#Shadow is going to commit hateful acts :)

[xazafranx]

Shadow Wick

[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

[yuwuta]

I HAD TO HAVE THIS TALK WITH YOU, CAUSE I’D HATE TO HAVE TO ACT A FOOL — MEGUMI FUHSIGURO

cw this exists in the same rich kids/boarding school au as this piece, which are slowly forming their own universe, implied (past) drug use/underage drinking, more of megumi being your guard dog everybody cheer

Megumi scowls as yet another phone call goes to voicemail. He’s been standing outside the racetrack for fifteen minutes, watching Yuuji absolutely pummel Aoi in polo, and waiting for you. He huffs, just as Yuuji loudly celebrates another point, thumbing a text to Yuuta, asking if he’s seen you all morning. Yuuji claimed you’d left him all by himself after your shared morning class, Nobara was still in Switzerland, and Tsumiki also seemed to be ignoring his messages. 

He needed answers, and quickly, because this is the free period that Muta and his goons also have free, and he would hate to go back on his promise to stop egging him so soon after you’d asked him so sweetly to knock it off. 

Yuuta (received 12:57pm) — She’s fine, Tsumiki and I are with her. Picnic tables outside of the building 703. — Warning, your least favorite upperclassmen are here too, but don’t make a scene. They’re annoying, but not trouble yet. 

Megumi squints, turning on his heels towards the large building opposite the racetracks. As he rounds the side that opens into a field, formally known as one the many lawns dedicated in the Gojo family’s name, and informally revered as your favorite lunchtime spot, he hears the familiar sound of Tsumiki’s laughter, and the unpleasant squawking of his least favorite upperclassmen. 

Seeing you, Yuuta, and Tsumiki sitting at the picnic bench under the blooming wisteria was business as usual; seeing Hakari and another senior infiltrating the seating arrangement was not. Megumi frowns, strolling up to the table to halt the conversation when he’s noticed by you, and sized up by the upperclassman. 

“Oh, uh—hey, I—good afternoon, Fushiguro!” the other senior has the decency to greet him, stumbling with their overly-chipper tone. Megumi eyes them and blinks. Their face is a familiar shadow to Hakari’s, but he never could recall their name, no matter how many times he had the displeasure of running into the duo.  

“It was,” Megumi drawls. He turns his head to face you again, “You’re late.” 

From this angle, you have to tilt your head up to make eye contact with him. There’s an innocence behind your eyes, genuine warning, weary concern; and still, so beautiful it makes Megumi’s thoughts venture elsewhere—only for a moment; he supposes he should be grateful for Hakari’s presence, just this once, because the interjection of his grating voice pulls Megumi back to reality. 

“Relax, Fushiguro, we were all just talking, having a good time,” Hakari whistles, a dirty grin on his lips, “Ain’t that right, Kirara?” 

Ah, Kirara. That’s their name. Megumi doesn’t have time to mull it over, or pretend to commit it to memory; the majority of his energy is focused on preventing himself from throwing a punch. Briefly, he makes eye-contact with Tsumiki, a silent warning in her eyes to not be violent; so Megumi looks to the other side of the table at Yuuta, whose hollow eyes are apologetic, but cautious. Megumi can tell they’ve both been doing their best to neutralize the conversation before he arrived, without setting off your own alarm bells. 

They’ve been patient, but he won’t be: “Get lost, Hakari.” 

“Whoah, no need to rush things. Come on, I didn’t even get a chance to invite you to our party yet,” Hakari’s grin widens, “I just figured I’d get your owner on board before I pet the puppy, yeah?” 

Tsumiki and Yuuta share a look. Megumi bares teeth to growl, rests his palms on the picnic table and leans over to deliver his message again, “Get lost.” 

“Kin, don’t be so rude!” Megumi can hear Kirara’s teeth chattering beside him, a chittering voice attempting to cut through the tension, “What—what he means is that you’re all invited, really!” 

Megumi turns his head, not to acknowledge Kirara or to back down to Hakari, but to look at you. He knows that you know that there are three options to how this ends, and given that he’s already got a strike in your book for bullying Kokichi, and that Yuuta’s route would cause significantly more drama than his, he’s hoping you’ll settle this yourself. 

He tilts his head just enough, raised eyebrows in warning and wait; and then, you give a conceding blink, a small sigh, part your lips to speak, still looking at Megumi when you say: “Hakari, Kirara, you two should grab lunch. They’re going to stop serving the hot food soon.” 

A command hidden as a suggestion. It makes the upperclassmen scowl, but still Hakari motions across the table to Kirara, and they both gather their belongings. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “You know where to find us when you want to have some real fun.” 

Hakari flashes you a wink over his shoulder before he and Kirara make their way around the building and towards the main dining hall. When they’re out of earshot, you smile, look away from Megumi, and back down to your lunch, grabbing the single, wrapped daifuku and tearing open the packaging, before looking back up to him with a smile, “Well, have a seat, Megumi. Join us.” 

Megumi scoffs, standing up straight again, “You’re supposed to be in a meeting with Gojo right now.” 

“I already had Yuuta do my bidding this morning, because he was so sweet to wake up before noon,” you reply, taking the desert out of the plastic, flashing Yuuta a brief smile before looking up to him again, “So I told him lunch was on me, and we ran into Tsumiki on our way. It’s so nice out, isn’t it? Come on, sit with us, enjoy the weather. Yuuta was telling us about the new coup he bought.”

Tsumiki chimes in about her lunch, looking over at Yuuta’s half-eaten tray and wishing she’d got beef instead of chicken. He offers her what’s left of his plate, and she politely declines, before Yuuta insists, pushing his food across the table to her, and you pitch in, putting the remainder of your sauce next to her. The three of you seem to easily pick up where your conversation was presumably before Hakari and Kirara crashed your lunch. 

Megumi’s scowl deepens. He knows that you know that he wants to know why Hakari and Kirara were here in the first place, he knows that you know that their party invitation was just a scheme to get you into trouble and get a rise out of him, he knows that you know he’s going to kick their asses six ways to Sunday unless you tell him not you. 

“Megumi,” you cut through his thoughts, words noticeably heavier, “Sit.” 

He rolls his tongue in his cheek, and you squint a bit, tilting your head to motion to the empty space beside you on the bench. You only spare him a sharp glance, before giving your attention back to Tsumiki, clapping happily as she shows you something she bought on her phone. 

With a huff, Megumi rounds the table, sets his bag down on the soft grass and swings his legs over the bench and next to you. Tsumiki turns her phone to Yuuta, and your attention is back to Megumi, breaking your daifuku in half and offering a piece to him. He puts an elbow on the table, leans his cheek into his palm, a defiant expression on his face you pay no mind to—you scrunch your nose with a deceptive smile, bringing the mochi to his lips, and opening your mouth mockingly for him to follow. He blinks at you, slowly; once, twice, a third time before his head dips every so slightly, mouth a jar, letting you place the dessert between his teeth. Only after he has it in his mouth do you begin to eat your half, sparing a hand to raise your arm and pat the top of his head, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Megumi tilts his head further into his palm. “You didn’t answer my calls.” 

“When you called, I was eating lunch. It’s rude to take calls when you have company,” you defend yourself. 

“Yuuta answered my texts.”

“Yuuta is scared of you,” you chirp, “And unlike you, he cares to not have write-ups on his transcript. He keeps his physical encounters off-campus.” 

“I am not scared of Megumi,” Yuuta scoffs, leaning over to poke at your forehead, “I’m scared of Tsumiki. And I did not want to be scolded for getting blood on her new Chanel skirt.” 

Between the two of them, Yuuta was certainly the more reformed one; it only took one incident of Tsumiki pulling at his ear and scolding him about using his words instead of his fists for him to actually listen to her. Megumi couldn’t blame him, Tsumiki was hellish when she was truly angry, and he feared Tsumiki as much as the next person, but he also knew how she had a soft spot for her younger brother; a mercy that Yuuta, Yuuji, and Nobara were not privy to when their violent streaks got the best of them. 

Besides, when Tsumiki couldn’t get to him, you were there to tug on his leash and reign him in. 

“Wimp,” Tsumiki coughs, “And simp,” she taunts her brother, “We ought to pick new bodyguards in our next life.”

You laugh softly at her teasing, but still, you rest your elbow on the table to mirror Megumi’s position, “You’re right. I call dibs on Yuuji.” 

Your joke makes the others laugh, and Megumi rolls his eyes as you all chuckle. Still, he shifts to lean his head against your shoulder, sly as he knocks his head against your neck and reminds you of a simple fact: “That’s too bad. You’re stuck with me, in this life and the next.”

[limethefirst]

Hi! How are you? I was looking for people writing movie shadow after I saw the movie and hoped I could submit a request for you? Can we maybe have shadow with a reader who is a alien hedgehog like him found after him? Shadow when he met the reader takes her in as his own and helps to in a way raise them. After the accident they both were put under statis and met up again in the base 50 years later after he and she had escaped?

Remember Me

pairings: Shadow the Hedgehog x Hedgehog!reader (platonic)

warnings: spoilers

summary: Shadow takes it upon himself to look out for you even after being frozen for 50 years

a/n: slowly getting back into the writing groove yes!! if i wrote things for other fandoms would you guys burn me at the stake or not❤️

Shadow was used to feeling alone, being the only alien hedgehog constantly surrounded by scientists who saw him as some type of experiment was draining. Of course he had Maria and for her he was forever grateful but she didn't understand how he felt, no one really could. Until you came along, another alien hedgehog that arrived the same way he did, and was now viewed just like he was.

By all means, Shadow, was not considered approachable. He was only ever willingly around Maria and Gerald, and even Gerald was often pushing it, but when you showed up it was hard to catch him alone. He was basically your caretaker, a task he gave himself after seeing how nervous you felt around everyone and how you weren't exactly sure how to regulate the powers you also had.

You sat next to Shadow as Maria put on a new movie she'd found, 'Godzilla', it was called. You didn't like it, it was about an alien, an evil one who destroyed a place on earth called Japan. It made you feel slightly, self conscious? Even though you yourself wouldn't do that or ever thought of committing violent acts against people. Shadow seemingly noticing your discomfort nudged you, drawing your attention away from the self deprivation you were feeling. He looked down at you, giving you a gruff nod, almost like he could read your mind.

His gaze never left your eyes, silently communicating. It was easy to tell what he wanted to say, 'You're not a freaky monster alien who will go and tear up Japan.' Or something along those lines.. the latter was funnier though. Maria glanced over at you two, noticing the subtle communication but also the slight sadness you both had inn your eyes. Although he didn't show it as much, Shadow felt slightly the same upon seeing the movie.

He knew that feeling all to well, he'd seen it, in the eyes of the scientists, guards, everyone who worked here. They thought he was dangerous, and he hated it. Which was why he was determined to make sure you didn't feel the same, because he wasn't sure if he could handle knowing that you also felt like you were a danger, something that was a weapon.

The nights dragged on, and he made sure to keep an eye on you, silently at least. He will never openly show how much he cares. He just will care, and that's good enough for him, although Maria could tell he cared.

Then that night came, where Maria was gone, and so were you. They'd taken Maria from him and grabbed you, pulling you away from him. God, he couldn't stand it, the tears that fell as you screamed for him. He would've tried to do something if it weren't for the fact he was in shock, he'd witnessed one of his closeted friends die in front of him and now he had to watch as they dragged you away, putting you in a small cage as your small hands tried to reach out to him.

Finally there was silence, it was restless, a restless silence that he had to endure for 50 years. Until he was woken up, and all that consumed him was rage. While on the other side of the containment chambers, you'd also woken up, but instead of feeling anger coursing through you, it was fear. You looked around the barren room, the alarms were sounding, and everything was flashing red, suddenly a loud thud broke your nervous train of thought.

You're eyes widened slightly as something punched down the wall, you stepped out of the tube that held you, the liquid used to keep you asleep was drained, leaving your quills wet. The dust slowly began to clear revealing a figure you longed to see since that dreadful night.

"Shadow?.." You're voice slightly trembled as you spoke that name, trying to see him through the red flashing room. Shadow looked at you, his gaze was unwavering but it slightly softened seeing that you were still alive, and unharmed.

He let out a small sigh, his shoulders untensing at your voice, "Let's go," it was rough but his eyes betrayed him. He was grateful, happy to see that you, at least, had survived. He wasn't going to let what happened to Maria happen to you, he swore on that, nothing would harm you.

[heartlilith]

The Rising Signs

Aries Rising

❤️Probably has something that makes them stand out whether that be tattoos, scars, or a birth mark

❤️Masculine features - defined jawline, thick eyebrows, muscular body, intense eyes

❤️Always looks like they’re on their way to bitch someone out hahaha

❤️High energy placement - walks quickly and with purpose, hates slow people and slow drivers (probably drives fast too)

❤️Don’t mess with people they care about because they will bitch you tf out on the spot

Taurus Rising

🌿Chill reserved stoner vibes

🌿Not a morning person whatsoever

🌿Likes the finer things in life; you’ll see them in nice clothes and even if their clothes aren’t expensive they look like it because they take care of their stuff

🌿Loves going out to eat

🌿Probably has a mother who cooks some bomb ass food 

Gemini Rising

✨Ive noticed a lot of Gemini risings have blonde hair and usually on the taller side

✨Smarter than you or at least they think they are

✨They are smart though and know the most random facts ever … but interesting none the less

✨Loves music and has a diverse taste

✨People like them because they’re easy to talk to and they’re very interesting; they have cool hobbies/skills and they tell funny/memorable stories

Cancer Rising

🦀 Looks like 🌚 and also they really resemble dolls

🦀 Females can act bitchy or defensive when first meeting them because they’re really sensitive but don’t want you to know cause they think it’s a weakness

🦀Same with males but probably worse - feels like they have to take on more Martian traits because they feel like being sensitive is shameful

🦀They have the cheeks that grandmas always pinching

🦀They also have a resting bitch face just like Capricorn rising but unlike their sister sign they wear their emotions, you can always tell if they’re pissed off

Leo Rising

☀️Beautiful hair but we already know that - they also have full lips and literally resemble the sun - happy, good vibes, and just a beam of fucking sunshine

☀️Want to do everything fun they make great friends

☀️High self esteem and even if they don’t, you wouldn’t know because they naturally come off as confident

☀️Kids love them

☀️Very comfortable in their skin especially as they get older

Virgo Rising

🥑 They look really “clean” if you know what I mean - like they always look neat and simple in a good way

🥑Beautiful skin and symmetrical faces

🥑I’ve noticed these people can get along and talk with anyone about anything thanks to their mutable energy

🥑Likes to match everything - clothes and accessories, nails with outfits, etc

🥑Can look younger than they really are

Libra Rising

💕Super sociable, polite, and kind

💕Probably popular in highschool or at least in their friend group

💕Can be fake nice to someone and talk about them behind their backs later

💕Aesthetically pleasing instagram

💕Great at doing makeup

Scorpio Rising

🦂Dark just dark - their eyes look dark even if they’re light colored, dark auras, tattoos, literally looks like a fucking shadow ok

🦂Doesn’t realize they death glare people they hate

🦂I love these people tbh they’re so intriguing and beautiful in a mysterious way

🦂DEFINITELY attracts obsessive people and friends

🦂Probably feels like they’ve been 20 different people in their lifetime - always transforming their image and looks

Sagittarius Rising

🗿Ok legssss 👏 fr tho they have stallion legs

🗿Also likes the finer things in life and will probably get them because they’re lucky in life and blessed

🗿Really funny placement and someone you want to have around all the time to do fun shit with

🗿Carefree for the most part but they have certain triggers that they’ll cause a fit over

🗿Usually hates commitment (depending on other aspects and planets) because they don’t want to be tied down or have a loss of freedom

Capricorn Rising

🪵 Resting bitch face - their face literally screams “please don’t talk to me”

🪵Likes neutral colors for clothes and such

🪵Wise asf and literally downloads information from the gods or maybe they’ve lived 100 lives who knows but they definitely know

🪵Will not be falling for your bullshit or buying any dream you sell

🪵Strives to be self sufficient and independent - oh and also NO SCRUBS (shoutout TLC)

Aquarius Rising

💨Kinda look like aliens but in a hot sexy way

💨Can get along with anyone they talk to like Virgo Rising

💨Rebellious and a trendsetter who can attract a lot of copy cats

💨These people actually knew the song before it was famous

💨Has a lot of friends that are all different personalities - they could have one nerdy smart friend and another friend that’s the captain of the football team (this is cliche but yk what I mean)

Pisces Rising

🐟Looks like a mermaid

🐟Beautiful people and angelic looking but they can’t see that so when people compliment them or stare they don’t really get it

🐟Looks different in every photo they’re in

🐟Another placement that attracts creeps and stalkers

🐟Picks up everyone’s energies around them which is why it’s important for them to be around good people

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; shadow milk cookie

requested by ; anonymous (04/09/24)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; shadow milk cookie

outline ; “Ahem… Shadow Milk Cookie Yandere HC’s?? *slides you a 20* (I’m 20 yrs old btw)”

warning(s) ; yandere!shadow milk cookie, potentially ooc!shadow milk cookie at points, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, stalking, kidnapping, physical abuse, psychological abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, heavily implied murder, just a really toxic and abusive dynamic overall (duh lol)

on the surface it’s quite difficult to tell the difference between shadow milk cookie’s behaviour as a lover normally and how he acts as a yandere… at least as long as you do as you’re told and don’t try and disobey him — and that’s pretty much entirely down to the fact that he’s the beast of deceit; lying and acting come as easily to him as breathing so he’s very good at either hiding the darker sides of himself from you, or at convincing you that the red flags and abusive behaviours that you do notice are either fabrications of your mind or completely deserved because of some slight you committed against him

he’s also very intentional about how he gets you under his thumb, treating the whole thing like an elaborate play where he ensures that everyone plays their part — he’ll stalk you religiously for weeks, make sure you never see him but that you know you’re being followed so that your mental stability declines, go out of his way to manipulate your relationships with your loved ones so they break down (or that they’re not around to care about you anymore) and you’re left completely isolated, and then, once he’s certain that you’re suitably vulnerable for his needs he’ll simply swoop in and take you back to his realm where nobody will be able to find you

(and where he can get rid of anyone who does without having to leave you alone for too long)

he tests you a lot, dangling the promise of freedom in front of your face just long enough for you to regain some semblance of hope only to snatch it away and punish you for daring to even think about betraying your husband — and his punishments are always incredibly disproportionate to whatever infraction you committed against him (e.g. your eyes lighting up a bit too much at the mention of something/someone from your old life for his tastes is met with a period of isolation so gruelling you’ll end up hallucinating and begging for his company, while an actual attempt to escape — even if wholly unsuccessful — is followed by a staged fight with the monsters dwelling in his domain that leaves you so broken and battered that you’ll be wholly reliant on him to be able to move for the next few weeks)

he claims that he hates these punishments just as much as you do, but the sadistic glee in his eyes when he’s enacting them and the smug grin on his face when you finally relent say otherwise

shadow milk cookie is extremely possessive — hence his very thorough method of isolating you from your larger social circle before he took you — and, as such, anytime he gets the slightest inkling that you might have at some point had feelings for someone else (be that a fleeting consideration that a stranger was attractive or an actual fully fledged past relationship) then he makes quick work of dragging them back to his domain and letting them know that you’re taken

he never elaborates on what that means, but based on all of the screams you hear when he brings someone new ‘home’ you decide that you’re better off just living in ignorance

he likes to talk to you, loves the sound of your voice more than his own, and could happily spend days at a time just chatting with you (or, as it happens for most of the earlier months of your ‘relationship’, at you) — but for as vocal as he is, sometimes he’ll just sit/float in the same room as you and just stare at you with that damned smile on his face

just following your every movement with visible hearts in his eyes — letting out the occasional dreamy sigh or humming along to a tune you couldn’t even hope to guess as he observes you like you’re some sort of exotic pet — and if he wasn’t literally holding you captive, if he were literally anyone else, you might have even gone so far as to call him cute for it

his ultimate goal is to break you and make you love him, and he makes good use of his magic and his talent for lying to do that — he convinces you that everyone you knew actually despises you and that nobody has even tried to search for you after you disappeared, he conjurs up illusions of your loved ones insulting and belittling and mocking you that infect your dreams and begin to twist your memories to match his assertions as more time passes in his realm, he oscillates between ignoring and isolating you and showering you with affection and attention to make you crave his presence and company more than you loathe him for kidnapping you, and he gets into your head enough to wholeheartedly convince you that every punishment he inflicts is for your own good

he’s manipulative as fuck and cruel as all hell, but eventually it starts to work and you begin to develop a sort of stockholm syndrome for your captor

it may take months or years or even decades if you’re especially stubborn, but you’re still only human and he’s willing to wait however long he needs to in order to see you break

after all, shadow milk cookie spent eons trapped in that damned tree waiting for his freedom so he can wait even longer for the love of his life

how disgustingly obsessive

how terribly romantic of him

[acotarxreader]

The Silent Treatment

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: Your past affair sends Azriel into brooding, with Elain being lead to believe that the end of the relationship she hated so much had finally happened.

Warnings: Breaking glass? Angst, silly Elain, sillier Azriel.

A/N: As a result of the poll, please enjoy this short series of unfortunate miss communications. Let me know what you think!

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

“Az-Az-Azriel! Would you just listen to me?" You attempted to pull your partner in crime’s crossed arms apart from one another, stopping him outside Feyre’s gallery before entering the charity event.

“You’re not seriously still mad about this?! We weren’t even together, you big Illyrian baby!” He continued to try to walk past you as if you were made of the Summer air you both stood in. You wish you and the Inner Circle never played that stupid drinking game, the story of you and a certain senior member of the Autumn Courts Summer fling many centuries ago leaving your loose liquored lips. 

“Az, it’s been almost two weeks! Can you stop with the silent treatment” He gave you one solitary blink before exhaling loudly and continuing his course into the gallery event, leaving you standing alone in the street. 

“Hi YN!” You almost leapt from your skin at the sound of Elain appearing behind you, you giving a small wave of a greeting in return, your eyes landing on Azriel laughing to some throw-away comment Cassian bellowed. You hadn’t heard that beautiful sound in so long and it gave you a new sense of anger. 

“So I saw that- that little moment with Az, trouble in paradise?” you tried not to let her not-so-innocent words nip at you. For the most part, you got on with Elain but every now and then she would radiate this energy towards you you couldn’t quite shake. 

“I can’t even get into it Elain, he’s really pushed me this time, I’m finished with hi- Shit! The time! I have to go give that speech inside!” You left her on the road suddenly, your commitments interrupting your thought process, unknowingly sending a live grenade into your relationship.

Elain hadn’t heard the end of the thought, the thought that may have ended along the lines of “finished with him ignoring me, I need to make it better” but no, those words were never heard. Elain believed her silent prayers had come true, that things could go back to how they were before you re-entered Azriels life after the war, rekindling the youngling romance you both had with one another. She missed his devoted attention to her, his longing glances she hadn’t felt since you recaptured Azriels world. Now she believed the relationship had been cleaved apart with the knowledge of your tryst with Eris during the years you and Azriel were apart. 

Over the course of the following week, you inadvertently kept your distance from Azriel, being sent on multiple missions for the Court but to Elain, you had chosen to stay away from him. With you away and unable to work onf repairing the relationship combined with Azriel’s ongoing silent treatment, she decided it was time to act on her feelings. 

-

Azriel sat in the Summer sun, sipping herbal tea outside your favourite pastry shop. His eyes drifted to an easy close, warming in the sun until a shadow blocked his warmth.

“Elain?”

“Hello Azzills” Azriel cringed slightly at the use of your endearing pet name for him, it sounding corrupt from her tongue, he shook it off. Elain slid onto the adjacent chair to Azriel, his shadows wanting to leap in alarm at the close proximity. Azriel wished it was you, he missed you in his self-inflicted solitude, and he felt like an idiot for it now.

“Sooo whatcha doing Azills?” The name was like nails on a chalkboard from her. Her hand landed on his thigh, Azriels shadows flurrying slightly. Was Elain drunk? Azriel thought. 

“Ehh nothing Elain, what are you doing?” he half laughed trying to defuse the situation. A year previous he would have loved the touch from her, loved the attention. But not now. Azriel had found you after centuries of war separating you from one another, he had no need for half glances and momentary chances, he had you. 

“I’m doing this” she whispered to him before leaning in and meeting his lips. Azriel was entirely shocked by the boldness. The moment he had wanted for so long was now like the worst crime against nature. Azriels shadows were now frenzied, he placed his arms on her shoulders, moving to push her from him until-

“Azriel?!” Your voice came rushing to his ears as he pushed Elain back, you staring at the two of them in utter horror from a little way down the road. Azriel felt as though he may vomit his tea everywhere when his eyes found yours as they seemingly shattered 

“You bring me down here to meet you for this?!” Your words echoed your heartbreak and Azriels confusion. He went to speak but the words couldn't find their way through the bile and shock building in his throat. You vanished in front of him, unable to take the silence for a second more. Azriel leapt from the iron seat but you were gone, his shadows moving to follow you but not quickly enough. 

“Elain! What the actual fuck?!” He couldn’t decide if he was angrier with himself or with her right now.

“I thought you broke up!” Elain almost as shocked as Azriel. 

“Broken up?! Do you really think I would be out fucking sipping tea if YN and I broke up? I would be dead at the bottom of the Sidra!” she felt shame grow in her at his angry tone. 

-

You rocketed into your shared apartment with Azriel, rage absolutely whipping through you as you swept your hands along the photo frame-covered mantelpiece, the happy members shattering to the ground. You stood in the broken glass, feeling all of the emotions of the happy photos rattle around and be replaced with waves of deep, suffocating sadness. You felt your body roar out and collapse into the broken glass pieces, the shards piercing your knees. Alone in the house, as you had been for the three weeks. You rose from the ground on shaking legs, sitting down on the loveseat, looking at the mess. You gently plucked the shards of broken glass from your knees, your flesh knotting back together. 

“YN” his voice was so mouselike in its uncharacteristic meekness. You lifted your eyes to the Shadowsinger stood sheet-white in the doorway. You hadn’t heard his voice in so long and yet now all you wanted was the silence. 

“No” you found your voice saying.

“Let me explain-”

“-Oh so you get to explain yourself and I’m supposed to listen when you wouldn’t even give me the same grace?-” your voice vibrated with anger “-You kissed another female! Not just any other female, Elain! Elain!” you couldn’t stop your tears sailing over the rim of your eyes, your body beginning to shake at the image in your mind. Azriel closed the distance, sitting ever so cautiously next to you as you felt yourself let him. You missed him beneath it all and wished it wasn’t these circumstances that reunited you. 

“I know YN, I am the scum of the planet, I don’t deserve to explain, please let me though, please, please” his hand took yours in his, a feeling you missed so dearly. 

“If you want to be with Elain then-”

“-Don’t finish that sentence, I don’t want to be with her, only you! She thought we had-we had broken up” he said the end so softly, like the idea could cause him to crumble at any moment. His arm snaked around your waist to support you, your head instinctively leaning into the warmth. You both sat in silence but unlike the kind that had stayed between you for the past three weeks, this was warm, full of comfort and hope and home. 

“I’m sorry about Er-”

“-Please don’t apologise for that, it was so so stupid, my jealousy clouded me, I have you now and you're mine n- you’re still mine right?” his words shook out of him. 

“I don’t think I could ever be anyone else’s-” he kissed the top of your head at the words as you smiled - "unfortunately” he scoffed before laughing at your teasing. 

“I love you Azriel”

“And I love you but the redecorating in here maybe not so much”

“Dibs on not being the one to tell Cass I broke the clay horse he made!” you laughed the words out loudly

“Unfair YN I-”

“Uh uh uh-” you shook your finger playfully in his face “-you’ve given me ammunition for the rest of our lives together in what happened today”

“For the rest of our lives, doesn’t sound too bad” he kissed you sweetly then, peace and passion radiating from you both. 

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

Let me know what you think friends <3

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Simon 'Ghost' Riley headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: l.t. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, size!kink, dirty talk

a/n: and of course a few HC's for Ghostie as well🤭

Simon 'Ghost' Riley MASTERLIST

sfw

-you know those mascots in full-body costumes? Yeah, Ghost hates those, gets on edge each time he sees one. He just gets this uncomfortable feeling in his body bc why go around masked like that?

-yes, he's aware of the irony

-your first kiss, technically, happened with his mask on,

-he wanted to kiss you but wasn't ready to commit fully, showing you his face meant a lot and he wasn't there, yet, so he just kinda directed your face from the TV to him by your chin and pressed his lips to yours despite the clothing concealing them

-you don't scare easily, even if he would disagree, but when having a shadow the size of him creeping up on you silently, which should be physically impossible for someone his size, it always makes you jump

-Ghost enjoys it for some reason, always repressing a smile when you gasp and clutch your chest with a hissed 'Simon!' despising that you never got used to it

-what you don't know is that he actively makes it harder for you, always staying in your blind spot when coming up behind you, silencing his step just like he does on stealth missions

-standard case of you falling first but he fell harder, it was a slow endeavour getting to know him, even slower when you started dating and he demanded that things wouldn't be rushed, but once he opened up he was practically already in love with you considering he rarely did open up to people

-he doesn't like gifts

-contrary to what people think, it's not because he doesn't know how to react, closer to the truth is that he's picky and doesn't like random things coming in surprises

-that's why Ghost always keeps a list of things he wants or is in interested in buying, one that you have unaltered access to just to keep track if you ever feel like gifting him something for a special occasion or if other people come to you when he just won't answer what he wishes for read Soap

-the ONLY casual gift he doesn't mind is when you get him a book, within reason of course bc yeah, he likes to read

nsfw below the cut

-on the topic of books, he doesn't read romantic stuff, if it isn't a book you push into his hands, then he knows what's between the pages: raunchy ass stuff you more often than now want him to act out, leaving you nervously giggling and then panting when he fully went into the role of fucking you silly

-another thing about Ghost that people think, but is wrong, is that he always so reserved

-this man can run his fucking mouth when he wants to

-perhaps others just don't notice, because he doesn't do it with them, but when you're by his side his face is for the most part ducked in level with your ear, making it his mission to rile you up enough so you're the one who grits out 'we're leaving '

-and the cocky bastard knows he will manage too, your resolve wearing down quick when he whispers stuff like 'pretty necklace, lovie, would rather it was my hand wrapped around your throat' and if he manages to catch you off-guard with that, mouth agape kinda surprised, he'll muse 'pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild'

-in the Riley household, there's one particular rule: if you buy any piece of clothing, either online or in-store, you're going to model it for Ghost

-doesn't matter what it is, he's gonna sit down in the living room waiting for you to come out for him to drink in your pretty self

-he always twirls a finger in a sign for you to spin around, not because he has any sense of fashion more than the normal man, he just likes to see all how your clothes flatter your figure

-and if it just so happens you only bought a pair of pretty panties or a flattering bra, his rule applies to those too, with the addition you'll come out in only those

-and so help you, but if your tits are on display or that pretty cunt of yours bared, he will not only make you spin but curl his finger, beckoning you towards him

-usually ends with you in his lap as he either plays and sucks at your nipples or you grind against his growing bulge before riding him

-guilty pleasure of his? your obsession with his arms and tattoos

-when you first started seeing each other, he always noticed how your eyes strayed to the ink peeking forth from his long-sleeved clothing, when you both got more comfortable and you saw him without a hoodie constantly, the way you drooled at his bulging biceps made it difficult adhering to his own rule of things going slow

-in fact, the first time you slept together was a consequence of your intrusive thoughts winning during a cuddling session

-you'd been positioned in-between his legs, running your hand over his arm curled around your waist, gaze following those delicious lines running along his forearm and then you just... dragged your tongue over his bicep, licking a long wet stripe on the muscle that tensed upon feeling your tongue

-there was a rumble against your back and a 'what the fuck was that?' making you glance up at Ghost with a sheepish smile with some explanation he didn't fucking buy for a second

-it ended with the both of you kneeling on Ghost's bed as he fucked you from behind, his arms circled around your neck, your nails digging into his forearm, a moaning mess as if you didn't know he killed men just like this but in a tighter chokehold

-so that's why he always wraps his tattooed arm around your front when you cuddle with him behind you, most time also seating himself on your right side, offering you the opportunity to trace the intricate lines decorating his skin

[solar-wing]

⚣ Nightwing & Shadow 🌃

⚣🌃 A/N → So, remember when I said I wasn't going to re-write and re-vamp Nightwing and Shadow like I did Primal? Hehe, funny story... I lied. HOWEVER, I did follow the original plot line...sort of. Just made it easier and smoother to read, along with SOME proofreading and fixing SOME grammar mistakes. So, this should roll out much faster than before (that also is possibly a lie knowing me). WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | MAJOR THEMES of NON-CON/DUB-CON | Omegaverse | YANDERE Behavior | Mentions of Blood | Bondage | Lactation Kink | M-Preg | Oral Sex | Knotting | Implied Stalking |

⚣🌃 Summary → A new vigilante, Shadow, takes to the streets of Gotham, protecting its innocent Omegas against arrogant and brutish Alphas and the arbitrary and oppressive laws that support their criminal-like behavior. Yet, what will he do when in both his civilian and vigilante lives, he's plagued by the very same problems he's fighting against?

⚣🌃 Words → 11.1K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 🌃

Welcome to Gotham City.

Known for its less-than-sunny atmosphere and crime-riddled streets, the city holds many titles under its mantle. One of them being ‘Utter Hell for Omegas.’

In the old days, Omegas were rarely seen as love interests, romantic partners, or even just random associates you’d nod at on the street. Nope, they always had two roles attached to their titles; Fuck-Toys and/or Baby-Makers.

Not much has changed in the present day, save for a few laws passed here and there that criminalized some behaviors. In truth, these new laws and punishments were the equivalent of putting a toddler in time-out before rewarding them with a cookie later for acting like they were ashamed of their behavior.

It seemed like every day, another Omega was being abused by an Alpha who never understood the meaning of ‘no’ because they were raised in a society where everything was supposed to be ‘yes’ for them. Taken against their will and made to live in truly cage-like homes with partners who could only be called that when it came to legal documents.

In reality, they weren’t partners. They were masters, abductors, and delusional sociopaths who relied on biology and society to abuse and take the things they wanted rather than earn them.

They never saw the Omegas they were stripping of free will and autonomy as partners, or friends, or even humans for that matter. They saw them as possessions, things to own and show off to their friends and family as a symbol of how great they were and how well they were doing in life.

And Gotham was the breeding ground for these types of men and women.

Some would call it for what it was; ownership and power. They had no shame or morals about the acts they would commit. Others dared to call it romance, claiming that true love drove them to these vile acts and oppressive rules.

If this is what they called love, it’d be interesting to see what they’d do if they hated you.

Yet, progressing times meant more progressive and outspoken minds. Many, including some Alphas and Betas who held somewhat decent morals and values, were calling for change. They were protesting to their local, regional, and national governments for Omega liberation.

Of course, no revolution has ever started, let alone succeeded without someone getting their hands dirty.

Enter our hero, Y/N, and his story which some would argue was the ultimate catalyst that led to the fight for Omega Rights and Protections pushing toward victory.

Y/N lived a relatively quiet life in Gotham. Born and raised in the city, his parents taught him from a young age not only how to navigate this world in a way where he protected himself, but also equipped him with the means to do so if need be.

He was trained in the art of self-defense from the moment he had his first incident in school, when the signs of biological dynamics were becoming more and more clear, and some bigger kids decided to pick on him for it. 

His mother, an Omega herself, saw this and immediately went to her husband, Y/N’s father, and demanded they get him in lessons. He agreed and they began scouting classes the very next day. 

Y/N was blessed enough to see what a truly happy and healthy relationship between an Alpha and Omega was like from his parents. His father, bless his soul, never subscribed to the ideology that Alphas were the superior dynamic and held power over those below them, especially Omegas.

No, he fell in love with his Omega, genuinely in love we should say and not that obsessive and creepy kind where they excuse their horrible actions because of said ‘love’. No, he courted and adored her as nature intended, and their story eventually brought Y/N into existence whom they also loved and cherished as if he was the most valuable treasure on Earth.

Fast forward to the present, Y/N was a strong and stead-fast individual who didn’t let his biological dynamic hold him back from what he was meant to achieve. Seeing how different the world was from how his parents raised him, he made it his ultimate purpose to see to the change and betterment of society that included protections and rights for Omegas in Gotham and beyond.

In school, he studied business and politics, which landed him a position at Wayne Enterprises post-graduation, where he surprisingly had the backing of Bruce Wayne, CEO and heir to the very company he was employed by. He voiced his support and even dedicated teams to his mission which initiated the spread to other companies and beyond.

If a powerhouse like Wayne Enterprises was supporting ideas and notions of Omega Liberation and rights, many companies would soon follow. And as many know in this world, money talks. Politicians want to keep their investors and backers happy, so they’ll more than likely support whatever it is they’re claiming to support.

Though, appearances can be deceiving. Just because these companies would take up the mantle that they were for Omega rights, didn’t mean their actions would show that. And if there was one thing Y/N prided himself on, was being able to see bullshit for what it was; bullshit.

It didn’t deter him, though. It inspired him.

When Y/N sat and thought about it, he realized the thing that started and fueled most rebellions and movements was a symbol. An icon or an example that truly represented the meaning and impact behind said movement. And his meaning or idea was justice.

Justice for all Omegas who had been or had yet to be wronged by a system designed to hold them down in chains for others to use and abuse. He also sought liberation not only for those living today but future generations where they didn’t have to live in a world where they weren’t seen as people or equals.

What could be that symbol?

Conveniently, as Y/N sat in the living room of his moderately luxurious apartment, he looked out the window to see a symbol being cast in the sky. A symbol many residents of Gotham were all too familiar with.

The Bat Symbol.

And that’s when it hit him…

True, Gotham was a city known for its less-than-friendly streets and crime-filled alleys, but if the stories his parents told him were to be believed, Gotham was much worse before Batman began protecting its civilians, along with his numerous sidekicks and partners.

Seriously, why does it seem like Batman, or Gotham in general gets a new hero or vigilante every year? Kind of weird when you think about it.

Yet, they were about to get another one as Y/N had made up his mind. He knew the symbol his movement needed, the inspiration that was lacking for so many Omegas in Gotham and outside of it.

They needed to believe that they could stand up for change. That they could fight back and be victorious against their abusers. There was no such thing as biology not being on their side as much as it was their own belief not being on their side.

Omegas needed something, someone they could look up to, someone they could see fighting back and say “If they can do it, so can I.”

Y/N was going to be that symbol.

Thus, Shadow was born.

A bit cringe when you think about it, but the desired effect was still there.

Using his self-defense skills that never went without practice with his growing up and living in Gotham, as well as a couple of connections with some engineering friends from college, Y/N or Shadow was set to be Gotham’s newest vigilante and protector.

With their help, he created his own style of weapons and utility tools to help him out on the battlefield. Most notable were a pair of twin-style blades that when tossed or thrown, expanded out into throwing discs. They were magnetized to each other as well which threw out the need for grappling hooks when he could just toss one forward and use the other to pull himself forward.

He dubbed them Shadowblades.

Yes, still cringe, but aesthetics are everything when it comes to this kind of work.

It helped to have rich friends, especially when it came to his outfit. While, of course, Y/N couldn’t have everyone he knew getting involved in this project, he only reached out to those he knew he could truly trust as they would have just as much to lose if Y/N was to ever be caught and unmasked.

As mentioned before, aesthetics were everything when it came to these ordeals, so his outfit had to match his name. The color scheme consisted of a shadowy black and purple along with a domino mask that had gold covers in the slits to keep his eyes hidden as well.

Skintight (as usual), but flexible and functional. It was also light enough to accentuate Y/N’s smaller and leaner body frame. However, it did nothing to hide the dump truck from behind.

“Nightwing would be put to shame,” A comment from one of his friends who took it upon themselves to jokingly cop a feel. Y/N ‘jokingly’ tossed one of his blades at them as a warning, which they clearly received seeing how close the spinning blades came to their face before zipping back and folding close in his hand.

That did it. Shadow was a force to be reckoned with.

The moment Y/N hit the scene with his new outfit and weapons, ripples were being made in the city. It didn’t take long for Shadow to become a recognizable name and face in Gotham, some dubbing him the Omega Savior with all of his notable rescues and actions.

Within the first few months of Shadow being a presence in Gotham, he’d not only thrown a few dirty Alpha dogs behind bars for attempted rape and abduction but also stopped a major Omega trafficking ring happening right in the city, as well as liberated a few captives from their abusive homes and partners.

Unsurprisingly, with the trafficking ring, Y/N discovered many links and connections from that operation to people who were big-name executives and even CEOs at major companies. Even more shocking (not), some of those companies were the same ones that took up the mantle of supporting Omega rights and freedoms.

Discreet as ever, Y/N wasted no time in ‘suggesting’ that Wayne Enterprises cut all deals and partnerships with these companies, which helped earn him a promotion when the scandals were eventually revealed to the public. This ended up putting him more on Bruce Wayne’s radar who delivered his promotion news personally himself.

In every story, there’s a turning point. Many know the structure that many books, movies, and even shows will follow with the inciting incident that leads to the rising action until you reach the climax, where things typically turn for the worse.

For Y/N, that moment was when Bruce conveniently decided to introduce him to his first adopted son at the same time he was delivering his promotion news, Richard Grayson, or Dick for short. Little did he know how much Dick was about to invade his life.

But, everyone deserves a little teaser, right?

Shortly after Bruce introduced them, he had to leave for a meeting, leaving the two alone in Y/N’s new office. It wasn’t awkward, but it also wasn’t comfortable, at least for the Omega who was wary of being left in a room alone with an unfamiliar Alpha, despite how famous he was.

Yet, Dick seemed to keep a respectable front, only coming as close as he deemed allowed while making small talk, and congratulating Y/N on his new promotion. The Omega gave his thanks while setting his things up on his new desk and shelves.

Now, despite earlier thoughts and possible assumptions, Y/N was no prude. Just because he fought against Alpha abuse and their entitlement didn’t mean he didn’t have his fair share of interest and attractions.

And Dick Grayson did spark his interest. The man was undeniably handsome and had a body many either desired to touch or have. But, Y/N knew self-restraint, and sad as it may be, in this world, he knew to practice caution with whom he showed his attraction.

Dick, however, did not follow the same line of thinking. Of course, why would he if the world was made for him to not have to?

He noticed one of Y/N’s gazes towards him and took that as all the sign he needed to make his move. When Bruce said he was going to deliver the good news initially to the Omega, Dick all but demanded he bring him along. The former acrobat had his eyes on Y/N ever since he first started, and was waiting for the perfect chance to swoop in and make his claim.

Dick did have the right idea that Y/N was not the easy type, and would probably try to resist his charming suaveness. He hadn’t met anyone before who had such luck, so he wasn’t worried. In fact, the idea of a potential challenge made him all the more bold.

And he showed that boldness by closing the distance between him and the Omega while his back was turned, pressing himself against his backside. Dick was not shy about letting Y/N feel what he had packing down there while he in return got a feel of what he had decided was now going to be his.

Y/N immediately jumped at the touch and turned to move himself away but was held in place by the adopted Wayne who leaned forward, pressing his hard chest against the Omega’s while leaning his lips down their his ear. 

“Feel like breaking in the new desk?” Dick whispered hotly into his ear, pressing his very noticeable throbbing appendage against Y/N’s backside, the layer of clothes between them doing nothing to help mitigate the sensation.

Y/N could feel his instincts urging him to submit and present himself to the Alpha. He was no stranger to rumors and gossip and heard the many tales of Dick Grayson’s, well… dick, from many of his co-workers. Despite Bruce’s very relaxed rule about employees having relations with his family.

Though the temptation was there to see if the rumors were true, he was not about to let himself become another number or name in Dick’s or anyone's black book. He had to remain a symbol.

“Sorry, but I prefer to keep things a bit professional. And, frankly, you don’t meet my criteria.” Y/N sarcastically remarked.

“Oh, come on,” Dick smirked against the side of Y/N’s face, slowly grinding himself against him a little harder while rubbing one of his hands up his side, feeling the hot skin of the Omega under his silk-white button-up. “Don’t tell me you have a rule against workplace sex. Or are you worried because I’m the boss’s son? If you don’t tell, I won’t.”

Dick began pressing soft kisses against Y/N’s skin, now using both of his hands to rub up Y/N’s front, slowly beginning to undo the buttons. The Omega had to admit that he was good with his hands and lips, and he could definitely see some truth in his co-worker's words about the man’s hip control. But, logic wasn’t out of his mind yet.

Y/N began to use his arms to push back against the desk, creating a little room while the Alpha was distracted with trying to reach inside his shirt. He pushed off the desk, creating enough momentum to throw Dick off balance and allow him the chance to step out of his grasp, immediately moving to the other side of the room putting distance between the two.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” Dick mocked.

“Not for you. One of my criteria is not being a self-entitled brat who only thinks with his dick, and that’s just to get a text back.” Y/N rudely articulated. He quickly fixed the buttons on his shirt while the Alpha ogled his body up and down with no shame.

“If you come back over here, I’ll show you why everyone calls me Dick.”

He scoffed before exiting out of the room, marching himself to Bruce’s office. His assistant, Wyndall, was sitting at his desk, looking at the storm that was an angry Y/N who demanded to know if Bruce was in a meeting.

Wyndall was one of the only other few Omegas alongside Y/N who worked (relatively) this high in the company, so they both found friendship in one another and would often meet up for lunch to hang out and talk. So, when he saw his friend storming in the way he did, he knew something had to be wrong and immediately paged Mr. Wayne.

Given the okay, Y/N went into the office and, to keep a long story short, had a very heated discussion with Mr. Wayne that definitely did not end in him threatening to castrate his son if he came near him again. And, hypothetically if it did, Bruce respected it.

Y/N understandably made demands that if Dick was going to be present on company property at any time, he be notified in advance and not left alone with him at any point. He also made sure it was clear on the Alpha’s part that he was to have no contact or even attempt any with him and to keep his distance at all times, should they ever be in the same room together.

Bruce agreed to everything without a second thought and apologized on his son’s behalf, which, in truth, didn’t surprise Y/N as his boss always had been understanding and accommodating since he started at Wayne Enterprises. Y/N had to admit that the billionaire was one of the few Alphas that gave him hope in his vision for the future.

That was only the beginning of his troubles though. Not only did Y/N have to deal with pesky Alphas in his civilian life, but he had to deal with it in his vigilante one as well.

As more time went by with Shadow cleaning up the streets and helping more Omegas by the day, he eventually caught the attention of the city’s other ‘defenders’. This is when Y/N learned how ‘possessive’ Batman was of Gotham and didn’t appreciate some newbie moving on his turf without checking with him first.

He didn’t give Y/N the grace of making an appearance himself, but he did send his lackeys, or ‘team’ after him. Thankfully, none of them could keep up with him in the field, given his natural speed and agility. A credit to his Omega nature.

Only one could keep up with him though, and that’s where his Alpha troubles began as Shadow. Nightwing, Gotham’s second most famous vigilante, seemed to make it his personal mission to catch Y/N, and unlike the others, gave the Omega a run for his money the way he managed to keep up with his elusive ways.

The first night they met, which also happened to be the first night he made contact with someone from Batman’s team, he wasn’t surprised to discover he was being tailed and watched. He was expecting them at some point to try and make contact with him.

Though, in hindsight, he expected more of a welcoming, collaborative approach and less of a threatening, hostile trying to capture him one. 

Shadow had just finished dealing with a couple of Alpha thugs who were trying to force themselves on an innocent Omega when Batman’s first sidekick made his appearance. Just after he finished tying up the mammoths, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind.

Immediately grabbing his blades from his sides, he turned to find Nightwing standing just a few short feet away from him, blocking the way out of the alley. Y/N had to admit, Nightwing was definitely a lot more attractive in person. Not that he wasn’t from far away, but you could appreciate the view more up close.

“So, you’re the new kid on the block that has Batman all worked up? Have to say, I wasn’t expecting this when he asked me to check you out, but I’m not disappointed,” The taller man spoke, the shadows around his face barely hiding the suggestive glance he was giving the Omega.

“I get the feeling you’re doing a lot more than just checking out.”

“Guilty.” Nightwing chuckled.

Shadow’s facemask hid his annoyed eye roll, suddenly wishing it was Red Hood or Robin he was dealing with instead. From what he heard, they tended to get to their point a lot faster.

“Well, I’d say I’m flattered, but I did promise my mother I’d never lie. Anyway, I’m assuming you’re here on behalf of the Bat himself.” Y/N inquired, wanting to just get to the point so he could get back to doing his work.

“Yeah, Dark Knight would like a word with you. Not really pleased with you moving in on his turf. Can’t say I agree with him, though. I’m sure many have appreciated your touch around here.”

Cue another annoyed eye roll from Shadow. Between him and Dick, he didn’t know who had it worse when deciding to try and flirt at the most inopportune times. And it looked like it was going to be a draw.

“Now, my instructions were to give you the chance to come on your own and, if not, use whatever external measures as needed. But, I’m willing to forgo this little meeting in my memory if you’ll give me something worth forgetting.”

“And what exactly would that be?” As if Y/N didn’t already know what the smug Alpha was getting towards.

“I know you help and save Omegas, but what about poor Alphas in need?”

“Assuming you’re the Alpha in question, what exactly would you need?”

“The touch and comfort of a sweet and savory Omega like yourself.”

It was cheesy and overused. A cliché at best and totally cringe at worst. But, Y/N couldn’t deny (try as he might) the attraction he felt stirring in his body. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something in him itching to give in to the Alpha’s request.

It was like the feeling when you hear a sound or lyrics to a song and it reminds you of something, but you just can’t put your finger on it. And there was something oddly familiar about the vigilante that had Y/N’s curiosity piqued.

Yes, Y/N had standards and criteria for who he would decide to give his time to, but he couldn’t deny that Dick, and now Nightwing, both held something that made the idea of throwing both of those things out the window. But, again, his goal of being someone to look up to for him and all Omegas alike remained strong in his mind, so he went against his body’s sexual desires and instincts.

Was Nightwing attractive up close and afar? Arguably, yes. Did he appear to have a very nice and chiseled body under his skin tight suit? Also, arguably, yes. Yet, was he just as infuriating and annoying as every other persistent Alpha who couldn’t spell ‘Hint’ even with a dictionary in front of them?

Absolutely.

It was this thinking that helped Y/N come back to his state of mind before he faked a sultry smile on his face, walking forward to rub his hand down Nightwing’s chest (which, Jesus Christ, that motherfucker is FIRM). The Alpha smirked down at the Omega going to place his hands against his waist before getting the uno reverse of his life.

In some complicated flip and turn, Shadow managed to not only catch Nightwing off his guard but put him in a submission hold with his head and neck being squeezed between the Omega’s flexing thighs. What was that saying about saving lives? Because this seemed to be the opposite.

“Is this the comfort you were seeking,” Shadow maliciously teased the Alpha, while flexing his legs more, effectively choking out the Alpha. When he decided to release him, Nightwing fell to the ground coughing, trying to catch his breath while the Omega threw one of his blades to zip off.

“Next time, tell Batman to send Red Hood or Robin. They’re a bit more persuasive and less desperate.”

After that, Y/N made sure to be extra careful on his patrols, figuring Nightwing would not be as forgiving lest they meet again in another dark alley or atop a rooftop. His Alpha troubles were nowhere near over yet, especially in his civilian life.

Some time had passed after the incident between him and Dick at his job, and after having the janitorial and cleaning staff do a deep clean of his entire office which he tipped them graciously for (tip your service workers people), Bruce adhered to his conditions perfectly.

Whenever Dick was in the office, Y/N was immediately notified and he would have his schedule altered for the day to avoid any run-ins with the billionaire’s son. If there was an occasion where he couldn’t get out of it and the former acrobat was present, he kept his distance from him and was happy to see the other doing the same even if it looked like he didn’t want to.

You’d think with his tight schedules at work and his busy nightlife, the young Omega would barely have any time for fun and social things like parties and dating.

You’d be right. Y/N did not party at all, but he did find time to mix and mingle occasionally and had come up lucky in recent months. On a previous outing with some co-workers, after a successful deal had gone through, Y/N had met a nice and attractive Alpha who happened to be a friend of Wyndall’s.

His name was Leo and he was not only a fitness trainer, but also a teacher in self-defense arts and fighting. Guess what their first date was considering the mutual interest.

Dinner and a movie. Dirty minds think alike, huh?

But, Y/N truly felt like he was growing strong feelings for Leo. He was a respectable Alpha who treated him with nothing but kindness, respect, and love. Attentive, romantic, and very easy on the eyes, the more time he spent with the Alpha, the more he could imagine spending the rest of his life with him.

Of course, he was no fool, and though they were still relatively new to this relationship, he wasn’t going to let up yet, knowing the first year is usually when the prospective partner is always on their best behavior. Really it was six months, but he was being gracious since he liked him.

Y/N even brought him as his date to Bruce’s gala that was being held in his honor. A major deal had been made at Wayne Enterprises where they partnered with some of the biggest charities in the region to begin plans for creating homes and centers for Omegas who were victims of abusive homes and relationships as well as those who were saved from human trafficking.

At first, he was tempted to not go, but since he was being honored at the event for being the major showrunner for the entire project, it’d be rude for him not to show. Of course, Leo decided to make it a whole show and went out to rent a new tux as well as a limousine to take them to Wayne Manor where the event was being held.

To say Y/N felt like a prince being swept off his feet the entire night would have been an understatement. Not only was he impressed with Leo’s manners and dedication, but he also duly noted the Alpha’s restraint and control considering they hadn’t done the do yet, despite being almost half a year into their relationship.

And there were moments when they came close and the temptation was all too real. Contrary to the earlier joke, the Alpha and Omega did have more physical type dates, where they met in Leo’s gym and would practice different moves and fighting styles following both of their training.

As you can imagine when you bump and grind hot sweaty bodies against each other, at some point, things can get carried away at intervals, but Leo always pulled back, saying he wanted to respect Y/N’s decision and wait until they were both fully ready. Damn, having morals and respect for yourself can really take the fun out of things sometimes.

Anyway, the night went on without a hitch. Y/N mingled and greeted the guests as well as shook hands with a few important people Bruce wanted to introduce him to. He gave a speech and had a few more inside jokes with Leo about the stuffy and posh atmosphere these galas radiate.

Right when they were planning to make their exit, things of course had to get interesting.

“Evening, Y/N. Long time, no see. It’s good to see you.”

Y/N counted to five in his head, reminding himself where he was and that couldn’t introduce the back of his fist to Dick Grayson’s cheek, no matter how bad he wanted to. Their running into each other was inevitable, the Omega recognized that. Whether it was him who accidentally did it, or the billionaire’s son who intentionally did it, they were bound to run into each other again.

He remained civilized though. His mother always taught him how being an Omega in this world, people were going to try and push him more than any others just because they saw him as an easy target. She always said the moment you reacted, you proved them right, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be petty though…

“Dick, what a surprise. I’d say likewise, but you know how our Lord & Savior feels about lying,’ Y/N responded with a smile on his face but the sarcasm clearer than ever.

Leo chuckled to the side of him, and for a moment, a quick fleeing second, Dick’s cool and suave charade dropped, and Y/N saw how his attitude and lack of respect triggered the Alpha. The adopted Wayne managed to retain his instincts though, keeping a cool smile on his face.

“Ah, you’re funny. A lot funnier than I remember when we were in your office,” It was then Dick seemed to acknowledge the other presence standing before him, “And just who might this be? Your next conquest?” He inquired in a ‘joking’ manner.

That wasn’t appreciated, given the nasty grimace that wiped over Y/N’s face as he was about to respond with an equal if not more than childish insult. At least, until Leo decided to interject in.

“Actually, I’m his date. Though, I wouldn’t mind being a conquest if it came to that. It's better than showing up alone to an event like this with no one by my side. Speaking of, where’s your date?” Leo asked, an egotistical smile on his face as he stared down the other Alpha, already knowing the answer.

Dick looked more than aggravated, and despite his surprise at Leo’s snarkiness, it did not stop Y/N from laughing out loud, despite his failed attempts at concealing them. While the Omega would have loved to stand there a bit longer and see how interesting that encounter could have gotten, he knew better and decided that was a perfect time to make a strategic exit.

“Well, Dick, as much as I’d love to stay and chat, I wouldn’t. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Dick.” Y/N said, quickly grabbing Leo’s arm and tugging him towards the main entrance.

When they reached the main hall, Leo went to give their valet card to the attendant standing by the door, while Y/N informed him he was going to use the bathroom quickly before they left. Both of them were oblivious to the shadow following behind the Omega.

Y/N found the bathroom and quickly did his business, however, he did take a small moment while using the toilet to admire the decor and pristine state of the bathroom.

“Oh, to be filthy rich and pee in luxury.”

After flushing and washing his hands, he was drying them off and was about to head for the door when it suddenly swung open and a familiar face entered.

“Dick! What the hell you fucking perv! Have you ever heard of knocking, or did Bruce forget that in etiquette training?”

“Funny,” Dick replied, his usual lighthearted tone gone, replaced by something dark and vexing. Y/N didn’t understand why he felt a small flutter in his abdomen at the tone of voice, but he chose to ignore that in favor of getting past the creepy Alpha.

“Yeah, I’m hilarious. Open the door, Dick. I’m not playing these games with you,” Y/N ordered.

“Who said anything about playing,” Dick asked, but he apparently wasn’t looking for an answer if the way he grabbed the Omega by his suit jacket and threw him against the sink was anything to go by.

“What the fuck! Get off of me!” Y/N shouted, pushing against the Alpha’s chest, but his smaller state compared to the acrobat put him at a slight disadvantage. If the hard and prominent muscles he felt under the jacket were anything to go by, he’d say Dick spent a fair amount of time in the gym. Made sense though, given his former circus background.

“Oh, come on. You can quit the act now.” Dick huffed while rubbing his hands down the Omega’s body, stopping right at his waist.

“What act? Were you dropped on your head as a baby?” Y/N retorted, still pushing (groping) at the Alpha’s chest. He could feel Dick’s fingers prodding around his body, taking extra time to squeeze his ass before making their way further down his legs, lifting them and forcing them around the acrobat’s waist.

Dick’s smug look grew even more when he could see the Omega’s submissive instincts kicking in, feeling how less and less he was putting up a fight against his actions.

“This act. Look at you, slowly giving in and letting me take control of your body. I’ve dealt with plenty of bratty little Omegas like you. Playing the honorable and conservative role, only to give it up the second you get the attention you’ve been begging for. You almost had me fooled for a quick second. But, after seeing that sad excuse you brought here as a date, I realized your game immediately. I’ll admit it though, you managed to get what you wanted. I’ve never been as jealous before as I was watching you with him all night.”

While saying all this to Y/N, Dick had wrapped one of his arms around the Omega’s waist forcing his body forward on the marble sink and pushing his own against it. His hard and throbbing member was positioned at an angle in the Alpha’s trousers where the smaller male could almost make out the entire length and size of the throbbing tool, the way it was being ground against his pelvis.

That combined with the adopted Wayne’s ever-talented lips sucking and kissing at the Omega’s neck while sniffing the boy’s pheromones and cologne left a fog in Y/N’s mind that was hard to see past. No longer was he fighting back against Dick, but instead he was mindlessly rubbing and digging his fingers into the hard muscles of his chest and abs covered by his white dress shirt, something the Alpha held a smug satisfaction in.

“Oh, would you look at that? What happened to your high and mighty attitude? I thought you weren’t attracted to demanding and ‘barbaric’ Alphas like me? For the amount of crap you’ve talked, I figured you’d have more restraint than that.” Dick’s mocking words were a bit in cruel taste, but it was a taste Y/N couldn’t decide if he liked or not.

His smug attitude and confidence were attractive to the Omega, given the pleasurable tingles he could feel inside his underwear which were slowly getting wetter by the second. But, that was the very thing that confused him.

Y/N couldn’t count how many times he heard this similar or exact sentiment from another overly confident Alpha who felt entitled to his attention and body. So, why was he having different thoughts and reactions now? Was there something in the air? Did he recently start taking some new vitamin or pill that had psychosis-like side effects? Did someone cast a spell on him?

Or was Y/N genuinely attracted and turned on by Dick Grayson and was just too stubborn to realize every word the Alpha was saying was true. He’d rather not think about that.

Small moans and grunts began to slip out of Y/N’s mouth while feeling the increased kisses and marks being left across his neck and jaw. With his legs spread and Dick in between, there was nothing left to the imagination of what he felt grinding against his pelvis.

When his noises were beginning to reach a volume level that could bring unwanted attention to the Alpha, he had no choice but to remove one of his hands from the delectable body he was ravishing to cover the Omega’s mouth. It was okay for now, he’d have him screaming in no time.

“Oh, Y/N. You’re so perfect. Why do you have to act so stuck up though? Just look at you right now,” Dick muttered against the Omega’s skin before looking up. 

It was a sight to behold, seeing the same man responsible for fighting against the system that held Omegas down in the first place being subjected to the same treatment he claimed to hate, and enjoying it at that.

“And to think, we could've been doing this very same thing in your office if you weren’t acting so stuck up.”

Dick’s feverish kisses and bites increased as his hand forced open Y/N’s shirt, exposing his shiny, leaking nipples to the Alpha. He smirked at the Omega’s whimper from feeling the cool air in the bathroom rush against his wet nipples before moving his lips down and attaching them to one of the nubs.

The yelp Y/N let out under Dick’s hand was enough to have the Alpha pausing in his ministrations, making sure no one came knocking on the door before continuing his feeding on the Omega’s nectar. His other hand that wasn’t muffling the moans and cries of the Omega was working its way down the front of the smaller man’s past, just getting past the elastic band of his underwear.

Y/N’s eyes went wide when he felt Dick's cool fingers prodding around at the top of his arousal, just tugging at his cocklette which he knew was probably leaking slick along with this cunt. He did his best to resist the sensations, but even he had to admit the man was skilled.

His eyes began scanning around the room, trying his best not to get distracted by the hot sight of Dick’s dark head of hair lapping and sucking at his chest like a newborn while he felt his pleasure nub and cocklette being fondled under his underwear. That’s when he spotted something of interest.

Sitting right beside his body was a candle, and more importantly, the heavy looking golden holder it was sitting in. It was a bit hard at first with the distractions he was dealing with, but he managed to get the candle out and holder into his grip, using it to bash the side of Dick’s head.

He shouted out in pain, leaning back just enough for Y/N to shove his body forward before swinging his leg right into Dick’s exposed crotch. The dark-haired man groaned in pain, falling over on his knees while clutching his bruised genitals, looking up to the Omega who scooted himself off the counter, taking a moment to collect himself before cleaning himself up and fixing his clothes.

“Still playing hard to get, I see,” Dick uttered.

Y/N turned around, throwing a dirty look toward the Alpha on the floor before turning his nose up at him in a sneer, “You wish I was playing with you at all.”

“True, but it’s okay for now. I’ll have you begging for me soon enough,” Dick chuckled, before groaning again from another painful throb.

Y/N tried to ignore the flutter he felt in his pants and the surge of feelings he felt in his chest. He gave Dick one last glare, before exiting the bathroom, promptly finding Leo and leaving the party. On his way out though, he ran into Bruce who looked concerned at the Omega’s disheveled and angry state.

“Ask your son,” He retorted, grabbing his valet ticket out of his jacket before looking up at the CEO, a storm of emotion and thoughts behind his eyes, “Mr. Wayne, it’s been a pleasure working for W.E., and I’m very happy to see the progress we’ve been able to make in my time at the company. But, after tonight, I think it’s best if I move on to other opportunities. I’ll be sending someone to collect my things from my office.”

With that, Y/N grabbed Leo’s hand and exited the party and Wayne Manor, hopefully for the last time.

That night, the Omega was extra brutal on his patrol, taking out his anger and confusion on every bloody criminal and thug Alpha who even looked like they were up to no good. By the end of the night, Y/N was going to have to ask his contacts for some new gloves with how dirty and covered in blood they were.

As the weeks rolled by, Y/N received numerous emails and calls from Bruce Wayne asking him to come back to the company and if they could work something out. Even Wyndall had reached out to see what was going on with him.

The only person he Y/N talked to about all of this was Leo. He did tell him what went down in the bathroom, and that he just needed some time to sort out his head. The Alpha respected his wishes and still checked in on him every other day just to make sure he was okay.

The thing was, Y/N didn’t really know if he was okay. He felt like he was going crazy.

On one hand, he was very angry and upset still about the bathroom incident and just the situation overall. He couldn’t believe the nerve of Dick, thinking he could just bust his way into the room and into his life and just have his way with him. It was unbelievably arrogant and barbaric.

On the OTHER hand, it was the barbarism of the situation that had Y/N so confused. More specifically, why he was so attracted to it. The truth was, Dick pointed out some significant stuff in that bathroom that had the Omega overthinking everything.

Why was he attracted to it, and why didn’t he fight Dick off harder. He could’ve taken him and avoided that whole situation, but he didn’t. Why?

That was the question that kept pounding in his head over and over for weeks on end. One part of him wanted nothing to do with Dick Grayson, but the other part wanted everything to do with him. Wanted to give in and submit to the Alpha.

But, he had to be a symbol. And he couldn’t do that if he gave in to the very thing he was fighting against.

Though, little did he know that soon, he wouldn’t have much of a choice.

Even if his Alpha troubles had gone quiet in his civilian life, his vigilante one was another story. Shadow was plagued by countless run-ins with Nightwing who was persistent in his endeavors of trying to corner him. That or he wanted another chance to throw some cheesy one-liners at him, probably both. Thankfully, Y/N managed to stay a step ahead every single time and always managed to avoid his capture.

At least that’s what he thought.

Things would take a major turn when Shadow decided to answer a distress call coming from Wayne Towers. An Omega claimed they were being harassed and stalked by an Alpha who locked them in the building. 

Since it was his old stomping grounds, and he knew plenty of ways in and out of the building, he figured it’d be a quick mission. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary on the outside, but for some reason, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing, but he still decided to go in.

The first thing he noticed when he got inside was how quiet the building was, almost too quiet. He’d worked plenty of late shifts in this building before and the silence was never this loud. Where were the nighttime guards? Or the other executives who inevitably stayed late to work?

Something weird was going on. Y/N made his way to the top of the building, closer to Bruce’s office where he heard the Omega say he was hiding over the police line he tapped into. As he approached closer to the hiding spot, he couldn’t help how tense he grew, feeling the ever-growing sensation of being watched take over him.

When Y/N finally made it to Bruce’s office, he was more or less shocked at who he found waiting for him.

“Wyndall?”

The Omega looked up, confused at first but then suddenly shouting out only to be muffled by the gag around his mouth. His hands and feet were bound by rope and he was tucked into the corner. Y/N was about to make his way over until he realized Wyndall was looking at something behind him and not at him.

He turned just in time to see a flash of blue and black lunge at him before ducking out of the way in time, “Nightwing,” The Omega growled under his breath.

“Good to finally see you again, Shadow. Well, at least all of you since I’m only used to seeing the far-distant view of your back as you run away from me. Though, it’s definitely not a sight I’m complaining about.” Nightwing said, his usual playful smirk on his face as he once again eyed the Omega vigilante up and down like their first meeting.

“Attacking innocent Omegas just to get to me, why am I not surprised? Is Batman that mad at me?”

“Who said anything about Batman? Maybe I just wanted the chance to finish our conversation from before. And you say attacking, I say leveraging advantages.”

The Omega looked from Nightwing to Wyndall who was watching the exchange while still struggling to get out of his binds. “Well, hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not in much of a talking mood,” Shadow said before grabbing one of his blades and throwing it at the other vigilante.

Nightwing managed to duck but was unprepared for the attacks he received. Using the surprise to his advantage, Shadow landed quick blows along the other vigilante’s chest and legs before sweeping under him and knocking him to the ground.

When Nightwing didn’t immediately get up, the Omega rushed over to Wyndall, using his blades to cut the ropes and gag, “Thank you,” Wyndall began to say, before both of them turned to see the other vigilante not where Shadow left him.

“No time for that, just grab your stuff and let’s go,” Shadow ordered, getting the Omega off the ground and both of them making a break for the stairs.

Just as Wyndall made it to the exit and Shadow right behind him, neither of them saw Nightwing dart out of the shadows, surprising the Omega vigilante before being tackled to the ground.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished talking,” The Alpha growled in the smaller man’s face, doing his best to keep the Omega pinned.

Thankfully for the Alpha, the Omega was distracted by Wyndall coming back to try and help him, “No, Wyndall! Just go. Get out of here!”

“But-”

“I said GO!”

He stood there for a few moments contemplating, before turning around and heading down the stairs. Nightwing smirked down at the Omega, using his strength to overpower him and pin his arms down.

“Alone at last,” Nightwing smiled before leaning down and claiming Shadow’s lips in a soft, but demanding kiss. The Omega could feel a familiar sensation sparking in his pants and certain feelings swirling in his gut.

Though, it didn’t mean he was giving up, doing his best to wiggle his leg putting as much momentum as he could into his knee as he shoved into the Alpha’s crotch. His eyes went wide as he let out a muffled grunt before breaking the kiss and letting his face fall into the side of the Omega’s neck.

But his grip didn’t loosen at all nor did his strength waver over the Omega as he tried to push back to free himself, and that’s when he heard the chuckle beside his ear.

“Sorry, but I’ve learned from your tricks before.”

Nightwing leaned off the Omega, but not enough for him to escape. Only enough to where he could flip him around on the floor, bringing his arms and hands behind his back before grabbing some more binding rope off his utility belt.

He tied both arms and legs together, grabbing his shadowblades off his waist and attaching them to his belt. When he had him secured, he turned the Omega back over and lifted him off the ground, holding him steady while taking a moment to admire his captured prize.

“All that running and fighting, and look at you know, finally caught in my grasp.”

“So what, you’re gonna take me to Batman now?”

Nightwing chuckled again, “Hmm, still haven’t figured it out yet. I told you, this isn’t about Batman. This is about you and me. It’s about finally taking what rightfully belongs to me.”

The Alpha leaned down to grab the Omega around his thighs before throwing him up in a fire-man carry and making his way down the hall. Y/N watched from his place atop the Alpha’s shoulder as they traveled through the dark and quiet halls. Eyeing the various security cameras positioned throughout the hall and noting that they were all missing the usual red light that indicated they were on and watching.

‘Did Nightwing manage to cut the cameras?’ Y/N thought to himself as they made their way down another hall, a familiar one at that as he realized they were getting close to his old office.

It was then that Y/N started thinking about various things. How Nightwing seemed to predict his move of kneeing him in the crotch as a last resort since he was apparently wearing some protective garment that kept his genitals safe. Then again, why wouldn’t he being a vigilante?

But, the comment he made seemed as if he expected it. Then, there was the fact that out of all the people Nightwing chose to attack in Wayne Towers, he chose Wyndall, one of Y/N's few friends at the company from this time working here.

And while he’d rather not think about it, that kiss they shared was just as pleasurable as it was familiar. Things were starting to slowly come together for the Omega. It was becoming somewhat clear that Nightwing knew he was, especially given the fact that he was right about his earlier hunch.

They were heading for his old office.

Y/N recognized the hall the moment they turned down the corner, before they made their way through the familiar glass door, Nightwing pausing in the middle of the room while looking at the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Hmm, feels just like the first time, only the view I have is much better than yours,” The Alpha gloated before using his other hand that wasn’t holding the Omega’s thighs together to land a harsh spank on the plump ass next to his face.

“Ouch, you fucking asshole,” Shadow yelled, before yelping out again in pain as he was subjected to even more brutal and harsher slaps.

Imagine how he felt in the moment, the Omega Vigilante tasked with saving his kind from brutish behavior, getting spanked over the shoulder of the Alpha who’d relentlessly pursued him for months. Only now, he knew that this Alpha was not different from the one that had been pursuing him in his civilian life as well.

“Alright, Dick! That’s enough.” He shouted, still flailing over the Alpha’s shoulder from the sting in his ass as he tried to hold back the tears that were brewing in his eyes.

The Omega suddenly found himself back on the ground, standing on his two feet but being held by the Alpha at the waist. He did his best to not scoff at the arrogant smirk on the vigilante’s face as he looked down at him with a knowing look.

“Oh, finally put the pieces together, have you?” Dick asked.

“You didn’t make it hard with your not-so-clever hints and cliché remarks.”

“Careful,” Dick warned, squeezing the tender behind while laying a hand over his growing arousal, “Before when I gave you the chance to submit to me willingly, you refused and defied me every single time, always with that smart and condescending attitude of yours. I was forgiving then, but not so much now. And I don’t have to be.”

Y/N didn’t know why, but that same feeling he had before in the bathroom, that ever-growing curiosity, had him wanting to bite back. To test the Alpha and see how far he would go. He didn’t understand why he was actively fighting to get out of the situation he was in.

Frankly, he didn’t care about any of that. Right now, at this moment, he couldn’t remember or think of why he cared about being a symbol so much.

All he cared about was wanting to get fucked.

“Hmm, well, maybe if you had been someone worthy of submitting to, I actually would have listened and given in. Even now, I still don’t see someone deserving of my attention, let alone my body.” Y/N remarked, his own smirk pulling at his lips.

The look in Dick’s eyes was something menacing. It was as if the curtains that were obscuring who the Alpha really was were suddenly going up in flames, and now, the real show was about to begin.

“Oh, you want someone worthy, huh? I’ll give you someone worthy.” Dick uttered, a darkness to his words before he forced Y/N onto his knees.

He undid the clasps of his utility belt before undoing the secret zippers at his crotch, reaching inside and pulling out a sizable tool. Definitely not small, but not too big that would have Y/N clenching. But, appearances could be deceiving. After all, Dick was just as much known as a playboy as his adoptive father.

“How about we fill that mouth with something more worthy, huh?”

He barely gave the Omega any time to comply, using his hand to grip the smaller male’s jaw and force his mouth open, using his other hand to shove his hard appendage inside and down his throat. Y/N choked and gagged over the organ, saliva already drooling out around his lips and tears building in his eyes as the Alpha let out a guttural groan, gripping his hair now and holding him against his pubes. 

“That worthy enough for ya?” Dick growled out, jerking himself forward causing another round of chokes and gags and reveling in the sound of them, “Finally, after all that time, waiting around and watching you ignore me and toss me aside, look where you are now. Crying over my dick.”

Y/N couldn’t even use his hands to try and push back at Dick’s hips, seeing as they were still bound behind his back.

Eventually, the Alpha pulled himself out, chuckling at the sounds of the Omega gasping for air and coughing. “Enjoy this little break, it’s gonna be one of the few you get all night,” Dick taunted, yanking on Y/N’s hair again before shoving himself back down his throat.

He kept the Omega like that for another minute, seeing how long he could go before giving him a slight breather for air. When he had enough of that, he slowly began to move in and out of his throat, watching with sinful pleasure at the teary-eyed look the Omega was looking up at him with as his veiny appendage slid in and out of his mouth, a glistening shine come off it from his salvia and the light of the moon through the window.

Eventually, Dick was ruthlessly shoving himself in and out of Y/N’s lips, barely giving him any breaks or breathers as he claimed the Omega’s throat for himself. This was only the first of his many victories that he would achieve tonight. His patience and planning would finally reward him, especially with the insurance he set up for himself, as he eyed the hidden camera tucked away on a shelf in the corner of the room.

Y/N had no choice but to learn how to breathe through his nose to get the much-needed air he required as Dick had his way with his throat. His mouth was covered in spit and drool while his eyes and cheeks were soaked with his tears. When Dick pulled himself out for the last time, he took a sharp breath in, falling forward slightly as he also released the grip on his hair.

“n-nh ... ah … fuck,” The Omega breathed before feeling himself be yanked back up to his feet and pulled towards the desk.

“I’m not done with you yet, slut.”

With one sweeping motion, he knocked everything to the ground before forcing the Omega against the desk and bending him over it. He made quick work of the utility belt before unbuckling and unzipping wherever he had to, pulling down his pants and revealing his wet cunt to him.

“Oh, look at that, even prettier than I imagined,” Dick looked over the panting Omega, taking pride in the fact that this was all his doing before taking a finger and rubbing it over the wet fold and leaking head of his cocklette, “What do you think, Y/N? Should I go slow? Give you time to adjust and widen up for me? Or should I just take you like this? Since I’m apparently not worthy enough?” He asked with a leering sneer.

“please ...a-ah, fuck ... !” Y/N moaned, feeling Dick’s fingers slip inside his heat while his thumb rubbed rough circles over his cocklette and nub.

“Aw, look at that. Told you I’d have you begging for me soon enough,” He said, forcing his fingers inside him a little more before taking them back out, “That’s enough of that. Time’s up, slut. Now, I finally claim what’s rightfully mine.”

Dick turned Y/N over, removing the rope at his ankles before pushing the smaller male further up on the desk, slotting himself between the open legs. He took a moment to admire the sight before him while slapping his dick against the Omega’s dripping entrance.

“After all that time, all that fighting back and acting like you didn’t want me. Look at you here now, helpless, about to have your body claimed by your rightful Alpha. And to think, we could’ve been doing this so long ago. You and me, Nightwing & Shadow, patrolling the streets of Gotham together, but you decided to be a little bitch about everything and resist me at every turn. Well, now, you’ve got nowhere to go. You’re all mine, and I won’t be letting you go anytime soon. Not now, not tonight or tomorrow, and especially, not after this…”

Dick gripped his appendage while holding Y/N at the center of his stomach, sinking himself inside the wet heat with a deep and vocal groan. The Omega shouted out at the brute and forceful intrusion before feeling a hand slap over his mouth.

“Quiet, slut. I may have knocked the guards out, but we still want you alerting anyone else now, do we?”

Dick held his hand firm against the Omega’s mouth while savoring the feeling of the tight flesh wrapped all around his cock. He had sex with many people before, Omegas and Betas alike, but none of them compared to the feeling he had right at that moment.

A few moments went by, Y/N’s vocal but muffled cries slowly quieting as Dick does his best to calm himself down as well before taking his first move inside the soft and tight cunt. Another whine pops up from the Omega, feeling the drag and pull of the hard cock in his insides.

“Quiet baby, I’m trying to focus on not cumming here, and your little sweet sounds aren’t helping,” Dick ordered, taking his time to slowly move himself in and out while fighting down his growing climax. He knew they would have multiple rounds, but there was nothing like the euphoric feeling of claiming your prize. Conquering the very thing that fought so hard against you.

And, now, his reward lay helpless beneath him. Subject to whatever treatment and punishment the Alpha saw fit. Dick knew it, and he could see Y/N was realizing the way he squirmed around on the desk trying to adjust themselves to being owned and taken by someone worthy.

When Dick made his first full thrust inside, the tears sprang to Y/N’s eyes again as he tried to scoot himself up on the desk away from the intrusive weapon spearing his guts.

“Uh uh, baby,” Dick said, holding him by one of his legs as he forced the Omega still on his cock, “there’s no running from this. You’ve got no choice. You’re tied up and helpless, and you’re going to take my cock whether you like it or not.”

And take it, he did.

Once Dick got himself under control and didn’t feel like he would cum too soon, he mercilessly fucked the Omega with no tone of softness or tenderness in his movements. His cries under the Alpha’s palms never ceased, seemingly only increasing in volume as neared closer and closer to his own orgasm.

Above him, Dick groaned and grunted like an animal while plowing his insides, his other palm was busy squeezing roughly at the whiny little cocklette and rubbing furiously over his little pinch of nerves. The evidence of their filthy fun was becoming increasingly more potent as the slick around his cock combined with the soaking and squelching walls of the cunt he was defiling dripped and splashed onto the floor and around the edges of the desk.

“This is all your fault, you know,” Dick spat, the sweat evident on his body as his hair stuck to his face and the top parts of his mask, “if you had just listened to me and been obedient, our first time could have been gentler and more romantic. But, you wanted to be a stubborn little brat who defied his Alpha, and now you’re paying the price.”

Dick delivered powerful and harsher thrusts to Y/N’s core, pulling even louder sounds from his throat as his arms tingled with sleep from being pressed between his body and the shaking wooden desk.

“Oh fuck, you’re squeezing me even tighter than you were before. Are you trying to make me cum, slut?” Dick asked, eyeing his Omega with lust and focus as he drilled even harder into his insides. “Still think I’m not worthy, huh? Still think someone else is more deserving of your body, Y/N? I bet you no one else can have you wet and screaming like this. I can feel the vibrations from all your moaning and whines under my palm. No one can make you feel like I can. No one can fuck you like I can! No one can own you like I can.”

Somehow, Dick began to go even faster, tears now flowing at a fast rate out of Y/N’s eyes as he met his explosive end over the Alpha’s cock. The vigilante leaned over the Omega’s body as his knot slowly approached.

“Get ready for it, slut. And feel lucky you’re not in heat yet, but soon, you will be. And soon, you’ll be carrying my kids.” Nightwing said as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside before meeting his end.

He leaned down and bit into your neck with a vocal growl as he buried himself all the way inside, knotting his Omega for the first time. His body convulsed with shudders and shakes as he felt himself shooting his seed deep inside, Y/N feeling the streaks paint his insides.

Both their breaths slowly returned to normal as they waited for his knot to do down, and when Dick felt like he had enough strength, he held himself up, taking his hand away from the Omega’s mouth before looking at him in his post-orgasmic state.

“You were amazing, baby. I’m sorry I had to be so rough with you, but you gave me no choice. But, don’t worry, it won’t be the last time. We should get you home so I can show you how an Alpha properly treats his Omega.”

Y/N could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence, and he didn’t have any time to try and think of one as Dick pulled himself off and out of him. He reclothed both of them before tying the Omega’s legs back together and tossing him back over his shoulder.

“You’re all mine now, baby. Nightwing & Shadow forever,” Dick said to himself while grabbing the camera off the shelf, stopping the recording before exiting the office and heading down towards the parking garage where he planned to take you both home.

To be continued…

☀️ | Dick Grayson/Nightwing | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

🌙 | Part Two | 🌙

🌃 | Nightwing & Shadow | 🌃 (this image was genrated by Bing AI)

[flowerandblood]

The Grim Watcher

[ mafia • Ettore x mafia boss's sister • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, public, unprotected sex, smut, angst, threats of murder & murder, stalking, domination, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, description of wounds, toxiccc ]

[ description: Ettore has been watching her for a long time and is in no hurry: he wants her to feel his breath on her neck. Although they are separated by a thick wall, they finally collide and she reveals a secret that forces him to commit the worst crime: murder. ]

This oneshot is my little Halloween gift. I wanted it to be a psychological horror novel, so there's a lot about what's going on in Ettore's own head. I hope you like it and remember that this is not a story that's supposed to be pleasant, and the behaviors in it are just plain toxic, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

As he began to wonder why he kept staring at her, he decided it was because of how she stood out among the crowd. She was his boss's younger sister, which in effect allowed her to remain autonomous: she wasn't like him or the rest of the men in his group, who blended into one black mass with no beginning or end.

He though, unlike them, didn't do drugs and consumed alcohol in small amounts, liking to have his senses completely heightened – even more so when she was around.

He knew she was afraid of him, and that turned him on even more.

Her gaze fleeing in panic from his stare, the shudder that ran through her body when he sat down near her, her small hands clenched into fists on her thighs as if she thought she would be able to put up any resistance to him with their help, made him grin.

She knew he was watching her because he wanted her to be aware of it – to feel his breath on the back of her neck, his shadow following her silhouette, his scent in the room she was in. Somehow, he was amused by the discomfort painted on her face, the horror in her gaze, because, after all, he wasn't actually doing anything.

He was just watching.

He was just waiting.

There was something intriguing about this constant anticipation – they both knew that their collision weighed over them like heavy storm clouds, making them run out of air in the places they were together.

It was hard for her to breathe knowing she couldn't escape from him.

He enjoyed fucking like any guy: soft, subtle caresses were not in his nature, seeming to him to be tacky, feminine, filled with some kind of melancholy he didn't understand. Women who hung around dudes like him usually knew what they wanted: they liked bullies and toxic guys. Probably having been abandoned by their fathers as children, they sought out their warped double.

He used their bodies, treating them as warm objects in which he left his seed. He felt nothing but relief after the act itself, except some kind of aggression when they were too loud. He hated their unnaturally squeaky moans, finding them irritating: it seemed to him that they wanted to show him that the more he hurt them, the more pleasurable it was for them.

Something about this behaviour of theirs filled him with disgust, which usually ended with him pressing their faces against the pillow, and by the time he had finished, they were on the verge of suffocating, no longer deriving any enjoyment from the act itself.

"You're fucked up," one of them said, but fell silent when he hit her in the face with his fist so hard that she ran out of air in her lungs.

"Stupid bitch." He answered her.

Wasn't that what she herself wanted?

Or had she hoped that at some point he would confess to her that he had a weakness for her, that he bestowed upon her a cloying affection that she had not experienced from her parents?

He wasn't doing it to talk to them and didn't give a shit about what they needed.

They behaved like animals themselves, but only up to the point where they thought they were in control of what was happening – each was convinced that they liked the pain, liked the humiliation until they began to panic, as the thought finally appeared in their empty little heads that he perhaps wanted to kill them.

They weren't wrong: nothing would please him more than their eternal silence, the absence of their breathing, their moans, their words: just that wonderful silence around him, allowing him to enjoy the warmth of their bodies.

He wished they would just shut the fuck up.

He wondered if she too would have behaved like an animal if he had fucked her properly, but she was beyond his reach – as his boss's sister, she was untouchable, like a figure of the Virgin Mary in a church altar.

She even dressed differently from the women he usually surrounded himself with: she wore long floral jumpers, soft and warm, reaching her mid-thighs, shorts and knee-length socks, revealing only a small piece of her skin above.

Something about the fact that he couldn't just take her appealed to him – the fact that she was some kind of saint, a figure he couldn't desecrate, who would remain pure even in confrontation with him, that is, with nothingness.

They never exchanged a word with each other – he didn't say much, preferring to observe her from afar and keep his distance. She, quite the opposite – when she didn't realise he had seen her, she was bursting with energy, talking like crazy, discussing with various people for hours.

He circled around her like Pluto around the Sun, small and aloof, but still menacing – he let her forget his existence once in a while, only to appear before her suddenly at a time and place she least expected.

When, looking at someone else, she turned suddenly into a dark corridor in one of the nightclubs and bumped straight into his chest, he thought the heavens had shaken – the smell of her perfume was unnaturally sweet, making him think of a fruitcake, either with raspberries or strawberries.

"Oh, I'm sorry –" she muttered, still unaware of who stood before her – as she lifted her head, it was the first time he had seen her face so close up.

Her eyes seemed unnaturally large to him, her eyelashes long, her lips pink and full – he felt like biting them, hard, until he could feel her warm blood on his tongue, curious to find out if it also tasted like a strawberry.

Loud electronic music blasted around them from the speakers, making him feel as if they were both underwater – their silhouettes submerged in the red, sharp light seemed almost unreal to him.

He took a step towards her and she stepped back, hitting her back against a wall filled from top to bottom with all sorts of old posters. The crowd of people around them walked past them, heading to and from the toilets, chatting loudly to each other, paying no attention to them, as if they were invisible.

Anonymous.

The sacred mixed with the profane when his broad hand, in some subconscious, natural reflex, ran over her waist, sliding down to her back, letting his body cling to hers. He sighed, intrigued as she placed her hands on his chest, as if trying to keep distance between them.

He waited for her squeal of discomfort, for her terrified babble full of pleas and begging, but all he heard was her deep breathing, as if she was trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes, as if she thought that once she did, he would disappear – encouraged by the fact that she wasn't causing him any trouble and wasn't lashing out at him, he leaned over to sniff her.

He started with her long, dark hair, in which he sunk the tip of his nose – it was smooth and smelled of some kind of strawberry shampoo, which was perhaps responsible for her scent. Her fingers clenched tighter on the material of his simple black Tshirt tucked into his trousers as his nose slid slowly lower, to her cheek and then to her neck.

His hand roamed up and down her back like a guard, making sure she didn't try to pull away from him – the gentle movement of his fingers was a warning that he would remain calm as long as she remained so.

He felt her pulse clearly under her skin, the blood pumping rapidly through her veins, her heavy, excited breath like the sound of water. He slid the tip of his tongue out and ran it over her soft flesh, leaving a moist, warm trail on her skin. Her taste and salty sweat melted on his taste buds, making his erection, all swollen in his trousers, throb greedily, pressing against her lower abdomen.

He thought they were in some sort of in-between state – her quiet sigh, her head that tilted back, giving him more space to explore and admire, made him realise that they had just fucked in some strange, incomprehensible way.

The presence of others gave her a sense of security for certain – behind closed doors she would have been completely at his mercy, and here, now, she seemed to have at least partial control over the situation.

When his hand tightened on the material of her jumper and pulled at it, forcing her to turn her back to him, she did so without a word. He liked her silence, her deep breath in which, however, there was no terror – it seemed to him that she was actually curious about what was going to happen between them, as was he.

He had never touched a woman before without using force, so he felt that he was exploring completely uncharted territory of physical closeness between a woman and a man – encouraged by the fact that she offered him no resistance, hugging her cheek obediently to the wall, he leaned over and pressed his body to hers, pushing his erection against her buttocks.

He closed his eyes, wanting to focus only on the sense of smell and touch as he nuzzled his face into her hair, slipping his hands under the fabric of her jumper – they travelled lazily higher, over the skin of her stomach, until they came across her soft, plump breasts. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands found a support in the cold wall in front of her as his palms clamped down on them – she hissed as he drove his nails into them, delighted at how well they fitted the shape of his hands.

"It hurts." She said in a whisper, startling him as one of her hands joined his, laying against his skin.

He couldn't say he wanted to cause her pain.

All he needed was for her not to disturb him while he took what he had craved for so long.

Her fingers guided him, directing his thumb to her nipple – she squeezed the spot and hummed quietly, rubbing her buttocks against his erection involuntarily, a shiver of something that clearly must have been pleasure shook her whole body.

He felt his cock pulsate hard, then again and again as he managed to get the same reaction from her – his face slid lower, to the crook of her neck, alternately licking her skin and sinking his teeth into it, trailing and rubbing both her nipples with his thumbs.

He felt them all swell and harden under his touch.

Her hand guided one of his arms lower, to the material of her shorts – involuntarily he clenched his fingers over the spot underneath which her warm pussy was, wondering if this was an invitation.

With one firm gesture he tugged at the material, letting her know that she was to pull it off no matter that there were other people walking around them.

To his surprise, she did so without a word, her jumper so long it covered her buttocks – it was only for a moment that he noticed what was between her thighs, her wetness glistening in the disturbing red light.

It took him a few seconds to undo his belt, trouser button and zipper.

"Bend over." He instructed her, and she obediently followed his command.

He didn't want anyone but him to see this wonderful sight, so he wasted no time – his hand guided the thick, pink head of his cock straight to her slit, and he immediately thrusted, forcing her to fit him inside. He sighed when he felt her resisting him – she was tight, or she was simply clenching her muscles around his length, wanting to make his task more difficult – something about this passive act of disobedience aroused him even more.

"– little slut –" He grunted, pulling back slightly with the movement of his hips, with another, sharper push opening her wide on his fat erection – both of them, to his surprise, moaned quietly and then fell silent, panting heavily.

He snuggled into her body as he felt the pressure lessen. He was finally able to slip deep between her fleshy, warm folds – she was wet, he thought intrigued, pressing his nose against her fragrant neck, beginning to move inside her at once.

There was no finesse in this act – their bodies slammed against each other with loud splats deafened by the music around them – only they could hear each other's accelerated breaths and gasps of pleasure, both clearly deriving some kind of satisfaction from what was happening.

"– how many of them have fucked you like this before? –" He hissed in her ear, running the fingers of one hand down her soft buttocks, the other clutched at her silken breast, playing with her nipple between them.

"– many –" She exhaled.

He would have known if someone had fucked her behind his back.

Even so, something in her answer infuriated him – the thought that if anyone else had come across her in this corridor, he might have had what he was taking now. He sped up aggressively, imposing a rough, brutal pace on her, again and again reaching almost to her cervix.

"– you're lying, you little whore –" He growled, pulling his hand out of her jumper, instead gripping her jaw with it. "– do it again and I'll break your neck –"

"– do it –" She said softly – it seemed to him that something resembling a smile flashed across her face as she closed her eyes and threw her head back, her walls clenching greedily around his erection in euphoria.

"– cheeky cunt – suck it, slut, or I'll kill you –" He threatened, thrusting two of his fingers deep down her throat – her moan was drowned out by his movements with which he slid them in and out from between her puffy lips, which clenched obediently around them with the quiet clicks of her saliva.

He felt what he saw in his cock, which pulsed aggressively inside her, the squeeze in his testicles testifying that he was close – her sudden, intense orgasm surged through her in spasms, driving him to the brink of peak.

"– don't stop – 'm about to come inside you –" He exhaled wearily and closed his eyes, involuntarily letting out a sigh of relief as his cum spilled deep inside her warm interior, mingling with her moisture.

She breathed heavily as he slid his fingers out of her mouth – he pressed his forehead against the wall, panting loudly, and she did the same, quivering all over, her slick cunt still pulsing around his half-soft, twitching manhood.

He glanced to the side, noticing a group of strange men watching them from a distance.

"– and what the fuck are you looking at? –" He called out, and the men turned away, clearly knowing who they were, not wanting any trouble.

"– my brother wants to kill you – tonight, when you leave the club – Matt will be waiting for you, he'll come up to talk to you – he'll have a knife under his jacket at the back – be quicker –" She whispered.

He froze, feeling his heart pound harder in his chest, the loud music around him seemed to deafen him.

"Why?" He asked.

"He's afraid of you." She replied. "You're unpredictable."

"Why are you telling me this?" He specified the question.

She looked at him but, to his surprise, he saw neither condemnation, disgust nor regret in her eyes – it seemed to him that she was tired.

It was one of those feelings that he could comprehend.

He was perpetually tired, discouraged, frustrated.

"I want to free myself from him." She whispered.

"You'll never escape him." He replied.

If not her brother, then his accomplices, they'd find her and squeeze out where he kept the money, the goods, the documents, and she'd tell them everything, willingly or not.

She closed her mouth, looking at him in pain. There was something hopeless about this view – her realisation that he was right and she was like a caged animal.

If he had been able to, he would certainly have sympathised with her, the only thing, however, that he experienced was discomfort, an unpleasant sting at the level of his chest that made him realise that enough was enough.

He grunted and slipped out of her, zipping up his trousers at once, watching impassively as she put her underwear and shorts over her buttocks, her eyes closed, her body shaking all over, as if she was about to crack, to fall to pieces.

But she didn't.

The blood on his hands was sticky and warm. He had never been fond of Matt – he was a barking wanker with a wide, sassy smile, thinking that anyone believed in his honest, good intentions. He was a walking narcissist obsessed with himself, convinced of his own inestimable worth, of the fact that he had managed to fool everyone.

He was choking as his blade didn't pierce his heart, but went a little higher – he did it on purpose to make the bastard suffer more.

He watched him writhing on the ground by the car park, howling and wailing, begging for help, but it was getting to three o'clock in the morning and everyone was inside, thinking that he was the one who was saying goodbye to life.

Returning home in his car, he realised he had to run, as far away as he can: so he packed quickly, putting only the most important things into a large leather bag, and walked out, leaving what was there behind.

He stopped a few streets away from their house: he knew exactly the location of their cameras and knew where to jump the fence to make sure none of them covered him. He had watched many times as she typed in the code that disabled the alarm, so he tapped it on the patio door keypad from memory:

45567

There was no one inside – surely they were all looking for him, but they hadn't assumed he would be right there.

He went into her room and lay down on her bed, recognising that he wasn't in a hurry – he was sure they would drive her away and continue looking for him themselves, doubtless heading towards his flat.

He would have about an hour.

Indeed, not even a quarter of an hour had passed when he heard someone open the front door downstairs – he was looking towards the window, at the setting sun, when she entered the room.

She closed the door behind her as if burned, looking at him in horror.

"What the fuck are you doing here? The whole city is looking for you. You should have been out of town a long time ago." She hissed.

"Come with me."

He didn't know why he'd said that.

He had been watching her for so long that it seemed to him that they had known each other for centuries, even though the only thing they had in common was that they were fucking that night.

"I can't. I have University here. I want to graduate." She muttered, pale with disbelief.

"It wasn't a request."

She swallowed hard, breathing louder and louder, and shook her head.

"No."

Her body pressed against the wall, her breath caught in her throat as he rose aggressively from the bed and pulled a gun from behind his belt, which he pointed straight at her.

"Pack your things or I'll shoot you in that little head of yours." He growled with impatience. "We were doing so well. Do you have to fucking annoy me?"

Her eyes glazed over with tears, her hand on her chest as if she couldn't catch her breath.

"Shoot me. I'm not going to change one madman for another." She said in a cold, breaking voice.

Her words enraged him – he moved on her like a bear, knocking over a chair standing in his way – she squealed as he pressed the cold barrel of the gun against her forehead.

"I'll blow your head off." He hissed, his other hand catching her jaw, shaking it so that the back of her head hit the wall several times.

"FUCKING SHOOT ME THEN!" She screamed as if she had lost her mind, and then burst out crying like a small baby.

His finger pressed lightly on the trigger, but he didn't do it all the way – his heart was pounding like crazy, adrenaline running through his veins like a stream, making his head hum. She whimpered as his fingers pressed harder into her jaw, his nose sinking into her hot, wet cheek.

Into her scent.

Strawberries.

His mother had once bought him a strawberry bun while they were at the bakery. Usually she spent her money only on alcohol, but then, that morning, she had still been sober. He devoured the bun like an animal, warm and sweet under his tongue, the taste of fresh fruit so wonderful that he had thought about it all day.

She looked up at him, stopping sobbing suddenly, as if something in his gesture surprised her – her eyes were fixed on his as she leaned towards him, letting their lips come into contact in what felt like a warm, sticky, wet caress.

He had never kissed before – he didn't and wasn't able to – but now his lips parted before hers, letting their tongues meet halfway, letting his teeth bite into her flesh, making the metallic, tart taste of her blood spill over his palate.

She embraced him and there was something sincere about it – some kind of understanding, a statement that she forgave him, despite everything.

He let his gun drop to the floor, his fingers clenching painfully tight on her hair, connecting with her in that aggressive, cruel way – he pulled away to catch his breath, and a few words left her lips.

"Find me. When everything goes quiet. You know where." She whispered, her cheeks hot and wet with tears under his fingers.

"If I see you with another man, I'll kill you both." He said.

She nodded, as if his words made no impression on her.

"I know."

[areyoudoingthis]

This shot makes me completely insane. Ed's wanted to bury the Kraken and Blackbeard for so long, but now he's literally and symbolically digging himself up from the depths, he's swimming all the way to the bottom on purpose to drag himself back out.

And he does it in part because he's just been told "If you were ever good at anything, go and do that", and then rowed himself back into a nightmare, ships burning everywhere, Stede missing, and British soldiers harassing him while he's barely coping with what he's seeing. Maybe at first this is about bringing the Kraken back out of anger and dissociation, but that's why what happens next is so important. Because whatever his motivations are in this moment, he's doing something. The last time he was underwater he was drowning and Stede's presence saved him, this time he's taking action and doing whatever he can to fight back. And anger is only part of that, has always only been part of what moves Ed to violence.

Blackbeard and the Kraken have always been fueled by love, and fear, and yes, rage against unjust situations that made Ed feel helpless and trapped, and then left him feeling even worse for fighting back. And that last bit is what changes this time around and allows Ed to reintegrate, because for the first time, he's not alone anymore to deal with the aftermath, he's not a kid without a family, he's not a man crying alone in secret in an empty room without anyone to console him.

After he digs himself up, he emerges fully dressed on the shore, Edward Teach literally reborn on a beach at last, leathers back on and determined to do whatever it takes to find Stede. And it's such a powerful shot: he's all in black against the white surf, dripping wet hair completely obscuring his features and trailing tentacle shaped rivulets of water in front of his face.

The next shot we see is his shadow self, his dark, blurry reflection on the sand. The only bit of Ed's actual body we get are his feet stepping determinedly on the wet sand, making his way back to land and to Stede and towards his full self (although he hasn't realized this last bit yet).

But it's not until he finds the soldiers reading Stede's letter -and this is such a lovely representation of how the core of the show is the relationship between these two men- that all the parts of him are finally able to integrate into a single person when Ed embraces the Kraken and Blackbeard and Ed as being of equal value. It's reading the adoring, unhesitating declaration of Stede's love that allows Ed to redefine himself, to see his darker parts in a different light, the light Stede has cast on his life.

He reads the letter, realizes the depth of Stede's love for him, understands he's really committed to Ed for good (in permanent ink), that he didn't push him away by showing him his trauma as he feared, that sharing the story he's never told anyone else about his first and worst act of violence didn't make Stede reject him, that Stede loves him and wants him in his life for good. He has a short cry about it while he reads and processes.

And then he roars "you wrote me a lovely letter" and charges. A lot has been said about how angry in love the line sounds, and yes, he is angry, angry that he almost lost Stede again, angry that the British soldiers would mock the letter, angry that they'd hurt Stede and that they'd think they can do whatever they want just because they have the power, think they can separate them again after everything they've been through.

Ed has been afraid of his anger for so long, made up a tale and a whole different persona to hide it behind, but his anger has always been born of love, of the need to keep his loved ones safe, of rage against abuse and injustice, and this is what he needed to be able to see in order to start healing.

He's in love, Stede's in danger, he needs his protection, and Ed offers it unflinchingly and doesn't hate himself for it this time, sees the part of him that is capable of killing not as monster but as loving protector at last. Because the British are abusing their entirely illegitimate authority, and the man he loves is in trouble and may even be dead, and this isn't even a question for Ed, he'll fight for him.

And once he's safe he'll drop his weapons at their feet to kiss him and tell him what he's finally become able to say: he loves him. He's maybe beginning not to hate himself, and he loves Stede. And Stede reaffirms what he wrote in the letter, tells him that he knows, that it isn't Ed-Blackbeard-Kraken that's a dick, but life.

Is this arc done? No, of course not. Healing happens in stops and starts, it takes a long time, and that's why DJ has said from the beginning that OFMD was always meant to be three seasons long; the last season is going to be all about Ed and Stede dealing with their issues so they can grow and heal. But they were always meant to do it together, because that's when they're strongest, that's when they're able to shed a light on the other's darkest bits and help him see them in a kinder, loving way.

This was an emotionally charged step in Ed's journey of growth and self acceptance, but the issue will probably come back up in the future, especially now that he and Stede are slowing down and taking time to process their mountains of trauma and everything they've been through in a very condensed amount of time.

But this is still an incredibly significant moment for Ed. He's gone from panicking and hiding under a blanket in a bathtub to throwing parts of himself overboard to digging them up from the bottom of the sea towards the shore and the light, and wielding them intentionally to fight for what he loves.

[hannsluvely]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one | caution. chaos. coconut. his pov;

I didn't like to put a label on things; doing so made things too specific, too real. And for me, I preferred for things to seem as unspecific and false as possible.

I preferred for things to be simple. There is beauty in simplicity.

Maybe that's why I found her to be so gorgeous.

She was simple.

There was not a single thing I didn't know about her. I didn't need to go out of my own way to find out her favorite color or food - she told me (though not directly). She told them. She told everyone. She was rather open about herself while I kept everything private. I had my reasons to remain rather anonymous and to stay out of the spotlight and thrive in the shadows while she glistened in the spotlight. She was an open book.

But I still wanted to read her.

I wanted to study her.

And maybe that's why I traveled to the North Blue - to be closer to her. But I wouldn't admit that aloud. I would seem rather insane if she knew, and I wasn't insane. My mind operated differently to others. I was often classified as different and odd, especially by my peers when I was still in school. I was teased to be the quiet kid, picked on because of my nose. I was deemed to be the one most likely to commit some type of horrid act. They weren't wrong, but no one likes to be judged for how they truly are.

She didn't judge me.

Well, of course, she didn't even know me.

But she wasn't the type to judge. Which made my appeal to her even more strong and wild. I was finally able to watch her up close, months after first discovering a rare form of art like her.

The bar was packed, much to my dismay. I liked things to remain quiet despite my love for disarray. I was able to think when it was quiet. I’ve always had thousands of thoughts racing through my mind, so much so that it was difficult to pick a single train and hop on board. But when my eyes landed on her, my mind settled.

She was sitting alone in the corner of the bar, a large round booth all to herself. She had a small yet cute smile on her round face as she sipped on a beverage. Not alcohol- no, she hated alcohol, which is why I cut back on it. I wanted to be the best version of myself for her. Well, whenever I got the courage to talk to her, that is. She made me cower in fear, in anxiety. Someone so timid and fragile as her made someone like me- a pirate, a killer, a clown fall to his knees. I was a fool for her.

Lifting up my drink, I took a sip of the carbonated juice, grimacing as the alcoholic tang was nonexistent. I scoured and gave in, waving down one of the waitresses to add something to my drink. Maybe then I would be able to think straight and finally be able to talk to her. I needed something to fog my judgement and give me the balls to go talk to her- although my dick was confidence enough. God, the way she made me feel was impeccable. She made my pants tighten when she took a sip of her drink. I watched her pink lips suck on the straw as she kicked her feet and examined a newspaper on the wooden table. I squirmed in my seat and leaned back, a deep sigh leaving my lips.

Once the waitress topped off my drink, I waved her off and continued to sit by myself, admiring the maiden who sat by herself. By herself? God, I still didn’t get that. How was she alone? How was she sitting by herself in a bar as crowded as this one? She had friends, many of them. She had family, too. But why must she sit in silence and all by her lonesome?

I huffed and itched at the back of my neck, my hand dragging down to grab my chin and cover my nose. I clenched my jaw and pondered the possibility that my ego would actually allow me to stand up, walk over to her, and sit across from her. Maybe I could buy her a drink? But nevertheless, I remained glued to my seat, downing at least three glasses of whiskey. I lost track.

I lost complete track of time that whenever I finally came back to, she was standing tall, slinging her coat back over her shoulders, and starting for the door. I gulped and turned, my eyes following her. But before she could leave the bar and disappear for the night, a tall, stout man blocked her exit. I squinted my eyes.

“And where do you think ‘yer going?” The pirate smirked, his arms folding over his chest. His belly bounced as he laughed. “Going so soon?”

“Please let me by,” She instructed, trying to budge past the weighted man but to no avail, he stood still. “What is it you want?”

“To see you undressed.”

I grabbed the edge of the table, feeling my body grow hot. It wasn’t because of her, though it mostly always was. She had an effect on me. But this man, he angered me, fucking enraged me. I could feel my blood beginning to boil as he continued to harass both her and me.

“Oh, come on, what’s a sexy little lady like you got going on tonight?” The fat man hummed, reaching forward to grab hold of the leather backpack that hung over her shoulder’s. She shoved him away and backed up.

“I’ll find another exit,” She announced and turned on her heel, starting to head to the back of the bar where other patrons parted through.

“Come on!”

She walked right past me, speeding down the aisle. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet, delicate scent of her perfume and shampoo. Vanilla and coconut. Fuck me.

“I can walk you home!”

She stopped in her steps and faced the obese pirate, her arms folding over her chest. “Fuck off, you pig!” She spat, eyes rolling as she started to turn around once again but she stopped, and looked at me.

Oh my god, she looked at me.

At me.

“Baby, can we go?”

I blinked. What?

“Please?” She asked, looking at me with such desperation in her eyes that a tent started to form in my pants.

What? What was she doing? I didn’t know whether to accept or deny. Why was she doing this? Was she delusional? Stupid? Hallucinogenic?

“I know you wanted to have a bit more to drink but I feel much safer walking back with you. You can come back after,” She smiled softly and stepped toward me, her soft hand resting on my shoulder. She then leaned down, inching closer to me. Her lips grazed my ear, hot breath making my skin redden. “Please go along with it,” She pleaded.

“Ah, so you have a mate, huh?” The stout pirate laughed, taking a few hard steps towards the two of us. “That’s okay with me.”

Her soft eyes darted from me to the pirate and then back to me. She looked so enchanting when in distress.

“Hey.” I grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. “Yes, of course, darlin’. Come on.” I moved her arm and she backed up, standing straight. I dug through my pocket and tossed as much spare change I had onto the table then scooted up. My hand grabbed hers tightly, not wanting to let go. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with confusion but I just led her down the aisle, my free hand wrapping around her shoulder. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. It slipped my mind whether I told you or not.”

“Oh, uh…” She looked down, her face growing as red as the nose on my face. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” I whispered and as we approached the door, the pirate seemed to be cowering in fear as he finally recognized who had the honor of taking this lovely maiden home. And it was me.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I—“

“Step aside,” I growled.

“Yes, s-sir, I’m sorry. Of course!” He was about to piss himself.

I faked a smile and as soon as he moved, I pushed the door open and allowed her and I to walk down the narrow wooden staircase and back onto the dock. To my disappointment, she pulled from my grip and grabbed the straps of her backpack, letting out a deep sigh as she folded over. “Jesus,” She whispered.

“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step to approach her.

My hand rested on the small of her back and I smiled softly though the red paint extended it from cheek to cheek.

“Thank you for doing that.”

“Oh, uh?” My eyes furrowed. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re not gonna try to get in my pants, right?”

“N-No! No, no. No.” I lied with a reassuring smile.

“Okay, good,” She grinned. “Guys are so weird. I swear the ugly ones are the ones that are most obsessed with me. I attract the weird ones.”

I clenched my jaw. Ouch.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. You—“

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coats and I dragged my foot. “Are you gonna be okay?” I tried my best to act uninterested in her but my body was bouncing and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself onto her. She was divine when she was distressed.

“What’s your name?”

“Uhm,” I swallowed. “Buggy.”

“Oh, that’s new. I’ve never heard of that name before. Is it a stage name? To match your makeup?”

“Makeup?”

“You look like a clown. Is that your real nose?”

“Nose?” I grimaced and nodded my head. “Yes. Yes, it is real. Any other questions?”

“No, I’m sorry,” She smiled and let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you again, honestly.”

“You need to start watching out for yourself. If I wasn’t there, you’d have been his next plaything,” I gagged at the thought.

“Why were you there?”

“Huh?”

“You look like a pirate. So what made you sit by yourself in a bar? Where’s your crew?”

All these questions. I smiled. I loved her curiosity.

“I was a pirate. Uh, taking a bit of a break.”

“What for?”

So I can follow you around and learn every single little thing there is to know about a beautiful goddess such as yourself. “Personal reasons,” I lied. I dipped my head down and traced my foot along the wooden planks, chewing on my inner cheek. “What’s your name?”

I knew it, I just wanted to hear her say it.

“It’s Y/N. I know, it’s not nearly as cool as yours.”

I laughed aloud, bursting into a fit of cackles and giggles. “What? You’re insane. Thanks for the flattery but try to find a souvenir keychain with a name like mine.” I wiped a fake tear.

The dimming sun finally disappeared past the ocean’s horizon, leaving Y/N and I surrounded by dimly lit lanterns and the settling sea crashing waves against the old dock. I stood still while she seemed to be trembling. It was rather cold. “Uh,” I started to slip my jacket off. “Do you need it?”

“No, no, I’m good. Thank you, though. I’m gonna start heading back now,” She announced as she looked over her shoulder, squinting. “It’s getting really late.”

“Yeah, uh, it is.”

“Well, Buggy, it was nice meeting you. I’d give you a hug but no offense, you reek of beer,” Y/N smiled.

“It’s whiskey,” I remarked.

“It’s all the same to me.” I know it is.

“Do you need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’m good. We’re still strangers and I don’t feel safe with someone I’m unfamiliar with knowing my address. No offense, though.” She said ‘no offense’ a lot. And I already knew her address. I even had access to the spare key she often left underneath a clothed doormat. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She nodded and smiled, showing her gorgeous teeth. Her cheeks were pink, dusted by the cool air. Her hair wafted off her shoulders as the breeze picked up. Her aroma caught my attention once again.

“Can you turn around? I don’t want you seeing where I’m going.”

She’s adorable.

“Yeah, alright.”

And so I did. I turned around, making her feel a bit more at ease. I swallowed, staring straight into the endless ocean ahead of me, listening to the sounds of her soft footsteps slowly disappear.

When I turned around, she was gone.

And so was the sweet smell of vanilla and coconut.

[kallie-den]

Faithful to the Source Material

Laura and Carmen turn the tables on their homophobic bully by hypnotizing her to act like the lesbian vampire she’s dressed up as for Halloween… but will things get out of hand?

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Vicky had gone all-out with her Halloween costume. From the bottom of her heart, Laura detested the bully, but she had to hand it to her for that.

Vicky wasn’t one to half-commit. She had even dyed her hair jet black to match her gothic, lacy, corseted dress—complete with high collar, chest cut-out, and long, flowing sleeves—and the black gemstones in her earrings and on her necklace. Her makeup was just as on-point; deathly pale powder, not just on her face but all the way down her neck and across her chest, plus viciously dark, shadowy eyes, carefully accentuated cheekbone shadows, and rich, crimson lipstick. She was even wearing deep red color contacts. But the cherry on top of the cake was, of course, her fangs. Laura knew they had to be fake, but they certainly looked real enough when the way Vicky’s malevolent smirk pulled back her lips made them visible.

She really did make for a perfect vampire.

It was the best Halloween costume Laura and her girlfriend, Carmen, had seen all night. It was striking and gorgeous, and high-quality enough to almost seem real without sacrificing that fun hint of Halloween tackiness. And as much as it pained Laura to admit it, the vampire getup made Vicky look unbelievably, irresistibly hot.

It was just such a shame that Vicky was a mean, bullying, irredeemable, homophobic piece of shit.

And that she had decided to spend her Halloween ruining Laura and Carmen’s night.

“Wow,” Vicky drawled, as she stood in the doorway and regarded Laura and Carmen with a sadistic, disgusted glare. “I didn’t realize they let dykes into this party.”

Laura flinched. She loved that word, and hated the way Vicky made it sound like something shameful.

“Christ, Vicky,” Carmen groaned, a furious scowl on her face. “You know it’s not nineteen-fifty anymore, right? Just leave us alone.”

“I’d love to,” Vicky retorted. “But if someone doesn’t keep you freaks in your place, the whole sorority house is gonna end up smelling like rug-muncher. Ew.”

Laura surreptitiously tugged at Carmen’s sleeve. “Maybe we should just go?” she whispered.

Of the two of them, Carmen had always been the most inclined to actually stand up to Vicky and her bigotry. Laura wished she found it as easy to be so brave—but tonight, in particular, she’d been hoping for nothing more than a fun, relaxed, festive night with her girlfriend. Now that it had already been ruined, she couldn’t find it in herself to want to stay.

It was especially discouraging that this was exactly what Laura had worried would happen when the two of them had made up their minds to go to that year’s big sorority Halloween party. It was sure to be a blast—but Vicky was sure to be there. She was in the sorority, after all. In the end, Carmen had persuaded Lauren that the sorority house would be huge and packed, and that Vicky would have better things to do. Besides, what other time of year did you get to enjoy dressing up as creeps and ghouls?

Apparently, they wouldn’t get to enjoy it at this time of year either.

When she had accidentally locked eyes with Vicky across the room, Laura had immediately dragged Carmen upstairs to one of the private bedrooms reserved for hook-ups, hoping that Vicky would soon lose track of them and forget about them. No such luck. She’d tracked them upstairs like a bloodhound—and here they were.

“What are you two lesbos supposed to be dressed as, anyway?” Vicky snorted, stepping into the bedroom. “A nerd, and… a cartoon mom?”

“A… huh?” Carmen blinked, incredulous. “I’m a mad scientist. I figured it was pretty obvious.”

It was. Laura’s girlfriend was wearing a distinctly singed white lab coat, with big eye-protection goggles up on her forehead, her hair wild, and an assortment of measuring instruments and test tubes placed carefully throughout the costume. Personally, Laura was having a great time seeing her psychology student girlfriend really lean into the vibe.

“And I’m the bride of Frankenstein,” Laura put in. She thought she’d done pretty well with her costume—not just the dress and face paint, but the hair too.

“OK.” Vicky stared at her like she’d just told her that the sky was orange. “So… why the stupid hair?”

Laura blinked. “Like… the movie?”

Vicky just went on staring, nonplussed.

“Look,” Carmen said, standing up from the bed the two lesbians had been perched on. “Can’t you just leave us alone, Vicky? Just for one night? This is ridiculous.”

Their college was in a pretty conservative state; finding people who were bothered by Laura and Carmen’s sexualities and their relationship wasn’t all that hard. But mostly, those small-minded idiots restrained themselves to some mean looks and the silent treatment. Only Vicky had made it her business to follow the two of them wherever they went and make their lives miserable. It was as if nothing made her happier. At least this time she didn’t have her usual gaggle of followers along for the ride.

“Oh, trust me, I have plenty better things to do.” Vicky folded her arms and smirked. “But I just had to see how the two of you decided to fuck up Halloween. I guess it really is true what they say: dykes have no style.”

For some reason, the comments about their costumes were what was causing Laura’s temper to flare. “Oh yeah?” she shot back. “And what about you? A slutty vampire? Jeez, how creative!”

Vicky bristled but didn’t lose her cool. “Vampires are iconic,” she retorted smugly. “They never go out of fashion. Nobody needs to guess what I am. Vampires are peak Halloween. Peak horror. Everybody knows that.”

“Ugh. What do you know?” Laura replied furiously. She and Carmen both loved horror—and she knew perfectly well that Vicky didn’t. She was nothing more than a poser. To her, Halloween was nothing more than an excuse to dress up in a way that had the frat boys drooling over her even more than usual. “About lesbians, about Halloween, about vampires—or about anything else.”

“Vampires drink blood, they can’t go out in the sun, and they’re scared of crosses.” Vicky counted her points off on her fingers as she made them. “It’s not that hard, genius.”

“Actually,” Carmen put in. “There’s a lot more to vampires than just that. A whole lot of folklore that most people don’t know the first thing about.”

Laura threw her a look. Unusually, Carmen didn’t sound mad. She sounded like she was up to something.

“Whatever.” Vicky shrugged. “That sounds boring. This is a party, you know? I guess dykes don’t know how to have fun either.”

“It’s actually a lot more interesting than you might think,” Carmen continued. The hairs on the back of Laura’s head stood up when she recognized the tone of voice her girlfriend was slipping into. “Modern vampires are based on legends, and the roots of those legends still shape our modern perceptions. For example, you know the count from Sesame Street? His obsession with numbers is actually rooted in vampire folklore.”

“Huh.” The look on Vicky’s face was still utterly hostile but it was clear that despite herself, she was interested. It helped, of course, that Carmen’s voice was so easy to listen to.

“You see, according to folklore,” Carmen went on, “vampires feel compelled to count things. A traditional way to ward off a vampire was to scatter grains around the entrance of a house. The vampire would need to count them all before entering, and would end up burning up when the sun rose.”

“That’s stupid,” Vicky said guardedly.

“Maybe,” Carmen admitted, smiling. “But I wonder if it would work on you. After all, you’re clearly so in character.”

Vicky scoffed. “Of course it wouldn’t. That’s really stupid.”

“You’d be surprised,” Carmen told her with provocative confidence. “Take it from me, as a psych student: the urge to count is already natural and sometimes, the way we dress can deeply influence our thoughts and behaviors. I bet you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“You bet, huh?” Vicky suddenly grinned. “Fine. OK. Sure. Let’s bet. Try out your stupid anti-vampire trick on me. If it works, I’ll give you a pass for the night. If it doesn’t, the two of you lesbos have to leave us normal people to party in peace.”

“You’re on,” Carmen was grinning too. “Should be easy for you. All you have to do is keep your head.”

“Bring it!” Vicky said savagely.

Laura wasn’t surprised she was taking the challenge. Vicky was just that arrogant. She was surprised, however, by what Carmen was trying to pull.

“Babe,” she said quietly. “You sure about this?”

Carmen just winked at her. Laura couldn’t help but find that hot.

“OK, let’s do it like this,” Carmen said to Vicky. “Both of us are going to count—you under your breath, me out loud. I’ll count the Fibonacci sequence. You count back from a hundred in threes.”

“The what sequence?” Vicky demanded impatiently.

Carmen sighed. “You know, each number the sum of the previous two? Like… zero, one, one, two, three, five?”

“More nerd shit?” Vicky sneered. “Fine. Back from a hundred in threes sounds easy. I’m a business major, you know. We do a lot with numbers. How do I win?”

“Easy,” Carmen told her. “All you have to do is make it to zero without being distracted by my count.”

Vicky’s grin widened, showing her fake fangs. “Sounds like you’re practically handing me the win! Well, I won’t complain about the chance to kick a couple of loser dykes out of my sorority house. Fine.”

“Laura,” Carmen said. “Why don’t you count us in?”

Laura was already shivering with anticipation. She knew what was happening. And she knew Carmen was going to win.

“Three,” she counted. “Two. One. Go.”

Immediately, Vicky’s lips started mouthing as she counted out: ‘a hundred, ninety-seven, ninety-four.’ She was moving fast but not rushing; pacing herself, so she didn’t make a mistake. After a moment, Carmen started counting too.

“Zero,” she said, her voice suddenly and unexpectedly soft and song-like. “One. One. Two. Three. Five. You know, the sequence always catches me out a little at first. It’s tricky to remember how it starts. Zero, then one—but one plus zero is one, so there’s another one. And then two, of course. One plus one.”

Vicky’s brow furrowed. Already, her counting was slowing down as her numbers became mixed up with the flow of Carmen’s words.

“Sorry, I’m just rambling,” Carmen assured her. “Silly of me. I’m just giving you extra time, aren’t I?”

Laura couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Vicky clearly suspected Carmen was trying to throw her off. Laura knew her girlfriend was intent on something far more fun.

Hypnotizing her.

It was one of Carmen’s passions, born out of her enduring interest in human psychology. Hypnosis had begun as her research subject and progressed to something she and Laura were exploring privately. Just thinking about some of the creative bedroom uses they’d found for hypnosis made Laura’s cheeks burn. And she knew neither of them had been able to help fantasizing about using hypnosis to give bigots like Vicky their comeuppance.

Now, Carmen was finally giving it a shot.

“Eight,” Carmen counted. Her voice was all but irresistible. Laura knew that from experience. She was struggling not to dip into a trance herself. “Thirteen. Twenty-one. Isn’t it funny, how quickly it starts ramping up? Suddenly, the simple addition is getting a little trickier. Isn’t it hard not to wonder about what comes next, Vicky?”

Vicky was slowly blinking as she fought to concentrate. It was clear that she was torn between wanting to tell Carmen to shut up and wanting to try to ignore her completely. Caught on the horns of that dilemma, Vicky was unable to stop herself from following along with Carmen’s count. From doing the very same math Carmen was distracting her with.

“Thirty-four,” Carmen went on. Her voice was perfectly, irresistibly hypnotic. “Fifty-five. Eighty-nine. A hundred and forty-four. Isn’t it crazy how it jumps up into three digits? It almost doubles in just one go. Of course, really, it’s not crazy at all. It’s just the sequence following its own simple rule. Completely predictable. Completely natural.”

Vicky was starting to lose her place. Laura could see it. She was in the seventies, but her lip movements as she counted were growing less and less certain. She couldn’t help listening to Carmen.

“Of course, your sequence isn’t like that at all,” Carmen added. “It’s nice and regular—and it goes down, instead of up. That’s important, isn’t it? Down, down, down. Not adding. Subtracting. Getting close and closer to zero, with every number you count.”

“I…” Vicky breathed, before she could stop herself. Then, she simply froze.

“Lost your place?” Carmen suggested. “That’s OK. You can find it again, right? Or maybe you can even start over from scratch. All you need to do is keep going down. Two-hundred and thirty-three. Three-hundred and seventy-seven. Isn’t that a fun pattern? What comes next, Vicky?”

Strangely, Vicky no longer seemed to be struggling to concentrate. It was like the fight had gone out of her. Her lips were still moving, but they formed nothing but weak, addled gasps that went nowhere.

“You don’t know, do you?” Carmen offered. “The numbers are getting higher and lower and longer and shorter, and you’ve lost track. Why don’t you count along with me instead? Six-hundred and ten. Nine-hundred and eighty-seven. Aren’t these numbers getting large?”

Laura couldn’t help but shiver at the way Vicky’s lips started moving purposefully again—only this time, she was following Carmen’s sequence instead of her own, long-forgotten count.

“Oops,” Carmen smirked. “Look at you. You’re going the wrong way, Vicky. You’re all turned around. All confused. Don’t you remember what you’re supposed to be doing?”

Vicky’s brow furrowed. It was like she was trying to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. She was on the verge of falling.

“Why don’t you just relax, instead?” Carmen whispered seductively. “Give up. Relax. It’s only natural, Vicky. When we get overwhelmed, we just want to relax, instead. To let the numbers fade away. To forget our silly little game and just let yourself… drop.”

She imbued that last word with a singular, forceful intonation, and it seemed to hit Vicky like a physical blow. She swayed for a moment before her shoulders slumped and her head dropped down to her chest.

Hypnotized.

“Oh my god,” Laura said in a hushed, excited voice, after a moment of disbelieving silence. “Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Carmen replied, her excitement barely constrained. “Yeah, it did.”

“She’s in a trance,” Laura stated. “We… we could do anything with her.”

“We sure could,” Carmen agreed.

They exchanged looks.

“It would be wrong,” Laura asserted quickly.

“Would it?” Carmen mused.

“Yes!” Laura told her, trying to make herself believe. “I mean… uh… consent, right? Like between us, or in your experiments, or…” She looked at Vicky again. Their bully wasn’t moving. “I… I can’t believe it was that easy.”

“Guess she’s not such a skeptic after all,” Carmen said.

“Huh?”

“Hypnosis is all about the power of belief,” Carmen explained. “Sure, there’s a bunch of psychological tricks—but at the end of the day, belief is what matters most. It’s surprisingly easy to hypnotize someone who truly believes in it.”

“Right…” Laura swallowed. “We should probably wake her up.”

“We will,” Carmen decided. “Eventually.

“Babe…” Laura warned.

“C’mon,” Carmen wheedled. “We’ll just have a little bit of fun. What’s the harm? It’ll be embarrassing for her, at the worst. Doesn’t she deserve at least that?”

Laura couldn’t find it in herself to deny it. “So… what did you have in mind?”

“I think Vicky needs some help finding her Halloween spirit,” Carmen answered a touch menacingly.

Against her better judgment, Laura giggled. “Yeah?”

Carmen took a step toward Vicky and addressed her in a firm, clear voice. “Vicky, listen to me. In a few moments, I’m going to wake you up, and until I say ‘drop’ again, you’re going to be able to think and move and act just like normal. The only difference is that you’re going to realize that, on Halloween, it’s extremely important that you’re completely in character as a vampire, and that all your behavior is perfectly faithful to the source material. Understand?”

“Yes,” Vicky replied. Laura shivered at the utter lack of emotion in her voice.

“Perfect.” Carmen licked her lips. “Then… one, two, three, wake!”

Vicky lifted her head and her eyes flickered open—and at once, she was transformed.

“Well, well, well,” she purred, with an air of menacing theatricality. “What do we have here? A couple of delicious mortals with which I can sate my thirst!”

As one, both Laura and Carmen burst into laughter.

It was, above all, the contrast. Vicky was the kind of girl who would never, ever have allowed herself to commit to the bit so earnestly. But here she was, throwing herself into the role of a silly, campy, evil vampire with shameless abandon; stalking around the sorority house bedroom and leering at the two of them with an arrogant, ravenous glare.

“You laugh,” Vicky hissed, posing and preening like a dark queen. “But soon you shall know the terror of the vampire’s bite!”

Laura’s laughter redoubled. “Oh my god, babe!” she wheezed. “She really went all the way with it, huh?”

“I didn’t realize she had it in her,” Carmen cackled.

Vicky bared her fangs and let out a much louder hiss. “I loathe to stain my fangs with your degenerate filth!” she declared, lifting her hands with her fingers spread apart like talons. “But it will be my pleasure to rid my unholy domain of your stench.”

Laura quickly stopped laughing. “Wow,” she remarked, a touch impressed. “Even as a vampire, she’s completely homophobic.”

“Why don’t we fix that?” Carmen winked at her.

“How dare you!”

Vicky rounded on Carmen and lunged toward her, mouth open, as if to sink her fake, plastic fangs into her neck. But before she could, Carmen started to speak:

“Vicky! Three, two, one… drop.”

At the word ‘drop,’ Vicky slumped once more. In an instant, all that vampiric theatricality was gone, leaving her nothing more than a blank, hypnotized vessel.

Laura hated finding Vicky attractive, in any context. But seeing her like this really was driving her crazy.

“Dropping nice and deep,” Carmen soothed. “Now, Vicky: remember what I told you about being faithful to the source material? You might not know this, but some of the earliest modern literature surrounding vampires—especially female vampires—is actually about lesbians.”

Vicky seemed to stir for a moment, brow furrowing.

“Oh yes,” Carmen lectured. “The book ‘Carmilla’, for instance. It’s a seminal text, truly. You can’t help but be inspired by it.”

“Can’t…” Vicky echoed, her voice a ghost of itself. “Help…”

“That’s right,” Carmen assured her. “You can’t help it. You need to be a lesbian vampire.”

“L… les… bi…?” Now Vicky was really stirring. Her shoulders tensed, and Laura thought for sure that she was on the cusp of waking. “N-no… that’s… ugh.”

“Just think about it,” Carmen urged softly. “It’s not that you’re a lesbian, Vicky. You’re just pretending. Just dressing up. Isn’t that what Halloween’s all about?”

“I… s’pose,” Vicky murmured—a touch suspiciously, but her stirrings were subsiding.

“Of course,” Carmen agreed. “It just makes sense to pretend on Halloween. To pretend to be whatever you’re dressed up as. And since you’re dressed up as a lesbian vampire, that’s what you’ll pretend to be.”

“Yeah…” Vicky slumped again. “Pretend. Lesbian.”

“Uh-huh.” Carmen was determined to press her advantage. “It’s acting, basically. But here’s the thing about acting, Vicky: the best kind is method acting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s when you totally embrace the role you’re playing, inside and out. It’s when you truly feel it. Right?”

“Right,” Vicky echoed slowly. Her resistance was gone. She was a prisoner of Carmen’s words.

“So,” Carmen concluded. “When I wake you up again, you’ll be a lesbian vampire inside and out. You’ll feel that way. You’ll act that way. You’ll be perfectly faithful to the ideal. Understand?”

“Yes.” Again, Vicky’s voice was devoid of all feeling.

“Perfect.” Carmen took a beat to exchange eager, excited looks with Laura. “Then: one, two, three, wake!”

This time, when Vicky looked open and opened her eyes, Laura and Carmen found themselves in the presence of a very, very different kind of vampire.

“My, my,” Vicky drawled, glancing between Laura and Carmen. “This ought to be a truly delicious night.”

This time, as she started walking around the room, she moved with a distinctly seductive gait, chest held high and hips swaying with each step. Her eyes roamed ravenously over the two lesbians’ bodies, and her voice was thick with a hunger that was as much lust as thirst.

Laura and Carmen started laughing even harder than before.

“Oh my god,” Laura howled, wiping tears from her eyes. “If she could see herself…”

“Told you this was a good idea,” Carmen cackled. She was laughing so hard, she had to rest a hand on a nearby dresser for support.

Surprisingly, Vicky laughed lightly along with them. “You two make a delectable couple,” she declared. “Such complimentary flavors… I can’t wait to savor the taste.”

She opened her mouth, brandishing her cheap, plastic fangs, and then, as she locked eyes with Laura, extended her tongue and stroked it carefully across both pointed tips.

Laura stopped laughing, and a familiar shiver raced down her spine.

She was finding this way, way too hot.

Vicky was hot. As much as Laura wanted to recoil from the thought, there was no use denying it. She had a killer body, and the flashy, gothic vampire getup she was wearing was devastatingly attuned to Laura’s tastes. Normally, the fact that she was a bigot and a bully was more than enough to put Laura off—but now that she was a lesbian vampire, she wasn’t sure she could resist her.

“Tell me, Laura.” As if sensing her weakness, Vicky advanced on her. “Have you ever yearned to be devoured?”

“I… um…” Suddenly, Laura found herself sweating bullets—and she was the one Carmen was giggling at. “That’s… n-no…”

"It sounds perplexing, no?” Vicky was alarmingly close to her now. “But let me let you in on a little secret, mortal: there’s a thrill to be had in being prey.”

The intense, menacing theatricality she poured into that last word made Laura shudder. Carmen was still giggling behind her hand, but Laura could no longer see the funny side. She was too busy wondering how Vicky had figured out that she was the bottom in the relationship.

“Ah, I can see you already feel it.” Before Laura knew what was happening, Vicky had slipped around behind her and was pressed up against her back, the hypnotized girl’s hand cradling her waist. “I can feel your heart beating, Laura. Pumping your veins full of hot, red crimson. Isn’t it intoxicating?”

“Um!” Laura squeaked. She was melting like putty, and it was deathly embarrassing. The worst part was that Vicky was right. She could feel it too. Her heart was pounding with thrilling arousal. “C-Carmen?”

“Shush now,” Vicky whispered. “Her next. We can make it a girls’ night. But you first. I can’t wait to taste every part of you.”

Hearing those words in Vicky’s voice, of all people’s, was doing a number on Laura. It was more than she could handle—especially when Vicky reached up and tipped her unresisting head to one side, and bent in until Laura could feel her breath on her neck.

“C-C-Carmen!” Laura squeaked. She couldn’t take any more of this—and she could tell Vicky wasn’t going to stop.

“OK, OK,” Carmen swiftly stepped in before Vicky’s fangs could meet Laura’s skin. “Vicky. Three, two, one, drop.”

Laura felt the hand on her waist fall away, and she was finally able to slip free of Vicky’s grasp. When she turned to look at the bully, the light in her eyes was gone. Just like before, she was hypnotized.

“O-oh my god,” Laura panted. “That was… uh… um…”

“Hot?” Carmen supplied mischievously.

“Embarrassing!” Laura corrected, blushing fiercely. “I mean, I… that was… with Vicky? No. Nuh-uh. No way.”

“I dunno.” Carmen was still smirking. “It would have been an experience, that’s for sure. And face it: you were into it.”

Laura averted her eyes. “L-let’s just wake her up, yeah? We’ve had our fun.”

“Aw.” Carmen pouted. She looked great when she did that. “No, c’mon. We’re only just getting started. Look, I admit that one got a little out of hand. How about we turn the temperature down a bit?”

“Carmen…” Laura said reprovingly, although she could already feel herself swaying.

“C’mon, babe,” Carmen pleaded. “This is once in a lifetime.”

Laura couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Saying ‘yes’ to her girlfriend was such a delight.

“Fine!” she threw up her hands. “What did you have in mind?”

“Vicky,” Carmen said, addressing the hypnotized bully. “You’re doing good. You’re doing very well, so just keep dropping for me, OK?”

Not a stir. She was completely gone. Laura was in awe of how totally Vicky had fallen under Carmen’s hypnotic power.

“Now, there’s something else you need to start thinking about,” Carmen told Vicky. “You’re a great lesbian vampire, but if you really want to be faithful to the source material, we need to start thinking about where vampires are from. Where is that, Vicky?”

“Trans… Transylvania?” Vicky supplied after a moment, in that distant, empty, trance-voice of hers.

“That’s exactly right,” Carmen agreed. “And Transylvania is in Romania. Eastern Europe. So this time, when I wake you up, you’re going to make sure you have an appropriate accent. Understand?”

“Yes,” Vicky responded.

“Uh… wait,” Laura bleated, eyes suddenly wide. “H-hold on, Carmen, that’s-“

“Oh, it’s just a bit of fun,” Carmen scoffed, before turning back to Vicky. “One, two, three, wake!”

Before Laura could figure out how to stop her, Vicky was already opening her eyes and slipping back into the haughty, preening vampire pose she’d previously been strutting around in. Only this time, when she opened her mouth, her voice was even more ridiculous than before:

“Vell, vell, vell,” Vicky drawled, in a cheesy but surprisingly close approximation of an Eastern European accent. “Vhat a pleasure it is, to zee that ze blossoms of ze new world are so ripe and so lovely.”

Immediately, Carmen bent double and started laughing so hard she almost choked. Laura couldn’t blame her. That way that Vicky, of all people, was throwing herself into the accent was beyond ridiculous. Anyone would have been laughing.

But not her. Instead, beads of sweat were forming on Laura’s forehead.

“My dears,” Vicky said, once again drawing close to Laura. “Von’t you let try a bite?”

Laura tried her very hardest not to let it show—but when Vicky slipped her hand around her waist again, the combination of her natural beauty, her unbelievable costume, and the honeyed, lilting accent pouring out of her mouth, Laura couldn’t help but let out a shrill, needy gasp.

Carmen seized upon it mercilessly.

“Oh my god, babe,” she laughed. “That does it for you?”

“It’s…” Laura whimpered. Her face was burning up. “I-I just have a thing for accents.”

“Vonderful,” Vicky cooed. Eager to torment her, she put her lips as close as she could to Laura’s ear and spoke to her in a sinister, syrupy whisper. “Then, let me speak to you of ze poetry of ze night, and have you vall into my unholy embrace.”

As cheesy as the line was, it had Laura squeezing her legs together with need. It didn’t help that Carmen was also staring at her, and the wicked, malicious look on her girlfriend’s face was equal to the one hypnotically plastered on Vicky’s.

“P-please,” Laura found herself saying, as the fetishistic allure of her situation momentarily overtook her sense of restraint.

“As you vish,” Vicky intoned mockingly.

And bit down on Laura’s neck.

Laura moaned and saw white. Until she felt Vicky’s tongue on her skin, she hadn’t realized quite how turned-on she’d become. But hypnotism, vampires, accents—she had kinks for all of them, and the intoxicating combination had gotten all the way under her skin. Above all, the fact that it was Vicky was getting to her—their homophobic, sorority girl bully, turned silly, seductive, sapphic vampire. It was too much. Even the pain felt good, when Vicky bit down on Laura as if her plastic fangs could actually pierce skin.

“Three, two, one, drop.”

Laura almost resented it, when Carmen used the hypnotic trigger to drop Vicky back into a trance. Still, as the pleasure receded, she acknowledged that it was probably a good thing Carmen had put a stop to matters before anything got truly out of hand.

Then she learned that Carmen intended exactly the opposite.

"Vicky,” Carmen began. “We’ve already established that I know much, much more about vampires than you. Haven’t we?”

“Yes,” Vicky intoned emptily.

“Carmen?” Laura whispered. Her legs were still jelly. She couldn’t move.

“Then you should listen to me about vampires, no matter how absurd what I tell you might seem, should you?” Carmen told Vicky, ignoring her girlfriend.

“Yes.”

“That’s right. And with that in mind, I have something very important to tell you about lesbian vampires. They don’t drink blood. They eat pussy.”

As Laura gasped in shock, Vicky started to twitch violently. “But… ugh… that… gross,” she whined sleepily.

“That doesn’t matter,” Carmen insisted swiftly. “Performers do all kinds of things they’d normally consider gross if it’s for a performance, don’t they?”

“I… suppose…” Vicky was clearly repulsed by the notion, but Carmen’s soft words and confident demeanor were quickly soothing her.

“This is no different,” Carmen told her. “Eating pussy is no different.”

“No…” Vicky was fighting to shake her head. “But…”

“Repeat after me,” Carmen insisted. “Lesbian vampires eat pussy.”

“Lesbian… vampires…” Vicky’s reluctance was obvious—but she was giving in. “E… eat…”

“Lesbian vampires eat pussy.”

“L… Les…” The fight went out of her. Any hint of disgust or disobedience disappeared from her voice, leaving her blank and willing once more. “Lesbian vampires eat pussy.”

“Great.” Carmen licked her lips. “One, two, three-“

“Wait!” Laura blurted out. She was still flushed and flustered beyond belief, but she had to say something. “C-Carmen, we can’t!”

“You want to,” Carmen pointed out.

“I don-“ Laura looked away. “T-that’s not the point. It’s wrong. It’s evil.”

“It’s Halloween, baby,” Carmen winked. “It’s the time of year that evil wins. How about you just sit back and enjoy it?”

Laura wasn’t sure how to convince her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. The grin on Carmen’s face was infectious. And when were they going to get another chance to get even with Vicky?

“One,” Carmen counted, sensing Laura’s capitulation. “Two. Three. Wake.”

When Vicky’s eyes opened once more, she had the same hungry look on her face, the same preening, arrogant bearing, and the same ridiculous accent. The only difference was that she wasn’t staring at Laura’s neck anymore.

She was staring between her legs.

“Mortal!” Vicky declared, lapping at her fangs with her tongue. “I vant to drink your cunt! And it is time for ze unholy feast to begin.”

Even Laura had to giggle at how stupid the line was. But her laughter soon turned to needy moaning when Vicky surged forward and sank to her knees, flashing Laura a saucy look before flipping up the hem of her dress and burying her face between her thighs.

When Laura felt Vicky’s tongue touch her cunt, her legs turned to jelly so completely, she had to lean back against a nearby wall for support.

Given that Vicky was completely straight, it was a little ridiculous that she was so good at this.

Perhaps it was simply her naked enthusiasm. Vicky was eating Laura out like her life depended on it. Like every single drop of wetness that touched her lips was the nectar of the gods. She was voracious. A predator tearing into her fallen quarry. Laura had never experienced anything quite like it. It was totally different from the slow, detached, teasing way Carmen usually ate her out. For a queen bitch like Vicky and for the vampire persona she was acting out, the blatant neediness was surprising.

Carmen clearly agreed.

“Three. Two. One. Drop.”

Laura whined loudly when she felt Vicky’s tongue go still.

“C-Carmen!” she complained. “N-not fair.”

“Sorry, babe,” her girlfriend giggled. “I just know how you like it, and I know you’ll enjoy this even more if you get put in your place properly.”

Laura whined louder still. “B-but,” she protested. “It’s Vicky!”

Carmen winked at her. “Exactly.”

The hot flush of shame and arousal that washed over Laura completely robbed her of her words. In the face of her silence, Carmen turned to address the hypnotized bully.

“Remember, Vicky,” Carmen encouraged. “Vampires aren’t just lesbians. Aren’t just blood- I mean, pussy-licking predators. They’re dominant. Powerful. Godlike, even.”

“Dominant,” Vicky echoed, rocking back on her knees. “Powerful. Godlike.”

“Exactly,” Carmen agreed. “Vampires are so arrogant and prideful. They’re always in charge. Even when they’re taking what they need from someone, they never let anybody forget that they’re far, far more powerful than the mere mortals they feed on.”

“More… powerful,” Vicky said slowly.

“Perfect,” Carmen whispered.

Laura swallowed nervously. They had already seen how completely Vicky took to whatever suggestions she was fed. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Carmen was about to create a monster.

Carmen, though, pressed on without a second thought. “One. Two. Three. Wake.”

When Vicky opened her eyes, Laura braced herself for the worst. She wasn’t disappointed. In a single, graceful motion, Vicky rose to her feet—and then disdainfully threw Laura off-balance and sent her sprawling onto the bed. Laura let out a surprised yelp but, like a mouse caught in the jaws of a cat, found herself helpless to move or resist. In an instant, Vicky was upon her, spreading her legs apart and lowering her face toward Laura’s dripping cunt with a merciless look on her face.

“Oh, babe,” Carmen giggled, from behind the hypnotized bully. “You’re in for a treat. I can just tell she’s going to ruin you.”

Laura whimpered in delicious anticipation at the tease. Vicky, though, had a very different reaction. She seemed to freeze up for a moment—and then, curiously, she started backing off. Slowly, Vicky lifted herself off the bed and turned her attention away from Laura.

To Carmen.

Carmen cocked an amused eyebrow as Vicky regarded her with a disdainful glare. That only seemed to light a fire inside her.

“Oh, I zee,” Vicky mused, in that ridiculous accent. “Perhaps you, mortal, vill be my first meal.”

“I will, huh?” Carmen could barely contain her laughter. “God. Who knew I’d have Vicky, of all people, begging to lick my cunt on Halloween?”

“Beg?” Vicky let out a humorless laugh. “No. No, I do not beg. I simply take.”

“Uh-huh,” Carmen scoffed. “And how do you propose to do that?”

From where she was lying sprawled on the bed, Laura could just about see the slow, calculating grin as it spread across Vicky’s face.

“Look,” Vicky said in a very slow, deep voice, after several long moments. “Look into my eyes. Deep into my eyes.”

Laughter erupted from Carmen. “Oh my god. Oh, you cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I am,” Vicky warned. “You vill look into my eyes. Deep into my eyes. You cannot resist ze eyes of ze vampire.”

As she drew out each word, her accent became more ludicrous than ever. Laura wasn’t laughing, though. She was still too stunned by this turn of events—and besides, when her voice was this slow and soft, there was something oddly compelling about the way Vicky was speaking.

"Fine, fine,” Carmen said, rolling her eyes before meeting Vicky’s gaze. “I’m looking. Deep into your eyes.” She started mimicking Vicky’s accent. “I cannot resist ze eyes of ze vampire.”

“Very good,” Vicky cooed. “That’s right. You cannot resist. The eyes of ze vampire hold power over you. Look into my deep, crimson eyes. Let yourself be ensnared by ze red glow.”

She spoke with absolute confidence. It was as if there was no doubt in her mind that she would be able to hypnotize Carmen. The look of dismissive amusement on Carmen’s face remained, but she kept humoring Vicky.

“You know, those color contacts are actually pretty good,” Carmen remarked, after a moment. She was leaning in, looking carefully. “Almost real. Really rich, deep shade of red.”

Vicky looked faintly baffled by the reference to contacts, but she pressed on without comment. “Rich. Deep. Impossible to resist,” the hypnotized bully drawled. “You feel yourself fascinated by them. Drawn into them. Captivated by them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Carmen mocked, as she held Vicky’s gaze. “Fascinated. Drawn. Captivated.”

“You cannot look away.”

“I cannot look away.”

“You veel yourself slipping into a trance for my eyes.”

“I…” Carmen twitched uncertainly. It was like she was trying to pull away—but couldn’t. “I feel myself… slipping into a trance?”

Laura’s blood suddenly ran cold.

“Zat’s right,” Vicky said, in a throaty, predatory purr. “I zee that you, mortal, are skilled in ze art of mesmerism. But your foolish mind games are nothing compared to ze vampire’s might. Your knowledge will only be your undoing.”

Laura recalled what Carmen had told her earlier. The more you believed in hypnosis, the more effective it was. And Carmen most certainly believed.

Oh no.

“Falling into my eyes,” Vicky menaced. “Lost forever in my eyes.

“Falling…” Carmen echoed. “Lost…”

The look of bemused disbelief on Carmen’s face had relaxed into a vacant, slack-jawed, captivated grin. Laura had never seen anything like it. Carmen was usually always so focused. So dominant. Seeing her like this was terrifying.

Even if it was also extremely, wildly hot.

“C-Carmen!” Laura called out. She needed to put a stop to this. She needed to make sure Vicky didn’t get any further out of hand. “Wake u-“

“Quiet, girl!” Vicky hissed. Her voice was like the crack of a whip. Still light-headed and weak from her earlier treatment, Laura found herself instinctively lapsing into silence. She couldn’t quite bring herself to disobey Vicky.

“L-Laura…” Carmen blinked slowly. “I was… what was I… were you…?”

“Hush now,” Vicky soothed, slipping back effortlessly into her seductive, hypnotic patter. “Remember. Looking only at me. Only into my eyes. Into ze vampire’s eyes. Letting ze vampire’s eyes consume you.”

“I…” A shiver raced down Laura’s spine as she saw her girlfriend try to look over at her—and fail. “But you’re… not… uh…” Carmen made one last effort to rally herself. “Vicky. Three… two…”

“Shush,” Vicky said swiftly. She reached out and placed one of her fingertips on Carmen’s lips. That was all it took to silence her. “None of that, now. So hard to speak. So easy to look into my eyes instead.”

“So…” Carmen bleated. Her resistance was gone. There was nothing in her eyes. “Hard… easy…”

“Zat’s right,” Vicky purred. “And you should not call me like that, from now on. You shall address me as Victoria.” She licked her lips. “Mistress Victoria.”

“Yes… Mistress Victoria,” Carmen replied mindlessly.

Laura’s entire body throbbed. This was so wrong. This was so hot. It was completely out of control. They had created a monster, and Carmen was no longer capable of putting on the brakes.

“Very good,” Vicky told her. “Now, my thrall. On ze bed. With your beloved. Present yourself to me. I wish to feast.”

“Yes, Mistress Victoria.”

Slowly, robotically, Carmen clambered onto the bed next to Laura and reclined into her back. With Laura still powerless to intervene, Carmen obediently reached down and unbuttoned her slacks, shucking out of her pants and her boxers to expose her pussy to the air. Vicky’s eyes widened, and she licked her lips once more.

“Delicious,” she purred, mounting the bed and lowering her head between Vicky’s thighs. Before she began to eat her out, she turned her head to glance at Laura. “You vill be next,” the hypnotized bully vowed. “And zen ze rest of the pretty young mortals in this sorority house. And then… who knows.”

Laura was left stunned and dizzy as she contemplated that, and then increasingly shocked and aroused as Vicky started licking and lapping at Carmen’s cunt. Carmen had always been the dominant partner in their relationship. A giver, not a receiver. But not anymore. For Vicky, she was nothing more than a weak, prone, mewling submissive.

It was one of the hottest things Laura had ever seen.

She couldn’t help but anticipate her turn with a certain growing eagerness. Laura wasn’t sure when Vicky might come to her senses, if ever, and she wasn’t sure what would happen when Vicky tried to seduce some of the other girls at the Halloween party. It could go badly, although Laura couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, Vicky would manage to pull it off. That would be quite something.

And above all, she found herself thinking: no matter how events played out, Vicky was much, much better this way than she had ever been before.

---

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

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[get-rammed]

The idea for this AU comes from the games, but mostly follows after Shadow Generations with some modifications, hence the AU part. It's mostly self indulgent since he's always been my favorite, and I saw an excuse to draw body horror :}

Will contain spoilers for Shadow/Sonic Generations. But whomp whomp, more information for my version of Shadow/the basis of this AU below.

So the main idea for this AU is that Shadow didn't lose his Doom Powers after he defeated Black Doom. He overcame his violent angry nature to remain a morally grey good guy. Who just happens to have sick ass extra powers now. I am unfortunately a sucker for "I was born to be bad, and I do the wrong thing sometimes, but I want to be good and I'm trying my best."

Another large change for this AU is designs and heights. They're super powered aliens. Let em be a lil bit bigger. Plus that's just kind of what I specialize in :')

--

When Black Doom and the Time Eater were defeated, it caused various rifts to be left open with nobody to close them. Which in turn allows anomalies into Shadow and Co.'s world. They can range from simple items (pens, cups, occasionally buildings, things of that nature), to lost and confused people/animals/what have you, to large dangerous beings from other worlds and timelines.

Sometimes the things that comes through the portal, don't want to go back through it, so that's where Shadow found his purpose. He gets to fight and devour the anomalies that won't go home :)

Shadow uses his Doom Morph to consume dangerous anomalies, absorbing their energy in the process. When he's in this form, he's far more reactive and hostile. So they have to clear the area before deploying him. There a handful of people he won't outright attack even in this form, but Rouge is one of the few who can calm him down if he starts to slip too far into the darkness. Because I am a sucker for their friendship :')

There are a number of agencies and world governments who call upon Shadow now for help. Basically if they send Shadow after you, you're not surviving. In a way he does absolutely hate becoming an attack dog for all these agencies, but he also knows he's the only one (sometimes with help) who can stop some of these anomalies.

That being said, if he doesn't agree an anomaly is dangerous, he will not fight as strongly or destroy them. He still maintains his idea of what's right and wrong. It's Shadow, he's not going to blindly follow orders.

--

Shadow has become a little more open after finally getting to properly grieve the loss of his family. Finally got to process everything. He's still standoffish and slow to trust, but he's at least willing to try to trust more people.

--

With his Doom Powers remaining, he has to constantly fight the urges to commit to the chaos and violence he was born for. Most times it just gives him a headache to fight back mentally. But when the urges are very strong, he has to fight the internal war much harder. Which is where he ends up with bloody noses.

The bloody noses can happen suddenly, and be rather aggressive. In the cases of bloody noses, he'll chaos snap out of the room and try to find somewhere quiet and dark until his internals heal themsleves.

It's basically a case of his blood pressure spiking insanely fast and bursting a bunch of delicate vessels in his nose. Also the idea of the darkness inside of him just kinda. Chewing away at him metaphorically and physically.

He's had enough time to figure out what sets him off, but occasionally random things trigger a nose bleed. This has forced him to be more delicate with how he responds to things, but also has forced him to be a bit more open about what's wrong with him.

The bloody noses also help act as a power balance thing so Shadow isn't just all powerful all the time. If he's not careful, he can go too far and hurt innocent people. Which he'd rather not do. It's an indicator of sorts that he's leaning too far in the wrong direction and he needs to check himself.

Lack of inhibitor rings. With the retention of the Doom Powers, Shadow has more going on internally to help balance his chaos energy. More in tune with himself, but not fully connected if that makes sense. Not wearing some of his inhibitor rings allows him greater access to the Doom Powers at all times.

It also happens that if he wears his wrist rings, they limit too much energy and he becomes sluggish and tired. He now requires more energy to function, and all 4 inhibitor rings limit too much.

He keeps the ones on his ankles on as he does still need some kind of a blocker so he doesn't burn himself out. Only having 2 on is a good balance so he can function and fight.

[aasouthteranoswife]

Gym Dynamics

Summary: The volatile relationship between you and Sukuna Ryomen continues to intensify as emotions become more tangled with each passing day. With the news of your pregnancy, the connection between you two shifts from chaotic passion to something deeper and more complicated. Despite the friction and your attempts to pull away, Sukuna remains a constant presence, and his words and actions reveal a commitment that you didn’t expect. The push and pull of desire, uncertainty, and raw emotion forces you both into a new reality—one neither of you can escape.

Warning(s): Toxic relationship dynamics, Dominance, manipulation, emotional conflict, power struggles,  Intense physical and emotional intimacy, including P and V penetration, the reader becomes pregnant, emotional tension, themes of fear, uncertainty, and deep emotional conflict in a complex, evolving relationship, physicality and forceful behavior, moments of rough interactions, dominance, and aggressive desire.

Word count: 5205

A/N: I went overboard with Sukuna, I'm completely hyper-fixated on this man right now.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Reblog’s and feedback are appreciated

The gym lights were dim, casting long shadows over the mats and the iron cages lining the walls. It was late, nearly everyone had left, but you were still there, working on your strikes. The rhythmic thud of your gloves hitting the heavy punching bag filled the air, drowning out the lingering silence.

You were so focused you didn’t notice him enter.

“Your form’s sloppy,” came his low, gravelly voice from behind you.

You froze mid-punch, already bristling at the tone. Slowly, you turned to face Sukuna Ryomen . He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes were dark, sharp, and unrelenting as they scanned you from head to toe.

“What do you want, Sukuna?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your brow, trying to sound unaffected.

“To teach you how not to embarrass yourself,” he said bluntly, pushing off the wall and striding toward you. His presence was overwhelming, his sheer size and confidence making the air feel heavier with every step he took.

You glared up at him, your hands tightening into fists. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

His smirk widened. “You don’t have to. You clearly need it.” Without waiting for permission, he stepped behind you, large hands gripping your wrists and forcing your arms into position. His chest pressed against your back, the heat of his body seeping into you.

“Sukuna—”

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “You’ll listen if you want to get better.”

The words were humiliating, but the way his hands moved—firm, decisive—left you breathless. He guided your movements, correcting your stance with an unrelenting grip.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Relax. Or is being this close to me making you nervous?”

You swallowed hard, heat rising to your face. “You wish.”

He chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to your waist, holding you in place as he corrected the angle of your hips. The touch lingered longer than it should have, possessive and unapologetic.

“You’re stubborn,” he said, his tone dropping lower. “But that’s fine. I like breaking people like you.”

You stiffened, turning your head to glare at him. “You think you can break me?”

“I know I can,” he said simply, his smirk turning into something darker. “You act tough, but I see it. You like it when I put you in your place.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you hated how your body betrayed you. Your breathing hitched as his fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer until you were trapped against him, feeling how hard he’s gotten.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smugness. “You like this.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, trying to twist away. But he didn’t let you go.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue,” he said, his grip unyielding. “But all it tells me is how badly you want me to shut you up with my cock.”

Your defiance faltered, your silence giving him the upper hand he clearly craved.

“Thought so,” he said, his smirk widening. He released you, pushing you into the punching bag, leaving you feeling off-balance, both physically and emotionally.

“Next time you want to pretend you’re my equal,” he said, walking away with a casual wave of his hand, “try not to look so desperate for my attention.”

His words stung, but the worst part was the truth behind them—you did want his attention, even when it came with his arrogance, his dominance, his maddening control. And he knew it.

The following day, the tension between you and Sukuna lingered, thick and suffocating. He had taken up residence in your mind like an uninvited guest, his words from the night before replaying on a loop: You like it when I put you in your place. Feeling how hard he was that night. 

You hated him for it—his arrogance, his cockiness, the way he made you feel small yet so painfully alive at the same time. But what you hated most was the fact that he was right.

You couldn’t stay away.

The gym was empty again, late enough that no one else would bother showing up. You told yourself you wanted solitude, but deep down, you knew better. And sure enough, the moment you stepped into the training area, there he was—Sukuna, leaning against the ropes of the sparring ring as if he’d been waiting for you.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” he called out, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snapped, setting your bag down and avoiding his gaze.

He climbed into the ring, watching you with the predatory intensity that made your skin prickle. “Get up here,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You hesitated. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” His eyes locked onto yours, daring you to defy him.

You clenched your fists, your pride warring with something darker. Slowly, you climbed into the ring, trying to keep your composure.

“What now?” you asked, folding your arms.

He smirked, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “We settle this. You’ve got something to prove, don’t you?”

Your heart raced as you nodded, stepping into your stance.

The sparring match was brutal, every move charged with aggression and something unspoken. Sukuna didn’t hold back, his strikes calculated and relentless. You gave as good as you got, but every time you thought you had the upper hand, he would counter effortlessly, knocking you off balance into the rope.

Finally, he pinned you to the mat, his weight pressing down on you. Your wrists were trapped in one of his hands, your breath coming in short, furious gasps.

“Give up,” he growled, his face inches from yours.

“Never,” you spat, struggling against him.

His grip tightened, and for a moment, the fight left you completely. You were too aware of his strength, his control, the way his eyes burned into yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost mocking. “You’re stubborn. And that’s going to get you hurt.”

“Maybe I like it rough,” you shot back, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

His smirk returned, darker this time. “Is that what this is about?” he asked, his tone almost amused. “You picking fights with me because you want my attention?”

You didn’t answer, but your silence was enough. His expression shifted, satisfaction flickering across his face as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You should’ve just asked, sweetheart,” he murmured. Giving out a quick kiss on your lips. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears as he lingered there, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. But just as quickly as he’d leaned in, he pulled back, releasing your wrists and standing over you with an air of complete control.

“You’re not ready for me,” he said, his voice cold and final as he stepped away.

You sat up, glaring after him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Making eye contact with his hardened cock in his pants.

“It means,” he said, pausing at the edge of the ring, “you’re out of your depth. But if you ever grow up and stop playing games, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” Pointing at his hardened cock. 

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you a hot mess to deal with later. 

It had been days since the sparring match, but the memory of Sukuna Ryomen pinning you to the mat hadn’t left your mind. His words, his touch, how he looked at you as if he could see straight through every layer of your defenses lingered like a bad habit you couldn’t shake.

You hated him. 

And you wanted him.

So when he showed up at your apartment door late that night, you weren’t sure whether you were surprised or if some part of you had been expecting this all along.

“You are going to let me in, or are you going to stand there pretending you didn’t want this?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. His voice was low, almost a growl, and the way he looked at you—hungry, unrelenting—made your knees weak.

You opened the door without a word, stepping aside as he sauntered in. He didn’t waste any time, turning to face you as you shut the door behind him.

“What are you doing here, Sukuna?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I think you know,” he said simply, his eyes raking over you in a way that made the heat pool low in your stomach. “You’ve been asking for this since the moment we met.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, closing the distance between you in one swift step. His hand shot out, gripping your throat and forcing you to look up at him. “You like to act tough, but I see right through you. You want someone to put you in your place.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding. You should’ve pushed him away, told him to leave—but you didn’t. You placed your hands on his muscular chest. 

Instead, you whispered, “And what if I do?”

His smirk was slow, deliberate, and devastating. “Then I’ll give you what you’ve been begging for.”

The words barely had time to register before his lips crashed against yours, fierce and unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim, a battle, a searing clash of dominance and submission. His hands were everywhere, rough and demanding as they roamed your body, pulling you against him.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled against your lips, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You didn’t resist as he pushed you backward, guiding you toward your bedroom with an urgency that left no room for hesitation, clothes came off left and right. The moment you hit the mattress, he was on top of you, his weight pinning you down just like he had in the ring.

“Still think you can handle me?” he taunted, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“I can take whatever you give me,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and anticipation.

His laugh was dark, almost dangerous. “We’ll see about that.” as he pinched one of your nipples. 

Sukuna got down to his knees spreading your legs wide open to find your pussy already wet for him. He gave your pussy a hot wet kiss before sucking and licking on your bundle of nerves as he looked up at you with those red eyes.

His hands roamed up your stomach and to your breast feeling your hardened nipples tweaking them. Making you moan out just for him. 

“Pretty little pussy you have,” he murmured into your pussy. Your juices coated his face. He rose to his full height, his hands gripping your legs to keep them spread wide for him.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, positioning you in a mating press as he slowly eased the tip of his cock inside you, making you gasp from the sensation of how big he was compared to your exes, before inching deeper with a steady, deliberate rhythm.

As soon as he was fully inside you, he guided your gaze down to the bulge beneath your skin.

“‘Such a good girl, taking all of me,” he murmured, before pressing a sloppy, passionate kiss to your lips. Rubbing your clit as he started to move his hips back and forth. 

What followed was a blur of heat and intensity, his dominance undeniable as he took control. Every touch, every move, and postion, and every word was designed to push you to your limits, to remind you who was in charge. He didn’t just take you—he overwhelmed you, consumed you, leaving no part of you untouched or unclaimed. He fucked so good making you cum twice. 

And you hated how much you loved it.

“You look good under me,” he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “All that fire, all that attitude—gone. This is what you needed, isn’t it? To be fucked so good you forgot.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but hold onto him as he pushed you further and further into oblivion. Making tears fall down your temples and into your messy hair making you cum for the third time. 

By the time it was over, you were spent, your body trembling as he cummed inside you. He lay beside you, his breathing heavy, his smirk still firmly in place.

“You’re dangerous,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

“So are you,” he replied, his tone laced with amusement. “That’s why you like me.”

You turned your head to glare at him, but the look in his eyes—dark, satisfied, and entirely too pleased with himself—made you bite your tongue.

Because he was right. You did like him. And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

The morning after was quiet—too quiet.

You woke up with sore muscles, hickies, and bruised ego, tangled in sheets that smelled like him. Sukuna was still there, sprawled across your bed like he owned it, his unharden cock on display from the sheets coming down overnight, the light from the window catching the tattoos that marked his skin.

You hated how calm he looked, how completely unaffected, while you were left replaying the events of the night before in your mind.

It wasn’t just the sex—it was the way he had unraveled you, taken apart every wall you’d built, and left you raw and exposed. You hated him for it. And worse, you hated yourself for wanting him to do it again.

You moved quietly, slipping out of bed and pulling on the first clothes you could find. Maybe if you left before he woke up, you could regain some sense of control. But as you reached for the door, his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Running away already?”

You froze, your hand on the doorknob, before slowly turning to face him. He was sitting up now, his dick still on display,  leaning back on his elbows, his gaze sharp and entirely too smug.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady.

He laughed, low and lazy, like he knew exactly what you were thinking. “You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why?” he asked, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing in one fluid motion. He stalked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. “You don’t like it? Or do you like it too much?”

You stepped back, only to hit the wall. He loomed over you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in. Trying not to look at his fully naked frame.

“I’m not some toy for you to mess with, Sukuna,” you said, trying to sound firm.

He tilted his head, his smirk widening. “No, you’re not. But you keep coming back for more, don’t you? You could’ve kicked me out last night, but you didn’t. You could’ve left just now, but you didn’t. So tell me—what do you want?”

His words cut deep because they were true. You didn’t know how to answer him, and he could see it in your eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, his voice almost gentle as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The tenderness was jarring, a stark contrast to the roughness from the night before, and it made your chest tighten.

“You’re dangerous,” you whispered, echoing your words from the night before.

“And you love it,” he replied, his lips brushing against your ear.

Before you could respond, he pulled back, giving you just enough space to breathe but not enough to escape.

“This thing between us,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious, “it’s not going to end well. You know that, right?”

You nodded because you did know. But that didn’t stop you from wanting him, from craving the chaos he brought into your life.

“Good,” he said, stepping back and heading toward the door. He pulled on his pants and slung his shirt over his shoulder as he turned to look at you one last time. “I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the silence he always seemed to fill so easily.

But you knew it wasn’t over. Not even close.

The next few weeks were a blur of fights and passion, a constant push and pull between you and Sukuna. He’d show up when you least expected it, dragging you into his orbit and reminding you why you couldn’t stay away.

Sometimes, he was cruel, pushing you to your breaking point with cutting words and a smirk that made you want to scream. Other times, he was gentle, whispering things you didn’t know whether to believe as he held you close. And every time, you swore it would be the last. But it never was.

Then one night, after a particularly heated fight at the gym, he cornered you in the locker room, his expression unreadable.

“You keep fucking pushing me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Why?”

“Because you push me,” you shot back, refusing to back down.

He stepped closer, his eyes boring into yours. “That’s how this works. You fight, I fight back. But don’t think for a second you can win.”

“What if I don’t want to win?” you whispered, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

His smirk returned, but this time it was softer, almost… affectionate.

“Then we’re going to burn together,” he said, his lips brushing against yours.

And you knew he was right. Whatever this was between you, it was dangerous, consuming, and entirely unsustainable. But as his hands gripped your waist and pulled you against him, you realized you didn’t care.

Because with Sukuna, destruction had never felt so good. You fucked each other that day, letting everything unravel as if it meant nothing

A few weeks later, the consequences of those several nights began to show themselves.

The nausea was subtle at first—just an occasional wave of dizziness, a slight aversion to certain foods. But soon, it became undeniable. You found yourself avoiding things you once enjoyed, your body aching in ways it hadn’t before. You tried to ignore it, but the signs were too loud to be dismissed.

You took the test on a whim, a fleeting moment of panic pushing you toward it. When the results came back positive, your heart sank. The weight of it hit you like a freight train. You were carrying Sukuna Ryomen’s child.

The news shouldn’t have shocked you. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? After everything—after the fighting, the passion, the constant push and pull—you couldn’t imagine anything else. Still, the gravity of it made you hesitate, standing in the middle of your bathroom, staring at the little pink lines. You cried. 

And just as you feared, Sukuna was there when you needed him the least.

He knocked on your door one night, appearing like a storm, his presence filling the room before you even opened it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he saw your pale face, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the test in your hand.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, barely above a breath, your voice shaking.

His gaze turned darker, his jaw tightening. For a moment, he didn’t say anything—he just stood there, staring at you like he was trying to read the situation.

“Is it mine?” he finally asked, his voice colder than you expected.

“Yes, it's yours you asshole,” you snapped, almost offended by the question.

A long pause stretched between you, thick with tension. Then his lips curled into that dangerous smirk. “Well, looks like we’re in this together now, huh?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. And somehow, it only made the situation worse. Because you both knew—this would only add to the fire, this would only push you further down a path you were both too stubborn to walk away from.

The following weeks were a strange mix of anticipation and dread, each moment heavier than the last. The news of your pregnancy seemed to settle over both you and Sukuna like an inevitable storm, one neither of you could escape from. There were no talks about what this meant for either of you—just an unspoken understanding that things were about to change, but neither of you knew how.

Sukuna’s presence in your life grew even more consuming. He showed up unannounced, his smirk still there, but with something new in his eyes. Something deeper. Maybe it was the idea of a child, maybe it was the weight of the situation, but something shifted.

You tried to keep your distance, but it was nearly impossible. Every time you saw him, every time he touched you, the tension you tried to ignore was back in full force. Sometimes he would be tender, his hands grazing your skin with a strange gentleness, as if feeling the life growing inside you made him pause, if only for a moment. Other times, he was the same Sukuna—the dominant, almost cruel force that always pushed you to your breaking point.

But now, there was a new layer to the mix. The way he looked at you—possessive, hungry, but with something resembling protectiveness. It was unsettling.

One night, after another fight at the gym, the two of you ended up back at your place. Your skin was still buzzing from the confrontation, your mind clouded with emotions too complex to unravel. The words between you had been sharp, like always, but tonight was different. The atmosphere between you two crackled with something more than anger.

“You’re really going to keep fighting me on this, huh?” Sukuna’s voice was low, almost taunting. His hands were on your hips, pulling you closer, your small, still-growing baby bump pressed gently against his firm, muscular stomach.

“I’m not fighting you,” you shot back, trying to break free from his hold, though you didn’t try that hard. “But I’m not going to let you control me either.”

His eyes narrowed, lips curling into that familiar, dangerous smile. “Control you? You think this is about control?” His hand slid lower, his touch possessive, not aggressive but firm. He wasn’t asking for permission. “You’ve never been this stubborn before.”

You met his gaze, your body tense. “Maybe I’m tired of being your plaything,” you muttered, though the words felt hollow, like they didn’t even belong to you.

A dark laugh rumbled from deep in his chest. “You’re far from that. You’re mine now, and you always will be.” His words were final, but there was no malice in his tone—just a raw honesty that unsettled you more than it should have.

Suddenly, his lips crashed against yours, and you forgot what you’d been about to say. His kiss was desperate, almost frantic, like he had no control over his own desire. You could feel the weight of everything pressing down between you—the pregnancy, the fight, the history of everything unspoken—and yet, it didn’t seem to matter.

The moment his hands slid beneath your shirt pinching your nipples, you froze for just a second, the reality of it all settling back in. But his fingers brushed over your skin with such intensity that you couldn’t help but respond.

You felt his breath against your neck, his lips soft against your skin. “We’re in this together now,” he repeated as if to remind you. “You’ve got no choice anymore.”

And you knew that—there was no escape. But part of you didn’t want one. Part of you was drawn to him in a way you couldn’t explain, despite every warning bell ringing in your head.

He made you feel alive in a way no one else did.

Over the next few weeks, things continued in this strange limbo. The pregnancy became more visible, and Sukuna’s presence was more constant. His touch grew possessive, marking you in subtle ways as if claiming you even when you weren’t together. You found yourself torn between resentment and desire, hating the way he made you feel so powerless, yet longing for the way he took control.

One evening, as you sat on the couch, feeling the baby shift inside you, Sukuna walked in, his gaze immediately dropping to your stomach. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you, his expression unreadable.

“Does it feel real now?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You didn’t know how to answer. “It feels like a lot to handle.”

He nodded, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. His hand hovered over your bare stomach, but he didn’t touch you. “This thing between us, it’s never been simple, but it’s real now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

There it was again—that certainty in his voice. You felt the weight of it. “I’m not asking you to,” you whispered, your throat tight.

Sukuna took a breath, his hand finally resting gently on your belly, as if it was the only thing grounding him. “You and me, we’re gonna make this work. No matter what.”

For the first time, you believed him.

The weeks continued to drag on, and with each passing day, the tension between you and Sukuna became harder to ignore. Your pregnancy was no longer something you could hide—your body had changed, and so had the way you both navigated your connection. Every interaction with him was charged, thick with emotions that you couldn’t put into words.

Sukuna’s presence was overwhelming, always there in some form, whether it was him showing up unexpectedly or the constant weight of his gaze when you least expected it. There were moments when he seemed to be watching you closely, his eyes softened by something impossible to name. But in the next instant, the mask would drop, and he’d return to his usual forceful self, pushing, prodding, testing you in ways that made your chest ache.

One night, you were sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea. You hadn’t been able to sleep for the last few nights, thoughts swirling around everything—the baby, your relationship with Sukuna, the undeniable chemistry that still simmered between you both.

The door creaked open, and Sukuna stepped into the kitchen, looking as if he’d just returned from a workout. His black t-shirt clung to his muscular frame, and his presence filled the room like a storm waiting to break. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes flicked to the teacup in your hand, then back to your face.

“Can’t sleep either?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, as if he were both frustrated and intrigued by your quiet distance.

You shrugged, not sure how to explain the storm of emotions inside you. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” he asked, his voice shifting, now more guarded than curious. He crossed the room, his footsteps heavy but controlled. There was always a quiet danger about him when he was close.

“Everything,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This… us. The baby. The future.”

Sukuna stood just a few steps away now, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. “You’re scared.”

You didn’t say anything at first, but the truth hung in the air. “Yeah,” you admitted, your voice thick with the emotion you’d been holding back for so long.

Sukuna was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening, something darker flickering in his eyes. Then, without warning, he closed the space between you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, and for a split second, you forgot the world outside the two of you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your lip. “No matter how much you push me away. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. There was something so raw in his voice—something real, unfiltered. It made your heart race, and for the first time in weeks, you felt something more than just the push and pull, more than the fire that had burned between you two.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of it. “Why don’t you just walk away?”

He smirked slightly, but there was no malice in it. “Because I’m not done with you. And neither are you with me.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. His lips found yours in a kiss that was slow at first, as if he were testing the waters, feeling the change between you two. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as though he couldn’t stop himself. You didn’t want to stop him either.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “This is what we are, you and me,” he murmured, his voice low and serious. “We’re tangled up in this mess, and there’s no way out.” 

He lifted your nightgown smoothly over your head, tossing it carelessly across the room.

You could feel the truth in his words, and for the first time, you weren’t sure you wanted to find a way out. Your body reacted instinctively, your hands finding his chest and pulling him closer. His movements were deliberate as he reached for the waistband of his pants, freeing his cock. With a firm grip on your hips, he lifted you slightly, aligning himself before slowly pushing inside, his length gliding in with effortless ease. 

And there it was again—the electricity that sparked between you both, undeniable, unstoppable. The chaos and the passion you couldn’t control. But there was something more this time. It wasn’t just lust—it was something deeper. Something that connected you both in a way you didn’t quite understand.

He pulled back, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he continued to glid in and out of you. “You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, his voice softer now, almost reassuring. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, together.”

As both of you reached your climax, Sukuna slumped back onto the seat, his chest heaving as he barely managed to keep a firm hold on you.

 The way he said it felt like a promise, one you couldn’t quite break, no matter how much you wanted to. For once, you didn’t want to fight him. You didn’t want to push him away. Instead, you let yourself lean into him, feeling the heat between you, the connection that had only grown stronger with time.

And in that moment, you realized you were no longer just tangled in his world—you were part of it. You were happy. 

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[multiversewatchpost]

the mtt nation council has decided that every member needs to have a mtt vs mtt idea. time to pay up, council member multiversewatchpost........

Mtt but they're deities.

They're commonly depicted alongside eachother and feature a lot in eachothers myths, seeing their omens together is considered to be a warning of coming misfortune and disaster.

Horror is the one you pray too when you go on a hunt, when you are seeking to trap and ensnare your pray. The one you turn to when you beg for full fields and forests. He is the one you go to for guidance when your loved ones fall ill, when you have to protect and protect and protect and you are supposed to provide and shield and yet cannot find the strength. He is the one you pray to when famine strikes the lands, the one you beg for forgiveness, you do not know what you may have done to anger him but you know the widespread hunger is your fault. If only you hadn't displeased your God. This is your punishment. And everyone you hold dear will suffer with you.

Offerings made to him are most commonly food items. Grains or vegetables or fruits. Do not try to offer him meat, he wont accept it. Hates being offered life sacrifices. Will for some unknown reason accept eyes despite his aversion to being offered any other body parts.

Very strongly associated with spiders. His priests and most devout tend to purposefully blind themselves in one eye. Some consider this an outdated practice.

Dust is fickle and unpredictable. No sane person would pray to him as their patron deity. He is just as likely to turn on his followers as he is on their enemies. Fast to anger and hard to placate. Unfortunately, his few followers don't seem to get that memo, they are almost fanatical in their worship. Maybe it's because of what he offers, power, magic, it is he who the desperate turn to, those who have nothing left to lose. Those either lost in power or powerlessness. Those who either need or want more, wether it is because they do not see any other way or because they cannot fathom ever having enough. It is said that he curses those who cross him with incurable madness.

Common offerings include blood, flowers, and items with important sentimental value. Offerings are usually burned. Will accept life sacrifices in certain circumstances but it is risky to try.

Mainly know for his connection to magic, but is also occasionally prayed too for other kinds of power such as material wealth. Very easy to piss of. Followers sometimes claim to hear his voice speaking to them and see 'signs' he sends which are invisible to anyone else. It is widely debated if this is real or the result of the mental degradation a lot of his followers seem to eventually face. Mainly associated with mice but also occasionally robins or magpies.

Finally killer, the one that remains hidden in the shadows, decay itself, his presence clings to his followers, the world around them seems more dull, lifeless and dark. He is the one assassins follow, the one thieves beg for concealment, the one that victims pray too, not for freedom or safety but for vengeance. The stench of rot seems to cling to his favored disciples, their enemies die from mysterious illnesses or are plagued with pests.

He is pretty much exclusively given life offerings. Some tabboos acts, mainly cannibalism are commonly committed in his name. Will also accept roses or deaths in a more metaphorical sense such as the death of a dream or passion.

Is closely associated with animals such as rats, mosquitoes and pigeons. Just, any 'pest' really. Mostly rats tho. Also very strongly associated with disease. Is associated with the night and shadows but that is more of a recent thing, older disciples of his will scoff at you for such a thing.

Or did you mean mtt vs mtt as in mtt fighting eachother-

.....in that case I'm sorry but my idea doesn't include that.....you can make their followers fight or smth....maybe in some of the mythology they fight idk...

(Psssst, people reading this, there is now even more of this au on my blog under #moths mythology au tag)