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♡ Kissed By The Baddest Villain ♡

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WC: ~3,000

CW: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral sex, praise kink, fem dom, loss of virginity. Proof read but no beta.

Ch 10: How Lucky

You’ve been trying to wear Spinner down for what feels like an impossibly long time. 

Seasons have changed. Holidays have passed. And your patience is beginning to wear quite thin. He was supposed to be close to his limit weeks ago!

You know he’s attracted to you. You can feel the length of him digging into your back any time you sit in his lap and fudge your way through Majora's Mask, his breaths hot and choppy against your nape, hands firmly planted at each side of his body to restrict himself from grabbing you. At least you thought so.

What gives? You guys have made out already, so why doesn’t he respond to any of your come-ons?

The thought that he was the one teasing you all this time irks you in a way which you hadn’t thought to be possible. Especially on days like today.

As much as you would love to pretend that the action-packed lifestyle of loaning out your quirk is always fun and lucrative, you’ve found yourself struggling to find proper clothing that’s a) easily stolen, and b) can withstand all of the grime and damage that comes along with fighting. You’re currently trying your best to salvage a pair of jeans, but unfortunately, it’s looking like this is a job for the laundromat.

“Would you like for me to mend them?” Kurogiri asks between swipes of cleaning cloth to a shot glass. 

“No, but thank you. I don’t mind my own patchwork so much as I do the dead Nomu smell that I can’t seem to wash out of them,” you pleat the pants until they’re compact enough to fit in your hands. “I wouldn’t mind a lift to the laundromat, though, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” he obliges you instantaneously, a hazy opening to another location transpiring before your eyes.

Walking through the portal feels as misty as he looks, cool and tingly, the shift in space somewhat jarring when you step into the facility. The place appears to be empty as you scan the premises, but a faint humming can be heard somewhere in the foreground. It sounds familiar. Is that…? Oh. The little tune K.K. Slider sings at the end of New Horizons. It’s around this time that a mop of magenta hair catches your eye. 

“Spinner?” Your voice drags his face in your direction. 

He hits his elbow on the corner of a washing machine, rubs it soothingly as he says, “H-hey, Yumemi, I.. I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“Me either,” you hold up your pants, “but getting the battle stench out of these things couldn’t wait.”

“Nomu guts got on you too, huh?”

“Yep.”

“You wanna throw ‘em in with mine? I-I haven’t started it yet, is all,” he averts his gaze, still rubbing anxiously at his arm. 

You approach him with a grin, “That’s really nice of you. Sure you don’t mind?”

He shakes his head fervently, “Not at all.”

He’s so cute when he gets nervous like this. Tomura has a similar kind of innocence when it comes to women, but Spinner almost seems to have a total lack of understanding of what to do when you’re around in general. And with the way that he clenches his jaw, eyes darting to everywhere but you, his chest heaving over the simple act of being in the same room with him, you think you’ve identified the issue: he doesn’t socialize with anyone. At all. Which means he is more than likely not going to make a move, no matter how much you throw at him, due to being overwhelmed and under-socialized.

Cute.

You lean against the washing machine, throwing your pants in with his clothes, caring not to look at the contents inside, and then slap the button to get it to start. Going over the best strategy in your head on the fly, you sit atop the machine as it begins to spin, your feet dangling, skirt climbing up your legs. It isn’t for long, but you catch him looking, a fleeting currant glance that lingers for just a beat at your open thighs. You have a nagging suspicion that perhaps he was hoping for a quick glimpse at your panties. Guess you’re overthinking how much you need to strategize a conversation with him.

“I think you’re really cute, you know,” your confession has him gasping, cheeks bright pink, and he slaps both hands over his mouth to stop any more sounds from escaping. 

“What?” The word is muffled behind his palm. “This.. that’s not cool. D-don’t say things like that, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not being mean, and I’m not trying to joke around. I think you’re cute. And you’re really nice, too. I like you. I think you’re attractive. And if you like me that way, too, you should come to my bedroom when the laundry’s done.”

His eyes are wide and owlish as he slides his hands down from his mouth—which is so ridiculously dry right now that he swears he could choke—his breaths shallow and audible in the room.

Spinner swallows thickly, “C-come.. come to your room? For what?”

You kick your feet, giggling before you bite your lower lip. Your eyes flit to the door of the establishment, most of the wall it resides within a large, somewhat taped-up window, with a few people occasionally walking by in clear enough view. Yeah, you would definitely get caught if you tried fooling around with him here. Though you have your doubts that anyone would care with this area being a villain hub. But still. It’s in your best interest not to garner that kind of attention.

You sigh, “I wanna practice some more,” and your sultry tone hits him below the belt.

As if he were a prey animal feigning his own demise, he stands wholly and completely still, not even a twitch to show he’s among the living. Taking pity on him, you grab him by the wrist, placing his hand at your thigh and making direct eye contact all the while. A few stuttered exhales are knocked from his throat, punchy and raw, his feckless gaze not missing how you creep his hand closer to the hem of your skirt. His Adam’s apple bobs when you release him from your grasp. The touch lingers, sweltering against his palm, and you grin at him surreptitiously as you hum in approval of his digits splaying across the plush of your thigh. Balmy tension grows thick between you, the air becoming stifling. 

He looks at his hand. Brushes his thumb in a circle over your smooth skin. Looks to you for a gauge in reaction. You aren’t laughing, or recoiling, or pushing him away. Had you been serious after all?

“I’m leaving it up to you,” you hop down, texting Kurogiri to get you back to the hideout, “so I’ll be in my room if you’re interested.”

You scrunch your fingers in a wave before you walk through the portal and into the kitchen.

Now is probably a good time to shower. 

————

It’s as you’re drying off in your room that you hear footsteps outside of your door, stopping just at the threshold. How lucky, you think, to have the opportunity of taking two virginities in a row. He knocks tentatively, so soft it’s nearly inaudible—but you’re quick to answer, giving him no chance to turn tail. 

“Ah! Fuck, s-sorry, I didn’t know!” He covers his eyes when you open the door, dressed only in a towel, still wet. 

You can tell he’s about to slam the door closed, or possibly climb up the wall to escape the situation, so you pull him in and lock the latch behind you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, panting, cheeks on fire and mouth agape. He feels like he’s going to faint. Your towel is damp and clinging to your skin, barely covering your torso, the curve of your ass noticeable from beneath it.

“It’s okay,” you tell him gently, “I knew you might come by. You’re allowed to see me like this.”

Trembling hands are carded through his hair, “O-okay. That’s fine. Totally.”

“You ready to practice, or do you need a minute?”

His eyes meet yours, so big and bright that he can see his reflection in them. God, you’re so pretty. You’re so… well, hot, actually. Spinner would normally have a bit more of a romantic inner dialogue regarding you, but right now, with the only thing shielding your bare form being that tiny little towel, it’s difficult to think of anything other than what’s underneath. Practice is going to be difficult. 

“I’m ready,” his tone is strained, the shake within his words unforgiving. 

You drop the towel at your feet, his arousal pushing prominently to the front of his pants as he throbs at the sight of you. He isn’t sure what the etiquette is exactly when it comes to this, so while you lean in to kiss him, his eyes remain wide open, surveying whatever inch or outline of you they’re able to capture. Your tongue snakes into his mouth, and you can taste the mint of his toothpaste, feel him tensing as he tries to figure out what he should do first. His erection brushes up against your stomach when you keen into him further, eyes rolling skyward as his fingers drag along the wall behind him. You trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, nipping at the tender flesh there, eliciting a sharp groan to pop from his throat.

“Remember last time we practiced?” You ask into the junction of his neck and clavicle.

“Uh-huh,” his voice is airy and light, the tilt of his brow digging into his eyes. As if he could forget the last time you practiced. He’s been fucking his fist to the thought practically every day.

“You’ve gotta touch me. I really like it when you touch me.”

He exhales a breathy curse as he reaches to grab two greedy handfuls of your hips, careful not to sink his claws too deeply into the tender flesh there, pawing at you as though you’ll soon disappear. You’re plush and warm up against him like this. The sensation sends tingles through his extremities, zipping like the electric sting of static.

“Talk to me,” you speak into his mouth between kisses. “I wanna hear if you like something.”

Shuuichi moans heatedly, nudging his hips forward when you slot yourself closer to him, “I-I like touching you. ‘Nd you touching me. Feels good. It all feels really good.”

Your hands travel the contours of his body, acclimating him to your touch, a sudden gasp knocked out of him as your grip curls around the tent in his pants. At first, he writhes atop the wall, bucking into your fingers as your tongue laps over the pulse at this throat. Heat pools at your center when the pull of your grasp yanks this desperate keen from his chest, your lips wandering the line of his jaw, this jab of satisfaction coursing through you when he shudders.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you, Shuuichi?” Your question saunters to his ear, the words pluming steam from an engine into the atmosphere.

He nods his head with a quiet, “Yes.”

“Can I have it?”

He nods again, this time hastily, “Have it. Have me, p-please.”

With a grin, you increase the pressure over the pulsing bulge in your hand, sliding your palm up and down his shaft, relishing in the damp spot that’s growing at his tip. His head falls back to the wall with a thud, instinctually bucking into your touch as little whimpers catch in his throat. You switch to rubbing your thumb under a sensitive spot right beneath the head of his cock, and he slams his eyes closed, panting, a heady moan of pleasure pouring out of him.

“Stop. I need a minute, God.. ‘F you don’t stop, I’m gonna—“

“Practice is over, Shuuichi. That means you’ll need to last a while. You need to get off once before since it’s your first time,” you say to him, pointed and unwavering.

A flame’s flicker sparks at your core when you pull him from his pants, gripping him tight within your hand, smearing the precum that drips from his slit for lubrication. You aren’t sure exactly what you were expecting, but you’re pleasantly surprised. He’s got to be the biggest out of everyone, long and thick, heavy in your palm, with a trail of magenta hair leading from the base of him and up to his navel. He’s less monster fucking and more we wanted to try body paints. Not that you would care either way, if you were being honest with yourself. Seeing the look on his face is way better than anything else you could’ve asked for. 

“You were keeping such a pretty cock from me all this time?” You click your tongue. “That’s not fair. Mmf, you’re really big, aren’t you? Hope you like eating pussy, I'm gonna need you to warm me up before I can take you.”

The idea alone of eating you out has him close to unraveling, that familiar plunge into ecstasy fluttering at his core. He can’t believe you’ve got your hand around his bare length like this, watching his expressions twist as you stroke him, capturing your lower lip in your teeth and cooing praises with each sloppy rut into your fist. A particularly firm press of your thumb to his slit has him arching his back off of the wall.

He smears his face with his hand, words slurring, “Fuck, I’m.. Hah—oh that feels so good.”

He sucks in air through his clenched teeth, grunting, attempting in vain to bite back a strangled whine as his vision begins to sparkle, his cock pulsing in your hand and ropes of cum splattering into your palm. He looks so spent already. So fucked-out and messy, his hair falling into his face, the rapid rise and fall of his chest a true testament to how ruined he is. His cheeks blaze crimson when you lick his cum clean from your palm all the way to your wrist. This is so goddamn filthy. There’s no way he can ever go without it again.

You hither him with your index finger and sit at the edge of your mattress, legs spread, inner thighs slick with your arousal. Shuuichi thinks for a moment about what you said before. How you like to be touched. How he needs to give you more. So he kneels in front of you, hands kneading your breasts, all blush and narrowed eyes as he licks away a bead of water that trails down your abdomen from your still-wet hair, only stopping once he reaches your sternum. He can understand why you seemed so eager to have your hands on him before. Seeing your brows slant, lips parting to release the hitch from your breath, those yummy little whines slinking out when he rolls your nipples between his fingers is all fucking intoxicating. He mouths at one dusky peak, sucking until it hardens, a string of saliva connecting from his lolled tongue as he parts from you.

“I like the way you sound when I touch you,” his voice gravels an octave lower, pupils blown out until they’re near to overtaking his irises. 

“I want more,” you mewl. 

“Tell me and I’ll do it. Whatever you want.”

You spread your folds with your first two fingers, eyes twitched up and needy when you tell him, “Taste me.”

It’s almost embarrassing how quick he is to follow your order, diving between your legs as if it’s the only place for him to survive. Just looking at your dripping cunt has him hardening again already. 

He swallows down the knot in his throat, “Are.. are you wet because of me..?”

“I am so fucking wet because of you.”

A desperate sound racks from his chest, his stomach coiling, the way he wants you having all but grown teeth. He’s so nervous. Feels himself trembling, adrenaline skittering over his skin.

It takes every last bit of his strength to ask you, “Where do you want my mouth?”

“Here,” you rub the swollen bud at your center.

He’s gentle at first, sweeping his tongue across your clit, delicate laps teasing you in a way that’s unintentional. But when you grind yourself into his face, the vibrations of his groan tingling pleasantly, he increases the pressure, rolling the flat of his tongue more firmly in response. A pair of garnet eyes plead for your reassurance. 

You trace the pads of your fingers along his shoulders, “That feels good. Ahh—you’re doing such a good job, k-keep going.”

Shuuichi takes the encouragement in stride, delving his tongue into your sopping cunt, audibly loving every second of getting to devour you like this. Needful whines and growls blossom in his chest, never having been so satisfied as he is watching your expression shift when he returns the plush muscle to your puffy clit, your moans heightening, crying out for all of the stars you’re seeing. His dick twitches at the sound.

You tap him lightly on the forearm, “I’m warmed up. Nngh, Shuuichi, fuck me.”

But he isn’t too keen on relenting just yet. Sliding his arms behind your legs, he captures your thighs within his hands, pulls them apart for better access to your pussy. He narrows his eyes, locking a possessive gaze onto you as he laves viscously over that cute little clit of yours. If you should choose to end things after you cum, so be it. He doesn’t care if he gets to lose his virginity if it means you’ll cum all over his face.

A gush of fresh arousal slicks down to his chin, and he groans through an open mouth at the realization. He’s making you all messy like this. You’re wet for him. And you’re gonna cum for him as many times as he can get you there. He flicks his tongue up and down the soft bud, his eye contact unyielding as he spreads you apart, your clit visibly throbbing at his hungry strokes. You moan his name like you mean it, like this is as carnal and debauched for you as it is for him, gripping at your bedding until your knuckles blanch. White-hot bliss washes over you, fizzing and snapping at your core, overtaking your senses, tipping you over the edge as he gives a few whiny “uh-huh”s at the feeling of you cumming beneath his tongue. 

Your thighs clamp around his head, his fingers now sinking into the swell of your hips, pulling you as flush to him as he can manage. Let him suffocate this way. He’ll die a happy man.

“Shuuichi,” the husky tone has his eyes rolling back, “I’m serious. You need to fuck me. Right now.”

With some reluctance, he releases you, murmuring darkly, “I like tasting you.”

“God, it shows.. But let’s see how much you like being inside of me,” you grin, taking his length in your hand to line him up to your entrance.

His confidence is back to faltering some now, though not enough to keep himself from giving you a lusty once-over, his garnet eyes glittering as they trail your form. He inhales sharply when you tug him forward, your legs wrapping around his hips as the tip of his cock breaches you. His hands float nervously above your waist, unsure once more in such uncharted territory. You whisper sweetly for him not to be nervous, but he can feel the release he’s hurtling towards gaining on him much too soon. He throws his head back, swearing under his breath, the enthusiasm already so heavy-handed and he hasn’t even sheathed himself inside of you fully. His gaze snaps back to you, eyes like saucers. Shuuichi chews his bottom lip upon seeing himself about to slide inside of your cunt, sending you clenching around what little of him is within you.

“Ready?”

He nods, cheeks smattered pink. The second you move to sink his cock into the warmth of your drenched walls, whimpering at the stretch, he’s practically gawking at the sight of you swallowing up his length. You wriggle to accommodate the intrusive girth. Struggling to maintain his composure, he holds his breath as you ride him from atop the mattress to keep from screaming outright. He wants to bark. To howl. To let you pull him on however tight a leash you want. He’s yours. From this moment on, he belongs to you.

“Fuck,” the word is knocked out of him, laced with a moan, “how.. how are you so tight?”

His eyes fall closed, pinched beneath flexed brows, panting in ragged heaves and hips jerking unskillfully. You roll your hips, work him in and out of you as he adjusts to the rapturous squeeze of your pussy. He lets out a shaky sigh when you guide his hand to your apex, fluttering around him while he rubs you in sloppy circles with his thumb, the slacking of your jaw sending heat roiling under his skin. 

“You feel so good. Yes—ngh—like that, fuck me just like that,” you mewl, quivering as his cock slams against a sensitive spot up inside of you. The fabric below where you’re joined is sopping, the face you’re making so lewd it’s bordering on sinful, pleasure-soaked and jolting each time he impales you on his cock—though the way your voice shatters would’ve given you away in spite of it all.

“‘F you don’t want me to cum, don’t say things like that,” he chokes, the low rasp of his voice causing you to shiver. His hands grasp erratically at your thighs, practically squirming, your name falling mellow and broken from his lips. “A-ahh, ’n don’t look at me like that. You can’t.. God, just fucking look at you. What the hell? F-fuck, I can’t handle it.”

“How quickly can you recover if you cum?” Your hands lock behind his neck.

“Quick.”

“Then cum inside me and keep going.”

He’s about to ask if you’re sure, but you answer before the words can escape him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist and increasing the speed at which you rut against him. It takes no time at all before his orgasm crashes into him hard, all-consuming, waves of pleasure throbbing up from his center, and he’s thrusting into your cunt down to the root as he jumps inside of you.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s it,” he whimpers at your praise. “God, I love feeling you cum in my pussy like this.”

He slips himself out of you halfway, cursing under his breath at how his release drips down his length, combining with the slick of you to create this milky ring of arousal at his base. You’re pulsing over what’s transpired, and it enthralls him. His thumbs spread you apart so he can admire the vulgarity of it all. 

He is absolutely beyond ruined.

You, on the other hand, are reminded of why you love fucking villains so much. He doesn’t even soften inside of you. His refractory is ignored entirely, his stamina shocking as he pistons himself back into you, a cry singeing your throat with the return of his thumb to that tight ache at your clit. The overstimulation is something he isn’t used to, a delicious burn that touches on nerves he wasn’t previously aware of. His heady whines catapult to the ceiling, the wet slapping of the mess he’s made in your cunt sure to never leave his mind again. Your eyes have grown hazy, half-lidded with lust. Locking onto them pulls another jagged moan from his mouth.

“I know I shouldn’t be makin’ sounds like this.. Y-you’re just so—nngh—so tight,” his voice is raw and breathy, low in his register from being held so long behind his teeth.

“No,” you gasp, “lemme hear you. I love all these sounds you’re making for me. So pretty. Such a good fucking boy.”

His breaths pick up, soft whines woven in between them as he rubs your hardened peak, the anticipation of your undoing stirring him up, your heels digging into his back to encourage him to thrust harder. He obliges without question, staggered curses slithering from his lips. He’s so flushed and blissed-out, his pupils dilated wide, those pitiful mewls that scoop from his throat up into his head curling your stomach in knots. You tighten around him purposefully to give an experimental squeeze. He sobs at the pressure. 

“Feels so good. Hah—shit, ’s like you’re sucking me in. Gonna—oh fuck—gonna fill you up. Y-you want it? Want it in your cunt?” He’s near babbling, his words stringing together, as gauzy as his eyes have become.

“I do. I want it,” your voice trembles along with the throbbing of your walls. 

“Bet you fuckin’ do,” a particularly rough thrust has you crying out for him, and he angles himself to bully the spot once more. “That feel good? Fuck,” the curse leaves him like a shaky prayer. “You look like it feels good. Looks like I’m gonna make you cum again.”

You nod fervently, “I'm there.”

“Yeah?” He presses harder into your clit, fingers so slick that his digit glides across the swollen nub, the tip of his cock nudging that ledge deep within you. “You cumming on my cock?”

He feels even bigger as you clamp around him like a vice, milking him, his breaths catching, all but weeping at the sensation.

“God, yes! I’m cumming. Oh, keep fucking my pussy, I’m cumming,” the last of your words slur and warble as you drag your nails down his back, your eyes not leaving his while you spasm around him.

He pauses for a few seconds just to enjoy the bliss, to watch you trembling underneath him, to fully appreciate this earth-shattering tremor of your center as a shiver runs through him.

"Feels.. uhnn—feels fucking amazing when you cum on me," he croons.

He grabs you by the hips, plunging deep inside of you, pounding you ruthlessly and wringing every last bit of your orgasm from your puffy cunt as his own high crashes violently upon him. You feel him pulsing, a second load of his hot cum spilling within your walls. He groans, eyes screwing shut, loitering in and out of balance from the sheer exertion of three consecutive rounds. Panting, his arms collapse, finally softening as he positions himself next to you on the mattress. 

“Is,” he huffs, collecting his breath, “is sex like that every time?”

You snicker, “If you do it right.”

You card your fingers gently through his hair, careful, as though he’s spun glass. You’re so beautiful. Radiant, even, with the way your cheeks darken, hair clinging to your face and shining like spider’s silk. You smile at him genuinely. Sweetly. Softly. Like he means something. Like he’s worth doing this with.

Fuck it. 

He thinks he might love you.

Subversion Theory: Chapter 10 Posted

Subversion Theory Chapter 10

Every moment in this world felt hazy, every passing second inching her closer to some unknowable abyss, tamping down memory and morals, smothering instinct until she feared she might not know enough to run.

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

The misery of rare characters is being over here trying to fill some of the void but some nights I just want to read someone else's versions but then I remember I'm writing them because so few others are doing it 🫠

Subversion Theory: Chapter 9 Posted

Subversion Theory Chapter 9

“If I were to let my crew board your ship, I would be killing them,” Michael explained, a part of her struggling with the concept that she was trying to appeal to a monster. “Even if we survived you, we wouldn’t survive the Federation cull.” “Then there is no quandary,” Control replied. “You are already lost.”

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Subversion Theory: Chapter 8 Posted

Subversion Theory Chapter 8

Something was looking at her–seeing her–something that might think it knew her.

Something that might even think it was alive.

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Subversion Theory: Chapter 7 Posted

Subversion Theory Chapter 7

Discovery was not a threat by firepower alone, but Control had learned to never underestimate her Captain. Sufficient compression turned resistance to violence. A rat caught in a snare would still dare bite the spring.

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Subversion Theory: Chapter 6 Posted

Screencap modified with Photoshop + ClipStudio by AdelineIserman

Subversion Theory

“We need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt who this officer is, what she’s doing on Seraphis, and how the hell she's managed to evade discovery by the single most dangerous enemy the Federation has ever faced."

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Subversion Theory - Chapter 5 Posted

Subversion Theory

Seraphis, too, always seemed to work against her when she was there, like the vessel herself had a threshold of tolerance for sabotage–even when it was intended to free her.

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Subversion Theory: Chapter 3 Posted

Subversion Theory

It had waited so long, watched from the distant shadows of space, never far but ever attentive. It had witnessed her weaken, worn down by her duties and the death Control wrought on it all. Everywhere Discovery went, Seraphis had followed, just out of sight, out of reach, out of range of her weapons and scans.

Michael was vulnerable now. The Federation, Discovery, were more vulnerable for it. She must board Seraphis.

-----

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Another snippet from "Subversion Theory"

“You resort to derision and mockery when you are unsettled,” Control replied, unfazed by the question. “You are often unsettled in my presence. It has been exacerbated by the hallucinations you encounter while in your dormant state.”

“Dreams,” Michael corrected, grinding her teeth together. “They’re called dreams.”

She glanced up at it as the servos of its neck thrummed.

Airiam’s neck, she reminded herself, sickened by the way Control’s existence leached into the spaces where Airiam’s memory lived, and how insidiously it was eroding the distinction between the two.

“The more accurate linguistic selection is ‘nightmare,’” it said, the head twitching back to an upright position. “You experience them often.”

“And how would you know that?” Michael asked, her brows furrowing.

A motor whirred.

“I recognize patterns, Michael.”

-----

Subversion Theory

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Subversion Theory: Chapter Two Posted

Subversion Theory

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Control has the Federation on the brink. When the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham sees one last shot to turn the tide. But as Control's obsession with her deepens and the boundaries between ally and adversary begin to unravel, its objectives evolve into something far more dangerous--and lead Michael to question if she's still in control of her own game.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Relationships: Michael Burnham/Airiam, Michael Burnham/Control, Michael Burnham/Nhan

Rating: Mature

Snippet from my newbie that will start hitting AO3 in the next month or so

“I had to scuttle Hood today.” Michael exhaled, the heel of her palm digging into her forehead. She remembered the way Tilly had sounded in her call earlier that day. Broken. Hollow. That intractable optimism she’d tried so hard to hold onto when serving on Discovery was distant now, worn thin and feeble over time, every transmission more defeated than the last. Michael hadn’t wanted to give her up, hadn’t wanted to send her away. She worried for her, for the things that could happen now, the things beyond her control. But Starfleet was desperate for another captain–for someone brilliant and stubborn like Tilly, who wouldn’t mind the oldest, shittiest end of the Starfleet stick. The only vessel to survive the attack on the museum. The only one not connected to the core at the time. The only one Control hadn’t even tried to take, to corrupt or destroy, because she was just too goddamned old. But Franklin could fly, and that was all that mattered. If anyone could keep her alive in this kind of fight, it was Tilly.

Fandom: Star Trek: Discovery

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Michael Burnham / Airiam, Michael Burnham / Control, Michael Burnham / Nhan

Synopsis:

Three years after the attack on Section 31 Headquarters, Starfleet and the Federation are on the brink. Planet after planet is falling to Control, every attack more devastating than the last. There are no patterns, no viable solutions to stop the carnage, and with their resources dwindling, the last Federation starships are at risk of being corrupted themselves.

But when the USS Discovery begins receiving encrypted transmissions from someone claiming to be Starfleet who seems to know everything about their enemy, Captain Michael Burnham is forced to decide whether their new source is truly an ally–or if Control is luring the Federation’s last bastion of hope into a trap.