Credit to I.U.Y (pixiv) for the cover illustration.
Catnip
With a snarl of frustration, Kuroyoru Umidori threw across her room one of the many tankoubons that were stacked by her bed. It wasn't because one of her favorite series had been ruined by a stupid plot line or two characters being forcibly paired together. She wasn't a manga reader and couldn't fathom getting angry over fiction, much less getting angry over fictional romantic relationships. Actually, she was slightly envious of people who could be passionate about something so stupid, because they at least had something to occupy their meaningless existence with.
Kuroyoru groaned. What am I thinking...? Since when have I become so… pathetic?
The goth was experiencing a feeling that she couldn't shake off: boredom. An unfortunate side effect of having the Freshmen dismantled. Although there was always the possibility of starting back from scratch, she didn't really want to. If her only aspiration in life was being a pawn readily sacrificed when convenient, was there any use in going down that path? She wasn't constrained in being a part of anything anymore. No dirty work, no orders, no conflicts.
Kuroyoru groaned again. Like that means anything…
On the other hand, she had nothing to do with her time—assuming she was going to stay like this. All of the activities "normal" people do in their spare time were simply tedious and meaningless to her. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that she was desensitized by her experiences. Like a veteran going back into civilian life, everything paled in comparison to the intensity she had grown accustomed to.
When the raven-haired girl tasted the bitterness of her inner monologues, she threw away another half-brained manga she had tried to read—one of her many failed attempts at finding a hobby or a way to distract herself. Grumbling at yet another failure, she squeezed one of her dolphin plushies like it was a stress ball, its head swelling with big dumb beady eyes.
I should just sleep and think of something else tomorrow, Kuroyoru thought, nuzzling her dolphin plush. Her eyes darted to the rosy-peach colors smeared over the sky, then to the clock on her nightstand. It was tempting enough to just sleep until the early morning. Her wish to be away from the dullness of her life lulled her.
But a mere twenty minutes after she did, untimely knocking rapped her front door. Nothing put her in a bad mood like being roused up by loud noises. Not only that, loud noises made by some asshole whose life was probably even more pathetic than hers. And that was saying something. She rolled around and hissed, annoyed at how she felt worse than before, with the added bonus of her mouth feeling all dry. In a burst of anger, after the knocks wouldn't subside, she sprang up and rushed out the door, her dark hair and yellow bangs tangled like an unkempt cat. She blasted the most vulgar words and insults that came to mind. Until her mind registered who was before her.
Standing there was Misaka Worst, convenience store bag in her hand, her features stuck in between a mocking and surprised expression. Her grin peaked out from underneath her multicolor scarf. "Bad hair day Kuronyan?"
"What the hell are you doing here?" Kuroyoru growled, running her fingers through her hair to straighten it out in a hurry.
Worst gave an unassuming shrug. "Can't your best friend—"
"Friend? Best friend? You're most definitely not my fucking friend! Now piss off!"
As she was about to slam the door shut, the clone snatched her wrist. Electricity coursed from Worst's hand to the goth's cybernetics, making her arms feel numb and her knees shaky. A familiar feeling of helplessness stabbed at Kuroyoru's abdomen.
"You can't really think Misaka is going to take no for an answer?" Worst's ember eyes glimmered darkly as she spoke.
Kuroyoru couldn't fight back. She wasn't able to stop Worst from entering her apartment. She wasn't able to stop her from using her scarf as a leash to drag her around. She wasn't able to stop her from operating the remote to open the television to some inane game show channel. It was only then that the clone let go and that the electricity stopped flowing.
Plopping down into Kuroyoru's couch, Worst rummaged through her bag and tore open a box of Gekota-themed lollipops. She took one for herself and handed another to Kuroyoru, who was busy rubbing her arms in an attempt to lessen their numbness.
Kuroyoru stared in disbelief at the lollipop in her hand. "You're an unbelievable bitch, you know that?"
"A bitch would keep all the candy to herself," Worst argued. She did it with such a foxy grin, her canines bared for a second before she licked her lollipop, that there was no doubt that this was indeed Misaka Worst. For some reason that Kuroyoru couldn't guess, she was here, in her apartment, her arms and legs spread out over the surface of the couch like some slob while watching television.
An uneasy silence developed between them. Uneasy for Kuroyoru, considering that she helpless against the electromaster. Despite the circumstances, Kuroyoru was still bored out of her skull; the inanity and brain dead hysterics of the television didn't distract her from vigilance. She had thought she couldn't sink deeper into the muddy waters of irrelevance. Alas, the devilish clone had proved her wrong.
Doesn't she have anything else to do with her time? Obviously not!
Only someone with a lot of time to kill and nothing else worthwhile would be doing something so pointless. Imaging what had to have gone through Worst's head for this situation to unfold revealed a lot about her as an individual. First, she had to have thought about how pleasant it would be to watch game shows while eating candy, specificallywhile holding Kuroyoru hostage. Second, she had to figure out where Kuroyoru lived. Third, she had to know if Kuroyoru was there in the first place.
Another possibility sent shivers down Kuroyoru's spine. Perhaps this was all improvised. Perhaps she hadn't thought of the specifics ahead of time and had improvised. Such a carefree attitude wasn't too farfetched. Either option revealed a breathtaking lack of common sense and a shaky connection with reality. All of it still left Kuroyoru wondering what kind of person would even be doing this in the first place. Not being able to approximate the clone's motivation on rational grounds made her irritation spike. An answer did come to mind, but she dismissed it as her projecting her own state of mind on the brunette.
"Why are you here?" Kuroyoru broke the silence while indulging in her lollipop.
Worst's brow lifted slightly, her lips skewed in one her trademark grins. "Misaka is pretty sure most of your dialog has been punctuated by question marks up to this point."
"Because you're not giving me straight answers?" Kuroyoru smirked with barely concealed irony.
In barely one second, Worst's expression minimized from a grin to a bitter flat line. She stretched her back and arms and rolled her shoulders before reclining. With her head hanging and her brown locks following suit, she hummed, the sucker stick sticking out from between her wet lips, before she let out a prolonged sigh that expressed all of her mental aches.
"Misaka's really"—Worst shrugged in uncharacteristic melancholy as if still searching for the right word—"bored."
Kuroyoru almost swallowed her whole lollipop at the admission, and went on a coughing fit for a minute as sugary saliva had shot up through her nose somehow. As if to mock her, the television blared with applause. Handing Kuroyoru a pack of tissues while patting her back, Worst found a saliva-coated sucker on the floor which she threw in the empty packaging.
"You're going to live? Or do you have a hairball stuck in there too?"
"How the hell are you bored?" Kuroyoru snapped as she coughed once more. She stared wide-eyed at the clone in the same way she would be staring at someone affirming that one plus one was equal to three. "Don't you have some pranks to pull, that Number One to harass or something else? How can you, out of all people, be bored?"
It was difficult to grasp what Worst's ruffled brow expressed. But Kuroyoru knew that there was more than boredom swirling in those dark ember orbs; on closer inspection they seemed tired and were slightly bloodshot around the edges. Had something happened? What could have happened? Since she barely knew Worst, asking herself vague questions didn't help.
In the end, the clone didn't have a straight answer. Instead, she forced Kuroyoru into a chin lock and dug her knuckle into the top of her head like a schoolyard bully. "Do I have to ask Nya-sensei about when Misaka's allowed to be bored? Do you want a crash course on humility by yours truly~?"
"Humility my ass!" Kuroyoru snarled. "My dignity is on the line, you shithead!"
Worst's fist pressed down harder. "Whaaat's thaaat? You want Misaka to go fetch the cat extension parts~?" A maniacal Cheshire grin formed on her face. "And you want a litter box too?! Oh my, Misaka didn't know how committed you are to roleplaying~!"
Kuroyoru whined and protested, but eventually relented under duress—the repeated mention of the cat tail being her breaking point. Having manhandled the cyborg into submission again, Worst took little packs of Sour Patch Kids from the convenience store bag, two of which she handed to Kuroyoru, before sliding back into a contemplative pose.
As she grimaced at the first taste of candy, Kuroyoru couldn't help notice the odd feeling etched on the clone's face. That feeling of being interested in nothing and being tired by the act of breathing, just wishing to kill time efficiently as to not feel entropy wearing you down. It wasn't dissimilar to what she saw in the mirror each morning.
Wait a moment. Was she actually empathizing with this annoying bitch?
Kuroyoru almost wanted to snort at her own thoughts. More or less she was, but it wouldn't be the case if she weren't feeling the same. However, they did share at least one similarity—the thought patterns of Accelerator. Even that one thing made empathy easier between the two. And although she would never say it out loud, it felt nice to know they could relate over something as trivial as boredom
"I'm bored too," Kuroyoru admitted as she chewed on candy. It would've been better to sit there idly instead of drawing attention on herself, but she had said it.
At least it amused Worst, who felt the need to mute the television before hawing at the ceiling. "So we are boredom buddies?"
Kuroyoru's dark eyes glanced sideways, her exasperation clear. Nevertheless she slowly nodded, which prompted a twitch of amusement on Worst's lips. "Who knows, maybe something exciting will happen soon to get our minds out of the gutter."
"Like another World War?" Kuroyoru snorted.
"Maybe some scary organization called Freshmen II will arise to avenge its fallen predecessor and destroy the Graduates once and for all?"
Kuroyoru breathed out with a drawn out pfff. "You wish."
"Would be exciting though."
Interestingly enough, Kuroyoru felt the same, even though she didn't rationally want that. "We are most likely doomed to never feel content with anything but fighting and more fucking fight," Kuroyoru noted with a lack of interest, like a worn-out teacher grading papers. "So we better get used to the down time."
"We could sign up for a monastery and attain nirvana together," Worst said with overt sarcasm. "Then there'd be no need to fight anymore, right? We could do—well, whatever it is monks do."
"You go do that. Call me when you radiate fucking rainbows and lilies spontaneously grow on the soil you walk on."
It took a moment, but both of them laughed. It had been too long since Kuroyoru had genuinely found something funny. Laughing was usually reserved for her battered opponents or when evil triumphed. Carefree laughter was rare for her. But the image of Worst causing havoc in a monastery, with the wise old monks losing their shit at the blasphemy parading before them, was hard to not giggle over.
"By the way, Misaka never expected you to have those lying around." What Worst referred to was clear when she got a hold of a tankoubon lying at the feet of the couch. "You've got variety too," the brunette noticed, eyeing the stack by Kuroyoru's bed with condescension.
Fussed over the fact that she had spent money to buy all those, Kuroyoru rubbed her temple. "Thought for a moment I could enjoy those. Of course, I was dead fucking wrong. It's all garbage."
Worst flipped through the tankoubon in her hands until her eyes lit up with a spark. "Misaka has a theory. What if all of literature is nothing but the projection of what authors wished their lives were?"
"Isn't that inevitable? If you like wizards, samurais and fighting, you can write a story about it."
"That's what I mean. Think about all of the endless volumes of slice-of-life stories printed every month in magazines. Now try to picture what kind of author writes those."
"Someone who has no life and is trying to compensate?" Kuroyoru answered instinctively.
"And what better way to compensate that by having characters living your dream life, with all the little capricious details you wish for?" Worst clicked her fingers together. "Actually, ever noticed how most seem content with doing nothing of their day? Like, think about how boring and utterly meaningless the regular life of a student is. As in, not the dreamy school life that they show in manga."
For a moment, both of them tried to imagine it. The morning routine of waking up early to go learn stuff they couldn't even pretend to care about was as far as they went before they winced. As if thinking the very same thing, they reached for some candy to alleviate their pain. Then they attempted to imagine everything beyond that. Academic results, powers development, societal expectations and even family. Now they were full-on cringing.
"It's worse that what Misaka had pictured." Worst swallowed jelly peaches with a deep frown. "So… insignificant."
"But isn't that because we're fucked up rejects of society who were born in darkness?" Kuroyoru sniggered as she decapitated a gummy bear with her frontal teeth. "We can't understand how normal people live, like they can't understand us. What is normal for us is crazy for them and vice versa."
Yet it was insufferable to even consider they could've been living such a life. Perhaps it was better that society had exploited them, because they didn't have to play by its rules. Kuroyoru Umidori and Misaka Worst weren't even of legal drinking age, but they had the power to decimate conventional armies; together they had enough firepower to flatten a couple of city blocks before they could be stopped. Not that they wanted to do that. They were crazy, but not insane, and they had class and restrain—most of the time.
They quietly indulged in more candy until Worst piped up again. "You know what Misaka thinks? If we could turn Level 0s into Level 5s with a flick of a switch"—the clone spun a finger around her temple in circles—"they'd go coo-coo. They wouldn't be able to handle it. It'd be such a drastic change that we would look like saints compared to them."
"…So they'd be like all the other Level 5s then."
Worst exploded in howling laughter. "Misaka forgot it's in the job description!"
"You live with one," Kuroyoru sneered. "How could you forget?"
Images of Accelerator donning a psychotic smile flashed in her mind. There was nothing amusing about those memories considering what followed was her arm being broken, but it didn't deter her from laughing. That stupid guy's face and his hypocrisy deserved far more than high-pitched mockery. She had the track record of a moral paragon when put alongside the Number One, but somehow he pretended that he had some moral authority over her.
Don't do this, don't do that. Listen to me like I'm worth a cruddy nickel.
The more she thought about the albino, the harder she laughed, and she started to feel uneasy about that fact. To distract herself, Worst continued scanning through the tankoubon she had initially picked up. She threw it away in disinterest after reaching the back cover.
"Blergh! This isn't Misaka's type of manga at all."
"You have a preferred type?"
Kuroyoru had asked a purely innocent question. Was she actually interested in knowing the answer? Not that much. But she was enjoying conversing; she had forgotten her boredom and wanted to keep it that way. However, when a gleeful grin split Worst's face in half, the goth realized her mistake and hissed a strong warning.
"Oh what!" Worst pouted. "Can't a girl indulge in some y—"
"I get it! I get it!" Kuroyoru insisted with another hiss.
With a cackle, Worst prodded at the raven-haired girl's ribs with her elbow. "You must've checked out that section once in your life," she muttered into her ear with a deliberately neutral tone as to accentuate the factual nature of her inquiry.
Kuroyoru's face hardened. "Why the fuck would I?"
"Everyone is a little curious when they're young~"
"Not me! I wouldn't look at this shit if it was the last thing on Earth!"
Worst drew back, her mouth slightly agape. "Oh my god. You're totally, one-hundred percent serious right now, aren't you?"
"Do I look like I'm fucking kidding?" True to her word, she did not look or sound amused.
Finding the goth's demeanor hilarious and endearing by the fact she was getting worked up over nothing, Worst tried to hold in the combination of a snort and a giggle—a snorgle. She failed miserably and erupted yet again in laughter that could be heard from three blocks away. At that moment, the neighbor began to wonder if a hyena was on the loose, and some even called local pest patrol to investigate.
When Worst let up, heaving from her unabated amusement, she saw an offended Kuroyoru, arms crossed and hands digging into her armpits. "Now now~" the clone cooed. "No need to sulk over some friendly teasing."
"Speak for yourself, yaoi fiend," Kuroyoru growled lowly.
Worst blinked twice. "Yaoi?"
It was Kuroyoru's turn to blink twice. "Then what were you—"
A realization hit the goth, and it left an unvoiced "oh" on her lips. The whole situation went from frivolous to awkward. At least for her, since her initial assumption didn't have one particular implication.
"But," she blurted out, unsure of why she was voicing the obvious, "doesn't that make you a—"
"Is there a problem suddenly?" Worst's voice was simple and impartial, but slight wrinkles showed on her nose.
Shaking her head in a definite "no," Kuroyoru didn't add anything.
"It is bothering you," Worst remarked.
There was no answer Kuroyoru could give, partly because there was some truth to the accusation.
"Let me guess... You must be remembering every time Misaka teased you, constrained you, mocked you or used you for a gag. And what about every time Misaka got in your personal space? Or how about that borderline flirty talk? Right now, you're thinking that Misaka must've had an ulterior motive behind her actions all along. Isn't that right?"
Worst was right. Effectively that was the reason behind's Kuroyoru's sudden discomfort—the impression that she had misunderstood everything up to this point. It was silly and Kuroyoru understood that; it made her feel so stupid that her cheeks swelled up.
There's no way she meant anything by all that.
Misaka Worst was a prankster, a gadfly—and she happened to be the perfect target. She didn't even know why it mattered that Worst was either a lesbian or bisexual. If Worst had been a guy—assuming this hypothetical male counterpart was straight—she wouldn't be making the inference that the teasing was him secretly fancying her. She would just think that he's a bully that enjoys victimizing people.
What kind of lunatic am I to be fussing over this shit…?
As Kuroyoru was about to humble herself, the s-word hanging in her throat, Worst used her hands as pincers for the goth's face. Caught in this weird position, Kuroyoru could only stare at the clone, who was staring right back, her ember orbs steeled with an undeniable intensity.
"Well, guess what? You're entirely right."
W-What?
Had she heard that right? The mere thought that she had brought an incessant pounding up to her ears. She scrutinized Worst for any hint—any—of this being sick joke. But what she saw was very deliberate and very serious. There was no punch line in the air. Worst wasn't about to pull away and tease her about how judgmental she was.
This was really happening.
What the hell! She can't be—this can't be—
Worst led her hands away from Kuroyoru's shaken face to clasp the girl's hands. "Misaka doesn't really know how to do this, but..." She shook her head as to get rid of nagging thoughts, and she clamped their hands together harder. "You've got deep eyes that can kill, but become childish the moment Misaka starts teasing you. You've got a fantastic taut midriff, and the way your skin peaks out from your sides is appetizing. The way your bangs flow and sometimes cover your eyes gives you an alluring bad girl look."
At each of her enunciations, Worst let her unwavering gaze wander over the aspects of Kuroyoru she esteemed, might it be her obsidian eyes, her skin, her dyed bangs and everything else. She wanted to carefully stroke each of them so Kuroyoru could understand her appreciation in a more concrete way, but she refrained from doing that. She kept on going with the interminable onslaught of compliments, and it made Kuroyoru croak repeatedly. Whenever the raven-haired girl managed to utter a coherent word, Worst swiftly hushed it with a firm finger on her lips.
"And finally," Worst said last with a mindful smile, "you look downright criminal when you tear up with cat ears on."
All of what had unfolded left Kuroyoru in a stupor.
Worst's face fell and she withdrew her hands. She expected this and was prepared for this outcome, yet it still hurt regardless. She was a bully senpai confessing to the bullied kouhai. This was a natural reaction that any reasonable person would have in that situation. It didn't help at all that what she had said was a bundle of clumsy, lustful gibberish.
"Sorry. Misaka's shouldn't have said that," Worst buried her forehead into her hands. "She hasn't been in the right state of mind today and has been babbling stup—"
Misaka Worst felt her lips being crushed. She was caught off guard and was easily pinned down at the wrists. Her eyes were wide, and when the forced kiss ended, she looked up, awestruck. Kuroyoru, seething, tense, and with her muscles pulsing, hovered over her.
"Woah," Worst breathed out.
"Is that it?!" Kuroyoru snapped, her whole body convulsing in raw emotions. "You dare apologize after you said all of—all of—of this stuff and—"
Worst pecked the goth, silencing her, and she grinned with fake innocence. "Misaka forgot to mention that you're really cute when you're honest."
Something was let loose inside Kuroyoru. The few mental restraints that kept Kuroyoru in check broke, and she rumbled, the sound akin to a mating call, and she dived down for a hungry kiss, pinning Worst even harder. She wanted Worst for herself. Screw everything else. Screw the fact this made her gay. Screw how senseless it was to be doing this with someone that was arguably one of her greatest enemies. What she wanted was to repay in acts what Worst had told her.
No one has ever told me things like that…
Their rhythm got more pronounced when Worst began to claw at Kuroyoru's back; the clone sank her nails into the raven-haired girl's tense neck as she snuck one hand inside her top. They let out a satisfactory moan when Kuroyoru came up for air. "And—you know what I like about you?" the goth said, licking the saliva off her lips. "That you aren't even remotely afraid of me."
Worst tittered and sat up on her knees, undoing Kuroyoru's pin without exertion. "Don't be silly. You couldn't hurt Misaka even if you tried, Kuronyan," she drawled, bringing the younger girl into her arms so that not kissing wasn't an option. Their folded legs clicked together as did their bodies.
It was intoxicating sensation. Kuroyoru felt wholly enveloped by Worst. From the way a little drool would leak from their lip locks, to how the brunette traced her fingers on the "fantastic taut midriff" she apparently had. It wasn't only the creeping sexual fire in her body that made her enjoy it, but howfresh, how new it was.
No one has ever held me like this…
How long had it been since she had shared any intimacy with anyone? It had to be when she was still innocent, being breastfed by her mother. But that was about the only memory she could classify under "intimacy." Beyond that, the thing closest to sharing intimacy with another human being was when she watched the life drain from someone's eyes.
Taking in a whiff brought her back to reality—to the wholesome smell of lavender shampoo stemming from Worst. Kuroyoru's attention was now drawn by the curves of Worst's breasts and hips. It wasn't news to Kuroyoru that Worst's breasts were plentiful, and feeling them against her flat chest only accentuated that truth. But she didn't feel the need to obsess over them, instead deciding to knead Worst's sides and hips, which excited her far more.
Kuroyoru realized how strange it was to be with a woman. Despite being of the same gender, they were worlds apart—completely different. Compared to Worst, she was skeleton stapled to lean muscles with just enough fat on her to not be a stick figure. Not to mention the pathetic mounds that were supposedly her breasts. On the other hand, Worst was fleshy anywhere she dared touched—hips, sides, back, arms and even her face. It was absolutely tantalizing. Fleshy. Murmuring the word, her eyes in a trance, Kuroyoru's hands snaked down to Worst's perfectly round butt and gave it a two-handed squeeze.
Oh yes, definitely fleshy.
Worst pulled away with a winsome sigh, a string of saliva following her until it broke off. "Aren't you the eager one?"
Kuroyoru wordlessly stuck her lips against the brunette's throat, which resonated with a sort of deep and pleasant purr. Smirking, she sucked at the skin and made sure to litter Worst's neck and collarbone with marks of her presence.
They went back and forth with affections, feeling each other up and trying a few other things, until Worst assertively pulled down the raven-haired girl and trailed kisses down her midriff. As Worst had hoped, Kuroyoru shivered and bit her lip, the pink blush on her features darkening. This was one of her weak spots, much to Worst's delight, who spent several minutes worshipping it diligently.
Kuroyoru felt the brunette hook her fingers inside her trouser, and she tentatively pulled down, her intention quite clear. Worst wanted them off. Kuroyoru didn't object, but she tensed up and stared—stared at how Worst unbuttoned her trouser, and stared at how she was sliding back the zipper with her white teeth clearly showing. Bubbling ember orbs peered up, and Worst mouthed some words before yanking the trousers off.
Lucky coincidence, Kuroyoru was very skilled at reading lips. And she swallowed hard, repeating what she had read in her head: Misaka is going to eat you up. Eat you up. Eat. You. Up.
All that stood between that was her purple sodden panties, and Worst was already pulling at them. She was hungry—very hungry. And at that moment, Kuroyoru choked out some sort of yelp that came out way louder that she expected. Immediately, Worst's fingers were at a standstill. Fear flashed in the clone's eyes—fear that she had gone too far too quickly. She was about to withdraw, but Kuroyoru pulled her back in by her hair, shoving the brunette's nose into her heady groin.
"No, keep going," the goth beseeched, her eyes stinging in frustration. "Don't you dare stop now."
The modest blush that Worst showed expanded to the entirety of her head, and she swiftly obliged, roaring like a hungry lion as she flung Kuroyoru's panties to the floor. Without fabric covering her nethers, Kuroyoru whined in discomfort and sheer embarrassment. She averted her eyes, seeking out anything to take her mind away from invasive thoughts telling her to lock her legs together. Her eyes fell upon the silent television and its inanities.
A part of her truly wanted to run away like her life depended on it. But the fire that had been burned in the pit on her stomach had spread all the way to her root. If she stopped now, she would be a coward, and she would regret it until the end of her life. For God's sake, she was a killer! This was among one of the tamest things she could be doing compared to her usual repertoire. Besides, people had sex all the time simply because it felt good, and she wasn't about to pretend Worst hadn't made her feel damn good. She had made her feel like she was worth something beyondher ability to destroy.
When Worst's hot breath washed over her engorged sex, Kuroyoru braced herself. Her mind raced as did her fingers on Worst's scalp. She was so worked up from the foreplay that mere thought of Worst eating her pussy was enough to make her thighs squirm.
When it happened, when Worst gave her first lap, Kuroyoru's pelvis shot up and she screamed bloody murder. It didn't faze the brunette, who kept going at an agonizingly slow place, engrossed by the musky scent. She flicked her tongue where she pleased, licked at the spots that begged for attention and sucked at the younger girl's folds, all while paying close to what elicited the wildest reactions. As she kept going further, to the point that she was engulfing Kuroyoru's sex with her mouth, the goth finally looked down and thrashed with a resounding moan, her back arching further and further, until Worst had to hold her down forcefully.
Kuroyoru was mess, shaken by the pleasure, the shame and that voluntary helplessness. Pressure skyrocketed in her abdomen now that Worst held her lower body down. She had lost her way of no relieving the tension consuming her, and soon her fingertips numbed, her toes curled, and a big lump formed in her throat. It all was swept away when unfettered bliss shook her body to its core, and she let a mindless rattle loose, seeing stars and a flash of white at her climax.
When she regained some semblance of cognition, Kuroyoru found herself on her side, her buttocks chilly and hot dampness covering her from the pubis all the way to the edges of her thighs. And Worst held her in her arms, her eyes as clouded as her own.
"Kuronyan?" Worst spoke, her swollen lips freshly doused with secretions. She smacked them together subconsciously and called out again, "Kuronyan?" That silly nickname Worst had given her, whispered in such a husked tone, had to be stifled for the sake of her sanity.
The last thought that popped into the goth's head before she slept was that languid kissing was one of the most soporific activities you could engage in.
•••
What the two lovebirds on the third floor couldn't suspect was that one of the Sisters had observed the entire thing with binoculars. She wrested her dull eyes from the lens, and the clone's usually static face bloomed in an expression of annoyance.
The Will of the Whole Misaka Network clicked her tongue.
While she wasn't into snooping, the situation had become enough of a problem that every individual Sister felt concerned after today's debacle.
What the Sisters knew came from Last Order's eyewitness. At about 1 P.M., while Accelerator explained to Last Order why chewing on colored crayons would not give her rainbow-colored teeth, Misaka Worst had walked in, joint hanging from her lips while she blew smoke their way.
What had followed was Accelerator going on a crazed tirade that was mostly incomprehensible by its jet engine pitch. However, in what was understandable, a snippet seemed to resume the situation best:
"And I even covered for you when your retarded ass got drunk with Yomikawa's sake on the rooftop! And I thought that was the stupidest thing you had ever done! But no, you had to go one fuckin' step higher didn't you?! What is it going to be next? Am I going to find you in some dark alley one day with your nose full of blow?"
At that point, Worst casually dismissed the jet engine screaming at her as a "condescending wannabe father figure not worth a cruddy nickel," and noted with a snooty snort that "Misaka indeed went higher." Worst eventually ran out the door while she cackled madly, having just revealed that Accelerator hid a porno mag among the gray shirts in his second to last drawer.
When Last Order, shocked and confused about what had unfolded, asked what they should do about Worst, Accelerator crushed every colored crayon on the dining room table into fine dust with his power. When his anger had lessened, a weary Accelerator simply told Last Order—mostly to vent his smoldering anger—that the Sisters should have a go at babysitting Worst, because he already had his hands full. He added he would talk to Yomikawa when she came back home, then he started to sulk.
The Sisters, however, took Accelerator's suggestion very seriously. With an unhinged Worst running around the city, the Sisters had kept a close eye on her. Somehow she hadn't gotten herself arrested, despite casually turning over trash cans, hacking vending machines and engaging in many other acts of pointless delinquency.
It was at about 5:57 P.M. that Worst forced her way into this apartment. When the lurid action had started inside, Will had manifested in Misaka 10032 and sent the others away. It was better that she, an incorporeal AIM life form, endured the ordeal. At least now she knew Worst wasn't planning something truly evil, like donning a dominatrix outfit and using electricity to whip a defenseless cyborg-cat hybrid into submission.
No, Misaka Worst was still a Misaka. She might be powered by the negativity of the Sisters, but she was still one of them. She was their youngest and most troublesome sibling, and as family they had a responsibility towards her.
The Will of the Whole Misaka Network clicked her tongue again.
Will took Misaka 10032's cellphone and sent some words of wisdom to a certain albino before she relinquished her control over Misaka 10032. Said clone was was left to wonder what had happened to her.