#zero warmth

[plowolffe]

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[themachine]

Can we get a heart in the chat for love

[cartooname]

It's been a while since I've made some colored ship art of these two.

Tried using Ibis paint again after 2-3 years on PC.

She has tears in her eyes cause she's just so obsessed with him. Nothing new really-

[avichor]

people grossly misinterpreting caitvi ……… how about u ***

[focsle]

Listen I know that I’m saying this because I was completely spoiled by Anthony Minghella’s Talented Mr. Ripley, and I shouldn’t measure the netflix miniseries against it because that’d be comparing an adaptation to an adaptation which isn’t valid or fair but…….the miniseries looks completely beautiful but I think the chemistry between the actors is SO bad and so offputting.

If I hadn’t seen the 1999 film it probably wouldn’t bother me (since I could accept it as simply having Bad Offputting Vibes rather than the excellent undercurrent of Gay Obsession in the former) but since I Have and it’s one of my Favorites I like…spend my entire time watching the miniseries being like ‘gorgeously shot but I want to turn this off and watch the movie instead.’

I kinda felt that way watching Saltburn too lol. ‘I could be watching the 1990s Talented Mr. Ripley instead’.

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Some more bonus thoughts for the sweater weather AU, Akai family edition™ (somewhat disjointed because I've been busy)

The Akai siblings all have one of the OG cream sweaters, it's a matching set (this is conjecture, but the Akais seem like an old family line to me, and so they have a family crest, which is sneakily integrated into the knitting pattern - this makes the sweaters distinguishable to those in the know). The sweater thing was all brought on by Mary deliberately misunderstanding Shukichi's polite nudges about her being cold to her children.

This fact makes Amuro's meeting with Masumi even more awkward than in canon! :) Because she's sure she's seen this guy before, and he's wearing the family sweater, which leaves two main possibilities: either a) Amuro killed Akai and took his sweater or b) Amuro was Akai's friend/lover and was either gifted the sweater or inherited it after Akai's death (because she knows Shukichi and herself still have theirs). The whiskey trio seemed friendly when she met them, but her big brother was an agent and possibly undercover, so it's a toss-up and she's gonna be real suspicious of Rei going forward. Throughout this whole exchange Rei is hugging the sweater to himself as if it could protect him from this feral teen. It's not helping :)

Sweater exchanges become significantly more difficult due to Masumi's stalking ["Do something, FBI dog. She can't keep following me, eventually she'll get wrapped up in something she can't handle. And she's annoying. Also, tell her to get a different hat, fedoras are so cliché." - "Furuya-kun, she believes I'm dead." - "Well, maybe you should fix that, actually." (Rei has strong opinions on not telling people you faked your death, he's still miffed about Scotch)]. As a side effect, this also drags Okiya's already shaky credibility as his own definitely real person in the mud, and Mary ends up figuring her son out.

We all remember that scene at the end of the Scarlet Bullet movie where Mary waits in Okiya's car with a gun and threatens him, right? Well, that happens, but it's "I don't blame you for not telling us you faked your death. But you really could've called and told me about your partner." To which Akai is like "??? - Mother, my ex has been dead for half a year now, and we hadn't been dating for three years before that?" Mary is tempted to just shoot her stupid son, she's seen the security footage of the blonde guy coming over and staying for hours on a semi-regular basis. Masumi has told her how long they've known each other. She's seen them fight.

(Though for what it's worth, Akai's telling the truth - he might be teasing Furuya but the agent is, at this point, barely tolerating to have a couple of drinks with Shuichi after a particularly bad day. Since becoming Okiya he's been bored a lot, so he's mostly humoring Furuya and enjoying company where he doesn't have to hide his true self. He figures Furuya might need the same).

Nobody bothered to ask Shukichi, who knew the whole time Akai was still around, whoops (when they eventually decide to tell him, he pretends to be pleasantly surprised). He meets Amuro in his favourite sweater, smiles cheerfully, comments on the need for such cosy clothing (to which Amuro agrees pleasantly), and files the information away for later use with a sly glint in his eyes.

.

Sweater weather AU masterpost

[nightfal1n]

I usually shove my random morning doodles under the rug, lock them up and forget they exists but idk why I liked this way too much

(or I'm obsessed over how this kid looks too cool to touch by default but he can make this kind of face without feeling out-of-character which make him even more precious)

[slashingdisneypasta]

Thinking about how I've made almost all of my Then He Got Rough characters greyromantic!! Yay.

[incorrectcfvg]

[summerwritesfics]

🖤For Warmth You’ll Be Longing, Nightingale, Chapter 1 - For Of Sugar And Ice I Am Made

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang Length: 7694 Words Rating: Explicit 🔞 Warnings: Cult AU, Past Torture, Flower growing in peoples skin, Body Horror, Mental Health Issues, NSFK (Not Safe For Kuai)

For Warmth You’ll Be Longing, Nightingale Masterlist

Notes: Omg, I finally have a bit of a “AO3 authors post under any and all circumstance” story for these notes, as I edited and posted this with half of my face swollen :D My cheek is so swollen I can actually see it from the corner of my eye lmao. Also I have been having toothache on and off since yesterday. I know those things together prob sound really bad but I don’t believe they are actually related (I have episodes of swelling, this feel very much like that and as such does feel like it’s on it’s way to actually going down, plus the toothache is slowly getting better.) If my editing if a bit off that is probably why, but I said I’d try post stuff over the weekend and I’m gonna do it dammit lmao. Anyway enjoy this chapter where Kuai basically becomes a manic pixie nightmare girl. Some cracks in his psyche show a little and it’s only gonna get worse from here, so buckle up. Chapter title is from “Love Like Winter” by AFI.

Things could change so much in just a year.

Kuai’s ascension was greatly contested by the Elder’s for weeks after it had happened. Calls to try and reason with Lady Cetrion to change her chosen one. Some Elder’s outright refused to acknowledge Kuai for what he was now. The Grandmaster was, oddly enough, on Kuai’s side in this, trying to argue that Lady Cetrion had chosen Kuai for a reason, so they should trust her judgement and that she had a plan. Still, it took some time for the Elder’s to come around.

Kuai freezing the entire compound for a few days did seem to get the majority in line however.

The general consensus of the regular members of the Lin Kuei were a lot more positive thankfully. Surprised, given Kuai’s reputation as the rebel of the compound, but seemingly happy for him. Really, it appeared people were just happy their devotion had been noticed by a God in some way. Lady Cetrion had blessed Kuai Liang, and by extension them, when she bestowed this gift to him.

Sure, he still got the odd death glare from some Elder’s, but none had yet dared to try and take him down. He could walk around the compound with his head held high, all that he crossed bowing to him. All his pain and suffering had finally been repaid with respect and adoration.

So… Why did he feel like he was still completely without any power?

Sure, The Lin Kuei followed him without question now, but somehow he got the feeling that Cetrion’s plans for him were beyond the scope of just the compound. There were so many problems in the world, hunger, war, pollution. He felt like Cetrion wanted him to be the one to put an end to all that. That he could in some way be doing more to save the world from itself.

The problem was, he had no idea where to even begin with that.

Even he had been unable to contact Lady Cetrion for guidance, and all the Grandmaster could suggest was taking it a day at a time. But he was growing impatient, and what he saw of the world beyond the compound, he wasn’t sure he had that much time left to act.

“You wish to do too much too fast, My Lord,” the Grandmaster told him, standing just to the side of Kuai’s throne. “We must first convert others to our cause, then when we have the manpower, you can do what you wish.”

Kuai crossed his arms and slumped in his seat, but he supposed the Grandmaster had a point. If more people believed he truly was the messiah, the easier it would be to command the changes he needed. It was just getting a world that hardly believed the old gods even existed to trust what they were saying was proving difficult.

“The good news is, we’ve managed to recruit a lot of new members from across the globe,” the Grandmaster continued, ignoring Kuai’s mini temper tantrum. “I just got word that they’ve arrived. They’ll be brought before you for initiation, and then shown to their accommodations.”

“Do we have enough room?” Kuai asked with an eyebrow raised. “I hadn’t believed they’d finished the new lodgings yet.”

“They’ve finished enough to welcome at least some new members,” the Grandmaster informed him and Kuai couldn’t help but frown. How come I haven’t been told about this? Given he was the one who’d ordered the new buildings, it seemed logical he would be the one to be told first. “I believe the other elder’s assigned Elder Fang to oversee the project, that may be why you have not been informed.”

Kuai rolled his eyes. Elder Fang had always hated Kuai Liang, and Lady Cetrion’s gift had just seemed to make that hatred amplify.

“He would not be a problem if you’d just let me freeze him,” Kuai grumbled, stopping himself from sliding even further in his chair.

The Grandmaster just chuckled, “unfortunately he is a little too important for me to allow you to do that, My Lord.”

Important, my ass.

Kuai didn’t get a chance to continue that line of thought when the doors to the throne room opened. Cyrax stepped through, guiding in a surprisingly large group of people in civilian clothing. Kuai immediately pushed himself to sit up, so he at least looked somewhat more professional than he actually was.

The group was diverse. Young and Old, single people and families, all races. He found it curious how their message had united people who likely had such different life stories. It gave him hope for being able to reach more over time. Overall though, no one really stood out to him. They all just looked like regular people hoping for a new start.

That was, until he found his eyes landing on one particular man towards the back of the crowd.

He was tall, but seemed to be ducking slightly to try and make himself seem smaller. He had long hair tied into a bun, a trim beard and a yellow hoodie. But it wasn’t any of that which had caught Kuai’s attention. It was the fact he appeared to be trying to not draw any attention to himself. He was seemingly hiding amongst the crowd, not wanting anyone to notice him.

Kuai appreciated the irony that the mans attempt to remain incognito had drawn his attention.

“Welcome to The Lin Kuei,” the Grandmaster began, and Kuai tried to look like he was paying attention to everyone and not just this strange man at the back. “I am Grandmaster Oniro, and this-” he gestured to Kuai, “is Lord Song Kuai Liang, Lady Cetrion’s chosen one.”

There was a chorus of whispers from the crowd. Kuai couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, but he could imagine it was questions on how this man could be the chosen one. What made him so special, after all? Kuai smirked, he couldn’t wait to start casually using his powers around them and seeing realisation slowly sink in.

The man at the back didn’t really react. He just lifted his head enough to get a good look at Kuai Liang. Kuai debated waving at him, but decided that’d probably just be mean.

Grandmaster Oniro was droning on and on about the compound, their rituals, the daily schedule, how everyone would be given a job to do. Kuai knew it all already, so he could just shut it out for now.

The man seemed to be paying attention, although he was frowning rather intensely. Clearly he had heard something that he had either taken exception to or was unsure about. Kuai supposed that in the outside world, they probably didn’t have quite as many strict rules as The Lin Kuei did. He should just be thankful I outlawed physical punishments. It was pretty much Kuai’s first order as the chosen one. No one, no matter how disobedient they were, would ever suffer like he had.

While he suspected it was his suffering that had drawn Lady Cetrion to him, that still didn’t mean it had been a good thing or worth the pain.

“Cyrax will show you to your accommodation,” the Grandmaster concluded. “We will give you time to settle in and then we can begin your spiritual journey.”

Cyrax jumped to action, bowing towards Kuai and the Grandmaster, before beginning to usher out the crowd. Kuai’s gaze was still on that same man, who once more tried his best to blend into the crowd. Curious. Was he just shy? Or was he trying to hide something?

Only one way to find out.

“Would I be okay to observe the new recruits?” Kuai questioned, trying to make the request as casual as he could. “I would like to get a feeling on the type of people they are.”

“Of course,” the Grandmaster replied, “you may do whatever you like, My Lord.”

“Correct answer,” Kuai snarked as he jumped up onto his feet. “In that case, I will bid you adieu.”

The Grandmaster bowed to him as he confidently strode out of the throne room. He wasn’t sure what was going on with the man he’d taken such an interest in. Hell, there might have been nothing at all. But Kuai needed to know what the guy's deal was.

Hanzo glared at his own reflection in the mirror. This uniform he’d been made to wear was simple, dyed yellow, and made of an itchy fabric. Worse still, it didn’t have any pockets, so he wouldn’t have anywhere to put his contraband phone. He needed to figure out a way to carry it around, he required it to be able to record conversations and take photographs of the conditions here.

This closed off cult in the middle of the Chinese wilderness had always had people wondering about the conditions inside. Until recently, it had been impossible to get in from the outside, the only new members having been born within. Rumours of the group's cruelty were widespread but somewhat unfounded. Truth was no one knew what happened behind the walls of the compound, and no one had ever left to tell the truth.

Then, suddenly, that all changed.

Of course, claims that the Elder God’s had blessed the group with the messiah were obviously fake. It was obvious it was a bid to attract attention and gain new members. The question was why? Why did they need new blood? Were their bloodlines becoming too intertwined? Did they just decide they wanted to expand?

Did they genuinely believe that fraud with a flower glued to his chest was really the Messiah?

Hanzo didn’t know, but that’s why he was here. He was going to document everything that went on within these walls, and then once he’d gotten what he needed, write an article exposing them. Hopefully then the Chinese government couldn’t continue to turn a blind eye to their dangerous practices.

He looked down at the robe again. The sleeves were long and quite baggy, so for now he could possibly tie the phone to his arm. He grabbed a strip of rope, pulling the sleeve up enough to place the phone against his forearm and wrapped the rope around it, being careful not to strap it too tightly and cut off his own circulation.

He let the clothing drop back down, hiding the phone from view. This was as good as any time to start exploring and seeing what he could find out. It seemed they were being given time to get used to their surroundings before their first meal and proper initiation. Hanzo didn’t know what that would entail, but he had a bad feeling about it.

He turned to leave the room. It was annoying he’d be sharing with a lot of other people, it would make hiding his true intentions a lot harder, but he was used to this sort of undercover work. He was the journalist who’d blown the lid on the Shujinko scandal after all. He could do this. And at least this time he wasn’t alone. Thankfully it seemed other factions were interested in exposes the cults inner workings, and in the interest of getting all information possible, the factions had agreed to work together rather than against each other.

As he walked down the corridor, he pondered that this building looked extremely new. Clearly they had been planning to open up their walls for a while now if they’d managed to build this cabin. Still, it didn’t really reveal too much. For a shack it was actually quite nice. No, he had a feeling the things he’d be looking for would be in other parts of the commune.

As he approached the door’s to the outside world, he could hear two voices talking. He recognised one as Cyrax, the man who’d guided them in, but the second was new. As quietly as he could, he made his way to the door, sticking his head around just enough that he could make out Cyrax and his partner in conversation.

Hanzo’s eyes widened when he realised it was the so-called messiah himself.

“So, everyone is settling in then? No complaints about the cabin?” The messiah asked, his tone so strange that Hanzo could not tell what he was thinking. “Given Fang’s involvement in building them I would not be surprised if there was.”

“No complaints,” Cyrax assured him, leaning to one side and smirking. “Fang may have contempt for you, but he wouldn’t risk pissing off the Grandmaster.”

The messiah, Hanzo believed his name was Kuai Liang, tilted his head side to side like he was considering that.

“Yes. You are probably right,” he finally admitted with a frustrated sigh. “If you do hear anything though, please let me know.”

Cyrax hummed, raising an eyebrow before saying “alright, spill.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What’s gained your attention this time?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kuai said innocently enough, looking at Cyrax with a pout and puppy dog eyes, far more suited to a child than a religious leader.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about Kuai Liang,” Cyrax fired back and Hanzo couldn’t help but hold his breath. It was such an informal way of speaking to someone who was technically his superior, Hanzo almost considered grabbing his phone to catch the aftermath that would surely follow. “I know you, and I know how nosey you are. Something, or someone, has caught your eye, and you’ve come to investigate.”

“I’m not nosey, I’m inquisitive, thank you very much,” Kuai replied, brushing down his outfit like it was dirty. It was now Hanzo was closer that he could tell just how much nicer the man’s clothes were than anyone else’s. His robe looked silky and comfortable, while also being extremely ornate. It was clear that his supposed status earned him luxuries the rest of the group did not get. “And maybe I’m just interested in the new people, we’ve never accepted new members during my lifetime.”

Cyrax didn’t reply, just continued to stare at Kuai. Weirdly Hanzo could sense Kuai squirming internally from the gaze.

“Alright, fine, yes there is someone who caught my attention,” Kuai admitted, brushing his hand through his hair. “There was a man near the back, wearing a yellow hoodie and hair in a bun.”

Hanzo felt all air leave his body. That was definitely him that Kuai was talking about. Why he’d taken notice, Hanzo had no idea, but it was the last thing he wanted. He needed to blend in and not stand out, definitely not immediately attract the attention of The Lin Kuei’s most important individual. What the hell did I even do to make him notice me?

“Oh, yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” Cyrax replied, rubbing his chin. “What about him though? He didn’t exactly stand out to me, if I’m being honest.”

“It is probably nothing,” Kuai said, shrugging as he did. “He was just trying a little too hard to not be noticed.”

Hanzo bared his teeth in a grimace. Was his attempt to hide that obvious?

“Weird,” Cyrax drawled, “he could just be shy.”

“Or he’s hiding something,” Kuai retorted and Hanzo held his breath. He’d honestly counted on just falling into the background. He hadn’t accounted for the possibility that any of the cult members would be that observant.

Let alone their so-called messiah.

Hanzo took a step backwards, and cursed when the floorboard creaked extremely loudly from his weight. Both Kuai and Cyrax stopped their conversation, and he knew they had to be looking towards the doorway. Maybe if he styled it out enough, he could make it look like he was just coming through.

He stepped outside, trying to look indifferent, and like he hadn’t been listening in to their conversation.

“Uh, sorry,” he muttered, attempting to continue walking past them.

“Wait!”

Hanzo froze at the sound of Kuai’s voice, seconds later an unnaturally cold hand was taking his and spinning him to face him. Hanzo was certain he must have looked like a deer in headlights as Kuai smiled up at him.

“You’re a new recruit right?” Kuai said in an innocent tone, like he hadn’t been talking about Hanzo just seconds ago. It was actually unnerving how sincere he sounded. Someone who could lie so well and so casually could only mean trouble.

“Um. Yes. Hanzo Hasashi, Your… Grace…” Hanzo wasn’t sure how he should be addressing Kuai Liang, but clearly that way in particular amused him greatly as he began to giggle.

“So formal!” Kuai lightly patted his chest. “There is no need.” He grimaced slightly. “Well, actually you might want to refer to me as My Lord in front of the Grandmaster and Elders, but otherwise Kuai Liang is fine!”

“I… See…” Hanzo wasn’t sure if Kuai was just trying to seem more personable to ease the nerves of newcomers or if he was trying to get something from Hanzo.

“No need to be so shy, Hanzo. I don’t bite.” Kuai pulled back ever so slightly, making a very obvious point to look him up and down. A wicked grin came over his face as he added on “I mean, not unless you want me to~”

Kuai winked at him, and all Hanzo could do was splutter in response. All Hanzo knew at that moment was that his entire face was hot, and that his flustered reaction was clearly delighting Kuai.

“Alright, easy boy,” Cyrax finally chimed in, putting a hand on Kuai’s shoulder. “You are a menace, stop teasing our new recruits.”

“I’m just being friendly,” Kuai insisted, practically giving Cyrax puppy dog eyes again.

“Yeah. Too friendly. Go be a pain in the ass somewhere else,” Cyrax shot back, it was clear from his tone he was teasing, yet Hanzo still couldn’t help but freeze slightly. How the hell Cyrax could be so comfortable being so rude to Kuai, even in jest, he didn’t know.

“Fine, spoil sport.” Kuai stuck his tongue out at Cyrax, before turning his attention back to Hanzo. “I’ll see you around, hope you settle in well.”

Kuai finally let go of Hanzo’s hand, before turning on the spot and walking off, lazily waving over his shoulder with one hand. Hanzo waited until he’d rounded a corner and disappeared before turning to look at Cyrax again, who was giving him a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry about that. Kuai Liang can seem a little full on when you first meet him,” he explained with a fond chuckle. It was starting to become clear to Hanzo that they were legitimately close, and not just in the form of a religious leader and a worshipper. “He’s still getting used to his role too. I promise he means well.”

Well. You probably would think that. Hanzo chose not to voice that thought, instead asking “about the whole messiah thing. How exactly did that happen?”

“I don’t know, really. They’ve been very quiet about it.” Cyrax rubbed the back of his head. “The Grandmaster and Elder’s were witness to it, but it’s like they’re all sworn to secrecy.”

“Right.” That just confirmed the whole thing was bullshit in Hanzo’s mind. It was all just very convenient for everyone involved to not be able to talk about it. “Um. Anyway, I’m going to go look around, if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing.” Cyrax patted Hanzo’s shoulder a couple of times. “If you need anything, please come find me.”

“Will do.” He bit his lip, and watched as Cyrax walked away.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he went to reach into his sleeve to retrieve his phone. He needed to see if the others were ready to meet, and write some notes about his close encounter with the messiah.

Only when he felt where it should have been, it wasn’t there.

He felt a pang of panic wash over him, clawing at the place it should have been. He glanced around the ground, wondering if he'd dropped it somehow. But he couldn’t have. He would have felt it, surely. Probably would have heard it too. Yet it was nowhere to be seen.

Icy fingers clinging to his hand came back to mind.

“Oh no,” he whispered to himself, the horrified realisation at what potentially happened hitting him at once. “But how the hell could he have…”

That didn’t matter. He could figure that out later. Right now, he needed to find Kuai Liang, and make sure his operation wasn’t squashed before it had even begun.

“Tch, what an idiot,” Kuai giggled to himself as he walked along the rooftop, holding his prize, Hanzo’s phone, up in the air triumphantly. A sleeve was such a shitty hiding place. He’d have done better putting it into his underwear than tied to his arm. “Then again, I am the king of contraband. Rookie didn’t stand a chance.”

He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Himself, most likely. Maybe Cetrion. She was probably listening and watching over him, right? Maybe? He didn’t know.

He tilted his head as he looked at the device. He’d seen phones before when looking through the latest confiscations, but this one seemed particularly fancy. As he sat down, he pressed a button on the side, the screen lighting up and showing a picture of a pretty woman.

“Ooh, wonder who she is.” Kuai wasn’t really into women, despite the Grandmaster’s attempts to set him up with a wife. If he had to choose a woman to settle down with though, he could see himself being at least comfortable with one like her.

He had played with a few of the confiscated phones in the past, enough to know he had to make a swiping motion with his thumb to get to the main meat of the device. As he did so, a number pad popped up on the screen with the word “passcode” written above it.

“Drat,” Kuai hissed, noticing a button that said “hint”. He clicked it, hoping it would be something he’d understand, only to huff as he read aloud “Harumi’s birthday? Who the heck is Harumi?”

The thought occurred that was the name of the woman set as the phone’s background. His frustration diminished slightly, as he cancelled the passcode request. He stared at the woman, now dubbed Harumi until he found evidence to the contrary. Clearly she was someone close to Hanzo, if he held her photo so close to him, and made her Birthday his password. She looked too young to be his Mother, but too old to be a daughter, so a sister or wife then?

He idly swiped his finger across the screen, not entirely sure what it would accomplish, until a new screen came up. It took him a few seconds to realise it was a camera.

He gasped slightly. “Awesome!”

He held the phone up, trying to figure out the best shot of the compound. He assumed the big circle on the screen was what he needed to take the photo. He clicked a couple of times, getting different shots of the landscape. For as isolated as this compound was, it was at least surrounded by quite beautiful scenery.

Not that most got the chance to see it. Kuai only had because he was the only person unafraid to clamber onto the rooftops.

“Hmm, what does this button do?” He wondered aloud as he clicked a small button shaped like a more traditional camera, with circular arrows inside it. As soon as he clicked it, he was met with his own face staring back at him. “Oh!” He squealed in excitement, holding out his arm as far as he could to try and get as much of himself in the frame as possible. He began indiscriminately hitting the shutter button, taking photos of himself with all sorts of facial expressions. “Oh, this is such fun! No wonder the outsiders love these things, they’re fantastic!”

He was about to take another couple of photos of himself, when he noticed a strange little pop up at the top of the screen. When he brought it close enough to see, he realised it was a message of some kind.

[JC said: Hey man. We’re gonna meet at the big apple tree.]

Kuai frowned, clicking on the notification, only to be met with the passcode screen again.

“Damn it all!” He let himself flop backwards, looking up at the sky. How could he find out the passcode for this stupid thing? There had to be some way other than just brute forcing it. He could see the blurred picture of the woman in the background and his eyes widened. “If she’s that precious to him, maybe he has some other keepsakes of her.” He shot back upright and exclaimed “Kuai Liang, you are a genius!”

He slipped the phone into his pocket, scrambling to his feet and running as carefully as he could across the roof. Careful, was the keyword. The last time he was a little too heavy footed he wound up falling through to the floor below. The Grandmaster was less than impressed. And given it was before Lady Cetrion’s gift, he had paid dearly for his mistake.

His back stung just thinking about it.

“No, not thinking about that right now.” Really, he never wanted to think about that ever again. Yet his mind always seemed to wander back to it. He knew the torture room was still there, lying untouched in a layer of dust. He’d been in a few times, staring at the implements that just months ago had been frequently used on him.

Sometimes, he held the whip in his hand, almost longing for the sting of it against his skin once more.

Punishment was all he knew. Punishment was all he craved.

“No. Not now. Maybe later,” he hissed to himself as he came to a halt at the edge of the roof.

He held out a hand, concentrating until a bridge of ice began to form. He stepped onto it, before sharply forcing the ice down, and he slid along it until finally he hit the floor.

He brushed himself down. Taking a deep breath and then making his way towards the dorm buildings. As he entered the door he paused for a second, trying to listen and see if anyone else was inside. It sounded empty, but he knew that didn’t always mean it was. Still he walked over towards a bulletin board, quickly glancing down the list of names.

“Ah, there. Hasashi. H.” He pointed at the name and traced across to the room number. “Room 5. Got it.”

Making his way down the corridors, he was careful to peer into every room and make sure they were empty. So far, they seemed to be. It didn’t hurt to be cautious though. He continued, until finally getting to room five. He poked his head around the doorframe, checking if the coast was clear. He let out a sigh of relief when it was.

He quickly entered, glancing around and snorting. The problem with these extremely barebones and unpersonalised quarter’s is that he couldn’t tell which bunk and chest was Hanzo’s. He clicked his tongue. Just standing staring wouldn’t help him, he needed to start digging through the chests to see if he could find a clue.

He went to the first, opening the heavy wood and being thankful the elders insisted on no locks outside of important functions. This chest had very little in it, a few fiction books and that was about it. Granted one looked very interesting, and as he skimmed the writing on the book cover it implied the book was very heavy on the sexual content. He half debated pinching it, but quickly decided against it. If he could figure out whose chest this was, he might be able to slickly persuade them to give it up as a recommendation.

He put everything back, going to the next chest. It was also devoid of anything of interest. It was very much the same for the next 2 chests. He was beginning to wonder if he was hoping for too much, until he opened the 5th chest and a photograph taped to the inside immediately caught his eye.

A photograph of the same woman as the phone’s background.

“Hello,” he drawled, reaching for the small piece of paper and taking a better look at it. It was definitely her, Harumi. In fact, he was almost certain it was the exact same photo, or at least she’d been in a very similar pose. “That’s sad though, does he only have one photograph of her? I have more with Bi-Han, and we’re from an anti-technology society.”

He glanced inside the chest, and it really had nothing all that interesting in it. Just some clothes, a few hair ties and a small notebook. He opened it, but it was completely empty.

Kuai sighed, holding the photo up and staring at it. He almost wished Miss Harumi, whoever she was, could be here to tell him her stupid birthday. It’d make his life so much easier. Suddenly, he got the urge to flip over the photograph, to see if there was anything useful on the back. There, scribbled in pen, was a simple note.

Harumi’s 30th Birthday. 15th April 2020.

“Got it!” Kuai couldn’t help but consider how idiotic it was to have a bit of paper lying around that had your passcode written on it, but that dumb decision had made his life 100 times easier.

So, there were now a couple of choices for what the code was. Given it indicated it was six numbers long, it could either be day month year, or month day year, depending on which way Hanzo wrote it. He supposed year month day was also a possibility. If Miss Harumi was 30 in 2020, that meant she was born in 1990.

To start with, he put in 150590, to no success. Then 051590, and once again it was not accepted.

After he typed in 900515, he found the phone opened to a new screen, with a lot of buttons and options. Got it! Now he just needed to remember that number, 900515.

“I am so smart,” he giggled, as he put the photo back in its place. “No wonder Lady Cetrion chose me if the rest of the world is this dumb.”

Ironic, really, considering he’d spent his entire life being told he was stupid.

Either way, with everything back in place, he didn’t stick around the dorm. He didn’t really feel like explaining to any random recruit why he was snooping around. Hurrying out of the building, he rushed over to the building he’d been sitting atop earlier. He found the gutter that he generally climbed up, making swift work of scaling the building. Once he was on the roof, he sat at the edge, pulling the phone out again.

“9-0-0-5-1-5,” he whispered to himself as he put it into the phone again.

The menu popped up again, and while Kuai wanted to investigate and see what all these buttons did, he first wanted to find out what that message had been about. He clicked the corresponding button, finding that there was only one conversation on it. When he clicked it, he quickly realised there were multiple participants. He scrolled up to the top, but there wasn’t really much.

[S said: Remember to stick to the plan.] [S said: I will attempt to get hold of any sorts of paper work or files they have.] [S said: JX will try to get into any locked rooms, see what they’re hiding in those.] [S said: JC is gonna make good with the members, try to get as much as possible out of them.] [S said: H will document everything, either via photographs, audio or video.] [S said: K is joining us in a couple of weeks, hopefully bringing some supplies depending on what we need.] [S said: We need as much evidence as we can get if we have any hopes of taking these sons of bitches down.] [JC said: Thanks for reminding us of what we talked about 5 seconds before coming here.] [JX said: Also remember to delete all messages at the end of every day. Preferably every hour, to be honest.] [JX said: If any of them manage to get one of our phones, we need as little evidence of a co-ordinated procedure on them as possible.]

“Well, Hanzo screwed that for you already JX.” Kuai rolled his eyes. For all the effort these people went to, you’d think they’d have done a little better at keeping a low profile. Regardless, he continued reading the messages.

[H said: What we really need to try and lean into is the cruelty angle. There have been rumours for years of extreme cases of abuse, we need to expose that first and foremost. Their belief system being a fraud is also important.]

“Fraud? Who are you calling a fraud you bastard?” Kuai hissed between his teeth. He was a lot of things, but a fraud was absolutely not one of them. “And as for the cruelty, I hate to break it to you but you’re about a year too late for that one, dumbass.”

The next message was the one that had popped up earlier, and Kuai was tempted to send his own message. The question was, did he want to play pretend as Hanzo for a while and lead them on or did he want to scare the shit out of them right off the bat by revealing himself. Both options sounded like they could be entertaining to be honest.

He stared across towards the apple tree, spotting three figures standing around underneath it. Kuai smirked to himself, doing a few gestures on the phone until he’d brought up the camera again. He held it up, pointing towards the tree and snapping a picture. He returned to the message thread, selecting a button that looked like a picture and finding all the photos he’d taken came up. It seemed Hanzo had not yet taken any photographs, as only the ones Kuai had taken were there. Regardless he clicked the one he’d just taken, and without typing anything, hit the little arrow button.

[H has sent a photo] [JC said: Uh… Dude? You alright? What’s going on?]

Kuai smirked to himself, clicking on the picture button again. Scrolling through to find his favourite photo of himself. Once he’d found one he liked, one where he was winking and sticking his tongue out, he clicked it and then the send button, excited for the reception he was going to get.

[H has sent a photo] [JC said: What. The. Fuck?] [JC said: What is going on? Dude? H? If you’re there, say something.]

Kuai began kicking his feet as he excitedly chuckled to himself.

This was going to be so much fun.

Hanzo felt like he’d searched the entire compound, short of the private quarters of the cult's elders. He could not find the messiah for the life of him. His gut twisted, terrified he’d been found out already, only hours into arriving. If they found some of what was on there, they’d know he was here to be a whistleblower. At best, he’d be ejected from the compound, and at worst?

Well, he’d likely find out first hand just how cruel the cult could be.

He reached the end of a particularly large building, pulling on his hair as he breathed heavily. He had no idea what to expect. He couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. How on earth had the messiah managed to grab the phone without him noticing anyway? Regardless of if the messiah stuff was bullshit, Kuai Liang was clearly sneakier than Hanzo gave him credit.

“Looking for something?” A sing-song voice called out to him. Hanzo frowned, it sounded somehow like it had come from above him.

He looked towards the top of the building, where over the edge of the roof, Kuai was sitting with his legs dangling down. He held up one of his hands, and dangling precariously between his fingertips was Hanzo’s phone. Kuai wore a huge grin on his face, clearly aware of the position he had Hanzo in.

“I must say these mobile telephones are fantastic aren’t they? The camera is a lot of fun, I don’t understand why we don’t have them,” Kuai continued like nothing was off about this situation. Like he didn’t hold the power to completely destroy everything Hanzo was working for. “Your messages were very interesting though.” Shit, shit, shit, how the hell has he managed to get in to read the messages? I had a passcode on it. “Oh, by the way, your little entourage is waiting for you over by the big apple tree. They seemed very confused by the photos of myself I sent them from your phone.”

Hanzo didn’t reply, the entire group was potentially rumbled because he’d been careless with his phone. He still did not understand how Kuai could have gotten through the passcode. It was Harumi’s birthday, there was no way Kuai could have known that, or even brute forced it. Outside of going through Hanzo’s belongings, that is.

A photograph he stuck to the inside of his trunk came to mind. A photograph of Harumi, Satoshi and himself celebrating Harumi’s birthday. And he would have written the date on the back.

His face dropped. How the fuck could I have been that stupid? Hanzo had done a lot of foolish things before, but this was beyond the pale. He really had just fucked up their entire investigation.

As he looked up to Kuai Liang, a triumphant grin on the messiah’s face.

“Ah, did it just dawn on you how I figured out your passcode?” Kuai taunted, as despite how light and carefree he sounded, there was a very dark undertone to his voice. “You aren’t very bright, are you?”

“What do you want?” Hanzo snarled. He didn’t understand what Kuai Liang was getting out of this. Surely it’d be more advantageous to him to immediately report this to his elders. Was he really so cruel as to want to taunt someone beforehand?

Kuai actually giggled at Hanzo’s response, leaning over the edge to sneer at him. “I’d be a little more polite if I were you. I might be quite enamoured by this technology, but I’m sure the Grandmaster won’t be quite as thrilled, especially if he reads through your messages.”

“You-“ Hanzo bit his tongue, what the hell was the messiah’s game here? “What are you going to do?”

Kuai tilted his head back and forth, like he was pretending to think really hard about it. The childish taunting action was enough to make Hanzo’s blood boil. He had to remain calm though, remember who he was dealing with. It was well within Kuai Liang’s power to make this 100 times worse for him.

“Why don’t we make a deal?” Kuai offered, leaning over the edge just a little further. “You let me keep this fancy bit of technology and I won’t tell the Grandmaster about the little investigation you and your friends are supposedly doing.”

“What? No!” He couldn’t let Kuai Liang keep the phone. He needed it to keep track of his investigation, document and contact the others. He couldn’t just give it to someone else. “I can’t do that.”

“Oh. A shame.” Kuai pouted slightly. “Seems the Grandmaster is going to learn about your little operation here and-“

“Please don’t.” Hanzo had no idea what he was hoping to accomplish by begging. He was just desperate to not get caught.

“Then, let me keep the phone,” Kuai demanded, his voice the most serious Hanzo had heard since he got here. As they stared at each other, Kuai narrowed his eyes. “Let me put it this way, I am going to get this phone either way. It’s just that with one of the choices, I won’t put you and your little friends on the Grandmaster’s shit list.”

Hanzo felt his resolve falter. While he needed the phone, he needed to stay undiscovered more. If giving up the phone would give them a bit more time, then he’d have to do it. They’d be able to come up with another plan for gathering evidence.

“If I agree, you won’t tell anyone?” He questioned, biting back his embarrassment.

“You have my word,” Kuai softly told him, placing a hand over his heart.

“Why though? What will you get out of this?” He just could not understand Kuai’s motives. What he basically had was the ultimate blackmail material. Why was a shiny toy all he wanted in exchange?

“Well, I get this nifty thing for a start,” Kuai replied, holding up the phone triumphantly. He looked genuinely excited to have it. Hanzo supposed for someone who’d been cut off from technology for most of his life, this would be a novelty. “But, I suppose I’m also interested to see what you uncover.” Kuai tilted his head. “And your reactions when you realise I’m not the fraud you think I am.”

Ah. Kuai had definitely looked through all the messages then. Weird that he seemed particularly offended by that word. It did seem to imply that Kuai Liang genuinely believed he was the messiah, and that just made him a lot more dangerous. That thinking was the sort that got people killed. Hanzo only hoped they could figure a way to shut this down before that happened.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, you can have the phone, just, please do not tell anyone why we’re here.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Hanzo.” Kuai pushed himself so he stood up on the edge. “I would go and meet with your friends if I were you, they were quite concerned for your wellbeing.”

Before Hanzo could reply, Kuai turned and disappeared from view as he walked back across the roof. Hanzo just placed his head in his hands, groaning loudly. He wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice, or if he should have ever believed Kuai was telling the truth. But he guessed he’d find out soon enough.

He didn’t wait around, he needed to find the others and explain what had happened. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too angry with him for almost fucking everything up. As he made his way from between the buildings, he saw the tree in question, where Jax, Johnny and Sonya stood under. When they spotted him, all three came over in a half-walk half-jog.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ man,” Johnny exclaimed as he reached them. “We were getting worried about you. Thought they’d got you already.”

“Might as well have,” Hanzo muttered, rubbing his temple. “Somehow, their so-called messiah managed to get my phone off me.”

“That… explains the selfies,” Johnny mumbled, and Hanzo almost did a double take. The idea that Kuai’s first instinct on getting access to the phone was to take photos of himself was inconceivable. Then again he did say he’d sent pictures of himself.

“Did you get the phone back?” Jax asked hopefully.

“No. The best I could do was get him to agree not to tell anyone about it, in exchange for him keeping the phone.” And he realised saying it out loud how dumb it was for him to do that.

“Do you think he’ll keep his end of that bargain?” Jax shifted on his feet, clearly anxious about this turn of events.

“Hard to say. He’s so fucking manic, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.” Hanzo looked over his shoulder, in the distance he could see Kuai Liang still standing on the roof. “I mean, he seemed genuinely enamoured with the phone, so. Maybe.”

He looked back at the three of them, Johnny and Jax seemed a little more relaxed, but Sonya was looking unconvinced.

“Sonya, I’m so sorry,” he started shaking his head. “I just… Fuck, I didn’t know what to do.”

“No, it’s okay. I think given the circumstances you did the best thing,” she admitted, straightening herself out and placing her hands on her hips. “We’re going to need to have a change of plans though. Jax, given you and I are sticking together for most of the time, you might need to give your phone to Hanzo for now. I’ll make sure Kenshi knows that he’ll need to bring an extra when he gets here.”

“Fair enough.” Jax reached into his pocket, passing the phone to Hanzo. “The passcode is 100892.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo breathed out a sigh of relief. Slipping the new phone into his sleeve, he needed to find a way to make sure this one wouldn’t be found. Although maybe Kuai would be sated with just the one. Who knew with him being the way he was.

“As for messaging, we’ll make a new group chat for our plans, but keep the old one open,” Sonya continued and Hanzo couldn’t help but frown at her with that. “It’s a long shot, but maybe Kuai Liang will make some incriminating statements in it.”

Hanzo nodded, that actually made sense. Kuai seemed a little all over the place, and in his excitement over the technology, might very well leave very hard evidence of the cults wrong-doings. He felt the phone vibrate as if on cue. Given Johnny had his phone out, Hanzo didn’t bother to get his. Johnny stared at the phone with an incredulous look on his face.

“Yeah, not sure about that,” Johnny claimed. “He’s just messaged asking if any of us are the owner of the chest with the pornographic novel in it?”

There was silence between the four of them for a few seconds. Sonya eventually sighed.

“Lord give me strength to get through this mission,” she grumbled and Hanzo couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

Whatever God was out there, he could only hope they’d help them get through this in one piece.

[seaside-coffeemilk]

Set in an AU where the Alphas lived.

After waking up from their slumber, the Alphas ventured forth into the new world.

Margo, recently awakened, shares some veggie meals with Zo.

[iron-shrike]

Horizontober Day 5: Oh Dear

Launching this ship to the moon!

[starpros-sunshine]

hi ok so as far as i know rn it’s possibly a gas leak so we’re all in a gym nearby. the school hasn’t blown up yet so rn it’s just an inconvenience (it’s cold and my jacket is still in my locker at school)

-nyx

Fingers crossed then. Not to jinx anything but here's to hoping the situation gets resolved nicely and quietly

[pwurrz]

god yakumo really deserves to be cuddled nice and warm in an eiden/quincy sandwich, especially now that it’s so cold out. quincy’s strong and sturdy presence pressed up against yakumo’s back, while eiden hugs him from the front and nestles into his chest <33

(and ofc topper falls asleep curled up on yakumo’s pillow because there’s no way he’s missing out on this cuddle pile!!)

[hereliesmara]

i think a cat girl would sleep on a dragon girls belly for warmth

[muntitled]

Indebted

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Summary: He wouldn't call it jealousy... He just wasn't very fond of sharing his toys.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Jealousy Language, Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Caning, Forced Orgasm, Controlled Orgasm, Dumbification, Impact Play, Blood Play, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

4k words

"Seriously, if it weren't for your help, I'd probably fail this module-" you meet him at the door, your Salesman, who's come to play one of his games. He arrives just as you're ushering someone else out.

"It's honestly my pleasure," you say, "You've made me feel useful."

As you speak, you open your front door to reveal your Salesman standing on the opposite end of the threshold.

You hadn't been smiling, not until you saw him standing there in a crisp, well-fitted navy blue suit. He's not looking at you. Not immediately. His eyes are trained on the boy you're standing beside. The one who's slipping on his sneakers, still murmuring about how incredibly grateful he is for your tutoring.

'It's nothing,' you replied modestly, even though it was most definitely not nothing to dedicate your entire Wednesday afternoon to tutoring. The boy is a first year and budding with the need to get better in psychology. His essay would have been flawless, had it not been for the grammatical and spelling errors that plagued the page. You'd both sat for the majority of this Wednesday afternoon hacking through the issues and improving on his spelling. It was endearing. To be in university and still need a spelling tutor.

"Thanks so much for the help." The boy tries to maneuver his lanky frame past your Salesman who takes up the majority of the space by your little doorway.

"See you next week." He shoots you a small smile before giving an uneasy glance to your Salesman.

"Hello." Says the Salesman, so painfully formal it causes a wave of unease to swell. He peers down at the boy like a tiny little thing.

"H-Hey." Your student replies before thanking you once more.

When he leaves and it's just you and the man you're paid to please every Wednesday evening, an uneasy sort of silence settles between you both.

You're smiling up at him.

And he's smiling down at you but it's different somehow. Tighter. Not a genuine smile at all.

Although admittedly, none of his smiles were genuine. His entire face was a carefully orchestrated scam, to get any suspecting victim to trust him.

And yet somehow, this smile feels more phoney.

Like a tempest is brewing beneath.

Before you're able to dissect it further, he's already stepping closer, letting his large, elongated shadow fall on you. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"The last time you came to my house, you killed someone." You lean against the door, your hip leaning against the wood as you fold your arms over your chest. His eyes zero in on the movement and a rare occasion occurs: You feel powerful. That's the last thing you've ever been made to feel in his presence.

"It took a week to get the smell of blood and death out of my room." You continue.

He lifts his hands in front of you, showing the briefcase that hangs from his heavy fingers and the blisters coating his palms. Like a magician convincing you his hands were clean, "I come in peace." That deep and gravelly vibrato veneering his voice causes a tantalizing hum to run all the way down your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. You step aside, staring blankly ahead of you as he steps into your house, bombarding everything with his presence.

From his brisk walk alone, trudging into your apartment like he owns the palace (which he regrettably does) you almost immediately realize that something is wrong. You are not under the impression that you've done anything to make him angry but unease still rolls in your stomach like a tempest that's brewing. When you make it into your adjoining living that bleeds into the kitchen, you find him standing in the kitchen. He lowers his briefcase onto the counter before resting both his heavy hands there.

You move to the other side of the counter, leaning down- giving him a more than perfect view of the cleavage spilling from your dress. You hope it might appease him as you try to wrack your mind for possibile slip-ups that would've caused this terrible silence.

This little-to-no-conversation between you both makes your dynamic feel like the transaction that it actually is: a girl, who needs her university fees paid and a sadist who wants his needs met. Feelings weren't in the equation and yet, your heart stops when he asks,

"How was school?"

"School was school." You reply, sounding pathetically excited to finally hear his voice since the moment he entered your little home.

"Although," you peer down at your jittery fingers on the counter. Your nerves are shot to hell as you admit, "I don't know how proactive I'm going to be tonight-”

He was a ruthless dominant, never failing to leave you absolutely spent by the end of the night. It left you with great discomfort to not be able to perform to the greatest of your abilities during these sessions. “I'm so tired... I've got this psychology quiz and-"

"Who was that?" His questions cut through yours like the tip of a hot knife.

“Who was who?” You ask.

He only smiles before turning his back to you, frantically pulling open cupboards as he says, “Rice. Where's the rice? Do you have rice?”

“The cupboard in the bottom row- Who are you referring to?”

He pulls out your tall container of rice and you watch him round the counter with it in his hands. “This place is so fucking small.” He says, popping the lid of the container, “Reminds me of my childhood home.” He stands right in the only open space in your apartment and all you do is watch as he tips the container over, watching millions of rice grains scatter to the bare floor.

“THAT'S MY FOOD, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-”

His voice is like molten lava when he looks down at you and points toward the ground. “Kneel.”

You feel nothing but cold air slide across your exposed arms when he trudges back to your little kitchen. Your mind reels and your stomach sinks and sinks and sinks- burning a hole through the rest of your organs.

“Am I being punished for something?”

“Be a good girl and kneel on the rice.” He says and because you were nothing but a slave to the dominance in his voice, you slowly lower yourself to the ground. From behind the kitchen counter he watches your face contort into unmistakable pain as the rice grains dig into your knees. He takes a while but soon you're fully kneeling on the floor. He rounds the counter once again until he's standing before you.

“That… child that was just here,” his voice is eerily calm as he caresses your cheek, “Who was that?”

Had you been in any other situation, under vastly different circumstances, you might have looked for the urge to laugh. His blatant jealousy of some university first-year was nothing if not laughable.

“He's just a friend from class- ah.” It almost becomes unbearable but for the sake of your self preservation, you know not to get up.

He continues to caress you, loosening his tie as he asks. “Which class?”

“P-Pardon?”

“You mean to tell me you only go to one class?” He snaps and you fight off tears, “What the fuck am I paying for?”

“You're paying for me to get my psychology degree.” You reply with feeble words, trying to put away the thought of all the little stabbings plaguing your knees.

“And does that entail sleeping with your classmates?”

“What?!” You screech as he walks away. You're suddenly left without nothing to hold onto and you sway forward, your palms landing on more rice.

“Y-You know I don't do that.” You cry, feeling the sting more from the accusation than the pain of all this bloody rice, “Y-You know I don't sleep around- You know I don't talk to anyone-”

You hear his briefcase click open. From your vantage point on the lowly rice-filled floor, you cannot see what he's taking out. It fills you with more dread than you've ever experienced before. Which was utterly ridiculous.

With him, dread is a thing you ought to be accustomed to. Dread is where you live now. You ought to get comfortable with it.

“Such a shame.” He tsks as he finally rounds the corner to reveal whatever it is he's gone to go fetch. His dress shoes clack against your recently varnished floor and you breathe heavily. The pain had subsided- or perhaps you've gotten used to it- which scares you more than anything. He's messing with your pain threshold. Causing you to build a tolerance for certain things and that terrifies you.

Hidden under all that terror was unmistakable lust.

God help you.

“I thought we were making progress, you and I.” you see the cane first. Made of rattan, it hangs from his strong hand corded with tense veins. A gleaming watch is secured around his wrist and you're already shaking your head as you slowly look up at him. Now the tears are right by the doorway. No matter how much pain he forces you to get accustomed to you could never survive this. Your body still has limits.

“He just asked me to help him with his spelling- Please!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Spelling, you say?” he pats down on your head, eliciting a dizzying wave of subordination as he says, “I think you've just given us our game for tonight, Doll.” He bends down, knees bending until he's somewhat closer to your height. He's still far too big for you. Far too much. You try to crawl backwards, you try to crawl away but he grabs you by your face. You're quite literally being expertly manhandled as he turns you around until you're on your knees in the opposite direction.

“Please…” You're begging but you don't know what for. Once his games were set in motion, nothing could stop him.

Your movements still when you fill him lower his large hand onto your backside. It's so big and warm and you momentarily forget about the rice digging into your skin. He slowly lifts up the skirt of your dress, revealing your underwear beneath.

“Our little Spelling Bee,” he lowers your panties down your thighs, causing a shiver to wrack through your entire body. It's pointless to hide how affected you are by every little thing he does.

“For every word you spell right,” he lifts your leg for you, giving you momentary reprieve from the pain as he manoeuvres you out of the underwear, “You get to cum.”

You'd never felt more degraded: being forced onto doggy style onto a million grains of rice while this man lets his fingers graze over your exposed cunt. He parts your folds and a wave of embarrassment rolls over your face. It's all so normal to him though, just sticking his fingers inside your cunt. He does it with the professionalism of gynecology and all you're able to do is stare blankly ahead while he prods at you.

“We can't make things too easy, though, so you're gonna keep this little thing warm for me while we play,”

You're craning your neck back, trying to get a look. “What thi-”

You release one hoarse gasp when he inserts something round and bulbous and vibrating, straight into your cunt.

“Th-This isn't a game. It's a punishment.” You say through gritted teeth, trying to fight off a moan as the vibrator hums inside you, “I've only ever had sex with one person-”

You. That voice pipes up in the back of your head, feeble as you felt. You think back on the time you gave him your virginity. It had been a bloody affair.

The second his cock ruptured your hymen and the blood began to coat your thighs, it only made him ravage you more. You'd gone to bed crying that night, your tears soaking into your pillows. You were unable to get up and head to classes the next day. All that pain and yet you also felt so incredibly fulfilled. The pain was a godsend.

But this pain? It's angry.

He's angry and he's punishing you for it.

Silence follows your pleas.

“Are you done?” He asks and your shoulders slump as the tears begin to fall. The urge to grind down onto the vibrator coupled with the rice stabbing your knees puts you in an odd predicament. The inner workings of your body is being made a fool of and he's the root cause.

“I'm afraid you've gotten too comfortable with me-”

“Comfortable?” You scoff, whipping your head back to glare at the man watching you with calm eyes and raised eyebrows. “I could never feel comfortable around you.”

“And you've forgotten your place.” He smiles before standing to his full height, “Letting little boys over to your place-”

“We were studying-”

“I've gone soft on you as of late.” He lets his other hand drag across the length of the hard cane. “Shame on me. It's clearly deluded you into forgetting about our arrangement.”

He steps around you until he's once again standing in front of you. “You've forgotten your place as a thing.”

He grabs your face. “My thing.”

You do a very wrong thing then.

You moan.

It's soft and insecure and so dreadful but you moan

His eyes search yours. You can see the pleasure diluting them. Causing them to go as round as saucers.

He wants to lean into that sound you just made, but he's still furious with you and that sends you into a spiral.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay-”

“So you admit you're a slut?” He asks, inches the buttons of his blaze as he readies his assault. “You whore yourself out to that little boyfriend of yours.”

"Boyfriend?” It's laughable. “Me?”

“Are you condescending me?” He asks darkly and you screech in frustration.

“You know I don't talk to anyone- Why are you so angry with me!?”

“You haven't seen angry, Little girl.” His face is calm. Dangerously so. “You haven't fucking seen angry.”

A shiver wracks through your body as you look up at his cold dead eyes.

“Fine.”

Whatever it takes.

“I am a slut-” you really weren't and the words barely register as truth but you're scrambling as he steps away from you. His hands folded in front of him and he appears oh so in control as he says, “Your first word is Gorgeous.”

You breathe out as you try to refocus enough to successfully spell the word.

“G-Oh.. fuck.” Your cunt spasms around the device and your eyes roll back. You're rocking backwards and forwards, frantically searching for friction that just isn't there. He loves the show you put on for him, writhing on the floor like a puppy in heat. He barely contains his glee as he raises his hand and says, “Wrong.”

“W-What!?” you blink, trying to shake away your pleasure-filled daze, “N-no that wasn't my final-”

“G-o-r-g-e-ou-s,” he says smugly as he moves until he's behind you. Your body tenses and the world shatters when he darkly repeats, “Wrong.”

The cane cracks through the air before it ever lands on your backside. The word ‘sting’ doesn't begin to cover the utter agony that blossoms across your asscheeks. All you know for all those seconds is white hot pain. Everything is at attention, and your body vitaly tries to urge you to take care of the inflicted wound but you can't.

“Sane.” He's breathing heavily as he walks over to stand in front of you. He's getting riled up, a strand of black hair falls in front of his almond eyes. His shoulders rise and fall and rise and fall. Seeing you get caned once does unspeakable things to his resolve. “Your next word is sane.”

Too easy.

"W-Which one?" You blink through the pain, trying to will the tears away. The second you slipped into self pity, it'd be over for you. "S-Sane is a homophone.” You say thickly. The pain. The pain. The pain. “There's Sane,” you glare up at him through wet lashes, “Which you very much aren't-" that amuses him greatly. You're regrettably far too happy to hear the dark chuckle. “Then there's Seine, like the fishing variety-”

He places his hand on your head. “Clever girl. I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I don't,” you hiccup, “I just like fish. Men aren't the only fishers in the fucking world.”

“Smart mouth.” He pulls away again until he's standing at his full posture. “You use it like that with the boy from Psyche?”

Your shoulders slump and you don't care about the desperation in your voice as you reaffirm, “I'm telling you I haven't done anything-”

“Seine as in the fishing practice. Spell it.”

“S-E-I-N-E” your eyes are squeezed shut as you take a strike from a whip that never comes. Your eyes that had once been squeezed shut, slowly flit open and you're amazed to see his grinning face right in front of you. Every wrinkle running like tributaries around his eyes. The smile lines. He's so handsome it's devastating.

“Correct.” He says. “You're allowed to cum. Congratulations.” Just those few words have your eyes rolling into the back of your skull as you begin to rock back and forth. You lean into the pleasure like a warm and fluffy blanket during aftercare. It's a godsend and it has you moaning and whining into the air.

“Let me give you a hand,” he says, before stopping to deliver that signature, “My little winner.” He brings you in close, your hands cling onto his forearm while the other reaches behind you. He delivers a kiss to your forehead as his fingers find your puffy clit.

“I'm gonna-”

“Cum for me my Clever girl. Cum for me before I change my mind,” There is nothing but him. He consumes you as you fervently hump against his hand on all fours like the animal he reduced you to. Your hips move on their own accord and in his eyes, you can see his own pleasure mounting. Its in the gravel in his voice when he clears his throat and says, “Thank me for letting you cum.” your orgasm crashes down on you and it's ferocious. It's vicious. It's guttural. The rice underneath you still serves as a reminder of your punishment and that somehow has you coming harder.

“Thank you for letting me cum Sir,”

his eyes flutter shut and his chest expands as he basks in your servitude. He breathes it in, letting it settle in his bones, making him feel as important as he needs to.

“N-No more, please,” you whisper once the orgasm passes. He doesn't switch off the vibrator and soon the pleasure bleeds into a painful discomfort. the aftershocks rattle through your body as you drift into overstimulation, “Please-Done-” you became horribly useless with your words when he had you like this, and he watches you so intently as if not only turned on by your torture but so completely intrugued by it. You intrigued him.

“Stop-” You begin but he chuckles as he moves away from you. He straightens his suit and readies the cane, “Why? You’re not even bleeding yet.” He says, “Suck it up.”

“Oh my god, I need to come again,” it rolls through you quite literally out of nowhere and you gasp as you try to keep it at bay. Cumming without having won a round was a breach in the rules of the game and you didn't wanna do that.

“Well then, I guess you better spell the next word for me.” he says with a smile.

You swallow thickly. Your previous win elicits a tiny sliver of confidence and spelling is something you excel in so you steel your nerves. You breath in deeply and stare blankly ahead.

“Honorificabilitudinitatibus.”

You immediately look up at him.

“Latin words arent-” another aftershock rams through you. You're so close to cumming completely hands-free. “L-Latin words aren't allowed.”

Nothing but a dark chuckle escaped him at your expense. “I had no idea you were making the rules.” He says sarcastically. “Had no idea the cane's in your hand.” That draws your gaze to the cane, leaning in his palm.

Point made.

He could throw in whatever wild-card word he wanted because he held the cane.

“H-o-n-o-r-” you make the mistake of looking up at him then. He's gazing down at you with his head tilted slightly to the right. His cane behind his back as he leans down slightly.

“No cumming,” he tsks, shaking his head. “Disqualified.”

“B-But I didn't-” even as you say those words, you feel it. The lightning zipping through you like a phantom. A ditzy sort of smile flashes across your face as you succumb to the pleasure being forced out of you. “F-Fuck-” its so painful and so fucking good you're seeing stars. He runs a hand through his messy hair and the cane comes down on your backside. This time it draws blood.

“I'm a rusty old man, glad to see I've still got a firm grip,”

“P-Please-” You're still caught in the world of unicorns and rainbows. Your orgasm is center stage, in spite of all the pain. You didn't even know your body could cum for this long. You didn't think it was possible but here you are, riding wave after wave of pleasure induced by a vibrator in your cunt while he canes you almost mindlessly.

He transcended every realm of physical possibilities.

He's breathing heavily now as the cane falls to the floor. The end is bloody. You stare down at the floor while he moves behind you.

“Don't forget, this is a transaction,” Behind you he kneels behind you, his fingers graze your backside, “This is about you avoiding student debt for the rest of your miserable life. A life you'll probably spend married to some depressed drunk who beats you and doesn't even let you cum.” A hand pulls you back by your hair until you're seated on your haunches. Skin had broken.

Your blood drips down your backside like a marble statue in the rain. There were marks. Scars.

“You're indebted to me.” He says behind you. “Say it.”

“I'm indebted to you.”

“Thank me for hitting you, Doll.” His hands drift over your body. The softest touch after these moments of brutality.

Th-" You struggle to catch your breath as he digs his fingers in your cunt, finally freeing you of the vibrator that rattles to the floor, “Thank you… for hitting me.”

He hums into your hair, smelling you, feeling you. “You're welcome, my little winner,”

You hear the sound of his zipper, and frantic movements behind you. You're utterly spent. You'd let him do anything he wanted. Anything at all.

“You look so pretty, Baby. Look at you,” his fingers swipes down the arch of your back. He brings his hand around to show you the crimson dropping from his index. Almost automatically as if the two of you were in communication far beyond that of human understanding, he brings your finger forward the same time you dip your head lower and roll your tongue out. Until the taste of your own blood drawn from all his sadistic torture is wiped along your tongue.

He groans. “I wanna jerk off with your blood.” He admits, “Fuck-”

You gasp, beginning to rock on haunches as if you could still feel that vibrator inside you, “Please- don't say stuff like that-”

This was bad enough.

You were bad enough.

He's already corrupted you to a point where you didn't even recognize yourself.

Where is the quiet, shy girl you had been? She's drowning under all the blood he'd spilled to make himself cum. She's buried under all the pain, all the turmoil and all the damn torture.

You don't miss her

"Pl-lease fuck me, I need it." Your voice is hoarse and you realize you're making demands but still you peer at him over your shoulders. Your tired eyes plead with him.

“I never ever ask you for anything. I've let you control everything.”

While you speak, your voice deep and hoarse, his hand is already moving over his erection. He bends you forward, until you're in doggy style again. Fabric rustles. Your limbs are trembling.

“For once, just grant me th-” the words are barely out your mouth before he's shoving his cock all the way inside you.

“O-Oh God!” Your eyes squeeze shut as he fucks you on the floor like a rabid animal. You try to crane your head back, to watch him ravage you.

His hair is a mess, his tie completely undone. He's everything he tries to hide from the rest of the world. Nothing but an untamed beast.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight-” he says, resting his hands on bloody ass. He guides your movements, pulling you roughly down on his cock until you're screaming into the open air. You're both like animals. You've both regressed to the very basis of your instincts.

“I need to see your blood on my cock,” He's already pulling out of you. The sound reverberates with finality all around the apartment and you cry. It's all you're able to do as you crane your head back to watch him stroke his cock with a bloodied fist.

“Are you ready to cum for me again, baby?”

Your lips are quivering as you rock backwards urging his cock in, “L-Like you won't believe,”

“Then cum for me, Princess.” He says, sliding his cock back inside your overstimulated cunt. Your orgasm is instant and swift and it rocks through you, tightening your cunt around his cock like a vice. His movements grow more frantic as he fucks you through it, keeping a firm grip on your ass.

Your mouth falls open when you realize he's fucking his own cum and your blood back into you and its all too much. He throws his head back when he cums, letting his hips stutter against your ass and the world spins.

“You're s-such a fucking slut,” he laughs manically. You've quite literally given yourself to a sadistic monster and the post nut clarity is vicious.

“I want to take you out,” he says, way softer than he had been a minute ago.

Your body tenses. “Out? Where-”

“Dinner.” He says. “You deserve it… my little winner.”

If you knew anything about anything, you knew it wouldn't just be any ordinary dinner.

But who were you to refuse?

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