the song is hail to the victor by thirty seconds to mars and i did not intend for it to capture the vibe of this so well but it did skldfjlskd
tw: kinda graphic descriptions of murder, blood, misgendering/deadnaming- but the character doesn’t know what gender they are yet, assassination, drugs
Another life, another love
Viktoria was going to be Queen one day.
That was what she said to herself at least, pacing the halls of the castle.
She knew it was a lie. Her mother had been a maid, her father had been a servant, and she-
Well. She was the scum of the earth, it seemed.
The King’s daughter ran past the window outside. Her dress billowed in the wind as she ran, bare feet touching the ground only for a second before lifting off again, almost like a rabbit.
She was beautiful.
Viktoria hated her.
She had everything. She wasn’t avoided like the plague, she was revered and treasured and so pretty Viktoria nearly swooned every time she saw her and-
Viktoria hated her, she reminded herself.
She sighed. A knock at the door she was supposed to be guarding sounded, and she walked over to it, expecting another knight.
It was the Princess’s birthday today, and that meant she was working overtime to get everything set up and everyone in the castle.
She opened the door.
A hand reached out and covered her mouth.
She screamed.
Everything went dark.
Another kill, another drug
Viktoria tiptoed through the shadows.
Like the night, like the night, like the night.
Pressing her back against the door, she calmed her breathing.
In, two, three. Out, two, three.
She took another breath.
She turned the handle of the door. Holding her breath- don’t creak don’t creak don’t creak- she made her way into the room.
The door closed behind her with a soft thump.
The person in the bed stirred slightly. Viktoria padded over to them.
She didn’t know who they were. She rarely did.
She just followed orders.
She pulled a knife out of her pocket.
The person screamed. Blood. And it was over.
Viktoria wiped her knife on her shirt, and slipped back into the shadows.
Another touch, another taste
Viktoria was bored.
She idly twirled her spoon in her hand, mentally calculating the ways you could kill someone with it.
What? She was nothing if not handy.
She took a bite of the food in front of her. Wrinkling her nose- why was it so fancy- she took a look at her surroundings again.
Fancy party? Check. Knights at almost every exit? Check. One exit clear? Check.
She tried to calm her nerves. This job would be easy.
If it weren’t for the fact that she was supposed to kill the King.
Her nerves spiked again. Ha.
She got up. Time to play her part.
Making her way over to the King, she tipped into a curtsy.
“Good evening, my leige.”
The King looked amused. “Good evening-” He glanced at her name tag. “Astra.” He smiled. “What a lovely name.”
Viktoria gagged internally. “Yes, my mother picked it quite well. It means ‘stars’.” She did her best to smile politely back at him.
The King chuckled. “Yes, I know. I do study up on languages, you know.”
Viktoria seethed silently. “Oh of course, my King. How-” She gritted her teeth. “Foolish of me to assume otherwise.”
The King laughed again. “Oh, it’s quite alright, Astra.” He got a wistful look in his eyes. “You know, you remind me of my late wife- your Queen.”
Viktoria had never seen the last Queen, but knew enough about her to know she was nothing like her. Still, she nodded along. “How gracious of you to compare me to someone so lovely.”
The King seemed far away. “You know, she fought to her last breath.” He sighed. “So stubborn, that one.”
Viktoria shakily got a small flask out of her sleeve. She pulled the cork out, and upended the entire thing into his glass. Hastily shoving it back into her sleeve, she smiled. “She sounds perfect.”
The King turned back to her, eyes misty. “She was.”
He shook himself. “Well it seems I have-” He laughed, wiped at his eyes. “Gotten things a bit off track. Was there something you came to tell me?”
“Oh, just that the food was delightful.” She fibbed easily. “Give my compliments to the chef.”
The King beamed. “Oh, that was Flori!” He waved the Princess over. “She made everything! You know, she’s gotten into cooking lately, so I thought-”
Viktoria tuned him out. She needed to get out of here.
The King took a sip of his drink.
Viktoria panicked.
As the King finished his drink, she bolted upright, looking startled. Time to put her acting skills to use.
She hurriedly stood up, making sure to put a deer-in-headlights expression on her face.
The King stood up with her, looking concerned. “Astra?”
She inhaled sharply, turning to him. “I- I have to go.” She said, making sure to trip over her words- and her dress, as she turned to leave.
She sprawled across the floor, letting out a “Dresses.”- as she’d seen many of the more tomboy-ish nobles do.
The King helped her to her feet. “Why do you have to leave?” He asked her, the crease in his forehead deepening.
Viktoria lowered her voice, not quite low enough that it would stop the people now looking on to stop hearing her, but enough that they had to strain.
“Him.” She pointed across the room, making sure to look terrified when there was no one there. “Wait- where did he go?”
The King looked around worriedly. “Who?”
Viktoria bit her lip, made an attempt to look meek. “I'm… not quite sure. He’s been- almost- stalking me, and-” She shivered. “I- I think he might- have a knife.”
The King, despite having obviously seen much more than knives, still nodded seriously.
He led her outside, and when he collapsed, Viktoria did the only thing she could.
She screamed.
Guards came running, and she was escorted safely away.
A grim smile on her face, she put the mask of the scared girl she was playing back on.
Time to see how far she would take this story.
Another night, another war
Viktoria sat on a throne. It was almost hard to believe she’d come this far.
She sighed. She still hasn’t killed her last target.
She- she couldn’t make herself do it. She was loathe to admit it, but she’d fallen quite a bit in love with the Princess- Queen, she reminded herself.
But. Her superiors had ordered today as her last day with Flori.
Unless-
Viktoria shook the thought out of her head. No. She wouldn’t betray her group.
She could, a voice in her head whispered. It would be so easy, just a few slit throats and the job would be done.
She bit her lip. The option was becoming more and more tempting.
Her mind made up, she left the castle.
Another 'what are we fighting for?’
Viktor sat surrounded by blood. So much, it was hard to tell whose was whose.
He trailed a hand through it, thinking. If he could get back to the castle today, he could claim he warded off more assassins. They were all on their guard after the King's… “incident” a few months ago.
And it technically was true. Seeing as he was a part of the Royal family now- he bit back a smile- and they were going to come after him, it wouldn’t be a complete lie.
He set out for the castle.
Another lost to bitter pain
Viktor couldn’t breathe.
How could this have happened, he should have never left, he-
It was his fault.
Flori was dead.
And it was his fault.
Viktor sank into himself, and vowed to never let anyone else get hurt.
Is everybody out here crazy?
Anybody want a war?
Everybody out here crazy
Viktor sat on his throne.
They say he ruled with an iron fist- he knew he had everyone trapped with something much stronger than that.
Revenge.
Viktor smiled cruelly.
My turn.
Outside, people screamed. Viktor paid them no mind.
A 15 year old girl named Makhia Bryant from Columbus Ohio was shot four times in the chest by police, just as the verdict was being read. She was who called them for help.
Hand with manicure. The story of the victim of the Russian Horde from Bucha.
You have all seen the horrifying photos from Bucha. The woman with the red manicure on one of them is Irina. Back on February 23, she was a client of the make-up artist Anastasia, who recognized her by her manicure. Here’s what the girl remembers about her
“I immediately felt that this photo hurt me and could not understand why. Irina went to me for makeup lessons for herself. The last one was the day before the war… – Anastasia shares.
Irina was jumping for joy, because for the first time in her life she had her own cosmetics, which we bought with her. Every time at work she sat and practiced our lessons as diligently as anyone. And when she came again, she told how her makeup was appreciated by new fans and how great she feels now.
She just wanted to live. How many more of my acquaintances, clients, Buchans must die for the world to come to its senses and punish Russia?”
Learning about the war crimes in Bucha. The crimes against humanity.
Genocide. This is genocide. This is ethnic cleansing.
Civilians murdered. Executed and their bodies left to rot in the streets. Women and children raped and murdered. They even shot up as many dogs as they could.
And this is just one town that’s been liberated. They say they’re going to find more as Ukrainian forces continue to retake Russian occupied areas.
Just putting this out here:
Don’t just like this. Reblog. Not for me. This isn’t about me or my blog.
This is about getting the information about what happened in Bucha and other Ukrainian towns and cities out there. It’s about spreading awareness of human rights violations in Ukraine done by Russian soldiers.
Learning about the war crimes in Bucha. The crimes against humanity.
Genocide. This is genocide. This is ethnic cleansing.
Civilians murdered. Executed and their bodies left to rot in the streets. Women and children raped and murdered. They even shot up as many dogs as they could.
And this is just one town that’s been liberated. They say they’re going to find more as Ukrainian forces continue to retake Russian occupied areas.
Just putting this out here:
Don’t just like this. Reblog. Not for me. This isn’t about me or my blog.
This is about getting the information about what happened in Bucha and other Ukrainian towns and cities out there. It’s about spreading awareness of human rights violations in Ukraine done by Russian soldiers.
Learning about the war crimes in Bucha. The crimes against humanity.
Genocide. This is genocide. This is ethnic cleansing.
Civilians murdered. Executed and their bodies left to rot in the streets. Women and children raped and murdered. They even shot up as many dogs as they could.
And this is just one town that’s been liberated. They say they’re going to find more as Ukrainian forces continue to retake Russian occupied areas.
Learning about the war crimes in Bucha. The crimes against humanity.
Genocide. This is genocide. This is ethnic cleansing.
Civilians murdered. Executed and their bodies left to rot in the streets. Women and children raped and murdered. They even shot up as many dogs as they could.
And this is just one town that’s been liberated. They say they’re going to find more as Ukrainian forces continue to retake Russian occupied areas.
Tan, 49, was the mother of Jami Webb, a recent graduate from the University of Georgia. She was a licensed massage therapist and the owner of Young’s Asian Massage, along with other businesses in the area, including another spa and a tanning salon, according to state records. She was “the sweetest, most kind-hearted, giving, never-met-a-stranger person,” a friend told Atlanta’s WSB-TV. Just one day away from her 50th birthday when she was killed, according to USA Today, Tan was described by her daughter as thoughtful, devoted to her family, and looking forward to traveling in her retirement.
Hyun Jung Grant was a Korean immigrant who worked at Atlanta’s Gold Spa. Her son Randy Park, 23, shared a tribute to his mother on GoFundMe: He said his mother was a single parent who “dedicated her whole life to providing for my brother and I.” She loved dancing and sushi, according to Park, who told The Daily Beast, “She wasn’t just my mother. She was my friend.” Park, who now has to raise his brother alone, is not buying law-enforcement officials’ suggestion that the attack was motivated by a supposed sex addiction, not racism. “That’s bullshit,” he said.
Yaun Gonzalez, 33, was a mother of two — 13-year-old Mayson and 8-month-old Mia. She had worked all day on Tuesday at the Waffle House a few shops down from Tan’s spa business. She had been looking forward to having a relaxing night out with her husband, Mario Gonzalez, whom she married only last year, and the couple had reportedly never been to Young’s Asian Massage before. According to Fox 5 Atlanta, family members say that Mario Gonzalez, who survived the shooting, is “taking [the situation] hard.” Delaina Ashley Yaun Gonzalez’s friends and family have set up a GoFundMe to address her funeral costs.
Michels, 54, was a handyman at Young’s Asian Massage and the owner of an electric company. He was only recently hired for the role and excited to take it on after looking for more work during the pandemic, according to a friend who spoke with CBS46. An army veteran originally from Detroit, Michels is one of nine siblings and is survived by his wife of more than two decades. In an interview with the Guardian, his brother John Michels emphasized his kindness. “He was just a regular guy, very good-hearted, very soft-natured,” he said, while noting that Michels had expressed an interest in getting involved in the massage business.
A licensed massage therapist, she was laid off at the start of the pandemic last year and was excited to finally start shifts at the spa again, her son Elliott Peterson, 42, told The Atlanta Journal-Constitution on Friday morning. Yue’s youngest child, Robert Peterson, 38, agreed, recalling their mother as a kind and deeply caring woman. If you stopped by her house, she’d sit you down, ask if you’d eaten, and then insist on a trip to H Mart grocery store so she could make a meal.
Daoyou Feng, 44, began working at Young’s Asian Massage in recent months, according to Tan’s friend Hynson. She was kind and quiet, he said. Her relatives could not be reached for comment.
Soon Chung Park, 74, was also a worker at an Atlanta spa. Her family didn’t respond when reached for comment. Park previously lived in New York, where she has relatives, her son-in-law, Scott Lee, told the New York Times. “She got along with her family so well,” Lee told the newspaper.
Suncha Kim, 69, worked at one of the spas in Atlanta. Her family could not be reached for comment. Kim, a grandmother, was married for more than 50 years, a family member told the Times. She enjoyed line dancing and worked hard, the relative said.
Hernandez-Ortiz, 30, was the only survivor of the victims who were shot on Tuesday, and he remains hospitalized for multiple gunshot wounds in his “forehead, throat, lungs and stomach,” according to the Washington Post. He was shot while standing outside in the shopping center where Young’s Asian Massage is located. “He came from nothing and has come a long way; that is why I have faith he will survive this,” his wife Flor Gonzalez told the Washington Post. Gonzalez has also set up a GoFundMe to help with the costs of Hernandez-Ortiz’s medical care.
During his wake, his remains were taken by the police. He was tagged by the government as a member of the Communist Party of the Philippines Central Committee.
#NOTSAFEATHOME is the call of the Filipino people for justice for activists being hunted down and murdered in their own homes amidst a pandemic.
You’ve got to be kidding me. To find this I had to search for it. Another woman attacked and killed in London. Sarah Everard was going to attract more attention because she went missing and they had to search for her body. However Sabina’s death should be front pages news as well here in the U.K. Fuck the racist media. She is not any less, she is as just as important, she was another girl walking after dark, she deserved better.
Today marks the 22 anniversary of the NATO bombing of Yugoslavia.
The NATO bombing of Yugoslavia began on March 24th and ended on June 10th, 1999.Andlasted 78 days.
And yet no one is talking about this? No one cares? Of how there were between 1,200and2,500peoplekilled,evenchildren! And 6,000 people were injured.
The result of the aggression was: 25,000 destroyed homes,470 destroyed kilometers of roads,595 destroyed kilometers of railway and38 destroyed bridges.
And:14 damaged airports,nearly 40 damaged hospitals andclinics,almost a 100 damaged schools andkindergartens, and 176 damaged cultural monuments.
23 Years today.
I know a lot is happening in Ukraine, but I’ve read somewhere, that since the WW2 there wasn’t any war in Europe? Just a reminder of this, today is after all 23rd anniversary of Nato bombing Serbia.
Today marks the 22 anniversary of the NATO bombing of Yugoslavia.
The NATO bombing of Yugoslavia began on March 24th and ended on June 10th, 1999.Andlasted 78 days.
And yet no one is talking about this? No one cares? Of how there were between 1,200and2,500peoplekilled,evenchildren! And 6,000 people were injured.
The result of the aggression was: 25,000 destroyed homes,470 destroyed kilometers of roads,595 destroyed kilometers of railway and38 destroyed bridges.
And:14 damaged airports,nearly 40 damaged hospitals andclinics,almost a 100 damaged schools andkindergartens, and 176 damaged cultural monuments.
Today marks the 22 anniversary of the NATO bombing of Yugoslavia.
The NATO bombing of Yugoslavia began on March 24th and ended on June 10th, 1999.Andlasted 78 days.
And yet no one is talking about this? No one cares? Of how there were between 1,200and2,500peoplekilled,evenchildren! And 6,000 people were injured.
The result of the aggression was: 25,000 destroyed homes,470 destroyed kilometers of roads,595 destroyed kilometers of railway and38 destroyed bridges.
And:14 damaged airports,nearly 40 damaged hospitals andclinics,almost a 100 damaged schools andkindergartens, and 176 damaged cultural monuments.
▣characters:MONDSTADT’S+INAZUMA’S FINEST x gn reader
⦿albedo, diluc, kaeya, kazuha, razor, and venti
▣trigger warning:yandere content, dark content, murder, drugging, mentions of blood, heavy stalking, manipulation, obsessive mindsets, delusional mindsets, mentions of breaking and entering, mentions of physical abuse, abuse of power, kidnapping/imprisonment, infantilism, dumbification, explicit masturbation, male ejaculation, sexual fantasies, non-con/dub-con, explicitly sexual content.
Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a funjob.
But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.
I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it. They didn’t give me any trouble.
I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.
I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.
We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.
I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.
And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.
“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”
He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.
“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”
He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”
“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.
“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”
“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”
He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”
“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”
He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.
About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”
Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”
“Biohazard.”
“Oh. Class three?”
“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”
He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”
“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”
He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”
I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.
We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.
I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)
By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.
“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”
“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”
“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”
“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.
“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”
“Sir, I know you’re not – “
“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”
I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”
Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”
Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”
I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”
“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”
I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”
“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”
“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.
“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”
Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”
“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”
I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.
It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.
“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”
Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”
Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”
“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”
“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”
Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”
“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”
He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”
“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”
He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”
“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.
I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”
“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”
Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”
Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.
She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”
Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”
“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”
He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”
“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”
Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”
“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”
“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.
“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”
He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”
“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”
He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”
“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”
Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”
“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”
Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”
“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”
He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”
We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”
He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”
“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”
“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”
“Aunion? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”
“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”
“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”
“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”
His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”
There was a long pause.
“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.
“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”
We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”
“You want me to join the bad guys?”
“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”
“That’s a regular concern?”
“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”
“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”
“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “
Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”
“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.
“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”
Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.
Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.
But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.
Lila shifted nervously next to Marinette. Sabine and Izzy shouldn’t be taking this long. Maybe she’d decided to leave. That it wasn’t worth the problems. Izzy was twenty three, almost twenty four, what would she want with the responsibility of taking care of a teenager? Let alone one with as many problems as she had.
“Breath Lila. I’m sure they’re just talking. Maman probably wants to make sure she understands everything that’s going on.” Sabine was probably trying to convince her to stay. Or trying to figure out how to tell Lila that her sister didn’t want anything to do with her. She started when Marinette reached over to squeeze her hand. “Everything will be fine.”
Before she could argue they heard footsteps on the stairs. It sounded like two people, and Mr. Dupain had much heavier steps. She still let out a sigh of relief when Izzy stepped through the door after Sabine. It was one of the few truths in her life that Izzy never lied to her. She didn’t know what she’d do if that changed given there was nothing else she could count on.
“I’m going to make tea, why don’t you all sit.” Sabine headed towards the kitchen while Izzy came over to the couch. Lila didn’t realize she had a death grip on Mari until Izzy frowned at their joined hands.
“If you don’t want to do this right now, we don’t have to. I’ll need to talk to Sabine about the best way to keep you away from your mother, but we can figure everything else out when you’re ready.” It was an out. She could sit back and let the adults take care of things and she’d admit it was tempting.
“I want to know.” Know what exactly she wasn’t sure. At the same time she wanted to understand what was going to happen to her, even if it wasn’t what she wanted. Izzy sat on the couch and patted the spot next to her. Marinette gave her hand another squeeze before letting go and Lila moved to sit gingerly on the couch. Izzy pulled her closer and kept an arm around her. She burrowed into her side on instinct. She’d forgotten what it felt like.
“First things first. Do you want me to call you Lila or Riley?” She felt her face scrunch up at the thought.
“Riley.” It just felt wrong, and sounded wrong for Izzy to call her anything else.
“What about everyone else?” She just shrugged. She’d been Lila for so long it didn’t bother her to be called that, but she didn’t think she’d have an issue if they called her Riley either. “Think about it. When you’ve decided we’ll make sure that’s the name you’re registered under at your new school.”
“You don’t want to take me with you?” She winced as soon as the words came out. She didn’t want to seem too clingy. Izzy hugged her tighter.
“I was actually planning on moving here so you don’t have to deal with even more change. Not to mention I could use some distance. That way you have more choices on where to live as well. Sabine told me they offered to let you stay here, and that’s perfectly fine if it’s what you want. I would still want to be close so I can be there when you need me.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Having someone who was willing to move across an ocean to be closer to her was a bit overwhelming.
“We’ll be happy to help you find a place that’s close to Lila’s new school.” Sabine set the tea tray on the table before sitting herself. “You’ll just have to give us an idea of price.”
“Money isn’t an issue. I emptied out my trust last year to make sure my Grandparents couldn’t pull something and put it into various investments. I’ve been living off the dividends but I can pull out whatever I need to for the move.” Sabine was frowning at Izzy but Lila wasn’t certain why.
“You’ve mentioned your Grandparents a few times. I take it you don’t have a great relationship.” Izzy just gave an amused snort.
“My mother’s parents. They hated our father and when he died did everything they could to erase him from my life. They even tried to change my last name but I threatened to shave my head and they decided it was a battle they didn’t want to have. I confronted them when you called me about Riley and found out they’ve been paying her mother to keep her away from me. I have no intention of seeing them ever again at this point.”
“They don’t like me.” It wasn’t a question and Lila started playing with Izzy’s shirt button. She wasn’t sure why but she remembered it helped calm them both down.
“They are old southern money and dad was a first generation Greek immigrant that was just dark enough skin wise to offend their sensibilities. It was never about you, it was about controlling me and turning me into what they wanted. You don’t want people like that in your life anyway.” Maybe they knew what she was and wanted to protect Izzy from her. “I can hear you over thinking. They tried, multiple times, to get custody of me before you were born, before your mother was even dating dad. Their stupidity has nothing to do with you.”
Lila just shrugged. It made sense, but she couldn’t help but wonder anyway. It seemed like everyone was trying to keep her contained. When she was little her parents hadn’t let her out of the house by herself. She remembered Izzy arguing with their father about sending her to preschool. They didn’t want her out of the house without one of them with her. That was when Izzy started teaching her to read.
“Now that I know you’re alive, they won’t be paying your mother anymore so we need to keep you away from her. I… you need to know some things about her to understand why. But I’m not sure you’re ready.” The way Izzy held her tighter, almost too tight, she knew it had to be bad.
“She never wanted me.” It was a thought that had been circling her head for a while. It really was the only thing that made sense. Izzy let out a tired sigh.
“No, she didn’t. You were a tool to get what she thought was our father’s money. When that didn’t work the way she wanted it to she came up with a different plan. Are you sure you want me to tell you what happened?” Lila just nodded. Not knowing was worse. She’d spent most of her life wondering why her mother disliked her so much. She didn’t think it would hurt more to have a reason.
“Lila, are you certain?” Sabine’s concern was obvious, even to her. She just nodded again and the woman sighed. Izzy gave her a comforting squeeze
“When my mom married dad, her parents disowned her. When they found out she was pregnant, they set up a trust for me so that I could be raised in a manner befitting my breeding.” The amount of sarcasm in Izzy’s voice was impressive. “After mom died, dad started over compensating, spending everything on me in addition to the payments from the trust. Your mom saw a nice house and a doting father and decided the best way to get access was to have a kid with him. She didn’t know that most of the money he was spending on me he couldn’t spend elsewhere until it was too late. I heard them arguing about it constantly. It was probably the only thing he stood up to her about.”
“Why didn’t she leave?”
“I don’t know. It would have been better for all of us if she had just left you with us and gone. I don’t know why she stuck it out but I do know she found a way to get to my trust.” When she stopped talking Lila looked up at her to find Izzy glaring at the ceiling.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“You deserve to know. You deserve to understand why everything that happened wasn’t your fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault either.” That got Izzy to look at her. She didn’t know what that look was but it hurt.
“Maybe not. But it was my trust fund that caused all of this. She found out that if I died as a minor, the trust would be paid out to my legal guardian.” Sabine sucked in a sharp breath and when Lila looked over at her and Mari they both looked pale.
“You think she started the fire. But… if that was the case, she needed our father alive.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be there that night. He was going to visit his sister but she called him while he was driving to tell him she had to leave for work and wouldn’t be able to see him. He got back to the house just before emergency services got there. When he realized we were still in the house he just ran in. My door was locked from the outside and she’d had bars installed on all the windows a month before. I didn’t put it together until years later. That might also be why she got so insistent that you not sleep with me anymore. You were her tether to our father so she’d be certain to get access to the money. She must have decided she could keep him without you, at least long enough to figure out how to get the money some other way.”
Lila considered what she remembered and everything Izzy said made sense. The fact that her mother still seemed to ignore her entirely unless she was causing problems for her certainly added credence to the theory. It should… hurt or something to know that her mother was willing to kill her, or at least let her die. But after everything else she couldn’t even bring herself to be surprised.
“You think she might try to get rid of me now that I’m not profitable.” Izzy just hugged her tighter.
“I think she’ll do anything to keep you from me since I’m the reason she’s no longer getting paid. In her mind I’ve always stood between her and what she wants.”
“So I was just a tool. Something to be used when needed and discarded and forgotten when not in use. It makes sense.” Sabine and Mari both looked horrified though she wasn’t certain why. Izzy didn’t react at all.
kageyama tobio was only supposed to deliver the weapons to ushijima’s best customer once every two weeks. he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you—law student by day, top dancer and escort at washijo tanji’s club by night. when you ask the impossible of him, kageyama has to choose: his life or yours.
pairing: adlers underboss kageyama tobio x escort fem!reader (with hair), part two of three ; 6.6k, nsfw (18+, mdni)
warnings:depictions of sex work, plans of violence and murder, implied sexual abuse, physical abuse (a slap), big asshole character; oral (f!receiving), creampie, kageyama’s a simp
thanks to:@anime-nymphand@vanille–kiss for coming up with the ideas for me and helping me look into ways to murder and dick kageyama down like friends should LOL <3 also for betaing, and vani for the amazing banner as always!
Two weeks is a long time when you’re riddled with anxiety, and Kageyama finds that out by the third day without seeing you. The days drag by, slower than the dead bodies he has to haul out to the ocean and tie down so they won’t be found. The Adlers are all about rules: follow them and Ushijima will reward you; break them and try to steal merchandise, and Ushijima won’t bat an eye over your “disappearance.”
Kageyama learned that as soon as he came into the clan at age nineteen, fresh off of failure to get into university again. Failure. The one thing his mother used to call him before she left him in the care of his grandfather and never returned. The one thing he dreaded becoming because his father was exactly the same. A failure of a man who couldn’t keep his family together, his debts in control, and his dick in his pants. Kageyama swore not to become like him, not to ruin his remaining family. Promised to get into a good university and make something of himself. Only he failed miserably, and his grandfather’s forlorn sigh plunged a knife into his heart and carved until there was nothing left.
He got blazingly drunk that night, stumbling all the way home as he yelled at no one. He stopped at a red light, nearly tipping over as he waited, steadying himself on the glass window of a 7/11. When Kageyama turned to look, all he saw was his face: the spitting image of his father, another failure in the Kageyama family line. Failure, failure, failure.
The first punch to the window did nothing but make his hand ache. The second was the same, but the third, fourth, and fifth slowly splintered his reflection, the cracks growing deeper and deeper as he wailed on the window. He didn’t hear the gasps from passersby; he didn’t hear the worker shout that she was going to call the police. All he heard were his own shouts of anguish and the dull thud of his bloody fist meeting the window over and over and over.
“Hey.”
Kageyama stopped punching to turn the voice, ready to throw a hook to whatever officer came to take him away. He had already fucked up his future, so what was another mistake?
“Fight me,” he slurred, wiping a bloody hand over his eyes to clear them from his tears. “I’m not gonna go to the station without a fight.”
“I’m not here to arrest you.”
Standing in front of him wasn’t a police officer at all. It was a tall man, face serious, crisp suit on his toned body. His olive-colored hair was pushed to the side, and his gloved hand held out an off-white business card.
That was the first time he met Ushijima Wakatoshi.
He had started out small, working as a server at one of the clubs. But after he beat up some rowdy customers three-to-one, Ushijima gave him more responsibility. Errand runs, contraband dropoffs, the extermination of some people who refused to follow the agreements and rules. Kageyama did them all without complaint because Ushijima gave him something special: the chance to be the opposite of everything his father was.
Eventually an eagle tattoo sat between his shoulder blades, and he was the first person Ushijima called after Hoshiumi had been disposed of.
“I’m counting on you,” Ushijima said simply before turning back around in his chair. Kageyama bowed and didn’t move for two minutes, too embarrassed to show his boss the hot tears that streamed down his face at the acknowledgement and opportunity.
But all that loyalty means shit to him as soon as he walks into Il Giardino and sees Washijo yelling at you from outside the boss’s window.
When he tries to enter, Saitou Akira puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head. “No one’s allowed inside.”
“It’s our appointment time,” Kageyama tries to argue, but the guard isn’t amused.
“You can wait.”
He’s forced to stand outside, listening to you yell back over money. Even through the thick, closed door and lowered blinds, Kageyama can hear your argument clearly.
“You can’t just raise my prices without raising my cut, too,” you argue, exasperation clear in your tone. “I know you’re my boss, but—”
“I’m not your boss,” Washijo snaps, every thread of patience gone. “You think this is a charity case? No, I ownyou. Just because you’re the best whore in this place doesn’t mean shit. One wrong move and you’ll be turned over to the police for prostitution.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” you counter. “Because then they’ll be looking into you, too—”
Your words are cut off with a sharp slap, and Akira has to restrain him from going inside again. Kageyama tries to fight into the room when he hears the slap again and a light whimper from you, but it’s no use. He has to listen to you cry out as Washijo strikes you over and over, red hot fury burning in his veins. He clenches his fists so tightly that his nails break skin, his teeth clenched so hard he thinks they might crack.
“Remember your fucking place,” Washijo spits. “Or do I have to remind you where you started, Daisy?”
The room is dead silent, and Kageyama can hear his heart pounding in his ears so loudly it sounds like drums. Even the DJ’s soundcheck is drowned out as he waits for your answer, body trembling with the anger he hasn’t felt since the night he meant Ushijima.
Your reply is quiet and broken. “Yes, sir.”
“You look like shit. Get the fuck out of here, and come back tomorrow ready to work. Your earnings for the rest of the week are mine.”
You don’t answer.
The door flings open and you nearly stumble out, eyes locking with his once you push past the guard. Your cheeks are swollen and red, blood dripping from your nose from where Washijo struck you. Your eyes immediately move to the floor, and you scurry past him without saying anything, holding your thin and sheer robe closer to your body. Kageyama wants to chase after you, wants to yell your real name and tell you none of what Washijo said is true, but the owner steps out into his doorway with an annoyed expression.
“These girls always give me trouble. They should be happy with what they’re getting. Isn’t that right, Kageyama?”
The underboss doesn’t look at Washijo as he nods once and only once. Kageyama knows that if he opens his mouth now, he’ll ruin the business relationship Ushijima built and meet the same fate as Hoshiumi, so he keeps quiet. Throughout the whole meeting, he only speaks when necessary, which is not very often. Washijo likes to hear himself talk, likes to ramble on about his mighty guns teaching his “girls” a lesson they’ll never forget.
“Training,” Washijo laughs, polishing the barrel of his latest purchase with an embroidered handkerchief. “It’s what all women need anyway.”
Kageyama can hear Washijo’s disgusting laugh ringing in his mind the entire car ride back to the hideout. You were long gone by the time Kageyama finished, running from the building before he got the chance to see you. It feels strange to be heading back so early, and something seizes Kageyama’s lungs and won’t let go. It feels like they’re in a vice grip, making it hard for him to breathe as he leans forward toward his driver.
“The Cygnus,” he manages to rasp out. He needs to talk to Ushijima immediately.
He doesn’t remember the rest of the car ride there, or stumbling into the jazz bar. He doesn’t hear the singer warmup either, or Semi playing the piano, his ears drowned out by the crashing of waves in his brain. Ushijima sits in his usual booth, nursing his usual whiskey sour, and the twitch in his eyebrow means he wasn’t expecting Kageyama so early.
“Boss,” he greets with a bow.
“Did you meet with Washijo?”
“Yes.” Kageyama’s mouth is dry no matter how many times he swallows, his arms awkwardly tight down by his sides. “But I would like you to reconsider his contract.”
“Hm?” Ushijima looks up from his glass, his face still as stoic as ever. “He still has about three months left. Does he want to end early?”
“No.”
“Then what is the issue?”
How can Kageyama explain? Washijo’s an abuser, an asshole, a damn stain on the Earth, but Kageyama’s come across worse people in his line of work. People who kill for fun, who laugh at the needy, who think life is a game and take what they want without asking. It’s par the course of mafia business, but—
But.
“I don’t think the arrangement is beneficial anymore.”
Ushijima considers Kageyama’s answer for a split second before questioning, “For whom?”
For her, Kageyama almost answers but bites it back at the last second. Ushijima stares at him like he can read him like a book, and maybe he can. The Adlers’ boss read him that first night after all, taking a chance on a boy punching a window until he bled, when no one else understood what he was going through.
When the silence stretches too long, Ushijima nods and lowers his drink. “There’s three months left in his contract and it will not be broken. You know about the rules.” Then he taps the rim of the glass a few times before adding, “However, afterwards, I will reconsider once more.”
Kageyama bows low and stays there, just like he did when he accepted the position of underboss. Only this time it’s not because he’s crying—it’s because he knows he’ll be dead if he spits out what’s really on his mind.
“Go to my club in Harajuku for tonight,” Ushijima orders. “Keep an eye out on the bouncer. I’ve heard he’s letting in rival members.”
“Yes, Boss.”
Kageyama turns from The Cygnus, repeating the order from Ushijima over and over, glad for a small ember of distraction he can fan to release the fire burning in his veins.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The next time he goes to see Washijo, the meeting ends early. The owner is in a fairly good mood, buying his firearm without barely any inspection. Kageyama doesn’t question it, because Washijo tells him anyway, not even pausing to let the underboss have a word.
“The best boat my money could buy,” he hums as he sorts through paperwork on his desk, fishing out a picture and sliding it Kageyama’s way. “What I deserve for all my hard work.”
You mean theirhard work, he wants to retort but keeps silent. Instead he studies the picture of the boat on the desk before him. It’s not the biggest he’s seen, especially not after helping Aone and Futakuchi load cruise ships and cargo containers, but it’s a decent size for a yacht. It’s big enough for a few people, a deck on the back leading to a domed inside, the entire thing painted black on the bottom and white on top.
“Name’sHighwind. It’s in Kanagawa Prefecture, perfect for weekend trips out of this hellhole. Ready to set sail on the ocean right now, in top condition.”
“Wonderful, sir,” Kageyama answers politely.
“Tell Ushijima he can join me for a trip one day. I got all the women and booze he could want right here.”
“I will alert him,” he says, but doesn’t mean it. He’s pretty sure Ushijima’s jazz club girlfriend would tear the motor out of the boat before Ushijima could even step foot on it.
“Alright, get out of here.” Washijo flicks his hand toward the door, and Kageyama ignores the old man’s mutter of, I hope that doesn’t mean you’d come, too as he slips from the room.
As he walks toward the doorway leading to the stairs, Kageyama pauses. He hasn’t seen you since the night you were slapped, glaring at him with watery eyes that told him not to come, so he hasn’t booked you tonight. Do you still not want him to come? Or are you hoping he’ll book you one more time anyway? He waits for a bit to see the first performer, and when it’s not you, he slips up the stairs and back to the car waiting for him to finish.
“Go back,” Kageyama tells the driver, shaking his head when the man tries to argue. “I’ll walk. Go back.”
The driver knows better than to question him, so Kageyama is left standing in the parking lot of Il Giardino, staring up at the nearly full moon in the spring sky. The clouds look like they’re threatening rain, thick and grey as they slowly roll in and block out the moonlight. The night is warm enough to loiter outside in his jacket, and he’s been waiting nearly an hour when the door to the restaurant opens.
He doesn’t expect you to be the one to walk out, but you do, clutching onto your bag in regular clothes. You pause mid-step when you see him standing there, eyes silently boring into his, before you turn and keep walking. Kageyama hesitates. He isn’t sure if he’s meant to follow you or if that was your way of dismissing him completely, but just before you’re out of sight, he trails you.
You walk down the main street for a while, crossing two different overpasses before disappearing into a side alley. Kageyama is quick to follow, walking a safe distance behind you as you pull up to an old apartment building that’s surely seen better days. The paint is chipped and fading, and there are newspapers and tape on the windows that are cracked in a few apartments. A thick and charged wind blows and signals the looming rainstorm, and you dig into your bag for your keys as you step into the crumbling archway leading into the complex.
Then you finally turn and stare at him, voice tired as you ask, “Are you coming?”
In the ugly yellow light of the entrance way, he can see the bags under your eyes, the fatigue clear on your face. Kageyama nods once, and you disappear into the stairwell, leading so he can follow. As he steps into the light, a flash of color catches his eye. Amongst all the decay and neglect sits a small bed of purple hyacinth, swaying in the hard breeze but standing tall and firm.
Your apartment is on the fourth floor, and Kageyama mumbles a greeting as he slips inside. There isn’t much to your place—a small TV on a stand against the wall, an older couch covered up by a newer cover, a clean kitchen with a partition attached to the wall that’s stocked with junk food. Books are everywhere, along with notes, notebooks, and pens and pencils. You set your bag on top of one of the open law books, turning to him with a hand on your hip.
“Why are you following me?”
You’re mad at him. Kageyama tries to think about whyyou might be upset with him, what he could have done to receive such a snappy tone, but he can’t come up with anything.
“You left work early,” is his lame response.
“You didn’t come for me.”
At the crestfallen look on your face, he finally understands. You wanted him to come back for you. You wanted him to book you again, to show you that he cared, to show you it was more than a simple transaction: his money for your body.
But he didn’t.
“I… didn’t think you wanted to see me,” he mutters, rocking on his feet as he thinks of what else he can say. “Because… you know.”
“You’re the only thing keeping me going,” you admit with a sad smile, dropping your hand from your hip. “If it weren’t for you, I think I would…”
The silence stretches far too long. Your gaze tears from his to look around the room, bouncing to your open law books and school mess. There are no picture frames on your walls, no proof of friends or family, no awards or trophies or accolades proving your worth. Kageyama realizes with a jolt to his heart that you’re just like he was—stuck in a constant loop of bullshit that’s nearly impossible to escape from.
“Would?”
“I want to kill him.” The impassioned way you say it makes Kageyama regard you again. “He took—takes everything from me, Tobio-kun. Everything. You heard him, didn’t you? I belongto him and he takes what’s his.” The truth weighs heavy on his chest, squeezing his lungs until all he can do is exhale sharply. You’re not just talking about money; you’re talking about you. There’s a catch in your voice when you finish, “He won’t let me leave. No matter what I do… He’ll neverlet me leave.”
The silence is deafening as he stares at you. You try to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling a few times to calm yourself down. There are no tears lining your eyes, no flush in your cheeks. You’re completely serious, ready to make good on your plea to end the man causing your suffering. Kageyama knows the feeling of being trapped with no way out—well enough, in fact, that he takes a step forward and brings a hand to your upper arm.
“I don’t think that,” he says quietly.
“Think what?” You answer back just as softly, arms still crossed even though the tension in your shoulders has dissipated slightly. “That I’m just Washijo’s prized whore?” Your laugh is mirthless. “It wouldn’t surprise me if you did, the other girls—”
“That you’re property.”
His hushed response stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes are wet for the first time all night—and Kageyama expects the first time in a long while—and you say his name as barely a whisper.
“You’re your own person. You’re always free to make your own choices.” He sounds like Ushijima, down to the gritty tone he repeats the words in. The boss had said those same words to him when he called and asked for a chance, and now he’s offering them to you just the same.
“Am I?” You question, grabbing onto his jacket and tugging hard on the sleeve. “You say I have a choice, but do I, really?”
Kageyama nods stiffly, trying to keep his eyes off the way you lick your lips and part them. He shouldn’t be thinking about how good you’d feel against him, about how he wants to feel you beneath him, those same lips parted in a moan of his name. Shouldn’t be thinking about those lips on his cock, milking him to completion like you did weeks ago. Shouldn’t think about your hand on his body, only it’s impossible with how you trail up his sleeve, fingers running over his sharp chin.
“That means you have a choice, too,” you say as your fingers spread lightning through his nerves as they stroke the side of his neck. “Either you can take me to the bedroom and fuck me like we both want, or you can walk out of this apartment and never see me again.”
Your bluntness causes his throat to go dry, made doubly worse when you run your fingers through his hair and tug at the locks. He can’t stop staring at your mouth, parted and glistening, like you’re ready for him to swoop in and claim you.
So he does.
It’s a much-too-excited knock of your lips that makes you squeak, but it gels into a forceful kiss when you step closer and throw your arms around his neck. He barely manages to grab you when you jump up, and he lumbers over to the table to set you down on the side. His lips haven’t left yours, moving incessantly until you part your lips for him to slip his tongue inside. You wrap your legs around his waist, slotting him between your thighs as you push your tongue against his, twirling and licking until he’s the one grunting instead of you.
He breaks to breathe, then kisses you again and again, until you’re whimpering and tugging at his jacket to get it off. He peels it off of his body without breaking the kiss, throwing it off to the side to be forgotten. Your shirt is next, followed by his sweater and undershirt, until all that’s left between your chests is a flimsy bra that he could probably rip with his fingers if he really wanted to.
The crackle of thunder outside the window makes you jump, and heavy rain begins to pound against the glass. But your breathing is even louder, sharp inhales and exhales as he squeezes at your tits, thumbs circling your nipples as he makes a sloppy and wet trail down your neck. You moan when he sucks a spot on your neck, but your thighs squeeze his waist as a warning.
“No visible marks,” you pant as you run your nails down his back. “Or he’ll kill me first.”
Kageyama grunts his answer, fingers fumbling with the clasp on your bra. When he can’t get it after a few tries, he considers actuallyripping it so he can finally get his mouth on your tits. You snort, quick hands getting it off in one go, and the scrappy piece of fabric joins the rest of the growing pile.
You moan when he licks around your nipple, sucking around it as a tease before taking one in his mouth. He pulls on the other, twisting and rubbing until they’re both hard and you’re arching into him. Your foot travels down his side, shifting to his inner thigh, and when you press against his cock, he groans.
“Missed your cock,” you say as he continues to suck on your breasts, fingers pushing at your pants until you’re lifting to help him pull them down. “I kept—ah, kept imagining what it would feel like inside me.”
Kageyama groans, kneeling down in between your legs to get a good look at your barely covered pussy. He can see how damp the front of your panties have become, and when his fingers press against your folds, you whine. He pushes your thighs open to get closer, pulling the fabric down to your knees so he can get a look at you fully naked for the first time. You’re beautiful, chest heaving and wet with his saliva, thighs trembling as his heavy breaths hit your wet folds.
“Fuck,” he whispers before he parts you, diving in to get his first taste.
You moan when he worms his tongue inside, flicking up and down to get closer. He holds onto your ass, bringing you to the edge of the partition so he can taste all of you. He flicks over your clit and you keen, hands in his hair pushing him so deep that he almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t really care, not when you taste so good and whine his name every time his quick tongue flicks over your clit.
It’s easy to slip a finger inside of you, even easier to press in to the hilt. His pace is rough and needy, tongue rolling your clit before he sucks on it. You swear, curling into him as your legs start to tremble. Another finger and you’re practically begging for him, heels striking the wall when he sucks hard again. The squelching of your pussy is nearly drowned out by the thunder, but there’s no masking your heavy breaths and your constant whimpers.
“I’m gonna—oh fuck, like that, like that.”
Your begging spurs him on, and his cock throbs, hot and heavy against his thigh as you moan his name. Your walls squeeze his scissoring fingers as your orgasm crests, and your fingers tug on his hair so harshly his scalp burns. He doesn’t dare stop, milking your pussy for everything you can give him as you shake and whine underneath his mouth. Kageyama keeps going until you’re trying to squirm away from him, sweaty thighs trying to push him out.
“My bag,” you gasp as you try to catch your breath. “Front zipper pocket, and hurry.”
He doesn’t dare say no. His cock pulses so hard it nearly hurts, ready to burst when he checks behind him and sees you starting to bend over the partition. Shit. Kageyama digs in your purse as fast as he can, practically tearing out the condom you have stashed inside. It’s on in a second, the wrapper thrown off to the side so he can grip your hips and maneuver you further down. Your elbows are on the table and you scratch at the surface as he rubs the head of his cock on your slick folds before pushing inside.
It’s even better than he imagined. You’re so tight, sucking him in easily with how wet you are, all the way to the hilt. You whimper and grab at him, reaching a hand back to cover his and tightening his grip on your waist. If you want it hard, he’ll give it to you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his long length before he pulls out and slams back in, nearly knocking you forward. You keen, digging into the countertop as he slaps his hips into yours.
You moan with every drag of his cock as he fucks you, fingers digging into your hips to make you match his thrusts. It’s weeks of pent up aggression, wanting nothing more than to be buried into your throbbing heat like he is now. Kageyama supposes he should savor it—memorize every whine, every wet sound, every gasping plea for more—but he’s too lost in the feeling of finally having you. He stares at his cock disappearing into your cunt over and over, your walls molded around him like he belongs there.
“Please,” you whimper, your moans echoing thanks to your buried face in your arm.
“Yeah?” He breathlessly asks back, a hand on your back forcing you to arch even more so he can hit deeper.
Your answer is a garbled moan, your walls squeezing him tight enough to pull a grunt from his lips. His nails run all down your back, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough where he can see the remnants of his presence, to remind himself that he’s finally got you where he wants you. The thought is enough to spike heat in his veins and threaten him to cum already.
“No, no,” you whine when he slows down, craning your head to look at him. Your eyelashes flutter with his deep but slow strokes, a small smirk coming to your face when you see how flushed and breathless he is. “Tobio.”
You’re doing this on purpose. Whimpering his name without an honorific so he’ll fall apart and give you the upper hand. And the worst part is, it’s working. Even his slow strokes can’t stop his rising orgasm so he throws caution to the wind, slamming into you again while he gropes at your tits. Your surprised yelp turns into a long moan when he hits just right, your body trembling as he pulls and twists your nipples.
“Shit,” he whispers hoarsely before letting go. His thrusts are choppy as he chases his orgasm, his fingers clinging so tightly to your breasts that you gasp. There are goosebumps on his arms as he shudders closer to you, sweat dripping from his brow to your back when he leans forward and pulls out.
You’re panting too, turning on shaky legs to regard him with lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. His flaccid cock twitches at the look, so he quickly ties off the condom before he makes a mess. When he turns to throw it out, you gasp, eyes widening at the eagle tattoo that spans his shoulder blades. Its black wings curve toward his shoulders, its mouth forever open in an angry caw. Kageyama eyes you warily as he throws away the condom, waiting for you to ask him what it is or say something about it.
But you don’t.
Instead you beckon him forward with a sly smirk and two fingers.
“I said take me to the bedroom, didn’t I?”
He wastes no time in listening. Kageyama is back on you again, lips dragging across yours over and over to savor your taste. You grab onto his shoulders to drag him toward your bedroom, tongue pressed up against his, so sloppy that his lips are covered in saliva by the time you pull back.
With a heavy push, he falls back to the bed, bouncing a few times as you climb over him. You look so pretty straddling his waist, the light around your head making you look like an angel as you lean over him. Your hips grind into his hardening cock, hands leveraging themselves on his shoulders so you can work him back to hardness. There’s a smirk on your face as you do, fingers digging into his skin as you rock back and forth.
“Tobio,” you whisper.
There’s a twinkle in your eye that tells him you know how much it’s affecting him. Especially when you shift and the head of his cock bumps your folds, disappearing inside for a second. You’re so wet, and it takes everything in him not to beg for you to take his full length.
“Oh, shit,” you whine, rocking back and forth so only the head of his cock disappears into your heat. “Fuck, like this. Can we?”
This is dangerous and Kageyama knows it. Between your job and the possibility of an accident, he should get another condom and fuck you that way. But you press a little further, teasing him with the head of his cock pressing in and out, in and out, over and over. He’s about to go insane, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside you again, but even with his hands on your hips, you evade him.
“Tobio.”
“Please.”
The word is quiet, needy, caught in the back of his throat as a mix between a groan and a request. It takes you both by surprise, your eyes widening as you stare down at him. He’s completely hard again, and just a little lower… His face grows even more flushed than it already is when you spread your folds and sink down all the way, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your hips stilling as you breathe.
There’s a moment where you savor the feeling, then you’re lifting your hips and slamming down, holding onto him as you ride him. Kageyama is sure he’s never seen something so beautiful, your tits bouncing, your hands flexing, your cunt warm and perfect for him. Every moan, whimper, and squeeze of your walls drills into his brain, ringing until he can’t think anymore. All he knows is the heat and wetness of your cunt, and the way you bounce on him like his cock is all you need.
His hands grip your waist to help you move, legs lifting to hit even deeper. You ride him so well, head tilted back with a moan as your fingers trail down to your clit. You keen and work quickly, matching his thrusts with your bounces and your gasps for breath.
When Kageyama grips your ass, you groan, fingers rubbing and circling your swollen nub until you’re leaning forward with a hoarse call of his name. Your pussy squeezes him so tightly that he grunts, working you through your orgasm as his own rises.
You open your eyes, cheeks sweaty and flushed, and when you whisper his name, he’s lost. He grabs onto you, fucking up into you as hard as he can. When his orgasm hits, he forces your hips down so he can fill your cunt with his seed, so he can make his mark on you in the only way he knows how. You gasp at the feeling, but he barely hears it, lost in the feeling of you taking him so well.
He opens his eyes and your satisfied smile is the first thing he sees.
“Again,” you beg. “Please.”
Kageyama can think of nothing else he wants more.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The first thing he hears is the pounding of rain against the bedroom window. The second is water running in the room across the hall from your bedroom. Kageyama is groggy when he wakes up, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he sits and tries to re-orient himself. It’s still dark outside, which means he only dozed off for a few hours. You had collapsed on his chest, the warmth lulling him into a restful sleep he hadn’t had for a while.
When he pads out to the living room with his underwear in his hands, you’re still in the bathroom. Kageyama nudges the door open with his foot, watching you scrub your face clean of the product you’re using. You’re still naked, water dripping down your body as you finish up, towel off, then turn to him.
“Do you want to shower, too?” You ask calmly, wrapping the towel around your neck before batting your clean eyelashes at him. “Before you go back to see Ushijima-san.”
Kageyama goes rigid as a board, gaze drilling into your light smile. How do you know that?
“I’ve heard that name before. From Washijo,” you muse, walking forward to move past him toward your bedroom. Kageyama follows you like a lost puppy, unsure of what else to do. You dig into your dresser, pulling out a t-shirt and cotton shorts before you turn and speak again. “The leader of the Adlers, right? He sent you a message.”
The ease in which you discuss the Adlers is disorienting. It’s like you’re talking about what you need from the store instead of mafia business, oh-so-casual as you slip on your pajamas. He hurries to put on his underwear, refusing to have this conversation while standing naked in your bedroom.
You look at him so expectantly now that you’re dressed, but all Kageyama can do is give a stiff nod and a croaked, “Yeah.”
“Then… you work for him?”
“Yeah.”
“Tobio,” you breathe, so dainty, so soft, so beautiful. You take a step forward, grabbing onto his hand and bringing it between both of your own, fingers clutching his like a lifeline. It’s a stark contrast to your next request. “Kill him for me.”
“What?” It falls from Kageyama’s mouth as quickly as a bullet. “Ushijima?”
“No,Washijo.” You cling harder to his hand even though Kageyama tries to pull it away. “Isn’t that what the mafia does? Kill people who go against them? Make them disappear?”
Sure, he’s done that plenty of times under Ushijima’s orders, but…
“If anyone can do it, you can.”
“I can’t.” Kageyama answers, firm and immovable. “I can’t go against the Boss. Besides you…” He sighs, looking out toward the living room, even if he can’t see it. “Aren’t you going to become a lawyer? You can’t have that stain on your record, idiot, you—”
“I’m not an idiot,” you hiss, dropping his hand and pointing a finger in his chest. “You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this. How many times I’ve seen women hit and assaulted, only for the lawto turn their backs on them for trying to make ends meet. No one will do anything about Washijo because he has too much power and money. Trust me, I’ve tried. All he has to do is wave his money around and the evidence is destroyed.”
Kageyama stares at you in confusion, eyebrows creasing together as you force your finger into his chest again to push him away from you. “Then… what’s the point of becoming a lawyer if you hate it so much?”
“The point is to help people like me who are stuck with no way out.” You sigh, dragging a hand down your face before taking a deep breath. “I’ll endure all the bullshit if it means another woman doesn’t have to go through what I have.”
You turn away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. Kageyama wants nothing more than to wrap you up from behind and bring you into his embrace, whispering that it’ll be okay. He, of all people, knows what a lie those words are. He murmurs your name but you don’t turn around; you’re too focused on the rain pelting the window from the storm outside.
“Sometimes the law isn’t enough. For people like me, it’ll neverbe enough.” Your voice is quiet and defeated, something he’s never once heard for you. You finally turn to him, expression grim as you plead, “That’s why I need your help.”
As much as it pains him to say it, Kageyama repeats, “I can’t.”
“So you’ll choose to let me suffer?”
“I’m choosing my life. Ushijima will kill me if I go against his word. Don’t ask me to choose between Ushijima and you, because…” He pauses, swallowing down his reservations so he can bluntly say, “Because it won’t be you.”
“…I know,” you admit quietly, so quiet and resigned that it breaks his heart. “I know. That’s not what I want.”
You exhale, turning away from him again, and it feels as though you’ve closed yourself off from him for good. He won’t let it end like this. Ushijima be damned, there has to be something he can do for you to get you out of this hell. Even though Kageyama couldn’t achieve his own goals, he doesn’t want that to happen to you, too.
“Three months.”
His words make you silently look back.
“Three months,” Kageyama repeats. “That’s how long Washijo has left in his contract. After three months, Ushijima says he’ll reconsider.”
There’s a pinched look on your face that looks like you’re considering something, calculating the best way to use the remaining time. Carefully, like you’re weighing every word that comes out of your mouth, you ask, “That means after three months, I can…?”
“If you’re sure.”
You swallow, taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling. “You know,” you murmur, quieter than the thunder that shakes the window in front of you. “I want him dead, but… more than that, I want him ruined. I want him to suffer. I want to watch the light fade from his eyes, like he did to me. Do you understand?”
Kageyama takes his time to consider what you’re asking. It’s more than asking about his comprehension—you’re quietly asking for his help, for his expertise, for a way to make sure Washijo gets everything that’s coming to him, even if it means going against everything you’re studying for. Can he do this for you? Bring you into the dark and dirty work of the mafia, even as you study to become someone who may take him down?
“Tobio, answer me,” you insist when he takes too long to answer.
“If you want him to suffer,” Kageyama answers slowly, “Then we’ll need a plan.”
You both stare at each other for a long, dragging moment. Lightning outside the window flashes and illuminates the torn look on your face, your tired eyes, your heaving chest. You hug closer to yourself as if you can feel the chill from the rain from outside, even though your apartment is overly warm. The breath you let out is loud, and you blink a few times before you turn around to him fully, arms crossed over your chest.
“We have to make it perfect.”
Kageyama nods once to seal the deal.
If this is all he can promise you, then he’s more than willing to do it.
So this is a box I found that was hidden in a mall for presumably ~6 months by now. Aside from the latch, there were rubber bands keeping the box shut. Inside the box is a bundle of tightly-folded pieces of paper. It is a story/recollection written by a 19-year-old girl who has apparently killed a random person just because she was wondering what it would be like. According to the paper, she wrote this just a few hours after the murder and that I am the first person to read it.
So yeah, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight.
Anyway, I typed up the entire story because I seriously need to share this. Here it is.
This post is a self reminder for me to post more information later, but today, every single woman in Mexico is grieving, we lost a sister
We lost another sister due to the patriarchal society
This goes for you, Debanhi Escobar, we all name you.
Rest in Power, Girl. ✨
40 minutes ago (19:40 CDMX), Nuevo Leon authorities confirmed the body they found is Debanhi Susana Escobar Bazaldúa, and they want to make us believe she just fell down ✨♀️
1. The officers immediately escalated the situation by pulling up on George Floyd with a gun and pointing it in his face
2. George was extremely distressed (understandably) and was begging for some understanding and a moment to gather himself - which he was not given. Despite his destress he did not resist arrest or fight with the officers at any point.
3. The police again escalate the situation by forcing him Into a car he was begging not to be forced into
4. George Floyd was dead when the ambulance arrived - meaning he was dead underneath the knees of chauvin
5. The paramedic knew immediately that George was not breathing when he arrived - giving reason that chauvin would’ve known he wasn’t breathing
6. The officers displayed gross negligence by not checking a pulse or administering chest compressions s
7. The police had multiple opportunities to de-escalate the situation and handle it professionally and failed at every single attempt.
Night and Day- pt. 3 (Yandere!Chrollo x Autistic!Reader)
Part three for y'all. Remember, this is based off of my own experiences with Autism and living Nurodivergent with chronic illnesses (mental and physical). This may not be exact to the experiences others have had.
Warnings; Yandere and all that comes with it, Chrollo and all that comes with him (including but not limited to; stealing, murder, blood, narcissism, smart ass, casual indiscriminate slaughter), autistic reader, female bodied and pronouned reader, slight infantilism, any negative comments said have been said to or about me so it is as accurate as I can make it, word ‘retard’ is used against reader, reader clap-back, NSFW, anxiety for something new is rough, Chrollo can be very patient when it means he gets something, mention of pregnancy, slight breeding kink, slight corruption kink, praise kink,
~~~~~~~~
Nen was such an unusual and unique thing. So many different expressions of nen that a person can learn and so many that still have to be created. Something so fluid in motion that it can change as the wielder changes in their life. It is present in everyone but so few can use nen and even fewer have perfected the craft.
So it came as an honest surprise to Chrollo when he realized just what your Nen actually did. He discovered the abilities of your Nen the same time you did due to a completely random occurrence where your newly awoken nen actually showed itself and the sheer power it had. You hadn’t even tried to use an ability at the time, but that didn’t stop it from happening and it was surprising for everyone else around you as well.
It was at least a month after that initial rocky introduction to your soulmate and you felt more relaxed around him as each day passed. Not once had he tried to 'correct’ any of your subconscious behaviors or to shush you when you got a bit carried away while talking to him. He still had yet to find any true predictable pattern to your brain, but he was becoming more used to you and the general way you thought about the things around you.
Sometimes he would stop reading his book to ask you what things you could hear or what happened to be on your mind at any given time. The Troupe began to learn more than they thought possible from these random times Chrollo would have you list off the things that caught your attention. They began to realize the scope of your attention radius on the world around you, the little things you noticed and remarked on, things that they didn’t even realize they did that you would pick up on.
You were a spectator to almost everything that was around you yet you could also easily miss something near you due to so intensely listening to the world farther away from you. They even picked up on how much you would mirror them during conversations, matching certain behaviors and taking note of responses they typically gave. If pointed out, you immediately stop the behavior and close up mentally, retreating into the quiet social shell that you created and giving short responses until you opened back up.
It also became increasingly clear to the troupe that any time you would curl back into that shell, Chrollo would be irate with whoever caused it. They knew their beloved leader was trying to break you- his one and only soulmate- from that societal yoke and any negative progress was met with ire. The Troupe was significantly lacking in that learned obedient behavior due to growing up in Meteor City while having to fend for themselves, so they really hadn’t realized the way you internalized every response and planned yourself accordingly. You grew up with this social curve of action and response, not even on the same curve as your peers so you took many things quite seriously and personally in an attempt at playing catch up.
The Troupe knew how to act semi-normal in a typical setting, but they had the advantage of just knowing how to act. It became increasingly obvious that you did indeed have a specifically crafted mirror of a personality that you used to primarily avoid conflict or others. That crafted personality made them want to know what it was that lay beneath and what the true unshackled you would be capable of.
It was partially what led to your Nen lashing out.
You hadn’t meant to, not really. But you were having a less than talkative moment, staring at nothing in particular and generally just existing in your own brain while your body remained idle when it happened.
You had been among Chrollo and the other Spiders when some group of thugs decided they wanted to ransack the place. Their hollering and shouts at the Troupe served as a less than gentle way to pull you back into reality, feeling your panic engulf you with every shout. Though the troupe wasn’t bothered in the slightest when the men drew their guns, your brain kicked you into both freezing up and lashing out.
Physically you did not move, but regarding your nen, the world morphed around you and bent to your anxieties. The decorative statues became animated and fiercely protective of you, the very building you sat in groaning to life in order to deal with the men that you felt so terrified of. Doors slammed shut and the men quickly became the ones who were trapped instead of the other way around.
Pillars moved, rooms changed, furniture came to life and sought only the deaths of the men responsible for your stress. The main downside was the fact that you unintentionally closed yourself off, the building itself hiding you away. It took Chrollo several hours to find you tucked away in the heart of the living building, cowering and trying to block out the unfamiliar sounds that thundered around you far too loudly.
He managed to calm you with his relaxed tone and steady heart-beat, letting you curl against his chest and hide from the chaos you unintentionally created. As you calmed the building returned to its former self, releasing those inside from the trap it had become. The Troupe wanted to know just how you did what you did, knowing the limitations of Nen and how a few of the oddities they encountered didn’t follow basic Nen laws. You were exhausted and unable to answer the questions they had, falling asleep in the comforting arms of Chrollo as he held you close.
That day, you learned many truths about not only yourself but about the fact that you had rather aggressive Nen. Your Nen quite literally changed the world around you. Chrollo believed it to be an illusion at first, but after searching the living building he began to realize the sheer effect your Nen had on the world around you. He wanted to test the capabilities of your Nen and see all it was able to do, but it became quickly apparent that your Nen was linked to your stress; the more stressed you were, the stronger you Nen became.
To Chrollo, learning the extent of your Nen was not worth the stress it would put you through, not to mention the amount of stress you had to be in for it to even manifest properly.
For now, Chrollo allowed your Nen to remain an enigma. He would work more on it with you later, but his primary goal at that moment was to gently extract you from your social shell, all without distressing you too much.
Now you sat on his lap, quietly tapping some unknown beat on his arm as he read his book. Chrollo figured you could use some time outside and so he brought you to a rather quiet park and settled on a bench with you. He was quite content to relax with you when an obnoxious voice drew his attention from his book.
“Hey there, handsome.”
He glanced up to see a woman who was adorned with gemstones and wore a lipstick shade that was obnoxiously bright for her complexion. She clearly didn’t care that he was obviously interested in his book and you were seated on his lap. In fact, she looked at you the way one would look at something detestable writhing on filth.
“How about you ditch the spaz and let me show you a real woman?”
You slightly flinched at the harsh words, the soft tapping of your fingers stopping almost immediately. It was clear you were uncomfortable, but you tried to ignore the woman and look anywhere except for at her.
“I have a real woman already.”
“Oh, please. It’s cute that you’re being so nice to a retard but-”
Chrollo had enough of the woman squawking and insulting you, moving to silence the annoyance before you spoke, your voice dripping with venom.
“And yet, he still wants this 'retard’ more than he wants you.”
“Ugh, why do you think you can even speak to me-?”
“I’m not speaking to you. I am speaking at you. To imply I am talking to you would mean you have any awareness of the world around you when it is obvious you can only see your own nose, despite how deeply buried in your ass it is.”
Even with the situation, Chrollo wanted to laugh. Here this random woman was with her mouth hanging open like a fish as if she couldn’t understand that you were capable of talking and had insulted her. He almost wanted to just let the scene play out, so pleased you could hiss out insults the way you did when you usually would close up.
“Wh-”
“Just stop talking.”
“You can’t say that to me!”
“But you can say it to me?”
“Of course I can! Retards don’t understand-”
“What I don’t understand in this situation is why you’re still here. Are you that desperate for approval that you think you can bother a couple who want not a damn thing to do with you? Or is it you’re so used to getting what you want your spoiled ass can’t comprehend the idea of someone telling you to fuck off?”
“I-”
As amusing as Chrollo found the exchange, he was already at the end of his patience with the woman. His movements were so fast neither you nor the woman realized he had done anything before she was falling to the ground dead, a ballpoint pen sticking out of her forehead. Naturally, seeing a person rather suddenly die made your anxieties raise, even though the perpetrator was the very same man who held you so carefully on his lap.
“Why did-?”
“I do appreciate you snapping at that woman for her actions, it is quite refreshing to see you not shy away from conflict like you typically do. However, I didn’t appreciate the way she spoke to you and the way she spoke about you.”
“But did she need to die?”
“Oh, my love, you are such a sweet person. You try so hard to be kind to others and to avoid arguing…” Chrollo chuckled softly as if he had told a joke, “I’ve killed more people over less.”
He hummed and kissed your temple gently, seeming to wrap himself around you as best he could. Everything about the two of you seemed so polar opposite, it was amusing to Chrollo to know just how similar yet different you were from one another.
“Be as gentle as you want, love. You may be hesitant to snap at them, but I will happily kill them for you.”
~~~~~~~~
“I don’t know, Chrollo… I’ve never- I haven’t-”
“I know. How fortunate I am in the perfect position to teach you.”
“I don’t want to mess up-”
“Let me lead you.”
You bit your lip hesitantly and drummed your fingers against your bouncing thigh, wondering just how much trust you were willing to give this man. He had proven time and time again that he was different from all others you’ve met, even when compared to the troupe he was different. Since the moment you two met, he had been trying to understand you and what makes your brain tick. Chrollo has done so much to work away at that mask of yours just to sneak a peak at the you beneath it all.
“I’m not taking any pills-”
“I know how to use a condom, (y/n), and there are many options to choose from. I would love to make you nice and round with my child, to see your soft breasts fill up with milk as your body creates a physical representation of my affections and my need for you, but I can just as easily live without. I also know you are terrified of what I may think of you during all of this, I will say every thought I have out loud if you truly want me to.”
He took a step closer to you, taking your hands in his and holding them to his warm chest so you could feel the steady thrum of his heart. You weren’t trying to be difficult, you were nervous and slightly afraid of anything potentially going wrong. Chrollo knew this and planned to help you build up such confidence your anxieties wouldn’t be able to touch you.
The first step was for Chrollo to get you to allow him to be intimate with you in the first place. Beyond that he planned to praise you constantly, to guide you in every step, as well as to provide distraction for you when you became stressed. He was determined to finally get you into his bed and to indulge in your body which had taunted him so from the moment he met you.
“(Y/n),” Chrollo pulled you close, body pressing against your own, “may I love you? Will you let me?”
You bit your lip, watching with almost wary eyes as Chrollo rolled his hips in a relaxed motion against your own. It was true, you wanted to say yes and give in to Chrollo with open arms and an equally open heart. The only thing making you hesitate was your nerves in the situation, so many ways to potentially make a mistake or embarrass yourself around Chrollo.
As if he could sense your hesitation, he gently grasped your hand and pulled it towards himself, guiding you to his unzipped pants. His hard length was obvious when pressed up against you, but it seemed so much more beneath your warm hand. The relaxed pulse of Chrollo’s heartbeat was clear in his stiff length as he pressed your hand onto the apparent bulge.
“Will you let me love you?”
Chrollo asked again, his voice a soft croon in your ear as you felt your body warm up intensely. The most you could manage was a nod as he pulled you to the bed, laying you back against the blankets.
He took his time pulling his coat off, tossing it to the side as he moved on top of you to kiss you ever so gently. His hands were warm against your skin and you felt your anxieties pushing back against your desire to let Chrollo have you fully. You did want to take this next step, but your anxieties always gnawed away at your mind and try to force you to reject him.
Chrollo gently trailed kisses down your neck, ensuring to leave several marks that would make his claim over you quite clear to anyone who saw them. It seemed like Chrollo was well versed in intimacy, each touch so delicate despite the fact you knew he could snap bones with a mere flex. When his warm hands reached your chest, you couldn’t stop the anxious whine that escaped you, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep yourself under control.
“I told you, I will say every thought out loud if I need to. So, I want to tell you exactly what just having you here is doing to me…” He slowly cupped one breast, his arm next to your head holding up his weight as he murmured in your ear, “just the thought of us doing this gets me so hard. I had little interest in pleasure except when I needed to use it for information, now I’m so starved for your attention the mere thought makes me ache.”
He continued to hum those soft words like a sinner confessing every deep detail of their crimes. The full and plump lips brushing against your skin sent shivers through your body, feeling a persistent throb between your legs. Chrollo was still slowly caressing your body with his hand, hips pressing up so firmly against your throbbing core.
“The amount of wet dreams I’ve had of making you pass out from pleasure would make a degenerate blush. Your voice,” he kissed your ear gently, “your face twisted with pleasure,” his hand slowly lifted your shirt, seeming to slice through with not a scrap of resistance, “your exhausted body clenching down on me just right,” your bra joined the forming pile of clothes on the floor, “all the way down to how your soft holes taste. Just using my tongue to make you squirt for me, tasting your soft and warm insides.”
Chrollo moaned lowly against your body, taking one of your breasts in his mouth and toying with the other. He was intentionally being louder than he usually would, using his own pleasured sounds to get you riled up and help you feel more relaxed around him during this process. He switched breasts and moved his hand down to unbutton your pants, slowly pulling then off of you, stopping for a moment whenever you whined.
As he managed to successfully remove the obstructing clothes, you found the courage to open your eyes and look down your front at him. Chrollo was trailing kisses down your soft body and staring up at you, the intense eye contact making you yelp and look away. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he slid his hand beneath the last article of clothing you had, cupping your dripping heat with his hand.
“Mmm… You’re so wet for me, love. I need you so badly.”
Your underwear slid off of your hips and down your legs, leaving you completely bare to Chrollo’s intense gaze. Impulsively, you covered your eyes and tried to block out both the embarrassment and the anxiety of the situation. You heard Chrollo’s clothes dropping to the floor as well and jerked slightly when his hands returned to your hips.
“My beautiful (y/n)… Won’t you please look at me?”
It took a moment for you to work up the courage to look past your fingers and down at Chrollo, his stormy eyes seeming to glint at your attention. He held that eye contact as he settled between your legs, refusing to look away as his tongue dragged up your sensitive heat. You couldn’t help the way you gasped, eyes closing once more as you mewled with every following slow lick.
“Fuck,” he moaned, trying to dig his tongue deeper into you between words, “you taste so good..! I want all of you…”
Chrollo knew exactly how he was working you up gently, not just stuffing himself in you and fucking away his troubles. Two fingers joined his tongue, slowly sliding into you one at a time as he suckled on your clit passionately.
“(Y/n),” Chrollo prompted softly, “tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I- I’m feeling- so fucking good..!”
“Want me to keep going?”
“Yes!”
“Want me to stop?”
“N-no! Please- please, Chrollo, don’t stop!”
“Such a good girl…”
You whined and moaned quietly, anxious about being too loud and someone hearing your soft noises. Each slurp or prolonged moan from Chrollo had you gripping at his hair, holding onto those black locks while trying to keep yourself from tugging too hard on them. A faint pressure felt like it was building up inside of you, becoming more and more apparent as Chrollo continued to feast on your soft pussy. Eventually that pressure felt near unbearable and your body tensed, feeling that pressure break and flood your body with euphoria.
Your limbs were rigid and you couldn’t stop your eyes from closing as you physically shook from the feeling, panting and mewling as your legs shook and tightened, holding Chrollo in place. He could have easily pulled away, but instead chose to continue licking and slurping your warm clit with a deep moan and pumping his fingers into you. It almost seemed like he truly got pleasure from seeing you fall to pieces from his actions.
When you finally relaxed and let him pull away, you were still panting and whining as you tried to come down from your high. The faint sound clothes dropping and a wrapper tearing open drew your attention and you glanced down to see Chrollo sliding a condom down onto his firm length. Fear shot through you as you saw that thick and long length Chrollo planned on putting inside of you and your panic rose back up.
“It-it’s going to be too big..! It can’t- it won’t be able to fit in me!”
“It’s alright,” Chrollo soothed slowly climbing back on top of you, “I know it will be able to fit. I won’t lie to you, it will be uncomfortable at first, maybe even a bit painful, but it will feel so good as soon as you get used to it. I promise you that.”
You bit your lip and glanced away from those steel eyes, still feeling your heart racing and your body tense in anxiety.
“Here,” Chrollo said, pulling your arms up to wrap around his body, “Hold onto me, (y/n). Scratch me up as much as you need to.”
He lined up that large cock with your soft folds, slowly grinding his hips against your own and covering his cock with your juices as he leaned over you. You tried to relax but instinctively tensed as you felt the tip of his cock press into your folds. Chrollo softly hushed you and waited for you to relax before inching his way inside of you, pausing any time you whined or tensed. When he finally bottomed out inside of you, he let out a low groan from the feel of you wrapped around him.
“You feel so damn good, (y/n)… Tell me when you want me to move, until then- ngh- I am happy to stay as still as you need me to.”
Chrollo breathed deeply and his slow relaxed breaths helped calm you, feeling the odd sensation of his pulse thrumming inside of you. There was a slight burn from the stretch of your soft walls accommodating his large and heavy cock in your gentle body. Your nails bit down into his back as you slowly relaxed, loosening your grip on his body.
As you fully began to adjust to the feeling, you hummed and felt your muscles relax. For a moment you almost forgot he was inside of you before the slightest movement reminded you.
“O-okay… Okay. You can move…”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but I trust you.”
“If you were anyone else saying that, I would think it is a horrible idea to trust me. But, you, my love, can always trust me to do what is best for you, and what is best for us. I’m going to start moving, let me know if it hurts.”
He slowly slid back and out of you before shoving himself back inside of you. The movement made you whine as that burn returned in near full force, but you refused to stop him as he settled with a relaxed pace. Chrollo was so enamored with the way your body hugged him perfectly and massaged his stiff cock so comfortably, finding even the slow pace to be more pleasure than he received from any other he has taken to bed.
“Just so sweet and beautiful.”
He crooned into your ear, slowly picking up his pace as you once again relaxed, starting to feel the faint spark of pleasure in your body. It was similar to finally scratching an itch that had been bothering you for a while, building up into much more than a simple soothing motion. Chrollo angled his hips and you mewled loudly when the head of his cock dug into a particularly sensitive spot inside of you.
Taking note of your noise, Chrollo ensured to press into that bundle of nerves repeatedly, beginning to impulsively thrust harder and faster into you. One of his hands trailed down to rub at your clit, only making the pleasure in you skyrocket beyond what you already felt. The sensation making you moan so sweetly for him and cling to him.
“Fuck..! You look so good taking my cock like this…” Chrollo panted as he stared down at your expression, wanting to see every little grimace or deliriously pleasured face you made, “do this every night with you… Just keep going until you get nice and exhausted for me..!”
He paused for a moment, making you whine at the loss of friction before he pulled back, leaving you no longer able to dig your nails into his back. For a moment you thought you did something wrong and began to worry until he lifted your legs to his shoulders, leaning forward to press into you even deeper than he had been. The oddly scrunched position only seemed to make every move feel even stronger, forcing the air in and out of your lungs in time with his thrusts.
“I want you to cum for me… Soak me with your juices and just squeeze down on my cock.”
His words were debauched and only seemed to add more pleasure to your sparking and stimulated brain, feeling that pressure building back up inside of you at a faster rate than before. As the pressure built your voice raised in pitch and your moans became louder, unable to stop the cries whining from you despite the fact you knew you were getting too loud. It all seemed to not matter as much to you anymore, feeling that pressure become greater until it broke with a flooding wave of sensation far stronger than the first.
Your head impulsively tossed side to side as if you physically had to move to properly comprehend the tidal wave of bliss that burned inside of you. Chrollo’s continued movements making you wail from each shocking sensation that continued to burn inside of you. You could feel the way your walls constricted around him, forcing a deep moan from his throat at the snug embrace of your pussy around his achingly hard cock.
“That’s it… Good girl, taking all of me so well..!” Chrollo moaned, panting slightly as the bliss of your orgasm faded away, “once more… Cum for me just once more.”
Chrollo moaned, stuffing himself into you over and over again, imagining how it would feel to fill you up with his hot cum. For now he ignored that want and continued to rut into you, feeling the ridges of your warm walls through the condom. For now he allowed the lightweight cover to stand between the two of you, content with the squeeze of your tight walls as he drilled into you.
“Ch-Chrollo..! Ngh! I can’t-! It’s too much..!”
He shushed you gently, locking his lips with your own as he continued to wildly thrust into you like a beast in heat.
“I know you can take more, Love. I told you, I plan on burning off that night-time energy of yours.”
He could feel the way your warm walls squeezed him so well, the perfect fit of his large cock in your soft insides, your sweet voice cracking and whining in elation. There wasn’t a particular number of times he wanted you to cum around his drilling cock, but he certainly knew he wanted far more than just two orgasms from you. Chrollo had been honest when he suggested burning off as much energy as possible so you would sleep through the whole night without any disturbance.
He certainly planned to cum more than once, vaguely frustrated he was only spurting into the condom and not your soft body, but he quickly got over it. After all, you two were soulmates and he would have plenty more chances to fill you up with his cum.
~~~~~~~~
Chrollo slowly woke to a quiet sound and the slight bit of light through his eyelids. You lay next to him, back pressed against his chest as you remained secure in his arms. For a moment, he thought you were just talking in your sleep again before he realized the light was from your phone and you were staring intently at it.
“Darling, it’s three in the morning. What are you doing?”
“… Watching cat videos.”
“Do I need to fuck you even more than I assume to keep you asleep through the night?”
Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: And so it ends Warnings:18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, smoking, gun stand off, major character death, mentioned violence against the reader, domestic abuse, graphic description of murder, vaginal sex, creampie, collaring. Words:3.2k
Shuuji Hanma has never been a man to feel fear in his life. When others find themselves feeling alert and on edge, Hanma can do nought but laugh. But since leaving your place… The home that you share with your fiancé, his boss, he believes this may be the closest to panic he’s ever felt. In fact, he’d go as far as to admit he’s a little scared. Kisaki is a crazy fuck, like him. And also not to dissimilarly to Hanma, he’s calculated. He imagines that Kisaki has already gone out of his way to contact his subordinates and alert them of Hanma’s treachery. Hanma is brave, in the sense that he can stay in his penthouse like he didn’treveal he’d been fucking his precious fiancé behind his back. He supposes you were right about one thing.
Shuuji Hanma is a dead man walking.
He’s been sipping his favourite whiskey since the minute he got home. But he isn’t stupid, he needs his wits about him, after all. He’s been nursing the same drink for a longwhile. He needs to consider himself. His next course of action. What has happened. What willhappen. You entering his life after so long was an unexpected cog in his well oiled machine of existence. It had been so long since he’d thought about his favourite slut. His toy. He still can’t believe that he managed to forget you at all.
How could he forget someone he spent so long going out of his way to torment? Someone he forcedto give her virginity to him. He was clumsy then, he’s sure you’ll agree. He had a little experience, more than most, so he knew what he was doing with you. But now, he is matured, he is a man. Despite the fact he sees women as devices to give himpleasure, he knows exactly how to please. And although it’s been so long since he played with your body, it is simply unforgettable. It is his.He’ll touch you just right and make you come undone with so little effort you’ll have barely taken a breath.
Is that why you run to him?
Is that why you’re back in his life?
Because you’re his,aren’t you? You won’t forget something so important like that. You’re always going to be his girl. Hanma’s Toy. It’s engraved in your flesh for that exact reason. But even without that permanent, black, ink. How could you forget someone you gave your virginity too? How could you forget all of the things he did and made you do? You couldn’t. You can’t. Even at such a young age, you wonder if he knew what he was doing. If he wanted to scar you so vehemently that you’d never be able to erase him from the recesses of your mind.
You’re his.
No one else’s.
His.
“Open the door, Hanma.”
It’s familiar. Why wouldn’t he recognise the voice of a man he’s been thick as thieves with for over a decade? With a cigar latched between his lips and his gun in his hands, he stands perfectly adjacent to the front door of his penthouse and points the weapon at the entrance. He has no doubt in his mind that Kisaki has brought an army with him to snuff him out and put an end to the memorable and insufferable Shuuji Hanma.
“It’s open, Tetta.” he responds. The use of his forename enrages Kisaki, a clear snub of his superiority and a lack of respect from Hanma.
He opens the door slowly… slowly… slowly… until they’re face to face with each other. And it’s unbelievable, but somehow, they manage to laugh. Kisaki is pointing his gun at Hanma, and Hanma’s is pointing right back. And for some reason, it’s so fuckingamusing.How did things get like this? At one point or another, Kisaki would have trusted Hanma more than anyone else in the world. Even you. Fuck. You.
“Don’t tell me you came alone.” Hanma queries, refusing to let his guard down but still managing to take a tactical puff of his cigar.
“I did, believe it or not. I’m a reasonable man. Some might say, smart,”
“First I’m hearing about that.” Hanma jokes, earning a snicker from his former friend.
“I figure there’s history. And a simple explanation mightjust clear this all up. So, I haven’t told a damn soul about this. Pour me a drink.” Kisaki speaks and demands as he tilts his head and his gun in the direction of the tumbler of whiskey standing alone at Hanma’s lonely dining table.
“For real?”
“We’ll drink, and I’ll listen to what you have to say. And thenI’ll blow your fucking head off for touching my little wifey.” he talks, calmly. The final sentence sounds like a joke, but his eyes are telling another story. He’s serious, deadly so.
Hanma clears his throat, refusing to lower his gun as he walks closer to the bottle of whiskey. He grabs an extra tumbler, pouring the bronze liquid into the glass while keeping his eyes and gun focused on his boss. Kisaki enters the penthouse, using his foot to close the door behind him.
It’s almost comical, really, how neither of the men refuse to put away their weapons. Even while sitting so close to each other. Their legs spread, a show of dominance, like men do, as they sit and find the most comfortable positions in their seats. It’s almost like a silent contest to display who needs more leg room, which of them has the biggest cock and balls.
It’s Hanma.
Their gun holding arms turn to jelly as they enjoy their drinks. Resting the cool metal killing devices on their legs as they casually sip and slurp as if they’re indulging in last orders at a bar with close friends. A memory they’ve shared more times than they can count. Butthisis nothing like that complacent, relaxing vibe. This is tense.
“She’s missing, now. Have you, uh, seen her?” Kisaki queries.
“No. Why would I have? Doesn’t she have friends?” Hanma responds, calmly. Kisaki studies his eyes. Enough years in this line of work, and you can spot a liar with genuine ease. So, he stares and stares.
“Iknowshe’s here, Hanma.”
Hanma takes another swig of his drink, clearing off the last remaining drops before pouring another for himself. But he shakes his head, adamant he has no idea what he’s referring to.
“You wanted to talk about her, you said. So, what went down after I left?” Hanma asks, a question he’s been dying to know after he fled. He has never felt guilt before. He thinks he might be a sociopath, most days. Or else he wouldn’t have put youthrough everything he did in the past. And yet, for the first time maybeever, he felt bad for leaving you with him tonight. He turned your world upside down and threw you to the wolves. It was too much like the old him. A him he isn’t ashamed of, but he likes to think he is at least a littlebetter than. So, he had to ask. What happened?
“Well. I was mad, you get that, right? It’s understandable, I mean—”
“Did you damage mytoy, Kisaki?”
“Notyours,mine.But, yeah, so fucking what? I beat her black and blue. What sane man wouldn’t?” Kisaki questions. Hanma slams his glass down on the table, earning an explosive laugh from his boss. “Come the fuckon. I loved her, y’know? Spent a fortune on her. Gave her everything.Only for her to cheat with… you. Thought she was my princess, my forever.”
“No one will love her like I can. I’ve loved her since the day I set eyes on her as a kid. So, I’ll tell youone more time. Mytoy.Myprincess.Myforever. I’ll find her and fuck her into the shape of my cock because she is mine.And my name is on her forever, to prove it.” Hanma monologues, it’s relaxed and pointed. Kisaki retains each and every word. An indescribable rage sears through him and he realises he’ll never have what you have with Hanma. History.But that fucking mark.It can be removed. It can be changed. He’s signed his name into your skin tonight in the form of blooming blue and purple blooms. It’s just a shame they aren’t permanent.
“You have to die, that’s a given. Yeah?” Kisaki chuckles, and even Hanma smiles.
“If you think you can kill me. If you thinkI will let that happen. Sure.”
“It’s a matter of pride, man. I loved… loveher. And she ismine, no matter what you say or think. But what she did, I’ll never forgive. I’ll spend the rest of my life making her pay for it.”
“You won’t see her again for the rest of your life, Tetta. Only one of us is getting out of this penthouse alive and I intend on making sure it’s me.”
“She humiliated me. With you.I’m all for happy endings but not at the cost of my own. I can’t lose her to you, man, I can’t.” he tells him, a tone of finality filling his words. Hanma shakes his head, again. In his eyes, he has no choice.
“Do you know I took her purity from her? Even if I die, she’ll never forget me for the simple fact I took her virginity. You don’t forget your first. And, you’ll never be able to love her like I can. Like I do.You’ll have to kill me to stop me from claiming my toy back, but like I said, I have no intention of letting that happen.”
You wonder if it’s the sociopath in him. He’s thankful that Kisaki was looking at his drink when Hanma’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. His heart rate quickened, the organ was pounding as he tried to keep a neutral, poker face. He managed to steady the tremoring of his fingers as he tried to pretend nothing was happening behind Tetta Kisaki. Crossing one leg over the other as he smiled and drank his whiskey in such a nonchalant manner. It roused Kisaki’s suspicion to see Hanma become his usual, cocky self.
Bang.
That cocky, trademark smirk wiped off of Hanma’s face in an instant. Instead, he donned an unimpressed, almost boredthin lipped expression as the blood of your ex-fiancé spattered across his face. He smacked his lips together, attempting to discover whether he could taste copper on his tongue as he paid no mind to your former partners body slump out of his chair and collide with the ground.
You were a coward for killing him like that. His back to you and no way to defend himself. You got him right in the back of his head, and you could only assume there was an exit wound somewhere close to between his eyes as it pissed blood and puddled around his body and seeped into his expensive Louis Vuitton suit.
“S-Shuuji…” you whimpered.
“Shush.” he demanded, getting up from his seat and tutting you into a stunned silence. You murdered someone. Fuck.You, a regular fucking person, killed Tetta Kisaki. Hanma grabbed your shoulders, firmly, kissing your forehead and forcing you to look him in the eye as he spoke to you. “You did the right thing, baby.” he assures you.
“I…killedsomeo-no.Killing is… it’s neverthe right thing!” you feel like you are screaming but in reality your voice has almost died in your throat as you try and articulate your conflicting feelings. He would have probably killed youfirst. You thought he was going to, tonight. Hanma did some terrible things to you but he neverbeat you. You’ve never felt so sore, so pained. And yet so lucky to be alive. And Hanma, fuck, you can’t believe this is reallyHanma. His touches are so tender and delicate. So sweet.He knows you’re hurting. He could see it in the bruises when you first stumbled into his home, yes, but he could predominantly see it in your eyes.
“Bastard deserved it and then some for doing this to you.” he states, you try to shake your head but you can’t. He stills your skull with two large palms, once again forcing you to look into his drowsy, golden eyes. “I’m a real piece of shit, but even I wouldn’t lay a hand on a woman. How could he hurt someone as precious as you?”
“I’m a murderer, Shuuji I can’t, I—”
“He didn’t tell anyone he was coming here. No one will know about this internal struggle. You know what that means? I’ll be taking over Kisaki’s role in the company. You’re mine, again, and everything is gonna be fine.”
“I don’t know…” you sigh, obvious concern in your voice. But again, he tuts, a feeble attempt of dismissing the worry from your body.
“Come.” he demands. “Into the shower, wanna wash this prick off us before I make arrangements to move him.”
“S-Shuuji, please. Please be—”
“I know, baby, I know.”
It is the most glamorous shower you’ve ever seen and will ever hope to see. The shower head is attached to the ceiling and you both fit inside with plenty of space surrounding you still. There’s even a small bench, made out of the same marble material as the walls you are standing inside of. Of course the door is glass, fogged completely with steam from the boiling shower as well as your rising body heats.
He sits, peacefully, allowing you to stand alone under the shower as you cleanse your naked, shaken body. You can’t help but giggle when you see his cock standing to full attention as he ogles you lathering your body in shower gel and allowing the water to cascade down your body.
You’d never of expected him to sit so patiently like this while he has you as his.You are officiallyhis property and he isn’t doing anything about it.
Or so you thought.
The nice guy act soon wore thin, and you found yourself shoved against the glass door. You struggled, slightly, your bruises aching the further he forced himself into you and against the glass.
“H-Hurts, Shuuji, it, ah—!”
“Can’twaitanymore.” he informs you as he guides his cock head to your sodden cunt. “Need to make you mine again.” he tells you.
And with that, you realise this isn’t going to be about you. He knows how to fuck you. How to make you cum. And yet, he won’t. His priority is himself. Filling you to the brim with his cum and marking your insides officiallyas his.
“Always had such a tight little pussy, haven’t you? All mine. All fucking mine.” he practically growls in your ear as he begins to slam up into you.
“P-Please, Hanma. Slower! Slow…” you beg, pathetically silent it’s almost drowned out by the pelting drops of water cascading against the ground. A simple ‘tsk’leaves his lips as he kisses your cheek and reaches around to fondle your clit.
“Wish I could kill him twice for making you so sore.” he hums as he allows his fingers to dance lightly across your battered skin. But it doesn’t stop him from pummelling against your body, if anything, he’s fucking into your sweet spot harder. He’s moaning, grunting, gaspingalmost, as he approaches his doom. He’s quick. He could easily lie and say it’s for your benefit, which it is. But it’s for him. The sooner your insides are painted white, the better. “Oh – fuck – ‘m cummin’, Christ‘m cummin’ baby.”
And you feel it, Godyou feel it because he shoots his load directly into your womb, you think. They’re silent thoughts, but he’s already thinking about you carrying his child. He always pictured three or four with you. Three boys that give the two of you hell and one girl he worships with everything he has. Not now, he hopes. With your mental state so fragile and everything so new.
His cum dribbles down your legs. But the minute you step under the shower, it’s being carried down the plughole by the current.
Definitely not now.
He abandons you, a towel wrapped around his waist as he heads towards his bedroom. You find a towel for your body as well as your hair, doing your best to chase after him without slipping and falling in the process. He’s rummaging around in his drawers desperately searching for something. He looks back at you, briefly, as you enter, and then back again with more focus as he takes in what he’s seeing.
“Towel off sweetheart. No hiding your body from me, wanna see every inch.” he instructs. You do as you’re told, unwrapping the white, fluffy towel from your body and exposing your skin to the freezing, air-conditioned room.
“What are you doing?” you wonder, sitting on the edge on his bed eagerly as you wait from him to come over to you.
Finally, he finds what it is he’s looking for. “Stand up.” he tells you, hiding whatever it is behind his back. Once again, you comply, watching him come closer to you and sit himself down. “Sit on me.” he demands. You straddle him. He kisses each and every inch of your body within his reach. He smooths his hand over the sickening blue blotches delivered to your skin by Tetta. You gasp, erotically, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth as sucks sweetly.
“Shuuji…” you moan, losing yourself to his touch. “What’s behind your back?”
“Somethin’ very special, it’s old but looks like new.” he smiles into your body. “I got you it years ago, didn’t get the chance to give you it.”
“I wanna see.”
He reaches behind his back. And it’s odd, the look in his eye is almost hesitant. Like he doesn’t wantto give it to you. He isn’t sure of himself. Is he worried that you won’t like it? But, your pleading gaze wins him over.
“I… I want to hate it, but I don’t. I, I love it.” you giggle. It’s a collar. A beautifulpink collar with your name engraved on the silver bone. “Oh God, I really love it.”
“There’s a leash too.” Hanma laughs. He raises it to put it around your neck, and you find yourself letting him with not a single complaint. Maybe you’re in a state of unknowing because of what you did to Kisaki. Nothing matters and nothing feels real. But for whatever reason. You are obsessedwith this new accessory. And it’s sick, because it feels romantic. In days gone by, you were known as nothing to him other than Hanma’s toy. But this… has your fucking name on it.
“Fuck. Hanma… ‘m really yours, aren’t I? Always been yours.”
18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, smoking, gun stand off, major character death, mentioned violence against the reader, domestic abuse, graphic description of murder, vaginal sex, creampie, collaring.
If you lined up Kaladin, Shallan and Adolin, and then asked someone “guess which of these people is not okay with killing in cold blood”, I don’t think they’d expect the answer.
![Ka Randy, peasant leader and agrarian reform advocate, was tortured and killed in his own home. [1]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a5329b5fe3e4312c51b53963f61c1fd6/ec4302d415f580a4-10/s1280x1920/8396317a8f397d0847cbe9fc3e8a01342701beb1.png "Ka Randy, peasant leader and agrarian reform advocate, was tortured and killed in his own home. [1]")
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