#an act that typically results in someone getting stabbed in the eye or ear

[lightbulb-warning]

they're getting ready to steal ALL your candy

[generalfoolish]

Of Champagne and Motherfuckers

Summary: In which Vigilante gets jealous.

Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x F!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, drinking, moral contemplation, not good spy lingo, ambiguous "bad" guy

Word Count: 2.8K

Request: "i have a request for adrian chase x reader where she has to seduce a target after losing rock paper scissors or something, an adrian has to listen to her act really hot towards this creepy douche instead of him and whatever you think would result from that please! love your writing!!"

A/N: My first stab at this was like 6k of just the most feral, unhinged nonsense you've ever seen. This is try four; hope you enjoy! <3

Masterlist | Taglist |

You sipped your champagne from the flute, using the drink as an opportunity to scan the room.

“He should be by the bar.” John announced, his voice coming in smoothly through the earpiece. Your eyes flicked to the bar, and found the target easily enough.

“Found him.” You murmured over the rim of your glass, taking another sip. Beneath the crisp lights of the crystal chandeliers, you made your way towards the bar, your black gown trailing behind you. You focused on the click of your heels against the polished hardwood floors, and prayed you didn’t eat shit. The strappy heels Emilia had given you were perfect for seduction, and horrible for walking.

It wasn’t the first time you had lost to Emilia Harcourt in rock, paper, scissors; but it was the first time that you had actually hated the assignment. Despite the designer gown and diamonds draped delicately across your neck, you loathed every second you had to stand in the ballroom and be ogled by the rich and the deadly. You were excited to get the mark upstairs, take him out, grab the intel, and bug out.

You weren’t the only one, either. Vij, who normally loved these sorts of events and anything involving murder, had done nothing but complain since the van had been loaded up at HQ.

“Just kill him already.” Vigilante whined in your ear, bringing your attention back to the party at hand. You inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to tell him to shut up as you settled into the crowd easily. In your previous assignments, from before Waller and her Suicide Squad and Peacemaker and the butterflies, you had specialized in this kind of thing. Your usual goals were more aligned with political warfare, crippling regimes, and just generally demolishing established governments. This mark was easy in comparison.

But, of course, you had thrown scissors, when you knew that Harcourt would throw rock. It was uncanny how often you lost to her. You wondered if she could actually read minds, at times.

“Hi, can I get you a drink?” A man asked, coming up to brush his hand against your bare arm, which he left resting against the small of your back. Not the mark, not interested.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m actually waiting on someone.” You told him, a polite smile falling to your lips. He frowned in response.

“That won’t do, a pretty thing like yourself should have company all the time.” You scanned the area and met the mark’s eyes, and when he smiled at you, you pulled your best ‘damsel in distress’ face. His smile faltered, and you ushered him with your eyes.

Hook, line, and sinker. The mark rushed to your side, and you slipped into his side easily.

“There you are, handsome.” You murmured, smiling up at him. He was traditionally handsome, dark haired and lean muscled. Ostensibly, your type. You couldn’t help, though, but wish for green eyes and glasses to be staring down at you, as if you had saved him.

“Looked all over for you, kitten. Thanks for taking care of her, friend.” The mark told the other man quickly, before pulling you away.

“Kitten?” Leota snorted, laughing in your ear.

“Thanks for the save, really. He was a creep.” You told the mark, playfully, sipping your champagne, but staying against his side.

“You saved me. My partner’s were getting into trade logistics for next quarter.” He laughed easily, and lowered his gaze to rake over you. “Name’s Adrian Loman, by the way.”

There it was. The reason you’d been so hesitant to be the honey in this particular pot. The man’s name was Adrian. You tensed waiting for the reaction from Vigilante, your Adrian, but none came. You wondered, with a slight frown, if he had taken his piece out.

He was meant to be waiting on the balcony of Loman’s room, the perfect spot for an ambush, if it came to it.

Despite your experience in the field, despite having done this sort of work your entire adult life, you had never felt more comfortable than you had with Vigilante. You knew he was perceived as an idiot, a loose cannon; but the more you worked with him, the more time you spent with him out of the suit, you knew he was much deeper than that. He was brilliant, actually. He absorbed everything, always, especially if it was about him. He claimed he didn’t experience emotions like other people, that he didn’t care about things, but you had seen him without his mask on. Not the Vigilante mask, but his person mask, the one he put on to “fit” in. You hated it, hated how he acted around Chris, how he pretended.

Somewhere along the way, you dropped your own mask, and let him in. He filled the gaps you didn’t know you had, and just as quickly as he made his way in, you fell for him, hard. If it was your late night tv binges, accompanied with shitty chinese food, or you’re early morning talks as you joined him on his patrols, or if it was how he always held your hand before a mission, rubbing soothing circles in the skin between your forefinger and your thumb; the end was the same. You had fallen in love with Adrian Chase, a man who self-proclaimed not to feel any emotion at all.

You’d been working up the courage to say something, anything to him. You’d thought maybe after an episode of Fargo, or when you surprised him at Fennel Fields after work. The plan was still in the making, of course.

What you didn’t want to have to do was whisper his name all night, in a stranger’s ear, while he listened. Regardless, of how you were feeling, how he was feeling, or anything else, it was just awkward.

“Mr. Loman, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You purred, setting the honey out.

“Please, it’s Adrian. My father was Mr. Loman.” He answered easily, jovial. Bait taken.

“Adrian, then.” You hummed in response, like saying his name lit you on fire. Mostly, because it did. If you could pretend this was your Adrian, maybe it wouldn’t be so insufferable.

“What brings you to this party, kitten?” Loman asked, threading his hand around your waist. You leaned into the feeling, despite how it made your skin crawl.

“Charity, of course. I’m passionate about saving the world’s…whatever it is we’re saving this time. What about you, Adrian, what brings you here tonight?”

“Same for me, whatever it is we’re saving must be important.” He laughed, a sound that seemed to be ripped from his throat.

“I hear our lives will never be the same without it. Finance, then?” You inquired, steering the conversation back to relevant water.

“Oh, I barely go to the office these days. Gotham is too much of a mess, for me.” He tells you, inching closer to something useful.

“You’d think with all these supers running around, and every other asshole putting on a suit, crime would be down.” You muttered, thinking about one suited dork in particular, and sipping your drink.

“You’re funny, kitten. Gonna have to run into you at all these parties.” Loman admits, running his hand across your back, the motion a cheap mimic of the man whose touch you actually want.

“Promise, Adrian?” You asked, murmuring the words, picturing a different man, one whose company you crave.

“Do you want to get out of here? I have a room upstairs.” Loman suggested suddenly, a mischievous smile pulling across his face.

“So, forward!” You teased, lightly nudging his shoulder. “You scandalize me.”

“You scandalized me the moment I saw you. I can’t wait to unwrap you.” He growled, leaning in close to your ear. You grimaced, knowing that everyone could hear, but covered your mouth with a hand, feigning a giggle.

“I can’t believe you found someone who actually wants to have sex with you.” Chris snorted into your ear, and you hoped Loman couldn’t hear the giant idiot over the din of the room.

“I know! I thought, we’re setting a honey pot, right? Then we throw the biggest bitch in the field!”

“Okay, that’s not very nice.” Leota quipped quickly.

“I agree with John, for once. It should have been Emilia, she’s charming and beautiful.” Chris added, speaking over Leota.

“Thanks, Chris.” Emilia said.

“Spectacular rack.” Chris finished, and you could hear Emilia’s groan.

“Okay, let’s wrap this up, yeah?” Leota ended, and you smiled coyly at Loman, before finishing your drink.

You placed your hand on his arm, and leaned up to graze your lips against his jaw.

“Then what’re we waiting for?” You murmured against the shell of his ear. He pulled you to the elevator, and punched the button. His hands dipped below your waist, digging into the globes of your ass, and you faked a whimper against him.

You wondered if Adrian was in place, hoping he hadn’t had any trouble, and remembered how his usually bright green eyes had raged dark and dangerous when he’d learned that you were the one going into the gala. He’d walked in as you lost, miserably, to Harcourt.

“What was Ro-Sham-Bo for, guys?” Adrian had asked, walking in with Chris and John.

“Oh, who had to be the honey.” You explained easily, fastening the diamond studs into your ears before grabbing the garment bag from the desk.

“Nope. No way. Not happening.” You paused, and tilted your head at him, a habit you’d picked up from him. His hands went to his hips and his smile was quickly replaced with a frown.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“You're not flirting with that guy, no way. He’s a bad guy.” Adrian told you, his tone final, though you knew he hadn’t bothered to read the dossier.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re going to kill him.” You made clear, crossing your arms across your chest, the garment bag hanging loosely over your arm.

“But why you?” He fussed, sounding like a kid who’d lost their favorite toy.

“I lost the rock, paper, scissors.” Your shrug was easy. His jaw clicked audibly, and he shook his head again.

“I hate this. I’ll just kill him.” He told you, narrowing his eyes. You had rolled your eyes, downplaying the seriousness in his tone, hoping that he wouldn’t lose his head again in the moment.

The elevator opened, reminding you of where you were, and you stumbled in as Loman pulled you close. He hit the fifth floor, confirming the level was correct.

“Fifth floor, huh? You paid out big time for our little charity ball, didn’t you?” You asked, running your hand up his chest.

“That’s me, Room 519, balcony view of the bay.”

“I love how the moonlight hits the bay.”

“Well, maybe we’ll take our party out there so we both have views to admire.”

“Jesus.” Emilia mouthed, and you could picture her look of annoyance. Your mind raced back to Vij, and hoped again that he was in place.

The elevator dinged as the doors pulled open, and Loman ushered you down the hall. For your part, you could barely keep up in your strappy heels.

He flicked the hotel key card against the door, and it unlocked, the light turning green. You held your breath, letting Loman walk in first.

To your surprise, the room was empty. You tried to hide your disappointment, you had really expected Vij to be waiting. You knew better, of course. Out of everyone, Adrian never let it get to him, not in the field. Sure, he was a fucking maniac, but he was cool as a fucking cucumber the whole time. You’d seen him slice a guy’s head off and then keep killing people. They were aliens, to be sure, but you’d seen him butcher humans. In the field, he was mechanical, and damn good at it. You wanted him to have your back, everytime.

Loman turned to you, in the dim light of the room, the moon illuminating just the edges through the open window. He slipped his hand into the high slit on your dress, hand grabbing your exposed hip. His smile was predatory, something that sent chills up your spine. You slipped your hand in your clutch, and curled your fingers around your compact pistol.

“I didn’t expect you to be so easy.” He moaned, moving his other hand up to your breast. The grasp was rough, enough for you to call it.

“That’s enough, I think.” You announced, untangling yourself and holding up your pistol. He held his hands up, his face falling quickly.

“I’ll give you anything; you can take whatever you want.” He stammered, eyes fixed on your pistol.

“What’s the security combination for your partner box?” You replied, placing your finger on the trigger. You didn’t plan on killing him, not just yet, but it always sped these things up when the pressure was on.

“1375-9843.” Loman squealed, spilling immediately. You were about to call him out on it, make him worry a bit more, when the patio door opened. You had it completely under control, but seeing the black and teal put you at ease instantly.

Before you could say, or do, anything, Adrian had pulled out a gun and shot Loman in the head. Your mouth fell open, and you just watched, blankly, as he made his way over to you, never having broken his stride.

In your ear, the team was outraged, yelling at Adrian, yelling at you. You removed the piece, and tucked it into your bag just as he reached you.

“So messy.” You teased, glancing down at the blood splatters across your skin and dress. Loman’s blood was pooling up on the thick carpet, and you didn’t even want to think about what a mess that would be to clean.

“Don’t care about that, only about you.” He urged, his arms wrapping around your middle tightly. You’re sure you’ve died, but you shake the thoughts and feelings down. Be professional, right?

“I still need to search the room.” You told him, nuzzling into his hug. His fingers spread across your back, and rubbed slightly. The feeling worked to remove the press of Loman.

“Already did.” He told you, pulling a small USB connector from his pouch. “Just needed you, let’s go.” He ushers, pulling you tight against his chest and onto the balcony. You clutched him tightly, the feeling of his textured suit a balm to the groping you’d endured.

“Thanks. You know, for the assist.” You told him, motioning to Loman. He shrugged.

“Oh, yeah. Not a problem. I was definitely gonna kill that motherfucker.”

“So cringey, right?” You asked, making light of the many horrible come-on lines he’d used. Adrian pulled his mask off to look at you, but remembered his glasses, and put them on.

“No, cause he just talked to you the wrong way.” Adrian explained, slowly.

“Flirty?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, he had to die.” Adrian told you, sullen.

“For flirting with me?” You reiterated, slowly.

“What are you not getting? I know that was probably weird for you, but I had to kill him. The way he was talking to you, it made me crazy. I had to stop myself from going downstairs and killing him in the lobby. He shouldn’t get to hear you like that.”

“Why not, Adrian?” You responded, trying to steady your heart, which was attempting to beat out of your chest.

“Why not? Why not? Probably ‘cause, I don’t know, you should be saying those things to me. I’m the only Adrian you need. This is making me feel so crazy. I don’t know why. You deserve someone who is good for you, and that, ugly piece of shit, isn’t that.”

“You are good for me, Adrian. You’re a good man, and I–” You started to say, started to confess, but he interrupted.

“You think I’m a good man?” You nod, watching his expression soften, almost into something sad. You smiled sadly at him.

“You are a good person, Adrian. You are worth knowing and loving. You’re my best friend, and there is no one else that I would rather kill bad guys with. Now, kiss me.” You finished, breathless, and closing the distance between you. Happily, he obliged, taking your cheeks delicately between his gloved hands and pressing a kiss to your lips. The searing heat from him was burning off your night with Loman, and as Adrian, your Adrian, ran his hands over you, pulling you closer, you gave in to the feeling. You carded your hands in his hair, and tugged him closer, deepening the kiss.

He pulled back a little, breathing heavily, but running his nose along yours.

“I DVR’d Fargo, for us.” He told you, nipping at your jaw, before kissing the skin.

“Thank god. Let’s get out of here.” You told him, laughing, slipping your hand in his.

“Can you keep that dress? And those heels?”

“Oh, you like this?” You asked, gesturing at the gown.

“You look absolutely devastating.” He told you, in a hushed tone, almost reverential, a rare moment of sincerity.

“You look absolutely devastated, Adrian.” You giggled, kissing him again.

tagged: @michi-reads @strawberriesandknives

[mystic-sky]

Summary: Gojo sneaks into your dorm cause he sort of “misses” you. Oh, and Shoko’s there too.

Pairings: Gojo Satoru/reader/Shoko Ieiri

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, threesome, cream pie. If you weren’t gay for Shoko before you will be after this.

yeah no one asked me for this lmaooo, but it’s Shoko loving hours✨

Shoko Ieiri is deep in sleep on your bedroom floor, surrounded by half eaten snacks and DVDs. After a girl’s night in, she felt too tired to walk just two doors down to her own room and crawl into her bed. So here she was, inhabiting your extra futon on a school night.

You’re dozing off just 2 hours past midnight. That is, until you heard a few light taps at your window. The sounds peck you out of your light slumber, making you groan and slide downwards underneath the comforter, assuming it’s a tree or a bird. The noise persists further, making you groan an even louder and irritated noise. Finally you sit up, crankily sliding out of bed. You stare at Shoko enviously, who is un-phased by the noise.

You slide the blinds open on the sliding doors, jumping back at the large frame peering back at you. You clutch your chest, before letting out a large heave, unlocking the glass pane door.

“You scared the living shit out of me,” you whisper-yelled.

Satoru leans against the doorway, staring back at you in baggy night clothes. “Yo.”

You’re staring at him with tired eyes.

“What the hell do you want?” You whisper.

“I missed you,” his hand reaches the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead before casually brushing past you.

This was normal, you suppose. He’d snuck into the girl’s dorm at the school countless times to sleep with you. You both weren’t dating, only frisky classmates. You did however enjoy the spontaneous pop ups.

“Shoko’s here.” You say simply as he tosses his phone on your desk. “And you should’ve texted me.”

You’re still standing there with the patio door open, thinking he’d leave as soon as he saw her there.

“My bad,” he’s smiling cheekily at you. “And I couldn’t sleep, so I came here to spend the night.”

You sigh and shut the door, realizing he was definitely staying. You pull the blinds shut as he removes his sweatshirt and slides. He lets out a whine as he realizes what Shoko is sleeping on. 

“My futon...” he whines. He’s so bothered by it. He never slept on the thing either; you stole it from him a while back.

You aren’t worried about Shoko waking up in the morning to him in your bed, she’s seen it all before. She can hardly understand your infatuation with Satoru. But, she’s a pro at minding her business. A good friend overall, considering boys are forbidden from being in the girls dorm after hours. 

You ignore him, and brush past his lanky body to climb back into your bed. He follows, squeezing onto it with you. It was barely full sized— somehow still the largest in the girls dorm, resulting in majority of your hook ups to be in your room. Sometimes, Shoko would crawl in bed with you, and sometimes you two would do more than sleep together on school nights.

You’re so tired, so groggy as he snuggles into you. The deepest hum pours into your ear. His strong bare arms are intoxicating, the way they wrap around you like he needs you— but he doesn’t. He typically acts like he doesn’t need anyone actually, so when he clings to you like this it sort of throws you off. But you know he’s just indulging in human touch. It’s not such a serious thing to him. He’s such an airhead. You know he’d never actually go out with you. 

“You and Shoko had all the fun without me...” He whines it, and it’s pretty loud. He doesn’t care if she wakes up. He’s already hard and his length is stabbing your back. 

“We didn’t do anything,” you say simply. His hand slides up your shirt, and his finger tips are cold. They sting the flesh of your breasts, but your body’s so hot you don’t even flinch. “And your hands are freezing.”

One of your nipples harden into the center of his palm and he feels it, using his thumb and index finger to squeeze and pull at the thing.

“Ah, so I made the both of you wait long? I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. You roll your eyes, and he can’t even see you do it but he laughs anyway.

“One day,” he purrs, and the sound is enough to send chills up your spine.

“Like she’d ever sleep with trash like you,” you scoff, turning around and wrapping an arm around his neck.

“Your jealousy is showing.” You finally get to see his toothy grin.

“Hardly,” you roll your eyes again. You don’t allow him to speak any more, pressing your tired lips against his. The movement is groggy— a sleepy lovers kiss of sorts if you’ve ever had one. He’s tired himself, but his ever growing bulge won’t let him rest in his own dorm. 

“A quick fuck, so we can sleep.” Satoru says the words so quickly, but he doesn’t miss your nod. 

“We have a 9AM,” you feel inclined to remind him about your class in the morning. Your hands are trailing up his back, feeling along the muscles.

He hums before sliding down beneath your comforter, disappearing from your side. His finger tips are warmer now, wrapping around the hem of your pants. You realize what’s happening, and shift your body to help him slide them down. His mouth is buried in your sex in seconds, making you grip the blanket above your head to watch him eat it beneath the covers. It’s not like you can see much though, but you love to hear the sound of his tongue on you. 

It’s a loud noise even though he’s muffled. You let out soft whimpers as not to wake Shoko. He loves to suck on your clit more than anything. He gives soft licks in between to relieve your center from the extreme stimulation but it doesn’t do much. The pattern edges you every time, and he does it on purpose. He says it makes you restless and a lot more needy for him.

He hums his mouth against your clit, making you roll your hips into him.

“Put it in already,” you’re teething at the edge of the blanket, but he hears you nonetheless.

He rises up, chin running a muck of juices with the blanket over his head like it’s a veil. It was weird how his eyes would ignite like that in the dark, like they were made of that glow in the dark fluid. The moonlight finally poured over the clouds, giving the room a bit of light.

“Pretty boy,” you say quietly, spreading your legs in front of him. 

“You think so?” He’s quick to lather up two fingers in his mouth before plugging them in you. He sits there, flicking upwards against the resisting flesh of your walls, making you wriggle in pleasure. 

“You’ll wake Shoko with a pussy this loud,” he’s immersed in the slick covering his hand with every motion. You head locks onto the girl on the floor whose back faces you both, shoulders rising and falling softly.

“Unless you wanna,” he withdraws his fingers from you, sucking tightly on them before releasing them with a pop. “Dirty girl.”

He’s sliding his raw length against you now, “So wet for me too.”

You’re bobbing your hips downward towards him, nibbling at your bottom lip, anxiously waiting to be penetrated. “Mhmm...” 

Disagreeing with him would only slow down the process.

“That’s right,” he’s hunching over you now, flicking his hard tip against your soaked cunt.

“Now gimme a kiss,” the taste of you is still prominent on his tongue as he cups your face to kiss you. He slides himself into you while still attached to your mouth, feeling your tongue and body contract from the penetration. He’s shuddering into you softly, sucking and pulling on your bottom lip. He gives you air after the first few plunges into your sex, forcing semi-loud sounds from your throat.

The feeling of his curved length is always welcome, stretching you out just right. He knows that you’re so whipped, no matter how much you ignore him at school or pretend to be annoyed with him. When he has you like this, drooling for him, he knows he could probably convince you to do anything. 

The sound of skin slapping skin was thankfully  muffled by the blanket over the both of you. The bed is creaking slightly as he speeds up. You and Satoru would make it a habit to fuck on the futon you took from him to avoid excessive noise at night. 

“I can’t go as fast as I want to,” he grits. He’s frustrated about noise all of a sudden. 

“You should’ve waited until tomorrow, now I’m all worked up. Hurry up and finish.”

“Believe me, I’m trying sweetheart.” 

“Do you both talk this much all the time when you do it?”

The futon speaks, or rather, the young woman now sitting upwards on top of it did. She’s rubbing her eyes and shifting from underneath her blanket. 

“For fucks sake,” she muttered. Satoru smirks wildly, making you slap his arm.

“Sorry Sho,” you say sheepishly. She hardly looks angry at you. Her own eyes are warm and tired as she crawls over to the edge of the bed right beside you.

“It’s okay,” the words are sweet like honey on her tongue. She’s never been angry at you for anything. Even in moments she probably should be. Her hair falls against your chest as she brushes her lips against yours, initiating a kiss. 

Her mouth is soft and feathery, and she doesn’t care for Satoru’s presence at all, inserting herself between you both with her kiss. You find yourself sitting up and kissing her back, even with him still between your legs.

Seeing you kiss someone else, especially having that someone be Shoko, was a different kind of attractive. Still inside of you, Satoru pumped slowly while she hung over the edge of the bed mouthing you off. A sweet moan from you poured into her mouth, her favorite sound, making her smile against you. 

She parts her lips from you, and the look you give her is so smothered and needy. You wanted her in this bed with you too.

“Please,” you whine to her. And she can’t think to say no because it’s you. 

“Of course,” she’s willingly removing her shirt for you. She’s confident about her body, stripping just for you. You nudge Satoru, who separates from you in order to make space for her. She climbs in beside you, making herself comfortable.

“Why don’t you sit back and watch for a bit,” her lips curl into a smile, using a single foot to push him back onto his knees. 

“Beat your cock or something, whatever men do,” she smiles smugly. He laughed deeply before nodding.

“Give me a show,” his voice is low when he says it, positioning himself at the end of the bed. He obediently starts stroking his length covered with your fluids. You on the other hand are waiting for something— anything to help yourself cum. Shoko feels you spread your legs as she presses her hot, bare breasts against your ribs. Her fingers are so slim and smooth, sliding between your folds to play in your slickness.

“Let’s show him how fast I make you cum,” she lowers her voice, blowing air into your ear. She spread goosebumps across your arms and legs, adding a kiss just beneath your ear. You nod loosely.

Her fingers rub delicate, rhythmic circles on your clit. Her mouth is on yours again, tonguing you down while he watches ravenously. Soft squeals pass through your lips while you roll yours hips at her silk touch. 

Two of her nimble fingers prod at your entrance while her tongue swirls around your own. You moan greedily, asking her to stimulate you further by using your body. 

She knows what you want, she always does. And that’s why she pumps them into you, curling at your center. With each curve of smooth padded fingertips against slick flesh, several sounds emanate throughout the room. Ragged breathing, ragged moaning, dick stroking, wet mouths— wet sounds.

Its a lude feeling, being watched like this. They both want nothing more than to ravish you, and you feel it through Satoru’s piercing arctic eyes and Shoko’s refined touch. She’s immersed in you, climbing half way over you while she continues to pump your sex. Her hard nipples irritatedly rub against yours while she pours her tongue into your mouth. She feeds off of your moans, humming back in affirmation. She knows you’re going to cum, you don’t have to say anything to hint at it.

Your cunt splashes against her palm while your body rolls against her. She pulls away to watch your eyes fall back. Sweet relief at last, you think, but she’s hardly done with you.

Shoko pulls her hand from your slimy cunt, laughing softly as she slides her tongue between the two sullied fingers.

“You got all that?” Shoko says, peering back at Satoru, who had been gritting his teeth at the two naked women in front of him.

“Mhmm,” he chuckles. “And are you questioning my ability to make her cum?”

He’s not actually offended, but he’d give anything to put this chick in her place. 

“You were talking a whole lot more than anything else.” She teases, now looking back at you. You’re panting at the two of them, twitching and aching for more like the spoiled brat you are. “Can you get up?” Shes asks.

You nod, pushing what you could of your upper body up. She runs both hands through her hair so confidently, she almost intimidates the both of you. “Good. And you’re gonna be on the bottom, since I can’t stand hearing you talk.” 

She says this without even looking at Satoru, moving over to allow him space to lay between you both. He chuckles, not really paying attention to the insult. “Optimizing the space? I get it now.” 

He lays back flat, arrogantly resting his head against his arms. “Choose your slot, ladies.” 

Shoko rolls her eyes, swinging her leg to hover her steaming sex over his face. You realize what’s happening as she opts you to straddle his lower half. You waste no time, sinking yourself onto his length and shuddering from the extra ripples of pleasure from your previous orgasm. You grip Satoru’s torso for support, nearly resting your head on Shoko’s shoulder. This prompts a moan from him, and the sound has this low growl in it. You clench yourself around him, soaking in the feeling some more.

Shoko wants to see your face while you rock against his length. She pushes your body up, and her eyes are soft on you. You were truly what she craved. Your weak and furrowed brows, your needy expression— everything about you made her ache. She takes your bruised lips in for a wet kiss, sucking on your bottom lip.

“You’ve got a pretty pussy,” Satoru says, blowing cool air against Shoko’s glistening slit.

“All the more reason for you to shut up and eat it,” she parts her lips from yours for only a second to say this. You feel her lower her cunt onto his tongue as she deepens your kiss. He chuckles again. 

“You’re so mean Shoko...” he fake whines. He wraps his mouth around her drenched clit, sucking on it as if he had something to prove. The repeated sucks force a loud moan from her lips and the sound pours onto your own. The song of his scorching tongue against her sex finds your ears, making you rock on onto his sex more with far more need than before.

He’s humming delightedly against her as her slickness pours down his throat. He releases his suction and replaces it with consecutive licks, giving her a break from the almost violent prior stimulation. She’s surprised, bewildered by her classmate’s seemingly flawless pussy eating talent. The short interaction showed her why you tolerated him at least a little bit. She swung her head back, scarfing back a moan as you wrapped a hand around one her breasts, tugging at her erect nipple.

Satoru is merely a prop at this point, allowing the both of you to make a mess on top of him. The experience is somewhat of a dream, as it may be for most men. He’s on cloud nine with the two of you on top of him like this.

You can hear him snickering beneath her as you rock weakly on his length, he was clearly proud of himself. She’s not shy on suffocating him in response, pushing more of her weight against him. He welcomes the action, groaning  at the taste of her dribbling down his chin. He welcomes the action by stuffing his tongue inside of her, earning the highest of pitches from the brunette.

It’s the hottest scene for you, seeing her pant above him like that, but she never takes her eyes off of you. Her mouth his wet, and her gaze pours over your a naked body as your breasts bounce all for her to see. She loved it like this; the best view in her opinion. She sticks out her tongue, practically begging you to suck on it. 

You can hardly deny her looking like this, attaching your mouth onto hers again. 

“(Name)...” she moans your name so punily against you, eyes partially open and glossy with pleasure. She’s dangerously close to orgasming, and Satoru is eerily telepathic. He applies his suction again, humming in affirmation for her to cum for the both of you. 

He reaches one hand to settle against her hip while his other hand firmly holds her upper thigh, somewhat locking her in place. He sloppily buries his face into her while her cunt squelches against his mouth. Keen on making a grand first impression, he worms a hand underneath her and dips two of his large fingers into her sex. Her mouth pops off your yours, throwing her head back as he curls his digits inside the bundle of flesh. She splashes against him, sullying his face. He ejects his fingers, drinking up most of what she creamed out onto his face.

Collapsing in the crook of your neck, her hot breath ignited your body even more, making you rock against Satoru’s length with fevor.

“Fuck, that’s sexy...” He released his mouth from her, groaning between clenched teeth. 

You’re under the impression that Shoko’s done for the night while you attempt you give yourself a final orgasm on top of him. Her hot mouth connects with your neck, sucking and dragging her soft lips against your fiery skin. 

A decadent moan passes your lips, and she hums against you. “Pretty girl, let me spoil you some more...” 

Feathery lips glide down your neck and chest as you brace back, still grinding away. She rolls one of your nipples against her tongue, palming your free mound for you while you focus on reaching your high. Raising her ass from the nest that was Satoru’s face, she smirks at the mess of fluids on his chin that she made, feeling a bit too proud of herself. She crawls up behind your body, pressing her boiling skin and still erect nipples against your back. You relax into her delicate touch, holding one of the hands that groped your breasts for you. 

“Tapping out?” Satoru asks, watching the two of you seemingly phase him out yet again. You’re rocking into him, but seeking so much attention from her. 

“No, I’m prioritizing this sweet lamb of mine,” the words drip from her lips like molasses. Her lips meet your neck yet again, nipping her teeth against the skin before sucking in a way that would surely leave a mark on you. 

“Yours huh?” Satoru grits his teeth. He was inches away from his orgasm just from watching the both of you all over each other like that. His large and calloused fingers grip you hips, guiding your loose humping above him.

“Mhmm,” Shoko hums softly. She doesn’t actually care about laying claim to you. You came to her for a different kind of sex— something he couldn’t provide. “Isn’t that right, (Name)?”

You’re entirely faded, head being cocked back on her shoulder for support, only begging her for extra stimulation. She knows this all too well, sticking two of her fingers into your mouth. 

She plays with your tongue shortly before pulling a string of saliva from you. She places her glossy fingers on your clit for you, rubbing in intricate circles. 

The smooth rhythm along with being filled up with his ever-twitching length finally spirals you into another orgasm, one that had been poking at your insides for a while now. You quiver on his length, throwing an arm back to caress Shoko’s hair while you ride it out. She’s moaning with you; she knows how good you’re feeling right now. 

The room is hot and loud with moans, and Satoru can no longer hold his crowning load. His fingers are squeezing (a bit too hard) at your waist, almost bruising you as his toes curl in ecstasy. Watching Shoko grind her naked body against yours was something he would engrave into his brain. She claimed you were the spoiled one. He could argue otherwise, having gotten to see the both of you like this. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out. Thick wads painted the insides of your searing flesh, so much that you were already leaking onto his lap. 

“Good little lamb,” her hot breath finds your ear as your grinding finally subsides. She draws her fingers from you, soundly licking up the juices in your ear.

Your body twitches as it relaxes into her chest. She turns your head for a messy kiss, making your groan against her tongue. Satoru sits back up on his elbows, pushing some of his hair out of his face— as if he did much during this entire interaction.

Shoko gets from behind you, plopping in the space closest to the wall. You rise off his length, weakly motioning him to move over to lay between them.

“This bed is barely big enough for the three of us,” Satoru snickers, snaking an arm over both of your waists.

“You could always go sleep on your futon,” Shoko says, quick to remove his hand from her hip as she reaches for the comforter to cover your bodies. Satoru scowls a bit.

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that.” He rolls his eyes, snuggling closer against you. 

“Yeah~ you could use your futon.” You sleepily  slur, closing your eyes.

“Not you too,” he says quietly into the crook of your neck. 

There was more groggy and teasing conversation, not that the three of you would remember it when the morning came. You all slept in far past your 9AM class together. The best part though, was probably waking up to a half naked Satoru asleep on the futon in the morning. You and Shoko kicked him off the bed throughout the night, and he gave up on trying to separate your bodies from one another.

[carsonshawson]

(i became obsessed w the idea of villanelle going manic and losing control after the kiss and getting shit faced like she did in 2.04 so here you guys go)

“eve.”

her voice is soft and gentle, so much so that, at first, eve thinks it’s from a dream. unfortunately, it’s a common occurrence to dream of assassins at night in the eve polastri residence. an occurrence eve does not take kindly to, thus she rolls over and buries her head further into her pillow in order to make it go away.

however, the voice doesn’t stop like it usually does.

“eve.” it growls again, urgent this time.

fuck, she’s really not appreciating the realism aspects of her dreams lately. although, her brain is probably proud of getting how annoying villanelle is almost exactly right. it’s hard to grasp her character accurately. but, she supposed, if anyone were to capture villanelle the right way, it would be her.

“eve, get up, we need to go.”

a hand nudges at eve’s shoulder, and she becomes suddenly and terrifyingly aware this is not a dream.

she shoots up, nearly knocking the assassin in the face for the second time in two days.

villanelle stumbles backwards. “jesus christ,” she mumbles.

eve can only see the dark outline of her tall and lithe body, but she can smell her presence. knows it’s her. the moonlight seeping in from the window catches on the loose strands of her blonde hair to create a terrifyingly beautiful shadow.

“what the FUCK,” eve goes to scream. however, villanelle is back in her space, pressing her hand over eve’s mouth.

“shh,” she hisses. “we need to leave right now you’re in danger.”

eve’s heart seizes. villanelle watches her as she leaps out of bed and grabs the gun from her night table, where it was placed haphazardly in a drunken fit of paranoia.

or, apparently, not so much paranoia.

when her feet hit the floor, she realizes how cold the air is against her legs. right, she went to bed without pants too. she stumbles around blindly searching for them. before she collapses in a state of panic, villanelle shoves a pair of sweats into her hands.

“second drawer in your armoire.” she reminds her, and eve doesn’t have time to question it.

villanelle is already moving for the door when eve is able to fit them on her legs, and she’s pretty positive they’re on backwards too.

“come on!” she urges, whipping the door open. eve follows after her, and they step into the quiet and honestly sad looking apartment hallway. villanelle clasps eve’s forearm, and the movement almost seems clunky. but again, she doesn’t have time to question it because villanelle is dragging her to the stairwell, down the stairs, and into the alley behind her complex.

the stop against the back wall, both breathing heavily. eve is able to observe villanelle more clearly now. she is in a state of disarray of which eve has never seen her. even post stab. her hair flies out of a loosely constructed bun, and she wears only a loose white tee shirt, tucked into a pair of faded jeans.

jeans.

something is wrong.

eve furrows her eyebrows. “are you going to tell me what’s going on or—“

she’s not allowed to finish the question. villanelle has crashed their lips together with a fierce determination. she’s hot and heavy and sluggish, and eve can’t help but to give in for just a moment, relishing in the feeling of her long fingers moving across her body.

if this is what the bus kiss was, they probably would have ended up on pornhub.

it only lasts maybe less than thirty seconds before eve tastes the alcohol on her tongue.

she pushes villanelle away, who stumbles backwards as she did in her bedroom.

“are you drunk?” eve says, and she can hardly believe it, she was so caught up in the rush out the door she didn’t notice how off balance the other woman was.

villanelle blinks. “no.” but the smirk that follows is devilish. she moves into eve’s space again, leans down. it takes all of eve’s willpower to push her off. she’s angry now. she’s got to act like it.

she pushes her off again. villanelle stumbles once more, and it appears like she nearly falls over.

“you’re drunk,” eve says, certain this time.

“so?” is the response, and, honestly, she should have expected it.

eve folds her arms. “is someone after us? or did you wake me up in the middle of the night and scare the fucking shit out of me just to execute whatever poorly made drunk plan you came up with.”

she purses her lips, pretending to think. “uhh, the second one. except not poorly made. pretty well made, if you ask me. i am a great genius.” winking for emphasis, she presses closer to eve, who shrinks against the wall but is nevertheless defiant. she reaches for the gun in her waistband, ready to push against her abdomen.

it’s not there. of course. it’s real location is dangling from villanelle’s fingers as her lazy grin grows wider.

“looking for something?” she teases, eyes twinkling in the delight of watching eve squirm.

she sighs dramatically. “eve, it’s not very nice to attempt to hurt someone after they kiss you. actually, some might consider it rude. i would do me the same courtesy i did you on the bus. a courtesy you lack.” she touches the bruise along eve’s brow with gentle and precise movement. despite her clearly inebriated state, she still has some grace.

it’s not fair. and makes eve angrier.

“is there a fucking reason we’re outside? couldn’t we have done this thing inside where it isn’t cold, wet, and rainy?”

villanelle squints. “well, i suppose, but this was more fun.”

“your definition of fun alarms me.”

“it should,” she breathes and leans down to press a soft kiss against her neck. eve shivers, which she attributes to the temperature.

“why are you drunk?” she asks and is surprised to hear her voice come out rough and gravelly. the result of too many cigarettes, perhaps, not a russian assassin’s lips on her skin.

villanelle does it again, closer to her pulse point. “why did you kiss me?” the question is an answer in itself. she doesn’t need to see her eyes to know the wide breadth of emotions playing across them. she’s seen it many times before. she drags her tongue lightly on the underside of eve’s jawline.

“i don’t know,” she responds. and it’s true. she doesn’t.

villanelle stays where she is, and eve can really smell it now. the vodka. how stereotypical, she thinks to herself. just the other day, she pondered if her drink of choice, besides champagne, would be scotch.

she also thinks they must be an eyeful to passerbys right now. although late, the streets of new malden are typically bustling at all hours of the night. it would be a sight to see a tall and leggy blonde woman pinning a smaller curly haired one against a wall.

she doesn’t know how long they stay like that, villanelle’s face in her neck, hands on her waist. at some point, eve begins stroking the loose hair that wisps around her ears. a surprisingly intimate gesture that she wants to believe is sheer reflex.

villanelle’s breath begins coming out in short huffs, and her weight leans heavier on her. eve soon realizes she’s falling asleep.

“villanelle,” eve whispers, and the assassin stirs.

“hm?”

“go to your hotel. go to bed. take some painkillers. you’re going to need them.”

villanelle moves back, still tired and heavy.

“okay,” she says simply. her eyes are half-lidded under the poorly lit streetlight, and eve doesn’t know if she can trust her not to pass out in the middle of a road somewhere.

however, inviting her to stay would almost be too much of an admission. it’s one she’s not ready to make yet.

she turns to leave, and eve watches her go, but before she rounds the corner, she spins back.

“sorry. perhaps not a good plan.”

eve smiles, shaking her head. “go home.”

villanelle takes it as an order and mock salutes her. “bye, eve,” she croons as she disappears past the brick.

eve doesn’t even notice that she took her gun until she crawls back under her sheets, ready to let sleep claim her.

that’s going to be annoying to explain to carolyn tomorrow. really annoying.

“fuck it,” she groans and buries her head in the pillow for what she hopes is the last time that night.

[squidpro-quo]

“Have you seen this?” Deku asked, throwing a handful of sports fan magazines onto Todoroki’s lap as he bent over to tie his skates. The covers were full of gossip headlines, printed in vivid, flashy colors and varying sizes according to the amount of scandal each exposé

contained. It was the standard issue for the week, with Aoyama’s typical flashy pose on the front despite his article being a fairly tame side story about his latest win. 

“I just read the jokes out of the middle, why?” Todoroki picked up the one on top, flipping through it without much concern for what he happened to skip. 

“Wait, wait, it’s that one!” Crumpling the paper with his eagerness, Deku directed him to the right page, stabbing at the pictures and conjectures with one scarred finger. “It’s about your charity event this weekend, at the podium awards.” 

“Bakugo just said the usual,” murmured Todoroki, “Why is this unusual enough to warrant an entire page? The one about Ochako breaking the record got the same.” 

“It’s in all of them. Don’t know why but…” His explanation was interrupted by the sound of Todoroki’s phone, an angry Enji’s voice yelling ‘ SHOUTO!’ echoing around the empty rink. “Why did you make that his ringtone?”

“It’s a preview to the main act,” was Todoroki’s only comment before he picked up the phone with a hard press to his lips. Deku sank onto the bench across from him, reading the article again in the meantime. 

“Shouto!” Enji’s normal volume could thankfully be lowered to a manageable level over the phone, but that didn’t mean Todoroki was glad to hear from him. “I’ve got news about the sponsors for this year, you’ve got a shot with a big backing. As soon as the gossip dies down, they’ll sign the deal and we’ll have the Endeavor brand as our own.”

The reminder of the impending headache that had been in the making for months now, Enji’s new bid for fame and fortune in the shape of a merchandising line of sportswear, had finally come roaring in. Todoroki frowned as his father continued, pricing discussions and production numbers flying by his ear as he contemplated his future as a prop, a walking advertisement for his father with every jump he landed and every medal he earned. It was enough to make him want to quit skating despite the joy he had managed to scrape together from it. 

The only recourse he could possibly have now would to take a fall so drastic as to remove him from competition despite all the medical hurdles Enji would destroy to have him back on the ice again. Looking across at Deku, perusing the tabloid pages and trying intensely not to listen in despite Enji’s booming voice, to the rink’s perfect sheen spreading out behind him, he knew he would miss it. 

Not to mention the competitions. He’d been pushed into skating by Enji from the time he could walk, but he’d found a refuge away from his father on the ice during the events. Enji could yell from the sidelines all he wanted but the music would always drown him out, offering an island where Todoroki could carve out his own path. 

And cross blades with Bakugo on his own terms. The spitfire who had taken the skating world by storm over the past year, known for his explosive jumps and even more explosive temper. The tabloids called him the Jumping Shrimp a few daring times, but no one could deny the air he achieved and the frankly astounding number of rotations on his jumps no less. 

Despite his bafflement at what the tabloids had divined from the podium awards, Todoroki was at least aware of what conversation they were raving about. He’d taken second, by a few fractions of a point margin, and Bakugo had pushed up close to him as they were waiting for the ceremony to start. Nose to nose, he’d hissed the usual threats for taking silver, keeping a smile on his face otherwise for the cameras watching, and the end result had been a much different result from the reality of their interaction. 

And in that moment, sitting on a cold bench listening to his father’s victorious imaginings in his ear, Todoroki’s brain drew a line between the contents of Deku’s hands and the solution to his problems. Now if only he could convince Bakugo to behave. 

—————-

It had to be convincing, at least to the fanatics and daydreamers that wrote the tabloids, and it had be fast. With the deal hanging over his head, Todoroki put his plan into action the very next week. Getting into Bakugo’s usual practice rink wouldn’t have been easy normally, considering the ring of paparazzi vying to get a good shot of the inside, but Deku could work wonders when it came to getting information, and far more handy in this case, loaning him the pass into the place. 

“You here to go a few rounds?” Bakugo snarled, coming to stop at the edge of the rink in a shower of ice and a heated glare. 

“You said you could skate circles around me. But we’ve not been on the same ice at once alone yet,” Todoroki said, shrugging. He’d gotten what he came for already, annoying Bakugo was a minor bonus. 

“Tch, I’m not going to bother with someone who holds back like that in a competition.” 

“It didn’t even count towards our point totals.”

“Is that your excuse for why you didn’t give your best?” Bakugo scoffed, one hand braced on either side of the opening onto the rink as if to guard it against Todoroki. 

“That’s why I came.” Todoroki looked him in the eyes, the step up onto the ice and the extra height from the skates bringing Bakugo level with him despite the few inches of difference. “Motivate me.” 

“What!? Why should that be my job? Motivate yourself, half n’ half!” 

“You said it was a problem, didn’t you? Your words to me at the Cup. So I have the answer.” Spreading his arms, Todoroki gestured to the ice, the smooth expanse of it already drawn on by the graceful arcs and spirals left in Bakugo’s wake. 

“And? What’s that?” Despite his apparent ire, Bakugo didn’t leave and instead leaned against the plastic window siding, still obstructing the entrance but allowing a sliver of ice open to slip past him. 

“Keep... doing what you do. I’ll just embellish a few things.” 

———————————--

“Where do you get off calling me a ‘friend’, huh!?” Bakugo snarled at the next event, in one of the prep rooms in the back. The tv was on in the corner, running commentary on the big event with Russian reporters updating viewers on the newest contenders for the world competition. Todoroki could see his father across the room, attempting to circumvent an official event manager with sheer force of will. With anyone else, it would have worked in a heartbeat but Todoroki could count his lucky stars that this particular woman had a backbone stronger than a steel girder. 

Even so, it would only be a matter of time. 

“You agreed to this. No ‘half-assing’ as you put it. Do you have a complaint against my performance?” 

“We’ll see on the ice, won’t we?” Bakugo glared at him, stretching onto the tips of his skate-guards as he leaned in close. “You give me something worth jumping for, maybe I’ll let you slide with that ‘friend’ comment. Giving those tabloids what they’re hungry for, that’s a cold move even for you, popsicle.” 

Todoroki shrugged, testing the set of his foot in his skate while he eyed his father’s approach. He’d managed to earn an angry phone-call a day for the past month and change, and the merchandising deal looked to be slipping out of Enji’s grasp. All it had taken were a few pointed slip-ups before some fans and cameras, not to mention letting Bakugo’s shoves get a little more personal, and he was set. The magazines that had started it all were eating it up, eagerly awaiting the next scoop in what had been so far described as the secret relationship “hot enough to melt the ice”. 

“What bothers you is not the speculation, but that I termed you a ‘friend’?” he finally asked, just as he saw the manager creek in what he knew would be eventual capitulation to his father. 

“Dirtbags that run those magazines can say whatever they like, I don’t give a shit what they think. They’re not the ones I’m pounding into the ice at every event.” Bakugo grinned, eyes blazing as he looked at Todoroki and the heat that grew inside him in response was something Todoroki hadn’t quite expected. Competition had lost its inherent appeal years ago, it was simply a refuge now, but that fire made the embers that had long since cooled inside him flare up just enough for him to ignore his father for the moment. 

“We’ll see.” 

In the end it was close. 

Todoroki watched Bakugo’s long program and knew it would be a close call for when his turn came around. The fast staccato beat of the music had been matched and sometimes even outdone by the speed of Bakugo’s spins and footwork, whirling across the ice in a trail of green and gold. He’d wondered how Bakugo could keep up that kind of rhythm, expend that much energy into a program when he could just as easily win it with less. But watching him as the final few notes died out, the heave of his chest and that infectiously cocky smirk as he bowed, Todoroki found he’d been exposed a little too long. Even before he’d started this ridiculous plan, he’d known Bakugo was formidable and ferocious, but hadn’t allowed himself to respond to it with the strict cage around him. But now was a perfect opportunity. 

He ignored Enji’s instructions as he entered the rink after Bakugo, passing him on the way and sparing a quick touch to the shoulder. The fact that Bakugo didn’t immediately shrug it off was something to think about as he got into position. And it gave him the drive to do what he’d wanted to do with his long program all along. 

Switching up the jumps, he stretched his limits as far as they would go, enjoying the hiss of his skates on the ice and the cold air rushing past as he spun along the edges. His arms felt lighter, legs less chained to the ground and though he was likely just imagining it, he felt like he soared higher too with each jump. He couldn’t match Bakugo’s speed but that had never been the purpose with his pieces, he was more interested in carrying himself along on the music with a slow build, the beat increasing as his seconds stretched past until he suddenly found himself reaching the end and a smile had almost stretched itself across his mouth. 

The arena might have been cold—especially in the center of the ice—but as soon as the first trill of pipes sounded, Todoroki only felt the heat flowing along his arms and down his legs. His costume might have been just another of Enji’s plows at marketing, with the fringe of sheer fabric that flowed from his wrists like a halo all the way down to his ankles in waves of orange and a pale red, but he felt the flames they were meant to be inside him too. 

The curious elation carried him through his bows, all the way until he’d stepped off the ice and a hand clapped him on the back. 

“That’s how it’s done, Shouto!” Enji’s praise landed around his neck like a bag of bricks. “This will sweep everything else away, the performance that will put the Endeavor line into the stores and off the shelves.” 

Todoroki felt the weight returning, as if his skates had turned to concrete blocks to make up for the ease with which he’d been able to complete his program. The kiss-and-cry awaited, the inevitable suffocation under his father’s self-serving pride and he found himself walking away with Enji’s words echoing in his ears. He’d undone all his plans in less than five minutes, without even seeing the score he knew what was going to happen, could tell from Enji’s barely contained excitement: his father had an obsession with calculating scores and Todoroki knew he wouldn’t be far off. 

“Took you long enough,” Bakugo’s growl was a welcome distraction, so close to his face that the puff of his breath clouded between them. 

“Not afraid for your gold?” Todoroki found himself leaning closer, ostensibly to not allow Bakugo to push him off-balance but he wanted the familiar threats now, the way Bakugo never spared a glance for his father but locked horns only with him. 

“Pretty confident for a slow-poke, you haven’t even gotten the score yet. But looks like you finally stood up on your own. Good enough to beat.” 

Todoroki stared into those burning eyes, at the challenge in them, and took a page out of Bakugo’s book. Curling a fist into the black collar of Bakugo’s costume, he fixed the problem he’d created. 

The kiss was quick, was meant to be quick, if Bakugo hadn’t surged forward too at the same time, clashing into him as if determined to not be outdone. The flash of cameras popped against his closed eyelids, thoughts narrowing down to the warmth returning to him, the same fire as on the ice fanned by Bakugo yet again. 

Sensing the brewing storm behind him, Todoroki let go of Bakugo and made to head for the kiss-and-cry again, but Bakugo held him fast for another second. 

“Those fuckers are calling it a ‘flash paper’ romance, half n’ half,” was all he said. And Todoroki wondered if they knew just how wrong, and maybe just how right, they really were.

AN: For the Todobaku Valentine’s exchange! Also on AO3

Prompts open

[whitealiice]

i rant about alice && beth kane ( a lot ) , under the cut. this post will contain spoilers regarding alice for those who haven’t watched batwoman.

elizabeth ' beth ' kane was born to gabi and jacob kane, and for thirteen years of her life, she was a happy child. she had a sister of kate kane, a sister she was close to. a twin, her mother, and her father. friends, and school. the perfect beginning into life. and then the car crash happened. in this crash, it consisted of herself, kate and gabi. gabi was killed in the crash, having been decapitated, which beth later witnessed floating in the river below. kate escaped the car, and standing there in fear, didn't rescue beth. beth went overboard when the car fell into the river.

beth washed up on the river banks. at some point, august cartwright found beth and decided to essentially kidnap her. for some unknown reasons, but seemingly to give his son, johnny, a friend, against her will. august was set on making a face to hide johnny's deformed face. when beth managed to get to a phone to call jacob and kate and when they showed up to the cartwright's house, august played it off as johnny playing a joke, who was good at mimicking voices. jacob and kate left the house, despite kate being one door away from saving her sister. except august had told beth that if anyone came looking for her, he'd kill them.

mouse, or johnny, gave her an alice in wonderland book, as a gift, to help. beth escaped into the fantasy world, and johnny also later gave her a pet kitten, which beth named the cheshire cat. when cartwright found out about it, he killed the cat, which beth had made a sweater for. using beth and her small hands, cartwright was able to finally make johnny a face to hide his deformities, by having beth stitch human faces together. this is the first major thing in beth's captivity time that caused her to develop dissociative identity disorder. following this, she asked johnny to refer to her as alice.

while mouse was a friend, a person who also had his own problems with his father, august, mouse is not completely innocent in making of alice. mouse wanted alice to stay, so that he had a friend.

in that moment, alice was created to deal with beth's trauma, what she had already experienced, and what she would experience at the hands of august cartwright, and his mother, mabel cartwright. at this time, alice wasn't the violent person she is now viewed to be. she was just stronger, than beth could be, and was there to protect beth from the cartwrights.

but things just got worse over the years. beth wasn't safe to come out, and alice became the dominant personality. but even alice isn't that strong, and the acts of the cartwright began to affect her. this includes mabel's physical and emotional abuse towards her, the burning of her hands repeatedly ( alice does wear the gloves on her hands to conceal the scars given to her by mabel due to pouring hot tea on her hands several times repeatedly) , and the discovery of her mother's head in a freezer, and mabel having her mother's earrings. the first violent act that alice committed, was the burning and killing of mabel cartwright. it's from here, that the house burned down, and alice was able to escape for the first time. however, beth never made it out of that house, not completely. not in one piece. the things in that house, beth wasn't strong enough for it, but to survive at all, alice had to take the reigns.

alice dealt with the trauma of the cartwrights, and it's a reason why she can't deal with experiencing her trauma again in "off with her head" because even she's not strong enough to relive her trauma again, why she has a hard time facing august cartwright in "grinning ear to ear".  but beth is there, in some parts. not the extent of the beth kane from the alternate earth, but there are bits and pieces of beth kane, but not to the extent that kate expects out of her. she wants beth as if the trauma never happened, but it did, and it's why beth kane is such a broken, and mixed up puzzle. when kate convinced alice to tell her where she was holding jacob kane when she kidnapped him in earlier episodes, she did tell her. i think it was beth that was able to appear, and tell her. i think beth is also responsible for alice not fatally stabbing jacob ( even though alice did have a longer plan for jacob, such as framing him for catherine's murder as part of her long scheme ).

i think that that little part of beth is responsible and could symbolize that "little sanity" that alice has left. it's that little rational left to her. like august said, she's  plans, and tries to minimize human collateral damage. without beth as that rationale, she'd murder even more so without consequence. in that way, the fear toxin was an attempt to fully drown out beth. another thing is that, alice is very determined to live, and not to die. she went through so much as a child, so much for beth, and so much for herself, that she's not letting anything take her out. she wasn't letting crows take her down, she wasn't even letting cellular degeneration take her down, or nocturna bleed her out. so the fact that the trauma she went through, affected her so much that alice was willing to take her own life to avoid going through it again ? speaks volumes. kate telling her that she wasn’t worth saving, added alice into a downwward spiral when kate picked beth from the other earth over her, but despite the hurt she felt, alice picked herself, and wasn’t going to let her depression take her out of the earth either. as she stated “someone had to pick me for once.”

alice stated that she survived captivity for over a decade, and has stated it to be 11 years. so, with a slightly awkward timeline, alice killed mabel after eleven years since the car crash, and then for 4 years ( totaling up to her 15 total years missing ), was up in the air. her time since killing mabel and appearing in gotham is up in the air. but it's likely, over those years, she came up with her grand scheme of uniting her family in her own way, and taking out those and doing damage to those that she had reason to ( catherine faking her death, jacob who she blamed because he stopped looking for her, leaving her in the cartwright's house ).

as far as beth kane's DID goes, there are two differences. what remains of beth kane, and the current, and main host, alice. alice is the criminal and villain that people see in gotham's eyes. beth kane no longer exists as she used to, but she's the small rational part of alice now. the small times when alice gives up information, the only reason she attempted kate's "don't kill for 24 hours." for the most part, beth kane doesn't front as a personality, because alice hasn't let her guard down to do so. when she has, beth has only showed up for only seconds, minutes at the most. i think that alice also playing the instrument in jacob’s office in the early episode of the season, was also beth. beth learned how to play, alice never did. i think this is another reason why alice didn’t know where the necklace came from that she wore. because, she hadn’t received it. beth did.

alice is very skilled. she's skilled in manipulation, and thinking several steps ahead. she's skilled in throwing knives,and she isn't to be underestimated. she's been shown several times to be capable of handling herself, and getting into places that are deemed impossible to break into, such as jacobe and catherine's room in crow security. she's shown that she's cable of escaping heavy crow interrogation with just fishing line that kept the alice in wonderland book pages together. she's also capable of making things up on the spot, especially when it comes to weapons, having used garden sheers, and a trumpet, a laptop and medical tray as weapons in tight situations. she's capable of hitting hard and fast and taking opponents by surprise.

alice is methodical enough to know how to plan several steps ahead. such as the poisoning of catherine, she made it a point to use a poison that catherine had made, and knew that both catherine, and mary would drink the poisoned drink, resulting in a game of life or death. she’s very goal driven, and is capable of restraining herself so that things go according to plan, such as not fatally stabbing jacob kane so that he could be set up later.

as much as she references alice in wonderland, alice doesn't like to be taken as a game, and makes this clear when she cuts off a man's finger to send the message that she's not playing a game, and makes a point of doing eeny, meeny, miny, moe but choosing the next guy in the lineup to punish instead of the one the game landed on, because she ISN'T playing a game. alice also has a higher pain toleration than the typical person, and can suffer through minor injuries and a few major injuries without showing too much pain. 

alice does feel relief and satisfaction that both of her abusers are now deceased. however, the damage has been done and will be a very long path to actually healing from what was done to her over a decade. alice has nightmares, she doesn’t sleep much and she wakes up screaming. just because they aren’t there physically to torment her on this earth, they are demons in her mind that won’t vanish.

[callmedotseurat]

Blast from the past, when Bernadette was a bit more talkative in her interviews (Boston Globe, Dec. 1981)

*****************

It's 10:30 a.m. and Bernadette Peters, whose tiny frame is wrapped in a pink silk robe, spills out of the bedroom of her suite, wet curls framing her renaissance face. She has stepped from the shower to the interview.The shower was still running. But Steve Martin, wearing make-up, left this message: He's going back to bed. He had to get up for a too-early television appearance. He's tired.

Meanwhile, a maid armed with a vacuum cleaner is humming through her chores. An agent is on the phone, something about the sensational Bernadette Peters pictures in Playboy. And here she is, this little Botticelli blonde, mischief glinting in her eyes, gliding in the room. "Ta-ra! I'm here! Ta-ra!" She continues a pirouette that is simultaneously elegant and slapstick, then flops into a corner of the couch. The photographer, anxious to freeze the action, instantly follows her with his lens.

The questions you would most like to ask Bernadette Peters are questions she has already asked herself. All you have to do is be a good listener, guiding the conversation gently, preventing it from wandering, considering what she says with your heart as well as your ear.

Bernadette Peters is from a Sicilian family of bakers from Queens. Manhattan is home. Her family name is Lazzara. Only now, at the Carlyle, you have to be announced. You have to be on her list of visitors to be accepted into her suite.

She has never married. What is her passion?

It's her work, her career, developing her talents. She is an actress, a dancer, a singer, a flamboyant female whose delicate aura is disarming, misleading. She is not a helpless vanilla creature. She is a small but powerful bundle of dynamite, a woman not in full bloom but exploding with ambition.

It was always this way.

She started singing and dancing as a child in a TV program, "The Children's House." As a teenager, she appeared in the Bowery Lane Theater. Audiences loved her. So did one of her discoverers, Carol Burnett, who had her as a guest frequently on "The Carol Burnett Show."

Norman Lear also "discovered" her when she appeared in a Los Angeles stage tribute to the late George Gershwin. Lear offered her a guest role in "Maude," which led to the CBS-TV series, "All's Fair."

When Bernadette Peters was 19, she appeared in an off-Broadway musical spoof, "Dames At Sea." She got rave reviews. Then she appeared in a revival of "On The Town." Raves again. And a Tony nomination. More raves for her appearance in the doomed David Merrick's play, "Mack & Mabel," and a second Tony nomination.

One important thing you've got to understand about Bernadette Peters.

She has had her ups and downs.

She's unstoppable.

"Yuck, safe is boring. I want to grow. You want to know what creativity is? It's tapping places you didn't know, places you didn't know existed inside you. I am very distinctive looking. You want to know something? It's very limiting looking the way I look. When I started in show business, I wanted to get a job, any job, so I auditioned for the chorus. Nobody hired me to be a chorus girl. I stuck out too much. I didn't blend. Know what they wanted? They wanted a California sunshine orange-juice kid. I didn't look like, hey, your well-scrubbed typical American teenager.

"Know what I did? I straightened my hair, one of those blunt cuts. I wore collegiate clothes. But my hair was too hard to deal with, all natural curls. And I didn't like the clothes. So I said: The hell with it.' I said: I am going to be myself.' I said: This is what I am and this is it.' See, I didn't care by then. I wasn't getting work the other way so I decided to be myself. That takes guts. But there's only one of you in the world, so you might as well be the best you can be. Right?

"Being an individual is the most important thing in the world. I should have done it all the time. I thought a lot about myself before being myself. Maybe that was a good thing. It made being individual less scary. Individuality is a great release, don't you think? It frees you. You don't have to scrunch into somebody else's idea of you, a mold. Know what? I'm trying more and more to be me.

"It's a matter of stripping away your fears, one-by-one. We are all layered in fears and they've got to be pulled away. It's like counting backwards from 10 - 10, 9, 8 . . . As the numbers get lower, the peeling away gets easier. You get more and more courage to be yourself. The disappearance of each layer is the very thing that gives you courage.

"I was very insecure. Insecurity is poison. It's like wearing chains. It prevents you from going anywhere. It gets so it becomes hard to meet people, just to say, Oh, hello there!' You know what I mean?

"When I was a kid growing up in Queens, I studied Hollywood. I'd hear on the television that so-and-so was getting a divorce. Hollywood meant divorce. Hollywood meant a lot of diamonds and a lot of gowns. Hollywood meant nothing real. But all the time I wanted to be a star, a Hollywood star, but the old myths stuck in my mind. Those myths became my insecurities.

"Guess what happened? I said to myself: If you have a good car, a good home, nice things - is it going to change you?' And then I said to myself: No, no, no, you earned it. So I decided I deserved whatever my success brought. And layer No. 10 of my insecurities was gone! Peeled away!"

"I'm very strong. Can you tell that I am strong? Well, for a long time, I denied my own strength. I had this real fear of aggression. Know what I did? I played the typical feminine role. Helpless. Flighty. I figured a man is strong and a woman satellites around her man. I tried to tell myself that women are not strong. But underneath I was strong, very strong, and I allowed my strength to surface. How did I do it? I started making one decision, then another, and still another. Then I was making a lot of decisions and I was happy with those decisions. And I began enjoying the results of my decisions. That-- 9 of insecurity gone! Poof!

"I still look fluffy, don't I? Oh I know that. But I can change. You haven't forgotten that I'm an actress, have you? No? Well, there are such things as make-up. And wigs. I can change. The thing is that the more you assert yourself, the more you express yourself, the more people hear you. It's all attitude. It's not necessarily the way you look! It's all in being yourself. No, it's more than that! It’s the way I am.

"Want to know what my big dream in life is? I don't have a five- year plan, a 10-year plan. I don't have specific objectives. My dream is to grow, to be the best that I can be. I want to be proud of my work. Maybe marriage. Maybe kids. I said maybe. Then my other dream is to be self-assured. Not to have fears that I can't conquer. I am still haunted by fears, little ones. Oh, I'm shy. I can't make myself say, Hello' to a stranger, even if the stranger is someone I think I'd like to know. You want to know what I do? I practice saying hello to strangers.

"I'm terribly shy. Acting is a great outlet. On stage, I don't have to worry at doing and saying. In real life you have to worry, yes. You ask yourself: Have I spoken when I should not have spoken?

"My mother always told me I was beautiful. I didn't believe her. I didn't like what I saw in the mirror. I didn't think I was pretty enough or thin enough or popular enough. That was another layer of insecurity, something to be peeled away.

"Now I think I am distinctive looking, different looking. I don't think I am gorgeous. At least not in terms of what society thinks is gorgeous. When I love somebody, I love the person that the person is. I love Walter Matthau. To me, he's handsome because of the way he is, not the way he actually looks."-

"I had another hangup, still another insecurity that had to go. I thought that being a success meant that you had to stab someone in the back. The words, career-oriented and ambitious - I used to be afraid of those words. I used to call those words the back-stabbing words. Well, now I know. Having a career is not being bad. You did not have to step on or over anybody. Look, I got here in spite of myself. I got here despite all my drawbacks, all my insecurities. Why? Because I don't think of myself in terms of insecurity anymore.

"If I hear that someone doesn't like me, I say: Oh, they'll change their mind in the future. Later they'll like me. In two or three years, I'll do something that will make that person like me. I've been hired by people who said, before, that they didn't care for my work.

"I've established myself. I know part of this business is rejection. But I know a lot about myself. I can't live in a suburb. I know that just raising a family isn't enough. I've tried to knit. I don't like to knit. I've tried to sew. I made my graduation dress and, gee, I almost had to wear it. It was bad! I hate to crochet. But I love to act. And I act when I sing. When I'm on stage, when I do something exceptional, something I've never done before, I feel I've been someplace I've never been. And it's all happening inside me."

[awakenedsadisticghosts]

Becca

Becca

(warning: This is vile and disgusting! You have been warned!)

Tags: Necrophilia, blood, murder, sex, serial killer, dismemberment

Words 2.2

Sometimes I must say my nightly hunting routines do get old quickly and not every expedition around town results in finding a special friend to play with. In late January, due to COVID-19 no one is out anymore, no one walks around anymore, and not as many people frequent bars or restaurants either. It gets extremely frustrating and can send me into a frenzy where my careful and meticulous ways become more chaotic. 

When My mind gets chaotic the voices and noises get louder and louder. The impulses get harder and harder to control and I am afraid that I will make a mistake. I need to be careful and I need to be discrete because I would rather die than be some thug convict, or some lab rat in a mental hospital. I would take my own life in a real vile and disgusting way. I have put a lot of thought into it, really I have and it would be truly epic where people would remember my name for years to come. I know you’re curious to know how I would off myself in a truly despicable way. 

Fuck you!

I would never deprive you of that kind of information. First would highly medicate myself because the amount of pain I will go through I don’t want to pass out. I want to stay awake and feel everything. Too much pain would cause me to pass out and further prolong my suicide, however too much medication would not allow me to function so it has to be perfect. 

 I would start with making small cuts all over my body. Deep cuts, shallow cuts and all different angles and areas. These cuts represent punishment for years of killing, raping, necrophilia, and all the things I have done. I would cut my penis and testicles off simply because without them I am no one. Severely tear and cut my achilles tendons because those are the toughest type of injury a person can sustain and would not allow me to walk the same ever again. Cut off my toes just in case I fully healed from the achilles tendon without my toes I would not be able to keep my balance. My ears because of all the screams and crying and pain I have heard represents my love for the kill. Cut my nipples off as that is my true signature and as I lay bleeding out I would draw a pentagram on the floor with my blood and lay my body parts on each of the points on the star with myself in the center. 

The pentagram is so outlandish that upon finding my body parts and my dead body within it would be completely against my fake persona. It would be the opposite of what everyone around me thinks I represent. Inside the pentagram I would finally slit my throat and let the blood flow until I was dead. 

I wonder what they would say about me after they found me like that.

This isn’t about me assholes, I am telling you about my girls, my kills and telling my story. This one is about Becca, sweet Becca. She was one that was very special to me and was not like the other sluts I found during my hunts. You see, I didn’t find her when I stalked around the city like a hungry wolf. She was someone I already knew but she fit my parameters very well.

Becca was a hot little 27 year old stoner chick I had known for a few years. We had not been friends directly, more like a friend of a friend. She was slender, small breasts, not much of an ass, but very attractive. Even though her tits and her ass were small, she had just enough to grab and would make any man happy. She definitely suffered from depression and had a fascination with the macabre, but what attracted me to her was her social media posts.

I have a type, each girl must be special and fit a very specific set of parameters. Young, small frame, long slender legs, dark or colored hair, tattoos, and promiscuous. The way they talk and move matters to me. I do not just pick up random girls, no they all mean something to me. There is a sexual nature to each of the girls I pick up and I would never pick a girl without the sexual attraction to them. Becca was special, more so than she thought.

Becca had a pretty big social media presence between the overly sexualized stories she writes, the overly sexualized posts as well as the suicidal posts. Each post I saw from her moved me closer to chaos as she was not initially in my plans and would have been safe if she did not have as much of a social media presence. When she posted about suicide that’s when my plans begun to fester, but more spefically when she posted the sexualized posts I knew that she was next.

I had begun to hear the voices specifically saying “Kill her, Kill her” and over time they got louder and louder. It was initially easy to block them out and I have to find a balance between my fake life and my real life. Becca proved to be a very difficult person in my life and although I grew fond of her, a real hatred grew inside of me as well. I had to come up with a plan, I had to deal with it and finish it.

It took weeks, but I came up with a plan to rent a cottage in the woods up in Northern, NH. I rented it a week before and told my wife we were going on vacation. This would give me a full week before my wife and I were going to be there. That was plenty of time to invite Becca to the cottage under the false pretense that we were going to celebrate my wife’s birthday. Sadly my wife was not going to be there and she would be walking into my trap.

My wife and Becca planned everything for our vacation and it was all going according to plan. All I had to do was call Becca and let her know of the “surprise party” and that I needed her help to set everything up. She fell for my trap and it was set. I told her not to worry about transportation as I can drive there. During the ride we spoke and shared personal stories, but it was mainly small talk. When we pulled up it was completely dark outside and isolated. 

Becca joked and stated “Watch out for leatherface!” I let out a small chuckle as I internalized the plan of killing her in my own head.

As we went inside I stated that we should go to bed and set everything up tomorrow as it was late.  Becca stated that she was going to stay up for a bit, which I offered her a cocktail. As I made us drinks I slipped a roofie into hers and mixed it in. It mixed so well and there was no difference in color between the two drinks. I brought her the drink and did not expect her to drink it all in one gulp. 

“Wow, Becca slow down!” I stated 

“Why I don’t have anywhere to go and I have nothing to do.” She replied

Becca pulled out a baggie and a small pipe and started smoking it. “You don’t mind it I smoke this here do you?” she asked

“Not at all” I replied back knowing that any minute she was going to be completely passed out and I could go to work. I had big plans for Becca and even know the voices got so loud and chaotic that I almost preemptively acted on the urges. 

“This fucking weed is killing me bro.” She stated as she started slouching down on the couch. As the seconds ticked by I could see that the roofie was taking effect and within minutes she was passed out. 

I went out to the car and pulled out my tools and went back inside. I took the living room and completely taped and quarantined it from the rest of the cottage so I can have an easier clean up. I organized my tools and prepared Becca by cutting and tearing her clothes off and then removing my own clothes. Her body was more impressive than I imagined and really slender. Her breasts were small, but enough to hold onto and her nipples were small. I removed her panties and smelled them. They smelled sweet. Her pussy was inviting and was small like her frame. 

Becca was not one to typically have painted nails which attracted my attention when I saw Molly. She did have a septum piercing which I ripped out of her nose…..So unattractive. Becca was special in that the chaos between the voices and noises led me to this very moment. I lean over her unconscious body and can feel her chest rise and fall. I take my knife and slide it up and down her body leaving small cuts on her stomach and chest. Down her pussy lips and down her legs cutting her along the way. I love how her blood flows. I start cutting her deeper and deeper and don’t want to kill until she wakes up.

As I am still cutting her I feel her body wriggle and move and start to awaken. She screams and yells “What the fuck are you doing you fucken freak, let me go!” As she screams I grab her throat and press my body onto hers so I can feel the moment life leaves her body. I squeeze my hands on her throat as she gasps for air still trying to fight me off. Her final gasps for air make her weak and her arms fall to the floor as she starts trembling violently underneath me. After a few seconds she lays still, motionless and the look in her eyes goes from complete fear to emptiness. 

Now my cock is harder than a rock and I feel the impulse to take her right there. I release my hands and grab her hips as I thrust my cock deep into her pussy. I fuck her tight little pussy as she lays dead and completely motionless and unable to fight me off. I violently penetrate her pussy and thrust hard enough to almost break her hips.  As I fuck her I stick my fingers deep into her cuts and rip the skin folds open tearing the skin.

I smack and punch at her as I fuck her pussy thrusting hard. I pull out of her pussy and begin fucking her asshole just as hard, thrusting my cock deep into her ass. I beat her ass till it is bloody and red and after a few minutes I feel my cock enlarge and I pull out and cum all over a towel. My sexual urges cannot be stopped and although I may not control the urges I am careful not to leave my DNA on, or inside of her. I am careful, and meticulous and have thought of everything. It is all according to the plan.

As the blood flows more and more I stand over Becca covered in her Blood. I start getting into a frenzy and start obsessively stabbing her all over. I stab her face, neck, chest and legs all over and I am not sure even how many times I did. I removed her head, hands, arms, legs and feet. I could see that the sun was almost coming up and I needed to finish.

Mistakenly during my frenzy I stabbed her eyes and they were bloody goop. I dragged her upstairs to the bathroom tub where I would leave her to be found later on. The next few hours are spent cleaning and taking down my kill room to restore the cottage back to how it was when we first arrived. It was clean and as though nothing happened here. I always go back and wear gloves, wipe down surfaces, and door knobs to eliminate any DNA or fingerprints. I take a shower and get dressed and sit in my car reflecting back on the events that just occurred. 

*UPDATE*

My wife and I were called a few days later and the owner of the cottage told us that the cottage was unavailable for the foreseeable future and will process a refund. My wife and I were saddened by the news, but it wasn’t until weeks later that we saw on the news that Becca died. Secretly, I love watching my kills on TV and reliving the moment although my wife was devastated that her friend was brutally murdered, I just got chills and a sudden rush of excitement when they were discussing the crime and how police found her. I apparently stabbed Becca 73 times, she had well over a hundred cuts all over her body….I am so brutal and vile. Maybe I should take my own life and end this suffering…..I will probably just be out again hunting…...

[ink-of-an-author-blog]

The Ascension Universe

Welcome to another creation of a beautiful universe! So, this universe involves five siblings who are planning to dethrone every goddamn gods and goddesses in the universe with the gifts that were granted to them. This takes place in a world where gods and goddesses have always been revealed  to humanity. Of course, the gods and goddesses granted people gifts in hope that one day, they will use those gifts and kill them with it. Of course, gods and goddesses do pick favorite. The god of creation decided to grant two unique gifts to one person. Of course, another gift was granted on accident. This is where the story begins.

Now, let me explain the gifts given to humans. Each gifts are given by a god or goddess. These gifts varies as each gods and goddesses gives people different gifts. Multiple gifts can be given to a human if the gods and goddesses wanted. It’s basically having an ultimate talent from danganronpa except you had it with no training and it isn’t really a talent. They did grant four humans the ability to train other humans on how to kill a god. Now, lets move on to the four human beings.

Aries / Constellation - Aries, or typically referred as Constellation, is gender-less human who was granted the gift of extreme intelligence, having no gender, and possessing divine blood. Him possessing divine blood was an accident that couldn’t be fixed though. Despite having no gender, he goes by he/him pronouns to make it easier for his siblings. Constellation is the name that people have used to refer him as he never told anyone his name. This is also his suggested name. Due to possessing divine blood, he knows how to do magic. He’s more famous for his healing/life magic that he uses to resurrect animals. Unlike his siblings, he possesses no remorse for killing animals. He can just resurrect them once the test is over. He found out how to become an immortal and regenerate limbs with a potion that included his blood. Since he loves his family, he slipped the full version of the potion in his family’s food when it was his turn to cook. He didn’t slip it into his as he would drink a weaker version of the potion which will cause his immortality to wear off. He trains humans on how to outsmart a god and how to ambush them. He has sky blue hair with gold eyes. He has pale skin with freckles that go over his nose. His hair is cut in a bob with long, wavy side bangs. He’s the scholar in the kingdom and the youngest out of his siblings.

Hikaru - Hikaru is a male ruler who tends to be a tad bit... chaotic. He was granted the gift of leadership. He usually has wounds on his body due to the result of him fighting the second oldest brother, Jun. He is known as a good leader who seems to get in trouble with death more than a usual person should. While he does love his siblings, he does things that make them quite concern. While he is reckless, he knows when to act as a true leader. He’s not the brightest in the group until it comes to leading. He’s not aware of what Aries is doing. So when his head got chopped off, you could tell he was shock when he found out that he was still alive. He has short, sky blue hair that’s simply a mess. He has long, messy side bangs. He wears a black crystal crown with blue pearls between them. He has pale skin and golden eyes like his brothers and sister. He has stitches around the middle of his neck. Over his left eye is more stitches. He trains generals of the royal armies on how to be a good leader and how to plan out attacks. There’s blood dripping from the top of his head. He’s the oldest out of his siblings and is the king of the kingdom.

Jun - Jun is a fake priest who usually is covered in blood of others. He was granted the gift of fighting skills. The blood is usually either Hikaru or someone who “failed” their training. He’s known as the sadistic liar whose reflection is different from them. He has murderous intentions for everything beside his family. He does become softer toward his siblings and is a bit more docile. He was the one who had accidentally caused Hikaru to get stitches on his face. He’s fully aware of what Aries is doing and really doesn’t care about it. He just wants to overthrow the gods and goddesses. He has dull, long, sky blue hair with straight, long side bangs. His hair is in a low ponytail. He has pale skin like his siblings. He can’t see out of his right eye since Hikaru had actually stabbed it out when they didn’t have the immortality potion. He has golden eye with a bloody eye-patch. His right eye appears to still be bleeding as there’s usually blood in dripping down from the eye-patch. He trains soldiers on how to fight a god and how to avoid attacks. He’s the second oldest out of his siblings and is one of the generals in the kingdom.

Mukuro - Mukuro is a Japanese traditional dancer whose mutation doesn’t get in the way of teaching people. She is granted with the gift of all magic. Despite barely having any injuries, there’s usually bandages around her head and around her neck. She’s known as “the Angel’s Blessing” as she is much more well-behaved compared to her brothers. She possesses the ability to do all type of magic, but she’s still learning how to use them. She’s known for her docile nature and prefers to stay on the sidelines. She seems to be more playful and open toward her siblings. She has short, messy, sky blue hair that is cut in a messy bob. She has long side bangs that goes past her shoulders and is tied at the end of it. She has peachy tan skin and golden eyes. Her ears are white wings unlike her siblings. She trains the magic users on how to use a god’s magic against them. She’s the third oldest out of his siblings and is the fresh breath of air in the kingdom.

This has been Qilin becomes God and you’re watching Disney Channel. Goodbye-