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rustedhearts · 11 months

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hurt (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: steve’s looking to blow off some steam after his first title fight loss, and you tend to him the best you know how.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the king of ring ♡

tags: make way for steve's ego!, smut, like...accidental size kink idk how that happened honestly, steve's not an official dom b/c we don't do that anymore around here but he's a dom, little bit of blood, more biting!!, bruising.

dallas, texas april 1991

"Goddamn it!"

The door to Steve's dressing room flung open, hurling toward the wall with a resounding bang. You flinched, slowly standing to your feet from your place on the leather couch. You were carted back stage by an assistant a few minutes ago, just as the arena, and all of America, saw the referee raise Steve's opponent's fist in victory—for the first time in his career.

Steve stomped into the room, beat red and dripping sweat. He was practically steaming. Your palms slicked as Big and Mikey trailed in behind him, prepared to do damage control.

"Harrington...it happens—"

"—to amateurs. To losers. Not to me," Steve snapped, voice booming and sharper than a sword. You jumped again when his gloves went flying into the wall.

He flattened his damp hair against his skull, fingers jumping and arms buzzing. You could see it brewing on his face—he was going to explode. His jaw clenched, his eyes darted around the room, he began to pace. Tick, tick, tick. It was only a matter of time before he'd burst.

"It's one loss, Steve," you piped up, stepping toward him to comfort. "It's really not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of—"

"Undefeated, Libby. Y' know what undefeated fuckin' means?"

You felt the strain of muscles in your face, how gravity pulled them downward. Big, hands on his hips and head cocked disapprovingly, glanced at you. It was getting easier to spot the cracks between the pair of you these days.

"Steve," you sighed, gathering his gloves from the floor to place them in his bag. "I'm just saying—"

"—I'm not supposed to fucking lose! And maybe I wouldn't 've, if you did your fuckin' research."

You craned to look over your shoulder, finding Steve's gaze on his coach. Steve had taken a step closer, now toe to toe with a man much larger than him. Big—graced with a name that, in all reality, didn't do the sheer size of him justice—fixed Steve with a steady, unimpressed stare. But the thing about Steve when he was angry? Truly angry, seething, seeing black.

He'd fight anyone just to feel release.

"Come on, man," Big huffed, head shaking.

You zipped up Steve's duffel, sinking down on the couch again to rub your temples. This was going to be a long night.

"He was a switch hitter. Woulda been a good thing to know...don't you think? Huh?" Steve sneered, looking up his nose at his coach.

Big held his hands up in surrender. "These things happen, Harrington—"

"Not. To. Me."

The room fell to a ringing silence. Mikey lingered near the door, anxiously petting his mustache. The paparazzi were waiting, huddled at the end of the tunnel for a snap of Steve, 'The King of the Ring' Harrington's first loss. He had a post-fight conference in forty minutes. The endorsement representatives would be coming by to offer their pitiful condolences that you knew would only enrage him.

"They don't fuckin' happen to me," Steve growled, pounding at his glistening, heaving chest with a gauze-wrapped fist.

Big just shrugged, watching Steve turn to stomp your way. You stood, reaching for his arms. All you wanted was to comfort him, soothe him, bring him back to that grumpy but agreeable Steve you all knew. You'd never seen him like this—because he'd never been like this. He'd never lost.

Big inched forward on one foot, but when Steve was merely stiff and silent in your gentle, stroking touch, the coach backed away toward the door. He was always a little cautious after the incident in New York last year. He didn't like the way Steve grabbed you, and he didn't like the way he kept doing it ever since.

Mikey opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, searching for something to say but too afraid to muster it into words. Steve looked murderous. His huffing and puffing was so loud you worried he'd start to hyperventilate.

"Try to cool it before the cameras start, would you?" Big opened the door, turning to direct a pointed look Steve's way.

Steve, facing you but glaring over your head at the wall, turned sharply toward his coach. "Fuck you."

The door muffled Big's sigh, and you parroted the sound as Mikey disappeared behind him and Steve immediately ripped away from you. Your hands fell to your sides limply, chest squeezing tight.

"Steve—"

"—m' showering."

You took a small step after him toward the showers. "But—"

He stomped off, sneakers slapping on the damp tile. He disappeared around the corner, and you deflated in the center of the dressing room with a frown. When the stream of water hissed, you sank back down on the couch and waited, eyes aching and head pounding, a sour taste like acid in your mouth.

♡ ♡

Steve skipped the press conference. The press would call him a sore loser, his opponent would look like a gracious, genuine fighter, and his endorsements would call Mikey berating and scolding him for his client's actions.

But Steve didn't care. He couldn't face a crowd of reporters and paparazzi as a loser. A failure. He'd face them as a winner, or nothing at all.

They called him The King. His crown was starting to fall. You just wished he could step down from the throne every once in a while.

On the ride home, you reached for his hand and flinched when he flicked yours back into your lap. You searched for his eyes but met only the side of his face. Those hard cheekbones, purpled and blued; that swollen brow bone, torn at the corner and weeping red. His lip was fat and he kept running his tongue over the slit in the righthand corner. You knew he was reveling in the sting, bathing in the pain. He needed it when his fists started shaking like this.

Yet despite the visceral fury physically steaming off him, he was eerily...calm. Calm for Steve, calm for a man with a head as a hot as hell itself.

When Steve was silent like this, you knew a nightmare was brewing.

The car pulled in front of the hotel doors, and Steve yanked your door open with such monstrous force that you worried it would come right off the hinges. Some men had a Midas touch. Steve's was Herculean.

He was silent in the elevator, huffing only short, sharp breaths through his nose. He was silent through the hall, stomping with long, bounding strides. He was silent when he slammed the hotel door after you and tossed his duffel on the velvet chaise lounge near the bar. He was silent as he eased back against the black marble and crossed his arms.

You slowly slipped off your heels, hooking your fingers in the straps to bring them toward your luggage in the other room. You eyed him carefully as you passed him, breezing by in a whiff of sweet, citrusy perfume. The diamonds in your ears flashed his eye with a streak of white, catching the lamplight on the end table.

You were nearly to your destination when his gruff voice cut through the tender quiet.

"C'mere."

You paused, surprised just by the sound of his voice. You turned halfway, digesting his demand. Stern, rigid, empty. It mirrored his expression: emotionless. Your heels dangled near your thigh, fingers curling tighter around the straps.

Steve lifted his chin, eyes rolling away from the floor to fix steady on you. They held that heavy-hooded look you were always wary of. He had his fists tucked under his biceps, enlarging the bulging muscles, protruding the overworked veins. The thin black cotton stretched across his body strained.

Your cheeks flamed and your insides wriggled about the same way they do when he whispers in your ear. You stepped your legs a little closer to each other, tightening between your thighs.

"Steve, I—"

"—come. here."

You held his gaze, face half shadowed by the dark side of the room, brightened by the gentle lamplight on the other. His chest rose and fell steadily, and yours struggled with every inhale. He didn't twitch an inch, didn't move a muscle. The solidity to his steadiness always unnerved you. Right now, it made you want to take a bite of his bicep, where the skin was warm and firm and you knew it would taste like salty sweat.

Right now, the way he was staring at you like you had no other choice but to come to him—like he knew you would listen to him because he had such a deep, clawing, biblically powerful hold over you—made you want to devour him.

You dropped your heels on the carpet, where they landed with a muffled thud. You took small, breezy steps toward him. You felt like you were gliding. You felt so much smaller than you were, so minuscule and tiny under his pinning stare. You felt like he could cup you into his hands and crush you, and something about that thought made you tingle.

You came to a stop when your toes brushed his boots, sweaty sneakers discarded in his gym bag. Palms sticky at your sides, fingers grasping for the hem of your black dress, you tipped your head back to meet his gaze when he slipped one hand from under his arm and tucked it under your chin. Propped between his index and thumb, you let him tug you closer—urge you with just the gentlest of pressure. Your stomach pressed against his belt, and the way his head tipped to gaze down at you made your breath hitch.

Still resting against the marble, Steve seemed cool and eased as he bent to meet your mouth. You trembled on the tops of your toes, too impatient to wait for him to meet you, too desperate to find his lips and taste them. He'd never tell you, but he found it sweet, how mindlessly eager you got for even the smallest of his affections.

Your eyes sank closed when your mouths touched. Gently at first, but with an inch from Steve, his mouth molded against yours with a firmness most like his usual affections. A firmness unyielding, leaving no room for breath and no space for escape. But you were happily pliant to his hand spreading to hold your jaw in his wide palm, nearly sighing in relief when he finally switched from impassively cool to the Steve you knew:

Forceful. Mean. Rough.

His tongue swept your bottom lip like the tickle of a feather, though your giggle became a strangled whimper when his spare hand came to gather the hair at the nape of your neck. Free from confines and soft from hotel shampoo, it was a welcome feeling in his palm, and like he couldn't stop himself from reaching for more of it, he yanked. Fist curled tight against your scalp at the back of your head near your neck, he tugged just once—hard.

You popped away from his mouth with a wet smack and a scratchy whine, catching flashes of striped wallpaper before his mouth attached to your neck and sent you flying into blurriness. You held onto him for dear life, hands leaving splotchy white marks on his biceps. And just as you suspected: they were hot and soft, stiff and massive.

He latched onto the column of your throat with a suction like a vacuum, and you caught glimmers of starlight as he lapped and nipped. His teeth scraped the wet mark when he pulled away, and your body gave a convulsing shiver that, this time, made him exhale a chuckle against your skin. His nose slid through the slick spit, gliding across your throat and up your chin, brushing your cheek when he met your mouth again. His hand returned to your jaw to squeeze, the other still firmly planted in your hair. Your scalp began to buzz in a way that felt like a dead tingle.

The kiss was delicate this time. Careful, precise, like he was worried he'd break you. But Steve never worried about breaking you. He liked you that way. He loved how much you needed him to make sense of you.

Steve slowly pulled back, waiting until your eyes fluttered open and blinked at him with slow, breathless beats before rubbing the pad of his thumb over your swollen mouth. His own seemed a little larger, and as he tipped his head toward the light, you realized his lip had split open again with the force of his kiss. Your tongue immediately sought the remnants on your mouth, relieved to locate the metallic taste just past your bottom lip on your chin.

Steve's lip twitched at that.

"On the bed, baby." His voice was so soft that you were sure you'd fabricated it.

But then he let go of your hair and dropped his hands to his sides, and before he could blink in that expectant, impatient way, you spun around and hurried toward the bed. You were on your knees and about to reach for your zipper when Steve caught your wrists. It was the smack of skin on skin that made you freeze, catching his eye to find it empty again.

"Ah-ah," he scolded gruffly. "Hands down. I'll do it."

He released you and you obeyed, lowering your hands to your sides. Steve inched closer, and your head met his chest as he curled over the front of you to find the back. You inhaled quietly, searching for his scent. Muddled soap and heavy sweat, a cigarette smoked in the lot on the way to the cab. You brought your hands to his stomach and slipped them under his skirt, sweeping them across his muscular sides. He twitched, chuckling deeply despite himself against your neck. Your zipper snicked as it escaped your spine and fell to your tailbone, and your dress pooled in your lap as Steve stood tall again.

You tipped your head back to gaze at him, cheeks swollen with heat and lip caught between your teeth. Your hands were still under his shirt, still gripping him like a toy. He gave you it, pulling his shirt over his head with a tug of the back collar. It flew across the room in a dash of black fabric, and then you were gazing at his lean-cut muscles peppered with black and blue and a few fading greens. His stomach flexed when you brought your fingers to circle the nearest bruise, a grunt balling in his throat.

You returned both hands to his sides, right above his belt. Leaning forward on your knees, you pressed your mouth to the warm patch of skin where blood pooled and painted him colorful. You puckered a gentle kiss. Steve swallowed, jeans tightening. Mouth still pressed against him, you lifted your eyes to gauge his expression and he felt like he could burst.

His hands slid into your hair, pushing your head back with a grip on both sides. You rubbed your thumbs into his muscles, massaging the strain.

"Does it hurt?"

He eased his grip on the right side of your face and brushed your hair behind your ear. He stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles, head cocking toward his shoulder. The scabs of a bare-knuckle practice scratched the skin on your face in the nicest way. He still smelled like blood.

"I like it to," he said.

You pushed off on your heels, nose brushing his chin as you inched closer to his height. He slid your hair over your shoulder to bare your neck, placing the breeze of his knuckles there.

"Me too."

Steve's eyes snapped away from your neck toward your own, a brief flash of surprise seeping through the brutish void. When you gnawed on your lip and danced your fingers over the firm leather of his belt, he let the surprise slip away as swiftly as it came.

In its place came the animalistic need to tear you apart.

He pushed your hands away without a word, and you sank back down to your heels on the mattress, watching with round, welled up eyes as he undid his belt. The buckle clinked and hung loose at his pelvis. The zipper snicked. The denim of his jeans whooshed down his legs. In only his boxers, tight against him and leaving nothing to the imagination, he resumed his hold on your face to direct your attention back to his eyes.

He pulled at the sleeve of your dress hanging limply in your lap. "Off."

You made quick work of discarding the fabric, sliding it down your legs and throwing it away. Steve snapped your bra strap next, and you bent your arms behind your back to unhook the band. All he had to do was flicker his eyes toward your panties for you to remove those, too.

When you were naked, you waited a beat. A moment of such palpable silence that you were certain he'd hear your heart beating. With the way your blood started rushing to your ears, pumping with such forceful gushes and thumps, you could barely hear anything over it yourself.

Then you reached for his bulge, aching and waiting, unable to contain yourself. Once more he grabbed your wrist, holding your touch away from him. You reached with the other hand, happy to play his game. He grabbed that one, too, and soon he had you right where he wanted.

Though, not quite.

He slammed you against the mattress on your back. Pinned by his hold on your arms, flattened by his weight pressing down on you. Your heart moved to your throat, throbbing wildly. Your legs instinctually parted to make room for him between them.

Steve searched between your eyes, bouncing between left and right, inhaling your every exhale. When he saw nothing but bliss, he slid your arms above your head and crossed your wrists together. Gripping them in one big palm, he used the other hand to mark a path down your side that had you squirming and shivering. You giggled when he circled your navel, only to gasp when he swept two fingers down your pelvis.

He knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew every route to take. He knew the shortcuts that would bring you to your fastest peak. He knew the long, winding paths that would make you whine and cry and beg him to cut you a break.

He knew you.

Just like you knew him, and how much he needed to be the biggest in the room. How much he needed this power over you, this control over you. Sometimes, he traveled too far. Sometimes, your favorite thing in the world was when he took over the wheel.

You wanted his control. You needed it.

Steve gently guided the tips of those two fingers between your legs, pushing just gently past the warm, squishy barrier. You sucked him in, mouth unhinging with another gasp when he sank the length of his fingers in entirely. The grip you had on him was tight, and your thighs were already shaking when he brought his thumb to your clit, beating and pulsing with want for his attention.

"You like it to hurt," he whispered, eyes sliding briefly toward your bare chest before your eyes again.

You bobbed your head, face so hot it hurt. "Yes."

"Do you want it to hurt, angel?"

"Please."

Steve didn't let you wait, and for this you were grateful. His hair tickled your cheek, his breath fanned your neck, and then his mouth was clamping onto the patch of tender muscle between your shoulder and neck. His teeth sank in, delivering a dull sting that made you shriek. He pulled away when you began to pant.

He moved his mouth to your breast, fingers loosening around your wrists. He sank into the squishy fat, gathering a chunk of it between his teeth. It stung a little sharper, hurt a little better. You cried out this time, and he pumped his fingers in a gentle push and pull as he moved to the other breast. You could barely suck in a breath.

Wet patches caught gusts of cool air as he maneuvered over your body, covering you in his mouth and leaving you with his teethmarks to prove it. He released your wrists, but your head was so fuzzy and full of air that you didn't even think to move them. Steve wanted them there. You wanted what Steve wanted.

Steve clamped down on your waist, following the valley of your curves. You jerked the other way, body instinctually recoiling. He bit into your hip, then your thigh, then your stomach, then the thin skin just above your pelvis. He had you covered in him and writhing for more, cheeks soaked with tears he was certain you didn't even know were shed.

Face pinched and pooling with red-hot heat, you gasped for air and arched off the bed. Steve's fingers worked deeper between your legs. His thumb rubbed with the firmest pressure in just the right spot. You stomped your feet against the mattress and whined, long and howling.

"Steeeeve."

It burned, he could tell. He could tell by the way you trembled and closed your legs around his hands. He could tell by the way you blinked tears to the ceiling, how you balled your hands into fists—still above your head. You couldn't hold steady and you looked close to nausea.

Steve settled on his knees between your legs, free hand smoothing over your wobbling thigh. He loomed over you with an empty expression, taking in your bare body and his mouth branding nearly every inch of it.

Just as you lifted your back again, hands flying down to grip the mattress in preparation for the orgasm winding a knot behind your navel, Steve ripped his fingers away. You cried—a pitiful, pathetic, snot-filled sob that sliced through the room and made Steve huff.

But Steve had mercy on you. He replaced his fingers with something better, and your cry dwindled to short sniffles as the head of his cock breached your throbbing entrance. He slid your thighs over his, pulled you down until you were forcing half of him in. You howled again, head tipping back, hands reaching for his. You found them on your waist, gripping in a vice.

With slow and steady caution, Steve eased between your legs and mounted over you once more. He propped himself on his forearms, caged on either side of your shoulders to squish your arms against your sides. There was nowhere for you to run. You were inching close to orgasm again already just at the thought.

Steve cupped his palm over the crown of your head and leaned in until his nose brushed your own. His thumb pressed against your forehead, his breath tickled your open, shining mouth. You could see the blood gathering on his lip again. It wobbled there, at the split seam of soft tissue. It glistened and, in your foggy, fucked-out mind: it called to you.

You swept it up with your tongue, sucking with a gentle pull that made Steve's seem cruel. But even that delicate, meek suction had him groaning, had him bucking into you wildly. You released him and he followed the metallic scent of your breath, thanking you for his brief sting with a nip on your bottom lip.

'Hurt me, so I can hurt you.'

And squished under him, taking every assault of teeth and lapping up the blood, you found something in pain you never knew was possible: peace.

A simple, mindless transaction. I hurt you, you hurt me. This is how we say I love you.

Hurt me. So I can hurt you.

Steve pressed your heads together, rutting into you so deep you almost thought you could feel him in your throat. But maybe that was just more tears, pooling and lumping until you couldn't swallow past it. So you released it, weeping in a way that had Steve kissing your hot, sticky cheeks just to ease the hysteria. But he wanted those tears, and he basked in how they tasted on his mouth.

In one final effort, one last turn toward his destination, Steve reared back just enough to bring his hand down on your ass, thigh hitched over his hip to bare it to him. It slammed down with a sharp clap, delivering a sting that spread like wildfire and reverberated through your thighs and spine.

It was exactly what you needed to shatter. It sent you stumbling, clinging to Steve like you'd fall apart without him holding you steady. You weren't entirely sure that was false. You whimpered into his neck, fingers buzzing against his back. You sounded so pathetic, sniffling and hiccuping like that. Steve kissed your jaw and caught a glimpse of the blotchy bruise he left on your neck. You'd be stuck with it for days.

Steve spilled into you, raw and warm, sticky and disgusting. He brushed his nose against your bruise and felt it throb. He ran his thumb over the red shape of his mouth on your hip as he slipped from between your legs. He brushed his hair back against his head and licked the blood from his split lip. His knuckles had broken open and stained the white sheets near your head.

On sore thighs and wobbling knees, Steve settled between your limp legs once more and gazed down at the mess he made. He brushed your hair from your eyes and cradled your cheek. Still catching your breath, you leaned into his hold with heady exhaustion, placing your hand over his. You'd be just as bruised as Steve tomorrow morning, and you'd marvel in the mirror at the pretty colors he painted you with.

And the best thing about it? Steve wasn't hurting anymore. He gave it all to you.

♡ ♡

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #dark steve harrington #steve harrington x fem #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery fic

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kazutora-kurokawa · 1 month

Text

Masturfesting w/ Mikey

♡ NSFW, fem reader, masturbation + manifesting, delusion, established friendship, panty stealing, perv!Mikey, college au ♡

note: my beautiful moot @i-literally-cant-with-this gave me this little idea 🩷 I started at 2am and finished around 3, its 6:30 right now so yeah lol I need some rest

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

You and Mikey had always been close growing up, and that didn't change one bit when you two got to college. Of course he was still out partying and fighting with his friends, those things, along with your presence, were the only things he kept consistent. But a lot of things changed, he started becoming more aware of himself, of his feelings towards you, and of his place in your life. He knew he wanted a relationship with you, but wasn't sure how to approach you. So he did what he thought was best and started doing some research.

He discovered a lot of romance coaches, wikiHow articles and unhelpful stuff like that, but then he struck what he thought was a gold mine. He discovered the spiritual side of love, specifically types of love potions and spells. He was never one to believe in magic but it couldn't hurt to try. The one that caught his eye? Masturfesting. It was so disgustingly delusional, it just had to work. And so, he started a routine. Everytime he was hard, he'd go on your social media pages, scroll through, and find a picture he could get off to. He'd start off slow, savoring the moment and imagining your pretty hands wrapped around his dick. He'd finish pretty quickly, staining his phone and the picture of you on the screen with gooey strings of cum.

This became a daily occurrence for him, but as of late he felt like it wasn't working. He needed to go further, to do something more…risky. So he walked to your dorm after class, under the false pretenses of having a study session. You two were in your room laying on a pile of pillows on the floor, flipping through textbooks, when suddenly you had to use the bathroom. You left the room, giving Mikey the chance to take his masturfesting to the next level. He rooted around in your dirty laundry, stealing a pair of your panties and pocketing them for himself. You came out of the bathroom and were none the wiser.

After the study session was over he went back to his dorm, rushing to the bathroom to make use of your panties. The soft material felt like heaven wrapped around him, and he couldn't help but imagine thrusting into your pretty pussy instead of his hand. The way they felt, the way they looked, the way they smelled, everything turned him on and made him even more determined to have you for himself. He fully believed that his disgusting actions would result in you unknowingly falling head over heels for him, and maybe it would…or maybe he's just delusional as all hell. Either way he's not gonna stop, not anytime soon, not until he's sure you'll want him as much as he wants you.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #mikey smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #delulu is the solulu #real talk this man is so fucking hot and delusional 😮‍💨#literally had no clue what masturfesting was before Sarah told me lol #imma just leave this here #gotta let it marinate in ya mind fr 🙌#I wish someone was this delusional for me honestly 💀

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sooniebby · 11 months

Note

A dream i had has been haunting me so here i am.

A jock any sport my dream wasnt specific just a popular jock is the reader and he is just so popular and everyone loves him and of course everyone assumes since his this big jock his the dom in the relationship between him and his boyfriend when in fact his the complete opposite.

The boyfriend can be in the band or a part of the cheer team again it depends on the sport and my dreams never clarify, He hears one of these conversations and has a brilliant idea that he was gonna put the reader in his place and everyone is gonna know that place.

Kinks you can go wild with, But praise and a little the reader getting dumb on whoever you choose the nerd to be cock but the rest you can do what you please 🤭🤭

ఌ 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 2.5k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › praise, voyeurism, semi-public sex, use of pussy/feminine terms

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

“Isn’t that (Name)’s boyfriend?”

“Mickey?”

“I thought his name was Mikey?”

“Nah man, it’s Mickey!”

Marcus sighed. He hated having to practice for the marching band when the football team was practicing as well. The players didn’t know how to whisper. He was really wondering if he should give them a look that he could hear them.

He wasn’t sure why the football coach allowed them to practice with them here but he was sure it was because the teacher for band was a sexy man. Marcus could tell the coach, Coach Pattinson, loved to stare at his band teacher’s ass.

But he couldn’t lie. Mister Yang had a nice ass.

More importantly though, Marcus could sometimes see his boyfriend playing. But it was mainly rare. (Name) played soccer so obviously he couldn’t play while the football team occupied the field.

Today was that day the soccer team practiced somewhere else.

He was getting a bit agitated at this point. The heavy drum strapped to his chest and the sun beaming down at him. God, he wanted to just walk home. But he did like his band mates. He didn’t want them to hate him for any reason so he’d put it with it.

But that didn’t mean he’d do it without complaints.

“Marc! Pay attention.” One of his band mates whispered, poking him with a drum stick. Marcus quickly put his focus on Mr. Yang as he continued to drone on and on about timing and making sure to be energetic during performances.

Marcus tried to pay more attention, even though he had already heard this speech once before. Expect the two players whispering (?) about him started up once more.

“I wonder what (Name) sees in him.” Thing 1 said.

“What do you mean? Mickey is a cute ass guy. Especially his ass…” Thing 2 muttered.

“Mikey… And yeah I guess. It’s kinda flat to me. Mr. Yang has a much fatter ass than him.”

“True true… I mean look it at… I wonder what it looks like when he jumps…”

Thing 1 whispered. The only time he ever whispered. “Perv.”

“You started it!” Thing 2 shouted, earning a glare from Coach Pattinson. Thing 1 & 2 quickly quieted down.

“But for real, who do you think tops?” Thing 2 muttered.

“(Name)… obviously. The dude is bigger and taller than Mikey. How could Mikey top him?!”

“(Name) is only 5’10 at the most. He’s not that tall. And he’s hardly that muscular. It’s mainly his legs.”

“Says you, Mister 6’4!” Thing 1 punched Thing 2 on the arm, earning a wince. “(Name) has an ass that could rival Mr. Yang, though.”

“Didn’t he play baseball?”

“He plays both sports. Such a cool guy. I’m not sure how he doesn’t go crazy.” Thing 1 looked as if he had a crush on (Name). Marcus didn’t like that, he could feel himself tighten his grip on his drumsticks.

“Maybe he knows how to manage himself… unlike someone…”

“Say that to my face you beanstalk!”

“Alright boys, break time is over!!” Coach Pattinson yelled. “Back to the field!!” He blew his whistle before glancing over to see Mister Yang’s ass once more.

Yeah, he wasn’t hiding it.

Marcus thought hard about what Thing 1 & 2 talked about. Damn, did he not give off top vibes like the thought? Shit—what could he do to show it off?

Well it wasn’t that he really cared what those little shits said but he didn’t like that his looks somehow determined his sexual position.

Oh. Marcus smirked to himself.

He could always make it known that he is the dom in the relationship… and he knew just the way to do it.

“Dude… the fuck are you smiling about?”

Marcus glanced over to his band mate, Olivia. “Nothing important.”

Olivia didn’t look convinced but she turned her attention back to Mr. Yang. Marcus couldn’t wait to test out his plan.

ꕥ

It was the next day and Marcus didn’t have band practice today. But (Name) was at soccer practice. He hardly joined him because he mainly wanted to go straight home after school. Any minute he stayed longer at this cursed school was a damage to his mental health.

(Name) was sitting down on the bench, drinking water when he spotted his boyfriend. He waved, a large grin on his lips. If he was an animal, many would say he would be a golden retriever. So happy to be with people.

“Marc! Something happened?”

“I can’t just see my boyfriend?” Marcus grinned, his blonde locs pulled into a ponytail. He wore a ridiculously large jacket with a red tee with black pants. (Name) always wondered why Marcus always complained about being hot when he chose to wear such clothing during summer.

(Name) simply hummed and pursed his lips, closing his eyes. He titled his head up earning a laugh from Marcus. Marcus would usually just give him a light kiss. He wasn’t one for PDA.

But this time, he grabbed (Name)’s chin and held him in place as he kissed him. (Name)’s eyes widen as Marcus immediately bit his lip, causing him to automatically part them. The innocent kiss (Name) wanted was quickly turned into a full on make out with tongue.

(Name) whimpered into the kiss, wondering if any of his teammates were looking at him. Marcus pulled away from the kiss—a small trail of saliva connecting their lips—as he glanced back to see if anyone saw that. It seemed at least a few did—with the embarrassed looks on a few of the boys face.

The coach didn’t seem to have saw it though by the fact she was paying attention to another player. Good. He just wanted the other players to see.

“What…?” (Name) muttered. He didn’t hate it. No he loved it but he would’ve loved a warning first.

“Trying something new. Like it?” Marcus said, wiping away a stray line of drool on (Name)’s chin.

“I like whatever you do. But I thought you didn’t like public stuff.”

“I still don’t.” Marcus simply said and sat down on the bench.

(Name) didn’t understand Marcus sometimes.

Marcus fanned at himself, starting to complain about the sun cooking him alive.

“I’m lucky I can’t get any darker ‘cause what the fuck, man…” he complained.

“Take your jacket off.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’ll mess up my style. I had this whole outfit planned and everything. I mean, look at my shoes—it matches the jacket!”

It did.

(Name) simply laughed. “Alright. Enjoy the sun, Mikey.” He said as he got up to return back to practice.

“Ay! It’s because of you those other jocks are calling me Mikey or Mickey! I’m not a mouse!”

“Sorry! I didn’t think anyone else would call you that!”

Marcus simply huffed. He mainly couldn’t wait until he could enact his plan. The kiss was simply to just get it started for later.

Ah he couldn’t wait.

ꕥ

(Name) knew Marcus liked to try new things. Y’know, only live once and all that jazz. But he didn’t know that he’d be into something so… scandalous?

So risky.

“Isn’t this nice?”

(Name) simply huffed, not able to say anything due to the cock in his mouth. They were behind the bleachers—not too far from door that leads to the locker room. When (Name)’s coach called for a thirty minute break, Marcus saw that as his cue to go ahead with his plan.

He had pulled (Name) to the back of the bleachers were no one could see them and forced him to his knees. But the spot they were in was hardly hidden. Someone could just walk up to the locker room door and get a clear view of them.

(Name) was kneeling down on the balls of his feet, forced to keep his balance this way. It wasn’t a good position to try and suck dick at, especially when Marcus was only 5’7 to his 5’10. (Name) wasn’t immediately at face with his cock.

He had to bend a little. Suffice to say, he was uncomfortable sucking dick right now. But he loved Marcus telling him what to do so who was he to stop him.

“Did I tell you that some guys said that you were topping me?” Marcus laughed.

(Name) hummed, pulling away from his cock. “Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Maybe.” Marcus tapped two fingers on (Name)’s lips. (Name) eagerly took them into his mouth—sucking them to lather it up. His cock twitched in his gym shorts as he thought about someone seeing him in this position.

Kneeling down in front of someone physically weaker than him.

“So I thought… maybe I should prove them wrong, y’know? But then it hit me… if they think like that—than everyone else must think like that.”

(Name) wasn’t sure if he believed that. No one could be that weird to care about his sex life.

Marcus hummed as he forced his fingers down deeper (Name)’s throat, enjoying the panicked choke he got from his boyfriend. He dragged them out of (Name)’s mouth. (Name) took a few shuttered breaths as Marcus motioned for him to lay down.

“Pants off.”

(Name) slipped off his pants and boxers as he moved to lay down on the grass. It felt dirty to do so but he didn’t care at the moment. Marcus hummed, deep in thought before he tapped (Name)’s waist.

“Doggy.”

(Name) flushed. He always felt embarrassed during doggy. Marcus always got full view of his ass at this position. It also didn’t help that doggy was the quickest way for Marcus’ cock to reach his prostate.

With a little hesitation, (Name) moved into the doggy position. Just as he was about to try and not think about the fact someone could see him in such position, Marcus slapped his ass.

“Hey, you forgot your move.”

(Name) blushed in full embarrassment as he leaned down more so his ass was in the air and shyly shook his ass. He hated doing it. The first time he ever did it was by accident. He didn’t think Marcus would’ve wanted him to do it everything for doggy.

Marcus had said it reminded him of a cat getting ready to pounce. It was the only time (Name) was ever said to resemble a cat.

“Good boy.” Marcus shoved in his two fingers, gaining a scream from (Name). “Hey, do you want them to hear you?”

(Name) shook his head.

“Your pussy says otherwise. It tightened as soon as I mentioned it.” Marcus laughed, dragging his fingers against (Name)’s wet walls before grazing his prostate.

Marcus loved to call (Name)’s features with feminine terms. Boobs, tits, pussy, cunt. You name it. He didn’t use it all the time. Sometimes he was nice to called them pecs or asshole.

(Name) liked both. But there was something different about his ass being called a pussy. He wasn’t sure what it was.

“I’m surprised they haven’t wondered where you are…. Do you often use these breaks to jerk off? Play with your clit?” He grinned, enjoying the whimper he earned.

(Name) shook his head, gripping at the dirt beneath him. His hole clenched down on Marcus’ fingers. He had never done that but he did usually use the break time to sit in the locker room with the air conditioner.

Marcus pressed against his prostate, teasing it as (Name)’s ass twitched upwards. He loved it whenever (Name) tried to chase the relief. His ass was a sight to see as it bounced at every sudden movement he made.

Maybe Thing 1 was right about his ass… it could rival Mr. Yang’s…

“You think you’re ready?” Marcus asked, continuing his grazes against (Name)’s prostate.

(Name) simply whined, too dumbed out to say anything. He honestly didn’t trust himself to open his mouth without moaning anyway.

Marcus took that as a yes as he slipped out his fingers and grabbed his cock. It was a good size, six inches. But the best part about it was how thick it was. Imagine a soda can.

He slowly pushed inside, moving one hand to grip (Name)’s waist. It took everything in (Name)’s body to not cry out. He bit his lip harshly—digging his fingers into the dirt.

Marcus was antagonistically slow. Dragging his cock in and out of (Name)’s hole. He wouldn’t go fully in—set to just tease his prostate before pulling out. (Name) was going to die if he continued this way.

“You always take me so well. But that’s just cuz you were made for me.” Marcus muttered, pushing down (Name)’s shirt to press soft kisses on his back. His back is sweating, from playing or sex? Marcus hoped it was sex.

(Name) huffed as he began to thrust backwards, hoping that Marcus’ cock will reach in deeper. Marcus simply laughed to himself as he stopped his thrusting—allowing (Name) to continue his lackluster performance.

“Mikey…”

“Yes, baby?”

“C’mon… we don’t have all day… please…”

(Name) was right. They had thirty minutes. It could’ve been thirty minutes already for all they knew. If he didn’t want to play soccer with a raging boner—he needed to cum now.

Marcus frowned. He hoped he could drag this out longer but knew it wasn’t fair to (Name).

“I’ll get you off. We’ll worry about me when your practice is finished,” Marcus said, grasping (Name)’s waist and holding him still as he began to thrust harshly inside of him.

He purposefully aimed for his prostate, enjoying the panicked hiccups (Name) accidentally slipped out. (Name) was struggling to keep his voice down. He could hear his coach saying they had a minute left.

Could he really cum in under a minute?!

Marcus was going to make sure he did though. He didn’t let up with his constant thrusts, reaching down to jerk (Name)’s leaking clock as well.

It doesn’t take too long for (Name) to cum. Before he could scream, Marcus quickly shoved (Name)’s own shirt into his mouth. It muffled it a little but he could still hear someone ask if they heard something.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Marcus pulls out despite his cock twitching for his own release and pulled his boxers and pants on. (Name) stayed on the ground, trying to catch his breathe before slowly moving to put on his pants.

(Name) looked numbed. He certainly looked as if he could fall asleep any minute. Marcus helped him to his feet (with a little struggle but he would never admit that).

“Go back to practice. I’ll be waiting for you,” Marcus said, patting (Name)’s ass. (Name) glared at him before limping away to his teammates.

If anyone asked why he was limping, he’d just say he hurt his leg while playing earlier. Though he was sure a few of his teammates didn’t believe that.

And unlucky for him, it was the few who loved to tell everyone what they knew. At least Marcus plan worked. Everyone was going to know who was truly the top in the relationship.

After practice, when almost everyone had already left, (Name) was changing into his clothes after taking a shower when Marcus walked into the locker room.

A small smirk on his lips.

“It’s time to worry about me.”

A limp walk wasn’t going to be the only thing (Name) went home with. A nice creampie would accompany it~

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

My comeback! Marcus is so fun to write, I hope you guys like him!! If you guys want, I can do a little fic of how he started dating you 🤭 lemme know!

Tag list: @mello-life69 @the-ultimate-librarian @nakedtoasterr @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo

Number 1 fan: @elegantcecile

#bottom male reader #x male reader #oc x reader #original character

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boozenboze · 1 year

Text

Tokyo Revengers x Male reader

Summary: Being an Ace and a division captain are two hefty things to juggle. So what happens when the other Toman captains find the leader of the 6th division at volleyball practice

Females She/Her and She/They DNI

“Good hustle L/n keep it up!” The coach yelled to the s/c skinned male who gave him a thumbs up. Practice didn’t end until late that night, and the Toman meeting that had been planned had begun without. He didn’t worry about it to much, but he knew he’d have to go through a light hearted interrogation from Mikey and Draken.

To be honest, they should’ve known that the male had practice. Why you may ask? Well thats because he had mentioned his after school activity plenty of times to them. If they hadn’t known then that would be on them for not listening.

(Pov switch)

Mikey was giving his speech to the gang, eyes wandering ever so often to see if his eyes would catch sight of the h/c haired male. Before the beginning of the meeting the blonde had been searching for him and to no avail, he didn’t spot him. The other captains tried calling or texting him but they would left with his voicemail. They continued to wait for him but had to start since there was no signs of him showing up.

The meeting ended not to long ago snd Takemichi was trying to call M/n again. As he did that, the other captains conversed with each other while also wondering where their 6th division captain was. This wasn’t the first time the male had missed a meeting but the other times he’d make sure Mikey knew so that confusion wouldn’t get caused.

“Hey-Hello! M/n where were, you the meeting is over.” Takemichi spoke as his mention of the h/c haired male caught the others attention. When they approached they watched as Takemichi’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“When did you start playing volleyball?” Takemichi asked as the others held their own looks of question.

“I-uh ok we’ll come over to see you. Ok bye.” Takemichi said before hanging up.

“When’d he start playing volleyball?” Mitsuya asked as he glanced at the others. Angry hummed in response before saying.

“That could explsin the other times he didn’t show up.”

“Yeah thats true...wait Takemichi you said thst we’d go and see him hm?” Draken questioned as Takemichi nodded.

“Alright lets go I wanna see N/n-chin play!” Mikey said with excitement as he made his way to his motorcycle. The others sighed at their commanders attitude and followed behind him, getting onto their own bikes.

(Pov switch)

“Nice serve M/n!” One of your teammates yelled on the sidelines as the ball made contact with the floor of the other teams side. It was the males ball again and he bounced the ball a few times before serving it again. Once again it was a perfect serve but the other team was able to pass it back to which your teammate Lain was passed it to your setter Ryu.

The captains had just arrived to the gym and heard the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and a ball making contact with it. A loud boom and cheering could be heard as they walked in and they saw M/n's team cheering. They could tell because of their f/c jerseys and shorts. M/n was doing a little dance with Ryu who was laughing his ass off as they did.

"Can ya'll stop acting like you won an actual game." Your captain who was on the other team said as you turned to face him.

"Your just mad that ya'll lost~!" The h/c haired male whipped out his middle finger and started to shake his hips out of mockery. The captain rolled his eyes as his gaze averted to the Toman captains who were standing by the door.

"Are those gang members?" One of your other teammates said warily, as the Captain spoke up.

"Do ya'll need something?" His voice was loud which caused everyone to turn their attention to the entrance door. M/n's eyes widened at the sights of his gang. He was only expecting Takemichi to show up.....not everyone else.

"I-uh...what are ya'll doing here? Takemichi I thought you were the only one coming." M/n replies to the others that hadn't said anything yet.

"Um yeah I did...I forgot to mention they were tagging along, sorry." Takemichi said as his eyes wandered down to M/n's legs. He kept his gaze steady on his thighs. He looked away, reminding himself that he had a girlfriend as the other captains stared as well.

"Why didn't you tell us your thighs were so.....gyat!" Baji said as he did hand motions around M/n's legs. The male laughed in response, not thinking anything of his comment. He has worked hard to get his legs to the state they were in now so he appreciated the compliments.

"Can I....touch them..? Baji asked, voice getting a bit quieter but loud enough for Mikey to hear his question.

"Not if I don't touch them first!" Mikey said as he leaped over to the h/c haired male and began to feel up his leg. He squeezed his thigh with his hand and the male above whimpered slightly from the blondes grip. M/n's thighs had muscle definition and were a little jiggly.

"Ah...Mikey are you done yet?" M/n asked as Draken attempted to pull the commander off his leg. Mikeys grip got tighter and a moan was stifled from his lips causing both blondes to look at him. The male looked away from them, forgetting to mention how sensitive his thighs were. Mikey let go and laughed with a blush on his face. Draken and the others were the same way. Smiley was laughing while maintaining his iconic expression, as well as Angry who had turned away. Mitsuya was smiling as Sanzu massaged his temple.

"Yo M/n! Come get your shit!" Lain said as he approached the male with his gym bag. M/n took the bag from him and nodded as I thank you as the brunette left the gym.

"Well now we know one of our captains secret...Imma use that against him when we play Mario Kart." Smiley said as his smirk turned to something more devious. Angry side eyed his brother as he turned his gaze over to the h/c haired male who was making his way over to them.

"I'll be at your house in a bit, the game should be updated by then yea?" M/n said as he walked out, moving towards his bike.

"What were ya'll talking about?' Mucho asked as Smiley laughed in response. He walked away from the taller male as the twins exited the premises. The other captains watched them leave with looks of suspicion.

"They're planning something...lets follow them!" Mikey exclaimed as the others followed him out the gym.

"That was interesting"

"Mhm!"

#tokyo revengers x male reader #lgbtq #Mucho x Male reader #sanzu x male reader #gay #smiley x male reader #angry x male reader #mikey x male reader #draken x male reader #mitsuya takashi x male reader #baji keisuke x male reader #tr x male reader #takemichi x male reader

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Lips anon! Coach Miguel and the hot aunt of one of the kids he coaches. He coaches her nephew and she picks him up from practice a good portion of the time. Miguel gets a little messy around her. She's kind, doesn't shameless eye him like a hunk of meat, and total milf material without a ring.

They hit it off great. Making time to go to lunch with her was rather difficult, but it was worth it. She's a genuine sweetheart and didn't try anything on him. They have more lunches, which soon enough turn into dates. And more dates. And more dates.

This is the one. And the kid couldn't be anymore mortified that the terrifying coach is gonna knock up his aunt lol

Ooohh Coach! Miguel, 👀

He couldn't help noticing you when you came to pick up one of his students, Mikey.

His parents could never meet him, when it came to the parents meeting. Instead, you showed up in their place.

"He's a good kid, just needs a bit more discipline." He mumbled and Mikey would only recoil behind you.

"Ready to go, sweetie?" He nodded

"Go pack your stuff and wait for me on the entrance, okay?"

Mikey left, leaving you and Miguel alone.

"I'm really sorry if he's giving you a bit of trouble. My sister and her husband... well, they barely have time to come because of their jobs." You gave him a nervous smile.

You had no children on your own, but loved Mikey as your own and would gladly take care of him whenever your sister and husband would be too busy. You almost felt sorry for him, He was a great kid that just happened to have emotionally detached parents.

"No problem, just a heads up. He is slacking off from the rest. If you'd talk to him, I'd really appreciate it." Miguel spoke as his hands went to his waist. You nodded and sighed.

"I certainly will. Thank you, Mr...?"

"O'Hara. Miguel O'Hara." His large hand wrapped around yours with ease. You were warm and smooth.

"Right. I'm (Name), Mike's aunt. Nice to meet you and thanks for your time. Have a nice day." You smiled politely at him and his eyebrow rose. It was a first for him to not feel shamelessly oggled at as the other mothers talked with him. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the way you treated Mikey.

The kid seemed comfortable enough to display a bit more range of emotions rather to just brood in the bench. He chuckled.

-----

In small events you would bring a small snack for everyone, him included. He watched the neatly folded and amazing smelling panini and the sports veberage on your hands, offering him a little relief after the competition.

"Thank you for today, Mr. O'Hara." Again, no lust in your eyes, just pure heartfelt kindness. He accepted the treats and gave you a small smile.

"Thank you."

-------

His eyes seemed to always focus on you whenever you entered the indoor gym, simple yet gorgeous looking. High waisted capris that always seemed snug at your form just good, cute flats, a small digital watch on your left wrist and a colorful shirts. Little floral prints seemed your favorite, he observed.

He noticed the solemn look you had instead of the usual breathtaking smile you always greeted him with. Mikey seemed just like you, but you comforted him with a small rub on his upper back. You weren't mad at Mikey, possibly a stupid fight your parents put up and he was caught in the middle.

"Let's get some pizza okay?" You mumbled and Mikey just left.

"Are you okay? I mean... Probably not my business but-"

You stared at him with big eyes full of wonder.

"Thanks for your concern Mr. O'Hara. It means alot. But I'm fine. I'm just worried about Mikey. He heard his parents fighting and it didn't sit well on him."

"Don't worry." He'd pat your shoulder and nod softly, "I've got him."

-----

Little conversations soon turned into a bit more deeper and longer ones. His eyes would linger on your lips and oh the way your ass bent inside those pants.

It took him a couple of weeks to actually ask you out. You talked about everything, specially his athletic back grounds and of course you.

------

You lost the count after the eighth . Mikey was mortified cause sometimes he'd find Miguel at your apartment, expecting something to happen. But you would just bring him to a more private area and would laugh. At least you were happy.

-----

He proposed you after Mikey winning the tournament. And you'd say yes. Mikey just looked in horror as you kissed and celebrated.

He'd see Mr. O'Hara more than he liked to admit.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #💋 anon #atsv miguel #asks and replies #Just making sure to put this one out before bed 🫠.#Coach! Miguel

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thebearer · 9 months

Note

I know u have a billion requests but I'm dying fir a carmy x reader where she goes into labor

i have one here with willow but i'll write a first time one too with teddy!

Carmen knew it was coming soon, which is why he hovered. Why he rarely let you be alone, the thought of him missing it or something happening made him sick. Tina and Sugar both told him it was a long process, there's no way he'd miss it, but he was still anxious. Worried about a lot of things, thoughts that kept him up at night. Would he be a good dad? Would the birth go ok? What if something happens to the baby? What if something happens to you? What if he gets in a wreck on the way home? What if the baby died in her sleep?

Thoughts that had him throwing up all hours of the night. Your morning sickness was traded in for his own, worrying himself to the point he was sure he had an ulcer.

The phone rang, a Tuesday in August. Still sunny and warm, but with the golden glow that hinted fall was coming soon. Carmen was so busy, trying to approve the new seasonal menu, and for a moment his mind had slipped of all those anxieties. Until he heard your voice.

"I think I'm in labor."

"You think?" Carmen barked, harsher than he meant it to, a wave of guilt flooding over him. "What-What-What do you mean think? Are you ok?"

"Well, my water just broke." You frowned, looking at the puddled under your swollen belly. You paused, a hesitation laying thick in the air between the two of you over the line. "I think it's time."

Carmen was a wreck, swerving and punching the gas in and out of Chicago traffic to get the the brownstone, parking up on the sidewalk, HOA be damned.

You were calm, eerily calm to him, as he threw your bags, all your birthing things into the car, carefully helping you in. "Fuck!" Carmen huffed, hitting his horn for the third time in five minutes.

You gripped the side of the door, trying to breathe like your birthing coach taught you. "Carmy, please." You sighed, regulating your own heart rate. "Stop honking at people before we get shot."

"I'm just... Fuck, you know you think these fuckers would see hazard lights on and move, but everyone's so goddam stupid-"

"Carmen," You grabbed his hand lightly, thumb gliding over his inked fingers calmly. "Just relax. I haven't even really started having contractions, ok? We'll have time." How was it you were in labor and you were the one comforting Carmen? He felt like a jagoff, could practically hear Mikey and Richie's chorusing voices calling him that.

"I'm sorry." Carmen muttered, slumping back into the seat. "I'm just... I'm really fuckin' scared." His knee bounced, hand twitching towards the Spirit's in the center console. It was muscle memory, to reach for the cigarettes when he was anxious. He chose the gum instead, trying his best to cut back for when the baby was here. In case she'd have asthma or something else, and he just didn't want to teach her bad habits.

He wanted to be better. Be better.

Sometimes he wondered if his parents ever had ambitions like that. To be better, do better for their kids. If they did, they didn't stick.

"I know you are." You cooed lightly, running a hand through his damp curls, sweat accumulating at his hair line already. "You're gonna be a good dad, you know that?"

"I hope," Carmen smacked the gum with a shake of his head.

"I know." You beamed at him. "You already do so much for her anyways, and she's not even here, Carmy." He didn't say anything, just kept a white knuckled grip on the wheel, his free holding your hand.

"The only thing you'll be bad at is saying no to her, Carm. I already know that. You're too much of a softy." You giggled, poking him lightly in his bicep.

Carmen's lips twitched, the hints of a smile on his lips. You could feel the wave of a contraction, not overwhelming but uncomfortable, squeezing Carmen's hand lightly, shifting in pain. "What? Are you ok? You good?" Carmen's eyes darted from you to the road.

"Just a little contraction. I'm fine." You sighed gently, rubbing your free hand over the spot you could feel Teddy kicking. "They're still pretty spaced out, so we've got a while."

Carmen let out a shuddered breath, lips quipping in a smile. "She's takin' her time, already? We're doomed. She's gonna be just like her Mama. Late for everything."

You gasped, hitting his shoulder lightly. "And here I was being nice to you!" You bit back a smile. "I am not late for everything. I'm on time for the important stuff. Just late for the things I don't want to go to."

"Signing our marriage license?" Carmen lifted a brow. "You didn't want to do that-"

"-No, no, no! You dressed up and I looked like a bum, so I had to get ready!" You countered lightly, jabbing a finger at him.

"I didn't dress up! I wore jeans-"

"-And a nice button down. Not a t-shirt? That's dressing up, Carm, and you know it." You frowned at him. "I had a pair of bike shorts on."

"And you looked hot in them." Carmen grinned, eyes glinting when he looked at you, making you blush, heat rushing to your cheeks and chest. Your own nerves settling, your own what-ifs and fears of giving birth, of being a mother in general.

"Looked better in the dress." Carmen added, lifting your hand to kiss the back of your knuckles. You rolled your eyes lightly, heart fluttering. The white sundress you'd put on, patterned with a floral print but the only white dress you owned, and Carmen had swooned. Flipped it up and fucked you in the back seat after you'd signed it.

"Surprised I didn't get pregnant after that." You grinned, breath hitching at another contraction, dull but stronger this time.

Carmen's eyes cut to yours, thumb running over your knuckles at the pressure. "Can't believe we're having a baby." Carmen muttered, flicking on the turn signal, the hospital in sight.

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bulbabutt · 1 year

Text

if i can be corny for a second i wanna talk about the greatest strengths of the 2003 tmnt series and why it speaks to me (esp as a queer person)

so i might have alluded to this before, but let me say it outright: each show is definitely a product of its time, and the ideals of whatever generation its from. whether talking about the humour, the story, the dialogue etc, its always important to remember that these shows will always come off in a way due to the generation theyre from. and thats not a bad thing! it just means its important to think about them from that perspective.

2003 is a show of my generation growing up, and a thing about that era that maybe some people younger than me wont understand is there is so much more language commonly available to describe yourself now than there was then. you can take this in any context; mental health, sexuality, gender identity, or even just the ability to describe your relationships with more (idk if this will be the right word) therapist language.

in 03 we have a family unit of splinter and his sons, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. we have a splinter who hasnt opened up to his sons about the trauma hes experienced, but not in a way of shutting them out, simply because it isnt their responsibility to know as they are teenagers. he tells them of the mutagen that created them, but not of his past with his master yoshi, who he calls father when by himself, but never around his sons which is just an interesting concept to think about.

(i do not intent this next sentence as ragging on the two shows after this when i say it, simply from a character standpoint) this is the splinter who completely doesnt make his problems his sons problems, but he also is very willing to tell them the truth when he knows they're ready. this is is the most idyllic version of splitner out of all of them, even when comparing to his mirage counterpart (who hes the most based on) due to that splinter raising them to be ninja specifically to make them fight shredder. this one is just their father who loves them and wants to keep them safe the best way he can, and he was never a human in the first place to even know how to be that. so this whole family dynamic starts with him, and the way he raised his sons reflects his parenting.

so, the setting and year this show is made is 2003. something very relatable here is how there isnt a lot of language for the personality quirks of the turtles. there's so much evidence here for mikey having adhd, his brothers will say things like "why doesnt mikey have to help?" and the answer is "well, he'd be bored. and whats worse, mikey not helping or mikey being bored?" its this beautiful moment of, "hey, we know its not fair, but thats how mikey is, and its better for everyone if we just respect that thats how he is" mikey cant keep his hands off stuff, they know this they dont yell at him for behaving that way, they just stop him. this coding feels the most specific, but like i said. its 2003. we dont have the words to describe what this is yet, and if we do its not common knowledge.

another example is in the classic episode where raphael meets casey jones. raphael is sparring with mikey, and he lashes out and nearly kills mikey. everyone reacts to this by getting him to stop, and no one is more upset than raphael himself. they all tell him to go get some air, which he does. theres no moment of any of them screaming at him for losing his temper, its very clear that they all know he's going to do that himself. and he does go get some air. they all know thats what he needs. he goes and meets casey jones, another hot head, and raph has to help coach this hot head on his anger. when he comes back at the end of the episode after having let out that aggression, he apologizes and no one is upset with him. there's a very clear understanding among his family that he cannot help it, but the best thing they can do is give him his space when he needs it. watching this from a 2023 perspective (20 years later) im sure we could analyze this as a few things going on with raph, my mind comes to autism but at the end of the day it doesnt matter why he behaves like this, the point is that he does and the best thing his family does is just...help him. which they do. and they never hold it against him.

when leo is going through his ptsd arc hes at his closest to raph as a character, the show draws a lot of parallels (like having him go let out some aggression with casey) and we get to see the dynamic in reverse. in "i, monster" (the rat king episode) leo is losing it, taking on rat king alone and not wanting to let up. raphael is actively holding his brothers back when they say "we shouldnt leave him to fight alone", raphael says "if leo gets in trouble i'm the first one in there, but right now it looks like leo's got more than one monster to work out of his system" raph doesn't exactly know what leos going through, but he recognizes it. he knows he needs to fight alone, so raph lets him. its only when the building collapses and leo is no longer in a safe position that he says "leo lets go", which leo wordlessly agrees with and actually listens.

this is what i think is the best part of these guys, the unconditional understanding they have for the way they are. we still have our "raphs a big hot head" "mikeys annoying" jokes, but they feel like genuine good natured sibling ribbing because they know each other on that level.

and to go back to the fact that this show is set in 2003, there's something so specific about the way mikey constantly makes references to liking women's clothing, to being fine with feminine language, and to being open about being the pretty turtle who "has that effect on minds of men" speaks to me as a queer person. this could easily be intended as homophobic jokes and probably is, because again.... its the mid 2000s, thats very much what media was like, thats what the jokes were. especially with the girly screams mikey does being one of the first jokes of this nature.

but theres something that happens in season 4, where an alien is attacking mikey, and donnie rushes in and says "hey, thats my sibling" that sticks out. and it happens again in fast forward. when talking to the dark turtles leo says "you and your brothers" "me and my siblings"

because of the way this family unit just understands each other without ever having a conversation about things, it feels like its not a joke. theres some kind of affirmation happening here. even if it seems like i could be reading into it too much, its specific! and it keeps happening!

and by the end of the show, when mikey says he wants to be maid of honour, even if that line in the media itself was intended to be a joke, no one in their family treats it like one. of course mikey is the maid of honour, he asked to be one! the only real offence taken is when april says bride's maid, to which he is offended because hes so much more important than that!

so from a story standpoint, this show doesnt have the intricate complexities and butting heads of latter iterations, there isnt much relationship growth to be had (in fact once we get to around season 5 the flanderization of the characters kind of begins and it loses some of the more complexities) but thats because its just not the focus of the story! the story is more about what they go through together, and thats fine! thats what our shows kind of were at the time. not saying there isnt any relationship growth, but its very much not the focus because these turtles? they already understand each other in a healthy way.

so to me, these guys are kind of the most wholesome family unit

#tmnt #tmnt 03 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt 2003 #2003 tmnt #can you tell im in my late 20s #lmao #this is why i did the silly st thing #cuz its relatable #thoughts

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tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang · 2 months

Note

May I request more baji hcs? Like all the hcs you have?

(I love your take on him ajd I wanna hear your thoughts)

The people have spoken and it's now Baji's turn so here we are!

Baji gets extremely excited for zoo visits, as a kid he actually used to frequently get lost at zoo trips since he'd run off to look at all the animals faster then his mum/ class.

Likes splashing in puddles (especially if it means he can splash Chifuyu or Ryusei).

Whenever he sees Luna and Mana they beg to braid his hair (he secretly likes it being played with)

Actually likes talking while watching movies, he likes having someone to theorise with and discuss the plot with.

He can't take any credit for his hair care cause his mother taught him everything he knows.

As a kid he would constantly invite Kazutora round for dinner because he didn't like the idea of him being home alone/ with his parents.

Actually doesn't understand the fuss over dating at all (not until he meets a certain someone and falls in love at first sight).

Can make a really great paper airplane (used to aim them at Mikey's hair)

Will show affection through biting

Is super handy with tools, always fixing things his mother tells him to (she taught him everything he knows).

Shinichiro used to ruffle his hair a lot as a kid, he always loved that feeling (Shinichiro's the only one allowed to do this though)

His school sports coaches are constantly trying to recruit him for baseball club (i mean tbf he does have great aim).

Used to have his own piercings but his mum made him take them out (that's why he knows what he's doing with Kazutora's).

Is really great at climbing trees (he wanted to beat Mikey so badly at climbing that he started practising non stop.)

Has accidentally broken his phone at least 6 times

Has named every single stray cat that comes into his room.

Got so angry when Senju attacked him while training Emma (he immediately pushed Emma behind him to try and protect her) but that anger immediately vanished when he realised who attacked him and why.

Has teased Mikey before by saying Emma likes him as a martial arts partner more.

Has a lucky hair tie for fights

Is very protective as a partner, will constantly check your wellbeing and safety.

Is also on bug duty, there's a big spider in the house? It's his job to take it outside.

Is a bit of a baby when it comes to taking medicines, doesn't like the way they taste and refuses to take them.

Went to visit Sanzu in the hospital after the incident, he brought him magazines to try and cheer him up.

Feeds the local wildlife as well as cats, he has a few trees where he hangs birdfeeders etc

His mother always makes a big effort for his birthdays so he's learnt to make a big effort for everyone elses. Though he always puts in the most effort for her.

Has been late to meetings because he was distracted by a cat before

Baji kept every letter Kazutora sent him

As a partner he's very good at reading your moods and adapting to them. Your sad? Then he'll cheer you up. Stressed? He'll help you relax. Angry? Then he'll take you out somewhere to let that frustration out.

Watered a fake plant for two years without realising it wasn't real once.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev #keisuke baji #baji keisuke #tokyo revengers spoilers

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talewrites · 21 days

Text

Fragile Part 6

😈😈😈

(This chapter got too long- I had to cut it short,,,, :]]] Enjoy!)

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, blood, electrocution, graphic depictions of torture, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Today you were spending time with Donnie while he worked in front of his monitors. You liked it there much better than in his lab. He had a map of the city up with little marks indicating spots where the Foot had been spotted. But that wasn’t what he was working on right now.

No, you and Donnie were doing much more important things at the moment.

Like playing the new update in Stardew Valley.

“Fishing mods are cheating.”

You gawked at him in mock offense. “But you can’t pause in a multiplayer farm, there’s no time to play the fishing mini game!!”

“That’s why it’s more of a challenge!” He stuck his tongue out while he clicked his mouse rapidly to fight off a slime in the mines.

You pouted, adjusting the laptop in your lap. “I don’t need my cozy farming sim to be challenging…”

Donnie did not miss the cute grin that graced your face after, his heart fluttering in his chest.

These past few days you found yourself smiling more and more easily. Whether it was Mikey getting covered in flour while you baked cookies together, or Raph teaching you how to purl stitch, or Leo showing you how to wield a sword. You were enjoying spending more personal time with the turtles as you got to know them better.

Your toes curled where you were perched in the chair beside Donnie, glancing up at the map again. Your eyes always drawn to the blinking red dot marking the location of the lab you escaped only weeks before. The police had raided it and found it empty, which only increased your unease as to where Dr Stockman might be hiding. It already felt like a lifetime ago, that night when the turtles first found you.

You owed them your life.

“Hey (y/n), you almost ready for afternoon training?” Leo came over, snapping you out of your thoughts. Leo leaned against the back on Donnie’s chair, earning a dismissive swat from his younger brother.

“We’ll stop after we finish up this day, Leo.” Donnie said not even taking his eyes off the screen. You giggled and got back to fishing on the beach.

You were two hours into your training session with Leo.

“Okay, good. Now when you kick, focus on your balance. Stay firmly planted and your leg should have more power.” Leo coached you.

Master Splinter was supervising while sipping his tea. It had barely been 5 days since your mutant abilities had manifested. But you were already making astounding progress in unlocking its potential. Leonardo had played a big part in the process, being the one who had helped you work through your fears of using your mutant reflexes, so the abilities came more easily to you when training. He trained with you every day, while Master Splinter provided guidance. Everyone was doing their best to support you through all the changes.

Casey suddenly jogged in through the entrance of the lair.

“Guys! Just got word, the Foot are planning to rob a warehouse full of high tech weapons tonight. We gotta go intercept it.” He said waving around his cellphone.

“What? Where? Their communication frequency has been quiet since they moved those chemicals to the old Sacks building!” Donnie spun around in his chair to face Casey, you and Leo walking into the living room with Raph and Mikey close behind.

“Queens. Our contact in the Foot Clan leaked the info to us just half an hour ago.”

“Huh, that’s strange. That’s all the way on the other side of town. Aside from Sacks Tower, they’ve only really been active around the East Village and ChinaTown this past week. Maybe they changed their frequency again to throw us off track.” Donnie was quickly typing up info on his keyboard.

“Well, regardless, we better go check it out.” Leo sighed. He wanted to keep training with you, but it would have to wait.

“Heck yeah! I’m bringin’ the steak-out snacks. Who wants Doritos?” Mikey grabbed his ratty old Jansport backpack and started shoving cans of Orange Crush into it.

“(Y/n), you stay here and keep an eye on Donnie’s computer. The Foot might try to communicate about their raid tonight. Donnie’s program will intercept it. April will be here in about an hour, so just tell her if anything suspicious comes up.” Leo asked you.

“Right!” You said standing to attention and giving a military salute with a silly little grin on your face.

It made Leo’s heart melt in his chest and his expression turned soft.

“Just, stay safe, okay?” He patted you on the head then headed for the exit.

As the rest of the boys filed out of the lair, they each stopped by you. Mikey getting a high five, you quickly cleaned Donnie’s glasses for him, and Raph, always last, ducked down for a quick hug when his brothers weren’t looking. Casey rushed ahead of them.

Master Splinter waved goodbye to his sons next to you. Once the boys had left, he informed you he was going to go meditate, and to come find him if you needed anything.

About 45 minutes later, you were casually watching YouTube videos on Donnie’s computer when a flashing red light appeared on the screen. It was indicating that Donnie’s program was intercepting a message from the Foot’s closed communication server. A message popped up on the screen, and you gasped.

“We have captured the turtles. Continue with the plan.”

Then a video feed loaded up on the main screen.

Your blood ran cold.

It looked like the feed from a security camera, depicting Leo, Mikey, and Donnie all locked in glass cages, restrained with thin tubes of red connected to their arms. They looked weak, they looked bad.

“What….? No… No, not this… please no…!”

Where was Raphael? He was nowhere to be seen. How did they get captured so fast…? They had barely been gone an hour!

Your mind was racing. You recognized those machines. Dr Stockman used them to take blood samples from Bebop and Rocksteady. If that was the case, there was no time to lose.

You made up your mind.

You snuck past the dojo and muttered a quick apology to Master Splinter. You knew Master Splinter wouldn’t let you go, so you kept quiet. Then you grabbed the handheld GPS device Donnie left on his work table. You entered the location on the map where the message was sent from.

The old Sacks Tower.

Time to move.

April arrived at the lair much later than expected. She and Casey had just finished speaking to the commissioner about police activities being leaked to the Foot. When they entered the living room, they were confused to only see Master Splinter waiting for them. The old rat was pacing and anxiously stroking his beard.

“Splinter? Where’s (y/n)?” April asked, confused.

Splinter shook his head.

“You don’t know where they are?” April became concerned, walking further into the lair.

“It appears, that our greatest fears have been realized.” His expression deeply troubled. Before April could ask, she noticed what Splinter was looking at.

Playing in a loop on Donatello’s monitor was old CCTV footage from when the turtles had been captured 10 years ago by Shredder and Mr Sacks. April breathed a sigh of relief, immediately recognizing the scene.

“Splinter, the turtles are safe. I spoke to Leo on the phone only 10 minutes ago. They’re staking out a warehouse in Queens. This is old footage.”

Splinter’s eyes widened and looked back to the screen. His expression turned contemplative.

“If that is so, then perhaps Miss (y/n) has made the same mistake.” He spoke gravely.

April had a look of shock. She quickly pulled out her phone and speed dialed Leo’s number.

Leo thankfully answered quickly. “Hey April, anything new?”

“Leo, is (y/n) with you?”

Leo paused a long moment and sent a look over to his brothers, getting their attention. “No…. Aren’t they at the lair?” All of his brother's eyes were suddenly on him. Leo turned the phone on speaker.

“No!! They’re gone. And there’s a video playing on Donnie’s computer. It’s a recording of you Mikey and Donnie locked up at Sacks’ estate from over 10 years ago… I think this is what (y/n) saw before they left.”

“They left?” Leo felt his heart drop into his stomach. “To go where, Sacks’ estate?” His brothers immediately started packing up their stakeout equipment to leave.

“No I don’t think so, the sender’s location was tracked, it’s still on the screen. It says it was sent from Sack Tower in Times Square.”

Donnie came over and joined in the call, typing furiously at the keyboard on his wrist. “Sacks Tower. That’s where they were spotted smuggling those stolen chemicals into the other day…! From my notifications, it appears that the message was sent through an older Foot Clan communication frequency approximately 43 minutes ago.”

“Donnie, how long will it take (y/n) to get to Sacks Tower.”

“From my calculations, if (y/n) left the lair heading to the Sacks building about 40 minutes ago, going by subway, they should arrive in about uhhh, approximately 8 minutes.”

“And how long will it take us to get there.” Raph asked.

“From where we are now, if we manage to hitch a ride on the next nonstop train to Times Square…… about 1 and a half hours.”

“Shit!”

Raph cursed loudly and turned away frustrated, and Mikey put his hands on his head. Donnie was typing away at the keypad on his arm, trying to find any kind of faster route and muttering about how stupid he was for not making you a shellcell.

“We don’t have a minute to waste. Let’s move out.”

That’s all they needed to hear. Everyone sprung into action and booked it for the closest subway station manhole cover.

“April, we are headed to Sacks Tower as fast as we can. And get ahold of the police commissioner again. Whoever gave us the information to come to this warehouse tonight was intentionally planted with misinformation. There was no sign of the Foot at the warehouse. …..It was most likely a diversion.”

“Right. I’ll get back to you soon.”

Leo hung up the phone and jumped off the apartment building and dove down towards the street’s manhole cover.

Leo grit his teeth.

“Hold on (y/n).”

The halls of the building were eerily empty. This place made your skin crawl. The laboratory felt all too similar to the one you had been trapped in before. But this one had clearly been abandoned for a long time. Broken glass, graffiti, turned over chairs, scattered paper. But strangely the power was still on. You didn’t dare try to use the elevator in fear of giving away your position. But you were confused as to why you had yet to see any guards. This is where the message was sent from, the turtles had to be here, right?

You climbed the steps to another floor, but paused as you creaked open the door exiting the stairwell. This floor felt like a world apart from the previous ones. It was clean.

And the lights were on.

You kept low, and hyper vigilant. Steadying your breathing like Leo had taught you, you crept into the sterile white hallway. There were glass windows along the hall looking into different labs. One held chemistry equipment, another held big bulky medical equipment that clicked and beeped. Finally, the last room at the end of the hall, a room with no windows. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, but still you crept towards the door. Slowly and quietly you pulled open the heavy door, and revealed a large lit room with a high ceiling, and there you saw it.

“Guys….!”

There along the back wall were 4 glass boxes with 3 of the turtles strung up and being drained of blood. You had found them! Seeing no one else in the room, you rushed in.

“I’m going to get you out of here, just you wait!” You went to the first machine in front of Donnie and reached out to touch the screen-

Your hand passed right through.

“What…?” You tried to touch it again but there was nothing there.

The hologram distorted, and then the turtles disappeared. You gasped.

It was a trap.

You turned around to book it towards the exit, but the door was opening again. Bebop and Rocksteady squeezed through the small door one at a time, and blocked your exit. Then over an intercom you heard the familiar laugh that sent a shiver down your spine.

Stockman chuckled darkly. “Just how I planned it! Like catching a fly with honey. So predictable!”

You backed up slowly as Bebop and Rocksteady approached you.

“Did you miss us, little kitty?” Rocksteady sneered.

The intercom buzzed as Stockman spoke again. “Bebop, Rocksteady, keep them occupied until I arrive. I will be there momentarily. And let’s not have a repeat of last time, please!” There was a clicking sound and the intercom went quiet.

Bebop chuckled. “Hell yeah! It’s been so long since we last played! Let’s make the most of it.”

“That’s right! And we gotta pay you back for all the trouble you caused us! We missed you so much after you left. You wanna go first Beebs?”

“My man!” Bebop smiled at Rocksteady and clasped his hand, they both laughed.

You tried your best to steady your breathing like Leo taught you. Your hands were trembling. But you needed a way out. Bebop and Rocksteady were not fast, if you timed it right, maybe you can get past them to the door.

Bebop approached you. You stayed still and waited. Then when he got close enough, you ran right towards him, surprising Bebop. He reached out to grab you but you slid right between his legs, then jumped up behind him and tried to run past Rocksteady before he could react. He was still too close to you and managed to grab you from behind, but you were ready for him. Just like in training, you reached up and grabbed him around his neck, and taking a deep breath, you threw all your strength forward and down and managed to flip Rocksteady onto his back- stunning him. You quickly jumped over him and ran for the door, slamming into it fast and wretched the handle to pull it open.

Locked. (Warning for graphic depictions of torture ahead.)

“No…!” You felt a bruising grip close around your arm, and you were torn away from the door. “NO!!” You cried out as you were thrown hard onto the floor between the two oversized mutants.

“See? Now that’s your problem. You gotta go makin’ our job harder than it needs to be!” Bebop complained.

Rocksteady was picking himself back up, rubbing the back of his head tenderly. “Don’t let them get to ya Beebs, we’ll sort them out quick before Stockman gets here.” Bebop then reached into his pocket and pulled out an all too familiar black taser.

Rocksteady took the taser and chuckled. “Little kitty needs a check-up!”

You tried to get up and run, but Rocksteady stomped down hard on your left arm. There was a sickening snap and you screamed, writhing in pain. You were pinned.

“Tsk, tsk. You know what happens when kitty gets naughty!” The taser was flicked on, all you could do was close your eyes before a strong surge of electricity was shot into your ribcage and throughout your body. You convulsed as the shocks seized you, your shoulder getting dislocated from the spasms, then collapsed back on the floor.

“Just like good ol’ times!” Rocksteady passed the taser to Bebop.

Rocksteady laughed and removed his foot from your arm, then Bebop tased you in the ribs again. You yelped and rolled onto your stomach, tucking your very broken arm underneath you and tried to crawl away.

“Hey, where ya goin? We’re just getting STARTED!” Rocksteady punctuated his sentence by kicking you in the stomach hard enough to throw you across the room. You hit the ground and your body rolled another few feet until you stopped on your side and curled in on yourself, the air knocked out of your lungs.

Bebop took his time strolling over to you, and grabbed you by the hair to lift you up. You coughed and gasped for air, grabbing at his hand and tried to pry his fingers off of his grip.

“Think you can just up and leave whenever you want, do ya?” He growled in your ear, then dropped you down haphazardly to the floor. You were on your knees, buckled forward and holding your left shoulder, when suddenly Bebop’s foot stomped down on your right ankle and you heard a loud crunch.

You shrieked.

Exhausted and riddled with unbearable pain, you crippled to the floor. It took everything you had just to pull breath.

“Alright, I’m back! How is our lovely patient doing?” Came the cheerful sing-song voice of Dr Stockman entering the room through the locked door, Karai tailing behind him.

“Hey boss! Uhhh, we were just warming them up for ya! See? They can’t run away no more.” Bebop nudged your side with his foot, knocking you onto your side so Stockman could see the pain riddled on your face. You were barely conscious by this point.

“Excellent! Bring them to me.” Stockman ordered.

Bebop picked you up by your good arm and carried you over to where Dr Stockman was walking to in the back of the room. Karai stepped in Bebop’s way for a moment, taking in your beaten appearance, and back-handed your face hard for good measure, leaving a shiny bruise and angry red gash across your cheek. That woke you up a bit.

Just enough to retaliate.

You took a deep breath and tore your arm out of Bebop’s grasp and punched Karai in the stomach, hard enough to throw her into a large display screen next to where Stockman was standing. Stockman squawked in surprise. She rolled onto the floor, and pushed herself up onto her side. Spitting a bit of blood onto the ground and wiping away at her lip.

You tried to stand on your good leg but you were too weak and collapsed back to the floor. Bebop and Rocksteady grabbed you by each of your arms and brought you in front of Stockman.

He was looking at you in awe, and reached out tentatively to swipe at the blood on your cheek. He rushed over to his desk, jumping a bit in excitement. He put a drop of your blood onto a slide, and observed it under his microscope.

“Ha…! HA HA…! YES!!” Stockman shouted in excitement and did a little dance. Bebop and Rocksteady exchanged a confused look and Karai stood up and walked over to Stockman, eyeing you angrily and rolling her shoulder.

“What does this mean?” She questioned him.

“It means that the mutation was a SUCCESS!!! Those stupid turtles must have triggered it somehow. And now we can finally proceed with the plan!!!” He grabbed something off his desk and skipped over to the stairs leading up to the circular titanium base in the middle of the room. “Bring them here!!” He called over, waving his hand to Bebop and Rocksteady.

They dragged you over to Stockman, and were deposited on the round podium that sat under a large glass tube. Stockman started to pull down long rubber tubes from above, and attached large thick needles to the ends. You tried once again to crawl away with your good arm, as Bebop and Rocksteady retreated.

But Stockman approached you from behind. In a quick jab, he stabbed the two needled tubes deep into your back. You grunted and groaned in pain, but could do nothing, collapsing on the podium. Beaten, bruised, and bleeding.

When Dr Stockman was finished, he descended the stairs and rushed over to his computer, giggling excitedly he typed in a command and the glass tube descended over you until it clicked into place at the sturdy titanium base. Locking you inside.

“They’ll be placed in suspended animation. Once the tank is completely filled with the preservation fluid, they’ll become nothing more than a convenient blood bag, supplying an endless supply of mutagen for our mutant army.” Stockman rubbed his hands together evilly.

“And what about the turtles?” Karai asked.

“It is already too late for them to stop us. Even if they manage to get through your guards, they will be unable to free them from this tank. Once I start the filtration process, I will delete the programmed command to empty or release the containment cylinder. They won’t be able to free them without my help!” Stockman typed away quickly at his computer.

One of the tubes connected to your back began to pull blood from your body, leading up through a small opening in the top of the cylinder then down into a canister at the base. Then from the second tube, a white milky substance full of liquid nutrients began to filter through and down into your body. It did nothing to numb the pain you felt as you laid there in a state of half consciousness.

Suddenly, the loud banging of gunshots could be heard somewhere outside the door.

“We’re not ready yet! Hold them back!” Stockman ordered Bebop and Rocksteady, who positioned themselves between Stockman and the door.

The door suddenly blew wide open, and the four turtles rushed into the room, angry and weapons at the ready.

“Where’s (y/n).”

Part 7

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

#tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #tmnt fanfic #bayverse donatello #bayverse raphael #bayverse leonardo #bayverse michelangelo

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em1e · 1 year

Text

⠀ ⠀新一郎 // training wheels ⠀ ༝ ༝ shinichiro sano ⠀ ༝ ༝ 964 words ⠀ ༝ ༝ no warnings :3 cute fluff ⠀ — mikey wants his own motorbike, shinichiro thinks he needs to learn to ride a regular bike first.

it really shouldn’t be as funny as you were making it out to be.

mikey’s cheeks puffed out, arms crossed over his chest while shinichiro works absentmindedly beside him, purposefully ignoring his younger sibling who was trying his best to not be ignored.

“holding your breath isn’t gonna change his mind,” emma pipes up from her place in your lap, practically vibrating at the fact that you’re going to braid her hair for her, “onii-san said you have to get rid of your training wheels first.”

mikey’s eyes narrow at her, unwilling to bow out just yet, but you can tell his 8-year-old lungs won’t last without air for much longer. despite his efforts, your boyfriend doesn’t budge, and it only takes about 15 seconds after this realization for mikey to give in. he lays beside shinichiro (who reaches over him to grab a tool he needs to finish working on his bike), gasping for air and whining.

“i want my own bike!”

“you have your own bike.” shinichiro says dismissively, nodding towards mikey’s blue bicycle sitting pretty in the garage. the training wheels seem to mock him, and mikey huffs at the suggestion.

“a cool bike.” he says instead, throwing an arm dramatically over his eyes, “one i can impress people with, like shinichiro.”

“and who might shinichiro be trying to impress?” you question, game no longer funny while you twist emma’s hair into neat twin braids down her back.

shinichiro visibly stiffens, and mikey snickers at the idea of his brother getting into trouble.

“no one!” he assures, turning slightly so you can see he’s serious, “and let’s not forget the topic at hand- mikey, you need to learn how to ride a regular bike before one of these bad boys.” he pats the piece of metal beside him and gives a proud smile.

it almost makes you forget about mikey’s comment. almost. but that’s an issue for another day, you decide as emma pulls you to your feet and shinichiro helps mikey up. “let’s go practice,” you stretch, “see who can get it down first: you or emma.”

emma giggles at your suggestion, racing to the garage to drag out her purple bike before mikey has a chance to argue.

and that’s how you ended up at the park, shinichiro on one knee while he unscrews the bolts keeping the training wheels in place on both emma and mikey’s bikes. emma tugs on your arm the second he’s finished with hers, wanting to beat mikey in the challenge even though it would be her first time without the additional help.

mikey, however, looks apprehensively at his own bike when shinichiro rolls it over to him, eyeing it then his brother.

“i don’t wanna.” he says eventually, and it leaves shinichiro sighing before kneeling down beside him, whispering something in his ear that has his eyes lighting up and practically hopping onto the bike quicker than shinichiro can steady it.

you raise an eyebrow at what he’s potentially promised, and shinichiro waves it off and helps mikey re-learn how to ride without the training wheels.emma’s pleading soon fills your ears, desperate to not lose to her ‘smelly older brother’.

they practice until the sun starts to set, you and shinichiro worn down from the hours of pushing and coaching and encouraging. mikey, finally, after much trial and error, manages to bike a few feet on his own, stopping just before the top of where the hill dips down, and shinichiro and you can’t help but cheer at him when he shoots a smile your way, triumphant after many losses.

that is, triumphant until emma sneaks up behind him, unknowing and unready. she shoves him without a second thought, and mikey yelps at the contact, riding down the hill while screams (of fear? joy? it’s hard to tell) slip past his lips until he reaches the bottom.

from the top of the hill, you see it clearly. mikey rolling to a stop until the bike can no longer keep itself upright on its own, leaving mikey to slowly, so slowly, fall over. he doesn’t even try to catch himself.

shinichiro races down to check on him, while you’re left holding back laughter to scold emma. she pleads innocence, assuring you it was for the greater good (‘mikey needs to learn how to control something going so fast if he wants a big bike!’). you can see shinichiro lift the bike off him easily, checking for any injuries and sending a thumbs up when he sees it’s just dirt and grass stains decorating mikey’s clothes.

with the adventure now complete, you’re left figuring out what mikey was promised- ice cream.

emma is only allowed one scoop, and has to apologize to mikey before she can receive it. you stay at the park for a little longer after, bikes long forgotten as mikey and emma wear themselves down on the equipment, and you and shinichiro bump shoulders on a bench to the side as a sign of a job well done.

"you gonna get him a bike?" you ask eventually, last bits of ice cream now gone, the only remains being the paper the cone was wrapped in.

he hums thoughtfully, "prob'ly, if he still wants one in a few years."

"s'gotta learn to go down fast hills, emma says," you giggle, "who taught you?"

"myself," he laughs, "but i'm glad i'm here to teach him. i'm gonna make sure he has the coolest bike ever."

when he looks over at you, he has the softest smile imaginable. you really can't help it, leaning over to give him a peck on the lips, humming at the fact that he tastes like strawberries- the remnants of ice cream emma couldn’t finish on his tongue.

#sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro x reader #sano x reader #shinichiro sano #sano shinichiro #x reader #salmon rowe

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rustedhearts · 1 year

Text

Got It Bad (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!Fem!reader)

summary: steve's sudden rise to pro-boxing fame comes with a change of scenery, and new (old) friends

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

♡ the rockstar!eddie setlist by @carolmunson ♡

warnings: a dash of angst, the return of our lovable rockstar (actually our first time meeting him in this au though), a smidge of smut, mention of alcohol, mention of drugs/addiction.

a/n: for reference, libby is 19, steve is 23, eddie is 25

february, 1990

Steve's rise to fame came faster than either of you could imagine.

The man himself seemed unprepared for how quickly endorsements flocked to him, willing to make up contracts and pay him a large chunk of change to promote them on his his first hop around the country. Steve signed a ten month contract at the end of December that went into affect New Year's day: his legal agreement to professionally beat the shit out of people on camera and make money doing it. His first televised fight was at the end of January, and he was a nervous wreck the whole month leading up to it.

When he inevitably won, he spent a little too much money on celebratory champagne and a hotel room, where you spent an entire weekend living a life you just couldn't get used to. Chocolate-covered strawberries, room service, sex all day, rose-petal baths, and everyone willing to make your stay as comfortable as possible. It didn't seem real, all this attention.

Now that he was making a name for himself—and making money he didn't know what to do with—he needed a manager. Big, his coach, made some calls and found Mikey Santorini, an LA based manager willing to take Steve on.

And for the promise you made to each other? Well, you didn't break it. Maybe that was the problem.

You told the library you'd be back soon, but you knew that was a lie. They made you a "bon voyage" basket, full of special edition covers of your favorite books and handmade bookmarks. You cried when your coworker, Lisa, presented it to you. The library wasn't just a job—it was your safe haven. You'd memorized every aisle, knew where every author lied. You had no idea when you'd see it again.

"We can visit a library in every city, I promise, baby," Steve told you when you came to his apartment sniffling.

You tried not to dwell on how easily he brushed aside the fact that you were putting your career on hold for him. You tried not to stop and think about that for too long, either. You loved Steve, didn't that matter more?

On the first of February, you said goodbye to your family.

Steve carried your luggage down the stairs from your bedroom. Your parents and younger brother, Nick, lined up near the front door, watching silently as he came in and out. Every time he hurried down the snow-coated front steps, your bedroom looked a little emptier.

When the last of it was in Steve's hands, you trudged down after him, heart tugging at the sight of your family all huddled together. Your mother wasn't doing much to conceal her tears, though your father seemed to be doing his best to console her. Nick looked unimpressed, a bored expression plastered across his chubby cheeks—but you knew him better than that, and those big eyes said it all. He was just as sad as you were to say goodbye.

Steve stopped near the front door, turning to flash you a small smile. "I'll give you a minute, okay?"

You nodded, accepting his gentle peck on the mouth. You watched him go, pulling the screen door closed behind him to bring warmth back to the house. A black SUV sat on the curb, supervised by Big in the driver seat. You only had a few hours before you had to be on the road. It would take all day to drive to California from here.

Rubbing your slick palms on your denim thighs, you turned to face your family.

"Um, so...this is it, I guess."

Your mother sniffled, wiping at her glistening cheeks. Her wedding ring glistened in the morning light. When she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around you, your heart burst. She smelled just how she always did, her perfume sweet and soothing, her hair drenched in the same hairspray she'd been using since you were a girl. Her sweater was soft, her skin warm, and you could feel the cool metal of the necklace she never took off pressing against your neck.

"I can't believe my baby girl is leaving," she hiccuped.

Your father reached forward and pinched the back of your mother's sweater, gently guiding her away from you. Tears pooled in your eyes and lodged in your throat, but you swallowed them down as your father opened his arms. You knew if you cried, so would your father, and then they'd never let you leave. But it suddenly felt so real, this departure.

"Call us every day, okay, pumpkin?" Your father muttered against the top of your hair.

You nodded, pressing your cheek to his chest, squeezing your arms tight around his stomach. He rubbed your back for a moment before letting go with a kiss to the head. You knew it was for his own good that he didn't hold on for too long.

You turned to Nick with a grin, punching his arm as hard as you could. He scowled, rubbing at it with a yelp.

"Gonna miss me, squirt?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

You swallowed hard, chest growing tighter by the second. He was only a freshman in high school, and you grew up looking forward to helping him through it. Now, you wouldn't be here to see what sort of shit he got into, or bail him out of any trouble he'd inevitably get roped into. You'd miss his first homecoming, his first football game, his first girlfriend.

"I'll miss you," you admitted.

Nick's eyes cast down at his socked feet, arms dropping to his sides. He balled his hands into fists, and you knew he was inches away from tears.

"Whatever. Don't die, I guess."

You giggled. "Okay."

"Hey." Steve came rushing back into the house, cheeks pink from the wind, your luggage shoved into the trunk of the SUV. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, flashing your family another smile. "I guess I'll see you guys soon. I'll call the minute we get there. Steve's fight is on channel three, you can watch it!"

Steve cocked a sheepish grin, crossing his arms over his chest. Your mother barely glanced at him, reaching out to give you one last firm squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. You didn't even mind the glossy lip print she left in her wake.

Your father reached out and clasped Steve on the shoulder.

"You take good care of my girl, you hear me? If I find out anything happened to her, I swear to fucking god—"

"—Dad!"

Steve remained steadily stoic under your father's disapproving frown and sharp glare. "I understand, sir. I'd never let anything happen to her, I swear."

Your father nodded curtly before releasing Steve. Steve's hand instantly sought the small of your back, pulling you into him gently. You waved at your family, blowing your mother a kiss.

"Bye, I love you guys."

On your way down the street, you watched your mother cry in the front window, and your father wrap his arms around her.

♡ ♡

You had three days before the fight, though they all seemed jam-packed with events and training. You barely had a second to unpack your clothes at the hotel before you were being hauled off to another sweaty, humid gym.

But on the second day, Steve woke up early and rolled toward your side of the bed, smacking kisses all over your bare neck. You squirmed in your sleep, waking with a gasp when his teeth sank into your throat.

"Steve," you squeaked, sighing contentedly when he tugged you flush against his bare chest.

"Morning, my angel," he murmured into your bare skin.

Half-asleep and bleary, a hum rumbled through your throat, hand rising to bat around for Steve's fluffy hair. When you found it, you pushed your fingers through the heap of it, stroking for your own comfort. Steve nuzzled further into your neck, unable to control himself from pressing another eager kiss to the underside of the jaw. You smelled so good in the morning, and you skin was always so warm and soft.

"Morning, Stevie."

Your voice sent a jolt through his chest. He smiled to himself, tightening his arms around your waist. He couldn't believe this was his life.

"Got a call from an old buddy ," he announced, playing with the satin of your sleep tank. "He lives in California now, said he wants to get together and catch up. Invited us to his band practice today."

You hummed, rubbing at your eyes. You still weren't used to sleeping anywhere other than Steve's lumpy mattress at his old apartment, or the same bed you'd been sleeping in since you were young. Sleep didn't come easy away from home.

"He's in a band?" A yawn split your mouth open. You tossed around a moment, still caged in Steve's arms, until you were on your back.

You pried your eyes open and smiled at Steve, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his jaw with your nails. He eased into it like a cat. He forced his eyes open, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at you. Fondness drenched his features, eyes twinkling with a look only you were lucky enough to see. He swept two fingers across your forehead to brush your hair out of your eyes, letting them drag down your cheek gently.

"Yep, ever since Hawkins days."

Your brows jumped. "Oh, he's from Hawkins, too?"

Steve pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle, tipping your head up to bare your mouth to him.

"Yep." He bent and pressed your mouths together. "Went..." Another kiss, head tipping to explore different angles of your mouth. "...to high school..." He flicked his tongue along your bottom lip and nipped at it. "...together."

You squirmed on the mattress below him, cheeks warming and thighs squeezing together. Your fingers dug into his bulging biceps with need as he situated himself over you. Your thighs stung with the stretch needed to accommodate him.

"Can't wait to meet him."

Steve lowered his pelvis to press flush against yours, snatching a sharp gasp from your throat. His erection throbbed against your panties, satin sleep shorts abandoned on the floor from last night. He smirked at the little sound, running the tip of his nose along your collarbones, blowing hot air across your tender morning skin. He had you shivering like the cold and he'd barely even touched you.

"Mhm, later. Right now, I gotta take care a' my girl."

He disappeared beneath the covers, wedged between your legs thrown over his shoulders. He spent thirty minutes suffocating between them just to hear you whine and cry, and didn't let up until your face was burning red.

♡ ♡

After three hours in the gym and a quick shower, you climbed into the SUV with Steve to meet his friend. It was much warmer here in California—you weren't used to having bare shoulders and exposed legs in February. You wore one of Steve's favorite dresses, a piece from your mother's closet that she gifted to you when she could no longer fit into it. Steve said it made you look like "one of those disco girls, but in a really hot way."

You expected to arrive at a shabby house with a garage full of instruments, so all you could do was frown in confusion when Steve pulled against the curb of The Troubadour.

"Um...Steve?"

Steve popped the glovebox, rifling through the mess of papers and cassettes before pulling out his sunglasses. He shoved them over his eyes and slammed it closed. "Huh?"

You were slow to take your seatbelt off, still glancing through the window with a pout. "What band did you say your friend was in?"

Steve hopped out of the car, and you instantly pulled the visor down to check your lipstick and the state of your hair before he reached your side. When he helped you out of the car, he was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders and guide you toward the door, though he hadn't answered your question.

Inside, any glimpse of the California sunlight disappeared into darkness. The stage was massive, much too big for a small time band, and you found your eyes bouncing around frantically toward each band poster on the wall for some sort of hint. Steve seemed to know exactly where he was going, though, and guided you toward a door just off the stage.

The plucky twang of guitar strings and the rowdy chorus of male laughter echoed from a room down the hall. Your nerves suddenly felt cold. This was a big time band, and you were just some small town girl.

Sunglasses and brown bomber jacket on, Steve stomped down the hall with you under his arm like he'd been here all his life. You admired that air of confidence and ease.

Steve shoved the door at the end of the hall open, revealing a small cinderblock room with a sectional, tables of alcohol and food wrappers, and a gaggle of men in black leather.

Corroded Coffin.

"Holy shi—"

"Harrington! You made it, man."

Eddie Munson, frontman for Corroded Coffin, came staggering toward Steve with his arms out. Steve kept one around you as he clasped Eddie on the back; two large, leather-padded smacks rang through the room. Your cheeks suddenly felt very warm and swollen. You glanced past Eddie toward the rest of the band, talking amongst themselves and nursing beer. They all glistened with a sheen of sweat, and the room reeked with a haze of alcohol and cigarettes.

You never thought you'd see them outside of the poster on your closet door or the album on your bookshelf.

"And who's this cutie?"

You turned, feeling the heat of the sun gather in your face at the sight of two black eyes steadied on you. Eddie's hair was as large and wild as ever, eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner, a heavy silver chain around his neck, another one clinking on the low belt loop of his jeans when he crossed his arms and smirked at you. You swallowed, pressing closer to Steve.

"This is my girl, Libby. Libby, this is—"

"—I know who you are," you squeaked. You seemed to be growing hotter by the second, though that seemed out of the realm of possibility.

Eddie's brows shot up, and he tossed a quick glance toward Steve. "That so? Harrington, you didn't tell me you caught yourself a little metalhead."

Steve pushed his glasses to the top of his head, sliding his hand down to your waist. "News to me, Munson."

To ease the sudden stiffness between the two hulking men, you shot your hand out toward Eddie with a saccharine smile. "Nice to meet you."

Eddie's laughter made you start to pull back, but he suddenly bent at the waist and accepted your hand, shaking it with a gentle bow. "And you, sweetheart. C'mon, take a seat. I wanna hear all about this fight, Harrington."

Steve pulled you onto his lap when he sank down on the leather sectional, and you were slightly grateful for it after seeing the sight of those sticky cushions. His big hands splayed across your bare thighs, pulling the hem of your dress down a little further.

Eddie sat across from you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, ringed hands reaching toward a bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. He pulled the top and poured a stream into his mouth. You inwardly winced when he gulped it down like water, wiping his shiny mouth with the back of his palm.

Eddie held the bottle out, but Steve waved his hand dismissively. Eddie angled the top of the bottle toward you, brows raised. Steve's hand tightened on your thigh, and you smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, no thank you."

If Eddie thought you were lame for denying the alcohol, he didn't show it. Instead, he took another swig and set the bottle on the floor.

"So," he mused, easing back on the sofa, "how'd you two meet?"

Steve drummed his fingers on your thigh, making small tapping sounds, and you slid your fingers through his to interlock them.

"At a party," Steve replied.

Eddie stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. The band lingered in the corner, chatting amongst themselves, though curiously glancing at the pair of you on the sofa. You averted your gaze when the one with shaggy hair dropped his eye in a wink, cheeks burning. If Steve had seen, you knew he would've tossed you aside and gotten his knuckles bloody in a heartbeat.

"Oh! Still the life of the party, Harrington?" Eddie snickered.

You giggled, but Steve only mustered a combination of a smirk and a scowl. "She's from Hawkins, too."

Eddie's eyes rounded with delight, plump lips parting with genuine surprise. He turned to you, and you squished a little closer to Steve, who tapped the side of your thigh with his open palm. "Get my lighter for me, baby?"

You nodded, dipping your hand into the inner pocket of his jacket to fish out the silver zippo. In that time, he'd swiped a cigarette from the table in a random pack, and you brought the lighter to his mouth where the cigarette waited.

"If you're from Hawkins, how come I don't remember you?" Eddie inquired, watching the interaction with amusement.

You snapped the lighter shut and dropped it back into Steve's pocket, watching him inhale a deep drag before blowing it away toward the door. The stench of tobacco used to make you sick, but now it smelled like Steve.

You turned to Eddie and grinned, full-cheeked and sweet. "Oh, you were already in the band by the time I got to high school, and Steve had graduated."

Eddie's smile slipped, eyes sliding to Steve beside you with a slow cock of his head. You tried not to let your smile mimic Eddie's—of disappointment and dismay—and tapped Steve's shoulder.

"I'll be right back."

You placed your heels on the floor to push off and stand up, but Steve tugged you back gently by the arm, cigarette propped in the corner of his mouth. Brows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown, he shook his head.

"Where y' goin', angel?"

You giggled nervously, the back of your neck gathering sweat. "Just to the bathroom, Stevie."

Eddie snickered, sliding a cigarette out of the pack on the table. He brought it to his mouth with his eyes trained solely on the two of you. Steve released your arm and you stood to your feet, bending to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Be right back, promise," you cooed.

You were a few steps from the door when you heard Eddie chuckle. "Yeah, Stevie, she promises."

You skittered down the hall toward the ladies' room, closing the door and sliding the lock over.

While you were gone, Eddie lit his cigarette and leaned forward again, hunched over his lap toward Steve.

"Harrington, how the fuck old is this girl?" His voice was low and grumbly.

Steve rolled his eyes, plucking his sunglasses from the crown of his head to tuck them into his jacket. "She's nineteen, Munson, lay the fuck off."

Eddie chuckled, spluttering clouds of smoke into the air.

"Harrington, be honest with me, did you 'nap her?"

Steve shook his head, tonguing away a sideways grin. It'd been a long time since he'd seen Eddie. Though they went to high school together, they never ran in the same crowds. It wasn't until Steve graduated that he met Eddie at a party, woozy out on coke and Jack with a girl under each arm. At first, they just nodded to each other at parties. But when they got to talking, they realized they could make each other laugh, and bonded over their mutual love for women. That was all it took for a friendship to form.

It seemed Eddie had fallen drunk to the rock and roll life. Steve eyed the end of a tied baggie hanging out of Eddie's jacket wearily. He'd been here with his friend before.

"Nah, man, she uh...she's really great," Steve admitted, trying not to let it show just how much he truly ached for you.

"God, she must be. Callin' you Stevie, laying all over your lap. You got it bad, Harrington," Eddie teased in a musical tone.

Steve tapped his ashes toward the floor, shooting Eddie a glare.

"Not bad enough to stop me kickin' your ass."

Eddie's hands flew up with a giggle. "Oh-ho-ho. C'mon, lemme see those jabs, King Steve. I heard you're taking bodies in the ring."

Eddie leaned over the table, a quick fist appearing to shoot out and punch Steve's arm. Steve quickly retaliated, smacking Eddie upside the head in a much more humiliating act that had Eddie's cheeks burning pink.

The door chittered on its hinges, and all heads turned to watch you quietly tiptoe in. You kept your eyes on the floor the whole brisk journey toward Steve, taking tiny but quick steps. You instantly slid back into his lap, comforted by the weight of his arm around your waist, the callused feel of his hand on your thigh.

Eddie leaned back into the sofa again, all wide shoulders and black hair. He hollowed his cheeks around his cigarette and pulled at his jacket until his arms were free of it, revealing two ivory biceps cut with lean muscle. You instantly burned at the sight of them, scrawled with tattoos, and placed your eyes on your lap.

"So, what d' you do, sweet thing? You in college?" Eddie asked, words escaping him with a coil of smoke.

You glanced at Steve, shaking your head in response. Steve was as stoically blank as ever, and you weren't sure if Eddie's use of pet names bothered him or not.

"Um, no, I'm a librarian—"

"—ooh," Eddie interrupted the moment your occupation left your mouth, lips pouted in an 'o' shape, brows furrowed and eyes scrunched, "sexy."

Steve's fingers dug into your thigh, his spare hand ripping the cigarette from his mouth. You barely had a moment to turn your head and clock the angled position of his brows, the crease in his forehead, before he was pointing his cigarette at Eddie.

"Munson." The single utterance was sharp with warning.

The room went quiet for a split second. You brought your hand to the back of Steve's neck, playing with the ends of his hair, and Eddie's face slowly relaxed into another wide, dimpled smile. His hands rose again, though this time in surrender.

The men shared a look of understanding that went unseen by you. But Steve could see it, the appreciative cock of Eddie's head, the small 'I'm happy for you' coded in the way he nodded. They both knew, deep down, that all Steve ever wanted was to know he could be loved.

"So," Eddie cleared his throat, clasping his hands together with a sharp smack, "you guys stickin' around for the show tonight?"

You visibly perked up, grin returning with a twitch of your lips. Before Steve could even dismiss the idea, you pushed your fingers through his hair and turned to Eddie.

"I'd love to!"

Eddie mirrored your grin, his all dimples and charm, and turned his attention to your scowling boyfriend. Only Steve could see through his friendly joy, and note the mocking amusement that lingered beneath.

"She'd love to, Harrington," Eddie cooed.

Cheeks burning, you peered down at Steve with big, round eyes. "It'll be fun, Steve. Beats being cooped up in that hotel room all night."

You stroked the back of his head languidly, feathering his satin locks between your fingers. You could see the gears turning in his head, thinking over your request. His fingers drummed on your thigh again, arm pressing into your spine. Steve hated saying no to you, but he wasn't sure he could handle a crowded club full of screeching guitars and girls too young to be throwing bras and panties at Eddie.

"Ah, nobody wants that! Come on, Harrington, your girl wants to rock!" Eddie reached out and slapped Steve's knee with the back of his hand.

Steve made a "psh" sound, pinching the bridge of his nose. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, sweet and scented of vanilla flavored lipgloss, and Steve's resolve fizzled into nothing.

"Fuck—fine, whatever," he grumbled.

That earned him a soft squeal of excitement from you, and his face scrunched when you grabbed it with both hands to plant a sticky kiss on his mouth. Eddie grinned at it, the way you could squish Steve's cheeks together and smear pink glitter across his face without being reprimanded for it. It was the clear the hulking athlete had it bad for you.

As Steve gently pulled your hands away, the trill of a phone broke through the muffled chatter and low strum of guitars in the dressing room. Before either of you could stop to wonder where it was coming from, Eddie leapt from the couch. He toppled over bottles on the floor, half tripping on the end of the coffee table on his way to the phone hanging on the wall.

"Hey gorgeous," he gasped into the receiver, slamming himself against the wall, out of breath and eager.

The rest of the band assumed Eddie's side of the sectional, and it was the shaggy blond, Gareth, that leaned forward and grinned. "That's gotta be Rink."

You pulled your brows together. "Rink?"

"Stella? Stella Rink? His girlfriend," Gareth explained.

Your head snapped over to Steve, eyes blown wide. "Stella Rink? Eddie's dating Stella Rink?"

Steve shrugged, pulling the hem of your dress down again. He glared toward the band, whose eyes were skimming over the shape of you.

"Dunno who that is, angel."

You cocked your head at Steve, eyes rolling. "We just saw one of her movies last week. She was the main character, Steve, the really pretty one."

Steve let his head fall back against the leather couch cushions, fixing you with an unamused look.

"Now, why would I be lookin' at another girl when I got you, hmm?"

Your eyes rolled again on their own, though your cheeks grew sore from your giddy smile. Steve ate it up, wrapping a hand around the underside of your jaw to pull you down and attach your mouths together. The band of men on the other couch became forgotten at the taste of foreign cigarettes on his mouth, the stiffness of his lap beneath you.

"You're so full of shit," you giggled against the swipe of his tongue.

Steve nipped at your bottom lip and shrugged. "S' the truth. Can't deny the truth, baby."

The phone returned to the cradle on the wall with a bell's chime, and you pulled away from Steve just in time to see Eddie trudging back. Steve brought his arm up to rest around your shoulders, yanking you down until your head knocked into his.

"How's America's sweetheart, Munson?" Gareth snickered, watching Eddie pout.

"Too busy," the rockstar huffed.

You gnawed on your lip a moment, cheeks warm again. "So, you're really dating Stella Rink?"

Eddie spun to face you with such fervor that you recoiled into Steve, and his hand tightened on your thigh to pull you closer.

"Dating her? Honey, that's my wife."

Confusion twisted on your face, but the band just snickered at Eddie's whole-hearted declaration.

"They've been dating for, like, three months," Jeff, the bassist, chuckled.

Eddie waved his hands, brushing off the band's dismissal. He perched on the arm of the couch on the other side of Steve, all pale limbs and black attire. He placed one foot on the cushion next to Steve and bent over his knee, speaking to the pair of you like telling a secret.

"Well, when you know, you know. Right, Harrington?"

At this angle, Steve got a better look at the baggie in Eddie's pocket—a familiar white powder coated the plastic. Steve tore his eyes slowly away from the baggie and met Eddie's gaze, making sure the shaggy-haired man knew what Steve had been looking at.

Eddie swallowed, smile slipping, but Steve's eyes were steadily narrowed with suspicious warning.

"Right," Steve agreed.

They continued to stare at each other—Steve unnervingly calm and Eddie a little squirmy—while you murmured amongst the band members about Stella and Eddie, and how bloody Steve's fights usually got. They were surprisingly curious about how violent boxing could get.

But Steve put an end to the conversation with a gentle tap to your thigh, pushing off the back of the couch to sit up and guide you with him.

"C'mon, baby, you wanna go eat?"

The question seemed rhetorical, the both of you already on your feet and your hand grasped tightly in Steve's before you could even excuse yourself from the band conversation. You waved goodbye to them, pairing it with a cute, rosy-cheeked smile that made them swoon.

"See you guys tonight, right?" Eddie asked, following the pair of you toward the door. "And we should get together again sometime, Harrington. It's been a while."

A big, ringed hand clasped down on Steve's shoulder, and the boxer stopped short in the doorway to turn to his friend. You stopped with him, leaning into his side. For a moment, you were certain they'd have another vague and ominous staring match. But then Steve leaned forward, jerked his chin toward Eddie's legs, and blinked blankly at Eddie.

"You watchin' that?"

Eddie blinked back, his scoff a secondary, delayed reaction yanked from him by disbelief. He glanced at you for a moment, uncertain how much he wanted to say in front of you, and placed his hand on the door.

"I got it covered, Harrington, but thanks."

His tone was sharp but not cruel, and it took you a moment to even pick up on the underlying stiffness between the two men. Clearly, there was something wrong, but you just couldn't figure out what. Did Eddie have an accident, were his legs okay? The dimpled grin he flashed Steve seemed irritated.

Steve clapped Eddie on the arm: a friendly, smidge-too-hard pat. "Alright, man. Catch you guys tonight, gotta go get some earplugs."

The irritation was slow to melt from Eddie's smile, but he chuckled all the same. You cleared your throat, raising your hand in a tiny wave toward Eddie.

"Bye, Eddie, it was nice to meet you."

Eddie bent at the waist again in another bow, and you couldn't help but giggle dazedly. "And you. See you tonight, sweetheart."

♡ ♡

At dinner, Steve smoked another cigarette on the patio of a Mexican restaurant, sunglasses shielding him from the evening sun. He hadn't said much since you left Troubadour, and you could only sip your lemonade for so long in silence before you huffed.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you mad we're going to the concert tonight, because we don't have to if you really don't want to."

Steve tapped his cigarette over the pavement, head shaking. "Nah, angel, s' not it."

You frowned, reaching over to grab his hand on the table. His watch knocked on the white cloth, and you traced your finger over the leather band.

"Then what is it?"

Steve took a drag of the cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke toward the street.

"Nothin', baby. Just a headache."

You nodded, flashing a tight-lipped smile. You dipped into your purse on the chair beside you, fishing out the metal pill container you always carried on hand. You swiped two pain pills for him and placed them beside his Coke. Steve followed your movements, a huff of laughter shooting through his nose. He placed his cigarette in his mouth, refusing to drop your hand, and collected them in his hand.

"Thanks, angel."

You beamed. "Of course, Stevie. Now come on, I wanna go to the hotel and get ready. I can't believe I'm finally seeing Corroded Coffin live."

Steve stamped out his cigarette and plopped the pills in his mouth. He watched you, unable to contain your ecstatic smile, though you tried by pursing your lips and gazing down at your plate. He'd been watching you since you sat down—he watched you gaze around Sunset Strip like you were in another world, wide-eyed and curious.

He said nothing of Eddie's drug habit, or his mother's when he was a child that made him weary around Eddie because of it. Steve said nothing about hearing you sniffle in the bathroom at one a.m because you tried calling your parents and they didn't answer, and you missed them so bad that you seemed off in your own world ever since you got here.

Because right now, you were happy. And that's all that mattered to Steve.

"Let's go, baby."

♡ ♡

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kwlsn · 21 days

Text

It was almost ten past fifteen and Mikey still hasn't touched his dinner; eyes fixating on your silver white hair — the shade that was brighter than his, like a glimmering star.

"Your hair is ugly."

He spat viciously, putting his utensils aside as you kept your head down. You felt disgusted and angry at the faux silver, wondering what made him purposely taunt you like this after years of no contacts.

Even when Grampa got hospitalised, he never showed up just like Shin. Leaving Emma taking care of the house all by herself as you had to find a professional coach for the dojo, unable to put any hope on the two guys anymore.

"Are you saying yours, too?"

"Watch your tongue."

Sanzu pressed his gun against your temple, giving you one last warning after you had been disrespectful towards Mikey for three times straight; trying to provoke him whenever he tried to talk to you.

"Sanzu Haruchiyo, I suggest you not to act brashly."

Ran took out his baton, looking at the pink-haired guy menacingly before you placed your hand on top of his. Giving it a light squeeze to ensure him that you'd be fine.

Giving Sanzu one last glance, Ran put his baton away and Mikey told Sanzu to do the same with his gun. Hoping this dinner would end with no blood splattered over the walls or someone's head on Mikey's dessert plate.

You looked down at your meal. It was your favourite pork cutlet and it went cool now, unfortunately. The sauce was already absorbed into the meat and the crispy part was too soggy for your liking now.

"The three of you, leave now."

Ran gave you one last glance before leaving the dining hall, mouthing a 'good luck' as you were now alone with one of the most wanted criminals in the whole of Japan.

It made you wonder how he was still able to waltz around the city and not attract anyone when his face was almost everywhere; where the same thing applied for Shin.

Bonten and Black Dragon were two groups that no one wanted to talk about but one thing for sure — they weren't nice and merciful, even to the women and children.

"It's already late, at least eat something."

Mikey whispered to you, moving your heart slightly as you finally gave in and took a bite from the cutlet; enjoying the soft meat slowly melted into your mouth, the taste kept getting addictive at every single bite and when you realised it, you had finished the whole plate.

Mikey stood up from his seat and walked in your direction with a bottle of wine, placing it on the table beside your left hand.

"Do you want me to pour you some?"

Before you could reply, Mikey poured it onto your glass; not showing any sign of stopping as the wine began to overfill and spill over to the table.

Thinking fast, you tried to move your glass away but somehow your body wouldn't move and Mikey plucked it from your hand gently, pressing the glass against your lips.

Mikey was happy that you were still as gullible, trusting your brother who took you out for dinner even though he could bend the rules to his heart's content; participating in money laundering for drugs, prostitution, human trafficking and successful assassination of high-ranking officers and ministers.

Feeling grateful that Sanzu had put a lot of different drugs on the food and drink, Mikey picked your unconscious body up from the chair and told the manager to clean it up, leaving no trace of him in case of police going here.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay now."

Mikey looked at your sleeping form on his lap, looking like a part of the lost collection of Michaelangelo's best creation.

The way your hair fell against his chest, eyes closed and lips slightly parted — you always drove him insane and he knew that his choice this time would be the correct one.

Placing your body onto his bed, Mikey ran his fingers over your soft and plump skin; licking on his lower lip as he couldn't wait to finally own you forever.

His hands started to strip you off your clothes, watching every curve on your body before tracing them slowly; trying to find which part would be the best for you to bear his mark of ownership.

"Fuck, why are you so hot.."

He took off your bra, kneading your left breast gently and watching the way your face contorted whenever he focused on a certain spot; low moan and heavy breath kept escaping from your lips.

This time, he ripped your panties off and spread your folds open; feeling a slight twist in his heart when his thumb slipped into you, trying to find your spot as his finger brushed against a soft, spongy spot inside you.

A broken moan ripped off from your throat, another call for him to induce you with more drugs before you could wake up; a side of him urging Mikey to overdose you but his choice landed on one pill, not wanting to lose you again.

After pushing another pill down your throat successfully, Mikey picked up where he left.

He knew it was wrong for him to do this but it felt right; you laying down under him, wrapped in his arms and no one to call for you.

The day he watched Shin kiss you, marking the day where he had lost his respect towards the older man and making his way onto you before the Black Dragon could trace you.

"It'll be fast."

A warm, heavy breath escaped from his lips. His eyes made a beeline, watching your bare body and feasting on it; Mikey knew he'd have to snap out of this indulgence one day,

but, then again, he'd always enjoy it while it lasted.

"So, trust me on this one."

He put two digits inside of you, listening to the squelch your walls made; clinging on his fingers, begging for them to pay an equal amount of attention as Mikey pulled out, not wanting for you to cum all over on his fingers for tonight.

We always have time for that

He unfastened his pants and took them off with his boxers, a small wet patch on it already told him enough whenever he looked at your face; he got a hard-on and already leaking precum, dripping onto your stomach.

Gripping on the soft flesh, he spread your legs and pushed the tip in; a moan caught at the back of his throat, you were wet enough but still too tight for his fat head to slip in with a single thrust.

"I see, you've been saving it for this moment, huh?"

His cheeks got warmer at the thought of you saving your first time for him, biting on his lower lip harder before he forced his way in; throwing his head to the back as he could feel his tip brushed against your cervix.

This is not enough

He wrapped your limp legs around his waist, thrusting deeper until his pelvis made contact with yours; knowing it was the right time to finally cum inside you, not wasting any single seed and stayed in that position for a few minutes before pulling out.

"Finally, you're mine — we'll have a little family we could call as our own."

He nestled his head against your stomach, pressing a line of kisses up to your lips; cupping your cheek before he fell asleep, knowing tomorrow would be a better day from now on.

A few days later, Takemichi was currently facing one of the hardest situations he had ever met.

Every billboard at the Shibuya Crossing was showing the same shocking news, no matter how hard he ran and looked away, he would always see that.

'We wish for Manjiro Sano and his wife a happy and harmonious marriage life. Congratulations for your marriage, Mr.Sano'

The displayed picture was both of you and Mikey, wearing a white three-piece suit while you were wearing a white mermaid gown with a deep sweetheart; a beautiful black garnet necklace adorned your neck and a pair of platinum rings on both of you and Mikey's ring fingers.

"I failed to save her again this time."

Takemichi's head started to spin and felt lighter than before. He had to sit down on a bench as an expected text notification popped up on his lock screen.

Mikey : takemicchi, make sure to come to my wedding reception tonight~

Mikey : bring Hina, too, 'kay? My wife missed both of you

Mikey : invitation.pdf

Mikey : make sure to show it before entering, 'kay?

He thought years ago, it'd be the best for him to join Toman and pledge his loyalty for Mikey for years.

It felt so right since he didn't see any troubles within his friends' and colleagues' personal lives; Mikey also has cut his contact off with you, meaning your death could be avoided this time.

He decided to abandon his morale and kept Hina close to him, fearing that she would die if he made a slight slip up.

But, when he already avoided his fiancée's death; he forgot about one of the biggest factors that ruined almost everyone's lives in Tokyo because of Mikey's reckless decisions — yours, his beloved wife.

He didn't think that he'd see you when you were so much younger and what made him shocked the most was that, Mikey was your big brother.

He knew Mikey was insane in the future due to his obsession towards you, but when he first joined Toman; Mikey always gave him a warning.

'Make sure not to get yourself saved by my sister again, Takemicchi.'

He leaned against an electric pole, thinking that everything had been twisted from the start. There was nothing he could do to prevent Mikey's obsession towards you and that meant, you'd always die three years after getting married to Mikey.

"What to do now..."

He looked down at his hand, scurrying over to Hina and thinking about one thing he never tried before.

The runaway bride

#series : the lost treasure #tw.incest #tw.drug #tw.somnophilia #tw.noncon

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