you were actually going to kiss him. Without thinking, his gaze flicked up to meet yours, and your eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam, as if you’d caught him.  You could see the effect you were having on him—how his usual sharp gaze had softened, how the mischievous glint in his eyes had been replaced with something distracted, almost dazed.

"And maybe you don’t mind being part of it every now and then."

Loki's eyes widened as he snapped out of his trance, a sensation of weightlessness overtaking him in a split second. "Wait, what—"

Without warning, you grabbed him by the arm, your grip surprisingly firm, and yanked him toward you. With a sudden, swift motion, you pulled him into the pool with you, his startled yelp cutting through the air as the water splashed around them. He stumbled in the wetness, head first.

“How’s the water temperature?” You now sat perched on the edge of the pool, smirking, the faint glow still clinging to your skin like a siren’s call. You casually flicked a few damp strands of hair from your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Loki gasped and blinked, dripping water from his hair as he pushed himself up from the surface, wide-eyed and dripping wet. "You—" he sputtered, glaring at you in disbelief. "You tricked me!"

You tilted your head to the side, your smile widening. "Oh, I think you let yourself get tricked," you teased. "You were too busy being entertained to notice what was going on right in front of you. I must say, I now understand your point; truly a sight for sore eyes."

He shot you a glare, but the heat that had flooded his chest earlier was still there—this time, it wasn’t just irritation. His pride had taken a hit, but there was something else too. A burning sentiment that he desperately tried to repress now more than ever, should he let his impulses rise and take over to provoke something regrettable.

"You’re lucky I’m feeling generous," he muttered under his breath, but his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

You chuckled, your eyes dark with amusement. "Maybe you should pay attention next time," you said casually, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You can’t keep mocking me and not expect a little retaliation. But for now, I’d say that’s a win for me, don’t you think?"

He didn’t respond right away, his mind already racing with plans for payback. But as he stood up in the water, still dripping wet and irritated, he couldn't deny the stirrings of something else—something that was entirely more complicated than just his usual urge to tease you back. The whole encounter had left him... flustered, unsettled, and, if he was being honest, curious in a way he hadn’t expected.

As he clambered out of the pool, water dripping from his clothes, he realized that this little game between them was far from over. And next time, he was going to make sure you regretted it.

"Enjoy it while you can," Loki muttered darkly, locking his murderous gaze onto yours.

You simply grinned, your eyes sparkling with that same mischievous light that had drawn him in from the start. "Oh, I sure do."

Loki, still dripping wet and clearly irritated by the prank, stood tall, his posture rigid with the lingering desire to regain control. But instead of moving to challenge you, he took a moment, eyes narrowing, scanning you with an almost predatory intensity.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, no longer the teasing trickster but something sharper—darker. “Your boldness is gonna lead to your imminent downfall,” His voice was low, but the air around them crackled with energy, his irritation mixing with something else.

Your grin faltered for just a moment as you met his gaze, unsure of what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. “Oh come on, I’m just having a bit of fun,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Loki’s lips twitched upwards, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m starting to wonder if you even know the rules.”

You tilted your head, taking in his shift. He was still teasing, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—a sort of curiosity, an intrigue he was trying to hide behind his usual bravado. And perhaps, for the first time, you were sensing a crack in his usually confident demeanor.

As you stepped back, just a little, you could feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the space between you. Your earlier confidence began to waver as you picked up on the way he was looking at you, no longer merely amused but almost calculating.

"I’m not afraid of games," you said, your voice a little quieter now, with a faint edge to it.

Loki watched you for a long moment before he spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You should be.”

Before you could react, he turned sharply, as if ending the conversation, and started to walk away, leaving you to wonder if that’s really the end of their playful rivalry—or if it was something else entirely, lurking behind a charade of endless banters. 

⠀⠀

As the last echo of their footsteps in the cave's entrance faded behind them, Loki and you stepped into the bright light outside. The sun bathed the landscape in soft golden hues, a stark contrast to the strange, eerie atmosphere they'd just left behind. But both of you were still drenched, Loki’s clothes dripping with water and your posture slightly stiff from the tension of the ordeal.

You’d barely exchanged a word as you emerged, the weight of your previous interaction hanging between you. Neither of you could deny that something had shifted, something unresolved that neither was eager to discuss. Loki was lost in his thoughts, glancing sideways at you with an unreadable expression.

But as you approached the clearing, standing against a large stone formation was none other than Frigga. Her presence was calming, and yet there was a knowing look in her eyes that immediately set both of you on edge.

“You’ve both made it out, I see,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of authority. “I trust everything went well?”

Loki’s lips twitched into a wry smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As well as can be expected, Mother,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about what conspired within the confines of the underground chamber, or how the whole ordeal had affected him.

Frigga’s eyes shifted to you, a soft smile curving her lips. “And you, my dear? How do you fare after all that?”

You slowly met her gaze, still processing the surreal events of the day. “I’m... fine. Just a bit shaken, I think,” you said with a small, tight smile, the weight of the strange magic still lingering in your bones. “It was unexpected, to say the least.”

She nodded knowingly. “Magic always has a way of testing us when we least expect it. It’s not just about strength, but about understanding oneself in the face of the unknown.” She turned back to Loki, her expression softening. “You both seem... changed. A little more different than you were when you entered.”

Loki’s eyes flicked away from her, unwilling to admit anything. He didn’t like how much she could read into his silence. “We handled it,” he muttered, but it was clear to Frigga that he was brushing aside something deeper.

Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something serious in her eyes. “I can see that. But you seem… distracted.”

His shoulders tensed, and he tried to evade her penetrating stare with an insistent tone. “There’s nothing to tell, Mother.”

Frigga’s gaze sharpened for a moment, and she placed a hand on Loki’s arm, holding him there.  “I can see the truth in your heart.” Her voice softened, as though speaking only for him.

His eyes flitted to you, then back to his mother. He couldn’t seem to hold her gaze for long, the truth of his feelings hanging just out of reach, even from him.

Sensing his reluctance to speak his mind, the queen decided to take a different approach. She raised her hand slightly, and with a simple wave of magic, she reached into Loki’s mind, transferring a glimpse of his own emotions to her. His confusion, his attraction, the pull that was impossible to ignore. She felt it all, a brief but powerful connection.

When she released him, Loki staggered slightly, blinking as though coming out of a trance. His gaze shifted uncomfortably. “You’re always meddling in my head.”

Frigga smiled gently, a knowing gleam in her eye. “It’s my job, my son. And sometimes, it’s necessary.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but halted his movement as she raised a hand. “Not now, Loki. Not yet.”

He was silent for a moment, his frustration clear. “Fine. But I’m leaving.”

She allowed him that moment, her expression a mixture of understanding and mild amusement. “Go, then. But I will be waiting for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Loki nodded curtly, shooting one last look at you before turning to leave in a hurry, no doubt eager to escape whatever thoughts his mother had stirred up within him.

Frigga turned to you with a soft smile, one that carried a quiet weight. “You’re handling this better than he is, I think.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the weight of everything you had gone through. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “But... it’s certainly complicated.”

She placed a hand on your shoulder as you began walking toward the throne room. “Indeed. But I have no doubt you’ll handle it well. Now, come. I believe there’s something we need to discuss regarding what happened.”

As they walked side by side, her voice rose again and took on a slightly teasing tone. “Though, I must admit, you two are quite the pair. Loki doesn’t often find himself so... ruffled. It seems you’ve caught his attention in more ways than one.”

You looked at her, surprised by the comment. “It’s not like that.”

Frigga raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Isn’t it?”

You smiled wryly, unsure of how to respond, but the playful look in Frigga’s eyes made it clear that this conversation was far from over.

And as you approached the throne room, you couldn't help but wonder just how much Frigga truly saw.

⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀

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[sfznyxio]

-ˋˏ REMEDY ˎˊ

SYNOPSIS. you help patch up your significant other’s injuries.

CHARACTERS. gorou, kaedehara kazuha, kujou sara

CONTENT. gn!reader. canon-compliant. established relationship. fluff. 0.5k wc. rewrite of remedy at my old main blog @/verxsyon. reader is a medic. injuries. war between the watatsumi army and the shogunate (gorou and kujou sara).

VERA. happy new year, everyone! first fic of 2025! tbh I wish inazuma gets rewritten (i would personally do that if i had enough brain cells but sadly i have none), but i’m glad the story stepped up on how it's been told since sumeru.

𝄞༉‧₊˚. GOROU

“i’m fine.” general gorou is too prideful to admit that he got shot on the shoulder by a shogunate archer. with the presence of medical staff in his tent, you know too well that he won’t tell the truth. so you instruct them to leave to tend to the other soldiers.

“you can fool the medics, but not your partner.” he growls when you roll out a bundle of bandages. “dear obarashi. gorou, it’s just me.”

gorou remains cautious of your movements. then he hesitantly reveals where the arrow had struck, and you proceed to treat that spot. “i don’t want my men to worry too much about me.”

“but i do if you don’t tell me,” you enunciate every word with a poke on his skin. “from now on, can you please be more honest? i want you to be okay.”

“sorry, i didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, burying his face into your neck when you embrace him as your forgiveness. “i’ll try, for you.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

“seems like you had them on for a while,”  you remark, noticing a strip of his bandages hanging out from his hand. “here, i’ll put on fresh ones for you.”

despite being in a relationship for quite some time now, there are things kazuha isn’t comfortable sharing just yet, such as the burnt scars on his hand. he follows you into your shared cabin at the crux, anxious of your thoughts about his injuries.

“wow.” your thumb traces the trail of ridges from his palm to his wrist, making him wince. he doesn’t sense disgust from you, which is a relief. “give me a moment; i need to fetch ointment from my drawer. tell me if it hurts, okay?”

the process is mostly painless. his palm stings a little bit, but watching you tend to his wounds with care makes him forget the pain. after you finish patching up, you kiss the area where his scars are. “better?”

humming in affirmation, kazuha leans forward to kiss your forehead as thanks for taking care of him. “much better.”

𝄞༉‧₊˚. KUJOU SARA

“let me guess. that oni again?” you know what caused her injuries, but having a good laugh or two is something that may lighten up the mood. general sara is not amused, so you drop the cheerful act immediately.

“sorry, i was trying to make you feel better.” she doesn’t respond, rather staring at you with blank eyes. “i’ll just shut up and get my first-aid kit.”

treating someone of high authority like her feels awkward, acting as if she’s judging you. on the contrary, she tries to formulate an explanation of her injuries. “i apologize for the inconvenience. the resistance bested us again.”

of course, the divine priestess and her army. troublesome and a force to be reckoned with. you tap her shoulder, signaling her that you finished. “don’t apologize. just be careful.”

with a squeeze on your forearm, sara leaves without looking back. you keep praying that the war will be over soon, and that she will come back to you safe and sound.

[pearwaldorf]

Many novelists have had the experience of being approached by someone convinced that they have a great idea for a novel, which they are willing to share in exchange for a fifty-fifty split of the proceeds. Such a person inadvertently reveals that they think formulating sentences is a nuisance rather than a fundamental part of storytelling in prose. Generative A.I. appeals to people who think they can express themselves in a medium without actually working in that medium. But the creators of traditional novels, paintings, and films are drawn to those art forms because they see the unique expressive potential that each medium affords. It is their eagerness to take full advantage of those potentialities that makes their work satisfying, whether as entertainment or as art.

Ted Chiang, Why A.I. Isn't Going to Make Art

[mysunshinetemptress]

Warnings: 18+ Alludes to SMUT MDNI

Read part one here

“And then she proceeded to tell me she had to look the part to play the part, Cariño are you listening to me.”

“I am Vennen, my head hurts so I’m just taking my hair down”

“ Vale, she then told me she was…are you sure your ok why are you taking off your jacket.”

*Ingrid doesn’t listen as she continues to take her clothes off one by one

“En…what…what are you doing.”

“Keep telling me about what María did min kjærlighet.”

“Eh…I…she..I”

*Ingrid proceeds to take off the remainder of her clothes

“I can’t…amor what is…I.”

*Ingrid laughs

“You never can seem to concentrate when I’m naked.”

*you continue to blabber trying to formulate words

“So do you want to keep talking about María or do you want to fuck me.”

“I…eh…what if she comes in.”

“Then let her watch, it can be her punishment for being so annoying to you earlier on.”

*Ingrid laughs at your shocked face

“Well.”

*You begin to take off every bit of clothing you have on you

“Dios mío, no tienes que preguntarme dos veces

[hpgal]

DC X DP Ghost Dog

CW: Blood, Violence

TLDR: Jason is fighting a losing battle against a new opponent he is having trouble hitting. This leads to him being chased and running into Danny whose chilling in an alley.

Word Count: 1326

a/n: Might write more where more Batfam encounter Danny and Danny's perspective, may even rewriting the ending of this. I got the idea from a prompt someone posted here on Tumblr and I forgot to save it but I'd love to tag them if anyone can help me find them! The prompt was something along the lines of Danny will randomly appear in alleys with items that the person needs exactly to solve a problem they were having.

Jason emptied his clip a long while ago and was now being chased through Crime Alley by some sort of dog. It was big. If was angry and it was... green?

The bullets did nothing to it but aggravated the thing and so it chased him. His comms weren't working to call for backup and he was getting tired. It's been 15 minutes of running and that was before you add on he was trying to fight the thing prior and he was now injured after taking a hit meant for a civilian.

He jumped off the rooftop, stumbling. Instead of catching the opposite ledge he plummeted to the ground. A dumpster broke his fall. But damn did it hurt, especially with a prexisting slash of claws on his side. He was still human after all. He had some time but he did not want to waste a single second before it could catch back up to him. So, begrudgingly and in pain, Jason pushed himself back up and out the dumpster.

"Great I'm going to smell like rotten fish for a week" he muttered to no one in particular as he brushed garbage off him.

Before he could formulate a game plan, his thought process froze. He looked up in confusion and blinked. Then blinked again as he stared at what he saw.

A kid with black hair and looked incredibly scrawny sat on a stoll behind a table with a sign "Clockworks Goods and Services!" The kid seemed unbothered with headphones on and eyes closed as he leaned back against the wall of the alley.

Hell the kid almost looked like Damian. If he has blue eyes he'd be a perfect candidate for a Bruce adoption. But why was a kid here.. selling his services?

Jason takes a moment to listen out and notice it is oddly quiet which meant the green dog must not be close yet so he takes advantage of the situation to figure out what the hell is going on here. He takes a step forward and looks at the contents on the table. It was empty except for a single bell with faded writing saying "ring me!" And so he did.

The kid opens his eyes with a start. They were piercing blue. Oh Bruce would fall for this kid instantly, he thinks to himself.

"Oh evening!" The kid starts as he stands up stretching as he removes his headphones from his head. "It looks like you're in need of my services. What is your problem today?"

The kid was so nonchalant as he spoke and moved around. The kid glanced at the table and furrowed his brow. "My names Danny by the way" he quickly adds on.

Jason stares at Danny through his mask perplexed. Something about this didn't sit right with him. It was late at night and Danny was hanging out in an alleyway selling services yet he looked not a day over 15.

But something drives him to answer Danny's question and answer it truthfully, "I'm fighting something and none of my attacks are working on it but it's causing destruction and hurting the people of Crime Alley. It even managed to injure me"

As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself. Why would he need to tell the kid that? He shoyld be telling him to grt out of here, that it isn't safe.

Danny however shrugs like this was normal for him and looks down at the table again. The plastic folding tables surface remained empty except for the bell but Danny seems confused at this.

"Huh usually it appears when you say it." Danny mutters and proceeds to look under the table then behind him.

Jason however is further confused and raises a hand to his helmet to try his comms again. Unsurprisingly he hears only static. What he does hear instead of his families voices, is the barking of a dog in the distance and something crashing.

Aw shit.

Jason looks up then towards the entrance of the alley with a sigh, "Look, kid, I'm going to circle back to you and your... weirdness later, for now, you need to find somewhere safe while I deal with an abnormally large and green dog."

This seems to catch Danny's attention as he jerks back upright and looks at me. He stares, and I see the wheels in his head turn. He sighs, and his shoulders slump inwards.

"I get it now. I'm the service you need" Danny rolls his shoulders back and steps out from behind the table, heading to the entrance of the alley.

"Woah kid stay back! It's dangerous!" Jason calls out behind him as he jogs to catch up, only slightly twitching in pain as he moves. The kid was incredibly fast for someone who looked malnourished.

As soon as Jason reaches the street, he turns to see where the kid had gone. His eyes widened at the sight of Danny walking like it was just another day towards the rampaging dog.

Danny stops just out of reach of the green dog and whistles two quick notes. The dog pauses and looks towards Danny, its fast twisting from one of anger to excitement as evident with its tail wagging.

“Cujo!” Danny yells, “Bad dog! Drop the car!” the dog whines and drops the car it had in its mouth with a loud thud.

The dog, Jason now knows as Cujo, gets low to the ground and its ears press against its head like any dogs would when they are embarrassed or know they’ve been caught doing something they weren’t supposed too.

“Come here boy! It’s time to take you home!” Danny calls out to it, producing a glowing green dog treat from his pockets.

Jason just watches the entire encounter unfold, gobsmacked. He doesn’t know what to think of it. He couldn’t believe his luck. It was that simple. Who is this kid? As Jason continues to watch his jaw drops to the floor at what happens next.

The dog starts shrinking until it is ithe size of a puppy and comes bounding up to Danny with little playful barks. Danny scoops Cujo up with a sigh and scratches Cujos head right behind his ears.

Danny turns to look towards me, the street where Cujo came from a mess. He gives a sheepish smile and wave, “Sorry about that! I didn’t think Cujo followed me today! I’ll speak to my dog sitter about watching him more carefully next time!”

Danny turns back towards the chaos Cujo created on the street and glances at his watch. “Well, it’s time for me to clock out. I’ll send someone to clean up the mess! Sorry again!” Danny pauses for a moment as he glances once more at Jason, squinting.

A green glowing portal opens up behind Danny and he looks between Jason and the portal. He sets Cujo down and directs him to go through the portal. Danny jogs over to Jason, digging through his pockets.

“Oh sorry you’re hurt and sick. Probably my fault honestly. Here.” Danny shoves something into Jason's hands before he can protest, dumbfounded by what just happened, “That should get rid of the tainted Lazarus Waters in your soul and let your injury heal up like normal. Sorry again!”

Jason just stares before finally getting his bearings again, “Who the hell are you?!”

Danny just laughs, “I’m just your friendly neighborhood ghost.” and with that Danny leaves through the portal, it closing behind him leaving destruction and a baffled Jason in the street.

Like Danny promised, not even a few minutes later, another portal opened up in the streets of Crime Alley, spilling out dozens of glowing green people, who Jason started to believe were really ghosts. The ghosts got to work and by morning, it was like nothing happened.

At the next family dinner, no one believed Jason of what happened that night.

-----

a/n: I feel like we don't see Cujo enough in fics. I mean come on, a ghost dog? How cool is that?!?! I love Cujo <3 And we all know how much Cujo loves Danny!

[1117feverlessdreams]

W.C.P.P. 🎀 ⛓️‍💥- Episode 2

🐈‍⬛~🎀 SUMMARY: The atmosphere between you and Wooyoung changes your dynamic for the worse since that heated Friday night- until things gets exceptionally better.

🐈‍⬛~🎀 TAGS/WARNINGS: Cursing/Name-Calling, MAJOR Dom-Sub Play, Use of Alcohol, Role Play, Dirty Talk, Slapping, Handjob, Brutal Use of a Whip, Rope Bonadge, Office Intimacy, Oral Sex, Shower Intimacy.

🐈‍⬛~🎀 WORD COUNT: 10.9K

🐈‍⬛~🎀 A/N: Just...super duper freaky. Proceed at your own risk of becoming a hornball.

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

A Mistress is a dominant woman who exercises authority and control over her submissive partner. She may engage in various activities such as bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadism, and masochism (BDSM) with her sub. The power exchange can be physical, mental, emotional, or a play in all.

Submission is not always about being doormats or losers. Instead, it's about empowerment. By ceding control to their Mistress, subs can let go of everyday stresses and worries, trusting her to guide them and make decisions for them. It's a deeply intimate and liberating experience.

Dominance is about taking charge, setting boundaries, and pushing submissives out of their comfort zones in safe, consensual ways to help them explore their deepest desires and fears. A good Mistress is caring and attentive and always puts her subs' well-being first, even as she challenges them.

Safe, Sane, and Consensual (SSC) is a key principle in the BDSM community. It means that all activities are agreed upon by all parties involved, with clear boundaries and safeguards to prevent harm. 

Anything outside of these parameters is considered unsafe and unacceptable.

…

Ever since then, Wooyoung has been extra attentive, making sure your morning beverages are piping hot and steaming just the way you like them, your files are in order from A to Z without a paper sticking out in sight, and your schedule is always organized and precise in preparation for the weeks ahead.

In your world, you tackle most of the paperwork meant for the office workers in cubicles- and for your own for distraction. 

There was too much on your mind this early morning, but you’ve set it aside for one of the greatest business endeavors that only comes every 10,000 lifetimes.

Your company, Better Business Company- hence the name- strives to make businesses better. The investments you distribute come from your own pockets and the companies you carry on your back. But today, you had a chance to strike it rich, because one of the most influential businessmen asked for your participation in the condition you formulated a plan.

Wooyoung, your supposed partner in this, knocks softly on your office door, carrying in a tray with your daily coffee and a Danish. ”I thought you might need an early pick-me-up,” he whispers bashfully, placing the tray carefully onto the edge of your desk. 

He steps back and watches you from a safe distance. You immediately take your coffee in hand without acknowledging his presence, sipping heavily on your beverage as if it were a tall glass of cold water. 

It was times like this where he just let things be as tried to gauge your mood. He walked like a deer in the wild these days, avoiding stepping on the smallest twig to prevent triggering the coyote's natural predatory instincts.   “Thank you.” You smile toward him briefly, and then you presume to delve into your paperwork-as if last Friday night never happened. As if the new ‘partnership’ you’ve dwelled in, never happened.

Wooyoung notices the brief smile and the attempt to focus back on work, but he can see the fatigue and stress etched on your face. He decides to try a different approach and sits down in the chair across from your desk- leaning back with a deep sigh and folding his arms comfortably. “For our meeting today…I think we should revise before we present.”

You don’t bother to spare him a glance. Instead, you keep stamping, signing, and flipping off papers. “I believe we’ve made those proper revisions days ago. I recall you saying things were pristine.”

His expression hardens slightly to prevent you from seeing the effect you had on him from your stubbornness, but his voice remains calm. “Mrs.Hart. If you wouldn’t mind…I can talk to you easier when your eyes are on me.” He waits until you finally glance up, your eyes meeting his. In contentment, a small grin grows on his face with a minor head tilt of excitement. “If we're going to pull off this deal today, we need to be on the same page.”

You purse your lips as you drop the pen. Your tired eyes flick around the man you’ve been thinking about since he left your apartment. “I thought that’s what we do. We’re the whole book remember? Front cover, and back.”

He unfolds his arms and leans forward as if he were trying to use his cavernous eyes to read the inside of your head. “Well, it doesn’t feel right at the moment. We're also supposed to work as a team, in and out of the boardroom, remember?” 

The Coyote was no longer to be frightened. It heard the snapping twigs a dozen times, and it was hoping that the deer would acknowledge them. It was the only creature other than it in the deep in the ghostly woods. 

“Look, I’ll just say it. Last Friday night was..” Wooyoung pauses. “Hectic… But, it was good, wasn’t it? We were good?” He asks cautiously, unseemingly bothered by the hairs that fall above his doe eyes.

You shake your head yes and sigh. You reach over your desk and grab the remote to shut your blinds, giving your unlabeled pair a sense of privacy. He watches as they fall slowly past the wall's pink shelves, hanging in the air the white marble floor.

Meanwhile, you were halfway out of your seat, his vision was cleared as you pulled the hair from his face. He turns to you, his mouth begins to agape, a ‘thank you’, and an ‘I can’t believe you’ has his tongue-tied.

You tuck in behind his ear, your eyes can only focus solely on the motion. Soon after you sit back down in your chair, flipping mindlessly back through the finished papers. “We’re gonna be good Wooyoung”, you whisper. “This is good, the meeting will be great.” You breathe out heavily and close your eyes for a moment of peace. “I’m not there yet, but I will be.”

Wooyoung rises from his seat and walks behind the desk, onto your side. He gently twirls your chair around and crouches down in front of you. Your eyes squeeze close, he was so intimate, so caring, and too kind. 

“You’re allowed to not be okay all the time, Mrs.Hart. You’re allowed to lean on me.” He looks up at you, his expression serious.

“I don’t want you to do that all the time Wooyoung. You’ll need me to pick up the slack one day.” You open your eyes to your revelation and the next words you are meant to say. “We’re a damn team, and we can’t play solo right now because we’re fearful of our emotions.”

Wooyoung’s expression softens, and he places a hand on your knee. “You’re right, we need to have a plan in place. But for now, let’s just focus on getting through this. You’re my priority right now, and then I’ll face the facts.”

Your eyes soften with trapped tears. You allow yourself to be vulnerable, and then you face the facts. 

Your hand trembles in hesitance, caressing his face for a few moments. He raises his hand slowly, and it covers yours in the perfect amount. His eyes carry the sun within them from the window, and before a tear nearly slips you fully pull away, turning back into your chair. 

“Okay”… you breathe, "Let's work on how we're gonna wow these motherfuckers."

Wooyoung giggles and nods, he stands up and gives your thigh a few taps, walking over back to his chair in victory. "Welcome back Madam CEO! Alright, we’ll go through the presentation one more time. And, I also have a few ideas that might give it that extra edge we need to impress them.”

His charisma makes you eagerly intrigued as you push in your chair. “I think I can help you with that.”

Wooyoung’s tongue says across his lower lip as he is tickled by your duality in attitude. “Sounds like a plan.” Some find it tiring, but it gives them the thrill to run miles. “And uh Mrs.Hart?”, he adds, his tone sincere.

"Yes, Wooyoung?"

"After this deal is done, we'll take some time off, okay? All of us." He gestures wildly between the two of you. "We'll set ground rules or whatever you need to feel comfortable. We're smart people, and we'll figure it out."  …

During the business meeting, you two were more compatible than what occurred in the last week. Ironically, all you needed was each other. All the plans you came up with were fabricated, and so now you decided to go with the flow. A smile and a familiar face prompted your next sentences, all worries dissipated from existence.

As the meeting progresses, Wooyoung finds himself stealing glances at you, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was the ease of your collaboration, the way your minds work in sync, that fills him with a profound sense of rightness.

A round of applause followed after a concluding message. Then after a spring of hands follow with upraised ideas and positive impressions.

With the meeting adjourned, Wooyoung childishly gallops over to you, stopping himself when he was only a couple of inches apart. "We did it," he says softly, leaning in close so that only you can hear. "And we didn't even need all that extra preparation after all. Sometimes, just trusting ourselves and each other is enough."

In a half-decent hug, with the palm of his hand on your back and your fingertips on his shoulders, you pull him near to lean in his ear and whisper, "Let's figure this thing out and get out of here. Just you and me."

He nods against your hair, his voice a low murmur in your ear. "Well, then there’s that thing remember? Let's grab our things and head out then. I know a little place nearby where we can unwind and talk through everything."

Wooyoung is the first to leave the meeting room, and you wait a minute or two to follow him along in the hallway for the ‘thing’.

"Attention, everyone!”, you suddenly shout. All gathering colleagues in cubicles and smart boards outside of the office murmur what could be pressingly hard considering how the nice meeting went. When you and Wooyoung’s partnership was lost, so was everyone else.

To show your reunion, you walk over to Wooyoung and stand alongside him. “I know we're thrilled about our new business endeavors, you've all done such an outstanding job these past couple of months! Wooyoung and I…have given it a lot of thought, and we thought maybe… we could throw another office party.”

Everyone agrees amongst themselves, causing a slight rise in volume before it comes to a quiet again. “But…I decided to tweak it a notch-“

You look at Wooyoung, who picked up on your cue. “To a week-long vacation!" 

The announcement goes over incredibly well, with the office erupting in cheers and applause. Your co-workers are thrilled with the news, and several of them come up to you both afterward to express their gratitude and excitement.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung watches as you walk into a crowd from a distance, his eyes shining with pride and approval. He mouths "Perfect," giving you an approving thumbs up and a warm smile. 

As the excitement dies down and people start to disperse, he makes his sways his way over to you with his hands in his pockets. "That was brilliant," he says, slipping an arm casually around your waist. "A week-long vacation? Are you sure?”

You step aside for a bit of distance so it doesn't arise suspicions amongst wandering eyes. "They've been working nonstop every weekday, and they deserve it. Besides, I need to take my time with you, what can I say?"

Wooyoung eyes soften at your words, recognizing the passing of obstacles between you two. "You're right…they've more than earned it. And I can't argue with the idea of having more time with you." He glances around, then leans in without ceasing to stop at a professional distance.

You completely step aside and begin to walk off fast with the cross over of your heel. “Not so fast”, you mutter. You then walk off and head to your office up the hall. You cross your hands behind your back, curling your four fingers, a secret gesture for him to follow.

Wooyoung, with an eagle's eye, grins mischievously, easily playing along.He lingers in his spot for a moment, feigning interest in a nearby plant before casually making his way to your office. He slips inside, closing the door softly behind him.

"What is it you couldn't say out there, Miss?" Upon entering, Wooyoung finds you caressing the awards of your company’s prizes on the back shelf behind your desk. 

With a click of your hidden hand, the windows begin to shut down. You turn and make your way to where he stands, tapping your long stiletto pink nails on every surface along the way. 

You gesture for him to take a seat in the lounging area with light pink tuxedo sofas, and a reflective glass table in its centerpiece. His eyes never fell from the sharpness of your nails, but he listens accordingly, pulling his tie around to relieve his tightening throat.

"I'll accept your offer.” You push off the wall to stand in front of him, slightly bending to place a palm gently above his beating heart, smirking at the hard palpations. “I want to be your mistress. To use you, and to experience pleasure… I've never felt before."

Wooyoung inhales sharply as your hand rests over his heart, feeling it race beneath your touch. His eyes darken with desire, a low groan escaping his lips. "Madam, uh Mrs. Hart.." He reaches up, gently grasping your wrist. "Are you sure about this?"

You take your free hand and angle his head toward your cunning face by his sharp jaw, tucking in his long stands with your other hand, pressing forward so your lips are by his ear. "Do you have to ask me twice?"

“No”, Wooyoung breathes, turning his head slightly to nuzzle into your palm. "But I need to hear you say it again." His voice is ragged, filled with longing. "Say it again you want to be mine, that you want me to be yours… like that."

"I'm yours…to obey, and you remain mine… to control." Wooyoung's heart skips a beat at the declaration, his entire body trembling with need. You drag your hot pink sharp nails that he adores on his face. His eyes cross adorably as he tracks them along his naturally sharpened jaw. You watch as his blood circulates beneath the surface, and you pepper small, feverish kisses along the area.

He lets out a shuddering sigh, and his eyes flutter closed as he savors the feeling of your nails scratching along his jaw, doubled when you start placing those heated kisses on his burning skin. "Mine… to control. God, Madam…". His hands tighten around your wrist on his chest, and the arm you're using to angle his head.

"Do you like the sound of that, darling?" You look deep into his doe eyes, indenting your nails in his jaw with anticipation.

"I do. So much that it's… intoxicating," Wooyoung whispers, his pupils dilating as he gazes into your eyes. "The thought of you controlling me, it's… please, Madam, touch me… like you did that Friday night. Please…" He trails off, leaning into your touch, his body yearning for more.

A devilish smirk overrides your sultry expression. "Please, please, please…" you mock pathetically, your drag fingers down his veiny neck. "I can't believe you're so desperate for me."

Wooyoung's face flushes with embarrassment, but the desire in his eyes only intensifies. "I can't help it," he admits softly. "You drive me crazy. The way you touch me, the way you talk to me… it's addictive."

You inch toward his lips but pull away teasingly seconds later. "Follow me…" you grab a hold of his tie, pulling him forward. Wooyoung scrambles to the floor and crawls on all fours as he tries to match your pace, the click of your heels and his pattering hands make the loudest noise in the empty space. 

Once you’ve made it back to the desk, you pull out your guest chair, twirling it with one hand, and pulling up his loosened tie with the other. "Sit.”

Wooyoung stumbles slightly as you pull him upward and onto the chair with his eyes locked onto yours. He sits down heavily, his breath hitching in his throat as he waits for your next move. "What do you want me to do now, mistress?"

"Just sit there and look pretty baby. I haven't even made up my mind yet." You tap his shoulder as you walk behind him, pulling out your chair from your desk and pushing it forth right in front of Wooyoung. Sitting in it backward, you spread your legs wide and you slide down in it with your pink vest pantsuit.

You bite the tip of your lengthy nails as you watch him squirm, and your teeth spread into a wicked smile. You tap your heels on the floor with an original rhythm. Wooyoung’s throat bobs with every tap, and his eyes are directed to the heel now and again, which stroke a shocking idea.

The sharpness of your stiletto heel reflects the sunshine when you hold it in the air, and when it falls- it lands on Wooyoung’s shin.

He swallows hard, watching as you bite at your nail, the crimson hue of your lips wrapping around it. He squirms in his seat, his breath coming in short pants as the heel of your shoe grinds against his shin. "Aughhh, Mistress, you’re digging in kind of deep. It hurts."

You’re relentless and just gaze upon him in contemplation-ignoring his pleas. You had used your restlessness night for research studies on this new dynamic you’ve both been secretly craving. Let's just say, your search history is not up to par with your business etiquette. "I hear you honeybun, I just decided what I'm going to do with you."

Wooyoung whimpers, trying to shift in his seat to alleviate some of the pain from your heel grinding against his shin. His breath hitches as you lean forward, the heat of your body wafting over him.

"What…what are you going to do, my Mistress?" Wooyoung asks, his voice trembling with a combination of fear and excitement. He shifts in his seat, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly. The suspense is killing him, but he knows better than to try and rush you.

“Eyes forward." You abruptly stop your heel grinding which brings him great relief. That was until you got up to walk around behind him again.

Wooyoung quickly complies, keeping his eyes fixed forward as instructed. He can hear your footsteps behind him, the clicking of your heels against the floor is making his heart do backflips. His breath catches in his throat as he feels your presence looming over him, and then your hands come to rest on his shoulders, gripping them firmly.

The next thing he knew was his tie being yanked from the collar of his neck, wrinkling his white button-up in the process. His eyes widen as he feels himself nearly choke. He hears the fabric rustle as you wrap it around your hands, and then has his vision suddenly taken from his senses when all he can see is pitch black.

You comb his neck-length hair to be tucked under the silk material, scratching his tender scalp in the process.

He lets out a low moan as you comb his hair back and tuck it under the makeshift blindfold. His body tenses as he feels your nails scraping gently against his scalp, the sensation both pleasing and unnerving. With his sight deprived, the heightening of his other senses makes his toes curl.

"Are you okay kitty?" You suddenly whispered with a small kitten lick of your own to his ear. Wooyoung mewls at the unexpected warmth of your tongue against his ear, the whisper of your voice sending shivers down his spine. He nods instinctively, his hands balling into fists as he tries to process the overwhelming sensations. "Y-yes.”

Your heels click once again like a ticking clock. Your claws grab a hold of Wooyoung's shoulders, spinning him around in fast circles.

When he feels himself uncontrollably turning into three-sixties, he lets out a frightened yelp- his arms flailing out to try and grab onto something for support. The room is like a maze around him, his disorientation amplified by the blindfold.

Then he hears your heels clicking faster as you rush to stop him. Wooyoung’s breath quickens, and you kiss him to calm his nerves.

“You still with me kitty cat?" Wooyoung gasps against your lips, his breath hitching as the dizziness finally subsides. He clings to you for support, his shaking fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arms. "Y-Yes, mistress. I'm still here," he pants, his voice barely a whisper.

You pull his fingers from your flesh, and reposition those same fingers to be placed on his crotch. "Can you give your mistress a show kitty? Can you show me how desperate you are for me?"

Wooyoung inhales sharply as he feels your hands guiding his own to his crotch. His face flushes with embarrassment and arousal under the blindfold. "Mistress, l…I don't know if I can," he stammers, his fingers trembling against the growing bulge in his pants.

"You don't know, if you can obey me? Is that what you're telling me, baby?"

Wooyoung bites his lip, hesitation clear in his voice. "No, mistress. I mean, l, I want to, but… it's embarrassing." His fingers twitch against his crotch, the warmth of his touch through the fabric both shaming and arousing. "Please, mistress. I… I'm not used to touching myself like this. It's… it's shameful." His voice grows quieter, laced with a mix of humiliation and desire.

"Awe you poor kitty. Shameful, you say?" You descend to your knees, rubbing your claws onto the blinded male's firm thighs. “Answer me this: where was your shame when you asked me to be your mistress? To kiss the ground before me? You proposed your body for me to control like the slut you are…and now you want to mention shame?"

His breath hitches as your claws rake gently against his thighs, his legs parting wider in invitation. His face scrunches up under the blindfold, torn between humiliation and need. "Y-You're right, mistress. I… I have no right to feel shame." I'm yours, completely," he stammers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I surrendered everything to you, mistress. My body, my dignity, my shame." 

As he speaks, you begin to undress him, your hands moving slowly and deliberately under his. Once his belt is removed and his tie is unzipped, you pull the band off his boxers away to take in his full package and spit on the head thickly. You watch the bubbly mess cascade down to the base of his shaft, snapping the material back into place causing his cock to bounce against his abdomen. "Show me everything."

The sudden snap of the boxer returning bounces his rigid length and causes him to jerk in his restraints- his balls drawing up tight against his body. "The floor is yours, baby. Prove yourself to me."

Wooyoung takes a deep, shuddering breath, his fingers slowly wrapping around his hard pink flesh. He hesitates for a moment, his face flushed with embarrassment before he begins to slowly stroke himself.

"You're such a good boy kitty”. His head shudders around slowly, he hears your voice in praise all around him. “Surrending yourself to me with control of your submissive mind."

As he strokes himself, Wooyoung's mind falls completely under your control. He becomes a puppet, his thoughts consumed by his obedience to you, and his only desire to please you. His movements grow to become more desperate and frantic as he imagines himself as your perfect, submissive kitty.

You smile with delight, as your deep research played off effectively into reality. ‘How to tame your sub 101; place them in an environment of vulnerability, rules, and trust. Contain them to follow your rules with consensual precedence, and praise them with every obedient action.’

Wooyoung’s breathing grows heavier as he continues to pleasure himself under your watchful gaze. The room is filled with the sound of his desperate pants and the slick sounds of his hand moving on his wet flesh. "Please, mistress… praise me.”

Your research continues: "Praise will become a natural practice if it is positively connoted with reward. Your sub might even desperately ask for it to ensure they are following your command to your standards.'

"You’re doing so well my little kitten. You're so obedient to me my love." Wooyoung's body shudders with relief and pleasure at your praise, his strokes becoming more purposeful and rhythmic. He arches into his touch, craving more of your approval. "Thank you, mistress… I'm trying so hard to be good for you. I want to make you proud."

"You are baby,” you affirm. “I'm so proud of you." You bend over from your desk and raise his shirt to rub onto his abdomen, right above his ministrations. "Can you cum right here for me babe?"

Wooyoung's eyes roll back in his head as your warm hands rub against his stomach, the friction and heat making his orgasm imminent. He nods frantically, his hand moving faster on his cock as he fights to hold back his orgasm until you permit him to release.

You continue to smooth your hand over his belly, specifically on the surrounding areas that tense from his approaching orgasm. Focusing primarily on the bulges in his stomach, you push down heavily to further alleviate the sensations. "Do it, baby. You've been so good. Cum for me."

With a final, desperate cry, Wooyoung's body convulses as he spills over his hand and onto his belly, just as you commanded. His whole body goes lax, hanging limply in the restraints as he catches his breath, basking in the afterglow of his release and your praise.

To quiet his desperate cries, you kiss him passionately. It was like his brain had gone to mush, you figured the blindfold might've even affected his sense of location, given that you were still in the office. "Quiet lovebug. Those pretty cries are only meant for me to hear, okay?"

He whimpers against your mouth, his body shuddering with aftershocks as he nods frantically, silently promising to keep his noises to himself. He nuzzles into your touch, loving the way you silence him and claim his sounds as your own.

Slowly, you separated your touch from his sweaty skin and removed your mouth from his pouting one. You then reach back to grab his blindfold, allowing him to see the mess he made. "Good boy."

Wooyoung’s eyes flutter open, and he blinks in confusion for a moment before his gaze focuses on the mess on his belly and chest. He looks up at you with wide, adoring eyes, his face flushed with embarrassment and happiness. He beams with pride at being called a "good boy" by you.

A similar expression comes onto your face in effect of his own. You reach forward to comb back the wet strands of his hair into a slick back. 

His cock twitches once more from the grace of your nails. You notice immediately, and your eyes shimmer at his release. You scoop it up with your other hand from his abdomen, giving it a taste and fluttering your eyes with satisfaction. You then offer him some using the same finger, waiting for his acceptance. "Don't you wanna know how sweet you taste?"

Wooyoung's eyes widen as he watches you taste him, a shiver of arousal running through his spent body. He eagerly parts his lips, his tongue darting out to lick your offered finger clean.

In awe you inch closer as his mouth takes in your finger whole, mobilizing his hand back and forth as his deep-set eyes entrances you in a spell with his warm mouth, giving you the craziest ideas. You grab him by the strand in the back of his hands and pull him off. After you then walk over to the desk and throw him a pack of wipes. "Clean yourself up, Wooyoung. You made a mess."

His eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of curiosity and lust from your intense stare. He nods obediently, taking the wipes and cleaning himself off thoroughly while you watch.

Your senses come back to you as you hurriedly turn your back and crack open the door to your office in caution of any bystanders. It wasn't your intention to start this so soon. But with Wooyoung being the man he is, you were prompt under temptation.

As Wooyoung finishes cleaning up, he hears the door creak open and feels a cool breeze against his bare skin. He tilts his head, listening intently, and hearing the faint sound of voices outside. He bites his lip, hoping no one has heard his earlier noises. 

Wooyoung looks down at his disheveled appearance - shirt rumpled, hair mussed, a faint sheen of sweat on his skin. He quickly redresses himself, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as he tries to keep his composure.

You turn back to him as you hear his rustling. Wooyoung freezes mid-zip-up as you turn back, his cheeks flushing pink as he realizes how disheveled he must look. He offers you a shy, slightly nervous smile, unsure of what to say after such an intense and unexpected encounter in your office. His heart races, wondering if this changes anything between you.

The hallway wasn't exactly busy after her exciting announcement of a week-long vacation. But there was always someone who wanted to stay behind. "What should we do?"

Wooyoung swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Do? About…?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He's not sure if you're asking about how to proceed with the new relationship, or how to make sure no one finds out about what just happened in your office. Either way, he had not a fucking clue.

You walk over to him tirelessly and sigh, straightening up his appearance for yourself. "We'll get to that later, but first,  we need a way out of here without looking suspicious.”

Wooyoung nods, understanding your unspoken words. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and appear nonchalant. "How about… we just walk out together? Like we were just having a meeting?" He suggests, his voice steadier now. 

"You look like you ran a mile baby”, you giggle. “What kind of meeting would that entail?"

He pouts slightly at your teasing remark. "A… passionate one?" he offers, trying to match your teasing tone. He grins mischievously. "We can say we were discussing… the details of the company retreat, and that we decided to pop off some champagne. The one behind your desk over there."

A lightbulb shined over your head from the idea, you glanced over and grabbed the bottle quickly from the fridge. "I don't have a cork for this thing. I got it as a gift a while back when some money-chasing assholes tried to sway me in a meeting. This is good stuff… otherwise it would've been in the trash."

Wooyoung chuckles softly, walking over to you. "Well, it seems like fate that you kept it then. We can use it as our cover story.”

He stands tall looking handsome as ever, like you were the one sitting in the chair. He takes the bottle from your hands and looks down at the floor, tilting his head in deep inspection. "That's it."

You look down on the floor, looking down and stumbling around like a frantic mess. "What is it? What's that?" 

He looks up at you, a small smile playing on his lips. He carefully places the champagne bottle on the floor, descending to his knees. Your eyes widen at the moment, and he makes dangerous eye contact with you as he caresses your golden stiletto heel. "Your heel, I can pop open the cork with it."

In shock and confused arousal, you look down upon him and instinctively quirk a brow. "Yeah…good thinking."

Wooyoung grins up at you, his hands gently caressing your ankle as he positions the heel of your shoe over the cork of the champagne bottle. With a swift, practiced motion, he pops the cork, sending it flying across the room. You duck in response, and when calm takes over again, you snap out of your trance and smile at him with a nervous laugh. “Holy shit! You did it!”

Wooyoung laughs softly, getting back up to his feet. He picks up the now open bottle of champagne, and takes a swig straight from it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "See? Now we've got our alibi."

Even the simplistic action of him taking a swig out of the bottle made him fondly attractive. "Yeah…but who opens champagne without shaking things up a little?" You then grab the bottle out of his grasp and do the action of shaking things up. You pour the bubbling liquid on his chest and yours the same. A bit sprinkles on the floor for the added effect of "the mess" you've made.

As the cold, fizzy liquid hits his skin he inhales sharply. His soaking shirt gave an appealing view of his erect nipples and muscles. He looks at you, eyes wide with surprise, but laughter erupts suddenly in his throat. "Well, now we've really got to sell this."

You nod, drinking the remaining bits, then jerk your head up to indicate for Wooyoung to tilt his backward. You provide him a nice pour as your hand supports his jaw. "We just stole on a major renovation of our business. We can do anything."

Wooyoung swallows the remnants deliciously. Some of it spills down the sides of his face, onto his neck, and down his chest, mingling with the earlier pours. He swallows convulsively, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Let's get the hell out of here."

The two of you giggle out of the room as if you were on your way to a honeymoon getaway. But honestly, that's what it felt like.

Wooyoung leads the way out of the office, champagne dripping from his clothes and pooling on the floor behind you. As you both reach the elevator, he presses the button and turns to you, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Suddenly, the doors open once again, and Jeong Yunho, your second-longest colleague after Mark, follows in. "Mrs. Hart and Mr. Jung! It looks like you two had some early celebrations amongst yourselves."

Wooyoung grin widens, and he drapes an arm casually around your shoulders. "You could say that. We just sealed the deal on the new renovation project. A job well done deserves a little…celebration, don't you think?"

Wooyoung elbow budges into your side. You begin to curse him but the language in his eyes begs you to follow along. "Yeah Mr.Jeong, how about you get a taste! You work so hard, and it wouldn't hurt for you to let loose. You hadn't shown up at the office party last term!"

Wooyoung nods approvingly, he looks at the subordinate with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, since you put it that way…", Mr.Jeong trails off. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small gray flask from his cross body. "I always keep a little something extra for special occasions."

The both of you laugh hard in surprise. "Did you prepare that beforehand?”, you yelp. "That's so out of character for you!"

Wooyoung winks at you conspiratorially. "A good businessman always comes prepared. You never know when you might need to grease the wheels of negotiation… or in this case, loosen up a hardworking subordinate." Mr.Jeong raises his flask in the air saluting a cheers toward Wooyoung before swallowing a bit of his own.

The elevator dings to the main lobby, and you all step off into the cooling fresh air. "Well, I hope to see you at the next party then, and bring that fun energy with you too okay?!"

Mr.Jeong takes another swig from the flask, coughs slightly, and nods enthusiastically. "Definitely, Mrs.Hart- and Mr. Jung, thanks for the, uh, motivation!" Wooyoung claps him on the back and waves goodbye as he scurries off.

“Anytime, just don’t start your vacation behind bars man. Enjoy!” The two of you snicker as you watch him hurriedly place the flask back into his bag. Once the coast is clear, you scurry towards your cars as quickly as you could be. 

"I guess that wasn't so bad”, you mutter with a shrug. Wooyoung holds his passenger door open for you, his eyes twinkling with mischief and a hint of something deeper. "Not bad at all”, he confirms. “I'd say that was a rather… stimulating start to our getaway."

You turn to him outside and purse your lips in disbelief, playfully smacking him in his wet chest. "That's not what I meant at all!”

Wooyoung catches your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it gently. He pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Oh, I know. But it's what I meant… And besides, you're the one who poured champagne all over us."

You yank your wrist into your lap, and he closes the door swiftly before settling into his seat. You squeeze into his cheek when he gets adjusted with your thumb giving him a little prick. "Well, it got us through, no?"

Wooyoung slyly turns his head before you can catch on, he captures your thumb between his teeth, gently biting down before releasing it. "Mmm, it certainly did. But now, I think it's time for some…deep cleaning." 

…

Wooyoung guides you into the luxurious bathroom of his private villa by the beach, the soft glow of recessed lighting through the windows casts a warm, inviting ambiance in the evening. 

He turns on the shower, and steam begins to fill the room. In no time flat, he starts to unbutton your vest top, his fingers brushing against your skin gently. "Arms up."

You allow him to make the calls, and your boobs fall into their natural place. You'd been in pain from the bra wire in the car while saying, "Something’s poking me". Wooyoung wouldn't let you strip it off, with the other hand on the wheel he held over your boobs shouting, "Hey, I'm supposed to be undressing you!”

Wooyoung smiles widely, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he takes off his suit jacket and tosses it aside. “I think I need a little assistance with my tie." He looks up at you expectantly, his hands reaching for the knot.

There wasn't a problem at all. The only problem was that you ended that segment too quickly before the private champagne party. The specific moment where you were yanking the same tie clean off his neck and robbing him blind. "You want it the rough way baby?", you tease.

Woo's grin widens, and he nods eagerly. "You know what I want."

You quickly jerk his neck causing him to step a few feet forward. He grabs your hips for stability in precaution, but it fascinated him that you could do it quicker than any working man he knew.

"You asked for it kitty."

Wooyoung's eyes sparkle with excitement as he watches you effortlessly rip his tie off. He lets out a small gasp as he stumbles forward, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep himself steady. "Me-ow", he says seductively.

The power to not be tantalized by his sassiness was something to adjust to. You hurriedly pop open the buttons to his shirt with triple speed, throwing it over his shoulders. His eyes followed behind it until he felt a tug being worked on his lower half. 

What you found strip by strip was more and more veiny. You undress him completely, working on taking off your lengthy pants along with your underwear. "Shower, now."

Wooyoung quickly leads you both into the spacious, glass-enclosed shower. The warm water cascades over your body as he pulls you close, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. "You're absolutely stunning," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Hadn't you taken a look in that mirror?" You seductively imply, also hinting at his wonderfully stunning body. He did not have the body of a businessman man with a poached belly and loose muscle. He was desirably for you, the exact opposite. You reach up to gently scratch his back with your nails, your ghost of breath of the shell of his ears.

Wooyoung mewls softly in response, his arms tightening around you possessively. "I wasn't talking about me," he says huskily as he turns into your neck, twisting his tongue in long circles down your body.

"Woo…” you try to warn, but the feeling is all too good for unnecessary punishment. "What are you doing baby?", you mutter softly under the calming waters- watching as his body descends along with his tongue.

Wooyoung ignores your warning, his mouth continuing its descent until he's kneeling at your feet. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, his hands spreading your legs further apart. "I'm just cleaning you like a good kitty my mistress," he says, his voice muffled against your skin.

Your hands immediately enthrall the slippery wet strands of Wooyoung’s hair. The density of the water gave you a firmer grip as an advantage. "You'll do just that and only that kitty. You're already crossing the line by making decisions.”

Wooyoung purrs mischievously against your flesh, his hands gripping into your bottom to keep you in place. His tongue slowly glides up your center, parting your folds gently. "As you wish, mistress. Just cleaning." His mouth immediately finds your inner center, and he begins to lavish attention on you with his tongue, just as he promised.

A moan shakes out from your bones as you hike your leg on his shoulder like a pedestal. This way you figured out he wanted to be a brat, you’ll have to remind him who's the decision-maker later on.

Wooyoung hums appreciatively as you hike your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper as he savors your taste. One hand slides around to tease your entrance, a single finger circling the rim teasingly.

Your eyes furrow in pleasure. There was no kidding when Wooyoung said the words, "Use all of me for your pleasure in ways you've never experienced before.’ With no insertions, he already had your body and mind convulsing “Kitty.."

Wooyoung looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with pride and satisfaction as he watches you shake and tremble. Woo murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his finger finally pressing inside as he continues to lap at your clit. He curls his finger, rubbing against that magical spot inside as he sucks hard on your clit, his protruding nose pressing perfectly against your folds.

You catch a glimpse of his smile through your hooded lids that Wooyoung thought were completely closed. To his surprise, you jerk him forward with your hovered leg on his shoulder. "Eat up you little brat, you don't get to tease."

Wooyoung is pulled forward, his face buried between your legs as he's forced to devour you. He gags as your legs clamp around his head, his nose buried in your pussy. He sucks and laps at your folds desperately, trying to breathe through his mouth as he eats you out with reckless abandon.

Your grip on his head grows firmer as your pointy nails are nearly embedded in his scalp. You swivel his head around despite his struggles for a deeper feel. "Good fucking kitty”, you moan.

Wooyoung mewls pitifully against you as you force his head to swivel, his tongue lapping desperately wherever you direct him. His claws dig into your bottom, leaving small half-moon indentations in your flesh as he tries to hang on.

With little time, you grow wary of Wooyoung’s upkeep of lapping his tongue. You tried to make him slip up and test him as punishment, but you were failing your test as you jerked forward and grew weaker from the tension in your abdomen.

Wooyoung feels your body tensing, your grip on his hair tightening painfully. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue thrusting in and out of you as his finger continues to work its magic. He nips gently at your swollen folds, soothing the slight sting with a long, slow lick.

As if it were a hit-and-run, you jerk forward completely with a loud gasp from his unanticipated capabilities. That strong jaw wasn't just good for smart talk.

Wooyoung feels your body shudder and convulse around his invading tongue and finger. He moans in triumph against you, the vibrations only intensifying your pleasure. He continues to lap and suckle gently as you ride out your high, coaxing out every last drop of your release.

You breathe deeply and tilt your head back from the intense orgasm. As you tilt your head in its previous place, you make eye contact with the man below and yank him upward with the hand you never let leave his scalp.

Wooyoung staggers back, his face glistening with your essence and his long wet strands as he gasps for breath. "You taste even better than I imagined mistress."

You huff with a scowl and grip his jaw, releasing it seconds after to smack him for pretending not to have been so disorderly. "And now you'll get a taste of what I have for you for being a pest."

Wooyoung pouts dramatically, rubbing his reddened cheek. "But… I only wanted to make you feel good…" He trails off, his eyes darting in between yours as he effectively evaporates the madness. He swallows hard, his voice barely a whisper. "Please…"

"Stop using that mouth of yours, and listen to me." You coldly demand.

Wooyoung shifts his feet, his heart racing as he stands before you. He keeps his gaze lowered in guilt of his previous transgression. He stands at attention, waiting for his punishment to be inflicted. 

"Why should you show shame now from how far you've come?" You snap, bearing daggers in his face. "Eyes on me."

Wooyoung’s eyes slowly lift to meet yours, a flicker of defiance sparking in their depths before he remembers his place. "I.."

Another slap sounds through the space. As Wooyoung's head turns sideways, but you bring it forward again. “I knew what you did, I didn't dumb down from an orgasm, not like how will kitty."

Wooyoung’s head snaps back from the slap, his eyes widening in arousal and pain. He struggles to keep his gaze locked on yours, but it's clear he's fighting a losing battle. His eyes start to water as he tries to maintain eye contact, his face burning with shame.

"Clean yourself quickly, and go out to lie on the bed, 'll be out not long after, and DONT put any clothes on whatsoever, understood?"

Woo nods jerkily, his voice mute to any sound. He turns around, wiping his face with his wrinkled fingers washing his body as you watch behind him.

Not long after Wooyoung walks out with only a towel around his waist.  …

You take your shower and come out lotioned up with lingerie and bondage you retrieved from the adult shop hidden in your purse. It was a leather neon pink number paired with a waist belt, and (‘X’) marks the spot boob tape. What caught Wooyoung’s attention most was the matching color leather whip in your hold, along with a thick twist of rope.

“What's your safe word?" You ask quizzically as he lies as directed upon the bed, the leather tapping with rhythm on your bare hand while the rope dangles on your wrist.

Wooyoung swallows hard, his voice trembling slightly as he replies, "M-my safe word is… orchid, mistress." He looks at the leather, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Is that for me?"

"Orchid?" you inquire, "and when did you come up with that?" You stop at the edge of the bed and place your whip purposely near him, knowing it would get him riled up.

Wooyoung’s face flushes, and he looks away, fidgeting with the towel around his waist. "I… I came up with it a few days ago, mistress. I was thinking about it a lot, and it reminded me of you and… parts of you."

"Awe…how thoughtful!" You falsely stated in surprise. You pull your hands down and smooth your pink claws over the fiery pink hot lingerie. "Can you guess my favorite color baby?"

"Pink…" Wooyoung answers confidently, his eyes glued to your lingerie. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he takes in your appearance, his body tensing as he tries to rein in his growing arousal.

"Good! And one of the colors of an orchid is…" You trail off waiting for his pending answer.

Wooyoung's eyes widen as realization dawns on him. "Pink…" he breathes out, his voice filled with awe and a hint of nervousness. "The color of an orchid is pink, mistress. Just like your favorite color…"

You smile charmingly at his attention to detail, climbing onto the bed near his lean body. You unfold the towel, opening the layers on his right and left sides. With a pleased expression, your eyes rein over him for the third time in a day. "SSC… do you know what that means?"

Wooyoung inhales sharply as your body presses against his, the cool fabric of your lingerie a stark contrast to his heated skin. He nods, his voice strained. "Yes, mistress… SSC means Safe, Sane, and Consensual. It's a key principle in… in this kind of play."

You nod in approval. "Would you say it feels safe, sane, and consensual if we proceed with this, Kitty cat?" You uphold the whip, presenting it along his skin to show your further intentions.

Wooyoung's eyes widen as he sees the rope, his breath catching in his throat. He looks up at you, his gaze flickering between your face and the whip as he makes the connection. After a moment, he nods slowly, his voice steady despite the tremor of excitement running through him. "I trust you, mistress."

With his approval, you proceeded to bond his hands in a killer knot as you pushed them over his head. With the whip in hand, you strike it in the air as a test, and it proves functional as it cracks above the crashing waves outdoors. "Baby, baby, baby. Look at where a potty mouth ended up placing you. Tell me, was it worth it?"

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of trepidation and anticipation as you stalk over him. "That wasn't rhetorical, darling. I need you to give me an answer."

Wooyoung swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He looks up at you, his voice shaking slightly as he responds. "Yes, mistress… it was worth it. Every curse, every argument, every moment of defiance was worth it just to end up here, tied on this bed, and at your mercy."

"Huh." You scoff, both aroused and annoyed by his pride in disobedience. "How. Fucking. Pathetic." You throw the whip over his abdomen, causing a crackle to echo through the space.

Wooyoung hisses in a sharp breath as the whip cracks against his skin, his abs contracting from the sudden impact. He bites his lower lip to muffle a moan, his hips bucking slightly as the pain morphs into pleasure.

You go back to tracing over his now reddened skin, never taking your eyes off your prey as if it was always your destiny. "Another question:  Have you ever thought about this very moment before the night we kissed, in a meeting, or the night you took me home drunk…in my office?"

Wooyoung’s breathing grows heavier as even the lightest traces on his skin burn so good. He nods jerkily, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back open to maintain eye contact with you. "Yes, mistress… I've thought about it. A lot." He hesitates before continuing. "…Especially in your office. The power dynamic, the way you commanded me, the way you looked in your suits… it used to fuel many of my… fantasies." He trails off, blushing deeply at the admission.

You bite your lips just thinking about those moments over the past few months, just wishing you could've known then to feel this thrill sooner. "So let me ask you this. How long have you transpired in this fantasy before you met me?"

Wooyoung traces down your body above him. His eyes flick down to your hips where your fingers toy absently with the end of the whip. He lets out a slow breath. "Years, mistress. I've had these tendencies for years. But the fantasies of you… were the first to come to life."

Wooyoung pauses, his eyes locked onto yours. "Since the first time I saw you across the boardroom table”, he grins at the memory in thought, “I left that meeting with a new… obsession."

It’s not something you mention with words, but to be his first to control him like this turned you on.  You lower yourself to straddle over his crotch, trailing the whip over his nipples to heighten his arousal. "I never knew until you walked into my office that I desired such a man who could simply just be obedient. But then you were funny, and you livened up the room so well that made the office breathable. I smiled for the first time without presentation.”

Wooyoung feels antsy with your heat over his reaction, the whip strings trace over his nipples, and your admiration for his character. His body arches into your gentle caress and he spills out a shivering moan. "Thank you, mistress…"

Just in the moment when his eyes closed momentarily in bliss, your face contorted into a wicked grin throwing the whip up high to land onto Wooyoung’s relaxed chest. "I want you, and now you're making me weak. Just like you…"

Wooyoung gasps sharply as the whip snaps against his chest, his body jerking slightly at the sudden impact. His eyes, which had grown soft with emotion, snap back into focus, dilating with renewed arousal and submission. "Mistress…" he breathes, voice husky. "I never meant to make you weak."

"And you never could darling. So the stunt you pulled off in the shower? This will be the result of your disobedience, each, and every time." Your smiles wavers in and out of seriousness. In honesty, you’re truly happy to experience this with him, and the trust of power he gave to you to use at your will.

Wooyoung shivers at your words, his body tensing in anticipation. "Yes, mistress," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

You whip him once more, staggering him by surprise. "Again."

He grunts at the sudden impact, his back arching off the bed. "I understand.” He grits his teeth, bracing himself for the next strike, his arms tightening around the bedposts as his whole body tenses in anticipation.

You whip him once more, heartless and unnerving. "Again!"

Woo's cry turns into a broken, guttural moan as the whip bites into his flesh once more. His body convulses, pulling taut against the restraints, his breathing erratic and shallow. Tears of pain and overwhelm prick at the corners of his eyes as he struggles to keep his voice steady. "I understand, mistress!"

At last, you’re satisfied, and the whip is thrown to the far side of the room. You lift yourself from the meat of his thighs, reaching under the mattress for the body oil you hid when you came in on arrival. "I don't recall you putting any lotion on when you got out of the shower. But you were just following orders, huh pretty boy?"

Wooyoung’s head lolls to the side, his chest heaving as he tries to regain his breath. "Y-yes, mistress… I-I was only following orders…"He trails off, his voice hitching as you settle onto his thighs and begin to drizzle cool oil onto his heated skin.

Your hand smooths over his new wound and other plain parts of his bare body in a deep tissue massage. "That's okay baby, you’re managing well kitty.”

Wooyoung moans softly as your hands begin to work into his muscles, the oil-slicked touch soothing the hurt and heightening his sensitivity. "Th-thank you, mistress…" His head rolls back, eyes fluttering closed as he revels in the sensation of your touch.

You cease your touch when he begins to relax, booping his nose with a smidge of oil. "You're getting comfortable…."

His eyes snap open at the sudden touch to his nose, a startled "Mistress!" escaping his lips. He tenses, suddenly hyper-aware again, his body coiled with tension and need. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Tututututututu." You click your tongue in disapproval, placing an oil-lubed finger on his lips. "Uh uh." You encircle his lips with the oil and circle back to the starting place in the middle. "Words can't save you now."

He whines softly around it, trying to speak but unable to with his mouth occupied. He struggles against his restraints, his body thrashing lightly as he realizes he's in for something else. "Mistress, please…", he mutters.

"No thank you."  One of your hands grips the base of his bare cock, while the other tortuously rubs the cockhead. Wooyoung's back arches, his hips bucking against the restraints as your hands begin their tormenting dance.

Tears well up in his eyes as he becomes overwrought with sensation. His shiny lips smooth together from the outburst."M-Mistress… "Mmmph!" Your eyes close as you intake his moans- continuing your crazy work regardless of his cries.

The weakening man’s moans rise in pitch and volume as you continue your relentless stimulation. His cock throbs and twitches in your grip, the oil allowing your hands to glide slickly along his shaft. "Mmmnnngggg!"

Wooyoung’s pleas turn into a wordless, desperate whine as your touch becomes more insistent. Your hands stop they play when you ride out your clothed pussy on his pulsing red cock. His body tenses, his muscles standing out in sharp relief as he fights against the restraints. The male gives up, he realizes words can never get him far when he wants his way.

You sigh in contentment, feeling in your breasts as you ride him crazily with no fixed pace. "Muuuuch better baby… come for me"

His body tenses and quivers as the clogged oil in his pores mixes in his release, causing it to glisten beautifully on your body, his body, and the sheets under the soft lighting. Wooyoung back bows off the bed, his body convulsing as he lets out a muffled, wordless cry of release.

You slow your ride to adore the mess under you, licking the white ropes of cum that fell perfectly on your breast. You moan and tilt your head back as your orgasm approaches, chuckling proudly at your accomplishments.

…

Wooyoung's arms fall limply to his sides as the restraints are loosened, His body still trembling with residual pleasure. He winces slightly as the circulation returns to his wrists, and your soothing touch eases the discomfort.

To comfort him further, you pull him near to your breasts to cuddle him as a little spoon. You and Wooyoung both were spent in the characters that you play so well. “Are you feeling okay?", you worriedly question.

He cuddles into your embrace, his body melting against yours as he purrs softly. "Yes, Mistress… I'm okay. "But, that was-

You kissed his shoulder and looked down sympathetically in your limited understanding. "Quite intense…l know."

"Intense doesn't even begin to cover it," Wooyoung murmurs, his eyes drifting shut as he snuggles closer to you. "It was perfect. Just how I needed it." He sighs contentedly, feeling safe and cherished in his mistress's arms.

In adornment, you pepper him with kisses. You pull the towel from under him and pat off the excess oil. "You did so well baby. Thank you for pulling through."

"For you, Mistress… anything." He brings a hand to cup your cheeks, smiling at you with a mole that is marked beautifully on his lower lip. "I'm… I'm so tired now…" His voice trails off sleepily, his hand falling back to his side.

You giggle and throw the rope aside for the man to properly lie his sleepy head. "I'm going to clean us up, I'll be right back."

Wooyoung mumbles something unintelligible in response, already halfway asleep as you shift up from behind him.

After cleaning yourself as best you could, too lazy to strip from the intimate material. You come back out to thoroughly cleanse the man before you as you apply a lukewarm rag against his ab ridden core. You even went to the lengths to apply a cooling cream and bandage to his whippings. Although you did all the work, Wooyoung was the one who endured it all even after the play.

Wooyoung remains oblivious to the gentle care you’re providing, his half-asleep state rendering him only softly whimpering from cooling cream and bandages being applied to his battered torso. He simply lies there, his chest rising and falling steadily as he sleeps, his face peaceful despite the marks and bruises adorning his skin.

You set aside the products to be put up when morning comes. Only he mattered now to hold all of your attention.

…

The first rays of sunlight peek through the curtains, gently rousing Wooyoung from his deep slumber. He blinks slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips as he stretches, his muscles protesting slightly from last night's intense activities.

You stir beside him, your arms tightening instinctively around his waist. With a joyous grin, he turns in the embrace- his eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with warmth and adoration.

"Good morning, my orchid," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

You smile softly, your eyes fluttering open to gaze at your desire. You return his morning greeting, your voice contrarily soft in raspiness as you whisper, "Good morning, Wooyoung." Like a mother to her kin, you burrow closer to him, nuzzling your face against his chest as you listen to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

The peaceful morning sunlight streams through the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the lavish interior. The beachfront property boasts a stunning view of the crystal-clear waters and soft, golden sands. A gentle breeze carries the sweet scent of tropical flowers, filling the air with a sense of tranquility.

Wooyoung and you take their time waking up, wrapped in each other's embrace as you enjoy the quiet intimacy. He eventually breaks the silence, "I've been thinking… today could be a good day for us to explore the island together." 

You nod in agreement, your arms tightening around Wooyoung's waist. "That sounds perfect," you murmur, sleepiness still evident in your tone. "We can take our time with just the two of us, and make the most of our vacation."

Wooyoung leans in to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss, pouring all his affection into it. When you finally break apart, you both are left breathless. "Mhmm, let's start the day properly." He whispers.

"Oh don't pretend you didn't initiate it!" You cross your arms, exaggerating the motion for emphasis. 

Wooyoung chuckles softly at your teasing reply. "Guilty as charged," he admits, grinning. "But you know you love it when I'm bad, my orchid." He winks.

You throw a pillow at his head, missing intentionally. “You're so infuriatingly good at being bad, you know?"

Wooyoung's grin widens mischievously. "Well, it's all part of the package, darling. You wouldn't have me any other way, would you?"

You sit up on your elbows and pinch the puffiness in his morning cheeks. “And you're so…annoyingly irresistible."

Wooyoung lets out a playful oof as you pinch his cheeks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs. "Irresistible, huh? I'll take that as a compliment," He reaches up to gently brush your fingers away, his thumb tracing small circles on your hand.

"You completely ignored the annoying part." You laugh softly, unconsciously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, your body language unguarded and at ease.

Wooyoung feigns innocence, his expression mockingly shocked. "Me? Annoying? Never! Besides, I thought you liked me just the way I am - annoying quirks and all."

"Well there’s the concepts of time and place," you sigh, leaning back against the pillows, your hands resting on your stomach as you gaze up at Wooyoung, a hint of exasperation in your expression. "Not in all those times and places can you be tolerated."

Wooyoung's eyes sparkle with mirth as he remembers last night's special occasion. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, boss lady. You didn't just tolerate my annoying quirks last night, you embraced them wholeheartedly." Wootcha!, he exclaims, imitating the sounds of the cracking whip.

As Wooyoung continues to mockingly imitate his annoying habits, you roll your eyes heavenward, seeking divine intervention to tolerate his antics just a little longer. He notices your eye-roll and grins mischievously, "Aha! You can't deny it now!"

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

A/N: I just realized, this is my first ever fan-fiction where an ATEEZ member fully role plays in a submissive role…How am I doing so far? I’m so curious 😭 🎀.

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.

©️1117feverlessdreams, 2025

THANK YOU FOR READING TO THE END.

As always,

Much love

xoxo

[beestriker015]

Cassandra Cain x male vigilante s/o

S/o and Cassandra first met on a rainy night in Gotham when she spotted him confronting a group of thugs who broke into a jewelry store during one of her patrols.

Reading s/o’s body movement, Cassandra could tell he had no intentions of killing the criminals, so she just watched quietly as he took them out effortlessly one by one.

After taking out the thugs, s/o locks eyes with Cassandra as police sirens are heard in the distance.

No words are exchanged between the two as s/o leaves the scene, Cassandra deciding to get some information about him from Oracle later on due to her curiosity.

“I did some research on that guy you saw, his name is s/o, a relatively new hero that’s been making things a lot easier for Gotham’s police by dealing with the increase of crime that’s been happening lately. Why are you so curious about him anyway Cass?”

“Don’t know.”

She says simply, which the previous Batgirl doesn’t question.

After their initial meeting, s/o and Cassandra had run ins with each other quite often since then, the two even working together on several occasions.

During their latest encounter, s/o speaks to her for the first time.

“Judging by your costume, you must work with Batman right?”

She simply nods as he smiles.

“Thought so. He’s the best hero this city has, despite what some talking heads on tv might say. I’ve seen you in action Batgirl, and you’re pretty damn awesome.”

Cassandra blushes slightly from s/o’s words, not that he can tell because of her mask.

“Well, I look forward to seeing you again.”

S/o goes to leave but Cassandra grabs his hand and does her best to speak.

“No! Come.”

Understanding what she means, s/o follows her as she brings him to Batman, causing him to get a bit starstruck upon meeting the Dark Knight.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you for quite a while s/o. I want you and Batgirl to be partners.

He says, shocking the two adolescent vigilantes.

“Really?! I’ve never worked with anyone before, but I guess I wouldn’t mind that, how about you Batgirl?”

She gives a curt nod, hiding her excitement extremely well.

“Good. I think you both will work well together.”

What the two don’t know is that this whole thing was Oracle’s idea because she knew Cassandra has a crush on s/o.

Now officially partners, s/o and Cassandra began developing a close bond, even leading to her showing him her face for the first time.

“W-wow, you’re so…beautiful.”

S/o says with a blush, causing his partner’s face to heat up as well.

“T-that…nice.”

She says as the two awkwardly turn away from each other before resuming the task that Batman gave them.

Very shortly after becoming partners, the two quickly formed a friendship and do things outside of crime fighting, including watching movies, practicing martial arts, and just doing regular teenager things.

S/o even helped Oracle with teaching Cassandra how to speak verbally while being incredibly understanding and patient with her, causing the girl’s crush on him to grow even more.

In return, Cassandra does her best to try teaching s/o how to read people’s movements like she does, the key word there being ‘try’, but s/o manages to learn at least a few things nonetheless.

Not wanting Cassandra to be deprived of a normal teenage life, Oracle convinced her to tell s/o how she feels about him.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, I can tell he feels the same way about you Cassie, so don’t worry and just confess.”

Trusting her friend’s judgment, she tells s/o her feelings while on patrol with him.

“Hey.”

She mutters, catching s/o’s attention.

“What’s up Cass?”

Trying to formulate the right words to say, Cassandra looks at her crush before eventually speaking.

“S/o. L-love you.”

She tells him while making a heart shape with her hands to help s/o fully understand what she’s trying to express, which he thankfully does and proceeds to give her a warm smile.

“Cassie, I love you too, and I have for a while now.”

Overcome with happiness, she pulls him into a deep kiss, thus marking the beginning of her and s/o being a couple.

Now dating, not much has honestly changed between Cassandra and s/o, since they were already extremely close.

The only difference might be they’re both much more affectionate with each other.

Cassandra is incredibly touch starved due to her past, but luckily she has a boyfriend who will give her all the hugs, kisses, and words of affirmation that she deserves.

As a crime fighting duo, s/o and Cassandra will always have their lover’s back and won’t allow anyone to lay a hand on the other.

Upon learning about what Cassandra’s father David Cain put her through, s/o developed a seething hatred of the assassin.

“That evil bastard! I swear I have half a mind to hunt him down and-”

“No. Please.”

Cassandra looks at her boyfriend with pleading eyes.

“What?! But why?”

“He’ll kill you.”

She gently grabs s/o’s hands and shakes her head.

“If I lost you, life….lose meaning. Love you so….so much s/o”

She says while struggling to get the words out, causing s/o to calm down as he feels really touched by his girlfriend’s words.

“I love you too my beautiful bat, and as cheesy as it may sound, my life would be meaningless without you in it too.”

The two embrace, unaware Batman was listening in on them with an ever so small smile on his face.

While jealousy is pretty much nonexistent for s/o because he knows his girlfriend would never cheat due to her fierce loyalty to her loved ones, the same can’t be said for her.

Not that Cassandra doesn’t trust s/o, it’s just that she worries he might leave her one day for a girl he can actually have a conversation with, though s/o always tries to ease his girlfriend’s fears every time she gets jealous.

“Cass, there is no one I want to be with other than you. I love you for who you are, and that’s never going to change.”

Despite this, s/o can’t help but find it adorable whenever a girl approaches him and his girlfriend just hugs him tightly while uttering a single word.

“Mine.”

Cassandra’s best friend is Spoiler, who is the biggest supporter of her and s/o’s relationship.

“You too are so cute together! I wish I had a boyfriend like s/o. This may be a little out of left field, but would you mind sharing him with me Cass?”

She teases and jokes as the two’s faces turn beat red, causing her to laugh even more.

“Hah! I’m just messing with you guys! Seriously though, you make a great couple!”

“Thanks/thank you Stephanie.”

Both teens say to her with crimson blushes still present on their faces.

In the event s/o ever got hurt while fighting a villain, not even Batman can stop her from beating them to the point of near death.

“Batgirl! Stop!”

She does so just a moment away from delivering the killing blow, much to her shock and horror.

“N-no…”

Tears flow from her eyes as s/o embraces her and comforts her despite his injuries.

“Shh. It’s ok. You didn’t mean to go this far. You didn’t kill them, and that’s what’s important.”

Once the situation is dealt with, Cassandra just wraps her arms around her boyfriend and embraces him tightly, feeling blessed to have someone like s/o in her life.

During the period of time when Cassandra turned evil due to Deathstroke, s/o felt his heart shatter knowing the girl he loved was now a villain, but once she came back to her senses, he wasted no time forgiving his girlfriend, even when others aren’t quite so willing to welcome her back with open arms.

“I don’t care what the others say! I missed you so much Cass, and I’m glad I can hold you in my arms again!”

He tells her while hugging her tightly, even though she feels ashamed and disgusted at her actions during her time as a villain.

Later on when Cassandra leaves Gotham for Hong Kong and becomes the heroine Black Bat, s/o fully supports her decision and goes with her, much to his girlfriend’s appreciation.

“Thank you s/o.”

“Hmm? For what Cass?”

Sticking by me, even if it meant leaving your home.”

“You’re welcome. Home is where the heart is after all, and you should know by now my heart belongs with you. I love you so much Cass.”

She smiles and kisses him softly on the lips.

“I love you too s/o.”

Despite the struggles and challenges in her life, Cassandra knows that no matter what, her beloved vigilante s/o will always be there for her.

[rwrbficrecs]

i’d take the bomb in your head and disarm it by @henrysfox (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry are students at NYU who randomly become dorm roommates. After a few short weeks of mutual dislike their friendship starts to grow - and could it actually be more ...?! At the end of the story, I was baffled that the two of them could be so completely clueless the whole time?! Then again, who am I to judge when someone settles for half-baked assumptions instead of just mustering up the courage and trying to have an honest conversation?! 😇 The story is so gentle, so angsty and Alex is just so vulnerable and soft - just beautiful and moving!

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by @alasse9 (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Five moments between Alex and Henry, starting with the visit to Alex's childhood home in Texas after Ellen's election victory, a vulnerable moment in the Brownstone, a vacation in Mexico City... This story isn't even close to 10,000 words, but it's so unbelievably powerful - I am still blown away! The author manages to hit on so many interpersonal aspects and delicate vibrations, to formulate soft, tender feelings and thoughts and describes Alex and Henry both so damn considerate and soulful - the author nailed it (imho), it's almost impossible to grasp!

Shatter Me by @historicallysam (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry and Alex are still Prince and First Son, some is canon, a lot slightly modified, but: Alex is out, Henry is not. He isn't even sure if he's gay or if he ever wants to acknowledge it - until he meets Alex and falls head over heels. The catch, on top of the homophobic Queen: Henry is engaged, his fiancée lovely, amazing even, and the wedding date is about to be set. How the author weaves together the familiar events and plotlines and their own ideas is brilliant! Not gonna lie: It was (to me) oppressive at times, really angsty - but also highly gripping!

The Consequences (of our Actions) (series) by @anchoredarchangel (book-verse)

@celeritas2997: Alex is just a Regular Guy who just happened to put Prince Henry on his 'No Consequences Sex List' and proceeds to tell him about this when they meet. Lots of sex (like, ridiculously hot sex) and feelings (SO MANY FEELINGS) ensue. I am convinced that Anchor is magic and will continue shouting about this series from the rooftops until the end of days; it is clever, sexy, funny, beautifully written and so, so, so heartfelt. ❤️

@heybuddy-drabbles: I started this when it first started and thought it was just some fun little pwp canon divergence. When I picked it up again, it was a hell of a series. I loved every last bit of it. It goes way into the whole "If cake gate didn't happen, Alex would have made himself a problem for Henry anyway" and he does in the most glorious way. I can't talk enough about HENRY in this though. It's mostly on Alex POV except the extra chapter but I'm OBSESSED WITH HENRY. How he's older. How he does things for himself like running the shelters with Pez even before he meets Alex. Anyway I could talk about Henry in this series for days but that's not why we are here for. Just, do yourself a favor and just read this.

5 Times Henry Hated New Year's + 1 Time He Didn't by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is such an emotional rollercoaster, but it's worth every gut-wrenching twist! It delves into each of the six parts so well that you feel like you're experiencing each of Henry's life experiences with him.

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you by @gayrootvegetable (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is the cutest combination of a high school AU and soulmate AU! This fic is short but so very sweet!

if you have a garden and a library... by @glasshouses-and-stones (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is so cute! It's not technically a Cinderella AU, but it has those vibes, and the author does a great job with the setting. Another fic that's short but so sweet!

It takes a lot to know a man by dazedandconfused (book/movie-verse)

@inexplicablymine: when I tell you to mind the trigger warnings that is true, but I can also say my GOD is this fic fantastic the writing is superb and the pacing is right on and the plot is so intricately woven I am elated to recommend it everywhere I can. Talk about an in depth suspense thriller mixed with that sex club dom/sub trope mixed with a law case ~ truly there are no words to describe how much this work gripped me as I read through it

@dot524: The subject matter is heavy at times and so are the smut scenes, but also I was fascinated with the story. I didn’t expect it to end up in the intense culminating scene that it did.

Something borrowed, Something blue by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: Yes, I know I recommended this during our Wip Wednesdays but now I'm going to recommend it here for the peeps who only read complete works. Read this. I beg of you. It's so excellent. Henry's relationship with June is something so special to me in this. June and her little family, her daughter means the world to me as well. Alex and his complicated feelings for Henry, their "enemies" to lovers road is just. God I loved it so much. Henry. HENRY IN THIS. Just. Please read this.

hold on (get ready for the ride) by wilmonflicker (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a professional soccer/football AU that I binged and completely fell in love with. Alex transfers to the team where Henry is the star player, and they get together. it's beautifully written, smutty at times and perfect for sport lovers and non-sport lovers alike

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[lovings4turn]

☆ strange twist of fate . . . (o.p)

— a simple video shoot for mclaren leads to a lot of previously unexplored feelings about your teammate (2.3k)

+ fully inspired by mclaren’s summer games video, it is my fav thing ever at the moment. nothing stirs up some tension like a game of twister, right?

+ contains very subtle suggestive references. like. one or two sexual jokes. likely not very accurate oscar but, oh well. banner and divider from cafekitsune

the blinking red light of the camera in front of you indicates you’ve started rolling, and second nature (also known as years of media training) causes you to perk up a little as oscar begins to speak. even from his mannerisms, you can tell that he’s gotten far more confident being in front of the camera with you, the two of you building up a comfortable dynamic that you could stick to pretty well.

“alright.” oscar claps his hands together, shifting his weight back onto his right foot. the movement positions him just a little closer to you, his arm brushing against yours briefly. the hairs on your arms stand up in its wake, and oscar runs through the introduction of the video the media team has asked him to deliver.

“so, we’ve got some garden games,” he explains, voice dripping with faux enthusiasm as he turns to you with a coy smile.

the look generates a similar grin from you, something that usually happens when you’re in close proximity to oscar. not wanting to overthink it, you chalk it down to simple nerves. after all, you’ve only been teammates with oscar for six months. despite growing closer to him, it’s no surprise that your body continues to opt for bashful smiles over formulating a proper response.

surely everyone forgets how to speak to their coworker sometimes?

seemingly unaware of your internal monologue, oscar proceeds with his own conversation to the camera, eyes scanning the room and surveying the three games that have been set up for the two of you to play.

“we’ve got twister,” he notes, his accent thick as it wraps around the letters of the word. you ignore the way your brain plays the sound over again, an echo only you can hear. “and some limbo later, then jenga to finish it all off.”

if you weren’t too busy staring at the large, inflatable limbo bar in the corner, you would notice oscar’s eyebrows briefly jump at the sight of the twister mat. the dial sitting next to it on the floor reminds him of just what the game entails, and he swallows thickly.

deciding you should probably make an effort to speak at some point, you fake frustration and cross your arms over your chest.

“i’m pretty sure oscar’s beaten me in every other video we’ve done this year,” you begin, but you’re cut off.

“no, you won the uh- the lie detector thingy,” oscar points out.

it’s true. though you had somehow managed to get through the lie detector challenge receiving only one shock, oscar had absolutely crushed you at the ‘yes/no’ challenge, and managed to beat you in ‘hide and seek’ by somehow procuring the most effective hiding spot in the entire paddock. you don’t even want to remember just how badly you had done answering questions from the british driving theory test. 

keeping up the act, you roll your eyes and dismiss him with a wave of your arm. “okay, like, 7-1 then.”

at the sound of oscar’s high pitched chuckle, your face immediately cracks into a grin. it’s as though oscar’s laugh is programmed to make you smile no matter the circumstances, carrying some secret code that rearranges the chemicals in your brain — totally platonically, of course. you tell yourself that he’s just one of those people with infectious laughs, destined to make others join in their delight. 

“brilliant!” the director objects, a grin plastered onto her face as the camera cuts, signalling the end of filming for this segment. “that was perfect guys, thanks. if you wanna get ready for the first game for us.”

taking a deep breath, you nod and stride over to your first activity: twister.

similar to the motions you see oscar go through before every race, you make a show of stretching out your arms and neck with exaggerated groans, even shaking out your legs and performing a few deep lunges for good measure.

“just warming myself up,” you joke. “good thing i’m pretty flexible.”

“yeah? i’ll put that to the test, then,” oscar quips, clearly not realising that what he said could be taken in an entirely different way, a way that certainly doesn’t come to your mind the moment the words leave his mouth.

distracting yourself from his accidental innuendo, you move to one corner of the mat and watch oscar spin the dial for you, the pointer whirring around before landing on left hand red. you crouch down immediately and plant your hand onto one of the red dots, tilting your head to look up at oscar. it seems he was already looking, though, a small smile across his face as he rests his hands on his hips.

“your turn, oscar. you’re starting from the other side though,” you laugh, pointing over to the opposite side of the mat to you. “get over there.”

with a mock salute, oscar strides over to the opposing side of the twister mat, eyes locked onto you as he waits for you to spin the dial and administer his fate.

the game progresses as well as you could have imagined, the constant laughter between you two causing your bodies to shake and thus making holding yourself up a lot harder than it should have been. due to the increasingly awkward positions you find yourselves in, a mclaren team member has to step in at one point to spin the dial for you both since you’ve been rendered useless.

at one point, oscar groans softly at his latest instruction which leaves his body uncomfortably contorted. lip between his teeth, he stretches over to place his hand onto the green spot just across from you, granting you with the - undeniably enjoyable - sight of oscar’s toned arm inches away from your face. your eyes trace over the veins that protrude from his arms, splintering like lightning underneath his lightly tanned skin, practically begging your gaze to follow their path. 

having your insanely attractive coworker almost hovering over you as he pants and curses was definitely doing nothing to help you keep your focus on the content you were filming, and you prayed to any and every higher being that no one would be able to notice just how flustered you were becoming. you could see the twitter threads and youtube compilations now – y/n y/l/n being flustered for two minutes straight, y/n swooning over oscar, and whatever else the eagle eyed fans could create.

whoever at mclaren had suggested the two of you play twister was going to fucking pay.

you’re thankful when oscar speaks, dragging you away from whatever train of thought you had found yourself following.

“ah, what a stitch up that is!” oscar complains, letting out a few short breaths as he attempts to shuffle his body into a position that is easier to maintain. 

in return, you scoff, craning your neck to look at him with indignation.

“are you joking? i’m practically doing the fucking splits, oscar!” you object, nodding down towards your legs which are, to your credit - spread across the length of the twister mat in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant.

“guess the flexibility isn’t working out for you then?” oscar quips dryly. over the past few months you’d become accustomed to his more sarcastic, low-key humour, so it’s no surprise when a short laugh escapes your lips despite your current predicament.

a few more rounds pass without a hitch, but you should have known that fate would not be on your side for too long

“left foot yellow,” someone calls, and oscar looks down towards the mat you’re both occupying.

realisation dawns on you both at exactly the same time: the only free yellow spot lands directly between your legs.

“we can’t be on the- on the same sticker, can we?” oscar asks, voice fragmented through his breathy laughter as he tries to manoeuvre his body into a more comfortable position.

despite the way your heart pounds, you’re laughing too, shaking your head in what could be a gesture of amusement or admonishment depending on who you asked. though you should feel a little bad, you can’t help but laugh at the sight of oscar searching for every possible movement he can make, short groans and puffs of breath escaping his lips at the exertion. in an effort to prevent your mind from wandering further at the sound, you focus instead on the budding ache growing in your arms thanks to minutes of holding your body up in an unnatural position.

it’s no use, though. there’s only one spot he can logically move to. 

“oscar, you are not putting your leg there,” you protest, looking up at him with your brows furrowed. your voice becomes almost pleading despite the mirth in your tone. “oscar. oscar, call it quits.”

a flash of contemplation dances behind his eyes as he weighs up just how determined he is to win a trivial game of twister. at his hesitation, your palms grow clammy at the thought of oscar being even closer to you than he is now, and you’re scared that you’ll start to slip off of the mat if your mind doesn’t stop.

“does it have to be that one?” he asks, looking to the team behind the camera for confirmation.

amused, they simply nod, stifling their laughs with tight lipped grins. oscar takes another moment to figure out his next move before he lets out a groan, collapsing onto the twister mat with a breathy laugh. “there, i’m done. we’re done.”

victorious, you relieve your limbs of the strain they are currently feeling and flop down onto the mat yourself, raising your arms up in celebration as you grin widely at the camera.

“that’s one for me!” you shout, looking down to oscar so you can rub your victory in his face.

still on his back, you notice his eyes have fluttered shut and his chest rises and falls quickly as he catches his breath, cheeks flushed from the exertion. if the garish colours of the twister mat were not directly beneath him, you could almost allow yourself to imagine another, less innocent activity was the explanation for his fatigue.

taking a few moments to catch your breath, the two of you sit on the mat in a comfortable silence before oscar forces himself up, offering you a hand and helping you to your feet carefully.

the universe must have taken pity on you, as the rest of the video thankfully progresses with little problem at all. limbo is no contact at all, and being shorter than oscar gives you even more of an advantage, to his chagrin. your downfall is suggesting that your final round - jenga - be ‘winner takes all’. 

lesson learned: never underestimate oscar piastri’s jenga skills. 

overall, the shoot itself lasts maybe half an hour before you’re quickly dismissed by the camera crew, free to do whatever you please for the next few hours before more media duties call your name. it makes sense for you both to walk back through the paddock together, so that’s exactly what you do.

a comfortable silence blankets you both for a minute or so, before oscar speaks. 

“so,” he starts. though there’s an easy smile on his face, you can’t help but note a subtle hint of nerves in his voice. it’s a realisation that scares you a little. 

oscar had never really been nervous to speak to you. a little awkward, when you first met, sure, but his tone had never been laced with anxiety. 

you’ve made him uncomfortable, you worry. he noticed how you were looking at him during the video, noticed you were staring. fuck, fuck, fuck. you’ve ruined it.

“so,” you return, resisting the urge to wring your hands together like a chastised school pupil. “that was uh, an interesting idea, from mclaren. making us play twister.”

oscar nods and wets his lips. he seems to be weighing up his response carefully, and you brace yourself for whatever accusations he’s about to throw your way.

“yeah,” he agrees. “fun, though. think i definitely would have won, if you didn’t make me call it quits,” he teases, knocking his shoulder against yours. the unexpected movement causes you to stumble, and you laugh indignantly before shoving him back.

“what was i supposed to do?” you counter. your fingertips begin to tingle, heart beating a little faster as his words involuntarily bring to mind the memory of his body so close to your own. 

a cheeky grin rises to oscar’s lips, and though he shrugs, his next words are anything but casual.

“i don’t think you would have minded having me in between your legs.”

shock renders your mind blank as you scramble to come up with some sort of response. how are you even supposed to respond to that? deny it? make a joke out of it? brush over it and roll your eyes at him? nothing seems to be an appropriate response.

it seems oscar is enjoying your dumbfounded state, and if you weren’t floundering so much you would kill him for how much he was enjoying your misfortune.

“what do you mean?”

stupid.

like the little shit he is, oscar only shrugs again.

“just an observation,” he hums, coming to a stop outside of his driver’s room. though you think running away from the conversation seems a little juvenile, your hand hovers over the doorknob of your own room.

before he slips through the door frame, he speaks once more, crooked grin forming the words that would send you reeling for the rest of the day. 

“i wouldn’t have minded it, either.”

[vmpssd]

more bill brainrot since you're okay with it :) (i think so anyway)

now, I don't really know what scenario to place this in- maybe he's starting to warm up more (physically, emotionally??) or maybe he's helping around your home, I don't know man, D:

he's been really helpful recently, helping with the laundry scattered in the living room, helping to dust some cobwebs in more shaded areas, and other areas of housework.

you couldn't be more thankful for him being so good, lately. it just made your heart warm from seeing him being such a positive influence within you.

you hum whilst drying some dishes, drying them down with a towel while bill takes the dried plates and puts them away, finishing up with your cleaning and with bill putting the last plate away, you smile at him.

"thank you again billy, you've been such a good help, taking such a load off my back."

bill coughs. his yellow color turning red just underneath his eye like blush. his eye averts you, trying to brush it off.

"i'm so good aren't i? the best. you couldn't even think of someone better!"

"mhm, always the best, sweetheart. so good for mommy."

there's something about the way a shiver creeps all the way across bill's body that feels so unreal, even for him. there's a slight, glitched gasp that emits from him at the word 'mommy' that he doesn't seem to register the effect it also has on his body.

bill feels himself heating up considerably fast, a low whine floating through his (non-existent??) mouth. it's not long before you feel him attach himself closer to you, whispering (almost in embarassment) for you to keep talking, just, keep talking.

so you do. "awwh, mommy made you all flustered, billy? so cute. maybe there's a way to make you even more red than you are now."

bill won't admit this (atleast not in this very moment) but he can't deny the pleasure that soars through him that causes his legs to twitch and shake.

he's breathing really heavy now, his eye half-lidded and solely focused on you. watching the way you smile, how your lips curve, that sensual look in your eyes, the way how your body is positioned, just looking down at him like that. (he's in love with it, infatuated, even.)

so when you bend down, pick up his slightly trembling form, and start planting kisses all over him, smearing your lipstick across his body, he can't bring himself to formulate words. let alone a sentence.

he feels the way your lipstick-stained lips glide across his body, the whispers and promises you tell him, the swipe of your tongue and drag of your teeth over his more sensitive zones. oh-ho-ho, he's done for.

"what do you think, billy? should we go back to our room and finish this there? mommy has so much planned with you.."

bill has never made a deal so fast in his life.

(...AAAAAAAA IM SO SORRY IF THIS IS BAD OR SOMETHING, I DIDNT REALLY KNOW WHERE I WAS GOING WITH THIS BUT I HOPE ITS OKAY TO READ IT!! LOVE YOUUU FOR LETTING ME RANT, LEMME KNOW IF ITS ANNOYING, THANK YOU!!)

NO ANON DW DON'T STOP TALKING AND YES IM OKAY WITH IT, I WOULD BE HAPPY TO HEAR YOUR IDEAS BECAUSE IM OBSESSED WITH IT TOO

YOU JUST GAVE ME A WHOLE FIC AND NOW I AM LOVING YOUR MIND. HIM HELPING US WITH HOUSE CHORES AND HOW IN CHARACTER THIS IS?

'aren't i the best' PROCEEDS TO BE A MESS WHEN WE CALL HIM SWEETHEART AND THANK HIM FOR EVERYTHING

I WOULD PUT ON LIPSTICK JUST TO KISS HIM UGGHHHH to see it on his body no matter the shape or if he's even human, im soooo down bad for him that i would do the triangle without hesitation

looking down at him, chuckling to myself to his whines and how each 'mommy' coming out of my lips gets cipher more worked up 😞😞 manifesting this

THE DRAG OF TEETH OHHHH YOURE COOKING ANON I DO HAVE SO MUCH TO DO TO HIM, NOT WRONG IN THAT

NOT BAD ANON YOUR WRITING IS MMHH GOOD, I ATE THIS ALL UP LIKE THE MOST DELICIOUS MEAL I HAD IN WEEKS BCZ NOT MANY PEOPLE TALK ABOUT THIS, I MYSELF NEVER SAW IT

not annoying also anon! you're welcome to come and rant in my asks whenever you want to!

[aimzicr]

NaNoWriMo official statement: We want to be clear in our belief that the categorical condemnation of Artificial Intelligence has classist and ableist undertones, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege.

Translation: Disabled people and poor people can't write and they need the Theft Machines to actually be good writers, and disagreeing with us is means you're a fundamentally bad person.

Meanwhile, Ted Chiang: "Believing that inspiration outweighs everything else is, I suspect, a sign that someone is unfamiliar with the medium."

"Many novelists have had the experience of being approached by someone convinced that they have a great idea for a novel, which they are willing to share in exchange for a fifty-fifty split of the proceeds. Such a person inadvertently reveals that they think formulating sentences is a nuisance rather than a fundamental part of storytelling in prose. Generative A.I. appeals to people who think they can express themselves in a medium without actually working in that medium. But the creators of traditional novels, paintings, and films are drawn to those art forms because they see the unique expressive potential that each medium affords. It is their eagerness to take full advantage of those potentialities that makes their work satisfying, whether as entertainment or as art."

"The programmer Simon Willison has described the training for large language models as “money laundering for copyrighted data,” which I find a useful way to think about the appeal of generative-A.I. programs: they let you engage in something like plagiarism, but there’s no guilt associated with it because it’s not clear even to you that you’re copying."

"Is the world better off with more documents that have had minimal effort expended on them? ... Can anyone seriously argue that this is an improvement?"

"The task that generative A.I. has been most successful at is lowering our expectations, both of the things we read and of ourselves when we write anything for others to read. It is a fundamentally dehumanizing technology because it treats us as less than what we are: creators and apprehenders of meaning. It reduces the amount of intention in the world."

-----------

I'm with Ted on this one. What the actual fuck, NaNoWriMo? Makes me wonder what the purpose behind the 'doublecheck your wordcount' box has been used for all these years, if not stealing for the Theft Machines.

Sources:

NaNo's original statement

NaNo's attempt at backtracking

Ted Chiang's New Yorker article (paywalled, but i hit refresh until it gave up)

Techcrunch article