#rest assured i would be completely obnoxious about it

[minamotoz]

pretty epic find i Think

[crguang]

games people play

You belong on the stage, you think, under blinding lights and at the forefront of an applauding audience. Most importantly, you only care to play along if Kafka stars in the play right alongside you.

afab!reader, kinda fluffy actually, smut, toys used, kafka is strapped and im not talking about the gun, dom!kafka, sub!bratty reader, some edging, rope play, kinda possessive kafka, 6.3k words…

A/N: this got away from me. i have nothing to say for myself.

Infiltration missions are your favorite; slipping into another person’s skin for a few hours, coming up with traits both obnoxious and serious in nature and performing in front of a naive, ignorant audience fills you with exhilaration.

Improvisation is even better, the anxiety of making up things on the fly feels like a hundred little bees buzzing in your stomach and you’ve grown so accustomed to its uneasiness by now that you often seek it out, it’s become a sort of addiction. Your team doesn’t understand— Silver Wolf prefers causing trouble from behind a screen and away from the action unless she needs to stretch her legs, Blade has too much on his mind to bother adding different characters into the mix, Firefly dreams to only live as herself. None of them share your excitement for acting and it would have been a great disappointment if it wasn’t for Kafka. Beautiful, guarded, eccentric Kafka. Constantly in search of adrenaline and always in movement, she is the only other member of your little illicit troupe of performers. Being with her is often the same as stepping on stage, what with all the half-truths and misleading statements, she is hidden under layers of costumes sometimes extravagant and other times impressively mundane. Even now, if she truly wishes to keep you at bay, you won’t be able to read her. It’s intoxicating. She plays you like the lines of a movie and together, under glaring lights and unsuspecting spectators, you dominate the stage.

You’re clasping the buttons of your shirt at the wrists, often slipping and having to start over, but despite the faint feeling of annoyance as you get dressed, you’re excited. Another evening of performing is ahead of you and it’s in times like this where you truly enjoy the work of the Stellaron Hunters. Having to blend in, to navigate a crowd of arrogant businessmen and pretentious admirers of the arts in order to steal the prized item of this auction feels like a scene straight out of a spy movie. What’s better is that you’re not meant to do this alone; Silver Wolf will be on comms as usual, hacking into the building to assure that the infiltration goes smoothly and Kafka will be right by your side, gloved hand in yours. Pre-performance jitters tingle your fingertips and toes. The sensation is welcome.

You tuck your shirt into your slacks and buckle the belt around your waist. You can hear shuffling and rummaging from the bathroom connected to the bedroom because of its open door. You pick the tie you laid out on the bed with the rest of your outfit earlier and wrap it around your neck, fiddling with it for some time before accepting the fact that you have no idea how to tie a tie and letting out a sigh of frustration. This is your first time wearing such a professional-looking suit complete with the loafers and tie, and you don’t know how to feel about it. It was slightly altered by your request, so it isn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. You stand in front of the full length mirror with your undone tie, turning this way and that. Your hair is done in a style you like and with the shoes on you have to admit that you look nice.

You hear the faucet being turned on in the bathroom and stalk towards it.

“Can you tie this for me?” You ask as you step inside and glance at the mess of beauty products on the counter. Some of them are yours used in your hair, but most are Kafka’s. This is her room, after all.

Kafka’s applying a thin coat of mascara on her lashes when you walk in, focused on her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t spare you a glance until she puts the brush back into its tube, flutters her eyelashes a couple times and deems her work perfect. She turns to you, an amused smile growing on her lips at the tie resting around your neck.

“Don’t know how?” Kafka steps into your space and runs her fingers over the fabric. She starts to loop it around and over itself as you stand.

“Never had to learn.”

From this close, you can appreciate the eyeshadow at the corner of her eyes and the highlights on the apple of her cheeks. She hasn’t put on perfume yet or finished doing her lips, but she’s dressed in a form-fitting dark magenta dress that ends a little above her ankles, with thin straps and an open back. You feel no shame observing her backside through the mirror since she’s facing away from it. She’s stupidly gorgeous; you bring your eyes back to the dangling pearl earrings in her ears and the few strands of hair that cover them. If for some reason she stands out from the crowd tonight, it’ll be because she’s the most beautiful person in the room.

Kafka finishes tying your tie and pats your chest twice. She steps back and looks you over with a hum and a couple knuckles under her chin. When her gaze travels back up to meet yours, you catch a shimmer of appreciation in it.

“Well, you look dashing,” she says, her eyes following the movements of your hands as you smooth out your shirt.

You grin playfully, approaching her to lightly rest your hands on her waist. “The suit is doing it for you, isn’t it?”

Kafka lifts your chin with two fingers. “It is.”

Her honesty makes you huff out a laugh and the smile on her lips grows somewhat at the sound.

“I’ll have to come up with excuses to get you to wear it more often.”

“You could just ask.”

“That’s boring.”

You roll your eyes, glancing at the watch on your left wrist. “We have to meet Silver Wolf outside in 20 minutes.” You lean forward to plant a chaste kiss on her lips before letting go and leaving her to her makeup.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re shrugging on your coat when Kafka emerges from the bathroom to clasp a necklace around her neck and put on her heels. She carefully handles her own coat as she takes it out of the closet, putting it over her shoulders to complete her look. Her hair is secured in a low ponytail, as usual. The chain of her pendant rests between her breasts and the low neckline of her dress draws your attention to her chest for half a minute while you wait for her near the door.

You meet up with Silver Wolf with two minutes to spare and set off for the venue. It’s this city’s grandest museum, its marble columns can be seen from a distance as you approach in car. The streets are bustling with activity, glowing lights are shining on skyscrapers and stores have their doors open to assure a healthy flow for the customers coming in and out of them. The arts are greatly valued here, it shows in the pristine buildings and advertisements all around. You know it’s only because this is a richer neighborhood and surmise that the rest of the city doesn’t look as well put together. The ride to the museum is filled with Silver Wolf’s rock music in the speakers. Everything is in place, the comms she gave you are installed and all that’s left is to put on a show that the audience won’t forget.

Silver Wolf acts as your valet when you reach the venue and step out of the car, Kafka’s hand in yours. She slips into the driver’s seat and drives off to park somewhere close and inconspicuous. She’ll be supervising the mission from the back seat while the two of you do the heavy lifting.

Kafka curls a hand around your arm as you walk up the steps of the museum. You feel a little smug knowing that she’s here with you, at your arm. Getting inside is child’s play; your invitations are checked and the metal detector is no match for Silver Wolf’s genius tech, not that you’d ever tell her that. The interior is as impressive as its outside, with high ceilings, ceramic floors and precious artifacts displayed inside tall glass cases. You and Kafka make your way to where the Attouine Universal Auction will take place in one system hour, stopping to mingle with previously chosen targets on the way. You mingle among the upper crust, politicians, businessmen, academics alike so that Kafka can use her Spirit Whisper on them. The guest list isn’t large, only up to a total of 67 people, including you two. Lying to them is easy, pretending to be in love with Kafka is easier and you’re actually having fun half an hour in.

Kafka doesn’t let you do all the talking, she has no issue following your train of thought and assuring her advantage in the conversation. It’s admirable and effortless, you don’t get tired of seeing her in action. She has a champagne flute in one hand, occasionally pensively stirring the clear liquid inside. Her smile is rehearsed and comes as naturally as breathing when a couple sparks up a conversation with you. You’re happy to play along in front of the short woman and her husband, judging by the wedding band on her finger.

“What a beautiful pair you two make,” the brunette says, an air of forced politeness about her. She seems a little out of place, like she’s not used to these kinds of events. You guess that she’s only accompanying her husband to them and that he’s actually the one with recognition.

Her husband, however, stands with his chin high and his shoulders straight. He belongs there, or believes he does, and makes a show of showing everyone else.

You take Kafka’s hand in yours and bring it to your lips. “Thank you. She’s a diamond, isn’t she?”

The man follows the motion with his eyes but his wife replies before he can open his mouth. You hear Silver Wolf gag over the comms.

“Oh, how cute! Have you been together long?”

“A year, just about,” Kafka answers, looking at you. “This one’s always a charmer.”

“I can see that!”

You smile. “I’ve got to keep you around somehow… I’m aware of what a blessing you are.”

A sparkle of amusement shines in Kafka’s eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly at your cheesy reply. You maintain your facade, but you also feel like laughing at how silly you sound. It’s not an untrue statement per se… it’s just weird to say such things out loud because all the both of you do is beat around the bush when it comes to genuine emotion. You’re playing a character but it feels a little like the lines between fiction and reality are blurring.

In your ear, Silver Wolf groans, “One more corny line and you’re getting muted. You both disgust me.”

The woman poses a hand on her husband’s arm, addressing him while keeping her eyes on you. “They’re just like us, aren’t they, Len?”

Your gaze flickers to his at the mention of his name and he immediately looks away into the distance to pretend he wasn’t staring at the necklace between Kafka’s breasts. You feel a faint tinge of annoyance flare up inside your chest.

“Yes, very lovely,” he says, faking the unbothered tone of his voice.

You don’t know what offends you the most; his atrocious acting or his unashamed ogling.

“I notice neither of you are wearing rings,” the woman continues with interest. “Will things be made official in the near future, perhaps…?”

Kafka lets out a chuckle— you can tell it’s a genuine one— and turns to you with a teasing smirk, “Oh, I don’t know… will they?”

You feel the familiar sensation of bees in your belly as you’re put on the spot. All three of them expect your answer so you decide to play Kafka’s game. You meet her stare with the most innocent, lovesick look you can muster, your thumb rubbing the base of her ring finger. You find that you don’t have to try that hard.

“I don’t know about the near future, but… I know I’ve never been in love before knowing her.”

Kafka’s face doesn’t change, her meticulously practiced mask never slips, and you look at each other with equally heavy stares. Time seems to slow if only for the few seconds it takes for your new acquaintance to make an exaggerated sound of excitement. The moment breaks, you both look away at the same time and the conversation quickly resumes with pointless inquiries about your (fake?) relationship and the auction.

After some time, you glance at your watch and feel somewhat vindicated by the fact that the auction will start soon, giving you a reason to excuse yourself from the conversation. You’re also excited by what will happen next.

“It was nice meeting you both,” you offer the woman a smile and a nod, not dwelling on the blush of her cheeks, “but we have to find our seats. It’d be a shame to be all the way at the back with so many almost priceless items on display tonight.”

She laughs quietly and you miss the furtive look Kafka sends your way.

“Of course, of course…” The brunette sighs, then smiles sweetly. “Maybe we’ll end up seated next to each other.”

You don’t say anything to that. Kafka politely bids them goodbye and walks in the opposite direction, the hand laced with yours tugging you along. You meet with the rest of the guests, spark up short conversations from every corner of the room. Despite enjoying your performance, you find your audience lacking. Arrogance and pretentiousness reside in every business man, celebrity, political figure that you talk to and you quickly develop disdain for almost every person at this event. None of them deserve the social advantage that they have; you feel restless with the desire to humble them.

With each guest filing into the auction room until all the seats are filled, it’s time for the next part of the script to unfold. You take your seats at the front right near the small built-in stage. Two staff members carefully roll out the auction items as the auctioneer steps before the microphone and greets his audience. Kafka’s hand is on your knee, forefinger tracing insignificant patterns into the fabric of your pants while you wait for the last and most important item to be presented. The Stellaron, trapped inside a large, almost translucent mineral, emits an energy felt by the entire room as it’s brought on stage in a glass case. It glitters in the light like a precious jewel and catches the attention of each buyer. Kafka squeezes your knee once. It’s go time.

Stealing the Stellaron is laughably easy. Due to Kafka’s Spirit Whisper, not a single member of the audience can find the strength to stand up from their seat as you hop to your feet and saunter on stage. The auctioneer stammers about it not being allowed, but he’s dealt with just as the others are and soon, he’s frozen where he stands, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Confused murmurs and panicked shouts fill the air when the guests realize their predicament, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kafka handles the Stellaron with care while you browse the selection of items on display with a pensive hum.

An antique vase catches your eye. It curves at the top and opens like a blooming flower; designs that mean nothing to you seem carved right into the glass, so you take it out if it’s case for a closer look. It’s a bit heavy despite measuring less than two feet. You decide to keep it and eventually gift it to Kafka knowing she would be able to find the beauty in it. As the clamor of people’s voices rise around you, an idea strikes you. You turn to Kafka.

“The script only said we would steal the Stellaron and leave the museum at 20:56 system time…”

A small smile appears on Kafka’s lips. “What are you thinking?”

“This place reeks of supposed social superiority,” you trail your fingers on top of a case containing an old ceramic disk with contrasting colors and patterns. You push it off the table and it explodes into cutting shards. Amidst the chaos, loud gasps of indignation follow. “I want to tear it down.”

Kafka’s smile widens.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way back to the base exactly as Elio foresaw, with Silver Wolf in the driver's seat making a quick getaway as the museum’s alarms sound behind you. You huff out a breathy laugh once in the back seat, heart thundering in your chest from the adrenaline. You had to incapacitate some security guards on the way out, the chase is your second favorite part. It feels great, your fingertips twitch with exhilaration as the car swerves between other vehicles on the road, ignoring red lights and stop signs. Kafka leans on the head rest next to you, looking at you with something you can’t fully decipher. In the darkness of the backseat it’s hard to read her gaze, especially with her contacts on, but you recognize the way her eyes flicker between yours, then to your mouth. She doesn’t have to say anything, your hands suddenly cup her cheeks and your lips crash into hers. The breath is knocked out of you with both her kiss and the lingering adrenaline. Her hand snakes around your neck to bring you closer, her teeth sink into your bottom lip when she pulls away for half a second. She’s rougher than usual with a sense of urgency accompanying her touches; her free fingers sneak under your coat to grip your shirt.

“Can you not?” Silver Wolf makes a noise of disgust and her sudden intervention pulls you out of the daze you were in. “I swear, I’ll crash this stupid car.”

Kafka chuckles, separating herself from you. Her hand stays beneath your coat. “Don’t be so dramatic. A mission well done deserves a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s not in front of me.”

“We’re behind you…” you mutter, inhaling deeply to calm your shaky hands.

You ignore the middle finger Silver Wolf sends your way. You lean into the seat, eyes closed, and regain full control of your body with a few slow breaths. Kafka’s hand trails down your shirt to your lap. As you turn your head to look at her, you find her gaze already on you. The unfamiliar glint in it is still present, seemingly making her irises darker, then the corners of her mouth lift in a softer smile than she’d normally offer you.

“Let’s play a round of Truth or Lie,” she says suddenly.

Apart from being a fun game you both enjoy, it’s somewhat become your way of discussing serious matters without having to lay yourselves bare. The existence of a lie adds a layer of protection that neither of you can go without. You tilt your head at the suggestion.

“Okay. You start.”

Kafka takes a few seconds to reply, as if thinking of how to phrase her question. You’re careful to school your features into a picture of neutrality so as to not be caught off guard. She hums, then speaks up.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, to that woman?”

You don’t need to ask for clarification on what she’s referring to. Though her smile hasn’t slipped off her face, Kafka’s expression is guarded.

“Am I that good a liar you couldn’t tell?” You tease, an eyebrow raised.

“Is that one of your questions?”

You look past her as you think. Yes, something in you meant what you said then. You recognize this certainty, it’s as real as the earlier thrill in your veins. Being with Kafka is never boring, always brings something new, and you’ve never felt this way before meeting her. It’s an electrifying feeling that travels from your toes to wake the rest of your body, not unlike a shock, except that this is something you can’t help but crave. Beyond the curtains of this beautiful stage you act in lies a sort of yearning for more of how she makes you feel, of her hand in yours as you reenact this rehearsed play of two emotionally guarded beings finding closeness in each other. Are you in love with her? Yes, you are.

“No,” you shake your head, “to answer your first question. I was in character.”

Kafka stares at you for a moment, searching your face for the truth. You smile at her.

“Mm. You turn.”

Your fingers fiddle with her hand on your lap. Silver Wolf takes a sharper turn than necessary and the car swerves to the right. “Are you disappointed by my answer?”

“…No. I’m not.”

You can’t read her at all. You suppose that’s the point of the game. You arrive at your destination before you can finish the round and Silver Wolf wastes no time in hopping out of the car and into the building. There’s a spring in your step as you follow suit with Kafka in tow.

You’re already working towards unbuttoning your coat and uncuffing your shirt when you step into Kafka’s dark room. She flicks the switch behind you, illuminating the room. She takes off her earrings and you take a seat on the bed after slipping out of your loafers. You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a long sigh. Kafka discards her jewelry on top of a dresser.

“You know…” she turns to you before leaning into the furniture and looking you over like she did earlier this evening. You stop loosening your tie as she speaks, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You feel a playful smile stretch your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm. You nearly had that poor woman combusting in place.”

Your brows furrow briefly as you recall the exchange. You viewed her interest as superficial, something she felt compelled to be because of how obviously uneasy social events of that nature made her. It showed in the way she clung to her husband and how clumsy she was at navigating the conversation. Still, Kafka’s words are laced with a tinge of possessiveness you almost never see in her. A smirk slowly spreads across your face.

“She had a husband,” you remind her.

“Who spent half the conversation looking at my chest. They likely had nothing between them. But you knew that.”

You did not. You genuinely thought she was overcompensating and were too busy playing a clip of her husband getting fatally injured over and over in your mind after catching his eyes on Kafka. It’s funny that she would think you were flirting on purpose, though.

Kafka takes slow strides towards you. She stands in front of you and a bare foot slides between your calves to nudge them apart. You take hold of her waist, looking up at her with an innocent smile.

“You liked the attention,” she states with a finger under your chin. She wears a smile as her other hand comes up to strike your hair.

“You sound jealous.”

Kafka laughs softly, fingers splaying out over your cheek. Her thumb soothingly rubs your skin. You resist the urge to close your eyes. “Cute. What’s there to be jealous of when you’re pliable in my hands?” Her knee sinks into the mattress between your legs and she leans closer. “A block of clay to be shaped and molded. That’s what you are.”

“And you’re so eager to put your hands on me, to have me for yourself that another woman laughing at my jokes tickles you.”

Her thumb traces the outline of your bottom lip. “Eager?”

“Like a pup.”

Her smile doesn’t waver. She pushes her digit past your lips and it gets caught between your teeth as you make a noise of surprise at the sudden intrusion. You relax after a second, your tongue swirling around her finger while you maintain eye contact with her. There’s a dangerous heat in the way she looks at you, an unsaid warning that you choose to ignore.

“Brat.” Kafka takes her thumb out of your mouth and observes how it shines in the light. “You know what I do with them, don’t you?”

“You fuck them?”

The smile on her face grows larger. The way she touches you is inherently condescending, the overly sweet strokes of your hair and fake gentleness as she cups your cheek and leans close to you as if to kiss you are subtle reminders of her control over you. You stare into her eyes with fluttering eyelashes.

“Sweet girls get orgasms. A brat like you, on the other hand…”

You feel her breath on your parted lips and expect a kiss that doesn’t come. Instead Kafka tears herself from you and straightens up. Your hands leave her waist as she takes a step back and brings her hand to her chin in contemplation.

“I think I’ll tie you up.”

She does just that. You bite your bottom lip to muffle a whine, wrists absentmindedly tugging against their pretty, silken restraints. Kafka’s ropes hold your arms above your head to each corner of the headboard and slightly dig into your skin the more your muscles struggle. She effortlessly ties you up like a lovely present before you can prepare a snarky remark. The pink webs obey her command, unlike you, and keep you in place while she climbs over you to leisurely undress you. She starts at your neck, loosening your tie to place wet kisses on your skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh and she is without remorse when you hiss at the sensation. She suckles the bite, her tongue occasionally darting out to soothe the mark in slow strokes. Her hands expertly undo the button of your shirt without needing to look at her work. You feel her warm tongue trailing down to your collarbone as she removes your shirt. One of her knees stays between your thighs, unmoving.

Kafka lifts her head to look at the reveal of your skin once your shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor. Her palms travel up and down your stomach, squeeze at the waist and knead your covered breasts over your bra, all the while following their movements with lidded eyes. You swallow. You don’t say a word because you know she’ll go even slower if pressured to pick up the pace, but your skin is hot and your cunt already pulses between your legs at her tame ministrations. Kafka pulls down the cup of your bra with a finger, freeing a hardened nipple.

“Erect already?” She teases. “I only took off your shirt.”

“Shut up,” the words leave your mouth without thinking and your lips part in surprise when she uses two fingers to harshly twist your nipple. “Ah!”

“Wanna try again?”

You take a breath. “Acting like I’m the eager one when I know you’ve already ruined your pan— Mmh!”

Pleasure courses through you as your nipple is pinched between her fingertips. Her hands run around your chest to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, then resume their work on your breasts. Her thumbs swipe over your nipples, applying pressure that pathetically quickens your breathing. Kafka licks her lips but doesn’t use her mouth on you. She watches how your plush mounds move under her hands and take whatever shape she wants them to. She grabs a handful of each breast, squeezing and kneading until you’re exhaling through your mouth. Then she slowly moves down to your hips, rubbing the skin. She has to adjust her position in order to take off your pants and she settles between your thighs once the task is done.

Your thighs spread apart to accommodate her body. Kafka looks up at you, amused, but doesn’t comment on the gesture. Her palms rub into your soft skin, trailing up and down your inner thighs. A dark spot spreads from where arousal dampens your gray underwear.

“If only you could see how wet you’re getting,” she sighs lustfully, “maybe we should do this in front of the mirror. What do you think?”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the suggestion. Kafka hooks a forefinger under your underwear and pulls to reveal your glistening sex. Her voice lowers perceivably.

“Mm? Is thinking about me fucking you in front of a mirror getting you all wet?”

Her index trails down your folds and touches your clit as it does, making you suck your lip into your mouth to keep in a low moan. Kafka observes her finger between your lips, how your arousal coats the better part of it as it teases your pussy. She’ll have you a complete sticky mess before the night is over. The thought makes her cunt clench. She slides your panties down your legs until they no longer hide your puffy pussy from her sight. She uses two fingers to spread your lips and looks up at you.

“If you were well-behaved, I’d be licking you clean right now. Too bad you’re not.”

You groan in slight frustration. “Come on. Just fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” Kafka’s eyes narrow. She pulls her fingers away from your cunt completely. “And when I do, you won’t be able to remember a thing but how good I feel inside you.”

Kafka stands upright, ignoring your little whine to rummage through her drawers instead. She picks up a couple of things and you’re breathless when you see the strap-on and vibrator in her hands as she returns to your side. Your thighs clench together in a fruitless attempt at relieving pressure in your lower belly. You feel your arousal on your inner thighs, coating them in sticky juices. Kafka waves a hand and silk threads wrap around your flesh, forcing you to keep your legs spread for her. You try to move but apart from the quiver of your muscles, nothing happens.

“You haven’t earned that one yet,” Kafka gestures with the plastic cock and tosses it on the bed. She turns the small vibrator over in her palm, messing around with the settings until she finally settles on the lowest one. It pulses as it’s pressed against your cunt and you don’t bother covering up the moan that escapes you. “This will do for now.”

The vibrations on your pussy are so good, so relieving you throw your head back with a breathy moan. You feel each one reverberate through your body and soon, your hips are trying to move along for more friction. You buck your hips, hoping the movement will make it touch your clit for even a second. Kafka watches your growing desperation with apathy. She runs the vibrator up and down your slit, purposely ignoring your aching clit. Positioning it at your entrance covers the head in arousal and she’s tempted to push it in just to see how your cunt greedily sucks in anything she gives you. She makes you suffer longer, caresses your labia with the toy and pulls it away when she sees you clench from the pleasure. With it being at the lowest setting, the throb is a welcomed sensation but isn’t enough to make you come. Trying to move your body is useless; the thin ropes around your limbs keep you exactly how Kafka wants you: defenseless.

You inhale sharply through your mouth as she rubs the toy into your cunt. You know begging won’t help your cause and will only serve to humiliate you. Pleading to her good conscience is just as worthless, but you need to come so badly and Kafka will only allow you to do it on her terms. So, you provoke her.

“That— Mmh, that woman from the auction,” you manage to breathe out, and Kafka instantly meets your eyes. “Bet… she’d be so eager to make me come if I asked.”

Kafka doesn’t move for a moment. The vibrator is still pressed against your pussy, making you let out little whines, but her hand isn’t moving and she’s simply looking at you like she’s trying to figure you out. You know she sees through you, your mind is too taken by the idea of pleasure to bother hiding yourself from her searching gaze. She seems to debate with herself on something and when you think she just won’t bite your bait, she turns off the vibrator. You watch as she stands to let her dress slip to the floor. Apprehension curls around your throat as she steps into the harness of the strap-on and adjusts it around her hips. Her silence makes your gut flutter with nervousness. Then she chuckles to herself and that only worsens the feeling.

Kafka hovers over you, fingers digging into your skin as she grabs your jaw and guides your gaze to hers. Her nails will surely leave crescent marks behind, but you can only focus on the dull pink of her irises. With her free hand, she guides the plastic cock between your folds, coating it in your slick and grazing your clit in the process. Your following moan is muffled by the grip on your jaw. She spreads your arousal over the dick, pumping it once, twice, three times before her sticky fingers grip your waist and she pushes half of the length into you at once.

You groan in surprise, unaccustomed to the sudden fullness. You feel the toy stretching your walls and Kafka doesn’t allow you to get used to the sensation before thrusting the entirety of it inside your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, w— wait…” you gasp out, wrists struggling against the ropes and thighs trembling. “I was—” A whimper escapes you as Kafka pulls out almost completely just to drive into you again. “Was joking, baby…”

“Shut up and take it.”

You have no choice but to comply. Kafka thrusts into you, unrelenting and apathetic to the way the sensations overwhelm you instantly after so much teasing. Her dick rubs your walls deliciously and the wet sounds of it pounding into you has you choking out a cry. You don’t get used to the pace, it’s too rough, too fast, and has your orgasm building after only a minute of her inside you. You can’t last, not with Kafka playing you as rigorously as she does the violin, fingers digging into the flesh of your love handle for stability. You take her cock as she orders you to and whimper against her lips when she leans forward to press her mouth to yours for the first time tonight. Her kiss is as rough as her strokes, leaving you breathless, a mindless puppet only able to mutter her name. As her tongue enters your mouth to tease yours, the hand around your jaw leaves so that her middle finger harshly rubs your clit. It’s too much for you to handle at once. Your cunt swallows her cock as you come with her name out your lips, squeezing her like a vice.

Kafka doesn’t slow down her thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm and maintaining the pressure on your pulsing clit until you feel another one coming.

“Kafka—” You whine, throat hoarse, “too much…”

“Mmh? That’s what you wanted. Be grateful I didn’t leave you there, cunt aching for me to fill you. You’ll take what I give you.”

Her eyes drink you in, she commits your twisting brows and trembling lips to memory; her mind takes live pictures of you under her, whimpering as you greedily take her cock, until there’s an entire gallery of your fucked out expression inside her head. The sight makes her wetter and needy for release, but it’s not enough. With an arm around your shoulder and the use of her webs, Kafka manipulates your weak body into straddling her lap as she sits up on the bed. Your wrists are still tied together, your arms around her neck, but your thighs quiver as the ropes vanish around them. She holds you up with two hands on your hips and pushes you down onto her length. Your eyes are closed, your lips parted, and you let her guide you up and down her cock until you’re coming again. Kafka watches your slick slide down the dildo and groans, wishing she could pump her own cum into your cunt and watch it leak out of you as she fills you. The toy is drenched in cum and she doesn’t look away as it disappears inside your throbbing pussy, can’t; she feels her own slick run down her thighs just from watching how messy you’re getting her cock.

“Can’t take it,” you breathe out, “mmh…”

Kafka looks up at you. She briefly takes your nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, before letting go and murmuring into your skin, “You can, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

You whine, hips faltering. The length of her cock buries into you in a harsh thrust upwards and you can’t make a sound as you come hard, your face in Kafka’s neck. Your arms shake from the pleasure that assaults you at once. Your toes curl and the breath leaves your lungs. Kafka doesn’t pull out as you come down from your high a panting mess. Your limbs feel twice as heavy. Her hand strokes your hair while you breathe in and out sharply. She gives you some time to calm down, then pulls you away from her neck with the hand in your hair and kisses you messily; you feel her tongue on your bottom lip and her saliva mix with yours. She breathes out into your open mouth, a low moan escaping her.

Kafka squeezes your hip and mutters into your mouth, “You’ll give me another one, won’t you?”

Though it’s phrased as one, you know it’s not a question at all. This is what you get for provoking her, and she won’t stop until she’s entirely satisfied.

[m2ok]

I’ve never been so madly in love

Cowboy! Johnny Mactavish x bottom! M!reader

Tw: soft fluffy smut

A/N: Guys this is my first time writing smut…I think I did alright, but let me know if you have any critiques for future reference :) 

Johnny twisted in the bonds tied around his wrists, thick rope cutting into soft skin as he wriggled about from where you had placed him on top of your horse. 

“Oh come on!” He groaned, trying with all he had to stretch the rope and break it, but to no avail. 

You ignored him, the hefty bounty you would get for his capture heavy on your mind as you made your way steadily back to your little town for which you were the sheriff of. 

Seemingly annoyed at your lack of attention, he shuffled forward as much as he could on the horse, knocking his shoulder into yours to force you to put your eyes on him. 

“Can we at least stop for the night! Wolves live near these parts and I’d rather not meet em.” He tried to reason. 

You rolled your eyes at the man as you ventured onwards, shaking your head at his pleas. 

“With the bounty on your head I wouldn’t worry about wolves. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ them take that money from me” you assured, though positive your words did little to comfort him. 

Johnny chuckled dryly, “aw sheriff, you wound me.” he mocked, struggling against the ropes halfheartedly. After a moment he sighed, once again giving up.

“Tell me honest pal, that bounty’s all worth it? All the work, risking your neck each time? For what, a few coins and a pat on the back?” He gazed ahead down the darkening trail. The trees seemed closer, though miles ahead still, shadowy figures lurking within just awaiting his arrival. 

“When was the last time you took a rest, had yourself a drink or dance with a pretty thing?” Johnny glanced sidelong at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his words. 

You were tempted to ignore him once again, but you figured conversation might do you some good out on the dusty landscape. Though you wished it was with better company. 

“Dance with who? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head as you adjusted your hat so it wouldn’t cover your eyes. 

“This here’s the only work I’ve known. I’ll be damned If I let it go now,” you didn’t care much for the money nor the glory despite what you had said, the chase was the most fun part; that was what kept you going and made the job enjoyable. 

And Johnny was the only man who routinely matched your wits. Though this time proved different, this time you had finally won. It was a kind of euphoria you hadn’t felt in a long while. 

Johnny let out an obnoxious bark of laughter. “Well now sheriff, I’ll have you know I get rather frisky when I’ve had one too many. But you don’t seem the type.” His smile faded as he pondered your words. 

“Aye…I get it. The thrill of it all keeps the blood pumpin’. Nothin else quite like the open road.” He sighed wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to feel that freedom again, even if just for a night.”

The horses slowed as darkness fell. Up ahead was a small clearing, as good a spot as any to camp, and it had Johnny eying you sideways again.

 “Bet you five dollars i can wriggle outta these here ropes by mornin’. Whaddya say?” He flash a rougish grin, bright eyes watching for your reaction.

You stopped the horses as you camp upon the little plot of land, dismounting as you unpacked the little rucksack you carried. You set up a small tent with a mat on the inside for a buffer against the hard ground and some furs for warmth. 

You spent the next few minutes gathering wood for a humble fire, completely ignoring Johnny until the thing was built - then you spoke as you dusted your hands off on your worn denim. 

“I’d be a damned fool if I took that bet.” You said as you looked over at him, the mischievous glint in his eyes doing little to ease your nerves. “Reckon I won’t get much sleep tonight on account of makin’ sure you stay put.” You grumbled to yourself as you practically dragged him off of the horse, setting him in front of the fire before he could complain about being cold. 

Johnny chuckled at your wariness. “No need to fret sheriff, I ain’t goin anywhere.” He said with a wink before he shifted into a more comfortable position, eyeing the flickering flame.

“Must get lonely out here though. Never thought I’d say this, but I’d offer you some company.” His grin returned, flecks of gold in his eyes as he gazed over at you from where he sat, his eyes holding something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“We bounty men gotta stick together after all. Who else understands the thrill of the chase, hm?”

He leaned forward, closing in on your space as his voice turned low, “and between you and me, I’ve had my sights set on a certain lawman for a while now. Why do you think I keep letting you catch me?” He winked. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm in places the fire couldn’t have reached. Damn scoundrel was playing games with your head, same as he did to escape time and time again. But part of you found yourself intrigued at his new tactic, despite your better judgment.  

You wrote off his words as deception, an attempt to get your guard down just enough so he could run off in the middle of the night with everything you owned. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, adjusting your pants as you turned your attention back to the fire to hide your blush; hoping he would right off your red face as a result of the fire burning bright in front of you. 

“You’re bad at hidin’ your intentions. No wonder ya get caught so often, you’re a terrible liar.” You said with a roll of your eyes, trying as hard as you could to ignore the temptation and desire slowly building in the deep pit of your stomach. 

You and Johnny had always had this strange sort of relationship. He would tell you sweet nothings, his face so honest and true you couldn’t help but believe him only for him to run off the second he saw an opportunity. Though you always crossed paths again, and he always assured he meant what he said.

You knew it was wrong to feel this way about a man of his stature, and you hated your body for betraying your mind. The desire in you slowly turning into sick guilt at the feeling of being physically attracted to a man you were supposed to be capturing, and likely sending to his death should you turn him in. For what crimes committed you couldn’t rightly say. 

Johnny chuckled once again, not missing the slight flush creeping up your neck towards your ears. “Now now sheriff, no need to be coy. Ain’t no crime in finding a fella agreeable.”

He shifted his bound wrists, leaning ever closer so his words were for your ears alone. “And to be honest, I’ve yet to meet a man as cunning and determined as yourself. It’s…inspiring” His breath was warm against your skin, lips barely inches from your own. Fear and desire warred within - this outlaw could ruin you with a single move. And yet…out here in the whispering dark, titles and duties seemed so far away and futile. 

Johnny searched your gaze, smile fading to something hungrier, questioning. After so long chasing each other’s shadows, what would happen if one of you stopped running, just for a moment?

The fire crackled lower as stars emerged unseen above trees. Anything could happen…if you would just let it.

Your own eyes were blown wide as he leaned in ever closer, sharing the same air as you gazed into his eyes. You wanted to believe his words, and you wanted to give into your instincts. No. You couldn’t, you had to convince yourself this was just an issue of forced proximity. So pent up from a job you couldn’t catch a break from that you got hot and bothered at the sight of an attractive man. You were better than your instincts, you had to believe that. 

You cleared your throat as you leaned away from him, shaking your head as your eyebrows furrowed while a new sort of feeling filled you - hurt. You weren’t sure why this new emotion popped up, but it did. You wanted to be seen as more than just a means to an end, but you knew this life didn’t offer much of that. Everyone was always going to be more worried about their own skin, and maybe you should take their lead. 

“M’ not gonna be something you use just to get away. Nor will I be a one night stand.” You grumbled, words firm and sure as you mindlessly poked the fire with a nearby stick as a way to distract yourself from the current situation. 

Johnny sat back with a sigh, watching your restless stoking of the flames. Clearly this situation stirred more within you than you cared to show. And he understood - to give in would risk everything, for the both of you. 

“Hey now…” He said softly as his gaze turned tender “I meant no disrespect.” His tone was gentle now, earnest in the firelight. “Fact is, I’ve never met a man like you. There’s something about you that intrigues me, lawman. Something worth riskin’ it all for, if you’d have me” 

He held your gaze steadily, searching. After so long running wild, the idea of settling…It didn’t scare him half as much as he thought. Not if it was with you. 

Johnny smiled faintly. “What do you say we grab this here bounty in the morn, head into town as partners? I’m willing to turn a new leaf, if you’ll vouch for me.” 

The offer hung between you, heavy with promise. A chance at something real. It was all your call.  

You thought about your options, finally landing on something you deemed not quite illegal. With steady hands you grabbed a knife from your pocket, taking his bound hands in one of your own while the other used the blade to carefully saw through the thick rope. 

The binds fell away to the wind, and you set the knife to rest on the dirt as you gently massaged the indented skin, unwilling to let go of his warm hands just yet. 

You pulled away to look over at the small town barely a mile away, a big wooden saloon sign catching your eye. “I need a drink anyway.” You said simply as you both made the short trek over.

It was hours later when you finally got back to camp, alcohol still buzzing in your system just enough to give you confidence as you clung onto each other life life depended on it, lips clashing in a heated kiss as you moaned against him, addicted to the feeling of Johnny’s hands on your waist - desperate to keep you pressed against him. 

Johnny grinned against your lips, heart soaring like it hadn’t in years. Finally free in more ways than one, and with the most interesting man he’d ever known no less. 

“Sheriff…” he murmured, guiding you down into the soft grass as hands roamed, learning your shape in the pale moonlight. No need for words now - just sensation and freedom, two men chasing a different kind of high. 

Clothes were discarded in haste, bare flesh reveling in the cool air and fiery touches. Johnny looked down at you with hunger, a longing, he’d never allowed himself to feel fully before this night. 

“Tell me what you want darlin’,” He breathed against your neck, nipping softly at tender skin. Your hands in his hair urged him closer still, the ache inside building swiftly with the need to be inside you. 

You arched into his touch, a whine leaving your lips as his hands roamed against sensitive skin. It wasn’t often you were under someone like this, so vulnerable and splayed out for all of him to see. 

“Johnny~” You gasped, desperate for some sort of friction as you rolled your hips up to meet his own. 

“You- just want you. Please…need you to - to make me yours~” You were begging, frantic hands keeping him close as you waited with mock patience for what you wanted Hips wiggled in anticipation as you looked down to where your bodies were so nearly joined, only needing a slight push from Johnny to come together as one. 

Johnny growled low at your plea, all thoughts fleeing save the primal need to claim and be claimed in return. 

“Fuck, baby. Whatever you want~” He rumbled, grasping your hips to still them. With a slow roll of his own and careful aiming, he teased your entrance with his aching length. Your gasp spurred him onwards, sinking in to the hilt with shuddering care. 

Pausing the savor the connection, Johnny saw stars behind his eyes. You felt so unbelievably right wrapped around him, guiding his rough edges into a smooth whole. 

Bracing above, he gazed down at your blissed out expression and swore then and there - come hell or high water, nothing would rend him from your side again. You belonged to each other, body and soul, and may the devil himself try to tear you apart. 

With that vow sealed in his blood, Johnny began to move with near excruciating patience, learning your responses like familiar paths once trekked long ago. 

“Mmf~!” You moaned, words escaping you at the feeling of being filled so entirely, nearly cumming as soon as he entered, hard member pressing down in you deep enough to make you feel utterly full. 

“Fuck! so - shit - so fucking big Johnny!”  You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer as you began to rock your hips in time with his thrusts, trying to urge him to go faster. 

“Please - please move I can’t- Need you to move-!” You begged, your own hard cock leaking precum against your stomach as you waited impatiently for him to bend to your pleas. 

Johnny groaned at your words, beyond thrilled you found his size so pleasing already. “Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he grit out, pulling back slowly before snapping his hips forward in a deep thrust. 

That first rollick sent sparks shooting through his veins, your walls clasping him in exquisite heat. Johnny set a punishing pace from there, driving into your willing body like a man possessed. All that built up want and denial over your respective chases came flooding out in each meeting of skin. 

Reaching between you, he grasped your aching member, pumping in rhythm with his thrusts. Johnny wanted you unraveling completely beneath him, marked inside and out as truly his. 

“Come on now honey, let go for me,” he urged roughly, angling for that spot deep within. 

His balls drew tight with the promise of release, but Johnny wouldn’t dare finish before you. No, he was going to milk you for all you were worth before he even thought about his own release, tying your pleasure irrevocably to his own.

You gasped at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, eyes nearly rolling back as your body moved with every harsh pound into you, mind going dumb on his cock. Though you wouldn't ask for anything better, the feeling consumed you entirely, pleasure taking over everything as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach start to tighten further and further until-

With a soft cry you came, body shaking as your spend landed across both of your bodies. Your legs tightened around his waist, desperate to keep inside for a while longer, almost crying at the thought of him pulling out of you so quickly. You wanted to spend the entire night wrapped in him like this.

Johnny groaned at your reaction, grinding his hips through your release to prolong your pleasure. The way you clung to him so wantonly with shaking legs stole what little breath he had left. 

“So responsive already, darlin’. I ain’t done with you yet - don’t worry your pretty little head~” He rasped, uncaring of the mess you were creating. With sloppy rolls he rode out your aftershocks, cock throbbing at your fluttering insides. 

But you begged for more like the insatiable creature he knew you to be. Johnny wasted no time obeying, moving your legs so he could pull you up into his lap, pistoning up into that sweet spot with no mercy. His orgasm teetered on the edge, held back only by sheer force of will. Johnny latched onto your neck, sucking a sore mark to match the pulse beating erratically beneath his lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ya feel so damn good takin’ my cock. Gonna fuck another load outta you ‘fore I’m done, you hear?”

His fingers returned unbidden to your sensitive length, determined to wring every last shiver from your overstimulated form beneath the glory of the moon. Johnny wanted this night - wanted you - to last as long as fate allowed. Let the dawn take care of itself for once. 

His words did little to quell the burning lust building up inside of you once more, a whiny moan leaving you as your second orgasm of the night rippled through you, this time merely dribbling out of your tip. 

“God- fuck Johnny!” You whined “So good- so so good inside me. Can’t even can’t even think right!” You babbled, practically drooling as you held on tight to him fingernails no doubt leaving scratches along his body. 

“Need you to cum in me - nice and deep and- and make me yours~” You begged, rocking your hips against his. 

Johnny growled deep at your pleasure cries, all sense of restrain utterly vanished in the throes of lustful abandon. 

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’, gon’ fill that tight hole up just how you want,” he grit out through clenched teeth. A few final brutal thrusts was all it took, his release exploding within your clasping heat with a drawn out groan. 

Wave after wave pulsed from his cock, painting your velvety walls white inside and out. Johnny held you flush, grinding through the bliss to be certain not a drop was spared between your bodies. 

As his throes eased, Johnny pressed loving kisses to your sweat-slick brow, nose nuzzling sweetly against your own. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, cock still twitching inside its paradise. 

Johnny adjusted your sated form to cradle properly in his lap, breath coming fast yet deep with afterglow. One hand stroked gently through your hair while the other rubbed your sated length, reluctant to part so soon. 

His sweet words clouded your brain, fuzz covering everything logical as a pleasured haze took over. 

With a weak whine you came for one final time, panting softly as he removed his hand and allowed you to just rest against him. Your body was completely lax in his arms, lingering pleasures twitching inside you still. With another whine you cuddled into him, sweat turning cold on your skin as you sought out his body heat to keep you warm. 

“Don’t leave…” You whispered, the aftermath hitting you hard, body and mind falling together. “Don’t leave me again” you begged, voice shaky as you clung onto him. 

Johnny held you tighter at your whispers, heart near bursting at the confessed sentiment. 

“Never, darlin’, I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you,” he vowed softly into your hair, peppering it with gentle kisses. His hand rose to cup your face, urging your glazed eyes to meet his own smoldering gaze. 

“You’re stuck with me now, ya hear? I’d follow you into hell itself for another taste of heaven like this.” Johnny chuckled lightly even as deep emotion welled in his chest. 

“We’ll face tomorrow together, you and me against the world. Anyone tries to tear us apart will get a bullet quicker than they can blink.” He held your eyes steadily, willing you to see the sincerity in his soul. 

“I love you, little sheriff. Now and always, till my dying day.” With that Johnny sealed the oath with a tender kiss, Pouring every unspoken feeling into action. Nothing would part you from this moment, from him, ever again if he had any say. 

Now yours completely, he guided your limp form to rest atop his chest as blankets of stars looked on. Whatever dreams may come, for tonight there was only peace in each other’s arms at long last. 

~end

As always, requests are open

[johnnycakesswitch]

I have a few!

I feel like Soda and Pony just let out the most obnoxious burps after they’re finished eating and Darry HATES it because they’re so gross about it too

Darry always has to suppress himself from smiling Pony’s parent escher conferences because all his teachers say such good things about him and he’s proud of his brother

Additionally I feel like Pony has a few teachers he LOATHES and openly complains about and Darry’s just like “suck it up you’re gonna have them all year no sense in complaining” and he gets home from parent teacher conferences and he’s just like “I see why you hate them”

Soda hates being barefoot and would rather walk on hot rods with socks than the normal ground without them

Soda and Steve ransack the snack aisle at the DX except they always end up eating too much and suffer through being lethargic at work because of it

Soda would make those little macaroni signs for Pony at his track meets that say “go Ponyboy” and Pony loves it

Darry likes listening to shin brothers’ heartbeats and the sound of their breathing or whatever other internal noise because it assures him that they’re okay and he isn’t gonna lose them-he never outwardly admits it but when he’s positive they’re asleep he just rests his head on their stomachs and excuses it with “you moved in your sleep”

Pony is a wonderful baker actually

Mrs Curtis used to know how to play piano and taught Pony how to sing and Darry how to play piano. Pony doesn’t sing much anymore because he’s too shy and thinks it’s “not tuff” and to Darry it’s too painful. One time though after work he just started playing and honestly damn near cried. Pony maybe started singing along because it was a song he knew and they just sit in silence for a moment

Mrs Curtis was named Carolina but went by Lina :)

Soda’s eyes look like amber in the sunlight

That’s all!

Wait I’m crying over the idea of Darry going to school conferences, he would be SO proud to hear how well Pony is doing and would give him such a big hug at home and tell him how happy and proud he is. Pony would be like me as a child and the second Darry gets home he’s demanding to know exactly what the teachers said. And the first one is so real, they’re really just gross boys at their core 😭 and Soda would be one of those people who sleeps w socks on and Pony‘s just like alright… questionable behavior. Soda and Steve absolutely steal shit from the DX all the time, it’s a slow day and they’re bored, what else are they supposed to do besides gorge themselves in the break room on candy and soda? Darry is very suspicious when they come home and aren’t hungry for dinner after that. Soda making signs for Ponyboy is so 🥺 he’s the sweetest boy ever. I know you specifically said Darry but I can honestly see all three of them finding heartbeats comforting because like you said, it reminds them that the others are okay ☹️ piano playing and singing is real, I like to think too that Soda attempted to learn how to play the piano as a little kid but he would just cry because it was so boring to him and his mom was just like fuck it don’t learn how to play the piano 💀 I don’t have any name hcs for the Curtis parents but Carolina is a very pretty name. And yes Soda’s eyes are gorgeous in the sunlight, he’s just completely perfect

Thank you for these!

[beatricebidelaire]

Bertrand runs into Frank just on his way out of the underwater library. He pauses for a moment, studying the hotel manager in front of him, and quickly determines which manager he is. "F," he greets, with an easy nod.

Frank raises an eyebrow at him. "Leaving so soon, B?"

Without missing a beat, Bertrand replies, "been keeping track of how long I've been here?"

Frank rolls his eyes, half-sarcastic, half-fond.

Bertrand laughs.

"You know, you seem to be hanging out with Beatrice more than usual recently," Frank says, seemingly conversational.

Bertrand shrugs. "Only natural I suppose, considering that we were assigned a couple of missions together."

"I'm aware," Frank replies dryly. "I read the reports." He leans, casually, against the doorframe. "Which makes me wonder if you've picked up any of her terrible habits."

Bertrand smiles wryly. "Talk to half of the people in the organization and they'll tell you that Beatrice Baudelaire has no terrible habits to speak of."

Bertrand likes Beatrice just fine, of course. She's rather charming, he has to admit - even Frank will admit that, though never in front of Beatrice because he thinks otherwise she'll get too obnoxious. Still, she also has certain qualities that made Bertrand think she's just a tad too overdramatic and chaotic. Like a performance he would prefer to view from afar rather than get too close. For a moment, he and Frank share a quick look of mutual understanding, a secret smile, a shared bond between the group of people who considered themselves not completely dazzled by the one and only Beatrice Baudelaire.

"True," Frank says. "Still, you're not one of them." He lets his gaze trail over Bertrand. "By the way, the terrible habit I was referring to is theft, specifically."

"Ah," Bertrand acknowledges. "I've heard what happened between she and Esme." The drama between those two has escalated even more recently, and everyone and their mission partner and secret lover and animal they're training have all heard about that.

"Who cares what latest piece of clothing they've taken from each other?" Frank scoffs. "I'm referring to how she always manage to steal something from the hotel or the library - or both - during each of her stay. Dewey's been trying to track down several books."

"Sounds like Beatrice," Bertrand replies. "That said, I can assure you that I have not picked up her habit of thievery."

"And how can I be sure of that?"

Bertrand eyes Frank speculatively. Their eyes meet. Frank doesn't look suspicious, actually. He looks …… vaguely amused, if anything.

"Well," Bertrand drawls. "I suppose you can always bodysearch me to be sure." He smiles, now, cordial and polite but with his own amusement underneath all the politeness. "Wouldn't want anything to go missing, after all."

"My office?" Frank asks.

"Why not?" Bertrand replies.

____

Bertrand raises his arms up, extending them sideways, a slightly mocking gesture. "By all means," he says, tone inviting.

Frank pats him down. Shoulders, arms. Hands sliding to his back, and then downwards his spine, then resting a hand on his waist. Bertrand shifts his balance from one leg to another. "You know, F, as far as elaborate foreplays go -"

Frank scoffs. "Elaborate? My spreadsheets are more elaborate than this."

"Whatever makes you think that's a low bar?" Bertrand asks. "No, really. Have your concierges been lying to you?"

Frank pinches him.

Bertrand draws a sharp breath. "F," he says.

"B," Frank replies, evenly. His fingers trail over to the end of Bertrand's spine. Bertrand shifts his balance again.

"Stop thinking about your pretty spreadsheets and spread me over the sofa, maybe."

"Sounds like an idea," Frank says. "By the way, you're prettier than those spreadsheets."

"Really?"

"No, I just say that so you'll let me undress you."

"Exceedingly practical, then," Bertrand comments, mock serious.

"I know," Frank says lightly. "It's what you're into, isn't it?"

"You do know me too well," Bertrand laughs. "Do go ahead, then."

And Frank does.

[dantakeyoman]

𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐘 | 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐰𝐨

♡ 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

♡ * 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒚, 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆, 𝒛𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒆-𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒔. *

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬), 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐨𝐟 𝐳𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬), 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚: 𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 *

𝐎𝐍𝐄

The last six years had been the best years of your life, including pre-Z day.

...

Okay, maybe not best, but very high up there.

Never, in this life or the next, would you have guessed that these people would become such an important part of your life.

Or that your relationship would begin to feel nothing short of familial.

Save for Tallahassee, of course.

You had taken on a sort of motherly figure towards Little Rock, and for Wichita and Columbus...

Maybe one of those laid back aunts?

Anyways, your East Coast tour with the apocalyptic Brady Bunch had brought you to the White House...or whatever's left of it.

The five of you decided to hole up there for a little while and rest in style.

But after a month or so of being cooped up in the mansion, you decided to take up your own form of relaxation by working on one of the limos left in the White House Garage.

It actually worked as a sort of bonding activity for you and Tal, seeing as he was looking for something to fill the Cadillac Escalade sized hole that had been left in his heart.

"I love you so much, baby," Tallahassee cooed, lifting his welding mask with a look of pure admiration, "You're gorgeous."

You rolled out from under the car and lifted your grease smudged goggles, shooting him a glare.

And as if he could feel your gaze, he turned to you, changing his tune.

"Of course, not as much as you, darlin'," he assured, flipping his mask back on and getting to work, "The Beast here's a close second."

"Lucky me," you sarcastically smiled, standing up and grabbing a rag to wipe your hands, "Ya hear that, Little Rock? I'm a narrow first to a car."

She laughed, sitting herself on the table and handing you your toolbox.

You and Tallahassee still hadn't hashed out exactly what you were, or labelled it in any sort of way.

You two had kissed, made out, fucked, but never actually talked about what it meant to one another.

Shoot, you two hadn't even said the L word yet.

But it was just known within the group that you were together exclusively, no names attached, and that was the way it would most likely stay.

"Just goes to show that romance is a bust. There'll always be a tricked out car ready to replace you."

Little Rock looked like she was thinking for a moment, before a smile stretched on her face.

"Well, maybe being first to a car wouldn't be so bad...if we find someone for me," she suggested.

Just as you were about to respond, Tal lifted his mask with an obnoxious laugh.

"Shouldn't be a problem," he chuckled, "As long as you're open to dating zombies."

You facepalmed.

Sometimes you wondered if he had the bone that helps you sympathize just completely taken out his body.

"So you're saying what? I'm never gonna find a boyfriend? Or get married? Have a family?" She asked.

"We're your family, so one outta three ain't bad," he shrugged.

You sighed, covering your face.

That was the worst possible answer.

In an upset huff, Little Rock stormed off, leaving the garage.

And when she was completely gone, you hit Tal in the head with a bolt.

"Ow!" He winced, sharply turning to you as he rubbed the area, "The hell was that for?"

"You need to stop babyin' her," you scolded, starting to pack up your tools and such for the day, "She's eighteen, and she feels a little cooped up at the moment. It's normal. We just gotta find her some people to hang out with."

"We're people," he scoffed, muffled by his mask as he turned off his blow torch.

"Other people her age, Tally," you clarified, turning to him with a tired look.

He let out his own sigh, climbing out the tiny cock-pit of the Beast and taking off his mask.

"I don't understand why she's so antsy. We got everythin' you could ever want right here," he shook his head, undoing his welding apron.

"She's an adult, and she has needs," you started, putting your toolbox in its assigned cabinet, "Needs which, believe it or not, will not be satisfied by killin' zombies or fixin' up cars."

He tilted his head, confused about what you were talking about.

Until you raised your eyebrows with a knowing look, and the realization hit

"She's too young," he immediately denied.

You scoffed.

"How old were you when you had your first?"

...

"That's not important."

"I rest my case," you smirked.

"Even if that was something that was...needed...there isn't a soul for miles," he waved you off.

"Well then maybe soon, we might wanna travel some miles to find her somebody," you huffed, starting to get frustrated with his stubbornness.

"Who? Some random twenty somethin' that wants ta get his wick wet? Or a desperate teen that doesn't know his own ass from a hole in the ground?"

Fair point.

You scoffed.

Annoyingly fair point.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to finish cleaning up.

Tal smiled to himself, happy he had won the argument, but after a minute or so, he noticed that you were still icing him out.

And he'd rather have lost then face your cold shoulder.

So he rested his hands on your waist and gently turning you around to face him.

You cocked an eyebrow, and he placed a kiss on your hairline.

"I just wanna do what's best for her. You know that," he said sincerely, leaning his forehead into yours.

In your head, you cursed at yourself, pissed and embarrassed that you were already melting for him.

You knew he hated the cold shoulder.

He knew you liked it when he got soft all of a sudden.

You knew that he hates it when you don't react.

And he knew you went crazy for his accent.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

...

You caved.

"You love playin' me for a sucker, donchu?"

He chuckled.

"My favorite pass-time."

"I hate you."

"Wasn't what you was sayin' two nights ago."

"You're sleepin' on the couch."

"An' you're comin' with me," he smirked, pulling you in for a kiss.

You rolled your eyes, but eased into it, throwing your arms over his shoulders.

'This man's gonna be the death of me.'

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

"Hello? Ho, ho, ho!" Tallahassee smiled, popping out from behind his Christmas tree, "Merry Christmas!"

He was dressed in a red blazer with a Santa hat and cotton balls he'd glued in the shape of a beard.

'Oh, no.'

"Hey, Tal," Little Rock sighed.

"Santa," he corrected.

Columbus and Wichita were trying desperately not to laugh, and you pinched the bridge of your nose, tired.

He plopped himself down in a chair, patting his knee for Little Rock to sit, "What would you like for Christmas, little girl? A pony?"

"No, I'd actually really like you to stop calling me little girl," she shook her head.

"Well, technically, you are little and you're a girl," he corrected again.

"Well, uh, I am not a little girl, Santa," Columbus chimed, handing his gun to Wichita and sitting down on Tal's knee, "But do you know what I would like?"

"I don't give a fuck what you like," Tal denied in his Santa voice, shoving Columbus off his knee.

"I'm getting a drink," you sighed, walking over to the President's desk and grabbing his mug, pouring yourself some bourbon.

"That reminds me," Wichita perked up with a smile, "Gifts. We have gifts."

Everyone took a seat on the couches as she grabbed a brown paper bag out from under the tree and handed it to Columbus.

"Oh my God," he went wide eyed with a smile as he pulled out a book, "It's a first edition Tolkien. And you wrote in it. There's my name right there, marring this perfectly preserved paper. And yours, too."

"I actually drew the portrait of you in the back," you smirked, kicking up your feet on the table.

He flipped the book over, opening to the back page to see you had made a horribly drawn stick caricature of him that had an odd emphasis on his hair.

"You didn't stop. Thank you so much," he smiled, giving you a thankful nod before moving to Wichita's couch and giving her a kiss.

"Touching," Tal nodded, going over to the tree and picking up a present, handing it to Little Rock, "I couldn't find any wrapping paper but don't worry, just tear it open. It doesn't matter. S'only Taft."

He literally wrapped the present with a painting of Former President William Howard Taft.

"He was our fattest president, so there's actually quite a lot left over. If you need some wrapping paper," he sighed, "Columbus, I didn't get anything from you."

"I didn't get anything from you," you added, taking a sip of your bourbon.

"Your gift's later," he assured, giving you an awful wink-smirk combination.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as the others caught on to what he was implying.

"With Santa..." Columbus shook his head disapprovingly.

"No one wants to know that," Little Rock shivered.

"Do you ever get sick of sleeping on the couch?" You wondered out loud.

You weren't against the present, not one bit.

But the concept of time and place is something that Tallahassee just couldn't grasp.

Little Rock had torn through the Taft wrapping paper and opened the box to see that it was a fancy looking revolver.

"Just what I wanted. Another gun," Little Rock sarcastically smiled, visibly sinking at the sight of it

"Oh, hey, well, not just any gun. A Colt .45," Tal corrected, pulling out the weapon, "And not just any Colt .45, the King's."

"England? Denmark? Lichtenstein?" Columbus guessed.

"Here we go," you sighed, already knowing what was coming.

He'd talked your ear off so many times about him that you might as well have known the man personally.

"There's only one king," Tal held up a finger, posing like a certain 50s rockstar, "Elvis Aaron fuckin' Presley, the greatest who ever lived. The king of kings."

"Yup," you popped the p, taking another sip of your drink.

"He gave this gun to Nixon when he visited the White House, and I give it to you locked and loaded," Tal smiled, handing it back to her, "Yeah, he used to shoot that Colt in his backyard. King's palace. Memphis, Tennessee. I tell you about Graceland?"

"Only like a hundred times," Little Rock quickly answered.

"We'll go there together someday," he nodded.

"Actually, I'm gonna go shoot this right now," she stated, standing up, "I think I saw some Zs down by the reflecting pool."

"I'll go with," he suggested, but more like insisted.

"I'll go by myself," she assured, frustration showing plainly on her face.

'Oh, shit.'

"It's Christmas," he gasped, offended.

"It's not fucking Christmas, it's November 17th," she scoffed, walking out and slamming the door behind herself.

Tal looked shocked at her sudden outburst, and also slightly hurt.

You groaned, letting your head fall back for a moment.

'It's like shit just goes into one ear and right out the other with this man.'

"Tallahassee, what did we discuss a couple days ago?" You rhetorically asked.

He paused for a moment, slightly nerved by the use of his full name and the sudden question.

...

"I need to stop babyin' her," he answered, the wheels starting to turn.

"And what did you just do?"

".............Baby her."

"Thank you," you smiled, "Now give the damn girl her space."

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

"I mean, it's not like I started wedding planning or anything. I'm not crazy," Columbus vented, now going on month two.

"Who wants to get married in winter? Spring, sure."

You, Columbus, and Tallahassee were currently riding motor scooters around a mall, trying to get over the events of last month.

Tal's Santa display was the final straw for Little Rock.

She was sick of him treating her like she was still twelve, and was sick of having no one her age to talk to about it.

And on top of that, a horribly timed proposal from Columbus to Wichita, which made the woman incredibly uncomfortable.

So they took the Beast and hightailed it.

Again.

So for the last two months straight, the only thing Columbus was willing to talk about was Wichita, Wichita, Wichita.

And it was driving you and Tallahassee up a wall.

Until, he eventually broke.

"I mean with my hair and the humidity-." "Oh, my God, man! I cannot listen to this shit anymore! It's been over a month!"

"Yeah, I'm bereft," he agreed.

"I'm giving you one more day to mope around, and then you gotta snap the fuck outta it," Tal sighed, "This whole finding a home idea of yours has made us soft, and by us, I mean you."

"It's high time that we nut up and hit the road again. And by we, I mean me. That's where I belong. Lone wolf. You are welcome to tag along."

You sighed, massaging your temple.

You had the feeling that Little Rock was going to crack soon.

You knew something like this was gonna happen.

And yet you had done nothing to prevent it.

Now, you were paying the price.

The girls gone.

The guys arguing.

And one skull-splitting headache.

The snarls of a zombie snapped you out of your self-reproaching thoughts, and you let out a sigh of relief.

It was huddled near the mirror of a destroyed clothing store, dressed as if she was once a shopper there.

Tallahassee lifted his gun, about to shoot it when you held your arm out in front of him.

"I'm taking this one," you stated in a tone that left no argument, hopping off your scooter.

The two men turned to each other, one with a look of worry and one with a look of pride.

The zombie continued to hiss, staying in its place as you walked closer, a pissed look on your face.

Noticing a halfway broken bottle on the ground, you kicked it into the monster's face, it letting out an agitated roar and sprinting towards you.

You quickly unsheathed the crowbar from your pants loop and wound up your swing, slamming a full force hit right into the zombie's face.

It fell to the ground, gurgling and spitting up blood, but you pressed on, bashing the poor thing in any and every spot you could reach.

Until eventually it looked like a pile of mushy, bloody ground meat.

"That's gotta be, like, a thirteen-tuple tap," Columbus chimed, feeling sorry for the zombie as you were still beating the living shit out of it, "I'm pretty sure it's dead."

Landing a final hit on her face, you stopped, panting as you looked down at your work.

...

'Yikes.'

Okay, maybe that wasn't entirely about Little Rock.

In all honesty, Tallahassee's talk about striking out on his own made something pang in your chest.

Something sharp.

Something that had never happened before.

You were self-aware enough to know that you'd gotten seriously attached to the man over the last six years, and while he was a major pain in the ass, it would be incredibly hard for you to press on without him.

So, seeing and hearing him say so easily that he should just go off on his own, made you feel like shit.

And a little ashamed, too.

"Got it all out your system?" Tallahassee cockily asked, practically glowing.

He was proud to say that you were his gal.

His sexy, zombie-beating gal.

"Yeah," you caught your breath, tossing the crow bar, "Just needed a punching bag."

"Y'know, I never told y'all this before," he started, your display suddenly reminding him of something, "In fact, I never told anybody."

You turned around to face him, cocking a brow.

Columbus was also intrigued.

"But I have Native American blood coursing through my veins."

...

You did your best to suppress a snicker.

"Like, right now?" Columbus asked, fighting back a smile.

"Yeah, right now. Blackfoot Indian to be exact," Tal nodded, stepping off his scooter and walking over to one of the stores, "The freest men in history. Mid-1800s, roamed the plains, no houses, no laws, no possessions, no chiefs to report to, no wives to listen to."

'Wonder how long they lasted.'

"They listened....to the call of the Buffalo," he smirked, starting to push a bunch of jewelry off a table, "And the hunted those buffalo by herding them off the cliff to their deaths. The Great Buffalo Jump."

You rolled your eyes and turned around to go look for another blunt force object, already sensing a rant coming on.

And Columbus did, too, whipping around his scooter to look for a candle store.

"I don't know why I never told anyone about my Blackfoot blood. I guess it's just a sacred little secret. Honestly, you two are the first non-tribesmen I have genuinely trusted because you've always been there for me. You care and you listen. You really listen."

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

[lumin3sc3]

Note: So I was trying to write myself fluff but it ended up being too long?! Anw first time writing for Childe, hope you guys enjoy :D

Warnings: Slight cursing at the start. Modern AU You two are in a relationship. Reader's gender is not mentioned so feel free to use whatever you like!

Also i kinda mixed up genshin au and modern au in the middle so if something seems weird in between thats why, sorry!

You and Him

You and Childe had decided to go to a cafe, considering it was a holiday for the both of you. Plus, your favorite café had a new drink on the menu, and all your friends were busy going on and on about how divine it tasted. So you decided to go out once you two had a free day, and Childe agreed to take you out as his treat! Isn’t that just the sweetest?

Now you two were sitting in the car idly, with the obnoxiously loud car horns blaring even through the rolled-up car windows. You could see Childe’s patience thinning as he tapped the steering wheel, letting out a frustrated sigh. You massage your temples with your fingers on your brow. An annoying driver behind you two was repeatedly honking his horn aggressively.

"Can he just shut the fuck up?! Is he blind, or can he not see the damn traffic? He isn’t the only one stuck in it, fucking idiot." Childe curses as he finally snaps; you were afraid his knuckles would turn white from how tight he was gripping the steering wheel.

"I’m sorry.." You apologize as you put your hand above his that rested on the wheel, stroking it soothingly in an effort to calm him down. You felt responsible in some way.

Childe turns to you and affirmatively squeezes your hand, "Hey! It’s not your fault! None of us could’ve known the traffic would be so heavy, don’t put yourself down for something you didn’t do..!" 

"But.." You lower your gaze.

He sighs before hooking his finger under your chin, pulling it up to meet his smiling blue eyes that resembled azure skies. He gives you a loving kiss on the cheek, assuring you that it’s not your fault. The corner of your mouth tugs into a small smile at the gesture.

Soon the traffic dissipated, and you and Childe were able to continue your drive. Once you two had reached your destination, though... Another predicament fell upon the two of you.

The parking lot was full. It was so cluttered that it made you feel claustrophobic; you let out another exasperated sigh. Childe tries to lift your spirits by making an enthusiastic suggestion.

"How about... we park a bit farther? It’ll be slightly far away, but it's nice to have a walk every now and then!" He chirps.

You smile helplessly, no wonder you fell in love with him. He always managed to make you happy in whatever situation you were in, you adored that about him. You nodded encouragingly.

He soon finds a parking farther away, and you two get out of the car and start walking. A few minutes in, you feel a small drop of water on your face.

"Huh?" 

You look at Childe and see the same reaction masking his face. You look up to see another drop falling.

Oh shit. Is it raining?

And, unfortunately, your guess was right. It was raining.

You facepalm, groaning. 

"This has been the shittiest day so far, I swear."

"Nono! It’s fine, come on, let’s go back!" You could sense the slight hint of disappointment but he makes up for it with his cheery beam. 

"But isn’t it too far away? We'll be completely soaked by the time we get there." You cast your gaze downward, visibly upset.

"No worries, love! I spotted a bench nearby, so we’ll go there for now, and don’t worry, I think it’ll cover us pretty well. So let’s get going, yeah?" He gestures for you to hold his hand, and you oblige.

His hand held yours securely, the familiar comforting warmth making you feel content. You were pretty tired with everything that happened today, but Childe made it feel much better.

He walked in quick strides once you two arrived at the bench he was referring to. You two sat on the bench, the quiet atmosphere surrounding both of you.

The sky was cloudy, with occasional rays of sunlight filtering through. It was painted a light gray, and the clouds were pouring beads of water down. The wind was slightly chilly; it occasionally brushed past your face, making you shiver slightly. Childe wraps his scarf around your neck, the scent and warmth enveloping you wholly.

"But what about you Childe..?" You ask him worriedly, but he laughs.

"Mere rain can't do anything to me! I’m stronger than I look!" He says puffing his chest in pride.

Your laughter stays prominent throughout the tranquil atmosphere. Childe’s gaze softens; he finds your laugh so endearing. Actually, scratch that, everything about you is so addictive and alluring. If words were to explain his feelings towards you, you probably couldn’t keep count. He adores your gentle laughter, fleeting touches, loving gazes, warm embraces, and—well, he could go on, but don't you think the word count would be much higher than expected?

Raindrops made a soft thudding sound on the trees above you before slipping and falling to the ground with a quiet plink!

Childe sighs as he stares at the kids dancing in the rain from afar, while their mothers were calling out their names in a very concerning manner.

"I’m sorry it didn’t work out how you wanted it to; I really wanted to make sure you would have a good day…" He sighs apologetically, gazing down at his reflection in the puddles formed in the grass.

"No, no! Actually, to be completely honest..." You take a deep breath before continuing.

"Perhaps it's a good thing this happened; it relieved my stress, and maybe this was exactly what I needed, not some drink at a cafe." You laugh quietly. He nods in agreement as the two of your synchronized laughters reverberate throughout, catching the gazes of a few people around you.

Though things didn’t work out as you two had planned, maybe it was for the best. It’s been long since you and Childe had a quiet moment like this. They say it’s the simple things in life, and in this case, you agree. The noises the raindrops made as they fell put you in a state of serenity; it made you feel gratified, leaving you at ease. Slowly, your eyes felt heavy as you drifted further away from reality, and into a deep slumber.

It isn’t until Childe feels something heavy fall on his shoulder that he turns towards you. He looks at you with the prettiest smile adorning his face, it was probably you, and only you, that could make his heart feel such a way.

The warm, fuzzy feelings, the ones that resemble what he feels when he’s at home with his siblings, near the fire, telling tales Or The same feeling he gets when he pulls Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon into a warm embrace. Long story short, it’s a sense of happiness because with you, he didn’t have to hide his feelings; he can be whoever he wants, and he knows you wouldn’t judge. He can be himself.

Though you were still asleep, you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his. A small smile decorates your face as you sigh in contentment. Childe gazes at you lovingly before pressing a small kiss on your forehead, wishing you a comforting slumber.

It was just you and Childe in the pouring rain. And you wanted nothing more than this.

✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚

A/n: I keep getting carried away while trying to write short fics, I'll keep it in mind next time 😭. Well aware there isnt much going on for the plot but its just fluff so yes <3. If anything needs to be changed or there are errors, let me know!

Thanks for reading till the end, if you enjoyed the fic, rb's and interactions are appreciated! have a good day and take care <3!!

[adelaidedrubman]

CAN WE PRETTY PLEASE SEE SOME OF 'sorry mary may. i mean sorry mary mary. sorry m' FROM YOUR WIPS THAT TITLE ALONE HAS ME DEAD

OF COURSE YOU CAN DEAN. and also thank you to @confidentandgood @deputyash @socially-awkward-skeleton @florbelles who also asked about this one:3

this is an installment in the johnjess no reaping au. i technically started this one for kinktober and never made a decision on if i was making it part of their canon in that universe or not, so. still in limbo. no serious warnings as excerpt is all pre major crimes (mary may targeted or otherwise) save for some alcohol references.

It was such a brilliantly simple, elegant solution that Jestiny was shocked she hadn’t thought of it before. 

Jessie only wanted what she wanted every Friday — to drink in peace, without being run off (or, well, provoked to other action) by pretentious, obnoxious religious nutjobs who also insisted on being there. And she wanted to do it at the Spread Eagle, as was her (to be clear, not God given, but certainly inalienable) right. 

It was, as she would so often tell herself, and anyone who asked, a matter of principle. She wanted to be free of his annoying presence, certainly. But she wasn’t going to change the time or place she went to drink to do it, because she shouldn’t have to. 

And walking into the bar that evening, scanning the perimeter for any tattoo covered assholes in tacky, overly expensive clothing, the perfect answer to her problem suddenly presented itself. A way to stand her ground in imbibing at the Spread Eagle at her preferred time, while still rendering herself inaccessible to the likes of John Seed. 

So upon strolling up to the bar, resting her forearm on its countertop and flashing the bartender a smile, she had set her newly hatched plan into motion with a flutter of her eyelashes and the simple question, “Say, are patrons allowed to sit up there on the balcony?” 

Mary May had paused, seeming to need to consider the question as she leaned more weight into the hands she rested onto the counter, cocking her head to the side and scrunching her mouth in thought. Then she had answered yes, but that customers had to pay for their drink orders upfront before being allowed up there, and there wasn’t table service. 

Well, that was all fine by Jestiny — so she happily paid her check (it was somewhat larger than she’d expected, apparently she had some outstanding tabs, but that was fine too) and allowed herself to be escorted upstairs, and reminded a second time that the bar closed at midnight, and if she wanted to order anything else she had to come downstairs and pay for it.  

Jestiny had assured her that all worked for her, too.

And so that’s how she found herself with elbows propped on the railing of the balcony as she brought the glass of whiskey she’d been nursing to lips she allowed to curl into a lopsided grin as she watched John march right past her towards the entrance of the bar, completely unaware.

[gresidentdoorkicker]

//I took inspiration from a character driven creative writing class on Skillshare, though it's morphed into something more

//please enjoy

There are effectively two ways of thinking when it came to choosing one's companion animal. Practicality and aesthetics. Each one broke down into different hyper specific sub-thoughts and niches but it boils down to practicality and aesthetics.

Alex fell into the latter. You'd think that somebody like him, tall, stout, darkly clothed, quiet, would have a badass guard dog, something large and protective, meant to act as the big brother to groups of stoned sheep, sluggishly bumping around the pasture. No, Alex rejects such stereotypical norms. He settled on a much more spiky path of reasoning when it came to choosing a companion animal.

Fireball was her name, being pissy was her game. Alex had a sticker in his truck window proudly proclaiming to the rest of the world 'my pet can eat your pet'.

While most would think it was ironic, be assured, it wasn't. Fireball is a four foot long Savannah Monitor lizard. She weighed about 60 ish pounds with an attitude to match. The lizard was surprisingly smart, she knew her own name and a few basic commands.

It was with these musings fresh on Alex's mind that he met the anthesis to his hypothesis.

Fireball was doing her thing, stalking some hamster in its temporary holding tank, in the main lobby of the specialty veterinary office near my house. Alex was filling out a release form at the front desk, occasionally giving a pull on Fireball's leash, reigning her back to reality and out of feral hunting mode.

Alex had an earbud in his right ear and leaned over the counter, using his left arm as a rest for his upper body. Rather shamefully, if he had to admit, Alex was absorbed within his own little bubble. Ignorant to the workings of the environment around him. Not completely, mind you, but primarily. Years of conditioning and military service kept his head on a swivel, but blaring metal music and the hills and valleys of signing your name at the bottom of the page had taken precedent.

It was with these considerations in mind that Alex turned around and powered forward in his typical way of making everyone think he had somewhere important to be and that they were all in the way, right over a spectacularly short individual who had been struggling to carry a stack of boxes.

"Gah!"

"Damnit! You ass! Watch where you're going,"

Alex had fallen quite comically over after losing his balance as he tried to recover from banging into the short individual, who he quickly realized was a woman.

"Sorry...Sorry,"

Alex quickly collected himself, sheepishly picking up the stack of packages that he'd dubiously knocked over while simultaneously keeping a handle on Fireball.

"You big dumb oaf! You think you can just do what you want because your head is all the way up in the clouds," Her face was a beet red as she took her packages in their stack "It's just perfect!"

"Uhh?"

She couldn't be any taller than five foot and 4 inches, but she had a bark that made her seem eight foot tall. She seemed like the type of person who had a cat, or a goldfish. She made Alex, six foot and then some, seem small.

"Yes! Perfect! You army guys are all the same. Clumsy and obnoxious. Aware only of however far their eyes can see,"

She ranted and raved to herself, oblivious of the eyes that were now angrily turning their way, marching off toward the door marked 'employees only' clearly delivering the stack of packages he'd sent across the floor.

Speechless, bewildered, and flustered Alex nervously waved an apology before scooping Fireball up and tossing her over his shoulder, as if she were hugging him, and walking out the door.

Alex gently guided Fireball into her custom harness in the back seat of his truck, cheeks flushing as he heard the voice of the small delivery woman approach and then recede behind him as she went for another armload of packages.

Alex paused as he risked a glance over his shoulder, smiling slightly. He'd never had anyone, outside of the irate officer back in the army, speak to him that way.

Alex thought he was in love.

[miss-andromeda]

All's Fair in Love and Science

Chapter 3: Burning Red

~

April's now safe from the Kraang, but they're still a threat to the boys now that they're aware of the boys' existence. However, after an obnoxious New Yorker catches them on video, Raph is forced to confront his short temper - especially after it jeopardizes their latest mission.

~

Special thanks to @tinkabelle19 for being the best shadow writer and helping me make each chapter what it is! Love you to the moon and to Saturn, hon 💜

~

It was a clear, crisp night in New York. Most were in their apartments, peacefully sleeping, watching TV, typical activities. And that was the case for Vic, an overweight man in a grubby wife beater that protruded around his beer belly. He was lounging on his recliner, flipping through the channels on his TV - completely unaware that the boys were right above him, and Donnie was using a telescope to spy on a lab across the street.

"Anything?" Leo asked, to which Donnie merely replied with, "Nothing yet."

They had been waiting for about an hour and a half, and it was clear that Mikey was getting bored with how consistently he was poking Raph as the red-masked turtle rested against a window. The first time, Raph swatted his hand away, making Mikey chuckle and do it again. The second time, Raph responded the same way. But the third time, Raph expected it, so he grabbed Mikey's hand and started to crush it, making Mikey yelp in pain. 

Leo, being slightly paranoid, glared at them. "Guys! When ninjas are on surveillance, they are supposed to be silent!" His voice was a low whisper, but the harshness on 'silent' was not lost on anyone. He didn't want a repeat of last mission, where the police found the ninja star and they inadvertently ended up on the news.

"Sorry, Leo. I'll scream quieter." Mikey replied, still holding his injured hand. But he didn't learn his lesson, though, as he poked Raph's head again with a little giggle.

But Raph wasn't laughing; he growled and grabbed Mikey's wrist, then flipped the youngest turtle over the window and onto his shell. He then grabbed the youngest and put him in a headlock. "Say it..."

"Raph! Be quiet!" Leo scolded him again; did he not listen to him the first time?

"Not 'til Mikey says it." Raph's grip on Mikey tightened, making the latter roll his eyes and give in. 

"Raphael is all wise and powerful-" The tone in Mikey's voice was deadpan and bored, but Raph didn't seem to care. It was the principle of the matter.

Raph replied with squishing the top of Mikey's head, making him let out a raspberry with his tongue. "And?"

With this new position, Mikey continued his spiel, his tone much more forced. "-and he's better than me in every possible way!"

Raph smirked, hitting the top of Mikey's head and making him slam into the ground. "And?"

"And I'm a lowly worm beneath his feet who isn't fit to live on the same planet as him, because he's so amazing and I'm a dirt clod!"

Raph smirked; the killing blow. He licked the top of his finger and held it menacingly over Mikey's head. "And?"

"And in the history of the universe, there's never been-"

"Okay, enough!" Leo finally stepped in, done with his brothers' antics - especially when they were on a serious mission and couldn't afford to attract any type of unwanted attention. 

With that, Raph groaned in annoyance as he got off of Mikey, before walking over to Leo, an annoyed look on his face. "We're wasting our time, the Kraang aren't gonna show up." It was getting late, it was getting cold - he just wanted nothing more than to leave with his brothers and go back to the lair, especially when the Kraang didn't appear to be showing up.

But Leo disagreed. "Have a little patience, would you?" Easier said than done, though, as Leo's entire personality was devoted to patience and zen. 

"Trust me, guys. They're gonna break into that lab tonight." Donnie assured them with a confident smile. "I have reliable intel."

"Intel?" Raph questioned with a raised (nonexistent) brow and a little smirk. "You mean Andi told you?" Yeah, that wasn't necessarily intel; it was just Donnie relaying information from their friend and calling it that because of his major crush on her. Anything Andi said was gold in his eyes, and while it was cute in some aspects, it was also incredibly easy to make fun of. Case in point-

"You mean your girlfriend?" Mikey teased him with fluttering eyelids (like he had eyelashes) and his hands cupped together under his chin. 

Donnie quickly turned grumpy, any type of confidence leaving. Yes, he did like Andi, but the boys didn't need to rub it in his face about it! 

"She's not my girlfriend, Mikey!" Donnie yelled, completely ignoring the smirk Leo and Raph shared, as if saying 'yeah, right.' "She's a girl, who's a friend, whose best friend's dad got kidnapped by the same aliens who are gonna break into that lab tonight, and we're gonna stop them!"

Raph gave him another annoyed look. "Or we'll sit out on a cold roof all night for no reason."

He was entirely interrupted by a fairly irritating voice breaking up the banter. "What the heck's goin' on up here?" 

Oh no.

Vic was standing in the doorway to his roof, staring intently at the four...whatever these things were. And judging by the look on his face, he was clearly waiting for an answer.

Which the boys so clearly did not give, judging by how freaked out they looked. Once again, another case of them being caught by a human. But considering this guy looked like he didn't get out very often, they had a feeling he wasn't going to be as nice as April and Andi were. 

"What are ya, playin' dress up?"

Leo quickly tried to make up an excuse. "No, sir, we were just-" However, he was entirely cut off when Vic noticed the satellite dish for his TV was on the ground, from when Raph flipped Mikey over the window. That explained what happened to his TV!

"Which one of you slimy green ham shanks busted my satellite dish?!"

"Ham shanks?!" Raph was clearly enraged at the comment. This guy barely knew them for 10 seconds and already was calling them names? He clearly didn't know who he was messing with, if he thought he could get away with that.

"I don't even know what that means..." Donnie admitted, not even angered - more puzzled. Typical Donnie. But Raph was the exact opposite. "Me neither, but I don't like it..." He instinctively reached for his sais, ready to give this guy a piece of his mind, before Leo grabbed his wrist. "Let's go."

They were about to leave and let Vic stew in his own anger (and possibly filth because he looked like he hadn't had a shower in months) before the man decided to poke a sleeping bear in Raph. "That's right, ya spineless cream puff! Listen to your mommy!" His tone was as condescending as possible, as if it was designed to get under Raph's skin - which is exactly what happened, no surprise. 

"Hey! Watch it, buddy!" Raph growled, showing off his sais as a threat. Even if this jerk was a civilian, Raph wasn't about to let this guy talk like that to him. 

Though, to be fair, Vic was doing it to just get under his skin, and Raph, unfortunately, took the bait. And he did again when Vic insulted him again. "Oh no! I didn't realize you had salad tongs!"

"Salad tongs?!" Oh no. Raph could take some insults about himself, but insult his weapon? The one that Splinter gave him? That was not about to fly by him. He charged for Vic and was really about to fight him, but was stopped by Leo holding him back. "I'm not gonna take this from some greasy, pit-stained slob with a combover!"

He didn't realize that his yelling had attracted the attention of some Kraang droids, who had arrived at the lab (as Andi said they would) and were loading mutagen canisters into a van, similar to the one April and Kirby were kidnapped in. Unfortunately for the boys, they were so wrapped up in Raph's anger and Vic being a general nuisance to notice it. And even more unfortunately, the Kraang started to take notice of this argument between the two of them. 

"You callin' me ugly? Seen a mirror lately, circus freak?" Once again, another insult on Vic's end - which only served to make Raph angrier. This time, it took the effort of all three boys to hold Raph back and now keep him from nearly murdering this guy. "You want a piece of me?"

"When I'm done, a piece of you is all that's gonna be left!" Raph threatened him, fire practically burning in his eyes as he lunged forward. However, a laser missed him by a few inches in front of his face, making him jump back in shock. However, at that realization, they looked to the left and saw a group of Kraang droids, plasma guns charged and ready to fire. 

A flurry of reactions occurred:

"Kraang droids!" A shocked Leo. 

"Holy Toledo!" A somehow less shocked Vic.

"Way to blow our position, Raph." Leo grumbled to him as the four of them unsheathed their weapons.

~

Almost immediately, the Kraang started firing and made the boys scatter - even Leo yelling a "Scram!" to the three of them for good measure. 

Noticing the immediate danger of standing right in the crossfire, Vic ran for safety, hiding in the doorway of his apartment. But as he watched the boys fight, he noticed something. They weren't human, but the way they were fighting against these guys...it was odd. They knew some type of fighting, clearly, but...how could they be unhuman and know how to fight so well? 

"Holy cow...they're some kinda-" Vic pulled out his phone and started to record the fight. Perhaps he could show it to his friends? Or even better, someone who could pay a lot of money for such lucrative evidence of these guys? "-kung fu frogs..."

The boys continued fighting without a hitch; Raph taking down a droid by pinning it to the ground, Leo avoiding another's fire with a flip before kicking it in the face, Mikey bashing another across the face to knock it out, and Donnie avoiding a fourth one's fire with grace before delivering a home run-type strike to it. 

Good, there didn't seem to be any more coming.

"Keep going, kung fu frogs!" Vic exclaimed, holding up his phone with a delighted grin. When the boys looked at him in confusion, he decided to clarify what he was referring to. "This is pure gold!"

"We're not frogs, you idiot!" Raph yelled at him. This guy must have been the biggest moron on the planet. First, he insulted all four of them by calling them 'ham shanks,' then called his sais 'salad tongs,' and now mistook them for being frogs? What, did he not see the shells on their backs?

"Yeah, and it's not kung fu! It's an ancient Japanese battle art!" Donnie added. Of course the nerd pointed out what their fighting style was as a retort.

But neither of them saw the more important issue - which Leo did. "Guys, he got us on video!" He nervously yelled, making Raph growl and turn livid - even more than he already was before. 

"Not for long, he doesn't."

Without thinking, he charged for Vic, running straight at him like an enraged bull. He then lunged for the door - which Vic promptly replied with slamming the door. The turtle slammed into the door face-first, groaning and standing up with a dazed look in his eye. He then growled again when Vic cheered, "I'm gonna make a fortune off of this!" If there weren't more people in the apartment building, he would go after him and get that video. 

However, Donnie also stopped him from doing that when he heard sirens in the distance - likely to respond to a potential noise complaint. "Fire trucks en route! 30 seconds!"

Leo, being the stoic type, gave the three of them a slightly steely look - he was mad about the four of them being caught, but he didn't want to attract any more attention. "Let's move."

But Raph wasn't about to let that jerk off the hook. "Wait! We have to find that guy and break his phone - and his face!" Granted, it was his anger taking over again, but he really just wanted to give that guy a piece of his mind. Preferably with his sais. But when the boys didn't listen and ran to find a good way home, he stomped his foot in anger and followed - albeit incredibly grumpily.

~

They were now back in the lair, kneeling in front of Splinter as he scolded them for their carelessness while pacing in front of them. Andi, meanwhile, was quietly typing on her computer next to them, trying to see if there were ways to track Vic's IP address and erase that video. So far, she found, that unless she was a credited computer analyst, it could be illegal, as it could be considered hacking. Great.

"Not only did Raphael alert the Kraang, but you got caught-" Splinter glared at the four of them at this additional detail. "-on video!" There was solid proof of their existence, just what they needed after being on the news for leaving the ninja star. These boys really were going to be the death of him.

"Sensei, he was the angriest, nastiest guy you ever met!" Raph defended, already starting to get angry at the thought of that jerk. Which was only fueled when Mikey added in, "Except for you," with a playful smirk on his face. 

Andi smiled to herself at that, but quickly lost it (and even cringed a bit) when Raph didn't share in that same sentiment; he smacked Mikey across the head, making the youngest yelp in pain and quickly go back to his spot.

"You should've heard the insults this guy was throwing at us. They were so...insulting!" Raph exclaimed, now starting to get angrier.

"Oh, I didn't realize he said mean things." Splinter replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course! You had no choice but to jeopardize your mission!" He added, making Andi stare at the master with slight awe and Mikey quietly murmur a "burn," making Raph growl at the youngest again. But Splinter ignored the little banter. "You are ninjas. You work in the shadows, in secret. This becomes difficult if there is proof of your existence. In high-definition."

"Look, we know where this guy lives. All we have to do is find him and shake him until the tape pops out." Raph reasoned.

Andi was about to correct him, but thankfully, Donnie did it for her - and even gave her a little smile as he did, almost like he knew she'd appreciate this. "Oh, there's no tape. Video phones use flash memory and-" He was cut off by Raph giving him a similar growl that he gave Mikey before.

Donnie's gaze quickly diverted back to Andi, who merely smiled at him. It had a hint of ruefulness in it though, almost like she was saying 'you did your best, sweetie' in a sarcastic way. He should've known that talking to Raph about any type of technology was like talking to a brick wall. A raging brick wall. At that look, he stuck his tongue out a bit at her, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He could tell that for every moment Andi proved herself a genius, she also had a more sarcastic response bubbling under the surface. 

He liked that about her. A lot. Along with, of course, everything else.

"Anger is self-destructive." Splinter calmly told him, trying (frankly, in vain) to calm Raph down. 

"I always thought it was others-destructive." Raph admitted. And to be fair, he had a point. But of course, Splinter had a better point. His anger could only get him so far, and eventually, it was going to get them in serious trouble - more than being caught on camera. 

"Raphael!" Splinter ordered, making Andi jump a bit from surprise as she gripped her laptop in slight panic. "Stand up."

The red-masked turtle did so begrudgingly. 

And Mikey, being the youngest, needed to rub it in just a bit. "Somebody's in trouble..." He sing-songed. 

~

To an extent. 

All of them were in the dojo; Raph was standing in the center of the dojo mat with Leo, Donnie and Mikey standing around him a triangle shape. Splinter and Andi were standing in front of them, the former serving as mentor for the exercise they were about to indulge in. The latter stood alongside him, mostly to serve as spectator. And to see what kind of chaos would ensue. 

The three notched suction cups into a bow and arrow, and then aimed the suction cups at Raph. It was incredibly stupid in theory, but there was a purpose - there always was if Splinter suggested it. 

"Evade the arrows." 

It was a simple command to Raph, and he was more than willing to do just that. This was going to be incredibly easy. "No problem."

"Hajime!"

Mikey fired the first arrow, which Raph dodged with complete ease. Leo followed suit, and Raph dodged again. Donnie fired the final arrow, which Raph avoided with a backflip. Unfortunately, the arrow fired toward Andi, making her yelp and squeeze her eyes shut as it nearly hit her (making Donnie grimace and apologize profusely). But Splinter caught it with two fingers, making Andi open her eyes slowly and mumble a quiet "thank you, Master Splinter" as he gripped the arrow in his fist. 

"Yame!"

The boys immediately stopped, waiting for Splinter's next command. Andi glanced back at the four of them, giving a little smile to Donnie who mouthed another apology to her for, you know, nearly hitting her with an arrow. 

"Again. Except this time; Leonardo, Donatello and Michelangelo-" Splinter had a ghost of a smile on his face. This was going to be a test of endurance, really for Raph. "-insult Raphael."

"Wait. Insult...him?" Donnie asked, a sliver of slight fear in his voice. Splinter knew what he was asking from them, right? This had to be a test, because there was no way Splinter wanted three dead turtles laying in the dojo. 

"Yes." Oh, he was serious.

Oh no.

But, wait-

"And he can't fight back?" Raph's face changed from annoyance to confusion. He couldn't beat their skulls in? Why?

"No."

Oh. 

This was much better.

"Ha...I'm feeling good about this plan." Donnie managed a little smile to Leo. And it was true! With reassurance that Raph wouldn't beat their shells into the floor, they could actually be a little bit mean to him! He then noticed Andi press her fingertips to her forehead in a light facepalm, making him give her an embarrassed smile. She would understand in time; as far as he knew, she didn't have an older brother like Raph.

"Hajime!" 

Mikey let out a devious giggle as the three of them circled Raph, almost like three vultures circling a dead mouse. It was rare that he could actually insult his brothers (especially Raph) without any type of consequence, so he was more than willing to milk this for all it was worth. 

And he started the band of insults with an oddly specific one: "You move like a bloated buffalo!" This was accompanied by an arrow flying towards him.

But Raph caught on, immediately doing a split and spinning back upright. "I do not!"

Leo smirked to himself. Unlike Mikey, though, he decided to go for an insult that was more...cutting for Raph. "And you're always whining! 'Poor me! Nobody understands me!'" He then fired an arrow off at Raph. 

"Well, you don't understand-gah!" Raph was so bothered by that insult that he didn't even notice the arrow hitting him in the shell until it was too late. Granted, his anger was the main reason, but...Leo was right to say something like that. He always felt like his brothers never understood him and his feelings, just blindly assuming that he was a raging bull with nothing else to show. 

It was a touchy subject for him, and to hear Leo turn that into an insult...set him off. Just a little bit.

"And..." Donnie thought for a moment as to what he could contribute to this...thrilling conversation. What could he say that would be an insult, but also be factually correct? Ah, he got it. "You don't keep your back while doing omote kote gyaku!"

He shot an arrow at Raph (reveling in Andi's quiet giggle), then decided to follow it up with, "And you're ugly!" and another arrow. He grinned as he saw Andi snicker, but shake her head in response. Well, the good reception was nice while it lasted. 

Mikey laughed at the bluntness of the insult. "And gassy!" Another arrow shot at Raph. 

"Aw, you talk so tough but inside, you're just a scared little baby." Leo went for the neck again with that insult - and as harsh as it was, it was only right that he abide by Splinter's orders - as blunt as it was.

Donnie piggybacked off that, shooting an arrow with a "Who needs his bottle."

And Mikey piggybacked off that with a condescending "And his diaper changed."

As the arrow hit him in the shell, Raph growled and swung around - his anger and "done with everything" sentiments were coming to the surface. "Stop it!"

But the boys were not about to listen - especially Leo as he notched another arrow, his condescending tone on full display. "What's the matter, Raph? Gonna cry?"

"I-" With every word Raph tried to speak, he just kept getting pelted with arrows. And frankly, it was becoming more humiliating every second. "-am-not-gonna cry!"

At the last two words, an arrow hit him in the center of the forehead, making him fall onto his shell. 

Andi grimaced and walked over to him, plucking the arrows off his forehead and trying to help him up. "You okay?" She had to admit, it was a little disheartening when Raph pushed her hand away and only muttered an "I'm fine." Sure, she got that he was frustrated, but still...it hurt her just a little bit when he acted like that to her. 

Slightly oblivious to what was going on, Mikey sighed happily as the bow hung limply in his hand. "Ah...I wish this moment could last forever..."

That finally set Raph off. "You know what? Forget this, this is stupid." He stood up angrily, the humiliation fully setting in at this point. He ignored Mikey's protest of "aw, it didn't" as he stood up, the arrows on his head and shell making him look like a disgruntled porcupine. He trudged over to Splinter, wanting nothing more than to rip the arrows off and get a few punches in on the ol' punching bag. Let out some of the pent-up rage he had boiling inside. 

"Ninniku seishin is the ability to endure insults with patience and humility. You cannot be a true ninja until you master it." It was only ironic when the arrows on the sides of Raph's head fell off, only intensifying the humiliation he felt. Mikey giggled a bit at that, but Raph quickly silenced him with gritted teeth and a threatening fist - but Splinter shut him up with an "understood?" Raph only responded with a begrudging "hai, sensei."

Now Splinter addressed all four of them. "You must get that video back. Using reason, not force." That condition was directly addressed to Raph, who merely sighed to himself and put his head down.

This wasn't going to be easy, was it?

~

Vic was currently walking out of his apartment building, angrily talking into his cell phone. It was clear that the person on the other line was fetching a price that Vic wasn't a fan of - regarding the video of the boys. "That's right! I swear on my mother's grave that these guys are frogs and they know kung fu. You can't tell me that's not worth something?"

He was interrupted when the boys jumped from the rooftops - Leo and Raph behind him, Mikey and Donnie in front of him. Mostly to ensure that he wouldn't run away and skip out on them. "I'll call ya back." He quickly put his phone away and addressed the boys with an accusatory finger pointed at them. "Lay one finger on me, frog, and I'm callin' the cops."

"We're not-" Raph's voice was incredibly strained as his fists stayed clenched and at his sides. "-gonna hurt you." It was taking every part of him not to punch him square int the face.

"Then what do ya want, freak?" 

Now Raph's anger was reaching its boiling point - maybe that was why his voice got a bit calmer. "We got off on the wrong foot last night." They really didn't, but Raph was just trying to be civil. "Some things were said, and well, we would just like that video back." All four of them managed a smile at that - Raph to hammer in the politeness factor, Leo to help him, and Donnie and Mikey because Raph didn't blow up like they expected him to. 

When Vic cocked an eyebrow and kept his arms crossed, clearly expecting more, Leo elbowed Raph in the side, making the red-masked turtle mutter a forced "please?"

At that, Vic started to look a bit more...convinced? It was hard to say. "What are you gonna give me for it?"

"Give you for it?"

"Well, I figure I've got you over a barrel, so you've got to make it worth my while."

Raph gave him a casual smile - though now he was this close to punching this guy. "I'll make it worth your while." And then he gave in. "I WON'T TAKE YOUR HEAD AND SMASH IT AGAINST THE-"

Thankfully, Leo stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Okay, okay, thank you, Raphael. I will take over." He then turned to Vic with a polite, almost business-like smile - while ignoring that Raph now had his arms crossed and was scowling at the ground. "So what are you looking for?"

"A...cool mil ought to cover it." Vic admitted, his tone changing to be more...pleasant? It was probably just because now they were finally getting somewhere - one step closer to him getting his money!

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. A cool mil for what?" Leo asked, the business-like tone now on full display - though there was a hint of desperation in his tone as he really just wanted to get the video and destroy it as quickly as humanly possible. 

"A million dollars."

Oh. This guy was not going to make this easy, huh?

"We don't...have a million dollars." Leo told him, losing the business-like tone. What was he expecting from them? They were teenagers and mutants; what, did he expect them to have a gigantic bank account in some foreign country?

Thankfully (or not thankfully?), Mikey stepped in with a smile - trying to help out. "We do have some Canadian quarters that fell through the grate?"

But Vic didn't seem interested - apparently, the guy only wanted American currency - and dollars, not coins. "I can make serious money off this thing, and if you don't want to pay, I'll hold onto it until someone else does."

Oh no. Raph was not about to be blackmailed by an overweight slob that had the worst combover known to man.

"That's it!"

He grabbed Vic by the arm and wrestled him to the ground - well, it was more like he pinned Vic to the ground with little resistance or hesitation. "Hand over the video, or so help me, I'll kick your hairy butt all the way to New Jersey!" He even raised a fist as a threat - much like he did with Mikey before. However, unlike Mikey before, Raph was more than willing to punch Vic more than a few times in order to get him to hand over the phone.

What neither of them failed to notice was the similar white van with the Kraang droids packing in what seemed to be mutagen - and thanks to Raph's shouting at Vic (again,) they noticed the turtles. 

And now the van was barreling towards them. 

"Guys, the Kraang!" Leo yelled, trying to instill a sense of common sense to get out of the way. When that wasn't the case, he pushed the two of them out of the way - making the van miss them by only a few seconds. However, now they had a new threat to deal with, in the truck the Kraang were only using.

Leo spoke everyone's thoughts as he glanced at Raph. "Let's not get this one get away."

As if to respond, Raph grabbed a nearby trash can and hurled it at the truck (as it came toward them as well - the Kraang were just really insistent on mowing them down with their transport), making it swerve off course and run straight into a closed garage door. Mission...accomplished?

"Well, that was easy." Raph smirked in satisfaction as he crossed his arms.

But the achievement was entirely short-lived as Kraang droids jumped out of the back of the truck and started firing at the boys. 

Great.

"Ohh-kay?" Raph asked, almost rhetorically as Donnie spoke everyone's thoughts, this time with a yell, as the four of them jumped back into battle. Leo, Mikey and Donnie stayed mostly together, but Raph took a more rogue-like approach as he ran across a garage door and took out two droids with a spinning kick. He then beat another the same way (though not as flashy), before uppercutting another and flipping him over.

The same droid landed in front of Vic who, in the midst of the crossfire, tried to crawl away and find a place to hide. However, he missed being fired at by about 6 inches - making Donnie beat him pretty quickly. Mikey followed suit, dodging a few attacks from another droid before beating it with one hit from his nunchucks.

Once again, Vic was trying to get away from the crossfire and hide away until this was over - he could probably negotiate a price later. But a droid landed right into him, making him fall into the truck and lose his phone. 

Raph and Leo met up again, fighting two droids at once - and with ease. However, Raph caught wind of Vic hiding in the truck - and that didn't fly with him. They were risking their necks and he was hiding out like a coward? Yeah, no. "Oh, no, you don't!" He started completely storming away from the fray, ready to finally give Vic a piece of his mind. 

"Raph, what are you doing?!" Leo yelled to him, still in the midst of fighting another droid. "Get back here!" But another droid kicked him right in the shell, making Leo fall to the ground and start stomping on him. He tried again to get Raph's attention, yelling for his brother to focus on the real mission here. 

But Raph wasn't listening. While Vic was seemingly searching for his phone, Raph was storming up to him. "We've got unfinished business!"

Vic must've been smarter than he acted before, because he backed up (further into the truck) as Raph got in his face. It was clear by the look of anger that he really wasn't messing around this time. "You give me that phone right now!" Raph growled, showing his fist again as another threat.

And he would've acted on such a threat if three more droids hadn't crowded the exit, essentially sealing Raph and Vic inside, and promptly drove away.

Once Mikey helped Leo out with the droid, the three of them noticed that Raph was gone - and Leo yelled "Raph's in the van!" as they chased after the truck.

Inside, Raph was fighting off the droids (with no help from Vic), doing everything he could - punching, kicking, disarming their weapons, anything - to get them out of such a situation. And for the most part, he was successful - except for one droid that would not go down. Eventually, the droid got Raph into a headlock and would not let go for the life of it, so Raph did what any normal person would do; he bit it on the hand.

Once the droid's grip loosened, Raph delivered a strong uppercut to it and knocked it out. He then held a hand to Vic. "Let's get out of here!" He wanted nothing more than to punch this guy's lights out, but Vic had no idea what the Kraang were capable of - and how much danger he was in. So, just this once, he offered the guy an opportunity to get out.

But Vic was too thick-headed to pick up on that. "Forget it! You lizards don't want to buy my video, maybe these guys will!"

Oh, this guy really was asking to get killed. 

"Raph!" At oddly perfect timing, Donnie was holding out his bo staff and offering the two of them a hopeful smile. "Get out of there!" He was practically offering the two of them a chance to go on a silver platter. 

But Raph wasn't about to listen again. Instead, he stormed over to Vic and grabbed him by the arm, making him look Raph straight in the eye. "Listen, you idiot! Frogs are not lizards, and we're not frogs!"

That wasn't necessarily the point, but to each their own.

Before he could teach Vic the difference between frogs, turtles and lizards, though, a droid grabbed Raph and tossed him out of the truck, making him crash into his brothers behind him. Great, mission utterly failed. Vic was now in the Kraang's clutches, and they still didn't have the video. 

"So long, froggy!" Vic yelled as a taunt, then laughed at the oh-so-clever insult he uttered before turning to the Kraang - not noticing the same glassy stare all three of them were giving him. "Uh, thanks for the help, guys. Have I got a deal for you!" He showed off his yellowed teeth in a grin at them, but then looked at them confusedly as he noticed how they all looked exactly the same. "So are you all triplets or what?"

Meanwhile, the boys were licking their wounds as they stood up. Leo was especially mad - specifically at Raph for screwing up the mission. "Nice going, Raph!"

Raph was clearly just as frustrated as he stood up angrily and stared Leo down. "What'd I do?"

"What did you do?!" Leo yelled at him. "You left the three of us in the middle of the fight to yell at somebody!" Okay, when Leo phrased it like that, then it sounded bad. "We could've stopped them, but thanks to your temper, the guy with the tape-"

Donnie stopped to inject a correction in this scolding. "Again, technically it's a flash-"

But Leo wasn't about to start listening. "-not now! Is in the hands of the Kraang! How are we supposed to find them?"

For a brief second, Donnie glanced down at the ground with a frown - and Mikey gave him a sympathetic look. However, the two of them noticed something - a substance (it looked like oil) was on the ground and made a path - the same path that the truck was taking when it drove away. "Look! The truck's leaking!"

"All right!" Leo's frustration was subsided at that realization - sure, it didn't excuse the fact that they failed in the mission before, but at least they had a lead to corner the Kraang and get the video back. "We can follow the trail to their hideout."

"And then we'll bash some bots!" Raph cheered; this could be potential retribution, they could get the video back, and beat some Kraang in - triple win!

But then he noticed the cold stare Leo was giving him. "What?"

"We are going to bash some bots. You are going home." The eldest told him, making Raph as exasperated as he was angry. "What, are you kidding me?" He then looked to Mikey and Donnie for support. "Come on, guys, are we gonna let Leo power-trip like this?"

After a quick glance to Mikey, Donnie gave Raph a sympathetic look. "I think Leo's right."

Leo gave the same kind of soft look. "You've got to control your temper. Until then, we just can't trust you." He and Donnie started to walk off without another word. Only Mikey mumbled a quiet "sorry, Raph" as he followed his brothers. 

That left an aggravated Raph, who threw his sais on the ground in anger.

Sometimes he hated his brothers sometimes. 

~

Back at the lair, Raph was ranting in the kitchen and pacing around - all while Spike was calmly chewing on his leaf and completely ignoring his owner's anger. "Who does Leo think he is? So what if I got a temper? I'm still the best fighter we got; in fact, if anything, my anger makes me a better fighter!" The validity of that could be argued, but Raph was too aggravated to even care about technicalities. 

He finally settled down enough to notice Spike, minding his own business. "You understand me, don't you, Spike?" He then sat back on one of the table stools and put his hands on the table. "Chew on your leaf if you understand me." When Spike did just that, Raph smiled to himself. He could always rely on Spike for emotional support. "Yeah, I thought so."

"I understand you too."

Raph was nearly startled out of his shell as Splinter entered the kitchen, a tiny smile on his face. But then that morphed into mild annoyance - Raph could never be angry (at least, intensely speaking) with Splinter. "Seriously, you've got to knock or something."

Splinter ignored his son's slight rudeness and met his eyes. "Raphael, let me tell you a story." 

Neither of them noticed Andi making her way to the kitchen herself, wanting to talk to Raph one-on-one - mostly to sympathize with him. But when she heard Splinter talking to him already, she hid in the doorway and listened in. Was she eavesdropping? Yes. But she did not want to interrupt what they were talking about. 

"Sensei, I'm really not in the mood for a story." Raph admitted, his annoyance fading and being replaced with a feeling of just...wanting to be left alone. 

But Splinter wasn't about to take that as an answer. So he used Raph's tactics against him. "Spike, chew on your leaf if you are in the mood for a story." Like clockwork, Spike chewed another piece off of his leaf, producing two different reactions. Splinter nodded his head and responded, "Very well," while Raph gave his beloved friend a look of betrayal. 

"When I was a young man, I was in love with a woman."

But Raph tried to get out of it again, pretending to tap an invisible watch on his wrist. "Oh, hey, is it that late-"

But Splinter wasn't having it once again. "Sit."

Raph huffed a bit, but sat back down on the kitchen stool. 

Content that Raph wasn't going anywhere, Splinter closed his eyes as the flashback began. "Her name was Tang Shen. And I was not the only man who loved her." He remembered himself talking to Shen outside of a home; getting to know her, and reveling in her delicate and beautiful smile. She was radiant, it was no wonder why she had another admirer. It was just unfortunate as to who loved her. 

"There was another man competing for her attention. Oroku Saki." He imagined Saki's bitter face at the thought of him, Yoshi, being with the woman he loved. It pierced him to his very core. He also noted Raph breathing out "Shredder" in realization. "One day, he insulted me in front of her. He called me many things." Now Splinter remembered Saki's pose as he shouted disparaging things at him. An accusatory finger at him and giving him the most evil glare. Almost like it foreshadowed Saki's path in the future. 

He then remembered the storm brewing around them; lightning struck behind them - a perfect reflection of Yoshi's increasing anger. "I felt I could not let those insults go unanswered." Yoshi saw red at that moment. And without thinking, he attacked Saki, watching him fall to the ground - in front of Shen, promptly terrifying her.

Saki merely gave him a sneer, as if he were waiting for such a response. It was probably so that Shen could see the "real" Yoshi. 

"I lost my temper-" Splinter recalled, remembering Shen resting her head against him in fear and Saki stalking away. "-and over time, our rivalry festered into hatred." He then remembered the battle between the two of them - the night when everything came to a head. "Until Shredder sought to finish me..." 

Then the slice happened, and Splinter's world crumbled in front of him. He could still remember Shen's lifeless body in his arms as he wept over her. "And I lost my beloved Tang Shen."

The flashback ended, but Splinter still kept his back turned and his eyes closed, like he was still deep in thought. 

Andi was entirely quiet next to the doorway. She sympathized with Splinter so much. She knew exactly what it was like to lose someone close to her. And to not be able to say goodbye before they died was an even more relatable feeling. It took everything in her not to reveal her hiding spot and go to Splinter, telling him that she understood where he was coming from. But judging by the look on his face, that wouldn't be smart. 

So she continued listening in. 

"But...but it wasn't your fault." Raph tried to reason with the story Splinter just told him. "Shredder insulted you, you had no choice!"

At that, Splinter's eyes snapped open and he turned around as fast as ever. "No choice? I could've chosen to ignore him. I could've chosen to let his words wash over me - like a river over stone. But I let him anger me. It was I who turned his words into weapons." At that proclamation, Splinter walked over and stared Raph directly in the eyes. "That's the choice I made. What choice will you make?"

He then turned around and left Raph to lament that as he left the kitchen. When he noticed Andi in the doorway (and noticed her panicking face as she tried to scramble for an explanation), he gave her a small smile as a reassurance. "It's okay, Andromeda. I'm not upset."

She only nodded in understanding and mumbled a weak apology, before watching Splinter walk away. When she noticed Raph still lamenting at the table, she decided to act on what she wanted to do before. She walked into the kitchen and sat next to him. "Hi."

Raph acknowledged her for a moment, giving her a look of both confusion and slight annoyance. "What are you doing here?"

Andi ignored the tone as she offered Spike a little smile, patting his head with her pointer finger. "I just wanted to talk. If anything, I get where you're coming from in terms of getting super angry with someone."

Now Raph looked entirely confused. "You? Angry?" He let out a disbelieving chuckle. "No offense, Andi, but I can't exactly see that. Like, at all." When he noticed her staring  at the table and the fact that she wasn't saying anything, he realized she was actually being serious. "Oh...my bad."

Andi managed a sad smile - but it was very small. "There're a lot of things you don't know about me, Raphael. One is that I've had a lot of stuff happen around me, and I've had so many times where I just wanted to break someone's jaw."

Raph hummed a bit, not wanting to say anything and make her feel worse, but when her smile faded and she went back to a more neutral stare, he thought it best to try and lighten the mood a bit. "You? Nah, still can't see it."

Now he was teasing her at this point, and it was obvious to her. But she decided to indulge in it a little bit as she started to smile - more genuinely this time. "It's true!" She giggled a bit, punching him on the shoulder. 

Raph smirked at her, raising a hand to surrender. "All right, all right. I'll believe you this time." When Andi rolled her eyes in response, he jokingly rubbed the spot she punched him in. "Also, wow. We really need to get you training soon. Because that could not be classified as a punch, shortcake."

"Oh, shut up!"

~

Meanwhile, Mikey, Leo and Donnie finally made it to the Kraang hideout. Now all that was left to do was bust in, get Vic out and destroy the video - maybe through destroying the phone, or maybe Donnie could do some sciency wizard thing, as Raph would say. And speaking of Raph-

"Are we really gonna do this without Raph?" Mikey asked as the three of them were observing the entrance to the base, mostly to make sure no droids would come out and start shooting at them. 

Leo gave him a determined look as he gave a slight fist pump. "We can handle it." He was not about to go back on his word and they were already here, why go back to the lair so Raph could join them, just in case he blew up again?

Mikey sighed a bit, still bothered by the lack of his older brother. "I don't know, it just feels like there's something missing..." It could've been sweet, like Mikey didn't want to fight without their brother with them, but when Leo smacked him across the head, Mikey yelped in pain but smiled at Leo, rubbing his head. "Thanks."

Never mind, it was how Raph got Mikey to focus on what really mattered.

"Happy to help. Now, let's go." Leo instructed. At that order, the three of them snuck to the back of the building, climbed the wall and bolted down the flights of stairs until they made it in the back of the building. It resembled the stereotypical haunted building; spider webs and empty crates were everywhere. 

At seeing a black spider with red spots calmly resting on a web, Mikey grimaced at it. "Spiders..." He muttered to himself. Spiders were absolutely not his forte. He wasn't afraid of them, per se, but they were pretty gross nonetheless.

They kept moving, Leo being the most vigilant about where the Kraang could possibly have been hiding, but Mikey and Donnie were close behind. However, when Mikey turned his head suddenly, Donnie got startled - so as a bit of retribution, he smacked Mikey across the head like how Leo did before. 

This time, though, Mikey wasn't nearly as happy. He yelped again, but glared at Donnie. "You don't have to keep doing that." He whispered harshly to his older brother. 

Donnie gave him a sheepish look. "There was a spider on you." He lied, but Mikey clearly didn't believe it. "Well, there's a spider on you too." When Donnie fell for it and checked for any spider, Mikey used the distraction to yell, "C'mere, you punk!" before tackling Donnie and smacking him on the head repeatedly.

Leo broke up the commotion immediately. "Hey!" He whispered harshly, and when Mikey stopped giving Donnie potential brain damage, he shushed them and kept walking. Mikey followed him and Donnie did the same (all while holding his head,) but Mikey held a hand up threateningly to remind Donnie of what could happen again - Donnie only sighed exasperatedly and kept walking. 

They really were turning into Raph while the red-masked turtle was out of commission.

However, they finally made it. 

Vic was tied to a chair, surrounded by Kraang droids. The one that looked the most human was holding his phone, and another droid next to him was describing what was on the video. "The image that is the image on the phone is pleasing to the eye of Kraang. This is true. Kraang is looking what is known in Earth terms as 'handsome' in this phone."

However, Vic being himself, assumed they were just talking about negotiations. "Well, you guys drive a hard bargain. Tell ya what, I'll drop it down to $500,000. And you can keep the phone!" He said it like it was an absolute steal, even if the phone itself looked like it cost 0.5% of $500,000. However, when the droid turned away, Vic assumed that was a no. "Okay, $400,000."

The second droid addressed the first one. "This is our fight with the creatures called the turtles."

A third droid now joined in the conversation. "The usefulness of this will be proven usefully with the more watching of this." Translation: The more droids that watched this video, the better.

The first one regarded the video with more admiration. "Also, this is being a good image of Kraang." The video now focused on a droid firing two plasma guns at once. Clearly, the Kraang liked to inflate their own egos whenever they could.

The second one talked again - this time with a proposition. "We should be showing the image of Kraang to Kraang."

In the midst of their monotonous conversation, Vic started being dragged away slowly - Mikey had used a chain from his nunchucks and was carefully pulling the chair Vic was tied up on towards the three of them. When he looked around in a slightly panicked state, Leo gave him a reassuring look. "We're gonna get you out of here." He whispered.

"What about my phone?" Vic yelled in his normal voice, completely ignorant to the fact that the Kraang were 10 feet from them and would not hesitate to shoot them. When Leo aggressively shushed him, he got angrier. "Don't shush me, I ain't leavin' here without my phone!"

His genius move got the attention of the Kraang, with one of them yelling, "Stop the one that needs to be stopped! Stop!"

Great. Now they had to fight.

"Remind me why we had to rescue this guy again?" At this point, Donnie was so done with this guy that he didn't really even care about the video anymore. He was so obnoxious that they just hoped they never had to see him again - under any circumstances.

The Kraang started firing on them, and the boys immediately jumped back into battle. Leo dodged attacks left and right before slicing through one and tackling it, while Mikey got the attention of another and allowed Donnie to bash it, letting it fall to the ground. Donnie then returned the favor, allowing a third droid to focus on him while Mikey landed on top of another - essentially crushing it with ease. They shared a quick smile before going back into the fray.

Meanwhile, Vic was entirely focused on one thing - his phone. He noticed it was calmly resting to his left, and grinned with relief. He tried to wheel over to it, but it was kicked away - far away - from him. Deciding to risk his own safety, he continued to wheel himself closer to his phone, before a stray beam from a droid's plasma gun hit the legs of the chair, making him fall directly on his side.

The good news? He grabbed his phone.

The bad news? There was a spider on its screen.

The worse news? A stray beam from a droid broke open a mutagen storage container - and its contents fell directly onto Vic, making him scream intensely as his DNA was violently altered.

"Kraang, go look at the place where the thing makes the noise is, and tell us what thing makes that noise in the first place." One droid instructed another. The second agreed and began to walk towards the source, but the second that he was encased in the shadows, he was thrown out of the little "cave" and shut down, making the little brain run in terror. At that, other droids began backing away.

"Uh, I don't like the sound of that." Mikey admitted, speaking everyone's thoughts - even the Kraang's, oddly enough. 

Suddenly, a gigantic red and black spider-like creature emerged from the shadows. With its many beady eyes and yellowed fangs, it was definitely both dangerous and absolutely grotesque. 

"I don't like the look of it either!" Mikey exclaimed, speaking everyone's thoughts again. 

When it spoke for the first time, it was clearly Vic. "What did you do to me? I'm hideous!"

More than he was before the mutation.

Leo glanced at Donnie and Mikey for a second, a steely and determined look on his face. "Don't worry, the four of us can handle him." He completely forgot the fact that that wasn't true - and Donnie pointed it out for him. "Okay, this might be a bad time to point this out, but you sent one of the four of us home." He said 'home' with a hint of fear in his voice. Which Mikey only exacerbated with, "And right now, I wish it was me!"

"This is your fault! I'm gonna rip your heads off!" Vic yelled at them. First they ruined his chance of getting enough money to last him a lifetime (or at least a few years), and now they turned him into this? Oh, they were going to pay.

In an effort to hype up the team, Leo held his katana aloft. "All right, guys. Prepare to dish out the mighty wrath of justice!" He was channeling Captain Ryan with that, and for a second, it really made him feel like a hero. Like they really could do this without Raph!

But the look on Donnie's face proved that it failed - and abysmally. "Seriously, just yell 'get him.'"

Right as Leo was about to fulfill such a request, though, he was flung by a spider leg into a pile of wooden crates. Vic then turned to the other two with an evil smile. He knocked out one, just two more to go!

Donnie stared him down as he ran towards him with his bo staff and jumped, about to jab it into the spider eyes, but Vic folded his legs in and deflected, practically throwing Donnie away. Mikey tried to get a few hits in (and to his credit, he succeeded), but Vic still was able to get him away by flicking him away with his legs. Leo wasn't done though, running behind him at full speed. He nearly got a few hits in, but was unable to as Vic tried to strike first. But he dodged, flipping away from him and landing back next to Donnie and Mikey. 

Thinking they were making progress, Mikey decided to trash talk a bit. "Is that all you got?"

However, Vic revealed that it wasn't - at all. He shot a glob of yellow goo (that looked and smelled exactly like sulfur, oddly enough) at the boys and when it landed on the floor, it was so acidic that it actually caused a hole in the floor. Well, that definitely was not good.

Mikey weakly looked up at Vic after staring in horror at the floor. "The answer I was hoping for was 'yes!'"

Vic was clearly unamused by that answer, shooting another glob of sulfurous goop at the boys. When it missed, he fired more shots at them, which nearly broke the floor. At that, the three ran from him, now much more intimidated. 

Vic chased after them immediately, before flipping himself to land in front of them and shooting more yellow goop at them. They split up at this point; Mikey backflipped to avoid some shots, and Donnie and Leo tried to get some hits on this guy - but for the most part, they were unsuccessful. Thankfully, Mikey threw a barrel at him and made it land directly in his mouth - giving them a chance to catch their breath.

But it was short-lived when Vic spat out the barrel and jumped in front of them, trying to stab them with his legs - but they ran before he could succeed.

When they stopped for a second, they realized where they were standing - in front of the spot where Vic spat at earlier. The floor was corroding around them and eventually, they fell onto the floor below them. 

Great.

As they started to get back up, Mikey finally realized the perfect name for their new enemy. "We're no match for Spider Bytez!"

Leo gave him a slightly unamused look as he held his head. "Spider Bytez?" First it was Raph questioning the names Mikey gave to these villains they fought, now Leo. Though once again, this was another case where Mikey took a serious moment and turned it on its head by giving a...creative name to a new foe.

"Well, he's a spider, and he bites, so I thought-" Mikey was promptly interrupted by Leo hastily saying, "We get it."

The newly-named Spider Bytez emerged in front of them, looking even more intimidating than ever. He balanced himself on his legs for a second before flipping back onto his front legs and growling menacingly at them.

When the boys tried to run, he cornered them again. And again. 

"This bug is fast!" Leo commented, making Donnie have another "nerd" moment. "Eh, spiders aren't actually bugs, they're-"

He was promptly interrupted by Spider Byte grabbing him with a leg and tossing him into a crate, making all three of them glare at him with a newly determined sense of ferocity. He only responded by shooting some yellow goop towards Leo and Mikey, making the two of them back up next to Donnie. 

They were basically cornered.

As Spider Bytez edged closer to them, ready to strike, a familiar voice emerged from above.

"Wow. I didn't think this guy could get any uglier." Raph.

"Raph!" Mikey and Donnie cheered in unison, while Leo smiled in both relief and pride. Not only could they use their brother's help, but it was just great to see him again.

Raph jumped from the spiral stairway he was standing on and landed perfectly on his feet, before staring down Spider Bytez with a sense of determination. He was ready to finally take this guy down - the right way. Not fueled by rage or anger, but fueled by justice and fighting alongside his brothers. 

"Well, I think you've been punished long enough, come and join us!" Leo encouraged him. They definitely needed Raph's help, and he could see his brother was not only much more calm and in control, but he was ready to fight. And that was more than enough for him.

Spider Bytez recognized Raph almost immediately. "He-ey, it's the kung fu frog with the salad tongs!" Using all of his insults in one go, and none of them really seemed to have any effect on Raph.

In fact, the red-banded turtle only responded with, "Hey, it's the stupid loudmouth who's about to get his butt kicked." Flashing his sais as proof, Raph was ready to fight - for real this time. 

Spider Bytez shot a ball of sulfurous goop at Raph, who dodged with ease. When he failed, he flipped onto his side and shot more yellow goop at the others, until it created a ring around them - this caused the floor to corrode and made the boys fall onto the third floor of the building.

And when Donnie noticed the amount of mutagen underneath the last floor, he nervously told the other boys, "Uh, let's not fall through this floor, okay?"

They didn't want to see if Mikey's theory of becoming a super mutant was actually plausible.

Spider Bytez decided to attack Raph one more time before going down to the final floor. "Dance for me, frog!" He shot a flurry of yellow goop at Raph, who basically did what he wanted; in a desperate attempt to avoid being corroded, he moved quickly across the floor - almost like a jig. It would've been funny if he wasn't so concerned about being shot at.

Once Spider Bytez was satisfied, he decided to add insult to injury by taunting Raph as well. "Watch me turn your friends into frog fries! I'll serve 'em up with your salad tongs!" He then disappeared to the final floor, ready to deliver the final blow. 

At that declaration, Raph growled to himself. No one got away with hurting his brothers - under any circumstances.

Grabbing his sais, he used the thread of...goo? that Spider Bytez created as a rope to swing onto the final floor, and once there, he cut the thread and forced the gigantic spider onto the ground. 

Now it was time for the final battle between the two of them.

But instead of attacking, Spider Bytez decided to hurl insults at Raph. "Aw, froggy thinks he can stop me. Ribbit, ribbit. What's that, tadpole? Are you too scared to leap off your lily pad and get the warts knocked off you?"

As Spider Bytez kept talking, though, Raph took a breath and calmed himself. Everything that the ugly thing was telling him was rolling off his shell and fading from his mind...just like Splinter told him. "Like a river over stone..." He murmured to himself.

The knowing smirk that he gave to Spider Bytez said everything - this gigantic monster was not going to get the better of him. 

He avoided Spider Bytez trying to stab him with his legs and delivered a spinning kick to his face, before following it up with a flurry of kicks and punches.

Spider Bytez tried everything, from trying to grab Raph with the legs to spitting yellow goop at him, but nothing worked. In fact, Raph used his own attack against him by making the yellow goop land on his leg, making him stop and assess the damage. "That's some kung fu, frog."

Raph gave his brothers a confident smile as they joined up with him, before he addressed Spider Bytez. "We're not kung fu frogs." He casually corrected him, before pointing his sai at him. "We're ninja turtles."

At that declaration, the four of them scattered. Spider Bytez tried to grab them with his legs, but Leo deflected one with his katana while Mikey used another leg as a zipline and delivered a hard stop to Spider Bytez' face. Raph and Donnie then tag-teamed and delivered the final blow, making Spider Bytez fall to the ground.

He was defeated. 

And as insult to injury, Raph smashed his phone - and in turn, destroyed the video.

"My phone!" Spider Bytez yelled, but backed up as the boys backed him into a corner. Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he threatened them, "You guys are gonna regret this!" He then scurried away on his legs, making the boys follow him.

By the time they were on the roof, he was long gone, hopping over rooftops and into the night. 

"I know a nice black widow that'd be great for him." Donnie commented with a little smile. Yes, it was weird, but the inner science nerd in him was fascinated by things like arachnids. Maybe Andi was too, who knew...

"Good work, Raph." Leo commented, giving his brother a confident smile. "I just want to say..."

Raph assumed he knew exactly what Leo was going to tell him. "You don't have to apologize."

But his hopes were slightly dashed when Leo admitted, "I wasn't going to..."

Surprised by that, Raph hummed in acknowledgment. "Oh, good."

"Yeah, Raph..." Mikey interjected, but decided to have some fun with this. "Not bad for a bloated buffalo."

Raph gritted his teeth at that, but smirked to himself. Deciding to get some revenge on Mikey, he pounced on him, making Mikey yelp in pain. "Okay! Raph is all wise and powerful!"

"And?" Raph asked, now holding Mikey in a headlock while the latter's arms swung up and down like a bird's wings. Leo and Donnie merely watched on, slightly amused at the scene. They couldn't say Mikey didn't deserve it.

"And he's better than me in every possible way!"

[tokyorecordstyle]

For those who might not know, I have a volunteer photography project called “Photohoku” where I gift photographs to people in need. It would take while to share all about it, but I just encourage you to check it out. But one of technical the aspects of it, not completely unlike Tokyo Record Style, is approaching (read: accosting) strangers, trying to diffuse their immediate apprehension with some welcoming, unthreatening charm and an honest smile (which, in a world filled with nefariously-intended people requires a certain finesse), and in a very, very short amount of time, seconds really, sell them on a genuine creative idea that basically involves their participation, and assure them that the result, and the connection forged from the shared faith and goodwill, will actually be an authentic human experience, and very well worth it. Absolutely, one of the most interesting aspects of this approach, is witnessing the very moment, the second in time, expressed in the face and eyes, when impressions change from suspicion to trust. It’s simultaneously a subtle and yet beautifully dramatic transition - a revelation of sorts. For them, it might feel like relief that the ticking time bomb’s red wire was cut, but for me, it’s quite the opposite, like that single first firework launched, rising higher and higher in the air, too high maybe, then the silence and suspense of wondering if it’s a dud, or if it will indeed actually explode, hanging in the sky… then BOOM!!! The heavens lights up, queue circus pipe-organ music, the show is about to begin! “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages…” Sorry, got carried away there, but now imagine for a moment being Aurelian pictured here, French expat living in Bali, running a restaurant called “O La La”, then coming to Tokyo, on holiday, for first time, walking alone in the dimly-lit back streets of foreign county, perhaps with a wallet filled of record-collecting cash for extremely rare and expensive collector Serge Gainsboug pressings, and encountering a fast-talking, obnoxiously dressed, over-enthusiastic national of yet a DIFFERENT country, speaking half-English, half Japanese to you, trying to chat you about about records. You’d be suspicious too. Hell, I’D be suspicious too! Well, lucky for both of us, Aurelian let his guard down, offered a warm smile, and both our hearts melted a little. Not only did were we made instant pals by music, but thankfully and reassuringly our mutual faith in humanity was restored, …and the occasion was marked with these photographs. Thanks, for sharing Aurelian. Congrats on the huge score. So happy we met! I listened to chanson all day yesterday and I’m better for it! Enjoy the rest of your Tokyo time! And more Tokyo Record style coming up! #Tokyo #record #style #tokyorecordstyle #records #music #recordcollector #recordstore #vinyl #vinylcollector #vinylrecords #vinylrecord #rock #latin #45 #pop #Chanson #shimokitazawa #france #bali #traveler (at Shimo-Kitazawa , Tokyo) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnvJA89vdxM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[subbyyang]

Don't keep my love on the low low (Keep my love on the low low) - Ten/Yangyang (17/?)

“You’re kicking me out,” Yangyang whined obnoxiously as Ten pushed him towards the door.

“I’m not kicking you out, don’t be such a baby,” Ten said with a laugh as he opened the door.

“You are, you’re literally pushing me out of the door,” Yangyang tried once more, “without even a kiss goodbye!”.

“You’re so annoying,” Ten replied, turning Yangyang around as he rolled his eyes before pulling him in for a quick kiss. 

He tried pulling away but Yangyang had slyly wrapped his arms around his shoulders, keeping him in place as he dived down for a second kiss. And a third. And a fourth. 

“Enough,” Ten laughed softly, hands pressed to Yangyang’s warm chest as he pushed him away, “someone can see us, baby,” he said softly, eyes locked with Yangyang’s. He leaned in for one last kiss before completely pushing him away, “now go,” he said as he closed the door. 

He felt like a teenager again, cheeks pink and heart beating so fast inside his chest it was making him sick. Leaning against the door, he couldn’t help the giddy feeling bubbling in his chest, a dumb smile on his lips as he thought about their date, it had been absolutely perfect. Ten fished his phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrating in his pocket, his smile somehow growing bigger when he saw who had just texted him. 

From: Yangie 🥰 | 1:38 pm

i loved our date yesterday ♥️

miss you already 

To: Yangie 🥰 | 1:38 pm

Are you even out of the building yet? lol

From: Yangie 🥰 | 1:39 pm

no 😜

“Oh my god, go home!” Ten yelled with a laugh when he heard Yangyang knock once on his door. He let himself fall on his couch, as he and Yangyang texted back and forth, as if they hadn’t spent the last few hours in a car together talking non-stop. 

— — 

Yangyang had never felt so light, he couldn’t stop smiling as he walked out of the subway station, yesterday’s date playing over and over again in his mind. And then his smile grew shyer, his cheeks burning red at the thought of their night together. Ten could be quite passionate and if it wasn’t for Yangyang asking him not to mark him in visible places, he knew he would be walking around with a bruised neck more often than not. But the night before had been different, something had been different about Ten that Yangyang couldn’t explain. He could try to say it was the alcohol but it wasn’t the first time they fucked drunk. Either way, Yangyang still felt sore and maybe (definitely) a little bruised and he was loving every second of it. 

As he walked down a somewhat empty street, his attention was drawn to a jewelry shop with a big banner announcing their new custom flower bracelet service. He knew Ten’s birthday was coming in about a month and he knew how much he loved bracelets so it seemed like a good idea. Besides, he had some money saved up for some new sneakers but this seemed like a better use for it. 

“Camellias and baby’s breath?” asked the lady in a platinum blonde bob behind the counter after he explained what he was looking for, giving him a polite smile when he nodded, “for a lover, I see…” 

Yangyang didn’t know what to reply. She wasn’t wrong, he guessed, but he couldn’t tell how she had figured that out. But before he could say anything, the lady was moving on, quickly talking about prices and the time it would take for the bracelet to be ready. He couldn’t wait for Ten’s birthday, couldn’t wait to see the way his face would light up when he gave him the gift. He hoped.

— — 

The rest of the weekend went by incredibly slowly. 

Yangyang wanted nothing more than to see Ten again, spend the whole day snuggled up to him talking about whatever came to mind but Ten had told him he needed to work on his painting and no matter how much Yangyang begged to let him come over, assuring him he wouldn’t distract him, Ten wasn’t having it. 

So he sulked at home. And then he sulked some more. At some point he decided to try and do something productive, opening his books and going over his notes but he kept getting distracted by his phone. He went over the photos from Friday night, most of them too dark and blurry to be able really see what was going on but one of them stood out to him. He didn’t even remember taking it. Yangyang had his eyes screwed shut, nose scrunched up mid laugh as Ten kissed him on the cheek, arm around his shoulder, their cheeks and noses tinged a rosy color. God, he wanted nothing more than to post that picture everywhere, show everyone how happy Ten made him. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He was brought out of his thoughts by his phone vibrating in his hand, looking down to see a notification from Ten, calling him the biggest baby as a reply to the pouty selfie he had sent. 

To: Ten ♥️ | 10:57 pm

i missed you today

From: Ten ♥️ | 10:58 pm

I know, I missed you too

You’re so cute

To: Ten ♥️ | 11:02 pm

*we are

Yangyang smiled as he sent Ten their picture together, not needing to wait long before Ten was replying again, sending so many hearts the chat couldn’t keep up.

From: Ten ♥️ | 11:03 pm

We look sooooo drunk lol

But you’re right, we are cute together…maybe we can do something like this again soon?

To: Ten ♥️ | 11:03 pm

i would love that ♥️

Closing his books, Yangyang slid into bed refreshing his messages over and over again until a new notification popped up from Ten’s instagram. He quickly opened it on his second account, his chest swelling in affection at the picture of Ten, smiling brightly at the camera, yellow paint smeared on his cheek, his painting slightly visible in the background. He could feel warmth spreading all over his body as he read the caption over and over and over again. 

‘ And nothing can go wrong, living a love song’

—— 

Yangyang was going to be sick. All day he had felt weird, like a looming presence behind his shoulder watching his every move. He tried convincing himself he meant nothing, he was just being paranoid and when Yongho smirked and winked at him as he walked past he tried convincing himself even harder that everything was okay. And then lunchtime came around.

“Did you hear?” Xiaojun said as Yangyang sat down at their usual table, Hendery and Renjun already sitting across from him.

“Heard what?” Yangyang replied carefully. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Oh God, you didn’t? Yongho didn’t say anything to you?”

“No? What’s going on?” Yup. A really bad feeling.

“There’s a rumor going around that someone saw you with a guy in Busan last Friday.”

No

No

No

“What?” was all Yangyang could say, cold sweat running down his back, his vision going in and out of focus. He was going to pass out, he was honest to God going to pass out in front of everyone. He grabbed his water bottle, taking a shaky gulp, hoping it would snap him out of it.

“It’s bulshit, you were with Kun on Friday, right?” Hendery asked him.

“Yeah, yeah, with Kun.”

In his panic, the look that crossed Hendery’s face went completely unnoticed by Yangyang. He couldn’t believe this. Someone had seen them. 

“It’s going to die down eventually…it’s not like you’re actually gay, and once you find a girlfriend everyone will forget about it,” Xiaojun tried to reason, a concerned look on his face. 

“Unless…look, you know you can tell us everything, right?” Renjun said, lowering his voice and leaning towards Yangyang, hoping to shield their conversation from prying ears.

“I’m not gay!” Yangyang said, ears turning red and voice shaking in anger. Why couldn’t everyone else just mind their own business?

“It was just a question,” Renjun said as he pulled away, sitting back in his chair, hands up in surrender, a conflicted look on his face.

Hendery quickly tried to change the subject and Yangyang tuned out, not hearing another word they said. Some guy , not Ten, they hadn’t said Ten. Did that mean whoever saw him knew him but not Ten? Shit, would they recognize Ten if they saw him around school?? As if summoned, Ten chose that moment to enter the cafeteria, his eyes crossing with Yangyang’s as a smile appeared on his lips. Before Ten could acknowledge him, Yangyang turned his head, pretending not to see him, Ten’s smile faltering in his lips. 

“My - my class is about to start,” Yangyang said as he got up, leaving without another word. He walked towards the building before turning around towards the main gate. 

He couldn’t face them. He was going home.

“Should we have not said anything?” Renjun asked back at the cafeteria.

“He needed to know,” Xiaojun shook his head, “this is fucked up…maybe I could introduce him to some of Karina’s friends?”

“Or you could leave him alone,” Renjun said with a sigh. He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes.

“There’s - actually Karina told me one of her friends has a crush on him, we could set them up,” Xiaojun continued, fully ignoring Renjun.

”I really think that’s a bad idea,” Hendery grimaced, “like you said, it will die down…”

“What if it doesn’t? What if this makes him a target?”

“Jun…” Hendery said with a soft sigh, wanting nothing more than to give his best friend a hug.

“No, don’t Jun me, you both remember how bad it was! We’re not letting it happen again.”

There’s nothing Hendery could say in response to that. He had been there. He had seen what they did to him, how bad the bullying got. He couldn’t fault Xiaojun for wanting to protect him even if he thought he was going at it the wrong way. So he just shut up, finishing his food in silence, hoping somehow things would work out. 

— — 

The next day Yangyang wasn’t in school either. He messaged his friends saying he was sick but they weren’t buying it. The idea of stepping back into school and having all eyes on him left him in a state of panic, nearly hyperventilating every time he thought about the way Yongho had looked at him the day before. And it didn’t help that Ten hadn’t stopped messaging him since the night before. He just wanted to dive into his arms, let him pull him to his chest where he felt warm and safe. How could it be that the only person who could make him feel better was also the reason he was feeling so bad? 

From: Renjun 🦊 | 5:48 pm

You have to stop running away 

It will only make the rumors worse

To: Renjun 🦊 | 5:49 pm

im not running away 

i’m sick

From: Renjun 🦊 | 5:53 pm

Right………..

Yangyang placed his phone on the bedside table before sliding back into his sheets, cocooning himself inside them. Kun would be home soon and he probably should make an effort to not look like he had been crying all day but he would rather die than leave his bed. So he just pretended to be sleeping, actually falling asleep before Kun arrived. 

Hours later he woke up feeling lost and disoriented, both hungry and nauseated and sweaty. He felt around for his phone as he heard it vibrate on his table, realizing that’s what had woken him up. 

From: Unknown number | 9:37 pm

Hey! It’s Giselle from class~

Got your number from Karina who got it from Xiaojun haha

Apparently you’re sick?

I took some notes for you, maybe I can give them to you when you’re feeling better?

Or maybe come over?

It took a few minutes for Yangyang to comprehend what he was reading. He quickly screenshotted the messages before sending them to Xiaojun, a bunch of question marks as the caption.

From: DJ | 9:46 pm

You’re welcome 😈

To: DJ | 9:46 pm

what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

From: DJ | 9:47 pm

🤦🏻♂️ 

Talk to her

Before he could say anything else, his phone was vibrating again, the same unknown number appearing in his notifications.

From: Unknown number | 9:47 pm

Oh, was that weird? 

I didn’t mean it like that haha

I mean you’re very cute but yeah I just have some notes~~

To: Giselle | 9:48 pm

hi

yeah i got it don’t worry

ill probably be at school tomorrow so we can see each other then?

thank u for the notes

Why did he say that? He didn’t want to go to school tomorrow. Or ever again. Maybe he could transfer? But then he wouldn’t see his friends everyday. Well, they were being annoying so maybe it would be for the better. 

With a sigh he got out of bed and walked out of his room. The living room was empty and he could hear soft music coming from Kun’s room so he just followed it, not bothering to knock before walking in.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Kun said as he got up from his desk chair, walking over to Yangyang and putting a hand to his forehead, “no fever, does that mean you’re feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he quietly replied, slapping Kun’s hand away, “is there something to eat?” 

“Of course, I left it in the fridge, come, I’ll heat it up for you,” Kun said as he wrapped his arm around his shoulder, pulling him along with him. Yangyang sat quietly as Kun prepared his food, going over and over yesterday’s events.

“Kun?”

“Yeah?” Kun replied, not turning around as he kept stirring the food.

“If someone asks, I was with you Friday night.”

“But you weren’t?”

“I know,” Yangyang sighed, “please…”

Kun stopped stirring before turning around, brows frowned in concern, “is this something I have to worry about?”

“ Gē… ”

“Yangyang…”

“No, nothing to worry about,” Yangyang said, immediately exhausted by the conversation even though he had spent the last few hours sleeping, “please - just - please, if anyone asks -“

“Fine, fine!” Kun said, interrupting what he knew would be one of the typical Yangyang rants, worry gnawing at the back of his brain, “here, eat your food.”

Kun kept Yangyang company while he ate, eventually telling him to go to sleep as he took care of the dishes. But it would be hours until Yangyang managed to fall asleep, tossing and turning in bed, stopping himself from checking Ten’s messages, knowing that stopping contact was the best he could do right now. 

When the next day came around, Yangyang was once again regretting his decision to go to class. But deep down he knew Renjun was right, it would only be more suspicious if he kept staying home and it would only cause Kun to ask more questions. The last thing he wanted was to have more people asking him questions.

[therenlover]

One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4200~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

---------

Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.

It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.

Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.

After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.

The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.

You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.

There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.

“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.

He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?

With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”

Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”

He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”

So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”

It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”

You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”

“More of a title,”

He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”

“Not like. I am,”

Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”

You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”

“Is that right?”

“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”

Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”

“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”

The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!

“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.

The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.

“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”

His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.

“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.

“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”

You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”

“And so smart,”

“Move, Baron!”

At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.

“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”

Your response was breathless; a confession.

“Not with you,”

Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.

“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.

With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”

That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”

“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”

That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.

Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.

For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.

“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.

Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”

“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?

“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.

“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.

You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.

“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”

You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.

“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.

“God, yes,”

“Wonderful,”

He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.

“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”

Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.

The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.

You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.

For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.

It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.

“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.

You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.

“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.

The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.

“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.

“They have janitors,”

A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”

Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.

“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”

“Oh, you heard that?”

You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”

“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”

Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

“There you are!”

“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”

There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.

They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?

Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”

The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.

“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.

The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”

“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”

You felt it was a good time to chime in.

“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…

“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”

You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”

He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”

As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.

“Who was that?”

“None of your business, James,”

“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”

“I believe that was my used rubber,”

“ZEMO!”

-------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!

Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3

[tetsunormous]

Reencounters

pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers, smut (18+), fluff

word count: 6.5K

warnings: cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing, nipple play, pinning

A/N: This is for Ria's @bakugohoex's rich boy collab 💜 Congrat's on 3k!! thank you to @ohno-otome and @armins-futon for reading this for me. I love matsukawa but I don't write for him often so this has been really fun :)

Walking into your new dorm room, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sure, you’ve seen the pictures online, but there’s nothing like the slightly dusty window letting in a hazy ray of light shining down onto the slight dip in the middle of the mattress you now call your own. Your desk almost touched the corner of your twin-sized bed, and your new bookshelf barely has enough room to fit half of the books you brought, but this was your new life. It didn’t dawn on you just how different university would be until you arrived this morning, but here you were, unpacking all your clothes into the cramped closet in the corner. Luckily, you’re in the building where you had a single room. Privacy was something you were worried about, and the communal washrooms will be something to get used to, but either way, this was a new start, and no matter how nervous you are, you’re grateful for it.

High school wasn’t terrible, but it definitely wasn’t what you expected it to be. Going into it, you obviously knew that it would be nothing like how the movies depicted, but you were excited. How bad could those four years really be if you had your best friend right by your side? He was incredible. He understood you better than anybody else, would be able to tell how you were feeling without the exchange of words, but most of all, he was your person, and you were his.

There was no doubting that in all your years of friendship.

But alas, like all good things in life, they must come to an end.

The summer going into the twelfth grade, he was longer your best friend. The boy that would go to the farmers market with you and your mom every other Sunday was now lining up for the newest sneaker drop. The boy that would rather spend the night at home and binge-watch your shared comfort show for the seventh time is now out with the boys sneaking into shisha bars and doing donuts in the community centre parking lots with their new cars. You watched as he slowly forgot about you, getting caught up in his new friendships and obsessing over material items that he never cared about before. It’s not that you were upset he found new friends. It’s that the only time he would reach out was to randomly drop off something he had bought you in hopes it would make up for him blowing you off again.

They started small, simple sweaters he knew you would like, but the gifts became almost ridiculous as time passed. He would never let you return them either, so now you have designer shoes for imaginary banquets. Of course, you were always grateful, but you would trade all his gifts just to spend time with him again. His family has always been wealthy, they always went on lavish vacations and drove the nicest cars, but you never really cared about what he spends his money on or just how much his parents make. You cared that he saw you as a person he wanted to be with rather than just someone he could shove gifts towards to make up for the quality time he’d miss.

But now you’re here. You were arriving three hours before the suggested move-in time because you didn’t want to be rushed to unpack before orientation starts later. You’ve seen a few people walking around on your floor, but neither of your neighbours have arrived, and honestly, you don’t mind because that means you’re able to blast your music without worry. As The 1975 fills your room, you stand still for a second, really taking in where you are. You’re now attending one of the best schools in the country, living on your own with a floor of people you don’t know yet. It starts to sink in that you are starting anew. The people who end up in the rooms next to you might just end up being your lifelong friends. As the song comes to an end, you decide it’s time to try to make yourself look a little more presentable since it’s almost time for people to start rolling in.

...

It’s almost five in the afternoon, and everyone on your floor is meeting outside on the field for a quick introduction before group dinner. You’re sitting with your knees pressed to your chest as the girl next to you tries to make small talk. To be fair, she’s incredibly sweet, but you can’t focus on her because somewhere behind you, there is a voice you think you recognize. There’s no way he would be here. Sure, you have no idea what school he ended up choosing, but if he ended up here, he would’ve at least texted you. Right? Before you can confirm your suspicions, orientation starts, and your group leader is already talking with more energy than you can handle.

The group of guys settle down close by, and you can’t stop yourself from looking over, wondering if you’ll see the head of brown curls. Instead, you’re met with a bunch of frat boy looking wannabes that instantly make your eyes roll. To say you’re disappointed that you didn’t see him was so stupid. It’s been over a year, yet here you were, hoping to magically bump into him as if this was some cliche movie. If anything, it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating that even though he stopped caring for you, you still longed to see him, to hear him laugh at one of your cheesy jokes. It’s even more frustrating that this new start you’ve been looking forward to, makes you miss him even more.

There are only sixteen people on your floor, but introductions take a lifetime because someone didn’t come on time. When they finally do show up, you almost laugh at this whole situation because, of course, it was him. Of course, he was strutting down the courtyard in some brand new Gucci sneakers and the same Balenciaga sweater he had bought for you a few months ago. Of course, the annoying group of boys behind you gesture for him as he quickly apologizes to the group leaders. And, of course, when you make eye contact, he’s the one looking at you with a mixture of shock and annoyance.

Quickly rushing back to your room after the meeting, you decide you’re ordering in tonight so that you don’t have to see him for at least another day. This is all so fucked up. You wrack your brain trying to understand how probable this whole situation is because, frankly, it feels like a sick joke, and on top of it, he’s the one annoyed?

Naturally, you spend the rest of the night unpacking the rest of your things before ordering your comfort food to wash down all the feelings you’re experiencing. Putting on your favourite show, you begin your tenth rerun as you bury yourself in your blankets. Part of you feels so stupid for completely ignoring your initial dinner plans, but you knew with the mindset you had at the moment, there was no way you would have enjoyed yourself. It’s a bit silly you haven’t left your room since picking up your takeout, you don’t even know who lives beside you, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Slipping into your slides, you head towards the washroom with your little toiletry bag. You pass by the girl you were sitting with earlier, and she sends you a smile. After apologizing for disappearing all night she just laughs and assures you nothing happened. She even points out where her room is if you were up to hang out tomorrow during frosh activities.

Just this interaction makes you feel better, and you quietly hum along to the familiar tune coming from the shower stall.

He used to play this song all the time, claiming it spoke to him the first time he heard it. Since then, it became the song he would play anytime he’d come to pick you up, explaining how this song is special because the ending always reminded him of you. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since the two of you hung out. Every time you heard ‘Pluto Projector,’ it would always bring a smile to your face. You even tried to show the song to your ex-boyfriend, but he never paid attention to your suggestions. He always claimed that his music taste was better. Thankfully that relationship only lasted a couple of months, but still, the regret of not waiting for someone worthy lingers in your mind.

While applying your moisturizer, you hear the water shut, the person pausing the song right as the orchestra starts to come in. Worried about who you may run into, you quickly pack up your stuff. You hear the click of the lock, and as you turn around, you’re met with him, with his curly hair all damp and his obnoxious teal blue robe wrapped loosely around his waist.

Rushing past him, you briskly walk towards your room, but before you can close the door, his foot jams between the doorframe. He pushes his way in and quietly closes the door, only to be met with the unimpressed look on your face. He circles around your room, eyes searching for any trace of your past friendship before standing back at the door.

“What do you want, Matsukawa?” you ask impatiently. It’s bad enough you run into the one person you wanted to forget, but now he’s standing in your room with a matching frown.

Something indescribable flashes across his eyes, and you can visibly see his frown deepen at your question. Leaning against your door, his arms come up to rub over his face, peeking at you through his fingers before letting out a long sigh. “When did I become Matsukawa? I thought I was Issei.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you realize how childish your grudge might be, but he has changed, and the man standing in front of you isn’t the same man you once called your best friend. “When you changed, Matsukawa. Issei was my best friend, and YOU are not.”

His eyes filled with confusion as his eyebrows furrow, taking a step forward towards you. “I’m sorry? I tried to stay in touch with you. You’re the one that stopped talking to me, so I’d try to send you things instead. How was I the one who changed?”

You stand there, staring at him for a second before shaking your head. “I can’t do this right now; I want to have a good day tomorrow, so I need to go to sleep. Please, leave my room.”

His eyes soften a little, and you can see a faint glimpse of his infamous lazy smile, “We both know you’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon,” he stalks over and kicks his slides off before sitting at the end of your bed. “Let’s talk about this because, frankly, I’m tired of watching you decide if you hate me every time you see me.”

The nerve of this man. The fact that he invites himself into your room, declares his stay, and then sits on your bed without permission. You don’t even know if he’s wearing anything under that robe as his hair is literally dripping onto your comforter. Regardless of what the situation is, this action alone has you seething. Turning towards your desk chair, you harshly pull out the slightly imbalanced piece of wood and sit down, silently questioning why he isn’t the one on the chair.

He watches you stomp around, and he kinda chuckles at your little tantrum, missing how easy it was to rile you up. Your glare at him would be a little scary if he didn’t see the way your lips mumbled to yourself. It’s honestly a little cute to watch you all frustrated with him even though he saw one of the shoes he bought you in your closet. Sure, they look brand new, but the fact that you brought them here with you must mean something.

The year you two spent apart has been really stressful on Matsukawa. He thought that you’d be happy that he could give you everything you wanted. He knew he wasn’t spending as much time with you as he used to, but he thought the gifts he spent hours lining up for would make up for it.

When you stopped returning his calls and texts, he was crushed. Everyone could see how he felt about you, but then he watched you get close to another man. Within two weeks, you were dating him, and he was left watching from a distance. Neither of you ever confirmed your feelings for each other, but he could tell that man wasn’t making you happy. He didn’t understand your different facial expressions, he didn’t care about what you had to say, but all he could do was watch the girl he wanted from the sidelines.

Sure, as time went on, Matsukawa also started talking to other girls. None of them ever became his girlfriend, he didn’t think it was fair to get with someone when he was set on you, but he had his fair share of hookups. He has money, a shit ton of it, but he never let that get to his head. It wasn’t his fault that he gained popularity when he started to get into name brands and upgraded his car, but none of that ever changed who he was — at least not to the degree you had him pinned.

He watches you carefully, your leg bouncing impatiently as your eyes glare daggers in his direction. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh, “what did I do wrong? You didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever I did (y/n).”

The lamp in the corner of your room shines a dim yellow hue onto his features. His brows are knitted in concern as he leans forwards on his knees, his robe showing off a deep v down his chest. You can feel yourself freeze up at his question, goosebumps covering your skin, while your eyes pour into his. “You changed Matsukawa. You stopped making an effort to be there. I’m not some girl you can just buy with all your money. I have never cared about how much you have or what you can afford -- you know that! It doesn’t matter what. I always split things with you because I never wanted you to feel like I was there for your money. But then suddenly, you just stop showing up. You wouldn’t even tell me you made other plans, and I would just open my door to find some package you dropped off.”

His eyes search your face before letting out a deep sigh. “I tried! You wouldn’t answer any of my calls, I know I stopped explaining myself, but can you blame me? Don’t you think I want to take you around and introduce you to all my friends? Don’t you think I miss going on late-night drives with you to 7-11? Every time I would drive past there, you’re all I thought about. You and your stupid obsession with cheese taquitos and Arizona tea. Did you even think about how I felt when you decided to act like I don’t exist?” He hastily stands up and paces around in the confined space of your dorm room. He never raises his voice, so hearing him talk at a slightly louder volume was enough to let you know he was dead serious. “You know, I never stopped talking highly about you because as selfish as it is, those boys have an important family. They have the connections you dream about (y/n), so even when you started to ignore me to go out with that fucking ex-boyfriend of yours, I never said anything.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes before going to sit back down, his elbows now resting against his thighs. “I know you don’t care about my money, but I didn’t know how else to tell you I was still thinking about you. I tried to get you things that you’d like, things that you’d wear. But no, I had to watch you put on a fake smile and laugh at that asshole’s jokes while you stubbornly ignored me to the point I thought you had me blocked.”

Looking up at you through his curls, his hooded eyes looked darker before. His lips curled into a forced smile as he let out a breathy chuckle, “he didn’t deserve you. But what do I know, right?”

You sat there quietly, taking in what he had just said. You didn’t realize how hurt he was. To be frank, up till now, you were so consumed by your feelings, and you failed to consider his own. His head is hanging between his hands, and the silence in your room right now is insufferable. He’s just explained himself, yet all you can do is scoff at yourself. While you were obsessing over the fact that Matsukawa wasn’t coming over to watch another rerun of your favourite show, he was out picking out different gifts he thought you’d like. You didn’t even open the last few because your own emotions so blinded you. Hearing him take a deep breath, he stands up and smiles sadly at you, “nice talk, (y/n). Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry, Issei.”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, and you can visibly watch as his shoulders relax. It’s been too long since he’s heard you call him by his first name.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve just gotten out of the car to talk to you.”

You look at him with a small smile. Walking towards your bed, you sit down and pat the spot beside you, pulling him in for a hug. His robe is probably the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life, your fingers sinking into the fabric as you hold him close. His arms are immediately wrapping around you, and you both stay like that for a minute before you pull back, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You tried reaching out to me, you tried explaining yourself, but I didn’t even give you a chance. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so caught up I didn’t even think about what you were feeling. The fact that you still wanted to introduce me to your friends, even after all the stuff I did to you….I’m so sorry, Issei.”

He gives you a playful smile and lightly nudges your shoulder with his, “yea, that was kinda unfair, but good thing we talked it out, huh?”

You flash him a sheepish smile, but your eyes glimmer with happiness, “yea, it’s good you barged into my room at two in the morning. Just like old times.”

His smile instantly grows at your playfulness, and he gives you a mock scoff. “I’m sorry, but if I remember correctly, you’d beg for me to stay over at two am cause you decided you wanted to watch a scary movie. Have you gotten better with horror movies this year, or are you still as jumpy as I remember?”

The tip of your ears growing warm while you mutter out a quick “shut up.”

His laughter makes your heart beat against your chest because you missed it so much. It’s been a while since you got to hear him laugh with you, and without even thinking, you go in for another hug.

His arms easily hold you close, and one of his massive hands reaches up to pet your hair. “Missed me, didn’t you?” he asks, and you can feel him smirking, so you just nod, your fingers playing with the damp, short curls at the base of his nape.

“Issei?” you ask with a little murmur against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

You smile to yourself and pull back a little, so you can see his face, “so other than hanging out with your friends and keeping up with my relationship, what else have you been doing?”

His face drops as he looks at you with a deadpan stare, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile as you giggle at his reaction. He pushes you back, so you end up falling onto your mattress, his long limbs effortlessly straddling your legs. Before you can think about the position you’re in, his fingers start to poke all-around your torso, causing you both to laugh as he starts to tickle you. “You think you’re funny, huh?” His hands go to tickle your worst spot as he starts to talk, but you can’t hear him over your own laughter. His fingers slow down, but you keep giggling when you’re met with his lazy smirk, “I’m trying to talk, you know. It’s rude you’re laughing when I’m trying to speak to you.”

He leans forwards and has both hands resting at the side of your head. Your faces now inches apart, the faint smell of sandalwood from his body wash now becoming more apparent. You stare into his brown eyes, and it almost feels as if everything stopped for a few seconds. The lamp in your room doesn’t do him justice as the shadows of his face wash over his features, but even then, his eyes stare back at you with a slight twinkle as you catch your breath.

Reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and you tug him close, crashing his lips onto yours. The sweet hints from his beloved Burt’s bee’s lip balm make his lips even softer than you imagined. The kiss is short, but as you both pull away, he’s staring at you with a goofy smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, (y/n).”

“Me too, Issei,” you whisper back before his lips capture yours again, this time with more confidence. This kiss is much more passionate than the last, holding onto each other in hopes of deepening it. One of his hands travels down to grab your waist, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your lips part and your tongues swirl together effortlessly while your hands play with his hair, pulling him closer into your body.

His hand feels a little rougher than before against your bare skin because of how often he trains, running down the length of your leg. The light touch of his fingertips admires how smooth your skin is before they trail back up, stopping just before the edge of your pyjama shorts. Hooking your leg around his hip, he leans into your body even further and even nips at your bottom lip.

Matsukawa smirks and whispers against your lips, “did he ever kiss you like that?”

Slightly surprised at the question, you shake your head, answering honestly. “He never made me feel the way you do.”

You watch as his eyes dilate, flickering into a deep brown you’ve never seen on him. The hand that was previously on your leg is now cupping your cheek, stroking your face softly, while his own face blooms into a rare shade of pink. Still, his words are clear, “please...give me a chance? He never treated you right. Let me take care of you?”

Words can’t describe how his question made you feel. You spent years learning about Matsukawa, understanding him to the point where words weren’t necessary to see what was happening in his head. Not once did you think he reciprocated your feelings, let alone want to be with you. Yet, here you are, caged beneath his arms as his hopeful eyes pour into yours.

Turning your head slightly, you press a kiss onto his hand and smile. “Please?”

His face breaks into a smile. His cheeks are tinted rose as the corners of his mouth reach up to his eyes. Leaning down, he peppers kisses onto your face, the loose curls on his head tickling your cheeks as he giggles with you. The kisses trail down to your jaw, and he follows the natural curve of your jawline to your ear. “Is this okay?” he whispers softly, only continuing down this path when you give him a curt nod.

Your legs tighten around his waist when he begins to press open mouth kisses down your neck, gently nipping at the spots that make you let out shy little sounds. His tongue leaves kitten licks against your skin after he’s sucked on it, littering faint marks. Seeing you with light hickeys on the base of your neck and collarbones is completely self-indulgent for him. Thinking about waking up in the morning and seeing the marks he knows he gave you makes him inexplicably happy as he sucks particularly hard, causing you to wince.

Immediately he stops and turns to you, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? D’you wanna stop?”

His concern for you is truly a breath of fresh air compared to what you had before. Shaking your head, you guide his hands to the edge of your sweater. “You bought this for me… it’s only fair I let you take it off.”

He studies your face for a second before his lips curl into a lazy smirk, quickly pulling the overpriced sweater off your body. He takes a sharp inhale when you reveal you aren’t wearing anything underneath as he’s met with your beautiful tits, nipples hard and pointed. “You let me in here knowing you weren’t wearing a bra? And here I thought you were a good girl.”

Noticing how your legs tighten around him, he smirks even wider. Leaning back down, his kisses trail down to your chest, and his lips feel soft and warm against your skin. His fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look down on him while his lips wrap around your nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking gently at the hardened bud. His hand palms against the fatty flesh of your other tit; his fingers are rolling your nipple before tugging on it experimentally.

Suddenly feeling shy, your arms come up to cover your face slightly just to have him lace his fingers with yours, pulling your arms away. “Don’t hide from me. Let me see how pretty you look. Let me hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“I’ve never had someone play with my tits like this…”

He just stares at you, brows knitted as his smirk turns into a slight pout. “You’re with me now; that means every part of your body will be pleasured. I wanna hear and see all of you, okay?”

With a shy nod, you gently roll your hips against him, inviting more of his attention.

He kisses you once more, murmuring against your lips, “you’re so beautiful. Let me know if I’m going too fast, okay?”

His lips follow down your body once more, lightly biting your tit before using the flat part of his tongue to feel the valley between your chest. Matsukawa lets out a low moan as you arch upwards, pushing yourself closer to his touches. Letting go of your hands, he begins to massage the soft flesh of your tits and kiss down your stomach, the tip of his tongue trailing against the waistband of your shorts.

“Let me hear you ask for it; I don’t wanna do something you don’t want.”

“Isseiiii, please?” you whine out, the tip of your ears turning hot at the thought of asking for his tongue.

He smirks at you, looking up through his hooded eyes and tsks. “Be a good girl for me. Use your words.”

His words go straight to your pussy, and you can’t help the doe eyes look in your eyes when you whimper out, “please, Issei? Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, the hunger in his eyes shining through despite the dim lighting in your room. He tugs at the end of your shorts until they’re completely off, repositioning himself lower until your legs are resting around his biceps. His eyes zone in on the way a sheer layer of slick coats your lips, happy that the attention he’s been giving you has pleased you. As he shimmies down on your bed, his legs now supporting himself on the floor, he nestles himself between your legs, easily spreading your things open with his arms. Sending you a knowing smile, he blows cool air directly onto your clit, loving how your walls flutter for him.

“You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“No one’s ever made me feel like this before...want more, please?”

You look down at him with pleading eyes, your hands cupping his face when you speak. Pressing a quick peck to your hand, he hips his head down and traces your pussy lips with his tongue, savouring how you taste.

The gasp that you let out once you felt his touch was adorable. It suddenly became the sound Matsukawa will chase after the more he gets to know your body and what it likes. He takes one long lap up your pussy, stopping just before your clit and using his fingers, he spreads your lips even more. Once your clit is all exposed, he flicks it gently with the tip of his tongue, looking up at you with all the confidence in the world. Hearing your little moans make him greedy for more, for more desperate and needy sounds, so he goes to press a kiss onto your bundle of nerves. Feeling you twitch beneath him, he gently places his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks earnestly, relishing in the way you buck your hips and call out his name. After a while of pure clitoral stimulation, he leans back up to watch your eyes blink back into focus on his face, a silly dazed smile on your face.

He winks at you and sticks his tongue into your drooling hole, swirling it around to feel the walls of your pussy clench around him. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, his cock getting unbearably hard at the way you pant our pleas.

“I-issei! Please….need you inside, please!”

Coming back up for air, his hand leaves your thigh as his fingers start to tease around your hole, loving how your pussy clenches around nothing. So needy for his touches when he’s barely even started. He knows your orgasm was building, but he wants to take his time with you. You mean the world to him, and seeing you like this already makes him feel like the luckiest man at the moment.

Taking two of his fingers, he coats them in all your slick before slowly pushing them inside you. His eyes squeeze shut when he feels how tight you are, his mind immediately thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. When he’s finally inside, he pulls out slowly before sliding them back in, loving how you beg for more.

“Need more, please, Issei! Go faster, please.”

Your hands pull his head up to kiss you while his fingers begin to speed up. With the lewd sound of his hand slapping against your sopping wet pussy, his palm is applying pressure to your clit. Your moans are lost in your kisses, his other hand going back to playing with your sensitive nipple.

“I have to stretch you out, babygirl. I don’t want my cock to hurt you.”

All you’re able to do is nod as his fingers start to scissor your hole, stretching you out even more. His fingers, now knuckle deep, curl against your sweet spot, making you grip onto his hair as he swallows all your cries, suddenly remembering that the walls in this dorm probably aren’t that thick.

His fingers curl into you more, whispering sweet praises as his hand teases and tugs on your swollen nipple. Everything happened so quick, and you’re cumming all over his hand, your sweet sticky arousal covering his fingers as he slows down. Matsukawa is smiling down at you, “you did so well, baby. Bet that felt really good, huh?”

Maybe you’re needy or just horny, but even after your orgasm, you start tugging the tie that keeps his robe up. Your legs are sore, sorer than they’ve ever been, but all you can think about is how full you would feel with him inside of you. He smirks at you as he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking off all your juices before letting his robe fall and chucking it to the ground. He’s wearing his briefs, but you can see how hard his cock is under the thin cotton material. Before you’re able to pull his underwear down, he stops you and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a condom. We don’t have to do anything.”

You giggle and shake your head, “don’t need one; we’re in university, baby. What’s a little fun without risks?”

He lets you pull his underwear down, and his massive throbbing cock instantly slaps against his stomach as he laughs at your reaction. “Had to make sure you were stretched out enough.”

You bite your lips and stare at how big his cock actually is. It’s hard to imagine how you’ll fit that inside of you, but you’re determined to give it a try.

“You ready, pretty girl?” he asks as he taps the tip of cock against your clit, loving how you squirm under him.

“mmhmm, Issei.”

He lets go of his cock and leans up, and pulls you into a deep kiss, completely in awe of you.

“Tell me if you wanna stop, kay?”

Replying with a small hum, he gathers up the remaining slick that’s leaking out of your pussy and strokes his cock slowly, also letting his spit drip down to help lubricate himself. He lines himself up with your pretty pussy and starts to push the head in, studying your face to make sure you’re doing alright. When he sees you smiling back at him, despite the grip you have on his arms, he pushes another two inches inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. We’re almost halfway,” he whispers into your ear as he kisses your neck softly, sucking on the spot by the base of your lobe. “Such a good girl for me,” he coaxes as his cock slides another inch into your sweet cunt.

Incredibly, he’s only halfway down because you’ve never felt this full before. Still, your fingers dig into his arms when you ask for more. “Just want all of you in me, please?”

Hearing you ask for more even though you already looked fucked out sparks something inside him. He lets out a low growl and quickly pushes the rest of his length inside you, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin. He moans out with you when he feels how warm and tight you are, your pussy stretching more than it ever has to accommodate his size.

“Feel s’good, Issei.”

With a breathy chuckle, he peppers kisses all over your neck, loving the sound of your soft giggles as he pulls back three-quarters of the way, slowly pushing his way back into you. The gasp you let out is different than before, much more surprised but sensual.

He continues this motion a few more times before he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you while your tits bounce. Each thrust knocks the air out of your chest cause he’s brushing against your spot every time. Matsukawa leans down and presses his forehead against the crook of your neck, muttering how good you feel.

“F-faster...need you faster, is’o good, please.”

Obliging to your pleas, he starts to rut his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin with each movement. He looks up to see your dreamy eyes and smiles. He knows there’s not a thought behind those eyes right now as his cock slams against your walls with each thrust. He goes to kiss you again, silencing your cries as your nails drag down his arms, trying to ground yourself in the midst of all the pleasure.

“You’re s-tight baby I- fuuuuuck, I can barely move.”

You can’t help it. Your walls are naturally squeezing him because he’s fucking straight into your sweet spot with each snap of his hips. You look at him with hazy eyes, entirely in a trance as you moan out his name. He can tell you want to cum, so his hand reaches down to rub your clit as his cock continues to pound into you.

“C’mon baby, cum all over my cock. You can do it...ah shit, yea, just like that.”

He’s been trying so hard not to cum but watching your back arch into him as your nails drab down his back, his name falling out from your lips in a loud erotic moan, is making it really hard. He looks down in surprise when he sees a creamy white rim around his cock, proud of himself for making you cream.

“Good girl...that’s my fuckin girl.”

Satisfied he made you finish, his head falls back onto your shoulder, his hips just rutting into you as he chases his own orgasm. Not even a minute later, he’s calling out for you as he quickly pulls out, cumming all over your tits. His chest heaves along with yours, his hair sticking to his forehead slightly as he empties his load all over your chest.

Once you’ve both calmed down a little bit, he smiles down at you and goes to stroke your cheek. “Had you creaming on my cock, was it fun? Did you have a good time?”

“S’good...thank you, baby,” you say before pulling him down for a kiss.

He gets up and reaches for his robe, “you did so good, took me like a champ heh. I’ll be back with a rag to clean you up, okay? Don’t move.”

As he leaves your room, you stare up at the ceiling and let out a laugh. Not even twelve hours ago, you were cursing the fact that he was here with you, and now you have his cum all over your tiddies as he goes to get stuff to clean you up.

You watch as he comes back into your room, fully changed with a rag in his hand. He kneels beside you and pets your hair as he starts to wipe his mess.

“Why’re you changed?”

“Oh! We’re going to 7-11 once I get you cleaned up.”

“.....it’s like three-thirty in the morning.”

“I’ll get you taquitos and Arizona,” he says as he goes to wipe around your pussy, mindful not to put too much pressure cause you’re still sensitive.

“And skittles?”

He snorts and kisses your shaking thigh, “yea, I’ll get you skittles, brat.”

© tetsunormous 2021

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @arte-misa @strawbari21 @matsusimp @bokutomessy @mentaly-ill @arumiee @kvrooschibichan lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), attempted violence, mutual irritation.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: I did not plan to get the first part done so soon. I will probably be setting time aside as I write this to also work on some original stuff. When it comes to that, I’d love if y’all might let me know what you think would be a better medium to release it? Kindle, Patreon, etc. I’m really not sure but if it was Patreon it would like be two series running at once with a chapter of each a month + Q&A and maybe some bonus materials? I am a noob at this shit and it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

Anyways, I’m rambling...

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: She simply slammed the door

💀💀💀

The garage smelled like oil and snow. The cold air seeped under the closed metal door as you sat on the low stool and affixed the new headlight to the propped up Harley. It was only the start of an impractical rebuild; your brother wanted everything metal replaced with chrome. You thought it was obnoxious but the parts were paid for and you could never complain for money.

You were funded exclusively by the town’s club, your garage not far from The Asp where the members hung out and revved the engines you found yourself looking at more often than you liked. You were good at what you did though and privileged for it. You had the protection of the club without having to devote yourself truly to its bounds.

You checked the wiring and rolled away from the bike to change the station as the radio crackled. The snow kept setting the speaker to static and the noise was driving you mad. You flipped the switch to play the cassette stuck in the drawer, the old stereo beaten up and filthy. Springsteen’s gristled tones filled the shop and you wheeled back to your brother’s ride.

With the storm would no doubt come more work. Your fingerless gloves itched more than they kept you warm. Your fingertips were numb as you touched the frigid metal and the sweat of your palms made the fabric uncomfortable. You were used to it, rather tolerant as your task kept you distracted.

You were interrupted as you bent to look under the tank and get a good look at the exhaust and the rest of the beast’s entrails. You had the new pieces still wrapped and didn’t intend to do it all at once. Jerome could wait for his tacky redesign.

A loud banging came at the metal door and you glanced over in irritation. Anyone in Birch knew to come in the painted door to the left and not hit the large one. You huffed and stood with a groan, your hips sore from the low stool. 

You fixed the front of your fleece-lined denim jacket and pulled the tail of your plaid shirt from inside your jean pocket. You’d been hunched over so long you were all wrinkled. You went past the large door and into the small entryway off the left of the garage and opened it with a tinkle of the rusty old bell above.

You stuck your head out into the gales as the snow continued to fall and squinted at the man in his thin jacket. He stood beside the long luxury car as another man with wild orange hair remained in the driver’s seat and blew into his hands. They were out of place in the small town and you could tell by the way the man scowled at the door that he knew it.

“Hey,” you called to them, “there’s a place down the street. I don’t do walk-ins.”

“Oh, hello, Miss…” he let his voice trail off as he neared and you stared at him rather than provide your name. His accent, his attire, the curl of his lip, it was clear what he thought of you and the bodunk town, “actually I was referred by an acquaintance. One, James Barnes.”

“Bucky?” you furrowed your brow.

“Mm, yes, that one,” he said, “my car will need detailing. We had some difficulties on the motorway.”

“Right,” you tried not to scowl, “well, if he sent you, I guess I can help.”

You left him and the door clattered behind you. He followed a few steps after as you went to the switch and pushed it to raise the wide door of the garage. You waved in the driver of the car and he carefully pulled in beside your brother’s bike. 

He got out and you were surprised by his size, he was taller even then his companion and wider; neither could be described as short. You lowered the door as the thinner man walked along the shelves and the long table along the other side of the garage. The bigger man stood by the car and tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Not much better in here than out there,” the dark-haired man turned back to you, “you have heat in here?”

“You need a better coat,” you said as you rounded the back of the car, “and some boots.”

You glanced pointedly at his leather shoes and bent to reach under the table. You pulled out the space heater and plugged it in as you set on the wood. You cranked it up and smiled at him tritely.

“So, what’s the damage?” you asked as you looked to the other man.

“Headlight, maybe,” he said in a peculiar accent, “some scratches. We had a bit off a run-in.”

You neared and bent to examine the front of the car. You sighed as you tilted your head and clicked your tongue. It was easy enough to beat out the dents and buff out the scratches with a quick refinish. The headlight would need to be replaced and you knew they didn’t carry anything for that model in town. No one there was pretentious enough to drive it.

“If you want the headlight done before you leave town, it’ll take some time to get the replacement,” you warned.

“Oh, and how do you know I’m leaving?” he taunted coyly.

“Well, I know you’re definitely not sticking around,” you scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I? A quaint place like this, I’m sure there is so much to explore,” he said dryly.

You had no delusions of what Birch was but it wasn’t the part of outsiders to deride the dead end. You stood straight and put your hands on your hips.

“You can go back to your castle, my lord, but you will have to wait out the storm,” you sneered. “Two days for the scratches. If you want to take it back after that and wait for the headlight to arrive, that’s fine with me.”

“Two days for the scratches? Surely you could do it before the morning,” the black-haired man insisted.

“I could but I have other work to do,” you replied, “so you can be patient and take your turn in line after all the hicks who live here.”

You went back to the table and grabbed your phone from where you tossed it earlier. You unlocked it and searched the model of his car and scrolled through the parts list. 

“You’re Bucky’s guest so I’ll send the bill to him?” you asked, “though you do look to be able to afford it yourself.”

“You can invoice him directly,” he assured, “so you’re one of them?”

“One of them?” you repeated as you focused on checking out. The damn internet kept cutting in and out.

“My brother, those men in this town, I never knew a woman--”

“I’m not a biker. My brother is in the club,” you assured him, “so that big blond dope, he’s your brother?”

“Regrettably, yes,” he slithered, “Loki Odinson,” he introduced himself as he rubbed together his hands, the leather gloves doing little to protect his fingers, “my driver is Korg, and you’ve yet to tell me with whom I am trusting my property.”

“Again, there is a shop down the street. Prices aren’t bad,” you finished up your purchase and tucked your phone in your jacket pocket.

He met your eyes as you turned to him and he looked down his nose. You kept on and brushed past him as you went back around the car and sat by your brother’s bike.

“Sorry about the boss,” the other man, Korg, intoned, “he can be a bit--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” Loki snipped, “I needn’t atone to her.”

You rolled your eyes and wheeled around the side of the bike, “if that’s everything, you two can head back out. I’ll let you know when the car’s ready.”

“We might wait for the snow to calm,” Loki suggested.

“I close in an hour, you’re not staying here all night,” you sniffed.

“Trust me, I have no special desire to spend more time with you than necessary,” he retorted, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman so volatile as you, dear, and I’ve only just met you. I never expected you people to have very many manners but perhaps what I did presume was too much.”

You bared your teeth but kept at your work. You would worry about kicking him out when you finished the wiring.

“To be fair, had you not spoken first, I might’ve assumed you were a man,” he added.

You paused and glanced down at the open tool box. You weren’t unused to the comments, you weren’t girly in any way but it wasn’t like you were trying to be a man. You wore what was comfortable and in your work, practicality prevailed over aesthetic. Yet, your years of ridicule as a kid made you less tolerant of the comments and those had stopped long ago because you made sure they did.

“Oh, darling, have I upset you?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said as you reached into the toolbox.

“Well, you’ve not given your name and I’d hate call you what I truly think of you--”

The wrench flew from your hand as you stood and spun to him. It barely missed his head and bounced off the wall and plunked onto the table beside the heater. His eyes rounded and the other man looked at him. There was a thick silence as you glared at him.

“If you weren’t a friend of Bucky’s, I wouldn’t’ve missed,” you hissed, “now I will kindly, before I reach for a bigger wrench, ask you to leave.”

He pushed his shoulders back and tilted his head as his lips thinned dangerously. He swallowed and beckoned the other man with two fingers. His cheek twitched as if he would grin and he nodded subtly.

“Well, darling, how amusing you are. These brutes must adore you,” he snarled, “the exterior does indeed say it all.”

You bent and reached for another tool blindly. He blinked and quickly dodged as you flung the next wrench and he followed his henchman to the entryway. Your temper was a match for many men. It kept you safe.

“Barnes did not say his mechanic was a madwoman,” Loki called back as the bell rang.

“What, are you going to tattle on me?” You stormed towards the doorway, “you precious little princess?”

“Princess?” he met you in the doorway as Korg behind him held the door open and the snow blustered in, “I know Barnes will do me no other favours, but do you think he’ll do you any?”

“Get out,” you spat and shoved him, “I don’t need men to take care of me and I have no problem in proving that.”

He bit the inside of his lip in a crooked smirk and winked before he turned away and strutted out into the snow, shielding his face from the wild winds. Korg trailed behind him and the door sprang back into the frame. You crossed your arms and glared at the peeling paint. 

You were tempted to tow his car out and let it weather the storm but you were smarter than that. If he was doing business with Bucky, you would be a fool to get in the way of it. 

💀

The snow dwindled to a lazy dusting, the ground thick and treacherous. That day, you started early and around noon, you headed across the street to the diner for your usual lunch of a club sandwich and black coffee. You didn’t have to order as all the waitresses knew what to expect. You weren’t unfriendly but your association made many standoffish.

You tapped on the lip of your mug with your thumb, fingers hooked through the handle. The sleepy town felt dead in the winter. You were used to the dullness of Birch but tolerance was hardly happiness. It was home, where you’d grown up and you had no certain desire to get out, but you wouldn’t mind a little more than what was expected.

You yawned and gulped down the last of your coffee. It was bitter and left a few grounds on your tongue. You leaned back and grabbed the monthly newsletter from between the salt and pepper shakers. You read through the fun facts which weren’t very fun or even new. They were copy and pasted out Guinness and Reader’s Digest.

You looked up as you sensed someone approach your table but it wasn’t the waitress. The man from the day before slid coolly onto the seat across from you at the booth and smirked over the table. You raised the newsletter again and folded it backwards to read about the weekly knitting circle down at the rec center that was also the library.

“Good afternoon to you too,” Loki said, “it must be fortune I ran into you, I was hoping to inquire after my car--”

“I told you, two days,” you said tersely as you continued onto your horoscope …‘a new force will bring change’... You hated this tripe. You swore, every month they just switched the blurbs under each sign and hit print.

“So be it,” he cleared his throat and you lowered the paper as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“What are you doing? I eat my lunch alone,” you said.

“Well, to be frank, I was pointed here on the promise of some famous cabbage soup,” he explained as he folded his jacket over the seat next to him, “you looked like you needed company.”

“I don’t,” you assured him.

Kimmie came over and set down your sandwich. She greeted Loki and you saw the way she eyed his tailored suit. He stuck out in the town of flannels and denim.

“Hello, sir, can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“Tea, English breakfast,” he ordered smoothly.

“Oh, sorry, we only have um, um, sorry, peppermint, earl grey, ginger lemon, and green,” she listed off as she tried to remember them all.

“Earl grey,” he sighed, “and a menu.”

“No, no menu,” you insisted, “and you can take his tea to another table.”

“And when we’re through, I’ll take the cheque,” he ignored you and snickered under his breath.

“Kimmie, can I get a to go box?” you asked as you shimmied off the seat and snatched up your coat, “I have to get back to work.” You took out your wallet and counted out the usual amount plus a tip, “thanks.”

“Of course,” she smiled awkwardly and glanced between you and Loki.

She scooped your sandwich back up and scurried away with it. You felt him watching you as you walked away and went to stand by the till as you watched Nora flit into the kitchen. She packed up your food and returned with the box. You took it and headed for the door, ignoring the arrogant out-of-towner on your way.

“Wait,” Kimmie called out your name and you turned back as she held up your keys, “you dropped these.”

You met her halfway and took them from her with a mutter. Again, he was watching you… or still watching you. She spun and promised she’d have his tea shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed and you head to the door again, “interesting, I never would have put the name to the face.”

You pushed out into the snow and gritted your teeth. You thought of getting the work on his car out of the way quickly so he would leave you alone but your spite made you want to put it off entirely. Whatever. He’d be gone soon enough.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk​ who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys. 

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable. 

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party. 

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that. 

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now. 

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought. 

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!" 

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening. 

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?" 

More cheers, more hollers. 

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!" 

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day. 

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse. 

Again—you fucking hate frat boys. 

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst. 

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer. 

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt. 

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team. 

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!" 

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

"Hell no!" 

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike." 

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving." 

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed. 

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?" 

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.  

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly." 

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer. 

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little. 

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?" 

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along. 

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though. 

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?" 

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.  

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer." 

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers. 

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in. 

He does, and you let out a breath of relief. 

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?" 

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?" 

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you." 

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs. 

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue. 

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?" 

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself." 

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon. 

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip. 

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice. 

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach. 

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum. 

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!" 

"Ayyy, waterfall!" 

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced. 

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch. 

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up." 

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game. 

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards. 

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace. 

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup. 

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you. 

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely. 

*

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you. 

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before. 

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team? 

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you. 

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out. 

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult. 

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt  Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes. 

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses. 

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way. 

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls. 

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you. 

*

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc. 

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover. 

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall. 

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster. 

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him. 

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them. 

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it. 

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms. 

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees. 

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested. 

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins. 

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?” 

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away. 

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him. 

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave. 

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning. 

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you. 

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too. 

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was. 

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips. 

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble. 

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere. 

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out. 

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb. 

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper. 

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind. 

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind. 

“Holy—” 

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs. 

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass. 

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately. 

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress. 

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan. 

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you. 

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it. 

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed. 

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to. 

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door. 

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

*

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias. 

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again. 

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot. 

Is still hot. 

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong. 

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner. 

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits. 

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face. 

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you. 

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago. 

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head. 

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick. 

God dammit, why is he so sexy? 

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so... 

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body. 

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face. 

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted. 

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip. 

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock. 

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat. 

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion. 

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth. 

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue. 

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you. 

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward. 

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot. 

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit. 

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to. 

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine. 

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts. 

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight." 

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you. 

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed. 

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach. 

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression. 

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support. 

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot. 

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?" 

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee." 

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out. 

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side. 

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

*

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like. 

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?" 

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!" 

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together. 

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave. 

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it. 

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove. 

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?" 

And, there's that point. 

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request. 

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea. 

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times. 

But, it needs to stop. 

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth. 

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer. 

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call. 

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven. 

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it. 

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them. 

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious. 

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before. 

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods. 

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated. 

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself. 

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee. 

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much. 

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully. 

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?" 

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?" 

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?" 

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to. 

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point. 

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you. 

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie. 

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?" 

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal." 

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?" 

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended. 

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards. 

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day." 

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face. 

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias." 

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick. 

"You have any classes?" You ask. 

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place. 

"Sucks," is all you can come up with. 

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?" 

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself. 

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'. 

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?" 

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals. 

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it. 

"God dammit." 

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear. 

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to." 

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan. 

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole. 

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane. 

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name. 

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit. 

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air. 

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess. 

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat. 

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate. 

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]