#CW: foul language

[what-yadoking-likes]

Random MasterGuide AU Part 7

[Link to Part 6 here]

Bain was at the end of his tether. The Dentist had orchestrated this entire debacle because he was unhappy with how resilient he was; he had imagined, Bain knew, that he would have broken months ago. He hadn't - and so he had found a new way to tighten the noose that lay thick and heavy around his neck.

"Take the pictures of my face," he said, drowning out Dallas' wide-eyed, muttered utterances. He raised his chin as he said it, knowing the show of defiance would attract both The Dentist's attention and ire, but not caring. He would not let Dallas martyr himself - and he would not allow Dallas to expose and humiliate himself on camera.

Dallas whirled around to glare at him. "What? Bain, no-"

"Take the pictures so we can get to medical and get out of here," Bain raised his voice, drowning out Dallas' protests. He shot The Dentist a pointed grin. "I'm ready for my close-up."

Bain never got to see how - just for an instant - The Dentist's lips curled into a dissatisfied scowl - because Dallas brought himself face-to-face with him, hands slamming onto the armrests on either side of him.

"What the fuck are you saying?"

Bain had been on the receiving end of Dallas' tantrums on many separate occasions. He was no stranger to being accused of abandoning him, or Hox, or the others - he was all-too familiar with the snarl staring him down, the blaze of fury and hurt burning in his glare. Though he knew full well just what his crew chief was capable of, he was by no means intimidated by him. But this was the first time he saw a glimpse of panic in the mix - a mounting, bubbling fear that had the crew chief trembling in front of him.

Not for the first time, Bain was grateful they couldn't see his face.

Bain sighed, as if the exhalation of air would release him from his own horror at the circumstances.

"It's fine. They'll take the pictures, we go get patched up, and we get out of here. Those pictures get out? I've been on the run for many years - I'll be fine."

"You can't be serious-" Dallas' tone was accusatory, hurt. His hands now clasped around Bain's forearms, as if he wanted to give him a good shake, to force him into seeing sense. "After everything we've done to get you outta here, you're just gonna give up? Hand over what they want and that's it, it's okay with you??"

[the--other]

Hmmmmmmmm (as I am typing this I am thinking of a question)

How does the other think of Gid

Can Gid fight the other and is the other willing to put up a fight with Gid

" One of these days, Gideon Coal. . . You and your cunt of a husband are gonna pay for everything. . . I swear. . . "

He hates Gideon's guts... Mostly because the connection he has with Kremy (And HE REALLY HATES Kremy), but also because He's still quite pissed about what happened at The Inn. He feels dissatisfied about that fight. So, if one day He has the chance to fight them again, He won't hold back and definitely will put up a fight.

[dumgum04]

Holy shit I actually wrote something?? Who would’ve thought

I suggest you read the warning before going full in. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

[botanikos]

that weird Cam guy said more things recently about sending hate to you and Stols and saying he wanted to make Stols look guilty https://www.tumblr.com/cam2203/771825341332389888/idk-why-people-think-that-im-stols-even-i-showed?source=share

I still can't help but think its stols on a alternate acc and just using some random person's pic but I don't know, what do you think?

Being watched for months with a near constant stream of anonymous messages about all of this, and diving into my relationships, assuming I'm dating whatever Blitz or role player I write/ship with is WILD BEHAVIOR. You are all adults, so pardon me for using my adult words and not keeping quiet for once. . .

Wow. Amazing. Cool. You know, I don't care WHO is saying or doing what anymore except, all of you may as well eat my ass since you're so far up it these days.

That apology sure as Hell isn't real or genuine. Don't talk to me ever again. Not even for an apology.

And before anyone says to block and move on: What the fuck do you think I've been doing?????????????????? Wanna see my screenshots?

[amidstthemists]

You, a troublemaker, have a chance encounter with Buggy when he and his crew raid the ship you’re on.

You were always the jokester on your ship. The rest of the crew tolerated it, but jokes were your bread and butter. As a pirate, the days were long and the work was hard and you’d be damned if you didn’t keep yourself amused with silly rhymes, one liners, snarky comebacks, absurdisms, whatever you could come up with, really. Usually you were responded to with a roll of the eyes, a suffering sort of smile, even silence, but sometimes you said a real zinger and got the crew to come together in laughter. Those were the best times. But you enjoyed some of the less tolerant reactions too. You found a particular enjoyment in being a menace.

When your ship was taken over by a group of theatrically inclined circus pirates, everyone in your crew was certain they would all be dying in strange, unusual, and possibly theatrical ways. That was what you were prepared for, too. And, sure, it was unfortunate, but at least the lighting was sure to be great and your inevitable demise was sure to be creative. Being a pirate, believe it or not, was often very tedious business unless you were actively in the middle of some mischief. Dying sucked, but at least it would be interesting and keep you occupied.

And your good humor, much to your captured crew’s chagrin, was there to keep you company until the theatrically inclined circus pirates figured out what to do with the lot of you.

When a certain clownish pirate captain made an appearance, sauntering around the deck of your ship as if he owned the place, a member from your crew elbowed you hard in the ribs and warned, “Better not be planning any funny business.”

If your hands weren’t already raised in surrender with the rest of the crew, you would have put them up defensively. But a mischievous smile was playing on your lips as you said, “Who knows what I’m planning?”

“Who said something about my nose?!” Captain Buggy’s voice was so loud that everyone jumped at the exclamation.

Your eyes moved over the fine yet intimidating figure that was the invading clown pirate captain. His outfit was flashy and makeup was unapologetically clownish. He moved with a grace and confidence that belied the outrage he clearly felt over a comment on his nose. You realize that he must have been insecure (and, overall, overcompensating) for something, but what really got your attention was the frown that defied how his makeup stretched into a smile. His makeup begged for him to smile and, aside from whatever insecurity he harbored, he looked like he could take a good joke. It would be a shame if he couldn’t take a good joke, after all, since he was, in fact, a clown.

Everyone averted their eyes when he stared them down, shining blue eyes roving over each member of the crew you belonged to. Everyone, that is, except you. You looked back at him, unwavering, an amused grin on your face.

“What’re you smiling about?” He questioned, taking a few lumbering steps over to you. He was so tall and moved with such unique grace, such intense purpose.

“What? People can’t smile when they see a clown anymore?” You asked back, daring to lower your hands only to be jabbed in the ribs again, this time by a member of Buggy’s crew. Your hands darted back up into a surrender, but you rolled you eyes as you did it. “I thought that was, like, the whole point. And, anyway, you should think about smiling more. A frowny clowny is a little bit of a contradiction, I would think.”

Buggy advanced until he grabbed ahold of your collar and said, head cocked and inches from your face, “Well, Captain Frowny Clowny is a little pissy-wissied because some fuck-twat should have kept their mouth shut instead of talking about something that wasn’t their business. And, come to think of it, I could have sworn that voice came from your direction. Do you know anything about that, princess?”

You could feel his breath on your cheeks, could feel how strong his hand was, and wondered in equal parts what it would be like to be kissed by someone like him and what it would be like to be thrown overboard by someone with such enthusiasm. When you smiled again, his eyes flickered to your lips before darting back to lock gazes with you. He was impatient like a man but as feral as an animal in his intensity.

“I do.”

“Oh, really? Pray, why don’t you share with the class what you know?” If he was an animal, he liked to play with his food before he ate it.

You felt everyone’s eyes on you and you knew that he felt them too: the captive audience for his performance. But he didn’t know that you liked an audience, too.

“All I was saying was—“

“—so it was you who had something to say. Why am I not surprised?—“

“Hush, I’m not done.” Your voice was a little choked from how the collar cut into your throat, but you pushed on anyway, smile as unwavering as the rest of you. “All I was saying was that why are you so upset about your nose when you have so much more to worry about? I mean,” you wheezed out a giggle at how the expression on his face changed, “I mean, you have twice as many eyes as you do noses and you’re acting like your nose is your biggest problem. What’s up with that?”

“What?”

“And don’t even get me started on your ears.”

You and Buggy stared at each other in silence. The whole ship seemed to be holding a collective breath. Your smile settled into a closed mouthed, triumphant smirk, and when he looked at you like he was trying to read another language, you wiggled your eyebrows. Then, just when you thought he was going to throw you overboard after all, a smile broke through the clown’s determinedly fierce looking scowl and you two started to laugh together.

He released his grip on your collar, smoothed down your shirt, and slung an arm over your shoulder. “You’re not half bad, princess.” He started to lead you away from your crew. “You know, I’m feeling generous.” He looked to his crew, “Take the loot, take whatever you want, but they get to live. Go crazy. Let’s give them some stories to take back to port about Captain Buggy and his dastardly crew.”

He waited for the chaos and carnage to start before looking back to you. “Have you ever thought about running away with the circus? Because do I have an offer for you…”

[remesrobotics]

Nobody knew where the mysterious device that Dr. Harp built into Tokay Woman came from.

It was only a matter of time before it began to exhibit side-effects defying explanation.

Tick tock. Tap tap.

Tokay Woman tapped her claws idly against the side of her helmet in perfect time with the passing of seconds, as she waited for the company truck to pull to a stop.

The gecko bot was set to oversee a demolitions project; something she’d been designed for, but never put to practice at a real work site. To say she was a little antsy was an understatement, but she was looking forward to it all the same. With luck, using her abilities in short, decisive bursts to protect others would be a more fulfilling use of her power than leaving time stopped for hours and hours on end doing nothing but filing a majority of of the labs’ paperwork.

On arrival, her brow furrowed as she hopped out of the vehicle, padded feet barely making sound as they touched simultaneously on the dusty ground. Even from this viewpoint at the perimeter established around the site, the damage was immense. An anti-robot demonstration at a mass production facility had ended in violence, and a large portion of the building was destroyed when a riot vehicle controlled by one of the more belligerent gangs broke out from the line of peaceful protestors and delivered a lethal payload directly into the power plant running the entire south wing of the complex.

Given the sheer amount of damaged heavy equipment and the machinery required to process it all, it was the perfect opportunity to put her time-manipulating Flash Freeze to use. The scale of the operation meant that even a minor accident could have catastrophic consequences, and if she could prevent any of those at all, it would more than validate all the time and money poured into her highly experimental technology... especially for those skeptical of whether or not something so close to Dr. Wily’s mad tinkering would have use in matters more urgent than office work.

The short-statured gecko looked about. Aside from the handful of other Harp Numbers who arrived with her, two large, mechanized scrappers accompanied the caravan of other robots and workers, for processing rubble and scrap too large to move but too mangled to repurpose directly. The scrappers were robots in their own right - designed by a different manufacturer and modeled after giant, three-headed dragons - but given they did not possess any sort of free will, their presence unnerved many of the other self-aware robots present who weren’t owned by the same firm, Tokay included.

As the other Harp Numbers disembarked from a separate and much larger shuttle, Tokay took a small mental survey of who she’d be working with. Of her siblings up to Number 08 - Hatch - only Reach and Nail were absent, as both were much more geared towards building and construction than large-scale demolition. Their skills and abilities were best put to use elsewhere, for efficiency’s sake.

The first out of the massive transport truck behind her was the lightweight and lanky form of Gutter Woman, arcing her back with her arms in the air as she stretched, “Ahh, nothing like the crisp breeze and the smell of sweaty worker bot dudes to wake you up this fine afternoon, huh?” The red snake bot practically sang, flicking her forked tongue.

A biting male voice issued from the truck, “Thank you so much for holding that in until everyone in a mile could hear you, you incorrigible piece of-”

The insult was cut off by a short, deep, “Stop,” as two figures emerged behind Gutter; the diminutive and nearly-spherical Pack Man, held by the huge and imposing Heavy Woman. 

Ignoring her, the horned frog continued to spout, “Completely ignoring the fact that robots can’t even sweat, and you still insist-”

“Pack,” The immense python ‘bot cut him off again with a heavy sigh, “This is the first time in ages we’re assigned to work with another firm. We’re not here to make a bad impression.”

“Don’t go filling me in like I don’t know that already, but if we weren’t, we wouldn’t have brought her,” Pack gestured at Gutter, who simply giggled. That only made Pack angrier, “I’d take Nail sleeping on a bench the whole shift over her running her mouth!”

“Oh come on, if the guys can talk rowdy, so can I,” Gutter lashed the tail attached to the back of her head before running her hand along it, a Search Cutter drone practically materializing in her hand as she did so, “Try not to get so worked up, you might cough up an E-Tank.”

Heavy rolled her eyes as she let Pack down so she could reach into the truck for some large tool boxes; while Pack had almost everything they needed inside the folded space of his internal storage capsules, having other tools immediately handy for both themselves and others was never a bad idea, “Just stay out of trouble. Both of you.” The python looked around, eyes catching the speckled glint of Tokay in her peripheral vision, “Oh, right! You’re with us today!” Heavy smiled, “Ready to go, Tokay?”

Tokay shrugged, though there was a hint of dejection to her nonchalance. Situations like this made her feel like a bit of an outcast to her own siblings, given how often they worked together without her, “I’m good.”

Regardless of now she felt, it looked like they all had everything in order, bickering aside, and it was as good time as any to activate her own, specialized equipment. All she had to do was lift the RFID chip in her right palm to the Flash Freeze unit to let it know it was time.

As Tokay’s hand passed in front of her chest, there was a soft beep and a smooth, otherworldly whirr. The gecko bot’s own core temperature dropped unnaturally, dipping even lower than what her refrigeration pack kept her at to prevent more dramatic fluctuations from destabilizing fine circuits and wiring. She closed her eyes and checked her internal clock to make sure everything was calibrated and running smoothly.

10:40 and 25 seconds

Before any more preparations could be made, the collected Harp Numbers’ attention was drawn by the rough clearing of a human throat.

They turned to see the approach of the site’s foreman; a surly looking middle-aged man in light protective gear. The shoulder of his outfit was emblazoned with an ostentatious “XP” logo. The emblem of Exemplar Production; a large, corporate firm that had recently gone on to buy many of the smaller, independent industrial robot developers for contract work.

That logo was always bad news. The Harp Numbers in particular frowned a bit to see it.

“Save the chit-chat for after the job... or at least during it, after checking in,” the man returned that frown, voice gruff. “I know you lot aren’t our normal crew, but I expected a bit more professionalism than this.”

The accusation stung a bit and it was apparent on everyone’s faces. Gutter’s mask thankfully covered her silent mocking, while Heavy seemed a little more distraught at the thought. Tokay and Pack both scowled deeply, or at least gave off the impression in the frog-bot’s case as he snapped, “We’re already good and ready and waiting for instruction, thank you very much.”

“Less talking, more moving,” the foreman retorted, “Though seeing you’re all mouth maybe that’s all you can do.”

Tokay wanted to bite him.

Before the situation could escalate further as indicated by Pack raising a finger to further respond, he was scooped up by Heavy’s tail, who gave the slightest of bowing nods, trying to play the appeaser, “Apologies, sir. We’ll be on our way.” She adjusted her gait to accommodate the two large toolboxes, one under each arm, and turned to move along, her collar halves sliding closed to form a mask in front of her face.

Tokay, still fully incensed, couldn’t help but notice two siblings had not emerged with the rest, “Slag and Hatch not coming?”

“No,” the foreman gestured over to the rest of the vehicles preparing to move further into the site, “Slag Woman will be taken to Station 2, direct power plant access. It was built to withstand high heat and pressure stress, so hopefully most of the individual pieces are intact enough to reuse.  If anything was too damaged by the explosion to be repaired, it’ll have to be taken apart... and knowing how sturdy the construction of those components are, we’ll need the really big guns to get started on that first while the rest of you sweep up the perimeter and work your way in.”

“Real big guns, huh? They know what’s up, I’ll give them that,” Slag leaned out, waving their antennae-like hair and sounding tiredly sarcastic, with a hint of smugness, “I’ll be sure to leave you something to chew on when you get there.”

Tokay nodded. At least it was a sensible explanation, “And Hatch-?”

The answer arrived in the form of a small frog robot that leapt out of the vehicle, leaping up to perch on her shoulder. An Assist Hopper, which spoke in Hatch’s voice, albeit more mechanical, “I’ll be taken to the midway point. That way I can oversee both sites, and lend a hopping hand where needed. It’ll be more efficient than trying to walk between either.”

“Now,” The foreman narrowed his eyes, trying to break up the conversation with a wave of his hand, “If you don’t mind...”

“Don’t you ‘if you don’t mind’ me,” Tokay hissed back, “You know my job doesn’t start until there’s an accident.” She glanced around, “And from the looks of it, the other teams aren’t in position either. So why don’t you go do your job and go demean them?”

She almost grinned at the man growling in response, trying to ignore his threatening words, “Don’t press your luck. The pretty price tag on your research doesn’t mean you’re exempt from-.”

“Tick tock,” Tokay’s grin turned a little more vicious than even her mocking tone. The foreman couldn’t formulate a response to the jab and turned on his heel, mumbling something under his breath. There was a slight spark of catharsis in the gecko bot’s circuits, knowing she had at least that much power.

It took a few more minutes to get everything into position to start the clean-up, with each company intermingling with one another under thankfully more understanding human supervision; actual workers who knew what the job entailed. A slew of other generic worker robots - Pickelmans, Metalls, and the like - were also chipped in by the city to aid in the work. It was quite the sight to behold, especially with the giant, three-headed dragon scrappers towering over all of them.

Tokay stood off to the side, out of the way but close enough to leap into action at a moment’s notice, keeping a hawk-like gaze on everything. Her claws scratched at her crossed arms lightly, itching in second intervals, waiting for something to happen. It was definitely interesting to see the design differences in the robots present, seeing at least two other companies had contributed robots to this project. Most of them didn’t sport quite the... recognizable style as the Harp Numbers themselves, but they had a distinct look to them all the same. They weren’t Dr. Light originals, but they were certainly inspired.

One of those worker ‘bots - sporting a massive welding cutter for an arm - passed by with a derisive snort, “Heh... Dr. Harp’s paper-pusher. Working hard or hardly w-”

“Don’t-,” Tokay snapped, momentarily, before puffing a frustrated sigh, “...That joke’s never funny.” An overly forced smirk pulled at the side of her mouth, baring sharp teeth, “Doesn’t help that you all are too good at your jobs, putting me out of one,” the gecko bot attempted to jest in return, but it was clear there was a touch of cynicism and irritation behind her words.

“Hey, look at the bright side,” the welder laughed as he walked on by, barely even looking back as he waved dismissively with his manipulator arm, “you’ll always have your desk job.” 

Tokay’s eyelid twitched, but she said nothing, content to silently imagine how it’d feel to pull that oversized arm off with her teeth-

She shook her head to dismiss the image. There were more important things to focus on... in theory. Truth be told, she wasn’t wrong - if they did their jobs well, she wouldn’t have one. But having insurance was better than having none... right? With no active work to do, Tokay had no way of proving her worth... and with no active work to do, there was little to keep her mind from wandering to the ramifications of her being deemed effectively useless...

A sudden noise cut into those anxious thoughts. The giant dragon scrappers, until that point, had been acting as a final stage in picking apart the structures broken down by other robots and organizing larger pieces into piles, only using their shear-shaped jaws to break down certain chunks of metal to feed into the shredders in their torsos. Suddenly, the yellow one at the perimeter site had turned its attention to parts of the building that had not been broken down yet, and started tearing into it with its own jaws.

The massive machine was normally capable of surprising precision given its bulk and power, but there was something unruly and sloppy to its new movements as it tore into a large section of girder-reinforced wall. The deep groaning of massive plates and beams of metal being tugged apart by three sets of giant jaws drew attention as many of the workers stopped what they were doing and turned their collective gaze upward.

Without warning, the assembly snapped, a poor welding job buckling under the conflicting forces, shearing off and launching a sharp metal beam and turning it into a lethal, three-meter-long javelin.

The flying beam set off Tokay’s sensors, as the eyes on her helmet snapped a shot of the scene, clock-hand pupils swiveling in the direction of the deadly debris and noting that there was a form in its path.

In the blink of an eye, everything around Tokay shifted to a light overlay of cyan, with neon highlights on every contour, like a wireframe. In that moment, she got the full gist of the situation. The beam was headed towards another bot... and it just so happened to be the welder.

She chuckled darkly to herself. It would be so easy to just let time take its course, and allow this accident to happen out of spite. But that wouldn’t help her case, nor prove her worth. So, with subtle regret for her own conscience, she made her move

Tokay knew full well that the nature of her Flash Freeze would not eliminate all the momentum if she let time resume as-is, so she had to be careful about her approach. It took less than a second to calculate every angle and vector, to determine the best possible action to take.

Rushing forward on all fours, she leapt up to the beam. The moment her feet made contact with it, she blinked the Flash Freeze - a quick off and on, within a fraction of a second - to allow her kick to shift the energy of the moving metal just a hair enough before freezing again, allowing her to drop to the ground. She spun, wrapping her tail around the large wrist of the welding cutter robot, and resumed time as she pulled.

Everything lined up perfectly; all the forces resumed and her pull shifted the other bot out of the way just enough for the beam to strike the ground barely millimeters to the left; any less and he would have surely been impaled. The welder gasped, as did several of the other robots present.

Tokay smirked, snapping her fingers as she released her tail’s grip, “Hardly work.”

The welder bot was still a little disoriented from the barely averted catastrophic injury, but scoffed at the jab, “Feh... you got me..”  It looked up at the giant mechanized scrapper, “All the same... What the Hell’s Haikidra-1 doing..?”

As a few other robots from that firm gathered to look on, the welder continued, “That ain’t normal behavior...”

“Hm?” Tokay asked, curiously, “Fill me in... I haven’t worked with either of these before.”

“Right..,” another worker from that line commented, “It’s... supposed to be helping organize rubble into piles by material... and shredding and compacting only steel for repurposing.”

The gathered bots watched on as the large demolition bot continued to grab objects at random, ripping large chunks apart with its shearing jaws and dropping smaller pieces into the shredder basin on the top of its main body chassis, ignoring everything else.

“...Should we do something about that?” Tokay asked, somewhat cynically, “Is that even our job?”

“I’d say so,” came a small and familiar, but overly mechanized voice from down at their feet. They looked down to see an Assist Hopper, just as it leapt up to perch on Tokay’s shoulder, “I’m gathering some data and currently looking for an engineer with wireless access to look into the problem,” Hatch confirmed.

Tokay sighed, “Alright... but in the mean time, what do we do? Nobody can get close to it until then, so nobody can do their job...”

“Leave it to me~” chirped an overly confident voice. Everyone turned incredulously to see Gutter shrug, as she strolled right up to the distracted machine, just in front of its front-end baler doors.

“Gutter!” Hatch yelled through her Hopper, leaping off Tokay’s shoulder to bound over, perching on the snake bot’s head, yelling down, “There’s nothing you can do to help here! Stand by and wait for-”

The red serpent ignored her remote sibling, removing her mask and cupping her hands around her mouth, “OYYY! BONEHEADS!” she called up, indignantly, causing the smaller frog to flail and fall off from the piercing volume, “You’re on steel duty, remember?! You can’t just go chomping shit willy-nilly!!”

Everyone was tense, but the machine didn’t seem to pay her any heed.

“...I don’t think they understand,” mumbled Pack, shooting the lithe serpent a glance of disdain, almost finding her just as mindless as the giant hydra, “Don’t waste your breath, and get your idiot ass back here!”

“Oh PLEASE,” Gutter rolled her eyes and turned around, replacing her mask before putting her hands on her hips, “It’s designed to take orders, maybe it just has to be reminded that-”

Tokay’s motion-sensitive helmet eyes picked up the anomalous movement before anybody else could begin to register that Haikidra-1 had turned its attention downward.

“GUTTER-!” she shouted, hand raising up. Before anyone could respond, the gecko’s vision glazed over with the same glowing blue, highlighted wireframe from before, as the entire world around her stopped in its tracks once more. Without skipping a beat she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around her thin-framed and very lightweight sister.

With a tremendous roar, time resumed and Tokay’s lunging momentum pulled Gutter out of the way just in time, as the shearing jaws of the hydraulic hydra clamped shut with a deafening crunch exactly where she had been less than a second before.

As both Harp Numbers went tumbling, Gutter shouted, shocked, “D-dude-! Did that shithead just try to fucking vore me?!”

“Not... the time... Gutter,” Tokay mumbled, picking herself back up, not even wasting the time to dust herself off, “Hopefully Hatch gets someone quickly...” She whirled to the other robots present, especially Heavy, “Until then, set up a perimeter! Don’t let anyone get into its grab range, just let it chew on anything inanimate until-”

She was cut off by a loud grind and crunch, which diverted the gathered robots’ attentions to Haikidra-1 as it reached down and clamped its hydraulic jaws around a large chunk of concrete, lifting it high into the air. With a sharp bite, the block shattered, leaving behind rebar as the debris flew in every direction, raining down on the robots and other human employees assisting with the project. Any taller robots present had to quickly stand over any smaller workers, machine and otherwise, using themselves as shields against the falling rubble.

That itself drew attention away from the fact that another head had reached down and plucked up a nearby Pickelman - obliviously performing its duties with its one-track-minded programming, toiling away with a pickaxe on the concrete structure - and dropped it unceremoniously into the open-topped shredder on its base. The others looked up from their work at the ungodly noise and scattered, cost-mitigating self-preservation programming kicking in just a little too late. Haikidra-1 continued to grab, rend, and shred whatever was in grabbing range.

“Until what?!” Pack yelled, panic beginning to set in. “Until it remembers it has treads?!”

“...Dammit, we don’t have time-!” Tokay hissed. Then, in a moment of realization, she looked down at her hand, “...But I do.”

Turning to her serpentine sisters, Tokay barked, “Gutter! Give me one of your snakes! I’m going to try and disable as much as I can!”

“Are you crazy all of a sudden?!” Gutter yelled, incredulously.

“Crazy or not, I have a job to do!” Tokay shouted back, “Just give me something to cut some cables with!!”

There was just enough pause to get the snake bot’s doubt through, but with a sigh she reached up to the tail behind her head, extracting another of her own serpentine drones from a hidden compartment. She looked down at the gecko bot, her normally facetious expression turning serious... worried, even, “Be safe...”

Gutter gave the Search Cutter a twist and its mouth opened up, lighting up with a slightly curved energy blade of decent length, with two perpendicular energy blades forming a hilt of sorts, before handing it off to Tokay, who took it in hand and nodded, “I will.”

With that, she turned to Haikidra-1 and ran. Just as the giant demolisher reached down to pluck her up, she lifted a hand, and the world froze blue once again.

Tokay ignored the slight pressure in her chest as she leapt up, dagger at the ready, landing first on the caution stripes in front of the open shredder, then clearing it with another jump to land between the central and left heads. A single large pipe containing multiple cables was bare at the very base, and she targeted that first, slashing into it with the serpentine energy blade, making sure it got every wire and pipe contained within the cylindrical metal casing.

She didn’t bother to unfreeze time to check if that damage was enough, and instead worked her way up, pinpointing the joints with the Search Cutter blade, driving it in with scalpel-like precision and hoping she’d sever anything transmitting a charge or information. She just hoped all three heads worked like limbs running off a central computer rather than individually-controlled personalities.

As she neared the machine���s head, Tokay checked on her internal timing mechanisms and gasped. She was nearly out of energy... already! She was so used to keeping time stopped for literally hours at a time!

Kicking off from Haikidra-1’s neck, the gecko bot backflipped a distance away and landed gracefully on the ground as she allowed time to resume. The dragon reeled with a roar as its left neck went limp, dropping just barely to the side and avoiding its own shredder wheels by sheer chance.

Tokay had no time to dwell on her own situation before being distracted by a strangled yelp, and she turned to see Gutter on her knees, holding the sides of her head, “Gutter!” She ran over to place a hand on her serpentine sister. “What’s wrong-?”

“I... I don’t know-” Gutter sputtered, “You vanished and... reappeared in a second... and I suddenly got... some kinda... fuckin’ blast of garbage encrypted visual data... right between the eyes out of nowhere...” She shook her head, trying to clear the disorientation.

Tokay looked down at the Search Cutter in her hand, and the realization struck. It was still recording while she was functioning within frozen time... and it was still transmitting. She cursed. It was the reason all the devices in her office had to record to their own drives... attempting to transmit any kind of data from within frozen time out of it could brick a system, and she was grateful for Gutter’s own safety that she’d only done so for a few seconds of footage.

“Damn it... We’re going to have to figure something else out,” Tokay admitted through clenched teeth. She began to hold the snake drone back to its owner, but paused, “Though... I’ll still need this. I just won’t use the Flash Freeze with it in-hand.” She corrects. “...Not that I could... I barely have any energy left in it.”

Taking a few heavy ventilating ‘breaths’, she brought her left hand to her chest... she was so used to using her power in a confined space, among little more than inanimate paperwork and computers... to feel the energy run down so quickly made her realize how little her tech had been tuned towards freezing moving targets of larger size and volatility...

The sound of tires peeling drew attention to a work vehicle pulling up, skidding to a stop as three figures emerged; a human technician with a laptop wired to the back of a humanoid electrical robot with notable antennae and other transmission equipment, as another Assist Hopper trailed both.

“Sorry for the wait,” gasped the human technician as he typed and fiddled with the computer’s touch screen, “We tried to use the central terminal for both shredders to simply shut down Unit 1, but something’s wrong, so we’re going to try to brute force commands wirelessly!”

“This isn’t our field,” the transmission bot admitted, sounding a little unconvinced as the technician continued to type, “But we had no choice, we’re trying to come up with a makeshift solution on the fly here.”

“What I wouldn’t give for that right now,” Hatch’s Hopper muttered, offhandedly, only to catch herself and correct, despite everybody being too preoccupied to notice the slip, “Flying, I mean. We could get more reinforcements here quicker!”

“Alright, the terminal system is up,” the human worker shifted the laptop to his other hand, shaking off the one that was initially bearing the weight, “can you get in?”

The electric bot’s eyes closed for a moment, and opened up, solid white as he raised his hands, hovering them over his temples. After a moment, Haikidra-1 continued to rampage, and the transmission bot’s eyes returned to normal, expression twisting, “Wireless access is blocked entirely!” the transmission bot shouted, sounding more and more panicked, “It should be impossible, but... but not even I can get through!”

If a robot could blanch, Hatch would have done so, indicated by voice alone, “Are you kidding?!”

“I’m not! I can’t get in!” the robot shook his head as the engineer tapped more and more frantically at the laptop, “Whatever’s making it go haywire has completely shut it off to outside interference!”

“Well, there’s still some physical interference to be had! We can’t just let it keep doing that shit!” Gutter shouted, gesturing in a wide arc to the menacing machine, “We need to shut it down completely, the hard way!” She punched her hand into her palm, “Good ol’ percussive measures, right?!”

Amidst the bewildered stares of the other robots and human workers, the Harp Numbers turned to each other with sharp, affirmative nods and a synchronized, “Right!”

Gutter and Tokay leapt into action first, and Haikidra-1’s attention was drawn immediately to the two bite-sized morsels approaching it rather than running away like everything else was. Its treads repositioned the massive construct to face its shredder towards them, and the front of its torso opened up like a mechanical ribcage, expelling a dense bale of crushed concrete, shredded metal, and barely discernible robot parts towards them, forcing them to dodge. With a roar it reached down, attempting to grab whoever was closer as its compactor snapped shut.

Being ready for it this time, Gutter was more than agile enough to dodge out of the way of the lunging jaws. Drawing out all of her remaining Search Cutters, she linked them into a chain formation, spinning them up and launching the string of snakes at Haikidra-1’s cheek fin, latching on like a grappling hook and pulling her light frame atop its head, “Giddy up, scissorface!”

The other active head turned, somehow looking enraged despite the lack of facial articulation, and opened its mouth to pluck off the annoying vermin. But before it could get too close, the last Search Cutter flew up from ground level and latched on to the side of its head, and in the blink of an eye, Tokay was there, pulling the snake free as her clinging pads held fast to the dragon’s smooth metal hide.

The gecko gave a thumbs up to Gutter, “Out of Freeze energy, but we got this!”

The snake bot cackled, “Aw yeah we do!” She turned her attention to the beast beneath her feet, her scanners giving a very clear internal view of the machine’s mechanisms, “Kinda wish Reach was here!” Gutter shouted as she jabbed down with a blade, “She’d have fried this up in a second!”

“Hindsight didn’t plan for third-party superconstructs going haywire!” Tokay shouted in response, looking for her own openings, “Brace yourself, this is gonna be a rough ride!”

Gutter smirked, “I live for the rough rides, you know!”

With the remaining two heads distracted, Heavy Woman tromped over to the left treads of the giant machine with Pack in tow. “Get me two ratchet jacks, Pack!” the python bot bellowed through the noise as she hunkered down, grasping at its wheels with her large hands. Not only using her core lifting ability, she braced onto the ground with the even more powerful tail coil from her head, giving her just enough raw strength to begin tilting the machine. Fortunately, with its heads occupied, it was no longer sending signals to reposition itself.

Pack nodded and reached into his ‘mouth’, extracting one large mechanism - far larger and more sophisticated than what one would expect for use with a car or truck, that seemed far too big to fit in that cavity to begin with - placing it under the treads on one side of his sister and hitting a button on it. He deftly scooted over to Heavy’s other side, pulled out an identical device to place there. With both active, deep clicks and chunks were heard as the pistons extended and the ratchet teeth locked in sequence, filling the space and taking some of the weight off, allowing Heavy to focus on pushing the treads higher rather than using all her energy to keep it barely level.

But even that wasn’t enough. Though Heavy could lift up to 10 tons unaided with moderate effort - a considerable feat even amongst other strength-focused robots - Haikidra-1 weighed at least 80. The jacks were only meant to keep a lifted object up, but did not provide significant upward force. Heavy was only able to barely get the tread a few feet off the ground, core chassis and every mechanical muscle straining and groaning, as she shouted, “Can’t do this myself! Get your asses over here, fellas!!”

The other construction bots - not built on a combination of ex-weaponized Cossack and Wily tech and therefore not nearly as prone to recklessness as the Harp Numbers - stood back warily. It took another hefty dozer bot with forklift features to finally up the mettle, gesturing in a wide arc, “C’mon, we ain’t gotta let the lizards outdo us!”

As he ran - or, rather, hastily plodded - over to Heavy’s side to wedge his own claws under the treads of the hydra, the gap raised more. Though not a fan of the implied competitive nature of the assistance, Heavy couldn’t help but grin that it spurred them all the same, though it was only visible in her eyes, “Attaboys.”

Slowly, more robots were emboldened to take up the job, rushing to the sides of the two large lifters. Even Pack joined, pulling out a compact forklift of his own. By itself, it would have been insignificant, but with so many hands on deck, every little bit counted. Soon, there was enough collected strength to finish what Heavy started. “All right! Heave on three!”

Everyone braced.

“One!

Two!

THREE!”

With a calamitous roar from the gathered workers and the giant machine, everyone put their full strength, and Haikidra-1 tipped over onto its side, heads flailing. Gutter took the momentum to leap, practically skating down the length of the dragon’s neck, dragging a blade behind her for stability before landing at the base and delivering one last slice to the cables there for good measure before disembarking to the safety of solid ground.

Tokay took that cue to get out of dodge herself, leaping off much like she did the first time, and hitting the ground in a controlled roll as the central head tried to flail about, with the other two powered down. In such a compromised position, it couldn’t quite get a full range of motion, and a few other robots from the other lines leapt atop it to subdue the final head, with the welding cutter bot from earlier delivering a final, decisive blow to the power cables at the base.

Haikidra-1 went still and silent, and cheers went up from the gathered workers, both human and robot alike.

The foreman sighed, but the weight of the victory tainted the relief that the danger was averted, “That’s an expensive piece of machinery you all just junked... expect that to come out of your paychecks...”

“Oh, fuck off, imagine how much worse it would have been if they let it run wild..,” Pack retorted, irritated, as he began to put away the tools he contributed.

“Hold your tongue, frog,” the foreman growled. Pack ignored him, rolling his eyes and opening his faux mouth, reaching in, and pulling out his hand flipping the bird. Thankfully, the foreman had turned to assess the damage, and didn’t see the slight.

A few of the robots atop the mechanical beast remained behind while others dispersed. Gutter moved up to scan the damage that had been done, and Tokay approached alongside her, “Is it really that bad? I figured we just cut some cables... seems like an easy fix, once they get in to find out what was wrong with the programming.”

Gutter shrugged, “Seems that way, but you never know with those greedy suits... they’ll do anything to avoid using their own money.”

“Yeah... really wish we weren’t bought out by them,” Tokay sighed. She turned, holding the Search Cutter out, “Here... Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Gutter beamed, “Not a problem~ Just don’t freeze it, that really sucked, and not in the fun way.”

Tokay chuckled, “Can’t be helped, huh?” She put her hands on her hips, tail lashing behind her, “I should consider maybe getting something for myself... even if not for combat, it still seems really useful to have-”

Without warning, the nearest head’s eyes flickered back online, and it jerked towards Tokay. Her helmet saw the motion before she could register her own movement, but with no more energy to power her Flash Freeze, all she could do was whirl and attempt to leap out of the way as it flung some of the robots standing atop it off to lunge.

It was too late.

The shear assembly clamped down on her tail, its softer materials deforming into the cavity of the upper jaw and wedging in fast. Tokay barely had a chance to cry out as the head jerked upward, pulling her roughly into the air.

“No!” Heavy bellowed, watching in horror as the machine she’d toppled began using its other necks like arms to push itself back into an upright position, “The power cables are severed! It shouldn’t be able to move!”

“...Its fins-!” Hatch shouted through a Hopper. “And the other dark surfaces! Look at the sheen! They’re solar panels! Each individual segment must have emergency power... and whatever’s made it go haywire must have just switched on those backups!”

“Whose the Hell’s bright i-fucking-dea was that?!” Gutter hissed, “TOKAY!!”

“G-Gutter!” Tokay yelled down as she attempted to reach up and grab at her own tail, “Blade! Quickly!!” She regretted handing it back so soon.

Gutter didn’t need to be told twice, and didn’t even waste her time with a retort. She spun up the Search Cutter that had just been returned to her like a sling and flung it up towards her sister, who reached out to grab it. Unfortunately, the demolisher’s head shifted, pulling the gecko bot with it, and the mechanical serpent drone sailed uselessly by.

“Shit-!” Tokay growled as she tried once again to reach for her own tail, though being swung around by it like a rag doll was making it very difficult to do anything as her vision spun. It was so hard to concentrate on anything, even the panicked voices below as Gutter tried to use her little lasso trick again to reach up, but couldn’t as the heads flailed about too unpredictably. Tokay cursed, and desperately tried to dig her fingers into the seams of the flexible armor, hoping her claws were enough to help her pry them apart.

A single voice punched through the din; the deep, commanding shout of Heavy. 

“TOKAY-!!” the giant python bot cried out from below, “LOOK OUT! THE OTHER-”

Tokay’s attention was pulled immediately from the shouting as her helmet’s eyes alerted her of peripheral movement, and she turned just in time to see one of Haikidra-1’s other heads rushing at her, mouth agape.

There was a deafening crunch, and everything when dark. The roar of machinery and the screams of her siblings and the other workers went completely silent.

But that was all that left her. With her primary cognitive circuitry embedded in her back rather than her head, she could still feel.

Everything.

She felt the snapping and sparking as what was left of her head and neck was pulled from her body by the hydraulic shears.

She felt herself dangling high above the ground by her tail.

She felt her tail finally being released, and the sensation of falling... falling...

She felt herself roughly and clumsily hitting smooth but uneven metal.

She felt the metal beneath her begin to shift. She felt the sharp pain in her hand as unseen edges sunk in, and began to drag her under.

[disengaging pain sensors]

It was the least she could do for herself... she didn’t want to even imagine what those sensations would be like otherwise.

Pressure. That’s all it was. Pressure and pulling, pieces coming apart, pressed, extruded through spinning, spiral teeth... for a second, it almost felt like there was a reverse force. Was somebody trying to pull her out? She couldn’t tell... She only hoped they wouldn’t be pulled in with her.

As the realization of her inevitable demise drew itself closer and tighter around her slowly peeling body, all she wanted to do was scream...

scream...

As Tokay’s hand passed in front of her chest, there was a sharp snap and a bright flash, and the Harp Number let out a strangled scream as her knees buckled under her. Everyone jumped a bit as she collapsed, hands clawing at her surroundings and herself as she writhed on the ground, whimpering, eyes wide.

“Tokay! What’s wrong?!” Gutter rushed towards her sister, leaning down and carefully lifting the smaller but sturdier robot off the ground as she convulsed, “Are you okay??”

“W-w-w-what..?!” Tokay stammered, teeth chattering as she stared down at her intact hands with a disbelieving expression, “H-h-h-how-??!” Her hands shot up to the sides of her head, clutching tightly at her helmet as she trembled, tail lashing about violently.

“Shhh, shhh-!” Gutter tried to calm her, genuinely distressed. She ran her scanners over her sister, once, twice, three times to see if anything was damaged or obviously malfunctioning... but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Slag looked out from the loading vehicle, “What’s going on...?”

“I... I don’t know,” Gutter bit her lip under her mask, “There’s... no obvious internal damage...”

Hatch stepped out of the vehicle and over, eyes giving off a grim expression. An Assist Hopper popped out of her back, crawling over to leap down, examining the gecko bot, “Something must be wrong with her Flash Freeze unit...”

“H-h-how,” Tokay continued to stutter, eyes darting about at all the worried faces around her. She took a few ragged breaths and checked her internal clock.

10:43 and 32 seconds.

“Th-th-that’s i-i-imp-p-possible...” Tokay choked, “H-h-how d-did I go b-b-back-...?”

“What the Hell’s going on here?”

Everyone turned to see the surly foreman standing there, drawn by the commotion and the decided lack of work being performed by the hired robots. He didn’t seem all that pleased, “Someone care to tell me what the hold up is?”

“Tokay’s not well,” Heavy rumbled, “She tried to activate the Flash Freeze and it glitched.”

“...Hmph, figures it’d be the experimental tech,” the foreman rolled his eyes, “Able to stop time, and somehow still going to put us behind schedule.” He reached into his pocket, “I’ll have you sent back to the lab. No use if you’re not going to function properly.”

“N-no-!” Tokay struggled, voice full of foreboding panic, “Y-you can’t-! I need to... I need to stop-! Somebody needs to stop Haikidra-1!”

That gave everybody a pause. Nobody had briefed any of the Harp Numbers on the scrapper’s name prior. The foreman slowly turned to look at the gecko bot, “...Excuse me?”

“Something’s wrong with Haikidra-1!” Tokay yelled, hysterically, “Something’s wrong with its programming! It’s supposed to help organize material and bale steel, but it’s going to start... start demolishing anything it can get its shears on!”

The curt human turned to her, eyes narrowed, “How do you know this?”

“Because-!” she began, looking around at the others. They were just as shocked by her words as she was... did they not see it? Did they not remember like she did?

Did she get sent back into the past alone..?

“I know because... because I saw it!” she admitted, choking on her words, barely believing them herself as they left her teeth, “I saw it, and it killed me!” She gripped her chest, “I... I died... and somehow my... the timepiece... it sent me back here to warn you!”

“Great, and now the experimental tech is delusional,” the foreman sighed heavily, lifting his phone to his ear. After a moment, he spoke to it, “Good morning. This is Foreman Yates of Exemplar, overseeing the factory demolition the Lab’s robots have been assigned to. I would like to speak with Dr. Harp.” There was a pause, presumably as the assistant on the other end forwarded the call. Finally, when she picked up on the other end of the line, he continued, “Doctor. I’m sending the first available transport back with DHN 01, Tokay Woman. She’s malfunctioning and spouting nonsense, and needs to be checked before she becomes a company liability. ...Yes, I understand. But you need to understand that given how much money we’ve poured into that pet project of yours, it’s your job to make sure it’s functioning properly before you send it out for field work. Is that clear? ... Do not make me repeat myself. ...Very well. Good day.” He hung up.

While the call went on, the Harp Numbers gathered around Tokay, who shuddered. They ignored the vitriolic words of the foreman, focusing instead on their distraught sister.

“Please... if nobody else listens to me, you... have to listen to me,” Tokay pleaded with her siblings, “You cannot get near Haikidra-1... I don’t want any of you to... go through what I went through...” She clutched her chest, turning her gaze towards Gutter, “...You, especially, Gutter. You... it went for you first... if I hadn’t been there to...” She shook her head, trying to clear the racing thoughts, “...Don’t give it that chance.”

If anyone could see and feel the deep and genuine pain and fear in Tokay’s eyes, it was Gutter. To everyone’s surprise, the red snake’s expression read trusting and true as she nodded, firmly, hugging her sister close, “...I understand.”

“We haven’t got all day, girls,” the foreman, finished with his call, scolded, tapping on his watchless wrist impatiently. Off to the side, Pack gave an indignant snort.

Tokay growled, just a little, as Gutter set her down and she tried to stand on her own legs... it was so hard. Her mind continually replayed that horrible, phantom memory. She felt every piece of her being pulled apart and crushed, and even if it didn’t hurt, she didn’t feel real.

None of this felt real.

Eventually, one of the other transport trucks pulled around and stopped by the gathered Harp Numbers, “All right, we’re done offloading,” the driver gestured, “Get on, little lady, we’ll get you back to the lab.”

Tokay cast a worried glance back at her linemates. She received mostly knowing and considerate nods of reassurance that they wouldn’t let her warning go to waste.

She stepped into the vehicle, hand on her chest, casting one last guilty look back as the truck pulled away from the ill-fated worksite.

The ride back was as uneventful as the first, but Tokay couldn’t even bring herself to tap the seconds away as she was wont to, mind thoroughly haunted by the events that had never transpired... and the fears of what could transpire in their stead.  Although the trip itself took less time on account of favorable crossings and a lighter load, it felt like it took two, even three times as long to return to the lab.

What was she even going to say? Tokay’s computerized mind swam as the vehicle pulled into the lab’s northeast loading bay, and she felt hazy as she haphazardly stepped out of it, and towards the door, fumbling at the identification pad with her hand, RFID chip granting her access to push her way through, into the main lounge.

While there were a few human assistants present, they were not Tokay’s focus. That was, instead, drawn straight to the two linemates who hadn’t been brought along on the excursion; Reach and Nail. Both were sitting across from one another at one of the smaller, fixed tables, Nail sporting smaller, more utilitarian shoulders than the bulky manufacturing plants they normally wore. The mollusc bot looked about ready to nod off, had the roughly-opened door not snapped them to attention, along with distracting the (technically) eldest Harp Number from whatever conversation she was trying to have that was putting Nail to sleep.

Reach spoke first, voice and expression quizzical, bordering concerned, “Back already, Tokay?” Taking a moment to put down the tablet she was using for visual aid, she slid her seat back and pushed herself up, “Didn’t think you the type to deal in so soon.” With a tilt of her head, the static gecko added, “Flash Freeze acting up?”

Tokay grit her teeth so tightly they could practically be heard even at that distance, and her knees nearly gave out as she stumbled forward, just enough steps for her outreached hand to slam down on the nearest table to hold her up as her other hand gripped the side of her head.

“I... I don’t know-” she hissed lowly, sounding both frightened and frustrated, rousing further worry from her linemates as Reach rushing to her side. Tokay continued, “I don’t know if what just happened really happened, or if I’m just going crazy-!”

“Whoa whoa, calm down,” Nail held up their hands, “If what happened?”

There was no initial response beyond Tokay shaking in place, holding her head, and Reach helped her sister take a seat, placing a hand on her shoulder. Nail, meanwhile, shifted their weight, but instead of standing up to move closer, simply kicked off the fixed table to slide over on the reinforced chair to come to rest aside the geckos in one seemingly lazy but effective motion.

Even without specialized machine sensitivity, it was clear the smaller of the two was under intense stress, and Reach herself could physically feel it; Tokay’s core was running at max capacity, refrigeration unit on full blast trying to keep her internal temperatures stable.

Carefully, Reach placed both hands about her sister’s shoulders and back, turning up her electromagnetic pads just a touch to deliver a gentle, therapeutic current. After a few minutes, Tokay finally relaxed enough to look up. Though the expression in her eyes was grateful, that was not the most pressing matter on her mind, “Did... word not get around..?”

Nail shook their head, “Non, the Doctor has been busy with another project. She has not had the time to tell us what the call was about.”

“...Oh,” Tokay turned her attention downwards, at her hands. She still didn’t feel quite real.

“Come on, Bitey,” Reach swiveled a chair over to sit beside her smaller sister, for now ignoring the faint scoff at the endearment, “You can fill us in just as well. What happened?”

“Oui,” Nail tilted their head, composed but still curious, “We’re family. Tell us everything.”

Tokay bit her lip lightly, shaking her head, only for Reach to give her a light shake. Finally, she sighed, and filled them in, from their arrival, to the designation of roles, to the first accident... Though she wanted to look down at the table while recounting, she couldn’t help but keep her eyes on her siblings, taking into account their expressions. Their concerned faces deepened with a tinge of disbelief as she explained what happened to Haikidra-1, and how they took it down with their collective efforts. It wasn’t a good sign; that was easily the most straightforward part of the experience.

Before she could recount the demolisher reactivating to grab her, she stopped, looking away. It was obviously the defining detail of the entire ordeal, the thing tying everything together, but she didn’t even want to think about it... the prospect of saying it out loud felt so much worse.

“That... cannot be right,” Nail scratched their chin, confirming Tokay’s suspicion of their disbelief, “It has barely been enough time for you to have gone and returned as soon as you arrived at the site.”

Tokay grasped her head in both hands, elbows on the table, “That’s... I...”

Nail shook their head, holding up a hand, “Do not get me wrong, I’m not saying I believe you are lying. Just that you need to finish your story.”

Reach gave her sister a reassuring squeeze on the arm, “You can save it for later, if it’s really that bad. We’ll still be-”

The dam broke. “I DIED!!” Tokay barked, pushing away. The other two Harp Numbers jumped, both at the suddenness of the outburst, and the nature of the revelation. “The damn thing came back and grabbed me and pulled me apart and dropped me into its shredder!” She stood up so quickly the seat fell backwards with a clatter. All noise in the recreation room halted as everyone stared at her.

Her voice lowered, trembling, “I... I died... and suddenly I was back at the start, at the moment I turned on the Flash Freeze... as if nothing had happened...” She brought her hand up to her chest, “Except... except it did...”

Tokay fell to her knees, “I remember... I remember how much it hurt before I turned my sensors off... how terrified I was... to think that... that time was erased for everyone, but left me with those haunting memories of... of my own destruction all the same...”

Everyone was at a loss for words. Reach held out a hand. “...Tokay..,” she whispered, feeling for the honest pain in her sister’s recollection.

Tokay glowered, looking away, “...You don’t believe me, do you?”

Reach wanted to say something, but was cut off before her words could form. “It does seem quite unbelievable,” Nail admitted first, looking grimly thoughtful. However, their demeanor changed with a shrug, “Then again, your power to control time is already well beyond what could be considered believable, so what difference does it make? Why should that make us any less likely to trust you when you sound so serious about it?”

“Nail’s right,” Reach added, trying to sound supportive through the weight of her worry, “Just because we don’t understand what you went through doesn’t mean we can’t be here for you. You did what you could in spite of... truly unbelievable circumstances.”

“Except... I didn’t,” Tokay spat, “That stupid asshole sent me home saying I was a liability... Everyone might be in danger that I could be there averting with what I-”

“You warned the others, did you not?” Nail asked.

Tokay paused, almost incredulous, “Of course I did-”

“Then you did what you could,” Nail interjected, curtly, leaning back with their hands behind their head, “No use hurting yourself more over it when you hurt enough already.”

Tokay was taken a little aback by that, but could only admit inwardly that Nail, rather fittingly, made a good point.

“Tokay?”

A new voice drew everyone’s attention to the door, where the receptionist from the lobby leaned in, looking apologetic, “Umm... Dr. Harp paged the front desk to, um... have me tell you to... uh, meet her in the diagnostic lab...”

Tokay looked more than a little upset to not be fetched by her creator in person given the gravity of the situation, and her expression was returned by a wince from the newer hire, “She needed to get it ready... she’s... been really busy all day... I’m sorry...”

“It’s fine, I get it,” Tokay muttered. She didn’t begrudge either Dr. Harp or this young woman, but she also couldn’t quite help her appearance, intimidating as it was despite her small stature, or the dour mood that only served to amplify it, “I’ll be up in a moment.” The receptionist nodded, stuttering a quick thanks before retreating through the door to her desk.

“You gonna be okay?” Reach asked, feeling a little guilty.

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice,” Tokay shrugged, with mild sarcasm, which mellowed out to a more genuine tone, “but thank you.”  She turned to look at Nail, “Both of you. It... means a lot to me... really, it does.”

“Pas de quoi,” Nail waved a hand casually, “We are family, don’t you forget.”

Tokay managed to pull a weak smile as she made her way to the elevator, “I won’t.”

---

“Nothing appears to be amiss...”

Dr. Harp sighed as she pushed herself away from the diagnostic display, pressing two fingers and a thumb against the bridge of her nose, pushing up her glasses in the process, “Which is even more suspicious, seeing as I can’t access or even find these memories you claim to have in your records...”

She turned her chair around to look at Tokay, who was reclined in a pod. While she wasn’t scheduled for a full maintenance checkup, the need to access her Flash Freeze had the small-statured gecko stripped down to bare internals from the waist up, with various tubes and cables connected all over the place in a seemingly haphazard fashion. This wasn’t anything new, but from the look on Tokay’s face, that didn’t make it any less exhausting.

“I don’t know what to say, Doctor..,” she muttered, sounding defeated, “But it’s there... I can recall it this very moment. More vividly than I’d like to, no less...”

Shaking her head, the doctor stood up, walked over, and began to carefully remove and roll up the cables, “I want to believe you... I really do. The only explanation is that it’s somehow encrypted in the timepiece itself, and only you have access to it due to the dust in your IC chip.” She looked back over at the screen for a moment, then back to the work at hand, “Regardless, if what you’re telling me is true... that somehow the device sent you back in time upon destruction, and that the only evidence is your word-”

“I know, I know,” Tokay sounded frustrated as she reached up to assist with some of the easier cables now that she knew it was okay to do so, being more than familiar with the process, “It’s... not exactly something that can be tested.” She frowned, “Not without having me-”

“Which is exactly what I don’t want to do,” Dr. Harp cut in, with an almost scolding tone, “Yes, it’d be nearly impossible to verify without a conscious system integrated in with the equipment, but I don’t want to subject a conscious system - especially a free-willed one - to repeated intentional destruction just to gather insubstantial, anecdotal evidence.”

The eccentric scientist continued, as she removed the last cables and helped her creation pull her bodysuit back up over her exposed frame, “My only guess is that the timepiece has some sort of self-preservation mechanism tied to its ability to manipulate time... there’s still so much we don’t know about it, that we can’t fully access without more insight into what we do know.”

“Almost sounds like you shouldn’t have been messing with it in the first place, Doctor..,” Tokay muttered, sounding almost resentful, though her expression read pained and conflicted as she looked down, hand raised to her chest to feel its strange, alien hum through her suit.

Dr. Harp raised a finger, opening her mouth to respond, when the console sprang to life with the blare of an incoming call redirected to the lab by the receptionist. She muttered, not sounding very pleased with the interruption, “It’s the work site... I guess we should take this.”

She pressed the button to answer, and followed it up by putting the communication over the speaker, so that Tokay could listen in on the situation she’d just been sent home from, “Dr. Harp here.”

“Good afternoon, Doctor,” came a serious, but young, voice. Surprisingly, though it was the foreman’s line, it was clearly not the foreman, “I’m calling on behalf of Exemplar with an update on the situation regarding the robots you’ve sent to assist with the demolition.”

“I had a feeling,” Dr. Harp tried to keep a professional tone on her voice, though the only ‘feeling’ she actually had was a deep sense of sarcasm, “Does it have anything to do with the warnings given to you by Tokay Woman before you sent her back to the lab?” She asked, a small amount of impatient bite sneaking into her voice, “Because I found nothing wrong, so it sounds like she really should have been allowed to do her job.”

“About that,” the voice on the other end of the line cleared their throat, “...Yes. It has everything to do with her warning. In fact, her warning about Haikidra-1 going rogue was so accurate, that we might have to conduct an investigation into how she knew in such a specific capacity.” The voice took on a warning tone, “The evidence so far implies tampering, but there were no external signs.”

“I’m pretty sure she told you, and it sounded like you didn’t believe she had some sort of... I don’t know... powers related to time manipulation by an experimental device that, despite having more than enough research funding and documentation behind it, is still not fully understood?.” Dr. Harp shot back, “Are you trying to imply that one of my robots - who has no reason nor motive, and has had more time and money invested into development and testing than the entire workforce at that site combined - was involved with some sort of sabotage that would jeopardize her standing with the company, or possibly her entire existence?”

There was an awkward silence. Tokay winced and turned her head away looking a little resentful, but also lightly guilty.  Eventually, the standstill was broken by a soft throat clear from the other end of the line, “No, and I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll relay your concerns.”

“You’d better,” Dr. Harp scoffed, starting to lose a bit of her feigned professional demeanor in the face of direct accusations leveled at her creations, “Now, was that all you called to tell me, or do you actually have an update? Did anybody get hurt?”

Another pause. The voice got grave, “...Unfortunately, yes. Even with the prediction allowing for appropriate mobilization-”

“Cut to the chase,” Dr. Harp snapped, impatiently.

The voice on the other end sighed, “Slag Woman broke from orders and stationed herself by Haikidra-1 instead of 2 because of Tokay Woman’s story.  When 1 began to act up, as she said it would, Slag was able to mitigate some of the more... catastrophic damages it could have incurred, by jamming up its shredder housing with molten metal.”

Tokay’s soft, fidgeting ticks silenced as she looked over, expression worried. Dr. Harp nodded apprehensively, even though the gesture would not carry over the audio-only line, “And?”

The caller continued “Unfortunately... Unit 1 decided to throw a whole tractor at her afterwards. She’d used up most of her metal stores clogging it up, and couldn’t defend herself.” 

Dr. Harp tensed up, and even Tokay could be heard uttering a horrified, ‘oh no...’ in the back. Even if neither got picked up by the communications line, the voice continued, with an attempted tone of reassurance, “Don’t worry... she’s okay... moderate damage at worst.”

“But...”

Dr. Harp and her creation waited for the other shoe to drop.

“...A few other robots outside of your line were damaged beyond repair... and in the chaos brought about by the disbelief in your robot’s wild claims coming true, a few human injuries and two casualties were also recorded,” the voice confirmed, darkly, “Including Foreman Yates.”

So that’s why they were so salty that they’d open the call with an accusation. Dr. Harp furrowed her brow, taking off her glasses for just a moment to rub her eyes before putting them back on, “I see...”

She turned to Tokay, whose expression would have been unreadable to anybody else. But Dr. Harp, who knew her mechanical ‘daughters’ better than anyone, could see that while the gecko bot looked devastated to hear that humans were hurt and killed, she was also trying to suppress an almost smug grin.

“...Is that all?”

“That is all,” the caller confirmed, “Haikidra-1 is currently being disassembled. We will send a message with any findings when we make them.”

Dr. Harp seemed antsy to end the call, “All right. Can’t wait to hear it. Have a good day.”

The caller hung up without returning the admittedly sarcastic well-wish.

As soon as the line went dead, Dr. Harp turned to Tokay, “That’s not okay.”

Tokay looked at her creator, puzzled, “What’s not okay?”

Dr. Harp’s expression was grave, “...You shouldn’t be happy he died. You’re already under scrutiny.”

Tokay groaned, “Ok, look, I’m not happy he died,” she rolled her eyes, “It’s just... fitting comeuppance, you know? If he wasn’t such a damn idiot and let me do my job, he wouldn’t be dead now. It’s poetic.”

“It’s a red flag,” Dr. Harp let out a seething, exasperated sigh, “You’re on thin ice enough as it is.”

“Ha ha,” Tokay laughed in faux sarcasm, “Freezing joke.”

“...That wasn’t on purpose,” Dr. Harp shot back, though the delayed smile could be seen forcing its way to her cheeks.

“Of course it wasn’t,” the gecko bot leaned back, finally allowing herself a more genuine grin, “Shitty puns are just your natural response. Your resting state.”

“Oh please,” Harp shot back, “Like it’s that bad. You don’t need me to tell you yours.”

“Certainly not, considering you programmed me,” Tokay stuck out her tongue.

“Fine, fine, I concede,” the doctor mock-surrendered, “Anyway, is there anything else I should know before we wrap this up and wait for that site update?”

Tokay leaned forward a bit to peer at the monitors full of data. She’d already verbally recounted everything that couldn’t be extracted as memory recordings, “I don’t think so... Just that I think I could use some tuning tests for Freeze time under higher strain.” She tapped her knuckles on her chest, “I’m so used to going for hours in a damn office, it was kinda shitty running it down so quickly when I needed it the most... especially if it was meant for accident prevention.”

“Accident prevention rarely involves active combat with aggressive giant robots,” Dr. Harp corrected, “But I’ll look into it for sure. Maybe see if Dr. Cossack had any more of Wily’s notes I hadn’t already implemented to the best of my ability.”

“Love to be reminded that I’ve got a bit of Flash Man in me,” Tokay rolled her eyes, “Except I’d rather not be.”

“Don’t let Gutter hear that,” Dr. Harp responded, deadpan.

Tokay choked out a soft “Oh god-” as she covered her mouth with her hand.

The computer beeped suddenly, and Dr. Harp turned to see that a text message had been left, rather than a call. Whatever was found, it apparently didn’t warrant much more. She stepped over, sitting in the chair to read over it, and letting Tokay recover from her own embarrassment. The message was fairly short, with several attached images.

“...They found an unidentified chip inside Haikidra-1’s central processor,” Dr. Harp read off the note, summarizing as she went, eyes narrowing, “They’re suspecting Dr. Wily - of course they would - though the make doesn’t look like his, given he’s pretty proud and blatant with his branding... and the motive doesn’t make sense,” she sighed, “It’ll be sent to Dr. Light to determine for sure...”

“It could very well be an inside job by more AR activists,” Tokay held up a hand, offering the suggestion, “We can’t rule anything out. They have hands everywhere... like in the riot truck that caused the explosion in the first place.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dr. Harp stood up, walking over to the pod to finish making some adjustments. “It’s just easy to blame Wily, even though he’s been pretty quiet of late.”

“Chipping a giant dragon machine does seem like something he’d do,” the gecko bot scratched the back of her head, “But given how... robot-centric he is, I feel like he’d rather take control to unite robots under his banner, against humans, rather than have them wantonly destroy one another for humans.”

“Mm-hm,” Dr. Harp nodded as she fiddled with the pod mechanisms. There was enough bitterness in her face and voice to show she wasn’t quite willing to forgive the mad scientist for what he took from her, but she tried her best to let as little of it show as possible, “How does the timepiece feel?”

“...Cold..,” the Tokay sighed, “...as usual,” she shrugged, “Why?”

Before Tokay could say anything more, Dr. Harp reached out and wrapped her arms around the smaller robot, gently.

"I know a lot of things you experience are alien and hard to explain..,” the doctor’s voice was level and gentle, “...but if anything strange happens - no matter how unbelievable - as a result of your power... I want you to tell me.” The doctor pulled away, but kept her hands on her creation’s shoulders, eye to hourglass-shaped eye, “I need you to tell me. Even if you don't think I'll believe you.”

Dr. Harp finally let Tokay go, shaking her head and looking almost sad, “You're... like a daughter to me, and I love you... so I want to be there for you if anything happens because of this burden I've given you... and if it becomes too much for you,” she added, with clear, pained hesitation for all the effort that had been invested, “...I can remove it, if it's what you truly want."

“...No,” came the soft, but surprising response from Tokay. “I’m sorry for saying what I did about it... but the fact of the matter is...”

As creator and creation pulled away, Tokay placed a hand on her chest, “...The timepiece is as much a part of me as any other critical component, and...“ She sighed, “I can’t... imagine not having it. Losing it. I know the corporation sees it as little more than an overly convenient tool, but to me... it feels like my... entire purpose. My entire identity. Without it, I... wouldn’t be... me.”

Another sigh, and the gecko bot leaned back, “So... I guess... I’ll endure the uncertainties.”

Dr. Harp’s sad frown slowly faded into an equally sad smile, “If that’s what you want.”

Silence took over the room, punctuated by small whirs and beeps of machinery as the scientist cleaned up her work space, and Tokay looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“...Hey, Doctor?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a... small... design suggestion... regarding my tail...”

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

UHM. UH. More messy rushed doodle collection from today. I will not confess to anything my mouth is sealed shut. Most of it is mindless fun; nothing to do with brainstorming storylines or being worried about staying canonical to how his character is typically presented. Head empty no thoughts since I desperately needed a break from animating again

…but yes to answer your question I’m a bit deranged about him please keep scrolling

[quicksilverarchive]

Never get high on your own supply

(1193 words) 15 year old Malani getting arested. He did not go quietly

❗️Warning: foul language. Very foul language. And a mention of drugs.

Back to masterpost

“Never get high on your own supply” is great advice, apparently. Malani would argue otherwise.

It's evening, the sun has barely set, and he's walking down a mostly empty, mostly ruined street, hauling a backpack on one shoulder. His hoodie is pulled up to cover his head, his shoes are wet and full of mud and the water in the puddles inside the sidewalk cracks have seeped into his socks. Still, Malani feels great. Molly is known to do that.

Never get high on your own supply is some bullshit.

To be fair, it ain't really his supply. It's the gang's, or rather his uncle's, and he really couldn't care less about the “lost profit” of sneaking some pills. He doubts the sleezy dealers he's running them to are careful enough to notice, they all got their brains fucked by drugs, booze and concussions anyway.

He has a bit to walk still till the dropoff spot, and he's getting kinda bored of walking. He sees a patrol car parked on the other side of the street, the headlights are on, two and cops sitting inside. Should he just start trouble for the sake of it? It would be real entertaining, stupid but entertaining. He sticks his tongue out at the car, they probably don't even see him, he snickers to himself and picks up the pace, skipping down the sidewalk. The alarm of the cop car goes off for a second behind him, he doesn't turn to look, pulling his hood more to hide his smile. The car door clicks as it opens, and a cop yells after him.

“Kid, hey, stop for a second,” he says, and Malani rushes his step even more. “Stop, police!” he yells, and Malani giggles to himself as he starts sprinting. The pigs don't know these streets like he does, it's his turf, his home advantage, so they can run after him as much as they want! He turns for a second to flip them off, laughing, but they're closer than he thought, and he trips on his feet and promptly falls on his ass.

He falls in a puddle, splashing water everywhere, his backpack files off his shoulder, further on the sidewalk. The two cops - a man and a woman - stop abruptly, splashing more water at him. He looks at his hands, his knuckles and fingers are scraped, and bloodied, full with muddy water, but he can't even feel it. The cop grabs his arm and pulls him up, keeping a firm grasp of it. His partner walks around them.

“Why were you running, kid?” he asks

“I dunno… Why were you chasing me?” Malani replies with a cocky smile.

“What's your name? How old are you?”

“Like I'd tell you!” Malani tries to pull away, but the grip around his arm is sturdy.

“What's in this?” the other cop asks, holding up the backpack. Malani turns his head to look at her and laughs.

“Are you stupid? It's literally in your hands, fucking open it if you wanna know.”

“Drop the attitude,” she warms, unzipping the bag.

“Drop the name of your plastic surgeon, cuz he should be fired,” Malani bites back, and the cop holding him tightens his grip.

“What are these?” she asks, holding up some pills.

“I’m not telling you shit, pig.”

“Yeah, you're coming with us,” her partner says, and a muted tinge of panic starts to settle deep within Malani's gut. He keeps the smile planted on his face, be it a little more strained now.

“What were you gonna do with these?” the policewoman asks, stepping closer and waving the pills in front of him. “Did you take any?”

Malani spits in her face.

She yelps, tripping back a little, dropping the pills in the water and whipping it with her sleeve. Malani laughs quietly.

“You are under arrest.” The man turns him around forcefully, and Malani tries to kick behind him, grunting. “Stop resisting, kid, I don't want to hurt you.”

“Suck my big fat dick you dirty bitch-fucking cocksucker,” Malani spits, struggling to escape the hold. His knees get kicked from under him and he falls back into the puddle. The woman joins to try to keep him steady, he turns his head and seizes the opportunity to bite her hand. She screams, he sinks his teeth deeper, the cop behind him grabs his hair and yanks him off of her, ramming his face into the puddle.

He inhales a little water and starts coughing. His lungs are burning. His eyes are burning. Everything hurts.

They only let him get up once he's handcuffed. His legs are unsteady, his face is scraped and he can't open his right eye, he's spitting up blood and mud as he coughs and his clothes are soaked, but he still smiles defiantly. They pull him to the car, shoving him inside as he almost trips on his own legs, and when they shut the door behind them, in the brief window of time before they get in the car themselves, it dawns on Malani that, holy shit, he's getting arrested.

It's fine. His uncle will take care of this! He has to, he's the one who stuck him with this damned job!

The cops both open the doors and step inside the front seats, and for a couple of seconds, Malani can't find his voice anymore. The silence feels like a defeat, like humiliation, he bites his tongue. He's quiet as the engine starts and as the car starts moving and as the cops exchange some phrases he can barely bother to pay attention to. The scrapes on his skin are starting to feel like they're burning, he's stiff all over, and suddenly he feels awfully cold.

“That sort of behavior-” the cop lady catches his attention turning to him, and he tunes back in to what she's saying - “will great you in great trouble, young man. It won't help your sentencing, so-”

If there's anything that will get Malani pissed off enough to override the wave of fear, its this self righteous, bullshit monologuing.

“Get rammed in the ass, you unfucked bitch,” he snarls at her. He feels very shaky.

“If you don't drop this attitude, you might get exactly that in juvie,” the man snaps back at him, and it only fuels him further.

“Oh, what a bold imagination, old man! Bet you'd love to see that, you pervert.”

“Don't stoop down to his level.” The woman shakes her head at the other cop. “He'll get what's coming to him.”

Malani doesn't say anything back this time. It feels like a sort of draw, and he won't risk going further with it and loosing the crumb of power he's managed to obtain in the interaction. While the idea of going to juvie isn't too fun, groveling at the fucking cops' feet and begging for forgiveness or leniency disgusts him. So for now, he'll sit quiet, handcuffed, high, with his bloody fingers and knuckles, scraped face, one eye closed shut, clothes soaked to the skin and nearly clattering teeth, and hope his uncle will get him out of this mess.

[wolfpackmuses]

‪❝Fine. If Lucifer (@xluciifer) didn’t want to buy a car from me, I’ll share the pitch with the rest of you!❞‬

‪❝Fuck you, Hell! If you're dumb enough to buy a new car this weekend, you're a big enough schmuck to come to Big Satan cars!

Bad deals! Cars that break down! Thieves!

If you think you're gonna find a bargain at Satan’s, you can kiss my ass! It's our belief that you're such a stupid motherfucker you'll fall for this bullshit! Guaranteed!

If you find a better deal, shove it up your ugly ass! You heard us right, shove it up your ugly ass! Because at Big Satan’s, you're fucked six ways from Sunday!

Don't wait, don't delay, don't fuck with us, or we'll send you to deepest pits of Hell. Only at Big Satan’s, the only dealer that tells you to fuck off!

Hurry up, asshole! This event ends the minute after you write us a check, and it better not bounce or you're a dead motherfucker!

Go to hell! Big Satan’s Cars: Hell’s filthiest and exclusive home of the meanest sons of bitches in the state of Georgia! Guaranteed!❞‬

[rosebleue]

The new season world building is clearly based on vibes + aesthetic, which is groan inducing at points (sekhmet??? What?? A machine that makes you into a forgemaster? Why overcomplicate that??) but the writing is not as offensively bad or stupid as the first show, it's just mid. The author clearly isn't going for grimdark (because they changed writers over the other one allegedly being a sex pest, so it's a different guy) and it has a more idealistic tone. It's not hateful or terrible, it's just run of the mill vampire Netflix animation. Which is waaaaay better than I expected.

[what-yadoking-likes]

[Link to part 11 here] [Hey guys I’m Yado famously known for starting shit and not finishing it because she realises it’s way bigger than the cute one-two-three shot she’d initially planned]

Hearing Hoxton’s voice brought back that terrible image that had replayed in Wolf’s brain all last night - his fingers inching up that woman’s skirt, reaching up to finger-fuck her exactly how he wanted to be finger-fucked by him. 

Wolf spluttered around the cigarette.

“Choke up chicken, there’s a duck in the oven.” Hoxton said, amused.

When Wolf had finished his coughing fit, he turned to stare at the Brit. He was stood leaning casually against the brickwork of the Safehouse, smoking his own cigarette with a relieved sigh.

He should really address the other stuff first, but Wolf was not known for making wise decisions.

“You... what did you say?”

Hoxton chuckled to himself, gazing off to the side fondly.

“It’s somethin’ me Nan used to say whenever one of us started coughin’. ‘Choke up chicken, there’s a duck in the oven.’ Always coming out with stupid sayings, she is.” Hoxton turned his gaze back to Wolf, his wistful smile curling into a slight frown. “You alright, Wolfie?”

‘No, I’m not alright. I thought you and I had something before you went and got yourself locked up, and then the first night we have out as a group together I see you making out with some girl in a dirty fucking nightclub. Oh, and let’s not forget how I was forced into surgery to remove the Hanahaki disease I had because of you, because I was in love with you and almost died. So, no. I’m not fucking alright, mate.’

“I’m hungover,” was what Wolf said instead, knowing that despite the shower he still looked haggard, his skin splotchy and uneven, his eyes darkened with bruise-like dark circles, his eyes bloodshot from a lack of proper sleep. Compared to the others even when he was well-rested and hydrated, Wolf felt inadequate - he didn’t have the suave charm that Dallas had - he couldn’t flirt like Sokol, thrumming with boundless energy promising filth and debauchery all night long - and he wasn’t as attractive as them, either.

And then there was Hoxton. Hoxton, with his sleek, black hair. Wolf wanted to bury his face in it, drink in his scent, tug at the roots, see whether Hoxton liked a pinch of pain to his pleasure. 

The swagger and confidence that had Wolf weak at the knees, willing to do whatever he asked. Hell, he’d sink to his knees right there and then if Hoxton asked him to.

That clever tongue with witticisms, biting sarcasm and funny jibes. Surely it was just as clever at kissing, at licking, at parting his cheeks and -

[the--other]

People keep politely asking to give you soup, and you keep on rejecting it. Clearly the only answer is to forcibly give you soup.

I'm not going to do it now but I suggest you sleep with one eye open. <3

⚠️ CW For Foul Language just in case lol

" And good fucking luck with that, you absolute piece of shit! Because I don't fucking sleep! "

He doesn't need to when inside.

" I AM NOT EATING YOUR FUCKING GARBAGE. SO SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!!! "

[asaarii]

ft: mainstream!mark and variants (mohawk, viltrum, omni, sheisty, sinister) (invincible) reader: fem wc: 2604 summary: hey siri is it gay to want to crack the female version of my dead best friend? cw: canon typical violence, foul language, and the variants are kinda sorta freaky in this requested by: @sophsthebest

this was so fun to write lowk and I would've been done faster if not for the blood moon event in dbd so err yeah I'm going to go die in a hole now

Life is strange, really. 

One moment, you’re helping refold shirts because some people don’t even have the decency to put stuff back to where they found it, and the next, an international warning tells you to stay inside because there are evil variants of your boyfriend now roaming the Earth with unclear intentions.

You share a look with your coworker, who looks just as off-put by the information, her fingers curling around her phone as her brow dips. Just as her lips part to speak, the first building falls. It’s only a few blocks away, and the ground beneath your feet trembles at its sudden collapse.

You hear the screams of those out on the street, internally debating whether or not to follow suit until a notification from Mark lights up your screen, the ridiculous nickname you’d set when you were twelve a small comfort to your racing heart.

MarkyWarky: please tell me you’re okay

You: i’m fine

You: i’m just scared mark 

You: why are there so many versions of you anyway…

MarkyWarky: i wish i could tell you

MarkyWarky: just stay put alright im otw

The message does little to soothe, and you can’t help but stare at your screen with nothing but apprehension. Your coworker is quick to seize you by the arm when the sound of collapsing buildings and wailing cars draws closer, ushering you into the break room with the floor manager as though the small, unwindowed room would protect you from the raw strength of a Viltrumite.

“Holy shit, we’re gonna die…We’re actually going to die…” The floor manager, Kasandra, curls into herself with tears already welled in her eyes as she chokes back a sob. No one says anything, unable to face the grim reality at steak when debris begins to crumble around you. You all huddle into the furthest corner as your hope in Mark begins to wane.

Small pieces of rubble hit your head as you tuck your head tightly into Kasandra’s shaking shoulder, the lights overhead flickering violently when the ceiling begins to cave in on itself. There’s no use holding back the tears now and you can’t hide your anguished cries, unheard over the collapsing infrastructure.

This is it, you think, mentally saying your goodbyes to everyone you’ve grown to love. Amber. Eve. William. Mark—oh, Mark. The annoying boy next door who grew to be your first love. 

Sparks flare as the light above you finally collapses, but you don’t feel a throbbing pain in your head or death’s cold embrace, instead, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar pair of arms, still clinging to an almost catatonic Kasandra while your coworker grips the forearm wrapped around the three of you.

“I’ve got you,” a voice in your ear says, and you can feel the tears begin to well once more, though, this time out of relief. Mark is quick to shoot from the rubble, hold unwavering before he sets the three of you down and urges you to run to safety.

Your two coworkers are quick to flee, but you stupidly linger, worry etched onto your features at the sight of Mark’s beaten face and tattered suit. In the distance, you can see Eve facing valiantly against a variant, the odd cloth mask adorned on his face his most defining trait. She pants, her palms facing outward to just barely raise a shield against his erratic punches.

Mark pulls your attention back to him, face pinched as his thumb traces your lower lip in an attempt to ground both you and himself. His lips are soft against your forehead for a brief moment before he pulls back, staring at you through his cracked goggles with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“I love you,” you whisper, stroking his bruised cheek softly.

“I love you too. But, you need to go. Now. I’ll check on you soon, promise.”

So, you run as fast as your legs can carry you, doing your best to ignore the ruins and corpses that seem to block every turn.

You don’t get far.

A shadow overhead blocks the sun—its presence so oppressive and commandeering that it freezes you in place.

“Another survivor?” 

You can’t bring yourself to turn despite the way your heart lurches at the familiarity of the voice. Your breath hitches when the shadow lowers—whatever twisted version of Mark this is drawing ever closer like a lion to its prey.

“I thought those other two were the last of them, but what’s one more?” The voice is cold, almost clinical, very unlike the warmth that radiated off of your Mark. A glove is quick to find purchase on your throat, and you glance down to see the red rubber shining beneath the sun.

Blood coats the hand, tinting the glove an even darker shade of red than what you’d first surmised. You try not to think about the warmth of it as his grip grows tighter, making it harder to breathe, but not enough to kill, like he’s messing with you in some cruel, twisted way.

“You’re this dimension’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” His lips press against the shell of your ear, jerking your body to face the fight between Mark and the clothed one from before alongside Eve, who reaches out to you weakly before eventually crashing against the side of one of the buildings. Your Mark wheezes, clutching at his chest when the cloth-masked variant throws him into a nearby building by the hair. “Pathetic.”

The sound barrier tears as another Mark enters the fray, his mohawk wild and unkempt in the wind as he grins at the sight of battle, though there’s no amusement behind his smile. “Who the hell do you think you are running off like that?” For a moment, his wild eyes slip to where you and your captor reside, a flicker of…something flashing through his before it fizzles away. “Keeping hostages alive? Didn’t peg you for the cruel type.”

You barely register the click of the Invincible’s tongue over the roaring beat of your heart, his thumb remaining stationary over your pulse point; a warning. He could snap your neck at any given moment, and you don’t know what’s stopping him, but you’re grateful for whatever’s causing him to hesitate.

“Come on, just put her out of her misery already,” the mohawked Mark goads with a small shrug as he pulls his fist back to punch your Mark into the concrete when the cloth-masked variant throws him in his direction. Cracks split beneath your feet at the sheer force, the ground almost giving way, but all you can do is watch as your Mark slowly gets up from the crater his body had formed. 

He locks eyes with you, something snapping inside of him at the sight of the variant clad in a suit nearly identical to Omni-Man’s wrapping his hand around your throat.

“[Name]!” He calls out, bursting free from the grasp of the two other Marks with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Time seems to freeze the moment your name leaves his bloodied lips, the Mark holding you hostage too stunned to react when your Mark’s fist collides with his jaw hard enough to send him three blocks away. It isn’t long until you’re swept into Mark’s arms, the hold both protective and possessive as he glares at the other two, his chest heaving with each labored breath he struggles to take.

“No fuckin’ way.” The mohawked variant blinks slowly, his lips pulling into a mix of a grimace and a smirk. “That’s unfair on so many levels.” He turns to the Mark in a cloth mask who seems to share the same sentiment, mumbling under his breath about how unfair it is that this version of him gets the hot babe.

Omni-Man Mark merely scoffs when he floats back, his suit still pristine as though he’d never been thrown at all while he crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the way you tremble in this version of him’s hold. You aren’t the best friend he’d killed mercilessly back in his dimension. Here, you were a woman—his woman. And he’d be damned if he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone.

A best friend and a wife. Who would’ve thought?

While he’d never seen the other, male, version of you in a romantic light, his heart stirs at the thought of taking this version of you for himself. It’s not like it’ll take much to kill this Mark; he’s already as good as dead anyway—

“Is everything alright here?” Clad in white and silver, yet another version of Mark descends from the sky like some sort of disgraced angel. 

“Ugh, why are you here?” Mohawk Mark rolls his eyes obnoxiously, his gaze only briefly flickering to the new variant.

“Angstrom sent me to see if you all were sticking to the plan, which clearly you aren’t.”

“Aww, the lil’Viltrum baby can’t do anything without a mission? How sad!” He bats his lashes dramatically before sneering. “What are you gonna do next, bark? Who gives a shit about the plan? You’re acting as if you weren’t gonna kill him after anyway!” 

The Mark in the Viltrum uniform chooses not to dignify him with a response.

Unbothered by his counterpart’s nonchalance, the mohawked Mark sets his sights back on you, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome you in with a hug. “Hey, [Name], it’s just me. Just Mark. Your best friend, remember? We used to play CoD and shit when your parents were out.”

Viltrum Mark’s brows furrow at the familiar name, steady gaze finally paying you mind as you try to sink further into the Mark of this dimension’s arms. You’re a lot…softer than he recalls you being, your form far less filled out; almost feminine. But, that couldn’t be right, right? How cruel would it be for this version of him to have the perfect mate whilst he, while grateful for your prior companionship, was stuck with nothing more than a best friend? One that he’d ultimately killed for resisting.

Surely, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Then he hears it—they all hear it.

The small terrified whimper you let out, the sound almost heavenly as you try to curl into Mark like your life depends on it. Which you suppose it does at this very moment.

A collective groan settles across all the present variations of Mark, all differing levels of arousal. They can practically taste the fear emanating off of you, stalking closer like a pack of deranged wolves.

Disgust pulls at Mark’s lips at the look in their eyes, his arms trembling around you as the last line of defense between you and these monstrous versions of him. “What the hell are you guys on about?” He seethes, only to be met by a suffocating silence.

Viltrum Mark appears in front of you before you and Mark can process his presence, tearing you out of your boyfriend’s arms despite your screaming protests. His grip is firm, but it’s the underlying softness in it that has you trembling with both fear and confusion. One of his hands finds your chin, stroking the contour of your jaw while his thumb gently presses down on your lower lip in a similar fashion that your Mark had done earlier.

“You’re [Name].” His face twists with perplexion as he speaks. “But, you’re so soft.” You feel his other hand fall from your arm, settling on your hip as if to prove a point. He squeezes and prods the fat, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the soft skin underneath, his fingers splaying against your stomach while his nose buries itself in your neck. “You’d be a great mother.”

No.

No.

No.

This can’t be happening—

You’re pulled into another set of arms. These ones leaner yet more possessive than the Viltrum Mark’s. But not yours.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you.” Mohawk Mark’s voice rasps mockingly above you, his arm curling around you and dangerously close to your breasts. You know he feels your heart stop, snorting cruelly as he pulls you flush against him. His gloved hand tilts your chin up to him cruelly, relishing in the way tears well in your eyes.

“P-Please…” You weakly claw at his wrist despite knowing how useless it is in comparison to his innate strength.

Holy fuck, he could get used to the sound of that.

Man, why couldn’t you be a girl in his world too? Oh, the things he would do to you. How he would ruin you. He wonders if you’re similar to his [Name], the [Name] who trusted him to do the right thing only to die trying to stop what’s already been done. Do you play the same sport as your male counterpart? Enjoy the same food? Ah, whatever, you’re still his, no matter his relation to you. Best friend or otherwise.

“Get away from her you fucking freak!” Your Mark’s garbled voice reaches your ears, his fist colliding with the side of the mohawked variant’s head, sending him careening into the white-clad Viltrumite. Mark doesn’t even get the chance to look over you before he shoots into the air with you in his hold, tucking your head into his shoulder as he whispers calming words into the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby,” he echoes his prior sentiment, flying as fast as he can with the cloth-mask and Omni-Man wannabe hot on his tail.

A familiar red glove catches Mark’s leg, snapping it easily. Mark screams, his teeth grinding as he pivots his other leg directly into the variant’s face, no doubt breaking his nose before he crashes into the cloth-masked Mark, who yells obscenities as the two of them crash into the city below.

Finally, silence settles between the two of you. Heavy with confusion. Heavy with fear.

“What the hell was that…” You cling to him, trembling like a newborn fawn in his hold.

“I—I don’t know.” He buries his nose in your neck as he lowers into a desolate field miles away from any civilization, breathing in your comforting scent beneath the smell of iron and ash that seem to cling to your skin while he settles against a tree. The field is peaceful; untouched by the destruction that plagues the rest of the world.

“...What about Eve and the others?” You hesitate, palms hovering over his broken leg to do your best to put the limb back together. The bone melds back together grotesquely, it's disgusting snap a sound you think you’ll never get used to.

“Eve slipped away before things got ugly. I’m not too sure about the others…” He lets out a low hiss, his fingers digging into the ground when his skin gets pulled tautly back into place. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I won’t let them get to you, not as long as I’m still breathing, alright?”

“Okay,” you breathe out, collapsing into his chest as you try not to think about everything you’ve lost in such a short amount of time. He kisses your forehead gently, leaning back against the tree for only a moment of respite.

“Aww, what a cute sight.” A patronizing voice overhead has both of you snapping your heads to the sound. Clad in yellow and black with a billowing cape behind him, this version of Mark sneers, his gaze looking between you and Mark. His brows raise beneath his mask, lips forming something akin to a sadistic grin. “Well, well, well. You’re looking a bit different here, aren’t you, [Name]?”

Shit.

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site or run my works through ai

[satorena]

#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation! & shoutout to @yung-notorious for the idea <3

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

[enhaflixer]

HARD HOURS - Husband!enhypen texting you that they're horny while you're at work cw(18+ MDNI) : explicit mentions, foul language, suggestive. Taglist: @ziiao @ddolleri @naurwayyyyy @seonhoon @zzhengyu @ijustwannareadstuff20 @somuchdard @beariegyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🌟 ̟ !! gold star redemption program. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ ʙʟᴜᴇ ʟᴏᴄᴋ's ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇʀ

✿ ─ synopsis: you are the new manager for team blue lock and you have a great idea to make the players get along better. after all, positive reinforcement worked really well on dogs, why not men? ✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, itoshi rin, chigiri hyoma + kunigami rensuke referenced ✿ ─ cw: smut, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, aged-up!characters(18+), pet names, kissing, penetrative sex, oral receiving/giving, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, non-exclusive relationships, lots of jealousy, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, shidou is an asshole, rin threatens murder, somewhat proofread ✿ ─ notes: okay so every is going to ignore the logistics and mental gymnastics done to put all these guys on the same team and have any of this go on, right? cool. this work was requested by @anastasiablossomlove pls enjoy!

managing team blue lock was no task for a person of average conviction. anyone with less of a spine would be easily trampled and consumed by the members, all with big personalities and even bigger egos. you took to the role with exceptional organizational skills and a positive attitude that didn’t falter, even under the cold glares of the less compliant men of the team (cough cough itoshi rin cough cough barou shouei). before the end of your first week you had drafted up detailed and individualized meal plans, unique to each of them. by the second you had worked with the coach to create special training regimes that works towards their fitness goals while providing challenge and variety. right under their noses you dug your pretty fingers into every part of team blue lock, finding every issue and soothing every conflict, turning a group of somewhat wild animals into a well functioning machine with you at its core.

and not a detail slipped your eye. you could always tell when kunigami had pushed himself too hard in the gym by the stiffness in his shoulders. honestly you doubt you would’ve been able to convince him to let you help him if he wasn’t just as sore as you predicted. but the minute your palms were pressing into his back he was groaning in relief, “you’re an angel” grumbled under his breath. he’s a bit less embarrassed the next time around, blushing while asking you to fix him like you did last time.

you quickly took responsibility for doing chigiri’s hair before every practice and game. after seeing it fall out of its style and flap wildly in his face whenever he reached top speed on the field, you decided he needed something a little more reliable to keep it out the way so his eyes could stay on the ball. though when his hair was this soft, who could blame you for taking a bit longer than necessary, brushing through the knots and gently scratching at his scalp. plus, he didn’t seem to mind all that much, always red faced and all smiles, leaning into your touch. the thank you kiss he plants on your cheek lingers long enough to leave a matching blush on your face as a token of his appreciation.

being the backbone of their system earned you respect, acknowledgement, even affection from the overly friendly members of the team (cough cough bachira meguru cough cough shidou ryusei). no one could deny the benefits of having you around, always offering all kinds of helpful advice and showed not a shred of judgment when listening to their problems. and you weren’t exactly ignorant to the fact that your constant support was causing some of your new friends to become especially attached to you. maybe to someone else it would be a bigger concern, but in your eyes, this was only another opportunity to do more for your team.

that’s why you implemented the gold star redemption program to help motivate them. it was quite simple to follow, you had a chart with all of their names along with cute, slightly wonky doodles of them, and a list of ways to earn gold stars. from goals and assists to being on good behavior, whatever way they earn their stars, team members can then cash them in for certain prizes from you. the list had looked something like this…

2 ☆ = snack or drink of your choice 4 ☆ = a home cooked meal 5 ☆ = a kiss <3 7 ☆ = a massage <33 10 ☆ = private training session <333

the objective was to give incentives towards cooperation. not to mention, it’s always good to strengthen bonds with your team members. it seems, however, that you underestimated how much of your time this new system would take up. or maybe you just overestimated how easy it would be to keep up with the greedy desires of so many egoists at once.

ever since your arrival, anyone with eyes could see that isagi yoichi carried a torch for you. you let him talk your ear off for hours about tactics and players, never tired of his company or too busy for his rambles. it gets his heart thumping obnoxiously loud in his chest. so yoichi makes it his objective to dote on you as much as possible to try to make up for all the time you spend fussing over everybody else. always staying after practice to help you or walking you home. so when you start handing out stars for that kind of stuff, isagi is already making a steady income. he considers himself a gentleman, so at first he spends his stars on meals. and he’s more than happy to eat your cooking, stirring up all kinds of wifey fantasies in his head and enjoying his lunches with you. but at night, when he’s lying in bed, the big ticket item at the bottom of the prize board haunts him. and when he can’t take it anymore, he slips into your tiny little office that you share with the coach, a self-satisfied smile on his face when he lets you know that he just finished the stat sheets you asked him to fill out, earning him his tenth gold star. enough for one private training session.

in all the times you thought about sex with isagi, you’re not sure you ever pictured it to be like this. bent over your own desk, tennis skirt bunched up around your waist, your star player too eager to sink into your pussy to even push down your underwear. they stayed tugged to the side, thoroughly soaked from the way his hips meet yours in sloppy desperate thrusts. “i knew i needed to fuck you when i saw this skirt,” he confesses, eyes fixed to the point where you connect, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you, “you’ve been tempting me all day, so be a good girl and take my cock, okay?” before you can respond he hooks a finger into the elastic of your panties to let it snap back against your skin, drawing a small yelp from you. he changs the angle to fuck you harder, deeper. you wonder if this could be the same sweet yoichi that carries your things and bashfully tells you your outfit looks good.

apparently that yoichi doesn’t exist once he’s balls deep inside you, all that’s left is the side of him you’ve only caught glimpses of when he’s dominating his opponents on the field. and if you thought that it was a chance encounter, you’re sorely mistaken as week after week isagi makes sure he earns his ten stars and you get to know just how mean he can be. his grip is always tight around your hair, whether it’s pulling and steering you into the position he wants or guiding your head down to take more of his dick. god forbid he asks you nicely for something like he always does when you’re not ‘training’. one time you even had the gall to suggest the idea to him and lived to regret it as now if you want anything from him, isagi is only accepting the most convincing of your begs. “c'mon princess, mind your manners, if you wanna cum then you’re gonna have to ask really nicely.” and no teary eyed puppy dog look will get you what you want, even when he makes getting your words out so difficult. truthfully, he never intends to be so hard on you, but having you crying and begging for his cock is the only way to soothe the devil on his shoulder that tries to tell him to take you for himself. in the aftermath, you start to recognize your yoichi again, sheepish in his apologies for how rough he was with you, kissing away the tears that run down your face. he’s lucky you’re too fucked out to charge him for them.

there’s not a world where you offer bachira meguru sexual favors in exchange for playing soccer and he says no. he was already gonna do that anyway, and now not only does he get to make even more of a game out of it, but his reward for winning is the cute little manager he’s had his eyes on for far too long? consider him sold. bachira knows it would be most fun for him to save up and have sex with you as soon as possible, but all of a sudden he has five and he’s itching for a kiss. one he decides to give you right before practice starts… in front of the whole team. but can you blame him? he’s already been waiting forever to feel those pretty glossed lips on his, you couldn’t really expect him to make it through the next few hours when he’s so close to getting what he wants. and you could maybe understand that, but was it really necessary to go for a full open-mouthed wet almost make out that left you panting when everyone’s eyes were already on you? you suspect not, but bachira doubles down, telling you it was of upmost importance that he got it in, else he wouldn’t be able to focus. he neglects to tell you that he overheard reo in the locker room talking about what he was gonna do now that he had five stars. shidou already made it very clear that he would be first to ten, so bachira had to be crafty in order to secure at least one first from you.

meguru was certainly one of the more needy players, right under nagi that required some form of encouragement every step of the way to get anything done. bachira usually does what you tell him to, but not without whining about deserving a prize for being good. quite frankly, you dread having to ask anything of him, because he is determined to be fully compensated for even the smallest of requests. even a task as easy as grabbing something on a high shelf was met with a cheeky smirk and a request for a kiss. and don’t think he’ll budge either, holding the item hostage if he thinks he can squeeze two out of you. it didn’t make it any easier that bachira didn’t possess a shy bone in his whole body, openly showering you in affection when the others were around, holding your hand and nuzzling his face into your collar. it was enough to make even a professional like you blush. he acted as if he was oblivious to the jealous stares of his friends, but the smug cat-like smirk he sends them and the way he only holds you tighter when you try to shyly brush him off gives him away. it may come as a surprise considering his reputation for being a bit delusional, but bachira tries to root himself in reality for once. he frequently reminds himself of the nature of your relationship and tries his best not let his imagination run wild with anything that would be beyond the boundaries you’ve clearly set. things like picturing himself taking you on dates, coming home to you at night, introducing you to his mom. they were all too dangerous to let his mind settle on them for too long.

and what better distraction than burying his face between your thighs. it’s hard to think of much when he hasn’t bothered to stop lapping at your cunt long enough to take a breath in a couple minutes. suffocating was the least of his concerns when the clench around his fingers lets him know your orgasm is just around the corner. meguru swears that your pathetic little whimpers and the slick dripping down his chin are like a straight hit of dopamine to his brain and he’s at real risk of addiction at this point. lidded amber eyes travel up to watch your expression twist into one of pleasure as you gasp out his name. now that catches his interest. when your vision clears and your brain is functioning again after that intense high, you search for his comfort as if you had done any of the hard work. but all you’re met with is that signature wild look that he gets when he brushing past the enemy team’s defense straight towards his goal. it’s your only warning that he’s far from tired and even farther from sated. “if i can keep going, so can you baby. i know you have more for me. jus’ need t’see you make that face one more time.” you have no room to protest, his tongue already finding your clit and working towards bringing you to the edge once again. by your fourth time cumming, you’re sobbing for a break and debating whether you should charge him four times over or give him a star for each one.

someone who was on board with your system from the second that you explained how it worked, was shidou ryusei. what better way to celebrate another one of his blood pumping, heart stopping performances than racing to the locker room to blow a load in his favorite girl while his teammates debrief with the coach? to him it was simple, you fuck him, you feed him, you take care of him, you spend time with him. shidou is, by all of his definitions, dating you. while some might be turned off by the idea of dating someone who isn’t offering exclusivity, he didn’t see it as much of an obstacle. not when he spent star stickers like a gambler on a slot machine, having you multiple times a week if the economy allowed it. and if he’s short a few, no worries, ryusei is quite the negotiator. it starts one week when he’s only missing a star or two, promising he’ll pay back the difference, you know he’s a good customer. it’s probably not a good idea to give in to him though, as the next time he wants a private training session, he’ll insist they’re only nine stars for him. he has made all kinds of fake coupons from 50% Off! to Buy One Get One Free! to even a homemade punch card in his own terrible handwriting. shidou was the first one to ever get a star taken away when he tried to give you an arby’s gift card in exchange for a blowjob. he didn’t try that tactic again.

the worst is when he tries to haggle in the middle of sex. your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his tip is kissing your cervix when he chooses to whine about not being able to kiss you because he has no stars left. he worked too hard to get good star credit, he can’t go into star debt!! “ and with his lips just hovering over yours, his hot breath fanning across your face, how could you say no? in a moment of weakness, you have unfortunately given an inch to shidou, infamous mile taker, and now it’s hard to get him to pay for any of his kisses, especially while he’s fucking you. you thank god that at the very least no one knows he’s been getting them for free… if only shidou would allow your life to be that easy. even worse than giving him an inch, you expected shidou to keep a secret. and you thought his big mouth was something you liked about him. until he’s using it to brag to everyone that he’s your favorite, practically your boyfriend, all because you let him get away with a smooch here and there. let’s just say you had to give out a lot of free kisses to smooth over the problem his bragging habits created.

honestly ryusei was starting to cause a lot of confusion outside of the team with his antics. what with his always hanging off your arm, giving you as much affection as you’d tolerate, calling you sweet nicknames. the people in your life were actually starting to believe you two were dating. not that shidou does anything to discourage such rumors, only grinning and agreeing every time someone mistakes you as a couple. hell, he was starting to get you confused, saying things during your training sessions that certainly didn’t fit the transactional nature of the act. “holy shit you’re so tight- love this pussy, l-love you so much. say my name. c’mon baby, say you love me and i’ll make you feel so fucking good.” and only because ryusei always makes good on his promises do you allow yourself another moment of weakness.

itoshi rin didn’t have much interest or faith in you upon first introduction. he sized you up as some nobody doing this whole manager thing as a fun extracurricular, so as long as you stayed out of his way he didn’t care what you did. with his luck, he shouldn’t be surprised that you were immediately in his way, extremely often, rambling to him about ideas and strategies that he had no intention on listening to. although even he could admit, he understood why the others were so easily charmed by you. he was wrong about how seriously you took your job. not that it changed anything. at least that’s what rin tells himself, but in reality your relentless efforts and endless dedication to supporting all of them was something that spoke to him, made him a bit soft for you. it didn’t help that you were his type in every sense of the word, your attractiveness doing nothing but make feigning indifference a lot harder for rin. your seemingly endless patience didn’t help either. you always responded in kind to all of rin’s harsh words and cold stares, never let his sour attitude deter your subtle acts of service like getting grass stains out of his uniform and making sure he stays unbothered during his yoga. against his will, he was slowly warming up to you, but you were still caught off guard when rin started cashing in his stars, even if it was just a meal. he had lots of them sitting idle on the chart waiting to be used, so you supposed it was only natural for him to get some free food out of it. but you were even more taken aback when a couple days later he requested a massage from you with insistence that he only asks because he’s been extremely tense as of late. which wasn’t entirely untrue. rin had been very tense. just not from anything soccer related like he’d like you to believe. he was tense from the stress of his budding feelings for you combined with the dread of knowing he probably will never have you all to himself. at least not with this stupid reward system in place.

he despises it. he absolutely hates going about his day knowing there are other guys, his shithead teammates, that are getting your time, attention, and affection for the price of a couple of stupid fucking stickers. he misses the days when shidou’s incessant bragging about how many times he was able to make you cum or bachira’s unnecessary details of what your pussy tastes like didn’t bother him. now his blood boils to hear them talk about you like that. that kind of anger makes it clear to him that being your friend was simply not an option anymore. which is how he settled on getting a massage from you. he would satisfy this overwhelming craving he has for you and go back to normal and be able to focus solely on becoming best in the world again without thoughts of you plaguing his mind. that was his hope going into it, but feeling your warm touch on his bare back, melting away years of untreated knots and neglected aches in his body, he could almost blush at the intimacy he feels. especially when that foreign kindness he loves so much is on display as you reassure him that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and that you’re proud he finally put his pride aside long enough to let you help him. you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker now. no use in struggling so hard, he supposes, as some part of him knows he’s doomed to fall sooner or later. perhaps it’s time to surrender. he fought a good fight, but his greed for you was candidly too tough of an opponent.

and to rin, surrender looked like asking you when’s the soonest he could book a private training session. you don’t think you could look any more shocked. rin had a quick turn around from someone you doubted even liked you, to someone reserving as much of your time as his stars could buy. the more often he was with you, the less time you spent giving those lukewarm brats the treatment he wants reserved for him. and he wishes he gave in a lot sooner when he feels the wet heat of your mouth around his cock for the first time. how fast he would’ve folded if he knew how pretty you would look on your knees for him. rin tried to be gentle and let you set the pace, but between hissing out curses and barely biting back moans, that same greed to get more from you has his hand twisting itself in your hair and pushing down on the back of your head. he couldn’t help it. and it was so worth it to watch you choke and sputter around his length but never pull away. he knew you weren’t a quitter. “shit, feels good… don’t stop,” he all but gasps, hips instinctively jumping to reach further down your throat, grip tightening when you try to come up for air. after a long moment of breathing through your nose you relax enough to let him ease himself the rest of the way in. rin sighs in relief when your nose finally presses against his pelvis. the way you look up at him starry-eyed and full of adoration made his chest feel heavy with desire to be the only one you ever look at. it drives him crazy that any guy on the team can see you like this, and that heartache has rin fucking your face to forget it. “fuckkk. don’t look away, eyes on me, g’nna cum in that pretty mouth.”

you couldn’t deny that your new attempt at encouraging the team had its kinks. while overall the amount of arguments that broke out between players lessened to keep on good star-earning behavior, you could tell that it came with its own set of tension creating problems. you also couldn’t deny that being pulled in every direction by men vying for your attention was both very time consuming and extremely gratifying, but you think you manage it well. save for when they were already pumped up with adrenaline from a game, that is when real issues arise. especially when a player from the enemy team thinks it’s a good idea to try and hit on the cute little lady holding the clipboard. fatal mistake.

it starts with your favorite pot stirrer, bachira, calling out from his position, making everyone else on the team aware of the situation. “no shot dude, she don’t want you! focus on losing!” you’re confident you can diffuse whatever is about to go down before you notice rin leaving the ball alone in centerfield to beeline straight towards you. threats are flying from his lips on approach, quick to get in the guy’s face, planting his hands on his shoulders to shove him back. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing? i’ll kill you if you don’t get the fuck away from her.” you think maybe you have a shot of getting rin under control if you just- your eyes widen in horror as a flash moves in from your peripheral. there are no words, just shidou drop kicking this poor stranger at top speed. you cringe as you watch shidou knocks this guy off his feet, cleats first, taking rin down with him. what a way to earn a red card.

this was a fun project and request tysm!!! i just went about it in the interpretation i found most interesting, i really hope it was to your liking!!!

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