#jelly wrestles weasels

[greenskellyblob]

Underswap: my way

Queen Toriel rules over her people with a stern and protective hand. She is old, older than the barrier, and she believes she knows how best to keep her people happy and healthy.

Here, the cameras are used to keep the citizens safe from crime and to make sure no one that's struggling gets overlooked. The monsters that are showing signs of Falling Down get the help they need from the Royal Caretakers, headed by Undyne, who do their best to make them hope again. The caretakers provide therapy and medicine as needed. Pills with a low level of determination are one of the latest breakthroughs on that front and so far seem to be fairly safe.

Citizen's well being is put above all else, even their privacy and sometimes even autonomy. It is not forbidden to show negative emotions or be rude towards others, but it's generally thought of as selfish and harmful to others around you, so monsters tend to keep it to themselves. After all, doing too many harmful things might land you in Caretaker's care, since getting better is mandatory under the Queen's orders. Nobody is getting left behind under her rule. And most monsters are alright with it, since they see the Queen's intentions are good and they got used to wearing cheery masks in public.

The few monsters dissatisfied with this state of things join the murderous Traitor in the Ruins of the old capital, all the way on the other side of hotland, or make their own little pockets of privacy where the eyes of the Queen can't reach.

The knowledge that the barrier can be broken has been lost to the years. Some might say it's a purposeful cover up on the side of the Queen to take away a reason for conflict between the monsters and any humans that may fall. Some might say the Queen decided that a prison could be a safe haven for her people. In any case, the peace held for the six human children that fell and spent their lives among the monsters, and it should have held for many more.

But then Chara fell, and they, along with the Queen's adopted child MK, heard of the old legends and chose to try and both free and protect everyone. They wished to show them all the Sun as it cast its rays on the golden flowers of the surface.

[the-l-spacer]

Summary: In which Madeleine's latest attempt to hash things out with Espresso gets a little... out of hand.

This is my first cookie run fic i. genuinely can’t believe im writing for this game now. Anyways, hope ya like it!!

- 

He sees the knight striding towards him, spotless armour clinking smartly with each step he takes, cloak billowing ever-so-slightly behind him.

His lip curls, practically a reflex.

“Espresso. Do you have a moment?” Madeleine's voice, like his appearance, is meticulously crafted to capture the attention of anyone in his vicinity. A deep, resonant baritone that carries authority, brooks no room for disagreement, least of all disagreement from a particular surly practitioner of Coffee Magic.

Or at least, that’s what Madeleine likes to think. For all his chivalrous acts and airs seem to have no effect on Espresso in the slightest, who simply sighs and rolls his dark, bespectacled eyes.

“Do me a favour; skip the pretence that participation in this conversation is optional, and get to the point. I have research that needs attending to.”

Perhaps a few months ago, Espresso’s brusque reply would have stopped Madeleine in his tracks, wiped the genial smile off his face. But as it is, they’ve spent far too much time together (unwillingly, on Espresso’s part) for the other to be fazed by mere unfriendliness. So he simply barrels on as if Espresso had never spoken. “It appears as if that young band of cookies are keen on having us join their party.”

As one, they glance over to the campsite a little ways away, where Gingerbrave and Chilli Pepper are engaged in a mock-swordfight, wielding pieces of gathered firewood, with Wizard, Strawberry and Custard cheering on. Gingerbrave rushes forward, ‘sword’ held aloft, but Chilli Pepper sidesteps his attack, and before his momentum can carry him too far, grabs the scruff of his collar, and turns him to face her. “Sloppy work, kid. I could catch that coming from a mile away. Next time, try-” She pauses mid sentence, noticing Espresso and Madeleine’s gazes. She winks, and gives a two-fingered salute. “Hey! Wanna watch me spar with a buncha kids? There’s plenty of room on that log over there, but just a little warning, I charge adult spectators.”

Madeleine waves a hand. “No need to relieve our pockets just yet, friend Chilli Pepper. Espresso and I are perfectly content watching from afar.”

“And besides, we have better things to do,” Espresso adds, “Like being corralled by a paladin into having pointless conversations.” The last bit, he aims at Madeleine, who’s response is to grin wider.

If the irony in Espresso’s statement registers to Chilli Pepper, she doesn’t show it, and simply shrugs. “Don’t let me interrupt. You boys might wanna head a little further away to have that ‘pointless conversation’ though, it’s probably gonna get noisy up in this joint.”

“An excellent idea! My humblest thanks!” Madeleine sweeps into an exaggerated bow, and takes Espresso by the elbow. “My compatriot and I shall head a little further into the woods for our chat.”

Custard perks up at that, and shouts, “Be careful! There might still be cake monsters running around, and as king, I can’t let my subjects be hurt!”

“Not to worry, we’re more than capable of defending ourselves. If our previous encounters with those beasts suggested anything...”

As Madeleine talks, Espresso discretely tries to wriggle free from the hand on his elbow, but his attempts prove futile, Madeleine’s grip is loose but firm, forming a little cage around his arm.

He lets his arm go limp, and when the grasp loosens slightly in response, he flicks his free hand, around which (unbeknownst to the jabbering knight) shadows had been gathering for quite some time.

A tendril of magic whips around and strikes Madeleine’s wrist.

“-And as Knight of the Madeleine House, I was trained since I was but a little cookie, much like your merry band, to- ah!” When the tendril connects with a small thwack, he releases Espresso, jerking away as if burned (in actuality, the magic was really just a moderately heated slap. Espresso didn’t want to do any serious damage to Madeleine, after all.)

The seemingly permanent smile on the knight’s face falters, just for a second, and Espresso allows himself a moment of schadenfreude.

“Is... is everything okay, Madeleine?” Strawberry pipes up from her spot on the log.

“Quite alright, quite alright.” The ten-carat smile is back in full force, and once again, he waves his (non-injured) hand airily, though Espresso notes with some satisfaction the displeased side glance Madeleine shoots at him.

Espresso’s face pulls into a smile of his own, falsely sweet. “Well. Shall we be off, then?” He begins walking into the woods. True, he would much rather be tucked away in some quiet corner, poring over magical scrolls, but if he has to be subjected to this... chat, at least he can try to have some fun while doing so. Make Madeleine regret initiating contact, make him trail behind for once.

And sure enough, Madeleine follows after him, making long strides to catch up.

As they retreat into the forest, Gingerbrave shouts, “Come back in time for dinner! We’re having sweet jelly stew!”

“We’ll be there,” Madeleine replies, not needing to raise his voice for it to carry across the clearing where they had set up camp.

The other cookies give their final waves, and return to sparring, the sounds of cheering and wood striking wood fading the deeper in Espresso and Madeleine travel.

- 

Eventually, the noises from the campsite fade entirely, replaced by the chirping of birds, and the soft rustling of trees. The last of the day’s light dapples through the jelly forest’s leaves, and Espresso might have called the whole scene pleasant, if not for the cookie next to him.

They come to a stop in a forest clearing. “Is this far enough for your liking, oh Knight-Commander of House Madeleine?”

Madeleine leans against a tree, the light glinting off his armour. “You know, the attitude really isn’t necessary, and neither,” he cocks his head, glossy hair spilling over one shoulder, his reprimanding smile akin to a teacher lecturing a particularly irritating student, “was the use of dark magic back there.”

Espresso smirks. “Ah. Have I discovered your weakness? Is the pride of House Madeleine scared of a little magic? I just meant for it to tickle, really.”

A scowl begins to form on Madeleine’s face, before he schools it back into careful neutrality. “You must be intelligent enough to grasp my meaning. It’s not the act itself, it’s the…” He gestures loosely in the air, his right hand still slightly red, “... the spirit of it all. Cookies who fight together shouldn’t turn on one another. It simply isn’t right.”

“Mmm. Mm hmm. Of course it isn’t.” Espresso, in a bid to minimize the dirt from the forest floor getting on his robes, opts to hover just a little above the ground, and Madeleine has to crane his neck to meet his gaze. “And I’m sure wrestling the cookie you’re supposed to be fighting with into the woods is so much more excusable.”

Madeleine bristles. “You wouldn’t have agreed to this conversation otherwise, as you’ve made so abundantly clear in the past. All I did was ensure you wouldn’t be able to weasel your way out of the inevitable yet another time.”

“What about our current situation makes you think this conversation is inevitable?” Espresso snaps. “I’ve told you time and time again I don’t care for your company. Our paths crossed once, we travelled together briefly to achieve our own goals, and parted ways. We work together acceptably, and we tolerate each other, barely. What more is there to be said between us?”

“Well, for one,” Madeleine says, standing just a bit straighter, as if to deliver a set of prepared lines, “I was telling you, before we were interrupted, that Gingerbrave and his fellows seem eager to have us as travelers alongside them.”

“Yes. And?”

“And I’m sure you are as keen as I am on accepting their offer.”

Espresso stiffens. He hates cookies who presume things about him, and more than that, he hates when those presumptions are right. After a moment, he bites out, “Even if I was, what of it.”

“We’ll be traveling together once again. Serving as their protectors, and all that.”

“So what? As I said, we’ve travelled in each other’s companies before.”

“Yes, but I believe this will be our longest journey yet. They seek answers, a way to defeat the evil forces rising, and this is no easy feat.”

“I seek no such thing,” Espresso scoffs, folding his arms. “I only know that they’re searching for the Forgotten Academy, and that particular locality has a library I’ve been meaning to peruse for a while. I plan to travel with them until that point, where we will then part ways.”

“Even then, according to my maps the Forgotten Academy is weeks away. Maybe a month. Months, if we keep up our current pace. A considerable amount of time that allows for sour dough to spoil further. I simply think it… unwise, to allow things between us two to reach such a point.” Having finally said his piece, Madeleine pushes himself off the roll cake trunk, and starts towards Espresso, open palm outstretched.

No, not again. They had done this dance before, and Espresso isn’t planning to retrace those steps. He whizzes backward, out of Madeleine’s reach.

“I’m not interested in becoming friends, knight,” he spits. “And I tire of your constant overtures.”

Madeleine’s hand returns to his side in an impatient motion. “Must you insist on being this- this difficult?” He asks, voice fraught with frustration. “It is a simple offer. Put our differences aside and work together amicably, if only to to make our journey more tolerable for us and our companions.”

“Ahhh but there’s the rub, Madeleine,” Espresso retorts, “I’m afraid our differences are too great to reconcile. If that is all you have for me, I think I’ll be returning to camp. I would say it’s been a pleasure, but… you know better.”

He makes to leave, floating quickly away to leave the knight behind, but catches a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. Before he can react, Madeline moves forward, his armour and shield glowing. With a flash, the shield comes down on the edge of Espresso’s long, dark cloak, pinning it to the forest floor.

Both of them hear the telltale sound of ripping fabric.

“Don’t move.” Madeleine warns.

Espresso’s vision goes red. He gathers the shadows to him, wreathing his clenched fists in black swirls of magic.

He doesn’t move.

A pause, then the shield lifts.

Espresso doesn’t wait to rush backward, heading straight for Madeleine. This time, it’s the knight that finds himself unprepared, as Espresso grabs him, and with the help of his magic, lifts him in the air, slamming him against the trunk of the nearest tree.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” he growls.

Their faces are close enough now that Espresso sees the tiniest twitch of fear in Madeleine’s expression. He doesn’t yield, keeping him pinned to the trunk.

Madeleine speaks, holding both hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, now, I admit I was rather hasty, but there really is no need for-“

“- doesn’t feel nice, does it? Being trapped against your will?” Espresso cuts him off.

“Listen. I’m sorry things had to come to that point.”

Espresso sneers. Just as he predicted, Madeleine’s ‘apology’ is anything but. His mouth forms the syllables, but like a pedestrian one accidentally jostles on the street, his ‘sorry’ is merely a formality, said to hear the sound of his own voice.

Espresso doesn’t buy it, is what he’s saying.

“Save it. Save your pithy little apologies and insincere attempts at friendship for some other cookie.”

Madeleine’s face twists in indignation. “I’m not being insincere!”

Espresso drops him unceremoniously, the knight’s armour clattering when he lands on the soft earth. He tries not to betray his own fatigue, both in mind and body. Madeleine is heavy after all, weighed down further by his armour and weapons, making the act of holding him aloft (even aided by magic) one that had taken a not-insignificant toll on him. His feet touch down lightly on the ground, the glowing aura around him fades.

“Oh, spare me,” Espresso says coldly. “Every action, every toss of your hair or flick of your cloak, every word that comes out of your mouth betrays your insincerity.”

Having gathered himself, Madeleine finally snaps, drawing his sword from its scabbard with a metallic hiss. “How dare you.” His voice, a dangerous murmur, grows louder and louder, until it carries to the treetops. “I don’t know what I have done to offend you so. I attempted to be friendly, and reach out with offers of peace, as my family taught me to do for years, but you insist on rebuffing me, sullying my good name with your.. your insolence!”

The sword is pointed at Espresso’s throat, now, and the magician takes a careful step backward, keeping an eye on the gleaming blade. Madeleine doesn’t seem to notice, however, as he barks, “I’ve been lenient in the past, but as a cookie of honour, I can’t let such words continue to slide. The Divine, protect me!”

Celestial light bathes the forest clearing, surrounding Madeleine in its radiance. He lunges forward and swings his sword, a ray of light arcing from its blade. Espresso, caught unawares, finds himself knocked back, sent stumbling to catch his footing.

He regains his balance, clutching on to a tree branch, and counters the next light ray with an explosion of coffee beans that makes Madeleine's attack fizzle out.

“You know I’m right about you,” Espresso taunts, “in fact, we both know this is all a little charade you put on, because-” he plants his feet firmly in the ground, bracing himself against a third wave of light magic. “- beneath all your bravado, your shiny armour and fancy new weapons, you are empty.”

“That’s not true!” Madeleine roars, attempting to close the distance between them. But Espresso splays his hands, and a swirling vortex forms, pulling the paladin backward and into its dark center. Madeleine staggers in pain.

“You’re just a selfish glory-seeker, as slow and soulless as the monsters that- gah!”

Dexterity had never been his strong suit, so when Madeleine’s retaliating attack comes, he doesn’t dodge quickly enough. He sees the sword swing, feels an impact across his face, before his world goes blurry.

His glasses!

A lance of panic spikes through his chest.

He can’t see. He can’t see and he can’t look for his glasses either because if he steps on them that’s it. And Madeleine will win or worse he’ll just leave him here, in the middle of the woods.

The attacks stop coming.

The forest is silent once more, but for the two cookies’ heavy breathing.

Then, Espresso hears the crunching of leaves, sees the blurry shape of Madeleine stride towards him. He readies his magic. Madeleine passes him, and bends down over a spot Espresso can’t quite see.

A familiar metallic object is pressed into his hand.

“Your glasses.”

In a flash, Espresso has them on again, and exhales in relief when the forest comes back into focus.

“I never meant to knock them over. I’m sorry.”

Espresso is about to respond, but Madeleine says, “We should not have let our discussion escalate like this.”

“I’m sorry. We?!” Espresso’s recently restored vision colours. “When it was you who dealt the first blow? You, who initiated this discussion in the first place, who-” He trails off, righteous indignation fading slightly when he sees Madeleine, who stands at arm’s length away from him, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword, his expression unreadable.

“..Yes. Fine. As allies, we shouldn’t have turned on each other like this.”

Madeleine says nothing, so Espresso continues. “But as our previous attempts at civility have shown, you are incapable of holding a conversation without trying to domineer over me, push me into situations I do not want to be in. And I… I admit that I went too far in my personal assessments of you, but the fact remains that I simply cannot work with you beyond what we already are. Allies, and nothing more.”

For the second time, Espresso begins walking back to camp. Madeleine makes no attempt to stop him. “Thank you for retrieving my glasses. Good evening.”

Before he can fully retreat into the copse of trees, he hears Madeleine’s voice, saying, “Wait.”

Espresso pauses for a moment, and continues walking.

“Wait. Please.”

The word ‘please’ sounds so strange on Madeleine’s lips, and Espresso realises he can’t recall if the cookie had ever said the word in all the time they had worked together.

He turns his head.

Madeleine is leaned against a tree, arms folded and a foot kicked up against the trunk. His face is hidden by a curtain of hair.

“You are from The Republic, yes?”

Thrown by the sudden question, Espresso says, “Yes. The both of us are.”

“You’re aware that The Republic is a peaceful nation. No conflict within its gates, no monsters to be found without.”

Where is this going? Espresso responds, “Safe, sterile, and utterly boring. I’m aware.”

“Then what,” Madeleine turns his face away from Espresso, addressing the trees, “what use do you think such a nation has for soldiers? For knights?”

Oh.

Madeleine laughs, not his usual hearty guffaw, filled to the brim with bravado, but a short and bitter exhalation. “Do you know what it’s like to be, as you called me, the ‘slow’ one, in a family of scholars and politicians? For your only prowess to be your physical strength, in a place where that skill is entirely unnecessary?”

“But the knight order you lead-”

“- is purely for show. Just cookies dressed up in shiny armour to remind the other kingdoms we’re not to be trifled with. None of them have actually seen a day of real combat outside of sparring.”

Espresso is back in the clearing, picking a position next to Madeleine so he doesn’t see his sympathetic expression.

“Then… the reason you and all the knights were sent out?”

“As I said, my mission was to seek the legendary Soul Jam that is supposed to grant us cookies eternal life. Not that anyone in the Republic really expects us to find it.”

“They wanted to get rid of you, then.”

Madeleine visibly flinches at Espresso’s words. “I wouldn’t put it so bluntly, but… yes. I’m welcome back home, of course. If I were to return, I’d be met with trumpets and fanfare, but not much else, and certainly not anything approaching respect from those who truly matter.” The knight clenches his fist. “This quest is to be my saving grace. My only purpose, and the only way one like me can conceivably bring pride to House Madeleine. The only way I can be of use”

Espresso regards Madeleine, the revelation casting the cookie in a new light.

“So.. yes, Espresso. I am a selfish glory-seeker. Perhaps I have no other choice but to be.” Madeleine’s previously ramrod-straight posture is gone, and in its place his fists are clenched, shoulders hunched inwards, his hair tumbling forward, shielding his face from view.

And a small part of Espresso feels the strangest urge to push that hair back, to place a comforting hand on the paladin’s shoulder. Anything to stop what has to be the strongest — the most annoying, surely, but the strongest nevertheless — cookie he knows from curling into himself, from hurting like this.

But he holds himself back. All he lets out is a soft, “I think I know how you feel. Not entirely, but some of it.”

Madeleine turns to look at Espresso, a blank expression on his face. “You do.”

The mage lets a spark of magic fly from his hand - a single, glowing coffee bean surrounded by dark shadow. “You have called what I do ‘black magic’ in the past.”

Madeleine, suddenly stricken, says, “I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘black magic’, but-”

“- Listen. You have, countless times. And it annoys me to no end, but I understand why. It does look like it, no?” He conjures more coffee beans, letting them spin in circles around him. “I’ve had this ability since I was a child. It did not come from dark origins, I did not make a pact with evil forces to obtain it, as some have believed. It simply was. My magic, like your physical strength, is a part of me.”

Madeleine simply nods.

“But people don’t understand Coffee Magic. Whenever I demonstrated my abilities, I’d be shunned, the respectable citizens of our beloved Republic saying that I was a child of Dark Enchantress Cookie.”

“Espresso…” His magic fizzles out, and now, it is his turn to look away, incapable of facing the pity that is surely in Madeleine’s gaze.

“I was barred from every magic school. I had to learn, and practice, and make it on my own. If I didn’t have Latte Cookie, I don’t know how I would have-” Espresso shakes his head. “No matter. All I am saying is that I do know how it feels, not to belong. To have to carve a place for yourself among people who can’t respect you.”

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Espresso almost flinches. He looks up, and his gaze meets Madeleine’s, earnest and apologetic. “Espresso, first and foremost, I am sorry that I ripped your cloak in trying to keep you here.”

Espresso’s eyes travel to his torn (and expensive) wizard’s cloak. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to get it repaired once we return to camp.”

Madeleine continues. “And I’m sorry, truly sorry that I misjudged you based on your magic. That I pushed when I should have respected your wishes. Respected you.”

And this time, Espresso believes Madeleine’s words. He lets his own hand creep upwards to rest over the knight’s.

He sighs. “And I apologise, too. I made undue assumptions about you, and let these assumptions colour my actions. I treated you poorly, and for that, I’m sorry.”

When their eyes meet again, it is as if the forest goes silent, nature’s rustle and hum being forgotten as the two look at each other, and for the first time, understand.

Of course, no moment can truly last, and it is Espresso who breaks the spell, gently moving Madeleine’s hand off his shoulder. “Naturally, don’t think this means I’ll let you strongarm me into doing whatever you want me to. You still irritate me. Incessantly.”

Madeleine chuckles. “Naturally. Besides, I do not imagine such actions will be necessary in the future. I think we understand each other perfectly clearly, now.”

Espresso lets a grin creep across his face. Rolling his eyes, he says, “Don’t assume you know everything based on a tidbit of my past. I encompass multitudes, Knight-Commander.”

“In turn, I request that you not write me off just yet,” Madeleine responds teasingly. “I may not know everything about you, but I would be very interested to,”

Both their eyes widen, Madeleine realising the forwardness of his statement. “That is. I will give you the space you need, certainly, but if you ever feel like-”

“- Wait. Stop.” Espresso takes a breath, lets it out. “I- I do feel the same way. You’re a good fighter, and I did not let myself give you a fair chance.”

He crosses the short distance between them, and extends a hand. “I’m Espresso Cookie of The Republic. Founder of the Coffee Magic School. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Madeleine regards the outstretched hand in wonder.

"... Don't make a big deal of it, knight."

He puffs out his chest, taking Espresso’s hand. “And I’m Madeleine Cookie of The Republic. Servant of The Divine, Knight Comm-” He stops himself, clears his throat. Then, he smiles and simply says, “I’m Madeleine Cookie. It’s an honour to get to know you.”

[tcookies777]

Here is a sneak peek at a side story I've written for The Anatomy of Love (a KakaSaku modern college au - AO3 hyperlink included)! You don't need to have read the fic to read this side story since this is a flashback to Kakashi's past when he was a teen, but it does help to understand since it's in the context of the fic itself!

The Anatomy of Love: Side Story - The Angel from Hell

About 14 years ago….

Summer in Sound country was utter shit.

Fire country had its droughts for sure during this season, and more often than not the trees would catch fire just from the mere glare of the sun on a dried leaf. But at least the trees also offered plenty of protection from the heat so long as the Firewatch was making sure those trees weren’t burning first.

Sound country, on the other hand, had nothing but empty golden plains that seemed to stretch on for eternity. If it didn’t look like a sort of heaven, Kakashi would’ve thought he was in hell what with the sun burning through his clothes and the scorched patches of earth peppered throughout the fields—a telltale sign of the bombs that had rained down on the area not too long ago.

A summer thunderstorm last week had given them a brief reprieve from the intense heat wave, but it had still left them uncomfortably soaked in their own clothes. A week later, the sun was back with a fiery vengeance, and they were back to soaking through their tactical gear in their own stink and sweat again, but this time with the muck of the marshlands clinging to their boots.

It had taken almost the whole day to sludge through the marshes and find shelter at a farmhouse that seemed to have been completely abandoned days ago. They’d cleared the house and finished in disappointment upon finding that all of the livestock were either gone or already getting feasted on by the maggots. Most of the food in the pantry had also long been raided save for a single jar of strawberry jam and a cracked egg left to spoil on a shelf. It wasn’t that everyone was starving—although they were certainly hungry after a day out trudging through a war zone—but a jar of sweet strawberry jelly was practically bliss compared to their MRE rations. Even Kakashi himself was getting wearier and wearier over every pound of rice he had to eat with the bland curry packed in his ration meal.

So the moment Anzu had spotted the bright red jar, there had immediately been a scuffle over who got to eat it. Being the fifth in command (and with the first four already dead), Kakashi had asserted the order that each person would get their fair share of strawberry jelly: one scoop and only after they’d finished their MREs for tonight. Everyone except Obito had glanced warily at each other, reluctant to follow the command of a 17-year-old boy despite him outranking them all. But, not wanting to throw a tantrum over strawberry fucking jelly of all things, they’d each grunted in answer.

And now that last bit of the jelly was getting scraped out of its jar by Obito after Kakashi had passed his share over to him. Sweets weren’t his thing anyway even if he would kill for something homemade rather than a meal full of preservatives.

The leftover spicy powder clung to the base of Kakashi’s back teeth no matter how many times he swigged down some water from his canteen. It was like chewing on sediment, and judging by the faces of everyone else, he was willing to bet none of them were intent on eating curry anytime soon after the end of this tour. He didn’t blame them.

“Piece of shit!” Tsutomu suddenly snarled, unsheathing his kukri to swipe at the fly that had been assaulting his face for the last half hour. The fat insect buzzed around him before disappearing into the man’s beard that was still coated with the blood from when a Sound soldier had tried to bash his face in back at the marshes. With a growl, Tsutomu swatted at his beard, prompting two flies to crawl out and give him double the work.

Sitting closest to him, Yori ducked when his blade nearly chopped her ear off. “Watch it!” she barked at him, flicking her chocolate brown braid aside to pick up some of the cards she’d dropped. She was the only woman among the twelve of them here, and she was also the only one besides Kakashi who had the guts to speak up against Tsutomu whenever his bitching got too loud or too obnoxious. Usually both.

The rest of the unit was in the middle of a very intense game of Spoons, using a beat up pair of playing cards someone had the smarts to bring. Considering it was his first tour though, Kakashi initially could not fathom who would want to play a card game in the middle of a war zone, and especially deep in the trenches of enemy territory. But he’d soon discovered that a card game was the best way to pass the time when there wasn’t much else to do but scout, kill, and sit on their asses to do it all over again. As it was now, they were on their thirty-fourth round of Spoons, and he just needed an Ace of Hearts to complete the set in his hand.

Passing another card to Obito, Kakashi wiped away a bead of sweat from his brow. Tucked beneath his shirt, the hot metal of his dog tags rubbed uncomfortably against his slick chest. Summer nights in Sound country were almost as bad as during the day. The good thing about it was that the humidity dropped, leaving the air so dry that his tongue felt like paper every time he opened his mouth. The bad thing was that, with the place so arid, they couldn’t risk lighting a fire lest they burn down their only shelter for the night (or attract the wrong kind of attention). So they’d turned on their flashlights, thankful that the equipment had somehow survived the trip through the marshes but not so happy that they couldn’t even light a cigarette.

Even without a fire, the summer heat had become far more unbearable than the mosquitoes that assaulted them every hour of the day. By midnight, everyone had resorted to stripping their tops off and leaving only their tactical vests on, filling the small space with their stinky sweat. It went against protocol, but nobody—not even Obito—listened to him when he offhandedly commented that they were sooner to die from a mosquito bite than a bullet wound if they dawdled around half-naked like that. Even Yori had given up, leaving Kakashi as the only one fully clothed in his combat fatigues.

“Bet you we could cook an egg on the ground with this heat,” Obito rasped out, pressing the cool, flat edge of his kukri against his cheek. Not the smartest move unless he wanted to risk stabbing his eye out, but he was far too desperate to care at this point. “Fuck, man, what I wouldn’t give for a sunnyside egg.”

“There’s one on the pantry shelf downstairs if the flies haven’t got to it yet,” Kakashi replied dismissively, passing a Queen of Hearts card to him and then picking up—ah-ha!

Holding his fourth and final Ace, Kakashi surreptitiously slid a hand out to grab one of the eight bullets that sat on the stool they were all sitting around. It took twenty seconds for anyone to notice that there were now only seven bullets remaining, and then chaos ensued as the rest of the unit members wrestled for the last bullets.

Once the dust had cleared and the knocked-over flashlights were propped back up, they each opened their hands to show who had a bullet and who didn’t. Tsutomu didn’t, and he did not look pleased about it.

“All right, who won it this time?” Midori sighed even as everyone looked expectantly to Kakashi who’d already flipped his deck around to show them his complete set of Aces.

“Fuck this!” Tsutomu threw his cards down and jabbed his kukri in Kakashi’s direction. “He’s always winning!”

“And you’re always too slow,” Yori said with a roll of her eyes. “You don’t hear me bitchin’ about it.”

“Maybe because I would’ve made you shut the fuck up!”

Before the two could begin snapping at each other's throats again, Midori was already nudging his glasses up as he said aloud, “He’s a Hatake. They don’t call him the prodigal White Fang for nothing, so of course he'd win. He's one of those freakin' geniuses who excel at everything.”

One of the Aces in Kakashi’s hand folded slightly under his grip, but he said nothing as Obito glanced his way.

“Sounds like a freak to me,” someone mumbled.

With Anzu collecting all the playing cards to reshuffle, everyone had time to listen in on the conversation now.

“Ah, yeah, your old man was one of the hotshots in the military, right?” Genki sneered at him. His face looked like a weasel’s what with his long, sharp nose, narrow jaw, and beady eyes that twinkled as if he was constantly thinking of an insulting joke for anyone who caught his attention. But he was also the kind of weasel that shrunk back when a predator stared him down, and he did just that when Kakashi calmly turned his sights onto him. “B-Bet he has plenty of medals to show for it.”

Kakashi quickly looked away in disinterest. Fuck if he cared about his father’s medals. They were probably collecting dust and cobwebs somewhere in the back of a closet.

“Heard his Pops always carried a lil’ sword around in battle,” Tsutomu nodded to the hilt jutting out from behind Kakashi’s lower back. “Just like that one.”

“Who the fuck brings a sword to a gunfight?” Genki sniggered but just as soon stopped when he saw nobody else was laughing.

“It’s a tantō, you nitwit,” Obito said, slamming down the empty jar of jam with more force than necessary. Genki jolted in his seat from the harsh sound. “And it’s really no different from the standard-issued kukris we all carry.”

Tsutomu frowned at the knife in his hand that was almost double the length of Kakashi’s shortsword. He met Kakashi’s gaze over the curved blade, tawny eyes squinting at him for a second as if they were having a dick-measuring contest. Pleased with the extra inches he had over the younger man, Tsutomu lowered the knife to give Kakashi a smug grin. His shit-eating grin instantly flipped into a scowl, however, when the two flies from earlier suddenly appeared to attack his lips.

His breath must be that rancid, Kakashi thought with faint bemusement. While he could stand the pompous ass and his snide remarks, he couldn’t stand to watch Yori have to consistently dodge Tsutomu’s knife as he returned to stabbing at the flies with a vengeance.

Kakashi nodded towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. “Tsutomu, Genki, switch off with Haya and Jun. It’s your turn to be on lookout.”

They clicked their tongues in unison but obeyed without question, grabbing their flashlights to head upstairs and keep watch for the next hour. As soon as they left the cramped room, the stink seemed to follow after them (although that wasn’t much of a surprise). Haya and Jun came in, propping their sniper rifles against a cabinet that held nothing but smashed plates within. As they searched for a decent seat where they could put their feet up and relax as well as they could in a warzone, Kakashi pulled out a map from his pack and spread it out on the floor. With the beckon of his hand, he urged everyone to pay attention.

“Amegakure is fifty miles from here,” he explained, tapping a finger on the northeast quadrant of the map. “The package is reported to be held within an underground bunker disguised on the topside as a water tower. At 0600, we’ll be leaving to cut through the Dead Marshes to reach Ame by 1800.”

“Why is it called the Dead Marshes again?” Anzu asked before slapping a fly off his sweaty face.

“Because a hundred of our men died there just last month. Cut down in an ambush after the enemy got ahold of our intel. Everyone’s been calling it the Dead Marshes since then.”

“So why the fuck are we going there?” Yori demanded. “I'm betting those corpses are still floating around for all the fishies to nibble on.”

“Then that just means we have even more cover,” Kakashi said.

Jun snorted and leaned over to snatch the map off the ground. Like most of the other survivors here, Jun liked to question Kakashi’s leadership at every chance. In fact, he was the kind of guy whom teachers would rip their hair out over had he chosen to stay in high school rather than head straight into the military academy. Running a hand through his greasy blonde hair, he snorted at the map before tossing it back to Kakashi. “There’s a river that we can follow for a few miles. It’ll lead us straight to Amegakure much faster than the marshes.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Because it's too tiresome to explain to a numbskull like you. “Because I said so.”

“A fucking kid said so.”

“At least I have a high school diploma.”

“And a Bachelor's and a Master’s,” Midori coughed out. When Jun glared at him, he took off his glasses and pretended to get busy cleaning them.

With a sneer, Jun pointed his flashlight directly into Kakashi's face. “I don’t care if you're a Hatake. I don't care if you're some genius with a dozen degrees. And I definitely don’t give a flying fuck if our superiors kiss your ass and call you the White Flash—”

‘Fang’, Kakashi almost corrected him, but even he found the nickname distasteful.

“—I'm not going to put my life in the hands of some kid who cares more about the mission than his own comrades,” Jun spat out.

“Look,” Obito sat forward, prying the map from Kakashi’s grip and smoothing it back down on the floor. “The obvious choice is the river, right?”

Jun nodded and then stepped on the foot of Haya who’d been too busy staring at Yori’s cleavage. “Y-Yeah, duh!” Haya nodded vigorously until the heel digging onto his toes relented.

Obito spread open his palms in gesture. “Then you would think they’d have an ambush set up for us there too since it’s the ‘obvious choice’. The river will be guarded, but Sound won’t expect more Fire soldiers to try the marshes after the first group failed.”

“Ah, so reverse psychology?” Yori still didn’t look so convinced, but she was already eyeing the marshes on the map again with renewed interest. She frowned and then looked to Kakashi. “You said you want to use the dead bodies for cover?”

“The marshes are our best bet if we want to get to the package on time. And without getting butchered,” Kakashi added firmly. “We’re the only ones left of our unit, so we need to play it safe but right. But I also wouldn’t expect Sound to turn a blind eye, so we need to move with stealth.”

Yori rolled her eyes. “Tsutomu is the opposite of stealth, but I guess we could always use his bitch ass for cover if needed. I just fucking hate the marshes,” she said with a sigh, sagging in her rickety chair, still exhausted from slugging through the marshes all day. “But Hatake’s idea makes more sense.”

“The fuck it does not!” Jun snapped at her. “I say we take the river—”

“And I say we’re taking the marshes,” Kakashi said, his voice low but harsh enough to make the fresh graduate stiffen. When Jun fell silent, Kakashi swept his gaze around all the others sitting and staring at him. He took turns challenging each and every one of them silently for a moment, daring them to question his orders anymore. “I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t care if you don’t like swimming with the fishes and corpses. I don’t care if any of you live or die. I care about completing the mission—and that is securing the package. That is our duty as a soldier and if you disagree then you are free to take off your vests and dog tags, put down your guns, and walk out that door and all the way back home.”

Everyone shut up at that, and for the first time in six months, Kakashi was finally afforded the peace of silence without someone bitching about the insects, the commercial taste of their rations, or a stone that had found its way inside their boot. Satisfied with the room’s consensus, Kakashi leaned back in his chair, unsheathing his tantō to wipe off today’s coat of blood and mud that stained the edges.

It was Yori who broke the begrudging silence first when she suddenly withdrew her pistol from its holster. “You keep staring at my tits, Haya, and I'll blow you a new eye. Right in the center of your fucking forehead.”

“Chill, darlin'!” Haya raised his hands placatingly. “I was just checking out your tags.” As if to prove his point, he leaned closer to her, training his eyes on the cleavage that could be seen just above the collar of her vest. Still under the pretense of reading her tags, he hummed and stroked his chin. “Impressive.”

Yori cocked her gun in warning.

“Hey, I got a place where you can blow me,” Jun snickered at her, prompting Haya to do the same.

“That’s it—”

“Enough,” Kakashi leaned across to grab Yori’s hand that was reaching for the kukri at her hip. Something then slipped out of his front pocket, fluttering down until it landed atop of the map to reveal little Rin shyly hugging onto a scrawny boy with silver hair and a dead gaze.

Jun swooped down in the blink of an eye, snatching up the photo with his blood-stained fingers. He whistled low, angling the photo for Haya to see. “Damn, Hatake! You like your girls really young, huh? But I didn't take you as a guy who likes four-year-old pussy! Or is she three?”

Over the men’s cackles, Kakashi resisted the urge to skewer the Private 1st Class with the tip of his tantō. Especially not when he had just finished wiping the blade clean of today’s muck. “The only pussy here is the one in front of me,” he replied coolly.

Midori choked on the water he’d been sipping from his canteen, letting it splash all over the glasses he’d just finished cleaning.

While Jun was still sputtering from the retort, Obito stole the photo away from him. He peeked at it for just a split second before handing the picture back to Kakashi who immediately tucked it back into the safety of his pocket. He wiped his sword down one last time and then sheathed it loudly enough for both Jun and Haya to flinch.

A grim silence fell over the group as everyone else seemed to recall all the beloved people they themselves carried in their pockets. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, and lovers. They were all waiting for their soldiers to return home—even if it meant in body bags or as dog tags.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Obito quietly asked as Anzu started to deal cards for the others to play a round of Thirteen with.

It was a sincere question, but it was still a personal one that had Kakashi scrubbing a hand over his jaw. His hand came away tinged with the thin film of blood that had yet to finish congealing on his mask. He could smell the sharp notes of copper with every intake of breath, so he made a mental note to retreat to the bathroom later and wash off the grime. It was pointless, he knew that. By tomorrow noon, his mask would be dyed in splotches of red again, but tonight he wanted to sleep without inhaling the stench of a dead man.

Sensing Obito still waiting for an answer, Kakashi wiped his hand on his trousers and then sighed.

“She's a girl. And she's my friend….” And he had kissed Rin before, but that was more out of curiosity than desire. Besides, he didn't count it as an actual kiss since he'd just been seven years old at the time. “She's… special to me,” was all Kakashi gave in answer. “What about you? You got anyone back home?”

This time, it was Obito’s turn to shift in discomfort. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “Nah, I was... disowned by my family. I was always the black sheep, but one day, I fucked up and...” He paused to scratch his cheek for a moment. “And it cost my twin brother’s life. I mean, he’s not dead,” he added quickly. “But he got fucked up pretty badly from the accident to the point that... he’s like a shadow of himself. So I got kicked out of the family after that, got put in a group home, then joined the academy as soon as I could. I haven’t talked to my family or my twin brother ever since, so if I die... guess that’s it for me.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s the end for you. I mean, you’re free to haunt me if you’d like.”

Obito's mouth quirked into a grin. “You don’t mind me pulling all that poltergeist shit on you?”

Kakashi snorted. “With your butterfingers, you’d be dropping shit rather than throwing it.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Obito shoved at his shoulder with a laugh.

His laughter was cut short, however, when the heavy tread of boots stampeding down the staircase followed by the most unholy screeching interrupted everyone. Genki and Tsutomu appeared at the threshold, faces flushed with angry scratched lines marking their cheeks as if a cat had gotten the jump on them. But it wasn’t a cat that was making that screeching noise; it was a girl. Slung between them with her wrists bound in ripped sheets, she thrashed around wildly in search of an opportunity to—not escape but to bite at the men holding her captive.

White teeth flashed between long tresses of ebony hair as she tried to snap her jaws at Tsutomu’s thick neck. The man responded with a harsh slap that sent her face whipping towards Genki who was forced to reel back to avoid her bites.

“Lookie what I caught!” Tsutomu announced, grinning proudly as he grabbed the girl by the base of her head and yanked it back. She winced but made no sound that she was in pain. Even though her whole face was streaked with filth, it was obvious that she couldn’t be any older than fifteen years old. Only two years younger than Kakashi himself, but already looking as if she’d lived through an entire war. “Caught this lil’ bitch skulking around in one of the bedrooms. Probably was finding a spot to hide in so that she could slit our throats while we slept.”

There was no way she could’ve taken on twelve armed soldiers even with the element of surprise, but Kakashi didn’t doubt that she would’ve tried it anyway.

“I would’ve shat on your corpses too afterward!” she sneered at Tsutomu, earning a second slap to the cheek and making Genki flinch when specks of blood from her mouth landed all over his face.

“How the hell did we miss her?” Jun asked, stopping Tsutomu from slapping the girl again. “I thought we cleared this house from top to bottom.”

Apparently, you guys were sloppy about it, Kakashi was half-tempted to say. Instead, he stood up and yanked the girl out of Genki and Tsutomu's clutches by her bound hands. She struggled against him but just as soon froze when she felt the sharp tip of his tantō dig into the small of her back. Don’t move, Kakashi told her with a mere prod of his sword.

“Hey! Finders keepers,” Tsutomu growled, displeased that his catch was being taken away from him. His grubby hands reached for the girl, but Kakashi pulled her away from him and towards the staircase.

“We’re guests of this house,” Kakashi said aloud despite knowing that there wasn’t much of this house or its occupants left anymore. “This girl will be locked up in the master bedroom where no one is to touch her. Is that understood?”

Tsutomu took a heavy step forward to protest but stopped when the young Hatake turned his steely gaze onto him.

“Is that understood?” Kakashi spoke low, the lethal edge in his voice cutting through the tension like the blade in his hand. When Tsutomu bowed his head in answer, Kakashi glanced over at Obito who was looking at him strangely. “Relay to Tsutomu and Genki the plan for tomorrow.”

With a sharp nudge of the sword against the girl’s back, Kakashi prompted her to continue up the stairs. She remained silent on the way to the bedroom, but she didn’t stop trying to squirm out of the sheets roped tightly around her wrists. Kakashi took the moment to observe her calloused hands, deducing that she was a surviving member of this household. Probably the daughter of the farmer who’d lived here.

He didn’t ask where her parents were or why she was still here. Even though there hadn’t been any bloodstains found while clearing the house, he guessed that the rest of the girl’s family was already dead in a ditch somewhere.

“If you’re going to kill me then just do it already,” she finally said the moment she stumbled into the bedroom.

Kakashi closed the door first, watching her flinch at the sound of the latch clicking in place. “Turn around.”

She hesitated for a moment before obeying with a slow, reluctant pivot. Under the sharp beam of his flashlight, Kakashi could see the tear tracks that left a clean streak through the cake of dirt and dried blood on her cheeks. He raised his sword and she bunched her shoulders up despite the defiant tilt of her chin. The tantō flashed under the moonlight for a split second as he swung it down upon the girl.

She squeezed her eyes shut but then opened them when she found herself still alive... and with her hands free now.

Kakashi jut his chin towards the bed. Its sheets were still made as if nobody had ever slept in them at all. “Lay down there.”

She stiffened at this order, her body locking up more notably than the last time she’d hesitated. She took one step forward, and Kakashi caught the way her whole frame seemed to tremble before she hurriedly crossed the room and laid down on the bed, stiff as a board. The springs of the mattress creaked harshly, and her eyes widened as if the sound was a threat itself.

Grabbing a chair by the vanity mirror, Kakashi dragged it to the side of the bed before plopping down. His sudden close proximity to her had her sitting up rigidly, slim hands squeezing into fists on her lap. He would've preferred for her to remain lying down, but it seemed she was more comfortable sitting up, so he let her.

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he took the moment to study the girl. She had a split lip, a small cut above her brow, the red mark of a building bruise on her cheek (no doubt courtesy of Tsutomu and Genki), and dark bags of exhaustion weighed heavy beneath her eyes—eyes so black that they seemed to pierce right into Kakashi’s soul the longer he held her sharp gaze.

He looked away to reach for something in his pocket, pausing only when he sensed the girl stiffen again. Slowly, he withdrew the white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the girl. “Wipe your face.”

She scowled at the implication but snatched the cloth from him. Glimpsing the little sunflower design Rin had sewn into the corner of the cloth, the girl stared at it first before remembering to wipe the dirt off her face.

“My name is Hatake Kakashi,” he said as she cleaned herself. “What’s yours?”

When she refused to answer, he reached into another pocket, slowly again like last time. He watched as her wary eyes flicked down from his to the orange thing in his hand.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, peeling the fruit for her. “It’s a mandarin orange.”

A rare delicacy among their rations, but he was never one for sweets anyway.

The girl watched him peel the skin of the orange off like a hawk would with its prey. As soon as he offered her a slice, she seized the small piece from his fingers and stuffed it into her mouth. Her lashes fluttered slightly as she took that first bite of tangy sweetness.

“Good?”

She froze at the question as if she was a thief who’d been caught stealing the mandarin he’d offered her. Without warning, she spat the mashed bits of orange to his face, her frown deepening when she saw Kakashi didn’t even flinch from the attack.

“You’re a bastard!” she said as he casually brushed off the pieces of orange clinging to his mask. In an effort to add insult to the non-existent injury, she flung the now dirty handkerchief back at him. Kakashi merely plucked it off his chest, folded it two times into a small square, and then tucked it into one of his pockets before placing the rest of the orange in front of her.

He stood up and she shrunk back from him after clutching the orange to her chest.

“We’ll be gone in the morning,” Kakashi said as he scanned the room for any dangerous objects she might try to use in retaliation. “You can rest easy tonight. I’ll make sure no one touches you.”

Although he was kind of late for that.

“But if you try anything, we will have to use force.”

The warning was vague, but it left her shivering and glaring at him with enough spite to make any man give pause. He gave her one final look of caution before leaving the room to make his way to the bathroom. The farmhouse was old, and every floorboard creaked under his boots, but he preferred it that way. It kept him on edge—kept him alert for any signs of danger that may be lurking around the corner.

Even upon entering the bathroom, he swept aside the shower curtain just to make sure no other stray kid was waiting in the tub to ambush him with a butterknife or whatever these civilians resorted to.

Seeing the coast was clear, he stripped off his tactical vest and then the black sleeveless shirt underneath. The water ran lukewarm as he turned the knob of the faucet, and he splashed a handful down his chest for a brief respite from the blistering heat. Taking his shirt, he detached his mask and held it beneath the stream. Black, brown, and red tainted the pool of water along with loose sediment of dried mud. He grabbed the soap bar from the corner and scrubbed his mask inside and out, letting the bubbles froth.

After rinsing his mask, he wrung out the excess water before hanging the cloth on the edge of the sink to let it finish dripping.

A shout could be heard from downstairs—either Tsutomu or Jun since those two loved to butt heads with everyone—but Kakashi didn’t care so long as heads weren’t rolling. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he shrugged on his shirt and vest but paused upon hearing a sharp creak just outside his door.

Creak...

There it was again, but further this time.

Kakashi heaved a sigh and then yanked his mask back on, unsurprised to find it already dry. Tugging the door open, he stepped out of the hallway and was met with the hulking figure of Tsutomu. His burly back was hunched over as if the guy was in the middle of sneaking... towards the girl’s room.

The rest of this side story chapter will be published soon on AO3 and Fanfiction.Net! Thank you for reading!

[mavzoon]

Risotto x fem thief reader smutt

In this one, I will basically be unleashing all of my thirst for Risotto. The only one who requested this was my horny soul. This man makes me feral. He’s one of my top 3 favourite Jojo characters and it’s an absolute disgrace that I haven’t written a full-length fic for him yet. 

TW: very mildly dubious consent vibes at first because Risotto wrestles the reader down because she stole his wallet but then she gets horny, size difference, rough sex, dirty talk, some degradation here and there, extra submissive reader, choking, creampies, kinda anonymous as this is the first time you meet Ris in this fic, minor violence, just a lot of horniness for Ris in general.

Word count: 3278

cut for length

When you snatched the wallet of a random person, you had not planned for things to turn out this way. You panted and huffed as you raced down the deserted alley. You held the wallet near your breast, debating whether throwing it away would be the smart option. 

The man you'd robbed had noticed and began chasing you down. At first, you thought nothing of it when his footsteps disappeared. He must've given up and left, you'd thought to yourself. 

Then a knife had been thrown at your ankle. It'd only scratched you. To your surprise, you saw no one as you turned back to look at the person who'd thrown it to you.

As you went on running, you weighed the wallet in your hands, debating if stealing it was worth it. It was a lot of money… You tucked the wallet under your belt.

Your thoughts were cut off as you tripped on something as you were taking another turn. You landed on your stomach, barely stopping your head from hitting the pavement with your hands. 

Then you heard it. Footsteps. You threw your head around to see who it was but saw only a faint shadow of a person. You shook your head and blinked, but the shadow was still there. 

Your blood ran cold. Though you didn't see it, you knew that there was a person there. His shadow moved. Forgetting all about the wallet, you tried to crawl away, your palms stinging as the shallow cuts in them pressed against the concrete. 

You yelped as one heavy foot pressed on your back. You whipped around and kicked blindly. One kick hit its mark, and you heard a low grunt. The foot left your stomach, and he seemed to kneel over you. A hand took hold of one of your wrists and twisted it above your head. You snarled and slapped at the air, trying to hit him. Your hand found his neck, and you squeezed. Had you any coherent thought, you'd have laughed at your pathetic attempts to overpower him. You did comprehend one thing; the man wasn't actually trying to kill you.

Your nails dug into his skin, and you felt a little warm blood run down his neck. You twisted your legs about and tried to kick him off, but he didn't budge. Another hand found its way to your neck and squeezed. A flash of something dangerously close to arousal went through you at the feeling of his massive hand over you. You were so tiny and frail compared to him. 

Against all rational thought, you moaned as you began feeling lightheaded from the blood flow being restricted. The man eased his grip for a moment. You wanted to giggle. Bet you weren't expecting that, eh? Well, neither was I.

You were mildly disappointed that your vision was getting cloudy as you wanted to see the surprised expression he no doubt had on his face. To your astonishment, the man chuckled. You body tingled with warmth at his voice. It was so deep. It almost felt as if his voice resonated within you, turning your knees to jelly. At that moment, you wish you had taken a better look at him when you stole his wallet. To feel this needy for a man whose face you didn't even know was unbearable.

At some level, you realized you were being ridiculous. There was no telling what this stranger could do and yet you almost wished he'd choke you just a little harder. You barely noticed that your ankle was still bleeding.

To your delight, he took both your hands and pinned them above your head. His hand easily covered both of yours. You almost felt his breath hit your face. Your face was burning with a mixture of embarrassment and an irrational need for this stranger you hadn't even seen yet.

"Please-"

"Do you really think you're in any position to be making demands?" he interrupted you. A part of you felt like you could get off from his voice alone.

"N-no, I'm sorry," you whimpered as tears threatened to slip down your cheeks from the way he was still choking you. 

The stranger seemed to study you for a few seconds. He hummed. "You're awfully timid for a dirty little thief." He leaned closer, and you shivered as his hot breath hit your ear. "Could it be that… you want to be touched by a stranger? Hmm?" 

You watched in astonishment as his body appeared before you as the spell keeping him invisible was slowly lifted. Your breath hitched as you stared at his hypnotic red eyes. To your delight, he was wearing a jacket that revealed his defined abs. There was something about the way he watched you that left you feeling like a fly trapped in a spiders web, the only difference being that you relished being bound down by him.

Never once before had you felt this attracted to someone. 

He smirked. "Well go on, be a good girl and tell me what you want." 

You were so turned on you felt like you could cry. The stranger's voice had such an impact on you that your body tingled with warmth all over. "I w-want you," you whispered, barely audible. 

The man above you chuckled. You nearly moaned just from the sound. "Well, aren't you a desperate little thing." He gazed at you as if he were about to devour you and at that moment, and you couldn't be happier that he was the one you tried to rob. 

He took his hand away from your neck, and you couldn't help but whine.

"Oh don't worry, we'll get back to that, but first, won't you be a good girl and tell me where you hid my wallet, mm?" The man trailed a hand down your side, and you shivered.

"I-it's under my… belt," you mumbled, your voice weak.

Risotto seemed to find it all terribly amusing. "Oh? Is that so?" Agonizingly slow, he trailed his hand down to the edge of your pants. Ever so gently, he pushed up your shirt. You trembled. 

Finally, he slipped his hand down under your pants and belt. He pulled the wallet out, his fingers brushing against the edge of your panties, and smiled at you. You almost felt your heart melt at the sight of his dimples. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" he asked, still smiling.

You shook your head, timidly. 

He tossed the wallet to the side and caressed your cheek with one hand. He placed his thumb on your bottom lip. Before you had any time to stop yourself, you licked it.

You watched with delight as he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. He hid his surprise fast and smirked. "Don't think you can weasel your way out of this by acting like a good girl when we both know you're just pretending." 

You whined at that. A part of you wanted to feel ashamed for acting so desperate, but you couldn't be bothered when the way this stranger was acting felt just so right.

This time, you took his finger in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. The potential danger of the situation had almost disappeared from your mind.

In a second, the man pulled his hand away from your mouth and placed it on your throat again, choking you and cutting your breath off. "Don't think I've forgotten that you stole from me," he leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear. "You still need to pay for what you did." He bit your earlobe, and you yelped. 

He trailed kisses down your neck, his tongue brushing against your skin. He kissed under your jaw. The presence of him on top of you was overwhelming. You could only whimper and arch your back as to get closer to him in response. Your chest was tight with nervous excitement. Then it hit you. You didn't even know his name. 

"W-wait!" 

He pulled back immediately, making you feel all the more confident about your choice to do this with him. 

"What… should I call you?" you bit your lip.

 He studied you for a second and then smiled. Oh God, those dimples… "Risotto is good for now. And you?"

You told him your name.

"Cute," he, Risotto, kissed the side of your neck and whispered.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his soft touches. He pushed your shirt up and let go of your hands so you could take it off along with your bra. You winced as the feeling of the cold concrete against your back. 

Risotto chuckled and gently bit your exposed nipple. "Oh, is the concrete uncomfortable? Tsk, tsk, poor you..."

You mewled as he flipped you over on your hands and knees and leaned over you. Your pussy throbbed as you felt him unbutton your jeans. He pulled them down along with your panties. You shivered as the cold air hit your exposed cunt. You nearly jolted up when Risotto ran a single finger over your soaking folds. You were sure that by that point some of your juices must've dripped down onto the concrete. 

"Well, aren't you a dirty little slut… I've barely touched you and you're already soaked!" He curled his body over yours, and wrapped an arm around your stomach, placing the other one on the back of your neck. 

You whimpered at the feeling of his warmth over you. You couldn't help but try to wiggle closer to him. As you did so, your ass brushed against his groin, the feeling of his hard cock sending a bang of arousal and nervousness through you. While you had known he was way bigger than you, that had not prepared you for the sheer size of his cock. 

Risotto chuckled and pinched one of your nipples. "Aw, are you scared it won't fit?" He squeezed your throat and leaned down, trapping you under him. "I'd tell you not to worry, but… we both know that I won't be gentle."

Your pussy throbbed around nothing as you heard Risotto pull his pants down. You whimpered as the warm leaking head of his cock pressed against your entrance. You turned to look at him, your eyes pleading.

Risotto hummed. "I suppose I should prep you at least a little. It would be a shame if I broke you too soon."

Holy shit. You could swear you were burning up and getting closer to the edge from just the way he was talking. You mewled as Risotto pushed two fingers into your soaking pussy, curling them so they hit your g-spot. His two forefingers were almost as big as an average cock. He left a row of kisses and licks all over your neck as he worked you open with his fingers.

You moaned downright shamelessly when he pushed the third finger in. You gasped as he reached your cervix, feeling equal parts incredibly turned on and sad because there was no way you could fit all of his cock in you.

Risotto kept on teasing you, never letting up his pace. You were steadily growing near your release even though he had only been playing with you for a few minutes. You could hardly believe it.

Risotto, I'm c-close," you whimpered, your hips trembling.

He pulled away immediately, making you whine from the sudden emptiness. You gave him an agitated look. "W-why'd you stop?" 

Risotto smirked. "You don't get to cum until I let you, and I don't think you've been properly disciplined yet."

You watched with your face flushed as he licked his fingers clean from your juices. You couldn't get your eyes off of his tongue. You barely noticed it when you licked your own lips at the sight.

"Oh, do you want a taste as well?" Risotto asked, amusement obvious in his voice.

You nodded without hesitation. 

Risotto smirked and pulled you in for a kiss, his hand still lightly choking you. Before you had time to react, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

He guided his cock to your entrance, making your breath hitch. "Try and be a good girl for me now, won't you?" 

You whimpered and nodded. "I'll be good, I promise-"

He pushed the tip of his cock into your tight cunt, cutting you off. The walls of your pussy burnt from the stretch, and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you moaned with abandon. 

"F-fuck, you're tight…" Risotto groaned. Your pussy throbbed at the knowledge that he'd lost a bit of his composure because of you.

That sense of pride was lost as soon as he pulled back and thrust back into you. He set a slow pace at first, but you still almost lost balance from the sheer weight of his cock. Your moans echoed through the dark alley. On some level, you realized that you'd be caught if you didn't quiet down. 

Risotto seemed to realize this as he squeezed your throat just a little harder, effectively cutting off your moans and turning them into gargled whimpers and incoherent pleas. You threw your head back, hoping to see his face.

Risotto snarled, slamming his cock deeper into you. "Oh no, you don't get to see my face when you've been a bad girl. Just stay there," he snapped his hips forward and buried his cock in so deep you felt your insides struggled to accommodate him. A high pitched moan left you as you realized he was only halfway in and you already felt like you were ripping apart. 

"Ri-Risotto! I, fuck! You're too big, I can't- Oh, fuck!" The breath was knocked from your lungs each time he took you, his thrusts turning nearly vicious. Or maybe they weren't as rough as you thought and his incredible strength was just making it feel more intense. 

Risotto thrust in as deep as he could and for a brief second, his balls brushed against your clit, sending waves of warmth through you. "What was that? I thought you told me you were going to be a good girl for me," he kissed your neck almost gently before biting down. 

Your pussy throbbed and clenched around him.

"C'mon, be a good girl and take my cock." His chest pressed against you back, surrounding you with his warmth. "I know you can do it," he whispered, voice husky next to your ear.

The contrast of his warmth over you and the cold hard concrete beneath you was driving you insane. As if to challenge you, he quickened his pace, nearly knocking you off your balance again. Your hands trembled as you struggled to stay up. 

"Fu-ck, Risotto! Y-your cock feels so good, p-please! Oh god-" you cut yourself off with a string of choked up moans as your hands began to give out.

Seeing this, Risotto pushed your face down onto the concrete. You whimpered as you finally let your hands relax. To your surprise, you didn't mind the feeling of cold concrete pressing against your cheek when from that position because you could finally see Risotto's face. You had barely heard him over your moans, but just by looking at his face, you could tell he was also lost in pleasure. His eyes were clouded, a bruise was beginning to form in his lower lip from him biting it, and his jaw was clenched. A bead of sweat was running down his cheek.

You could only moan and clench at the sight of him. From the new position, he could go so much deeper. His balls slapped against your clit with each thrust, sending you consistently toward your release. The feeling of his cock hammering against your sore cervix sent sharp bangs of pleasure through you. Through the blinding haze of fucking, you could feel yourself drooling on the concrete and tears slipping down your cheeks. 

He chuckled, his voice breaking all the while into something almost akin to a guttural whimper. "God, you should see yourself! You're drooling like a bitch in heat. Go on, why don't you tell me how much you want this." He loosened his grip on your throat.

You didn't waste even a second. "I love your cock so much! Fuck, I can't get enough, pleaseeee give me more!" 

At some level, you realized that your hands would be covered with cuts and bruises afterwards, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when Risotto was using your body so deliciously. Your legs trembled and gave out, but Risotto held you up with a hand wrapped around your stomach. You tried to whimper out an apology.

"Shh, all you need to do is take it, so just let yourself relax, and I'll do the rest, okay?" He kissed just under your jaw and licked off a single tear from your cheek. 

You did just as he ordered and let Risotto control your body as he wished. He pulled your hips back, meeting his thrusts. Each sharp jerk of his cock into your pussy sent you barrelling toward your orgasm. With the incredibly size of his cock, he was hitting your g-spot with little effort. Had you any coherent thought, you would've found it unbelievable how easily he could turn you into a desperate mess of moaning and pleading.

Your moans neared sobs as you neared your release. You almost felt as if you might burst into small pieces from the immense weight of Risotto over you and the overwhelming feeling of him using you like a toy. Your toes curled at the warmth of his ragged breath hitting your cheek. 

You came with a shriek, trembling uncontrollably, your voice breaking into a mixture of moans, bleats and screams. You clawed at the concrete, not caring if your fingers stung. From somewhere behind Risotto's relentless movements, you realized that he had made you cum without even playing with your clit. It occurred to you that you'd do almost anything as long as he took you like this again.

"Cum in me, please! Oh fuck, please, fill me. Fuck! I want it so bad, please!" you begged without caring about how pathetic you sounded.

"Good girl…" Risotto groaned and kissed your neck, muffling his noises. 

He came with a loud moan and trembled, making you feel as if you might cum again just from the sound. You moaned as his cum filled you to the brim. You almost wanted to sob when he pulled away, some of the cum dripping out. 

Risotto's cheeks seemed to redden at the sight of you with your face pressed against the concrete and his cum dripping out of your sore pussy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he nearly growled.

You tried to reply but could only muster a whimper. You tried to get up, but your arms and legs felt like jelly.

Risotto chuckled, pulled up his pants, sat down and pulled you up on his lap. You watched as cum dripped from your pussy to his black-striped pants. 

"Are you going to punish me for ruining your pants?" you buried your face on his neck and mumbled with a faint smile.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around you. "Hmm, perhaps later but for now, I think I'll just hold you like this."

You took hold of his jacket and cuddled against him. Perhaps you should've hurried out of the alley before someone caught you two, but for now, you just wanted to relax in his warmth and the promise of there being a next time.

[savage-rhi]

what would higgs do if gene was like unavailable relationship-wise because we all need jealous Higgs in our lives ok

@avenged-nightmare YO. You made me think of this whole drabble when I was in the car doing errands. I think you’re right we need some jelly Higgs 😂💙

Higgs was never the type to regret much, but he could feel it twist and coil in his chest as he watched the locals in town dance to music a small band was playing. As his eyes scanned the horizon, looking over everyone’s happy-go-lucky demeanor, his gaze settled on Gene. Under most circumstances, he would have been amused watching her having fun with folks. Higgs wasn’t a social butterfly, hadn’t been for three years since he went into hiding after Amelie tried to destroy the universe and all life in it, but Gene made it interesting for him. That was until Nick came into the picture. 

Higgs was beating himself up, watching Gene and Nick from afar laughing at some sort of joke before they started dancing. The two couldn’t keep their hands off each other even if their lives depended on it. 

Since Higgs and Gene decided to rest in a settlement after escaping MULEs and needed to ration up for the delivery Eastbound, she had been with Nick the entire time. He was local, an ex-porter turned carpenter in a world where BTs no longer dwelled on earth and civilization could rebuild. A young guy in his late thirties, dark features, a muscled body, had his shit together unlike someone else. Nicks energy outshined Higgs’s charisma, and Gene took to him like a moth to a flame. There was chemistry, even if Higgs dismissed it. 

It shouldn’t have bothered Higgs. Gene could mingle with whoever she wanted. She had needs and Higgs respected that, but that didn’t tamper down how pissed off he was knowing they were joined at the hip the last three days. His mind stupidly wandered over thoughts that further aggravated his stress.  His blood constricted as he caught those little teases of the assumption his brain had conjured about the relationship brewing between Gene and Nick. 

Higgs squinted his eyes, glaring menacingly as he noticed Nick’s arms wrap around Gene’s waist, pulling her closer to him while the music went from vibrant to sensual. His blood boiled. Higgs was tempted to use the last of his remaining powers to put Nick in his place right then and there. 

“How are you holding up?” One of the locals asked Higgs, making him clear his throat as he tried to gain his composure. 

“Pardon?” Higgs asked. 

“You look like you’re close to going on a killing spree,” the man chuckled, shaking his head as he looked in the direction of Gene and Nick. The two were laughing as they swayed, their bodies perfectly synched with the music rising through the crowd. 

“You know, if you want to impress your lady friend, you’re going about it the wrong way.” The man stated as Higgs furrowed his brows, looking over him like he was a lunatic. 

“Ya’ll got the wrong idea, we ain’t an item. I’m just the bodyguard.” Higgs said, crossing his arms. In turn, the local shot Higgs a look that screamed he knew a liar when he saw one. Higgs growled, shaking his head as he looked away and back at the pair. 

“Sure doesn’t explain the crap you’ve pulled these last few days trying to one-up Nick at everything when your porter gal comes around. The arm-wrestling match, the banter, you sabotaging one of Nick’s buildings on purpose, trapping the poor guy in a ditch, trying to knock him down when he was on the portapotty before your gal caught you red-handed and bitched you out in front of everyone and their kin,” the local laughed, slapping Higgs’s shoulder as he shook his head. 

“Call it whatever you want, people can see through your bullshit.”

“Why don’t you fuck off and leave me be?” Higgs said firmly, his voice low as he looked down at the local, who shot his hands up in surrender. 

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist if he goes in for the kill tonight cause you were too stubborn to say anything about it. I had an idea to help your little predicament, but I guess you’re too proud.” He smiled at Higgs, genuinely, then began to leave. 

Higgs sighed, rubbing his face before he hollered.

“I’ll bite! What the hell ya had in mind?” 

“Thought you’d never ask!” 

 The music settled down while the band adjusted the set. The local shoved a guitar in Higgs’s arms while he bs’d with the lead singer for a moment, talking on Higgs’s behalf while Higgs looked at the crowd. No one was paying attention, too busy enjoying their drinks and chatter to notice what was going on at the front. He eyed Nick and Gene who were taking a break, drinking together. Higgs felt his fingertips squeeze the neck of the guitar, watching how genuine Gene’s smile looked while Nick’s larger than life persona engulfed her attention. 

“Okay! You’re lucky I know the band. You get one song. Make it count,” The local chimed in, snapping Higgs out of his trance as he swallowed.

“What?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention? What song are you gonna play? You said you were good at guitar, no?” 

“Yeah, I am but--”

“Don’t get cold feet, you’re this close to serenading your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girl you two-faced fuckin’ shit weasel--!”

“And you’re on!” 

The local grinned from ear to ear and backed off with the band members. The focus was on Higgs the moment the crowd noticed there was only one person on stage. Higgs would have given anything to punch not only the smug look but thick mustache off the guy's face as he gestured for Higgs to follow through. 

“Fuck me,” Higgs murmured under his breath, gently strumming the strings. He took one last glance over the small waves of people, seeing Gene wasn’t paying mind to anyone but Nick and his shit-eating grin. He could put a cupie doll to shame as far as Higgs was concerned. 

Taking in a deep breath, Higgs sat down on the stool the singer had been using and started to hum. His fingers tested the waters of the instrument, strumming a soft melody as his body began to move along with the beat. 

His brain was fighting with itself, wanting to focus on his envy while the other half debated on what to sing. He had no time to prepare and had never performed in front of a large crowd before. When Higgs was a porter before he threw his lot in with Homo Demens, he played here and there for associates during breaks but that was the extent of showing his talents and hobbies off. 

It was now or never. 

“Unkempt hair, unbroken gal. Strong as the rocks cuttin’ her feet. Never seen somethin’ like you. No, no, I never did. Strange creature, what are you doin’ in an untamed land?” The words broke through Higgs’s lips, voice steady like water smoothing the edges of a rock over time. 

“She crawled up the mountain to me. Her voice soft and steady, I-I don’t know why I never saw stars until that day. Those long, long days. Somethin’ about the way your hair falls in your face brings me back to a place where I could run, and never look back again. Too much spirit for me to take, she’s gone again, free of me free of sin.” Higgs closed his eyes, letting the instrument and its rustic tune speak words that couldn’t be spoken, only felt. He didn’t sense the crowd, not even Gene and Nick--too enraptured in the memories he had of when they had first met.

“Those eyes wide, that smilin’ shine makes me make a beast of myself. Come back to me, come back to the mountain and be with me. Her voice soft and steady, I-I don’t know why I never saw stars until that day. Those long, long days.” There was a pain Higgs allowed to come through his voice, his renewed feelings for life clashing with old ideals and bad habits he had spent years in hiding trying to reconcile. 

“Crawl up the mountain to me. Just a while longer, no-no-no,” Higgs briefly opened his eyes, and he swore in a single split second, Gene was staring right at him. Peering at a past reflection of Higgs that once upon a time begun to quit surviving and started to live when he first became a porter. He’d never admit how much he loved that. Not even to her. 

“Little warrior, crawl back to my mountain and be with me.” Higgs finished, feeling euphoria push down the ill feelings he carried as he received applause. He was quick to let the band go back to their routine, not wanting to steal their thunder despite how much his inner child was relishing at the moment--feeling like a rockstar for a few seconds. 

He needed air. He needed it fast. 

Higgs let out a deep sigh of relief when he exited the huge tent. His fingers shook, carding through his hair for comfort. In hindsight, he probably embarrassed himself, but Higgs wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful getting a taste of what he could have done with his sad life. 

“Hey,” Gene’s voice broke his train of thought after a while. Higgs cleared his throat, shooting her a quick smile.

“Hey yourself darlin’,” Higgs mused. His face felt warm as she smiled back.

“I didn’t know you wrote your own material,” Gene laughed as Higgs grinned briefly, giving a playful smirk.

“You never asked.”

“That’s fair.” Gene nodded. 

“Where’s Nick?” Higgs asked, looking over Gene’s shoulder before she shrugged. 

“Probably getting more beers,” 

Higgs could sense a disturbance in Gene’s voice, and a twinge of guilt began to sink his gut. As much as he was a jealous asshole, and had been a dick to both of them, deep down Higgs didn’t want to take away Gene’s fun. He knew he was a selfish bastard, realizing it even more so than before.

“He’s probably lookin’ for you. You’re like a mother duck and he can’t stop paddlin’ towards ya.” Higgs said sarcastically.

Gene snorted, shaking her head. 

“I don’t care. I’m sure he’s got plenty of others he can entertain.” 

“Guy’s a-walkin' distraction. Hell, I thought I was a peacockin’ creep way back when. I see what folks admire about Nick.” Higgs chuckled. 

Gene smiled slightly, before taking in a breath. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“If you’re ready for a personal answer,” Higgs smirked. “Shoot.”

“That was us--wasn’t it? The song.”

Whatever grandeur persona Higgs had been putting on during this conversation lept out a window and dived headfirst into an ocean. He was silent for a long time, almost to the very second where Gene prepared to change the subject.

“It was you,” Higgs murmured. “It was all you.” 

Gene’s mouth formed into a grin that made Higgs’s knees feel heavy. Nonetheless, he realized he must’ve embarrassed her doing that whole stunt, much like he did the past few days terrorizing both her and Nick. He was surprised when he felt Gene’s lips on his cheek, her nose softly nudging his skin. 

Gene shrugged keeping her gaze down, smiling big as she walked off to their camp. Higgs watched with a look of awe on his face before he murmured a proud yes to himself. 

He didn’t have the balls to admit his growing attachment to her, the mere porter he bumped into a year ago, but Higgs owned the little victory. It was enough for him. 

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

[kylecow]

Euphemisms for Male Masturbation

You know them, you love them...but you don't know ALL of them. Here are some great ways of talking about masturbation without actually saying masturbation. Some are funny. Some are strange. But hey, aside from performing the act itself, reading this list is the most entertaining thing you'll do today.

Abusing the wicked stick

Adjusting the antenna

Aiding and abetting a known felon

Applying the hand brake

Arguing with Henry Longfellow

Arm-wrestle with your one-eyed vessel

Attack the one-eyed purple-headed warrior

Audition your hand puppet

Backstroke roulette

Badgering the witness

Barking up the wrong tree

Bash the candle

Basting the ham

Battling the purple-headed yogurt slinger

Being rough with the sex stick

Be your own best friend

Beat the bishop

Beat the bologna

Beat the dummy

Beat the meat

Beat the pud

Beat the stick

Beat up your date

Beef tips stroking off

Bleed the weed

Blow your own horn

Bludgeon the beefsteak

Bop the bologna

Bop the bonzo

Box the Jesuit

Box with Richard

Brushing up on your typing skills

Buff the banana

Bugger your hand

Building upper-body strength

Burp the baby

Burp the worm

Butter the corn

Calling down for more mayo

Calling in the secret service

Caning the vandal

Caulking the cracks in the bathroom tile

Charm the snake

Check for testicular cancer

Cheese off

Choke Kojak

Choke the chicken

Choke the sheriff and wait for the posse to come

Clamp the pipe

Clean your rifle

Cleaning out your account

Clear the snorkel

Climb the tree

Closet Frisbee

Combing the hair on your bald pig Sally

Combing your hair

Communing with nature

Consulting with your silent partner

Corral your tadpole

Couch hockey for one

Crank the love pump

Crank the shank

Crimp the wire

Crown the king

Crushing pop cans in the dark

Cuddle the kielbasa

Cuff the carrot

Daisy-chaining

Dancing in the dragon's fiery breath

Dancing with the one-eyed sailor

Date Miss Michigan

Date Mrs. Palmer and her five daughters

Date Rosie Palm and her five sisters

Debugging the hard drive

Defrosting the fridge

Digital penile oscillation

Discovering your own potential

Distributing free literature

Do handiwork

Do it your way

Do the janitor thing

Do the white knuckler

Doing your homework

Drain the monster

Dry humping the ottoman

Eating grapes with the one-armed man

Electing the President

Engage in safe sex

Exercise one's right

Exercising your right to privacy

Fastening the chin strap on the helmet of love

Feed the ducks

Feeding bologna to the Smurfs

Feeling your way around

Fiddle the flesh flute

Firing the pound gun

Fishing with dynamite

Fist your mister

Five knuckle shuffle

Flick your Bic

Fling your phallus

Flip the bishop

Flipping your omelet

Flog the bishop

Flog the dolphin

Flog the dong

Flog the log

Flog the mule

Flogging the egg man

Fly fishing

Fondle your flagpole

Free Willy

Frost the pastries

Frosting your maple bar

Frying up the corndog

Gallop the old lizard

Gardening with the golden trowel

Genital stimulation via phallengetic motion

Get a date with Slick Mittens

Get the German soldier marching

Get to know yourself

Get your pole varnished

Give it a tug

Give your low five

Giving the half-blind dog a run for his money

Go a couple of rounds with ol' Josh

Go blind

Go on a date with Fisty Palmer

Go on a date with Handrea and Palmela

Go the blow

Going Hans Solo on Darth Vader's head Submitted by Jake W.

Goose the gherkin

Grease the pipe

Greasing the three-legged cow

Hand job

Hard labor

Have one off the wrist

Helping put Mr. Kleenex's kids through college

Hitchhike to heaven

Hitchhike underneath the big top

Hitting too close to home

Hoisting your own petard

Hold the bishop

Hold the sausage hostage

Holding your own

Hone the cone

Honk your horn

Hosing down the driveway

Hotfooting it to the nearest exit

Hug the hog

Hump your hose

Investing in pork bellies

Invoking the Oscar Meyer love spell

Jack hammer

Jazz yourself

Jerk Jamby

Jerk the gherkin

Left to your own devices

Letting the cat out of the bag

Liquidating the inventory

Locking the bathroom door

Look for ticks

Looking for clues with Fred and Daphne

Lope the mule

Love the Muppet

Love's labors lost

Lubricating the love monkey

Make a foreskin cone

Make instant pudding

Make the bald man puke

Making a cash withdrawal

Making chowder with sailor Ned

Making it up as you go along

Making magic with leftovers

Making soup

Making the bald man cry

Making the bread rise

Making the world safe for democracy

Mangle the midget

Manipulate the mango

Manual labor

Manual override

Master Bacon, meet Rosie Hancock

Meat with Mother Thumb and her four daughters

Milk the lizard

Milk the moose

Milk the self

Mount a corporal and four

Much goo about nothing

Nerk your throbber

Null the void

Oil the glove

Onan's olympics

One gun salute

One man band

One-night-stand with yourself

Opening the flood gates

Pack your palm

Paddle the pickle

Paint the ceiling

Paint the pickle

Painting the flag pole

Painting the picket fence

Palm the calm

Paying at the turnpike

Peel the banana

Perform diagnostics on your man tool

Pet the lizard

Pip the pumpkin

Play a little five-on-one

Play a one-stringed guitar

Play five against one

Play in a one-man show

Play peek-a-boo

Play pocket pinball

Play pocket pool

Play tag with the pink torpedo

Play the skin flute

Play tug-o-war with Cyclops

Play Uno

Playing it safe

Playing the one-stringed melody

Playing the single-string air guitar

Plugging in the toaster

Plunk your twanger

Polish Percy in your palm

Polish the family jewels

Polish the helmet

Polish the rocket

Polish the rock-hard staff of St. Peter

Polish the sword

Pound off

Pound the bald-headed moose

Pound the pud

Pound your flounder

Pounding the fence post

Prepare the carrot

Prime the pump

Pull rank

Pull the bologna pony

Pull the carrot

Pull the goalie

Pull the pole

Pull the Pope

Pull the pud

Pull your own leg

Pull your taffy

Pulling your own weight

Pulling yourself up by your own bootstrap

Pump the python

Pump the stump

Punch the clown

Punch the munchkin

Punish Percy in your palm

Putting your best foot forward

Putting your foot down

Putting your thumb in the porridge

Raining on your parade

Ram the ham

Relishing your hot dog

Riding the five-legged pony

Roll your own

Rolling it off the lot

Romeo and himself

Rope the pony

Rope the Pope

Rub one out

Rub the pink eraser

Rubbing Buddha's tummy

Run off a batch by hand

Sacrifice sperm to the god of lonely nights

Safest sex

Sailing the mayonnaise seas

Saluting the general

Sampling the secret sauce

Sand wood

Scour the tower of power

Scraping the bottom of the barrel

Scratch the itch

Screwing your courage to the sticking place

Secret handshake

Self abuse

Self-induced penile regurgitation

Sex with someone you really love

Shake hands with Abe Lincoln

Shake hands with the midget

Shake hands with the unemployed

Shake hands with your John Thomas

Shake hands with your wife's best friend

Shake hands with Yul Brynner

Shake the sauce

Shake the sausage

Shake the snake

Shaking hands with Dr. Winky

Shellac the shillelagh

Shemp the hog

Shift gears

Shine the helmet

Shine your pole

Shoot for the moon

Shoot putty at the moon

Shoot the airplane

Shooting yourself in the foot

Shuck your corn

Sizing things up

Slam the ham

Slam the salami

Slam the salmon

Slam the Spam

Slap high fives with Yul Brynner

Slap it

Slap pappy

Slap the carrot

Slap the clown

Slap the donkey

Slap the purple-headed yogurt pistol

Slap the salami

Slapping Johnny on the back

Sling the jelly

Smack the salami

Smiting the pink knight

Snap the monkey

Snap the rubber

Snap the whip

Solo flight

Solo marathon

Solo sex

Spank Elvis

Spank the bishop

Spank the frank

Spank the monkey

Spank the salami

Spank the wank

Spanking the rooster

Spending your Christmas bonus

Squeeze the cheese

Squeeze the juice

Squeeze the toothpaste in the middle of the tube

Squeeze your cheese-dog

Squeezing the happy lumberjack

Stewing in your own juices

Stinky pinky

Stir the batter

Stir the yogurt

Strain the main vein

Straining your cabbage

Stretching the truth

Strip-mining with the spaghetti man

Stroke the carrot

Stroke the mole

Stroke the one-eyed burping gecko

Stroke the satin-headed serpent

Stroke your poker

Stroke your Twinkie

Strumming the one-string harp

Take matters into your own hands

Take part in population control

Take the fifth

Take the monster for a one-armed ride

Taking a few practice shots

Taking a load off

Talk quietly to yourself

Tame the shrew

Taunt the one-eyed weasel

Teaching the Cyclops the lambada

Tease the weenie

Tenderize the tube steak

Tending to your own affairs

Test your batteries

That crazy hand jive

Thrash your thing

Thump the pump

Thump your thong

Tickle the ivory

Tickle the pickle

Tickle the taco

Ticklewigglejigglepickle

Tipping off the inspector

Toss the snag

Toss the turkey

Toss yogurt

Tug the slug

Twang the wire

Tweak your Twinkie

Twist your crank

Unleashing the alabaster yak

Unloading the gun

Unpacking the moving van

Varnish the flagpole

Varnishing the banister

Visiting with Papa Smurf

Wake the dead

Walk the dog

Walk the plank

Walking a mile in Mr. Wiggly's shoes

Wallowing in self pity

Wank with the one-eyed wonder weasel

Wash the meat

Wax the Buick

Wax the carrot

Wax the dolphin

Waxin' n' Milkin'

Whack it

Whack the weasel

Whack Willy

Whip the dummy

Whip the one-eyed trouser snake

Whip the one-eyed worm

Whip the rat

Whip the stiff

Whip the wire

Whip up some sour cream

Whip your dripper

Whitewashing with Huck and Tom

Whittle the stick

Wiggling your walrus

Windsurf on Mount Baldy

Wonk your conker

Work things out

Working at your own speed

Working late at the office

Working up a foamy lather

Working without Annette

Wrestle the dragon

Wrestle the eel

Wrestling with the bald champ

Wring out your rope

Wrist aerobics

Yank the crank

Yank the yo-yo

Yank your plank

[emblem-333]

Rebooking WrestleMania X-8

By 2002 “The Attitude Era” officially ended when Steve Austin slammed The Rock in the head with a chair his long time nemesis Vince McMahon fed him in Houston, Texas. 2002 is the period between the aftermath of The Attitude Era and what John Cena would define as “Ruthless Aggression” goes undefined. Casually lumped into the waning days of the aforementioned Attitude Era.

World Championship Wrestling went out of business for lack of money and years of a rapidly declining product. Paul Heyman’s Extreme Championship Wrestling went defunct not for a lack of interest or decline in the product, but for a lack of capital. Regardless, the WWE and Vince McMahon stood alone as kings of the wrestling universe.

Suddenly, the WWE (then the WWF) were given an embarrassment of riches. An awful lot of talented personnel found themselves without work and did not enjoy the finacial security the bigger names Hulk Hogan, Goldberg, Kevin Nash and Scott Steiner enjoyed after the demise of WCW.

Deciding it is in their best interest to introduce the new talent they had by having them pose as a band of rebels eager to takeover the WWE. The Invasion angle introduced wrestlers hardcore fans of the WWE were bred for more than a decade to hate. Rob Van Dam. Booker T. Diamond Dallas Page. Instantly made an impression on fans and carved out, at the very least, decent runs in the WWE. Only they packed the teeth to intimidate viewers. This became exemplified when numerous WWE personnel defected to the WCW/ECW alliance. Stone Cold Steve Austin and Kurt Angle switched allegiances against all logic because creatively the powers that be behind the camera did not have faith in the WCW/ECW products.

Overall, The Invasion storyline became quickly muddled in a constant string of betrayals, with The Alliance never really gaining the upper-hand in the feud as the two sides remained relatively even. It all came to its climatic finish for Survivor Series 2001. A 5-on-5 brawl between the best the WWF has to offer against the best WCW/ECW could muster up. At the last second Angle turned Babyface and slammed Austin to the canvas, The Rock got the pin and just like that Team WWF prevailed like Vince McMahon always wanted. The story devolved into another saga about the dysfunction of the McMahon family. Paul Heyman was marginalized as merely a cheerleader for ECW from the announcers table. Even though McMahon in real-life won the war, he had to show how much he did in his own universe too.

The night after Vince ceased to be a Babyface and returned to his familiar role as a Heel. Later, he introduces the New World Order to the WWE universe. Their task: take the company down from the inside. Okay. Sure. A weak premise lacking any foundation in logic. Point is, Hulk Hogan is back in a WWE ring. At the No Way Out pay-per-view the black shirted trio crashed a title match between Steve Austin and champion Chris Jericho. The three beat the snot out of the Texas Rattlesnake and with Y2J none the wiser proceeded to pin his challenger and retain his title. The NwO proceeded to beat on Austin some more before tagging his bare back in black spray paint with their initials.

Jericho went into WrestleMania 18 the champion, ultimately dropping the belt to a Babyface Triple H recently betrayed by his real-life wife, Stephenie McMahon, who sided with Jericho.

The NwO continued to raise havoc, taunting Austin and The Rock, going as far to nearly kill an injured, defenseless Rock by crashing a semi truck into a ambulance. Somehow, Rock was able to compete in a two-on-three handicap match not long after his brush with near death. The feud came to a boiling point at WrestleMania. Austin took on Scott Hall and Kevin Nash in a two-on-one handicap. While Hollywood Hogan challenged The Rock mano a mano. The good guys won out and Hogan, upon defeat turned Babyface and the NWO ceased to be relevant in the WWF despite hanging around for a couple of years.

We’ve all heard the original plans for ‘Mania that fell through because of various complications. Austin was supposed to square off against The Hulkster. Only neither wanted to job to the other and the two already having a history in WCW, the plan was scrapped. Then, it was designed to have Austin continue to feud with Hall and Nash, they were to go over in ‘Mania. Hall’s behind the scenes vices instilled a lack of confidence in creative and the plan was scrapped in favor of a easy, quick ending.

But what-if it was all different? What-if, there was more than bragging rights at stake heading into WrestleMania 18?

If you simply reverse the results of the Royal Rumble you have The Rock winning the Undisputed Title from Jericho, and Kurt Angle last eliminating Triple H to earn the right to challenge Rock at ‘Mania for the belt.

The Rock and Kurt Angle have had some brilliant singles matches together. There ain’t never been a better technical wrestler than Kurt and no one showed more razzle-dazzle in the ring than Rocky. In a vivid clash of opposing styles, they went together like peanut butter and jelly. For three consecutive WrestleMania’s The Rock headlined with the title on the line. WrestleMania 18 would be the fourth occasion in which that is the case.

There are contrasting stories on how well fans received The Rock in the moment. The conflicting reports during his match versus paint a picture of either a crowd who was split, indecisive or wholly on the side of Hogan. There isn’t a version where The Rock wasn’t viewed as second-banana. Either fans loved him, or preferred him as trash-talking Heel, or simply never cared for him. I hope the last possibility wasn’t the reality. The Rock found his footing as a Heel, made his best impressions as a Heel and as a Babyface wasn’t too bad either. Though, I preferred him as a Heel.

Nonetheless, the crowd was electric the entirety of Rock vs Hogan.

The otherwise tamed crowd roared for one match in particular and it wasn’t the subsequent Triple H vs Chris Jericho match, which by all means was the superior technical show.

But this event was based in Toronto. Hogan country. Here was the man, the myth, the legend, the gateway into so many childhoods standing before them. Of course, the ultra-Heel, murderous Hollywood Hogan was going to get the bigger, more visceral pop. By 1999 the NwO brand grew stale. Simply plopping them in the WWE universe as a fresh coat of paint was what the doctor ordered.

How Hogan worked the crowd is why people like Eric Bischoff sing his praises until he’s blue in the face. He’s seen the manipulation, the seduction of millions with his own eyes. Something no one can do quite like Hogan. The one ace up the aging legends sleeve was, in fact, his ability to captivate an entire arena that dearly missed him.

If you were the subtract The Rock from the tango is the mood any different? Possibly. Look up and watch the lukewarm reception Triple H versus Sting got. Two legends going one-on-one in the square circle in the biggest, most brightest of settings only to inspire little reaction. Was it because Trips style didn’t get the crowd into the moment? Yes. It’s also the fact Triple H was never a fan-favorite on the level of Hogan, Austin, Rock or even Angle.

You’ll need serious stakes to unglue the Toronto crowd. You need Triple H to fight for the good name of Monday Night Raw and against Hulk Hogan’s attempt to have NwO solidify itself as the sole opponent to Vince McMahon and the WWE.

The Game vs Hollywood, winner gets ownership of Smackdown. Hogan gives the people what they want and goes over on The Game. The next week, the NWO drafts little known bear of a man Brock Lesner first overall in the WWE draft the next week. Smackdown is rebranded “New World Order Wrestling.”

Why is this better? Firstly, it gives the NwO more to do after WrestleMania 18. They don’t stick around and meander until the plug is mercifully pulled on them for good. Instead of Eric Bischoff and Stephenie McMahon battling for Vince’s favor you actually have charismatic, personality driven personnel running the ship. The whole brand split gimmick was only hatched because the WWE signed a whole bunch of talent from the defunct wrestling leagues. All the drama around who is best is a farce because we all know where the money is going and the plug was never going to be pulled on Raw or Smackdown.

The New World Order Wrestling, where the Heels go over constantly and Babyfaces go to die! Is basically WCW only not run by idiots.

Triple H made a rare face turn after spending years as a womanizing, weasel Heel. His wife had left him for Chris Jericho. Trips suffered a legit quadricep muscle injury and was battling for his belt. The McMahon-Helmsley partnership which skyrocketed Hunter from mid-carder to top billing in both keyfabe and reality ended abruptly when their marriage broke off after Stephenie lied to Hunter about her being pregnant, as a way to force him to redo their wedding vows.

Stephanie aligned herself with Kurt Angle, refereeing a match between the two for the right to challenge whomever was the Undisputed Champion at ‘Mania. Naturally, Ms. McMahon was biased towards Angle leading to his victory and a brief partnership between the two. Ultimately, Stephanie choose the side of the champion Jericho. Ric Flair came out the night after Hunter losing to Angle to grant him his shot at a rematch, with Stephenie barred from the ring. Triple H was victorious setting the stage for an otherwise fantastic, but forgettable match and finish to a solidly executed feud which showcased Hunter’s ability to shift between dastardly Heel to lovable underdog.

Eventually you’ll get Lesnar breaking free from the NwO declaring himself his own man after winning the Undisputed Title from The Rock at Summerslam and single-handily puts the group into their coffins. Forever.

[startswithhope]

I didn’t know you snored until a half hour ago but i’m staring at the ceiling fighting the urge to kick you

I’m finally getting back to these bed-sharing prompts! And because writing the last Friends to Lovers with no pining was so fun, here’s another one. ;) (3000 ish words - Rated M, obviously) AO3

“You sure you’re okay with this, Swan?”

“Yeah, no big deal.” Quickly walking past Killian and their one full size bed on her way to the bathroom, she hopes the nonchalance in her voice sounded believable.

It had been a great day. A seriously great day. In what had been an uncharacteristically impulsive decision, Emma had taken Killian up on his offer to come out here with him during Spring Break. She had been just as curious to see the Grand Canyon as to see what it would be like to hang out with her fellow professor outside of the stuffy confines of their day to day life. They’d started out a bit like oil and water when they had first met, his bad boy reputation and constant flirting the exact opposite of her favorite thing. But man, was he persistent. After a few months of sharing an office he’d somehow weaseled his way past a few of her defenses, giving him a well-earned spot on her friend list, a list with very few names. There were other times though, like earlier tonight, with the two of them lying close together beneath a breathtaking blanket of stars, that she wondered if his name was getting closer to finding its way to another list, one she thought she had closed off for new members long ago.

So yeah, she’s perfectly fine sharing a too small bed with Killian Jones, because that isn’t going to be complicated or uncomfortable…not at all. Curse these tiny cabins. As she brushes her teeth she stares at herself in the mirror, taking in the bit of pink on her cheeks from their hours spent hiking in the sun, remembering how they had ached from smiling and laughing at the man on the other side of the bathroom door. God, it really has been a great day. She hopes she doesn’t somehow ruin it by acting weird now. It’s been years since she’s shared a bed with a man for anything other than sex - and sleeping together after that, nope, not on the table. So the idea of just the sleeping is a bit terrifying, even if there isn’t going to be any sex.

There isn’t right?

She’s not entirely sure of where her hopes lie in that particular scenario. Killian’s hotter than a bonfire in hell, so she’s definitely thought about it. And sure, earlier, their hands had brushed on the flannel blanket and she hadn’t pulled away when his pinky curled around hers, not quite holding hands, but not quite letting go. If she’s being entirely honest with herself she’d admit that just that little bit of contact had affected her more than the better kisses she’s had in her life.

Fuck, she’s definitely considering putting sex on the table.

After rinsing her toothbrush she drags her hair out of her ponytail, loving how the smell of the wood smoke from their campfire has settled into the long blonde strands. It’s just another reminder of this great day, one she doesn’t want to wash out quite yet. Dropping her jeans and flannel to the floor, she tugs on her sleep shorts and t-shirt, thinking for a moment about taking off her bra to maybe speed things along. That thought sends her blood rushing to her cheeks and she decides to go for it. As she exits the bathroom she avoids looking towards the bed, but an unexpected sound has her head snapping towards the mattress.

He’s snoring.

Killian is turned on his side towards the middle of the bed, burrowed deep beneath the covers and fast asleep. Snoring.

So much for sex.

Or sleep.

Dropping her clothes on the top of her suitcase, she walks quietly to her side of the bed, reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before carefully sliding under the covers beside Killian. It’s hard to avoid touching him on the small mattress, but she does her best, putting her back to him as disappointment simmers beneath her skin. All of the anticipation she’d been feeling in the bathroom is now gone, replaced by her friend loneliness, a friend she hadn’t been missing at all today.

And yeah, he’s still fucking snoring.

The shift in her mood has her wanting to kick back with her foot to get him to stop, but she doesn’t really want him to be awake right now either. She’s feeling a bit rejected, so she’ll just deal with the noise.

What feels like an hour later as she’s finally feeling herself begin to drift off, Killian shuffles a bit beside her, his hand brushing lightly against her shoulder. Her stomach clenches as she feels his fingers tangle in her hair and his snoring is replaced by a soft groan.

“Your hair, love, it smells amazing…”

“I thought you were asleep.” Emma cringes inwardly, embarrassed at the unmasked vulnerability in her tone.

Killian’s fingers push through her hair and tenderly press at her neck, his voice quieter and a bit raspy as the mattress dips at her back as he slides a bit closer.

“Sorry about that. I don’t even remember shutting my eyes. The sun tends to completely wipe me out.”

His body is warm behind hers, his chest just barely touching her back as if he’s waiting for her to say this is okay.

Emma’s eyes fall shut, her brain wrestling with her body for the briefest of moments before making up her mind. Leaning her neck further into his touch, she welcomes his immediate response, turning her head as his fingers slide to her chin. Soon, she’s looking at his lips over her shoulder and they are both moving closer with obvious intent. It’s the most awkward angle possible, but she doesn’t care, not when his mouth covers hers in a kiss so hungry she feels it to the tips of her toes. Her limbs turn to jelly at the feel of his scruff against her chin and the slide of his tongue between her lips, making her movements a bit jumbled as she tries to move to her back. He seems just as lost, not wanting to break the kiss as her shoulder crashes into his chest.

Eventually they figure it out.

Or he does at least, cause right now she’s clinging to him with one leg wrapped around his thigh and her hands clutching hard at his back as she begins to drown in the overwhelming rush of emotions his kisses have triggered. Too soon, she’s chasing his lips as they begin to retreat. 

“Why the hell did I fall asleep…I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night…”

He drags his scruff along her cheek as his lips move to nip at her jaw and a shuddering breath escapes her lips, visions of other places where she wants to feel that same gentle scrape flashing dirty images behind her tightly shut eyes. Her hips lift towards him at her heated thoughts and he growls against her neck, his hand at her waist sliding down beneath her ass as he grinds his erection between her thighs.

They really should talk about what is happening here before things move…

“Is this okay, Swan?”

…too fast.

“Fuck yes.”

Okay, talking done.

Killian’s mouth is hot on hers in an instant as he aligns his fully hard cock against her clit and they begin to rub against one another in pent-up desperation. The thin cotton of her shorts and the warm flannel of his pants create a delicious friction and she plants her feet on the mattress, lifting her hips up in search of more. Another growl escapes Killian’s throat and she swallows it with her lips, nipping at his tongue between gasping breaths as her clit begins to throb in long-overdue joy. His hand moves between them suddenly and she feels a tug at her shirt, prompting her to break the kiss so she can give him a hand. Her shirt ends up somewhere across the room after it’s ripped over her head, but she doesn’t have time to register where because Killian’s fingers are currently toying with her nipple and she’s so close to coming she can barely breathe.

His cock slides against her just right and it’s all over. He must realize it’s happening, too, cause his hands are suddenly clutching hers beside her head and he’s picking up the pace of his thrusts as if he doesn’t want to be left behind. She doesn’t want that either.

It’s a bit hard to focus with her orgasm scrambling her senses, but she’s able to hitch her legs up around his waist and urge him to move faster with her ankles against his ass. Whispering his name against lips seems to be the trigger though, as his hips goes still against her as soon as she does. They end up forehead to forehead as he tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving against her breasts as he holds her hands tight as if he’s afraid to let her go. All she can think to do is squeeze his hands to let him know she doesn’t want him to.

She can feel her heart fluttering in her chest as Killian rubs his nose against hers, obviously wanting her to open her eyes. She’s overwhelmed with hopeful thoughts, which is scary and something she has little experience dealing with, but she complies with his silent request. The smile on Killian’s face is exactly what she needs to see, so she lifts her lips to kiss him, happy to feel that smile curve over her lips.

They continue to kiss until Killian, with mumbled reluctance, has to excuse himself to the bathroom to clean himself up. While he’s gone, Emma stretches out in the middle of the bed, tracing her swollen smile with the the pads of her fingertips. She feels dizzy and slightly nauseous from the butterflies in her stomach, the sight of Killian staring over at her from the doorway in the bathroom not helping at all. So, she does her best to break a bit of the tension.

“Did you know that you snore?”

Killian laughs and moves to the end of the bed, making her squirm beneath her skin as he unabashedly stares down at her still naked chest.

“I most certainly do not.”

“You most certainly do.”

His mock disgust at her accusation begins to fade as he crawls on the bed over her, his response of “do not” ending up muffled against her breast as he draws her nipple between his lips. Her hands dig into his hair to keep his mouth in place, all of her warm places tingling again as his tongue flicks and his scruff abrades her sensitive skin.

“Do…too…”

His head lifts in her hands and she opens her eyes to see him smiling up at her, his cheeks ruddy and eyes slightly hooded with the same desire swirling in her belly in an endless pool.

She’s having sex with him. Tonight. Now. It’s Spring Break. That’s a good enough excuse.

“I’ve got a condom in my travel bag.”

His hair gets a playful tug as his eyes go wide and his body completely still. He seems to be in a bit of a trance, so she squirms out from beneath him to go get the damn thing herself. She leaves her underwear and shorts in the bathroom, laughing at his still frozen position lying face down on the bed as she emerges with the condom.

“If you’re too tired from our hike, we can do this another time.”

He’s up in an instant, scrambling to his feet and hooking his fingers in his waistband as he gives her a “you’re sure about this” look from the foot of the bed. Nodding, she watches as he shucks his pants and scoots back on the mattress, displaying himself and all his naked glory with a hitched eyebrow and a knowing smirk. That same smirk she used to loathe when they first met, it’s giving her the courage to climb between his legs and take his half erect cock in her palm.

“It’s been a really great day, Killian.”

Killian’s eyes are on her hand and his chest is rising in deep breaths, and she continues to stroke, feeling him harden further beneath her fingertips.

“Aye…it’s been…it is…you are…amazing…”

His rambling is adorable and she needs to kiss him, which means moving this thing along.

“Are you up for having a great night?”

Lifting his hips slightly towards her hand, he grits out his response through clenched teeth.

“As you can rightly tell, I most certainly am, Swan.”

That earns him a laugh and she puts them both out of their misery, moving quickly to get the condom on him and her legs up and over his lap. His hands reach for her at once, dragging her down over his chest so he can open his mouth over hers, losing a bit of his control in a kiss that has her clutching his neck and her hips rocking back and forth over his cock. She’s not fully cognizant of how it happens, but soon she’s sinking over him and he’s clutching hard against her hips to stop her from moving.

“Oh fuck, don’t, I’m too close….”

Her rebellious side has her wanting to disobey, but she sees the tension in his neck and the muscle jumping wildly along his jaw. Reaching for his hand, she brings his thumb to where they are joined and he begins to press down immediately as his other hand begins to move up towards her breast. She can’t stop herself from leaning back, bracing her hands against his thighs as his fingers work in tandem to set her body further ablaze. When his fingernail begins to scrape across her nipple she begins to rock her hips, desperate for the freight train of her impending release to reach it’s final destination.

“Fuck, harder love…”

His hips are now pumping upwards beneath her, his thumb slippery against her clit as his other hand abandons her breast to encourage the frantic movements of her waist. Falling forward and catching her hands beside his head on the mattress, she slams her hips down as he fucks her from below, each crash of their bodies adding gasps to the already vivid sound of skin meeting skin. She white knuckles the sheets as she comes, crying out as he continues to thrust deep until they are both completely unmoving except for her inner muscles fluttering around the last pulses of his cock. It was quick and kinda dirty and the best kind of uninhibited sex she loves. From the look of awe on his face and still hard grip his hand has at her waist, she’s pretty sure he loved it, too.

“That was…”

“A one time thing…”

His face falls immediately, but she’s quick to amend her statement with a curve of her lips into a wicked smile.

“A one time thing tonight. I don’t think I can move.”

When he gives her ass a quick pinch she proves them both wrong. Scrambling off his lap, she falls beside him on the mattress with a huff.

“Hey!”

He’s up off the bed on his way to the bathroom for the second time tonight, making her realize her “one time thing” statement was already a null and void.

“Playing with a man’s heart like that, Swan. Bad form.”

“You were the one who fell asleep on me, remember?”

Their playful bickering continues as he reemerges from the bathroom with a warm washcloth, something her one night stands rarely ever thought of as she scrambled to get back into her clothes and out the door. She feels a bit on display as she cleans herself up, but Killian just smiles and throws the washcloth into the sink before climbing back beside her in the bed. He doesn’t hesitate to pull her into his arms and she doesn’t resist, settling comfortably against his chest as he rubs his hand up and down her back along her spine.

She falls asleep first, thankfully, waking near dawn to the sounds of Killian’s snores against her ear. He’s wrapped around her from nose to toes, his face buried deep in her hair and his knees tucked in snug with hers from behind. A rush of affection has her covering his hand on her belly with her own, gently working her fingers between his knuckles to keep him close. If only he would stop snoring, she’d love to go back to sleep.

After a few minutes, she knows it just isn’t going to happen, so she shifts her hips backwards in hopes of a very different outcome.

The sudden silence in the room lets her know that he’s no longer asleep, well, that and their joined hands moving together down her belly.

“You were snoring again.”

As his fingers delve between her legs and his lips find the sensitive spot behind her ear, she lets go of his hand, reaching behind his head to thread her fingers through the back of his hair.

“Apologies, love, please allow me to make it up to you.”

After many months, Emma does, eventually, learn to sleep through Killian’s snores, but he does, every once in a while, get a swift kick to the shins.

[readbookywooks]

THE RETURN OF ULYSSES

When it began to grow dark, the Rat, with an air of excitement and mystery, summoned them back into the parlour, stood each of them up alongside of his little heap, and proceeded to dress them up for the coming expedition. He was very earnest and thoroughgoing about it, and the affair took quite a long time. First, there was a belt to go round each animal, and then a sword to be stuck into each belt, and then a cutlass on the other side to balance it. Then a pair of pistols, a policeman's truncheon, several sets of handcuffs, some bandages and sticking-plaster, and a flask and a sandwich-case. The Badger laughed good- humouredly and said, `All right, Ratty! It amuses you and it doesn't hurt me. I'm going to do all I've got to do with this here stick.' But the Rat only said, `PLEASE, Badger. You know I shouldn't like you to blame me afterwards and say I had forgotten ANYTHING!'

When all was quite ready, the Badger took a dark lantern in one paw, grasped his great stick with the other, and said, `Now then, follow me! Mole first, `cos I'm very pleased with him; Rat next; Toad last. And look here, Toady! Don't you chatter so much as usual, or you'll be sent back, as sure as fate!'

The Toad was so anxious not to be left out that he took up the inferior position assigned to him without a murmur, and the animals set off. The Badger led them along by the river for a little way, and then suddenly swung himself over the edge into a hole in the river-bank, a little above the water. The Mole and the Rat followed silently, swinging themselves successfully into the hole as they had seen the Badger do; but when it came to Toad's turn, of course he managed to slip and fall into the water with a loud splash and a squeal of alarm. He was hauled out by his friends, rubbed down and wrung out hastily, comforted, and set on his legs; but the Badger was seriously angry, and told him that the very next time he made a fool of himself he would most certainly be left behind.

So at last they were in the secret passage, and the cutting-out expedition had really begun!

It was cold, and dark, and damp, and low, and narrow, and poor Toad began to shiver, partly from dread of what might be before him, partly because he was wet through. The lantern was far ahead, and he could not help lagging behind a little in the darkness. Then he heard the Rat call out warningly, `COME on, Toad!' and a terror seized him of being left behind, alone in the darkness, and he `came on' with such a rush that he upset the Rat into the Mole and the Mole into the Badger, and for a moment all was confusion. The Badger thought they were being attacked from behind, and, as there was no room to use a stick or a cutlass, drew a pistol, and was on the point of putting a bullet into Toad. When he found out what had really happened he was very angry indeed, and said, `Now this time that tiresome Toad SHALL be left behind!'

But Toad whimpered, and the other two promised that they would be answerable for his good conduct, and at last the Badger was pacified, and the procession moved on; only this time the Rat brought up the rear, with a firm grip on the shoulder of Toad.

So they groped and shuffled along, with their ears pricked up and their paws on their pistols, till at last the Badger said, `We ought by now to be pretty nearly under the Hall.'

Then suddenly they heard, far away as it might be, and yet apparently nearly over their heads, a confused murmur of sound, as if people were shouting and cheering and stamping on the floor and hammering on tables. The Toad's nervous terrors all returned, but the Badger only remarked placidly, `They ARE going it, the Weasels!'

The passage now began to slope upwards; they groped onward a little further, and then the noise broke out again, quite distinct this time, and very close above them. `Ooo-ray-ooray- oo-ray-ooray!' they heard, and the stamping of little feet on the floor, and the clinking of glasses as little fists pounded on the table. `WHAT a time they're having!' said the Badger. `Come on!' They hurried along the passage till it came to a full stop, and they found themselves standing under the trap-door that led up into the butler's pantry.

Such a tremendous noise was going on in the banqueting-hall that there was little danger of their being overheard. The Badger said, `Now, boys, all together!' and the four of them put their shoulders to the trap-door and heaved it back. Hoisting each other up, they found themselves standing in the pantry, with only a door between them and the banqueting-hall, where their unconscious enemies were carousing.

The noise, as they emerged from the passage, was simply deafening. At last, as the cheering and hammering slowly subsided, a voice could be made out saying, `Well, I do not propose to detain you much longer'--(great applause)--`but before I resume my seat'--(renewed cheering)--`I should like to say one word about our kind host, Mr. Toad. We all know Toad!'--(great laughter)--`GOOD Toad, MODEST Toad, HONEST Toad!' (shrieks of merriment).

`Only just let me get at him!' muttered Toad, grinding his teeth.

`Hold hard a minute!' said the Badger, restraining him with difficulty. `Get ready, all of you!'

`--Let me sing you a little song,' went on the voice, `which I have composed on the subject of Toad'--(prolonged applause).

Then the Chief Weasel--for it was he--began in a high, squeaky voice--

`Toad he went a-pleasuring Gaily down the street--'

The Badger drew himself up, took a firm grip of his stick with both paws, glanced round at his comrades, and cried--

`The hour is come! Follow me!'

And flung the door open wide.

My!

What a squealing and a squeaking and a screeching filled the air!

Well might the terrified weasels dive under the tables and spring madly up at the windows! Well might the ferrets rush wildly for the fireplace and get hopelessly jammed in the chimney! Well might tables and chairs be upset, and glass and china be sent crashing on the floor, in the panic of that terrible moment when the four Heroes strode wrathfully into the room! The mighty Badger, his whiskers bristling, his great cudgel whistling through the air; Mole, black and grim, brandishing his stick and shouting his awful war-cry, `A Mole! A Mole!' Rat; desperate and determined, his belt bulging with weapons of every age and every variety; Toad, frenzied with excitement and injured pride, swollen to twice his ordinary size, leaping into the air and emitting Toad-whoops that chilled them to the marrow! `Toad he went a-pleasuring!' he yelled. `I'LL pleasure 'em!' and he went straight for the Chief Weasel. They were but four in all, but to the panic-stricken weasels the hall seemed full of monstrous animals, grey, black, brown and yellow, whooping and flourishing enormous cudgels; and they broke and fled with squeals of terror and dismay, this way and that, through the windows, up the chimney, anywhere to get out of reach of those terrible sticks.

The affair was soon over. Up and down, the whole length of the hall, strode the four Friends, whacking with their sticks at every head that showed itself; and in five minutes the room was cleared. Through the broken windows the shrieks of terrified weasels escaping across the lawn were borne faintly to their ears; on the floor lay prostrate some dozen or so of the enemy, on whom the Mole was busily engaged in fitting handcuffs. The Badger, resting from his labours, leant on his stick and wiped his honest brow.

`Mole,' he said,' `you're the best of fellows! Just cut along outside and look after those stoat-sentries of yours, and see what they're doing. I've an idea that, thanks to you, we shan't have much trouble from them to-night!'

The Mole vanished promptly through a window; and the Badger bade the other two set a table on its legs again, pick up knives and forks and plates and glasses from the debris on the floor, and see if they could find materials for a supper. `I want some grub, I do,' he said, in that rather common way he had of speaking. `Stir your stumps, Toad, and look lively! We've got your house back for you, and you don't offer us so much as a sandwich.' Toad felt rather hurt that the Badger didn't say pleasant things to him, as he had to the Mole, and tell him what a fine fellow he was, and how splendidly he had fought; for he was rather particularly pleased with himself and the way he had gone for the Chief Weasel and sent him flying across the table with one blow of his stick. But he bustled about, and so did the Rat, and soon they found some guava jelly in a glass dish, and a cold chicken, a tongue that had hardly been touched, some trifle, and quite a lot of lobster salad; and in the pantry they came upon a basketful of French rolls and any quantity of cheese, butter, and celery. They were just about to sit down when the Mole clambered in through the window, chuckling, with an armful of rifles.

`It's all over,' he reported. `From what I can make out, as soon as the stoats, who were very nervous and jumpy already, heard the shrieks and the yells and the uproar inside the hall, some of them threw down their rifles and fled. The others stood fast for a bit, but when the weasels came rushing out upon them they thought they were betrayed; and the stoats grappled with the weasels, and the weasels fought to get away, and they wrestled and wriggled and punched each other, and rolled over and over, till most of 'em rolled into the river! They've all disappeared by now, one way or another; and I've got their rifles. So that's all right!'

`Excellent and deserving animal!' said the Badger, his mouth full of chicken and trifle. `Now, there's just one more thing I want you to do, Mole, before you sit down to your supper along of us; and I wouldn't trouble you only I know I can trust you to see a thing done, and I wish I could say the same of every one I know. I'd send Rat, if he wasn't a poet. I want you to take those fellows on the floor there upstairs with you, and have some bedrooms cleaned out and tidied up and made really comfortable. See that they sweep UNDER the beds, and put clean sheets and pillow-cases on, and turn down one corner of the bed-clothes, just as you know it ought to be done; and have a can of hot water, and clean towels, and fresh cakes of soap, put in each room. And then you can give them a licking a-piece, if it's any satisfaction to you, and put them out by the back-door, and we shan't see any more of THEM, I fancy. And then come along and have some of this cold tongue. It's first rate. I'm very pleased with you, Mole!'

The goodnatured Mole picked up a stick, formed his prisoners up in a line on the floor, gave them the order `Quick march!' and led his squad off to the upper floor. After a time, he appeared again, smiling, and said that every room was ready, and as clean as a new pin. `And I didn't have to lick them, either,' he added. `I thought, on the whole, they had had licking enough for one night, and the weasels, when I put the point to them, quite agreed with me, and said they wouldn't think of troubling me. They were very penitent, and said they were extremely sorry for what they had done. but it was all the fault of the Chief Weasel and the stoats, and if ever they could do anything for us at any time to make up, we had only got to mention it. So I gave them a roll a-piece, and let them out at the back, and off they ran, as hard as they could!'

Then the Mole pulled his chair up to the table, and pitched into the cold tongue; and Toad, like the gentleman he was, put all his jealousy from him, and said heartily, `Thank you kindly, dear Mole, for all your pains and trouble tonight, and especially for your cleverness this morning!' The Badger was pleased at that, and said, `There spoke my brave Toad!' So they finished their supper in great joy and contentment, and presently retired to rest between clean sheets, safe in Toad's ancestral home, won back by matchless valour, consummate strategy, and a proper handling of sticks.

The following morning, Toad, who had overslept himself as usual, came down to breakfast disgracefully late, and found on the table a certain quantity of egg-shells, some fragments of cold and leathery toast, a coffee-pot three-fourths empty, and really very little else; which did not tend to improve his temper, considering that, after all, it was his own house. Through the French windows of the breakfast-room he could see the Mole and the Water Rat sitting in wicker-chairs out on the lawn, evidently telling each other stories; roaring with laughter and kicking their short legs up in the air. The Badger, who was in an arm- chair and deep in the morning paper, merely looked up and nodded when Toad entered the room. But Toad knew his man, so he sat down and made the best breakfast he could, merely observing to himself that he would get square with the others sooner or later. When he had nearly finished, the Badger looked up and remarked rather shortly: `I'm sorry, Toad, but I'm afraid there's a heavy morning's work in front of you. You see, we really ought to have a Banquet at once, to celebrate this affair. It's expected of you--in fact, it's the rule.'

`O, all right!' said the Toad, readily. `Anything to oblige. Though why on earth you should want to have a Banquet in the morning I cannot understand. But you know I do not live to please myself, but merely to find out what my friends want, and then try and arrange it for 'em, you dear old Badger!'

`Don't pretend to be stupider than you really are,' replied the Badger, crossly; `and don't chuckle and splutter in your coffee while you're talking; it's not manners. What I mean is, the Banquet will be at night, of course, but the invitations will have to be written and got off at once, and you've got to write 'em. Now, sit down at that table--there's stacks of letter-paper on it, with "Toad Hall" at the top in blue and gold--and write invitations to all our friends, and if you stick to it we shall get them out before luncheon. And I'LL bear a hand, too; and take my share of the burden. I'LL order the Banquet.'

`What!' cried Toad, dismayed. `Me stop indoors and write a lot of rotten letters on a jolly morning like this, when I want to go around my property, and set everything and everybody to rights, and swagger about and enjoy myself! Certainly not! I'll be--I'll see you----Stop a minute, though! Why, of course, dear Badger! What is my pleasure or convenience compared with that of others! You wish it done, and it shall be done. Go, Badger, order the Banquet, order what you like; then join our young friends outside in their innocent mirth, oblivious of me and my cares and toils. I sacrifice this fair morning on the altar of duty and friendship!'

The Badger looked at him very suspiciously, but Toad's frank, open countenance made it difficult to suggest any unworthy motive in this change of attitude. He quitted the room, accordingly, in the direction of the kitchen, and as soon as the door had closed behind him, Toad hurried to the writing-table. A fine idea had occurred to him while he was talking. He WOULD write the invitations; and he would take care to mention the leading part he had taken in the fight, and how he had laid the Chief Weasel flat; and he would hint at his adventures, and what a career of triumph he had to tell about; and on the fly-leaf he would set out a sort of a programme of entertainment for the evening-- something like this, as he sketched it out in his head:--

SPEECH . . . . BY TOAD.

(There will be other speeches by TOAD during the evening.)

ADDRESS . . . BY TOAD

SYNOPSIS--Our Prison System--the Waterways of Old England--Horse- dealing, and how to deal--Property, its rights and its duties-- Back to the Land--A Typical English Squire.

SONG . . . . BY TOAD.

(Composed by himself.)

OTHER COMPOSITIONS . BY TOAD

will be sung in the course of the evening by the . . . COMPOSER.

The idea pleased him mightly, and he worked very hard and got all the letters finished by noon, at which hour it was reported to him that there was a small and rather bedraggled weasel at the door, inquiring timidly whether he could be of any service to the gentlemen. Toad swaggered out and found it was one of the prisoners of the previous evening, very respectful and anxious to please. He patted him on the head, shoved the bundle of invitations into his paw, and told him to cut along quick and deliver them as fast as he could, and if he liked to come back again in the evening, perhaps there might be a shilling for him, or, again, perhaps there mightn't; and the poor weasel seemed really quite grateful, and hurried off eagerly to do his mission.

When the other animals came back to luncheon, very boisterous and breezy after a morning on the river, the Mole, whose conscience had been pricking him, looked doubtfully at Toad, expecting to find him sulky or depressed. Instead, he was so uppish and inflated that the Mole began to suspect something; while the Rat and the Badger exchanged significant glances.

As soon as the meal was over, Toad thrust his paws deep into his trouser-pockets, remarked casually, `Well, look after yourselves, you fellows! Ask for anything you want!' and was swaggering off in the direction of the garden, where he wanted to think out an idea or two for his coming speeches, when the Rat caught him by the arm.

Toad rather suspected what he was after, and did his best to get away; but when the Badger took him firmly by the other arm he began to see that the game was up. The two animals conducted him between them into the small smoking-room that opened out of the entrance-hall, shut the door, and put him into a chair. Then they both stood in front of him, while Toad sat silent and regarded them with much suspicion and ill-humour.

`Now, look here, Toad,' said the Rat. `It's about this Banquet, and very sorry I am to have to speak to you like this. But we want you to understand clearly, once and for all, that there are going to be no speeches and no songs. Try and grasp the fact that on this occasion we're not arguing with you; we're just telling you.'

Toad saw that he was trapped. They understood him, they saw through him, they had got ahead of him. His pleasant dream was shattered.

`Mayn't I sing them just one LITTLE song?' he pleaded piteously.

`No, not ONE little song,' replied the Rat firmly, though his heart bled as he noticed the trembling lip of the poor disappointed Toad. `It's no good, Toady; you know well that your songs are all conceit and boasting and vanity; and your speeches are all self-praise and--and--well, and gross exaggeration and-- and----'

`And gas,' put in the Badger, in his common way.

`It's for your own good, Toady,' went on the Rat. `You know you MUST turn over a new leaf sooner or later, and now seems a splendid time to begin; a sort of turning-point in your career. Please don't think that saying all this doesn't hurt me more than it hurts you.'

Toad remained a long while plunged in thought. At last he raised his head, and the traces of strong emotion were visible on his features. `You have conquered, my friends,' he said in broken accents. `It was, to be sure, but a small thing that I asked-- merely leave to blossom and expand for yet one more evening, to let myself go and hear the tumultuous applause that always seems to me--somehow--to bring out my best qualities. However, you are right, I know, and I am wrong. Hence forth I will be a very different Toad. My friends, you shall never have occasion to blush for me again. But, O dear, O dear, this is a hard world!'

And, pressing his handkerchief to his face, he left the room, with faltering footsteps.

`Badger,' said the Rat, `_I_ feel like a brute; I wonder what YOU feel like?'

`O, I know, I know,' said the Badger gloomily. `But the thing had to be done. This good fellow has got to live here, and hold his own, and be respected. Would you have him a common laughing- stock, mocked and jeered at by stoats and weasels?'

`Of course not,' said the Rat. `And, talking of weasels, it's lucky we came upon that little weasel, just as he was setting out with Toad's invitations. I suspected something from what you told me, and had a look at one or two; they were simply disgraceful. I confiscated the lot, and the good Mole is now sitting in the blue boudoir, filling up plain, simple invitation cards.'

At last the hour for the banquet began to draw near, and Toad, who on leaving the others had retired to his bedroom, was still sitting there, melancholy and thoughtful. His brow resting on his paw, he pondered long and deeply. Gradually his countenance cleared, and he began to smile long, slow smiles. Then he took to giggling in a shy, self-conscious manner. At last he got up, locked the door, drew the curtains across the windows, collected all the chairs in the room and arranged them in a semicircle, and took up his position in front of them, swelling visibly. Then he bowed, coughed twice, and, letting himself go, with uplifted voice he sang, to the enraptured audience that his imagination so clearly saw,

TOAD'S LAST LITTLE SONG!

The Toad--came--home! There was panic in the parlours and bowling in the halls, There was crying in the cow-sheds and shrieking in the stalls, When the Toad--came--home!

When the Toad--came--home! There was smashing in of window and crashing in of door, There was chivvying of weasels that fainted on the floor, When the Toad--came--home!

Bang! go the drums! The trumpeters are tooting and the soldiers are saluting, And the cannon they are shooting and the motor-cars are hooting, As the--Hero--comes!

Shout--Hoo-ray! And let each one of the crowd try and shout it very loud, In honour of an animal of whom you're justly proud, For it's Toad's--great--day!

He sang this very loud, with great unction and expression; and when he had done, he sang it all over again.

Then he heaved a deep sigh; a long, long, long sigh.

Then he dipped his hairbrush in the water-jug, parted his hair in the middle, and plastered it down very straight and sleek on each side of his face; and, unlocking the door, went quietly down the stairs to greet his guests, who he knew must be assembling in the drawing-room.

All the animals cheered when he entered, and crowded round to congratulate him and say nice things about his courage, and his cleverness, and his fighting qualities; but Toad only smiled faintly, and murmured, `Not at all!' Or, sometimes, for a change, `On the contrary!' Otter, who was standing on the hearthrug, describing to an admiring circle of friends exactly how he would have managed things had he been there, came forward with a shout, threw his arm round Toad's neck, and tried to take him round the room in triumphal progress; but Toad, in a mild way, was rather snubby to him, remarking gently, as he disengaged himself, `Badger's was the mastermind; the Mole and the Water Rat bore the brunt of the fighting; I merely served in the ranks and did little or nothing.' The animals were evidently puzzled and taken aback by this unexpected attitude of his; and Toad felt, as he moved from one guest to the other, making his modest responses, that he was an object of absorbing interest to every one.

The Badger had ordered everything of the best, and the banquet was a great success. There was much talking and laughter and chaff among the animals, but through it all Toad, who of course was in the chair, looked down his nose and murmured pleasant nothings to the animals on either side of him. At intervals he stole a glance at the Badger and the Rat, and always when he looked they were staring at each other with their mouths open; and this gave him the greatest satisfaction. Some of the younger and livelier animals, as the evening wore on, got whispering to each other that things were not so amusing as they used to be in the good old days; and there were some knockings on the table and cries of `Toad! Speech! Speech from Toad! Song! Mr. Toad's song!' But Toad only shook his head gently, raised one paw in mild protest, and, by pressing delicacies on his guests, by topical small-talk, and by earnest inquiries after members of their families not yet old enough to appear at social functions, managed to convey to them that this dinner was being run on strictly conventional lines.

He was indeed an altered Toad!

After this climax, the four animals continued to lead their lives, so rudely broken in upon by civil war, in great joy and contentment, undisturbed by further risings or invasions. Toad, after due consultation with his friends, selected a handsome gold chain and locket set with pearls, which he dispatched to the gaoler's daughter with a letter that even the Badger admitted to be modest, grateful, and appreciative; and the engine-driver, in his turn, was properly thanked and compensated for all his pains and trouble. Under severe compulsion from the Badger, even the barge-woman was, with some trouble, sought out and the value of her horse discreetly made good to her; though Toad kicked terribly at this, holding himself to be an instrument of Fate, sent to punish fat women with mottled arms who couldn't tell a real gentleman when they saw one. The amount involved, it was true, was not very burdensome, the gipsy's valuation being admitted by local assessors to be approximately correct.

Sometimes, in the course of long summer evenings, the friends would take a stroll together in the Wild Wood, now successfully tamed so far as they were concerned; and it was pleasing to see how respectfully they were greeted by the inhabitants, and how the mother-weasels would bring their young ones to the mouths of their holes, and say, pointing, `Look, baby! There goes the great Mr. Toad! And that's the gallant Water Rat, a terrible fighter, walking along o' him! And yonder comes the famous Mr. Mole, of whom you so often have heard your father tell!' But when their infants were fractious and quite beyond control, they would quiet them by telling how, if they didn't hush them and not fret them, the terrible grey Badger would up and get them. This was a base libel on Badger, who, though he cared little about Society, was rather fond of children; but it never failed to have its full effect.

[greenskellyblob]

Some of my thoughts on Alphys in underswap:

In my version of it, she's responsible for a lot of the big changes with the former Royal Guard and was directly responsible for the change of its function.

Before she joined it, the Guard mostly concerned itself with the usual work of upholding the law, catching criminals and keeping an eye on the ruins in case Asgore decides to actually do something for once. They were also the ones you'd call if somebody dusted or fell down, which was especially hard on them since they most often knew the unfortunate monster due to the size of the population. This was all taking a toll on the members of the Royal Guard, leading to higher rates of losing hope among their ranks, so when Alphys approached Queen Toriel with a suggestion on how to do things differently, she leaped on the opportunity.

Alphys wanted to help people, but she knew that she was not suited to the job of the Guard as it was then. Still, she figured she could find a way to make it more efficient and less stressful for the members, as well as better at responding to the crises before the unfortunate events took place.

She asked Napstablook to help her in the demonstration of her skills and built him a robot body, presenting him afterwards as one of the new automated robotic guards that could take the place of monsters at most high-stress positions. She believed that she could replicate this feat without the need for a ghost in the future, if only she had access to the Royal Guard's funds.

This proved to be false. Napstaton remains the only 'robot', but their existance granted Alphys the position she craved and she will go on to prove her usefulness with a surveilance system designed to help notice problems and prevent them from becoming crimes or tragedies, as well as developing an armed security system that helped keep the Traitors contained to their city.

Partial mechanisation of the guard freed the resources for the development of the Royal Caretakers' half of the guard, which soon became the dominant branch.

Instead of a Napstaton ex form, Alphys developed an axe-wielding mecha suit she pilots, inspired by the anime she likes so much.

[mavzoon]

Risotto x male thief reader smutt

This is basically the same as the other Ris fic I wrote. This has been just edited to fit a male reader. 

TW: very mildly dubious consent vibes at first because Risotto wrestles the reader down because he stole his wallet but then she gets horny, size difference, rough sex, dirty talk, some degradation here and there, extra submissive reader, choking, creampies, kinda anonymous as this is the first time you meet Ris in this fic, minor violence, just a lot of horniness for Ris in general.

Word count: 3216

cut for length

When you snatched the wallet of a random person, you had not planned for things to turn out this way. You panted and huffed as you raced down the deserted alley. You held the wallet near your chest, debating whether throwing it away would be the smart option.

The man you'd robbed had noticed and began chasing you down. At first, you thought nothing of it when his footsteps disappeared. He must've given up and left, you'd thought to yourself.

Then a knife had been thrown at your ankle. It'd only scratched you. To your surprise, you saw no one as you turned back to look at the person who'd thrown it to you.

As you went on running, you weighed the wallet in your hands, debating if stealing it was worth it. It was a lot of money… You tucked the wallet under your belt.

Your thoughts were cut off as you tripped on something as you were taking another turn. You landed on your stomach, barely stopping your head from hitting the pavement with your hands.

Then you heard it. Footsteps. You threw your head around to see who it was but saw only a faint shadow of a person. You shook your head and blinked, but the shadow was still there.

Your blood ran cold. Though you didn't see it, you knew that there was a person there. His shadow moved. Forgetting all about the wallet, you tried to crawl away, your palms stinging as the shallow cuts in them pressed against the concrete.

You yelped as one heavy foot pressed on your back. You whipped around and kicked blindly. One kick hit its mark, and you heard a low grunt. The foot left your stomach, and he seemed to kneel over you. A hand took hold of one of your wrists and twisted it above your head. You snarled and slapped at the air, trying to hit him. Your hand found his neck, and you squeezed. Had you any coherent thought, you'd have laughed at your pathetic attempts to overpower him. You did comprehend one thing; the man wasn't actually trying to kill you.

Your nails dug into his skin, and you felt a little warm blood run down his neck. You twisted your legs about and tried to kick him off, but he didn't budge. Another hand found its way to your neck and squeezed. A flash of something dangerously close to arousal went through you at the feeling of his massive hand over you. You were so tiny and frail compared to him.

Against all rational thought, you moaned as you began feeling lightheaded from the blood flow being restricted. The man eased his grip for a moment. You wanted to giggle. Bet you weren't expecting that, eh? Well, neither was I.

You were mildly disappointed that your vision was getting cloudy as you wanted to see the surprised expression he no doubt had on his face. To your astonishment, the man chuckled. You body tingled with warmth at his voice. It was so deep. It almost felt as if his voice resonated within you, turning your knees to jelly. At that moment, you wish you had taken a better look at him when you stole his wallet. To feel this needy for a man whose face you didn't even know was unbearable.

At some level, you realized you were being ridiculous. There was no telling what this stranger could do and yet you almost wished he'd choke you just a little harder. You barely noticed that your ankle was still bleeding.

To your delight, he took both your hands and pinned them above your head. His hand easily covered both of yours. You almost felt his breath hit your face. Your face was burning with a mixture of embarrassment and an irrational need for this stranger you hadn't even seen yet.

"Please-"

"Do you really think you're in any position to be making demands?" he interrupted you. A part of you felt like you could get off from his voice alone.

"N-no, I'm sorry," you whimpered as tears threatened to slip down your cheeks from the way he was still choking you.

The stranger seemed to study you for a few seconds. He hummed. "You're awfully timid for a dirty little thief." He leaned closer, and you shivered as his hot breath hit your ear. "Could it be that… you want to be touched by a stranger? Hmm?"

You watched in astonishment as his body appeared before you as the spell keeping him invisible was slowly lifted. Your breath hitched as you stared at his hypnotic red eyes. To your delight, he was wearing a jacket that revealed his defined abs. There was something about the way he watched you that left you feeling like a fly trapped in a spiders web, the only difference being that you relished being bound down by him.

Never once before had you felt this attracted to someone.

He smirked. "Well go on, be a good boy and tell me what you want."

You were so turned on you felt like you could cry. The stranger's voice had such an impact on you that your body tingled with warmth all over. "I w-want you," you whispered, barely audible.

The man above you chuckled. You nearly moaned just from the sound. "Well, aren't you a desperate little thing." He gazed at you as if he were about to devour you and at that moment, and you couldn't be happier that he was the one you tried to rob.

He took his hand away from your neck, and you couldn't help but whine.

"Oh don't worry, we'll get back to that, but first, won't you be a good boy and tell me where you hid my wallet, mm?" The man trailed a hand down your side, and you shivered.

"I-it's under my… belt," you mumbled, your voice weak.

Risotto seemed to find it all terribly amusing. "Oh? Is that so?" Agonizingly slow, he trailed his hand down to the edge of your pants. Ever so gently, he pushed up your shirt. You trembled.

Finally, he slipped his hand down under your pants and belt. He pulled the wallet out, his fingers brushing against your cock, and smiled at you. You almost felt your heart melt at the sight of his dimples. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" he asked, still smiling.

You shook your head, timidly.

He tossed the wallet to the side and caressed your cheek with one hand. He placed his thumb on your bottom lip. Before you had any time to stop yourself, you licked it.

You watched with delight as he sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. He hid his surprise fast and smirked. "Don't think you can weasel your way out of this by acting like a good boy when we both know you're just pretending."

You whined at that. A part of you wanted to feel ashamed for acting so desperate, but you couldn't be bothered when the way this stranger was acting felt just so right.

This time, you took his finger in your mouth and swirled your tongue around it. The potential danger of the situation had almost disappeared from your mind.

In a second, the man pulled his hand away from your mouth and placed it on your throat again, choking you and cutting your breath off. "Don't think I've forgotten that you stole from me," he leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear. "You still need to pay for what you did." He bit your earlobe, and you yelped.

He trailed kisses down your neck, his tongue brushing against your skin. He kissed under your jaw. The presence of him on top of you was overwhelming. You could only whimper and arch your back as to get closer to him in response. Your chest was tight with nervous excitement. Then it hit you. You didn't even know his name.

"W-wait!"

He pulled back immediately, making you feel all the more confident about your choice to do this with him.

"What… should I call you?" you bit your lip.

He studied you for a second and then smiled. Oh God, those dimples… "Risotto is good for now. And you?"

You told him your name.

"Cute," he, Risotto, kissed the side of your neck and whispered.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in his soft touches. He pushed your shirt up and let go of your hands so you could take it off. You winced as the feeling of the cold concrete against your back.

Risotto chuckled and gently bit your exposed nipple. "Oh, is the concrete uncomfortable? Tsk, tsk, poor you..."

You mewled as he flipped you over on your hands and knees and leaned over you. Your cock throbbed as you felt him unbutton your jeans. He pulled them down along with your boxers. You shivered as the cold air hit your exposed ass. You nearly jolted up when Risotto ran his hand over your hard cock. You were sure that by that point some of your precum must've dripped down onto the concrete.

"Well, aren't you a dirty little slut… I've barely touched you, and you're already this hard!" He curled his body over yours, and wrapped an arm around your stomach, placing the other one on the back of your neck.

You whimpered at the feeling of his warmth over you. You couldn't help but try to wiggle closer to him. As you did so, your ass brushed against his groin, the feeling of his hard cock sending a bang of arousal and nervousness through you. While you had known he was way bigger than you, that had not prepared you for the sheer size of his cock.

Risotto chuckled and pinched one of your nipples. "Aw, are you scared it won't fit?" He squeezed your throat and leaned down, trapping you under him. "I'd tell you not to worry, but… we both know that I won't be gentle."

You trembled as you heard Risotto pull his pants down. You whimpered as the warm leaking head of his cock pressed against your entrance. You turned to look at him, your eyes pleading.

Risotto hummed. "I suppose I should prep you at least a little. It would be a shame if I broke you too soon."

Holy shit. You could swear you were burning up and getting closer to the edge from just the way he was talking. You mewled as Risotto pushed two fingers coated with your precum into you, curling them so they hit your prostate. His two forefingers were almost as big as an average cock. He left a row of kisses and licks all over your neck as he worked you open with his fingers.

You moaned downright shamelessly when he pushed the third finger in.

Risotto kept on teasing you, never letting up his pace. You were steadily growing near your release even though he had only been playing with you for a few minutes. You could hardly believe it.

“Risotto, I'm c-close," you whimpered, your hips trembling.

He pulled away immediately, making you whine from the sudden emptiness. You gave him an agitated look. "W-why'd you stop?"

Risotto smirked. "You don't get to cum until I let you, and I don't think you've been properly disciplined yet."

You watched with your face flushed as he licked his lips. You couldn't get your eyes off of his tongue.

"Oh, do you want a taste as well?" Risotto asked, amusement obvious in his voice.

You nodded without hesitation.

Risotto smirked and pulled you in for a kiss, his hand still lightly choking you. Before you had time to react, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of his lips against yours.

He guided his cock to your entrance, making your breath hitch. "Try and be a good boy for me now, won't you?"

You whimpered and nodded. "I'll be good, I promise-"

He pushed the tip of his cock into your tight ass, cutting you off. Your walls burnt from the stretch, and your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you moaned with abandon.

“F-fuck, you're tight…" Risotto groaned. Your cock twitched at the knowledge that he'd lost a bit of his composure because of you.

That sense of pride was lost as soon as he pulled back and thrust back into you. He set a slow pace at first, but you still almost lost balance from the sheer weight of his cock. Your moans echoed through the dark alley. On some level, you realized that you'd be caught if you didn't quiet down.

Risotto seemed to realize this as he squeezed your throat just a little harder, effectively cutting off your moans and turning them into gargled whimpers and incoherent pleas. You threw your head back, hoping to see his face.

Risotto snarled, slamming his cock deeper into you. "Oh no, you don't get to see my face when you've been a bad boy. Just stay there," he snapped his hips forward and buried his cock in so deep you felt your insides struggled to accommodate him. A high pitched moan left you as you realized he was only halfway in and you already felt like you were ripping apart.

"Ri-Risotto! I, fuck! You're too big, I can't- Oh, fuck!" The breath was knocked from your lungs each time he took you, his thrusts turning nearly vicious. Or maybe they weren't as rough as you thought and his incredible strength was just making it feel more intense.

Risotto thrust in as deep as he could and for a brief second, his balls brushed against you, sending waves of warmth through you. "What was that? I thought you told me you were going to be a good boy for me," he kissed your neck almost gently before biting down.

Your cock throbbed and you clenched around him.

"C'mon, be a good boy and take my cock." His chest pressed against you back, surrounding you with his warmth. "I know you can do it," he whispered, voice husky next to your ear.

The contrast of his warmth over you and the cold hard concrete beneath you was driving you insane. As if to challenge you, he quickened his pace, nearly knocking you off your balance again. Your hands trembled as you struggled to stay up.

"Fu-ck, Risotto! Y-your cock feels so good, p-please! Oh god-" you cut yourself off with a string of choked up moans as your hands began to give out.

Seeing this, Risotto pushed your face down onto the concrete. You whimpered as you finally let your hands relax. To your surprise, you didn't mind the feeling of cold concrete pressing against your cheek when from that position because you could finally see Risotto's face. You had barely heard him over your moans, but just by looking at his face, you could tell he was also lost in pleasure. His eyes were clouded, a bruise was beginning to form in his lower lip from him biting it, and his jaw was clenched. A bead of sweat was running down his cheek.

You could only moan and clench at the sight of him. From the new position, he could go so much deeper. His balls slapped against you with each thrust, sending you consistently toward your release. The feeling of his cock hammering against you sent sharp bangs of pleasure through you. Through the blinding haze of fucking, you could feel yourself drooling on the concrete and tears slipping down your cheeks.

He chuckled, his voice breaking all the while into something almost akin to a guttural whimper. "God, you should see yourself! You're drooling like a bitch in heat. Go on, why don't you tell me how much you want this." He loosened his grip on your throat.

You didn't waste even a second. "I love your cock so much! Fuck, I can't get enough, pleaseeee give me more!"

At some level, you realized that your hands would be covered with cuts and bruises afterwards, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when Risotto was using your body so deliciously. Your legs trembled and gave out, but Risotto held you up with a hand wrapped around your stomach. You tried to whimper out an apology.

"Shh, all you need to do is take it, so just let yourself relax, and I'll do the rest, okay?" He kissed just under your jaw and licked off a single tear from your cheek.

You did just as he ordered and let Risotto control your body as he wished. He pulled your hips back, meeting his thrusts. Each sharp jerk of his cock into your ass sent you barrelling toward your orgasm. With the incredibly size of his cock, he was hitting your prostate with little effort. Had you any coherent thought, you would've found it unbelievable how easily he could turn you into a desperate mess of moaning and pleading.

Your moans neared sobs as you neared your release. You almost felt as if you might burst into small pieces from the immense weight of Risotto over you and the overwhelming feeling of him using you like a toy. Your toes curled at the warmth of his ragged breath hitting your cheek.

You came with a shriek, trembling uncontrollably, your voice breaking into a mixture of moans, bleats and screams. You clawed at the concrete, not caring if your fingers stung. From somewhere behind Risotto's relentless movements, you realized that he had made you cum without even playing with your cock. It occurred to you that you'd do almost anything as long as he took you like this again.

"Cum in me, please! Oh fuck, please, fill me. Fuck! I want it so bad, please!" you begged without caring about how pathetic you sounded.

"Good boy…" Risotto groaned and kissed your neck, muffling his noises.

He came with a loud moan and trembled, making you feel as if you might cum again just from the sound. You moaned as his cum filled you to the brim. You almost wanted to sob when he pulled away, some of the cum dripping out.

Risotto's cheeks seemed to redden at the sight of you with your face pressed against the concrete and his cum dripping out of your sore ass. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he nearly growled.

You tried to reply but could only muster a whimper. You tried to get up, but your arms and legs felt like jelly.

Risotto chuckled, pulled up his pants, sat down and pulled you up on his lap. You watched as cum dripped from you to his black-striped pants.

"Are you going to punish me for ruining your pants?" you buried your face on his neck and mumbled with a faint smile.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around you. "Hmm, perhaps later but for now, I think I'll just hold you like this."

You took hold of his jacket and cuddled against him. Perhaps you should've hurried out of the alley before someone caught you two, but for now, you just wanted to relax in his warmth and the promise of there being a next time.