#Can't lock me up if I'm already dropping bars

[lovelyrottingcrows]

reminder that you shouldn't buy books (unless you want to support the author) and should instead use the library or find it il/legally on the Internet

[moon-fics]

So I dont know if this is your style but I figured I lose nothing by asking!

I have been really wanting to see a Bob Floyd x reader, baby announcement using B.O.B (since hangman calls him Baby on Board) like reader wear a shirt with BOB right on the stomach as a hint to either the dagger squad or Bob himself and it takes way to long for people to get it 🤣 just a thought!

Your fic's have been a saving grace for my Lewis Pullman hyper fixation!

I love this idea! It's so cute and I KNOW the dagger squad would be so excited.

You cannot believe you let Jake and Nat convince you of this. Is the idea cute? Yes. Will this put a smile on Bob's face? Also, yes. So, in theory, this is a good idea. It's witty and adorable, which Bob loves.

Except you've been standing next to him the entire night, and he hasn't mentioned it. It's gotten to a point where Nat pointed at your shirt a complimented it in hopes Bob realizes. He, instead, complimented it as well.

It's comedic and torturous. You want so badly for him to figure it out on his own, but you aren't sure he will. It's not because he's stupid; he's far from that. He's just a little oblivious to the hint you're dropping. In other words, he's not picking up what you're putting down.

You haven't had a lick of alcohol either, of course, for the baby's sake. However, that can't even be seen as a hint, either, because you don't get drunk on the regular. So, you're stuck hoping something will click in his brain.

"Hey, you're looking a little different," Jake says. Your eyes snap to him with a glare that could kill him where he stands. Jake's eyes are darting between you and Bob with an expression that can only say 'come on, man'. You quickly realize he's trying to aid the process. "Have you been doing anything new?" He says with a smirk.

"A lot more cardio," You say through gritted teeth. Bob's attention has already been grabbed by the conversation. His eyes were bouncing back and forth. "I thought this shirt really showed that off." You cannot be anymore clearer.

"You do look amazing," Bob agrees with a sparkle in his eyes. "You've been glowing recently," He adds with a smile.

"Yeah, I just find it weird she's wearing a shirt with your call sign on it," Natasha finally joins in. She plants the butt of her pool stick on the ground as her investment in the topic grows. "Y'know, it reminds me of those stickers people put on their cars. What's it stand for again?" She taps her chin.

"Oh, baby on board," Bob answers with a nod. You want to slam your head into a wall. He is right on the money, and yet, he is somehow using it as printer paper. "I always thought those were cute," He chuckles. Natasha and Jake are left staring at him with amusement.

Bob turns towards you and glances at your shirt for the thirty-first time tonight. His smile drops after a few seconds, and his eyes widen. They flicker to lock with yours, and there's a question on his tongue he can't quite get out.

"Is that what it means?" He asks loudly. He already knows the answer, but he just needs to hear you say it.

"Yeah, it is." You can't stop the grin from growing on your face as his eyes light up. The moment he knows the answer, he's lifting you off the ground. His arms are tight around your torso, and you can hear his laughter.

"I'm going to be a father!" He cheers while placing you back down. Bob's enthusiasm gathers the attention of the rest of the dagger squad. Everyone besides Jake and Natasha is surprised. They all let out a few congratulations while clinking their drinks together.

"Fucking finally. I was starting to think I'd have to just straight up tell him," Jake jokes with a slight nudge to your arm.

"I would have snapped his arm for ruining the surprise," Natasha steps up next to him. Before she can say anything else, Bob is pulling you away. He's already heading out of the bar with a mission in mind.

"Honey, where are we going?" You ask in a sing-song voice.

"I just found out my wife is pregnant. I'm spending the rest of my life pampering you," He says while pulling out the car keys. He says that as if he doesn't already do that. However, you won't say anything to argue against him. You know it's pointless.

[vin-taege]

Hii ! I saw that the Erik requests are still open so I thought what the hell.

I don’t have any specific prompts in mind, just some Erik x male!reader oneshots or something similar.

Maybe the reader works with Erik at the shop? (Idk i’m terrible at getting ideas for my own work let alone someone else’s…)

after hours (m)

summary: you and erik fool around in the shop after closing.

genre: smut

pairing: erik campbell x fwb!gn!reader

words: 2.2k

CW: making out and messy blowjobs, light degradation sprinkled in because I'm a whore for this man, cum swallowing

Note: hi! i've been stuck on this req for a few days mainly because i have no experience writing for male readers :<< I made it gender neutral reader instead because I'm not 100% confident in writing for male readers. I should've clarified this in my nav >< super sorry about that!

"Breathe, it's just a lobe."

For some reason, you've been getting testy clients all day. First, the skater who wanted a thigh cover-up done in two hours. Second, the valley girl who kept insisting on swapping artists, mainly because she wanted to flirt with Erik. And now, this presumably Catholic school girl who kept freaking out over getting her second lobe done.

A classic customer service smile was frozen on your face. The total foil to Erik, if he was the employee who didn't give a shit, you were more of the people-pleaser type. Not by choice, but mostly by principle.

"There can be only one asshole at a time, and since you're the new hire, it gets to be me," is what Erik told you on your first day.

Erik, with his puppy dog, blueberry eyes, untarnished metal, and fresh leather scent. Erik, who sent occasional smirks to your side of the studio every time he pulled the tattoo gun back from the bicep piece he was working on. Erik, who held you up an extra two hours overtime yesterday because he got too handsy in the storage room.

You brushed the memories aside before you got too distracted. Guided solely by muscle memory, you took the clamp, slid the needle, and secured the jewelry. The girl barely blinked, too wrapped up in bracing herself for the pain that would never come.

"Okay, all done." You held the mirror for her, feeling less grumpy when you saw her genuine excitement. After a plethora of "thank you's" and the standard aftercare spiel, you sent her on her way.

One glance at the clock told you that you had more or less five minutes before freedom. Mark, more asshole than manager, left already three hours ago to flock to the shitty dive bar he often patrons. Erik should be finishing up by now as well.

As if on cue, he came to the front desk, customer in tow.

"Brilliant work as always, Soup!" The frat boy, James or John, thumped Erik a bit too hard on the back.

"Glad you like it, J," he grinned cockily. For a brief moment, your eyes met. You shrugged quickly—you didn't know what this guy's name was either.

They chattered for a bit as you settled the payment. While writing down the invoice, you glanced at Erik's work, freshly wrapped and deeply vibrant. It was one of those cheesy tattoos, a black and white wolf howling at the moon.

Even then, it was gorgeous. The lines were all even, not a single jitter in sight. The ink was punched in deep, but not enough to cause blow-outs. The shading was impossibly smooth. Things you can't tell Erik out loud in one go unless you want his ego to hit the ceiling.

"Have a nice night," you called out as J, whoever he was, left. When the wind chimes from the door quieted, you turned to Erik, who was starting to lock up the jewelry cases.

"It was either James or John."

"James! You're a genius, Rookie. He's the one with the fucked up industrial," he stood up, motioning towards the top of his left ear. "Took the bar out too soon and came to me all bloody and shit."

You screwed your face up in disgust, remembering how you had to clean up blood drops on one of the leather chairs. "Wanna close up?"

Erik hummed in agreement. "Yeah. Wanna hang out at the Target parking lot after?"

"I told you, I don't smoke," you grimaced. He laughed, deep, rich, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flutter.

"I'm not asking you to smoke. I'm asking you to hang out." He walked closer to you just as you finished emptying the cash register. Licking his lips, his gaze darted to your mouth, then back to your eyes. He leaned into your ear, whispering, "Unless you want to do other things?"

Your breath hitched. Gritting your teeth, you stood your ground. Erik liked playing this game, seeing how many ways he could fluster you out of nowhere. It rarely led to anything more than making out at the back or heavy petting, but if given the chance, you'd fucking take it. Another thing you won't tell him out loud.

Screaming internally, you pressed your palm against his chest before shoving him back. He let himself be pushed, laughing lightly at you. "Just clean the stupid chairs, Erik."

"Roger that!"

After only three months of working together, you and Erik meshed surprisingly fast. You had an unspoken routine, you on the register and him on sanitation. You would organize the display while he unpacked newly ordered jewelry. It was intimate in its own way, minus your friends-with-benefits situation.

It largely helped that you had the same music taste and affinity for horror movies. Erik's playlists always made your day less boring, especially when it was during the dead hours and the both of you could sing loudly in the shop. To think that you were a bit intimidated the first time you saw him—mainly because of the lack of light behind his eyes.

You tidied up the holding area, shutting the blinds before heading to the back to check up on Erik. He was bent over your studio area, just having finished wiping down your chair and tray. You grinned to yourself, silently shuffling up to him. Before he could fully stand, you reared your arm back and smacked his ass.

He jolted, turning towards you with narrowed eyes. "HR is going to hear about this."

"Oh fuck off, Soup," you rolled your eyes, smirking at him. Dramatically, he dropped his jaw, catching your right arm and using it to pull you closer.

"I hope you know you're getting suspended for that." His voice dipped dangerously low. He held you in place by the waistband of your jeans, the rag and alcohol abandoned on the floor. "That's, what? Harrassment and slander? Gotta keep that mouth under control."

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"

His eyes glinted, the blue of his irises already eaten by dark, blown-out pupils. His hands traveled up your torso, lifting the fabric of your shirt lightly, before settling to cup your jaw. You pressed your body against him, meeting the crash of his lips halfway.

The kissing was heated, messy. His tongue parted your lips, colliding with yours. You clung to him, one hand on his nape, the other lightly digging into his chest. Your nails left a red trail on his stomach as you reached down, grasping his belt buckle. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his teeth nip your bottom lip. He pulled away, lips red and glistening.

"On the ground for me, Rookie."

Wordlessly, you smirked at him, making a show of slowly kneeling down. He held your gaze, head already clouded with desire.

"Don't you want to make yourself comfortable?" You nodded towards the chair. You worked his belt open, letting it flop down as you unhooked the button of his jeans. In one go, you tugged down his pants and boxers.

"I just wiped that," he pouted. If it weren't for the current situation, you would have laughed at his childishness. But he already had a fist around his cock, sighing as he squeezed himself. His cock was deliciously thick, curving upwards. Pre-cum was starting to bead at on the swell of his red tip.

He brought the tip to your lips, the metal ball shining invitingly under the red light. "Give the little prince a little kiss, yeah?"

You widened your eyes, wearing faux-innocence well on your face. You pressed your lips to his tip, slowly opening them just enough for your tongue to lap at his slit. He hissed, running a hand through your hair before grabbing a handful at the scalp.

You continued giving open-mouthed kisses, kitten-licking his head to make him squirm. Giving attention to his shaft, your tongue traced the veins wrapping around his cock, making him slick with your saliva. He grunted above you, breathing starting to get heavy.

"I'm gonna wash your mouth out now," he rasped. He held his cock, slapping it twice against your cheek. "Open up for me, Rookie."

Obediently, you parted your lips, lining up with the head of his cock. Erik didn't even give you time to brace yourself, thrusting into you until he hit the back of your throat, You gagged around his cock, drawing out a long groan from him. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, but you focused on your breathing, forcing your gag reflex back.

Erik pulled out until only the head of his cock was in your mouth, before heating himself back into your warmth. Your nose nestled in the dark curls around his base, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock. He stayed there, pressing your head firmly against him. You clawed at his thighs until he relented, fully taking his cock out.

A string of saliva connected his tip to your lips. Globs of saliva tumbled down your lips as he pulled away from you, rolling down your chin and spattering the front of your shirt.

"Making a mess just after I cleaned up," he tutted condescendingly. He pressed his cock against your cheek, grinding on the skin. It was filthy, the way he was almost wiping your saliva on you.

"Yeah? You did such a shitty job, I didn't even notice." His brows furrowed at your boldness. He gripped your cheeks roughly, pressing down until your jaw fell open. You stuck your tongue out invitingly, cushioning his cock as he entered you again.

"I like you so much better right now," he grinned. Planting his feet on the ground, he started to fuck your throat, His hands held you by the hair in place. He tilted your head up slightly, enough for him to look you in the eyes as you knelt pathetically under him, your fingers burrowing into the denim of his jeans.

"You look so fucking good like this, So beautiful when you have your mouth stuffed with cock," he grunted. He was losing himself in the pleasure from your mouth, your throat tight and warm, spasming each time he bottomed out. "You should have your lips wrapped around me more. My little stress-reliever. Letting me use you on the floor. Fuck, what a slut."

You moaned around him, making him shiver from the vibrations. Hollowing your cheeks, you swallowed, coaxing his orgasm out. Above you, Erik was starting to unravel. All of the tension pent-up throughout the day left him as he met your blow-out pupils.

You were the perfect picture of sin. Puppy dog-eyed, drool coating your red lips. Bringing your hands to the top of his thighs, you dug your nails into his soft flesh, raking them downwards.

This was the last push for Erik's undoing. He buried himself to the hilt in your warm throat. Throwing his head back, a loud moan tore itself from him. You hurriedly swallowed, trying your best not to waste any of his load. He ground into you, fully emptying himself until his knees started to buckle.

His cock sat heavy on your tongue as you waited for him to catch his breath. You hummed, soothingly rubbing his thighs until he came down from his high. Slowly, he pulled out, groaning as he saw the aftermath of spit and tears on your face.

You licked your lips before opening your mouth, flaunting how you didn't spill a single drop. He sighed, both in contentment and pride.

"Let me get you off," he murmured into your shoulder after he helped you back on your feet.

You shook your head. "S'okay. I wanted to make you feel good."

"You sure? Let me at least treat you to a slurpee or something."

You chuckled, wincing slightly at the soreness of your throat. Erik noticed your discomfort, swiping a pack of tissues from your tray table and starting to wipe the fluids off your face. "Don't talk for now. I'll give this spot one last run through with a mop, then we're blowing this pop-stand."

He paused for a moment, catching the stupid grin on your face. You immediately thought of the same thing. He sighed. "And yes, we're gonna blow it like how you blew me. Comedy gold as always, Rookie."

Erik led you to the bathroom, insisting on washing your face for you. You leaned over the sink, letting him scrub your cheeks gently.

"Maybe I could take a sick leave," you croaked once he was done wiping you off with a towel.

He snorted, flicking off the lights in the studio. "And leave me all alone? Also, voice arrest, remember."

"Why, you gonna miss me?" You ignored the way he rolled his eyes. You took one last look around the shop, double-checking that everything was locked and turned off. Erik held the back door open for you as you stepped out.

"Sure thing." He turned around, pausing from locking the door so he could flick your forehead lightly. "Wouldn't have anyone else to annoy."

"Oh fuck you, Soup."

"My offer still stands," he winked at you. "Let's do a snack run while you make up your mind."

[captain-huggy-bear]

I saw video about asking a hockey team of players to borrow money, had me thinking about how quick Clay would just give you some. Like 0 hesitation, how much do you want? Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open until 21st April 2025 when I will be closing them for a bit. Writing Masterlist

It was a stupid little tiktok trend that you saw of people asking hockey players if they could borrow some money but it made you want to test it on Clay. Your relationship with Clayton was...complicated? Not quite in a relationship but exclusively seeing each other to the point he couldn't stand another man approaching you in a bar and you got possessive if a fan got too touchy. It was inevitable that it would lead somewhere more, but for now the complicated relationship status felt like the perfect challenge for the trend.

You broach the subject after you stayed the night over at his, you're curled up at the kitchen table a plate of eggs and bacon (the only thing he can cook correctly) sat in front of you. Clay's already dressed, finishing his food off before he has to go to practice. There's a sort trust there, that he knows you'll lock the place up after he's gone, that he's happy to leave you here with Lucky even though you're not yet his girlfriend.

"Can I borrow some money?" You bite your lip as you look over at him, nervous that this prank might backfire and you'll look like a gold digger. Clay doesn't even look up from his breakfast just corrects you.

"Have."

"Mm?" Your brow furrows, lips pursing as you tilt your head in confusion. Clay looks up at you finally from beneath his lashes, a few strands of his hair falling across his face in a way that make him look rugged, like he's stepped out of an action movie.

"You can have some money, you're not giving it back, here..." Clay reaches into his pocket for his wallet, unfolds it with steady hands before shoving 2 $100 bills into your hand. Your mouth dropping as you hold the bills gingerly as if you're scared of them.

"Clay, I was joking..." You try to shove the money back at him, eyes wide because that's...that's a lot of money to just randomly give someone on an average Wednesday morning.

"No, take it." His hand closes over yours until the bills are trapped in your palm, the smile he gives you tells you he's entertaining your attempt at refusal but won't actually let you walk away without the money.

"Clayyyy..."

"If you don't take my money I'm going to be offended, baby. Take the money." The smile he gives you shows his teeth, tongue pressing behind his top canines in amusement, that dimple appearing on his right cheek.

"You can't just give random women $200..."

"You're not a random woman."

"I'm not your girlfriend either." You're not trying to complain just...trying to make him understand that you can't just give people you're not in a relationship money because they ask for it...that's insane.

"I want you to be." Clay's thumb strokes your inner wrist, eyes softening as he looks at you like you're the best thing he's seen in a while. It dumbfounds you a little, blinking as if that will spur your brain to catch up with what's going on.

"What...?"

"I want you to be my girlfriend, I've just been waiting for the right moment to ask." His cheeks have started to flush red, embarrassed smile causing his cheeks to scrunch as he looks away from you for a moment.

There's a silence in which you process it all...that the thing you've been waiting so long for is happening because you've wanted him to ask since the third date. You've been patient wanting to give him space, scared that you might freak him out if you push too hard.

"Ask me..."

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah...yeah, I'd love to be your girlfriend."

The smile Clay gives you is so vibrant that you're certain it could power all the electrics on the planet. Wide, toothy, cheeks smushing upwards until his eyes crinkle and infectious. Infectious to the point your grin is equally as big, equally as goofy because he's your boyfriend...Clayton Keller is finally your boyfriend and apparently he's willing to give you $200 without question. Insanity.

[sturnioz]

it doesn't matter if exgf!reader is on a date, toxicex!matt will always be there to crash it.

being on your first date in a long while makes you feel nervous.

you're trying your best to pay attention—to listen intently, to engage in conversation, to nod along and smile when it's appropriate—but your hands keep clamming up and your stomach swirls uncomfortably, leaving you a fidgeting mess in your seat.

you really like this guy, you do. he's sweet and caring, he's interested in getting to know you, he's even bought you flowers. in fairness, they weren't your favourite, but it's the thought that counts.

but you feel awful every time when the guy looks down at his plate to scoop up some food on his fork, your gaze flits over his shoulder, seeing matt sit at the bar, his eyes locked on you—a smirk on his lips and a drink in hand.

he arrived five minutes after you and your date settled down at your table, and he hasn't looked away from you since. he's been watching you, rolling his eyes and shaking his head with a smile whenever your date reaches over to caress your hand mid conversation or thumb at the corner of your lips after you've eaten, careful not to ruin your lipstick.

you feel foolish for thinking that would be it, just some staring and snide facial expressions, but no. that'll never be just it.

you continue to try and focus on your date, on his warm smile and kind eyes, but the weight off matt's presence becomes suffocating, and you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for just the right moment to strike.

and then, it happens.

as your date leans forward, telling you something about his family life, you hear the scrape of a barstool against the floor, and your stomach drops—already smelling the familiar scent of matt's cologne.

"well... didn't think i'd be seein' you here, angel."

his voice cuts through the air, mocking, with just the subtle hint of laughter bubbling beneath the surface. you freeze, and your date blinks, caught off guard, his smile faltering as he glances up at matt now standing at the edge of your table.

you don't need to look at matt to know what he's doing—that smug grin that makes goosebumps rise to your skin, the way he oh so casually leans an arm on the back of your chair, invading your space like he owns it... like he owns you.

"who's this...?" you date asks politely, though his confusion is clear.

matt doesn't answer right away, in fact, he seems to be waiting for you to answer for him—to spill the truth on your relationship, but you can't.

"i'm matt," he decides to extend a hand out, but the gesture feels more like a taunt than an introduction. "i'm a, uh, close friend of hers."

your chest tightens, and you feel the warmth rise to your cheeks. you wish, more than anything, to snap out of the paralysis gripping you—to say something—but the words stick in your throat like glue.

matt doesn't miss a beat as he shifts his attention to you though, gripping the back of your chair. "right, angel?"

your date frowns, his eyes darting to you for clarification, but matt doesn't give you a chance to find your voice.

"what? haven't told him about me?" matt pushes, clicking his tongue against his teeth with a shake of his head. "c'mon... tell him all the fun stuff, angel. tell him how well i know you."

your date looks just as uncomfortable as you do now, his jaw tightening as he glances between you and matt. "how exactly do you two know each other?"

matt lets out a low laugh, shaking his head again as if the question itself amuses him. "oh, we go waaay back, don't we?" his voice dips lower, the faux affection in his tone making you tense up. "y'know i saw her last weekend? yeah.. only saw her from behind, though. had her face down in her b—"

your stomach churns as you shoot up from your chair, the legs scraping against the flooring as you grab matt's arm, too humiliated to give your date an apologetic look as you scurry toward the exit with matt in tow, dragging him like your life depended on it.

the cool night air stings your cheeks as you shove the restaurant door open, refusing to meet the eyes of other diners as they stare at you both in surprise and curiosity. your heart pounds in your chest, your breaths coming out in short pants as you finally reach the parking lot.

"a-are you—why would you—how—" your voice cracks as fresh tears blur your vision, releasing his arm to push him back with a shaky shove. "wha-what the hell is wrong with you? can't you just.. just leave me alone?"

matt just stands there, brushing off his sleeve as if your outburst is nothing more than an inconvenience. his smirk is still there, amused, like he's finding this situation hilarious.

"leave you alone?" he repeats, his tone laced with mock hurt. "c'mon, angel... don't act like that..."

your shake your head, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. "you don't get to do this. you can't keep doing this, you can't—"

matt steps closer, his hands on your face, cupping your cheeks with a gentleness that feels all so wrong. his thumbs brush away your tears, and despite your humiliation and anger, your melt under his touch—like you always do.

"shhh," he coos softly, soothing in a way that makes your stomach twist. "look so fuckin' pretty when you cry..."

"matt—"

"you're too sensitive, y'know?" he cuts you off, his grip tightening on your chin to force your head up to meet his gaze. "i was just lettin' your date know the truth, yeah? lettin' him know he can't play with what's mine."

"m'not yours," you manage to choke out, though your voice is barely above a whisper.

matt's smile widens, and he lets out a low chuckle, scrunching his nose up like you've just said something adorable. "oh, angel... you can tell yourself that all you want, but we know s'not true. you're mine. you've always been mine, and no one is gonna change that."

you feel a fresh wave of tears spilling over, but matt doesn't let go. he strokes your cheeks, his touch almost tender as he shushes you again.

"s'okay, baby," he whispers, bringing you into his chest, patting your hair condescendingly. "i know you think you're mad at me, but in reality, you're just mad because y'know i'm right. that guy back there? your date? he doesn't get you like i do, yeah? doesn't even know how to handle you."

you shake your head again, but it's weak—half-hearted. you despise how his words wrap around you so easily, how they dig into your weak points he knows so abundantly well.

"you.. you don't know anything," you sniffle, though even you don't believe it.

matt pulls back from the hug, tilting his head, studying you. "i know everything about you, and you know it too. s'why you dragged me out here, right? 'cos no matter how much you constantly tell yourself that you've moved on, you'll always come back to me."

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you can't breathe. you want to scream at him, to tell him he's so wrong, but the words won't come out—not when there's a part of you that fully believes his words. instead, you just stand there, trembling in his grasp as he pulls you back in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"there's my girl," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction. "m'gonna take you home, hm? with me. exactly what you need. i got you, angel. i got you."

divider credits. @/sisterlucifergraphics

© STURNIOZ

[archangeldyke-all]

I feel this is somewhat fitting for today,

So reader comforting sev after silco died (I feel she is the most sad out of everyone because she always saw him as some sort of father figure ngl and he sorta neglected her or never validated her)

-🫖

:( my poor baby. he's like her fucked up bestie/boss/dad

men and minors dni

they send lock or deckard to tell you if sevika's gonna be late getting home.

thieram if she's drunk and moping at the bar.

but ran only ever comes when something bad's happened.

and jinx has never accompanied any of silco's goons on one of these errands.

you assume the worst. your heart drops to your ass at the sight of ran and jinx on your doorstep, both looking haggard and scared.

jinx reaches out and grabs your arm before you can start weeping, shaking you a bit. "relax, would ya? it's not her, she's fine she's just..."

you gulp, looking to ran. they sigh. "silco's dead. she's... just sitting in his office... drinking."

jinx breaks into tears on the walk to the last drop, disappearing in an alleyway for the night. ran is solemn as they lead you to the bar.

"w-what happened?"

"dunno. jinx won't say. think she mighta killed him." ran shrugs. "think she did something bad in piltover too. shit's stirring and silco's dead and sevika's supposed to take over if this happens but--"

"take a breath." you say, patting your friend's back. "'s okay. she's gonna be fine."

this isn't true. but you know your wife wouldn't want you telling her troops any different. sevika's going to wake up sobbing for years to come, just another thing on the long list of losses that haunt her. you'll be there, though, like you are now-- to hold her and let her cry in your chest-- to remind her that she's got you. and you've got her.

she's slumped asleep on the couch when you enter silco's office. ran leaves you alone, closing the door behind themselves as the leave.

"sev." you whisper, gently nudging your wife. she snaps awake, taking a moment to drunkenly register her surroundings and your face, before she bursts into silent tears, leaning forward to bury herself against you. "fuck, honey." you coo, wrapping her up into a hug. "i'm so fuckin' sorry."

"i can't believe he fucking died. he's fucking invincible!" she cries. your heart shatters, and you kiss her scalp.

"sevika, baby. you know he isn't."

"but-- it's my fucking job to make him invincible and--"

"sev." you pull her face away from your chest, wiping up her tears and forcing her to look you in the eye. "it's your job to take over if shit goes south. that's your job. silco was not a god-- he was a man. and there is nothing you coulda done to save him, baby."

"i..." she trails off. you frown, already knowing what she was going to say, your heart breaking.

"you're gonna miss him."

she nods. "i fuckin' hate him, too." she says.

you chuckle, nodding. "i know, baby. that's the power of love."

sevika huffs and leans against you again. "how long do i have before shit gets real bad out there?"

"long enough to come home and get a proper sleep in." you say, dragging her toward the door.

sevika doesn't resist, letting you take her home. letting you care for her.

you kiss her before you leave the office, sweet and chaste but for long enough that you melt together. "thank you." you sigh.

"for what?"

"letting me take care of you before your big debut... sevika... the lioness of the lanes." you tease. sevika snorts at the nickname and rolls her eyes, and your heart flutters in your chest at the sound.

hi if u know who came up with the lioness of the lanes nickname pls lemme know so i can credit them!

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[tiyawnyana]

Could we get Vander x male reader with him using toys on them, please?

Thank you for the submission!!!!

A/N: thanks for your patience! Had fun writing this, definitely a challenge since I haven't written too much m x m fics but a good challenge :))

Characters: Young!Vander x Male Reader

Warnings: smut, slight voyeurism, handjob, use of toy (dildo), praise

MINORS DNI

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Quiet Time

Nighttime in Zaun was never really quiet.

There were parties at bars, people fighting in the streets.

It's a typical night as usual, The Last Drop slowly becoming more popular, the usual Zaunites vacating the building.

Soon enough, the night begins to end. People start to leave, heading home to their families or off to other bars that are open all night.

Vander locks the doors after ensuring the place is empty.

He was sure you were already asleep, carefully opening the door, the slight creek making him scrunch his brows in frustration before he realizes you're awake.

Low, soft moans can be heard in the room, echoing out into the small hallway as he approaches the door to the separate bedroom.

His gaze widens as he peeks through the door, spotting you fisting at your weeping cock and thrusting two fingers into your hole.

He can't help but watch for a moment, almost entranced. You're desperate, your face is scrunching up as you attempt to remain quiet but can't seem to hold in the tumbling moans and whimpers.

The door creeks open as he steps in and you jolt, eyes shooting open.

"Don't stop on my account," he speaks with a smirk, toeing off his boots and unbuckling his belt to toss it on the small dresser.

"Vander-" you try to speak but embarrassment holds your tongue hostage.

"Hey, easy there," he slides into the bed, scooting closer until he hovers above you,"Not mad, just wish I could've helped ya, is all," then leans down to kiss you earnestly.

He's pulling back, eyeing you over with a coy smile.

"Sorry- I.. you've been so busy with the bar and-"

"I know, handsome," he strokes over your chest,"I'm sorry we haven't had much us time."

You frown slightly before jolting with a punched out moan when he wraps his other hand around your cock, giving it a few rough jerks before his gaze catches on the phallic object beside you.

He doesn't say anything, only bringing his gaze up to yours with an uplifted brow.

Your cheeks warm, embarrassment obvious on your face as you mumble sheepishly,"Bought it down at Babettes.."

"Oh, did you now?" He smirks down at you, lifting it before huffing out a laugh,"This isn't close to my size."

You huff with an annoyed scowl,"I know- shut up!"

He laughs at that, squeezing your hip fondly before situating himself between your legs as he moves them apart.

"Missed me, did ya?" He teases.

"Are you gonna fuck me-" you snark,"Or do i have to do it myself?"

Her quirks a brow again, coy smirk on his lips,"I'm almost tempted to make you."

But he shrugs, instead finding the lube placed beside you on the bed.

Vander carefully lubes up the phallic object before scooting closer on the bed as he gazes down at your twitching cock.

"Eager, aye?" He muses fondly.

You narrow your gaze, face warm,"Just- c'mon, Vander-"

"I don't think you're in the position to be making demands," he chastises, a disapproving look on his face.

You almost want to be snarky, give attitude and fight back- but it's been too long since you've felt his hands on you.

"'M sorry, Vander," you murmur,"Just needy-"

"I know, handsome," he huffs a laugh then carefully prods the tip of the toy to your entrance,"Just be good for me, will ya?"

You're nodding profusely, body automatically tensing as the tip presses in, the pressure slightly overwhelming but his warm hand on your thigh is a comfort.

"Easy, easy there," he coos, talking you through it until his hand grazes your behind, the toy bottoming out.

You shudder, shiver and pant softly. His hand moves from your thigh, trailing up your stomach to pet over your pecks softly.

"You're doin' good," he praises, smirking slightly at the shiver that visually rolls down your spine at his words.

He lets you adjust for a few painstaking moments, taking delight in the way your stomach and ribs lifts with your erratic breathing, the way your cock twitches, a drop of cum dribbling onto your pelvis.

Vander then pulls out carefully, tugging the toy back before pressing in just as careful.

"Unnn-" you tilt your head back, panting harder as the toy brushes that spot inside, sending electric shocks of pleasure up your spine.

His hand slowly trails back down to your stomach, thumb stroking the quivering skin with a coy smile before drifting further until it wraps around the base of your cock.

You choke on a moan, back arching slightly as he thrusts the toy in and out, picking up slight speed and his hand tightens before gently stroking up, thumbing at the tip.

"Good boy," he murmurs, speeding up his grip around you along with the base of the toy.

He just watches you- the blush in your cheeks, the redness of your lips as you bite at them, the clenching of your fists in the sheets as your hips jerk with his movements.

He speeds up his hands.

"Van-Vander-!" You moan as his large hand tightens around your cock, jerking it harder.

"Please-"

"Please, what?" He says smoothly, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You manage to narrow your eyes at him before your head tilts back with a low moan.

"Please- please, let me cum-"

"Atta boy," he praises. Another shiver rolls down your spine at that.

He keeps the pace, thrusting the toy harder and quirking it up, fist jerking around your cock and thumbing at the weeping tip.

Your back arches, moans ripping from your throat.

"C'mon," he speaks smoothly,"You can cum, now."

Your hips roll into his fist then back onto the toy as you cum, white blinding your vision as you spill across your stomach.

You heave for breath as you feel him pull the toy from your body and his fist leave your length for a brief moment.

Vander gets up from the bed, unbuttoning his pants and boxer briefs before tugging off his shirt.

You're slumped against the sheets, a flush to your cheeks as you flutter your eyes open with a surprise when he's lifting your hips to lay a pillow beneath them before you feel his length press up against your backside.

You give him a bewildered look, watching as he lubes himself up.

"You didn't think we were done, did you?"

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: thanks again for the submission! This one feels a little short but nonetheless still fun to write :)

Steadily working on some now and the rest of this week :)) send some more, I've got no plans for Christmas

[squinch-depraved]

ripping at the bars of my enclosure... i need more college au 😭 i am begginggg plss! ily 🩷🫶

here's this idk i had a lot of fun with it i can write a continuation of this specific part if y'all want,,,

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

not proofread/betaread

CW: a lil dubcon-y, facefucking

it's a few days later; your roommate is out of the apartment for the weekend

you're hanging out with all three of the boys in your bedroom, lounging on your throne of stuffed animals and laughing as they all banter

a movie that nobody is paying attention to is wrapping up on your tv, and the sequel is already queued up to play as soon as it ends

"you guys are incredibly annoying," you sigh jokingly, pulling out your phone to distract yourself

"you love us," ted quips back from his spot on the floor, books spread out in front of him

"i didn't think hanging out with all three of you would be this boring."

the boys glance at each other as they process your words, schlatt flipping his textbook closed and scooting to lay next to you

ted does the same, lying on your other side and tossing one arm around you to hold you close

schlatt sets his jaw and rolls his eyes, copying you and whipping out his phone

poor charlie is left sitting at your desk, awkwardly contemplating where he can sit in order to join the fun

noticing his internal struggle, you pat your legs, stretched out in front of you, and invite him to position himself between your thighs so he can still see the film

"why does he get to sit there?" ted complains, sitting up slightly

"because he's the favorite," schlatt spits out bitterly

"oh my god, would you guys chill out? i'll send you all home if you can't be nice. we talked about this."

face warm and unable to make eye contact, charlie comes to lay between your legs, facing away from you

he smiles to himself when you start playing with his hair, enjoying you combing through his locks and wishing he was alone with you

ted is the one that starts it all, snaking his hand under your hoodie on the side opposite him

the movement draws schlatt's attention, and he scowls once he realizes what his friend is doing

he's quick to drop his phone and mimic ted, their arms pressed up against each other as they lay wrapped around your torso

you're all so close that everyone is touching each other in at least some way, and the atmosphere is charged with tension and desire

"you're so warm," ted mumbles, burying his face into your neck

"sorry. it's kinda hot in here with three guys on me," you admit

"no, it's nice." his voice is muffled, but happy

"you should take off your hoodie if you're getting too hot," schlatt mutters absentmindedly

grinning, you wiggle out of their grip and peel off the sweatshirt, leaving you in just your underwear

"oh, fuck. i'm sorry, i didn't know you weren't wearing anything under it," schlatt apologizes, not meaning any of it

he's happy as long as he gets to see tits

charlie turns around to look at you from between your legs and lets out a strangled moan, face going red again as he whips his head back around so he can't see you

"dude, are you okay?" ted asks, chuckling

"he always gets nervous around me, man, he's fine," you tease in return, ruffling his hair

"how can he fuck you right if he gets nervous?"

schlatt raises one eyebrow as he asks the question, smirking cruelly

"true. maybe we should teach him what to do?" ted posits, sitting up and taking one of your breasts in his hand

"i can't believe i thought it would be a while before you guys were good to hang out like this with each other. i feel like you secretly wanted this, or some shit. you're all so eager."

"shut up," schlatt speaks gruffly, fondling the half of your chest ted isn't touching

"charlie, d'you wanna fuck?" you ask him playfully

he stammers a bunch before ted cuts him off

"of course he does. sit up so you can watch us, we'll show you how to make them feel good."

following his friend's orders, charlie scoots to the edge of the bed and sits with his knees held close to his chest, anxiously watching as the other two exchange knowing glances

schlatt presses the first kiss to your neck, ted following soon after

"see how they're squirming under us like this?" the tallest of them asks

"that's what you want. schlatt, rock paper scissors for who gets to eat them out?"

"hey-" you start

"sure. whoever loses takes their chest?"

ted nods and the two duke it out, schlatt laughing maniacally when he wins

"okay, look, charlie," he speaks, tearing off your panties and spreading you open with two fingers

you gasp at the cool air hitting your cunt and shiver, instinctively going to cross your legs and cover up

but schlatt just looks at you, amazed by your stupidity, and forces your legs apart again

"you think you can pull that shit when there's three of us and one of you?" he scoffs

you think for only a moment how much the dynamics have shifted between you since this all started, not letting yourself delve into the fact that you would never have been this pliant for anyone before you met this goofy little trio

"sorry," you mumble once you shake off the thought

"go ahead."

schlatt nods, as if to say, damn right, and spreads your folds apart again

"c'mere, man, sit closer so you can see what he does with his tongue," ted says to charlie as he scoots over

charlie nods and inches closer, leaning down so he can watch schlatt tease your clit with his tongue

meanwhile, ted sucks and bites at your chest, leaving marks littered all over

you're moaning, and so turned on you're shaking

charlie notices first

"hey, y'okay?" he asks, turning to look at you as he softly caresses your thigh

he sounds so loving, it makes you wish he was doing more

"y-yeah, charlie, i'm good. c'mere, come kiss me."

schlatt scoffs against your core as his friend shuffles over and leans down to kiss you softly

it starts out loving, but you end up gripping onto him, tangling your fingers in his hair and moaning into his mouth as both other men pick up their motions

ted is leaving even darker marks and schlatt is furiously eating you out

but you're moaning a lot, and ted notices, pulling away from your torso to flick schlatt in the head

who in turn groans against you and pulls away, your juices still on his chin until he wipes his face on his hoodie sleeve

charlie retracts from the kiss to see what's happening, and you try not to laugh at the absurdity of your current situation

"dude, we were supposed to teach him, you're gonna make her cum before he gets to learn!!"

dazed, you pat charlie's arm and gesture between your legs

"go, you try," you mumble, effectively forcing schlatt out

which makes him pissed

so pissed he comes to bite at your neck, marking anywhere ted hadn't

it's very easy to tell who left which mark

ted's bruises look almost like watercolor, like a romanticized version of schlatt's, whose are dark, harsh, and splotchy

while schlatt nips at your flesh, ted takes the opportunity to come up and kiss you, passionately sliding his tongue in your mouth

he groans when you grip him tightly as charlie presses a gentle kiss to your clit

compared to schlatt's treatment of it earlier, this gesture feels so intimate and warm

charlie starts exploring with his tongue, moaning softly every now and then, which makes you whimper into ted's mouth

you feel the oldest grin against you when you make the noise, and he presses one final soft kiss to your lips before pulling away and rising to his knees

your eyes widen when you see him start reaching to undo his pants

"hey!"

schlatt glares at him, rising to his height

"the fuck d'you think you're doing?"

charlie looks up at you, lost in desire but unsure if he should stop, and you gesture for him to keep going

"i'm getting my dick out. why, where do you keep yours?" ted quips

schlatt fumes silently for a moment, remembering that you weren't only his, and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose

"fine, we can take turns."

"dude..."

ted looks down at you to see if you're okay, and when you just shrug, he sighs and grins before resuming undoing his pants

schlatt races to get his off faster, but ted beats him just barely

they sidle up on either side of you, and you sit up slightly, giving charlie time to adjust and go back to burying his face between your legs

shooting both of them a nervous glance as they tower over you, you shakily take them each in either hand, awkwardly trying to figure out the easiest way to get them both off at the same time

they're both groaning and petting you reassuringly, letting you take your time getting the hang of things

after a bit, you establish a good rhythm, and ted's the first to pull away to use your mouth

"why do you get to go first?" schlatt asks bitterly

"because you won rock, paper, scissors. shut up."

he smiles down at you as he teases his tip against your lips

you giggle and kiss it, savoring the noises he lets out as you kitten lick the tip, still pumping schlatt in your other hand

when you take the full tip in your mouth, he groans and pets your hair, gripping onto it slightly

bobbing your head up and down on his length finally, you run your tongue over every inch of it, desperate to milk all the whorish moans you could out of him

"fuck, so good for me," he pants, holding your head even tighter and beginning to fuck your throat

schlatt opens his mouth to complain, but ted just grabs him and kisses him to shut him up, leaving the room in a stunned silence

except for charlie

poor baby is humping the mattress, face covered in your slick, whimpering softly

everyone turns to look at him for a moment before ted and schlatt turn back to each other

something unspoken has now been broken, and the dynamic is irreparably different after ted's little stunt

but... it's not bad

they seem a bit lighter?

at least, that's what you're thinking right before ted begins fucking your throat harder and harder and then grabs and pulls at your hair as he releases

he pants, chest heaving, before pulling out of your mouth and collapsing next to you on the bed

schlatt is quick to replace him, not giving you more than ten seconds to catch your breath before he shoves his cock into your mouth

you're a mess at this point, moaning constantly between the stimulation from charlie and being used like this

luckily, he's already close to cumming thanks to how you pumped him in your hand while sucking off ted

and the kiss is still fresh in his mind, a new sense of pleasure he didn't know was available to him rumbling deep in his gut as he forcefully facefucks you

tears streaming down your eyes, you're unable to let charlie know you're cumming, so he just keeps eating you, overstimulating you to hell until schlatt finally spills down your throat and you can choke out a weak, "stop!!"

the three look at each other as they catch their breath, contemplating what to do now

charlie's chest is heaving as he tries to steady himself, schlatt's dizzy and has to get water, and ted goes back to staring at the ceiling

"anyone wanna go again...?"

you ask with a tired grin, somehow still desperate for more

they all exchange a look before groaning and laughing, ted and charlie dueling it out in rock, paper, scissors as schlatt comes around to your other side and lays his head on your shoulder

[nahoney22]

Oooo, I'm excited for your celebration!!! Congratulations!

Clone: Commander Wolffe

List: NSFW 🔞

Prompts: D17 with S20

Proof of age: I saw Jedi in the theater when it released in 1983. The Rancor will always be my fave creature in the SW universe.

Congrats again! Can't wait to see what you come up with!!

@dreamie411

Make Up Your Mind*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Wolffe X Female!Reader

word count: 3k

Prompts:

• “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that other guys name.”

• “Stars, you're so much better than the last person I was with."

When Wolffe finally had enough of letting you slip into hands that weren’t his own, he makes sure to remind you who you really belong to.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only, explicit sexual content and language, mutual pining, minor alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is implied to have done hook-ups before, rough kissing, nudity, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Wolffe, creampie, confessions of feelings, friends to lovers, tender aftercare.

Authors Note: Sorry for the wait @dreamie411, hope this is okay. 🩵

As you stand behind the bar at 79’s, wiping down the surface, you hear a gravelly voice that you recognise all too well. One would assume it was any of the Clones, but there was something different about the Commander that you just could tell the difference with.

You glance up, locking eyes with the man who has spent far too much time lingering around this bar, and a smirk tugs at your lips. Commander Wolffe is eyeing you with the same intensity he always does, though there’s something unmistakably different in the way he’s watching you now.

“What did you get up to last night?” he asks, voice low but edged with curiosity—or maybe something more.

You raise an eyebrow, already knowing that he’s fully aware of what you were up to. After all, he’d spent the better part of the night silently fuming as you entertained the advances of a flirtatious patron, someone who might’ve turned into a one-night fling if the mood had struck you. You’ve always been casual about these things—no strings attached, just a bit of fun. But judging by Wolffe’s barely-concealed irritation, it’s clear he wasn’t thrilled watching you entertain someone else.

“Just this… and that,” you answer with a cheeky grin, moving away briefly to serve a trooper from the 212th. When you return, Wolffe is still leaning against the bar, his eyes following your every move. You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. “Why do you ask?”

He swirls the ice in his empty glass, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim strobe lights. “Can’t a man be curious?”

Your gaze sharpens with mischief. “Depends. Not many men are curious about my sex life unless it’s for a reason.”

His jaw clenches ever so slightly, and you relish the way your words get under his skin. There’s a charge in the air between you, a tension that neither of you has been willing to break. “Care for a refill?” you ask, the words slipping out smoothly.

Before he can respond, you reach for his glass, brushing your fingers against his just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin. It’s a fleeting touch, but it sends a ripple through you that’s hard to ignore.

Admitted, you have thought about the idea of being with Wolffe before—how could you not? He’s rugged, disciplined, and there’s an undeniable magnetism in his reserved demeanor. And utterly sexy.

Yet, despite his clear jealousy, he’s never made a move. Maybe it’s the restraint that comes with his rank or the weight of his responsibilities, but it leaves you wondering if it’s just that what holds him back.

You pour him his usual drink, sliding it back across the bar before he can even reach for his credits. As he starts to pay, you place your hand over his, stopping him. “It’s on me, Commander,” you say with a wink.

Wolffe’s voice drops a notch, almost a murmur. “I want to give you something. You deserve it.”

You hum softly, leaning closer across the bar, teasing him with a slow, deliberate gaze that traces from his furrowed brow down to the scar that cuts across his eye, finally resting on his tense, but oh-so-inviting lips. “And what do you think I deserve, hmm?” Your voice is a playful whisper, laced with just enough suggestion to make him falter.

For a brief moment, it’s as if time stops. Wolffe’s attention is locked entirely on your lips, on the way your breath gently fans against his face. The lights of the club dance across your features, casting you in a soft, almost hypnotic glow.

He’s caught, just for a second, torn between giving in to whatever’s been simmering between you two and holding himself back. But as much as he wants to close that distance, something pulls him away.

He takes his drink, your fingers slipping away from his as he steps back, eyes soft with something left unspoken. You watch him walk away, a sigh slipping from your lips.

When 79’s finally closes for the night, the hum of laughter and music fades into silence as you finish tidying up. The bar is empty, save for the clinking of glasses you swiped from tables and the faint buzz of neon lights overhead. You wave goodnight to the other workers as they exit through the back door, their voices echoing faintly down the corridor. With a tired but satisfied sigh, you begin locking up for the night, turning toward the entrance when you feel the unmistakable weight of someone’s gaze.

A knowing smirk pulls at your lips. You don’t need to turn around to recognise who it is. “We’re closed, you know,” you call out, your voice playful.

But when you finally do turn, you find Wolffe leaning against the bar, his back to you, shoulders tense. He doesn’t move at first, the muscles in his back taut under his armor as he collects his thoughts. Something about his posture is different tonight—more guarded, more intense. You step closer, curiosity mingling. “What is it, Commander?” you ask as you lean against the counter beside him.

He straightens up slightly, turning his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his stormy gaze. “I need to talk to you.”

There’s no hint of teasing in his tone, and the seriousness in his eyes causes your flirty retort to falter. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, this on edge and your smirk fades. “What’s going on?” you ask softly, cautious.

For a moment, he just stares at you, a battle clearly raging behind those eyes. And then, with a voice rougher than you’ve ever heard, he speaks. “You drive me mad, you know that?” frustration lacing every word. “Watching you, knowing you’re letting others close when all I can think about is how badly I want you. How I’ve wanted you for longer than I care to admit.”

Your breath catches, pulse quickening at the raw intensity of his confession. Wolffe steps closer, closing the distance between you in one stride, his eyes locking onto yours with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m done holding back,” he says, voice dark and laced with that possessiveness you’ve always suspected simmered beneath. “You want to know what I’ve been thinking about? About having you, in every way. About making sure you never forget it’s me you should belong to.”

The heat in his words draws something deep and electric from within you. “Wolffe…” you whisper, but it’s lost as he crowds you against the bar, his body radiating a warmth that sends your senses into overdrive. The look in his eyes is almost feral, desire mixed with a longing that makes your head spin.

His lips are on yours in an instant, rough and claiming, as though he’s been holding back for too long and can’t bear it any longer. You respond in kind, meeting his intensity, hands grasping at his armor as he presses you into the counter. The kiss is a clash of need and frustration, every pent-up emotion pouring into the way his mouth moves against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for entry which you allow, your fingers tugging in his textured hair as his tongue dominates your own.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen from the fervour of it. “I’ll give you everything,” he whispers on your lips, voice a low rumble that reverberates through your chest.

There’s no hesitation in you now. You’ve wanted this just as much as he has, and the fact that he’s finally lost control is exhilarating. “Then show me, Commander,” you challenge.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. In a blur, he lifts you onto the bar, hands sliding possessively over your hips as he steps between your legs. The kiss that follows is deeper, more desperate, fueled by weeks—maybe months—of tension. His hands grip your waist with enough strength to leave marks, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he lets go.

Wolffe’s lips leave a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moans, “You’re mine tonight. No one else. Just me.”

Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, drawing him closer and with a swift, practiced motion, he begins unbuckling his armour, peeling it off piece by piece while his gaze stays fixed on yours, dark with intent. There’s no room for hesitation, only pure, unfiltered desire.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are on you again, yanking your workshirt over your head, fingers deftly working at your waistband before he slides your pants down and panties. The tension is almost unbearable as his calloused hands slide up your thighs, parting them with authority. His lips land on yours again, hungrier than before, biting gently on your lip as he frees himself from the confines of his uniform. When he finally pulls away, both of you are breathless, the air thick with want.

“Been thinking about this for a long time,” he mutters, voice low as his fingers slowly dip between your folds after getting your consent, finding you already slick with need. “You’re dripping for me already. You really want this, don’t you?”

You can’t help but moan softly as his fingers tease you, brushing over your clit before plunging inside. “I’ve wanted this as much as you have,” you manage to gasp, leaning back on your hands for support as his fingers begin to pump into you with a steady, ruthless rhythm.

“Good,” he groans, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. “Because you’re about to get exactly what you’ve been craving.” His thumb presses against your clit in tight circles as his fingers curl just right, hitting that spot that makes you shudder and arch against him.

You bite your lip, stifling the cry that threatens to spill out as your hips rock into his touch. The intensity of his gaze, the way he watches your every reaction—it’s overwhelming. “How’s that feel?” he taunts, voice thick with a mix of pride and lust. “Am I as good as you imagined?”

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you look down at him, voice dripping with teasing satisfaction. “Stars, you’re so much better than the last person I was with.”

That earns a deep, possessive moan from him, and his pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, harder. “You think I’m going to let you go to anyone else after this? Not a chance,” he hisses, clearly spurred on by your words. “I’m going to make sure I’m the only one you think about from now on.” His gaze is locked on your cunt as his fingers curl inside you

Your response is lost in a choked gasp as he withdraws his fingers suddenly, leaving you momentarily empty. You whine at him for stopping but your words are caught in your mouth as you watch him pull his cock free, only for him to then line himself up against you. At first he teases your sentence pearl with his aching tip, feeling you shudder against him. Then, with one fluid thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you completely.

The stretch is intense, and you can’t help the cry that escapes your lips. He feels perfect—thick and unyielding, just what you’ve been aching for. He groans, hips stuttering as he buries his face into your neck. Then he pulls back and cups your jaw with his hand, making sure every word he’s about to say sinks in; “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget that other guy’s name.”

The need between you both is primal, each thrust deep and purposeful as he claims you in the way he’s been fantasising about for far too long. His hands grip your hips with bruising force as he drives into you, the wet sound of your bodies moving together mingling with the breathless moans that spill from your lips.

“Tell me how good it is,” he commands, voice rough as his pace picks up, your legs tightening around him. “Tell me how much you like the way I fuck you.”

You don’t hold back, your voice a breathy moan. “It’s so good, Wolffe. So much better than anyone else. You’re the only one who can give it to me like this.”

That spurs him on, his movements becoming almost punishing as he growls your name, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathes against your neck, the words possessive yet laced with something deeper. “No one else is ever going to touch you like this again.”

Your body tightens around him, every ridge of his cock brushing against your walls. Pleasure builds within you until it’s impossible to hold back any longer. “Fuck,” he groans, head tipping back briefly before his eyes lock onto yours again. “You feel incredible.”

When your release finally crashes over you, it’s intense, your vision going white as your muscles clench around him, drawing a guttural moan from his throat. He doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, praising you, until he’s right there with you, thrusts growing erratic until he spills into you with a deep groan, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

For a moment, the only sounds are the heavy breathing and the faint hum of the bar’s lights. Wolffe’s hands remain firm on your hips, almost as if he’s still afraid to let go. When he finally pulls back, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes.

Before you can ask, Wolffe’s hands gently cup your face, his thumbs brushing tenderly along your cheeks. There’s a softness in his gaze now, something you’ve never seen before. His fierce determination melts away, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion. His thumbs continue to trace delicate patterns on your skin as if memorising every contour of your face. “I’ve watched you for so long; how you smile, how you laugh. How you take care of people, even when you think no one notices. You’re not just beautiful—you’re kind, too. And it drives me crazy because you deserve more than just a quick fling. You deserve someone who sees you for all that you are.”

His words hit you harder than any of the passion you’ve shared so far. Your heart stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes soften as he holds your gaze. For a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet moment. You’ve seen Wolffe as a soldier, a leader, but now, you see him as a man—a man who’s been holding back something real, something deep.

“Wolffe,” you breathe out, touched by his unexpected confession. “I—”

He doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you with a gentleness that contrasts the rough desire you shared moments before. The kiss is slow, unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of what’s blooming between you. His lips move against yours with reverence, taking his time as if savoring each moment.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness. “You’re not just someone I want in passing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you for more than just tonight.”

Your chest tightens with warmth, a rare vulnerability breaking through your usual confidence. You reach up, running your fingers through his hair, grounding him in this moment. “I’ve wanted you too, more than you know. Not just for what we have now, but for what we could be.”

He studies your face for a moment, as if committing your every feature to memory, then smiles—a small, genuine curve of his lips. “I’m done hiding how I feel,” he says quietly. “You’re mine, but I’ll also be yours, in every way that matters.”

With that, he kisses you again, this time with a perfect balance of passion and tenderness, his need still evident but tempered by something deeper, more meaningful.

It’s not long until a second round of passion ensues, this time him stripping himself completely bare as he lifts you and moves you towards one of the booths for a more comfier setting. He lays you down, crawling over the top of you as his erection firms and pushes into you once again.

“Tell me how it feels,” he moans softly in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You can’t help but smile, the words slipping out between moans. “Beautiful… perfect. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.” You whimper, the sound of his cock sliding in and out of your already dampened and filled pussy stirring your crazy.

That longing glint returns to his eyes, but this time, it’s mixed with the affection he just bared to you. “Good,” he murmurs, his pace picking up slightly, his hands never leaving your skin. “Because I’m going to make damn sure you never want anyone else.”

The rhythm between you builds again, the intensity returning as his movements grow more insistent, more determined to claim you in every way possible. But there’s a new layer to it now.

His touch was something deeper, more profound, and it’s shown in the way his lips brush against your skin, the way his hands hold you like you’re something precious. Like a porcelain doll.

As you both approach that edge again, the tension coils tight, your bodies perfectly in sync. The pleasure mounts higher and higher until it crests, a shared release that leaves you both trembling and breathless. You collapse into him, clinging to his shoulders as he holds you steady, his own breath coming out in ragged pants. “Mesh’la,” he breathes, kissing your forehead gently.

For a while, neither of you move, caught in the afterglow. But then, Wolffe gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I want you,” he says again, “No games, no hiding. I want us—for real, whatever it takes.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his face, thumb brushing over the scar near his eye. “Then we’ll make it real. But… What about your status? You’ll be reprimanded.”

“Status be damned,” he growls at the thought of the GAR taking you away from him.

You’ve crossed a line, and there’s no going back. But for once, neither of you care.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

Tags: @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 7 @eyecandyeoz z @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans s @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @lulalovez

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Chibs with a reader around the same age as Juice and they do it on Chibs’s bike at the club house thinking nobody is there but they get caught by a few of the members

Teach Me How to Ride.

Synopsis - Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Pairing - Filip 'Chibs' Telford x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. age gap.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - thank you SO much for this request, anon. it made me feral. that old man owns me and i'm not sorry about it. always open to SOA and chibs requests. <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Any weekend plans, darlin'?"

You smile at the blonde man sat on the other side of the bar you're wiping down.

"Nothing too exciting. I think I'm gonna try and get out on my bike."

His brows raise in curiosity.

"You have a bike now?"

"Yeah. Chibs is teaching me how to ride."

"I bet he is."

You roll your eyes at the snickers that come from the other guys who are dotted around the room.

"Real mature, Jax."

"Is he charging you for these lessons, or are you paying him in other ways?"

You put down your cloth and look up.

"I'll jump over this bar and beat your ass right now, Tig. Don't think I won't."

They all laugh, and you can't help but chuckle along with them. You know they mean well. They'd do anything for you, in a heartbeat.

Eventually, the sun sets, and all of the guys make their way home. You've been restocking the bar, not minding staying a little later if it means you get the job done.

You're crouched down filling the fridge when you hear a familiar Scottish accent echo though the clubhouse.

"You still here, sweetheart?"

You stand up and smile at him, grinning wider when he reciprocates.

"Still here. Trying to get my shit done."

"That's my girl. Always working ten times harder than the rest of us."

You laugh, throwing him a beer.

"You're here late. How did the run go?"

"All good, nothing to worry about," he winks.

You think back to Jax's comment earlier, and decide you've had enough of avoiding the truth. You want answers. You also just kind of want to know what he'll say.

"Why does everyone think we're fucking?"

Chibs practically chokes on his drink, taken aback by your sudden brashness.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He takes a moment to process, before a slow smile etches itself onto his face.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Just something Jax said earlier."

"Ignore that bastard. He doesn't think before he speaks."

You chuckle in agreement, finishing up your jobs for the day.

"You wan' a ride home?"

You nod gratefully, making sure to lock up before walking over to where Chibs is leaning against his bike. He's parked by the door, under the shelter, obscured from the yard. He slips a helmet onto your head, before standing in front of you to do up the buckle. His rough fingertips slide under your chin, clasping the straps in place. He swipes a thumb over your bottom lip gently, eyes never leaving your face.

"You're too good for me," he murmurs. "Pretty young thing like you."

"Everyone already thinks we're fucking anyway," you whisper, smirk on your face.

He chuckles lowly, before leaning in to capture your lips with his. He kisses you with need, unbuckling the helmet he just put on you and dropping it to the ground. He's grabbing at you - your hips, your ass, anywhere he can find. You've got your hands tangled in his hair, yanking roughly when he bites your lip.

The two of you waste no time. Chibs is shrugging his jacket off while unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down. You're fumbling with his belt, undoing his jeans with shaky hands. You're both high on adrenaline, desperate to feel the other person. He smashes his lips back to yours and you groan, reveling in the way he tastes like smoke and peppermint.

Chibs grabs your hips and walks you backwards, twirling you around so you're bent over his bike. You can't help but laugh, remembering what Jax had said.

"What?" he chuckles into your ear, hot and heavy against your back.

"Nothing," you giggle. "I'll tell you later. You gonna fuck me, old man, or just stand there?"

He growls under his breath and smacks your ass as punishment, smirking when you whine.

"You gonna ask me nicely, sweetheart?"

At this point, you're not above begging. Besides, you know it'll do wonders for his ego, and you don't entirely mind that.

"Please, Chibs," you whinge. "Waited so long for this."

"Oh, ya have?" he coos. "Better not keep you waitin' then."

In one smooth thrust he slides home, both of you groaning in unison. He plants a hand on the back of your neck, the other with a firm grip on your hip, providing him with leverage. He sets a steady, even pace, careful not to knock the bike over.

He tilts his hips upwards a little and you keen, seeing stars.

"Right there? Yeah? That's it, isn't it?"

You only nod in response, holding onto the motorcycle for dear life. You trust him, though. You know he won't let you fall.

"Fuck, darlin'. You feel so good."

"So close," you choke out.

"I know, I know. Can feel you squeezin' me. Come on, that's it. Good girl."

The lilt of his accent combined with the glide of his hips is lethal, sending you over the edge in no time. You see stars, heart racing and mind blank.

Your undoing is also Chibs'. He groans as he finds his release, leaning over to rest his head between your shoulders. You're both panting, chests heaving as you recover.

After a moment, the bike groans, and you both jump up, laughing as you do it. You're redressing, Chibs stealing kisses from you, when you hear a voice cut through the darkness.

"Well, shit. I was only kidding earlier."

You can hear Jax's teasing drawl before he comes into view, cocky smirk drawn across his face.

You groan as Chibs rolls his eyes and throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. Both of you know you're not going to hear the end of this for a long time.

[earthsparked]

Sparking Flames

Part Four | one two three four intermission five (AO3 link)

You wake up with a short gasp, confused and fumbling in the dark. No idea where you are, or why you smell a sickening-sweet mixture of dried blood, ozone, pine tar, and...new car smell? You're moving. There's glowing lights on the dashboard. You're in an unfamiliar car, no seatbelt on, conked out in the passenger seat. It's so calm and familiar, reminiscent of long car rides when you were a child, that it takes you a second to realize there's nobody next to you in the god damn driver's seat.

You come all the way awake already lunging for the steering wheel, throwing yourself across from the passenger side and trying to smash the brake down. The wheel won't turn. The pedal won't depress. When the car's engine gives a weird rev and swerves a bit, you shriek incoherently. You've had stress dreams just like this. Next it's going to bounce off the road and into deep water, somewhere, then your teeth will fall out and you still won't have studied for that final exam for the college class on ancient Roman literature you don't remember signing up for.

A voice comes from nowhere and everywhere, alarmed. Whoa! Easy, sparklet, let up on that will you? Scared the coolant out of me, Primus! Do all humans jump out of recharge like that?

What, who. Robot?! Where are you? you ask foggily, grabbing for the door handle in a bid to jimmy it open. Then you cling to it in shock when you realize how fucking fast you're going. Bailing out is not an option unless you want to die in a spectacular splatter of gore on the blacktop. You're grooving down a highway that you don't recognize, but there are thick trees on either side of the road. You could almost believe you're in a self-driving car, but it's too smooth, too quiet, and way too fast. You glance at the speedometer and feel a little sick when you catch the reading, well over 100 miles an hour. How in the hell is this car taking these winding roads at these speeds without crashing?

Oh, so you're the DAMAGED, kind of damaged. Fragging 'Cons.. it grumbles. It's me. I am the car. Remember? Roddy? Hot Rod? Your hero in bitching awesome flame paint that totally looks just like Optimus Prime's? Saved you from Brawl and Ravage? C'mon, sparklet, don't tell me you got a memory wipe in the last couple klicks. Is that, like, normal for humans when they recharge, or do I gotta go Mach Primus to get you to a medic?

...Roddy? you ask, suspiciously, sinking back down into the (luxuriously comfortable) seats. You jolt when the car's seatbelt independently slides over you and locks into place.

So that's what those are for, he says in an ahh, now I get it, tone. Didn't really bother to look much at the cabin specs when I chose this alt mode, just the space for what's under the hood. Needed something that can take the heat, 'cause I'm just that kind of mech, you know?

His rambling is almost soothing, each weirdly enthusiastic, cheerful word calming you. As your pounding heart starts to slow, you fully come back to yourself, memories returning in a wave...

The robot slides down the cliffside with its hand crushing rock along the way, rappelling without a line, with you clutched protectively against its chest. It's a drop zone ride from hell, with no safety bars and a long way down. Just when you think you can't take the disorientation anymore, it leaps the final distance to the ground with a boom – taking the impact entirely on its legs, with barely a tremor getting through to you. It's honestly kind of impressive.

Who are you? you ask, finally, once you're sure you're not about to black out. What in the absolute fuck is happening? Where'd you come from? Why were you fighting those other robots? Why'd you protect me? Why did that one look like a metal mountain lion?

The robot looks down at you with unrestrained glee. You get the impression it's been looking forward to you asking some of those questions. The thought that someone was so interested in talking to you sends a pleasant little flutter through your heart. For a second you think it's about to stop and put you down so it can preen – there's something so young, and energetic, and good-natured about it, though why you feel that way, you're not even sure. But it shakes itself and strides into the woodland. You're well past the hiking trails down here, thanks to the shortcut, and the direction it picks isn't even one you're familiar with.

I'm Hot Rod, Autobot. Better known as Roddy, Rodders, Speedster, Speed Demon, The Pit On Wheels, fastest mech on either side of Andromeda, right-hand mech to Optimus Prime himself -! And..you don't know what any of that means, do you. When you shake your head no, it deflates a little, making you realize that it had puffed up its plating like a peacock ruffling its train. Uh, I'm really a big deal. I'm important, and fast, and I kick 'Con ass. That's all you really need to know.

But I'm not a robot, it corrects firmly, as it pushes through trees. Wincing as yet more leaves get stuck in various places in-between its armor. Robots aren't sentient. I'm a mech. And a - hm, you'd call it a "badass dude." Organics have gender, don't you? What gender are you?

Um, you say, but he keeps on going, both through the woods and running his mouth.

So, Autobots. We're the good guys. We're all from a planet called Cybertron, but the Decepti-dicks are a bunch of slaggers who follow their leader Megatron like their olfactory bulbs are welded to his tailpipe. He's all "look at me, I'm big and scary and I turn into a tank, so I can roll over everyone who stands in my way, hurr hurr." I could take him, he says, conspiratorially. But I just got here on the planet like, today. So I haven't had the chance yet.

Ah, you say, somehow more confused than before.

He seems to notice in that weird way he has, as if he knows what you're thinking, or feeling, or something. He gives you that same soft smile he had back in the middle of the battle.

Look, it's an old war that old mechs have been fighting forever, and then shit happened and a bunch of mechs all ended up on your planet, a while back. Optimus Prime, our leader, sent out a call for reinforcements to help protect you little guys, 'cause the 'Cons don't give a flying frag about organics. Like to stomp you for fun, even.

But you said Revenge -

Ravage, he corrects. Primus though, that'd be an amazing name. I like your language.

Ravage, you said he wouldn't just kill organ- um, humans, out in the middle of nowhere. So what was he doing there? Why did he kill those people? And who were they, what were they doing there in the fire tower? I thought it was weird they had a lot of really advanced-looking radio equipment, not the kind of stuff most of the lookout towers have. And what does this have to do with the attack in town?

Dunno! he said, and you can't miss the glint of excitement shining from him. He's worried, sure, but he's thrilled too. But we're gonna find out. This has gotta be why they attacked your town, earlier. Ravage said maybe we're looking for the same thing they are. Energon? That's that pink stuff you're wearing, but in crystal form. We use it for fuel. But, our scans didn't show any significant deposits around here, so it can't be that. And humans don't have any real use for energon anyway, so what would those guys you talked to want with it?

So it can't be that. They called me a civilian, you remember, piecing it together now that you're not in the full-on grip of expecting to die any second. That means they had to be military. Or maybe, ex-military?

That's a disturbing thought. There's plenty of weird guys with way too many guns lurking around, with really scary and bigoted ideas, but you'd never thought there would be such a group near your tiny town. On the other hand, if they had access to a helicopter and that kind of advanced equipment – that sounded a lot more like some kind of para-military, or James Bond bullshit, not racist nutjobs.

...though you supposed they could be both, which was not an encouraging thought.

Hot Rod didn't, unfortunately, ease your fears. He frowned as he carefully stepped over a little brook, feet sinking into the wetland with an uncomfortable squelch. Can't be military. Optimus and his team made contact with your military ages ago. They even set us up with a base of operations and some supplies, though they're trying hard not to let anybody know we exist. There's this weird intelligence agent, Fowler? I met him this morning. Bet he's having a whole litter of turbofox pups over this slag.

You let that knowledge percolate a while. It wasn't too terribly surprising your government had knowledge of aliens and were trying to keep it a secret. You had to wonder if maybe Guillermo del Toro had ever run into one of these Cybertronians.

Because you were in danger, Hot Rod says suddenly.

Huh?

You asked why I protected you. 'Cause I'm an Autobot, and that's what we do. Help people in danger.

There's a straightforward earnestness to him that's very nearly innocent in its honesty. You're learning quickly that he's a robot - er, mech of intense feelings, not good at hiding anything. You find it makes it easier to trust him. There's probably no chance this guy could keep a secret to save his life. He really means what he says. He even came after you when you disappeared from the battle, even though it meant following your trail through terrain that was not friendly to him.

It starts to sink in you've somehow managed to gain the protection of a giant alien mech. Your own personal jaeger, with bright blue eyes and an easy smile, a funny sense of humor, a quick temper and a big, brave heart.

Though you'd need to have a talk about his tendency to go all Spider-Man without a word of warning, while holding you.

You lean into his chest, where you can feel something like static electricity, something like a heartbeat under your touch. You lean your head against him, a moment of trust. No human had ever done anything like this for you. And here was an alien, only on the planet a day, and even though you'd met him in the worst way possible, you already knew you'd never forget him or his kindness.

Thank you, Hot Rod. For saving me. I didn't get the chance to say it, before. I'm pretty sure you've saved my life at least twice now. So, if that's what being an Autobot is about, you're great at being one.

You'd expected some cheerful bluster, but what you get is a sudden heating of his armor, even some flames licking out of the pipes along his shoulders. You look up at him, and find him staring at you with a sort of startled expression more at home on a doe-eyed fawn that a giant alien mech.

People don't tell you that very often, do they? you softly guess from his reaction. You busy yourself with plucking bits of pine bark and pine needles out of the seams of his armor.

Sure they do! Hear it all the time, he bluffs, and it's so painfully human that you feel dizzy. How can these mechs be so much like you?

Anyway, Ravage looks like that 'cause he's an animal-form symbiont. He's small 'cause he's one of a contingent of several symbionts bonded with this weird fragger named Soundwave. You ever run into a big, spindly mech with a strange voice? Run. There's tentacles.

Hot Rod shudders, and you decide you really don't want to know.

That's about it. The plan now is to put some distance between us and that tower, which would be a lot fragging easier if your stupid planet wasn't covered in this green stuff. Any more questions, sparklet?

Just one. Where are we going?

His strides falter and he looks at you with an expression you can only describe as sheepish. Uh. Was kind of hoping you would know.

When you start to scowl, his face breaks apart into a laugh, and you feel his chest heaving with it. Oohh, the look you just gave me! No, no, sorry, we're cutting through the woods to get to the next highway over. I have um, what do your people call it...GPS? I'm not gonna get us lost. But we gotta make sure we lose -

Then you hear it, the thing you'd been fearing was going to descend on you this whole time, even though the conversation had been a nice distraction. It's the thudding blades of a helicopter, coming closer. Roddy gives a start - had he not been paying attention?!

Hot Rod, they're coming! Do something! you exclaim.

He sounds about as serious as you've ever heard him sound. Right, can't run, time to hide. And then he does...something.

He folds himself around you. One minute you're in a giant robot's hands. The next, the whole world comes apart in a tornado of metal. You catch a single bright flash of light, a lick of flame, and then you're blinking at finding yourself in the passenger seat of the most expensive sports car you've ever seen in your life. You feel too poor just to let your butt touch the seat made of ...it's probably leather? Alien leather? From alien cows? It's sinfully soft, and warm, and you hadn't realized you'd gotten so cold. But the sun has just about set, and you are so, so beyond tired.

Do I even want to know, you say, leaning back against the seat. Why you didn't tell me you can turn into a car?

You didn't ask, he says, predictably, but with the glee of a toddler getting to make that joke for the first time in his life. Now, shh. My cabin is soundproof but my engine throws off a lot of heat. I gotta run silent. No way they'll see us under all this plant life, their radar's gonna scatter all over. Just sit tight, human.

Not human, you mumble sleepily.

Huh? You're not?! Then what the frag are you? he exclaims, jostling on his tires despite himself.

You snort. My name, you goofball. It's not "human." My - designation is...

You tell him, and he repeats it several times, using different inflections. Does that help him remember? Or do robots - er, mechs - just record things for remembering later?

I like it. What does it mean? Did you pick it yourself? Where were you sparked, anyway? Where do humans come from?

Quiet, you remind him, hiding from scary people. Shh. You can't hear the rotor blades anymore, or see searchlights in the sky. They've passed over you, whoever they are.

Warm, comfortable, not alone, if not at all that safe – you fell into a much-needed sleep.

Only to waken hours later, well after dark, confused but slightly better rested.

You lean back into Hot Rod's seats, which you're pretty sure are heated. It's incredible how smooth the ride is. If you'd had any doubts that what you're sitting in isn't a human-made vehicle, that alone would have erased them. It's like riding on air, and the surety with which he steers you is more like a falcon navigating an air current than a human driver trying to steer a two thousand-pound metal deathtrap down backroads of a conservation forest.

You want to go back to sleep, and he tells you that you can. I'm doing some patrolling before we go back to your town. Hoping to catch something on my sensors that could explain what the frag is going on here.

But your stomach growls loudly enough that it sparks a conversation in hurt tones about why are you growling at me, what did I do?! (You're starting to think he's a wee bit sensitive, your new giant alien mech protector.)

I can't remember when I ate last, and - fuck, you groan, as your injuries give a horrid throb. The brief burst of adrenaline had warded it off, but now your side, hip, and most of your body was hurting fiercely. You had raw scrapes from the road rash, and should probably start getting worried about infection.

I really need a doctor. And a bath. And some new clothes. Or at least a place I can wash up.

Yeah, poor little guy, you really got knocked around, he says sympathetically, with just enough condescension that one of your eyes twitches. Ratchet - that's our chief medical officer, he read me and Drift and a bunch of the other guys all these ways to kill a human, so we wouldn't do them. You're like protoforms, you're so - soft.

You'd take more offense to it if his tone wasn't so full of wonder. Though it's hard for you to understand how your smelly, banged-up, completely imperfect body could hold any wonder for anyone, right now, let alone The Pit on Wheels, whose alt mode was probably worth more than some people's entire life earnings.

I think there's a rest stop up ahead, you say, squinting as the sign blows past in the rearview mirror. They'll have a bathroom. If you can stop a minute, I'll get cleaned up and then we can head back to town?

Yeah, I guess we're not gonna find anything out here. Frag it. I was hoping I'd have something more to bring back with us. I uh, kind of disobeyed orders to come after you, he admits. On impulse, you reach out and gently stroke the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything, but his powerful engine purrs gently.

You pull over and groan loudly as you limp into the rest stop. You spend a blissful, yet miserable twenty minutes washing various substances off of yourself. Your clothes are absolutely trashed, but a quick rinse and dry under the automatic hand-dryer has them stiff and uncomfortable but less goopy.

You drink your fill from the sink and drag yourself back outside. Only to find the parking lot empty.

Roddy-? You call, heart sinking. Had he left you?! Without a word? You'd only known him for perhaps a dozen hours, but that strikes you as incredibly unlike him. Getting distracted maybe, but abandoning you? No.

Before you can call out again, gloved hands slam themselves over your mouth and wrap around your waist, heaving you backwards into the confining grip of a tall, muscular body. As you screamed muffled cries into the hand, something sharp pricks the side of your neck, and against your will you fall into darkness.

[amphibiahawks321]

Female HSR boothill X Male Reader?

[Boothill leans on the bar counter with a drink in hand, eyes locked with Y/N with a smirk, showing him her shark like teeths]

M!Reader : Sighs... Boothill you really need to be more careful with your aim, It's always gonna start some trouble

Fem!Boothill : Chuckles... My aim is just fine little lamb, But then again, Sugar, I've seen a lot of tough men in my time, but you...?

[She starts trailing her fingers along Y/N's chin and move it to the side to make eye contact, voice dropping low]

Fem!Boothill : You somehow make it real fun to see 'em turn so red, red suits you so much~

[She began caressing Y/N's cheek, Y/N already blushing from her gentle touch, Y/N just glad no one is around there area right now or he'll already be blushing redder]

[Y/N clears his throat]

M!Reader blushing : I—I Uhh... Glad you think so...

[Boothill tilts her head, clearly enjoying his flushed expression]

Fem!Boothill : That little heat creepin' up your face, Lookin' all pretty

M!Reader blushing : I-I wouldn't say... "Pretty" perse but–....!!!?!?

[Boothill starts leaning in a bit closer and gripping his face a bit tighter]

Fem!Boothill : Such a pretty face yet such a bad liar, Chuckles... Ain't no shame in gettin' a little bit flustered, darlin'~

M!Reader blushing : Y-You... You really enjoy messing with me...

Fem!Boothill : Oh I can do somethin' way better, some say it's really breath taking...

[Boothill stands up from her seat, still gripping Y/N's chin]

Fem!Boothill : Now how about we find ourselves a bit more of a... Private space?

......

[Y/N getting his left hand pinned down onto the soft mattress while the other is gripping on Boothill's jacket tightly, Boothill placing her hat on the bedside table, Y/N's shirt half way being undone as Boothill's tongue and teeth being inlove with Y/N's neck]

Fem!Boothill : Now don't get shy on me now pretty boy~ we're just getting star–....!!!?!?

Rappa : Yo, Have you seen my–

[The door unlocked, Rappa half way through opening the door and Boothill out of panic immediately gets up and uses her strength to close the door, Y/N staring at her shocked and disbelief while still blushing]

Rappa : Woah what the!?–What was that for?!

M!Reader(whispering) blushing : you didn't bother to close the door!!?

Fem!Boothill(Whispering) : You were gripping me while I was carrying ya' I can't think straight!

Fem!Boothill : Don't come in Rappa! I'm Uhhhh....—Tryin' a new outfit!

Rappa : Okay damn! You didn't have to slam the freaking door on my face!

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ ch 2

note: thank you all again for the support on this series im seriously so grateful <3 not sure how to feel abt this part but pls enjoy anyway <3

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 3.0k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: the gang goes out to the pub, and against your better judgement you decide to tag along. you end up having far too much to drink and ghost has no choice but to look after you.

warnings: ghost is less mean (but it's still ghost), the usual angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, some ambiguous drunken confessions, mentions of throwing up but i kinda skipped over it

ao3

【prev】 || 【next】

the relentless buzzing of your phone next to your head wakes you from your slumber. you groan, squinting at the screen to see soap's name on the caller id. you answer and lift the phone up to your ear, rubbing your eyes with the other hand as you pull yourself up to sit.

"hey! where are you?" soap's voice is almost deafening in your ear as soon as you pick up, you have to hold the phone away from you to save your hearing. "y'are still comin', right?" the faint noise of a crowd can be heard in the background, reminding you of what soap's question means.

you check the clock on your phone and wince at the time; it was almost nine, and you were supposed to meet them at the pub at eight.

"ugh," you clear your throat, your voice croaking from having just woken up, "yeah– yeah, i'm coming. just gimme, like, fifteen minutes."

"awright, l.t. said you was still asleep," soap chuckles, clearly amused by your sleep-addled state. you sit up and throw the blankets off your legs, swinging them over the side of the thin mattress and beginning the search for some clean clothes.

you hadn't gotten out of bed all day, opting to stay in your comfy pyjamas and barely leaving the living room except to briefly eat and use the bathroom. after the the disaster that was yesterday, you felt you deserved to have a lazy day for once.

"oh, so he already left without me? why am i not surprised?" you grumble, balancing your phone between your cheek and your shoulder as you pull on some trousers.

"he said he didn't wanna wake you!" soap is half laughing as he replies. you have to hold back your scoff as you put him on speaker and drop the phone onto the coffee table as you quickly put your shirt on.

"yeah, okay." your voice is dripping with sarcasm, and you can't help but roll your eyes, even though he can't see it, "i'll be there, hanging up now, buh-bye."

you just about hear his muffled 'bye!' before you press the red button and shove your phone into your pocket. 

you really didn't feel like being social right now, but maybe being around your friends and letting go is what you need right now. you could just ignore ghost – it's not like it'd be hard, you were fully expecting him to completely avoid you all night. knowing him, he'd probably make you walk home by yourself again.

the walk to the pub is uneventful, thankfully dry, and it takes you twenty minutes instead of fifteen. you feel a little bad for making them wait, but they've been there over an hour already, an extra five wouldn't hurt.

the noise of the crowd hits you as soon as you walk into the old building, and you hope it isn't noticeable the way you frown at the sight of how packed it was. you were feeling even less like socialising now that you were actually here, but it was too late to turn back now. your eyes scan the room, searching for your teammates in the sea of people. you spot a familiar mohawk fairly quickly, and begin pushing your way through the crowd to the booth he and gaz are occupying.

you glance towards the bar and price and ghost both there, too locked in conversation to notice your arrival. you'd have to find price later to say hello.

"sting, you made it!" soap's cheery voice brings you back to the present. he pats your shoulder as you slump into the seat next to him, and gaz slides your usual order across the table to you.

"ordered for you a minute ago." gaz smiles, leaning forward on his elbows, "figured you could use it."

"you're legend, gaz, honestly." you chuckle in response, taking a drawn out sip and relaxing in your seat. as much as you would rather still be in bed right now, you couldn't deny you needed it.

"you okay? you look a bit worse for wear." gaz asks, his gaze turning serious as he takes in your exhaustion.

did you? you hadn't actually looked at your reflection before you left the house, you simply hoped that you didn't look too dishevelled and didn't think twice about it. you suppose the bags under your eyes must be quite heavy after the nosedive your life seems to have taken lately.

"charming, thanks for that." you mutter, teasingly raising your brows at him as you take another sip of your drink.

"sorry, sorry," he and soap both laugh, before he regards you with a more concerned look, "but seriously, you doin' alright?"

"i'm fine, just tired, you know how it is." you dismiss his question with a wave of your hand, hoping he'll drop the subject and you can get started on forgetting about the events of this week. "sorry for being late, by the way."

"make it up to us with another round?" soap wiggles an eyebrow at you, tilting his empty glass at you and nudging your arm. 

"since you asked so nicely," you say with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. they both give you a triumphant 'thanks!' as you slide out of the booth and begin making your way through the crowds of people to the bar.

as you approach, you see ghost standing by himself at the bar, a black surgical mask cover the lower half of his face, and before you can stop yourself your legs are already leading you to the empty spot next to him. as usual he doesn't acknowledge you, but you can't find it in yourself to care through the buzz of the alcohol in your system.

you flag down the bartender and order the drinks for the three of you while adamantly trying to ignore the large presence next to you; you'd barely started on your first drink, but you were going to need more than that to get through this, especially if you and ghost were going to be dancing around each other all night.

the next couple of hours are filled with you downing drink after drink, steadily becoming less and less intelligible as the night progresses. at some point gaz excused himself to go chat with price at the bar, leaving just you and soap at the table. though you couldn't see ghost when you looked over, you had no doubt he was lurking in some shadowy corner somewhere, just watching.

"he's just so…" you wave your hands around, willing johnny to somehow understand your point as the words escape you, "...y'know?"

"do i know?" he laughs, obviously very amused by your drunken state.

"mean! he's rude and uncooperative, and it pisses me off." you groan, pressing your fingers into your temples. venting to someone about ghost was somewhat cathartic for you, even if that someone was his closest friend.

"aye, that's not how you really feel though, is it?" soap raises his brow, that insufferably teasing smirk on his lips as he gives you a light nudge.

"wha–" you gawk, freezing in the motion of downing your drink – you'd lost count of how many you'd had at this point. you narrow your eyes and glare at him, "garrick… he grassed didn't he?"

"you think i needed him to tell me?" soap laughs again, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the thought that you were really that obvious. "but seriously, you should talk to him."

"i should, right? i mean… we live together, it's not unreasonable to ask him to be civil."

"exactly!" he exclaims, making encouraging gestures at you with his hands. "maybe you two can get a bit more than civil," he grins mischievously and wiggles his eyebrows at you, earning an embarrassed groan from you.

"oh, shut up soap." you hiss, gulping down the rest of your drink in one go. "i'm not drunk enough for this…"

after that conversation, your concept of time truly left the building, along with any reservations you had about moderation. eventually you do find time to say hi to price, though you think he was probably laughing at how out of your mind you were rather than the hilarious joke you told him.

you're not sure what time it is when gaz, soap, and the captain track you down to say goodnight, leaving the pub with much more coherency than you when ghost drags you out with him.

the freezing temperature hits you as soon as you step over the threshold, but thankfully there's more than enough alcohol in you to keep you warm.

you started the night fully intending to give ghost the cold shoulder, but that was hours and however many drinks ago; now you were long past the fun part of being wasted and the depressive nature of it all was hitting you hard.

"i wish you– you didn't hate me…" you mutter, dragging your feet as you follow behind ghost. he's not walking as quickly as he did yesterday, but even in your inebriated state you can tell he's making sure to stay ahead of you.

"i don't." he replies dismissively, evoking an exasperated, albeit rather dramatic sigh from you. of course he was going to argue about it, owning up and apologising would be far too mature.

"y–" you hiccup, "yeah you do," frustration lacing your voice. you slow your pace until you completely stop walking, staring at the back of his head with narrowed eyes.

"i don't hate you, sting." he sighs, half turning his body to look at you. "come on, keep walkin'." he gestures with his head.

"ugh…" you groan, but comply and stumble forward catch up to him again "then why're you such a fuckin' prick all the time?" you glare at the side of his masked face now that you're walking next to him.

he says nothing, doesn't even look at you. if you didn't know any better, you would doubt he even heard your question.

"i don't hate you, y'know…" you mumble,  crossing your arms over your chest. "even though you're so– so horrible to me all the time." the urge to cry overwhelms you, your eyes falling to your boots as you shuffle along.

"i'm n–"

"you are!" you interrupt, throwing your arms out to the side and stopping in your tracks again. "every day you say shit to me, i don't– i don't get it! i don't know what to do…" you sniffle, dragging a hand over your face and taking a wobbly step backwards, away from ghost. "why can't you just be nice? like everyone else?"

the night air is cold, and so tense you can almost feel it. ghost's hands curl into tight fists by his sides as he stares you down. 

"i'm your lieutenant, sting, not your mate." he states it like a common fact as he reaches an arm out to you, stepping towards you. "you're drunk, come here."

you don't let him get close, however, and take another few steps backwards. "but you're friends with soap, and gaz, and even the captain!" your eyes well up with tears, and despite your best efforts to stop them, you feel the hot sting of them rolling down your cheeks. "what did i do wrong? why can't you like me too?"

again, he does nothing but stare at you. he blinks once, then twice, in what you might call shock – if you could see his face through the way the world spins around you.

"i like you!" you cry. "i always have, and you– you don't have to like me back, but please," you close your eyes in an attempt to alleviate your sudden dizziness, "just stop being such a dickhead to me! you make my life so difficult, and– and miserable!"

"sting…" ghost mutters, watching as you crouch down on the pavement with your head in your hands. he steps closer again, reaching a hand out to awkwardly pat your shoulder. "is that why you got yourself hammered tonight?"

"yes!" you whine through your tears, your head still swimming and causing you to sway slightly. "like you care!"

"listen," he begins, but you quickly cut him off by lurching forward onto your hands and knees on the harsh pavement.

"i'm gonna throw up–"

✹✹✹

"i'm sorry," you blubber, feeling rather pathetic where you're slumped next to the toilet, "please don't kick me out," tears still fall into your lap, but you gave up wiping them away a while ago.

"what?" ghost mutters from next to you. his calloused hands were keeping you upright from where he's crouched beside you on the bathroom tile. "why the fuck would i kick you out?"

"be– because i'm annoying, a– and you hate me…"

he sighs, "do you really think that lowly of me? how many times have i gotta say it before it gets through your thick skull?" he gently raps his knuckles against your forehead, "i. don't. hate you."

when you only sniffle in response, he sighs again before shifting to sit with his back against the bath next to you.

"well you could've fooled me…" you mutter, letting yourself lean against his side when the effort of keeping yourself up gets too much. you feel him flinch slightly and tense underneath you, but he doesn't move.

"i'm not good with…" he pinches the bridge of his nose, his head tilted downwards and his eyes squeezed shut. "i'm not kickin' you out, alright? no matter how much you piss me off." he pauses, and all you can do is watch him with your mouth slightly agape; this is the most he's ever said to you in one go since you met all those months ago. "and i shouldn't have run off last night. i just… i didn't realise you actually wanted to be friends… with me."

"bu…" your voice trails off, train of thought completely abandoned when he looks over and meets your gaze with his rich brown eyes.

"you're… you– i, er…" his eyes dart away from yours, finding a spot on the wall behind you to stare intently at. a sudden wave of exhaustion floods your senses, dropping your head onto his shoulder and allowing your eyes to fall closed, interrupting whatever thought he was trying to articulate. "fuckin' hell, alright… you're drunk, let's just get you to bed, eh?" his voice is just about audible as he manoeuvres your arm over his shoulders and lifts you to stand with practically no input from you.

he all but drags you out of the bathroom, and if you had any shred of coherency left within you you'd be mortified that he had to take care of you like this, but that's something for you to deal with in the morning.

you're pulled into the the living room where ghost drops you rather unceremoniously onto the sofa-bed, tugging the blankets from underneath you and settling them on top of your already half asleep form.

"night ghosty…" your sigh is muffled with your face buried into the pillow, but he pauses in the doorway when he hears it.

"goodnight, sting." he mumbles, before quietly shutting the door and letting you drift to sleep.

you wake up the next morning – or rather afternoon, since it was already one o'clock – with an absolutely splitting headache. it was expected, obviously, but it didn't stop you whining in pain as you sat up and clutched your head. how much did you end up drinking last night?

last night. right. it was all coming back to you now. you'd cried at ghost again, for the second night running, and even though he said he wasn't kicking you out, you would seriously prefer living on the streets to facing him right now.

you reluctantly emerge from the living room and squint at the bright daylight, groaning pitifully when your head pulses. maybe you should save yourself the trouble and just go back to sleep.

"so, you survived the night." ghost's voice calls from the kitchen, sounding incredibly unimpressed. you cringe at his words, naively hoping that he'd pretend the night before didn't happen like you so desperately wanted to.

"did i?" you grumble, walking through the doorway to find him sitting at the kitchen table, clad in his usual balaclava. you lean against the counter and massage your temples, "feel like i've been shot…"

"maybe you'll keep your head on straight next time. i don't want a repeat of that."

you purse your lips. "right…" you mutter, no energy left in you to come up with a retort.

"i had to drag you home, cryin' your eyes out." he gets up as he speaks, grabbing his cup and skirting around you to place it in the sink. he keeps his distance, but you see him watching you from the corner of your eye. "anyone would'a thought i was kidnappin' you."

"oh god…" you bury your face in your hands, your face heating up with the humiliation of the memory, "i'm sorry,"

"s'alright." he mumbles, still opting to gaze out of the window rather than meet your eyes. you blink in surprise at his short dismissal, but before you can formulate a response, he speaks again. "have a shower, sting. you stink."

you open your mouth to argue, but quickly forget about that idea. he was right, of course. without another word, you scurry out of the kitchen and lock yourself in the bathroom. you drag your hand over your face, willing the floor to just swallow you whole already.

you might as well have just died in your sleep, because you can't see ghost letting you live any of this down for as long as you live; though, as you stand there contemplating fleeing the country, you notice that he hadn't been nearly as pissed as you'd expected him to be this morning. you'd anticipated him grilling you about how careless you'd been and how irresponsible it was to drink that much, but the light teasing you'd endured just now felt more like the kind of banter you witnessed between him and soap, or gaz.

you can't help the giddy smile that overtakes you, your killer hangover nearly forgotten in favour of the thought of him finally letting you get close to him.

taglist: @sofasoap , @siilvan , @mockerycrow , @i-love-ghost , @projectdreamwalker , @achelois-is-here , @adamsloverboy , @thatchickwiththecamera , @chickensandwich69 , @batmanunicorns523 , @tiny-kasper , @dezibou , @pampeop , @cumbermovels , @goth-boi-atlas , @berryjuicyy , @guiltgoreglory , @postmodernrevolutionist , @ghostlythots , @untoldshortsofthefandoms , @isseisslvt , @prodyng , @neteyamsb1tch , @delilah-grimes , @sunflowerqueen1416 , @luvssemma , @ghostslittlegf , @imonmykneessir , @dimitriene , @kenz-ee , @eistro-phobia , @rzmarona , @alanalanalanalanalanna , @dommmymommy , @carolelacroix , @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore , @cathnoneofyourbusiness , @madsothree , @geisterfvhrer , @lazyninjaphilosopher , @aliilium , @koi-feish , @chaoticgoblindev

if your name is crossed out, i can't tag you for whatever reason, sorry!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 139 (A Race Against Time Travel)

cw: very big guns, scenes of implied violence, death (no gore)

Grim could move through time and space, and he'd confirmed reinforcements already paced outside the shack, weapons in hand. While he kept an eye on the secluded island, Felix and Lilith followed Rafa and Melissa to the local tiki bar.

The foursome had hatched a plan they hoped would get them past the men with guns, but it meant Rafa walking directly into the hornet's nest. They were all nervous.

"Remind me again why we're in here and he's out there? Do you think the man looks like he knows Rafa?" Lilith glanced cautiously out the window, spotting Rafa and a dark-haired man with a blue and purple mark on his eye through thick jungle.

"He's the only one with any gun training and he doesn't want to look after us," Melissa said, munching anxiously on a bowl of chips. "He's earning his trust. We wait for him to head out and then we take the boat as close as we can to the lagoon beneath the volcano without being seen. We all agreed with the plan."

"If anything goes south while he's causing a diversion, if we're not with Rafa, there might still be a chance for us to get Ash out safely," added Felix.

"If anything goes south and they've got guns, what will we be able to do with nothing but some fishing line?" wondered Melissa.

"I have a knife," Lilith offered, and Felix looked at her with surprise - and a smile.

"You're always prepared, my love, but hopefully you won't need to use it. Los Tigres is a tough cartel and I'm sure they taught Rafa how to use a gun, as long as he can get it off the hitmen first."

They waited until they spotted a flash of light through the brush. Rafa had borrowed Felix' phone, rapidly flickering the built-in flashlight before his new companion noticed.

"They're leaving." said Felix. "Let's go."

When the trio pulled into a lagoon behind black volcanic rocks, they waded gently through knee-deep waters, trying to time their movements with the deafening whirr of crickets in the midnight air. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish I could move as quietly as a ghost right now," Felix mused.

Men paced outside a tiny shack nestled in the sand beneath a tall grove of trees, trying to disguise it from view on the open water. "Get back," said Felix. "Those are much bigger guns than I used in the navy."

"Do you see Rafa?" Melissa craned her neck as she searched for him.

They heard muffled voices carry from across the island, spotting Rafa and the man he met outside the bar as they pulled up in an outrigger canoe. "They just got here. He and the man are having a conversation," Felix observed. "I think they're both smiling."

"I think he knows him," insisted Lilith. "Maybe that's why he wanted to go without us."

Felix shook his head. "Conrad trusts him, and Rafa knows the stakes if he doesn't help keep Ash safe."

They listened as Rafa and the other man chatted with one of the armed men. They spoke too low to hear their conversation, but Melissa gasped when she heard a gunshot, and then another. "What happened? I can't see them!"

"Stay here. I'm going to try to get Ash."

Felix jumped from the brush and moved quickly toward the front door of the shack, slowing his step when one of the armed men turned a corner.

"Don't move, or I'll shoot," he shouted.

"Ash! It's Felix Psyded. I'm outside."

"Felix!" Ash's jubilant voice carried through thin slats of wood as he put down his homework. The young genius could usually breeze through it, and the math problems had given him something to think about other than the men with guns. "Felix, help! Did you hear guns, too?"

(I checked on him inside while everything was happening outside - mostly me setting up poses - and he was doing his homework autonomously while locked in that shack.)

"I said I'll shoot!" repeated the gunman.

Felix dropped to his knees as Rafa walked up behind him, brandishing the other man's gun. "You're not gonna shoot him."

"Who the hell are you?"

"My sister's the one who hired you. Get on the ground."

The man looked up at him with confusion. "Have you got our money?"

"There's no money. She played you. Marco had nothing but that futuristic watch your boss took as a down payment."

Hearing Rafa speak, suddenly Felix doubted his loyalties. Maybe Lilith was right; maybe he was in deeper with his sister than Conrad wanted to believe. He was in Rafa's range with that rifle, and Felix slowly placed his hands behind his head.

"The boss'll be pissed," the man said, defiant even as he faced down the barrel of a gun.

Rafa shook his head. "I'll just kill him."

"The woman who sent Marco to hire us makes her own brother her clean up crew?"

Rafa let those words be his last before he pulled the trigger. Felix's lip trembled, certain he was next. He lamented everything he'd gone through to be resurrected, just to wind up like this.

A coldness fell over Rafa's eyes.

"Felix, are you still there?" Ash called, his quiet, small voice breaking the tension in the air. "The door's still locked!"

(Checked on him again and the homework was gone. Totally let him carry on making a mess because he's been through an ordeal, the bad guys use this shack, and it's already very dirty.)

"Get him out," ordered Rafa, still holding on to the gun. Felix hesitated. "I'm not going to shoot you. Get him out before anybody comes to find these guys. This can't be their whole network out here."

Felix broke the wooden lock and Ash walked outside. While the old-fashioned barrister embraced him, both of their heartrates slowed. "How did you know I was here?" Ash wondered.

"Grim found us," he said. "And now that we've found you, I should call your parents."

Rafa tossed Felix back his phone as the girls slowly emerged from the brush to join them. "Conrad called three times," reported Rafa. "But I had it on silent so Marco wouldn't think anything was up."

"They're probably worried sick. I guess it's late enough now that they know he's missing."

"Why wouldn't they know I'm missing?"

"That's...not easy to explain."

"You could try. I'm a genius, you know."

Felix laughed. "Why don't we wait until your parents get here, and then we'll only need to explain it once." He glanced wistfully toward Rafa, who glared back at them with an angry scowl, the gun still tight in his white-knuckled grip.

"Truth be told," said Felix. "I still have questions about it all, myself." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Poses & CC Used? Fainted posepack by @yibsimchronicles, Injured #1 posepack by @simmerianne93, Police and Criminals by DocPain, and Armed & Dangerous by Atashi77.

The gun was created by a Sims 4 Studio user named Rafael (heh...ummm...) and I had to go a little deep to find a mediafire download link in a post on this message board thread (on Sims 4 Studio!). The cc is good, but I really debated whether to download because I don't like stuff like this randomly showing up as accessories on sims wandering around the world. But I felt like the scene did need to go to that level because the stakes are high, and it needed to be clear what Rafa is capable of.

But who did Rafa do it for? Great question. Check back tomorrow for another episode!

[archangeldyke-all]

HEYY i live for ur fics and little fucker and i had this perfect idea i think you’d love 😋😋

so, in the first couple of months little fucker and her gf started dating, sevika suggested she and reader should go and spy on them on their first date at a restaurant. reader obviously got dragged along but it could be funny seeing sevika react to when her kid and her gf dropped flirtatious or suggestive comments 😚

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AHHHHGG

men and minors dni

"she's gonna kill us."

"only if we get caught!" sevika whispers, ducking down in her booth and hiding her face behind her menu. you sort and shake your head.

"this is insane. baby, this is some helicopter parent shit!"

your wife kicks your shin under the table. "look." she huffs, smacking the menu down on the table to glare at you. "we did the whole 'chill parent' thing with her first girlfriend, and the little bitch broke our baby's heart. i'm not takin' any chances this time."

your worry lessens for a moment, a smile taking over your features as you reach across the table for your wife's hand. she's such a fierce mama bear. you adore her. "you're cute." you say simply, pulling her knuckles to your lips to kiss them.

sevika smiles back at you. "...i know i'm a little crazy." she whispers. you laugh.

"i didn't say that--"

"i could tell you were thinking it." she chuckles.

"actually, i was thinking about how lucky me and the girls are to have you." you say.

sevika winks at you, and then she gasps, flailing for the menu. "fuck, they're here!" she whispers.

you groan, sinking as far down into your booth as you can and praying to every deity you can think of that your daughter doesn't catch the two of you spying on her date.

you don't have to worry too much though, because your little girl seems to have hear head in the clouds as she dreamily follows behind her girlfriend toward the table. her lipstick is a little smudged; they must've shared a few kisses on the way in. you giggle a bit. "awe. they're cute." you sigh.

sevika glares at you. "she's already got a hickey on her neck!"

you snort. "they're teenagers, sev."

"so smooches can't wait until after dinner to get her hands on our baby girl!?"

"oh, janna." you roll your eyes and scoot out of the booth. sevika gasps.

"where the hell are you going!?" she screeches. you snort.

"to the bar. to get you a drink. you're gonna have a heart attack if you don't relax." you huff. sevika grunts, but waves you toward the bar. you kiss her forehead. "if the waitress comes around, put in an order of fried pickles for me, okay?" you ask. sevika just grunts in response, her eyes locked on your daughter and her date across the restaurant. you snort and roll your eyes.

it takes you five minutes to get your drinks made, and by the time you get back to the booth, your wife looks ready to have a stroke.

"breathe, sevika, breathe!" you tease, pushing her drink under her nose.

"they were making out!" she squawks. you snort.

"yeah, sev, what else did you think they were gonna do on their date?" you ask.

"talk! what is wrong with kids these days?!"

you cackle. "sevika, my love, have you forgotten the first five years of our relationship?" you ask. sevika glares at you.

"we don't count."

"we don't count!? sevika, we were the poster couple of public indecency!"

"would you lower your voice!?" sevika huffs, kicking you again. you chuckle and nudge sevika's drink against her hand. she rolls her eyes and takes a gulp. you wink at her.

"she's sixteen, baby." you say.

sevika pouts. "but she's our baby." she whines. "i-i still remember cutting her umbilical cord. i remember bein' able to hold her in one arm."

your heart surges with fondness as you watch your wife tear up thinking back on your daughter's earliest days. "baby." you coo. sevika pouts at you.

"she's growing up too fast." she whines.

you chuckle and nod. "i know."

"and i love her so much."

"i know, big mama." you whisper. sevika tries to glare at you, but with the tears she's desperately blinking back it's not very intimidating. across the restaurant, your daughter starts to trail her foot up her girlfriend's calf. you bite your cheek to keep from making a face, then turn to your wife. "let's go, baby. we had a drink, we watched 'em for a bit to make sure our girl's in good hands, we haven't been caught yet... let's get out while we're ahead. i'll take you out for ice cream." you bribe.

sevika sniffles and wipes her eyes, then nods. "okay, yeah. that sounds nice, baby." she says. you smile at her, then finish your drink and scoot out of your booth.

sevika chugs her whiskey, her cheeks puffed out as she fills her mouth with liquor. she rises, grabbing your hand in one hand, her jacket in the other. and then, she finally sees what made you so antsy to leave in the first place.

sevika sputters, and whiskey sprays everywhere.

the entire restaurant turns to look at the commotion, and you squeak, grab your coughing wife's wrist, and sprint out of the restaurant with her in tow, throwing a few bills over your shoulder as you run out of the front doors.

by the time you're in the parking lot, both of you are laughing too hard to run much further.

"did they see us?!" sevika asks. you giggle.

"i don't think so. you coulda spit fire and they wouldn't have looked away from each other, baby." you laugh.

sevika gags a bit, then she laughs again. "they're so gross."

you giggle. "i'll show you gross." you say, pulling her in for a kiss. sevika waggles her eyebrows, laughing as your hands travel down to grope her ass.

you kiss her sloppily, like you're young and dumb again. you're a little tipsy from the drink you downed so quickly, and you're filled with happiness, unable to stop your giggles as you lick into sevika's mouth. she hums against you sweetly, a deep sigh of relief escaping her lungs.

"i love you." sevika whispers, pressing you against a car. "and i wanna keep makin' out with you." she sighs, brushing her lips against yours. "but i was promised ice cream, and my mouth'll taste much better for you once i get my butter pecan."

you cackle and push sevika off of you, then tug her toward the sidewalk. "c'mon, y' old fart. 'butter pecan,' what are you, a sixty year old man?" you tease. sevika smacks your ass, and you squeak and jump, elbowing her harshly and glaring at her as she giggles.

kofi

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[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI, NSFW, swearing, mention of needles, piercings, drinking alcohol, mentions of semi-public sex, hooonestly not sure what else for this chap!

A/N: rah rah rah! new chapter! sorry it has taken me so long you guys, but I’ve already got the one after this locked and loaded so I promise it won’t be as much of a wait next time! I wanted something a little more fluffy/lighthearted for this one, so I hope you enjoy ◡̈

index part five | part seven

part six word count: 3,312

you figured that this would be the part of a romance novel where everyone cheers, where every reader can revel in the happiness. but of course, life had to throw you for a loop. 

walking to Cursed Ink was becoming part of your routine—right behind swinging by the pub near work to see Sukuna. on nights he had clients and couldn’t make it to the bar, you found yourself drawn to the shop, craving more of his company. 

it didn’t help that your wicked fantasy of being bent over the tattoo chair had come true just last week, mere days after your first time with him. Sukuna swore he had full control over the security cameras and would scrub the footage clean afterwards, although you doubted he’d actually erase them completely before downloading the data for his own personal use.  

you were proven right by a clip sent to you in the middle of work today. distracting you from your responsibilities and earning a sharp glare from your coworker who just so happened to hear your volume up too loud when you initially opened the message – the sound of breathy grunts exploding from your speakers.  

as you pushed open the door, you silently hoped Sukuna was there alone. no such luck. the moment you stepped inside, you spotted Gojo perched smugly on the front counter, snowy hair catching the light. you barely had time to sigh before Uraume blocked your path, their expression as chilly as their voice. 

“did Sukuna know you were dropping by?” they asked, a hint of warning in their tone. 

“uh, no,” you admitted, suddenly self-conscious. “he’s got a late session, so I thought I’d stop in.” 

were you breaking some unspoken rule? you weren’t sure. 

“relax, Uraume, no need to bite her head off,” Gojo chimed in, pushing his sunglasses down his nose. his piercing gaze landed on you. “maybe she’s here for a tattoo or piercing… unless she’s still too scared?” 

the defiance in you flared, and you stuck out your lower lip. “I'm not scared,” you muttered, though the tiny waver in your voice said otherwise. 

Gojo grinned wider, glancing at Suguru Geto, who lurked across the room. “so you wouldn’t mind if Geto gave you a brand-new piercing, then?” 

Geto grumbled something too low to hear. you fidgeted, scanning the shop for Sukuna and silently praying he’d show up before Gojo’s taunting went any further. 

Gojo’s challenge hung in the air, and although your heart did a nervous flip, you couldn’t stop your pride from stepping forward first. maybe it was that smug look he was giving you, or the fact that Uraume looked ready to toss you right out the door. either way, backing down now would be worse than going through with it. 

“fine,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady even though your pulse was thumping in your ears. “let’s do it.” 

Gojo’s grin widened. “oh-ho, really?” he hopped off the counter. “Geto, you hearing this? she’s ready for a new hole.” 

Geto, who’d been quietly setting up equipment at a nearby station, gave you a measured look. he didn’t seem nearly as amused as Gojo. “which piercing?” he asked. 

your gaze flicked to the glinting piercing tools, something wild and impulsive sparking inside you. “actually… I was thinking a nose piercing.” 

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up. “oh? didn’t peg you for a daredevil.” 

a smile tugged at your lips. “guess I felt like taking a risk.” 

Geto nodded, gesturing for you to follow him to one of the piercing stations. “I promise it won’t be so bad. you’ve got this.” 

you dragged your feet a little, nerves spiking again as you slid onto the chair. the station smelled faintly of antiseptic and metal, and you suddenly realized this was really happening. worst case scenario the hole will close up once you remove the jewelry, right? Gojo prowled over to watch, leaning in far too close with that wolfish grin still on his face. 

“don’t hover,” Geto muttered, rolling his eyes at Gojo before turning to you. “it’ll be quick. you good with that?” 

you nodded, swallowing thickly. “yeah. I'm good.” 

a short laugh escaped Gojo. “you should see your face,” he teased. “relax, you’ll be fine.” 

Geto lifted a sterilized needle, his brow drawn in concentration. “stay still.” 

you braced yourself, your hands gripping the seat. the clamp pressed against your nostril, and you forced a steady exhale, counting down in your head—three… two… 

a sharp sting made you wince, your eyes clenching shut for a heartbeat. then it was over, the needle swapped for a small stud you could barely feel sliding into place. it burned, but not as badly as you’d imagined. 

Geto handed you a handheld mirror. “done.” 

“looks good on you,” Gojo remarked, studying it with a surprisingly serious nod. 

you let out a breath, some mix of relief and pride washing through you. “guess I'm not that scared, huh?” 

a new voice cut through before Gojo could retort. “that scared of what?” 

all three of you turned to see Sukuna standing just inside the doorway to the back room, his gaze flicking from your newly pierced nose to the tray of equipment and then to your face. his eyebrows arched, and the lazy smirk you knew all too well curved at his lips. 

“really, you guys couldn’t wait till I was done to start poking holes in her?” he said, sounding both amused and a little annoyed. 

you hopped off the chair, nose still stinging, and tried to shrug it off like no big deal. “I'm fine,” you muttered, though you were pretty sure your cheeks were giving you away. 

Suguru was already tidying up, but Gojo was grinning ear to ear. “you missed a whole show, Sukuna,” he sang out, but Sukuna just waved him off. 

“yeah, yeah,” Sukuna said, eyes locked on you. “I'll get the recap later.” 

as he crossed the shop to you, Gojo snorted, and Geto half-rolled his eyes. Uraume might have murmured something disapproving under their breath, but you barely heard it. all you could focus on was the way Sukuna’s gaze softened—just a fraction—when he saw the slight wince you made, still wiggling your nose to get used to the feeling. 

“come on,” he told you, jerking his head toward the back. “let’s clean that up properly. you’re not done yet, princess.” 

you followed Sukuna through a narrow hallway toward a tucked-away section of the shop. he stopped in front of a small station draped with a clean black towel, turning to eye your new piercing under the bright overhead light. “so,” he drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “that adrenaline high still going strong?” 

you shrugged, half-smiling, your pulse still galloping from the sudden decision you’d made in front of Gojo and Geto. “yeah,” you admitted, “actually it feels pretty great.” 

his smirk twitched, half amusement, half curiosity. “I gotta give it to you—didn’t think you’d go for the nose. maybe a simple ear piercing first. you really jumped straight to the fun stuff.” 

you met his gaze, lifting your chin in playful defiance. “don’t act surprised. I’ve shown you plenty of times I'm not afraid to keep up.” 

Sukuna chuckled, the low sound reverberating in the small space. “fair enough,” he said, stepping forward until he was close enough for you to catch the faint scent of leather and disinfectant on his clothes. his hand reached out, fingertips brushing your cheek. 

“you cool with it?” he asked, quieter now. “doesn’t hurt too bad?” 

you shook your head, your voice equally soft. “nah, it’s fine. might sting a bit if I accidentally bump it, but…” you shrugged, forcing a casualness you barely felt with him standing so near. 

for a moment, he said nothing, his eyes lingering on you as though trying to memorize every detail of your face. when he finally spoke, his voice was low enough that it felt like a secret. “kind of suits you,” he repeated, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. “a little edge. looks good.” 

heat rose to your cheeks at the unexpected gentleness in his tone. “thanks,” you managed, your heart thumping just as hard as it had when Geto pushed the needle through your skin. 

- 

the only thing Sukuna hated about your new piercing was that it made tearing his eyes away from you nearly impossible. not that he’d had an easy time ignoring you before—but now, it was downright futile. 

he could lie and say it was because the tiny stud caught the light, creating a distracting sparkle, but deep down, he knew it was because it made you look damn good. pristine skin, no other ink or metal to speak of—until you met him. Sukuna liked to imagine he’d corrupted you just a bit. 

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” Shoko said, offering a handshake from across the table. “I’ve heard plenty about you.” 

you and Sukuna were settled into the booth of a bar alongside Gojo, Geto, Uraume, and Shoko. “likewise,” you replied, feeling oddly self-conscious under her calm, assessing gaze. but she just smiled, gave a small nod, and sipped her drink as though you passed some unspoken test. 

“next rounds on me,” Gojo declared with a cocky grin, sliding out of the booth. before leaving, he cast you a mischievous look. “hope your new piercing can handle strong liquor without bursting into flames.” 

you rolled your eyes, flicking your gaze to Sukuna in time to catch him staring yet again. he masked it with a lazy smirk, slipping an arm across the back of the booth behind you. “what?” he drawled, shrugging as though you’d caught him red-handed. “I like the view.” 

Geto, sipping his drink, let out a small laugh at Sukuna’s halfhearted attempt at nonchalance. “you’re not subtle, you know,” he remarked, earning a wry eye roll from Uraume. Shoko, who’d been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow and shook her head, a hint of amusement on her face. 

ignoring the teasing, Sukuna leaned in just enough for you to hear him over the crowd. “how’s it feeling? everything okay?” he asked, nodding at your nose with a quick glance. 

you smiled, appreciating the concern behind the brash exterior. “it’s fine,” you said, voice low enough that only he could catch it. “might sting if I catch it on something, but I'll survive.” 

“good girl,” Sukuna replied, that faint edge of cockiness tugging the corners of his mouth into a grin as he watched your face flush. he pulled back right as Gojo returned with a tray of drinks, his voice booming with mock cheer. 

Gojo, now comfortably sprawled out on the opposite side of the table, decided to stir the pot. “hey, princess,” he called to you with a grin. “does your new hardware come with hazard lights, or is that just the glow of Sukuna’s embarrassment?” 

Geto gave Gojo a mild shove, rolling his eyes at his friend’s antics. “give it a rest, Gojo,” he said, but the slight curve to his lips betrayed his amusement. Uraume merely side-eyed the exchange, sipping their drink without comment. 

you only smirked in response, turning back to Sukuna. “apparently, I'm giving off some kind of glow.” 

“shut it,” Sukuna grumbled, although his hand slipped to your waist under the table in a half-hearted warning. Shoko caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and shot you a knowing smile, but didn’t comment. “why is it always me that gets picked on?” 

“because it’s fun,” Gojo chimed in, knocking back the rest of his drink. 

another round of drinks arrived, then another, then another, and soon everyone was just a bit looser—voices carrying over the thrum of conversation, laughter coming easier, boundaries melting away under the pleasant buzz of alcohol. 

Gojo, predictably, became even more theatrical, gesturing wildly as he recounted some half-true story about a weekend escapade. Geto, who was perched next to him, looked half-amused, half-ready to stuff a napkin in Gojo’s mouth. Uraume sipped at their glass, occasionally rolling their eyes when Gojo got too carried away. 

in the midst of it all, Shoko slid into the seat next to you, offering a fresh drink. “thought you might need something less… obnoxious,” she said with a wry grin, nodding pointedly at the neon-colored concoction in Gojo’s hand. 

“thanks,” you replied, swirling the amber liquid in your new glass before taking a cautious sip. it had a pleasant warmth, a slow burn that settled nicely in your chest. 

“first time out with the whole crew?” Shoko asked, her tone neutral, though her eyes flicked in Sukuna’s direction—where he was engaged in a half-heated, half-joking argument with Gojo about god knows what. 

“yeah,” you admitted, leaning in so she could hear you over the noise. “usually, it’s just me and Sukuna… or occasionally Geto, too. this is the first time I’ve been with everyone at once.” 

she took a sip of her drink and gave you a small smile. “they’re a handful,” she said, tilting her glass toward Gojo, who was now attempting to coax Uraume into doing a shot with him. “but they grow on you, if you let them.” 

“kind of like a fungus?” you joked, earning a quick snort of laughter from Shoko. 

“exactly,” she teased, her eyes lighting up. she was quiet for a moment, swirling the ice around in her glass. “so,” she said finally, “how’s the nose piercing treating you?” 

you touched it lightly, feeling that subtle tug where the skin was still a bit tender. “it’s fine, actually. doesn’t hurt too much anymore. Sukuna was more worried about it than I was.” 

Shoko’s brows rose. “he always acts too tough. but behind that façade?” she paused, taking another drink, and shook her head knowingly. “he’s just as concerned about his people as the rest of us. maybe more.” 

it made you smile, thinking of how often Sukuna’s gruff exterior slipped just enough to reveal that protective streak. “yeah,” you agreed softly, glancing over at him. “I'm starting to realize that.” 

Shoko followed your gaze, then turned back to you, looking strangely pleased. “well, if you ever need a second opinion on any of your new… adventures—or if that nose starts acting up—feel free to reach out. medic on call.” she tapped the side of her head, half-mocking, half-serious. 

“thanks.” you lifted your glass in a small toast. “I appreciate it.” 

she clinked her glass against yours. “no problem.” then her gaze shifted, eyes narrowing slyly. “just don’t let him drag you into too many fights. or do—your call. but if you ever have to patch him up, call me instead of the hack job he’d try to do on himself.” 

you laughed, and Shoko joined in, her once-reserved demeanor warming the more you two talked. another cheer erupted from the other side of the booth as Gojo finally convinced Uraume to take a shot, and even Geto got in on the revelry with a faint grin tugging at his lips. Sukuna caught your eye in the midst of the chaos, one eyebrow raised as if to ask if you were okay. you gave a small nod, a silent reassurance. 

turning back to Shoko, you found she was watching the exchange with that same wry smile. “looks like he’s keeping an eye on you,” she remarked quietly, sipping her drink. 

and from the way your heart flipped at his quick check-in, you realized that maybe you were keeping an eye on him, too. 

your cheeks were beginning to feel hot and your words a little slurred by the time Shoko coaxed you into another drink. you couldn’t help but laugh as Gojo tried—and failed—to balance an empty shot glass on Geto’s head. Uraume observed the entire spectacle with their usual cool detachment, while Sukuna shot you a quick, amused glance and shook his head like he couldn’t believe you’d let yourself get dragged in so deep. 

then the door swung open, ushering in a new wave of noise and energy. you saw the pink puff of hair before you heard him. a ripple of excitement ran through the group as Yuji approached, Megumi, Nobara, and Choso in tow. they were quickly swept up in Gojo’s exuberant storytelling, but you were getting swept up by that nagging feeling again.  

because she came along.  

you leaned against Sukuna’s side, soaking in the warmth of his presence even as your gaze drifted to where she had sat. she was chatting easily with Choso, her hand resting comfortably on his forearm, and every so often, her eyes slid across the table to Sukuna. 

you tried to ignore the way your stomach twisted each time she did. your insecurities flared, a nagging voice in your mind whispering that she was probably the prettiest woman in the group. you couldn’t help wondering if Sukuna had ever looked at you the way he used to look at her. 

she smiled at something Choso whispered to her, then turned her attention to you. “I love the new piercing,” she said, genuine admiration coloring her voice. “it really suits you.” 

you mustered a smile, hoping the warmth in your cheeks didn’t show. “thanks,” you managed, fighting off the prick of jealousy at how easily she carried herself. next to her, you couldn’t help but feel… ordinary. 

Gojo, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, leaned forward. “you should’ve seen Sukuna’s face when he first noticed it,” he teased, tipping his glass in your direction. “man nearly fell over.” 

Sukuna gave an exasperated eye roll but tugged you a bit closer, his hand settling at your shoulder. “don’t start,” he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched with reluctant humor. 

Choso, seeming to sense the slight shift in tension, cleared his throat. “so, who’s ready for another round?” he lifted a brow at Megumi and Nobara, who nodded, and Yuji eagerly shot to his feet to help with the drinks. meanwhile, Shoko watched you with an understanding glimmer in her eyes, like she’d noticed your momentary discomfort and decided not to comment on it directly. 

as more of your group flitted from the table to go order, leaving you without Sukuna’s presence, Shoko sat back down next to you again. “to be fair,” Shoko began quietly, leaning in just enough that you could catch her words over the music, “I'm really surprised they can even be this friendly with each other.” she followed your line of sight, an almost rueful smile playing at her lips. 

“friendly?” you repeated, trying to sound casual. “I mean… they seem okay.” 

Shoko’s shrug was subtle. “they are now. but it wasn’t always like this.” she paused, as though weighing how much to reveal. then she let out a small sigh and continued. “things were… messy between them. he didn’t talk about it much. neither did she.” 

your heart twinged at the word messy, and you couldn’t keep yourself from asking, “what happened?” 

Shoko grimaced, pausing as if she wasn’t sure if she should share the information. but thanks to quite a few drinks, her lips started moving on their own. “they were never... official. and it was quite the love triangle between those three for a while. but all I know is he messed up. told us that he’d hurt her without meaning to, and that there was no redemption.” 

“hurt her? I know Sukuna can be… intense, but what did he do that was irredeemable?” you shouldn’t have asked, and your conscious reprimanded you for it. but you couldn’t have possibly known the next words that would come out of her mouth. 

and after learning what he did... you felt your heart drop to your stomach.  

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