#you should take my brain out after i die and inspect it like they did with einstein

[yellowistheraddest]

gonna say this for like the 900th time, but i want to draw in a funkier style - but my pea sized brain is filled to the brim with anxiety and doing something new when i have a strict routine of how to make drawings... lets just say i know how to make myself scared of drawing

[pixie-in-a-moonlantern]

F/M Durgetash one-shot I birthed within a single day. Dead Dove: I don't like Gortash (hence the title), but I do find him mysteriously, annoyingly attractive. Couldn't get him out of my head - so I tried, the best way I knew how - by writing a fic xD. I hope you like it, but it's not essential to my wellbeing, I just really needed to get this off my chest. But it's been fun, so hopefully you'll have fun too.

Explicit 18+, F/M, Enver Gortash / The Dark Urge (old name Talas, new name Nara, some half-elf or other, unimportant), rough sex, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie, some emotional trauma, light stabbing/cutting with a dagger, a bit of aftercare in the form of bathing together.

Yes, Gortash bathes in this story. TWICE. He really needs it :P.

I Don't Like You

01 - Brain worms having a field day.

The night is slowly creeping in, but I’m in no state of mind to sleep. I pace and I rake my hair and I groan. My friends are watching me with concern in their eyes. I can’t blame them—I must look like a lunatic, more so than usually.

I feel like I’m going insane and for a whole new set of reasons than before.

What were we?

Gortash got into my head and now he’s refusing to leave. Was he just trying to mess with me? Did he notice the unmasked disdain in my face and decide to make my skin crawl in revenge? He must know I only have red fog in my brain where my past should be. And he looks just like the kind of man who would lie about it to make me nauseated. No way I’ve ever let those grubby hands touch me.

Yet…

I can hardly admit it to myself, but nausea is not the full extent of my reaction. I feel as if my own body knows this man. My memory is still a blank page, but something in me recognizes him. Something primal. Something hungry.

The urges I’ve been having since meeting Gortash have very little to do with Bhaal.

“Honeymuffin, are you still not ready for bed?”

I hear Halsin’s soothing voice and immediately feel myself relaxing. I turn to him, grateful for the distraction. He’s only dressed in his underpants and the sight of his bushy chest hits a dirty note.

I ignore his question and just press into him, kissing his gentle lips with ferociousness he hasn’t experienced from me yet. He’s responsive and gives in for a few seconds, but then chuckles into my mouth and drags me off of him by the shoulders to inspect me.

“What has gotten into you, my love?”

I groan, freeing myself from his grip. I always appreciate how sensitive he is to my moods and thoughts, but right now, I would die of embarrassment if someone actually found out what’s running through my head.

“I’m just irritated,” I lie through my teeth. “Gortash is one annoying son of a bitch. I hate that we have to pretend to work with him. ‘Notice the way he just kept us there under the threat of violence, to witness his sham of an inauguration? After everything he said about wanting to be partners? Ugh, I could just…” My fists close of their own accord, crushing the imaginary windpipe.

Halsin chuckles again and runs a calloused palm softly along my jaw in a comforting gesture.

“I know, Nara, I know,” he grumbles low, pulling me into a hug. “He irked me, as well. He isn’t worth the stress, though. Let’s sleep. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

But I can’t sleep. Once Halsin goes into his trance, it’s like he’s not here to hold me together anymore. I toss and turn. I grit my teeth. I grunt and pull on my hair. I try to silence my thoughts with a pillow over my head. It’s no use. I know what I have to do to get some peace of mind.

I get up as quietly as I possibly can. I don’t bother changing—I don’t plan to impress anyone. I just take a small dagger and throw a cloak over my shoulders, so I can hide in the shadows more easily, and sneak out of the inn.

I’m going to make him tell me the truth.

02 - Urge! But not to kill.

Getting into the Wyrmrock is laughably easy. I know the guards would just let me pass, but there’s no way in the Nine Hells I would embarrass myself like that. Little ol’ me going to see “Lord” Gortash in my casual clothes in the middle of the night—what a delicious story for the Baldur’s Mouth it would make. So I utilize every last muscle memory from the past I don’t remember, slipping in completely undetected.

He’s in the throne room, but not sitting on the damned thing. The main section is drowning in darkness, but I see a sliver of light coming from behind the door to one of the adjacent rooms. A study, maybe?

I almost trigger one of the traps as I’m sneaking towards him. There are Steel Watch still stationed around the room, but they appear less than attentive this time. Do they have some sort of down time? Or did Gortash put them in do-not-disturb mode?

I’m trying to not get myself executed, so I push down the instinct to grip the dagger I’m hiding under the cloak. If he wanted me dead, he wouldn’t have made such theatrics to gain my cooperation this morning. The question of whether I wanted him dead remains to be answered.

I take a quiet peek into the warmly lit room and suppress a whistle. It’s a study alright, but one Gortash seems to be using as an apartment—a wide, comfortable, richly adorned bed stands next to his desk, draped in red silk. He’s not in it, though—he sits by the desk, bent over a document, clad only in what looks like a bathrobe.

I try to filter myself through the crack in the door, but the stupid hinges creak so loud I gasp and just inelegantly stumble inside.

Gortash jumps off his chair and twirls around, body taut, eyes alert, a quill in his left hand held like a weapon, the other hand ready to shove the metal claws of his fancy gold netherstone-adorned gauntlet into someone’s eye. I grit my teeth and consider pulling out the dagger—but the second his gaze lands on me, he straightens and lets out a half relieved, half amused chortle.

“Sneaking up on me again?” He shakes his shaggy head. “Are Bhaalists simply unable to set up a meeting, like the rest of us?”

I open my mouth, a scathing comeback ready, but as soon as I let the air in the room in, I’m stunned. There’s a distinct fragrance of soap and perfume, a freshness that only comes from thoroughly scrubbing yourself clean, and, among them, the unmistakable scent of him. The musk that speaks directly to the undamaged parts of my brain.

I can’t believe how clean Gortash looks now. He evidently didn’t plan on any public appearances this late at night, so even his hair is not styled into spikes anymore and it’s just messily sticking out in natural directions, still a little damp from the bath. Funny—he didn’t think to wash before his big inauguration, but he washed now, when no one important is scheduled to see him?

He takes my silence as an opportunity to speak more, instead of waiting for an answer. He tilts his head, gaze slowly gliding down my body, and smirks.

“Shouldn’t you be curled on your bed next to the enormous druid, sleeping soundly? Wouldn’t he be oh so hurt if he knew you were seeking another man’s company?”

“What the fuck would you know?” I snap, his tone setting off a charge of anger inside me. “You don’t know him. Hells, you don’t know me! You don’t get to make snarky remarks about my enormous druid.”

Gortash cackles quietly and puts up his hands in a calming gesture.

“Of course I don’t.” His smirk deepens, his eyes studying my face. “But trust me, kitten. No one…” he takes a seductive little step towards me, “knows you like I do.”

“I doubt that,” I rasp barely audibly, a lump forming in my throat. My guts clench, breath shortening in panic. It’s all just an elaborate joke, I’m sure… but it feels so familiar.

“You really don’t remember,” he quips softly, as if to himself, and I can hear a hint of disappointment in his tone.

“What were we, Gortash?” I whisper, voice quivering on the cusp of a mental breakdown.

He stares at me, chewing his cheek, and his answer is a single word: “Enver.”

“What?” I scowl, anger rising again.

“My name,” he reminds me quietly. “You used to call me Enver, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me pet names, Gortash,” I force through my teeth. “Whatever you dreamed was between us, it’s most definitely not there anymore.”

“Alright.” He presses his lips together in annoyance, but steps closer, eyes radiating something close to malice. I gulp, my hand curling into a fist, pressing to the hilt at my hip. “I won’t call you kitten, or love, or sweetheart. Those were all just words I used to tease you with.” Drawling, stretching his words, he hovers above me. “But I have earned the right to call you Talas.”

That makes me pause and I just blink at him blankly for a second. “Who’s that?”

Genuine shock colors his face. He takes a step back, mouth agape. “That you don’t remember my name, I would understand. But how do you not remember your own?”

“Because someone caved my head in, trying to kill me!” I scream, suddenly overflowing with something I haven’t felt for a while: self-pity. I feel tears prickle in my eyes and that just makes me want to yell louder. “Because someone took everything from me. And where the fuck were you when I was bleeding out into the dirt?! If you were such a shitty partner, why in the Hells did I even bother with you?”

Gortash’s features softened, pain and regret gleaming in his eyes.

“I wasn’t your keeper, Talas,” he countered. “You were always an independent force, often off on business I had no say in. But when you didn’t come back one day, I searched for you.” His eyebrows join in a pleading line. “I searched for you with every bit of resources I could spare. Then Orin muscled in on our plot and made me stop under the threat of unraveling the whole thing. I accepted you as a loss… but I mourned for a long time.”

His words eat their way into my chest like acid. I don’t want to believe a single one, but something in me knows it’s the truth.

“Don’t tell me you loved me,” I hiss. “You don’t strike me as a man who allows himself such weaknesses.”

He smirks and I bristle. I knew it. Liar!

“Love is for children,” he chuckles. “We had something much more precious. We made a great team. Your monstrosity and mine were in perfect harmony. No one understood me like you did. No one encouraged my every exploit like you did. You were such a horrible influence on me,” he purrs, his eyes half closed. “Delicious. Deplorable. Delightful.”

I gulp and shiver under the intensity of his gaze. It feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes and I can’t decide how I feel about it. I want to be disgusted, but that knot low in my belly has a different agenda. Without remembering a single minute of knowing him, my body knows it used to crave this man’s attention.

He extends his unclawed hand to me and grazes my skin. It burns and it tickles and it sends powerful signals all over my nervous system. But this is not what I want. It can’t be.

Quick as lightning, I pull my dagger out and press it to his neck in warning.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” I filter through my teeth.

He catches my wrist quicker than I would’ve given him credit for. Instead of pulling it away, though, he presses the blade closer, almost cutting into himself. I gasp in shock, struggling against his strength. His dead eyes flicker to life, ablaze with desire.

“There she is,” he whispers almost breathlessly, biting his lip. “You seem so different… but I knew my pet monster was somewhere in there.”

“I’m nothing of yours,” I force through my dried throat, my voice failing me.

Suddenly, he moves my hand away from his neck, only to press my white-knuckled fist to his lips in a kiss. My whole body responds, buzzing in approval. “You don’t mean that,” he teases, his hot breath tickling the spot he kissed.

“Don’t do that,” I breathe out, a lump forming in my throat, making my voice sound funny.

He pulls my wrist to his mouth and licks it with a quick flick before his teeth start to nibble on the sensitive skin, sending shockwaves of ecstasy down my arm.

“Stop it,” I beg, the command I meant to utter melting into a pathetic mewl.

I twist and try to get away for a second or two, but he keeps moving lower and lower, licking, sucking, biting, and every last defense I had crumbles into ashes. It doesn’t matter that I’m someone else now. It doesn’t matter that I would never consciously and honestly team up with him again. It doesn’t matter what I think of him or what I believe he deserves.

I never had a chance. My body knows him, my body craves him. He’s like a drug addiction I never quite shook, and at the slightest sweet taste I relapse right back into him.

03 - A master. A slave.

He pulls me in, mouth still hungrily devouring my arm inch by inch, while his free hand frantically unties my cloak, revealing my simple shirt and long skirt underneath.

“You used to wear fancier things.” He side-eyes my clothing, not letting it distract him from my skin too much. “And would get mad when I tore them to shreds. This is perfect.”

My sluggish thoughts haven’t even begun to analyze the meaning in his words when he presses me flush to his chest, moving from nibbling on my shoulder to assaulting my mouth. I gasp for the breath he keeps stealing with every touch, but let him surround me and trap me with his body. I feel his desperate need mirroring my own. His taste is surprisingly sweet, with just a hint of hot spice.

“No,” I manage to mumble through our locked lips, grasping at the last straws of control. My hand is finally free—I try stabbing him in the crook of his neck. He yelps and groans, but my muscles are so useless I’ve barely scratched him. A thin streak of blood trickles out of the cut, marring the delicate fabric of his robe.

“You thought that would stop me?” he purrs, pulling the robe off his body. “Your knives left more than one scar on me. It was our thing.”

I stare at his muscly, hairy chest, mute. I see scars on his torso, criss-crossing his skin like a crude carving. That couldn’t be my doing… But the metallic scent of his blood sends a new sort of excitement through me. I know it’s my Urge, I know it’s not really me, but my will is weakened. My hand raises and cuts him again—just a little, but enough to satisfy the craving.

“Your body remembers,” he whispers into my ear, standing my hair on their ends.

His gloved hand caresses my arm and shoulder and closes around my throat. I gasp in panic, or I think I do, but heat pools in my lower regions in response. He presses a touch harder; his gold ornaments are digging into my skin, claws pinching my nape and my head is starting to swim with lack of oxygen. My fingers wrap around his wrist, but for some reason I don’t pull him away.

“Every time you hurt me, I will hurt you back,” he promises in a sweet, sin-filled voice. “Call it our love language.”

He lets go of my neck, hands roughly gripping my waist instead. He twirls us around and sits me on top of his desk. I fumble to find balance and end up sending his documents, ink and quills all over the floor. Instead of complaining, he eagerly swipes the rest of the items off the surface and pushes me down on my back.

The panic it triggers gives me back a chunk of my reason. Instead of letting him, I fight back, clawing at his bare chest with my nails and my dagger, leaving bloody gashes over his skin.

His head lulls back for a moment, which makes me realize I’m not helping at all. He’s enjoying the pain I give him. He takes fistfuls of my shirt and bends down to bite my shoulder—hard. I yelp, reaching into his hair to pull him away, but he’s already ripping clothes off of my torso, baring my skin, spilling my breasts.

“You are even more magnificent than I remember,” he rasps, grazing my curves with his gaze alone. The reverent look on his face sets my loins on fire.

I’m beginning to understand how I could’ve let him so close to me. A young, confused little thing, raised in worship of the Lord of Murder, would have no idea what love looks like. I’m still learning and stumbling, despite Halsin’s best efforts. A man who could make her feel so beautiful, so wanted among all the blood and death… such a man would have had the key to her rotten little heart.

I’m not that girl anymore. But I know that feeling. Its draw is familiar and powerful. My hands let go of his hair and fall next to my head, letting him run his rough palms across my chest and knead the pliant shape of my breasts.

His teeth close around one of my nipples and press just hard enough to shoot a barbed string of ecstasy directly to my sex. I muffle the moan with my hands. I can’t just let him win like that. I’m not doing this because I’m easy. I’m doing it so I don’t go insane.

“I missed this,” Gortash drawls, his lips and tongue making slow circles on my chest. “I missed you.” He bites into my flesh, gently, teasingly, while his hand slowly moves towards my sex. “In all your glory, Talas.”

“Stop calling me that,” I protest weakly, but he just chuckles and continues lower, and lower.

“You may not remember me,” he breathes on my folds, shamefully wet and wanton, “but I remember everything about you.”

And he dives between my thighs like a man who’s been starving and now can finally eat.

I gasp loudly, my hands instinctively grasping for something to hold onto—his hair. My legs twitch and wrap around him. I’m half worried I’m killing him, but he gives no indication of discomfort. His mouth is making the most intimidatingly dirty noises I’ve ever heard and I’m melting on his face.

All it takes him is a few minutes, stretched impossibly long in my damaged mind. I swallow the urge to scream and just grunt, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He looks up from my lap, slick and gasping for breath, and smirks smugly. He knows I enjoyed it, no use hiding it.

He picks his robe off the floor and wipes his face, still watching me. My brain is too hazy to worry about the way I’m splayed on his desk, eaten out, undone. He props himself above me and studies my face.

“This is your most beautiful look,” he sighs, taking in the flush of my cheeks, the sweat glistening on my brow and the mess I made of my hair. “Precious little Bhaal-babe.”

I’m still coming down from the high when I feel him slip inside me. I distantly realize I should’ve gathered enough wit to stop him, but it’s too late. I squeeze around him in welcome and let out a long and thoroughly embarrassing moan. He matches me, closing his eyes.

“You still fit me like a glove.”

He’s so right. I live for the delicious stretch of Halsin’s gentle, loving thrusts—it’s the only sex I remember having, but I would kill for more—but this… Gortash feels like he was tailored specifically for me. My body knows his shape, just as it knows his touch. It’s like coming home after a long time and finding your old room exactly as you left it.

“Oh gods, I really do,” I groan as he lazily moves inside, savoring each stroke.

I wrap my legs around his waist and just enjoy the sensation, closing my eyes to ignore his intimate gaze for the sake of my sanity. If he’s trying to make me fall for him again, he’s as out of his mind as I am.

Clearly getting bored of the slow pace, he pulls me up and plops me back down on my belly. I’m too weak and needy to issue a protest, I just whine at the unexpected and unwelcome absence of him. He silences my discontent with a firm thrust that makes me gasp and clutch the edges of the desk so hard my knuckles turn white again.

“I know you love this one,” he purrs and presses my legs together with his own. “Sometimes you like to be in control. Other times you like to be controlled. You were the most fun I’ve ever had with anyone.”

I let out a growl at him mentioning his other partners while balls-deep in me. Perhaps he didn’t really want me back. Maybe he just missed the “fun”.

“You’re also the only one who made me consider settling down, Talas,” he continues as if he understood very well why his words upset me. “I wanted to breed you and watch you teach the little runt how to gut people.”

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I sputter, miraculously finding enough ire to at least issue a warning, while still being happily pinned under him.

He chuckles. “Your response is still the same. Last time it was Daddy dearest… but you changed your mind about doing his bidding. Is Halsin aware you’re not going to give him a litter of cubs one day as he might hope?”

I don’t know how he even learned all these things about me, but I don’t care much. I grab the dagger left forgotten on the desk next to me and jam the blade into his thigh. Not deep enough to cripple, but definitely causing a lot of pain.

Gortash lets out a strangled scream, which mixes with a moan of pleasure not two seconds later. Fuck. I didn’t mean for him to like it.

What he does next pushes all irrelevant thoughts out of my head: he grabs my hair and yanks hard, pulling my head back, making my little cry sound ever more pathetic. His free hand digs fingers into my hip, holding me steady as he begins pounding into me with force.

I just open my mouth mutely, gasping for air, my eyes filling with tears. My brain turns into mush under the intensity of sensations he’s sending through my tortured body. I can’t see, I can’t speak, I can’t think. I hear a high-pitched whine through the mist around me… and I realize it’s mine. I’m screaming, lost in the sweet place between pain and complete ecstasy.

I spasm around his length so hard I can hear him gasp as well. My whole body shakes and curls into itself, a shaking, sweaty, moaning mess writhing on the cool polished wood of the desk. I can feel him swell within me, hot and ready, and I know he’s coming too—still inside me.

But I don’t care. I want it. Whatever he might hope to gain from it, I know I’m safe.

Instead of going slack like a good boy, he pulls out and flips me on my back again. He holds my legs spread, admiring what he did to me. I feel his seed leak out of me and drip to the floor. He smiles contently, dragging a fingertip across my clit, drawing out every last twitch my muscles are willing to give.

“This could be us every day,” he says softly. “Think about it.”

I don’t have an answer he would like, but he doesn’t wait for one. He picks me up in the most unexpectedly gentle way and carries me to the other side of the room. I thought he was putting me on the bed, either to sleep, cuddle or continue blissfully torturing me, but my breath hitches in surprise when he suddenly dips me into warm water. I slip into a roomy bathtub, blinking in confusion.

My brain needs a minute to restart, so I just watch him get inside with me, sitting me in his lap, cradling me. I don’t have the strength to protest. I just watch the little pinkish streaks, as water begins to wash out his wounds.

04 - This is why we can’t have nice things.

“How did you have this ready? Do you have invisible servants or something?”

Gortash chuckles and I vibrate along on his chest, making frantic little waves on the surface.

“The miracle of technology, Talas. My desk has a few convenient buttons and this tub fills and warms up automatically. I pressed one before we began.”

Well, that is convenient. I’m not sure if I want to be in this bath with him now, but it sure feels good on my exhausted muscles and aching sex. His arms around me feel nice, too, as much as I hate admitting it. I can hate a person and still enjoy their closeness, right? Right?

His hands caress me under the water and I let them.

“Good to know you bathe with your gauntlets on,” I quip, noticing the distinctive feel of metal against my skin.

He pulls his right hand up and turns it from one side to the other, letting the gold reflect the glimmer of flames in the nearby fireplace. The netherstone pulses with its own light, alive and tempting as the power it holds.

“While I’m more than happy to entertain you, I’m not letting my most prized possession just lie around for you to steal,” he smirks and I turn my head to have a better look at him, honestly impressed. “You changed. Your goals inevitably changed, too. I don’t trust you anymore, Talas.” He runs a soft finger along my jaw, dropping to the line of my neck and to my clavicle. I shiver, even submerged in warmth, too tired to correct the name this time. “If you want it for yourself, you’re going to have to kill me.”

I give him an evaluating once-over; then my eyes move to the dagger I left on the desk. His gaze follows mine and his smirk stretches more.

“Just keep in mind that those Steel Watchers outside will only take about ten seconds to join us. And even you, my dear, don’t have the skill to defeat them all naked and unarmed to get out of here alive.” His fingers trace the shape of my lips. “I would hate it if something happened to you before I had the chance to win you over.”

“You’re so full of shit, Gortash,” I sigh, laying my head in the crook of his neck. I feel too lazy to murder anyone right now, anyway. “You sent me to hunt Orin down and told me to not come back without her stone. You expect me to believe you actually give a fuck about me and care what I think about you? I’m here against your explicit orders, your lordship.”

“You came to see me surrounded by your new friends,” he grumbles and I finally hear discontent in his voice. “In the company of your new lover. What did you think I would do, fall on my knees in front of all my esteemed guests and your openly hostile troupe and beg you to come back to me?”

“Hmm, so your excuse is your pride?” I sneer. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, no matter how trustworthy you somehow manage to sound. I only agreed to your deal because you didn’t give me any better choice. Karlach was furious. She wants you dead oh so very much. She gets really graphic, describing how she wants to kill you. You’re lucky I didn’t bring her along.”

Gortash groans and pinches the root of his nose.

“The company you keep nowadays,” he chides. “No wonder you changed so much. Every one of those bloody soft-hearted idiots putting their own opinions in your emptied mind.”

“When that’s what you wanted to do.” I nod in mock commiseration.

“I want us to be partners,” he scowls, tone wounded. “Equals. Sharing the power over the whole world. The Lord is only a part for me to play in public, while you reign over your own murderous kingdom from the shadows, unobstructed by law, unhindered by so-called heroes trying to stop you. We can have everything we’ve ever wanted. Together.”

I can’t believe how tempting he sounds right now. I close my eyes, letting my Urge surface just enough to enjoy the pure simplicity of the world he describes. I could let go. I could stop fighting for every sliver of free will. I could bathe in blood and have people worship my god through me. The Urge would be sated—I could feel the sweet rush of ecstasy from killing without worrying I might hurt someone close to me.

I would be lying if I said this vision of the future never crossed my mind. It’s an everyday struggle, trying to stay good, trying to do only good. A struggle I’m inevitably going to lose if my Urge grows in intensity for much longer. Killing Halsin. Or Lae’zel. Or Gale. The death of anyone in my camp—by my hand—would break me.

I care too much. Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like if I didn’t care at all.

“You would never tolerate any of my friends by my side, Gortash,” I say flatly. “If you really do want me, you want me all to yourself. Isolated, depending only on you. Malleable. So that if—gods forbid—I disagree with you, you could push all the right buttons and get me to change my mind, with no one to challenge your influence over me.”

I don’t know how, but I know it’s true. It’s what all people drunk on power do. The more powerless they feel without it, the more they enjoy any sliver of it they get and abuse the shit out of it. It’s why Gortash wants control over others in the first place. Inside, there’s a small, scared, unloved little boy, whose parents sold him to a devil.

I blink, my heartbeat spiking, as I realize I’ve just recalled a bit of my past—our past. Something I couldn’t have learned since the nautiloid. Was it Gortash himself, who confided in me, or did I discover this piece of history by myself? It feels like something he would keep very close and tell no one, so it wouldn’t damage the lofty image he’s trying to maintain.

“You’re just being paranoid, kitten,” he brushes me off, but his expression is no longer sporting his typical airy easiness. “When we were together, I was your confidant and your strength against the increasing demands of your Father. But you weren’t some impressionable child. You were determined and unyielding. Sharp as your blades.”

Sharp blades. Bhaal. His demands.

A sinking dread begins to fill my guts and I lift off Gortash’s chest to put some distance between us. My brain is still fuzzy, but bits of memories are beginning to float to the surface of my consciousness.

“Bhaal’s grand design,” I say in a shaking voice, “is for everyone to die for him. I was supposed to kill you, and then myself, as the last mortal alive. Did you know?”

Gortash’s eyes round in horror.

“Of course not! What kind of crazy design is that? How would he get any more murders with no one left to die?”

He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and carry it out, anyway. Just like mad Orin is probably doing now. What a good little Daddy’s lapdog.

“But that wasn’t what you planned for yourself, was it?” I press, my voice steadying with my increasing certainty. “And so I was suddenly in the way. Just what would it take for you to turn on your closest ally? Is her planning your murder enough?”

“What are you trying to say, Talas?” he hisses, but I can see fear in his eyes.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I growl, sliding away from him, so I can get out of the bathtub without him catching me. “You tried to kill me! Just so I wouldn’t kill you first.”

I jump to my feet, nearly slipping on the smooth wet surface, but holding my balance well enough to scramble out of the water. He tries grabbing my hand, then my leg, but I slip out of his grasp easily. I throw myself towards the desk and retake possession of my only weapon. By the time he’s out of the tub, I’m already pointing it at his throat.

“Listen to me, Talas—” he puts his hands up in a calming gesture, but I’ve had enough of his smooth words for one night.

“You picked up a fucking rock and you beat me and kicked me and tossed me against stone walls!”

I scream and I’m sure my prevalent feelings are pure rage, but out of nowhere I get ambushed by tears and sobs. My memories are still a mess, but the flashes of my body being beaten to a pulp are vivid and terrifying.

“Talas, please—”

“I bled and begged, and you teased and laughed, as if it was the funniest shit you ever got to do! And now that I’m somehow back, you’re trying to get me to believe your sweet lies, just so I won’t remember what you did to me. But I remember! I REMEMBER!”

I know I sound completely unhinged, but my chest is so filled with a mix of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced, that it threatens to burst.

“IT WASN’T ME!” Gortash’s volume finally matches mine, making me wince and pause just enough for him to get a word in. “I would never hurt you like that! If I really had to kill you, dearest, I would’ve done it quick and clean. Because I love you, you stupid thing!”

His confession feels like a slap to the face. I didn’t see that coming. My first instinct is to pronounce it as another lie, especially in retrospect to the first time he mentioned love tonight, but my mind finally calms enough to actually think.

A man like him wouldn’t say anything like that if he didn’t mean it. It sounded… pathetic. Baring his soul similarly to revealing his most embarrassing childhood memory, knowing his feelings are unrequited. His pride would never allow him to grovel so much. Not anymore, not when he’s got a taste of actually being respected.

“Please, believe me,” he pleads, breath ragged, eyes wide. “I have no reason to hate you. This sounds like someone who had every reason. Who enjoyed your agony and loved seeing you on your knees. I. Would. Never.”

“But you…” I exhale, confused. I’ve almost had it. I’ve almost found the one responsible for my unfortunate fate. “Then who the fuck did this to me?” I whisper and stifle another sob.

“Please put down the dagger, Talas.” Gortash points at the sharp tip still hovering between his clavicles. I reluctantly lower it. I’m honestly pleasantly surprised he let me threaten him for so long without trying to disarm me. It makes me trust him just a smidge more. “And maybe we can figure it out together.”

“Stop calling me that!” I lash out annoyedly. “My name is Nara now. Deal with it.”

“When you stop calling me Gortash,” he smirks in response, his easy charm back.

I groan, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Enver,” I say begrudgingly, but the name feels much better on my tongue than I expected. I must’ve been used to calling him that, just as he said.

I turn to the desk, intent on putting the weapon back, but I freeze mid-step. A mix of stimuli, a flicker of light, a rustle of the fur rug on the floor, perhaps even a smell… and the memory of my attempted murder clears a bit more.

I see a shiny red surface with an opalescent finish. Hear a rustle of a long braid and the pitter-patter of bare feet on stone. I hear laughter again, but this time I’m not just imagining Gortash’s… Enver’s, I clearly recall a woman’s voice having the time of her life.

“Orin.”

The name falls flatly from my lips. I feel cold dread seep into my soul at the image of her. I never quite understood why she had this effect on me—until now. Even though my memory was coming up empty, she was triggering a post-traumatic response all the same, just like when my body yielded to Enver.

“Hm?”

I turn back, dagger still in my hand. I don’t plan on letting go of it any time soon. Enver watches me warily, with a hint of curiosity in his face.

“It was Orin.”

He frowns at first. Opens his mouth, presumably to defend her. Then closes it again, his features smoothing out.

“It makes sense. She took your place, both in the cult and in the Absolute plot. She wanted you gone. And she really seems to hate you, though I wouldn’t expect her to need any solid reason to kick someone to death. She would happily do it just for fun.”

I close my eyes for a second, but I only need a few gulps of breath to make up my mind. I pick up my torn and discarded clothes off the floor and put them back on, securing them in place as well as possible.

“Where are you going?”

Enver reaches for me and grabs my arm. I toss him a warning glare, but don’t move. He’s still naked and wet from head to toe, he poses virtually no danger to me.

“To hunt,” I answer plainly. “I know a mad bitch that needs killing.”

“Don’t be rash,” he shakes his head, some of the slicked back damp hair falling into his eyes. “You can’t know where she is. Or who she is. She could slaughter your whole camp while you sleep and you’d be left alone to face her. Remember, she is the Slayer now.”

“Well, since we’re counting suspects, she could very well be you,” I give him a wry smile. “But I doubt she would keep going this long, having me all to herself like that, so you’re probably safe.” He doesn’t appreciate my joke, scowling like a jack-o-lantern, concern crumpling his features. “I need to go back to my friends and figure out a way to find her before she does any real damage, Enver. I need to go now.”

He slowly lets go of my arm, letting me finish putting the cloak on.

“No need to sneak through the throne room, by the way,” he notes, watching me hide underneath the wide hood. “The Watch was instructed to let you in. If someone could really just sneak past them like that, I could easily expect Orin in your place. Thankfully, the Watch can spot the difference, with you having a tadpole.”

My eyebrows rise. So that’s why he took that bath? Did he think my unsettled hormones would lead me back to Wyrmrock to see him? I clearly never liked grimy men—and he knows it.

“You were waiting for me?”

“I was hopeful,” he confessed, dropping his gaze for a moment. “I couldn’t risk just inviting you. But at least I made sure you would get in without complications. You always did like to have all the facts.”

I chuckle and shake my head. I still believe at least half of his words are lies and most of the other half are cleverly picked and arranged bits of truth. But now I’m also pretty sure there’s something genuine in him, too. Hidden very deep, surrounded by enemies—but it’s there.

“Be safe, Talas,” he says quietly. “Nara,” he corrects himself, smiling softly. “You have your work cut out for you.”

“I’ll do my best to not disappoint,” I shrug, sheathing my dagger, stepping away.

“And will you at least consider my proposition?” He calls after me when I’m almost out the door. His voice sounds tentative. “That’s all I ask.”

I let my gaze slide down the length of his naked body, weighing my options. Well, consideration really costs me nothing, does it? It’s very unlikely that I will agree to it. I have much better prospects in my scope now—much healthier ones. But the least I can do for him is give it a thought.

“Sure,” I grace him with a little smile. “I will consider it.”

If you like this story, please show it by giving it some love: give a like, reblog, leave a nice comment.

I would also be very grateful if you take a few seconds out of your day and leave a kudos on the AO3 issue of this story ♥ (You CAN vote as guests.) THANK YOU!

[rainroses45]

My Ghouls

ཐིཋྀdescription: your brothers soon realize a secret between you and your fathers outings Winchester Brothers x sister reader

ཐིཋྀa/n: I’m having a midlife crisis rn thinking about if i should change my major BUT MY ENGLISH PROFESSOR WAS LIKE WRITE OR DIE (btw he meant about the presentation but i took it this way :)) I also hate how rushed this felt so I might delete NOT EDITED

ཐིཋྀsong inspection: House of The Rising Sun & Daddy Issues

ཐིཋྀwarnings: child labor/neglect, cursing, unwanted touching, daddy issues (does that count?) john being a dick basically MAJOR FAMILY DRAMA

“I’m taking your sister for an outing.” John said as he grabbed his jacket from the chair. “Stay here until I come back.”

“Dad isn’t Y/n a little old for your daddy daughter dates?” Dean raised an eyebrow as you walked past him. You were dressed in jeans and a yellow long sleeve shirt, which anyone could hardly see over the knee length leather jacket.

“Nonsense she is still my little girl,” he wrapped an arm around you. You leaned into his embrace. It was one of the few moments he actually would showed his love. Or at least his bribery of love.

“Are you sure Sam and Dean can’t join us?” You look up from your father’s shoulder. If you were being honest, you really didn’t want to go. You never did.

“Next time sweetheart next time.” John gripped your waist tighter with a fake smile, a sign to tell you to shut the hell up. “Next time.”

“Okay well you two have fun, dean and I will probably continue on researching on our angry spirit.” Sam sat down and pulled his laptop from the table, not making eye contact with either one of you.

“Will do.” John opened the door for you. “After you princess.” He smiled, before gently placing a hand on your back and leading you to the truck.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad as the last time, you thought.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“I’ll meet you at the bar,” John ordered as he handed you a bag of clothing. You opened it to find the same clothing from last time - short shorts and a tiny, pink, spaghetti strapped cropped top. Guess it wasn’t going to be any different from last time.

After you finished changing in the bathroom, you made your way towards the bar. Several eyes followed your figure, sending shivers down your spine. You felt naked and most definitely very afraid even with the sliver dagger hidden in your boot.

“You are late.” John took a swing of his whiskey before pulling out something from his jacket.

“Sorry sir,” you said. Before you could even ask what he was taking out, a pair of bunny ears was placed on your head. The headband clasped against your skull, making it extremely painful near the back of your ears.

“This should attract Bremen,” he said, adjusting the ears for one to be folded down and the other pointing up. “You remember the drill?”

“Keep singing till I see green.” You stated back his motto. It was practically tattooed into your brain since you were able to stand. Sing for food. Sing for information. Sing for the savior of the night. It was a past time of the greedy and the tormented of the poor. Don’t stop singing till you see green.

“Good girl,” he patted your cheek lightly making sure not to ruin your makeup. “Now go make daddy proud.”

And like clockwork, they called upon the entertainment of the night. “Put your hands together for the one and only Y/n Winchester!” The sleazy bar owner announced. A wave of cat calls from older men filled your ears.

“Dad they aren’t going to touch me this time-” You turned around to ask your father but were greeted with an empty seat. As per usual your father already began to hide in the crowd searching for any dollar signs or information about the murders.

“Please God, don’t let my voice give out,” you whispered as you made your way to the stage. To die by the hands of a spirit is different compared to ones of a father. “Please, don’t make me fail.” And with that you pulled yourself together with a flirtatious smile and got up on stage.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“Come on Sammy,” Dean placed the Impala in park, “you’re hungry and i’m bored.”

“We could have gone to some diner not a rundown bar with creepy drunks.” Sam groaned as he looked at the demographic heading in. It was practically a crack house dunked in a salted rim. “Plus dad said to stay in the motel.”

Dean scoffed at Sam’s words, “since when have you ever listened to dad?”

“Since I realized how impulsive you are.” Sam got out of the car before slamming the door shut. “I swear if I get food poisoning Dean I will vomit all over your car.”

“You do that and i will have your head as a keychain.” Dean dragged his fingers across his neck, show casing how he would decapitate his brother.

"Whatever," Sam rolled his eyes playfully. Both of the brothers began to walk into the dingy bar only to be greeted with the most beautiful voice ever.

“Oh mother, tell your children not to do what I have done!” The voice was like silk but was raspy enough to give a twist to the tune.

"See Sammy they even got some live entertainment, it's not that bad." Dean nudged his brother in the stomach with his elbow, walking towards the bar.

“The voice sounds familiar.” Sam stayed behind, turning to look at the dimly lit stage. There was a young girl swaying to the rhythm of the beat. Her face was covered by the shadow yet she had this sorta sadness in her eyes.

“I’m goin’ back to New Orleans,” she raised her hand towards the gleaming light. “To wear that ball and chain!”

“She really got a voice on her.” Dean came back to where Sam was standing and handed him a beer. “I think Y/n would have enjoyed coming here to see the show.”

“I think she’s already here.” Sam says.

“What do you mean-” “Look,” Sam pointed towards the girls wrist.

On her wrist was a little tattoo, with the letters S, D, and Y/L/N in maroon ink. And just as they found the missing link to the situation, a hand grabbed the back of Sam’s collar.

“What in the hell of you doing here?!” Forcefully Sam was pulled back causing him to stagger backwards into a chest.

Dean caught wind of this and quickly reached for his gun in his side coat pocket, but to his surprise a familiar set of dead beat eyes met his.

“Dad?” Dean eyes opened in shock. “What are you doing here?!”

"I should be asking you fuckers the same." He pulled Sam's collar tighter. "I told you to stay in the motel."

"We got hungry dad, now let go of Sam before he turns purple and his spirit haunts our ass." Dean gently grabbed Sam out of their John's grasp.

"So, I'm guessing this is your idea of daddy daughter date?" Sam rubbed his neck angrily, "I mean what kind of father brings their daughter to a bar to perform in front of perverted drunks. And dressed as a play boy bunny mind you."

Dean stomached twisted from just looking around the seating area. Men practically salivated in lust at his baby sister, and you just stood there singing with what- a set of bunny ears on. He knew his family was fucked up, but he didn't think it was this fucked up.

"She wanted to sing, I'm just helping her explore her talent." John shrugged his shoulders before a round of applause and whistles echoed through the building. The boys watched as you hid behind the mic, trying to cover your chest as much as you could. Men throwing money at you like a stripper at a club, yelling at you to give them a show.

"Oh really? So this is what a supportive dad does?" Sam rolled his eyes as he did quotation marks in the air as he took a step towards his father. "You thought college was bad, but this is okay?"

"Don't sass me boy, you never had a chance out there." John gritted out from his teeth completely ignoring you making your way down stage.

Sam was ready to push John towards the floor, but Dean quickly got in between them.

"Hey! Enough both of you!" Dean shoved the two across from each other. "Why are you here?" Dean turned to face his father who looked like he was ready to shoot a built into someone's skull. He has been through enough bullshit in his life, but he would be damned if his sister had to go through it too.

"None of your business." John flared his jacket out, getting ready to go find you in the crowd. Luckily for him he didn't have to try to hard searching for his money maker.

"Dad can I take a break now- oh hi Dean," you waved back at him. Your hair was frizzy, and puffed out from the performance, some of your baby hairs stuck to your forehead in sweat. Your clothing stuck towards your skin, as your push up bra practically shoved your titis out. "What are you guys doing here?" You nervously asked. The wave of awkwardness and feeling uncomfortable flood your system and got even worse as your brothers eyed you up in disgust and worry.

"We could ask you the same thing." Sam crossed his arms in annoyance. He wanted to hear his sister explanation. He knew damn well he wasn't going to get anything out of his dad.

"I didn't want to be-" John put a hand over your mouth stopping you from speaking.

"Sweetheart it's not right to brag to your brothers." John pulled your body closer to his. His right hand twisted both of your hands behind your back. His other hand covered your mouth firmly.

You tried to move out of his grip but it only caused him to tighten his arm around your arms. You let out a muffed cry as you felt tears begin to prick at your eyes.

"Dad you are hurting her." Dean said as he tried to step closer but John took a step back.

"Go back home Dean, your sister and I aren't finished." John ordered the oldest Winchester brother.

"I will right after you let go of Y/n." He argued back. The flood of alcohol in his system seemed to give him even more confidence to stand up to his old man. John was shocked by his son but didn't let it shown too soon.

"Fine take the stupid brat, take her while I finish doing her fucken job." John shoved you forcefully into Sam's arm before turning his back on his kids.

You looked at your father's back as he soon disappeared into the crowd. You wanted to reach out - to gain his love once more, but you knew it was all an act for him. He fed you with fake love once, and you kept coming like a stray dog searching for more scraps.

"Come on kiddo, lets go," Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders leading you out the bar. You roughly took of the headband as your once perfect mascara now began to run down your face blinding you from what was in front of you.

"It's going to be okay," your older brother reassured, "it's going to be okay."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ❀ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

After arriving back at the motel and taking a well deserved shower, an award silence filled the room as you faced your older brothers again.

"We aren't going to get mad at you sweetheart," Dean said as he took a seat next to you on the bed. "We just want to know the truth."

Sam soon followed his brother lead and sat next to the other side of you. "You don't have to tell us now." He reassured you with a soft smile. "We just want to protect you."

"Dad has been using me for money and information." You said softly. There were no tears to cry, or any sobs to let out. You were drained. You were tired. You were numb.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"He would make me dress in skimpy outfits and sing in bars in order to gain cash for food or as a distraction to grab the attention of any suspects." You clarified your recent statement. "Every one of our daddy daughter dates was him telling me to put on a show so I could earn his love. The more money I got the more love I received afterwards."

"How- how long have you been doing this for?" Dean asked nervously.

"Since I was seven." A pang of guilt hit him from your confession. You were 19 years old. You had been doing this practically your whole life and he never protected you. He was so worried about Sammy, he never realized he forgot about is other sibling.

"You don't have to do it anymore Y/n." Sam stated. "You don't have to worry about going up on stage or showing anything you don't want to. Nobody touched you right?"

The room went silent.

"It never led that far," you messed with your fingers, "dad always intervened at least when it came to that."

A giant weight of relief fell from the brothers' shoulders, but it was soon replaced with a bubbling overwhelming feeling of anger.

"Thank you for sharing this honey." Dean kissed your forehead before gently moving you to lay under the covers. "Now go to sleep me and Sammy are going to go do something real quick."

You nodded lazily, letting your eyes flutter closed, but before your vision turned black you saw the reflection of sliver bullets in your brother's hand.

The son of a bitch was going to be killed.

[rubyreduji]

[minors dni]

music major jihoon whose friends forced him to take the class with them but jihoon is absolute shit at art and he knows it

so the first couple weeks go awful. jihoon's hands are made to make music, not draw anatomy. he can tell the teacher hates him too because why is he so fucking awful at this

then once all of the intro stuff is done jihoon walks into class one day and sitting in the middle of the room is the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. then the professor starts the class and it slowly dawns on him what is happening and then holy shit you're naked and of course you are because its a figure drawing class so they're going to be drawing figures but still what the fuck

and the professor is going on about how everyone should be appropriate and respectful but jihoon's dick is already half hard and he can't stop staring at your perky nipples that are the prettiest color jihoon has ever seen

jihoon realizes that everyone else is getting their supplies ready and he fumbles around to do the same. in the middle of the room a cloth is laid out on a small platform and you drape yourself over it. your legs hide your core but your breasts are still on full display and jihoon thinks he's not going to have blood circulation in his brain after this

jihoon is already bad at art and now he can't even focus properly because you're all soft curves and smooth skin and holy shit you keep staring at him back and why are you doing that because its making jihoon's dick even harder now. your eyes are sultry yet soft and jihoon has to keep shifting around just so he can hide the tent in his sweats

the whole class jihoon struggles to get his drawing finished. he goes to draw a line and then he gets distracted by the swell of your breasts and the curve of your hip and he can't do it

"fifteen more minutes and then we'll see how every did, okay?" the professor calls out and jihoon panics

quickly he starts to sketch, trying his best to capture all of your beauty. when the fifteen minutes is up he wants to cry. his picture doesn't even look like a human body, let alone the godly figure you have

reluctantly jihoon turns his canvas around and he wants to hide away forever. everyone else's drawings are smooth, accurate lines that capture your nature perfectly while he has scribbles and lumps

you stand up and walk around the class to inspect the pictures yourself. you tie your robe back on but its so loose that everytime your body moves slivers of skin are revealed and your breasts are practically spilling out, your cleavage on full display

when you get to jihoon's you stare at it before cocking your head to hte side a bit. "huh. it's...unique." jihoon wants to die in a hole holy shit. "not awful, just different," you assure him but jihoon is still incredibly embarassed. enough that his dick is starting soften again even though your breasts are practically in his face

the professor tells everyone to finish up their drawings before next class and jihoon is in turmoil as he walks out of class, held hung low

"hey! excuse me!" jihoon stops when he hears a soft voice calling him. he turns to see you and he flushes. "hi! i noticed you sort of struggled in class, which is totally normal, but i was just wondering if you wanted any help? i'm an art major too so."

"i'm actually a music major"

"see even more reason to accept my help! but, only if you want!"

"no you can uh, yeah...i'd like the help"

"great are you free right now?"

and maybe it's a good thing jihoon is bad at art because now he's in your apartment getting his dick sucked by you

in your defense, you guys did start out doing art but the second you stripped of your clothes jihoon's dick decided to make an appearance again. you were trying to convince jihoon his art skills aren't that beyond hope when you noticed it and realized why jihoon was struggling so much. and so you decided to help him out in a different way

so now you're on your knees, sucking at the head of his cock

"h-holy fuck," jihoon mutters. your tongue is digging right into his slit and jihoon is losing his mind over it. his hands grip your hair in his fingers. "oh shit, shit, fuck." jihoon is cumming, painting the inside of your mouth white. you suck him dry until he finishes cumming and when you pull off jihoon slumps back in his seat

you wipe at your mouth before giving him a smile. "how was that?"

"holy shit y/n," jihoon says breathlessly

"mmm," you hum as you reach down and start to finger yourself, your fingers slip in and out of your wet pussy. jihoon stares intently at the way your folds glisten

"fuck," jihoon whispers before he's sliding onto the floor next to you. he moves your hand away from yourself so he can replace it with his own digits. you gasp when he pushes two in

"f-fuck. so thick"

jihoon's dick aches painfully. he just came but his dick is stirring around, his biological need to fuck you overpowering his refactory period

his fingers are drenched from your arousal by the time his dick starts to rise again. he removes his fingers from you and wraps his hand around his dick, using your slick as lube to get him up to full mast

"j-jihoon," you whine. quickly he positioned you two and slides into your needy pussy

"god you're so hot," jihoon mumbles. he slowly starts to move his hips and when he realizes there's not resistance, your pussy willing and ready, he quickly picks up the pace

soon you two are going at it like rabbits. jihoon pistons in and out of you at a rapid pace while you moan like a pornstar under him. he grips your thighs and pushes them up at your chest, fucking into you even harder at the new angle

it takes maybe four more thrusts max for you to cum around jihoon's dick, drenching his thighs as you squirt all over him. jihoon groans at the feeling and quickly pulls out so he can jerk himself to completion all over your stomach

you're both panting heavily as try to recover from what just happened. you're bodies are thrumming with pleasure and adrenaline and when you suggest to jihoon that you guys for round two in the shower he quickly obliges

he never does get his art project finished

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep 50: Tristan Hates Horses, I Think

Been a while! Tumblr’s annoying as hell changes to the text editor took a lot of wind out of my sails, ngl. It had some problems they're resolving as they go, but it was really annoying to use and to edit if you write any amount of youknow……words….

And I was talking to a friend about this, and they were like “have you tried writing it in google docs and copy pasting it after?” And I happily realized when you copy paste from google docs, it also copies the PICTURES. This has literally saved hours of my life, y'all. It has turned something that was so frustrating I didn't want to open tumblr again into something that is no longer an obstacle so I can write once more!

So lets travel to Yugi’s brain, where Tristan desperately has to make up for all the work he hasn’t done because he was just a wee tiny bit possessed.

It may be hard to pick up where Tristan is on this picture, and I hope I recorded it somewhere in OBS like 2 months ago when I finished the series because it was such a funny animation, but hot damn this boy has hops.

And  you can see him there on the ground in the bottom left corner, that isn’t a rock, that’s Tristan having toppled a man with his bare hands, a man who had a sword and was sitting on an armored horse.

Can you believe this guy ran for school president? And then lost and humbly became the janitor?

Meanwhile, Joey discovered magic.

Confirmation that duel disks are made out of old tank parts.

Realizing for the first time that magic exists, they decide to peace out.

Back in the real world, Mokuba and Roland don’t know where the hell Seto went. Which is weird, I figured Seto would at least leave a note or a text message or…anything…but apparently even if he did, he just disappeared at some point down in Marik’s old living room.

So Roland and Mokuba decided that in order to find him, they would have to take a massive Boeing 747 to find their lost child.

Some kids have a motorcycle, some kids have a scooter, Mokuba just wants the most boring ass big commercial plane that is meant to sit a couple hundred people in an awkward way. That’s what Mokuba wants.

Just Mokuba things.

My bro who edits these for me wrote in huge ass letters "ROLAND SIGHTING" While saying "ROLAND ROLAND ROLAND" so I want y'all to know how much we appreciate a good Roland in this house.

Speaking of, I know it's like season 5 but...who is the other guy? He wears funny sunglasses but I have never heard his name, not once.

But this is when the plane was filled with heavenly light.

They begin to see the fight happening between Seto Kaiba (the OG Seto, the one that is cool and isn’t depressed because his not-wife died) and Bakura (who is now Zorc). Don’t ask me how the time stuff works, and why we see it now of all the times in human history, and right over Egypt in the sky. Don’t ask me why.

I assume it’s time compression shenanigans, just like FF8, so maybe it’s just every moment in time is able to see this UFO in the sky, but overall, it’s here because it looks cool. The fact that this right here is actually not a physical place, but is actually a figment of Yugi’s imagination shaped by Pharaoh’s botchy memories--is neither here nor there. Instead, it’s everywhere. 

Seto is unimpressed by this, because he knows how science and timelines should work, and this wouldn’t pass Kaiba Corp inspection.

Back at the yellow palace made of cheese and mario blocks, Pharaoh is still knocked out from that time he summed all 3 dragons last episode, which to me feels like just eons ago. 

But it’s OK, he’s fine now.

Typically he’d be dead, because his dragons died on the battlefield and their life force is connected to their monsters. But not only is Pharaoh 1.) already dead and 2.) the author of this universe and cannot die or this universe ceases to exist he’s 3.) got the puzzle, which means he can’t actually perma die, unlike everyone else in his court who is perma-gone.

He is not surprised by what is currently happening in Egypt’s downtown strip.

This is probably every day in Domino. Every day Seto Kaiba wakes up everyone in town with his three-headed dragon princess just because he can. Hell, Seto was doing this fight with Bakura on the top towers of Domino just this morning (or last morning…not sure if time passes in real life the same way it does in puzzle life)

The audacity of Yami right now, the one moment Yugi isn’t there to scream about ledges, this boy is leaping joyfully off that ledge. 

He fuses with the dragon which gives him this familiar outfit.

I thiiiiink it’s the same outfit as Alexander season? I’ll be real with you though, I don’t really want to look it up. Either way, good to see the return of putting on a ton of armor in a card game, I don't think we've seen it Canonically since that one time Joey did it against Valon, and ever since then, Joey kind of forgot it was a thing he can just do.

But unlike Joey, Yami doesn’t take the opportunity to punch Zorc in the face, instead he just loses yet another time.

This time he didn’t even pass out, he barely even died. This is progress, truly.

But as Zorc is powering up the peepee missile to fire in Yami’s face (what a way to die!), Shadi has decided to inform us why he’s been stalking these kids for this entire show.

So there’s two ways to read this. 1.) Shadi was Hassan the entire time but had to go back in time from this moment in order to do it or 2.) Shadi possessed the power of Hassan last second so Yami could avoid death one final time.

Both of these explanations don’t fully make sense to me, I’ll be honest, because in order to know that he’ll be needed in the first place, Shadi had to know that Yami would die at this particular moment--a moment that is a different timeline than has ever existed before.

So really, Shadi was just going by a hunch. He was like “I dunno, I’ll see how this goes.” which is more in line with the Shadi we know and love.

Is it a crying shame that Shadi, who has been with us for so many seasons, and it so integral to this show had such an unceremonious death? Yeah. I feel like I didn’t quite get the closure I wanted but I’m also sort of confused as to…what happened. But I’ll leave it there because apparently we get more Shadi content in Dark Side of Dimensions.

Anyway, I have no idea if these images will even fit into a post with how how tumbler does posts nowadays, and I'll be real I had to re upload the last bit of it, which I suspect was over 15 images???? Not sure??? but we found a workaround! google docs works!

Also, Seto didn’t die today! Instead it was Shadi! For a SECOND time!

I cannot believe how freakin lucky Mana is, this girl is still kicking and if Mana survives everything I am…going to be astonished, that’s what. Mana secretly OP, who knew?

And always you can read the rest of these here

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

if I turn it into a link it doesn't work right because the text editor is really, really bad. I hate it a lot. But uh...feel free to copy paste it until I can get links to cooperate.

[soobrat]

wingless angel; dsc

act i | act ii | final act milestone celebration masterlist

pairing; fuckboy!winwin x afab!reader

words; 6.09k

genre; estabished relationship, angsty smut (you heard me right), and a touch of fluff

warnings; toxic relationship, lots of sexcapades, piv, Sicheng is a an asshole, drunk sex, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, rough sex

preface; I said act iii would be less depressing and I didn't really lie did I? I'm mad I didn't release this on halloween :*). Anyways how did you guys like this small series? I'm not so sure about the ending.

act iii ➻ bloodline

“It’s been such a beautiful ceremony, thank you guys for coming out to celebrate my love for this woman right here.” Sicheng directs the room’s attention to your slumped figure, engulfed in a stuffy dress that prohibits a comfortable seated position. An eggshell ball gown, tailored perfectly to what you described in your diary as a naive middle schooler.

“I mean, what can I even say?” He looks at you with fondness so evidently fake it makes your stomach churn. 

“You can start with how beautiful I look in the wedding dress I spent an arm and a leg for.” You mutter, not that it reduced any of the bright smiles directed at you. Look, even Aeri, Minjeong, and Yizhuo are smiling. Did he fool them too?

“She’s the love of my life! That’s why we’re here aren’t we?” His uninspired language is met with hoots and hollers of encouragement and admiration.

“Be careful! They might think you enjoy my presence.” You laugh at your own joke and the crowd swoons, reacting as if they just witnessed a cute exchange. Everyone looked so content despite you clearly displaying your displeasure. Their wide smiles feel offputting.

“But no, she isn’t the love of my life.” His confession makes the crown react in shock. You slowly straighten up in your chair. He looks at you with that dead look in his eyes, the one you came to realize indicated plainly that he shared none of your love for him.

“She isn’t the love of my life because now she’s my wife.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive-” You’re cut off by the rapturous applause that erupts around the banquet hall as everyone stands from their seats. The piercing sound of their chairs scraping the floor surround you, caging you in along with the innumerous amount of bodies. You try to stand but Sicheng pushes you back down. His blank stare beats down on you.

“Welcome to the first day of the rest of our lives.”

You’re not sure when you extended your hand, but it’s presented to him to slide on a ring. Upon further inspection, you discover it’s rusted and scraping your skin as it slides down your finger. You wince, your brain screaming at you to pull away. You think you’re screaming. You were talking this whole time, right?

“I’m ready.” You say, punctuating it with a quivering smile.

As you pry your eyes open, all you take in is a sea of darkness. You sit up and turn on your bedside lamp. Relief floods your body as you take in the familiar scenery. It was ridiculous to think you were anywhere else anyway, but you didn’t completely trust yourself.

-

“Hello there,” A bouquet of red chrysanthemums, blue hyacinths, and lilies of the valley are pushed into your view. You look up and see exactly who you expected to. “Hi, Dejun.” You force a tight smile. The man sits beside you after you accept the flowers.

“You’re going to turn my house into a garden at this rate.” 

“I grow so many flowers, I just thought I’d put them to good use.” He shrugs.

“I don’t think dying in my living room is really “good use”.” You mumble, toying with the tissue paper. 

“Of course it is. A pretty girl deserves pretty flowers.”

You never understood the gesture. They looked okay and smelled fine, but they just sit in a vase and die. What was the point? You place them in your lap before tapping your fingers against the metal bench. The two of you watch silently as children run around, friends throw a frisbee, and couples have a picnic.

“Maybe that’s what we should be doing.” Dejun laughs awkwardly before looking down into his lap. He presses his thumb into the palm of his other hand until it goes white, and when you look up at his face, he’s chewing his bottom lip. Why is he nervous?

“I’m sorry my mom makes us do this.” You sigh frustratedly. 

“It’s fine, she seems like a good mom.”

“She is, but forcing us to do this isn’t going to fix anything.”

His silence makes you nod, so he does feel the same way. From the corner of your eye, you see him stop fidgeting.

“I don’t feel forced to go on these dates.” You turn to face him. He looks back pointedly as if he wants you to know he’s serious. “I enjoy them.”

“How? They’re so awkward every time.” You snort.

“Because I get to be with you.” The sincere fondness in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. You watch him with your mouth parted slightly before looking away and clamping it shut. You press your cool fingers into your warm cheeks

Bullshit.

That night is like every Friday night, you drink and find someone else drunk and fuck like rabbits. Tonight brings an especially sexy face. The epitome of tall dark and handsome.

“I’m Yukhei.” He slurs after a heated makeout section in the back of a cab. You smile lazily. “I don’t care.”

He shrugs at that before going back to your messy blur of lips and tongues. You moan salaciously as he sucks your tongue, bucking against his thigh.

“Put your seatbelts on!”

The two of you are too consumed in how each other’s mouths taste and feel. Saliva manages to transfer around both your lips. You pull away, heating up a few degrees when a string of spit follows. Yukhei is fucking massive, you can feel it as you palm him. 

“I can’t wait for you to rip me open.” You drawl into his ear before giggling.

Mr. Yukhei is not the most… precise but you’re drunk and he’s big. He gives the right amount of friction and stretch that makes you drool. He laps it up during his sloppy ministrations. It's wet, sweaty, and lazy. Just what you need on a Friday night.

But not Saturday morning when you wake up from another nightmare. This time you couldn’t escape. The ring was stuck around your finger making it burn and pulse as the rust infected your exposed flesh. The finger started to swell, but you ignored your internal conflict, mothering your five kids and cooking for your disinterested husband. After all these years, his face is still vivid in your nightmares. The way he looks at you without any emotion, still very much vivid.

This time you wake up with a loud scream, stirring awake the body beside you. 

“What?! What!” Yukhei exclaims, not a hundred percent awake yet. You look over at him, then down at your naked body. You grimace at the disgusting feeling between your legs. “Oh god.” You press your hand over your throbbing forehead.

“You need to leave.”

“Yeah, I think so.” He replies with vexation as he throws the covers off his body and slides off your bed. “I’m gonna take a shower first, though.”

You get in after he leaves your house, washing away all the fluids dried onto your skin. It felt good in the moment but felt icky when you woke up. You could feel the remnants of the sex but no semblance of emotion. Each Saturday morning felt emptier than the last. With these new nightmares that accompany the empty mornings, it made you dread them all the more. 

Whether you want it to or not, Friday rolls around. You meet with Dejun. The sun sets. You fuck a new guy. It’s the same numbing cycle, the only variation being you running into an old one night stand and saying “fuck it”.

“Was it Yukhei?” Dejun sucks more of his smoothie down.

“No, it was Jaemin again. He was close to the best I’ve ever had.” You reflect as your own smoothie condensates in your hand.

“You did have sex with him again in the morning, so that makes sense. That seems impossible with how you describe the mornings after.”

“Everyone I fuck is obviously horny, but Jaemin… something about me really turned him on. Sex is so much better when the person can’t get enough of you. So I was fine with one more time.” It made that morning feel a little less burdensome. He slipped in while you were in the shower and ran his hands all over your slippery body. He was as hard as a rock just from that. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, the way the simplest things like touching or kissing you made him audibly aroused. “But then he left and I had to go back to what I usually do those mornings.”

Xiaojun hums, “Who was the best you ever had?”

“Huh?” You snap your head to stare at him in shock. “You said he was close to the best you ever had.”

“Oh, right. Well, I guess you can tell by my reaction.” You fidget with the cup containing the melting smoothie.

“I might have, yes.” Dejun laughs. “I feel like the sex can be a good reference point for unhealthy relationships.”

“You think so?” You always reflected on the sex as the only good part of that relationship. It’s the only time he showed you anything resembling affection. It was the only time you felt your feelings were reciprocated. 

“Yeah, my buddy used to be in a super toxic relationship where they pretty much hated each other. They barely spoke normally, just screaming and insulting and bickering. But he said the sex was amazing and that they understood each other then. I told him maybe they were just compatible sexually and not romantically. For me and Yue,”

The atmosphere instantly felt heavier with the mention of his ex. You try to peer at him, analyze his expression without him noticing. “the sex felt like nothing. Just lying there for the both of us. In and out. It felt like a chore. I thought that maybe I hated sex or something.”

Being with Sicheng made you feel like you had it wrong all along. That it was Kun poisoning your mind and preaching abstinence and the importance of romance over sex. But now you’ve come to an understanding that sex is your thing. You look around the mall from the kiosk seating the two of you are situated at. Maybe what’s happening now is a rough patch.

“But I don’t hate sex. I actually really, really like sex.” He says as though it’s absurd he thought so in the first place.

“How could you be wrong about something like that, though? I mean if anyone knows you, it’s you.” You pop the lid over the lip of your cup and snap it back on. Repeating the action over and over as you mull over his words.

Dejun considers your response, nodding as he thinks it over. “Sometimes when you don’t want to let go of someone, you convince yourself of things that aren’t true.” 

The lid fully pops off and the cup slips right out of your grasp. You shoot up as the smoothie spills all over your lap. The big commotion causes everyone to look in your direction. You cower away from their eyes as something dark and putrid settles in your stomach. Their eyes paralyze you with fear, grounding you to your spot.

“Are you okay?” Dejun raises from the floor with your capsized cup in his hands, still covered in your banana smoothie.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You’re surprised by your own trembling voice and frantically avoid his eyes. Then he’s gone, leaving you stuck in the same spot. It feels like their eyes are burning on your skin, boring through your skull. You can feel them all around you. When he returns you feel a flood of relief. He starts wiping off the bottom of your shirt and the top of your jeans. “You don’t have to tell me anything now,”

Dejun stands from his kneeling position to capture your dazed eyes. “but in the future, I hope to be someone you feel comfortable sharing your pain with.” Your breath catches in your throat. Every time you spend time with him, he brings you closer to believing he truly cares about you. Today feels like the first in a long time you have very little trouble trusting someone new. 

-

Once you get accustomed to your cycle it’s hard to break it. Dejun’s words are starting to make sense to you. After three years of processing what happened, it was time to work toward closing this chapter. 

That Friday after you met with Dejun, you still searched for a one night stand. You went to his place and had sex. And you woke up in the morning from a nightmare. Even after Dejun’s words permeated in your mind. 

This particular Saturday, you feel especially drained. It was past emptiness, now you felt like you were getting sucked dry. You felt absolutely sapped and your appearance properly illustrated that. Your face looked sunken in and your eyes looked dead. 

So the next Friday, when you’re at a party, you decide this is it. This is where the cycle ends. You’d been invited to a Halloween party by your colleague that insisted she knew you from college. Not only do you not remember her face at all, but she was also in a sorority. There was no way you and her crossed paths even once. Still, you could use some free booze and mindless fun. You dust off your tattered wedding dress and veil, blue wig, and blue-ish grey face paint.

“You’re here! Oh my god, you look amazing!” Your colleague, Krystal, greets you at the door dressed as Daphne. “I’m so glad you made it.”

You greet her back and enter the house filled with loud music and dancing party-goers. You’re okay with going to places alone as long as you don’t call attention to yourself. With You, Aeri, Minjeong, and Yizhuo no longer on speaking terms, you don’t really have a choice. You could’ve asked Dejun to come, but you didn’t want to bother him. Even though he’d look great as your Victor.

You think of him as you fill your cup with spiked eyeball punch. And when you go to the bathroom. And when you accidentally walk in on a couple, making a note to tell him about that later. The atmosphere is fun, and you see a few people you actually do remember from college. You and two alumni talk by the steps and sip on the berry punch.

“I’m just here to scope out hot people. I miss having sex at parties.” Sooyoung laments before pouting, looking more elegant in recent years. You nod along with Wendy even though you couldn’t relate at all. You were in a relationship the entire time you were in college. Hopping from one toxic relationship right into another. You barely had time to figure out what you truly wanted.

“Ooh! I see one. Wait, is he with you?”

When you look over, the tall man has already fully emerged from the crowd, dawning a Victor costume. The man you come to realize is your corrosive ex smiles when he sees you. Sicheng never had much empathy, but he had a shit-ton of audacity. Your expression sours as the two girls swoon over the romantic coincidence. The popular couple from college meet again after years and accidentally match. Except, you know it’s not entirely an accident.

Krystal appears from the crowd as well with a gasp and a squeal. “This is too cute!” Her loud voice alerts everyone around her. “The lovebirds are reunited!”

Everyone close to the two of you starts to chant and holler in encouragement. You feel like the walls are closing in and you have no room to breathe. You look around terrified at all the warped faces grinning toothily around you. You quickly run up the stairs, shutting yourself into an empty room.

Your head pulses and you hadn’t had enough to drink for that to be possible. You pace around the room, attempting to calm your erratic heart. The sound of the door opening reverses all your progress, and seeing who had turned up made it all worse.

-

“I haven’t seen you in so long!” A particularly loud voice speaks next to Sicheng. He glares to his right when he sees Krystal. A stuck up sorority girl who had tried to get with him on multiple occasions. He had to admit she was consistent if that’s why she was bothering him.

“We did graduate after all.”

“Yeah, but we were friends, right?” She settles on a stool next to him at the bar. He had no recollection of them spending any time together valuable enough to consider them friends. “Plus, if you didn’t get with ___, I feel like we could’ve been more than friends.” Krystal looks at him seductively, nibbling at the tiny straw in her glass.

“Is that what you’re here for?” He quirks his brow at her and hopes it isn’t obvious he’s clenching his jaw.

“No, I’m engaged.” She stretches her arm to shove her hand in his face and present her obnoxious ring. “I’m here to invite you to my party this Friday. A bunch of our alumni will be there.”

For the first time since she started talking her words piqued my interest. “Think of it as sort of a reunion! Meet some of your old frat bros or whatever.”

With that, she gets up again, wandering off somewhere else in the bar. Sicheng wasn’t worried about some random dudes from a fraternity. 

He was wondering if you still loved him.

One could say he made a slight oversight. Sicheng was a simple man. To him, life and the way you navigate it doesn’t have to be complicated. He does what he wants, and at times he pushes that aside to do what he needs. He figured it out by high school. He had to get good grades to get into a good college so he could qualify for a job under his father. Then when he enters his mid to late twenties, he’d find a girl and marry her. Finding the girl might’ve been a little hard in theory, but he figured he would just know when he found her. 

When he first met you, he pinned you as one of many hankerings he needed to address. Everyone who’s not asexual has that craving, right? And most people have specific… attributes they’re attracted to. Through trial and error, he learned not to let feelings get in the way of his method. Anything that flared up inside him when he looked at you, he suppressed. But they ended up breaking free anyway.

More than any other girl, you fought for and devoted yourself to him. Instead of flapping your lips about how little the two of you go out, you’d plan dates yourself. Instead of letting your friends persuade all your decisions, you fought against them. You did so many things for him that genuinely caught him off guard. That night in the theater? His other women wouldn’t dare.

You were different, and you were sorely missed when he found someone else. The process was always annoying and exhausting, especially if they were really prudish (which in turn brought the best results) which was the case for the next girl. Sicheng for the first time ever found himself losing patience during the process. And after it was all finished? The sex was mediocre and she would just bitch and moan. Usually he would just ditch her and find someone new, but he just kept thinking about what you would do. You cooked for him, gave him massages, and never nagged him. Well, until the end.

He wondered what you were so up in arms about. You guys were great, you seemed happy, everyone on campus loved the two of you, and the sex was great; but you just had to make things complicated. Now they just are, there’s no reversing that now.

Sicheng was sure he was finally rid of you after he sent that text, but you just kept invading his mind. It forced him to reflect on things. Thinking of you made him wonder if his plan for his life prevented him from seeing he had already met his wife.

On a particularly burdensome day, he was trudging through the busy mall. Surrounded by grating chatter, loud children, and bodies entering his personal space. He just needed to get what he needed and leave. A thought enters his mind as he passes a jewelry store to his left that makes him back up and peer inside. He enters warily, ignoring the employee and staring at the array of rings displayed. Smack dab in the middle, almost like it was fate, was a plain gold band. It was the same ring from that movie you liked. What was it… Corpse Bride?

He lifts the ring and inspects it, ignoring the older man once again as he warns that his lover will think it’s boring. He inspects the ring once more in his bed later that night. He had no clue where you lived or if you were even in the same city anymore. He didn’t have your number nor did he think you’d pick up anyway. He snorts thinking about how you’d probably hang up on him if you did.

The ring had been collecting dust for a while now. It was time to dust it off. It was worth a shot, right?

The bulky ring box sits uncomfortably in his left pocket. It’s a constant reminder to stay on task. He had another exhausting day at work and he doesn’t want to stay long. Good thing this costume is just a suit and a little makeup. He spends the entire party searching for you. After what feels like millenniums, he nearly gives up and leaves. He didn’t even know for sure if you were coming. In reality, the two of you were always mere feet away from crossing paths, only just missing each other as you went from room to room. 

He makes his way to the living room, ready to leave and toss the stupid ring. Who else would want a ring like this? Then he catches a blue wig in his peripheral. It wasn’t Sadness or Coraline this time, there was a shredded veil attached. He maneuvers through the crowd as quickly as he can toward the punch bowl and taps on the person’s shoulder. They turn around, puzzled. It wasn’t you. This was it. His sign to leave. He trudges back through the crowd toward the bathroom. He’d use it quickly, then go home and forget about this stupid plan.

As he approaches the stairs, he notices another blue wig and veil. The dreary eyes of their owner match the costume well. It’s really you. Sicheng approaches slowly. It’s catching up to him now, how many years it’s been since you’ve been anything more than a constant thought in his brain. 

All the women around you seem ecstatic that the two of you are together again, matching costumes and all. Your expression couldn’t be more different. Sicheng’s mouth twitches, finding it harder to maintain his smile. He actually did feel happy to see you, and you’re looking at him like he’s the last person you wanted to see. Even during your worst fights you never looked at him like that. 

The party-goers surrounding the two of you start to chant as initiated by Krystal and you seem to panic. Sicheng starts to panic himself. Should he do something? Before he could consider it, your feet were thundering up the stairs. He quickly follows behind.

You slam the door in his face which startles him. He stumbles back a bit, taking a minute to really soak in what was happening. He huffs before charging into the room. You look up at him with a mixture of dread, anger, and disbelief.

It feels like hours go by of you staring at him incredulously before your shoulders slump. “Haven’t you done enough?” You beseech him, genuinely requesting an answer to the accusatory question. Sicheng scoffs, looking around as if searching for clarity.

“What?”

“No-” You rush toward him with a cautionary finger extended. “Don’t you fucking start with your oblivious act.”

Sicheng’s brain does backflips trying to explain your behavior. “Are you still angry about the breakup? It’s been years now.”

Your face contorts to express how utterly awestruck you are. Sicheng doesn’t know what to do with the look or the silence, so he digs through his pocket. If you still love him, surely this would appease you and force you to bring it out. There’s a tinge of hesitance dulling his confidence. He’s not sure what’s causing it, but he would guess it was the strangely awkward atmosphere between the two of you. It was like he had never had sex with let alone dated the woman in front of him. Someone witnessing what was transpiring would think he was about to propose to a stranger he pissed off at some point. He brushes away the unease and powers through his plan.

You watch confusedly as he gets on one knee and presents the box. Realization hits you before he even opens it, and the panic is back. You gawk at the ring, wide eyed and slack-jawed. The silence extends either due to time slowing down for Sicheng or many minutes passing by of you in shock. For a moment he gets excited. It’s happening, despite the tense atmosphere, your love is reigniting. Soon you’ll be back to your wife-material ways and all will be well.

In the blink of an eye, an uncalculated swipe of your hand knocks the ring onto the floor. Sicheng looks down at the ring. The worst he was expecting was a no and he wasn’t fully expecting that either. The woman who slapped the ring out of his hand was the most dedicated woman he’d ever spent time with.

“I think I’m going fucking crazy.” You laugh erratically, tossing a hand through your hair. Sicheng looks up at you like you grew two extra heads. “I think you are, yes!”

“You had all these years to reflect and you don’t come with an apology, you come with a ring?!” You shout, your voice ringing in his ears.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sicheng stands up, discarding the box to the floor to join the ring before repeating the word a few times. “Apologize? For what? A nasty breakup?”

You look like you’re about to erupt again but you ground yourself, taking a very deep, shaky breath. “You know what? I’m done with you, completely this time.” You smile, looking scarily calm before making your way to the door. Completely this time. Maybe there was something there after all. Sicheng stops you by grabbing your arm.

“Are you afraid it won’t work out like last time? If that’s it we can work through it.”

“Sicheng,” You stop and back up to get a proper look at him, eyes flickering between both of his, “you took away my voice. I already felt insignificant enough, but you made me feel stupid for expressing any thoughts outside of sex. And!” You narrow your eyes, stepping closer, “You did it in a way that made it hard to criticize you.”

“If I hurt you-” You stop Sicheng with a raise of your finger and a sound of disapproval.

“If.” You laugh, shaking your head. “You can’t sit here and pretend like your actions weren’t cold and calculated. You fucked me up for every relationship that followed you, and you shattered my heart to pieces.” You watch him bitterly, grimacing as if you tasted something nasty.

“I’m here to fix that.” Sicheng tries but you almost immediately shut him down.

“You know what? I don’t even want your apology. It doesn’t mean shit to me.”

“Y-You’re just hurt. Just let me show you, we can make this work.” There was apathy in your eyes that unsettled him. He much preferred you being loud. He’d let you slap him if it made you reconsider. 

“So you’re not just here for sex?”

“What?! No! I bought a fucking ring for god sake!”

“What does that ring mean?” You ask incredulously. “Come on, think. Sex was the only pleasant thing to come from our relationship. Ring or no ring, girlfriend or wife, it doesn’t change that the only things you’re after are simple pleasures. You don’t want depth.”

“That’s not true!” Sicheng grabs your shoulders but you immediately brush them away with a look of disdain. He ignores it and powers through. “I was waiting for a wife, and I’m only getting older. It’s time for me to consider getting married and I want it to be you.”

“Listen to you. You sound like you’re checking something off a list, not planning to marry the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. Sicheng, you don’t love me.” You state plainly. “Besides, we’d make each other miserable.”

This emotion with this level of potency is something Sicheng had never experienced before. Your eyes on him felt cold and intrusive. He wanted to scream for you to get away from him to save him his pride, but a weaker part of him that’s been beating him down since he bought the ring prevailed. 

“You really feel nothing for me?” He immediately regrets the question after hearing how weak he sounded. His eyes flit all around the room in an attempt to avoid you.

“After everything I’ve said you’re still thinking about yourself.” You sound like you’re self-reflecting rather than speaking to him at this point.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I told you I didn’t want your apology. Just let this go.” You gesture disinterestedly, no, you refer to your past relationship as if you’re appalled by the whole thing.

Sicheng realizes now that he definitely made an oversight. If only he didn’t tell you he didn’t love you in that damn text. If he had just stuck it out for a year or so, he wouldn’t be having this much trouble. You’re hurt, too hurt to be upfront about your feelings. 

“Please. Let me change your mind.” 

The doubt is quickly evident on your face but surprisingly eases up after a moment. “Okay. Do it.”

Again Sicheng is forced to deal with a response he didn’t expect. He was ready to plead a few more times before you folded. Sicheng sinks to his knees, eyes locked onto you as he does so. He reaches under your tattered dress to pull your panties down and you scoff, expressing how disappointingly predictable you thought Sicheng was through your eyes. 

“You’re gonna fuck me to show how much you love me?”

“You said yourself it was the best part of our relationship.” Sicheng kisses up your thighs, surveying you as you clench your teeth and drop your guarded expression. It was already working. Sicheng’s index finger skims across your folds, freezing upon his discovery. You were bone dry, even when he pushes his fingers past your labia.

“Don’t just sit there and stare at it. Do something about it.” You reprimand before gripping his hair and shoving it into your pussy. Sicheng is normally turned off by a dominant woman, but the way his groin started to ache forces him to realize how long he’s gone without sex. He hasn’t had a break from sex so lengthy he resorted to porn in years. So he starts eagerly lapping at your folds. “That’s right, get it nice and wet.” 

Your grinding against his face makes a squelching noise so obscene he’s getting hard fast enough to humiliate him. His pants were already starting to strain while he had to apply moisture to your vagina. His nose was pressed right against your clit as his tongue swipes between your folds. He’s generous with the saliva, coating you with a layer so thick it was dripping back down onto the floor. 

“Mm, you were always so good at this. When you actually fucking did it.”

“You came regardless.” He mutters before lapping at your slit, licking from your taint up to your hardened clit. He flicks the fabric that was ridden up over his head backward and fully cloaks himself under your dress. You lose your grip on his hair as he shoves his face further into your heat, thrusting his tongue inside you. He’s as rough as he always was, nails indenting in your skin as he makes little to no effort to ease you into it. “Go ahead, make me love you Sicheng.”

He groans against you as he fucks you with his tongue with more fervor. He hasn’t gotten any in a long time and you probably weren’t getting any either. It makes it all the more plausible you’d remember the magic and come crawling back. You were getting wet now, he could taste it. With his nose back against your clit you were grinding against his face. He pulls back with a hum, licking his lips.

“Been a while since you got eaten out? So desperate.” His condescension was back in full swing with the help of his renewed confidence. When you just chuckle he returns between your thighs and lets you grind on his face.

“If you think this is desperate you should see me other Friday nights.” 

Sicheng slides his tongue from your hole and pulls back from under your dress. You just smile smugly when he stares up at you. Before Sicheng met you, you barely had sex. He was at a frat party when Kun vented to him. The two of you did nothing sexual. The furthest you ever went was neck kisses and you requested them shyly ever since. The way he described you was as someone who got worked up by the smallest instances of physical affection. And now you were fucking a new guy every week?

“You said I shattered your heart.”

“Okay, so fix it like you said you would.” You raise your eyebrows, getting impatient from all the talking. You try to push his head back but he pulls away. 

“I want to fuck you now.” He grabs your hand and tries to guide you toward the bed but you stay put. “The floor is fine.” You say nonchalantly.

Something about what you said and how you said it makes his chest tighten. He settles on the floor, still unsure about the whole thing. He tugs you onto his lap where he can kiss you and keep your chests pressed together. But you just push him back and undo his pants. How was he going to revive your love if you refuse to get close to him? In his frustration he flips you over, trapping you under him as he scowls. He only gets more worked up when you roll your eyes.

“Missionary? Really?”

“This bothers you but getting back with Kun doesn’t?” Sicheng spat, letting his bruised ego and rising resentment get the best of him. You sit up on your arms and gawk at him.

“What did you just say?”

“You’re pushing me away and acting like you barely want to touch me when shacking up with Kun was no problem for you.”

“Don’t fucking act like you care now to weaponize it against me.” You shove at his chest before sliding from under him.

“Care now? You didn’t get the note?” Sicheng asks, genuinely confused. The look on your face helps him understand that you did get the note. Your utter disbelief dissolves as you process the information. You laugh humorlessly, blinking away your tears. “Wow… if you had told me that just a year earlier you would’ve ruined me.” You seem somber as you sit in silence.

“I wasn’t going to send it but I could tell you were doing it to get back at me and it pissed me off-”

“I don’t care.” You express soberly and tug him by his shirt, repositioning back to the position he put you in. “Come on, I believe in you. Fuck me until I love you.” You goad him. Despite being belittled, Sicheng angles himself before shoving inside you. The force pushes a strained noise out of you. “There you go. Fuck me rough like I know you can.” You grit. The slam of his hips is brutal, perfectly expressing how frustrated he is. He wanted to fuck the arrogant bitch out of you.

Each thrust drives your body further up the floor until he grips your hips. He accompanies his break-neck thrusts by slamming you against him. You’re borderline shouting from his cock barreling inside you and he catches a glimpse of the old you. The way your eyes screw shut with your eyebrows pulled together as you moan helplessly, you react exactly the same as when you were dating.

“Fuck me until I can’t walk!” You wail before throwing a hand over your head to support you. Sicheng hadn’t had rough sex in an even longer time. The last girl couldn’t take it as well as you do. She always complained. You always liked it deep and hard, until your legs ached. 

Sicheng is more than eager to give it to you again. He doesn’t know how you’re feeling but he is starting to feel like he did before. When the two of you would just go at it for hours.

“Missed your slutty pussy.”

“I bet you did. You made it this way.”

You sneer when he clamps his hand around your throat. “Shut the fuck up already.” He knows how to achieve that, so he lessens the speed and delivers more punishing thrusts. You struggle to moan let alone speak. He knows you’re fucked when your hands flail in search of something to grip. One lands on his forearm while the other grabs his shirt to clench. 

Your hips buck and attempt to break free from his grasp but he maintains his tight grip. Your walls flutter around him and massage his shaft. You’re drenched now, clenching around him to help him get off. You even smile up at him.

“Pull out.” You say, still smiling even after Sicheng’s falters. “What?”

“Don’t cum inside me.”

Sicheng grunts and pulls out, unable to continue the conversation as the friction gets the best of him. He starts to jerk off and you move from under him, avoiding the semen that sprays from his tip. By the time all of his cum was tugged from his cock all of his momentum was gone. “Are you off the pill?”

That would make no sense if you’re having sex with more people, but he’s still confused when you answer. “Nope.” You stand and straighten out your dress, not sparing him a glance.

“So you think I have something or…”

You sigh as you pull your panties back on, annoyed by this conversation. “Oh, I almost forgot.” You finally look down at him, eyes following his as he stands as well. “Thank you for my last Friday night hook up.”

Sicheng felt much less confident than when he first saw you tonight. Your words filled him with unease. They were too vague for him to do anything with. “Your last?”

“Yes! And what a hook up it was.” You seem triumphant for reasons that were beyond Sicheng’s comprehension. You move closer to him and flash a quick smile. 

“I felt nothing.” You state emphatically, brimming with pride as you stare Sicheng down. He grinds his teeth, eyes wide as his nostrils flare.

“You’re a fucking liar.” He fires the words at you but you remain unaffected, smiling as if you weren’t demolishing his pride. 

“But I’m not. You failed to make me love you.” You mock his plan. He’s realizing now that you never thought he could do it in the first place. “I have to thank you for something else, though. Being here with you, listening to you talk, experiencing how you fuck again? It all made me realize that I do love someone else.”

“Who?!” Sicheng explodes, stepping so close your bodies are mere inches from touching. “One of your one night stands? You really think they love you? You’re still just as naive as you were before.” He snarls, harsh exhales of his nose hitting your face. 

“Someone who never propositioned me once.”

Reality crashes down on Sicheng when he realizes he fucked up again. That and the fact that there was very little he could do to change your mind. At this point, he just wanted to hold on for the sake of his dignity. “Please, I can take you out-”

“After you left me I had it all wrong. You convinced me sex was what I needed and he made me realize that wasn’t true. He loves me and he makes me happy, and for once I'm not lying to myself when I say those things." You pat him on the shoulder, content as you leave the room.

Sicheng stands alone, replaying the events that just transpired against his will. He does it over and over, standing in that room for an indeterminate amount of time. You, the pathetic chick from college begging for validation were the same person smiling in his face as you broke him down. He races toward the door and flings it open. The party had long since died down, indicating how long he had been in Krystal’s bedroom. The sedated atmosphere forces Sicheng to wallow in his self-pity, coping with his failure.

Epilogue;

The first sounds you hear are birds chirping as your eyes flutter open. The sunlight is soft as it enters your eyes. You raise slowly from the bed, inhaling deeply. Another nightmare-free Saturday. Dejun stirs next to you and you look down at him fondly. He smiles groggily.

“Sleep well?” His voice is scratchy and his dark hair is a tangled mess on top of his head. You smile with a smile giggle, settling back onto the bed and nuzzling into his arms. You brush his hair away from his eyes. 

“Perfectly.”

➻ end of act iii

[pedrito-friskito]

REBEL SUNS - CHAPTER TWO

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you and cassian pull a job for luthen, and something is starting to form between you and the rebel.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, *SPOILERS FOR ANDOR*, canon-typical violence and injuries, talk of the rebellion, cassian andor is a giant flirt i’ll die on this hill, and if I’ve missed anything please let me know! (this chapter is pretty light though!)

a/n: should I have started writing/posting this fic in the midst of The Last of Us dropping and Joel Miller brain rot taking over? probably not. do I care? also no. I love this story too much. (also I’m lazy and this is unedited bYE)

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works, please follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications!✨

As soon as the Fondor is safely adrift in hyperspace, Luthen reappears from the cockpit, and you slide the belt straps off your aching shoulders. Cassian is quick to help, his fingers nimble on the buckles, his brow furrowed as he releases you. You murmur your thanks, and he just nods before undoing his own restraints, disappearing into one of the Fondor’s many dark corners. You know them well.

In the early days, before Hoth, when you were just a young thief with a silver tongue, when you were Luthen’s (only) pride and joy, most of your time was spent on the Fondor, jumping from system to system, selling your stolen wares and cashing the credits in before anyone could question you. You’ve stared yourself down in that fresher mirror more times than you care to count, hidden in the storage compartments when Imps yanked the ship in for a random inspection, cleaned your wounds using the same kit Luthen had just used.

It was you who had nicked the hyperdrive that now powered the ship, enabled Luthen to make his grand escapes when required. You who had charmed the mechanic on Dantooine to install it with as much secrecy as possible; the vibro-blade to his throat certainly seemed to help. You’d traded for the droid mod that you knew was still hooked up in the cockpit. Yes, you know the Fondor well. A little too well.

Cassian disappears around the corner, and you let your eyes linger on the space he’d just filled, the shadow of him hooked on the door. Luthen comes to stand before you, arms crossed over his chest, piercing eyes staring down at you.

“We’re going to Taanab,” he says, casually, as though he were commenting on the weather. He hands you the flask of med-nog once more, and you take a large gulp. “It’s a big score.”

You lean forward slightly, testing the give of your side, releasing your breath when the pain isn’t unbearable. Thank the Maker for bacta. “What makes you think I’m working for you again?” you ask, lifting a brow and taking another sip of the med-nog, smaller this time.

Luthen snatches the flask back from you, stowing it in his jacket. “You’re not, never said you were. But I have a feeling you’ll want in when you know who it is we’re stealing from.” He lifts a shoulder. “Like I said, it’s a big score.”

You narrow your eyes him. “What’s the mark?”

He starts to walk away, a smile tugging at his lips, not yet reached his face, but you know Luthen. This is his game. This is how he’s always got you, hook, line, and sinker.

“What’s the mark, Luthen?”

“Black Sun. My sources tell me the storehouse is filled to the brim with weapons. I’d like to relieve them of that burden.”

Not so subconsciously, your hand wanders up to your shoulder, squeezing lightly. You’d tangled with Black Sun before, tried to steal a crate of Savareen emeralds on it’s way off-planet. You’d nearly gotten out when the guards caught you, dragged you before their leader. He’d decided to show you mercy after a bit of deliberation, but left you with a deep scar cut into your left shoulder, put there by the burning red blade he carried. It had taken months to heal, the burn almost worse than the wound itself, and the scar still tingled from time to time.

“You did this on purpose.”

The old man barks a laugh. “I didn’t know you were on Arkanis, did I?” he says, coming back to stand before you. He reaches out, takes your chin in his hand, brings your eyes up to his. “Either you come with us, or I leave you at the spaceport, no hard feelings.” He pauses, squeezes your face lightly. “Shadow.”

Biting out a groan, you bat his hand away. “Don’t call me that.” You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. “Give me the med-nog.”

His brow pinches.

“If I’m doing this, I’m gonna need it, Luthen,” you snap, holding out your hand.

The corner of his mouth twitches again, and the flask is pressed to your palm a second later. “Get some rest.” He reaches out again, this time his hand touched to your cheek. There’s something like admiration in those pale eyes, but only for a fleeting second, before the hard gaze returns and he turns away, stalking back towards the cockpit.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the old man missed you.

You flick open the flask, sipping more of the med-nog, and Cassian reappears. He doesn’t wander towards you, busies himself checking a blaster sitting on one of the many weapons racks the Fondor holds. His movements are calculated, but easy, second nature. It’s easy to tell just looking at him that he’s a true fighter, and his voice rings out in your head.

This is the only thing that’s ever made any sense to me.

Perhaps Luthen is right, perhaps you will get along with this new Rebel. Though something tells you his rebellious spirit is nothing new.

It’s quiet, for a long time. The only noise is the quiet clink of metal as Cassian works, the quiet thrum of the Fondor’s engines, the in and out of your breathing. You find yourself watching the man before you, your head cocked to the side, following his movements. He’s modding the blaster, you can tell, swapping out certain parts for others, flicking the switches that make up the inner workings.

“Where��d you learn that?” you ask after what feels like ages, your voice scratchy, making you clear your throat when he looks over. Slowly, you stand, making your way on shaky legs towards him. You can feel him watching you, one hand extended when you get close enough, there in case you need it. The med-nog is definitely working, a warmth making it’s way through your body, spreading through your aching limbs. You’ll be fine once you land on Taanab.

You brace both elbows on the rack, leaning your weight onto it. “My father,” he says quickly, and his tone tells you that you won’t get anything else out of him. Not yet, anyway. “Why did Luthen call you that?” he asks, eyes still focused on the blaster in his hands. “Shadow.”

You heave a sigh, reaching for one of the discarded bits of metal, sliding it between your fingers. “It was my…” Your brow pinches. “My name, I guess. Before, when I was working for him. He would send me in to do his negotiating, most of the time. Called me Shadow to keep my identity a secret, made sure no one ever saw my face. After Hoth, I ditched it. Traded on my own name, tried to make an actual name for myself, instead of just a ghost story.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, but no smile follows. “You don’t like it.”

“I never liked it,” you answer, putting the metal piece back down. “I never wanted to hide. I wanted the Empire to know exactly who I was, exactly why I was stealing from them.” You sigh. “Not like it ever mattered. We’re just…numbers, to them. Blips on a map, tallies in a database. They don’t care.” Another sigh. “I just want to make a difference, you know? Somehow.”

He stares at you for a long moment, long enough that you have to force yourself to look away, your face heating under his intense eyes. It’s not lost on you that he’s handsome, dark haired, darker eyes, strong nose, stronger jaw. The thick beard suits him, and his shoulders are broad beneath his shirt. And he carries an intensity. You felt it the moment you woke up, your saviour standing beside your old employer. 

Cassian clears his throat, and you force your eyes back, looking down as he slides the blaster towards you until it touches your hand. “Here.” He reaches into the rack, produces a thigh holster. “I switched out the repeater. More blasts per shot. Probably better than that rusty thing you’re carrying around.”

“T-thank you,” you stutter out, taken aback by the offer. There’s an actual grin on his lips now, and his eyes soften slightly. “You know, you’re awfully quick to trust.”

His head shoots up at that, something bright in his eyes. “Luthen trusts you.”

“And that enough for you?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t trust you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He gives you a wry smile. “We want the same things, Shadow,” he quips, and laughs when you roll your eyes. “We get these weapons,” he pauses, and reaches into the rack again, hands you a commlink, points to his ear, “and it’s a start. Everything we do, it makes a difference.”

+

The sky is dark, when you land on Taanab. But the med-nog and the bacta did you well, and you feel almost refreshed. Coupled with the blaster Cassian had given you strapped to your leg, your knives at your belt, commlink in your ear, you feel ready.

It’s been a while now, since you worked a job with someone. Since Hoth, you’d been travelling alone, finding marks on your own, hopping to the next system before anyone could spare you a second glance. Visiting Vel on Chandrila had been the exception; she’d been your way in to the few pieces you’d managed to nick, and she’d given you back the Kuati signet. Though she hadn’t told you where she’d gotten it from.

“It’s a long story,” were her exact words.

Luthen stays on the Fondor, within range of the storehouse. To keep watch, he tells you, and you’re not surprised. He was never one for close combat, and besides, with a job like this, the last thing you need is all three of you getting caught.

“Don’t take any chances, you two,” you hear as you and Cassian slink into the forest surrounding the storehouse. “You get in, get it prepped, and signal me. Then we get the hell out of here.”

The storehouse has a large opening on the roof, sliding doors that would allow a ship to land inside, take cargo in and out as needed. A handful of Black Sun guards, weapons already crated and ripe for the taking. It’s the perfect job, so long as you don’t get caught.

Luthen’s intel gave you an idea of how many guards you’d hit, and the bioscanner Cassian carries out with you gives you a map of where they are. “What are the odds they have one of those?” you whisper as you reach the tree line, the storehouse in plain view.

“If we were stealing from the Empire,” he whispers back, looking down at the scanner’s screen and back up again, “then they would have grabbed us already.”

“Comforting.”

It all goes off without a hitch. Mostly.

You follow the map laid out on the bioscanner, taking down guards as you go. You make a good team, Cassian covering the front, you at his back, sweeping through the building slowly but surely. You leave the guards alive, but unconscious, much to Luthen’s audible dismay. “Needless deaths,” you whisper through the commlink. He just scoffs in response.

Cassian shoots you a look, his brow raised.

“I don’t like killing,” you say instantly, adjusting your grip on your blaster. “Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“These days,” Cassian replies, his voice hushed, checking his own weapon, “it’s us or them, no matter who you’re fighting. I’d say that makes it necessary.”

You’ve cleared out the main area, started loading the weapons onto the hoist that’ll send them up to the Fondor. You’re strapping a crate into place when there’s an unfamiliar hey! behind you and a red blaster bolt zips past your head, pinging off the crates behind you. Before you can even react, Cassian fires his blaster, and the guard falls.

You whirl, watching him shove the gun back it’s into his holster. “Maker, you’re a quick shot.”

“What?” he asks, an innocent look on his face, a boyish tug to his lips. “You’ve never heard of shooting first, asking questions later?”

You balk at him, shaking your head, returning your attention to the crate. “You better hope those shots didn’t just announce us to the rest of the guards.”

He reaches down for the bioscanner, just as another guard rounds the stack of crates behind Cassian.  The guard reaches for him, grabbing the back of his jacket, but before he can yank your new partner backward, you’ve drawn your own blaster and fired, the guard thundering to the floor.

Luthen chuckles in your ear. “What was that about needless deaths?”

Cassian just stares at you, something like thankfulness in his expression.

“Shoot first,” you say with a breathless shrug, noting the large blade that has tumbled from the guard’s grip, which no doubt would have been buried in Cassian’s spine had you not shot as quick as you did. “Ask questions later.”

“Good girl,” Cassian murmurs, and it sends a surprising shock down your spine you’re not ready for. “Let’s get out of here.”

You sprint for the roof controls, suddenly desperate to put some distance between you and him. Partway between the hoist and the panel, however, something catches you eye. Discarded on the floor, rolled behind a stack of crates and clearly forgotten. Your feet carry you to the object, and everything in your body jolts as you wrap your hands around the hilt of a lightsaber.

You’re old enough to know. Your father used to tell you and your brothers stories about the Jedi, their codes and their promises, the ways of the Force and the weapons they carried. Civilized weapons, he always called them, and there had always been something in his voice, a certain kind of longing that you never understood and he never elaborated on.

The blade zaps to life in your hand when you flick the switch, the humming noise filling your ears, bright yellow plasma illuminating the space you’re standing in. It’s mesmerizing, watching the saber crackle and spark. “What did you find?” Cassian shouts, and it yanks you out of the reverie, your father’s voice echoed in your head, the blade disappearing as your fingers find the switch again.

“Nothing,” you reply, heading for the control panel, stuffing the saber into an inner pocket of your jacket. You don’t have to look at him to know he doesn’t believe you, but you busy yourself with the roof controls. “Luthen, we’re clear.”

As soon as the roof opens completely, the Fondor appears above the storehouse, hovering in place. A wired hook lowers from the belly of the ship, and Cassian catches it once it’s within reach, hooking it onto the hoist and locking it in. He grips the wire as the hoist lifts, the crates lifting from the ground, and you just watch from the control panel, holding your breath.

“Come on, Shadow,” he calls, and you can hear it through the commlink as well as the space between you. “Time to go.”

As soon as the crates are clear of the roof, you hit the right sequence to close it again, then sprint out of the storehouse. You nearly stop in your tracks when you see the group of Black Sun guards heading straight for you, but spin on your heel, sprinting in the direction the Fondor is slowly heading, the crates now completely concealed inside.

You sprint, legs and arms pumping as you head for the clearing where Luthen had landed the shift. Blaster bolts zip past your head, scorching into the trees ahead of you. You duck left as the ship lowers into view, and the same hook that had lifted the crates slides down. Once you’re close enough, you slide your boot into it, gripping the wire tight as you can, ducking your head as the blaster bolts continue to flash past you.

The wire retracts, lifting you closer and closer to the ship’s hull, the opening nearly within reach, when a bolt pings against the hook, you foot sliding off, your grip faltering.

Before you can fall to your death, there’s a hand around your forearm, the grip strong. You blink up to see Cassian sprawled against the edge of the opening, teeth gritted, hauling you up with a loud grunt. You can’t help your own relieved groan as he yanks you over the edge, the movement rolling you on top of him. You’re both breathless, your hands propped either side of his head, staring at each other. His hands on your waist feel like lead weights, magma hot and pinning you in place.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “That’s the second time you’ve saved my life in less than two days, you realize.”

“Then you owe me one,” he replies, that boyish grin you’d seen in the storehouse reappearing. “You’re a good shot.”

You force your eyes from his face, scrambling backwards off of him, out of his grip. Your face is hot, every part of you he’d had his hands on feeling almost burned. The same zip you’d felt down your spine when he said what he did happens again, making you shiver. Good girl.

Shit.

Luthen doesn’t appear until you’re back in hyperspace, the whir of the Fondor’s engine enough of a distraction as you stow your blasters and comms, shrug out of your jacket. You inspect your bandages, steal another few sips of med-nog, go snooping through a few familiar compartments, your brow pinching when you see Luthen never tossed the clothes you’d kept stashed on the ship.

You can feel Cassian watching you, and you avert your eyes on purpose, turning away from him to hide the lightsaber in the waistband of your pants, careful of the switch as you go. 

“Good work,” Luthen says, clapping Cassian on the shoulder, a gleam in his eyes. “You make a good team.”

“I can see why you like her,” Cassian tells the old man, and you can feel both of them looking at you now, but you still refuse to look over. “She moves fast. Precise.”

Luthen chuckles. “You should both sleep, while you can. It’ll be some time before we reach the base. Have to take the long way around to stay off the Empire’s scanners. I’ll wake you when it’s time to land.”

He disappears again, and silence settles over you and Cassian. You can still feel him watching, busying yourself with checking and rechecking your blaster.

“Did I do something?” he asks, taking a slow step towards you, ducking his head in an attempt to catch your eye.

You lift your head, giving him a flat stare, schooling your face impassive. “No, why do you ask?”

He squints at you, chewing the inside of his cheek, his jaw working. You refuse to let your eyes linger on his mouth, his beard. His stupidly handsome face. “Just asking. You going to show me what you found back there?”

You drop your eyes, turning back to the compartment you’d opened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cassian just laughs.

+

The base on Yavin-4 has grown substantially since you last saw it.

The last time you were here, it was early days. Very early days. The Rebellion was nothing more than a whisper at that point, but Luthen had decided they needed a focal point, a haven for those who would become displaced as the war spread through the galaxy like a disease. Planets would be razed, he said. Homes would be destroyed, families would be lost. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

It’s still not an army by any means, but the barracks are larger. There are more people working in various parts of the space the Rebellion has claimed. Faces you recognize, old contacts of Luthen’s that you’ve utilized in the past. A few are surprised to see you, embracing you warmly. You even get a few tears from those you’d worked with more than once, a murmured we thought you were gone offered more than once.

You help them unload the weapons from the Fondor, pleased with your score. Luthen disappears, no doubt to brief the other leaders on what was done, what you’ve brought back. Part of you wonders if your reappearance will be in his report.

With the ship empty, you lock your few belongings away, trading your heavy coat for a lighter one. The saber still sits in your waistband, the metal cool against your skin. You wander a bit, trailing your hands over boxes and crates, ships and weapons racks. It’s real now, the Rebellion. It’s actually happening.

The air on Yavin-4 is warm, but it suddenly feels stifling.

You wait for an opening, for the few eyes on you to avert their attention elsewhere, for Cassian to get distracted by the other Rebels, caught up in conversation about something, and head out of the nearly constructed base.

+

He lets you think he’s not watching.

From the corner of his eye, he tracks you, after the crates have been unloaded from the Fondor. Cassian has made it a point to learn more of the names on the base, matching them to the faces in his mind. Some are overjoyed to see you, tearful hellos shared, wrapping you up in embraces he’s not sure you want. 

He’s still trying to figure you out. You had been warm before Taanab, forthcoming and chatty, giving him that little bit of your past, what had sparked the bit of Rebellion inside you. 

Rebellions are built on hope. 

And then, after he’d yanked you back into the hull of the ship, nearly tearing his shoulder apart in the process, you’d been a breath away from him, and he knows you’d felt the same thing he did. It explained the coldness that had radiated off you afterward, when you’d lied straight to his face about what you found in the storehouse. 

But now, watching you slink towards the tree line, he feels there’s something else that’s bothering you, something else on your mind.

He waits a few minutes, before he follows the path. You’re hard to track, your footsteps disappearing into the forest partway down the path. It takes a moment for him to realize where you’re gone, and it pricks at something in his chest, spurring him forward.

Cassian found the clearing the first time Luthen had brought him to Yavin-4. It had all felt so overwhelming, the events on Ferrix still fresh in his mind, his heart. His family, his home, his freedom. The ultimatum he’d given Luthen, his acceptance into the Rebellion solidified as soon as the door to the Fondor swished shut. He’d wandered, much like you are now, trying to find something that didn’t feel so compact, so set in stone.

The grass is soft beneath his boots, rocks and fallen trees lining the edge of the space. You’re stood in the middle, the lightsaber ignited in your hand. The yellow plasma glows brightly, the light of the setting sun somehow making it shine more. He hangs back, watching you, your grip easy. You swing the blade over and over, twirling it between both hands, the hilt becoming an extension of your arm.

He waits until you’ve let the saber touch the earth, the plasma singeing the grass into dust, leaving a black scorch behind. “You didn’t find anything back there, huh?”

You flinch hard, the blade retracting with a zip. You stare down at the hilt, chewing your lip so hard your jaw goes tight. You don’t say anything, but your eyes lift to his, and instead of the flat stare you’d given him back on the Fondor, there’s a brightness to your gaze, your lashes lined with tears.

Slowly, Cassian approaches you. The space between you goes from much too little to much too much, and he can feel it. There’s an unmistakable urging in him to comfort you, and he’s not surprised to hear his mother’s voice in the back of his mind again. You do what’s right.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest to staunch the need to reach for you. “Seemed like a lot of people were happy to see you.”

“It’s…” you start, but trail off, tucking the saber into your back pocket. You glance past him, towards the base, shrouded by the trees that surround you. “It’s strange, coming back like this. They all thought I was dead.”

“Because Luthen thought you were,” Cassian asserts, his brow lowering slightly.

You nod. “I just didn’t expect the tears, I guess, but I suppose that’s what this is now.”

Confused, Cassian tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

You rub your hand up and down your arm, and he sees one single tear slip down your cheek. “The Rebellion, it’s a family.” You swipe at your face, trying to shake the emotion from your expression. “You should go back, we should—”

“Sit,” Cassian tells you, and sinks down beside you, offering his hand. You take it slowly, crossing your legs beneath you as you lower yourself to the grass. “We don’t have to do anything. If you need a moment, then take it.”

There’s a comfortable sort of quiet that settles over you both. Distantly, the sound of the base can be heard, orders shouted from one to the next, the beeping of droids, the quiet hum of ships. It’s calming in a way Cassian isn’t expecting, and you’re silent beside him, your knees drawn to your chest, arms wrapped around them. He busies himself with picking at the grass in front of him. He can feel your eyes on him, glued to his hands, watching him tear the blade of grass into smaller pieces.

“It’s nice,” you say after a while, and your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “not being alone anymore.”

Cassian lifts his head slightly, meets your eyes. There are a million questions on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t voice any of them.

You still manage to answer a few of them.

“After Hoth, I just kept moving. I never stayed in the same place for long, and it was lonely. I found contacts where I could, but Luthen doesn’t have as many friends as he thinks, not anymore. The Empire has paid out a lot of Rebels, captured more, killed twice as many as that.” Your head tilts back, staring up at the cloudless sky. “The galaxy never made me nervous, before, when I was…”

“The Shadow?” he finishes when you go quiet, and you give a nod.

“When I was working with Luthen, I never felt like I had to watch my back, you know? Cuz he was there, watching it for me. But after, I couldn’t turn it off. I was always looking over my shoulder, always hiding, always running. It was exhausting. I was on Glavis for a while, and I was nearly sold to Tatooine slavers six times.”

Cassian lifts his brows, staring down at the shredded grass between his fingers. “I’m not surprised,” he says, picking at another blade, “unfortunately. Pretty girl like you.” He gives you a quick glance, looking away when he finds your eyes trained on his face, tilting his own to the sky. “The galaxy is a mess.”

More silence settles. You watch each other when the other isn’t looking, these silent glances stacked atop each other. You don’t seem as upset anymore, which eases the need to comfort you further. Slowly, you unravel yourself on the grass, legs stretched in front of you, and you reach into your back pocket, producing the lightsaber and laying it on the grass between you.

“I have a buyer,” you say, and he looks at you, takes in the hopeful expression on your face, “on Hosnian Prime. A collector; I’ve bargained with him before. He’s an ex-Stormtrooper, collects Jedi relics. If I bring him this, he’ll give me information on my brother.”

Cassian reaches for the saber, closes his fingers around the hilt, feeling the weight of the foreign weapon. He’s only ever heard stories about the Jedi, about their sabers. Holding one in his hand, it’s something else entirely.

“Then I guess we’re going to Hosnian Prime.”

PREV | NEXT

[redjaybathood]

Sorry but just had a fic idea I think you'd appreciate.

Long story short, its when Bruce & the boys were on their holiday, Steph comes back to Gotham and surprises Slade before he can kidnap Cass letting them bail.

Bruce and the boys come back early & Leslie's 'faked' autopsy report and such come to light and while Cass (Who is more feeling something is sus than angry) & especially Tim have some complicate feelings them seem OK with things going back to normal.

But Batman kidnapped Green Arrow, so of course he'll want to do tests. Stephanie seems to avoid being alone with him under any circumstances though and he does recall her being able to sneak up on him so sneaking up on her is hard without a fight.

So, cos Alfred's softened on her a bit and she's willing to take food from her... Well she ends up drugged and knocked out as it wasn't taking its full effects. Cue Bruce's invasive medical inspections starting and stopping not long after.

Cos one, Steph's body is just a mass of scar tissue, ruined nerve endings and flayed muscles, Its a miracle she can move without screaming let alone fight as well as she can. Two, he's quick to find the autopsy scars; cos it turns out she did die, but Leslie put her on ice once she was no longer having a breakdown, injected venom into her brain later and basically went, as Steph or Jason would say "Dr Frankenstein on my insides."

Cue Bruce kind of having a breakdown in various different ways and Steph also being violently angry in a "Who gave that bastard the right!?" kind of way. Not sure after that.

Ohhhh myyyy goddddd 😭 Leslie resurrecting Steph through science, Steph showing up to save Cass like nobody was able to do for her, something wrong with Steph/what Leslie did to her as they feel the need to hide it... Like, say, what are Venom's side-effects, huh?

Or do they want to keep it hush hush bc they're afraid of the shady government organization?

Or is it her being de-anoned after her death, with the memorial service and all that plot, makes her want to keep some control over what over people know about her? Or she's just - the process of coming back was so traumatic that she literally blocks it all out, even came up with a story of helping Leslie in Africa? And, like, she believes it herself.

Or maybe Bruce just doesn't deserve to know it. And he proves it, by using Stephanie's trust to Alfred to drug her and basically vivisect her.

Just, remind me, was that before Jason's comeback or after, I am bad with timelines. But inserting Red Hood into this plot - like maybe he is the one who helps Steph to sneak out of the Bat-lab. "From one undead creature to another".

Or should it be Cass? It took her time, but she finally accepted that she doesn't care how Steph is back, the most important thing she's back.

There's like. So much that you can do with this!!!

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Prelude Chapter 26

Previous | First | Next

Master Post

Blood-Wraith was relaxing in his room of the palace, mulling over his thoughts about everything that had happened so far. Fortunately he was feeling a lot better. His self-reflection was interrupted by Darkness swinging open the door with a smile on his face. “Blood! Can I borrow you for a moment?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Come, we’ll walk and talk.” Darkness led his brother through the halls, passing by the others. “...so my verdict is that you’re not invincible. You can’t die, but your form can be damaged to the point where you’re forced to reincarnate and that would lead to complications. Did you notice anything at the Metal Oasis?”

Blood-Wraith thought back as they boarded a lift. “Well, my body did start to crack as I got battered around… the metal parts.”

“Did they heal afterwards?”

“Yeah. It was a bit uncomfortable while healing though.”

The lift was going deep below the surface. Everything was rocky with glowing veins all over the place. “Honestly I feel you need some armor, at the bare minimum. I think I got the perfect idea in mind, but we’ll need to do some testing. Plus you’ll probably feel a lot better knowing you got some form of protection.”

At the bottom, Darkness dissolved into the environment. “Hey, Darkness? Where’d you go?” Blood-Wraith asked as he looked around.

“Don’t fret, I’m all around you. Consider this my brain if you will. Shall we proceed to the training room?”

The chamber presented to Blood-Wraith was gigantic. It was made of white stone, with the veins pulsing in alternating colors. A rhythmic beating could also be heard. Platforms, columns, and steps appeared and shifted all over the place. Blood-Wraith was amazed by this and the beauty of the chamber as a whole. It was like he was in a different realm. He walked around until he encountered another pool of black goo, much like the one he had seen on the surface.

“I don’t have to get in, do I?”

“Yes, but it’s for a good reason. I need to study your… everything so I know what I need to do.”

Blood-Wraith took a breath and exhaled. “Alright, let’s get this over with…” The viscous substance quickly pulled him under. Once he was secure and comfortable, Darkness got to work. The procedure was gentle and careful, seeing what made Blood-Wraith tick. It tested his durability and briefly activated each of his alternate forms. Being inside the blood was weird and hard to describe. Blood-Wraith did not have a frame of reference for the experience, but could say that it was like a prolonged hug… that poked and prodded at him.

He shuddered a little back in the chamber. “That was strange… what did you find out?”

“You’re weird…” Darkness stated bluntly. “...but I do have something in mind.” A blob dropped down from the ceiling and began taking a humanoid shape. “This armor I’m crafting should keep you safe. It’ll also adapt to your other forms… well most of them.”

Blood-Wraith took the suit once it was finished and inspected it. It was stretchy and went up to the base of his head. “What’s it made of?”

“A mix of my blood and brain fluid… I’m aware of how weird that seems. Go ahead and try it on.”

The suit slipped right on and fit snuggly. After a couple seconds of smoothing it out, everything was ready to go. Sections of it began glowing red, contrasting with the black material. “Wow, It feels… I feel powerful, haha!”

“Now your armor can stretch and flex, but don’t push it. The idea is that it should toughen up in response to physical trauma while leaving your mobility unhindered.”

A facsimile of Blood-Wraith emerged from the floor and began punching him in the chest. He was amazed as the suit firmed up, yet he barely felt it. “Nice!” He then punched his double with the strength of his Might form. The suit was now black and green because of this. “Wait, what!?”

“That’s the other ability of it: You can channel the powers of your other forms. They won’t be as strong, but I figured it would come in handy in a pinch.”

Blood-Wraith thought for a second, then his suit went blue. Spider silk shot from his palm, cocooning his double. “That’ll come in handy… but what if I…” He then shot a fireball, setting the cocoon ablaze.” Whoa…”

“Hey now, that’s pretty clever. Speaking of which; Blood? I think you need a little training. Sound good?”

Darkness was able to scope out Blood-Wraith’s skill level through his memories while he was in the blood… It was not good. It was a miracle that he survived the battle at the Metal Oasis. The plan was to run through each of his forms, then do some sword staff practice. To make things a bit more interesting, Darkness proposed naming the forms as they went along. Blood-Wraith welcomed this idea with open arms. Just thinking about it made him feel cool.

First up was Indigo Wolf. Not much was discovered outside of things that were already known. The form was fast, agile, and perceptive. They did find out that Blood-Wraith was able to do a sonic howl that could stun his foes, however. Violet Train was a great surprise. It took the form of a full sized, steam-powered locomotive. It could not do much other than travel. On the bright side, the channeled ability allowed Blood-Wraith to charge forward with great force. Darkness was a little confused, but it clicked once he found out who Corentin was.

Blood-Wraith adored Golden Dragon. It was a blood pumping experience to be that large and able to breathe fire. He also had the ability to shroud an area in shadow thanks to Leif. Moving onto Verdant Might, there was not much ground to cover. A lot had already been discovered at Aqua World. Regardless, Darkness taught Blood-Wraith some basic hand-to-hand combat techniques.

The last two forms were more interesting to accommodate. Azure Spider, in addition to its webbing and fireballs, could crawl up any surface. After a bit of target practice, Blood-Wraith was ready to move on. Last, but certainly not least was Ochre Serpent. He felt the most animalistic in this form. Aside from being gigantic, the serpent form could spit bursts of water. These were highly damaging upon impact… And also gave Darkness a light headache.

“Well that was fun…” Blood-Wraith remarked as he went back to normal… or so he thought.

“Blood?”

“Yes? What’s up, brother?”

“Do you… Do you know what you currently look like?”

“Um, a fiery being with a metal body?”

Darkness brought down a reflective stone. “Are you sure about that?”

What Blood-Wraith saw was a six-eyed boy with brown hair, wearing his armor. This startled him. “I look like Sister and Desislav!”

“You’ve been pursuing ULTRAMagic by collecting soul fragments, correct?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Hmm… give me a second…” Darkness pondered this form, then had an idea. “I think this is your physical form, a vessel for your existence. I’m not sure about it though and doubly unsure what benefits this provides you at the moment. That you’ll have to figure out on your own. I could only see so much while I was inspecting you. It is interesting that all of your eyes still appear, I must say…”

Blood-Wraith was looking at his teeth. “Huh, I hadn’t noticed… Let’s go show the others!”

“Wait, Blood. We still got to…” He was already at the lift. “...fine.”

Back at the palace, Dragoslava was chatting with the others. “...Brenna has quite the voice. Personally I think she should’ve been a singer rather than a gun nut like me, but hey…”

“... funny coincidence given that I’ve heard you singing in the shower” Desislav pointed out.

Dragoslava blushed. “Ha, what can I say? She rubbed off on me.”

“You guys ever get that feeling that something just changed?” Tusk questioned.

Deimos nodded. “Fairly often. Why?”

“Hey guys!” Blood-Wraith said as he and Darkness entered the lounge. Everyone else was surprised.

“Blood, is that you?!” Dragoslava exclaimed. “What’s with the new look?”

“Wow, what is all this?” Desislav inquired. They all got up to look at Blood-Wraith’s new appearance.

Tusk was silent. Then he spoke. “You trained without me, didn’t you?”

“Yes… but didn’t you say you weren’t sure how to train me?” Blood-Wraith brought up.

Tusk tossed himself to the floor, throwing a fit. “SOME STINKING TEACHER I AM!”

“It’s okay, you still have the battle at the Dark Grand Desert…” Deimos stated sympathetically.

“If you’re going to kick me in the seeds, then actually kick me in the seeds!” This… elicited giggles and chuckles from everyone.

Blood-Wraith helped Tusk back up. “You can still teach me stuff. All my brother and I did was run through my forms. We can still come up with stuff for me to do with them.”

“I suppose so… geez, what’s dad even going to think about this?”

Desislav patted Tusk on the back. “I think he’d tell you to stop worrying. Some things are out of your control.”

“I swear I’m heading back to the village after this. Don’t worry, I’ll be researching so I don’t have to do this again…”

“Haha, there’s the spirit, I guess.”

Deimos could sense how Tusk was feeling. “You never wanted to be a fighter, did you?”

“No, not at all. I want to settle down with Donia and raise a family… There, I said it.”

“Tusk, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you and your people…”

“Deimos, stop. It’s alright. Something I took away from my dad is that actions speak louder than words. I may still be bitter, but you’ve come all this way to… You know what? All is forgiven! End of story.” Tusk then plopped himself down on one of the couches.

After an awkward silence, Blood-Wraith spoke up. “So I guess I have a human form thanks to my ULTRAMagic…” His stomach grumbled. “...hehe, I’m hungry.”

“That can happen after prolonged use of your magic in that state” Tusk pointed out.

Darkness clapped his hands. “Well good thing it's dinner time then.”

A hearty dinner was prepared since they were getting close to the Dark Grand Desert. The group would be at their destination the next day. Pressure was mounting, but everyone felt at peace knowing they were ready to go. Blood-Wraith still felt a bit of anxiety, however. He had learned more about his powers, but what if the Lich was even stronger now? Deimos figured he would stay at Blood-Wraith's bedside until he fell asleep to relieve these fears.

“He normally would try to come up with a plan to counter your forms, but he’s only seen two of them. You have the element of surprise, Blood.”

“You know what? That’s what Sigmund said was our advantage…”

“Smart man, that Sigmund. I suspect he had already caught on to the fact that my other half has limited intellect.”

“What do you mean?” Blood-Wraith asked.

Deimos chuckled. “Remember what I said back at Aqua World about how the Lich is driven by desire? There’s more to it. When I was split off from him, I took his mind in addition to the emotions. You can’t have emotions without thought and you can’t truly think without emotions. It’s who we are and how we react to the world around us.”

“So that means…”

“He’s all brawn and no brain. He may remember how to use my spells, but don’t expect him to do anything creative with them.”

This made Blood-Wraith feel better. “So no sympathy for the Lich?”

“Not an inch. There’s nothing to feel sorry for in that empty husk.”

Blood-Wraith sighed. “I feel sorry for you, Uncle Deimos.”

If he had skin, he’d be smiling. “Thank you, Blood-Wraith. I will make things right, don’t you worry. Ha, I certainly have a lot of apologizing to do when we get back…”

“Now you don’t worry, because I’ll be there to support you. Good night, Uncle Deimos.”

“Good night, Blood. Sleep tight.”

Next: Chapter 27

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[junglekarmapippa]

Robbie on Robbie #16: "I know it's coming, there's gonna be violence"

from Tripping (from Intensive Care)

RJ looked up from his working table when his boss, Billy Cranston, entered his office.

"RJ," Billy started. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," RJ said with a shaky voice.

"What is it?"

RJ bent to retrieve something from under his work table as he spoke. "I have been working for Cranston Technology for almost three years."

"I know, I plucked you out of university myself, you are exceptional."

"Thanks," RJ said from under the table. "I just wanted to say that, first of all, I honestly appreciate the opportunity to work with you, and in this level of clearance."

This was a red flag for Billy. Suspicion lit up like a Christmas tree in his brain.

"What's going on, RJ?"

RJ finally came out from under the table, with a safe box in his hands.

"I didn't mean to step on your toes," he said, putting the box on the table.

"What are you talking about?" Billy said, genuinely confused. "What's in the box?"

RJ used his fingerprint to open the box. "I call them the Solar Morphers," he said, showing Billy the content of the box: three pairs of sunglasses: one red, one blue, and one yellow.

"Solar Morphers?" Billy repeated. "You've created Morphers?"

"Well, not functional morphers," RJ cleared. "I couldn't connect them to the Morphing Grid, I don't know how."

Billy took a few seconds to look at the Morphers in the box. "How do you even know about the Morphing Grid?"

"There's a database--"

"How did you access that database?"

"Brute force," RJ admitted.

"Brute force?!"

"Yes." RJ shook his head. "That's beside the point, the point is I need to connect these Morphers to the Grid. Can you teach me how?"

"Absolutely not," Billy said, closing the box.

"Can you connect them for me?"

"No," Billy said sternly. "The Morphing Grid is not a toy, RJ."

"I know it's not. Please, Billy, I need them."

"What for?"

RJ looked at the box. "I can't tell you."

"Then the answer is no."

Billy turned to leave and RJ called after him: "Fine! I'll tell you, please, don't go."

Billy turned around and looked at him with his arms crossed. RJ struggled to pull his shirt up his arm and ended up taking it off. He showed Billy his forearm tattoo.

"I'm a part of a secret Kung Fu academy called the Pai Zhua, the order of the claw." Billy showed no response to this. "We have an ancient enemy, Dai Shi, the great death. He's an eight-headed dragon demon, and he's currently captured in the academy."

"What do you need the Morphers for, RJ, I don't have all night."

"I was chosen to train the three Protectors. Students, tasked with stopping and destroying Dai Shi, should he escape like the prophecies say. The Protectors will be sent my way, for me to train and guide them in their battle. They will be teenagers, Billy. Three teenagers armed with some Kung Fu moves to defeat a ten-thousand-year-old demon. They won't stand a chance." RJ stopped talking, looking for any reaction on Billy's face but there was still none. "They will die unless I can figure out a way to protect them," RJ continued, opening the box again. "This is the only thing I can think of."

"You want these morphers for your students?"

"Yes. Please, Billy, I'm just trying to protect them long enough. Dai Shi will escape soon. I know it's coming, there's gonna be violence. I'm just trying to find a way to protect my students."

"And you think a Morpher will guarantee their victory?"

"No, of course not," RJ replied shaking his head. "But it will at least give them a fighting chance, as their Master, that's all I need."

"And which one will be yours? Let me guess, the red one."

"No."

"No?"

"This is not my battle to fight. All three Morphers would go to my students."

Billy took a minute to consider what RJ had told him. He took one of the Morphers out of the box and inspected it. He was impressed by the craftsmanship RJ had put in them. He put the device back in the box.

"I'll connect them to the Morphing Grid for you with some conditions."

"Shoot!" RJ said, his face illuminated with hope.

"The design of these is proprietary technology of Cranston Tech, so we can put it somewhere where it won't ever see the light of day again."

"You'll have the blueprints on your desk within the hour."

"And you will make one for yourself. It's only fair."

"A Morpher for myself?"

"Yes. If you're sending your students to the battlefield, you are joining them."

RJ took a few seconds to respond to that.

"Fair enough."

"And you have to promise me you won't give them to someone unworthy. If there is a chance they might misuse them, they can't have them, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. Stay after hours, so we can connect them without anyone noticing." He turned to leave, then stopped in his tracks. "Oh, and RJ--"

"Yes?" RJ said with a smile on his face.

"If I ever catch you brute forcing your way into another database, I will fire you on the spot."

RJ smirked and nodded. Billy left the office and RJ let out a small laugh of victory.

His students wouldn't be completely safe, but at least they would stand a chance. The rest was in his hands.

Dai Shi wouldn't know what hit him.

[creativeflowers87]

FEBUWHUMP 17

CW: Hostage, interrogation, dubious medical practices, needles, blood

AN: nothing really to say except that this is a pretty heavy chapter. stay safe y'all

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

"Cal, I just don't know what to do," Nyxie says, pacing around the living room anxiously, "She's just— stuck in some cell somewhere, and we have no clue where she is! I mean, she could be dead for all we know, and it takes ages for news to travel anywhere! We don't even know—"

"Where she is," Calixto interrupts. It sighs, pulling its coat tighter around itself, even though it must be hot standing there next to the fireplace like that. "Well," it adds, "Em's smart. She's not dead or dyin', I'm sure."

Calixto sounds less sure than it says it is.

Nyxie huffs. "It's just—" she inhales slowly— "She could be anywhere by now. It's been a few days. A lot of people live out in the middle of nowhere like us, and we can't just inspect everyone's places like we're the Royal Guard or something."

Calixto sighs, leaning back on the armchair. "We should really get goin'. It's only been three days, four tomorrow, that's not long enough to get outta the country, at least."

"You sure we can't start now?"

"Do you really want to fall asleep on the road?" A pause. "Exactly."

The two sit there in silence for a while. "You sure Em'll be alright?" Nyxie says.

"I mean, yeah. I trust her with my life, so I trust her with her own."

Nyxie lets out a weak giggle. "You trust her with too much."

Calixto laughs in return. "I mean, I lov— she's my best friend," it says, hoping Nyxie doesn't notice the slip-up.

Nyxie does notice, but doesn't say anything about it. "I guess," she says instead, "She'll be fine. She'll be okay."

"That's the spirit."

"Shut up."

---

Emery was, contrary to popular belief, not doing fine at all.

"Look," she said, "Just because I was in town two days before that person died, and left just before, does not mean I killed them."

Their interrogator stares at them, unconvinced. "Then why were there reports of you talking to them just before they ate the food that killed them?"

Emery stares back. "I talked to fricking everyone that day," she says, "and we shared the cookie as well. Why would I do that if I poisoned it?"

"You could've eaten just the non-poisoned part."

"Yeah, but I didn't know!"

"Why did you not die then?"

"I don't know either! I might have the antidote in my blood or something, but I wouldn't know, because no one told me!"

The interrogator stared directly into Emery's eyes right after she said that.

Emery was suddenly incredibly concerned for her future self.

The interrogator suddenly stands up and leaves the cell, making sure to lock the door behind them and consequently leaving Emery alone. She begins to think about what might happen to her. The entire 'antidote-in-her-blood' thing was just to get the guy off her tail for what? Not dying when she was "supposed to"? And now they were actually going to go and test that on her. What would they do to her, anyway? Try to re-poison her? Draw her blood?

Before Emery can go further down that train of thought, though, the interrogator returns, this time with some other person who Emery doesn't recognise. Before she can say anything, the other person strong-arms her out of the cell, firmly disregarding her protests. She can already feel the bruises forming on her skin.

After a while, Emery is tossed onto what looks to be an examination table. She glances around at the room.

Vials containing a suspicious amount of red liquid line the back of multiple glass cabinets along the wall. There's a diagram of the average humanoid brain on the opposite side of the room, with a bunch of notes messily glued on. On the table next to her, there is a concerning amount of needles— fifteen or sixteen, at least— and tiny, unlabelled vials tied with twine to each one. Above the door hangs a set of what Emery thinks are deer antlers, roughly sawed off at the bases. Emery stares for a second longer. Why were they looking for a pair of off-season antlers? They can be gathered quite easily at the right time of year.

The other person moves into Emery's vision, and she starts to turn her head to talk to them. Before she can do that, though, someone who she assumes is the interrogator forces her head to turn straight up to the ceiling. "Don't move," they hiss.

Emery, who actually has self-preservation today, decides to stay still.

The other person, in the time that Emery didn't see them, has donned a white labcoat, covered in dubious stains that she doesn't really want to think about. They pick up a large syringe and hold it menacingly over Emery.

"Now," they say, "I'll be taking out a little blood for your services."

"I didn't agree to be here," Emery protests, "And that's a big syringe you got there."

The person gives her a grin. It doesn't reach their eyes. "For that," they say, "What if, say, I take out a little more than usual?"

Emery pales. She doesn't say anything else.

After a minute of agonising waiting, the person jabs the needle into their arm, before pulling a bit out.

Then a bit more.

This doesn't stop until a while later.

Emery exhales sharply as the needle finally leaves her skin. "What the heck?" she mutters.

The others don't hear her, thankfully, and instead seem to be testing something out in the background. After a bit, though, someone sees her, then, without a word, starts to drag her back.

Emery closes her eyes and starts to try to breathe properly. That had been an ordeal. She did hope that her friends would come for her soon.

Right now, though, she really just wanted to sleep.

[the-firebird69]

People on glue and crack. Now they keep coming up to you and threatening you and saying they get stuff then bothering us we keep going after them in their areas and they themselves and they won't stop it no matter how much death they see or how many of them die. There's something wrong with it and my daddy doesn't get it because he doesn't know who people are or something just think smacks are taking over and it says not really but that's what he thinks and he's running around town saying my guys are going to clear this out so we care but not a ton so going to come clear it out and were going to ship Cadillacs in. Brand new SUVs brand new Cadillac coupes brand new Cadillac four doors the whole line on purpose and we've got some orders and we have people who want to trade cars in they have lots of car stuff and your son and you worked on it and he is a genius and what you say is probably and you can't tell because you have Cadillacs in the brain and you're seeing them and you have this soprano thing going on we'll have to tell you is heavily involved it did work with you on it as did Hera and it's a wonderful idea. There's so many people who want Cadillacs it's not funny a lot of them want the coop and our motor is smaller but the same power and they were worried about it until they read the stats and ask him if they want to create some small showroom space in Tampa and Miami and to display the car and the motor in the we can fight like a video of a driving and during the week will have a couple models out he says to make it so you can get the cars in and out of the storefront and they have these sliders we know about that I'm still going to try and find one that can drive in and out if not we'll put the sliders in doesn't take long and we can have it open while it's going on so you're going to see if Mac knows many places

Thor Freya

I got to know something how long you going to wait until you tell me to clanyour withok mine fine. We're moving out then to intercept your cars no we're going to send people to inspect the cars that are leaving to make sure that it's kosher and we're going to check the cars when you come in and at the court and say that's fine or at the border both are good and we don't have a problem with that and your people say you don't either and that's good my daddy says and he also adds we have to get working on this now and I got details on the cars and I'm receiving one deal someone wants and he approved it's come to me and it's James caan 200,000 cars and he wants $300,000 back and you said yes it's a mix of The Cadillacs and we can do that he's going to pay for him anyways I'm going to use all the batches up of those 200,000 if there are a lot of SUVs will be more material but we're going to make them and he says only make them if you have the material from the old vehicles and their SUV in there and trucks so it should be okay but we're going to go ahead with it will stop if we don't have enough it's not exact science when you don't know what you're dealing with for vehicles and he said most of them are pretty good sized so if you have more we'll call and let him how many more we can make to the one or two cars it says that's great news and what a weird way to do things it's kind of strange it's like nothing getting the water back in the same water bottle but if you're in Florida then they melt all the plastic down here and they make the new bottle they're all getting the same bottles so he's laughing cuz it's very strange but this way it's more meaningful a lot more meaningful and it sure is so he's anticipating and waitfully anticipating his vehicles so I want to get going on this tonight and we are going to stamp approved for shipment lots of the vehicles and they're getting them ready right now all 200,000 I can see them down there and tell her friends people are there supposedly my grand nephew people and they're inspecting and they're going to scan and throw them up there because there's no fooling around until CBGB because they don't have time for that now he's doing that stupid line but we need it too I don't have time for all this sitting around and farting on each other right now we need vehicles transportation and need our guys to go comfortable confident and they will with the new vehicle he's old ones are such a bear he got stuck everywhere he said it's like a it's not even like a brazen Stratton these motors are higher tech and their higher strength steel and they're very rugged and they last long time not to abuse him if you follow the maintenance it's all synthetic and we don't use send me synthetic seals and it works terrific so I've seen him work

Mac Daddy

And we're waiting for you to get down there Max but that's okay and I see we have to certify them too and Chris's friend the bunny is here and he sees him and says where's my carrot I want my carrot and Chris is not putting a carrot out so the bunnies moving along a little and he's waiting I know I don't have the cat right now so you got a carrot last night and he wants one now it comes right up to the concrete what's right in the window is he can hear him this is some of my carrot you got my carrot and you may throw one out there but it's not going to make a habit of it it doesn't want to come here without thinking about it the neighbors trying to catch these Ethan and say stupid things about it

This is a good day I'm making progress and you have some goals Matt met and we have a new system for here for leadership to get the vehicles they want and so far.

And we had a few people who want to trade one in for one Cadillac and it'll be a little difficult it has to be part of a batch and we suggest strongly that you group it and 200,000 is a very good number with your clan and if we put it in first we can make the car last and it will be mostly from your car but only a portion of it that's how we have to do it if you want to custom job we want your car made from just your car there would be a significant up charge and you probably wouldn't like it but you can we can do that for you and you guys have the money and it said a separate plant where we smelt it and it is the same plant where we build it but we trace it and we show you the steps and she wants to do that so we can definitely do that and we'll send a car carrier and we'll send the contract but if you like to see James Conn's process go through the cars are leaving right now so everyone is checking it out and they're going to get it those are higher end Cadillac and with one car we can make the hiring Cadillac and have only a quarter left and we can make something for you additional approved Cadillac home bar system this is his company. And they're interested in that it wouldn't take up all the metal but we could send them something like this you don't have anything it goes on it it's funny too James khansays what else can you do make another motor he says he would like that, actually one regular Cadillac could make the top end one plus the armor and upgraded suspension and engine maybe about even so they're all going to call in now they said

Thor Freya

[holmes-cringe-compilation]

Hello hello! I stumbled upon your imagines recently and I absolutely love em! <3 May I request Herlock finding his S/O who’d fallen asleep wearing his coat?

hey anon ! ooh boy do you know how much i love writing for this man. it's funny, his theme just started playing as i started writing this hehe. hope you enjoy !

sherlock finding his s/o sleeping in his coat

sherlock is usually out of the house with cases taking up a lot of his time. sometimes it would be rare to see him before dinner because of a particular brain boggling murder case.

that being said, it was expected that you'd start to miss the detective while he was gone. the dinners you had to keep warm for him made you wish he'd be home for the food you helped iris with.

the night sky was getting even more dark, iris was in bed as you waited for your lover to come home from a long day's work. all you could hear was the clock ticking throughout the room, and it annoyed you to pieces. a loud groan from you was softened as you face planted into the couch cushion beneath you.

when was he coming home ?! it's way past curfew at this point ! every minute felt like an hour and ever hour started to feel like an eternity. you looked up at the door, the hanger beside it held sherlock's coat and hat, he hadn't been able to put it on since he was in such a hurry. a shiver run down your spine as you realised how chilled the room felt.

then it hit you. if you missed sherlock so much and we're also coincidentally cold, you should steal his coat ! the only good course of action of course. it would satiate your craving of him being here with his scent and it would be super warm to wear, killing two birds with one stone !

cue to you laying on the couch with the detective's cost wrapped around you. the coat was so warm that it felt like it was serenading you to a comfy trance, that scent also provided you with comfort. it wasn't long until you had fell asleep because of it.

a creak from the front door echoed throughout the room as the familiar detective peeked his head through the crack, inspecting the place and noticing that the lamps were still lit.

"ah love, seems that you forgot to- ah!" the blonde tried to keep his voice down, but the sight of you curled up on the couch in the most comfy position he's ever seen you in his entire life was too much for his heart.

a blush rose to his cheeks as he smiled so goofy, kneeling down to your level so he could tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

the sight was to die for, if he could, he'd squeal in delight, but he'd never want to wake you. he might just stay here for a bit, admiring how you looked in his coat. did you miss me that much ? how cute, he thought.

after a bit, you started to stir and woke up, your face very much close to sherlock's right now. you jumped a bit, face flushing bright red. it made sherlock laugh a bit too loudly.

"s-sherlock.. ! it's uhm.. not what it looks like.."

"oh i can assure you it's exactly what it looks like, my little bunny rabbit. and quite frankly, it's absolutely adorable seeing you wear my own coat when i come home." sherlock ruffled your hair and kissed your forehead.

"actually.." he smirked, "maybe you should wear it more often."

[seaweed-brain2-0]

Not only is it Percy Jackson's birthday today, it is also Percabeth's (12th??) Anniversary, so here are some of the best Percabeth moments in PJO and PJO alone. [The light blue is just me being me]

“You drool when you sleep.” (obviously)

“Me, go with you on the… the ‘Thrill Ride of Love’? How embarrassing is that? What if someone saw me?” (It was at this scene when I knew, these two would be my comfort couple in the future)

“I don’t know what my mom will do, I just know I’ll fight next to you.” “Why?” “Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”

Annabeth’s shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls—I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched me and told me to shut up. (ah, young love)

PERCY CARRYING AROUND ANNABETHS PICTURE IN HIS NOTEBOOK TO REMIND HIMSELF THAT SHE WAS REAL no i’m not taking this one straight from the book, the paragraph is too long.

But whenever Annabeth talked about the time she spent with them, I kind of felt . . . I don’t know. Uncomfortable? No. That’s not the word. The word was jealous. (and it still took him four years to realize he was in love with her??)

She looked good. Really good. I probably would’ve been tongue-tied if I could’ve said anything except ‘reet, reet, reet’.

She tackled me with a hug, then pulled away just as quickly. “I’m glad you’re not a guinea pig.” “Me, too.” I hoped my face wasn’t as red as it felt. (nine year old me is SCREAMING)

“I’ll get us back to the ship,” I told her. “It’s okay. Just hang on.” Annabeth nodded to let me know she was better now, and then she murmured something I couldn’t hear because of the plugs in my ears. (THE INTIMACY)

The crowd cheered. Annabeth planted a kiss on my cheek. The roaring got a lot louder after that. (THEIR FIRST KISS DFGHJNBGVFDFGH why am I still fangirling over this, I've seen them kiss a billion times-)

“Um, who should I ask?” She punched me in the gut. “Me, Seaweed Brain.” “Oh. Oh, right.” (✨slow dance✨)

[Aphrodite] When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. (I repeat: AND IT STILL TOOK HIM FOUR YEARS TO REALIZE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH HER????)

“You didn’t believe I was dead?” “Never.” (I believe I was dead at this point)

“I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And . . . I think I owe you a dance.” She smiled slowly. “All right, Seaweed Brain.” (✨slow dance✨ part two *more screaming*)

“Think positive. Tomorrow you’re off to camp! After orientation you’ve got your date—”

“It’s not a date!” I protested.”It’s just Annabeth, Mom. Jeez!”

“She’s coming all the way from camp to meet you.”

“Well, yeah.”

“You’re going to the movies.”

“Yeah."

“Just the two of you.”

“Mom!”

She held up her hands in surrender, but I could tell she was trying hard not to smile. (this whole scene deserved to be in here and you know it)

“Hey, it’s . . . it’s okay.” I patted her on the back. I was aware of everything in the room . I felt like I could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Annabeth’s hair smelled like lemon soap. Behind me, somebody cleared his throat. It was one of Annabeth’s half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red. I stepped away from Annabeth “We were just looking at maps,” I said stupidly. (imagine falling madly in love with Annabeth Chase and not knowing it until she kisses you, couldn't be me 😐)

Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me. And then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me. (*screaming intensifies*)

Annabeth and I pretty much skirted around each other. I was glad to be with her, but it also kind of hurt, and it hurt when I wasn’t with her, too. (I've just given up on screaming at Percy for not realizing his feelings sooner 😐🔫)

Annabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Seaweed Brain.” “Thanks,” I said. “Me too.” (you know what I'm not glad about? Beckendorf's death 😃👍🏽)

We locked eyes. I thought of a different time last summer, under Mount St. Helen's, when Annabeth thought I was going to die and she kissed me. She cleared her throat and looked away. “Prophecy.” “Right. Prophecy.” (ahaha pain)

Malcolm grinned at me. “We’ll wait outside while you finish inspection.” The Athena campers filed out the door while Annabeth cleaned up her bunk. I shuffled uneasily and pretended to go through some more reports. Technically, even on inspection, it was against camp rules for two campers to be . . . like, alone in a cabin. That rule had come up a lot when Silena and Beckendorf started dating. Anyway, for some strange reason I was thinking about this as I watched Annabeth straighten up. (fOr sOmE rEaSoN)

“Hold on, Seaweed Brain.” It was Annabeth’s voice, much clearer now. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.” (*sobs*)

“I’ll go with Percy,” Annabeth said. “Then we’ll join you, or we’ll go wherever we’re needed.” Somebody in the back of the group said, “No detours you two.” (stop saving the world and go make out 🙄)

Before I could lose my courage, I said, “Don’t I get a kiss for luck? It’s kind of a tradition, right?” I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us. “Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we’ll see.” (AND COME BACK ALIVE, HE DID)

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she muttered. “Your eyebrows get all scrunched together.”

“You are not going to die while I owe you a favor,” I said. “Why did you take that knife?”

“You would’ve done the same for me.” (HOLY F U C K)

I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But this was Annabeth. If I couldn’t trust her, I couldn’t trust anyone. (goodnight.)

I glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet my eyes. Her face was pale. I flashed back to two years ago, when I’d thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. I’d been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that I’d lose her. Now, she looked pretty much the same way. I thought about the Three Fates, and the way I’d seen my life flash by. I could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. I could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving my father. I could have power and eternal life. Who could refuse that? Then I looked at Annabeth again. I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many other who were now dead. I thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke. And I knew what I had to do. “No,” I said. “I’m honored and everything. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just . . . I’ve got a lot of life left to live. I’d hate to peak in my sophomore year.” The gods were glaring at me, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining. And that kind of made up for it. (THIS WHOLE SCENE RUINED MY PERCEPTION OF MEN. THEY ARE, IN FACT, NOT AS PERFECT AS PERCY)

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.” When she kissed me, I had the feeling my brain was melting right through my body. (I'M MELTING)

We held hands right up to the moment they dumped us in the water. Afterward, I had the last laugh. I made an air bubble at the bottom of the lake. Our friends kept waiting for us to come up, but hey—when you’re the son of Poseidon, you don’t have to hurry. And it was pretty much the best underwater kiss of all time. (DFGHJHGFDFGHJNHGFDFGHJNBVCFGHJMNBVCFKIJUHYGT I DON'T THINK I WILL EVER RECOVER FROM THIS ITS TOO PERFECT GOODBYE FOREVER)

[hansolmates]

me time (m)

summary; the first time virgin!mc meets her mans (but she doesn’t know it yet) pairing; jungkook x virgin!mc genre/warnings; fluff, college!au, boarding house!au, based on the virgin!oc discourse, female masturbation (thanks to the pretty bridgertons), a lil sad and longing at the end w/c; 1.3k a/n; y’all really brought manhater!mc and virgin!mc to life! this couldn’t be done without all of your fabulous input and support. obviously the virginverse is freeform at this point—think of this more as a prequel for these two. set in freshman year of college, when they’re just acquaintances. (do you guys think of cher from clueless when u think virgin!mc? very outgoing n’cute but also very innocent?) anyway, happy valentine’s day i hope you and your boo (whether digital or in-person) get your me/we time💖

Your wooden lap desk is toppled to the side. Good thing the space between the mattress and floor is small, your pink monstera-shaped rug softening the blow when your water bottle, pencils and laptop fall to the floor. In the back of your head you know everything is fine because the last episode of Bridgerton is still playing, an orchestral version of Ariana Grande’s Thank U, Next continuing on as if nothing’s astray. 

Yet you’re nothing but astray, forgotten about the episode and writhing against your too-small twin as you let yourself cum for the umpeeth time. 

You’ve lost track at this point (how couldn't you? Bridgerton is hot) but from the way your hair mats to your face like a second skin and your pussy feels spent and battered, it’s been awhile. This should be your new Valentine’s Day tradition, fucking yourself until you pass out on your vibrator. 

“Ah, ah fu—uck, yyyes!” 

The sheets are sopping. The grey cotton fabric does nothing to hide your juices that seep from your bare cunt to the mattress. Flinging your silicone toy to the side, you pull your hair up and out of your face. 

Water, you need water. Maybe a cup of green tea with a dollop of honey. Sugar always helps the immediate low after a good couple of rounds. 

However, you’ll never get used to the feeling of cleaning up yourself. The feeling that you’ve done something completely lewd all on your own, no one to assure you the things you’re doing are weird. It’s okay though. You love to be alone, it takes a lot for you to feel lonely. 

You slip on a pair of dolphin-cut shorts, too tiny that they are drowned beneath your emerald green slip dress. Quickly opening the door to your room, you’re met with absolute silence. White walls containing empty rooms and a living room without a soul. Just like you’re expecting in a college boardhouse on Valentine’s Day. 

What you’re not expecting however, is Jeon Jungkook staring at you the second you crack your door open. 

“If you’re screaming that loud, your partner must be doing a good job.” 

Jungkook lives on the other side of the boarding house, therefore you’ve never really interacted with him. Excluding the landlord there’s only five other tenants, a group large enough that you’ve never had to have one-on-one with him. 

You really didn’t think anyone would be in the house on Valentine’s, especially Jungkook. He’s an absolute cutie pie, even though you don’t know anything about him. The only thing you really know is that his sparkly brown eyes are to die for, they remind you of coffee milk tea, a craving you only indulge in at the end of finals season. 

To your surprise, Jungkook looks like he hasn’t gone out all weekend. Him, single? As if! Yet you can’t justify any reasoning behind him being home if did have a girlfriend or boyfriend. His dark hair is fluffy and freshly showered, and you can’t ignore the smell of linens from his soft sweats and long navy hoodie. 

Normally, you’d be quiet during Me Time. You’ve perfected the art, stuffing your mouth with your pillow or playing action movies to muffle out the sound. You thought you were in the clear. The thought of Jungkook overhearing you turns you on a little, makes the dampness between your panties even more evident, but you keep that self-indulgent secret to yourself. 

“Oh, well,” you curl your lips in a smirk, closing the door behind you so he doesn’t see that your room is actually very much devoid of life, “she’s very powerful.” 

She, meaning your favorite vibrator in your entire world. It has ten settings and a heating mechanism. More importantly, it’s rechargeable. You don’t know how you’d survive freshman year otherwise. 

“Okay, TMI,” despite the fact Jungkook’s blushing he’s chuckling, holding a hand out for you in the narrow hallway, “after you.” 

You quickly slip past him, walking into the shared kitchenette. Bare feet slapping against the hardwood, your eyes immediately gravitate toward the upper cabinet. Jungkook is following you, presumably to get his own late night snack. When you lift your arms to reach your mug, you feel a little bit of cool air brush against the uppers of your thighs. It’s a nightgown, a pretty satin slip  that falls over your curves and leaves much to the imagination. A couple more centimeters to get your mug and you’ll be definitely flashing Jungkook. 

“Um,” you practically hear the twisted face he’s making. 

“Sorry—I’m sorry!” you blurt, waving your fingers to catch the handle of your mug, “I’m really not trying to flash you—please don’t fill a harassment report! I just can’t reach my mug.” 

“No, that’s my mug.” 

“What, no! I’ve been drinking from this mug all year!” 

“You’ve been drinking from my mug?” Jungkook is affronted, walking past you to easily grab the mug you’ve been struggling to reach for the past minute. He flexes the bottom part of the mug in your face, where his initials are painted in black. “This is my mug, my parents put my handprint on it when I was a year old.”  

It’s then you notice on the lower shelf, there’s an identical mug. This mug has been buried all the way in the back, dust collecting on the rim. It also has a baby handprint on it, although upon closer inspection it’s smaller and in a more faded shade of black. That’s your mug. 

“Oh, Jungkook,” you feel your heart fall all the way to your ass, feeling guilty, “I’m so sorry. I’ve washed it and everything, if it makes you feel any better.” 

He frowns, holding the white porcelain between his hands. A litany of ideas run through your brain. Is he disgusted by using the same mug as you? Have you potentially ruined a prized family treasure? 

Thrusting the mug into your chest he says, “Make me a hot chocolate and we’re even.” 

You smile a little, eager to please. You quickly get to work, simmering the pan with warm milk and melting chopped chocolate. You rinse your mug with some hot water, letting it sit next to his awaiting mug. For a bit of flair you add a capful of vanilla extract, all while Jungkook watches you with mild awe. The smell of sweet late night confections fill the kitchen, a fitting theme for a Valentine’s night. 

“You’re not burning the milk,” Jungkook murmurs more to himself than you, watching as you pour the hot chocolate in cups without spilling a drop. 

Jungkook is known to burn things in the house. The only thing he doesn’t burn is ramen, and that’s purely due to survival skills. 

“What can I say, I’m an expert,” you wink, handing him his mug and you holding yours. 

With matching mugs, the two of you take your first sips of the melty beverage. You lean against the stove facing him, while he faces you against the marble island. Jungkook smiles and a bit of cocoa touches his petal pink lips. He says it’s perfect and you smile into your cup, absolutely swelling with pride. 

Jungkook’s probably working on his photos. He always says his editing bug is itchy at night. While in passing you’ve said you’d love to see his work, however that gesture of kindness never really amounted to anything. Maybe tonight’s the night. You like art, you’d love to be a little more educated with it. Just as you’re about to ask and strike up some conversation, Jungkook beats you to it. 

“Well, hope you and your partner have a good Valentine’s,” Jungkook holds his cup in salute, walking back into his room, “just keep it down.” 

Oh well. You sigh to yourself, letting Jungkook walk away without a fight or a retort. After all, it was you who implied you were sneaking in a bed partner tonight. Sinking your eyes into the brown liquid, you fall into a lull. The creamy liquid swirls in your grasp, making your muddied reflection ripple away. 

You love to be alone, but it takes someone like Jeon Jungkook to remind you that life gets a little lonely. 

[catzula]

So, you chose the indigo tent?

Welcome to Shinsou's route on something wicked this way comes. I hope you enjoy.

a/n: so, here goes nothing. I'm really excited for this and I really hope you like it! Leave me a like, a reblog or a comment if you enjoyed it 😗

a big thank you to @qawaii for beta reading because you are the only person I can send this to beta and not die of embarrassment. Also thank you love for always motivating me and hyping me I love you muah.

Warnings: NSFW! Minors do not interact! Smut. 7.4k of pwp. Degrading, blow job, orgasm denial (once), hair pulling, slight choking, calling good girl, enemies to lovers kinda vibe, idk what else

Everyone has their low points of life. This night must be yours, you think.

You're tired- exhausted and on the brink of possibly passing out, even; hungry, frustrated, cold, and shivering, and everything seems to be going wrong.

Standing on the hill before the tents, you try to focus on why you're here. Never to feel like this again, of course, but it's hard to push yourself to take one more step at this point.

You have to find Aizawa; you repeat yourself. Find him, convince him to take you in so you won't ever feel this hopeless, so you won't ever think if you can survive sleeping in a night as cold as this. You can't go back, won't go back to that place you once called home. You're determined to find a new home or never belong anywhere again.

There is a dull pain on your fingers, feeling like they're frozen and burning. You know you gave to find somewhere warm to at least wear the exhaustion off of you, regain movement in your fingers and feel like you won't pass out any second.

You'd rather sleep, but you're more than aware how dangerous that could be, so you'd have to yield to a stop break, instead. As the thought seeps into your mind, your brain doesn't even give you the chance to rethink; quick to come up with more reasons for why you should rest first, then find Aizawa.

It's the sweet hope of finding warmth that pulls you closer to the tents. You know it's mad to even think of going in any of them, straight into the territory of people that are freaks, people with quirks that makes you an easy bait for them to kill.

But exhaustion has that kind of an effect on people, and even the worst ideas seem bright at the time, mind foggy, unable to give you a reasonable answer when you ask yourself what's the worst that could happen.

You won't be staying for long, anyway, if anyone finds you, you'll flee- you're smart, not so strong but quick, you can run, right?

Your eyes scan the tents to see which one you can go in and out of without being noticed, and you're quick to eliminate the red and black ones.

The red tent has torches all over, so there's no way you can try and sneak in. And the black tent- well, you don't have a good feeling about it.

The tent closest to you has heavy-looking, dark blue curtains, but when you look closer, you can see the light coming from there, too. Your body getting heavier and heavier by the second, and you're pouting as your eyes fall on the indigo, purple tent. A few careful steps taken closer, you confirm there isn't light coming from inside.

As you come even closer, so close that the heavy, velvet-like material of the tent brushes your naked arms, making goosebumps run down your body. You wait for a few seconds for a sound, anything that indicates there is someone there, but after a few minutes of waiting, you conclude there isn't.

You're reluctant but quick to slip through the curtains, staying close to the exit so you can flee without having to face anyone.

It doesn't take long for your eyes to adjust in the darker room, and you're careful as you scan the room step by step.

It's not massive, but the area still seems bigger than any tent you've seen. It's almost twice your room- your old room.

Head pounding with exhaustion creeping in, you find a hiding place behind a cupboard in the corner. Your body acts before you, slipping in the small opening with ease. It's an advantageous hiding place , giving you the chance to spy on the entrance without blatantly sticking out.

As you wait for someone to come in, for something to happen in this dead of the night, your body starts feeling the signs of exhaustion even worse than before, with finding a warm place and somewhere to sit, adrenaline slowly leaving your body.

And before you know it, you're asleep.

~

You only after realize that you hadn't thought this through.

You wake up by the dim, reflected light of a candle- you're lucky you're a light sleeper, or you wouldn't have woken up to someone entering the tent.

The silhouette of a man dances on the floor, crouching down as he holds the candle in one hand and busies the other with the pile of clothes. Not sure when he entered the tent, it seems he's not yet aware of your presence, and you know you have to get out before he does.

Noticing his back is turned to you, you finally gather the courage to peep your head from where you sit. A purple head of hair is what you first notice, his ltousled ocks sticking in every direction as if he faced a thunderstorm.

He's reaching towards the pile of clothes, eyes half open as a look of exhaustion challenging yours lingers on his face.

As you stretch your head a little more from the corner you're hiding in, you finally see something hiding between the pile of clothes. It's a cat, you realize. The man's hand runs over the black fur; it makes the cat close his eyes and lean to the touch as he continues to pat its head, scratching under its ears.

You're not aware how intensely you're watching him, wide eyes following his movements, how his odd hair color catches the dim candlelight on itself, soft shadows dancing on the sharp, handsome features of his face.

You know you have to run, get out of here before he notices you, but it's like you're in a faze, curiosity boiling in your body.

It's a scene to behold, the pair of a mad-looking man and a black cat relishing in each others' presence as you gasp and retract back when the cat suddenly opens its eyes, golden gaze looking directly at you.

Your heart drumming in your ears as you sink more into the corner you're in, you miss how the candle he's holding flickers and the way his head tilts your way so slightly.

For a few minutes, nothing happens. You're too afraid to breathe, let alone reach back out to see what the man's doing. It's silent other than your booming heart, and despite knowing you have to get out of there- now, you can't do anything but wait.

"Aren't you cold?" The voice breaks the silence in the tent, a deep grumble that turns your stomach upside down. You think you recognize it; you've heard it earlier today, quickly depicting who he is; the man with the black, beak-like mask who was doing the hypnosis tricks.

"Does anyone want to volunteer for this trick?" He had asked many times that night. "If yes, cheer for me so I can see who does."

It's an automatic response; to cheer with the whistling and clapping crowd, and you hadn't noticed the self-satisfied smile he hid behind the mask at getting a reply from everyone watching him.

"I'm talking to the cat, not to the person hiding behind the cupboard, by the way." The man speaks again, a sarcastic comment that comes out of his lips so indifferently, and it shows how unfazed he is even by having another presence hiding in his tent.

Even the thought of it is chilling, but you don't give yourself the time to ponder about it, now that your cover is blown, leaping towards the exit. You're fast and agile, and Shinsou thinks you would've escaped if you were in the presence of anyone else.

But you aren't, and you soon come to realize that as well.

As you push the velvet curtains and the cold air hits your face, you're sure you've escaped since the man hasn't moved from where he stood. Still, not taking a second more, you're about to disappear into the night.

But instead of running after you, you hear him speak.

"Stop," It's a simple command that would've made you scoff any other time. Does this man really think you would-

stop.

Just in the border of the night and the tent, you suddenly lose the ability to control your body.

You freeze, despite your mind screaming at you to get out of there; you're not able to move an inch as you watch the man as he walks towards you, painfully slow, too.

As he stops before you, you're forced to realize just how bigger he is than you. Crazy locks of hair defy gravity, looking deep blue instead of the purple you had seen in his show.

He looks mean as he stands before you, eyes locked on you. Dangerous, even.

Stuck in a body you can't charge, you have to wait as his eyes scan you with a frown on his lips, the only emotion available on his face being a silent surprise and tiredness. Even with the situation you're in, you can't help but notice he's even more handsome up close. Secretly admiring his dark indigo eyes looking at you with suspicion, the circles under his eyes giving him an even more stern look, lips pressed into a line, high cheekbones shadowing his cheeks.

"Speak." He commands once again, and you fear if you had control of your body, you might've shivered at his tone.

"Wh-what did you do to me?!" It's your first reaction to regaining control; it makes the purple-haired man scoff. He leans a little closer to you, the ends of his locks close to grazing your face, but not quite, inspecting you with a scorning look and a mean frown. He's the source of the tinge of lavender smell in the room, you realize. That and something a little more... musky.

Despite having the control to speak, you're silent as he judges you, and you swear the corner of his lips quirk at that, too. "You were at the show today, weren't you? I think you can guess what's happening."

"You- you hypnotized me!" You shout, terrified. When he hears the accusing tone of your voice, the man quirks a brow at you.

"You broke into my tent." He mocks you with a smile, looking you up and down. "Aren't you cold?" He repeats. "Come in."

Your body obeys the commend, following the man back into the tent you just escaped, your body once again meeting the lavender-tinted warm air. You stand in the middle of the room as you watch him plop himself on a seat, legs wide open, almost invitingly so, his lips curved into a smile as his gaze keeps wandering on you.

You're unable to help it when your gaze starts shifting on his form, too, especially with the way he's looking at you now; you're not sure if it's the harsh shadows on his face that makes him look so irresistible, with that knowing smirk when he catches your eyes flicking lower than they should. When he quirks a brow at you, with eyes that almost tell you; I know what you're thinking, it suddenly feels a little too warm.

A hum vibrates in the air before he speaks again. "Tell me, pretty girl," he says, "why were you in my tent?"

As soon as you hear the command, you brace yourself to blurt out the whole truth, but- you don't. Questioning eyes finding him; he shrugs. "I'm not going to force it out of you."

He looks so smug with the way he says it, too, making you scoff with narrowed eyes. "Oh, how generous of you."

He ignores the mocking tone of your voice, the only indication he even heard them being the slight tilt of his lips. "If I knew you wouldn't flee the moment I let you go, too, you wouldn't be in this situation, either."

"Is that so?" You mutter, seemingly disinterested. "I will, though."

Your words seem to amuse him, the way you resist him, despite being entirely under his mercy, acting like he has no power over you.

So he smiles; it's deceptive, dark, exciting. It makes the air shift into something new; something that feels thicker, hotter, lustful.

He seems indifferent, however, and you hope he's blind to how your body reacts, as well, to when he sighs, hands running through his tangled, odd-colored locks.

"Why are you still keeping me here, anyway?" You blurt out, wanting to get out of here before you do something... mad.

"I'm curious." He answers the question, a smile resting on his plush lips as he shrugs. "Why were you in my tent?"

Eye for an eye, you think as he counters you with his question. He had answered yours, and it was only fair if you did the same. "I was cold," you tell him, staying as vague as possible. "Your tent seemed warm."

"That's it?" His brows arch up. "The rest isn't any of your business."

"I'm curious."

"I don't even know your name!" You huff angrily. "All I know is you're a guy who works in a circus with powers that leave me a puppet in your hands. I'm not here to entertain you."

As you blurt the last sentence, you don't miss his dark chuckle at it. "We'll see about that," he mutters, but before giving you the chance to speak, he speaks again. "My name's Shinsou. Feeling better?"

"Much." You mock him with an exaggerated smile, voice hostile. "Now will you let me go?"

"Why would I?" He laughs. "You still haven't answered my questions, and haven't you heard it's only courtesy to tell your own name when someone tells you theirs?"

"And haven't you heard it's being a basic human fucking being not to keep people under your influence like this?"

A beat of silence passes as he ponders on an answer and fails, and both of you know he lost this round. "Kitty's got claws, I see." He swipes his tongue on his bottom lip, amusedly watching your reaction at the pet name. You sneer at him- but Shinsou's a little too interested in this to miss the way you shift in your place, your quickening breaths, the flutter of your eyes.

"Don't call me that."

"Why? Got you excited?" Shinsou quirks a brow when you squeak angrily. "You won't even tell me your name."

You would've rolled your eyes if you could, instead just sighing at the purple-haired man. "It's Y/N." You answer. "My Name's Y/N."

It's been a while since Shinsou had this much fun; he missed this game of cat and mouse.

"Very well then, Y/N," he repeats your name as suggestive as possible, "would you answer my question? I can force the answer out of you, you know." He looks amused as he leans forward in his chair, suddenly much more interested in what you say, how you move. Like a predator watching its prey. "All it takes is a command."

Each word makes its way out of his lips so smoothly- you shiver at the way he speaks them. And you're disappointed when you realize not with fear.

It was a lost game the moment you even felt a tinge of lust towards the man, but you doubt there is anyone who can resist his charm. Still, you refuse to play into his hand, choosing to fight submitting to him just like that.

"With your witchcraft or whatever it is, yes." You shoot back, "but you can never control me without it." You feel needles of excitement run over your skin.

"Hm?" He quirks a brow, a feline cat on his lips, making you shiver with the lust settling on his gaze. Your eyes follow the movement of his adam's apple when he gulps. "You think I can't make you do as I say without my powers?" His voice drops an octave, and it almost makes you gasp.

"I know you can't." You sneer. "I would never let you."

"Big words from a little girl. Are you challenging me?"

"And what if I am?"

"Well," Shinsou slides his tongue over his lip, your gaze follows the movement. "you'll have to prove it to me."

As he speaks the words, the heaviness that had consumed your body disappears, as well. Your eyes shoot up- only meeting his mocking indigo gaze. You don't need him to tell you what to do, as one glance is enough for you to see how his pants seem a little strained over his crotch, a print making itself visible.

"What?" He asks, a grin resting on his lips as you stay still. His voice is deep, a guttural, almost tired tone that has you shivering with each way he speaks his words. "All bark, no bite? I thought you were up for a challenge- oh." You effectively shut him up when you settle before the man in one quick motion, relishing in the way his eyes widen, a content, almost excited grin consuming his face.

"You were saying something?" You purr innocently, as if you're not kneeling between his legs, licking your lips and giving him a glance from beneath your lashes.

"Nothing," Shinsou huffs out a laugh, settling in his chair to give you better access. "Do go on."

His dick is even more prominent now, you notice, a wicked smile settling on your lips. You lift your hand to trace his cock, touch ghosting him from over the material of his pants. He's semi-hard beneath your fingers, but even then, you have to muffle a gasp at just how big he is. Unfortunately, he seems to notice the widening of your eyes and your gulp.

He leans forward to tease you, but you don't give him a chance. His eyes flutter close when your hand finally takes him in your hold. "Shit-" Shinsou curses, his tongue darts out to wet his lips as you palm him over the material of his pants, not fast nor hard enough to satisfy him but to keep him tittering on edge. "You fucking tease." He sounds out of breath, but somehow manages to open his eyes to give you a dark look.

"Can't wait to fuck it out of you."

Shinsou waits, endures your torture until you yourself can't, growing impatient to feel him in your mouth.

His chuckle sinister as he aids you while your fingers work his pants off, leaving you face to face with his now hard cock, a small patch of wetness painting his briefs a darker color.

"Look what you did to me," Shinsou heaves, forcing himself to keep his indigo eyes open and on you. "making me hard without even taking me in your mouth."

You bite your lip as your hands slip beneath his boxers, feeling him hot and pulsing under your touch for the first time. You both groan at the sensation.

As you finally push his briefs down, you first see a tuff of deep-purple hair, his cock red and angry. "Ah, fuck." He curses at the contact with the cold air, his head lolling and falling back slightly.

"If it's too much-" he breathes before you can move any further, "tap my thigh twice, or yell bandaid." He only lets you go on when you nod, making sure you understood what he said.

Without waiting any longer, you take him in your hand, and it only makes you realize he's even bigger than you originally had thought. You try to hide your doubts on if you're even going to be able to fit him in your mouth, but he realizes anyway. "What?" Shinsou mutters breathily, "scared?"

You don't answer him, leaning forward to take the sensitive tip between your mouth, instead. The bitter taste of precum has a tinge of sweetness to it, and you don't even realize you start suckling on it a bit harder to get more of the taste.

"Oh- fucking hell." He runs his hands through his hair with a loud groan, a borderline moan, when you suck particularly hard, twirling your tongue around his sensitive head. The sound makes its way straight down to your core.

Your other hand comes up to cup his balls as you let go of his angry red tip, tracing his cock to the base with kisses planted along his shaft. "Ah- fuck, fuck, fuck!" Shinsou groans when you massage his balls softly, leaving kisses on the base, your other hand pumping him slower than he wants it.

"Stop fucking teasing." He growls, voice breathy and shallow. "Or are you afraid -ah- you can't take it all?"

The smug grin he has, despite your best efforts to wipe it off has you fuming. You know he only says it to rile you up, but it works. "Shut up." You spit at the handsome man, not even missing a beat or trying to ease him in as you start pushing yourself on his length. It's pure spite, he knows it too, but it only makes it more fun for Shinsou.

You underestimated him.

You open your mouth as much as you can, jaw aching almost immediately with the pressure, but you try to discard the feeling, focused on having as much of him in your mouth.

"Ah fuck!" He groans out loudly, hips twitching, a thrust in your welcoming mouth before he can catch himself. "Good fuckin' girl," Shinsou breathes, his hand flying to your head as support, pushing you even further down. You almost miss the subtle whiny moan he lets out when you gag loudly around him. The head of his cock hitting the back of your throat as Shinsou keeps pushing you down on his cock mindlessly, your heart drums in your ears, jaw aching, breaths shallow and insufficient.

"Look at you- oh, look at you." Shinsou mutters between his ragged breaths. "Such an obedient little girl, so pretty, so eager-" his warm cock thrusts deeper in your mouth and makes you gag once again, tears that had welled in your eyes before now spilling down your cheeks. Shinsou's half-lidded gaze falls on you, face wet with drool, tears, and his precum, and you feel his cock twitch along with a groan, "-so eager to please me."

You wish- you wish you could protest, say he's wrong, that you don't care the slightest bit about how he feels, but you can't. And not because of his cock stuffing your mouth, either.

Instead, you feel the blood starting to rush downwards, straight to your pussy, making you soil your panties with how he spits out each syllable.

Shinsou's aware of this, too, how effective his words are. His head falls back, weak to the pleasure you're giving him, moaning and gagging around his length as he thrusts faster into you. The dull pain in your skull feels so good, the ache of your throat, his cock hot and heavy on your tongue-

"You're- you're getting off on this, huh?" Shinsou tightens his grip on your hair. "You like it when I call you a good girl? You like it when I use you as a fuck hole?"

You try to lie, shake your head no, but he doesn't give you a chance, no room to move your head with how tight his hold is. With one thrust exceptionally deep, Shinsou laughs almost cruelly as he speaks. "Of course, you do. You're sucking me so fucking well; it's impossible you don't."

"Good girl- good fucking girl, I bet you're soaking in your panties, too, huh? What a little slut. I thought you weren't going to give in? I thought you said I couldn't control you?"

"Fuck you." You spit out when you pull away from his cock, but he doesn't seem pleased by it. "Don't speak with your mouth full, darling." Shinsou growls, his hand cupping your jaw and forcing your eyes to meet his, fingers digging deep into the soft of your skin. "Didn't anyone teach my baby any manners? Or are you just too dumb to learn?"

You open your mouth to say something, but before you can even utter a word, his long fingers force their way through your lips; whatever you were going to say stays as a muffled moan.

"You know, from the moment I saw you all I thought about as you talked and talked and talked was how I wanted to put that big mouth of yours into good use."

In all honesty- it was all you thought about as well.

With seeing the glint in your eyes, Shinsou huffs out a laugh. "Oh, look at my pretty little slut." He forces his fingers even deeper, making you gag. "You think I don't know what you're thinking? You think I don't know how much you want my cock in your mouth? Such a whore, hiding in my tent. You did this on purpose, didn't you? Came here to get fucked like a bitch in heat by one of us freaks?"

The last words are but a haze to you since by then; he's already pushing himself back and forth past your abused lips, moaning at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth, without giving you the time to think, to breathe, to accustom. Shinsou holds a ruthless pace, gripping your head fest by the hair as he groans and moans, making you squirm under him. "Good girl- ah, fuck, such a good girl, suck my cock just like that- ah!"

"Fuck- I'm coming." You almost don't hear him, only raise your gaze to his half-lidded eyes and feel his cock twitch between your lips. "I'm coming- ah- shit, shit shit!"

Your moans get louder as his thrusts get sloppier, and you feel his whole body tremble at your voice. "I'm gonna- fuck!" Shinsou finally feels himself falling over the edge he's been dancing on, his hot cum shooting down your aching, abused throat, moaning when he notices how eagerly you swallow his cum.

His body falls limp back on the seat, chest heaving with deep, heavy breaths. There is a sheen layer of sweat covering Shinsou's body, making the muscles of his body shine under the dim candlelight.

All you hear in the quiet tent is his deep breaths, his head resting back, eyes closed, and he seems exhausted. A few minutes pass for him to pull himself together, opening his eyes to look at you, and- fuck he's hard again.

"Are you okay?" You shake your head, suppressing a smile at his now even messier-looking hair.

"Are you okay?" You ask smugly, coughing once because of the ache. "Thought you were gonna- hey!" You squeak as he jumps on his feet, and in a moment, you find yourself swept off the floor and in his arms. "I see you still have words to speak." Shinsou laughs, his face so close to yours, you feel his breath fanning against your ear, and he feels you tremble between his arms. He quirks a brow at your surprised reaction. You hadn't expected him to be able to continue, truth be told.

"What?" He continues, "I thought I made myself clear when I said I'd fuck it out of you."

You try to keep your last bit of resistance in you by speaking, "I'd like to see you try." But both of you seem aware you've already lost.

"Oh, I'm sure you do." Shinsou gives you a look before placing- throwing you on the unmade bed, eliciting a loud gasp from you. The dim candlelight hits his naked form in a way that has you rubbing your legs in anticipation. He isn't bulky but well-built and muscular, enough to toss you around with ease, enough to have your mouth watering at the thought of running your fingers over his well-defined muscles.

His gaze predatory, Shinsou looks dissatisfied eyeing you. "Strip." He orders, a knowing smile finding its way on his lips as you realize he won't use his powers but knows you'll obey his command like a good girl.

And you do, too. Maybe it's the anticipation or the uncanny glint in Shinsou's eyes that get to your head, but thoughts of defiance are thrown out of the window as you're shrugging off your clothes without giving it a second thought.

"That's it." He grins, his index finger just barely ghosting over your thigh, and he relishes how you squirm because of it. "Look how good you can be for me."

"Such a pretty girl," his hand continues circling your bare legs, getting dangerously close to where you need him the most, but never quite giving it. "My pretty girl." You feel him smile on your skin, littering it with kisses and bites as his fingers ghost over your pussy.. "A shame she has that bratty streak, though."

Shinsou clicks his tongue, suddenly pulling his hand back away, suppressing a smile at your needy whine. It's the kind of sound that's pushing him closer to ruining you by the second.

"No, no, baby, don't cry." You feel his hand cup your face, pads of his fingers tracing your face. His thumb grazes your lips, tracing the outline and pushing in, the sudden intrusion making you moan around it. "I'm here to help you with that."

Help you, he does. You feel his finger graze your clit, circling it just barely but even that slightest contact has you gasping for more after spending that long focused on him.

"Look at you," Shinsou tuts disappointedly, "just barely touched you, and you're soaking wet. Did you enjoy sucking me that much? Did you like how my dick tastes so much that it turned you on?"

"I-" you try to gather your thoughts, but he silences you by pushing one of his fingers in your pussy, his fingers long and slim, such pretty hands he has, his pale skin glistening with your wetness. "What was that?"

"P-please," you beg pathetically as all his motions still abruptly, eyes turning steal as he leans so close that you think your noses might touch. His other hand latches on your hair when your head lolls back down, his grip forcing you to keep your eyes on his indigo ones. The dull pain in your scalp goes straight to your core, and Shinsou can tell by how you clench around his finger.

"That isn't an answer to my question, Y/N." Your name rolls of his tongue so cold, so distant, you find yourself whining at it.

"Y-yes!" You exclaim, hips moving and grinding against his hand to find more friction with yet another cry, "I did- I did, so please!"

Shinsou has to admit.

Having you look at him with wide, watering eyes, face contorted in need of pleasure, your lips trembling as a form of begging- he doesn't think he can hold off much longer.

You feel so tight, even with just a finger, so warm and welcoming that he might be going crazy. Your mouth falls slack; eyes squeezed closed as you focus on the pleasure, silent other than shallow, desperate breathes.

"That's a good girl." Shinsou approves, adding a second finger and closing the gap between your faces to press a kiss on your lips as a reward.

So desperate for affection, you don't hear nor feel his amused laugh as you throw your arms around his neck when he starts to pull back after giving you but a peck, trying to hold him close, pull him into a kiss.

Shinsou shakes his head no, his fingers curling in you as he does so, your back arching off the bed. "Let's not get greedy, pretty girl. Don't worry; I'll take you there- as many times as you want. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod obediently and- fuck, Shinsou feels his dick ache with how hard he is.

"You take my fingers so well." He mutters, almost talking to himself, fascinated by how eager your pussy pulls him in. "Just listen how you gush around my fingers, how slutty your pussy is," Shinsou chuckles, the wet sound of your cunt making you cry out a whine. "Looks how wet you are, so messy, so pretty, wanna make you cum so many times-" He raises his brows when you shake your head 'no'

"Wanna-" you whine, "wanna cum on your cock."

"Please?" You add quickly, giving him the mastered doe-eyes. With the way his fingers sink into the flesh of your thighs, you know you're pushing him till he can't hold back anymore.

"Ah, fuck baby." You moan as his eyes roll back in his head. "How can I say no to you when you ask so nicely?"

You writhe under him as he rubs the swollen head on your pussy first, wetting the tip of his cock with your arousal as you nuzzle your face on his neck to get more of his scent, his skin muffling your moans when he lightly taps your clit.

"If it's too much," Shinsou holds you by the chin to make you look at him, your gaze half-lidded, mouth agape, you looked fucked dumb already. "what were you going to say?"

"Band-bandaids." You half-moan, half speak. Satisfied with the answer, Shinsou can't wait any longer as he's finally pushing himself in you, your cunt pulsing around him-

fuck- so warm, so wet, so soft-

"Holy fuck!" A guttural groan rips from his chest as he feels your strained walls pulse and flutter around him, trying to adjust to his size as he hears your needy cries right next to his ear. It has him losing his mind; Shinsou angles his hips just enough to have you screaming his name, and the feeling of his cock dragging against your pussy, heavy and hot in you, is enough to have you teetering on the edge already.

"'s big!" You whine into his neck, body convulsing with each drag of his cock in you. "So big- you're so big, makes me feel so full." You gasp, unaware of how you bring your hand to your stomach, pressing on the bulge that appears when he pushes in you.

You look so mindlessly fucked out; with your face twisted in pleasure, mouth fallen slack and drool pooling in the corner of your lips, eyes rolling back in your skull as he plunges in and out of you.

"Shinsou- Shinsou, ah, fuck!" You babble, nails digging in his arms to leave angry red crescents. So lost in the pleasure, you're not exactly aware of Shinsou's hands roaming around your face, cupping your jaw, caressing your cheeks, pushing back stray hairs. So cute, so vulnerable for him- he can't wait to make your face wet with tears.

"I'm gonna- I- I'm gonna cum!" You moan, but he knows this already, by the way your back arching off the bed with each deep thrust of his hips, by your pussy clenching even harder on his cock, your hands holding on to him like he's your lifeline.

In a heartbeat, just as you're sure the coil that's been growing in you is going to snap, just as you're about to fall into that bliss- he stops.

A broken sob follows his stillness, a cry ripping itself off your chest at the feeling that was just beyond reach. "Why?" You whine into his chest, hips wiggling to try and feel the same as you did a second ago.

"Shh, it's okay," he coos, voice breathy, more uncollected than he tries to look, purple locks of hair submitting to gravity and falling down, hovering around his face like an indigo halo. "I'll let you come as many times as you want- if you beg."

He raises a brow at you when you squirm under his touch, clamping down on his cock when he growls in your ear, hot breath fanning on your neck. "Beg for it, pretty girl, beg for me to make you cum on my cock- such a hungry slut- beg and I'll give you whatever you want."

You look up at him teary-eyed, your body shaking like a leaf in hungry need, for release, for him, but your lips refuse to atone, your head shaking side to side as a sob leaves your throat.

You can't, you can't beg, but the feeling is irresistible.

"No?" Shinsou voices your silent rebel, and you think the shadows on his face just got a few tones darker.

"You think you have a choice?" His voice low and grave as you feel a pair of hands snake up your body and wrap around your neck, squeezing just the right amount to have your eyes widen with shock, pussy tighten with need but not so much that you're gasping for air. "Nothing but a filthy whore- look at me when I fuck you."

Another squeeze has your eyes rolling back in your head, his filthy words traveling right down to your weeping core. "Now beg."

This time, you don't miss a beat before obeying, pleas falling from your lips along with whimpers of his name, but it's not enough; that you can tell by the dissatisfied click of his tongue. "P-please, sir," you whisper, it makes him move, a hard thrust in your to show praise.

"P-please fuck me-" you add, trying to speak between his occasional deep thrusts, messing with your head. "Show me my- mmh, fuck!- my place!"

As soon as the words are out of your lips, Shinsou goes out of his mind as well. His eyes widen with how your words affect him, an electrifying warmth blooming in the pit of his stomach. "Show you your place?" He growls, and you cry out a moan when he starts thrusting in a ruthless pace, his grip on your neck now suddenly a tad tighter, black spots dancing around in your vision.

"Show you what a slut you are, is that it?"

You're not even comprehending the words he's spewing, the feeling of his cock filling you up has warm tears running down your cheeks, sobs mixed with moans filling the silence other than the sound of skin slapping skin and his low growls.

"Crying? What a little baby, can't even take a cock in you, huh? Then what are you even good for?" Just as he finishes his sentence, the tip of his cock grazes that sweet spot in you, making you cry out a louder sob. "Sh-shinsou, please!"

Hearing you sob out his name like that has his cock twitching in you, your legs wrapped around his waist, legs digging into the small of his back, your nails biting in his shoulders as if he's the only thing holding you up and sane, newer ones filling his skin with each thrust he gifts you. His lidded gaze focuses on your fucked out face, drooling as your mouth falls slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head, face wet with tears you're still shedding. His hand travels from your neck to your jaw, forcing you to look at him so he can lean forward and plant a wet kiss on your lips.

"Fuck yeah- look at you, pretty girl, crying because how good I'm fucking you, huh?"

You nod pathetically, knowing he's waiting for an answer, but a nod is all you can muster with how hazy your mind feels. "More, more- please sir, ah!" Your hands travel from his arms to his back, leaving red, angry stripes on his back as well; one of your hands find a purple lock of hair, taking it between your fingers and hanging on it as hard as you can-

"Ah, shit!" Shinsou shouts as he throws his head up in the air at the dull pain you give him, his cock twitching in you and making you cry out a moan. You're not even aware you're pulling his hair, not aware you're getting him so close to cumming, not aware of anything but his fat cock drilling in you.

"Shit! Baby don't- ah, don't do that or I'm-" He groans, thrusts getting harder, faster-

"You're gonna cum?" He growls in your ear as he feels you clamping harder on his cock, the feeling of you fluttering around him bringing him to your high with you. "Huh? Are you? Answer me." Shinsou's hand grips your hair, pulling it and exposing the skin of your neck for him, open and vulnerable for him to leave marks.

The feeling of his hand in your hair, the kisses he leaves on every sensitive part of your neck, the way his teeth graze and sometimes bite your skin- it's all too much, your body shaking and back arching, you're close- so, so close that-

"I'm cumming- sir, please, I-"

"Cum for me then." Shinsou orders, voice breathy and shaking with the pleasure he's swimming in.

All it takes is for him to lean for another kiss, his tongue sliding in your mouth, and you're falling off the sweet edge, cries getting louder and body shaking with a ripping orgasm, you're clamping down on his cock like crazy, like you won't ever let him go, your dainty hands in his hair and hanging on his locks without care and fuck-

"Give me one more, baby, one more-" Shinsou grunts in your ear, lips grazing the shell as his fingers rub vigorous circles on your clit, "I know you have it in you, come on."

"I- I can't-" You try to speak, but it's all too much, your mind foggy, the tip of your tongue lolling out. "You can," Shinsou growls, orders. "You can and you will."

It's not much after your body convulses with yet another orgasm, hanging on Shinsou as he keeps fucking into you, and you know he's close.

"Come in me!" Your voice cries out to the man; you have your arms thrown around his neck, pulling him to yourself, want to be closer, closer, closer- "Please- come in me! I want to feel you- ah!"

You gasp as he gives you few last pumps, overstimulation making you flinch. Shinsou comes with a groan, teeth sinking into the conjunction of your neck and shoulders and causing you to cry out in pleasure mixes with a tint of pain.

Your eyes are falling as he pulls you to himself, closing his arms around you and holding you against his chest. You stay like that for a while, both too tired to even ask each other how you're doing. He finally slips out of your abused cunt, standing up to glance at you worriedly when you wince. "Sorry."

"How are you feeling?" You hear him grumble as he shuffles through the drawers, wetting the clean towel he pulled out from there. When he comes back, you also notice the bottle of medicine he has in his hands.

"Here, take this." He gives you the medicine and a cup of water, leaning towards you hesitantly. "Should I?" He brings the towel towards the between of your legs, but still keeps a distance.

When you nod, his soft touch ushers your legs to part. He grimaces when you wince at the contact with the towel, even when his touch is so light, but you endure it.

"I should help you out with those." You mutter, half-embarrassed as you inspect the angry red lines adorning his back and arms. His chest is littered with lovebites and marks you don't even remember leaving, and he chuckles when he drops his gaze to look for himself, as well.

"It's okay; you should rest." He laughs. "I'll take care of it later."

You nod, but you still feel his gaze on you as you push yourself deeper in the sheets, mind swimming in thoughts of-

"What are you going to do now?" Shinsou voices, and you notice he's back in his boxers and a shirt, hair in a little more shape. You blink a few times, not knowing how to answer, not knowing the answer, hands fisting the sheets in tight balls.

"I first wanted to go find Aizawa." You shrug, rubbing your eyes. "Before I came here, I mean."

He huffs out a surprised laugh, glancing at you with his brows raised. "That's a first." He mutters. "What's the occasion?"

A smile sneaks its way on your lips as you give him an unfazed shrug. "You think I'll tell you? Maybe I'll let you hear what it is when you take me to him."

Shinsou stays still for a second or so, the predatory glint he had a few minutes ago appearing once again in his indigo eyes. "My silly little baby," You feel two of his fingers graze the underside of your chin, tilting your gaze to meet his. "I thought we already agreed that I can make you do anything I say." You feel his breath on your lips, leaning to close the gape.

"Or should I teach you one more time?"