#I ordered the same size as Flash

[10ve1ess]

HE IS HERE!!!!!

[toji-bunny-girl]

bartender toji fucking the living daylights out of us after a nasty breakup ? also have a nice day

ON THE H★USE !!

#𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆 ⟢ bartender!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader #𝑺𝒀𝑵𝑶𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ⟢ riding the hot bartender after a break up is the least expected thing you’ll ever think of #𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⟢ alcohol, pet names, foreplay, fingering, teasing, grinding, pre-cum, no protection, creampie, car sex, nipple play, squirting, size difference, big dick toji papa, alpha toji with xxxxxxxxl dick, multiple orgasm, one-sided drunk sex (?), power play, I’m so lazy to do tags, who even reads content warnings tbh #𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻 ⟢ 4k #𝑨/𝑵 ⟢ don’t let this flop guys I spent way too much time on this when I should be studying for my exam 😭

“Plus, he literally had to beg me to act like I was cummin’ when he stuck his sorry excuse of a dick in me!” your eyelids hung heavily over your eyes as you exclaimed, brows shooting down in a frown. “Get a load of that guy, am I right?”

“He doesn’t pay for your stuff, and he can’t fuck good?!” Toji teasingly mirrored your tone as he manoeuvre behind the bar, uniform taut from the way he natchly flexed his arms; the bottles clinking as he worked deftly to craft out the beverage you ordered. “What a man.”

It has been 2 hours since you’ve been rambling on about your ex-boyfriend, and the ravenette felt like he’d known this stranger for years—all of his secrets and traits aired into his ears. Albeit, it was getting a bit boring, with the same repeated stories tumbling out of your voluble mouth. But still, he enjoyed chuckling at your adorable insobriety, fuelled by drunken mania. 

“Here you go, princess,” a small tug lifted the ends of his scarred lips when your eyes patently glimmered at the newly served alcohol. “It’s the last I can give you, we’re closing…” Toji’s eyes momentarily flickered to his watch, “in 7 minutes.”

“Oh, okay!” you deliriously yawped, downing the beverage into your liqueur-brimmed system before handing him your card, which you aimlessly threw at him, not even lucid of your motions. “Just swipe it.”

Toji simply brushed it off, taking it towards the other side of the counter. He's used to unintentional antics like yours, as long as the tab was paid off he has no problem with them. 

15,900 yen. 

The digits flashed past his eyes like stars, igniting a luminous glint in his dark emerald orbs. Hell, was it a sum to casually splurge on at some mid-high bar? He’s got a pretty girl with probably an equally pretty amount of personality in her wallet, sprawled on the bar top wailing about her broken heart. 

Oh, how he would love to play saviour. 

“Here, princess. Time to go home,” he tapped your card onto the counter after the successful transaction. His gruff voice was low as you drifted further from your haywired consciousness and towards a delicious drowse. You didn’t move when he neared your face, attempting to marshal up your scattered coherence by calling into your ear. 

Toji sighed as he leaned back onto his feet, and crossed his bulky arms, pondering the ways to get you out of the otherwise empty bar. 

It was 12:58 am and the other inebriated customers had gone out by themselves or with their friends dragging them along. Except for you, softly snoring on the sticky counter. 

His coworker shrugged at him when the ravennette glanced at the shorter male for help. “Just get her out of here. I’ll clean up the rest, and you owe me this one,” always so kind—how Toji wished he could smooch that man right then. 

“Thanks, man,” Toji’s eyes curved in moon crescents, before settling his sight onto your dozed frame. His finger pressed against your temple, and your head lolled to the side in suit of a light push; a trail of drool slipping past your plump lips. You were completely and utterly out of it, huh?

Grasping onto your arm, the male lightly shook you awake, the warmth from his calloused palm stimulating your nerves vivified. “Hey, Mr. Bartender…” you had an uneven smile on your crooked lips, sleepiness bubbling into the air with every laggard blink as you breathily chuckled. “Are you gonna bring me home?”

“I don’t know about that, princess,” his tone was syrupy sweet and it licked the ends of your lips upwards into a velvety grin. “But we gotta go now. Come on,” Toji’s hands came to yours, gently pulling you off of the bar stool. You followed after his guide, slipping your card into your pocket before frisking behind him like a lamb to the door. 

The burly male turned to his wrist after the door swung close in the wake of your exit, checking his watch; it read 1:04 am. The train station is closed and it’s going to kill his conscience if he leaves you by the streets like he always does with intoxicated male customers. He has no idea where you stay anyway—best to call a friend of yours to take you home. 

“(Y/N)?”

A grating, vexatious voice called. The two of you swivelled your gaze to the source to find your cheating, insipid creature of an ex with an arm thrown over some chick’s shoulders, chortling at the unstable mess you were. Your eyes were puffy and tumid from the hours of crying slash ranting session, and you were anything but lucid from the way you looked. 

How fucking lucky.

“What you got going on here? Getting kicked out of a bar?” your ex taunted, nearing his face to yours as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Y-You…as—”

“Have the lady some of her space, buddy,” Toji’s authoritative voice prevailed over yours as he pushed the male away, rendering him to helplessly stumble backward into a fall. The woman in his arm hid her giggle with a gasp before helping his fuming ass up, his face beet red from his ignominious tumble. 

“Who are you?” he barked, eyelids flying open to show the hidden whites and teeth bared in belligerence. 

“A man who can make her cum, without begging her to fake it,” the woman burst into a half-concealed snicker when the ravennette broke the air with his unanticipated words. Your face grew to be saturated with ardent red, from both the intoxicant that coursed through your veins and the sentence you thought you had heard.

“I call it bullshit,” your ex spat with his upper lip pulled up in disrelish. There’s a flash of humiliation in his glare—he knew Toji seemed better than him and it killed him to know you’ve got suitors who are way out of his league. 

“It’s true,” you tapped Toji’s metallically stiff chest with a twisted, satisfied smirk on your rat-arsed face. “He toootally didn’t just stick his dick in me and call it a day, y’know?”

“Fucking whore.”

“What d’ya say?!” you screeched, ready to pounce on the asshole. “I sent you to the ER once, and I’ll do it again!”

“Alright, that’s enough, princess,” Toji tenaciously held onto your arm, and you’re stuck by him even without him using much strength. “We don’t want you dirtying your hands, do we?” 

A nasty shove met the male’s chest, knocking the air out of his lungs when he hit the ground. It was merely a fraction of Toji’s force, and it already had the male choking to breathe on the ground. 

“Speak to her like that again, and it’s not going to be just a push,” you could hear the rise of a dour, serrated threat in his tone, and it begot the asshole to cower back in trepidation. 

Pussy, Toji grimace. Albeit he was no saint himself but he absolutely despises the ilk of guys your ex filtered into—boisterous and a bully to women, yet nothing but a trifling mutt in front of men.

A tug of his arm, and your limbs wrapped around his wretched him out of his state of visceral contempt. “Take me home!” you ineptly exclaimed, a gruntled grin on your adorable, roguish face. 

Briefly riveting his baleful gaze onto the splayed male on the bitumen, Toji steered you uphill towards the parking lot as you clumsily tottered aside him. 

The encounter with the small-dick fucker sure rendered him more understanding of your evening of outburst. Plus, for you to be cheated on that piece of work was truly the icing on the cake. “Poor you, huh?”

“Forget ‘bout him! You were so cool I almost cummed right there and then,” you teasingly giggled as you peered at him through your heavy eyelids. 

Fuck—it’s no good for you to be saying that with that look on your face. 

His eyes rest ahead the road as you soon come to near the bright red C8 Corvette the woman he’s estranged with had previously gifted him, the car standing out amongst the parked vehicles like a sore thumb. 

Your eyes scintillated in awe when the car luridly flashed and beeped in the night, “That’s yours?!” you cried aloud, frisking all the way to the car, before stumbling over thin air and nearly jolting forward into a fall. Luckily, Toji was quick enough to catch you by your arm, saving your knee a painful event of bloody excoriation. “Oopsie daisie.”

Cute, Toji chortled. 

Jumping into the vehicle, the potent roar of the engine cut through the midnight air after you’ve settled neatly in the passenger seat, the only thing missing was the safety belt that was supposed to secure your form. Reaching to your side, Toji’s hand briefly brushed over your exposed thigh, the hem of your short dress riding up to merely cover your panty. 

A soft, almost inaudible noise fled your lips, and his eyes laid on your face, the faint, intimate gold beam from the street lamp illuminating your glowing features. Your orbs were luminous through the dark, and it roused an innate lasciviousness that lay dormant in his core. 

The liquor that flowed through your blood vessels had not quelled through the lapse of time, but it did not take away your clarity to feel the tension that electrified the air molecules into sweltering magnetism. And gosh do you want to snatch the constriction in the atmosphere and tear it through your canines. 

“Touch me,” you whispered, so soft and vulnerable Toji could seemingly snap you in half with just a touch. 

“You’re drunk, princess,” he reminded, yet he remained unshifted over your smaller frame, his hand merely a molecule from your tempting flesh that sang for his warmth. 

“No,” you were firm. Something in you purled, bubbling a heavy, demanding need to have him devour you. “I want you,” your breath was hot, scorchingly so; airy and desperate. 

“You want me?” his hand fell to your wrist, grasping your soft skin under his heavy hold, and guiding you over to his seat, straddling his lap. His gaze cut through your eyes, daubing pressure against your jumbled nerves, his intensity threatened to slice through the silky jugular of your vulnerability. And you nearly moaned under his eyes.

You gingerly nodded at him, and you thought the knit between your brows was enough to speak for your neediness. 

His grip on your wrist tightened a fraction before you missed the heat radiating from his palm. “Careful, princess. You might regret this,” he had paved a way out, it’s a leave it or fuck it situation served beneath your fingertip—and all the atoms in your body leaped into the growling blaze in the abyss residing in his essence. 

“Please,” your voice was barely a note above a mumble, yet the weight of your single word mitigated any marshalled resistance in him. 

His hands slid up your thighs, inching under your dress, sending tingles to your throbbing core. The intensity that radiated from him ceased to waver as he leaned against your neck, brushing against your skin as you gulped. Dark, ashen clouds drew above the emerald forest of his before he spoke, almost threateningly against your throat, “I want you to remember every single detail of this in the morning.”

With a breathless nod, you had swung the floodgates of your amenability open to his guttural thirst. The heavy, rapacious waves of your desires crash into superposition. You were the fuel and he was the fire, together the air detonated into space. 

His wet lips met yours in a whim, sucking onto your flesh until it stung, greedily tasting every crook and cranny of your wet cavern with the bumps of his tongue. You moaned into his mouth as your hands flew to clutch onto his head, deepening the kiss to reach his insides while his rough fingers sank into the plump flesh of your ass. 

Your lips burned with his saliva, and his tongue fluttered with yours. The atmosphere felt all-consuming, gripping onto your throat and restricting the air from flushing down your windpipe. Yet, your core pulsed between your thighs, an excited blaze slowly roaring into something bigger than you could handle. 

Your chest rose and fell in a quick tempo when you snatched your lips away from his, grasping as much air as you could within a second before you dove right into him. Albeit your sight was hazy, you caught sight of the luminous flush that panned over his cheeks. 

Pretty, pretty. You chanted in your head as your hands slid down to his clothes, clumsily popping the buttons off of the garment that kept the warmth of his skin away from your touch. You want him, you want him. 

Your fingers nearly melted when they met his hot, sinewy chest, and Toji’s teeth sank a little too hard into your bottom lip when you teased his nipples under your touch, innervating them hard with every flick. The salient bulge in his pants rolled against your folds, merely separated by an annoying piece of your underwear, and your moans jumbled into each other’s mouths

“Fuck, princess. You’re driving me crazy,” Toji breathily groaned when your sloppy lips sundered apart, a hot string of mixed saliva connecting your swollen, red lips together. His large hands lifted your ass up into the air as he palmed them, the warmth from him sending a snuggly sensation through your body. “It’s no fun when only you get to tease.”

Your eyes playfully gleamed, before the light shot out of the crater of your orbs—his finger pressed against your sodden panty, damp with arousal. The tingles shyly reached through your belly as he rubbed your hardening bud, and your body shuddered against his. 

“You’re not playing fair,” he murmured against your jaw, leaving trails of bruised kisses down your jugular. His hand left your heat just as the high came close to your clutch, leaving you with nothing but the lingering cold touches of his. 

With a defeated sigh, you ground your knee against his growing hardness, your finger shyly rubbing against the clothed tip of the constrained mount, the spot slowly growing dark from amativeness. 

Toji sunk deeper into the headrest as you touched him, his exposed chest ceaselessly rising and falling. His breath hitched in his throat when you twirled his sensitive nipple between your fingers; your heated exhales warming the side of his neck as his grip almost painfully firmed onto the fat of your ass. 

You didn’t allow his peaking orgasm to come through, forcing yourself off of his sore, throbbing erection, and your teeth bared into a dirty smile. “I am playing fair.”

“You want to test me, princess?” he chuckled, the bassy timbre of his scratching the knot of an itch inside your ears. A gasp leaped out of your throat as your body jolted forward, his seat clicked backward to its maximum taut, “I’ll make you cry for more.”

You found your back nestled in his stead, your thighs spread open with his calloused hand slipping down your supple flesh. His fingers tapped nearer and nearer to your heat, before slipping off your soiled panty. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” Toji sucked an inhale through his teeth as he leered at your dripping sex—thick, rough thumb fluttering friction on your clit once again. Your eyelids flitted shut as you softly moaned against the air, the smell of your arousal filled the confinement of the car; the scent nearly making him growl when it panged hard against his nostrils. 

You watched as Toji slipped a thick finger into your velvety folds, feeling it trodding past your walls. Your heat snugly enveloped him as he filled your inside with another digit, his two fingers pressing, and running themselves over your slick cunny. “Gotta stretch you good for me, princess.” 

Your back inched into the seat with a contented sigh, enjoying the build-up of ticklish pressure stacking up your tummy. Toji was ridiculously dexterous with his fingers—deftly stroking your cunt, and quick to find the spot in you that innervated your pure senses with a ting. 

“S-Shit—” your body was subservient to his touches; your spine curved into an arch, your toes curled tight and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “M’feel so good. Toji—fuck,” it was as if his fingers were gilded in Eros’ heavenly blessing, the godly grace spilling into your pleasure. Tears began prickling at the sides of your eyes from how hard you were squeezing them, your flailing legs kicking against the dashboard of his car. 

“So pretty when you cry,” Toji groaned under his breath, his damp restraints painfully throbbing from the way your squelching walls tightened around his fingers—oh, how he fucking wish it was his cock in you right there and then. 

His touches were singing your walls into melting squirts of drool, pearls of arousal weeping between your thighs in the wake of his careful strokes. Never were you touched in such a way, and you felt like balling from how good it felt. “M’ close! M’gonna cum! Oh my gosh—!”

“Come on. Cum for me, princess,” you could hear his smirk in his voice as pleasure kissed your senses, fluttering through your electrified nerves and sending a jolt of tingles all over your body. Your mouth was lax open into an ‘o’, nails marking his skin as they sank deeper into his arm, and your walls tightly spasmed with a wave of rough euphoria cracking your bones weak. You fucking came from his mere fingers. 

Your eyes bat open with your lips sundered from your pants, your face ardently glowing from your subduing high. “Fuck…” your wet thighs quivered from the sheer force of your orgasm, and you blinked in disbelief. 

Over 2 decades of living and it was the first time cumming from a real man, not your fingers nor toys. But the brawny, sex-dripped male slipping your dress off of your spent body. 

You almost fell in love. 

Pushing him down the driver’s seat, you crawled over Toji’s firm thighs, running your finger from his chest to his muscle-packed abdomen, then down to the wristband. You were flickering to take charge, and he sank down to your guidance, rough palms resting on your hips. 

Your dress was off, divulging the bare curves of your body, sweat-glazed skin iridescent under the moonbeam and your sex-flushed features were begging for him. You look so, fucking, perfect that he had to bite down the need to ruin you on the spot. 

His hips impatiently thrust upwards into your sticky cunt, grinding his pack against you, urgency in his essence demanding your heat. “Don’t keep me waiting now,” he purred, with a silent warning tagging behind his words. 

Your fingers tugged the waistband of his pants along with his briefs, a drive in you matching his pacing hastiness. His shaft sprang out of its painful confinement, and your eyes nearly popped out from the sheer look of his cock. 

He was oozing with sticky pre-cum from his angry, red tip, throbbing veins ran from the base of his length to the curved head—the size of him bigger than any you’ve seen. The smell of his masculine essence hit your senses and a new pool of arousal began drawing in your tummy, your pussy walls squeezing in empty neediness.

“There’s no backing out now, princess,” Toji’s fingers firmly gripped onto your ass, lifting you over his cock, hovering.

“Who said I’m backing out?” you gulped, before lowering yourself down, his fat cockhead kissing your pussy lips before your hips greedily sank down his length, oblivious to the crackle of tingles it would send to your nerves.

“Careful there,” he teased with a chuckle as you let out an instinctual gasp from the way his girth stretched past your velvety walls, the slick sound of your arousal-dripped cunt, and his heavy shaft bubbled into the air, and scorched your cheeks red.

“M-My gosh…” you cried as your hazy gaze fell to the bulge jutting from the inside of your tummy, your walls taut with his heavy cock buried inside you. “I’m s’full, Toji.”

“Mhm,” he cooed, brushing his hands over the sides of your smooth thighs. “But you gotta start moving, baby.”

Gingerly, you lift your hips up before slowly inching them down his length. Your walls clenched as your sex rubbed friction, and you could feel every pulsing vein of his just as he could feel your fluttering warmth.

“Feel good, princess?” Toji asked breathily, your head faintly nodded, but there was a hint of a dubious glint in your fallen gaze, your knees lifting and sinking your weight.

“I need your help…” your voice cracked in disappointment as you paused, tears of frustration edging by your eyes. You couldn’t seem to grasp a steady pace no matter how long you painfully rode.

“What d’ya say?”

Your orbs looked as though they were melting off of your sweat-glazed skin, blinks of fervourish plea clawing from your drunken gaze into his. “Please, Toji,” your voice hitched, and you’re humping his pelvis. “Please…I want to feel good.”

Aww. How fucking adorable.

You yelped when you felt yourself being raised and slammed down his cock, your folds burning with every stretch of your walls. And it feels so good. “Y-Yes…” your eyes closed shut, fingers scrambling to grip his locks. “T-Toji—mhaa!”

“You’re so fuckin’ cute screaming my name,” the curve of his tip perfectly kissed your g-spot with each piston of his hips, and every time the twitching head of his meat met your gummy part, it sent a flash of electricity up your spine.

“S-Sho good—” you slurred through your words, weighed head lolling idly to every thrust of his fat cock.

“No one can get you dripping off their cock like this, huh?”

“Mmh—yes!” the space between your brows was crumpled into a tensed frown, your hips bouncing up and down his thick girth with his hands guiding your pace. “I love it! I love your cock!”

Toji let out a low groan when you cried, bucking himself deeper into your sloppy mess of a cunt and kissing the surface of your cervix. “Fuck—I love an honest girl.”

Your muscles nearly melted off of your bones as he continued to fucked himself deeper than you’ve ever felt, reaching the parts you didn’t know could be touched and your features dropped with his touches on your deep intimacy. A fierce sear of heat burned through your tingling womb, and it threatened to consume your body whole. “M’ cummin’! Toji—!”

“I know, I know, let it out f’me. Come on,” he grunted, keeping his grip firm on your arms as he fucked himself hard and deep into you. He could feel your squelching cunny clench, so tight as for the purpose of milking him on the spot. “Keep bouncin’ on my cock, yeah?”

“Nngh—No more!” you squealed. “N-No—” his thumb drew between your shaking thighs and greedily swiped over your blushing clit. Your fingernails sank into your palms as you gripped for dear sanity, his cock continuously violating your fluttering spots until they grew sore.

“I can make you feel better, princess,” he mumbled tinglingly against your neck, sinking his teeth down your flesh to hold back a shaky moan. His pleasure was inching to fly to release, and your tight clutch onto his shaft was nothing but a catalytic lure.

“S’ hurts—please!” your babbles were almost indecipherable as he rammed into your sore cunt, his fingers digging into your soft flesh holding onto you tenaciously; pushing you right to the edge of oblivion as he clung onto his nearing release.

“Cum f’me again, baby?”

“M’can’t! Still sensitive—!” you cried before another orgasm shot through your core. You felt as if you were sent up into the ether, stars teeming through your body as the waves of pleasure sent you on a vertigo ride. Your gasps dragged through your lips, your eyelids hung heavily over your bleary eyes, with tears slipping down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—M’close too, baby,” Toji swore through his bared teeth, his cock painfully twitching as thick semen surged through his tip—his hips rolled as your cunt squeezed his remaining sanity, popping them like fireworks before they burst into nothingness.

Your essence squirted out of your tensed cunny, shooting with his mixed cum that dripped down his belly. Your breaths shaky and hot with heightened senses, your sticky sex pulsing in overstimulation.

Exhausted, you fell prostrated on top of his hard muscle-built body, head undulating with the ups and downs of his heaving chest. And slowly, your cognisance drifted back into your mind, the aftermath of everything—the alcohol and the sex, pummelled into you like a heavy truck. Unforgivingly so.

“Toji…I really feel like pukin—”

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

[kitysugar]

pretty best friend ~ park sunghoon x reader

inspired by this request ! ౨ৎ ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ in which sunghoon helps his cute, innocent little best friend out after she asks for some.... advice. and despite knowing that he's a player - you had feelings for him anyways.. but little did you know he feels the same way.

word count ; 4.7k

best friend! player! sunghoon x nerd! reader , friends to lovers , blowjob , oral , fingering , hand job , very slight hints at ; corruption ; manipulation . curious reader , size kink , mutual feelings , HEAD PUSHER HOON YES YES YES , cum eating , not proof read

"sungie" you squeal , the feeling of sunghoons fingers squeezing your waist results in a loud laugh to sound from the back of your throat. sunghoons deep, raspy chuckles make a deep heat pool in the pit of your stomach , a guilty feeling lingering on your conscience for thinking of him in the ways you do. the way his hands feel on your skin makes you feel light headed - whether it be from the tickling, or the fact that he was touching you at all - the answer was unknown , and quite frankly; you didn't care enough to know.

as you lay beneath him, your legs attempt to kick his body away from yours - your hands find their way to his broad shoulders in order to push him back. but as you lay under him squealing his name - everything around you begins to feel rapidly hot , and sunghoon feels the exact same way.

the way his big hands swallow the entirety of your waist , your little legs desperately fighting against him, and the way his name spills past your lips.

all he wants to do is kiss them to shut you up, fuck you raw right there, make you scream his name, begging for him to grant you release.

suddenly, the memory of different girls begins to flash through his mind ; all the different times he's had multiple women screeching his name , begging him to fuck them faster - harder . but as of right now, the only woman he can truly adore to the fullest extent was already writhing underneath him.... but not in the ways he wants.

sunghoon comes back to his senses once he hears you whisperly call his name, a perfect little string of music that flows right into his ears that snaps him out of his lustful daze.

"s-sungie...?" you question, your round, doe eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes. sunghoon can feel himself tighten in his jeans, making him uncomfortable.

"how many girls have you had under you like this..." the question slips from your lips without consciousness , making you instantly shut your mouth , regret beginning to pool in your mind.

sunghoons face instantly changes , his eyes holding the utmost sincerity... sadness at the mention of the other women.

"... 'm sorry.." you whisper, your eyes darting away from him in order to look at something - anything else but him. sunghoon sighs and sits up, you following in pursuit. the two of you awkwardly sit next to eachother, the silence lingering in the air above you.

sunghoon chuckles before speaking, making you look at him in confusion.

"well, if im honest... too many to count really. i don't remember a good handful of them.." he smirks slightly at you, making a deep blush rise to your cheeks.

"so... you're experienced??" you question, making sunghoon tongue the inside of his cheek. he stretches one arm around you in order to rest on the couch, his legs spreading apart... inviting.

"yeah, i guess you can say i am... now; how about we get back to studying... you have a test coming up, dont you?" you respond with a head nod, making the man next to you grab a textbook from off the coffee table and handing it to you.

your glasses are perched on the tip of your nose , so you push them up.

you were a freshman in college, and the transition from highschool to university life was definitely kicking your ass. of course, you had always been keen to school life; you enjoyed it really. you loved learning new things and carrying around cute school supplies, it made you feel good about yourself whenever you learned something new... made you feel smart... so you kept going on with your love for learning into your early college years.

sunghoon, on the otherhand, was a couple years older than you; a senior in college. although he a couple years older, that didn't stop the two of you from being inseparable from an early age.

around an hour later, you hear sunghoon groan from the other side of the couch, pushing his glasses up and over his head.

"i'm not understanding, y/n... why on earth would you major in something so difficult... i don't even understand this and i've been in college longer than you have.” his messy hair being pushed back makes him look ten times more attractive.

"i dunno... i guess i just wanted a challenge." you shrug your shoulders, making the man across from you deadpan.

"whatever, lets just take a break and come back to it in a bit" he says, grabbing the book and pen from out of your hands and setting them back down on the coffee table. as sunghoon reaches over, you take note of his appearance; rolled up sleeves that stop right above his elbow, disheveled hair, tired eyes, and full lips.

as sunghoon turns to you, a deep shade of pink arises on your cheeks. you look away from him, trying not to seem awkward.

"so, y/n.. tell me; have you had sex yet?" you nearly scream at his words, choking on your own spit as soon as they leave his mouth. you turn and face him ominously, your face completely red and your eyes as wide as the moon.

"what on earth... why are you asking me this?" you squeal, hitting his bicep. sunghoon chuckles at your flustered state, his heart swelling in his chest at your actions.

"i'm just asking, come on you're in college... you had to have lost your v-card by now" he taunts, but quickly loses all sort of amusement laced in his expression once you turn to face your lap, playing with your fingers.

"well... there is this guy i like... but we havent done anything yet. im too scared. i dont know what im doing..." you look up into his eyes through your eyelashes, not turning your head to face him. sunghoon leans back into the cushions of the couch, spreading his arms to dangle on both sides of the back of the piece of furniture. sunghoon raises his eyebrows, urging you to continue.

"i- i was.. uhm... wondering if-- i don't know... you could possibly teach me..?" your voice was small... but sunghoon heard it as clear as day. now it was his turn to choke on his spit, completely flustered by your question.

he quickly gets his act together, smirking at your shy demeanor. you feel helpless under his gaze, quickly regretting your question.

"you don't have to, it was a dumb question im sor-"

"what would you like me to teach you, love?" he asks, his eyes never leaving your smaller figure. you raise your head completely, your hands still fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. you ponder for a moment, debating on how to answer his question before speaking once more.

"i want... i want to know how to suck.. uhm,, god this is so dumb.." you sadly chuckle to yourself with a shake of your head, breaking eye contact. sunghoon eyes you for a moment, instantly knowing what you wish to know.

"you wanna know how to suck cock?" you nod your head slowly, stunned at his straightforwardness. sunghoon eyes you for a moment more before lifting one of his hands up, motioning with his index finger for you to come to him; so you do.

"come here" your feet patter on the cool hardwood floor, stopping to stand in front of sunghoons spread legs. the man chuckles from below you, his hands coming in contact with the back of your thighs right below your ass.

"are you sure you wanna do this" you instantly nod your head without a second thought, wanting nothing more than for sunghoon to teach you how to pleasure a man,,,

the very one who sits before you , actually

at your words, he instantly brings you to sit on his lap, your knees meeting with the plush cushioning of the couch on either side of his hips. your face is mere centimeters away from his, your breaths fanning one another’s face.

"first... you don't want to just jump straight into it. both men and women need some sort of foreplay.. and the easiest version of that is kissing; a makeout session really." the two of you stare at eachother for a moment, one of sunghoons hands comes up to push a stray hair away from your face and behind your ear. your heart is beating out of your chest, your head feeling light and he hasnt even touched you yet.

"can i kiss you?" sunghoon asks, which makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. you shakingly exhale before nodding your head without saying anything. the man above you looks down at your lips before trailing them back up towards your wide eyes - eyeballing you shamelessly.

sunghoon slowly brings your lips to his own, the heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen deepening significantly the moment his mouth collides with yours softly. your lips are full and glossy, but is quickly smeared thanks to sunghoon.

after a long second, the two of you pull away to breathe... looking at eachother fully, longingly. the tension in the room as thick as ice is quickly cut, sunghoons hand cupping your cheek brings your face down frantically - your guys' lips meeting eachother once more... but this time its much different.

you feel both of his hands move to the slope of your waist, pulling you into him further - your back arching and your body curling into his front.

your hands slide up from his shoulders in order to wrap around his neck, your fingers lacing in with his dark hair. your breasts press up against his chest, and your lips move perfectly in sync with his.

the sounds of your heavy breathing fill the room along with sloppy lip smacking, but neither of you complain. sunghoons hands move your hips down onto his lap, the bulge quickly tightening in his jeans. you gasp when you feel his hardening length press right up against your clothed pussy, your fingers tightening in his hair cause him to groan into the cavern of your wet mouth.

you shiver under his touch, his fingers feather light as you curl into him deeper. every inch of your body yerns for the man above you, making a whimper escape your lips.

the kiss quickly deescalates as you pull away from sunghoons lips in order for air - but not before he pecks your lips a couple times. he leans back into the couch, the two of you exchanging aching, yearnful glances. your heavy breathing matches his - your chests' rising and falling in unison.

"sunghoon..." your eyes are half lidded as you speak, and it begins to drive sunghoon up the wall. he admires the adorable look on your face , everything about you is perfect and it frustrates him beyond belief. although he is experienced, he feels like a teenage boy having his first makeout session.

"yeah baby?" he calls out to you breathlessly, making your pussy clench. you dont break eye contact as you speak, making a shiver run up sunghoons spine.

"can i suck your cock... please..?" you ask nicely, in an almost pleading tone. it takes every ounce of restraint in order to stop himself from bending you over the couch and stuffing you full of his cum, fucking it deeper and deeper inside you - permanently marking you as his.

his woman.

"of course you can doll, go right ahead" he leans further back into the couch, getting a full view of you perched cutely in his lap - your skirt riding up your thighs and your zip-up hoodie falling off one of your shoulders.

you slowly get off the mans lap, a prominent bulge showing in his jeans. your mouth waters at the sight, excitement flowing through your veins. as you sink to your knees, you maintain eyecontact with the man above you, your pussy clenching around nothing at his lustful gaze.

your hands work at his zipper, pulling his pants down past his ankles. the tent in his boxers grows exponentially bigger, and you can tell that he's fucking huge. you stop to stare at him, eyeballing the outline of his dick through his underwear.

on instinct, you reach a hand out in order to palm him through the flimsy fabric of his boxers - making sunghoon hiss from above you. your eyes don't look away from his length, not for a second as you jerk him off slightly. a prominent wet patch begins to form on the light color of his underwear, making a gasp leave your lips.

"did i... did i make you.. already..?" you gawk up at him, making a laugh bubble up from his chest. you tilt your head to the side in question, and sunghoon finds it so fucking adorable at the realization of how innocent you actually are.

"no baby... thats just precum, you really don't know anything huh? how can you be so smart yet naive at the same time?" he taunts jokingly, mimicking your actions and tilting his head to the side.

you deadpan at the man, an unentertained look spreading across your face. without looking away, you bring your fingers to the tip of his dick, wrapping your hands around his head and squeezing slightly, making more precum stain his boxers.

sunghoon hisses, letting out a string of loud curses at your actions. you smile to yourself slightly, finding it funny just how fast you can make him fall apart in your hands.

you gasp at the feeling of one of his hands in your hair, yanking your head back slightly in order to make your eyes meet with his. every ounce of playfulness leaves your body as the older man stares into your eyes , a threatening look lingering written on his face

"don't be a brat. understand?" you pout your lips, but nod your head anyways. sunghoon leans down in order to kiss the tip of your nose before letting you go gently.

"good girl" he compliments, making your cheeks flush for the nth time that evening. your hands reach up to the waistline of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs and past his ankles. sunghoons pretty cock springs free, shooting up to slap his abdomen, his bulbous tip hitting right at his belly button.

fat, pearly drops of precum leak from his tip and down his shaft, making your eyes widen. you were right; he is huge. you gawk at the length, making his ego swell.

"never seen a dick before, huh?" you shake your head no, at least not in person.. one of your hands reaching up in order to softly grab the base of his cock in your hands. sunghoon observes your actions intently, his eyes burning holes into your skull. your hand lightly wraps around his cock, squeezing his length slightly. it takes you a moment; but you begin to pump him. you watch as more pearly beads of precum leak out of his tip, finding the sight mesmerizing.

after pumping his dick for a little bit, you bring your lips closer to the tip of his shaft, sticking your tongue out slightly in order to kitten lick the slit of his head.

sunghoon has had his dick sucked many times before... but with the way you keep looking up at him through his eyelashes - searching for any sort of validation that you're doing a good job is making him feel like a virgin again.

only you could have this sort of effect on him. he could just about reach down his throat and rip his heart out and give it to you on a silver platter.

you kitten lick his tip over and over - getting used to the salty taste of his warm seed before you take the head of his dick into your mouth completely. the warmth that your velvety, wet mouth provides makes him shudder under your gaze, his eyes rolling back into his skull ever so slightly. you attempt to take his cock deeper into your mouth, but the odd taste of his salty precum makes you gag around his length - you quickly pull off of him and cough , not used to the feeling of him being in your throat in the slightest.

sunghoon finds your actions cute - his ego expanding ever so slightly.

"god... its so- its so much.." you say in heavy breaths, trying to compose yourself. sunghoon looks down at you, his eyes holding admiration.

"its okay baby, take your time okay? this is normal. you've never sucked anybody off before. its alright, go nice and slow.." his voice trails off as you take his head back into your mouth, attempting to get used to his taste even more. you hollow your cheeks, your tongue swirling around his tip as you begin to bob your head up and down slightly - almost as if you were sucking on the tip of a lolipop.

every time you pull yourself off of his dick, your tongue runs over the slit of his tip, gathering his precum on your tongue. you look up at sunghoon - your doe eyes making direct eye contact with his as you lick down his entire length, running your tongue down the underside of his cock.

"fuck just like that.." he moans at the feeling of your tongue and the sinful sight of your eyes and actions - he feels like he could bust right then and there all over your face and he would enjoy it to the fullest.

"s-so fucking good... good girl" you're making it hard to believe you've never done this, but it's the truth. you take his tip into your mouth once more, your head moving up and down as you begin to suck him off again. one of your hands moves towards the base of his dick, gripping it in your hand as you begin to jerk off the remaining length you haven't fit into your mouth yet.

you hear another moan sound from just above you, making your confidence sky rocket. your hand and mouth move around him, the combined slick of your saliva and his precum making the perfect lubricant in order to have him shaking in your hold.

"god fucking... fuck. just like that... doin' such a good job.." at the sound of his praise, you start to take his length deeper down your throat, your eyes watering at the weird feeling. you breathe in deeply through your nose, adjusting to the newfound feeling. you swallow around him, making sunghoon buck his hips into your face on accident. you gag around him, but decide to continue on. your head bobs faster up and down sunghoons cock, your hand that was previously jerking him off coming down to grip his balls in your hands - fondling and playing with them.

"oh my fucking god, takin' my cock so well.." he praises. the dampness in your eyes falls freely down your warm, flushed cheeks but you could care less. as you breathe in through your nose, you swallow around him again, making sure to keep your cheeks hollowed while your tongue runs along the vein that trails down on the underside of his cock.

one of sunghoons hands comes down to wrap itself in your hair, his fingers tugging on your colored locks. at first, he just keeps his hand in your hair - but as you keep using your pretty little mouth in all the ways that you do ; he begins to push your head up and down .

a hum leaves your throat, which in turn sends vibrations throughout sunghoons entire body.

"s-shit-" he curses, the grip in your hair tightening significantly before he forces you to take his dick deeper, his bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat. you attempt to cough around his length, your nose coming down to press snugly against his pelvis.

you swallow around him again, more tears escaping your eyes as you try your best not to disappoint him. sunghoon just about falls apart from under you; his hips sputtering against your face in a sloppy grinding rhythm that has you gripping his thighs to ground yourself.

after a moment, sunghoon loosens his hold on you, letting you come up for air.

but the way you keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock takes him by surprise.

"s-so warm.. god you're perfect" your mouth comes up to suck on his tip once more, and before you can even look up to see his reaction - you feel his cock twitch in your mouth

"im- im gonna cum fuck... where do you want me baby?" you've heard of girls swallowing their boyfriends cum before, so it cant be so bad right? you keep your glossy lips wrapped around his tip as you suck down a little rougher, your hand coming down to play with his balls once more. you hear a raspy 'fuck' before you feel his salty, warm cum shoot into your mouth.

you instantly regret your decision, the taste being unfamiliar and weird has you gagging and shaking your head - but your ego tells you to continue, so you do.

you take his load into your mouth before detaching from his head, his dick beginning to soften ever so slightly. sunghoon looks down at you before he raises his hand to grab your face lightly inbetween his fingers. your lips part slightly, making a couple drops of his cum drip down your chin.

"god you're perfect... you wanna spit it out love?" you ponder for a second, but ultimately decide on swallowing his load. your face contorts into a sour expression, showing your distaste. sunghoon coos at you, a soft laugh sounding from his mouth.

"you're so fucking adorable, you didn't have to swallow sweetheart..." he pouts, making you smile slightly.

"i wanted to, i thought that was normal..... it tasted- weird." you giggle, and sunghoon leans down to kiss your forehead as he cups your cheek.

"now... how about i show you something else too, huh?" you shoot him a questioning look before he lifts you up onto the cough, laying you down so your back is flush against the cushions of the couch. you look up at sunghoon and wrap your arms around his shoulders before he leans down to kiss you, taking your lips in his.

you feel his hands sneak down to your waist, pinning your body down against the couch. his lips move in a steady, perfect rhythm with his that has you quietly whimpering into his mouth. the man detaches from your lips only to start trailing wet kisses down the skin of your neck.

your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of him sucking deep purple hickeys into your skin, desperate moans filling the air around you.

"s-sung..." he hums at the sound of his name leaving your lips, acknowledging you quietly. the man then trails his kisses down your body tauntingly slow before he reaches the waistband of your little skirt.

sunghoon looks up at you through his eyebrows before kissing your pelvis bone through the fabric of your skirt. your chest heaves up and down in short, frantic breaths once you feel his cold hands slide up the sides of your thighs , trailing them upwards and under your skirt.

"can i take this off?" you rapidly blink, questioning his motives.

"hoon... w-wait i thought... you were- i thought..." he cocks his eyebrows up, making your wetness pool in your panties.

"will you let me show you what it feels like to have your pussy ate, my love? want hoonie to make you feel good?" you ponder for a second, hesitating on the thought.

"what if.. what if i taste bad or i can't finish,,, or-"

"baby, i don't care. let me taste this pretty pussy, yeah? wanna let sungie fuck you with his tongue? split you apart?" you whimper at his vulgar words, your eyes fluttering closed while you shake your head yes.

at the confirmation, he slides the fabric of your skirt down and passed your ankles, throwing it down on the ground to be forgotten. sunghoon refocuses his attention to the prominent wet patch littering the pink lacy underwear.

"god, you're so wet already and i haven't even touched you" he teases you through half lidded eyes, the cold pad of his finger coming in contact with your clothed clit. you whine at his actions, the butterflies in your stomach making your head cloud over with nothing but the dirty, vile thoughts of everything you want sunghoon to do to you.

the way he gently starts to massage shapes into your bundle of nerves has you quietly speaking his name, your hands coming down to bunch his hair inbetween your fingers.

sunghoon pushes your panties to the side, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. a hiss sounds from just below your hips, the feeling of your slick dripping through his fingers is indescribable.

"such a pretty pussy" he eyeballs you, making you feel shy underneath his lingering gaze.

your clit twitches repeatedly thanks to the gentle friction he creates, your back arching off the couch in order to help your hips grind into his hand.

after a moment, you feel sunghoon plunge a long finger into your pussy, your mouth slacking open in a perfect O shape as moans and whimpers dance off your tongue in a beautiful chant, all for sunghoon and sunghoon alone.

"how does it feel, angel face?" his breath fans your pussy as he speaks, and all coherent thoughts fall out of your brain as quickly as they come.

"s-s' good,,- feels s' good please" you squeak, your thighs spreading apart even further to grant him more access.

"so tight, perfect little virgin pussy all spread out just for me" his free hand comes down to peel your panties further to the side, his tongue darting out in order to lick a stripe up your wet slit, gathering your juices on his tongue.

"tastes so sweet, my sweetest girl" your face flushes at his words, but your hips grind up into his face once he wraps his lips around your clit in order to suck down on the bundle of nerves.

"oh my god" you squeal at the newfound feeling, your heart beating out of your chest so rapidly, you're convinced it could burst at any given moment.

"sucking in my finger so perfectly, i don't think you can take any more baby" you shake your head no, but the prominent pout on his lips taunts you into thinking you can take just a little more.

sunghoon adds another finger swiftly into your hole, stretching you even more with his his slender fingers. you hiss at the stretch, trying your hardest to adjust to the newfound sensation that radiates throughout your body in ripples. the way sunghoons tongue laps at your heat as if he were desperately searching for the last sip of water drives you insane - he cant help himself , you're just too fucking sweet.

"i feel weird, hoonie i- i cant , feels s' weird" your eyes squeeze shut as white-hot pleasure shoots through your veins . your fingers tug on his hair harsly and your hips buck up into his mouth, everything begins to feel hot and overstimulating, a thin layer of sweat forming on the skin of your forehead.

"let it happen sweet, you gonna cum for me?" he asks, even though he already has his answer the moment his fingers find the sweetspot that adorns your velvety, tight walls.

"please, please please please a-ah" his teeth biting down on your clit send you into overdrive - your abdomen tightens as the string in your tummy snaps - juices squirting all over the lower half of sunghoons face as your pussy squeezes his digits tightly.

"there you go, look so so pretty when you're makin' a mess all over me... my pretty little cum slut, hmm" his eyes widen as you cream around his fingers, white gooey slick oozing from your hole where his fingers fuck you apart sloppily.

"sun-sungie fuck" your hips and thighs jolt in his hold, and you can feel yourself come crashing down from your high at lightening speed. as your body relaxes into sunghoon, he pulls his fingers out of your fluttering hole.

"god you're absolutely perfect"

[hairmetal666]

Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.

But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.

The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.

He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--

What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.

There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.

He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.

Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.

The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.

He's beautiful.

The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.

Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--

He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.

---

Steve goes back the next night.

He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.

It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--

Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.

There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.

Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.

He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."

The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"

Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"

"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"

"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."

"Is that right? Surely not this much."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."

Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.

"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.

"To Chicago or to this club?"

"Don't be cute."

"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."

Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."

He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."

"And one of the things was that you like dick?"

"Looks like it."

'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."

"Impressed?"

Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."

"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.

"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.

They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.

"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"

"Weird?"

"Fucking hot, dude."

"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.

"Course,"

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"You could do something about it."

Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.

"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.

"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.

He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.

It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.

They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.

Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.

Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"

"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."

Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."

[sknyuz]

collarless | geum seongje

synopsis — he’s always been collarless, all sharp teeth and no leash—until he joined the union, and you swore you’d never crawl back to that kind of life. but even strays remember home.

pairing — geum seongje x ex!reader

genre — exes to enemies to an even worse, third thing, angst, action, just exes with unresolved tension, hurt/comfort

cw — violence, blood, smoking, tons of swearing, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, implied sexual tension, they beat each other up and then make out lol 50% fighting 50% longing (sorry to action haters, just scroll down to the divider for romance lol)

wc — ~2.6k

part of the “i can fix him!” trilogy

notes: badly wanted to write a fic where the reader isn’t a horribly treated s.a. victim with the depth of a kiddie pool and can actually fight back/toe-to-toe against seongje.

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

the first time you punch seongje since you've last seen him, he laughs.

he’s leaning against the rusted frame of the garage door, a fresh bruise blooming on his lip, thanks to you, of course. one hand tucked into the pocket of his tracksuit, the other loosely draped over his ribs, his posture is loose but predatory, like a stray dog that’s been used to surviving on its own. his eyes flicker with a dangerous amusement, cold and hungry. “this your idea of a reunion, y/n?” he jeers.

you don’t bother answering—you slam your fist into his jaw, the impact sending a sharp crack through the air, like you’ve hit something wild and untamed.

“fuck off, seongje,” you spit. “the union doesn’t get to sniff around here without a warning. you think just ‘cause you’re one of baekjin’s dogs now, you get a free pass?”

he licks the blood off his bottom lip like he’s savoring it. “wasn’t trying to start a war.”

“then you shouldn’t have stepped foot in my area.”

“didn’t know you were this territorial, babe.” he chuckles dryly, as you ready your stance for another punch, already stretching your neck.

“you always this cocky for a mutt on a leash?”

he smiles, a wild glint flashing in his eyes. “didn’t wanna cause a scene, babe. just need your little bitch boss to pay us back the money he owes. which, if you didn’t know,” he tilts his head, slow and jerky, like a predator sizing up its prey, “is a-fucking-lot.” seongje laughs, the sound low and unnerving, dripping with manic amusement.

the collection wasn’t even a big deal. the union has far more boys than to send their right-hand man for something this small. seongje wasn’t here because the money was urgent. he was here because it amused him to get under your skin, to remind you who he was—who he still thought he was.

he shrugs, that cocky smirk never leaving his face. “had to, didn’t i? baekjin’s orders, y’know. thought you’d have missed me too.” he runs a hand through his hair with a lazy flick of his wrist as he saunters over to you, eyes glinting like he’s daring you to call him out.

then, with a casualness that somehow feels more dangerous than it should, he leans in slightly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. it’s a move that feels too deliberate, too comfortable—like he’s testing just how much you’ll let him play with you.

you don’t need to hear more.

you swing again, remembering how he used to kiss you with that same reckless, chaotic energy. how every touch felt like a battle you never wanted to win.

his eyes darken—knowing. there’s a flicker in them, a sharp edge as he realizes you’re not backing down. and then, before you can react, he steps back to dodge, and steps back in as he throws a clean punch, landing square on your cheek.

you grunt, the impact rattling your head and bringing a ringing to your ears, but you don’t stumble. instead, you lean into the hit, using the momentum to drop low, kicking out your leg and tripping him on his shin. seongje stumbles, a grunt escaping him as he crashes to the ground with a sharp hiss.

“did you think i was gonna fall for that?” you sneer, standing over him, fists clenched.

he grins, his breath coming out ragged but amused. “nah. but i thought you’d make it fun.”

you raise your fist again. “you haven’t learned your lesson.”

but this time, seongje’s movements are quicker than you expect—he pounces, body weight crashing into yours, sending both of you slamming into the concrete ground. The air leaves your lungs in a whoosh, and before you can react, he’s already on top of you, his knee pressing into your side, pinning your arm beneath him.

you hiss through the pain, but even as your body aches from the impact, you narrow your eyes at him as he huffs, already sick of your persistence. “shit, you really want to make pretty faces like yours bleed?” seongje smirks, his grip tightening as he uses one palm to plant on the ground beside your head. his other hand catches your wrist, holding it above your head. “you always fight this hard, or is it just me?” he whispers, voice low and dangerous, as his knee digs into your other arm, restraining you completely.

his smirk never falters, but there’s something else in his eyes now—something dangerous, hungry.

you inhale sharply, then, in one quick, explosive motion, you slam your forehead into his with a sharp crack.

seongje’s eyes widen for a split second, disoriented. that’s all you need. you push him off, shoving him to the side and rolling back onto your feet, each move faster than before.

he blinks, trying to steady himself, but you’re already on him, throwing punches—one to the side of his head, another to his stomach, the force enough to make him cough out a ragged breath. a swift kick knocks his glasses clean off his face, sending them skidding across the gravel.

he looks up at you, his features twisted with annoyance, but also… something else. something almost familiar.

“you were going easy on me,” you murmur, voice low and dangerous, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “didn’t want me to get hurt, babe?” you tease, the nickname slipping from your tongue almost bitterly. “you know… we don’t make out anymore. guess it wouldn’t hurt to give you a busted lip, huh?”

he glares at you, breath coming quicker, the tension between you both palpable now—old history, old fights, and the undeniable truth that things are never just physical with him.

“you never make things easy, do you?” he growls, but there’s a spark in his eyes. a challenge, an invitation.

“you should know by now,” you reply, ready to go again, both of you caught in a tangled mess of unfinished business.

you’re caught in a frenzy of punches, kicks, and curses, both of you battering each other with everything you’ve got. each hit feels like it might be the last, but neither of you is willing to give up.

seongje’s fast, like always, his body moving with a feral intensity that makes it impossible to land a clean blow. but you’re just as relentless. you always have been. you dodge one punch, counter with an elbow to his ribs, and then another to his jaw, but it’s not enough. he’s too quick, and the fight’s gone on too long.

a wave of frustration rises in your chest. this damn wolf doesn’t know when to quit.

you swing again, aiming for his ribs, but he dodges just in time, his body shifting insanely fast, too fast for you to land a proper hit. he retaliates with a sharp jab to your stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“fucking hell, y/n,” he growls, and you hear the edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s annoyance, but then—everything goes black.

when you wake, the world is dim, but not like it was before. this is different—darker, colder. the smell of smoke hits your nostrils first, and it’s only then that you recognize it. you’re not at some random street corner or an alleyway. you’re somewhere familiar.

your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, the shadows of the room taking form around you. and then it hits you: this room. you’ve been here before, too many times. too many nights spent tangled in memories you’ve tried to forget.

the dim light from the fading sunset seeps through a narrow window, casting deep purple shadows across the floor. your head’s throbbing, your cheek swollen, and your body aches with every movement, but none of that matters because you recognize this place. seongje’s place.

he’s standing by the windowsill, cigarette between his lips, smoke curling up into the air. his back is to you, but you can still see the familiar silhouette. his posture, the way his shoulders slouch just enough to give him that casual, laid-back look. the same posture you’ve seen a thousand times in this very room, in these very circumstances.

fuck him, you think, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. you wipe your mouth, feeling the blood on your lip, the cut stinging. this isn’t fair—bringing you back here.

you hear the soft snick of his lighter as he takes another drag from the cigarette, the sound too familiar.

“you’re awake,” he says, voice rough but not unkind. he turns around slowly, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“you knocked me out,” you mutter, your voice still thick with the remnants of the fight. your hand moves instinctively to your aching jaw. you feel the bruise already forming.

seongje looks almost casual about it, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “wasn’t my intention,” he shrugs, but his eyes flicker down to the cut on your lip, then back to your face. there’s a pause, and his voice drops lower as he adds, “but you didn’t really make it easy, babe—and this was the only way to shut you up.”

you frown, trying to process the weight of his words. what the hell does he mean by that? his eyes catch yours, and for a moment, the space between you feels heavy, charged with all the old history and the years of tangled emotions that you two shared.

you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady your mind. “you could’ve left me there,” you snap, trying to mask the vulnerability that’s creeping in. “but you didn’t.”

his eyes flash with something—maybe irritation, maybe something else—but he doesn’t look away. he takes another drag from his cigarette, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“yeah, and leave you with those assholes?” he mutters, his voice low and dark, eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “no fucking way.”

your heart skips a beat at that, the weight of his words crashing over you. his tone isn’t what you expected—there’s something more beneath the surface, something he’s not saying. it makes you pause, just for a moment, before you shake your head, trying to brush it off.

“you’re a pain in the ass,” you reply, though it comes out quieter than you meant.

seongje just looks at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up into that familiar smirk. “old habits never die,” he murmurs, and you feel that old tension, that magnetic pull, surge again between you two.

his cigarette is still between his fingers, and without asking, he holds it out to you. you don’t take it, instead leaning in slightly, your lips brushing against his fingers as you take a long drag from the cigarette on his hand, the smoke filling your lungs before you blow it out, deliberately exhaling the thick cloud of smoke right onto his face.

he rolls his eyes at this, unbothered, the smirk never fading as if he’s used to this by now.

“still playing dirty, huh?” he mutters, clearly unfazed, like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“and you’re still a fucking freak.” you shrug, the tension between you thickening with every word, the unspoken history, stained with repressed feelings, lingering just under the surface.

“a freak you’d kill for,” seongje says, finally facing you, narrowing his eyes as he flicks the cigarette out the window. “join the union,” he says simply.

you cock an eyebrow at him, your lips curling into a smirk, eyebrows quirked in disbelief. “if you wanted to get back together, you could’ve just said that. fucker.”

seongje doesn’t laugh, he just keeps watching you like he’s waiting, gaze a little more intense this time.

you shake your head, something colder behind your eyes now. “i’m not fucking insane like you, seongje.”

his jaw tics, but he doesn’t interrupt. so you keep going.

“you knew it back then, too. it was always gonna be one of us.” your voice is quiet, but steady. “and you knew me, seongje. i just needed to get by. keep my head down, earn some chump change, scrape enough to disappear when i was ready. the union—” you scoff, “—that shit was always too high stakes. too serious.”

you look away, jaw clenching. “i have dreams, seongje. i’m gonna go to college. make something out of this mess.”

you finally meet his eyes again. “so no, i’m not joining the union.”

seongje huffs out a low breath, then laughs—dry, disbelieving. “so that’s also a ‘no, we’re not getting back together’, huh?” he echoes, head tilted like he’s trying to make sense of you, a playful smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes flickered with something else.

you roll your eyes at this. then he chuckles, rubbing a hand down his face. “shit. you’re scary, babe.” there’s something fond buried under the sarcasm, though, something sharp and aching. “you always talked like you were gonna burn the whole city down just to make it to some fucking—loser, nerd, uni. still do.” he spits out.

he looks back out the window, tongue pressing into his cheek.

you can tell he’s pissed. bitter, even. maybe even... jealous? but you reach out without thinking—soft, deliberate—and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. your fingers linger just long enough to slip his glasses off, folding them in your hand.

if you were anyone else, he’d have snapped your neck for touching his glasses, let alone getting that close.

but you were you.

seongje doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even move—just shifts his gaze, side-eying you from the corner of his eye, something unreadable swimming just beneath the surface.

“you always do whatever the fuck you want,” he mutters, but it comes out low, almost like a compliment.

“mhm,” you hum, fingers still ghosting along his skin as you cup his cheek. his skin is rough beneath your touch—calloused and scarred, the faint divots of half-healed cuts from fights and brawls brushing against your palm. it scrapes at your skin, grounding you in a memory you shouldn’t still want. a past drenched in adrenaline and bad decisions, but his warmth still makes your chest ache like it always did.

your thumb brushes just beneath his eye as you lean in a little closer, your voice barely a breath. “and i really wanna kiss your stupid face right now, you psycho.”

seongje’s jaw clenches under your touch. his eyes scan yours, gaze falling on your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s daring you to do it. like he wants you to. you blink once, his eyes flick to your lips again, and that’s all it takes.

seongje grabs your face with both hands—rough, unfiltered—like he’s been holding back since the second you woke up in his room. the kiss crashes into you, all teeth and heat and the wild kind of need that’s only ever been his.

god, he needed this.

not just his lips on your or his fingers curling into the back of your neck, but you. the only person who ever made him feel anything beyond bloodlust. all the beatdowns, the turf wars, the payoffs—none of that ever lit his veins up like this. like you.

your eyes flutter close, gasping into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, urgent, almost clumsy with how badly he wants more. his hands are on your jaw, your waist, your back—everywhere, like if he lets go, it’ll all disappear. he groans desperately into your lips, muttering your own name against your skin.

you let him kiss you like he’s starved for it, like he’s still the boy who used to beg you not to leave his bed in the mornings, the boy who would let the world burn just to have you. you let him hold you like this means something—like maybe, for tonight, it does.

even though you know you’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, before the sun even touches the edge of the windowsill where you two once sat. no note, no goodbye. you’ve done it before, and you’ll do it again.

because he’ll always choose the union. the chaos. the blood in his mouth and the rush in his fists. because that’s just who seongje is—your wolf with red-stained teeth, always chasing, craving something darker. the mad dog.

but you?

you’ve got places to be. you’re not wasting time here leashed to him like this. you have dreams to run toward. dreams that geum seongje was never meant to follow.

if you liked this, i appreciate a reblog as well :3 it helps my works and writing spread to other ppl very effectively !!

note: just couldn’t stop thinking of love and leashes while writing this, so here u go lol

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[incognit0slut]

Doctor Reid

PART 2 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Established Relationship Your boyfriend finally agrees to indulge in your fantasy by playing a very different kind of doctor, but on his own terms.

Content: (18+) 4k, roleplay, lingerie, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, female oral, edging, soft!dom as per usual and him being what you guys like to call ‘a little shit’ a/n: season 12 Spencer can stay between my thighs all day every day. also, i have no knowledge on any medical terms this is just ✨vibes✨

10:34 AM

The box was heavier than you’d expected. It had been weeks since you’d ordered it—weeks of wondering if this would even get here without some awkward explanation. You’d agonized over every little detail, scrolling through pages of different costumes, wondering which stethoscope looked the most real.

And now it was finally here.

You didn’t waste a second. Your fingers worked quickly, ripping through the tape and cardboard until the contents spilled out. A crisp, folded white coat with perfectly pressed lapels and a stethoscope. And it was a real one, with cool metal tubing that felt heavy and authentic in your hand. Everything looked even better than you’d imagined.

You barely took the time to fold back the box flaps before hurrying to the next room, where your boyfriend sat comfortably on the couch, idly thumbing through a book.

“Spencer!” Your voice practically sang in excitement. “It’s here!”

He glanced up and lowered his book. "What's here?"

You grinned, bouncing on your toes as you closed the distance between you. "The doctor is officially in," you declared, holding up the white coat like a trophy, the stethoscope dangling from your other hand.

You watched as realization dawned across his face as he blinked a few times, processing the items in your hands, before letting out a soft, amused huff.

"Wow," he said slowly. "You really went all out."

"Of course I did,” you affirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you held the coat up to his chest, sizing him up as though he were already playing the part. “And it’s perfect.”

He leaned back into the couch, trying to put some distance between him and your infectious enthusiasm. “You know I’m not much of an actor.”

“Baby,” you drawled out, emphasizing the pet name with that affectionate tone you knew worked like a charm on him. It was the same sweet voice you used when you wanted something, the kind that could coax just about anything from him. “You’re not trying to win the Oscars, it’s sex. I promise you’ll like it.”

He shook his head like he was the most put-upon boyfriend in the world, letting out a mock sigh of exasperation, though the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips betrayed him. He closed his book and set it aside.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said at last, dragging the word out as though it physically pained him to say it. “If we do this on my own terms.”

“Your own terms? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. And,” he reached out, pinching the collar of the coat between his fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”

You pouted. “What, you don’t want to look like a real doctor?”

“I think I can pull it off without the costume.” He flashed you a smile. “I’m technically still a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Your multiple doctorates don’t exactly qualify you for this, Doctor Reid.”

“I thought having six degrees would be enough for anything.”

“Too bad none of them is needed now,” you shot back, poking a finger at his chest playfully. “The role I’m thinking of requires a different kind of expertise. More…” You paused, pretending to mull it over, “Hands-on. Less theoretical.”

The laugh he let out was short and incredulous, his eyebrows raising as if he couldn’t believe your persistence. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

You sighed dramatically. “Babyyyy.”

“You know, one of these days that tone isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, please, you love it,” you taunted, leaning in closer. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about this.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons, debating just how far he’d let you push him. And then there it was, that spark in his eyes. Faint but undeniable—the one that told you he was already half convinced, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alright, fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll play along.”

The grin you wore was at least a mile wide as you shoved the stethoscope into his hand.

1:52 PM

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Spencer looked up from his stack of papers, and as soon as he saw you standing there, dressed in nothing but lacy lingerie that clung to every curve, his mouth fell open. He blinked, trying to process the sight. Because yes, while you looked incredibly sexy, he was still baffled.

“Since when does a patient wear... that?"

You stepped closer, letting his eyes follow your every move as you shrugged with a hint of feigned innocence in your smile. "Well, I thought I'd save you some time, you know? Make it easier for your examination."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his desk. "I'm not so sure this is standard procedure. I think you might be bending the rules here."

"Maybe. But I'm sure Doctor Reid can make a special exception, right?“

You shifted slightly, arching your back just enough to draw his attention. His eyes dropped to your chest, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the sheer, barely-there fabric of your lingerie. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but it broke through anyway. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Of course,” he finally replied. “I think I can be persuaded.”

With that, he leaned forward, sweeping his documents to the side in one smooth motion, before patting the now-cleared space on the desk in front of him.

“Take a seat, Miss,” he said, his voice turning low and authoritative that lit a spark of excitement inside you. “Let’s get started.”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting back a grin as the cool wood of the desk pressed against the backs of your thighs. You watched Spencer stand up and slip between your legs, his hands finding your knees and spreading them just enough to close the distance until the heat of his body was flushed against yours.

“So, tell me,” he started, his voice lowering as he fell into the role. “What seems to be the problem today?”

A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach, and suddenly you were very aware of what was happening. You’d initiated this—had begged for it, even—but it was something entirely different now that Spencer was towering over you. The confidence you’d felt earlier wavered for just a moment as his palms ran slowly up your thighs.

“I, uh,” your voice faltering slightly as his hands continued their slow journey. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”

His fingers brushed lightly against the frills of your lingerie, teasing the lace between his fingers as he maintained eye contact. “Any symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traced small circles over the fabric. “All of the above.”

“I see.” His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

Slowly, you parted your lips, and the moment you did, Spencer’s hand came up to your chin. He tilted your head back gently, exposing the graceful line of your throat.

“I’m going to run a few tests now.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “It might feel intense, but I need you to stay relaxed and follow my instructions. Can you do that, Miss?”

You nodded as best as you could, mouth still open, and he gave you a small, approving smile.

“Stick your tongue out for me, just a little bit.”

You followed his instructions, extending your tongue just far enough to meet his touch. His eyes gleamed with focus as he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressing it lightly against your tongue.

“Hm,” he hummed, his eyes still fixed on your mouth like he was about to make a serious diagnosis. “I think I might be starting to see the problem here. But I need to check one more thing. Can you close your mouth around my finger?”

You complied, your lips wrapping around his thumb, feeling the rough pad of it pressing down on your tongue.

“Good,” he sighed, the approval in his voice like a reward in itself. “Now try giving it a gentle suck.”

You could feel the tension rising in you. Your cheeks hollowed as you did what he asked, and you couldn’t help but think back to the hesitation in his voice earlier, the way he’d claimed he wasn’t sure about this, that he wasn’t good at playing roles. You would’ve laughed if your mouth wasn’t occupied.

But you were an obedient patient, after all. You started sucking lightly, feeling the weight of his thumb resting against your tongue. There was something undeniably arousing about how he watched you, eyes heavy with focus, and that steady weight of his finger as he pretended to assess your reaction.

The first rush of arousal made itself known between your legs. You gradually increased the pressure, and before you knew it, you were bobbing your head. But just as you fell into a steady rhythm, his hand tightened on your chin to stop you.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured after a moment, pulling his thumb away slightly to speak. “You’re suffering from an acute sensitivity.”

You swallowed, eyes wide as you played along, trying to keep your composure despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Is… is that serious?”

“I’ll need to do a further examination to understand the extent of your condition,” he mused, his eyes flickering between your face and your body as if assessing you before he straightened up slightly. “Let’s check your vitals now.”

He reached behind you, fingers brushing your lower back as he grabbed the stethoscope that had been sitting on the desk all day, the one you’d practically begged him to use. His expression turned serious, as though he were truly diagnosing you, and he leaned in close, pressing the flat side of the stethoscope against the pulse point on your neck.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed softly. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest as the cool metal made contact with your skin. “Your heart rate is definitely elevated.”

He moved the stethoscope lower, brushing it along your collarbone, before pressing it just above your heart. You felt the thump, thump, thump of your pulse echo through the metal.

“Definitely fast,” he noted. “We might need to find out what’s causing such a reaction.”

And before you could respond, without warning, he moved the stethoscope lower, pressing the cold metal against your nipple. You let out a soft, involuntary moan as the sensation caught you off guard.

“Ah,” he muttered, tilting his head as if he were genuinely analyzing your response, his thumb grazing the lace-covered peak around the stethoscope. “I think we’ve found one of the pressure points.”

You watched as his fingers trailed up to the edge of your lingerie, dragging his knuckles along the lace before he tugged the fabric down, letting your breast spill free. Without a word, he pressed the stethoscope directly against your bare nipple. The sudden contact made you jolt, your back arching as a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, and your nipple hardened instantly under the cold metal.

“Heightened sensitivity to stimuli.” He moved the stethoscope in small circles. “Very, very responsive.”

His eyes flickered down as he used his free hand to tug down the other side of your lingerie, exposing your other breast. You tried to keep your cool, tried to pretend like his touch wasn’t turning you inside out, but it was getting harder by the second. And God, he knew it. The way he played with your other nipple, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like he had all the time in the world, was enough to make your thoughts scatter.

You tried so hard to keep your composure, but then he gently pinched and tugged on your sensitive nub, and a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. With a satisfied grin, he pulled away.

You blinked, momentarily dazed. “What—?” you breathed out. “Why did you stop?”

“Medical procedure,” he said simply, his tone so casual it almost made you forget the heat of his touch moments earlier. “It’s important to give the patient time to stabilize.”

You shot him a bewildered, almost exasperated look that said are you serious right now? But he just smiled that slow, self-assured smile of his. He was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“We’re doing this my way, remember?”

You huffed in mock annoyance. “Really? That’s how we’re playing this?”

He brushed his lips on your shoulder. “That’s how we’re playing."

5:22 PM

“Doctor Reid?”

Spencer glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, casually stirring a hefty amount of sugar, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “Hmm?”

The coolness of the counter pressed against your back as you watched him. “I think it’s getting worse.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just let his gaze rake over you, taking note of the way the thin fabric of your lingerie clung to your skin.

“Worse, how?” he finally asked, setting his mug down.

“It’s… spreading.”

“Spreading?” He mused. “Where, exactly?”

“Everywhere.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your lingerie, lifting it just enough to show a glimpse of bare skin beneath. “I really need your help, Doctor.”

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin you revealed. You watched as the realization flashed across his face. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a satisfied smirk, and you knew then that he’d taken the bait—he had to confirm just how bare you really were.

“Come here,” he ordered softly. He stepped back from the counter just enough to make space. “If it’s spreading, I have to conduct a full-body assessment.”

You slowly made your way to him with shaky legs.

“Up,” he instructed, giving the counter a gentle pat before letting his hands settle on your hips. “Sit.”

The cool marble touched the backs of your thighs as you hoisted yourself up. Then, without warning, Spencer’s hands were on your legs. He grabbed your calves, and before you could even catch your breath, he maneuvered your knees apart, placing the palms of your feet flat onto the countertop.

His eyes dropped between your legs, and the sight of you completely bare, your pussy lips glistening under the dim light, confirmed what he’d suspected. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he took in every detail, the way you were flushed, open, and dripping.

“Is there a reason,” he began slowly, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft, detached tone. “Why you’re not wearing anything underneath?”

“I… I thought it might make the examination easier.”

He smiled. “How considerate.”

Then with painstaking slowness, Spencer used both thumbs to part your folds, spreading you open completely to his gaze. It was almost clinical, the way he did it, as if he were studying you like some fascinating experiment. And it was working. You could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing in your veins. God, he had you spread open like this in your kitchen counter, and all you could think was how absolutely shameless this was.

He took his time, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? Spencer Reid didn’t rush experiments. No, he would spend all the time in the world analyzing, learning, committing every detail to memory. And right now, that focus was on you. He dragged his fingertips through your arousal, spreading it leisurely over your folds like he was testing its consistency, as if that slick heat was something he could measure and quantify.

And all you could do was hold your breath.

“I have to say,” he started again, his voice low and taunting as his fingers slid back and forth slowly, grazing just over your entrance without actually dipping inside. “You’re overly lubricated. Are you always like this?”

You exhaled a long breath, trying to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart. “Y-Yes.”

Spencer's smile deepened, his gaze never leaving your face as he pressed just a bit harder, testing your reaction. “Interesting. Do you get this wet from just a little touch, or does it have to be… more?”

“J-Just a little,” you admitted, hips instinctively shifting toward his fingers.

“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, and finally—finally—he let his finger slide just inside your entrance, only to stop right there, buried to the first knuckle. He didn’t move any further. “Is that all it takes? Or do you need more to truly feel the effects?”

“I...” You let out a whimper when his finger twitched inside you. "M-More."

“And how much more, exactly? One finger? Two?”

“Two,” you gasped, every coherent thought slipping away under his touch. “Two… Doctor.”

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and without another word, he obliged, slipping a second finger inside you. The stretch made you bite back a moan as you felt every inch of him dragging against your inner walls. You couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers, pulling him deeper as your slick arousal coated every thrust.

“You’re even more responsive than I thought,” he noted, adjusting his angle to brush against that sensitive spot inside you. “Your partner must enjoy this… a lot.”

He was playing his role all too well. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as his speed picked up. "He... He does," you breathed out. "He—he loves it."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Good," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "Because this is a very special condition that requires a great deal of attention. And I'm sure that you need all the attention you can get, don't you?"

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding frantically as the pleasure built in steady waves. “I… I need it.”

"I thought so. Patients with your symptoms typically respond very well to intensive treatment."

With that, his fingers began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. The sensation of his long fingers stretching you had you moaning as you felt every drag, every inch while he continued to work you open. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he pressed a thumb firmly against your clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

He circled your swollen nub in slow, delicious patterns, and your body clenched around his fingers. This was it. You could feel it. The way your pulse pounded in your ears, the heat pooling deep in your core, every sensation building higher and higher. You could feel that sweet, sweet edge approaching, so close you could practically taste it—

And then he stopped.

Everything. Stopped.

“Spencer!”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to soothe the ache in your body. He simply slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself. The mix of your own slick and the heat of his skin made you moan softly, your tongue swirling around his fingers

“You see, you can be very responsive,” he commented in a low, measured tone. “But I think we should take a break, rushing the treatment would only compromise the results.”

He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like he wasn’t purposefully doing this to drive you insane. You wanted to laugh, and you did. But it was a defeated, breathless sort of laugh around his fingers, because you knew the man settled between your thighs still held all the power over you.

08:56 PM

“Babe?”

He laughed softly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. “No more Doctor?”

You ignored the amusement in his voice as you walked up to the bed where he lay sprawled out, so casually composed, flipping another page like he hadn’t spent the entire day driving you mad. You reached the edge of the mattress, shadow casting over him, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

“I wanna cum.”

Spencer’s smile widened, the kind that made your stomach flip with both excitement and irritation, and he placed the book down beside him. His hand reached out lazily to brush your thigh.

“Yeah?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. “Does my sweet girl want to be taken care of?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Well, I do like it when you ask nicely,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “And you’ve been very patient all day.”

“I have.”

“I think you deserve it.”

“I do.”

He let out an amused laugh. “Alright, lay down on the bed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You quickly shifted, lying back against the pillows. Spencer’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your thighs and dragging you toward the edge of the mattress. The room spun for a moment when he settled onto his knees. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing your calf as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded, and just as the breath left your lungs, his fingers brushed against the slick, wet folds of your pussy. He traced the outline of your lips gently, gathering the moisture that had been building all day.

“Poor baby,” he cooed sympathetically, his breath ghosting over your wetness. And just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of teasing, he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clit.

A desperate whine escaped your lips. “Please…”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. He licked another long, languid strip to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before flattening it again, dragging slowly just to savor the way you trembled beneath him. One of his hands gripped your thigh firmly, keeping your leg steady over his shoulder, while the other slid underneath, lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

And when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck, a choked moan tore from your throat.

“Spencer,” you whimpered. “Oh god…”

The vibration of his low groan reverberated through you. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open and pinned beneath him. You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit or the wet, obscene sounds of him slurping against your soaked folds. Either way, it was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where everything blurred and all you could do was feel.

And then his tongue shifted, dipping lower to probe your entrance. He pushed inside, exploring, seeking, like he was determined to reach every possible inch of you. And damn it, it felt like he could. Each thrust and twist of his tongue sent a surge of delicious heat through your body, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders, squeezing him tighter.

You could barely breathe as the tension coiled tighter, so fucking tight you thought you might snap. And he knew it—he could feel it, the way your walls clenched around his tongue, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders. And still, he didn’t let up, thrusting his tongue into you deeper, faster, while his nose rubbed insistently against your clit.

He kept going, over and over, tasting you like you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. It was too much and yet not enough, and soon you couldn’t stop the desperate chant of his name spilling from your lips. You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for anymore—more? mercy?—all you knew was that you on the brink of falling apart.

One last stroke was enough to shatter you completely.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came, but with the way he was working you over, you didn’t stand a chance. The moment you felt yourself tip over, everything broke—your body tensed, your back arched sharply off the bed, and a loud moan tore from your lips. It was like your body had a mind of its own, hips grinding desperately against his mouth as if seeking every last bit of friction you could steal.

And when you finally came down, you were a breathless, panting mess. Spencer gave your clit one final, teasing suck, before he pulled back. He crawled up your body, hands sliding up your sides to push your lingerie higher. Gentle, warm kisses tickled your stomach as he threw you a smug look that only he could pull off.

“How was that,” he murmured, pausing to kiss just beneath your ribs. “For your little fantasy?”

Mind-blowing. Intense. Better than I imagined.

“Well,” you managed to say, fingers tangling into his hair. “If that’s how you plan on treating me, Doctor, I might just have to get sick more often.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin, and he nipped gently at your side.

“I think it’s best for you to do a regular check-up, then,” he teased, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he crawled further up, settling his body over yours. “Doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that escaped your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’d be more than happy to comply.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 sample

synopsis: prequel to pocus -- katakuri's dreams of you come to a head when he learns that the two of you are already engaged to be married. and to make matters worse, your ex-boyfriend makes a rather unpleasant appearance while the sweet commander is picking up his order of doughnuts.

cw: fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, katakuri is katakuri, KATAKURI DOES NOT PLAY ABT YOU, he is twenty-one, you are twenty, for context smoothie is eight, your ex is an asshole, katakuri's got it baaad.

a/n: good golly this man is fine

"C-Commander!" you mewled, the pillow under your hips slipping under Katakuri's relentless pace.

His blunt nails dug into the flesh of your hips, a smirk rising to his lips at the way you were already gone.

His hand roamed your ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggled with each of his powerful thrusts.

Perfect... plump... round...

Seeing you bend over the ovens at your bakery, he knew it would be.

But seeing it for himself?

Squeezing tighter, he kneaded the supple flesh, strengthening his hold as he adopted a quicker, rougher pace.

"O-Oh, yes! Ngh! Kuri-Kuri f-fuck," you keened, the air in your lungs slowly but surely leaving you. "Feels s'good!"

Your cries drifted far past the room, so far that the Sweet General was sure the servants within the maid's quarters could hear them.

But he wanted you louder.

He wanted you shrieking.

He had wanted this for so long, wanted to feel the way you fit him.

Wanted to hear the way you spoke his name wrapped in pleasure.

Everything of you, he wanted.

Needed.

Katakuri needed you.

Somehow, he'd managed to hold out for this long, but his luck wouldn't last with the way you were clawing the comforter, moans rising as he switched angles.

But in an instant, it was all snatched away.

Breathless, Katakuri shot straight up in his bed, heart thundering in his chest.

Swallowing thickly, he quickly glanced down at his lap, his cum hot and sticky against his skin, and his half-chubbed length angrily confined by his boxers.

It happened again...

A faint flush of pink rose to his cheeks at the sight, the Yonko commander swiftly brought back to the countless other nights where he had awoken to the same scene.

There was something about you, something about your presence that instantly returned him to his teen years—where an ass and a couple of moans could make him cum in his pants.

God, this was wrong.

You were so kind, so sweet, yet his dreams consisted of nothing but ruining you for any and every other man to follow him.

Unable and unwilling to reckon with what your image had just done to him, he settled for flopping back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with a blank, annoyed look.

How the hell was he going to face you tomorrow?

"Ah, Commander!" you beamed, warmly waving to the man as he entered through your large door. "I was just about to send Kota."

Quickly, you scurried toward your display case, pulling out the tray with ten, normal-sized doughnuts of varying flavors.

"I've got the samples you ordered right here. Freshly glazed."

Silently, the man nodded, fighting off the flush threatening to rise to his ears as he crossed his arms over his chest.

He avoided all eye contact with you, making a point to look anywhere but your smiling face as he leaned against the wall.

Every time he met your gaze, images of last night would flash in mind, further adding to the pit of guilt already sinking in his chest for thinking of you in such a way.

It made him feel dirty, and suddenly undeserving of your kindness

"Kota, come box these up for me, yeah?" you called, your young apprentice quickly scurrying to your aid.

"Yes, ma'am!" he nodded, carefully taking the tray before returning to the back room

His eagerness made you smile, the sight intensifying the rhythm of Katakuri's heartbeat as he watched you return to your work.

"I know it's not your usual, but I think you'll like the new blueberry lemon doughnut I made this morning," you attempted to strike up a conversation, going back to glazing the rest of the morning's doughnuts. "Smoothie came by earlier and said it's her favorite so far."

Katakuri hummed, seemingly uninterested in what you had to say as he glanced around your huge bakery—the size was accommodating to commoners as well as those of his height.

Confused, your face slightly fell, unsure of what you did to warrant such a cold response.

Sure, the Minister of Flour was not the warmest person you'd ever met, but he certainly wasn't this icy.

Especially not to you.

You figured the both of you were far past this stage, having gone through the whole "stoic and silent" rigmarole months ago.

It took ages to get the Minister of Flour to warm up to you even a little bit, but when he did?

The change was like night and day.

He turned off his observation haki for the first time in...well, who knows how long.

He allowed himself to participate in easy conversation.

Hell, once you could've swore he let out a quiet chuckle at a joke you made.

But all of that seemed to be completely gone now, as if it were never there.

You were one of the Big Mom Pirate's closest and most trusted personal bakers, so you had dealt with your fair share of volatile personalities.

But his was odd, even for a Charlotte.

Just then, the bell on your door let out a delightful little jingle, snapping both yours and Katakuri's attention to the familiar face walking in.

Your eyes went wide, before your brows quickly furrowed in an unsavory scowl.

"Get out."

At that, the man laughed, amused by your somewhat poor attempt at intimidation.

"That's how it is? No hello or how are ya?" he sneered, slowly walking up to the counter.

"Get the hell out of here, Gino! I told you I never wanted to see your face again!"

"(y/n)... baby... c'mon... you really meant tha—?"

"Every damn word," you swiftly answered, taking a large, tentative step back as he continued to approach. "Don't come any closer!"

"Or what? You'll bake me to death? Turn me into a jelly doughnut?" he smirked, mockingly.

You scoffed, quickly turning around and rushing into the backroom, "Kota! Get my bat!"

Annoyed, Gino let out a harsh sigh, moving to lean against the counter before glancing at the Sweet Commander.

"Women, amiright?" he griped, rolling his eyes as he pointed his thumb in your direction. "All this drama for what? Gimme a few minutes to talk and she'll be crawlin' back in no time."

He chuckled to himself, seemingly proud of this "fact".

"She always does."

A vein bulged in Katakuri's forehead at the statement, the furrow in his brows deepening and muscles tightening in an instant.

As he watched your interaction, he waited patiently, gauging your reaction to the man and the danger level in order to plan his response accordingly.

'Looks like they had some sort of romantic relationship... an ex-boyfriend, perhaps?'

Audibly, you were rummaging around in storage, frantically searching for your father's prized baseball bat.

'If she feels such a need to arm herself, then he must have a history of violent behavior... an interaction like this must've turned physical before.'

The man's jaw clenched at the thought, a certain feeling bubbling in his stomach the he had never felt before.

It made him want to gag and flay Gino's remains after a Mochi-flavored beat-down.

'It's settled then.'

"Hey, I just realized... aren't you the—?"

Without hesitation, Katakuri cut off his sentence, his mochi arm wrapping tightly around the scumbag's neck before hoisting him in the air and dragging him forward, until he was finally at his level.

"I am only going to say this once. Fail to follow direction and I will not hesitate to kill you along with your entire family... understand?"

Frantically, the man nodded, utterly wracked with fear.

"Good... now, when I release you, you are going to take the first ship off Whole Cake, continuing to travel on until you make it to Cacao Island. There, you will effectively leave Mama's territory and begin your pitiful attempt at surviving in the New World without her protection."

His grip tightened, further constricting the man's airflow as he continued on.

"If you do not get on that ship, I will know. If you turn around, I will know. If you do not reach Cacao Island by the end of the day, I will know."

Suddenly, an imaged of you flashed in his mind, reminding him of the ultimate reason for his fury.

"And if you so much as look at... think of... or utter my fiancée's name in my presence again... I will see to it personally that your body is put six feet under the ground."

Pulling him closer, Katakuri didn't stop until his face was right in front of Gino's, his fiery, ruby red eyes blazing fiercer than the pits of hell.

See, what Gino couldn't have possibly known was that last night the Sweet Commander had attended an emergency summons from his mother, where he learned that he was engaged to be married to one of Whole Cake Island's most eligible bachlorettes.

You.

Of course, it was a strictly political contract between his mother and your father, and given your rather normal reaction to seeing him in the shop today, he figured your father had failed to tell you yet about the arrangement.

But even still... he now had a responsibility to you.

A responsibility he would not take lightly.

"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

Unable to speak, Gino simply nodded in agreement, practically paralyzed with fear.

With that response, Katakuri swiftly tossed him to the ground, allowing the man to scurry to his feet like the vermin he was.

"Good... now get out of my sight."

The Sweet Commander didn't even fully finish his sentence before Gino was already on the run, sprinting toward the nearest port like a madman.

The sight almost brought a smile to Katakuri's face, were it not for his haki predicting your well-timed approach.

"All right, asshole, you wanna try me now!" you spat, bursting from the backroom with bat in hand.

But, to your surprise, your ex-boyfriend was nowhere to be found, only Katakuri remaining within your small lobby.

"Huh? Where'd he go?" you asked, raising a brow in confusion.

"Away," he answered, curtly, crossing his arms over his chest once again.

"Damn... I really wanted to use this on him..."

"Commander Katakuri, sir!" Kota rushed forward, running out from behind the counter before presenting the man your signature box. "Your sample doughnuts, as requested. I apologize for the wait."

Taking them, he offered a thankful nod, carefully tucking them against his side.

"No need. I understand the... odd circumstances," slowly, his gaze turned to you, his expression somehow turning more serious than it already was. "But doughnuts aren't all I came here for."

For the first time in a long time, nerves seemed to be fluttering in his belly, rendering him partially immobile under your soft gaze.

But he was doing what had to be done.

A woman deserved to know she was getting married before the day of her wedding.

And a woman deserved to know why.

"(y/n)... you and I need to talk... Alone."

[loveanddeepthroat]

Trouble

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - As it turned out, lavish events in the N109 Zone were not quite your thing, and this one did nothing but prove it. You weren’t looking for trouble, but it often had a way of finding you.

Word Count - 6.4k

Warning - MDNI. 18+. Oral sex f!receiving. Fingering. Light bondage. Mention of murder.

You were in trouble.

Not that it was immediately bothering you. You were having a good time—it wasn’t your fault that the rest of your companions were quite clearly not.

And besides, it wasn’t as if you were breaking any rules. Sylus had simply advised that you remain where he and the twins could see you upon your arrival at the lavish event, and that’s exactly what you were doing.

Whilst you watched a delectable cocktail being made for you at the bar as per a stranger's request, the three sets of eyes in various places around the room burned holes in your head as they watched you and the nameless man like a hawk. You only threw a few glances at each of them, catching Luke waving the tips of his fingers against his neck in a warning to get away from the guy.

You did no such thing, however. Listening to people kissing Sylus’s ass to stay out of his warpath had quickly bored you half to death, and some stimulation was very necessary for your withering attention span. You didn’t think much of the man who had approached you at the bar. He was dressed up like every other guy in the room, but he held a familiar air of dominance around him. Just as a certain silver haired man fuming a dozen metres away did.

The man ordered you what he deemed as being the best cocktail you would ever drink, along with an identical one for himself. One sip had led to another, your glass completely drained in a matter of a few seconds. He had another one raring to go before your glass landed back on the mahogany bar.

“Didn’t I tell you? The perfect cocktail.” The slight grin he shot you revealed two golden teeth that replaced his natural canines. You imagined the man would be quite intimidating to look at for most, but you took down Wanderers for a living. He’d need to do a lot more than flash his expensive gold fangs at you to make you feel threatened.

Not that you were getting that impression from him in the first place. He actually seemed rather pleasant.

“It’s delicious,” you agreed, already starting on the second.

He perched himself on the stool beside you, taking a sip of his own as he studied you for a moment. “You came with Sylus, huh?”

You nod, not seeing any harm in answering truthfully. “Is it obvious?”

The man chuckled. “His eyes are like lasers through my skull,” he crooned. He turned his head to wiggle his fingers in greeting to your companion. You didn’t dare turn to look in the same direction. “So, what are you doing on your little lonesome, darling?”

A shiver ran up your spine at the pet name. It was almost as if Sylus had caused it as a warning to you. You could feel his patience thinning by the second.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you responded, starting to feel a bit like a worm in the sights of a crow. 

Although you weren’t entirely sure which of the two men were making you feel so much pressure all of a sudden.

A blaringly obvious hand shot in the air a little distance behind the silver-eyed man beside you, catching your attention. Kieran had attracted more than just your attention as he threw his thumb back over his shoulder, eagerly coaxing you away from the man.

It was time to wrap things up.

You finally took the hint and slipped off of the barstool and onto your stilettos, your movement mirrored by the man before you. A large hand landed upon your shoulder, causing you to freeze up. At first, you thought it was his hand clamped there, but the sheer size and strength as it gave you a small squeeze was immediately recognisable.

Sylus.

Putting your face in one of the large fireplaces in the room sounded more appealing than looking up at him at that moment, so you kept your gaze on the sly smirk now spreading across the shorter male’s face.

“Sylus. It’s about time our paths crossed tonight,” he crooned. Gone was the admittedly quite charming face you had been accompanied by, replaced with one that could be compared to that of a viper. 

This man was not someone you should have engaged with.

Sylus’s firm grip remained on your tensed shoulder, anchoring you to him. His voice was cool and indifferent, like he was already bored by the idea of conversing with the individual.

“If you fancied my attention, Frank, all you had to do was say,” he drawled.

Frank cocked his head to the side, his silver eyes dropping to your chest. You suddenly felt a little overexposed in the plunged neckline of your fitted black dress.

“I was just on my way to you when I stumbled upon a lonely little stray,” Frank purred, his cold, lingering gaze finally flickering back up to your face.

Hiding the disgust in your expression was difficult, but you had a feeling it would be wise to at least try. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the twins standing together, watching the situation unfold. They were always ready to get involved if required.

Sylus chuckled, not one iota of humour in it. “I didn’t take you for the type of man to take pity on a stray kitten,” he said flatly. “Especially one with its collar on.”

He slipped a long finger into the chain of your ruby encrusted choker, giving it the smallest of tugs. You didn’t hate it, and honestly, you felt it more in the pit of your stomach than you did in your neck. Now didn’t seem like the time to think on that, mind.

The backs of his fingers smoothed over your racing pulse as he pulled the digit back out of the small space in your tight neckpiece. You shivered quite noticeably, the sensation awakening the pulse between your thighs.

“As you can see, this one is already taken care of.”

You didn’t miss the flare of hostility in Frank’s silver eyes as he followed every movement of Sylus’s hand—even as it moved to hang from his trouser pocket with his thumb tucked inside.

“Maybe you should keep her on a shorter leash. Anyone could have gotten their hands on her,” Frank said tightly. It sounded awfully identical to a threat. “This is hardly the room full of people you would want to lose such a precious little thing in.”

Sylus didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed your arms and moved you to the side, away from Frank’s cold glare. Before you could even react, two strong arms either side of you hooked your arms with their elbows.

Luke and Kieran practically dragged you away, your feet struggling to keep up. As soon as you were released from their bone crushing clamps for inner elbows, you turned back to the interaction you were just kidnapped from.

Only to find the space completely empty.

“Okay, either you’re blind or really, really stupid,” Luke scolded.

You frowned back at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?”

“No, we won’t excuse you,” he snapped. “We’ve spent the last ten minutes thinking up different ways to dispose of your body after Frank was done with you.”

“Honestly, woman. Do we have to take you over the basic commands, again? I looked like a tool flapping my arms at you!” Kieran chimed in, looking like he was telling off a toddler.

Unsure whether it was the alcohol or their incessant rambling, you were starting to feel quite overwhelmed. You weren’t sure what they had seen differently while you were sitting with Frank, but you knew that the man had to have had a sinister intention for occupying you.

“Wait, wait,” you cut them off as Luke started to scold you again. “Shouldn’t we go find them?”

They both stared at you for a moment before bursting into obnoxious laughter. You weren’t sure what the joke was, but you were confident you wouldn’t find it funny even if you did.

If Sylus had gone off alone with the unfriendly man, then surely he would need the three of you there, too.

“You’re lucky you still have a tongue in your mouth to be able to make dumbass suggestions like that,” Luke sneered, still shaking from his chuckles.

You clenched your fists at your sides, irritated by their insults. How were you supposed to know that Golden Teeth was an enemy? You weren’t exactly well versed in the good and the bad when it came to attending events in the N109 Zone.

If they were that concerned, they could have remained beside you.

Each minute that passed without a visual on Sylus felt like an eternity, but in reality, only three minuscule minutes went by before he emerged from a door beside the bar.

His facial expression gave away absolutely nothing, but the red split in his lip did. You swallowed as you watched his tongue peak out to run over the small laceration, followed by the pad of his thumb. It disappeared in an instant at his touch.

You began to walk towards him, curious about what the hell had just happened, and if Frank was still breathing. Before you could open your mouth, however, he bent at the waist the second he got close to you, his shoulder connecting with your stomach as he hauled you off of your feet.

“What the—what the fuck are you doing?!”

He did not dignify you with a response as he stormed towards the exit, his solid arm squeezing your knees into his ribs as you started to assault his back. 

“Put. Me. Down,” you grit between harsh slaps to his back. You might as well have been flicking his ear for all the difference it was making.

He carried you straight out of the building and towards the matte black saloon car Kieran had driven you all in earlier that evening. You were utterly furious and embarrassed, doing everything in your power to wriggle out of his hold.

“I can walk!”

Sylus snorted. Snorted, like it was funny. No humour lay in his tone as he spoke, though. “Well that’s a little hard to believe.”

You whacked his muscled back again. “Meaning?!”

He yanked open the back door of the car, practically dropping you into it on your back. You felt it again, at the worst possible time.

That flutter of lust in your core.

It was something about the way he stood over you as you panted from the physical exertion of trying to fight his spine. He must’ve been able to see up the short skirt of your dress, and you hoped to god he didn’t spot any indication of your arousal on the cherry red thong you were wearing.

“Meaning, you had plenty of opportunity to use these apparent walking skills when your safety was threatened,” he growled, moving your legs so he could slam the car door, not interested in anything you had to say back.

You huffed as you pushed down on the unfolded mass of clothes in your backpack, trying to fit them all in.

It had been hours since you all got back from the absolute disaster of a night, and you had been holed up in the room you were occupying since then. Part of you expected Sylus to come and explain what the hell his problem had been, but he didn’t.

The longer you sat and dwelled on it, the more you wanted to go home. You only came to stay because he’d asked you to attend the event with him. He hadn’t mentioned that you were expected to stay by his side like an obedient dog. Nor had he bothered to mention the types of people you were to avoid.

Not only were you pissed at him, but you were pissed at the fact that he’d made you feel a certain way. Who in their right mind gets aroused by a man embarrassing you by hauling you out of a room full of people—likely with your bare ass on show. 

Scientists would have a field day with your brain.

And although you hated to admit it, it wasn’t the first time you had felt that familiar feeling of lust at his touch. The last time you had stayed, you had to relieve yourself in the shower after training with him in the ring. Every inch of him was sculpted with perfect precision, almost as if an architect had dedicated their life to working on his blueprint.

If you were being honest, you weren’t bothered about the event he wanted you to attend when he’d asked you to join him. You just wanted to see him.

But at the end of the day, you had no idea where you belonged in his world. In Linkon, a friendly face buying you a drink wasn’t something to be feared. It was exhausting having to recluse whenever you accompanied him anywhere. 

The clasps of your bag struggled as you tried and failed to clip them together. You had no idea how you were getting back to your apartment, but you were confident in your ability to just suck it up and figure it out. Even if you had to trek there in your most expensive pair of (uncomfortable) stilettos.

You slipped your feet out of them, throwing your barely closed bag over your shoulders before picking the silky, red shoes up. They’re far too noisy against Sylus’s marble floor for you to be able to slip out without being accosted by him or the twins.

Without so much as a squeak, you gently turned the doorknob, pulling the door slowly to peer down the long hallway. Nobody could be seen or heard, so you slipped out and carefully closed the door behind you to not draw suspicion.

You hurried yourself down the hallway to get to the front door, stopping dead in your tracks as you turned the corner. 

Mephisto was perched outside of Sylus’s bedroom door, his beady red eyes on you in an instant. Like hell was the glorified magpie going to let you pass him without kicking up a fuss.

“If you keep your scrap-metal beak shut, I’ll be out of your feathers. Got it?” Your voice was a whisper, but you knew he could hear you.

He did not make a sound as you slowly passed him, keeping your eyes on his as he followed your every move across the luxury floors. By the time you had passed him, you were fully convinced that he was willing to let you go. The minute you took your eyes off him, though, he started to screech.

“CAW! CAW!”

“Oh for fuck sake! You couldn’t just work with me for once in your—”

“CAW!”

“I wasn’t finished you squawking little—”

You were cut off by Sylus’s door opening, his unamused expression still ever present on his face. He was freshly showered, silver hair dripping onto the bare expanse of chest showing between the lapels of his bathrobe. You had to swallow a noise that rudely made its way up from your suddenly dry throat.

Eyes as red as the rubies around your neck flickered between Mephisto, you, and the bag over your shoulder. He clicked his fingers, sending his winged companion away.

“I was under the impression that you were above cussing out mechanical crows,” he drawled, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

It wasn’t clear whether or not he was joking, considering the less-than humorous look on his face. Either way, you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I’m going home.”

“I can see that,” he responded immediately, nodding towards your barely closed bag. “And how, exactly, are you planning to get there?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling a bit like a teenager who’s just been caught sneaking out to a party. “I’ll figure that out myself.”

Holding his cold stare wasn’t usually a challenge for you, but you found yourself desperate to look away. You had compared Frank’s domineering aura to Sylus’s earlier, but it didn’t actually come close to the man before you. 

You had seen men and women strapped with weapons that could swiftly eliminate even the most dangerous of Wanderers cower at the sight of Sylus. He was the true definition of a force to be reckoned with.

He raised a lazy eyebrow at you, his hand slipping into the pocket of his robe. “You’re not leaving without a ride home. You’re over the limit, and if I wanted you to be skinned alive walking through the N109 Zone, I’d open the front door for you.”

“You give me a lift then,” you rebuked, your patience already thinning.

Sylus offered half a shrug. “I could, but I don’t make a habit of going out half naked.” You hoped to the lord that he didn’t see your shiver at the fact that he was only concealed by a thin robe. “You’re welcome to ask Luke and Kieran.”

“And where are they?”

The corner of his lip curled so subtly that you almost didn’t see it. “Out.”

You growled at his relaxed attitude. Why the hell would he even suggest it if they weren’t around?

“They’re cleaning up a mess of mine,” he answered as if you had asked.

A chill ran through you. “Would that mess happen to be Frank’s body?”

Sylus turned away from you, strolling into his room. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you followed him in, suddenly wanting answers.

“Well?”

Dark tendrils coiled around the bag on your back, gently tugging it down your arms and carrying it out of the room, closing the door on the way out. You had a feeling your belongings were heading back to where you just came from.

Sylus fiddled with the sleek black turntable in the corner of the room, carefully setting a vinyl record into place. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d hauled you into the car.

“You’re aware of the saying, right? Curiosity killed…” he trailed off, putting the pin in its place upon the record.

You frowned at his back. “The cat?”

He blew out a short laugh, not an ounce of humour in it. “The crook.”

He turned back towards you, slowly making his way to where you were a little rigid by the door. There was that feeling again. That you were a worm in the sights of a crow.

“Tell me,” he crooned, stopping right where your forehead would connect with his heart if you took half a step forward. “What was it about Frank that had you feeling adventurous, hm?”

You forced yourself to look up at him, feeling your cheeks heat at how close you were. “What do you mean?”

“Kitten, I can read you like the nervous wrecks who attempt to double cross me. Don’t play dumb, it does not suit you.”

His eyes were fierce and serious, but you hadn’t a clue what he was getting at. Your silence only lasted a few seconds before he leaned towards your shoulder.

“What was it that attracted you to him?” He whispered so quietly that you just about heard him over the thrum of your rapid heartbeat.

Attracted to him? In the approximately two minutes you had spent with Frank at the bar, you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him. 

You stepped away, your back connecting with the door immediately. Even with the slight gap, his look over your much smaller form was rather harrowing. And yet you felt that unhelpful flutter in your core again, so strong that your knees wobbled in place. What was this man doing to you?

“Did you hit your head this morning?” You bit back, clenching the muscles of your thighs tightly to relieve some of the pressure there. “You think that I had an eye for him because he bought me a drink?”

He closed the gap again, his large palm resting against the door right beside your head. “Why else would you not walk away when you were quite blatantly warned to do so.”

“Maybe because I was tired of—” you cut yourself off before you could finish. 

You had told yourself that the reason you hadn’t wanted to remain at his side was because you were tired of watching people practically tremble in his presence.

Now, though, you weren’t sure that was the sole reason.

Every woman in that damn room had an eye on him, and it had made you feel…strange. You weren’t typically a jealous person by nature, but tonight had proved you capable of such emotions. In fact, you were practically tearing the heads off of beautiful women in your mind, wanting to punish them all for having the audacity to look at him like he was a piece of meat.

Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all.

He cleared his throat pointedly. “Tired of…?”

You huffed rather childishly, turning your head away from his hard stare. “Of the attention that certain people were giving you,” you begrudgingly admit. 

There was no use lying to him, since falsely having him believe that you were actually interested in Frank seemed like a sure way to get on his bad side—if you weren’t already on it.

With his hand that wasn’t resting beside your head, he took a hold of your jaw, carefully turning your face back to his. “And would these people happen to be women?”

You merely shrugged, having no desire to discuss the matter any further.

Sylus studied you for a moment, contemplating. He looked as if he couldn’t decide between scolding you or shaking some sense into you. You were almost shocked that he didn’t go straight to mocking you, but you had an inclination that he had felt the same thing whilst you sat at the bar with one of his enemies.

He dropped his head beside yours again, murmuring in your ear. “If you wanted my attention, sweetie, I would have given it to you.”

You almost moaned, his breath tickling the sensitive column of your throat. Lifting a hand, you grabbed onto his wrist to steady yourself, only for him to pull out of your grasp immediately.

A flash of fear shot through you at his sudden rejection, but it was almost immediately soothed as he pried your fingers open enough to slip his own between them, pinning your hand to the door. 

“Do you have any idea the kind of danger you could have been in tonight?” It was a growling question that didn’t require an answer. You felt your breath pick up in pace, the swollen peaks of your nipples skimming the top of his abs every time your chest heaved. “Frank has been known to have a string of disappearing acquaintances. He wouldn’t hesitate to maim you out of spite to me.”

You shuddered at the thought of being so close to a killer. And yet the proximity between you and Sylus did not give you that same feeling of dread. You know that he has killed many before, and despite not having his death confirmed or denied just yet, you knew that Frank was now somewhere in the afterlife, hopefully being accosted by the people he had killed.

You knew, but you had to ask.

“Did you kill him because I was speaking to him?”

Sylus shook his head, pulling back just enough that he could look you in the eyes. “I killed him because it was long overdue. I’ve had men who have been sent out to keep an eye on that bastard, and many of them did not return,” he explained quietly, a hint of frustration in his tone. “If I had taken my eyes off of you for a second—”

He audibly swallowed, cutting himself off. You could easily guess what he was going to say, and clearly the mere thought of it was haunting him.

A wash of guilt fell over you. If you had just walked away when you were told, he wouldn’t have had to do anything.

“He wasn’t going to take one more person from me,” he finally gritted.

That very thought should have filled you with dread. It should have made you sick to your stomach.

But the mention of his eyes on you for every second you weren’t beside him caused a spreading warmth to grow in your chest. Despite the situation you hadn’t realised you were in, you had been safe that whole time under his watch.

“I would have thought you’d be glad to get me out of your hair,” you said, only half joking to diffuse the tension between you.

He didn’t seem amused by it at all, his grip on your hand tightening. “Like I said, kitten. If I wanted you dead, I’d be seeing you out of the front door instead of standing here, resisting urges I have no right to have.”

Your thighs pressed together again at his whispered confession. His eyes always warned of danger, but they were gleaming with desire. 

You were not losing out on him tonight.

With the most tender of touches, you ran the tips of your fingers over his exposed chest with your free hand, feeling his steady breath falter. He swallowed thickly, suffocating your hand in his against the door. 

“I apologise,” he whispered gruffly, his head dipping to where your collarbone was visible to him in the neckline of your dress. 

You shuddered as his breath danced across your clammy skin, droplets from his wet hair falling against your chest. “For what?”

“Handling you the way I did.” His lips were mere inches away from you, and it took all your strength not to grab the back of his head and slam his face into your chest. “The thought of that bastard doing something—”

“Kiss me.”

Sylus didn’t give you a chance to cringe at your own slip up as every inch of him pressed you into the door, his mouth attacking your pulse with expert precision. You let loose a shaky moan, your nails scratching down his rock hard pectoral.

Every ounce of animosity you had been harbouring since the event dissipated at his touch. He was rough and unrelenting, his indistinguishable power overwhelming you in the most delicious way possible.

“Lower,” you breathed softly, wanting him everywhere.

You weren’t sure how he heard you, but he obeyed your hushed command. In one swift movement, his free arm clutched you around your waist, lifting you up. Both of your legs perched perfectly either side of him, suffocating his waist.

With his newfound access to your already exposed chest, he immediately got to work, sucking and biting at the thin layer of skin over your collarbones. The pain of sharp teeth sinking into flesh married faultlessly with undeniable pleasure, causing you to writhe against him. 

A firm bulge pressed against your heat as he ground himself against your cunt. Even with the sensation being drastically muted by the material of your thong and his robe being between you, you appreciated the absolute weapon he was concealing beneath his nightly attire.

“Ah—” you gasped, the soft sound immediately erased by a sharp hiss as he sunk his teeth into your skin again.

His mouth slowly travelled down to the tops of your breasts, where he pressed uncharacteristically tender kisses to each one. You were a wriggling, desperate mess already, but he was still sane enough to take a moment to study your chest.

“I have always appreciated art,” he crooned.

He removed the arm that held you around your waist, purely holding you up with his lower body alone. Your breasts were granted a sweet release as he pulled the thin straps of your dress down, pulling the material out of his way like a man depraved.

It was the look in his eye. A million compliments that didn’t need to be put into words. You could see them. Hell, you could feel the utter captivation radiating from him.

Your free hand smoothed over the delicious muscle of his shoulders before curling around the back of his neck. With a swift yank of his head, his mouth locked onto one of your firm nipples. Back arching off of the door, you cried out as his tongue swirled and flicked the sensitive area, leaving you a little mindless.

He finally let go of your hand, hungry to feel more of you. One hand pushed up your thigh, the skirt of your dress riding up with the movement before he squeezed your hip. The other cupped your neglected breast, thumb brushing over your pert nipple as if it were the joystick on a gaming console. Up, down, left, right, and all over again. 

It was almost too much, and yet you still wanted more. He ground himself against you again, your head slamming back against the door with a reverberating thud. You felt it this time. The thickness of his solid shaft, followed by the damp sensation of your arousal.

You needed him there. Now.

“Mm—” you mumbled pathetically, unable to get a word out.

Sylus chuckled against the breast he was feasting on. “What was that, sweetie?”

All you could do was wriggle yourself against his cock, hoping to convey a message to him without the need to trip over your words. You wanted to swallow up every inch of it with your warmth, leaving it glowing like a damn firefly with the glistening sheen of your essence.

“I know that pretty mouth of yours can talk,” he whispered against the column of your throat. “Tell me what you want.”

Your mouth was dry, like the space between your legs had stolen your saliva to lubricate you further.

“More.”

Sylus clicked his tongue. “There are nicer ways to ask.”

You knew he wasn’t being serious, but you would have begged on your knees at this point. He had to have felt your legs trembling against his waist, aching for him to fill you.

“Since you haven’t specified…” he began, pulling his head back completely.

For a second, you thought you had actually irritated him. There was a darkness in his stare, a hunger. You couldn’t figure it out, but it didn’t matter once the dark tendrils of his Evol snaked around your arms, dragging them up above your head. Your eyes widened.

Was he going to leave you tied up here?

“Do you trust me, sweetie?”

Any sane person being restrained against a door by the literal epitome of bad news himself would have frantically shook their head.

But you didn’t. You trusted him with every damn crevice of your soul.

“Y-yes,” you stammered.

He brought up a hand to stroke your side before hooking it under your thigh, along with the other one. One swift lift had you hurtling upwards, as if you weighed no more than a spaniel puppy.

Your legs were quickly on his shoulders, securing him a front row seat to your soaked thong. Getting any wetter had to be impossible, but your position was serving to give it a good try. Wrists tightly secured above your head, your legs wrapped around his neck, and his warm breath fanning over your damp thighs.

No throne in the most lavish palace on earth would be more tempting than this seat of yours.

His crimson eyes flickered up to your face, a flash of uncertainty in his gaze. “Is this where you want me?”

You nodded rapidly before his hand came up to hold your jaw, halting your wordless answer.

“Words please, kitten,” he requested.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Sylus.”

He grinned, an unnerving and yet exciting sight. Wasting no time, he gripped the flimsy material of your cheap thong, tearing it at the seams to grant himself access to your bare cunt.

There was no teasing. No small pecks to your inner thighs. Not even a warning before his hot, balmy tongue lapped up a line of your juices through your folds, slowly dragging over the bundle of nerves nestled within. It took him no time at all to figure out where that heavenly little mound was, as if he knew your body like the back of his veiny hand.

Teeth. Tongue. Lips. All three of them fighting brutally for their moment on your clit, as if he couldn’t figure out which to use first. Your brain could hardly keep up with the flitting between this and that. All you knew was that you didn’t want it to stop.

Your legs tightened around his head in a bone-crushing squeeze. The suffocation only served to push him further, like he was fuelled by the possibility of having his jaw crushed like a damn walnut between your thighs.

“I could think of worse ways to go,” he growled against your hole, nose buried deeply into your folds to inhale your scent.

He pressed further into you, his tongue penetrating you with a greedy lick down your plush walls. Your hips jolted of their own accord at the sensation. He was your puppet master, making you grind and flinch on demand with his calculated actions.

The more his tongue slid in and out of you—the tip of his nose perfectly hitting your clit every time—the more of him you wanted inside of you. 

Gone were your soft, airy moans. You were crying out to whoever would listen, announcing to the world beyond the walls that you were being fucking devoured by the most feared mouth in the N109 Zone.

A mouth that could bring grown men to their trembling knees with one mere bark of an order.

You were drunk on it.

He slowly withdrew his tongue, immediately swallowing. “Like candy,” he murmured.

He licked at his lips, eyes trained on the concoction of his saliva and your fluids with awe. His hand shifted from where it had still been gripping your thigh, the soft pads of his fingers tracing circles around your hole for lubrication.

“Can you handle them?” He didn’t look up as he asked, fixated on the patterns he was repeatedly drawing through your folds.

“Mhm,” you mumbled.

He clicked his tongue. “Words.”

“Yes.”

He seemed to make quite the habit of just diving in as soon as he had permission. In one swift push, he impaled you on his lengthy index finger, his knuckles pressing against your pelvic bone.

You cried out towards the ceiling. “Fuck!” 

“You must’ve had some pretty disappointing experiences down here, sweetie,” he purred. “You’re so very tight.”

Every muscle in the lower half of your body was quivering with need, your hips unable to still themselves. He wasn’t wrong, nobody had ever truly left you gasping or crying out to the heavens.

You had a feeling he was about to change that.

Slowly, he dragged the digit back out, making sure to scrape down on your walls as he did. He began a steady rhythm, plunging his finger in and out of you lazily. His eyes held a repertoire of fascination, as if he’d been dreaming up this moment for quite some time.

He didn’t rush to add the second digit, but as soon as he did, you lost all sense of reality. The curling and pounding was precise and calculated, every brush of your neglected g-spot extracting a whimpering moan from you.

“Ngh…oh fuck,” you managed through a shuddering breath.

“Good girl,” he praised huskily. “I want to feel you come undone. Can you do that for me, darling?”

If he kept talking to you like that, it was going to happen a lot sooner than he would expect. The mental challenge of holding back was near impossible, and seemed to be displeasing him.

He picked up his pace. Firm, brutal bucks of his hand giving you every push towards that edge that you were trying to keep a distance from. You were yanking at the tendrils gripping your wrists, crying out pathetically at the sheer velocity of his fingers.

“I hope you’re not holding back on me,” he warned quietly.

He wanted you to finish. He was so very desperate to feel your release that he was practically shoving you towards it.

You couldn’t deny him.

The building pressure in your core gave out as you orgasmed, a litany of thuds marrying the sounds of your pleasured cries whilst you writhed against the door. Sylus, at the feeling of your walls contracting around his fingers, became a little breathless himself. He didn’t slow his pace, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure until your very last whimper. 

By the time you had caught your breath, the restraints on your hands slowly loosened, and you expected to be put back down onto solid ground.

Instead, Sylus brought his mouth back to your folds, clearing up the aftermath of your first real orgasm. He was slow and gentle, savouring the taste like a vintage bottle of wine.

He was gentle when lowering you back to the floor, your legs trembling beneath you. You kept a hold of his arms, looking up at his hazy eyes. Anyone would think that he’d been the one on the receiving end of oral sex.

You wanted to give back. You wanted to see everything beneath his robe.

And apparently, your need was rather obvious.

“Not tonight, kitten,” he murmured, fixing your dress to cover your exposed body.

You didn’t know if you were more perplexed or hurt. Why not tonight? Did he not see you capable enough of being able to return the favour?

He brushed a strand of your unruly hair behind your ear in a contrasting manner to how he’d been handling you earlier. “I won’t know when to stop.”

You shuddered at the thought. “I’m okay with that.”

It wasn’t a lie. He could bend you over the railing of the balcony for the whole city to see, and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

But he wasn’t budging, the corner of his glistening lips curling upwards at your eagerness. “I don’t doubt that.” 

He leaned towards your ear, his voice a low whisper.

“But it’s going to take a lot more than my saliva and your sweet fluids to help you take me, sweetie.”

[beloveds-embrace]

(Bakery/coffee shop au where you have a specific policy of not serving people what they ask for, but rather what you think they need

141 part || konig part)

The bell above the door chimed, and before you even looked up, you knew this was going to be one of those customers.

The footsteps were confident, unhurried- the kind of walk that belonged to a man who thought he owned any room he stepped into. Sure enough, when you glanced up from wiping down the counter, a man was already flashing you a lazy, knowing grin. The same man you’d seen reading your policy outside right before he’s sauntered inside.

“Well, well,” he drawled, taking in the cozy interior of your bakery like it was a pleasant surprise. “Didn’t expect a place like this in a town like this.”

You arched a brow. “A place like this?”

“All warm, sweet, and welcoming.” He gave you a slow once-over before his grin widened. “Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

You sighed, already unimpressed. “Do you plan on ordering, or are you just here to flirt, sir?”

“Can’t I do both?” He leaned against the counter, eyes alight with amusement. “Tell you what- gimme a black coffee. Strong. No sugar, no milk.”

You barely hesitated. “No.”

His brows shot up, and for the first time since walking in, he looked genuinely caught off guard despite reading your policy. He must have thought it was just a joke, but nope. “No?”

“No.” You repeated, already turning to the espresso machine.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, most places just give a man what he orders.”

“Well, I’m not most places.”

He watched you work, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like you were the most interesting thing in the room. “Y’know, I can’t tell if you’re stubborn or just like makin’ my life difficult.”

“I like giving people what they need,” you corrected, finishing up the drink. “Not what they think they want.”

A few minutes later, you placed a cinnamon breve latte in front of him and beside it, you set down a brown butter pecan cookie. You wished you could have given him something pink, filled with berries and cream but ah- you knew it wouldn’t fly that well, alas.

He stared at them.

Then he looked back up at you, brow raised. “You real serious about this policy?”

You wiped your hands on a towel. “Positive.”

He scoffed, but he picked up the cup anyway, taking a slow, experimental sip.

And that was when it happened, as always.

For just a second- so quick you almost missed it- his shoulders relaxed. His smirk faltered, replaced with something far more genuine. He let out a quiet sigh, the kind that came from someone realizing, damn, that’s actually good. Better than what I ordered, but I’d be damned if I admitted it!

You pretended not to notice that, and instead, leaned on the counter and smirked. “Told you.”

He set the cup down, running his tongue over his teeth as he studied you. “Gotta admit, you’re somethin’ else, darlin’.”

“I hear that a lot.”

He huffed a laugh, reaching for the cookie. “I bet you do.”

The silence that followed was surprisingly comfortable. He took his time with the cookie, alternating between that and his drink, and every so often, you caught him glancing at you like he was sizing you up- not in an arrogant way, but in a huh, I actually like being here kind of way.

…You were talking to yourself a little too much today.

Finally, as he dusted the last crumbs off his fingers, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Alright, you win this round. But don’t think I’m lettin’ you boss me around forever.”

You tilted your head, eyebrow raised though you could barely stop your lips from curling into an entertained smile. “Oh?”

“I’ll be back,” he said smoothly, tapping a finger against the counter. “Gotta figure out what other tricks you got up your sleeve.”

“Sounds like an excuse.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But it’s a damn good one.”

With that, he tipped his head, turned on his heel, and strolled out after paying- just as cocky as when he walked in, but with a little more warmth behind the smirk. He’d left you even a little note.

Philip.

And sure enough, a few days later, the bell chimed again, and there Philip was.

Just as he’d said he’d be.

Coffee Shop Masterlist.

[glasvera]

Stoicism and Gratuity

Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader x The Punisher

Description: You're always healing them so that they can let loose on the battlefield. Now it's your turn to let them do the work.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, clothed sex, minor mentions of alcohol, Bucky's arm tentacles, choking, spanking, rough sex, threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, light bondage??? if you count the tentacles?, Frank's kind of an ass but means well, one (1) terrible pun

A/N: Fulfilling a request for Bucky or Frank wasn't something I ever thought I'd do, but my interest was piqued and I decided to give it a shot. And then it turned into a light novel. Also... gods it feels SO weird calling him Frank.

Word Count: 5k

When Frank and Bucky invited you over, you thought it was just a casual meet up between colleagues, no, friends to enjoy what little downtime you had between missions. Order some take out, maybe drink a few beers… you know the drill. 

Even so, you couldn't help taking the chance to dress up a little bit. It was so rare that you got out (outside of work, at least) so you tended to go a little over the top when the opportunities presented themselves. Surely you couldn't go wrong with a cute dress and tights. 

Plus, who doesn't want to look this good in front of two absolutely gorgeous men?

It was hard enough that you were attracted to both of them. Flirting with one felt like some unspoken betrayal to the other, so you usually just tried to push those feelings down. But you weren't blind; unlike their more practical clothing and tactical gear, your hero suit hugged you in all the right places, and you had caught them both staring multiple times. You'd even teased them on more than one occasion about finding better partners if they were going to keep getting distracted on the job.

So why not throw caution to the wind while you can and give them a little more to look at?

Despite your original confidence, when you rap your knuckles on the door to Frank's apartment, you couldn't help the flutter of butterflies that burst forth in your stomach. What if your neckline plunged too low? What if they got the wrong (right?) idea about you from the fishnets that hug your hips just as tightly as the skirt of your dress?

You're unable to dwell on those thoughts for long before the door opens, and you're face to face with Bucky in a wife beater and joggers. His calm and collected demeanor slips for just a second, and his eyes are devouring your figure before he realizes what he's doing. He clears his throat and presses his lips shut into a thin line.

“Y/N. Good. You made it.” He blinks, scratching the back of his head with his organic arm, and steps back to allow you inside. “You… You look good,” he adds with a curt nod.

“Close the damn door. Air conditioning isn’t cheap, you know,” you hear Frank’s gruff voice call out from further in.

“I’m offering good company for free. Think that’ll cover it?” you retort with a cheeky smile as you round the corner into the living room, your heels clacking on the wooden floors.

To his credit, Frank doesn’t even try to hide the once-over he gives you. All you get in return is an amused snort. He looks good, you think, in a simple t-shirt and jeans. The denim has a few oil stains and the shirt is probably a size too small, but it suits him. You certainly can't complain about being able to see his strong physique on full display. Honestly, the two of them just look the same as they usually do minus all the extra equipment. Now you really feel overdressed. 

“You heading out to the club after this or something?” Frank quips while gesturing to your outfit.

Before you get the chance to be terribly embarrassed or even defend yourself, Bucky returns the Punisher's snark. “She can dress how she wants, old-timer. And don't think I missed the way you looked at her.”

You flash Bucky a smile of thanks. Frank grumbles something about being called “old-timer” by the guy who's older than him, but otherwise drops it. Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a minute, followed soon after by the sounds of bottles clinking in the opened fridge. 

Frank pats the seat next to him. Once you oblige, sinking into the poor, abused couch that threatens to swallow you whole in its cushions, he heaves a big sigh.

“You do look good. Just had to tease you,” he explains himself before Bucky reappears behind you with three beers in hand. “But Winter Princess over here had to get his panties in a knot over it,” he adds with a pointed smirk.

“If this weren't your place, I might smash this bottle over your head,” Bucky taunts back even as he hands him one.

He vaults over the back of the couch, throwing himself back into the cushions without much grace and landing next to you with an audible oomph. It launches you up a little in your seat. That, coupled with their banter, draws a lilting giggle from your lips. Bucky shoots you the softest of smiles. Ah… you were wondering when the butterflies in your stomach were coming back. 

He hands you the last beer, and you see the metal plates of his arm open and shift about before a tentacle reaches out and pops the cap off for you.

“Nice Swiss Arm-y Tool you got there,” you can't help but say with a shit-eating grin as you catch the cap in your other hand. Frank snorts again and Bucky sighs, losing his smile immediately and shutting his eyes.

“I will take yours back,” he threatens half-heartedly.

The tentacle that slithered about after opening the bottle lingers for a moment, and you pull back with a start when the cold appendage brushes against your wrist. Bucky's eyes widen and he quickly withdraws, metal clanking and shrieking against itself as he returns his arm to its usual state.

“Sorry. They have a mind of their own sometimes. Been meaning to see Shuri about that,” he explains apologetically. He can’t seem to look you in the eye.

“I-It’s okay,” you manage to eke out, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where it had touched you. You knew about them, fighting with him as you so often did, but that was the first time you'd felt them. It was so alien, and you shudder at the thought of what they could have been if Hydra had their way.

“And I thought I was a buzzkill,” Frank finally chimes in as he starts flicking through channels with the TV remote. It earns him a glare from Bucky, but he ignores it. He settles on some random sci-fi movie for background noise before setting the remote onto the arm of the couch. That'll probably get lost between the cushions later.

Despite his intent, you find yourself trying to focus on what's on the screen instead of the awkward silence building between you three. You hadn’t seen Fifth Element in ages. Trying (and failing) to ease your nerves, you lean back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you take a swig of beer. Eugh. Frank definitely wasn't breaking the bank for this brand.

After a little while, you all settle into what is at least a slightly more comfortable silence. Fifth Element just has a way of bringing people together, you suppose. Bucky props a foot up on one knee, and you don't miss the way he rests his mechanical arm on the back of the couch behind you. Frank leans forward and leans his elbows on his thighs, and his repositioning leaves his leg pressing against yours. The scratchy denim catches a bit on your fishnets, and even through the thick fabric you can feel the heat of his skin.

It continues like that for several minutes. Your eyes, as discreetly as you can manage, keep finding their way to the men on either side of you. You notice the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest, the way his shoulder muscles twitch every once in a while when he adjusts his metallic arm. You see Frank's fingers tense a bit around the neck of the bottle he holds, and suddenly a part of you wonders how those fingers would feel around your own neck…

Korben Dallas and Leeloo just aren't capturing your attention anymore.

“Met Bruce Willis once. Weird guy,” Frank suddenly pipes up. It takes you by surprise and you actually jump in your seat, granting you raised eyebrows from both of them.

“You okay, Y/N?” Bucky asks as he turns his body to face you better.

Warmth rushes to your face. “I-I'm fine! I don't know why that startled me. Guess I was just lost in the movie,” you lie as you run a nervous hand through your hair.

Frank places a hand on your bare shoulder and squeezes a bit. His palm is searing, no, branding on your skin, the ghost of it lingering even when he pulls away.

“You're tense, doll face. Somethin’ the matter?” he asks.

“Probably working too hard. Come to think of it, this is the first time I've seen Y/N outside of work,” Bucky comments with a hint of genuine concern. His metal hand finds the back of your neck and massages it gently, and you feel your face flush even more at the sudden contact. “You can loosen up, you know,” he teases.

It does feel nice, you can't deny that.

“Yeah… loosen up…” you murmur, trying to sound thoughtful. Your head bobs a bit as Bucky continues, and you see a slight smile return to his face.

You can also feel the tension in the room shift… but you don’t see the way Bucky and Frank look at each other as your eyes flutter close. A wordless exchange occurs between them unbeknownst to you, and they both nod in agreement.

It was something they’d discussed before, after all.

“You’re always taking care of us, you know. And I don’t just mean on the battlefield,” Bucky mutters in your ear. When had he gotten that close? “You’re always checking up on us, calling or texting us to see if we’re doing okay…”

“We invited you over to let loose, sweetheart. And you’re not doing a very good job of it yet,” Frank adds gruffly.

“I… I’m sorry?” you finally respond with a slight laugh in your voice. You’re not sure if you should apologize or not, really. 

“Maybe you should be,” Frank grunts as his hand rests on your knee.

Bucky chuckles. “Don’t be sorry.” He’s practically leaning into you now, and you can feel his breath on your ear. It sends shivers across your skin. “Just let us take care of you… if you want us to, of course,” he adds.

“What is…?” You want to say “happening,” but words seem to fail you when Frank cups your jaw and forces him to look at you.

“I said you looked good. But I think you’d look even better without that get-up,” he almost growls. His eyes are dark with something you’ve never seen in him before, and a shuddered breath slips from your lips.

“O-Oh…”

It’s all you can muster.

But that’s all it takes.

You don’t have to wonder what Frank’s fingers feel like on your neck anymore as he grabs the back of your head and tugs you into a possessive, devouring kiss. His lips are rough, a bit chapped, but that doesn’t matter when his tongue delves eagerly into your mouth. The hand on your knee grips you harder.

“Should have known you’d be the impatient one,” Bucky chides before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. The stubble on his chin scratches against your skin in the best way. A broken moan gurgles in your throat.

Well. This was not how you were expecting the night to go at all.

You hear metallic tings and clangs behind you, and that’s all the warning you have before tentacles are slithering down your back and sides. It’s a little cold and it certainly catches you by surprise, but the way they slip under your dress is undeniably erotic. Bucky freezes. Ah, so he hadn’t meant to do that.

Breathing heavily, you break the kiss with Castle to face Bucky with lust-darkened eyes. “N-No… it’s okay,” you breathe. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head, but once his eyes flicker down to your panting and kiss-bruised lips, desire wins over. He nods, dumbfounded, before claiming his own turn at kissing you.

Frank, a bit perturbed at having his make out session interrupted, takes out his frustrations on the opposite side of your neck. Where Bucky was passionate and intense, Frank is angry, biting hard and sucking dark hickies into your skin. If you were standing, you know your knees would be wobbling. His hand travels higher, roughly massaging your inner thigh with callused fingers.

Tentacles squirm down the front of your dress, curling underneath your breasts and squeezing them. You gasp into Bucky’s mouth and he bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. Even more tendrils travel lower, cold shocking your feverish skin, and you feel them toying with the elastic band of your panties. Bucky’s hair tickles your nose when he presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly.

“Been wanting to do that for a while… you sure you’re okay with this?” Bucky asks even as his body is clearly trembling with unsatiated lust.

When you open your mouth to answer, Frank bites down hard on your neck, and you’re seeing stars as he draws a cry from your throat. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“Twenty bucks says she’s soaked through. You’re enjoying it just fine, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“I-I…” you start, but only a low groan follows when he nibbles on your earlobe. Their lips occupied everything from your neck up while tentacles lavished you with attention beneath your dress. Frank was right: you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs already. His hand teasing at your inner thigh and dipping beneath the hem of your skirt certainly wasn't helping. 

“She can't even think straight. I think it's working,” Frank snickers. He palms your breast roughly through your dress, finding the hardening nipple and tugging on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck…” you stammer breathlessly. You're still facing Bucky, and he's drinking in every delicious expression of desire that crosses your face. He adjusts himself in his pants, but the tent forming there is obvious. Your mouth waters when you catch a glimpse of it. 

Bucky’s hand finds itself on your opposite thigh, spreading your legs apart as tentacles dip lower. Your breathing stops in anticipation. Part of you wonders if he can feel everything that they feel. The groan he utters when he swipes a tendril up your clothed slit answers that question, and you answer him in kind with a throaty whine. 

“She's drenched, Castle,” he growls before kissing you again.

“And we're only just getting started,” Frank adds as his hand yanks down the front of your dress. You let out a soft gasp as those rough fingers grope at your bare skin. His teeth and tongue work their way down your chest. When his lips close around your nipple and his tongue flicks back and forth rapidly across the bud, your legs try desperately to clamp themselves shut. But their hands wouldn't allow that. In fact, Frank slaps the tentacle out of the way before cupping your sex to feel just how wet you are. His approval hums through his lips, and the small vibrations of it against your sensitive flesh have you bucking into his hand. 

Speaking of hands, you've been at a loss at what to do with yours this entire time. It was difficult to focus on any one thing. Your palms smooth along their biceps, or you feel your fingers clutching desperately onto their shirts and wrinkling the fabric. Every ounce of your concentration is spent processing each source of pleasure and simulation they give you. 

Bucky's lips leave yours to travel lower, nipping at your collarbone. He gazes up at you with no small amount of anticipation, practically begging you to continue moaning for the two of them. Your head falls back against the couch as you gasp for air. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Bucky praises as he massages your thigh. 

“Mm… I… it feels… fuck…” you groan, your fingers finding the back of Frank's head and holding him to your chest. Your legs are quivering as he continues pleasuring you through your panties. 

“Feel even better when you've got our cocks stretching you out,” Frank adds bluntly as his breath ghosts over your nipple.

You feel like a whore when you moan at those dirty words. The idea makes you impossibly wetter, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. Bucky seems affected by it too, because now he's the impatient one trying to free himself from his pants.

You barely catch a glimpse of it before you feel his tentacles wrapping securely around you and lifting you up, settling you on his lap. Those same tentacles rip open your fishnets and tug your underwear to the side. A surprised gasp escapes you at the sound of torn netting, but you don't have time to be offended. He's hovering your slick wetness over his achingly hard cock, grinding it up against you while his free hand grips your ass and guides you back and forth. 

“Oh fuck… Bucky,” you whimper. They weren't kidding about taking care of you. You didn't move a muscle as those cold tendrils held you aloft.

“Who's the impatient one, now?” Frank accuses with no small amount of annoyance. He's standing up behind you now, lifting your dress up around your hips and groping your ass. In his frustration, he gives it a hard smack, but that sting only drives you crazier and you let out a staggered keen.

“Like that, do ya?” he asks with a malicious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He gives you a few more smacks, enjoying the sounds they pull from your lips. “We talked about taking turns, but maybe what you really need is to be stuffed completely. Want us to use you like our doll, doll face?”

You can see the flicker of worry in Bucky’s eyes, thinking that maybe this was going too far, but you're practically gushing at the idea. You nod with a pleading whimper.

“Fuck, yes. Please. Ruin me,” you respond. Despite his hesitation, your words cause Bucky to twitch against you. You want so badly to guide his cock into you and start bouncing on it, but those tendrils wrap around your wrists and keep your arms in place behind your back.

Bucky's breathing grows ragged, and he gives you a warning look. “Keep saying shit like that, and you're gonna drive me crazy.”

“Why don't you shut your mouth and keep putting those tentacles of yours to good use? Stand and hold her up so we can both fuck her,” Frank commands with a snarl. You hear the clink of his belt buckle and the growl of a zipper soon follows, and even before Bucky has complied you feel a thick, hard cock pressed against your ass.

Bucky gives the other man an indignant huff, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right here on the comfort of the couch. Not to mention that using his tentacles like this was completely uncharted territory; they seemed affected by his desires and impulses, but even he doesn’t trust those all of the time.

Unfortunately for him, those sweet lips of yours pout irresistibly at him. And when it comes to you, his resolve crumbles in an instant.

“You want this?” Bucky starts, standing upright as his arm tentacles lift you higher. Your arms are above your head now, and a tentacle slithers down further until it teases at your neck. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me if you get overwhelmed,” he tells you as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lip curls ever so slightly, almost disgusted at himself for giving in so easily. But even he couldn’t deny just how wet and ready you seemed to be. And the way your hooded eyes look at him, the way your pupils swallow your irises completely, draws a soft growl from his throat.

Your only response is to lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, tugging him closer, smirking and daring him to continue. Tentacles meet those quickly, binding your ankles together and pinning you to his body.

“Nice try, sweetheart. But we’re in control here,” he mutters as his lips brush against yours. You try to meet them properly, but he holds you in place by your chin as he pulls away. A low whine chokes from you, and he shakes his head. “You signed up for this.”

While your heated exchange continues, Frank strokes his cock behind you, readying himself with lubricant. Bucky would have the easier job of it, but that doesn’t bother him. He’s not called the Punisher for nothing. Since he doesn’t have to worry about holding you up (though, he most certainly could), he rips your panties off of your body with one hand while the other presses two slick fingers against your anus. You yelp at the sudden intrusion, completely ignoring the second aggression performed against your clothing for the night. No, you can only focus on how thick his fingers are as they press against the tense muscle. You’re breathing heavily as he eases the first digit inside.

Bucky finally releases your chin, instead taking his own length in hand and teasing it up and down your slit. He spreads your wetness over the tip, watching your face carefully as your lips part into an “o” shape. You were being teased from both sides, never fully getting what you wanted, and it leaves you a whimpering mess. Frank chuckles from behind as he inserts a second finger.

“Yes… more! Oh gods, please…” you beg as you buck against them.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he grunts while scissoring the digits inside you.

A breathy chortle of agreement drags out of Bucky’s lips. The tentacle that teased at your neck before now wraps around it fully, constricting slightly. Your eyes go wide at the sensation, but Bucky doesn’t miss the way your thighs clamp around his waist. The end of the tendril brushes tenderly at your lips like it’s trying to map them out by touch alone. The tip of Bucky’s dick finally pushes inside you, slipping through easily as he slides inch after inch into your beckoning heat. His head falls forward with a groan, his brows knitting together as he waits for you to acclimate to the stretch of him. Strangled curses force their way from your throat, words of praise bubbling at your lips as your velvety walls suck him in. You already feel so full, and if they continue, then that means…

“So… tight,” Bucky manages as sweat beads on his forehead. “Dunno how she’s gonna-”

“She’ll be fine,” Frank interrupts, speaking for you as he withdraws his fingers. He grunts in amusement at the small squeak you let out. You don’t even have time to mourn the loss before the head of his cock pushes insistently against your prepared hole. “Relax, doll face. Breathe.”

Well, that’s easier said than done when you’re being gently choked by an eldritch tentacle.

Thankfully, the appendage relents, and just as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet oxygen, Frank shoves the entire tip into you with one push. Your breath catches in your throat. He thrusts that little bit in and out, sinking further and further each time. It rocks you against Bucky. He’s having a hard time keeping himself restrained from moving as is, and those little bounces are testing his resolve. His hand grips your waist almost painfully.

And then, without pomp or ceremony, Frank sheathes himself to the hilt. You cry out loudly, tossing your head back, but he’s done waiting. You’re lucky he took the time to stretch you out a bit in the first place, he thinks. His cock pistons in and out of your ass rapidly, his broad arm wrapping around your front to paw at your breasts as they bounce with his movements.

Bucky can feel the other man’s cock through that thin wall of skin, making you impossibly tighter. It’s an effort when he begins thrusting. Once he’s able to match Frank’s rhythm, they alternate, never leaving you empty. Your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw hangs slack as moans pour from your lips.

“Atta girl,” Frank grunts before he starts biting and sucking at your neck. He’s fucking you aggressively, possessively, wrecking you completely as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your nails dig into the tentacles that hold you aloft, and Bucky hisses. You feel yourself being choked again in retaliation. He wasn’t expecting you to tighten around him when he did that, though.

Gods, you really were the perfect little fuck doll, weren’t you?

Bucky doesn’t know where to focus his gaze. Frank’s hand squeezes one tit while the other bounces with their thrusts. Your neck looks so beautiful with his tentacle wrapped around it. Your lips part so sweetly as you desperately gasp out your sounds of pleasure. He looks down to where your hips meet, and you’ve already ruined the front of his pants where they sit beneath his cock. Fuck. He reaches down, pressing his palm against your stomach as his thumb flicks circles on your clit.

Your mind is going blank. You don’t even form actual words anymore, simply babbling incomprehensible sounds as your mascara runs in lines down your cheeks. Pressure builds in your core, amplified by your lack of oxygen, and your thighs tremble around the Winter Soldier. Frank pauses in his thrusts, and before either of you can question why, he’s timing his thrusts with Bucky.

You feel full to bursting. Your moans are sobs now, and your body hangs limply in the tentacles’ grasp as they fuck you in tandem. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and a tendril presses against it before snaking between your lips. In your fucked-out state, it only feels natural to suck on it.

“Sh-shit…” Bucky curses as that causes his thrusts to falter for a second. “How do you keep getting sexier?”

Frank sucks mark after mark into your skin, angling his thrusts to the side slightly so he can spank your ass with his free hand. You scream around the tentacle in your mouth. So much pressure, so much euphoria. You’re going insane, absolutely cock-drunk. It builds in you, with electrical currents zapping straight to your core with every thrust, every bite, every slap. Your walls flutter around them, and Bucky redoubles his efforts at playing with your clit. So close. So close.

They’re not faring much better than you. You’re a feast for the eyes from the front and the back, and those gargled moans and strangled cries you keep making only spur them on more. Their pace quickens, muscles straining as they fuck you into utter oblivion. Bucky’s eyes close and he grits his teeth. Frank only gets even more aggressive with his affection, nearly bruising your breasts with his squeezing and making sure your ass has a permanent sting.

“Take it, doll face. Fuck,” Frank curses. You can feel him swelling inside you with his impending release.

“Y… mmhh… yeth, oh f…fuck,” you stammer around the tentacle in your mouth. 

And then Bucky angles his thrusts just a little bit to the side. You gasp with a shrill cry.

Bingo.

He hammers into that spot, never relenting on your clit. The tentacle around your neck squeezes tighter, and for a moment you wonder if you might black out. But it’s all too good, too intense, and you feel it rising, rising--

Your walls spasm around them and Bucky releases the tentacle around your throat in the same instant. A hoarse cry pours from your lips as you experience an earth-shattering orgasm, oxygen rushing to your head and your entire body convulsing in the tentacles’ hold. Wave after wave of gooey warmth washes over you. Both men watch you in awe as you let go completely, falling limp, and fuck you even faster to chase their own release. You fade in and out of consciousness as your orgasm fades, but you’re brought back to reality when Frank grunts and growls animalistically before stilling, pumping load after load into your ass. His softening cock slides out of you as he steps back and falls against the couch. 

Bucky is gasping, his muscular frame glistening with sweat as he takes over, his tentacles retracting back into his metal arm as he catches you. You yelp in surprise as your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself. His eyes bore straight into yours with an undeniable ferocity, and then he’s kissing you hungrily. Your fingers thread into his brown locks, and he continues fucking you as he holds you aloft in his arms. He groans into your lips as his hips pick up the pace and you feel yourself moaning along with him. He lets out a long, drawn out growl when he finally stiffens, thrusting a few more times as you feel his seed paint your walls. When he breaks the kiss, he’s panting, and he too falls back against the couch. He’s still holding you, and you let out a giggling yelp as you fall onto his lap.

It takes some effort to control your trembling limbs, but you manage to extract yourself, returning to your original seat between them. All three of you are a mess, panting, sweaty, and half-dressed.

When you happen to glance over to the TV, you’re surprised to see that they’re still playing Fifth Element. These commercial breaks are getting ridiculous. Frank absentmindedly looks for the remote, looking to turn down the volume, but can’t seem to find it and gives up. Probably between the couch cushions, but he’s a bit too lazy to look that hard right now.

Bucky’s arm finds its way behind you again, but this time it rests on your opposite shoulder. “So… feeling good, Y/N?”

You hum, lolling your head back and forth to look at both of them. “Mm… I think I can’t feel my legs,” you joke with a chortle. “And… I definitely think we should do this more often.”

[theegoldenchild]

Chapter Five: The Devils Tongue (Part 1)

Warnings: Smoke is horny | Stack is horny | Sera is horny | I am horny

Whispers through Mississippi started slow, the way southern rumors always did. Nothing more than a tilt of the head and a hushed breath passed between hands full of laundry or mouths full of honey butter cornbread.

“They say they bringin’ music out to the north field…”

“One of them juke joints… with dancers and shine and God knows what else…”

“Right behind the preacher’s house, Lord have mercy…”

Sera heard them all. At church. At the water pump. Through the walls when her father met with the deacons. The same words repeated like scripture passed down the wrong way.

The SmokeStack twins were opening a juke joint, and not just anywhere. Not thirty miles up the road like they said they would. Not on neutral ground with enough distance to keep peace in the state. But right there. On the north field. A heartbeat away from her father’s back porch. Like a slap in the face to Pastor Samuel.

And legally? There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Because that land… the north field… was no longer his. Smoke and Stack had drawn up papers before the battle and slipped them in the mouth of war like a knife beneath a blessing. Pastor Samuel had signed off on it, too proud or too desperate to read the fine print. It was theirs now. All of it.

Sera stood in front of the open window of her upstairs bedroom, watching the transformation unfold in the distance. She hadn’t been outside in weeks due her restricted freedom and the schedule of a housewife with no husband. She scrubbed. She stitched. She read. She prayed. She was finally being seen as good again.

She didn’t allow her hands to touch herself anymore. It was a one time occurrence even though the protective shadow stood outside her door every night waiting for more. Instead of giving in she would sit on her hands until they went numb. The only true form of relief she received was when she went to sleep. It was the only time she felt free enough to let the twins cloud her mind without judgment.

But now… the world was moving again, just beyond the edge of the tree line. Where once there was wild grass and silence, there were now men. Men building a frame out of reclaimed wood and intention. Men hammering under the sun, smoking cigarettes and singing in low voices while Stack strutted across the foundation like a carnival ringleader. His suspenders hung loose at his hips, white button-down open at the collar, gold tooth flashing every time he tossed his head back and laughed.

Sera watched as he pulled a flask from his pocket and toasted a man twice his size. He wasn’t helping, just directing. Giving out orders with a grin that suggested he was halfway drunk and still the smartest man on the field.

Smoke, on the other hand, worked in silence. Jacket off, sleeves rolled, his undershirt clinging to the hard shape of his back as he dragged barrels of supplies from their truck. No smiles. No jokes. Just labor.

Downstairs, Pastor Samuel paced the parlor like a man waiting for fire to walk through the door. “They mean to shame me,” he murmured under his breath, hands clenched behind his back. “To tempt God right on holy land!” He stopped in front of the window and scowled out toward the north field. “Liquor. Dancing. Woman’s legs flashing under red lights. Music that stirs sin up from the bones.”

“Then why sell them the land?” one of the deacons asked.

Samuel’s jaw tensed. “They didn’t say nothin’ about this when they signed. Said it was temporary. Said they just needed it for defense.”

“They defendin’ something now,” another deacon sighed. “Their right to party, I reckon.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Samuel broke it with a slam of his fist on the window frame. “They’ll burn in hell for what they’re doing!”

That night, when Sera crept out of bed and pulled back the curtain again, the bones of the juke joint had been raised. The walls stood. The dance floor was built. And a glowing sign leaned against the steps, freshly painted in blue and red:

The Devil’s Tongue

The name itself felt like a dare. A joke that clung to her skin like cigarette smoke she wished to smell again. She touched the window glass, fingers lingering. She couldn’t hear the music yet. Couldn’t smell the liquor or see the women in low-cut dresses. But she felt it somehow. A slow, wild heartbeat starting to stir beneath the soil. One that matched her own.

The heat never left Mississippi, not even when the sun gave up and the stars pulled their blanket across the sky. It clung to the ground like sweat to skin, curling into the roots and pressing against windows like a watchful ghost.

Sera stood barefoot on her back porch, fingers clutching an empty pail, her eyes fixed on the silent well pump. It had coughed and sputtered all morning and now it was nothing but a rusted hunk of metal. Dry, breathless, useless. Just like yesterday. And the day before that… And the day before that…

She shifted, looking out past the trees toward the north field. The juke joint was almost finished with lanterns that glowed in the distance like a row of watchful eyes, flickering against the frame of the new structure. She could hear hammers still ringing out in the distance and the low thrum of voices too far away to decipher.

Her stomach turned in knots. She shouldn’t go. She knew she shouldn’t. But her skin itched with the stick of the day. Sweat clung beneath her arms, behind her knees, at the curve of her back where the cotton of her dress stuck like sin. Her hair, pinned tight beneath her scarf, felt heavy with dust and oil. She needed a bath. But she needed forgiveness more. And so she made herself pure the only way she knew how before walking into the lion's den.

She layered her body in silence. First, a slip, plain and soft, yellowed with age. Then, the second dress, brown, thick muslin with sleeves that reached past her wrists and a collar that scratched against her throat. Then, a third, black, starched and long, hanging loose down to her ankles. It swallowed her whole.

She took a black scarf and wrapped her curly hair tightly, then draped another across the lower half of her face. All that was left were her eyes. A pair of tired honey orbs that flicked to the heavens one last time. “Lord, please don’t let no one see me.”

The pail creaked in her hand as she stepped off the porch and began the slow walk toward the north field. The woods whispered around her as she moved, branches brushed her shoulders while grass crunched underfoot. The trees thinned the closer she got, replaced by an open field and smoke curling upward from the juke joint chimney. She stayed to the edge where the shadows were thickest. Somehow the pail felt heavier the closer she came.

Laughter drifted across the breeze and boots scraped against wood. She saw them now, men sitting on crates and barrels, some smoking, some drinking, some talking low with the slack confidence of those who knew they owned the night. Sera kept her head bowed, steps slow and cautious, skirts rustling as they brushed her ankles.

“Now what’s this?” one man called out, voice slurred with liquor. “Ain’t that the damn preacher’s girl?”

She stopped dead in her tracks like a deer caught in headlights.

Another man leaned forward, squinting at her. “Lord have mercy, she look like she tryin’ to scare the devil himself in all that black.”

A low ripple of laughter erupted amongst the men and her eyes stayed on the ground. She moved again, feet whispering across the dirt with embarrassment latching onto her like a second skin.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouths or I’ll slit your throats and use them vocal cords for catfish bait.” That voice didn’t laugh. And it didn’t have to. Smoke was tucked off in a corner sitting on a crate and watched Sera’s every step. He didn’t need to shout. He didn’t even stand from the crate he was resting on. All he had to do was turn his head towards his men, give them a look, and silence followed.

Sera reached the water pump, hands shaking like a leaf as she tried to make the water come out. Her eyes darted once towards the porch just long enough to see the slant of Smoke’s jaw under the red lantern glow and the way he watched her.

Stack appeared from inside the juke and leaned against a post, arms crossed with the glint of his gold tooth flashing beneath his smirk. “Pretty girl… my little dove… we missed you,” he drawled. “You goin’ to a funeral, or tryin’ not to tempt a soul on God’s green earth dressed in all that black?”

Like always the sound of Stacks voice caught Sera off guard and her hands jerked the handle too hard. Water splashed everywhere, soaking through all three of her dresses and the cold water clung to her now wet stomach. Her cheeks flamed. “I’m just gettin’ water Mr. Stack,” she mumbled, voice muffled by fabric.

Stack said nothing as he stepped off the porch with an unhurried and deliberate movement. He closed the distance between himself and Sera, merging their shadows together under the moonlight. His fingers came up slow, the way a wolf would approach a skittish rabbit. No rush. No threat. Just intent.

And for some reason Sera didn’t flinch when his hand touched her scarf. But she did stop breathing for a moment. Delicately, he slid his fingers beneath the scarf that covered her face and loosened the knot at the back. The cotton slipped under his touch and the damp air kissed her skin as he drew the scarf away and dropped it into her trembling hands.

“There,” he whispered, voice deep and soft. “That’s better.”

Soon as the scarf came off she diverted her eyes away from him. Everything about this was too intimate and Sera wrestled with the idea of touching herself again tonight. Her lips were red and full from biting them too much. And Stack couldn’t help himself. He lifted her chin and guided his thumb over her swollen bottom lip… just once. Her shoulders twitched at the contact, and she gasped so quietly it almost sounded like a moan.

“Too pretty to stay hidden, little dove,” he said. “It’s a sin, really. Coverin’ all this up like God didn’t take His time makin’ you.”

Behind them, Smoke stilled completely. Not a muscle moved. His eyes were locked on Stack’s hand on Sera's lips. And the way her body stiffened before quivering under the weight of attention she’d never been taught how to carry.

“I—my daddy says…” she stammered, eyes flicking toward the pump like it might save her.

“That nigga says a lotta things,” Stack chuckled, stepping just slightly to the side still holding her chin and forcing her to face him. “And I bet you ain’t ever questioned a single one.”

Sera made eye contact then, just for a second. Enough for Stack to see her eyes, all stormy and lost. Like he was driving a ship filled with her emotions and could guide her back to shore.

“You don’t gotta answer to no man out here,” he rasped. “’Cept’ maybe us.”

“Stack,” Smoke finally warned before walking near the two of them.

Stack didn’t take his eyes off Sera. His voice dropped to a murmur, almost sweet. “I’m just admirin’ her, Elijah. A man can’t enjoy lookin’ at his woman?”

Sera blinked as her mind started racing a million miles a minute. His woman? Stack was claiming her as HIS woman? And that name…. Elijah. It tangled in her thoughts like a loose thread. It felt sacred and forbidden.

“…Elijah,” she whispered, tasting it like something sweet she wasn’t supposed to have. “Is that really your name?”

Behind her, the pump creaked once in the wind. The lantern’s glow flickered on the porch and casted both twins in molten amber. Stack turned his head just slightly, watching the chaos he created unfold. He knew better than to say Smoke's real name, but seeing his older brother lose his composure around Sera was becoming entertaining.

Smoke moved without speaking before standing beside his brother—broad shoulders brushing Stack’s, both of them now a wall of muscle and firelight.

They weren’t in their suits tonight. Just white undershirts clinging to sweat-slick coca butter skin. Broad chests rising steady and deep. The cotton stretched tight across every sharp line… hard work and violence carved into the shape of two men who didn’t belong to God or the law.

And Sera… she couldn’t help it. Her eyes wandered. First to Stack’s chest… then to Smoke’s stomach. The way his shirt clung to the lines carved just above his hips. The faint dusting of dark hair there. She quickly looked away and mentally prayed to the high heavens.

“You don’t say my name like that,” Smoke said suddenly, voice sharp enough to snap her attention back to his eyes.

He stepped closer, just enough to greedily capture her full attention. And then his hand came up. The same hand that has been infiltrating her dreams for weeks. He took her chin from Stack like passing a torch, holding her face now between his own fingers. And gently his thumb dragged across her bottom lip.

A shiver rolled down her spine and Smoke’s eyes didn’t move. “That name’s dangerous in your mouth,” he warned, thumb still teasing the seam of her lips. “You say it again and I might forget I’m tryin’ to be good.”

Sera’s chest rose in a shaky breath. Her lips quaked under his thumb.

“I—I didn’t mean to tempt you,” she whispered, her voice catching like a prayer half-swallowed. “I just never heard it before. It’s a real nice name…”

“Don’t matter if it’s nice,” Stack cut in, his voice smooth and wicked like all this wasn’t his fault. “It belongs in the mouth of a woman who’s ready to own it. You ready to own our names, little dove?”

Sera didn’t answer. The air between them was heavy, like moments before a hurricane when the sky forgets how to breathe.

Her fingers nervously fidgeted with the wet fabric on her stomach. The water had splashed more than she realized drenching the front of her dresses. Now the fabric uncomfortably clung to her skin as she kept trying to pull it away.

Smoke’s eyes dropped to her twitching fingers and lingered as unholy thoughts and flashbacks filled his mind. Tonight would be another night of self-control he isn’t sure he has anymore. He exhaled through his nose before letting Sera’s face go and pinched his bridge.

“Come on,” he said roughly, voice edged with something he didn’t bother hiding. “You can’t go home like that.”

Sera blinked up at him. “What?”

“I said, come on.” His jaw worked like he was fighting with his own teeth. “You’re soaked. Ain’t decent. Come inside the barn. Dry off fore’ your daddy sees you like this.”

Stack’s grin grew. “Or don’t,” he teased, cocking his head. “Let the preacher get a good look at my woman… wet, breathin’ heavy, and wearin’ all these damn dresses like modesty might save her.”

Sera’s mocha freckled face flushed scarlet. “I didn’t… I wasn’t tryin’ to—” She stuttered over her words, eyes flicking between the twins, too flustered to run but also too nervous to stay.

“My daddy’s comin’ home soon,” she said quickly, breath tight. “He’ll notice I’m not at the house.”

Smoke leaned forward, his face unreadable in the lantern light. “Then move fast.” He turned without waiting and started toward the barn, his broad back cutting through the dark like a blade. Stack gave her a playful smile and followed behind, whistling low.

Sera hesitated while looking at the twins and the road back to her home. The walk back would be uncomfortable with a wet dress, but then it would be difficult to explain to her father how she accidentally got three dresses wet tonight.

The water sloshed in her bucket. The wet fabric clung to her skin. And every inch of her burned with bubbling rebellion. Just for tonight, she would willingly follow the lions into their den.

The barn loomed ahead, once quiet and forgotten, now pulsing with music and light. Opening night was tomorrow and the twins had turned it into something else entirely. The thrum of a distant record played on the phonograph. Dim lanterns glowed from the rafters. Tables lined the edges. The scent of tobacco, moonshine, and heat hung in the air like a warning.

Smoke held the door open. “Inside,” he ordered, voice firm and cracking with irritation. “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you. We just don’t want nobody seein’ you like this.”

Stack leaned in close to Sera's ear and whispered before glancing down at her clinging skirts. “Though if you ask me, they should see you. You might convert half the sinners in town just by walkin’ past.”

Sera ducked her head and stepped in. Heat rolled through her as the door shut behind her and trapped her inside with two men who didn’t know how to pray… but sure as hell knew how to sin.

The barn’s music was a low hum in the distance now, muffled by the walls that separated the front room from the back. Smoke didn’t speak as he led her deeper into the converted juke joint, past crates of bootleg whiskey and mystery crates that smell of gunpowder and metal. Stack followed behind, quiet but not silent, his presence was felt more than heard.

Sera’s eyes adjusted slowly to the shadows until they reached the rear of the barn, an unmarked door tucked between a record shelf and an old upright piano. Smoke opened it with a worn key he kept on a chain around his neck.

The space inside was nothing like she expected.

A faint drop light flickered in the middle of the room revealing a simple iron-frame bed in the corner covered in dark sheets, thick quilts, and pillows. Lots of pillows. Too many for one man.

A steam iron hissed faintly from the far table, a white mist rising above a freshly cleaned pair of slacks. Before Stack joined his brother outside, he was back here ironing their clothes for tomorrow. Unlike the rest of the converted barn, this wasn’t a room for entertaining. This was Smoke’s room, where he would privately wind down after fighting the world.

“Sit,” Smoke ordered gently, nodding toward the edge of his bed.

Sera looked between the welcoming bed and Smoke before slightly shaking her head no. “My clothes are wet. I’ll mess ya bed up,” she whispered.

“Won’t be wet for long… or maybe you will,” Stack answered from behind, already walking towards the steam iron. “I’ll take care of the dresses. You just sit tight, little dove.”

Sera gripped onto the wet fabric of her top dress and hesitated. Her arms folded tight over her chest, and her eyes landed on the oak floor, to the bed, to the iron… to anything besides the twins. “I… I don’t know if I should.”

Stack turned halfway, glancing over his shoulder. “Ain’t no one askin’ you to strip down bare, darlin’. But sittin’ in soaked fabric don’t do nobody no good. Go on, take the top one off. I know you got fiddy’ more under it.”

She still didn’t move. Her spine was rigid with uncertainty, like a deer in a snare, not sure whether to flee or surrender.

“That dress stickin’ to your stomach like that?” Stack murmured. “You’re gonna catch cold before you get home. You want to go home to ya daddy snifflin’?”

Sera scrunched her face and quickly fixed it, “I’m fine… can’t nobody catch colds bein’ wet in the summer,” she said quickly and defensively.

“You’re not,” Smoke cut in quietly, his voice an authoritative thread of reason in the thick air. “You ain’t fine. You’re cold, and wet, and tremblin’ even though it’s a hunnid’ degrees tonight. Let us help.”

Nibbling on the inside of her cheek Sera looked over at Smoke who was sitting in a chair across his bed and taking his boots off. Like he didn’t just give her the final push she needed to comply. Hesitantly, her fingers rose slowly to the ties at the back of her neck. Her movements were stiff and nervous, but also determined… determined to show Smoke she knew how to follow directions. Why? Well, she wasn’t quite sure about that yet but it felt natural to do so. The first dress came loose with a reluctant sigh, and she peeled it off, water dripping from the hem as she folded it in her arms.

Stack moved forward to take it, but not before letting his eyes travel over the second dress now revealed. This one clung closer to the skin but not enough for his liking. He took the garment from her hands, his fingers brushing hers for a split second longer than they should’ve. No smile. No teasing. Just a pause before he turned back to the iron.

Sera swallowed and turned her back to them as she shyly lifted the second dress at the hem. Her hands shook with trepidation. The wet cotton stuck to her thighs, refusing to come off easily. The sound of it peeling from her skin was deafening in the silence. Keeping her eyes glued to the wooden floor she avoided handing Stack the second dress and instead placed it next to his work station.

“You wearin’ another under that one too?” Stack asked, quieter now.

Her voice was tight and she nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She didn’t respond. The third dress came off slower. For some reason she didn’t feel as shy giving him her final gown of armor. But she still wasn’t able to make eye contact as she placed this dress next to the other one. She stood there in her plain white chemise and form fitting bloomers, the thin cotton clinging to her every curve. Modest by any standard. But not to them.

Stack turned his back under the pretense of adjusting the iron’s dial, but his hands clenched tighter than they needed to. Smoke stared a moment longer before letting his eyes drift up to her frazzled face.

“You don’t gotta be nervous,” Smoke said quietly while pushing his desires down. “Ain’t nobody gonna touch you unless you ask us to. You safe here.”

Sera’s eyes lifted and she bit down hard on her bottom lip almost drawing blood to conceal her shock. “I’m not askin’ for that,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not askin’ for nothin’,” Stack replied, in a hushed tone. “That’s the part we don’t like.”

She blinked and turned her head. “What?”

Stack sighed and shook his head, “You don’t ask for what you want. You wait for someone to give you permission. That ain’t livin’, dove. That’s just breathin’ quiet.”

The tension settled between them again. Smoke crossed to the dresser and pulled out a white button-up shirt… his. It looked soft and worn, sleeves rolled just above the elbow and a faint scent of sandalwood still clinging to it. “Put this on,” he said, offering it without looking directly at her. “Till your things dry.”

Sera reached for it carefully, fingers brushing his as she took it. The shirt hung heavy in her hands, and when she slipped it on, it swallowed her tall curvaceous frame falling to mid-thigh, the collar open, and sleeves trailing past her fingertips.

Stack watched her move from the corner of his eye while working the steam iron over her first dress. “Don’t get too comfortable in that shirt, pretty girl. You’re liable to turn a man religious walkin’ ‘round like that.”

Smoke ignored him and sat back in his assigned seat for the night and continued rolling a cigarette. Sera watched him curiously before sitting on the edge of his bed. “Why… why do you have so many pillows?” she asked softly, her voice colored with innocent confusion. “Ain’t just you in here, is it?”

Sera didn’t mean to ask an intrusive question but she genuinely was curious about the pillows. Stack burst into a laugh behind her, not cruel but full of wicked delight. “Ain’t no woman in here, if that’s what you mean,” he chuckled, pressing down on the fabric. “But them pillows sure seen their share of sins.”

Sera blinked, face heating. “I— I don’t understand—”

Smoke ran a hand down his jaw and finally looked up, his cold gaze cutting through her to glare at his twin. “I use ’em when I can’t sleep,” he said evenly, ignoring his brother’s grin. “That’s all.”

But Sera didn’t miss the tick of his jaw… or the way he refused to look at the bed when he said it.

Stack gave a low hum and chuckled to himself. “He sleep just fine when he’s got the right thing in his hands.”

Sera turned her face away, but not before the brothers saw the flush rush up her cheeks, blooming high across her cheekbones. She tucked her knees in tighter beneath the oversized white shirt, trying to disappear into the fabric but the effect only made her look more precious and touchable. Like some delicate secret wrapped in cotton and candlelight.

Smoke said nothing at first. He sat with one ankle resting on his knee, elbows on his thighs, a tin of tobacco in one hand and paper in the other. His gaze flicked toward her, completely indecipherable. “You ever rolled a cigarette before?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Sera blinked. The question seemed ridiculous considering her background but she let her sarcastic answer die on her tongue. “No, sir.”

He gave a short nod and tapped the tin open with his thumb. “C’mere,” he said, in a detached yet seductive tone. “I’ll show you.” Stack raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. Instead he focused on his task and continued this best to dry Sera’s dresses.

She didn’t move at first. Her amber eyes searched Smoke’s face for mischief or cruelty, but found only that mysterious calm, shadowed by the golden glow of a nearby oil lamp. Her fingers clutched the shirt tighter. “I—I’m fine over here…”

“Like I said sweetheart… You’re safe,” Smoke reassured, still focused on the paper in his hands. “If you gon’ be sneaking around here with us sinners, you might as well learn new skills.”

The room went quiet and Stack stopped what he was doing to turn and glare at his brother. Smoke and Stack haven’t fought for the attention of the same woman since they were little. And right now it seemed like he was three steps behind as his brother effortlessly took all of Sera's attention. His signature grin dropped and twisted into something quieter… almost possessive.

Sera’s breath came a little quicker, heart thumping like it wanted to jump out of her chest. She shifted again, then slowly climbed off the bed. So many sins had been committed in one night and she tried to keep a mental list of everything she’d have to repent for.

1.) Being alone in a room with TWO dangerous men.

2.) Stripping down to her undergarments in front of these men.

3.) Sitting on a man’s LAP…

4.) LEARNING TO ROLL A CIGARETTE!!

The list seemed never ending, and she didn’t even include how the forbidden wetness had returned between her thighs. Her bare feet padded across the floor, the oversized shirt falling around her knees like a curtain. She stood in front of Smoke for a moment, unsure what to do next.

Smoke looked up at Sera and lowered his leg back down before spreading his thighs wide, “Sit,” he said gently, patting his thigh. “I don’t bite, sweetheart.”

She obeyed, carefully lowering herself into his lap. Even though Sera wasn’t a petite woman, her thick thighs draped over one of his and she felt so small… and protected. Her back stayed stiff as a board as she tried not to let any part of her touch more than necessary. But he was so warm and solid, and her juices were flowing through her underwear leaving little droplets on his slacks. Smoke made no mention of it but let one of his hands drape across her waist and maneuver her on his lap so she couldn’t feel his growing secret.

“Relax,” Smoke muttered near her ear, speaking more to himself than her. “Ain’t no sin in sittin’. Now watch.”

Sera nodded and leaned forward slightly, her side brushing against his chest. The scent of smoke, iron, and something faintly woodsy wrapped around her as he guided her hand gently to the tin.

“This here’s the tobacco. You pinch it like this…” His fingers brushed hers rough, but patient like he wanted to cherish this moment. “And you roll it gentle. Real slow. Gotta feel it. Not just use your hands—use your senses.”

Sera nodded, her breath catching every time his fingers touched hers again, every time the soft rasp of his voice fell too close to her ear. Her whole body was trembling and she subconsciously clenched her thighs together. Smoke noticed, just like how he noticed everything but he didn’t comment on it.

Stack watched them from across the room, no longer focused on ironing and his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re doin’ fine,” Smoke murmured again. “Just like that, baby.” The cigarette was shaped, ready to light. But Sera didn’t move. Her fingers still lingered over his, eyes still focused on what they’d made. “You’re a fast learner,” Smoke added, voice rougher now.

The sound of her soft voice, the way she shifted shyly in Smoke’s lap, the trembling curve of her thigh under the hem of that white shirt, all of it twisted something hot and mean in Stack’s gut. “Didn’t know we was givin’ private lessons tonight,” he chimed as his jealousy blatantly radiated off of him. “Tell me, ‘Lijah… how many other little doves you taught that trick to?”

Smoke’s hand stilled where it had been guiding Sera’s fingers. His jaw flexed as he looked up, not moving her and definitely not letting go. “I ain’t gotta teach anyone but her,” he said low. “Ain’t my fault you too busy flirtin’ to make things stick.”

Stack sucked his teeth and without another word, he walked to the edge of Smoke’s bed, and made himself at home. He sat down with his legs wide and posture relaxed like he wasn’t deliberately intruding. From his back pocket, he pulled a worn silver tin and cracked the lid open with a flick of his thumb.

“You know,” Stack said as he packed tobacco into his palm, “I ain’t never had trouble teachin’ a lesson when it mattered. Some folks just learn different.”

Sera looked between them, her fingers twisting shyly in her lap. She was still perched on Smoke’s knee, now with less certainty like she could foresee the chaos waiting to erupt.

Stack didn’t look at his brother when he spoke, and focused his eyes on his redhead angel. “Maybe she wanna learn from me next,” he said, voice quiet and teasing. “See how different the teacher makes the lesson.”

Smoke let out a slow breath through his nose and leaned back in the chair as he tightened his grip on Sera’s hip. He didn’t move Sera, didn’t rise to meet the provocation. Instead, he set the cigarette they made aside and looked up, his posture calm but his eyes told how he was tired of the game. “There ain’t no need to start trouble,” he said evenly. “Not in front of her.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back as Stack and Smoke began bickering like children that didn’t know how to share their new shiny toy. Smoke was losing his patience with his brother.

“Nigga, you got some nerve sittin’ here runnin’ ya mouth like I won’t whoop your ass from here back to Chicago.”

“Ain’t nobody fuckin’ scared of you, Elijah!”

While Smoke and Stack continued to bicker and exchanged biting words between them like flint to steel, Sera sat silently in the middle, unsure where to place her hands, her thoughts and her shame. In the heat of the moment, Smoke unintentionally shifted Sera directly onto his growing erection before picking up a nearby ashtray and chucking it in the direction of Stacks head.

“THROW SUM ELSE I DARE YOU!”

“WATCH YA MOUTH YOU LYIN’ SUMMA’ BITCH!”

It was subtle at first, just a small movement, his hands still steady at her waist. He realigned her to keep her out of the crossfire and placed her soft covered heat directly over the firm ridge of his arousal. The contrast made her breath leave her body and she almost arrived at heaven’s gate. It felt good. Too good. Her thighs tightened instinctively and a dangerous warmth flooded to her lower belly. This was a level of sin she wasn’t sure a night of repentance would fix.

She hadn’t touched herself since that night. That night when Smoke’s voice had stirred something buried deep. Since then, she’d refused to look inward, way too frightened to explore what waited behind her curiosity. Too afraid of what she might become if she gave in.

But tonight… the air hung thick with desire. Like a storm rolling slow and low across the fields. It whispered to her, beckoned her. Promised that if she dared to dip a toe into darkness, she wouldn’t fall alone. Smoke would catch her and Stack would comfort her.

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. Their arguing faded, reduced to static on the edge of her mind as she gave in to the devilish sensation. Smoke’s arms, strong and unmoving, bracketed her body like pillars. His chest rose and fell behind her back, steady and unbothered. Too consumed with arguing with his twin. She exhaled slowly and began to move. Barely. Just a cautious shift of her hips back and forth to test the friction. The thick line of him nudged through his slacks up against her blooming flower that pulsed with each movement.

It was maddening. Up and down… an inexperienced grind… back and forth. Each motion of her hips was gentle and full of exploration. She inhaled sharply as Smoke's shirt rustled over her succulent thighs, letting both men see the wet spot forming on her panties. Her hands found Smoke’s thighs, and she gripped them lightly as she sought the pressure her body craved.

The pleasure was delicate at first, like the flutter of a moth’s wings. But it built slowly and steadily. This was different from when she touched herself. Back and forth… up and down… A warm flush crept up her chest and neck. She no longer heard their voices. She closed her eyes and just focused on her breathing and the wet heat gathering between her legs.

Back and forth… left to right… right to left… up and down… Sera gasped again, her breathing ragged and shallow. Her hips moved with more purpose now testing limits she’d never dared explore. The heat expanding between her legs was damn near unbearable, soaking through her cotton underthings and making her acutely aware of every sensitive inch pressed to the twitching hardness beneath her.

She didn’t hear the creak of the chair when Smoke leaned in closer and didn’t sense the room shifting. Not until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Whatcha doin’ sweet girl?” he whispered, voice husky. “It feel good don’t it? Keep goin’ for me… don’t stop this time… I’ll be here to guide you.”

Her body gave a soft shiver at his words. Her thighs tensed around his trying to close but he slid his hands down to them and held each one open. She didn’t speak, she couldn’t. She just moved, driven by the need curling tighter and tighter low in her belly.

Smoke’s grip on her thighs flexed, then eased, guiding her rhythm ever so slightly, like he was tuning a song only he could hear. “Don’t rush it,” he whispered again, “Just like that… Take your time…”

Then she felt another presence approach. Stack had gone quiet for too long and that was never a good sign. Sera’s eyes opened slowly and the haze of desire clouded her vision as she saw his boots come into view. She tilted her head upwards just slightly and that was all he needed.

Stack crouched down in front of her, his towering frame folding like a wolf preparing to pounce. His eyes were dark and for a split second Sera had to question if she was looking at Smoke or Stack. His firm fingers lightly gripped her chin, tilting her face toward his.

“You don’t stop now, darlin’,” he ordered in a rough tone with something more dangerous than lust. “You keep goin’.” Sera opened her mouth hoping to respond but no words came out, just another whimper and silent moan.

“You hear me?” he growled, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Ain’t no shame in takin’ what you want. Not here. Not with us.”

Smoke’s lips still lingered near her ear. “You’re doin’ so good,” he purred, his tone a complete contrast to Stack’s rough edge. “Look at you… our little church angel learnin’ how to move.”

Stack’s hand slid down her throat until it rested just above the curve of her chest. “You keep rocking’ on him ‘til we say stop.”

Sera’s heart thundered behind her ribs. Their voices tangled around her like tobacco in the lungs, addictive and dangerous. Both men were hard enough to cut diamonds. Their bodies coiled tight and strained beneath their clothes. Yet neither gave in… they just watched.

Every subtle twitch of Sera’s hips, every stuttered breath and delicate shift, each pass of friction seemed more delicious than the last. This was a show. One she wasn’t even aware she was performing. Smoke’s jaw clenched, his hands steady where they gripped her, guiding just enough, allowing her to find her pace on her own. Stack watched like a hawk pretending to be unaffected but the pulse on his neck betrayed him. He was barely breathing. And Sera? She was unraveling by the second. If this addicting sensation and dizzying pleasure was possible with her undergarments still clinging damp between them, what would happen if her bare skin touched his? Would it break her? Would she survive it?

She whined quietly. “E-Elijah… I… I ca—”

But she didn’t finish. Smoke growled, like the sound scraped up from the pit of his stomach. His hands slid to her inner thighs, thumbs spreading her open just enough to stop her motion cold. She whimpered at the loss of pressure. Then, slowly, he leaned her back against his chest, angling her hips forward and exposing the damp fabric stretched over her pulsing center. Her head lolled back on his shoulder with her eyes glossed over with lust.

Smoke’s grip was firm and controlled. His mouth brushed the crown of her head with a tenderness that didn’t match the fire in his eyes. “You made such a mess, my love,” he teased, tone deceptively soft. “Bet he’s wonderin’ how you taste now.”

Stack’s eyes darkened then and Smoke’s voice dropped lower and colder. He didn’t look at Sera as he spoke, he looked at his brother, a smirk curling his lips. This was payback. “If you need help to finish,” he said, slow and condescending, “ask Elias real nice and he might help.”

The tension snapped taut like a drawn bowstring. Sera shivered hard, the sound of Stack’s real name crackling through the room like a match being struck. Her body ached, her thighs quivered and she was now wide open in Smoke’s lap with her sanctified pussy soaked and pressed forward, like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Like a turkey laid bare for carving on Thanksgiving day.

And Stack—no, Elias—was starving. That cool, collected mask cracked, if only slightly. His nostrils flared. His tongue darted across his bottom lip. His fists flexed at his sides like he was fighting himself not to take. The silence grew thick between them, as if the very walls were waiting.

Sera looked between the two of them with her breath ragged, skin flushed, and her innocence in tatters. And then she turned her attention to Stack. Her voice though soft carried a weight that made the room hold still. “…Elias,” she whispered, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Please… help?”

His name, sweet and unsure on her tongue, shattered whatever restraint he had left.

And the devil in him stirred.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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[pucksandpower]

Don’t Touch Her

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando will do whatever it takes to ensure your safety after the unthinkable almost happens during a night out

Warnings: spiked drink, attempted SA, descriptions of seizure, hospitalization, and the implied murder of a minor character

You sway your hips to the pulsing beat, the colorful lights of the club flashing across your skin. Lando’s hands rest lightly on your waist, guiding you to the music. You lean into him, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the tang of sweat in the humid air.

“I’m parched,” you say, turning to face him. “Want me to grab you a drink?”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can get them, love. You keep dancing.”

You shake your head, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I need to get off my feet for a bit anyway. Same as usual?”

“Please. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

You make your way through the crowded dance floor, weaving around gyrating bodies and flailing limbs. The bar is packed, patrons jostling for the bartenders’ attention. You manage to wedge yourself into a tiny gap, shouting your order over the commotion.

While waiting for the drinks, you check your phone. A few missed texts from friends, asking where you are. You fire back quick responses before pocketing the device just as the bartender slides two glasses toward you.

Vodka cranberry for you, rum and coke for Lando. You pass over a few bills, waving away the change, and turn to head back to the dance floor.

You take a long sip of your drink as you walk, the bubbly sweetness refreshing after all that dancing.

Lando is easy to spot, standing out due to the size of the crowd surrounding him. He smiles when he sees you coming, his whole face lighting up. Your heart flutters at the way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the room.

You’re halfway to him when the first wave of dizziness hits. You stumble, drinks sloshing over your hands. Sudden nausea swirls in your gut. The room starts to spin, lights blurring into a kaleidoscope.

“Hey ...” You blink hard, trying to clear the fog creeping over your thoughts. “I don’t … feel so good.”

The glasses slide from your grip, shattering on the floor. You try to take a step toward Lando and the ground rushes up to meet you. Strong hands grab your arms, keeping you from collapsing completely.

“Whoa there, looks like someone started the party a little early.” The voice is unfamiliar, masculine with a hint of mocking laughter. You try to pull away but your limbs feel like lead.

“No, I ...” You shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. Through your dimming vision you can see Lando pushing through the crowd, his eyes wide.

“C’mon, there’s a back door this way. Let’s get you some air.” The man starts to guide you away, arms wrapped around your shoulders. Panic shoots through you and you try again to wrench yourself free, but it’s useless.

The cold night air hits you as the door swings open. The alley swims before you, dingy bricks and overflowing dumpsters. The man keeps walking, bearing you along while your weak protests fall on deaf ears.

Fear claws at your insides. You catch a glimpse of streetlights at the other end of the alley before he steers you into the shadows halfway down.

“S-stop,” you mumble, tongue heavy in your mouth. He just chuckles, pressing you against the brick wall.

“Shh, just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” His hand squeezes your thigh, rucking up your dress. Somewhere in the recesses of your fading mind, terror shrieks at you to fight, to run, but your traitorous body refuses to respond.

As the man leans in, the alley floods with light. Heavy footsteps pound on the pavement.

“Get your hands off her!” Lando’s voice booms with more fury than you’ve ever heard from him. The man holding you whirls around just as Lando’s fist connects with his jaw. He reels back with a cry, grip loosening. Lando catches you before you can slide to the ground.

“Hey, hey, I’ve got you.” His touch is infinitely gentle compared to the bruising hold of the stranger. He strokes your hair back from your face, eyes searching yours. “Can you hear me, love?”

You try to respond but only manage a faint whimper. Lando swears under his breath. Scooping you into his arms, he carries you swiftly from the alley. You press your face to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline as he strides toward the street. Each jostling step sends the world spinning again.

Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

Lando lowers you onto a bench outside the club, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “Talk to me, please. What’s happening?”

You lick your dry lips, forcing words out with monumental effort. “Dizzy … everything … blurry ...”

Lando’s face creases with worry. He pulls out his phone to dial for help, but pauses when you suddenly convulse, muscles seizing. Your back arches, head slamming against the hard bench.

“Shit! Hold on, I’ve got you.” Lando slides his hand under your head, cradling it gently as the seizure wracks your body. Tears stream down his face as he murmurs soothing words, helpless to do anything but wait it out.

After endless moments, the convulsions stop. You go limp, gasping raggedly. The world fades in and out of focus, Lando’s anguished face floating above you.

“Please, baby, stay with me,” he begs, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. “The ambulance will be here any second.”

You try to respond but darkness crowds the edges of your vision. The last thing you see before slipping into unconsciousness is Lando bent over you, shoulders shaking with sobs as he clutches your motionless hand.

***

Beeping.

Hushed voices.

The astringent scent of disinfectant.

You drift somewhere between waking and oblivion, grasping at fractured memories.

Lando’s face, streaked with tears.

Dancing bodies.

Pulsing lights.

The weight of unwanted hands, dragging you into the shadows.

With a sharp inhale, your eyes fly open. You’re in a hospital room, IV line taped to the back of your hand. Pale morning light filters through the blinds. The beeping comes from a monitor tracking your heartbeat.

“Hey.” Lando sits in a chair beside the bed, leaning forward when he sees you’re awake. His eyes are rimmed with red, hair disheveled. “How are you feeling?”

You try to speak but your throat is painfully dry. Lando grabs a cup of water, angling the straw so you can sip. The cool liquid soothes like a balm, washing away the cottony feeling in your mouth.

“What … what happened?” You rasp out finally.

Lando’s expression turns grim. “Someone drugged you at the club. Probably targeting an easy robbery, but ...” His jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. “If I had been even a few seconds later, he would have ...”

Unable to finish the thought, Lando buries his face in his hands. His shoulders tremble. Your heart aches, and you reach out to comb gentle fingers through his hair.

“But you weren’t,” you say softly. “You saved me.”

He looks up, eyes shining wetly. “I never should have let you out of my sight. If I lost you ...” His breath hitches, raw anguish written across his face.

“Hey, no.” You catch his hand, squeezing firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. You found me in time. That’s all that matters.”

Fresh tears spill down Lando’s cheeks. He brings your entwined hands to his lips, pressing a trembling kiss to your knuckles.

“I was so scared,” he chokes out. “Seeing you like that, helpless, shaking ...” He clenches his jaw, looking away. “And not being able to do anything. Just having to watch ...”

He breaks off with a shuddering breath. You tug gently on his hand, urging him up from the chair. He perches on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in his tender arms. You cling to each other, tears mingling as the enormity of what almost happened sinks in.

After long moments, Lando pulls back to cup your face in both hands. He searches your eyes, still flooded with relief and lingering fear.

“I could have lost you,” he repeats in a shattered whisper.

You cover his hands with your own. “But you didn’t. I’m right here. With you.”

His breath leaves him a rush, the frightened tension easing from his frame. Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours. The beeping monitor and distant hospital noises fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this quiet intimacy.

When Lando finally lifts his head, the fire in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“I love you,” he says, low and fervent.

You meet Lando’s intense gaze, equally overcome by emotion.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

He cradles your face again, thumbs sweeping feather-light over your cheeks. Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that steals your breath. It’s soft yet saturates you with his passion, fear, relief — every shade of the feelings coursing between you in this moment. You sink into it, hands coming up to twist in his rumpled shirt, keeping him close.

When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless. Lando smooths your hair, regret pinching his features.

“I should let you rest. The doctor said you’ll probably feel weak and foggy for a few days.”

You give a small shrug. “I don’t feel that bad right now. Just … stay with me?”

He smiles softly. “Of course, love.”

Settling next to you on top of the sheets, he loops an arm around your shoulders. You nestle against him, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. For a long moment, you simply savor being wrapped in this bubble of solace.

“Do they know who did it yet?” You finally ask, unable to quell your lingering unease about the attack.

Lando shakes his head. “The police looked at security footage but the guy’s face wasn’t visible. They’re still investigating.”

You nod, chewing your lip. Lando tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“I won’t let him get away with this,” he says, quiet but fierce. “I’ll do whatever it takes to find him and make sure he never hurts anyone again.”

There’s cold fury underlying his tone that you’ve never heard from him before. It reminds you viscerally of that brief glimpse in the alley — Lando transformed in the heat of protective rage.

But now the fire in his eyes is fanned and smoldering. A determination that won’t relent.

He tightens his arm around you, pressing his lips to your hair. You settle against his chest again, comforted by the steady thump of his heartbeat.

***

A few days later, you’re curled up on the couch with Lando, a movie playing quietly in the background. You’re mostly zoning out, still feeling residual exhaustion. Lando plays idly with your hair, a comforting sensation.

When your phone buzzes with an alert, you grab it lazily, expecting a text from a friend. Instead, a news headline makes you bolt upright.

Lando notices your change in demeanor.

“What is it, love?”

“That man, the one from the club … he was found dead. I would recognize his face anywhere.”

You continue to scan the article. “Doesn’t specify much, just that he was found in an abandoned building across town. Ruled a homicide but no suspects or motive yet.”

You wordlessly tilt the phone screen for him to see. He looks at it blankly, face impassive.

“Oh. Well, perhaps some justice has been served after all.”

You narrow your eyes at his mild tone. “Did you ...”

“Did I what?”

“Have something to do with this?”

Lando presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Me? Now why would you think that?”

“Lando.” You level him with a knowing look. “Did you?”

He meets your gaze steadily for a moment before sighing. “I told you I’d make sure he never hurt anyone again. A man like that doesn’t deserve to keep stealing breaths.”

You absorb this, unsure how to feel. “So you ...”

“I didn’t personally do anything,” Lando hedges. “But I have … connections. People who know people who can handle things quietly.”

You bite your lip. “You had him killed.”

Lando takes your hands in his. “Hey. Look at me. That bastard drugged you, dragged you into an alley. He would have ...” His jaw flexes. “I did what needed to be done to keep you and others safe.”

“I just ...” You wrestle with your conflicted emotions. “I don’t know how I feel about you essentially ordering a hit.”

He drags a hand over his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is low and controlled. “All that matters is he can’t hurt you or anyone else now. Try to remember what he did to you — how you felt. Helpless. Frightened. I wasn’t about to let him continue terrorizing women.”

You take a shaky breath. “No, you’re right. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around.”

Lando caresses your cheek. “You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I know. But some people are simply too dangerous to be allowed to go on hurting people. I don’t take this lightly, but there are times when permanent solutions are necessary. Do you understand?”

Up close, you can see the storm of emotions he’s battling to contain. Anger, satisfaction, hints of doubt and guilt. You cup his face.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For protecting me, even if it meant ...”

Lando closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I would do anything for you. Anything to keep you safe.” His thumb strokes along your jaw. “You never have to worry. You’ll always be safe with me. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, no matter what.”

His voice rings with quiet conviction. You cover his hand with your own, meeting his solemn gaze. In this moment, you truly comprehend the depths he’s willing to go for you.

“I know you will,” you whisper. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Lando searches your face, shoulders losing their rigid tension when he finds only acceptance and gratitude shining back at him.

“I would be lost without you,” he murmurs.

You lean in, kissing him softly. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Drawing back, you offer a tiny smirk. “And clearly, I should never get on your bad side.”

Lando huffs a surprised laugh. The lingering shadows in his eyes fade as he pulls you close. You sink into his embrace, heartbeat steadying against his.

Whatever lengths Lando went to in order to protect you, to remove the threat hanging over your regained sense of safety, you know you’ll forever be thankful for this devoted, fierce, and tender-hearted man you love.

[takes1]

final part asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want again, (i marked the beginning of actual smut for ease of navigating) couldn't resist adding some kuroo stuff bc i love writing him even if its not sexual/thirst. this has turned a bit more into porn with plot forgive me i'm simple

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

info. nsfw / soft+rough kissy missionary sex / mentions of personal restraint / multiple orgasms / mentions of masturbation / gentle giant!asahi / asahi keeping your mouth shut / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / dacryphilia if you squint / sex toys (vibrator) / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.6k words / thanks for reading this asahi series!! it's been a delight!

haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. part three here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You chose some giant clothes to cover the fact that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

Then, with your security chair out of the way, you quietly slipped into the hall.

The familiar sound of Helldivers 2 on the entertainment speakers assaulted your ears. Of course, he got to invite friends over for the weekend.

You padded downstairs, the ache between your legs nearly unmanageable. You clenched your fists at the sight of his lazy ass as you walked behind the couch to get to the front door.

It was funny how quickly he zapped all desire from your body. You did not enjoy sobering up so quickly.

"I thought you said you were staying home!" Tetsurou called as soon as you grabbed the leash off of the rack.

You nearly pulled a muscle rolling your eyes so far back. You shook the thing violently from the doorway so he'd get it through his thick skull that you were literally doing what he texted you to do.

A couple voices muttered something, but your brother spoke volumes above it--

"Wait two seconds, shit-head!"

You clipped the hook into your dog's collar. To Hell with whatever he wanted. You unlocked the door and slipped on a pair of giant, black crocs.

That garbage pile gave you enough grief about your no-plans-plan in the past 12 hours to deserve being stranded on a barrel in the middle of the ocean. He could handle playing games with his friends while you went to walk the dog.

"C'mon, baby," You cooed and closed the door behind you.

It was, thankfully, nice and cold outside. You were glad you opted for some warm clothes.

"Where are my shoes?!" He yelled through the crack in the door. Almost to the end of the driveway, you didn't figure he had the gumption to follow you without them.

You pushed your hood up and pulled the strings.

A stop at the other side of the gate, and you waited for Maru to finish pissing in order to continue the walk. The big, empty street looked a little creepy in the dark.

flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!

You were glad to not be alone, but still threw your head back when he rounded the corner. His hands were shoved into his basketball shorts and he was shivering.

You both looked down to each other's feet at the same time. He had to put on your flip-flops, so his heels were hanging out the back and his grippers were on the pavement.

A silent exchange went down, one shoe at a time.

Now walking again, you returned to your baseline agitation.

"I don't need a bodyguard to walk the dog."

"Try being a little less stupid, and I'll trust you to not run off with the first guy you see."

You stopped dead in your tracks. "You think this is me sneaking out?"

He didn't respond quickly enough.

You kept walking, glad he was so cold that his teeth were chattering, "You're an idiot--."

He pushed you, unable or unwilling to argue.

"Why would I sneak out with the dog?" You muttered.

Another stop for Maru. It was silent, again, and you were wishing he would just go back by himself already.

"What's that smell?" He sounded ridiculously close to your head.

You looked up and realized that was because he was sniffing your hood. A sudden insecurity of smelling like sex flashed through you.

Pushing hard on his chest, you declared, "Fuck off."

It didn't send him flying the way you wanted it to. It only pissed him off, especially because he knew that smell from somewhere. He just couldn't recall exactly how right now.

You expected him to push or slap you back, so you tensed, but no such move was made.

"One day you'll thank me," He muttered with a grumpy chuckle.

A glance didn't do you any good. It was too dark to see his face.

"For what?" You rolled your eyes again.

It was quiet for so long that you were certain he had just been joking. As if he did anything to help you out, anyway. All he did was piss you off and get in your way.

"For making sure you don't get hurt."

Frustration on the tip of your tongue, you began to retort, "I--," but fell short of the will to say anything back for a minute.

Your glancing around in the dark didn't help you form any thoughts.

Maybe Asahi being so kind was just luck. Not the wise intuition you claimed to be guided by. There were already many times tonight that could've made a turn for the worse, and you hadn't realized until after the fact.

That didn't change how you felt, though, other than some newfound patience for Tetsurou's difficult, demanding nature.

Maru didn't want to go much further than the fifth lamp post, so your small party turned around before you could cross the street.

It was quiet on the way back. Just the jingle of your dog's collar and the flip-flip of these shoes you hated.

You rounded the corner and closed the gate behind you, Tetsurou opting to walk ahead since it was evident to him that there was no danger anymore.

It was just getting to be a comfortable silence when he had to speak up one last time.

"Has this tree always been sideways?"

You genuinely thought it was a joke, so you didn't spare a look when you crossed behind him to get inside. He caught you shoulder the way you hated so much and you swiped your hand to hit him, but saw what he was talking about and froze.

The both of you took a moment, dumbfounded, to stare at your lawn tree. It looked nearly snapped, like a hurricane had come through, but it hadn't rained in weeks. Nothing else was wrecked. Just the tree.

You felt guilty about it for just a second, but rationalized that it had nothing to do with you. You weren't sure what that was from.

"Maybe it was rotted from the inside?" You thought out loud.

He glanced around, suspicion at its full peak, and guided you inside swiftly by your upper back.

Tetsurou locked the door behind you and stayed stock-still, staring through the peephole for so long you didn't bother saying anything to him before heading back upstairs.

At your door, you heard him call to Kenma and Bokuto.

"Did one of you kick that tree in the yard?"

You collapsed against the door with a soft shut and an even softer sigh.

There was no time to deconstruct everything that was discussed, because your eyes followed a sound that nearly made you jump out of your skin.

The man took up so much of your bed. He was on his back, scarred knuckles brushed slowly up and down, a casual pump to quell his impatient cock.

His hand fit much better around it than yours. In his other hand, held closer to his face, he was clicking a small device- the familiar buzz of which inspired a complete takeover of tension between your legs.

Your embarrassment was no secret, and neither was his curiosity.

"I'd love to use this," He grinned and looked you up and down, undressing you with his eyes.

It took some effort to find the lock on the door and make your shaky way over to the bed. Like last time, he met you at the side.

However, you noticed that before you left, he didn't have the same edge in his brow, or the eagerness that defined the way he pulled you into him.

When you stumbled, he caught you and tilted your head for a restless kiss. He was shoving his hands under the waistband of your pants and humming a sort of approval against your cool lips. It sent your stomach back into those fluttery waves of excitement all over again.

"You should take your clothes off," He muttered, fully immersed in his desire since he never had to sober off of it.

"Yeah- I should," You breathed against his rough, needy lips.

You were slipping back in quickly, though, when he took your lips in a chaste, passionate kiss all over again. His hands were slipping over your skin, discarding your hoodie before you could do it yourself.

His whole body was warm, it felt like he was burning through you when you stepped out of your pants and fell against his front. Like a melting ice cube.

When he picked you up this time and set you down, it was less premeditated, more animalistic. You gave a giggling smile when he parted your legs for him.

Any shyness he had before was long-gone after 10 minutes of imagining what he was going to do to you- you squirmed at his spit-slick fingers slipping over your soaking cunt.

"Still so wet for me," He muttered, pleased, into your hair, while his massive body settled over you.

That intense, near-evolutionary drive kicked in again where you believed you could take whatever he wanted to give you all night. It may have been the smell of his sweat, it may have been his grumbly voice.

"Obviously," You smirked. He grinned at your confidence.

"We can take this slow," He rolled a condom on without wasting any extra time, "I don't wanna hurt you."

The statement floored you for a moment. He didn't notice as he lined himself up with your tightness.

It echoed in your brain during the most contradictory part possible.

He sank into you- it wasn't easy, but after hours of build-up -more if you counted the self-pleasure you couldn't resist before he arrived- it was beyond rewarding to watch all of the stress and worry on his brow melt away in one smooth, slow stroke.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck," You whined, his grasp on your hip reassuring, but still a pen in which you couldn't wriggle from or adjust against, "God-!"

Your thighs twitched on either side of him, forcibly relaxed- you tried to catch your breath, but felt like your lungs were too constricted to do so.

His thumb brushed your cheek.

Patience and gentleness in the midst of it all allowed you to breathe a little easier.

Only kindness, with a hint of pity, remained in his expression as you gasped and struggled to ease up around his cock.

He looked away for a moment, his hand leaving the side of your face, and you heard a saving grace.

Asahi did you the liberty of placing it against your clit. His face lit up at the sight and sound of your newfound gratification.

"I bet that feels better, huh?" He smiled against your parted lips, stealing a few of your moans with an excited kiss.

There was a hard-to-pin inquisitiveness about his attitude surrounding your vibrator. Like he was dying to use it on you, feel you writhe around his still cock.

"Ohh my god-! Ah-Mn!" You cried against his lips.

It was met with chuckle and the slow pump of his hips sinking deeper into you.

It dulled the discomfort of his size, leaving only a feeling of fullness between your legs, a satisfied craving, and the intense waves of pleasure from your clit.

His pretty face and perfect body over you- how could you not just announce your paradise to everyone in the city?

One hand laced in yours, and you took control of your vibrator to swirl it the way you preferred while he picked up his leisurely pace.

He barely caught your high-pitched tone at the combination with an alarmed kiss.

Stalling, he warned, "You gotta be quiet," and leaned to press further kisses against your neck.

He quickly learned that you weren't going to stay that way for him, even if his balls were allegedly on the line.

The feeling of him going deeper, your thighs bouncing from his weight that shifted your entire body, and the building waves over your clit.

"Asahi," Came out in a needy moan.

"Shhh," He cooed, gripping the bottom half of your face to get your focus on him.

The beat of his thighs against the back of yours stole your attention instead- you squeezed against his palm with furrowed brows.

Another noisy cry at his size splitting through you, and he instinctively covered your mouth to shut you up.

He thrust hard into you and stayed there, earning a pitiful whimper, and leaned in close to catch your avoidant eyes.

A mutter against your heated skin, "Do I need to keep you quiet?"

His cock was stretching you beyond your limits- that steely look in his pretty brown eyes was so layered.

You clenched around him, butterflies attacking you now, of all times, at his stern tone, but genuine concern.

A gorgeous smile spread across his features when you nodded, helpless, but honest.

He felt too good- he filled you up better than you had imagined. You were stunned to feel that you were already close. There was just no possible way.

This wasn't how you wanted it to go.

It was too soon- you didn't want it to be over so quickly. But now, of course, you realized you didn't have the physical capacity to take him all night.

You tried moving the overwhelming buzz away from your needy clit, but met the resistance of his hand instead.

He pressed just enough to guide you right to an edge you couldn't pull back from. You whimpered against his palm.

You couldn't tell him you were about to cum. You couldn't move away, or speak, nor did you possess the will to push against him. All you did was claw, weak, across his back.

The look in his eyes responded to your subtle panic-pleasure without a word. A gentle fondness that he shouldn't have been capable of while he gave you his rougher strokes.

He removed his hand from your mouth just to swallow your sounds with a starved kiss, an avid grumble at the back of his throat when you took his tongue so well.

"Mm-!" You squeaked, nails digging deep red trenches into his shoulder.

It was an ultimate submission you never had the insurance to safely experience before.

You got the chance for a gasp before getting cut off -half a second before you could alert the entire house- by his huge palm again.

Asahi groaned as you tightened around him. He quickly shut himself up by flexing away the pleasure and leaning down to pant, warm breath spilling against your ear.

"Shh- I got you," His kindhearted whisper strung you along, crushing you underneath his weight, while he repeated that sweet promise, "I got you, baby."

All your worry of it being too soon dissipated as your orgasm wracked through your entire body and filled you with pure bliss. He fucked you hard and steady through it and didn't even grant you the dignity of looking away from him.

Your chest was tight at the end of it, eyes stinging, and you would've sobbed if he wasn't still keeping you quiet.

He watched your journey the whole time through your eyes, wholly captivated by your big, glossy fixation on him. When you blinked away the burn, he took no time to kiss them away.

Your body naturally relaxed, a twitchy and overstimulating process.

He slowed for you after he sucked the rest of your complicated tears up.

He was so heavy, so adamant on keeping your noise down that you couldn't tell him to stop. You weren't sure that you would try, even if he wasn't hindering your communication. The fact that you trusted him so much right now wasn't necessarily wise, but it felt right.

His growing intensity didn't hurt, but it didn't start to feel good until a raspy voice told you:

"Feels so good," He swallowed the spit gathered in his mouth and seethed, a light chuckle breezing past his lips, "You got no fuckin' clue."

That was just kind of sinful confession that gave you nervous chills even though he was already fucking you senseless.

He studied how your eyes clouded over at his words. A restrained, toothy smile nudged your jaw in a sugary kiss.

"I'm not gonna be able to get enough of you," He finally took his hand off of your lips and you were able to gasp at the impact of his words.

When he readjusted, he swept your legs up to his shoulders and dipped back down.

"A-Ah!" You barely choked out before he moved his hand back to its diligent place over your loud mouth.

He was so deep- you felt like he'd split right through you. Yet, you welcomed the possibility with the blessing of another steady-growing climax.

Yet, only one of you was so careless. He was so tender, so considerate because he could feel it, too. How fragile you really were in this position in regards to his size.

"God," He sighed at your loving stare.

"Gonna- ah, make me cum, lookin' at me like that," He groaned, a bit strained.

He finally dipped his head with closed eyes at the sweet, slick heat he just wanted to bury himself in. He couldn't get too carried away, now that it was starting to get difficult.

Your shitty stamina stroked his ego so much that he forgot he wouldn't be too far behind for a while. He got a bit ahead of himself and was paying for it with the climbing pressure in his stomach.

Your pussy was reason enough to fuck you harder, but that face was what really tested him.

His hand twitched at the compelling desire to hear you scream for him, but again, had to keep his sanity for the two of you. Next time he would make sure that brother of yours wouldn't be in the way.

He tried to keep an edge going, but found it laughably difficult to settle down.

If it wasn't your Fuck-me-harder eyes building up the needing to cum, it was your cute tits squished against your soft, scratched-up thighs, right under his chest.

It was impossible to keep himself from riding that high in the end.

As if to spite him, to completely spend all of his restraint, your watery eyes rolled back again. Your muffled whines filled his ears as you tightened once more around him, weaker this time but still more than enough to send him over the edge.

"G-od,fu-ck," He groaned, hitting just the right spot to fuck out both of your orgasms.

You felt him swell inside of you, his grip on your hand crushed yours back to the point that you couldn't claw him, his hips stuttered to a slow stop, deep inside of you.

A sense of satisfaction beyond the physical softened your face, your resistance between his fingers, and all your aching muscles. You weren't quite sure what it was, but didn't feel rushed to figure it out.

He was trembling when he released the lower half of your face, a beautiful sweaty and out of breath mess on top of you.

Once again, you gasped at the opportunity to breathe better.

He tensed up immediately and you flinched at the twitch of his cock inside of you.

"Shit- was I choking you?" He managed to stay worried right after he came.

You grinned, carefree on the backend of your own, and shook your head, "Mm-mm."

The look of unmatched relief that washed over him was supremely attractive.

He pulled himself out, slowly, and made a face at how much he came before turning to discard the tied-up thing into the trash with a solid toss.

You welcomed his cuddly shuffle up to your side by burrowing into his slippery chest, and sighed at last, "Cute butt."

That, of all things, made him uncomfortable. He cringed when you spared a glance up to his face from his chin. You rolled your eyes at his overthinking.

"You must be an athlete, or something--," You rubbed your face harder into his chest and felt his laugh resonate throughout your body.

It all felt natural. The joking, the cuddling, the winding down. You both forgot that you weren't together, let alone that you had only known each other for less than a week.

It was already warm with him next to you, but you were happy to be under the soft throw he found and pulled over.

"I can't believe you came twice," His soft laugh invited an embarrassed, but sharp look from you.

He clarified, "It's really hot, don't get me wrong--,"

"I'm not usually so easy," You half-joked.

A big, handsome guy that knew how to use his dick, went down on you, listened to you, and didn't shy away from a vibrator? It'd be a challenge to find a girl who wouldn't cum that quick.

You blushed under the cover of darkness at his gentle, comforting hold on your breast and reassuring kiss to the side of your neck.

The ache in your belly was evident when you were flipped over to be little spoon. It burned pretty bad and you couldn't exactly hide it.

"Did I hurt you--?"

"No," You muttered, clearing your throat, "No, I wouldn't say that."

He placed a big hand on your tummy, feather-light, and you looked over your shoulder to meet his perceptive gaze.

You sure as hell couldn't lie to this guy. He saw right through you.

You pouted and gripped your pillow. Of course you couldn't handle his dick the way you wanted to, the way you bragged about or even genuinely thought you could.

"You were so good," You admitted, a little sad in tone.

A warm kiss to the back of your head. He took the weight of his arm off of your sore body, sighing into your hair.

"You were, too."

He decided to drop the subject, since you both had strong opinions that seemed to clash.

You smiled.

You talked about a range of topics for the rest of the night. General information, first, then personal interests that turned into a long conversation about volleyball, then family history, then academics, then personality, goals, and attraction.

Soon it was 4 in the morning. You were eating popsicles from your freezer and discussing the adventure he had to get up to your window.

You both watched, trying your best to stay quiet, a minutes-long video one of his friends sent in the Karasuno volleyball group chat of him falling out of the tree outside.

A hand flew up to your mouth to silence your intense giggle-fit. You had no idea how you were going to keep something like this a secret from Tetsurou.

Before too long, the pain in your tummy was just an ache and the stranger in your bed turned into a lover overnight.

taglist:

ty for all the replies and reblogs and likes!! it means so much. it's really nice seeing all the other asahi appreciators out here!!

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere

@kreishin

@ruu-https @kasai-https

@40unung @deluluforcarlos55 @lili-harg @beyond-your-stars @noyaskneepad

@rinheartshyunlix @vintagevict0ria @am-3-thyst

<3 u are literally asahi mvp @screamin-abt-haikyuu

masterlist.

requests open!

[smallestapplin]

I love you so much, can I request hc’s of g1 Rumble and Frenzy being smitten for the same minibot, maybe have reader be one of Blaster’s cassettes too (like the protective dad he is even tho all his ‘kids’ are grown) thank you

:0!! My first Rumble and Frenzy request! Ohh I hope this is good! (Totally didn’t make myself simp.)

Nearly 2,000 words, I may have gotten lost in the sauce

Reader is gn!

-

-

* Truthfully they are easy and they refuse to admit that to anyone! You were just another one of Blaster’s annoyances, and they were ready to wipe the floor with you until they…didn’t, they failed miserably despite out numbering you, and you clapped back at them, mocking and taunting them into attacking so easily. They hated it, hated it so much as they ended up in a pile, Rumble tossed upon Frenzy and the two laying there groaning.

“You know, you two are cute when you’re not running your intakes.” It was nothing more than a backhanded compliment, so why did your annoying chuckle make their sparks thrum?

* and you do it every time too, a sweet chuckle here, maybe a condescending coo at them there, you even kissed their cheeks after throwing them through trees! They are moving up in the world.

* Rumble is the first to even admit it, he likes you he likes you a lot. You’re calm when fighting but your sass makes him swoon. Even he will admit when you throw insults at Skywarp he’s laughing the loudest and piling on them, which usually gives you a chance to escape the situation. Also the first to (accidentally) defend you when any other con insults you.

 

    “Ay’ you watch yer intake, dweeb! Just cause ya got yer aft beat by a bot less than your size is a skill issue on your part!”

* somehow it completely goes over majority of the cons helms what he really meant by that, thinking it was more out of minimech solidarity. But no, Rumble is smitten, so much so he can barely even fight with you, he throws ever match he has with you because the second your servos are on him he’s blushing and melting, even when you throw him into a cliff side he’s still love struck.

* He tries though! He wants to make it look believable, he wants to look cool for you and strong that he can’t be pushed around, and oh wow you’re glaring at him fiercely wow you’re really handsome and pretty-oh and there he goes, right into the ground.

* Rumble is a mess, he thinks he looks so cool when he yells out “Looking for trouble? Well look no further, cause here comes Rumble!” And is decked in an instant.

* He tries a few pick up lines when your fists cross paths, but he stumbles over his words and mixes up the order of them, but at least it gets a laugh out of you, so that’s a win for him!

* Frenzy is the exact opposite, when your fist collides with his face busting his dermas and his nose, he’s looking back at you with a wild gleam from his visor, and a dangerous sounding scratch from rewinding his tape, and in a flash he’s on you. He wants you to beat him, he wants you to fight him, he wants both of you to prove yourselves here and now! It’s only once you finally pin him, straddled on top of him, both of you ex-venting harshly and covered in spilt energon, does he pause for a moment, wondering if this is what those humans meant by angels as you look divine above him.

* “C’mon, you can hit harder than ‘dat! Yeah, yeah that’s it, give me all you got, doll!”

* Once he realizes his spark is thrumming loudly, he will ruin it by wriggling his servos free just to grab your hips with a smug smirk.

    

  “Lookin’ good like this, you ain’t too bad for an autonoob.”

You swear he is drooling, but you weren’t sticking around to find out.

* The two minicons make it their mission to find you in every battle, both just needing to see you! But it makes it easier to clock their little crush on you, the first to notice is Eject, he saw you off in the distance across the battlefield with Frenzy on your tail and Rumble ready to jump you from your blind spot, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. Once close enough he could hear them.

“What happened to all ‘dat fire you had? Ya know, yer’ kinda cute like ‘dis.”

“Frag off, let me go!”

“Easy, we ain’t gonna hurt ya’.”

Their tones were soft, bordering gentle for them, playful, as if talking to someone close and not the enemy, and oh Eject was NOT going to let that fly!

* Once you were freed from being pinned, Eject did not hesitate reporting back to Blaster, the larger mech already treating his cassettes as if his own sparklings despite working under him, the moment he heard of Eject’s findings he was already picking you up and making sure you were safe, even going as far as to take you to the medbay to ensure no trackers or anything was planted on you.

* When you got the clear, Blaster informed your brothers you were to never be alone with those menaces, they clearly took fighting a different way than intended and he was not risking anyone’s spark and safety because of them.

*

Frenzy and Rumble rant to each other about it too, “it’s always some loser comin’ in and keepin’ ‘em from us!” 

“Ta the scrap yard with ‘em! Those bozos keepin’ our sweetspark on a tighter leash just aint fair.”

* everytime they get close to you, Ramhorn plows right into them, or Steeljaw jumps in front of you, hissing wildly and taking bites out of them. But Rumble and Frenzy would much rather those two than Rewind and Eject, once those two get in the way it goes from a basic fight to an all out brawl as your fellow minibots are just as protective over you as Blaster is, and they make it known quickly the two minicons aren’t welcomed near you. It's the worst the two cons have ever ended up injured, but even as Soundwave frets over them, they look more determined than ever to win your spark.

* Even if you are on the enemy side, there is just a pull they feel for you, something about you just keeps dragging them to you, they can’t seem to let go of these festering feelings for you. It becomes clear something is up with them with how bad they are at hiding stuff, but Soundwave doesn’t have time to question them yet.

* It’s the same song and dance, until after one battle a prisoner is brought back to the Decepticon base, you. Seeing you being dangled by your pede, held up but a laughing Starscream nearly makes them rage, but they can’t, for once they feel stuck as they watch you thrash and spew curses at the laughing seeker.

* In that moment you were a prisoner, a bargaining chip to be used against the autobots. Tossed into a holding cell until Megatron was finished with his debriefing with Soundwave and Shockwave. With one look to each other, they knew what they needed to do.

“Great, it’s you two. Visiting hours are over.” You groan out, trying to remain strong as you narrowed your optics at them.

Rumble stands by the door frame leading outside, peering around the corner to make sure the coast was clear just before closing the door. You watch, expression slowly growing more confused as Frenzy opens your cell door and the two minicons rush to your side. You squeak as Frenzy manhandles you forward, showing more of your back and exposing your cuffed servos to Rumble.

“H-hey, what are you doing?”

“Hush,” Frenzy starts, “we’re gettin’ you outta here.”

You blink behind your visor, staring dumbly at the red and black minicon.

“You’re…helping me?”

“Well, tryin’, stupid slaggin’ stasis cuffs always a pain and for what?” Rumble grumbles under his breath.

You can’t stop the soft laugh that leaves you, enjoying his suffering just a little, until all three of you perked up at the sound of the cuffs unlocking and dropping to the floor below. Frenzy lets go of you, no longer needing to balance you, but offers a servo to help you up, which you hesitate in taking, but do so anywhere.

“Why are you two helping me?”

Rumble chokes on nothing, swifty looking away from you even if his cheeks flush a dark blue.

“A-ain’t fer nothin’! Don’t even worry about it, yer thinkin’ too hard about it.”

“Yeah, what this dork said. But stop talkin’ and start movin’ sweetspark!” Frenzy grabs your arm and yanks you along, making you stumble behind him with Rumble trailing right after you.

“Hey, hey! Easy with ‘em.”

“Either ‘dat or we stick around and get caught.”

You can’t fathom why they are helping you escape, you don’t understand what benefit this would give them when one slip up could lead to them getting in trouble, but you are grateful even if you are a little suspicious of them.

You reach blindly behind you, grabbing Rumble’s servo, and pull your arm back to hold Frenzy’s sero, giving both of them a gentle squeeze in a silent ‘thank you.’

Not even seeing the deep blush on Frenzy’s face plate as he scowls, or the fanning motion Rumble gives himself as his internal fans kick on and his frame slowly becomes covered in coolant out of nerves.

You feel bad for leaving when you three finally make it to the edge of the con base, where you can see Autobots slowly coming closer. Your commlink ringing to life as Blaster has been trying to comm you for ages now, but thanks to the cons base you never got them.

Looking back at the two minicons who are ushering you to go before it’s too late, you offer them a soft smile.

“Thank you both, I really owe you one after this.”

“Howzabout a date then?” Frenzy purrs, laughs at the shocked look on your (and Rumbles) face plate.

“A-a date?”

“Don’t listen to him! You ain’t gotta, Frenz here is just a-“

“What am I, huh? Go on, spit it out, you coward!”

The two begin to argue, getting in each other’s faces with so many swears you didn’t think half of them existed until then, but you can’t help but laugh, they are so oddly cute? So pathetic but it’s endearing? Your laugh catches them off guard, making them stop in their fighting.

“Ya know, maybe I will accept that date, if you can beat me next time we fight, that is.”

You’re rushing off and answering your comm before they can answer, leaving them dumbstruck and intakes agap. Slowly they look at each other before holding servos and shierking that it actually worked???? Hello???? Oh my primus they have made it in life????

* Blaster sobs that you’re alive and okay the second you answer your commlink, and the moment you are in his sights the larger bot is over you, picking you up with great care while your brothers pop up from his chassis and each of them checking on you.

* You’re fine, more than fine! But maybe you shouldn’t tell them that, you don’t think they’d be very pleased to hear you’ve fallen in love with the enemy, two of them in fact, and both the minicons to your boss’s rival.

*  But you can dream, can’t you? Your spark thrums when you see the two next, it’s hard not to when they look so excited at the sight of you. You have to bite back a chuckle watching them fight each other or trip over themselves to get to you first.

* These simps will do anything and everything for your attention, dont test that.

[detroit-become-hurt]

Sweet Thing

So to kickstart this block again I'm regressing into old hyperfixations. So here's a fanfic I'm working on for The Lost Boys! I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Moving to Santa Carla was a sudden decision, but something about it just felt right. There was something about that place, calling you to it, you just didn't know what.

Or: you're drawn to Santa Carla cause you're the final mate of The Lost Boy's pack

I sighed heavily as I sat on a bench at the boardwalk. Santa Carla was fun for the first week upon moving here, but after that it sort of just lost its charm. It was the same routine of showing up to work at the little oddities shop between the chinese take out place and some other little resturant that served the greasiest burgers. It wasn’t a bad job, but it wasn’t always the busiest as there were other attractions to see that were much more interesting. The shop consisted of bad taxidermy, crystals, fake skulls (which a lot of people thought were real), and tarot cards/readings. It wasn’t a bad gig, just again, not the busiest. 

Tonight was my night off, and I really had no idea what to do. I decided sitting here was better than sitting at home, with even less to do. Deciding it was best to grab some food I stood up, making my way over towards the shop and the chinese place. Chinese sounded good for dinner. As I neared the resturant, I couldn’t help but notice a group of bikers loitering outside the shop. There was two blondes, rough housing with each other. A tall dark haired main leaned on the wall of the front of the shop, watching the two blondes wrestle. And finally, leaned against one of four bikes was a third blond, a cigarette balanced between his lips. His eyes flitted through the crowd, taking in faces, a dark look lurking behind them.

It wasn’t really of any concern to me seeing these four, Santa Carla was full of different types of people, and I’ve seen them around before at different places on the boardwalk. We never interacted before, but a cloud of trouble oozed off of them. I tried to keep to myself. 

Ordering my food I waited to the side for them to finish preparing it, tapping my foot lightly as I listened to the sounds around me. Rollercoasters whizzed by with screams that lasted mere seconds, loud carnival music and people chattering away. It was almost overwhelming, the sounds. But you grow used to it pretty fast. Finally my order was called, and I picked up the bag containing the food. Upon closer inspection I realized that they had gotten my order wrong…but it wasn’t worth arguing. They ended up giving me more than what I ordered, I wasn’t going to complain.

“Perhaps Sandra would want some of this…” I wondered out loud, thinking of my coworker who was currently working tonight. Deciding I would share my feast, I walked over to the shop, towards the group of four bikers. As I approached, I caught the attention of the blonde leaning against the bike. His eyes trailed up and down me slowly, sizing me up. “Um…excuse me. Could you move your bikes, so I can like…get inside the store.” I asked, trying to maintain eye contact.

“You want us…to move our bikes…so you can go inside?” He repeats back to me, and I instantly knew what he was doing.

“Yes. You, move bikes. I go, inside?” I throw back, raising an eyebrow. The banter between the two of us caught the attention of the other three. The second blonde with curled ringlets going down his back couldn’t help but snicker, flashing me a dangerous smile and a wink when I looked his way. “Really it would just be easier if you moved, so I don’t have to weave in and out of your guys bikes and risk knocking one over. So what’s it gonna be pretty boy?” I asked shifting weight on my feet.

The third blond, who’s hair was teased to high hell and back laughed loudly. “Aw come on sugar, if anyone’s pretty here it’s you.” He says wrapping an arm his friend with the ringlets. “Do we at least get to know your name?” 

“What’s your name? I’ve seen you guys around before.” I say chewing my lip. I really did not expect to get into such a conversation, but it seemed like there was no backing out now. “If I tell you my name, will you please move your bikes?” I throw in, hoping they would indeed do as I asked.

His grin widens, and he sauntered down the steps, wrapping his arm around me. The smell of aqua net hair spray and weed overtook my senes. “I’m Paul. That’s Marko, Dwayne, and David.” He says pointing each of them out. “And I…have definetly not seen you around here. Are you new?” he questions.

Slipping out of his arm I nod, “I’m y/n. And yes, I am new. I just moved here about a week and a half ago.” I say. “Now really, this is quite the lovely chat but I think I’m just gonna weave around the bikes. Sorry to bother you.”

David holds his hand up, stopping my movements. “Hang on there sweet thing, you didn’t give me a chance to answer. Since I am a man of my word, we will move our bikes.” It’s funny he says that, cause he never mentioned giving me his word. But oh well. “Come on boys, let’s get out of here. We’ll see you around y/n.” he gives me a smirk, again something hiding behind his expression as the other three revved their bikes to life. With hoots and hollers they revved the engines a few more times before taking off, nearly hitting me in the process.

“Fuckin assholes,” I mutter as my heart pounds in my chest. Finally walking up the steps I walk inside, “Sandra! It’s me! I brought some food, the chinese place messed up the order.” Walking to the counter I set the food down, taking it out and arranging it so we could easily grab what we wanted. 

Sandra comes out from the back, a yawn errupting from her lips. “Oh thank god, I was going to fall asleep back there. Hey, did you hear like, motocrycle sounds?” She asks as she grabs some food.

Between swallows I nod, “Yeah. Some bikers out front. I asked them to move, and it took a minute but they did. Who knew all I had to do was give them my name.” I say. “I got their names in return. David, Marko, Paul, Dwayne. Interesting group of guys. I’ve seen them around the boardwalk before.” 

Sandra freezes, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Y/n…please tell me you’re joking. Like say sike right now.” She’s bouncing on the balls of her feet, anxiousness radiating into my bubble.

“What’s the big deal? They’re not trouble are they?” 

“Oh yes they’re trouble! They’re dangerous y/n. They’re always in trouble with security on the boardwalk, bothering people.” Sandra’s looking me dead in the eyes now, a look I can’t place. 

Finishing up my food I wipe my mouth, “Okay. I’ll keep my distance. Can’t blame me too much you know, I just moved here.” A part of me was annoyed. I appreciated her concern, but again I just moved here. And the boys seemed nice enough…although that doesn’t make up for the fact that I don’t know them.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just really like you and I don’t want you to end up on a missing person’s poster. It would suck to not have you in my life anymore.” That was one thing I was definetly grateful for, was my quick friendship with Sandra. She took me around, showed me the ropes, and was always there should I have needed anything in my short time in Santa Carla.

“Thank you, Sandra. Really.” Glancing at the clock on the wall I sighed, “I should probably get going, it’s getting late and I have to work a twelve hour tomorrow.” 

Sandra gives me a sympathetic look. “Well if you need anything, give me a holler okay? Seeya later!” Her voice disappears as the bell to the door chimes and I’m once again outside. Traffic has quieted quite a bit, not so loud. Turning I begin to make my way home, unaware of the set of eyes watching me from the dark.

I want her.

Me too.

She needs to be with us, one of us.

Soon, she will be. Give it time.

[jpitha]

Logistics

Yes, when the humans arrived in the Coalition they brought themselves, and their ships, and their weapons. Those were all very impressive. They showed up with positively gigantic starships - easily two to four times larger than anyone else. When asked, the humans just looked at them, then back to us and said "why not make them big? Don't they look great?"

We could think of a few reasons, but they didn't seem to care about those.

But that's not what I want to talk about. Do you know what was the most amazing, galaxy changing paradigm they brought with them?

Containerization.

I'm serious! The first time I saw them field a colony ship my feathers ruffled and I turned my head in confusion. I was aboard the human ambassador's yacht with a few other Coalition administrators. We had come at the human's behest so they could demonstrate that they were taking our rules about colonizing seriously. Honestly, we probably wouldn't have cared. All they were interested in were planets Class F and lower. The ones with multiple biomes, the ones with heavy gravity, the ones with weather. We let them license the worlds for colonization cheap - ancestors, I think we even let them have the one with storms for free.

Anyway, they asked us to come and observe, and so we sent a few people out, me among them. I was a mid level clerk for the Innari embassy at the main Coalition station, so I was 'volunteered' to attend. It was boring, but it wasn't bad. Good food, a break from paperwork, and a chance to take it easy for a week.

On the second day, the colony ship arrived. It had Flashed in quote close to the planet, entered orbit, and had spent an hour setting itself up. One of the Sefigans looked at the human who was guiding us and asked what we were looking at, if we were just going to see a shuttle go back and forth for a week from the ship.

"A shuttle? Heavens, no. Just watch." and he did that cryptic smile without showing his teeth that they do when they realize they're about to show off.

Just then, while we were watching, the colony ship... flew apart. It wasn't destroyed, or rather it was, but it wasn't destructive. It had turned out that the entire colony ship was thousands upon thousands of boxes. The assembled crowd made surprised noises as the ship quickly disappeared into rectangles all the same shape and size. They disconnected from each other and fell through the atmosphere to the planet's surface. Within a tenth of a cycle, they were all down, and had begun unfolding.

Some were buildings, some contained supplies, and some even had vehicles. As we watched through remote cameras and entire city had sprung into being, where once there was only a joining of two rivers. The colony ship was completely gone - the box that was the command module had set itself up in the center of the city and we watched as the overlay changed from "Ship Command" to "City Command" as it touched down.

Before our surprise could be properly registered it happened again. Another colony ship flashed in and flew apart and landed. And again. And again. In the space of one solar day, three full cities were set up and automated construction vehicles - also the size of the containers - had begun trundling between the cities, setting up utilities and roads. By the time the humans arrived in thirty solar days, there would be places to live, work, and entertain for fifty thousand beings.

Honestly, if that's all they used it for, it would be impressive. But they made everything able to fit into those boxes. When they ordered supplies from human manufactories they ordered them by the container. During the next resupply one of the containers would detach and be delivered, and sure enough, packed floor to ceiling would be the widgets they ordered.

They built reactors that fit the container, so that no matter where they went or what they were doing, it was simple to have more power than one needed.

They even built weapons that fit into the containers. I'm not talking about hand and small arms, but full anti starship missile batteries. They would take one of their boxes, stick it to the side of a ship or a station - it didn't even have to be human made - and out would fold a missile battery, loaded and ready. Next to it they'd plop a reactor container and a matter printer container and in the time it took you to decide what to eat for their midday meal - lunch - they would be able to defend against an attack of nearly any kind.

When called on to aid during disasters, they brought them too. They would bring a modified version of their colony package, tuned for what kind of disaster had happened. Extra hospitals, extra living space, extra power, it didn't matter, because it all fit into those damned boxes.

The other Coalition peoples had to adopt the humans containers, it was too foolish not to. Human ships would only haul containers. They didn't list the ships capacity by hauling weight, they listed them by the number of containers they could haul. If you wanted to sell to humans, you had to fit your wares into a container.

Some other peoples - the Sefigans specifically, but a few others as well - attempted to introduce their own container specifications, but they were almost never adopted. The humans had the infrastructure to haul their own containers, and unless the others fit into the system they just rejected them outright. "Too complex to add" they said. "Just use ours; here have a few for free." They gave away containers like they were atmosphere. When items were shipped from human manufactories they told the recipient to just keep the container "in case you need to ship anything else."

Before too long, all the Coalition was using human containers. The Sefigans complained that they were too large, the Gren complained they were too small, and we Innari looked at the containers with an eye towards economy. We felt they were far overbuilt. We tried to make our own, out of much lighter materials but whenever they were added to a human system, they would be immediately ejected - usually with large dents or bends in them. "Stick to the specs" they'd say. "Our system requires them all to be the same."

Without firing a shot, the humans took over one of the most important and overlooked parts of our entire system. Everyone uses their containers now, it's just impossible to find a shipper to move material without them.