Mrs. All American (Aizawa x femaleOC)

Dessert

The game has gotten very real, very fast and I'm not sure how much longer I can do this. When she and Mic played Uncle in high school their goal was to humiliate each other, and innuendo came into play often to make each other as uncomfortable as possible, but I don't remember it ever getting this explicit. While purchasing soft pretzels from a mall kiosk we're asked by the vendor if we need any condiments. Mona responds with, "No thanks, we don't use them."

So far I've been able to keep up; grabbing a pair of women's underwear off a rack, handing them to her in front of a salesperson and telling her she left them in the backseat. Giving a necktie a look and saying it's too short after loosely tying it around her wrists in front of other shoppers. I'm doing my best here.

Ramona pulls me into an elevator, we're alone so I think I'm safe. The doors close and she looks at me, "You're hanging tough."

"I see Mic every day." I tell her.

She sort of laughs and nods, "So you're into some kinky shit, huh?"

I'm not entirely sure if it's just the jolt from the elevator or my lungs dropping out of my ass that causes me to nearly hit the floor. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, she's looking at me, a kind of amused look on her face.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She crosses her arms, "The handcuffs, the tie, the panties in the car."

This is when I realize how I've fucked up. Everything that I've fought back with has just come to me, things I'm comfortable with, stuff I do naturally. Ramona knows this. I have no plausible deniability.

"I'm not surprised, honestly." She continues, then she gets this weird little spark in her eye, "Have you ever used the scarf?"

The doors to the elevator open and I follow Ramona out. I tell her truthfully that I've never used the scarf, not that the thought hasn't crossed my mind it's just that I feel like most women would be freaked out by it.

"Freaked out?" She asks, "I'd be fucking thrilled, are you kidding?"

I'm thrilled right now. She keeps going.

"Cognizant fibers, so you could adjust how tight it's tied without stopping, it's way softer than nylon rope, so no rope burn to explain the next day." Ramona starts walking a little slower, "Your eyes would glow all red and your hair-"

At this point I think she's realized that she's rambling out loud, because she quickly stops talking all together. She's beat fucking red. Shit I'm probably beat fucking red too.

Ramona clears her throat, "Anyway. I think you should try it, that's what I'm saying."

I just nod, still looking down at her. I've never seen that look of utter self-loathing anywhere but a mirror, that deep inner hatred after saying something stupid. We wander into another store, a small dimly lit shop that caters mostly to gothic and edgy teenagers. I've been in a few times.

I'm browsing the selection of novelty coffee mugs, Ramona's a little further down looking over some graphic tees. I keep glancing over at her as she seems to have found one she likes and is searching through the sizes. I move over to where she is face the clothing rack directly behind her, we're standing back to back.

I take a quick look around the store, the kid at the counter has disappeared to the back and no one else is in the store. I let the scarf unravel from around my neck, just enough to snake down my back. I'm waiting, listening, and then I hear Ramona suck in as it starts to wrap around her waist.

"What are you doing?!" She hisses at me.

I suppress the urge to laugh, "Huh?" I ask, "I'm not doing anything."

I can feel her stiffen as the scarf wind itself down and around her inner thigh, and she almost giggles despite definitely being somewhat upset "Shota. Seriously."

I just shake my head and keep denying that I'm doing anything but browsing pop culture hoodies. I am so close to winning I can practically taste victory. I tighten the grip just barely and she gasps again, I smirk and just quietly sing back to her "What's the magic word?"

Ramona takes a breath and shudders "Uncle."

My scarf slithers back into place and I turn to face her, she glares up at me and I just smile back. "I win."

"Proud of yourself?" She asks.

"Yes."

Next thing I know Mona's hand is balled up in my hair at the back of my head and I'm violently yanked forward. I shut my eyes waiting for the feeling of her fist in my cheek, but it doesn't come, instead I feel something against my mouth. It's soft, it's warm. It's lips: it's her lips. Oh my God it's her lips, what the fuck is going on?

Before any other thought can enter my mind I'm pulled back by her grip still at the base of my head and we separate. Now she's looking me in the eye, the weird spark from before back in her eyes and now I'm scared. Still holding me crouched next to her face Ramona whispers "Well let's go so you can collect your prize."

She releases me and turns away, leading me to the door by the end of my scarf. In my daze and confusion I ask "What did I win?"

Ramona answers simply "Dessert."