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sallage · 9 months ago

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The Milkman - NSFW

The Wheel AU

Part 1

Warning: This is an intense tickle fic!

Summary: It had been years since Bakugo had last stepped foot outside of the city. Graduating U.A. at the top of his class, interning and working for The Genious Office, and making a name for himself had been cake once Deku was suspended. The first few months, he'd hardly thought about the nerd. After that, not at all. What he didn't know, was that the life he'd grown acustomed to was about to derail in one of the most sadistic and twisted ways he'd never thought possible.

Pairing: Lee Pro Hero Bakugo, Ler Villain Deku

Words: 10,466

Reading Time: 41 Minutes

A/N: Holyyyyyyyyyy shit. This is the longest fic I have ever written. I had sooooooo much fun writing this and I'm actually kind of proud of it.... just a little(: Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

The room was mostly empty.

Bakugo was blindfolded, but he could sense it. He could tell by the way the metallic clang of the chains clamoring around his neck reverberated off of the walls. The bastard had fucked with Bakugo enough for him to learn how sound worked in a small room, which is why his heart was already in his throat when he felt a tug against the icy narrow band, which he’d learned the hard way, meant stop.

So he did.

“Good boy.”

Bakugo growled, a low animalistic noise from deep within his throat. If someone gave him one million attempts to predict his future, he never would have guessed this.

That he would end up a piece of meat for the nerd to fuck with for his own sick, demented pleasure.

When Deku was suspended from U.A., Bakugo's graduation at the top of his class became effortless, with the internship and job at The Genius Office falling into place just as smoothly.

Once Bakugo had turned twenty-five years old, he had developed a high level of renown and respect as a hero. The final arc of his success was right there, literally in the palm of his hands.

Then everything went to shit.

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Reports of a faceless crime lord monetizing black market drugs and illegal erasure darts on the dark web were far from unknown. However, an anonymous tip had led them to discover a money laundering outpost posing as a trading card store. After years of coming up empty, Bakugo was itching to discover something, anything useful.

All they had to do was monitor the establishment.

Bakugo couldn't see the use of the three men sent to scout with him, especially after the store had closed, so he’d sent them home with a note reviewing the new tracker that had been implanted in their gums. The technology was new and not widely tested yet, plagiarizing elements of skin and bone, so Bakugo was confident that the chip would be missed if he were somehow captured and searched.

He’d spend the next several hours watching.

Maybe he should have gone home after the fifth hour of quiet.

It wasn’t until four in the morning, when a small sliver of activity caught his eye.

A lone person in a black hood quietly exited the dark store.

Bakugo recognized the possibility of a diversion, that the person in the hood was simply meant to draw prying eyes away from the store while other things went on behind the scenes. Bakugo had seen the trick used before.

But he couldn't help but feel… drawn.

So he followed them.

The thought to report an update was fleeting.

The hooded figure remained silent and unperturbed. Bakugo kept a safe distance in the shadows, his soft footfalls masked by the rising pitch of the winding river and bridge ahead. The figure's movements remained consistent and steady as they both crossed, the city now but a shimmering dot in the darkened distance.

They crossed into ghostly, suburban territory.

After around ten minutes, a graffitied public school park looming under a broken flickering street light caught his attention.

A twinge of familiarity ran down his spine.

Distracted, Bakugo didn’t see the hooded figure round the sidewalk. Cursing, he rushed to catch up.

When he’d rounded the corner, they were standing in the center of the street, staring at some old, tragedy stricken apartments with their hands casually slung into their pockets.

Bakugo considered the situation, and his eyes narrowed as he contemplated initiating a confrontation. The very small and mature voice he’d annoyingly developed in his mind told him to think about his endgame. If he rushed the shady bastard now, he would tip off the villain operation and everything they’d learned up to that point would be as useful as dirt. He’d need to have reasonable proof and all he’d had was a stupid feeling.

Bakugo gritted his teeth and growled under his breath. He’d wanted to confront the fucker and kick his ass, but it was too early to have a full picture of what was really going on. The store could simply be that, a store, with nothing more to it.

He rolled his eyes and before he could talk himself out of it, took careful steps away in an attempt to slip back out, then paused. Maybe if he could catch a glimpse of their face…

“My mother still lives here.”

Bakugo's body went completely still. His breath stopped in his throat, and his heartbeat pounded in his chest like a hammer against steel.

The figure lowered their hood, glowing green eyes trained on the apartments.

Bakugo blinked. Everything else fell away from him.

“Everyday I think she’d leave, especially after I destroyed the neighborhood. Do you think she’s still waiting for me?”

He should have left right then and there.

Instead, Bakugo rose from his crouch and slowly walked out onto the street. Each step he’d taken had an undeniable ferocity to it, his eyes like two burning embers that could turn into an inferno at a moment's notice.

It was the fucking high school drop out. And he knew Bakugo was following him. He’d probably known it the second he’d left the store, maybe even before.

“Izuku.”

“Kacchan.”

The familiar nickname wasn't spoken with the same fondness that it had once been uttered with, instead carrying a tone that made it sound more like an insult.

Gone was the silly, quirky, and fun-loving person that was filled with goodness and joy. In his place stood a dangerous, predatory, and threatening presence. In his eyes no longer shined the bright light of his once golden heart, but instead the glimmering of a cold and dangerous predator.

“Don’t do this! Please don’t let them take it, Kacchan!”

Bakugo scowled at him, his palms grew hot.

“Why the hell are you here?”

He should’ve reported the update. Hell, he should’ve called in the entire damn agency.

Deku’s voice was steady, eyes trained on the apartments. “You didn’t like our walk down memory lane?”

Bakugo’s eyes sparked.

The playground, the river, the fucking card store.

Bakugo bristled. He should have known. It was obvious. “Answer the fucking question.”

Black tendrils slowly slithered out of Deku’s back. Bakugo’s palms sizzled.

“No one’s talked to me like that in a long time.”

Without so much as a twitch as a warning, one of the tendrils struck. Bakugo quickly shifted and dodged, failing to realize that Deku had simply struck the ground just next to where the blonde once stood, intentionally pushing him right into a hulking frame standing silently off to the side, who wrapped massive arms around Bakugo’s chest from behind.

His palms crackled and sparked with the orange and red of his quirk, building up and igniting in a devastating explosion that engulfed them both in a calamitous blaze of volatile force.

Somehow, deep in the heat, he felt a sudden and painful sting on the side of his neck.

In an instant, the heat and power from his attack subsided, dissolved by the abrupt numbing sensation that spread through his body and left his hands smoking and twitching. His body tingled, all of his senses numbed and weakened.

“Motherfffuuhh-”

Another sting, and his vision wavered and blurred. He shook his head, fighting against it.

It was a fucking trap. Set For him.

He’d known he was going to pass out and these fuckers were going to take him. He’d wanted to fight it with as much defiance and disrespect as he could. Profanities spewed from his lips accompanied by worthless sparks that popped from his numb, useless hands. His eyes seared into Deku, but the villain’s eyes remained locked on the apartments, not even sparing him a sideways glance before whatever drug they injected him with finally overwhelmed his senses.

He’d woken up in the same damn room he’d been staying in for the past week.

Over the course of that week, Bakugo had fought harder than he ever had in his entire life. He’d bitten fingers, head butted anyone within range, and spat. His mouth proved to be as dangerous as his quirk, but three days in the muzzle and firmer restraints taught him to use his talents sparingly.

As expected, they’d missed the tracker during the strip search. He’d woken up with it warm against his tooth, confirmation that someone was indeed looking for him.

So he’d reserved his energy, save for every few minutes or so when he would religiously check if the quirk erasure dart was still active, hoping to catch it before they’d eventually inject him again.

On his first night, blindfolded, cursing and thrashing, they’d shoved him into a chair and bound his legs to it along with his arms to a hanging contraption above his head. It took seven of them to eventually subdue the aggressive pro hero, all of them walking away with some kind of injury.

Deku didn't make an appearance that night, but the orders to his grunts were clear.

Extract any information Bakugo had uncovered about their operations.

Bakugo was expecting to be tortured. He’d mentally prepared himself for it the moment he’d woken up in this shit hole. And he was, just not in the way he was expecting.

Deku didn't want to dignify Bakugo with a formidable excuse for when he eventually gave up. He wanted to humiliate him.

For the first three days, he was brutally and sadistically tickle tortured.

When the method of torture was revealed, to say that Bakugo was flabbergasted would be an understatement. He’d imagined needles under the nails or flaying. Hell, he was even expecting something ironic like being branded or burned alive. So when he was finally forced into the chair, the last of his flailing limbs secured, he braced himself for the kind of pain that would match the reputation Izuku created for himself, only to be startled by harmless and rough fingers and hands, ticklishly squeezing sensitive spots on his body.

The pro hero sneered and taunted the goons, under the impression he was safe for the time being.

But of course, he would be proven wrong.

The grunts took their time and expertly learned his body. They triggered reactions and sounds Bakugo didn't know he could make and tormented spots he didn't even know were ticklish. After hours of meticulous work and charting, they’d put the information they gathered to blindingly effective use. Bakugo learned a few things about himself that night, things he would pay top dollar to forget.

And he’d weathered the torture by the skin of his teeth.

The second day, Deku made a personal appearance, and cracked him in less than an hour. Bakugo answered every single question asked of him, relevant or not.

Still, it wasn't enough for the damn masochist.

Deku didn't just want answers from Bakugo, he wanted him to pay.

So now, in the fourth day of hell, Bakugo has nothing to say or give that would spare him from whatever Deku planned.

Today was purely about revenge.

A hard hand clamped on his shoulder and the blonde blindly stepped forward, letting the hand guide him.

He swallowed his resistance and it slid down his throat like sand.

The hand lifted. He paused.

Then there was light.

Bakugo blinked several times after the blindfold was lifted. The intensity of the dazzling lights in the room made his eyes squint and nose itch. His eyes landed on a tall, colorful object planted in the center of the room.

The Wheel.

Deku had seen fit to inject whimsy into his revenge plot with The Wheel: a colorful 20-slice abomination that would randomly determine how Bakugo would be tickled that day.

A fucking Wheel.

Bakugo sizzled in place. He wanted to rip the bastard’s guts out and make him eat it. He wanted to kill him.

Deku blew Bakugo a kiss and strode towards it.

"Let's see what The Wheel wants us to do today." Deku winked and gave it a spin.

Bakugo's sense of how much time had passed was determined by how many times the wheel had been spun: 5, and this one made 6.

The Kennel

The Carwash

The Gang

The Hog

The Milkman

The wheel began to slow, its revolution enrapturing both Bakugo and Deku...

The dial stopped on The Milkman.

The door suddenly busted open and two grunts walked inside, carrying something that reminded Bakugo of a weird combination of a padded sawhorse and a spanking bench. There were cuffs towards the front where his arms would rest and vise versa where his calves would be placed. Towards the back of the middle cushion that would support his waist and hips, was a custom cut hole that looks like it could fit…

Bakugo’s eyes widened.

The smile that slithered onto Deku’s face was maniacal.

Bakugo clenched his jaw, continuing to stare at the contraption even after Deku smugly faced him and tugged at the leash.

“No.”

Tug

“Fuck. off.”

Deku cocked his head to the side, an amused expression squaring his face, as if Bakugo was a stubborn kid not wanting to get into the bath.

Tug tug tug tug-

“You mother fucking piece of stupid shit. I said no.”

“I don’t care.” Deku slurred, playing with the leash. “You don’t have a choice.”

Bakugo remained still. He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. But if the past few days had taught him anything, it was that without his quirk, resistance only lead to extreme suffering. The bitter pill? Deku knew his body better than he did. The largest explosion in the world wouldn’t be enough to tamper how he felt about that.

“I could force you,” Deku shrugged, reaching over to open the collar. “That would be easy. But I think it would be more entertaining for me to watch my men do it. And if they have to come in here again, they’re staying.” Deku smiled, encouraged by Bakugo’s visible frustration. “And participating.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. He knew that no matter what he did, he would end up on that fucking bench. His violent objections in the past had made quick work of him. Just thinking back to that damned tree…

When Deku gestured to the bench, Bakugo reluctantly obeyed.

“Take everything off and get on.”

This was supposed to humiliate him. To make him compliant to his own torture. A sick kick back to those days in high school when he’d scream at anyone who dared to give him orders.

Cursing obscenities the entire time, he stripped off his clothes and laid face down onto the bench, carefully fitting his groin into the cushioned hole.

Deku restrained him accordingly.

Thick, fur lined straps secured his wrists and ankles tightly. Another strap looped around his waist, and an added infinity loop tightly secured his lower thighs right above the bend of his knees, forcing his legs slightly apart and flush against the legs of the modded bench.

Bakugo clenched his jaw and rested his forehead on the cool leather as Deku circled, lingering far too long right behind him.

“You really kept in shape.” Deku whistled.

“Fuck off and get this shit over with.”

“Excited to start?”

Bakugo jerked when he felt something ghosting lightly along both of his flanks, and he instantly knew it was Blackwhip. The touch felt feathery and ethereal, like cool fingers made of harmless, tickly sparklers. He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, grateful Deku couldn't see his face from this position.

“We have so much to catch up on.”

The ghosting along his sides curved inward, tracing and slithering over his stomach and hips. It slowly dragged back and forth, up and down over the smooth skin, making Bakugo want to claw it off.

The way he was positioned arched his back slightly, so he couldn't close that small gap that gave Deku easy access to those spots. The fucking bastard.

“We don’t have shit to do with nothin’.” Bakugo spat through his teeth, uselessly forcing himself to stay as still as possible. His stomach muscles twitched of their own accord though, instantly snitching on his stoic facade.

“I think we do. I plan to make up for lots of lost time, Kacchan.” He goosed his ribs.

Bakugo flinched and clenched his jaw so tight, he felt the hurt in his neck. “Stop fucking calling me that.”

“Mmm. It never bothered you before. What’s different now?”

Bakugo ground his teeth together. He jumped when he felt more tendrils start teasing the muscles on his back, tracing agonizing patterns and small circles right underneath his shoulder blades. A lone tendril slithered up his spine, slowing down just enough to trigger an involuntary lurching reaction Bakugo did every time he was touched right below the back of his neck.

“You ffffucking-”

“Whats different now?” Deku repeated, sliding two tendrils up his spine this time.

Bakugo tensed his entire body and cringed, waiting for the tendrils to touch down on that stupid spot. Instead, he jumped when he felt them split up and caress over the top of his shoulders, tracing down to the little dip that made up the corners of his armpits. Bakugo’s arms strained, trying to push them back into himself and close the gap.

“I called you Kacchan our entire lives.” More tendrils pushed out from his back, wrapping around each of his ribs, softly vibrating in place, still tracing. Randomly, one would squeeze.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me to stop.”

Bakugo inhaled sharply when he felt the tendrils at his shoulder blades slither down his back, the slow trek brought a curse to his lips.

Deku didn't speak again until it teased around his lower back and touched down on his ass.

Deku drew long and sensual circles along the soft, toned skin, causing Bakugo to twitch and huff puffs of air through his nose. Discovering his ass was ticklish was one of the things he would die to forget.

Deku’s voice was low. “The question wasn't rhetorical.” A firm squeeze to his ass made him him jump. “Or optional.”

Bakugo snarled. “Fuck off, you piece of shit.”

Deku chuckled and Bakugo seized when all of the tendrils started moving in different directions at once, all of them teasing the fuck out of him. Circles were drawn on either sides of his back, tendrils pressed inward towards his shoulder blades, along his spine, and behind his flanks. Two wafted up and down his stomach in different patterns with two more teasing the edges of his stomach. Two ghosted the rim of his armpits, occasionally dipping in smoothly, making him jump. Two teased his hipbones, occasionally dipping inward towards the inner thighs, tracing the crease right before his thighs became his crotch. The two on his ass stroked abstractly, making him twitch with each pass. He felt two additional tendrils ghost the back of his thighs and the hollows behind his knees.

He was moving around a lot now. Frustrated noises and loud puffs of air through his nose were quiet in comparison to how loud he made the bench squeak with his erratic movements. The occasional gasp left him when the tendrils tracing his ribs moved inward, playing with the sensitive spot right underneath his pecs, or that delicious spot right underneath his underarms. The occasional squeeze anywhere on his body forced him to jump. Regardless of sensitivity, all of his nerves were absolutely on fire.

He bit the inside of his cheek when he felt two new tendrils slowly ghosting down his calves, stopping just over the heels of his feet. The only ones on his body not moving, and he was hyper aware of it.

Deku let Bakugo stew, watching the blonde lose more of his composure with every passing second. Bakugo pushed his head against the cool leather and balled his hands into shaking fists, his body starting to work up a sweat.

This was the kind of tickling he hadn’t experienced yet. It didn't make him hysterical, didn't make him scream until his throat hurt, and didn't make him thrash like his life depended on it, but it made him want to claw his fucking skin off. It tickled so fucking much, but it wasn't nearly intense enough for him to justify letting out any of the building tension through laughter. He couldn't fucking stand it.

For a hot five seconds, he went berserk on the bench. He yanked hard and bucked attempting to kick and thrash. Spittle flew from his clenched teeth and he growled when Deku watched him with a smirk, using the tendrils on the sides of his stomach to dip into a pocket of sensitive nerves right by his flanks.

Bakugo dipped his shoulder inward and to the left, as if he could close off the gap that allowed Deku entrance. He groaned out loud and used his arms to buck once, twice, before being so fed up he couldn't handle it anymore.

“Fucking stop already!” He boomed. “If you’re gonna do it, then fucking get it over with, you pathetic coward!” The slow and methodical sensations were making him so fucking frustrated. He couldn't help the way his back arched, the way his head snapped back when the tendrils behind it slithered too close to his neck, the way his shoulders and arms jerked violently in an attempt shake off the tendrils, or the way his toes flexed and splayed regardless of the threat that ominously loomed inches away.

Deku chuckled again. “You’re so ticklish.”

Bakugo cursed when he felt two tendrils slowly gliding up the insides of his thighs. They traced the sensitive skin right next to his balls, curving up and down, spreading out and caressing the skin under his ass and back again. Bakugo spluttered and yanked hard at the restraints, the ticklish muscles in his arms flexing under the mischievous and ethereal touch of Blackwhip.

“You fucking loser ass villain bah-” The tendrils on his feet twitched. Bakugo’s mouth clamped shut.

“Hm?” Deku hummed, leaning his ear toward the heaving blonde.

“Fucker.” Bakugo cursed. “What the hell is it you want from me?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.” Deku gleefully mocked.

“You’re a goddamn fucking moh-morohon!” Bakugo cursed, busying himself with another bout of frustrated thrashing when more tendrils swirled under his arms. “I’m not playing your backward ass games!”

Deku smirked. Without letting up on Bakugo’s treatment, he grabbed a chair and sat right next to the blonde, who had to tilt and rest his head on his left cheek to look Deku in the eyes.

“You’ll do whatever I want you to do.” He slurred, kicking his foot up on the edge of the bench where Bakugo’s shaking arm rested.

The tendrils around his ribs prodded firmly. Bakugo flinched hard, unable to hold back the gasp that choked him.

“The day I got suspended from U.A.,” Deku’s eyes roamed shamelessly over Bakugo’s trembling body. The blonde straightened his head and closed his eyes, still painfully aware the tendrils on his feet were still as stone. Anxiety bubbled up in his throat. He knew Deku did it just to fuck with him. He fucking knew it.

“I begged you to help me.”

“K-Kacchan? Wait, Kacchan! No! STOP! PLEASE!”

“Grrh! The school hahas rules, dumbass! Not my ff-fuckin’ fault you weh-went and broke ‘em!” Bakugo snapped. The damn tendrils never stopped moving, always switching places and finding new spots on his infinitely ticklish body. He was going to throw an aneurysm if it didn't stop.

Deku’s eyes darkened. “Not your fault, huh?”

Bakugo sneered. He couldn’t focus! “Damn it! If you got somethin’ to say, just fuckin- GAH!”

The tendrils on his heels traced slowly down his foot, spilling down his arch and wiggling slowly like a snake, tracing over his incepts, the sides of his feet, wrapping around to the tops and circling their tips around the balls.

Bakugo released a large puff of air and slammed his forehead against the leather, breathing harshly through his teeth. He yanked hard on his arms, face turning red with titanium effort. He jolted and grimaced when two tendrils slithered under his toes, the others still circling along and around the balls of his feet. Just a ghost of a sensation, but it psyched the fuck out of him.

Two more tendrils, parallel of each other, traced down the sides of his feet, looped around down to the heal, then zipped up to the toes, following the outline of the undersides and back again to repeat. Two other tendrils appeared and started tracing the ticklish spot along where the arch melts into the heal and then two other tendrils outlined his calves and ankles.

Bakugo lifted his forehead just to slammed it again against the leather rest, frustrated agony sizzling at the corners of his mouth.

Deku smirked, reveling in Bakugo’s priceless reactions. “You’re acting like I’m shoving a burning knife through your gut. I bet you would prefer that.”

Bakugo huffed and growled, sweat dripping off his heated skin. “What… do you gohddamn… aaghh- want?!”

“Let’s play a game!” Deku quickly stood, knocking over the chair. All of the tendrils finally, finally stopped and Bakugo shamelessly let his entire body flop onto the bench. He barely took two much needed breaths before Deku whistled. Bakugo heard the door open behind him, but he was too exhausted to attempt to look. That was, until he felt someone crouch underneath the bench. His head jolted up and he was about to speak when he felt something wet squishy and warm envelop his entire manhood. Bakugo jerked up so hard he actually moved the bench slightly.

“What the fuck! What the fuck?!” Bakugo screeched, thrashing heavily again as the person underneath the bench fitted the squishy thing over Bakugo’s penis and balls. The person then stood and pulled two straps around Bakugo’s waist, tying them in a neat little bow above his ass. Bakugo saw a tan hand pass Deku a controller and without a word, whoever it was, left and closed the door behind them.

Deku palmed the controller, observing it as if he were a critic admiring a strokeless painting. Bakugo’s face turned red with anger, embarrassment, and everything in-between.

“What the fuck is that? What did your perverted ass minion put on me?! Answer me, damn it!”

“These are the rules of the game,” Deku started, ignoring Bakugo’s whining. “First, if it’s not obvious, I’ll be tickling any spot of my choosing.”

Bakugo glared at him. “What the fuck is on my dick?!”

Deku smiled. He turned the controller and Bakugo strained to see it. It looked like a TV remote but it only had eight buttons on it. One circle button in the middle with four arrows around it. There were two buttons parallel to each other below it and one button at the top.

Deku rose his pointer finger, and made a show of pressing the top button.

The on button.

Bakugo flinched with a disgusted yelp when the thing around his cock and balls started vibrating. He anchored his back and tried to pull his penis out of the hole but he couldn't lift himself high enough.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” He screamed, a whole new wave of frustration coursing through him. “You have to be fucking kidding me!” Another bout of useless thrashing. He whipped his head towards Deku, sneering at him with all the hate he could muster. “You’re fucking dead! Do you hear me? When I get the fuck out of here, you’re- AHHH!”

Deku yawned and pressed the middle button. The squishy material Bakugo was encased in started moving. It squeezed and pressed and massaged in a sloping downward fashion, simulating a blowjob with winnowing pressure that caressed his entire length. The space that enveloped his balls started gently squeezing them, massaging them softly. Then, around his scrotum, he felt a circular object like thing close tightly, acting like some sort of cock ring.

It felt… amazing.

After almost an entire week of torture, Bakugo almost succumbed to the sensations right there, despite the makeshift ring.

Instead, he bit back his carnal reactions and pressed his forehead onto the head rest. “N- St-stop… Fffuckin’-” He groaned and bit his tongue.

“Enduring the tickling will be something you’ll have to do. What you’ll not have to do will be so much harder. Get it?”

Bakugo growled, trying to think about anything other than what his body wanted to do right now. He felt his manhood instantly get harder, more susceptible and sensitive.

“Why… why the damn-”

“I’m glad you asked.” Deku’s green eyes sparkled. “If you cum while I’m tickling you, you cant cum again on that spot for the rest of the game. If you cum twice on the same spot, you lose. If you win,” Deku shrugged again. “I’ll let you go.”

Bakugo hardly heard anything until those last four words. “What?”

“If you win,” Deku enunciated, punctuating the sentence with a careless gesture. “I’ll let you go.”

A chance. A fucking chance. He knew he couldn't rely on Deku’s word, but it was the only opportunity to present itself in this goddamn nightmare.

“Not like I… have a fuckin’ choice.” Bakugo groaned, using every ounce of energy he had not to lose the game before it could even start.

Deku grinned. “We’ll do two rounds.”

Bakugo assumed once the tickling started, it would be easy not to focus on the thing doubling his vision. It was the only silver lining he could think of, the only hope that he could cling on to.

Funny how he suddenly needed the tickling to overwhelm his pleasure.

“Alright!” Deku clapped his hands together. “Let’s start.”

“Set a.. Grrhh- S-set a fuckin’ timer.”

Deku tapped his temple. “It’s up here.”

Bakugo was about to protest, but closed his mouth when Deku, with a diabolical grin, slowly unsheathed Blackwhip. The blonde watched with disgust as inky tendrils slinked toward him with twitching excitement and intent.

They touched down on his left side first, caressing his flanks and ribs and slipping softly under his arms. He cringed, the pumping sensation on his dick still prevalent. He flinched when a tendril squeezed his hips and ribs at the same time.

“You… fuck… you said ohone damn s-spohot!”

Deku chuckled. “I’m just trying to decide.”

More poking and prodding, more flinching and cursing, then all of the tendrils traveled up and started tracing his shoulders, inner biceps, the lower outline and rim of his armpits.

“Here.” Deku said, joyfully. “Ten minutes starts now.”

Bakugo clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a burst of insufferable tickles, but the light tracing continued. The makeshift cock ring in the pump gradually released and he felt a rush of dangerous pleasure. With a long groan, the teasing and the tickles were completely obliterated from his mind, hardly able to feel them anymore as the pump expanded and closed in, the massage of his balls deepened causing him to shift around in his restraints, unconsciously grinding his hips to further the sensation.

He was close and was hardly resisting anymore. He teetered on the brink of ecstasy, a welcomed feeling afloat in a sea of agony and shit else. He felt something inside him swell, could have sworn the toy around his shaft pumped faster with excitement. Maybe just one time, just in this spot, wouldn’t be so bad. He could avoid it in the next round.

Yes, he’d decided. Who fucking cares if Deku watched. The sick fuck probably got off on it. Bakugo shoved his previous reservations aside and allowed the bliss to fully envelope him. Fuck everything and everyone else, with one final groan he-

“AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHA! WHAHAAAA! DEHEHA- AAHHHHAHAHAHA! FUHUHUHK! DAHAHAMN IT!! YOHOU FUHKING- DAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Bakugo exploded into a generous mix of curses and laughter, brought on by the four tendrils circling the rims on either sides of his armpits to suddenly close in and undulate into the sensitive flesh. One was squeezing and floating around the ticklish muscle right where the armpit and chest connect. Another was pushing and rotating just above but not quite on that delectably torturous spot above his ribs, and the last two were shamelessly digging right into the center, One stationary, the other circling largely and being sure to not to leave any spot untouched.

Bakugo thrashed. He pressed his chest into the bench and slammed his forehead onto the headrest. His hands clenched and unclenched from their trembling fists and his shoulders bounced up and down from pure mirth. The surprise caught him off guard, although he would kick himself for not expecting it if he had the ability to think at all.

Being denied a peaceful release at the absolute last second made his body tingle with newfound sensitivity. His stomach filled with frustration and his throbbing cock twitched as it was continuously and mercilessly pumped.

Quickly tumbling down from his euphoric high, he cursed and fought. One of the tendrils found a delectable spot at the top left inner muscle, where the edge of his shoulder creased into his armpit. Being caught so grossly off guard by the spike in sensitivity, it easily knocked and bursted through to the most secluded corners of his mind.

“GAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! AHAH AAAHHHAH! AAHAHAHA! FFFAAAHAHAHAHA- GGRRRAAAAH! GAHAHAD DAHAHMN IT STAHAHAHAP!”

Deku wore a toothy grin and just hummed to himself.

Bakugo tried to use his momentum to rock himself on the bench, hoping to tip the whole damn thing over but it held steady. Unable to manage anything more then a few stress creaks, Bakugo pushed each of his shoulders in and squished them against the bench, but the tickling never relented. He jolted violently when two random tendrils goosed his ribs.

“ARRRGGHH! GAHAAD DAHAMN YOU DEHEKHU! STAHPFUC- AAHAHAHA! STOP FUCKINGARAHAHOUND!”

Deku chuckled and raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist.”

“BAHAHSTAHAHARD! SHIHIHIHT! GAH! NO! NOO!! STAHAHAP!”

Deku feigned innocence as one of his lower tendrils slowly slinked more so towards the bottom of his armpits, causing Bakugo to thrash harder, doing a piss poor job of covering up his panic.

Suddenly, he yelled out when he felt the toy around his manhood start to squeeze. The tendrils under his arms gradually slowed their manic torment, leaving Bakugo huffing and puffing with each sensitive pass. Bakugo rested his sweat riddled forehead against the leather, squeezing his eyes shut in aggravation. The transition from obnoxious tickling pleasure was rough and Bakugo felt his arms shake.

The smile in Deku’s voice was infuriating. “How are we doing?”

He didn't realize it until a surge of pleasure slapped him in the face but Blackwhip was no longer pinching and prodding. Instead, swirling and ghosting. The toy around Bakugo’s length suddenly started pumping, undulating up and down in an unpredictable pattern. Strokes, like a tongue, traveled up his length, the winnowing pressure taking him in deep while it massaged his balls. Although still there, the tickling quickly became secondary.

Bakugo couldn't help the carnal groan that left his tight lips. Everything fell away from him as he openly welcomed the only good sensation he’s felt since being in this shit hole. He wanted this and he didn't care if Deku saw and mocked him. This was only the first round, He’d be able to avoid-

Bakugo yelled out as he released the first drops of ecstasy. The slicked out muscles on his back rippled as he arched into it, riding the whole thing out. The tendrils never stopped teasing his armpits, and he didn't give a shit. He couldn't feel it anymore. Sparks ignited and bloomed across his vision. After a moment of shameful, shattering pleasure, he slumped. Spent and breathless.

Deku whistled.

The toy didn’t slow. He felt something brush across his reddened tip. Bakugo twitched and gasped, pushing his hips back as far as he could.

”Fff-Fuck!”

”That’s one for the armpits.” Deku commented, casually. “If it’s going to be this easy then I think you might be screwed.”

“S-sta- Sh- I’m- I’m gonna-“

“What?” Deku’s eyebrows rose, amused.

”I’m gonna fffuckin’ k-kill you.” Bakugo panted, his pitch rising and falling in rhythm with the thing around his cock overstaying its welcome.

Deku’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s the Kacchan I knew.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but slammed it shut when Blackwhip started moving.

”After All Might gave me One For All,” Deku started, moving Blackwhip slowly, ever so slowly downward. “He told me to keep it a secret.”

“I’m sorry, young Midoriya. Please hold still.”

Bakugo cringed as he felt the tendrils slowly swoop over his ribs. He felt them expand so they caressed right underneath his chest. Two tendrils on each side teased the ribs that wrapped around his back, while two other sneaky ones still swirled in his armpits. He hissed through his teeth as chills iced down his spine and goosebumps appeared all over his body. He shook his head, as if he could will it all away. To his dismay, the teasing is so much more frustratingly ticklish than before.

He grunted when two guileful tendrils flicked and circled his nipples on either side.

“But I told you about it anyway, and I did it out of respect. Respect you didn’t deserve or appreciate.” Deku continued. “Even after All Might, The hero we both grew up admiring, saw it fit to pass his quirk onto me, you still told me I was worthless. Unworthy of U.A. A psychopathic freak.”

A tendril goosed his upper ribs, another slithered down his stomach, drawing wide circles around his belly button. Two closed in on his hips, pressing into the bone with light pressure. Two teased the skin underneath his ass, two played with the tendons next to his groin, right along the edge of the toy. Another two slinked down his legs and teased his ankles while circling around the heels of his feet. He jumped when an additional pair circled around the balls, occasionally dipping in and tracing the skin right underneath his toes, massaging the stems and teasing the bases.

His heart rate picked up and his breath came fast. His skin tingled as his nerves fired at him with obnoxious sensitivity. He could feel every delicate stroke, every harsh poke, every sensual touch and squeeze, and couldn't help the giggles when they spilled out of his snarling mouth.

The fucking orgasm. It made him even more sensitive.

He was so fucking screwed.

Deku paused, letting the epiphany the other was clearly having, sink in. “I started to believe you.”

All of the tendrils poked their respective spots at once, causing Bakugo to let out an undignified yelp and jolt. Every little movement now started him to the core.

“Funny how a worthless, psychopathic freak now holds the leash to your collar.”

“Is that what this bullshit is about?” Bakugo’s voice boomed with irritation, edgy nervousness punctuating the end of his accusation. “What the hell do you want, damn Deku? A fuckin’ apology or somethin’?”

Deku shook his head. All the humor was void from his face, his voice dark and emotionless. “I’ve never wanted anything from you.”

Bakugo blinked when Deku raised his hand with the remote and pointed it at him. He couldn't see what button he pressed, but he gasped when suddenly the toy started vibrating. Teasing strokes evolved into sensuous pumping. He was hard again in seconds.

The tendrils eased off. All except the ones stationed at his ribs. Three teased the bottom, two on his left, one on his right. Two on each side teased the middle of his ribs, swirling and poking, following the curve of his back, and another two danced across his upper ribs, rubbing back and forth, up and down, ghosting underneath and the sides of his chest.

“I’m sure you can guess which spot is next.” Deku clicked his tongue. “Looks like you might lose before I even start.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up from where it was resting. “Fuck you!” His biceps strained with the titanic effort of trying to lower his arms. He arched his back, pushed himself forward, tried to dip his shoulders and chest hard against the leather, but nothing phased the tendrils determined to take me straight to hell. They encouraged the sort of panic that he felt like he could taste. The toy’s vibrations increased, the flesh of the toy slowly starting to suck, doubling his vision with pleasure.

“There was a spot around here… where was it again?” Blackwhip poked and nudged at his entire rib cage. Bakugo spluttered and hissed through his teeth, body jolting and flinching with every jab.

“Fucker! You, mother fuc-!!” Bakugo spat. “Stop this- Mmgghhm- bulh-bullshit! III’ve fuckin’ had it with y-AH!”

“Mmmm.” Deku mused. Blackwhip paused, pinpointed tendrils vibrating softly right on that dreaded spot. Bakugo froze as well, looking at Deku with the most hateful glare he’d ever given anyone.

“I wonder if-”

Squeeze

Bakugo inhaled so sharply, he choked. “AUGH! Damn it, stop!” He tried to haft and throw himself around on the bench. Deku only smiled, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Blackwhip softly, softly undulated once more and Bakugo would have hit the ceiling if he wasn't so tightly restrained. “MMGGHH! STOP! Don’t you fucking do it, you fuck!”

The toy around his needy length pumped faster and his attention was quickly averted to the sudden burst of pleasure that wracked through his body and made him shutter. His mouth opened in a silent groan, which transformed into an unrestrained yell as Blackwhip again, teased one of his death spots.

He hafted himself up hard, creaking the bench. “NO!” He cursed, shoving all of the authority in his voice that he could muster. “Just fucking stop this! I swear to FuhuahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAK! SHIHIT!”

The three tendrils teasing the bottom of his ribs dove in, rubbing fast and harshly between and around the bone, the third tendril went rogue and snuck over his quivering stomach and down to his thighs. Bakugo shook his head in delirium and fruitlessly bucked his hips up and down. Even with the torturous tickling rerouting his mind, the pleasure he was feeling from the toy was still very much present. Slowly, he felt himself twitch and glisten with pressing need.

Deku hummed. “Oh, does that tickle?”

“FAHAHAK YOU! GAAGHH! NAAAAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP!”

The tendrils stationed at the middle of his ribs came alive, mimicking the same unpredictable technique as the ones on his lower ribs. Bakugo fought hard, knowing what was next, knowing he couldn't stop it. Two tendrils slowly wrapped around his thighs, goosing and tickling the whole way. Bakugo expected them to attack his thighs again, but unexpectedly, they slipped their teasing tips underneath the sleeve of the toy, now slowly stroking and wrapping around the bare skin of his penis. Aside from dissolving into harsh thrashing and seizing like he touched an exposed cable, something else instantly came over him. In a moment of panicked weakness he opened his mouth.

“AAHHH! GAHH! WAIT! FUKIN’ WAHAITWAIT! WAHT DOYOUWAHAHAHNT?!”

Deku answered simply. “This.”

Two things happened at the same time.

The tendrils resting and teasing his death spot pulled back and dove right in. Viciously rubbing into that incomprehensibly ticklish spot without a shred of mercy. Four more vibrating tendrils latched on, squeezing, rubbing and scratching torturously.

The tendrils that snuck into the toy, wrapped around the entirety of Bakugo’s heat and lightly squeezed, following the rhythm of the toy. It pumped Bakugo excitedly, the two tips reaching his pre-cum soaked tip to swirl and rub, lick and tease. One of the tips pressed underneath the head, flicking under it like like an experienced tongue, while the other teased and stroked the slit.

Torn between two incredibly overwhelming sensations, Bakugo’s voice instantly gave out. For a moment, there was silence. Bakugo’s mouth was open in a silent, lustful, tortured scream, his sweat glistened muscles rippled with the intense single pull he was imposing onto all of his limbs. His toes clenched and his nails bit into his fists. After one sharp intake of breath,

Bakugo fittingly exploded.

“AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAHAHHA! NONONOHOHOHONOOOOO! GAHHH! NAHA- I CAHHAHA- ST- GAHAHAHAHAD OHHOHOH FUCK! OHFUUUUUCK!! DEHEHE- PFFTAHAHAAHAHA!! AHAHAAAASHIHIT! SHITSHITSAHIT!! AHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAH! GGRRAAAAAHHH!!! -AHAHHAHAHAAA————OOOOOPP! STAHAHAHAP STOPSTOPSTOPFUCKINGHELLSTOHOHOHOHP!! AHAHAHA————”

Deku watched Bakugo fall apart, a maniacal, sadistic smile creasing his face. “Found it.”

“AAAAHH! FUCKDEKUSTOOOOOOOOOOOP! FAHAHAK! I CAHAHA- GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I CAAAAHAHAHAH-”

“What was that?” Deku stuck his tongue into his cheek. “You can’t what?”

Bakugo’s mind was blank. His entire world was encompassed by all of the sensations saturating every recess of his brain. He whipped his head around, slamming it repeatedly against the headrest, the cushioning not even allowing him the relief of pain. He quickly approached the lower level of laughter, where it became mostly screams.

“ICANTTAKEIT! OHFUCKINGSHIT I FUKIN CAHAHAHAHA! AHAHA AHA AHA AHAHAH! ICAHAHAHANT! STOOOOOOOOHOHAAAAAAAAP!”

The toy picked up its pace, encouraging the tendrils wrapped around his dick to follow along. A few new tendrils squeezed his balls, Two flicked and rubbed his nipples, one even licked up the side of his neck, right underneath his jaw. His eyes flew to the back of his head.

“Want me to stop tickling or stop pumping?”

Bakugo’s face was alight with fire, he wasted no time. “TICKLING! STAHAH THE TIHIHIH-TIHIH- FAHAHAHAK! STAHAHAHAP TIHIHAHAHA-!”

“If I stop the tickling, you’ll lose the round. Are you sure you-”

“YES! YEHEHEHS! YESYESYESJUST- SHIHIHIHT!! STAHAHAHAP! FUCKINGHEHEHELL!”

Deku instantly stopped and focused his energy into on the blonde’s dick.

“MMMMPHHHHH FFFFFUUCK!” Bakugo moaned, arching his back and shaking his head, grinding his hips along the bench. “FFFFFFFFUHHHHHK!” Bakugo groaned, lost in a new kind of torment.

He closed his eyes, everything instantly fell away from him when he felt a tendril slip over his tip again. He felt the build up burn in his stomach, felt his penis throbbing, his tip glistening, ready for release. He felt the most powerful orgasm he’d ever had gather, aching in his swollen balls. Despite the need for air, he held his breath as the first drops of-

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

Bakugo’s voice cracked when everything simply stopped.

The tendrils and the toy fell limp. His body tingled as if all of his limbs fell asleep. Sweat dripped off his chin as he gasped. Opening his mouth to curse, a strangled sound came out instead when everything resumed. He flinched and jolted in his restraints, but the pumping and “licking” resumed, throwing him right back into that agonizing build up. Right when he could see stars, it stopped again.

He jerked his head up and seared his eyes into amused green ones with a guttural growl, only to force his head back down and clench his fists when it all started again.

“You…. You ffffuh- ffucking b-”

“I’m just helping you out.” Deku cocked his head to the side, chuckling. “Trust me, you don’t want to cum again.”

Bakugo closed his eyes, but he couldn't have a moment of rest before the pumping started again. He filled his cheeks with curses and air, releasing them in a flurry when rogue tendrils buried themselves into his ribs, his worst spot spared for now, as he was thrown head first into more ticklish chaos. He couldn't handle this much longer. He couldn't handle this now. He felt his sanity slipping through the cracks, but it didn't matter.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Deku trilled after a few more minutes. “If you beg me to cum, I’ll let you. Then we can move on.”

Beg him to lose the game. Beg him to take away the small change at freedom and hope that he had. Beg him to keep him here and torture him until help eventually came or he went batshit.

No, no he couldn't.

Bakugo snapped out of it. He returned Deku’s wicked glare and sneered. “Fuck. You.”

Deku narrowed his eyes and smirked, as if he was hoping for that exact answer. “Tickling it is then.”

First, there was a moment of silence.

Then pure, unadulterated madness.

Blackwhip attacked every inch of Bakugo’s ribcage. Bakugo screamed, a high pitched uncharacteristic shriek that shocked both of them. Then, he fell into manic, hysterical unrestrained laughter. Laughter that only maddened when his worst spot was finally targeted. Bakugo couldn't feel when the toy started again, couldn't feel the bubbling build up, or the burn of release that taunted him from mere inches away. He couldn't feel any of it, not until the tickling abruptly stopped and he stole greedy breath before countless tendrils converged on the entirety of his tip, sliding and slinking over the crimson peak it while the tendrils wrapped around his dick pumped up and down his length with mouth watering speed. His eyes stung with mirthful tears before he was thrown right back into ticklish oblivion.

Once his death spot was awarded another short break, Bakugo used that opportunity to quickly give up.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAHAHAYE! OKAHAHAHAHAY JUHUSTFUKINGDOHOHOHIT! I GIHIHIVE! IGIVE! JAHAHAAST MAAKEMECUM! DHAHAMNIT!”

“Mmmm,” Deku considered for a moment. “Say please.”

“AAGHHAHAHA!! GAHAHAHDDAHAHMN YOU!” Bakugo was slapping the edge of the leather wrist rest with his hand, trying to physically tap out. “PLEHEHESE! FUCKINPLEHEHESE! JUHUST STOP TIHIHIHCKLING!”

The tickling didn't stop completely, but it was enough. Bakugo was hardly afforded the gift of relief as tendrils immediately pumped and licked, massaged and caressed his entire length. The toy suddenly closed up around the tip and so similar to a warm mouth, he felt licking, swirling and even sucking. The rest of his twitching member was caressed and abused with soft and fast lustful strokes. Spit dribbled out of his mouth and beads of sweat glided down his sides and back as he arched.

He had no idea how many tendrils were pleasuring him now, but every damn spot was zapped with unbelievable, world shattering, sinful pleasure. Tendrils slinked through his toes and circled around the balls of his feet. Others lightly ghosted up his long arches and more teased his heals. New, lustful feelings seared from his feet straight to his dick, which pulsed in tandem with the activity. He didn’t dare start to unpack that.

The tendrils reappeared at his nipples and neck, his eyes once again dug into the back of his head.

He lasted an impressive 50 seconds.

He groaned out loud with his long release, his damp rob and body twitching through each pump of glorious rapture. His orgasm, almost matching the duration of his endurance, forced his twitching toes to curl, the squirming tendrils undeterred by even that. His abs and back muscles flexed, the light reflecting off of each sweaty twitch and convulsion.

He slumped heavily after it was through. He bucked and hissed when the tendrils around his ribs hardly gave him a second before teasingly slinking down, tracing over his twitching sides and pressing into his hips and thighs.

“Two for two.” Deku counted, unapologetically. “I’m not sure I like your odds.”

Bakugo couldn't muster a response. The tendrils around his hips and thighs forced a few half assed curses and poorly held back giggles from him. He arched his back, huffing when they pressed into the soft spaces inward next to his hips, ticklishly stroking down between his thighs. Oh shit.

“Agghh staha- Mmmhh. No mohore.” He murmured. His once silky ash blonde hair was now dark and matted, sticking to his eyes and head. “I-I— God, I fffucking can’t- I can’t d-do this shit anymore.” His body sizzled with heightened sensitivity. Even the breeze across his fucking feet tickled.

Deku looked at him for a moment before shaking his head slowly. “The game isn’t over yet.”

The tendrils found a ticklish tendon underneath and inward along his ass and inner thigh, and pressed into it. Bakugo barked out a surprised laugh and squirmed weakly.

Deku was silent as he teased that spot, longer than the pro hero thought he could tolerate.

“One more spot,” Deku announced, pushing his tendrils down over his thighs, creeping over the back of his ticklish knees, lingering there for a moment before tickling toward his calves. “Then round two starts.”

The tendrils slowly slithered down this calves, forcing him to half groan, half whine and bite his cheek. When they grazed over his Achilles heal and brushed down around the sides of his feet, Bakugo felt a surge of adrenaline course through him, energy he pointlessly wasted by yelling a stream of obscenities and fighting hard as he could. He’d never felt more helpless, he’d never been so tortured, he’d never felt as if he could be reduced to begging, but here he was, those sinful words dancing at the tip of his tongue, tempting him like food tempts a starved man.

All from tickling.

Blackwhip paused and Bakugo knew it was over. His fatigue caught up moments before and he stared at Deku with wide pleading eyes. Deku drank that up like a craved cigarette. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

Well, almost.

“Wait! Deku, wai-”

The rest of his plea fizzled and died on his lips.

He felt it everywhere and nowhere. Tendrils raced over and under his flailing toes, some scratched right underneath and along the stems and pads, more circled and scratched the balls of his feet, playing with the plump, overly sensitive pads. Additional ones scratched just at the creases underneath the balls, which at this point hadn’t been touched and absolutely drove him up the metaphorical wall of madness and hysteria. Others stroked up and down and side to side, playing along his creamy arches, paying special attention to the spot where the heel melts into the arch, while more circled and teased his heels. Two tickled and scratched along the sides of each foot, a few, Bakugo couldn't count, even tickled the tops of his feet along with some slowly stroked up and down this claves and two stragglers unfairly burrowing into the back of his knees.

Bakugo couldn't comprehend anything except how much it fucking tickled.

His mouth was wide open in a silent scream, his eyes squeezed shut, saturated with mirthful tears. When additional tendrils started stroking and alternating between the arches and balls of his feet, a switch flipped in him. He started bouncing up and down, moving the bench slightly as he tried to lift and drop his weight, trying to use pure strength to break it or at least flip it over. Aside from a few cracks and creaks, it was silent as he wasted precious, limited energy.

More at the top and sides. Extra in between the toes. Something evil goosed his ribs.

That was all he couldn't handle.

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHO! NONONONAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUUUUUCK! AHA AHAHA! AHAHHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOOOOOOOOOOOP!YOU STUPID FUCKING PIECE OF MOTHERFUCKINGSHIT ILL FUCKING KIHIHIHIHLL YOUDEAAAAD! MMMGGHGHHMHMHMHMMMAAAAAH!! GOD! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!”

Pure, tortured belly laughter bellowed out of him like a fog horn. His laughter only evolved, turning pained and high pitched when the thing on his cock started vibrating.

“NOOO!”

The tendrils along his feet started slowing, sensually rubbing and tickling his toes. Electricity flitted through his dick, standing to attention within seconds.

Curses temporarily overwhelmed his laughter when Blackwhip wrapped around and pulled his toes back. The sweat coating Bakugo’s body created enough slip for the tendrils to wreak absolute havoc just along the undersides and stems of his toes, where the sensitive skin had been pulled and crueley exposed. Bakugo thrashed and screamed and spat and heaved, but nothing stopped it. Nothing topped it.

This time, Deku didn't edge, didn't relent, and didn't change the pace. Either Bakugo was going to cum like this, or he wasn't.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHESE! AHAHAHA! OOHGADDAMNITPLEEHEHESE!!”

“What are you begging for?” Deku inquired. Bakugo couldn't care that he was being mocked, couldn’t even take the few seconds of brain power to register or understand it.

“AAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH ST- AHAHAHA! MA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FUCKFUCKFUCK I CAAAAA————”

Silence. Deku furrowed his brows and leaned forward, cupping a hand to his ear. “Hmm?”

“——————PAHA- PH- PLEHE- PLEHEHEHESE! WAHAHAH- WAIHIHIHT! NAHAHA I- I GOHOHAHAH! MMMMMMHHHHHFFFFFAAAGGHHHHH!!!”

The tickling hardly slowed as stars blurred his vision. A loud, animalistic moan burned his raw throat. He came hard, the tendrils slipping and sliding gleefully inside the wet toy.

Even after he was done, it continued for a few more seconds, prompting a loud continuous scream from him that only relented a few moments after everything truly stopped.

He collapsed, breathing so hard and deep that his chest ached.

He only knew one thing; He couldn't fucking handle this anymore.

Deku slow clapped and whistled. “Bet you never thought you could be tickled into an orgasm.”

Bakugo didn't respond, he hardly heard him. He flinched hard when the tendrils teasingly retracted from his reddened and raw feet, traveling up his trembling body once again.

Bakugo moaned. “N-no… Please…Just … please just stop.”

Deku shook his head and beamed. “The game isn’t over yet.”

Bakugo shook his head, entirely defeated. “No more.”

Deku eyes glittered, the emerald hue glowing as though the devil himself had possessed the soul behind them. “Remember,” Tendrils slithered up to his aching ribs. Bakugo gritted his teeth and pulled his arms. Deku’s eyes crinkled. “You cant cum in the same spot twice.”

Tendrils slipped under his arms, waving and stroking like wheat in the wind.

A noise, almost like a disgruntled whine slipped out of Bakugo. “Please. Deku, please just fucking stop this.”

More tendrils. Bakugo inhaled sharply. “I-I know what I di-did wahas fucked a-”

“Is that all it took?” Deku murmured, voice low. “Hours of tickle torture for you to realize that?”

“No!” Bakugo winced as tendrils spilled down his ribs. “Damn it! I’ve known, you fucktard! I- Fuck! I just- SHIHIT! Just- FUCK! Let me goddam taHAHAlk!”

“No.” Deku put a hand up, silencing the quivering blonde. “It might come as a shock to you, but I haven’t thought about what happened in a long time.”

Tracing along the heels of his feet. Bakugo cringed.

“I’ve wanted this for a while. To torture you, and make you beg.” Tendrils slipped into the hollows behind his knees. “To make you answer for each and every horrible thing you did to me, down to every dirty look.” Tendrils teased up his spine again, causing him to lurch forward as much as he could. “I wanted to break you and make you pay. I still do.” Tendrils ghosted down his arms, teasing the skin under his biceps. “Maybe one day, I’ll let you explain it to me. But right now,” Deku stood, straightening his back. All the tendrils lifted themselves from his body, pointing their tips over their respective spots.

“It turns out, I don’t give a shit.”

Tendrils burrowed into his underarms. As if he were being repeatedly tased with a stun gun, he convulsed and seized, immediately dissolving into loud, unrestrained guffaws. His entire being was now just a big ball of overly sensitized, ticklish nerves to which Blackwhip took full advantage of. It dug, scratched, wiggled, pinched and squeezed all over his body, the main event taking place in his armpits. He fell into silent laughter once, twice, three times within the span of a few minutes.

He couldn't fight when the toy started vibrating, when he felt more of Blackwhip dip into the sleeve of the toy, when the tendrils ghosting and tickling his thighs pinched and traced along his ass, and when tendrils teased the newfound egregious zones on his feet. He gave in to the torture, unable to protest when the freedom he had no chance of earning burned out of him for the fourth time.

Everything stopped. His head fell in misery.

Then snapped back up.

He felt it in his armpits, ribs, thighs, groin, feet, knees, calves, arms- everywhere.

Every spot Deku had learned was put to merciless use.

Bakugo’s screams echoed throughout the room, down the hall, and drifted outside, haunting the grounds like loitering ghosts.

He didn't know how long it took for him to finally pass out.

—

His eyes groggily flitted open.

It took a few minutes for his vision to fully come back to him. It took even longer for him to remember where he was. Eyes locked on the water damaged ceiling, his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. When his brain started to catch up with his body, he felt it.

Holy shit, he ached.

His throat felt chipped and raw, his head pounded hard at the side of his temples, his fucking ribs and stomach…

He groaned and pushed himself up, stomach muscles screaming as he held his head in his hand. One glance around the room and one more zap from his aching body confirmed that what happened to him wasn’t just a fucked up nightmare.

Catching a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye, he turned his attention to the flimsy nightstand next to his bed. Three bottles of water were placed onto it, along with some dark steaming, floral smelling liquid inside of a beige mug with a spoon sticking out of it. In front of that was a bottle of Advil, a sandwich on a small, circular paper plate, and an envelope. All neatly placed together.

Any reservations he’d possessed about eating and drinking had been thwarted long ago, so he downed the first bottle in seconds as well as half of the second before deciding to swallow three Advils along with the rest. He placed the third bottle underneath the mattress and observed the contents of the mug, deciding it was tea. He took a tentative sip, sighing when the hot liquid velveted down his sore throat, soothing it and warming his stomach. A hint of ginger left a subtle, spicy tang and he could have sworn he tasted a bit of honey. He ate his sandwich as he sipped.

He didn't want to think about who left all of this stuff here for him, much less why. As far as he knew, everyone in this fucking place had access to his room and everyone was a damn scumbag for it.

His gaze turned to the envelope. He finished the tea, pulled the lip open, and pulled out something small and rectangular, wrapped in white tissue paper.

He tore the paper off and his stomach dropped.

“K-Kacchan? Wait, Kacchan! No! STOP! PLEASE!”

It was old and worn. It looked exactly like his.

“PLEASE!”

It was Deku’s All Might trading card.

#bnha tickle #tickle fic #t word community #tickle community #tickle blog #lee!bakugou #sallage mha #ticklish!bakugou #mha tickle #lee!bakugo #Ler!Midoriya #Ler!Deku #ticklish!bakugo

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mibyledraws · 1 year ago

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alt text 101 for artists

I’m not an accessibilty expert, but I gathered these tips here and there, and it has really been helping me writing better alt texts - and I hope they will help others too!

Alternative text is a description of an image that can be read by a screen reader. It also can help the understanding of an image for people who don't use screen readers.

What do you write?

It all goes down to including what is relevant to give the user an accurate idea of your artwork:

the medium you used to make the artwork (is it a digital illustration? a traditional oil painting? a graphite pencil sketchbook doodle?)

the subject of the artwork

anything that is relevant for understanding the meaning of the artwork. For instance, is the lighting important, or does it bring a particular meaning or mood?

Write sentences - don’t just throw away key words. EDIT: don't write full sentences, but phrases and fragments to keep your description concise

adding one more thing after getting feedback: keep it concise! Under 125 characters (even 100 is best)

Where/how do I add it?

The alt text feature is more or less obvious on the apps we usually post on. In doubt, please just search for it on a web browser, you’ll find how to add it in the blink of an eye :)

On Twitter

enable the alt text reminder! Everytime you post an image, it will remind you to add alt text if you forgot it. Go in your settings, then “accessibility, display and languages”. Then “accessibility”, and in the media section, check the “receive image description reminder” box.

on web browser: once you’ve uploaded your image, click on “add description” under it.

on the app: once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the “+alt” bubble in the right bottom corner that appeared on your image.

On Instagram

at the bottom of the posting page, go in “advanced settings”, then “accessibility”, then “write the alt text”.

On Tumblr

once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the three dots icon that appears when your mouse is on the image, then click on “update the description”.

On Mastodon

once you’ve uploaded your image, click on the “description missing” message that appears on it.

On your website (portfolio, shops, etc)

Where and how you can add it depends on the platforms but there’s always a way! My tip for this would be to schedule yourself an alt text audit of your website to take a moment when you would search how to do it and when you would add all the necessary alt texts! I’d also encourage you to pay attention to some other accessibility features - for instance contrast between background and text. There are lots of ressources out there and I admit it can sound overwhelming: digital accessibility is an expertise, a job field in itself after all. In my opinion, taking it a few steps at a time is a good way to go! For instance I like to do little accessibility audits of my portfolio every once in a while and check a new area that I might have missed before.

I forgot to add it, what should I do?

On some platforms, you can add it after posting if needed - it’s the case on the Instagram app for instance. Always try to see if you can add it afterwards. If you can’t, add it in the replies (if it’s on twitter for instance) or edit the body/caption of your post if you can change this but can’t change the alt text.

Adding it as a “simple description” instead of an alt text that will be read by a screen reader in lieu of the image isn’t perfect, but having it somewhere very close to the image in plain text that will get to be read by screen readers is way better than nothing to my knowledge :)

It's Disability Pride Month (July, when I'm writing this)

I wanted to take some time to encourage you to take some time and energy this month, and at anytime of the year, when you can, to learn about Disability Justice. I’m not the best at explaining what it is, and how much there is at stake. I’m better at this, making small guides about what fellow artists can do to make their work more welcoming to disabled people. But it doesn’t mean Disability Justice isn’t close to my heart and that I shouldn’t even mention it.

There’s a documentary about the Disability Rights movement that I can only highly recommend - it’s Crip Camp. It’s on netflix, and even watchable in full on Youtube.

youtube

Pay attention to us, disabled people, to what we have to say. ”Nothing about us without us”: our perspectives and opinions are those you must focus on when it comes to disability and to our lives.

#disabled artist #disability pride month #disability community #artists on tumblr #art community #illustration #artist on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #cute art #accessiblity #art resources #art tips #tips for artists #Youtube

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the-family-business-83 · 1 year ago

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Unexpected Calling – Part I

Part 1 | Masterlist WIP

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in short change and a letter handwritten by a 9-year old girl.

Type: Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader's daughter (platonic obviously), Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, action, slight angst, might get smutty but idk yet

Warnings: Be prepared for some adult language! Nothing too crazy in this first part though, we're just getting started so that's my only warning for now.

Word count: 1.6k

Send me an ask to let me know if you wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!!

This post was Beta'd by @mariekoukie6661. Thanks a million!

A/N: Thought I'd throw my hand at a prompted fic! Hope you guys like it, I'll add a chapter directory and update as needed as the next parts are posted. So stay tuned 👀 Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics <3

Every morning is always the same when you're paid to kill. He'd been trying to be better about the whole actual killing part lately, but that didn't change his morning routine very much. He woke up to the sound of his alarm clock going off—yes, he still used one. If you asked for his reasoning, he'd tell you it's because it's less complicated and you can always count on it to work because it simply stayed plugged into the wall; in the event that the power went out? It had batteries for backup power, and you can't find that kind of peace of mind with just the alarms on your phone. He's still an old soul, sue him. He woke up at 6:45 am, on the dot, every morning without fail that way so it was rather effective.

After the blaring sound of his trusty alarm clock came the process of forcing himself out of bed and cleaning up for the day; shaving if necessary, freshening up, getting dressed, the works. This was generally when he'd change his appearance should the need arise, as well. But he didn't need to do that this morning and so he flicked the light to the bathroom off as he left the room when he was finished, heading out to his kitchen thereafter. The next step? Food. It was always 7 am sharp by the time he got done with his wakeup process, the only time that changed being when he added any extra steps in the bathroom. And breakfast was always simple: a cup of hot black coffee, sliced avocado, and bread toasted to perfection with an egg over medium to be dipped in. And it never failed to be a pleasant way to start his morning, usually followed closely after by a session of watching the morning news. He found it a good way to see what was going on in the area and across the country so he could plan accordingly.

If he didn't have a job, which by chance was the case today, he'd generally find any sort of quiet way to spend the rest of his morning; reading a book, cleaning up all his weapons, or a walk in the park if he felt like it. Today, he felt like it. And it was mostly peaceful, if you excluded the grating sound of car horns, tires squealing, and buses chuffing past. And of course, if you chose to ignore the rumbling from the subway, the people shouting either in their urgency to get to work or just simply because they were an ass, then it was really utterly plain and quiet to walk through Central Park. By this point Bucky had truly gotten used to it. He supposed in some ways it wasn't too much different from his home in the past. But that didn't mean he liked to spend too much time there anyway. So long as he got out and went back home just in time, he could skip the gradeschoolers and dog walkers that came around for the afternoon.

There had been nothing unusual about his day so far, and he liked that. He liked the rhythm of it all, and how it always went according to his carefully curated schedule. He began the process of unlocking his apartment door after making his way up to his floor, and pushed it open to take a step inside. Crunch.

What the helll...?

Bucky frowned as, seemingly, something sat under his boot and crinkled where he'd stepped, making the same sound again as he carefully pried his foot off. The poor, crisply folded, paper envelope that had earlier been slotted through his dead-drop, suffered a dirt-covered footprint but aside from that, it seemed harmless and intact as he picked it up to inspect it. A curious thing to find when you hardly get mail aside from the bills. What was even more curious was the contents within it, feeling a bit lumpy and—quite frankly—heavy for a letter-sized envelope. He closed the door behind himself with one hand, locking it once again out of habit while the other kept hold of the envelope. Moments later he flicked out a switchblade to slice it open revealing not only a handwritten letter but also $23.42.....Exactly. All in small change.

It was quite honestly the oddest thing he'd seen or received to date, and that was including the number of quite-literal backstabs he'd received, numerous other maiming injuries, and the odd encounters he’d had with a talking raccoon, tree, and robot...man…thing. To name a few. That was also including the number of odd jobs he'd been offered and peculiar payment methods he'd been given. Never had he come across such a specific payment with a letter that….upon further inspection….looked as though its penman couldn't be much older than 9 years old, at most.

'Dear mister,

My name is Rosie Jones. I am 9 yeers old. My mommy says you're vary good at helping people. Well, I need your help. Mommy also said you like to be paid for helping, so I broke my piggy bank open so you wood help us. Mommy doesn't know yet thoe, so please don't tell her.

My mommy dissuhpeered disappeered last night. She told me to hide and I did but now I can't find her and so I need your help mister becuz you're really good at finding people too, mommy said so. Please please help me find my mommy, I don't know what to do mister.

– Rosie'

"You've gotta be shitting me." He muttered to himself. The first question Bucky had, quite honestly, was how did this little girl even know who he was? Or where he lived? Not many people did, if any, truth be told. If they did? They were usually dead within minutes. It was one of many reasons that kept his renowned status intact. But here he was, sitting at his own table, with proof that some little girl knew both of those things. Frowning down at the paper and envelope of change, the assassin ran his hand back through his dark brown hair momentarily, processing what he'd just read. On one hand, it could be an elaborate trap. By all rights he had to assume it, considering the nature of the letter and the fact that a little girl of all people had written it. But on the other hand, there was a certain dedication there that he simply couldn't ignore. And some part of him couldn't help but at least look into it. So moments later, the man was pulling out his laptop and began searching for answers, anything that could give this little girl's story any sort of credit.

Much to his surprise? It checked out. Every last bit of it. There was a mother, connected to the Rosie Jones in question, who had gone missing under rather mysterious circumstances. "I'll be damned, mystery kiddo."

'Y/N Jones, aged 37, a single mother, was nowhere to be found the next morning after reports came in that a struggle and silenced gunshots were heard from the house that night.'

He probably could have gotten away with just keeping the money and letting it go. It was some little kid somewhere hoping for someone to hear her plea, he could get away with it. But it was that name…. he'd seen it before, he knew he had. In all fairness though, he really only remembered faces exceptionally well. Names didn't matter in the long run, names didn't tell him who he was shooting within a crowd of people. So why did it keep nagging at the back of his mind?...

Spoiler alert: he shouldn't have went digging. He should have just left it alone. But he had always been a curious mind and he was nothing if not thorough on top of that. Popping open the top to his bottle of whiskey, Bucky carefully poured out a favorable portion into a glass tumbler, before letting it down onto the counter as he heard an agreeable noise coming from his laptop to signal it had finished its task. Glancing over his shoulder, he sipped on his drink as he made his way back over to the table, having waited for what seemed like an hour to get the information he wanted. And the minute he looked at the screen was the very same minute he regretted it.

He knew that face.

He knew it like the back of his hand almost, he knew it the same way he knew the taste of bourbon or the sound of a .22 magnum. That was the face of Y/N Y/L/N and it was a face he had been trying to forget for years now. But most of all he knew it was a mistake to have even touched this with a ten-foot pole. Because now he had a target, he knew what the target looked like, and he had been paid in- well, maybe not-so-full, but in 9-year-old currency $23.42 was basically a million dollars considering it was all her savings.

In short?

He had to do it now.

He knew that. And it damn near made him groan at the prospect. Because this was going to be a long-ass job, and if he was going to ensure the rescue of that little girl's mother, then he needed to ensure that child's safety. The less leverage the 'enemy' had, the easier his job was. So as he sighed out, "Damnitall, this better be fuckin worth it kid," the hundred year old assassin finished off his drink and went about packing his things to take on a job that he never asked for, but knew damn well he was stuck with until it was over.

But at least if he had to go through with this, he was going to be damn sure he did it right, that was for sure.

Taglist: If you weren't tagged it's because I couldn't get it to tag you or I didn't know which account was yours – @aingealcethlenn @deaan @idabbleincrazy @impala-1979 @kadet-jb @myinconnelly2 @princessmisery666 @rosedemica @tvdspngirl314 @darsynia @buckys-zomdoll @cookingglitterfairy @emilyshurley @fictionalabyss @jotink78 @mariekoukie6661 @manawhaat @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @scarletwinchester84 @sorenmarie87 @until-theend-oftheline @starryeyes2000 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @betweengalaxies2 @focusonspn

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herb-emotes · 13 days ago

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So you want to make emotes?

Here are some things that are potentially helpful for new emote creators that I probably just pulled out of my bum bum. Im not a professional this is just what I think I've learned learned

1: simple vs complex

Is your symbol going to be big or small? This is very important to think about, for pixel size, accessibility, and being comprehensible because if your say, making a discord sticker, the details will be alot more noticeable say compared to a standard sized emoji.

You also might want to make it simple or complex depending on its motive, is it meant to be eye catchingly detailed or is it supposed to be just something someone can look at and instantly have a idea of what it means?

Complex emotes can also cause eye strain if you aren't careful, especially in a smaller medium as the viewer might be staring at it trying to figure out what it means, especially if your emotes name isn't self explanatory or just not there depending on platform.

2: colors

Don't get me wrong, I love bright eye strainy colors, but its not for everyone, and some people have a hard time even looking at them. So if you want something colorful you might want something desaturated but still vibrant, don't be afraid to play with your color pallete!

3: Vector vs raster

If you've taken a graphic design class, or watched a simple tutorial, you might already know what this is.

A raster is a pixel file, like any jpg or png would usually be, they have a set size before they start to loose detail and become lower quality.

A vector is a file which usually isn't made in pixels and can be resized easily. You might of noticed the somewhat recent ibspaint vector update, but its for premium users and most vector applications cost money and are hard to learn right away

Which one should you use?

It doesn't matter! It's up to personal preferences, although if you use a raster file you might want to make sure you have a large pixel size if you intend on your work to be multi use.

4: Deciding on a style.

This one doesn't matter that much, please don't worry about finding a consistent art style in its entirety, But for a emote you might wanna be consistent.

Some things you can do are brainstorm, make a mindmap, are your eyes dots or do they have a pupil iris and sclera? Do your smiles have dimples? Color pallete ideas if you plan on having one, what kind of lineart do you wanna use? Fonts for text? Another way to brain storm is literally just by making emojis as you go, try making different versions of the same emote until you find something your happy with.

Conclusion

The way you make emotes depends on how you plan on people using them, it is important to think about accessibility, and recognition for either the previous thing or just gaining an audience (if you want one ofc, they can be bad for mental health.)

Literally anyone can interact with this post btw as I feel as though its more important to be able to access this over syscourse

#custom emoji #custom discord emoji #emojiblr #discord emote #discord emoji #aac emoji #aac symbol #aac emote #emoji art #emoji blog #custom emote #emote blog #discord emotes #advice #tutorial #rambling about stupid shit

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poohsources · 2 years ago

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🐝 * ― 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑫 𝑻𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑼𝑷𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑺.

following my last post, i went through every single one of my templates to see which ones were having problems ( which were more than i initially thought ) and updated them all. the textbox itself might look a little more cluttered now, but i've tried to make it as readable as possible still. for those of you who want to fix the issue yourself ( in case i missed any or if it didn't update for you ) i'll leave a small guide down below on what you need to do. but first of, here's a list of all the templates i've updated:

EEYORE

LUMPY

SKULLASAURUS

KESSIE

OWL

SILLY OLD BEAR

HUNNY POT

BRAVER THAN YOU BELIEVE

STRONGER THAN YOU SEEM

SMARTER THAN YOU THINK

RUMBLY IN MY TUMBLY

BLUE BALLOON

NEW ADVENTURES

and as promised, here are the solutions for the most prominent problems i came across.

the first issue is the easier one of the two and it happens when styling a text as code and literally anything else. for me, the one i most commonly use is `**example**` and to fix that, you simply need to delete the asterisks, so instead of `**text**` you'll just have `text`. so whenever you have used the `` for code, just delete whatever other markdown formatting you've used.

the next issue is the spacing issue mentioned in the previous post. as i said, the easiest way to fix that is by including a simple dot and coloring it in whatever color is used in your highlight / background. one example of this would be ==[.]{#ababab} example text [.]{#ababab}== when doing it like this, you can even keep the bigger spaces - just make sure to place the dot right after the == in the beginning and right before the == at the end. and make sure to really change the color to whatever color you've used in your highlight / background, otherwise, it's probably gonna look weird.

another thing i noticed is that you cannot have any spacing following one of the symbols used for formatting. there needs to be some form of text so either use the dot method above again or, if you don't need the space, simply delete it.

if anyone notices i've missed anything, or has some further question, please feel free to ask! :)

#pooh speaks.#carrd #carrd templates #carrd help #( ngl i absolutely hate carrd for doing this right now )#( and i really hope they're gonna fix this in another update )#( but until then i hope this quick fix will do the trick )

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wwwow-official · 3 months ago

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Hello, world!!~

Welcome to the OFFICIAL Wacky William's World Of Weird blog!

Now, you may be asking, what IS Wacky William's World Of Weird? Well, my friend, I'm glad you asked!

Description!!~

Wacky William's World Of Weird, or WWWOW for short, is a work-in-progress indie game/art piece/passion project, with elements of mascot horror, analog horror, bait-and-switch games, puzzle games, and other such things!

You play as Y/N [that's right, YOU!], a 20-something year old horror enthusiast, with a love for lost media, and a knack for abandoned building exploration.

After re-discovering an old shirt they don't remember having, they do a bit of research, finding out about the [now abandoned] children's interactive museum of the same name, which resides in their childhood home town, which they and their parents had moved away from, when they were just a kid.

Throughout the game, you'll do puzzles and mini-games, complete tasks, explore, discover secrets, and most importantly, meet the [very much ALIVE!] colorful cast of mascots!

Luckily for YOU, a good few of these characters are friendly! Especially the name-sake character himself, Wacky William, who will grant you sanctuary, and give you hints about the lore, if you ask the right questions!~

Outside of the game, there's still much to do with this fun little story! It seems like SOMEONE'S been uploading old video archives to Youtube, showing off several different promotional videos, commercials, cartoon episodes, and even stuff from what appears to be an old website?

Discover bits and pieces of the story, pieces you wouldn't be able to find in the game, and connect the dots the best you can!!~

Now, that's about all I can give in terms of a description, for now! Though, if you're curious about any non-story related details, our ask box is, in fact, open!

This blog is mainly for sneak peeks, dev updates, musings, and other such random things. Though, there may be a few rebloggings, aswell!

To make things less confusing, I have devised a little tagging system!~

TAGS!!~

General:

#wacky williams world of weird! - For all posts related to WWWOW!

#wwwow! - Same as above, just abbreviated!

#important posts! - Posts like this one, with IMPORTANT INFORMATION!!

#asks! - A tag dedicated to answering questions!

#wwwow updates! - A general tag for WWWOW-related updates!

#sneak peeks! - For sneaky little peeks at WIPs!

#dev log! - Just development logs, nothing too special!

#character intro! - Posts that are all about showing off one of our wonderful Wacketeers!

#wacketeer art! - For art of the characters, Canon or not!

#sillies! - For memes/joke posts about the characters/story/etc.!

#fun fact! - Just to spice things up, I'll be posting fun facts about the characters at least once a week!

Character-Specific Tags:

#wacky william!

#zany zeno!

#nutty norman!

#aberrant albert!

#curious cornelius!

#bouncy betsy!

#sweet suzanne!

#peppy penny!

#other wacketeers!

Off-Topic/Other:

#off topic! - For posts/reblogs that aren't about WWWOW!

#aesthetics! - A tag [mostly] containing aesthetic/stim-worthy pics/gifs/videos that remind me of certain characters!

#polls! - For.. to put it simply, project-related community polls! Kinda speaks for itself, doesn't it?

#reblogs! - Posts that have been reblogged from other accounts!

#support! - To help spread awareness, or just to help out!

*This section will be updated every now and then, to include new tags, if needed! ^^

Now that we've gotten all that out of the way, it's time I introduce myself, and put some boundaries down!

You can call me Mod Cryptic, or just Crypt! I'm the owner of this blog, aswell as the creator of WWWOW as a project! You may know me from my main blog, @cryptic-loser , but that's neither here nor there-

As for my boundaries when it comes to this blog, they're pretty simple!

1. Please, do not make any strange, NSFW comments about the characters! Simping is mostly fine [I encourage this, actually!], just please nothing inappropriate.

2. Please do not pester. If your ask hasn't been answered, I probably just haven't gotten to it yet, or don't know how to respond!

3. Please be nice!! If you don't like something about the project, or have something to say about anything, please be civil about it! Remember, if you have nothing nice to say, it's better to say nothing at all.

4. If you are a bigot in any fashion [Homophobic, Transphobic, Xenophobic, Racist, Sexist, Ableist, etc.], please leave. This is not the place for you. If you try to interact, you will be blocked.

5. If you are a pro-shipper/p3d0/m@p/z00phile/etc., again, this is not the place for you. Like with the last point, if you interact, you will be blocked.

6. On a lighter note, if you draw anything, or make anything related to this project, please tag me in it! I love seeing it!! ^^

And with that, this post FINALLY comes to a close.

I hope you guys have a splendid time here, and have fun!!~

Goodbye for now!!~

Boarders/Dividers made by @strangergraphics !!

#important posts!#project #oc project #blog intro #blog info #mascot horror #analog horror #kidcore #clowncore #weirdcore #kids museum #oc blog #welcome home #poppy playtime #five nights at freddy's #horror game

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tortoisebore · 4 days ago

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any tips for new writers?

(btw i am literally in love with hey, sharpshooter it had me up all night reading it <3)

**disclaimer that i am by no means a person that has any actual real education/experience in writing or character work or world building & i can only give you what has worked for me & the things i’ve kept in mind while writing my little gay fanfiction 💞👯‍♀️

my main big picture tips are not backed up in research, they’re just what’s worked for me:

1. make a deeply detailed outline. spending a lot of time writing a very long, detailed outline at the beginning helped me a lot when i felt stuck in the back half of the fic. the outline changed a lot from when i started it, and i added little notes and ideas for scenes or dialogues or character traits along the way, but all of my big idea generation happened there and it helped me a lot with pacing the plot and building the characters and their relationship gradually. also** it was not some sort of technically perfect, structured outline—this is what it looked like:

fr just get all of your ideas down on a page in whatever way works for you. this is the place to word-dump to your heart’s content!!

2. make the first draft bad. fr just get it in the page. if you’re not feeling it or don’t have any specific word choices in your head when you’re writing the first draft, don’t worry about the dialogue being realistic or having perfect flowery metaphors or beautiful descriptive world building. literally just get it on the page in whatever way you can.

3. connect the dots between the type of writing you like to read and what you like to write. i loveee books with flowery prose and metaphors and natural dialogue, and i found that i really enjoyed writing those things, so they were the goals i focused on while i was doing all my editing/second draft writing. on the flip side, if you like to read extensive world-building but find yourself struggling to find motivation/inspiration to write it, don’t. try to write how you want to write, but put more emphasis on writing how you like to write.

4. don’t force it. this has been crucial to me bc i work a 9-5 in the art/design industry and i only have so much creative energy to go around, so i have to ration it carefully. if you try to force yourself to write when you’re really not feeling it, or when you’re out of motivation and frustrated and tired, it will 100% show in your writing.

5. don’t think about posting your work. for 99% of us, this is a hobby. posting your work is not a hobby, creating it is!! rn we exist in a world where people view creativity and art solely as content to be consumed, and i encourage you to place more emphasis on actually enjoying and finding peace and meaning in the journey of making something rather than the idea of other people consuming it. what it does for you and how it makes you feel is far more important than what it does for the people pressuring you for an update you’re not ready to give them.

and then here are a couple technical/grammatical tips that i learned way back in like 6th grade english or picked up on by reading a million books over the years & still think of constantly:

1. vary your sentence structure!! i am sometimes bad at this and i don’t really pay attention to it in my first drafts, but when i go back and edit i make sure to vary my sentences by length, compound vs. simple, breaking up with semicolons or hyphens, etc. a story that’s written with strong, varied sentence types will read much more naturally and flow better than one that doesn’t

2. be intentional about starting your sentences with different words. again, when i’m writing my first drafts i don’t pay much attention to things like this, but when i’m editing i’m really anal about making sure that my sentences don’t all start with “he” or “[insert name here]” or “it” or whatever. sometimes you can’t work around it, but my goal is to never have two consecutive sentences start with the same word, and i really really try to make sure that two consecutive paragraphs don’t start with the same word

3. say your dialogue out loud. i had the hardest time trying to make my dialogue feel natural at the start but honest to god saying it out loud with all the cadence and emphases you’re writing it with can really help you find ways to make it feel like actual people talking. also, don’t be afraid to use ellipses and hyphens and break up a string of dialogue with an action, like a character sighing or biting the inside of their cheek or moving their hands. people don’t talk in perfectly-structured sentences. we run-on and don’t use punctuation and we restart or hesitate in the middle of a sentence—include that!!

#u ask tortoise answers #anon

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beforeiread-studies · 4 months ago

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Korean Learning - month 6 update (July 2024)

This was a great month! I'm proud of myself and my progress.

I read 2 more books in the Easy Korean Reading series. In my last post I had said something like "I'm sure I'll be able to finish the whole series this month" but nope, they got much harder after the first 4. So now I have 2 books left. At one point the characters re-introduced themselves and it's crazy to compare that to the introductions in very chapter of the first book and see how they are using much more complex expressions now and I understand them!

I kept it up with Anki and added around 250 new cards. Not 500 like I had hoped, but adding cards is so dull ㅠ I miss my pre-made deck for German. In other news, I finally got the mobile app so I've been studying on the bus (and at work) or even while watching videos rather than having 1 big session a day, which is more relaxing.

I bought an Italian Korean workbook. I've completed 6 lessons out of 25. This book is used at Italian unis to study Korean so it makes me feel v accomplished. So far it's mostly been stuff I already know but it's nice to put dots on is and lines on ts (does that make sense in English?).

I watched some random super beginner Korean podcasts. Choi Susu I will get to your level someday but until then akapinn and koreant (on YouTube) are solid alternatives. Highly recommended for super beginners.

I spontaneously enrolled in a King Sejong Institute (KSI) online course. The one with 1 online live lecture a week. The first one is this weekend but I will have to miss it ㅠ (already alerted the teacher, it's fine). From what I can see you need to do 1 unit of registered videos a week and then there is the live lecture. I thought I'd enroll in the Level 2/6 course, but the KSI level test told me to enroll in level 3 (2A)! I decided to up the stakes even more by choosing a course taught entirely in Korean, no English. Cause, you know, I'm moving there in a month, I should get used to not understanding anything that's going on. But now that I've watched the videos for the first week they are kinda easy? Am I actually getting good at Korean?

MOST IMPORTANTLY, I started taking lessons on Italki! So far I've taken 6 lessons with 2 teachers and I have another one scheduled for Friday. One of the teachers focuses more on speaking-speaking and the other on speaking-grammar, which I think is a great combo. I've spent about 100€ on lessons (yikes) but I put money aside for this so it's fine. Being forced to speak to someone in Korean is definitely helping. I can now have simple chats with my teachers, using English vocabulary for the words I don't know yet. And this week I'm going from 30-minute lessons to 45-minute lessons. Wish me luck!

Things that didn't work

I deleted TikTok. Last month I uploaded it to only follow Korean accounts and get bite-sized practice, but I ended up skipping those videos and stopping on the English-subtitled ones. I'm not there yet.

I didn't complete a single new lesson on the King Sejong online no-lectures course. I suppose they are just not appealing to me anymore, which is fine. I won't put pressure on myself for it anymore. The new course should provide me with the same content anyway.

The fill-it-out cards on Anki failed miserably. I created them wrong and they asked me to fill out the English word. Yikes. I don't think I'll try again for a bit.

Month 7 plan (August 2024)

Less than 1 month to my move to Korea, gah.

Vocabulary. Keep it up with Italki + add however many cards I like

Reading. Finish at least the 4.1 book of Easy Korean Reading.

Listening. Keep listening to random podcasts on YouTube until I find one that fits my level. No pressure.

Conversation. 2 Italki lessons per week. I will have to decide whether to keep them up after I leave for Korea too.

Grammar. Attend the KSI lectures + complete the exercises on my book.

Writing. I'm now realizing that I've been sorely neglecting this aspect of language learning and I'm desolate to inform you that I will continue to do so during the next month too.

#korean learning #learning korean #korean language #korean resources #language learning #langblr #anki

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years ago

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The Monster You Created

“You corrupted her soul, what else did you expect”

🍒 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Callsign Cherry Masterlist

🍒 Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Y/N 'Cherry' Bishop, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Y/n 'Cherry' Bishop

🍒 Word Count: 4.3 k

🍒 Warnings: Parental death, sexism, asshole Jake and Bradley, jokes about them being together, swearing, breach of trust, talk of virginity loss, loss of friendship (and love...), angst, AS (asshole pilot), protective Bob, mourning

🍒 A/n: Here we go, let me know what you guys think. Bobby has made become an unexpected important appearance and he's staying.

🍒 Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

Your nails drum against the steering wheel as you drive, and the saltwater breeze fills the air surrounding you. You had just recently taken the top off your jeep and the warm summer weather did wonders for your skin. The sunglasses that rest on the bridge of your nose dim the blinding light of the sunset, though as you pull into the Hard Deck you lower them to take in the beachside bar.

Receiving the call back to Top Gun came as somewhat of a surprise, though you had heard through the chain line that there was a new mission brewing. It was the luck that came with having good connections in the Navy, not just because of your late father, but because you had also made quite a name for yourself in the past ten years.

You slip from the cherry red jeep that matches your nails and the short red and white polka-dotted dress swings against your thighs, barely covering your backside. You reach up to run your hands through your hair, effectively releasing the knots from the drive. Your keys swing on your finger as you make your way into the bar, and your eyes catch sight of an all too familiar bronco sitting in the lot.

You slip through the doors and the momentary blast of cool air is quickly ridden from you and exchanged for the overly stuffy heat in the overpacked bar. You catch a few eyes, service men that think you’re going to be their willing prey for the night. A small teasing smile rests on your lips and you may or may not innocently bat your eyes at them. Though you don’t stay in one place long enough for them to make a move towards you.

The simple, yet intimidating stride you take toward the bar has patrons moving out of your way and the click of your heels seems to gain the attention of the entire bar. You can feel the different sets of eyes watching you and though you used to mind all of the attention and shy away from it. Now you reveled in it, it came with the persona and built a sturdy barrier that no one was able to cross.

Your eye’s find Penny as she gives you a small smile, while you lean up against the bar top and give her a genuine smile. Penny had been in your life long before Top Gun when your parents were still alive, and she had essentially become the aunt you never had.

“God, Italy did you good.” Her eyes move up and down your form before she motions you to do a small turn, with her finger.

“Could have been the weather, culture, maybe the food.” Your hands rest on the bar, and you lean into her. “But it’s probably because of the men.”

She gives you a full laugh, with her head thrown back, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“We missed you.” The words are muttered quietly and you give her a squeeze back in answer before she is pulling away and getting you a drink. The words make your gut twist and causes your heel to tap away. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss Penny and Amelia, it was just too hard being back. Driving down the street you once walked and seeing things that reminded you of everything you lost.

You can feel the stare as it burns a hole in the back of your head, and while you had only seen Rooster’s bronco, you were sure Hangman had gotten the call back as well. Your focus is taken from Penny as a figure slides up to the bar top next to you, their hand just barely ghosting against your waist, but enough to get you to turn around in question.

“You’re even prettier up close.”

Your eyes nearly see the back of your head as they roll, but you notice the khaki uniform and decide to play. Your hand falls to his that’s resting on the bar and a small giggle emits from your chest, as you give him a teasing smile.

He tells you his callsign and then explains that he’s a pilot, all while you maintain innocence and act completely oblivious to the military world. A glass slides into your hand, the amber liquid sloshing and you give Penny a quiet thank you, before winking.

“Put it on my tab, honey.”

Penny looks between the two of you, before giving the guy a smirk and a nod. You hid behind your glass, eyes peeking over the rim as you smile, then take a small sip of the whiskey. You would laugh at the poor guy and how he was completely oblivious to who you were, but the free drink was incentive enough to not spoil his night quite yet.

“So, you’re a fighter pilot,” Your voice is breathy, and the smile he gives you doesn’t hide the thoughts that are already racing through his mind. “Have you ever had to shoot anyone down?”

The question seems innocent enough and the gentle tilt of your head in wonder has the guy’s hand coming to rest at your hip.

“I’ve had many close calls, honey.” His hand slightly grabs at the material of your dress. “But there are only two active pilots with air-to-air kills.”

You hum in acknowledgment, which has him continuing as you take another drink. You tune out for a moment when you catch movement to the right of you, but you don’t risk the turn around to see who is making their way toward you. The use of your callsign has your attention on the pilot, and the look you give him has him repeating for you.

“Hangman and Cherry, only pilots that have air-to-air kills. Hangman’s got one under his belt, he’s actually a good friend of mine.” You almost laugh at the desperation seeping off him, you know damn well that he doesn’t know Jake and it’s only a last-stitched effort to get in your pants. “What about, Cherry?”

“She’s got two, lucky kills though.” The words make you glare slightly at the man, but he’s too consumed in himself to even notice. “She’s also the resident bitch of the Navy.”

You knew what people that didn’t know you, said about you. The name was no surprise, but that didn’t make you any less pissy at the term. Though before you can say something, the movement from your right comes into view and the smell of sandalwood consumes your senses.

A hand slips around your waist and effectively pushes the pilot’s hand from your hip. You breathe in the scent and your beating heart calms at the new presence. The familiarity has you leaning farther into the body, now encasing you to the bar. Your eye’s leave the pilot's face, who is already glaring to the side of you, and find a pair of deep blue eyes watching you.

“Hi, Bobby.”

You give him a delicate smile, one that very few people ever saw, before lifting your hand to adjust the frames that rest on the bridge of his nose. A gentle kiss is placed on your temple before Bob pulls away and looks at the pilot then back to you.

“What are you doing, Cher?”

“Just playing.”

The words are easy as they slip off your lips and have Bob laughing, while the other pilot stares at you in silence. He had witnessed you “play” with cocky pilots on more than one occasion and while it was all a game to you, he didn’t trust any pilot whose ego you bruised.

You grasp the glass of whiskey from the counter, noticing that Penny topped you off, before shooting it like a shot. Your eyes remain on the pilot, as a small dribble of the liquor falls from your lips. Bob moves without thinking, as his thumb swipes across your bottom lip to catch it. Though before he can pull away, your lips wrap around his thumb and suck the amber liquid right off.

The action makes Bob roll his eyes, over the seven-year friendship he had become used to your antics and knew you better than almost everyone. When you first meet the pair of you had become instant friends, about 4 months into the friendship on a drunken night, the pair of you had decided to see just how compatible you were. Neither of you could keep a straight face and the night of “debauchery,” turned into a night of horror moves cuddling after the ultimate failure of making out.

The pilot watches you in silent shock, as you pat his shoulder once and give him a smirk. Your form pushes off the bar, clutching Bobby’s hand and tugging him with you. Though before you can get far you turn back around, looking past Bobby’s smirking face to see the man not only stunned but mad. Just like those old cartoons, waiting for the steam to release from his ears.

“Oh, by the way, I’m Cherry. The resident bitch of the United States Navy.”

...

Bob pulls you forward and tugs you toward the bathroom hallway, before stopping in a corner. Your body settles against the wall, though Bob’s arms are quick to wrap around you and pull you into a tight hug. You clutch onto the back of his shirt and relax knowing that you wouldn’t be facing anything alone. Not tonight or during the next 6 weeks.

“When did you get back?”

The words are muffled against your neck, but you hear them clear as day.

“About 40 hours ago.” Your voice is teasing, though the small hitch at the end tells Bob just how tired you are.

“If you would have told me you were coming, we could have driven down together Cher.”

“I know.” You nod gently before your head falls back to rest against the wall. “I just needed the time. They say it gets easier with time, but every time I come back it feels like I’m still that little girl. Losing the only life I knew and getting shipped off to Texas. It wasn’t just my parents who died, the person I was, my life, died too.” A shuttered breath courses through your body, and your hand tightens around Bob's. The tightening in your throat only grows and has you pushing out a forced laugh, anything to change the current topic of interest. “Plus, Adams told me a little bit about the detachment and said that they might be here, which was correct according to the bronco sitting in the lot.”

“Yeah, I just had the pleasure of meeting them. Rooster doesn’t seem horrible and well Hangman, he’s just like you described.” Your eyes roll and any form of smile falls from your face. “Come on, Cher. It’s been ten years.”

Your hand reaches up to spin the pendant on your necklace, a nervous habit that you had picked up. Though your fingers are stilled, as Bob reaches up and grasps onto your hand bring it down to relax by your side.

“Ten years, that I’ve spent making sure that I am better than them in every way, Bobby.”

Your eyes move from Bob and settle on the wall opposite of you, at the flash of disappointment in his eyes. A deep sigh emits from his chest, and your head tips back to lean against the wall behind you, staring that the wood-beamed ceiling.

You hate disappointing Bob, he was like your big brother, but he also knew the full story and couldn’t blame you for the hate you still carried for the pair. The story of your callsign followed you around, it wasn’t like it died after leaving the academy. No, everywhere you went at least one guy brought your virginity.

“I’ll play nice, but the minute either of them say something,” a heavy sigh leaves your lips, and Bob's hand gently squeezes your hand in reassurance. Your head dips back down and your eyes sweep to his, to find only love and support. You give him a small squeeze back and a tiny smile, that was only for his comfort. Before vacantly muttering the words, “I will burn them to the fucking ground, Robert.”

A deep sigh leaves his chest, though before he can say anything you’re turning. You had enough of him playing the disappointed older brother and just wanted to have fun. You hadn’t seen him for 8 months and knew that the both of you had lots to catch up on.

A squeeze and a smirk are all you give him before you’re heading back down the hall and out into the bar. You can feel him trailing behind you, though you don’t slow. Your back straightens and the pace in your step quickens slightly, as you round the corner and catch sight of the all too familiar dirty blonde hair.

You make a bee-line for the pool tables, knowing that ripping off the band-aid would be far easier. Then standing around anxiously all night, waiting for one of them to show up. You side-stepping the guy from the bar, who had somehow magically found a home for the night at a table opposite of the pool tables. His hand reaches out again trying to grab at your sundress, and the small tug on it has you halting.

You pause momentarily still looking towards the pool tables and before you can turn around, your eyes find a pair of green ones. You both hold each other’s gaze and for a moment you think that you see a flash of pain and longing, but as quick as it appeared it disappears. You break the stare before anyone can notice and turn to be met with the smiling fool.

“Now sweetheart, it wasn’t very nice of you to run off like you did. Especially, since I bought you that drink.”

You glance down and find his hand at the hem of your dress, just barely grazing your thighs.

“Get your hands off of me, before I make you.”

The threat may appear minuscule, given the fact that you are all dolled up and in heels. Though the tone of your voice is anything but, and before Bob can move to remove the hand for you, you hold up one finger stopping him. The asshole only laughs at you, before standing and taking a step closer to you.

“Your callsign’s Cherry, right?”

A silent hum emits from your chest, and any patience you had are wearing extremely thin. Before you know it, a harsh hand smacks your ass. The sound echoes through the bar and you’re sure that you could have heard a dime drop. There’s movement behind you but you don’t pay them or Bob any mind, as said hand grasps onto your backside under your dress.

“Why don’t you refresh my memory of how you got your callsign.”

The words are barely past his lips before you lean back to throw a fist. It lands smack dab, in the middle of the asshole's face and the loud crack can only be presumed as his nose breaking. Bob is quick to step up between the group of friends as they make a move toward you, and distantly you can hear the ringing of a bell. Though your only focus is the asshole in front of you, who is now bent over clutching his nose as blood drips onto the hardwood floors.

Your dress sways as you move and you're positive that whoever is behind could easily see the thong under your dress if they really wanted. Your hair falls around your face as you lean into the man, getting as close as you can without actually touching him.

“You touch me again, and you’ll learn exactly how I got those two kills.”

You right your form and brush your dress down the side, before smiling back at Bob and holding out a single hand for him to grab.

“Come on Bobby, I feel like kicking your ass at pool tonight.”

A single shake of the head, followed by a deep sigh has Bob grabbing your hand as you pull him around the bloody mess. You easily spin around, to be met with a wall of khaki uniforms. You recognize three of the six faces, though the only ones you give a smile are the three unknown pilots and Javy. You can feel the way that their eyes burn into the side of your head, but you simply ignore them. Bobby asked you to play nice and you would until you couldn’t that is.

Your gaze settles on Javy, the only known pilot you were willing to make eye contact with. He gives you a small smile, which you return before you make your way to him.

“Coyote”

“Cherry”

Short, to the point, exactly what you needed right now. Your free hand raises to gently pat at his chest before you nod behind him. He side-steps for you, neither of you needing to tell the other where you wanted.

Pool was one of the many things that you and Jake shared a love for. Most of your childhood and teen years were spent in the Serein house playing pool and like Jake, Javy knew that pool was your go-to stress relief. It also helped that you were excellent at it and didn’t mind showing off.

The way he steps, if you could even call it a step, makes it so you have to squeeze past Jake and the cheeky grin that Coyote gives you tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You look back behind you to see Bob talking with the three other pilots you didn’t know, two guys and one girl. The three seemed decent enough, like people that you might eventually trust. You gently tug the hand resting in yours to gain his attention, and you give the three pilots another smile before you move for the pool tables.

The hole between Javy and Jake seems to have grown smaller in the last minute, and you catch slightly as you go to push passed them. Your eyes rest towards the floor and all you can see are a pair of fucking boots with a pool stick settled in between them. Your jaw clicks and you realize just how much Jake wants to push you. Your eyes slowly rise, moving passed the well-fitted uniform and ignoring just how much he hadn’t changed. Including that arrogant smirk, that your eyes stop on momentarily before finding his.

You can’t bring yourself to break eye contact, sure you had seen Jake from a distance in the last ten years. But now, seeing him up close, seeing the emerald eye’s that once held your heart, a deep thrumming ache settles in your chest. Either of you makes an effort to move your line of sight and you wonder, for a moment, if Jake was feeling the same feelings you were. If he missed his best friend, or if you truly were nothing more than something to play with when he was bored.

Bob’s hand gives yours a small squeeze and has you looking back at him breaking you from the trance between the pair of you. Jake hasn’t moved an inch, though neither has Javy.

A sigh falls from you, and you know that neither of them plan to move. Javy might have been your friend, but he was Jake’s best friend, and he would always choose Jake. Without a second thought, you slip between the pair of them, sliding sideway between the space and causing your chest to barely brush against Jake’s. Neither of your eyes leaves the other as you stare up at him, and the casual stance he takes makes your blood boil. He sinks back into his heels and watches you before his eyes trace up and down your form.

The low whistle he lets out fills you with disgust and your glare hardens in defense. His smirk widens slightly, one you knew wasn’t real or at least wasn’t real for your Jake, but your Jake had died in the locker room, and in his place stood, an empty, arrogant, jackass pilot.

The pool stick rests between the two of you, and Jake’s hand resting on it isn’t really holding on to it. Your own hand finds it as you move through the gap and rip it from Jake’s easily, a taunting smirk now making its way onto your lips.

Other than that, you don’t acknowledge him. Not a single word was muttered or an ounce of emotion shown. You knew that it would piss him off, you knew every single button to push to make Jacob Seresin mad. Just like he knew every one of your buttons, unfortunately.

...

You can hear Bob muttering curses at you as you bend over the pool table. The only thing standing between you and winning was the 8 ball and you were lined up perfectly. You call top left corner, lifting your eyes to watch Bob as you make the shot. The crack of the ball sinking in the pocket has you laughing and holding your hand out for the 20 he owned you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a showoff all the time.” The comment is teasing as he slaps a 20 into your open palm and has you laughing.

“I seem to remember teaching you that little move, Cherry baby. As well as a few other things.”

The voice rings out and has you laugh halting, before turning around to glare at the blonde. Your eyes glance back at Bob and find him quietly standing by, just waiting. Neither of them had said anything to you all night. Not when you were officially introduced to the squad. Not as you, Phoenix, and Halo talked about being the only women called back. Not when you were left alone at the bar to get the next round of drinks.

It had been radio silence the whole time, each of them too busy in their own conversations. Though it seemed like your luck had officially run out. Your eyes shift from Bob to look at Hangman and the wink he gives you only furthers your annoyance. Your hip rests on the pool table and while the group had been preoccupied, the comment followed by Rooster laughing gained their attention.

The pair of them move closer to you, pushing you back till your nearly sitting on the pool table. Your unassumed gaze doesn’t change though and as you shove the 20 into your bra, you make a move to leave the pair. Though your actions are futile as Rooster catches your arm and pulls you back.

The action has Phoenix and Coyote moving for you, though it’s Bob that holds up a hand. Quietly telling them that the sooner this happened the better, the three of you were the only ones that could fix the current predicament. It wasn’t like Bob was leaving you to the wolves though. No, Bob knew just how much you could take and if you really needed the help, he would be the first one stepping in.

“Vague innuendos, how original of you Bagman.” Your eyes pass between the pair, before settling on Rooster. “I’m assuming you’re the bottom in the relationship, Chicken? Given the fact that you’ve only been able to glare at me and grab me.” Your hand rises to pry fingers from your forearm and a small chuckle leaves your chest. “Little weak there, honey. Might wanna start doing something to fix that or are you too busy being his bitch.”

Your head tilts in question as a mocking look of wonder graces your face. The glare Rooster gives you has you laughing lightly, overjoyed at how easily you can rile him up.

“I forgot how much of an annoying bitch you were, y/n.” The words drip with acid and at one point in time would have hurt you. The girl they knew, would have been devastated, but that wasn’t you anymore. Jake wasn’t the only one that died in that locker room ten years ago.

“Oh, thank you.” A small smile rises on your lips before your hand gently reaches out to rest on Rooster’s chest. You push up from your position on the pool table and step even closer to the pair. “I hope you sincerely mean that because then I know I’m successfully making your life a living hell.”

You go to push through the pair again, hoping to see if Bob wants to go home. You had more than enough socializing and needed to be ready for tomorrow. From tomorrow on, the mission would hold the most importance in your life. You would be flying this mission, you had to.

You don’t get far from the pair, just barely passed them when Jake’s voice rings out. “You need to get over it, Cherry. One of us is going to be mission leader,” his hand gestures between Rooster and himself. “and you’ll fall in line willingly or well...” a shrug of his shoulder says it all and you can’t stop yourself.

Your feet are moving you back to the pair before you can think it through and you see Bob move for you, but you're already right back where the pair want you. You shouldn’t let them rile you up, that was your game, but the sublet threat didn’t sit well with you.

“Understand this,” Your voice had yet to be harsh, till now. “If anyone is going to be mission leader, it’s me. You’re both welcome to challenge me, but you will lose and I will fucking enjoy watching you burn in.”

You leave before anyone can say anything, no longer caring if Bob was coming with you or not. You needed to get out of the damn bar and as far away from them as possible. Tears threaten to break as you get outside and only when you are safely in your jeep do you allow your tears to fall.

#callsign cherry 🍒#jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin x reader #bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #tgm imagine #tgm fic #tgm #gingy writes

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misirosekisiro · 1 year ago

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The Identity Swap Mystery

Roid open the Station's door, as first day as cops in new town. He hope a welcome gaze form everyone. But when he enter, he notice that every one was look at him in wonder.

Even he feel wried, He just forget about that and heading to Captain's room to report himself to duty.

Captain greeted him warmly, telling him how happy they were to finally have some help in the precinct. Then he introduce other officer, shake hands with them all. Afterward, he explain his duties to him. It seems simple enough, mostly desk work at beginning, helping out with investigations as needed. His first task was sorting through a stack of old files need to update records.

Roid ask Captain about why everyone look at him in wonder.

“Oh, did you see our latest guest? He shares quite a remarkable similarity with someone else around here...you might wanna check it out later.” The captain chuckled lightheartedly before returning to reviewing case reports.

After finishing his paperwork, Roid went straight to visit Max, who has been held captive since the moment he arrived in the town. He wanted to know what had led to such a peculiar circumstance.

As he approached Max's cell, he couldn't believe his eyes – there sat a man who looked almost identical to him! He could feel his heart pounding, excitement filling him up.

"Hey," he said timidly upon entering the cell. "You must get this a lot."

Max raised an eyebrow in response, casting a glance at Roid, then smirking slightly. "Yep, I sure do," he replied mockingly.

"It's weird, isn't it?" There was something off about Max's tone and expressions��he seemed guarded yet eager to interact with Roid.

As hours passed, both men grew increasingly curious about their unexpected encounter. Roid started asking questions about Max's history, family, what state he has been so far. He try to connect a dot, Is he got a twin? butnothing fit. They talked further into the evening, discussing various aspects of their lives, finding common ground despite the superficial difference of appearance. As darkness enveloped the station, Roid felt reluctant to leave, not wanting to end this unique conversation prematurely. But he think, may he volunteer to bring Max to that State's prison. So he can talk with Max along the ways there.

So he decide to talk with Captain about this idea.

The Captain approve it immediately, seeing no reason to deny this unusual request.

During this ride, Roid asked many question about Max's crime, motives, plans etc., he want to understand fully about Max.

But Max being smart liar didn't give away much except the fact that he regretted getting caught. He claimed that he only tried to survive by doing whatever necessary. And also hinted he will make change once release again. These answer left Roid confused and fascinate more about this mysterious man sitting beside him.

On their journey to the state’s prison, they continued sharing stories about themselves, their backgrounds, and personal experiences. However, Max remained tight-lipped about specific details concerning his criminal activities. Nevertheless, the two shared moments of camaraderie, laughing together at times while reminiscing about their respective paths. As dusk fell, they pulled into a small diner near the border, feeling weary after days of driving.

They ordered food and took seats facing each other across the table. Their laughter echoed throughout the empty restaurant, drawing glances from patrons seated nearby.Despite growing tired, Roid felt drawn to continue the conversation with Max, driven by the thrill of understanding more about this extraordinary situation they shared.

Intrigued, Roid probed deeper into Max's life choices, attempting to discern the motivation behind his risky decisions. Despite these efforts, Max remained cryptic, leaving Roid bewildered but intensely engaged in learning more about him. As night descended outside, Roid decide to take a rest in Motel on small town ahead.

Royd asks to rent a room for one night. The hotel said there were only single rooms available. Roy hesitated, after all Max was a criminal.

Yet, he sensed a sense of brotherhood, having spent the entire trip talking intimately about their lives. He thought perhaps Max would appreciate company tonight, especially considering their strange bond. Besides, it wasn't completely safe for Max staying at the roadside motels. Roy figured it wouldn't hurt if he helped Max secure accommodation for the night.

"Guess we need to share bed tonight" Roid said.

"No problem" responded Max casually. Yet underneath this nonchalance, Roid noticed an underlying nervousness from Max. Perhaps because he had never imagined the possibility of ending up in a motel room, surrounded by strangers, alongside another person so similar to him. Still, as they lay side by side in the darkened room, the weight of loneliness lifted gradually from their shoulders. Inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, they began drifting into slumber.

Sleep eluded Max. Restless, he tossed and turned beneath the thin blankets.

Meanwhile, unaware of Max's thought, Roid slipped into a deep sleep.

His body relaxed, releasing the pent-up stress accumulated from weeks of transition. Sliding effortlessly into dreamland, he encountered an ethereal landscape, rife with mystery and possibilities.

Max pretent to sleep,but he couldn't escape his own troubled thoughts. It's was time for his sinister schemes. His ambition fuelled him forward, emboldening him amidst fear and uncertainty. His determination knew no bounds; he sought solace in its iron clasp.

He mused upon the irony of fate bringing him face-to-face with his mirror image — a testament to his resourcefulness and adaptability in navigating the treacherous terrains of life.

Max contemplated his next moves. The journey to the state's prison provided ample opportunities for reflection and planning. The sound of Roid's snores reverberated softly , adding to the eerie atmosphere surrounding him. With each passing mile, the gap between reality and fantasy blurred further, as Max schemed his elaborate strategy for the future.

Roid lock Max's hands to bed's knob with handcuff. But he not even test that is it safe enough, or may he just trust in Max enough to laid on the bed, back to back with criminal.

It's was easy for Max to loose that bed's knob, and free himself, even both hands still on handcuff. Max turn his body to Roid's back. Roid now in just inner white t-shirt and tight blue brief.

He doesn't wear anything else. All his cops uniform and equipment place on the chair. He slowly move his arm around Roid's neck. Make sure it's not wake him. Another arm lock Roid arm to his chest. Move his body into a Roid's back. It's look like Max hug on Roid. But he slowly tighten his arm around Roid's neck. At firstRoid feels nothing odd about this. Then he awake and struggle. Max bring Roid bodycome on top of him. Bend his body up, make Roid struggle helplessly over his bend body. While struggle, Roid's ass wasgrinding down onto the crotch of his pants. Max's cock rock hard. feel so good while Roid body slowly stop moving.

Max pull his body above Roid's face. Look directly into Roid's eye. Show his cruel smile. Then press thumb and index fingers into Roid's right temple. Press harder until hear crack sound. Roid collapse on floor, losing consciousness completly.

Max carefully roll him onto his side to prevent suffocation. Glancing at his motionless form, Max takes pleasure in knowing he has successfully subdued his double. A grim smile forms on his lips, as he reflects on how easily he was able to deceive Roid.

Then he strip Roid form his white inner t-shirt and blue tight brief.

Max admire Roid's well sculptured body, smooth skin and perfect physical condition that came from years of intense training as a Cop. His hands traced the lines of muscles on Roid's arms, the curve of his abdominal area, the strength evident in his legs. This feeling of power surge through Max veins as he realized that Roid's body belonged to him now. But the time is short and he still need many thing to cover before Roid gain his conciousness.

First he take a key chain that Roid place at the chair, to free himself form handcuff. Then he use blanket to bound Roid, use is sock to gagged him.

Leave Roid lie in the middle of the cold floor, naked. Then Max dress himself in Roid's belongs. He start with Roid's brief. Max loves the way it fits him perfectly, showing off his assets. The fabric is soft against his skin, providing comfort and support.

As Max donned Roid's shirt, he could detect faint traces of his scent lingering within the fibres. The combination of sweat, soap, and masculine essence emitted a subtle yet distinct fragrance which filled Max with excitement. He savoured every moment, enjoying the sensations evoked by Roid's garments.

Then he pick up Roid's cops uniform shirt.Max's heart raced as he put it on. The material felt thick and heavy compared to his usual attire. Though initially bulky, it soon conformed to his figure. Then Roid's uniform pants,

they fit perfectly. The fabric was strong and durable, designed to endure long hours of duty without compromising comfort. They enveloped Max's lower half, accentuating his powerful thighs and calves. Each step he took seemed to amplify the authority bestowed upon him by the uniform.

Next, Max picked up Roid's sock.The worn fabric whispered tales of countless miles traversed and countless footsteps taken. Its odor was a mix of perspiration, dust, and leather – an olfactory symphony that spoke volumes about Roid's life as a law enforcer. Max held the sock close to his nose, breathing in the unique scent, allowing it to transport him mentally to places far beyond the confines of the motel room. After put Roid's sock, he move to Roid's shoe.

Max knows shoes can say a lot about someone, especially those who wore them daily. These boots looked like they've seen some action. They were worn, scratched, and covered in fine layers of dust. They were also surprisingly comfortable despite their age.

When Max stepped into Roid's shoes, he experienced a sudden shift in perspective. Everything changed—his posture, his bearing, his confidence. The transformation was instantaneous, as though he had been transformed into a different individual entirely. Donning Roid's uniform and accessories allowed Max to fully immerse himself in his role as the imposter cop.

Then he put all other equipment, most of them is attach to utilities belt also guns.

Max really enjoyed the feeling of being in control, wearing Roid’s full uniform. He started taking charge, feeling confident and authoritative. His walk became assertive, with each step carrying a hidden meaning known only to him.

As Max roamed the empty corridors of the building, he was reminded of the power and influence embedded within the badge affixed to his chest. And yet, he carried the weight of guilt, burdened by his dastardly scheme to usurp Roid's identity.

Without thinking twice, Max proceeded to execute his masterplan. He exit the room, Drive Roid's patrol car in to the town. People like Max know well where he can find something "Illigal"and "Dangerous". Soon he arrives at a seedy bar in town. As he steps inside, the smell of cheap alcohol, smoke, and sweaty bodies assaults his nostrils. Men lean against the walls, swaggering with bravado. Whispers float through the air, accompanied by the occasional slap of cards hitting the tabletop. Max maneuvered through the crowd, making sure to leave an impression of authority. Even in disguise, he was aware of the respect that the uniform commanded. He finally reached the bar counter, then ask the Bartender.

"I looking for "The Dealer" around here.", Bartender looking at him with distrustful eyes. Max know, these people not like a cops.

"No need to worried, I just want to buy a little trinkets he sell."

Max said, trying to appear nonthreatening while maintaining an air of authority. The bartender hesitated briefly, casting a suspicious glance at Max before muttering under his breath.

"Alright, follow me," he growled, pointing to a door in the corner of the dimly lit room. Max obediently followed the bartender through the darkened passageway.

Entering a small room illuminated by a single bare lightbulb, Max saw stacks of crates lining the walls.

There was a musty smell in the air, mingling with hints of spices, liquor, and stale cigarette smoke. Sitting on a rickety wooden chair sat the infamous drug dealer, He seem relax in the softchaise longue.

"Hey officer, whatcha need?" the dealer asked casually, breaking the silence.

"Your trinkets, a pill that will take aways people's memory.... forever"

Max responded with a sinister grin, concealing his true intentions. The drug dealer nodded, gesturing for Max to join him on the chaise longue across from his position.

Settling into the plush seat, Max couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in his own voice, fueled by the desperation he felt. The drug dealer smiled warmly at Max, displaying his knowledge of human nature.

"So you got a big problem you need solved?

Need someone memory erased permanently?" the dealer continued with a knowing smile. Max nodded gravely, his gaze fixated on the dealer, never wavering once. Trust is essential in such transactions, and Max knew he needed to convey utmost seriousness if he wanted to succeed.

The drug dealer rose gracefully from his recliner, signaling to Max to follow him. Moving stealthily amidst the labyrinth of boxes and containers, the duo eventually emerged into a large storage room teeming with various illegal substances.

Intricate patterns adorned numerous bottles containing mysterious potions, while rows of barrels brimming with exotic plants hinted at the diversity of items available for purchase.

Under the watchful eye of the dealer, Max navigated the treacherous terrain with caution, searching for the specific container holding the elusive memory-destroying drug. With each meticulously chosen word and gesture, Max displayed a sense of familiarity with the environment, further solidifying his claim to legitimacy.

However, his heart beat rapidly in anticipation of success, fearing discovery at any second. Yet, the dealer appeared unfazed, amused perhaps by the unfolding events.

The dealer pointed out a tall, narrow cabinet housing several shelves stocked with a myriad of substances. It took Max several moments to locate the precise container nestled among its neighbours, ensconced in a dense shroud of darkness. With careful precision, he removed the stopper, revealing the coveted liquid contained therein.

Clutching the vial tightly, Max allowed his anticipation to bubble forth as he regarded the contents thoughtfully. Glancing at the drug dealer, he gave a solemn nod, expressing his commitment to seeing this task through.

"You know this one is not cheap"

the drug dealer warns, giving Max a chance to reconsider his decision.

But Max is persistent. "Price doesn't matter", he says firmly, his determination evident in his voice.

The dealer raised a brow, impressed by Max's tenacity. Gauging that Max wasn't going to change his mind, he accepted the transaction as a fait accompli.

"What's your payment method?" the dealer asked casually, testing Max's trustworthiness. Max didn't flinch.

Instead, he pulled out two wads of cash from his pocket, carefully counting the notes to ensure an appropriate amount was present. In response, the dealer's face betrayed surprise and admiration, recognizing Max's resourcefulness. This signified a level of respect between them, adding depth to their interaction.

As Max handed over the money, both men stood there, silent yet intensely aware of the significance of the exchange occurring. Despite the risk involved, neither party showed signs of nervousness or doubt regarding the outcome.

Max leave that place, head back to motel.

Back at the motel, Max prepares for his final act. Unwrapping the precious vial, he takes out a hypodermic needle, filling it with the memory-destroying serum. Holding the syringe steady, he injects the substance directly into Roid's arm. The needle pierces the skin effortlessly, drawing blood.

Max watches intently as the crimson fluid begins to mix with the potion, forming a viscous concoction within the syringe. Steady hands guide the needle deeper into Roid's veins, pushing aside resistance until it reaches the target.

Injecting the poisonous brew, Max watched closely as Roid winced slightly, indicating successful penetration. Once the deed was done, Max released a long sigh of relief, having crossed another hurdle in his elaborate plan. But now came the difficult part: implementing the rest of his schemes without arousing suspicion.

He bring up theReferral document form Roid's backpack,pen in hand ready to edit.First, he altered Roid's personal information, changing it to match his own. Then, with deliberate care, he switched their fingerprints – a crucial aspect of the forgery.

Max's dexterous fingers moved swiftly, creating the perfect forgeries. Finally, he replaced Roid's signature with his own, signing off on the paperwork as if nothing was amiss. He knew how important attention to detail would prove critical in executing his grand design.

After ensuring everything was neatly arranged and securely fastened, Max settled onto the bed, allowing exhaustion to envelop him momentarily. However, sleep remained evasive due to the sheer magnitude of his undertaking. He watch at Roid who still naked, unconcious.

"I need to help "Max" dress in "his" prisoner's jumpsuit, make him ready for tomorrow's travel" Max said in devish smile.

Roid's body lay motionless on the bed, unaware of the transformation taking place. Max approached him slowly, his eyes glinting with malice. His lips curved into a cruel grin as he surveyed the vulnerable figure lying before him. He start to dress Roid in his underwear, Orange prisoner jumpsuit, sock, shoes. Now when all transform complete. Now both was switch their fate. One who was a rookie cops, now going to be jailed in state prison. An Escapee who run into is doppelganger, now going to live as his too navite officer. Then Max feel relief, he sleep in full dress uniform, lock Roid with handcuff to table.

Wake up early morning, pack necessary documents, wear fully dressed and prepare himself to leave. At the same time, he check on Roid.

Roid wake up in blank head, he can't remember anything.

Why he wearing orange suit, why he locked cuff to table, and most frighteningly, why did he have no memory?. Confusion swirled in his mind like storm clouds gathering over the horizon. Was it really possible that someone had somehow managed to mess with his mind, causing him to lose track of reality itself?

These questions consumed him, consuming his thoughts until they became obsessions that bordered on madness. Panicked, Roid tried recalling fragments of memories from the previous evening.

"Yo, friend, you finally awake right, Max" Max who now identify himself as Roid said.

"Max? Is that my name?" Roid who lost his memory asked.

"How did I end up here? Why am I wearing this suit?"

Max explained calmly, his voice laced with hidden malevolence. "You were in some trouble last night, kiddo." He leaned closer, his tone becoming more ominous. "Remember you telling me about your prison breakout plan? Well, it turns out things went south—you ended up getting arrested."

Roid shook his head in disbelief, trying to piece together the puzzle pieces of his muddled memories. but he can't recall anything.

"Why I can't remember anything..."

Max smirked sardonically, his dark eyes sparkling with evil mirth. "That's sound bad.," he told Roid softly, the sinister undertone lacing his every syllable. "It may result form the drugs you used, it's happen to many people who take drugs for long time. It's can make you totally forget your past. Any ways Max, you need to stand up. we still have long ways to go. "

Get up," commanded Max, gesturing for Roid to rise. Roid struggled to comply, his legs trembling beneath him. Stumbling clumsily, he made his way to his feet. "Good lad," applauded Max, flashing a devious grin.

His triumphant mood began to shift as Roid grappled helplessly against the forceful currents of confusion. Closing the distance between them, Max towered above Roid, radiating a palpable air of power and dominance.

"Where to?"

Roy asks hesitantly. He could hardly believe what Max/himself has just shared with him, feeling completely thrown off balance. How could he have been caught and sentenced already? And why couldn't he remember anything that happened prior to being locked up in this cell? These were just some of the many questions plaguing his mind.

Seeing Roy struggling to process these revelations, Max offered to give him some answers. "Now we've got quite a journey ahead of us, buddy. We need to bring you to state's prisoner where you escape several days ago."

Max explains patiently, his tone suggesting a certain satisfaction derived from manipulating Roid. Though Roid's memories might be hazy, his instinctual fear kicks in upon hearing those words. He felt an uneasy sense of déjà vu washing over him again as he realized he was once again trapped in the very situation he had tried to flee only hours earlier.

With his mouth parched and filled with anxiety, Roid pleaded, "Can't you just release me here?

I don't want to return to the prison! There must be some mistake!" Although his reasoning seemed valid enough, the truth remained elusive, shrouded beneath layers of subterfuge and lies.

Max shrugged dismissively, casting away Roid's request with nonchalance. "Oh come on, man! Don't play dumb," he chided, feigning frustration. "There isn't any mistake.

You're indeed a fugitive wanted for breaking out of prison," replied Max coolly, his eyes hardening as he continued. "it seems reasonable that I should escort you back there. Besides, it wouldn't look good for either of us if I simply dropped you off somewhere else." He paused briefly, studying Roid's confused countenance.

This news served as a shockwave hitting Royd squarely, leaving him stunned.

He could barely register Max's impassioned ramblings, feeling increasingly desperate to understand the gravity of his predicament. As their car sped through the quiet streets of town, Royd scanned his surroundings, hoping for clues to explain his sudden turn of events. The wind whistled eerily outside, its cold breath cutting through the air and amplifying his mounting dread. Surrounded by darkness, Royd stewed in his helplessness.

During this travel, Max act as Roid, Explain his (Max) crime, fill the gap in the Roid's blank memory.

On the road trip, they stop in small towns for gasoline breaks, food, and occasional bathroom stops. Each encounter offers opportunities for Roid to delve further into his new identity, growing accustomed to acting as Max. Despite his initial skepticism, Roid starts adopting Max's mannerisms and speech patterns, immersing himself in his persona gradually.

In the evening, they finally arrive their destination. A state's prison.

They enter the building after walking through its imposing gates. Their footsteps echo loudly inside the stone hallways. Everywhere around them, prisoners mill about aimlessly, moving in a collective dance of despair and confinement. With each step taken forward, Roid feels his heart pounding harder, a sickening sensation welling up in his throat.

As they approach the cells housing high-risk criminals, guards scrutinize their movements with fierce intensity. They exchange brief glances, nodding approvingly at Max's confident posture.

After presenting identification papers, they allow them entry into the secured area. Guiding Roid through the maze of steel bars and concrete walls, Max leads him deeper into the bowels of the facility. The oppressive weight of history hangs heavy in the air, the atmosphere thick with the misery of captives and the knowledge that their future will likely consist of relentless monotony punctuated by moments of terror.

The harsh fluorescent lights cast stark shadows across the bleak landscape, highlighting the menacing barricades separating the living from freedom.

Then he seehead warden, and 2 officer waiting for them.

"Hello Officer, we have arrived according to schedule. Here's our suspect", announced Max introducing Roid.

Head Warden inspected Roid carefully, checking his face features, height. After few minutes observation he do widen smile, he says, "Yes, That is Max our escapee. I can confirm his identity." He recive a referal document form Roid (Max) without open it.

Head Warden signed paper, handed over to guard officer for processing. "Thank you for bringing our escaped prisoner safely. I hope this doesn't affect your work negatively". Said Max showing a respectful gesture while receiving a pat on shoulder. "Of course, sir. We appreciate your dedication to upholding justice.", he responded. Inwardly however, he seethed with jealousy and contempt, acknowledging how easily Max had outmaneuvered him – yet again.

"Anyways, i notice that both of your appearence is seem identical. Are you relate to Max in some ways? his twin?"

Max raised an eyebrow, playing innocently. But deep within his soul, a sinister laughter threatened to erupt. He knew precisely what Head Warden meant, and delighted in exploiting this opportunity to manipulate the naïve rookie. "Well, it's actually quite peculiar. When we met yesterday, I noticed something odd about our faces. His twitched slightly, suppressing a knowing smirk.

"But after we discuss, it's seem just a coincidence. So no we are not twin."

A faint hint of disappointment lingered in Max's tone, though he quickly reined it in, maintaining his composure. He didn't expect this coincidental meeting would lead to such interesting possibilities, but alas, reality always intervened. Nonetheless, Max couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as he envisioned the potential chaos and havoc he could inflict under Roid's skin. For now, he'd merely content himself with the thrill of having temporarily captured control of Roid's life.

"Ah, I see. " Head wardenexpressed understanding.

"But I still feel that we must have some relation between us. So i volunteer to drive him here in personal. "

Said Max act as Roid. Having learned about Max's tragic background and his unfortunate predicament, Roid couldn't resist extending a helping hand. Little did he know the web of deceit and treachery awaiting him. Max accepted Roid's offer with a calculated grimace, appreciating the unexpected favor. Yet, hidden behind his facade of gratitude lay a sinister motive.

"Ah that is verykind of you Officer..." said Head warden.

"So i guess it's time for me to back to my duty." Max said. he look at Roid who now is Max. " Hope we will meet again after you got released, friend. I'm willing to help one who like my twin." Max as Roid act as so native guy.

Then Max (as Roid) leave the prison. Roid (as Max) was bring to a doctor to check hisAmnesia syntomps. Doctor also agree that this may come form drugs he use for a long time. take damage to his brain. It's may or may not recover. Roid was bring to his cell. Sometimes in his dream. He was a cops, new cops. He was so excite for his first day. He go in to a station. then got planty of eye balls looking at him. behind that, in the iron bar, a shadow standing and laughing until he's awake, body was soak with sweat.

The taste of defeat coated his tongue like bitter wine. But he can't explain about that feeling. also that wried dream. He was a criminal for all of his life. Never be a cops. he sigh, May Max, himself want to be a cops?

His eyes traced the dim outline of the ceiling, lost in thought. Then again, perhaps it wasn't about becoming a cop, but rather the desire to experience the thrilling sense of power and control that came with being one. Max, despite being a criminal, was undeniably charming and persuasive. Could these qualities somehow be channelled positively instead? He closed his eyes, trying to imagine himself taking down wrongdoers alongside his fellow officers.

Roid (Max in disguised), waking toward a station. he finish his job to take Max (Real Roid) to the state's Prisons. Now going back to duty.

With a somber glance at his own reflection in the mirror, Roid donned his uniform once more. Gripping the handlebars firmly, he rode towards the police station. Even amidst the swirling uncertainty clouding his existence, he felt compelled to continue serving his community. Perhaps his newfound resolve stemmed from empathy for those caught in Max's web of destruction, seeking solace in protecting others from harm. Or maybe, the idea of proving himself held greater importance than mere survival.

Maybe, deep down, there existed a yearning to demonstrate courage in the face of adversity. Whatever the reason, Roid's determination seemed only bolstered by his recent experiences. Convinced of his moral responsibility, he made a solemn vow to right the wrongs wrought upon him and restore order to his world. However, little did he realize that the storm brewing beneath the surface far exceeded anything he could ever comprehend.

Meanwhile, Max continued to revel in his newly acquired status, crafting elaborate schemes designed to further entangle Roid in his web of intrigue.

Under cover of darkness, he scoured Roid's home, piecing together fragments of information left scattered among his belongings. As he studied the layout of the house, Max marvelled at the ease with which he managed to blend in, assuming the role of the trustworthy cop. Stealthily tiptoeing through the rooms, he rifled through private documents, memorabilia, and family photographs.

Each item served as a piece of the puzzle, allowing Max to paint a portrait of Roid's life. Satisfied with his progress, Max prepared to make good on his intention to assume Roid's identity permanently.

He now rest on Roid's bed,

touching his soft blanket. Smelling fresh air coming from window. He remember his cell in the prison full of cold wind, noise from other prisoners moans, clanking sound from metal bars. These reminded him of pain, suffering. Right now, he enjoy peace, comfortability. Life might be hard, cruel sometimes. But he has ambition, talent, and resourcefulness enough to change his fate. Even it's sacrifice Roid who was his innocence's doppelganger. But it's no turning back. He love Roid's life and he will not

go back to his old self. His heart race faster, pulse beat quicker. With every passing moment, he grows increasingly comfortable in Roid's shoes. It seems almost effortless, as if he were born to inhabit this persona. The ironic fact was that Max never really belonged anywhere else. Despite the countless crimes he committed, he craved stability and belonging—those things which Roid represented. And yet, paradoxically, it was also within this role that Max sought to corrupt everything Roid stood for.

The alluring promise of absolute power and influence, the ability to shape events as they unfolded, tempted him beyond measure. Though it required subversion and betrayal, Max was resolute in pursuing the path laid before him. He put himself sleep under warm blanket. and lost to dream land.

That night, In Captain's office. Email notice was rang.

Captain sit up straight in his chair, eyes glued to computer screen. Reading news from prision about Max's transferring to another state's prison successfully. Few hours ago. There was relief and satisfaction in captain's gaze. Max's transfer means he won't cause trouble anymore. Everything should return to normal now.

Captain leaned back against his chair, crossing arms across chest. Relief flowed through him, replacing lingering anxiety with a sense of accomplishment. Finally, he wouldn't need to worry about dealing with Max and his antics anymore.

Then another mail notice rang.

Captain looked up from his desk, surprised. Reading email, his brow furrows deeply. That email sent by anynomous, no subject and content. only 1 video clips. He open it. In that clip show Roid, his new rescruit, buying a vial form a man who look suspicious. Date of video show, the day during Roid bring Max to state prison. Just that, no more clue.

Suspicion rose inside Captain, molding into a tight knot within his chest. He don't know what is this clip about. What happen that day, varius question was raise

his head. Who's that man?, is he sell illegal drug?, why Roid bought it? If Roid involved in crime or not?. Maybe he misjudgment Roid earlier, thinking him honest officer. His palms start to sweat as the implications dawned on him. How many times had he dismissed signs pointing to malfeasance? Would Roid become another statistic on his watch, another corrupted cop succumbing to vice?

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