#bartender data | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anto-pops · 11 months ago

Text

Midnight Rendezvous - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: An unmistakable tension has always existed between you and Sylus, and despite trying, you’ve never been able to make much sense of it. He’s haughty, arrogant, and too attractive for his own good. After he intervenes and saves you from a questionable situation during a girl’s night out, he whisks you away to his house despite your protests. You want to hate him— you want to be mad at him— but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against your desires, and before long… you stop trying.

Alternatively summarized as you and Sylus having steamy, passionate sex for the first time.

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, size difference

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 (with more diverse tags)

The Midnight Bar was, for all intents and purposes, an eclectic melting pot for all of Linkon’s denizens. With its colorful strobe lights and intense, pounding music that poured from the open doorway, it beckoned to any and all passersby, tempting them to set foot past the threshold and lose themselves in the sea of bodies that congregated on the dance floor. More often than not, you dismissed your repetitive, fleeting inclinations to come here for a night of fun. It was easier to justify your homebody tendencies with countless excuses that all pertained to work. But not tonight.

No, tonight you wanted to let loose. You wanted to cast aside your worries and obligations for a few hours, to have a few fruity cocktails that you knew would have you on your ass tomorrow. You wanted to dance until your feet throbbed, until your back ached, until your ears rang and drowned out the never ending cacophony of concerns that plagued your mind.

Life was… complicated. You wanted to forget about it all for once. You wanted to be selfish.

Tara had mercifully agreed to accompany you to the club. Phrasing it as a ‘girl’s night out’ had certainly helped matters, and her light-hearted aura would do wonders for your fluctuating emotions. It was easy to stay level headed when she was around, and you found yourself wondering if the data analyst was even aware of her influence.

From your rooted position on the dance floor, you could see Tara at the bar waiting dutifully for the drinks she’d offered to buy, chatting with the burly bartender all the while. You knew you had no business drinking anymore– you’d had three of those strawberry whatever’s already– but the night called for it, and your clammy palms craved the chilled feeling of the thick, cocktail glass more than was probably healthy. The steady ebb and flow of the music had you moving in sync with the crowd around you flawlessly; your hips swayed, your arms languidly rose above your head, and your eyes fluttered shut as you rolled your head back to toss a few strands of hair out of your face.

Nothing else existed to you in that moment, and you were more than willing to ride the brainless high for a while longer. Wanderers, Grandma and Caleb, The Hunter’s Association, your heart condition… all of it was inconsequential. Every thought that entered your mind dissipated into nothing just as quickly as it appeared, and the last thing you planned to do was squander a second of the reprieve.

That is, until a warm, broad hand appeared on your waist.

Your eyes flew open at the same time you looked over your shoulder, and your field of view was instantly obscured by a familiar chest clad in a black and red button-up shirt. A smokey, almost spicy cologne flooded your senses, and you recognized the scent even before you craned your neck back to meet Sylus’ imposing gaze. He looked the same as always; annoyingly attractive. His pale hair was effortlessly combed off his forehead to showcase those ruby-red eyes that had once imbued you with a healthy dose of fear. Now though, the sight of them only stoked the flames of rebellion within you.

What the hell was he doing in Linkon City? Why was he here of all places?

“All this time and I only ever had you pegged as an indoor cat,” his sultry voice reverberated against you as he bent down to speak directly against your ear, and much to your dismay, you shivered involuntarily. “You never fail to surprise me, kitten.”

On shaky legs, you managed to step out of Sylus’ reach, his fingers trailing across your hip until you were far enough away that his hand fell back to his side. His expression was the usual smug variant you typically saw plastered to his face, and he cocked his head to the side as he took in your disheveled appearance. For whatever reason, your confidence from earlier seemed to vanish completely, and you found yourself feeling incredibly self-conscious having him see you like this. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you looked… messy. The thin sheen of sweat on your face had your hair clinging to your cheeks for dear life, and the thrum of liquor in your veins warmed you so thoroughly that you were confident you were flushed from head to toe.

Out of everyone that could have possibly crossed your path tonight, why did it have to be him? You would have preferred that Zayne walked in to chastise you for your poor life choices rather than the puffed up, Adonis-incarnate before you now. Stupid Sylus with his stupid, attractive smile and his stupid perfect body.

Having stared at him for long enough, you mercifully didn’t slur your words when you bit out, “What are you doing here?”

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, Miss Hunter.” He easily closed the minuscule distance between the two of you with half a step, gingerly putting the back of his hand against your forehead to gauge your temperature. You swatted the appendage away and scowled, your irritation rising when he smirked in response to the motion. “What will people say when they hear that Linkon’s valiant defender is drunk in the club on a Thursday night? Have you finally tossed away your self-imposed restrictions to join the rest of society in debauchery?”

“I’m not drunk,” you retorted, and the dry look Sylus shot you conveyed just how willing he was to believe you. “I’m not! I’m just having a bit of fun. I don’t work tomorrow, so Tara and I decided to have a girl’s night out. Which means you can’t be here.”

“Can’t I? Or will you run to the nearest police officer and tell them that the leader of Onychinus showed face at the Midnight Bar? I didn’t think you had it in you, sweetie.”

To hear him even suggest such a thing made your stomach sink into the floor, and you stood up straight as you nervously glanced around the room to make sure no one had heard him so boldly announcing his title. “Quiet down! I swear it’s like you want to be caught. I wouldn’t do that, I just– why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

At home clearly meant the N109 Zone, but Sylus picked up on your shrouded speech well enough. He fluidly shifted to allow a cluster of younger girls to dart past him through the crowd, but his eyes never wavered from yours. “Why else would I deign to grace Linkon City with my presence? I’m here on business. It’s since concluded, but I wanted to grab a drink. I wasn’t expecting to find you in the middle of the dance floor all by yourself.”

Your tipsy brain was slow to process all of his information, the most prudent of which had to do with who he was discussing business with in this part of the city. You didn’t even bother to ask, though. Sylus could avoid your questions like he was born to do it, and you were painfully aware of how much he loved to goad you. Better to let the matter rest… for now.

You crossed your arms over your chest– suddenly acutely aware of the plunging neckline of your dress– and did your best to sound firm. “Well, don’t stop on my account. Go get your drink so I can go back to what I was doing.”

Those eyes of his were predatory in every sense of the word. You may as well have been naked with how vulnerable you felt on the receiving end of his unrelenting stare. “And leave you all alone here? Perish the thought.”

Right on cue, you spotted Tara’s familiar head of hair bobbing and weaving through the crowd, both of her arms raised to protect the integrity of the two cocktails she held from the ever shifting sea of bodies. You instantly relaxed at the sight of her, and if Sylus’s raised brow was anything to go by, he noticed your change in demeanor almost immediately. He glanced over his shoulder in time to spot Tara emerging from the throng of bodies, one of the drinks in her hands already outstretched towards you.

“The wait was crazy, but the bartender was really nice!” She had to shout over the roar of the music, an easygoing smile already playing on her lips. You took the offered beverage from her while she continued, “He gave me his employee discount for both of the drinks. I think he liked–”

You knew the exact moment Tara noticed the six foot two giant towering over you, her brown eyes becoming comically wide as she shifted her weight to look up at Sylus. Recognition flashed across her face, and for a brief moment you felt a genuine surge of panic. But then her expression smoothed out, and she gently patted Sylus’ shoulder in a friendly greeting.

“You’re Skye, right? It’s been forever! What are you doing here?”

Skye? You were confused for all of two seconds until you remembered the one and only time Tara had ever met Sylus; at the hotel all those weeks ago during your team building exercise. You thought he had been pretending to be a fruit vendor, up until he let you know that he would order more of the watermelon served there that you loved so much, cluing you in on the fact that he had some kind of dealings with the establishment. The enigma of a man seemed to have his fingers in damn near every pie in Linkon and the N109 Zone.

Was nowhere safe from his influence? Honestly…

The conversation between your two acquaintances had continued in the midst of your reminiscing, and Sylus pinned you with a knowing look, which brought yet another scowl to your face. “I’m just passing through. I happened to see Miss Hunter over here looking incredibly lonely, so I decided I’d come and say hello.”

Liar. “I already told you I was here for a girl’s night out. As you can see, the girls are back together and in the middle of something.”

Tara’s glassy eyes lit up as the worst idea imaginable came to mind. “I don’t mind if you want to hang out with us, Skye. You can be one of the girls for the night if you’d like.”

The giggle that slipped out of Tara spoke volumes of her inebriated state, and you opted to blame all the alcohol for giving her enough courage to invite a borderline stranger into your circle. If she knew the truth about the man standing mere inches away from her, you knew her tone would change in an instant. Thankfully though, Sylus interjected before you got the chance to, seemingly on the same page as you for once.

“Thank you for the invite, but I can’t linger tonight. You two have your fun, I’ll be at the bar for a bit before I need to head out. The fruit business never sleeps, I’m afraid.”

The ease with which he lied out of his ass was something that needed to be studied by professionals, you were certain. Still, you were grateful that he was taking pity on you and excusing himself, though you had to admit you were… surprised by it. The Sylus you knew wouldn’t turn his nose up at a chance to taunt you and keep you on your toes. Even though he had revealed sides of himself to you that you hadn’t expected, at the end of the day, Sylus was an instigator at his core.

Red eyes glittering with mirth met yours for the briefest of moments before the Onychinus leader turned on his heel to head for the bar, and the crowd of people that surrounded the three of you seemed to part for him effortlessly. Countless heads turned to watch Sylus as he went, women and men alike staring after him with varying degrees of attraction and envy written across their faces. You could hardly blame them.

Men more than likely wanted to be him, and women no doubt wanted to be with him. He seemed to have that effect on everyone he crossed paths with.

“Is there something going on between you two?”

Your head swiveled back towards Tara so fast, the movement practically gave you whiplash. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She playfully shoved your shoulder, which only succeeded in pushing herself away from you as she stumbled back a step. No more drinks for her, you thought to yourself. “Oh come on,” she drawled. “The tension between you and him is thick enough to cut with a knife. Plus the way he stares at you? I would melt if I was on the receiving end of those eyes.”

Thoroughly fed up with the conversation already, you simply shook your head and brought your drink to your lips, your eyes unconsciously seeking Sylus out. He was exactly where he said he would be; at the bar with a glass already pinched between his long, lithe fingers. How he had gotten a drink so fast, you didn’t know, and you furrowed your brows in confusion at the same time his gaze zeroed in on you from across the room. He raised his beverage to you and tipped his head forward in a leisurely manner, but you only gave him a nonplussed blink in response before looking away.

“Exhibit A,” Tara tactfully pointed out when you returned to paying attention to her. “What would be the harm? He’s handsome, he’s got to be smart with all the business deals he’s involved in, he’s polite. He could be good for you if you gave him a chance.”

“Tara, you have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s–” you cut yourself off, trying and failing to come up with a justification that didn’t out him as the head of a massive crime organization. In the end you settled for, “He’s a complicated guy. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

“Fine, fine,” she waved off your pleading and took a hearty sip of her drink, motioning for you to do the same. “I’ll let it slide this once, but don’t think for one second that I’m dropping the subject forever. Anyways, do you think the DJ is taking requests?”

Thankfully it didn’t take you long to fall back into your previously upbeat mood. The steady supply of alcohol and the rancorous thrum of your heartbeat in your ears certainly helped matters, and when the song Tara had requested finally came on over the pounding speakers, you shed the remainder of your inhibitions and downed the rest of your drink to free up your hands and dance wildly. It took a herculean effort not to glance back to the bar to see if Sylus was still perched on the stool in the corner, but your willpower won out in the end as you swayed your hips to the tempo of the dark, seductive music.

Lost in the sea of bodies around you, your senses were overwhelmed with all the different sights, sounds, and smells that surrounded you. The tang of everyone’s sweat mixed together wasn’t altogether unpleasant, and the sickly sweet taste of the lingering cocktail on your lips had you wetting them as red strobe lights darted overhead. Heat from everyone packed in tight next to one another had sweat dripping down your brow, your chest, your back— so you dexterously gathered your hair in one hand to lift off of your neck to offer some reprieve.

Tara was a blur in the corner of your eye, but you still knew she was somewhere in front of you. That was how you knew the hand on the nape of your neck wasn’t hers, and the absence of Sylus’ trademark scent told you that it wasn’t him, either.

Ambushed by an errant hand for the second time in one night, you were quick to spin around and shove the stranger away. It was a man– an unfamiliar one at that– who looked all too put out to have been so harshly rejected within the first five seconds of trying. His hair was so black that underneath the club’s technicolored lights, it looked blue. Pale green eyes were narrowed in confusion at you, though you noticed how he immediately attempted to school his expression once you’d turned around.

“Hey,” he called over the thrumming base of the music. “Want to dance?”

Suddenly bashful at having been so harsh, you did your best to ease up your defensive stance and allowed for a polite smile to play on your lips while you shook your head. “Thank you, but no thanks. I’m here with my friend.”

Apparently being nice wasn’t going to work, because the stranger stepped close enough to sling his arms across your and Tara’s shoulders, and with the brief look the two of you shared, you could tell neither one of you was particularly thrilled about it. “The more the merrier! Why don’t you two come over to my booth in the corner? I’m sure my friends would love to meet you.”

Calmly but firmly, you grabbed for the man’s hand to unsling it from around your neck, taking a small step away from him as you reached for Tara. “No thank you, we’re good–”

His hand shot out quickly, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for nullifying your reaction time, because the bastard succeeded in grabbing your forearm to pull you closer once again. His nails dug into your flesh hard enough that you winced, and when you tried pulling back, you felt the telltale sting of skin breaking. “Oh come on,” he crooned, giving you an undiluted nose-full of the stale beer on his breath. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. A couple of beautiful women such as yourselves deserve a night of fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Tara interjected this time, looking more uncomfortable than you’d ever seen her before. “We’re really fine, please let go–”

A shadow crossed your vision for a moment; large, imposing, and radiating an aura that you could only describe as murderous. Smokey cologne filled your nostrils as Sylus wrenched the man’s hand away from your arm, then picked him up by the scruff of his shirt to glare menacingly into his eyes. Over the blaring music, you had no idea what the green-eyed stranger was saying, but you could make out the sound of him stammering as he clawed at the arm that held him inches off the ground.

For a minute, you really thought Sylus was going to end the man’s life. Even in the midst of hoisting an adult male off the floor by the fabric of his shirt, he didn’t move a muscle. It didn’t even look like he was struggling. He was eerily still, and when you moved to catch a glimpse of his side profile, there was no missing the white hot stare he had glued to his prey.

Tentatively, you placed your hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly to get his attention. “Sylus, we’re fine– just put him down, please.”

Aside from a muscle in his jaw ticking minutely, he gave no indication that he had heard you. You tried again, “Sylus please. People are staring, you’re causing a scene.”

Truthfully you couldn’t care less about the people in the club watching everything unfold, but you were worried about police being called in and discovering who exactly Sylus was. The thought of him being taken away unnerved you, and even though you knew he could more than likely escape beforehand, you feared for the people that would inevitably be caught in the crossfire.

Beneath your palm, you felt Sylus’ bicep flex before he roughly dropped the man from his ironclad grip. The stranger, wide-eyed with terror, stumbled when his feet hit the floor, but he didn’t waste any time disappearing into the crowd and vanishing from sight. You sighed with relief, grateful that things hadn’t ended badly, then looked back to the silver haired man. His red eyes were fixed on your arm where the stranger had scratched you; four stark, crescent shaped wounds were etched into your skin. Sylus gently took your hand in his to bring your forearm closer for him to inspect, lightly running his fingers over the wounds, and despite the severity of the situation, you felt your face flushing from the intimacy of the gesture.

“Come on,” Sylus practically growled, his grip on your hand tightening. “We’re leaving.”

“I– wait, what?” You tried wrenching your arm free from the imposing man’s vice grip, but it was like pulling at Protocore infused shackles. “Sylus, let me go! What about Tara? I can’t leave her here alone.”

“Luke and Kieran are already on their way. They’ll take her home.” He didn’t look at you as he half-pulled, half-dragged you through the crowd towards the front doors of the club. It took everything in you not to stumble in your heels and sprawl out on the sticky, tile floor, but something told you that even if you did, Sylus would just haul you up and toss you over his shoulder before you made contact with the ground. When the two of you made it outside, the cool air was like a sobering slap to the face, and you blinked rapidly as Sylus released your hand long enough to open the passenger side door of a sleek, black car parked in the front. He gestured stiffly to the seat, “Get in.”

The flame of rebellion reserved especially for Sylus and his insufferable brand of arrogance roared to life in a split second. Any gratitude you might have felt towards him dissipated into the air like smoke. Your eyes sharpened into something lethal, and your hands curled into fists at your sides as you stood your ground on the sidewalk– silently daring him to physically move you into the car, because you would sooner go head to head with a den of Wanderers before you let yourself be ordered around by him.

“No.”

“What if I asked nicely?”

“No,” you doubled down firmly, your nails biting into the skin of your palms as you beat back the urge to smack him.

“Kitten,” Sylus’ voice was a low rumble, but the nickname came out as anything but calm. It held a dangerous edge to it, like something akin to thunder sounding before lightning struck. “Now really isn’t the time to show me your claws. Please, get in the car.”

“Screw you, Sylus. I already said no. I’ll walk–”

The familiar, cold tendrils of his Evol snaked around your torso, lashing out too fast for you to track or dodge. There was an almost imperceivable tug against your midsection, and the next thing you knew, you were being haphazardly thrown into the car. Any whiplash the motion would have caused was prevented by the red mist that cradled your head. By the time you realized what had happened, Sylus was shutting the door on you and striding around to the driver’s side, ignoring the wary stares from the people outside waiting to be let into the club.

“Are you out of your mind?” You snapped as soon as he climbed in, and your blood boiled when he wouldn’t even do you the service of looking at you while you raged. “You’re completely out of line! You don’t get to just decide to kidnap me when I’m out with my friends. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?”

“You’ll get over it,” he muttered, throwing the gear in drive before peeling away from the curb. He spun the car around so quickly that you found yourself leaning uncomfortably against the door, and as he evened out the steering wheel and took off down the street, the erratic motions had you bouncing between the window and the center console. “You might want to buckle up, sweetie.”

He shot you a sidelong look when you jerked on the seatbelt hard enough for it to lock in place, then snickered when you were forced to be gentler to draw the strap across your lap. “Keep laughing like that and you’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight,” you muttered, clicking the buckle into place.

Sylus chuckled softly under his breath, his knuckles blanching white against the steering wheel for a brief moment before he said, “I’m counting on it, kitten.”

—

Insufferable. Demanding. Egotistical. Infuriatingly charming. Too suave for his own good. All of those terms could be used to describe Sylus, but even then it wasn’t enough. No dictionary in the world had enough words to characterize the man’s personality, and you were positive that if you tried finding one, you would be on the hunt for the rest of your life.

After arriving at his house in the N109 Zone, you’d bitten his head off for not taking you home. When he had countered with the claim that he’d never specified where he was taking you to begin with, you had thrown your hands in the air and stomped away into the living room, at your wits end for the nth time tonight. He had given you a modicum of space to let you cool off shortly thereafter, until he had reappeared to let you know that Luke and Kieran had dropped Tara off at her house safe and sound.

That had… helped your mood a little. While Sylus was an exasperating person as a whole, you knew that you could trust him to have your friend delivered home unharmed. Luke and Kieran were reliable too– at least, they were when they weren’t conspiring to get you and their boss into compromising situations.

You had never really forgiven them for setting you up that night you were searching for Sylus’ brooch. If Sylus was the ringmaster of Onychinus, Luke and Kieran were the acrobats bending over backwards to please him.

“There’s a change of clothes by the bathroom,” Sylus’ gravelly voice sounded from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t bother looking away from the massive bay windows to acknowledge him. “You can go shower if you want. If you’re still adamant about going home afterwards, then I’ll take you.”

You barked out a humorless laugh, and you saw Sylus narrow his eyes at you in the reflection of the window. “Why so hospitable all of a sudden? You didn’t care about what I wanted when you were hauling me out of the club like a petulant child.”

“I’m sorry, are we forgetting the part where I got rid of the human scum that was yanking you around like a dog on a leash?”

You dumbly shook your head, baffled and bewildered that he had justifications ready to dish out after behaving so boorishly. “While I appreciate that you intervened, I had it under control.”

One second he was across the room glaring at the back of your head. The next, he was inches away from you, peering down at you like an ominous shadow with predatory intent plastered all over his face. Sylus swiftly captured your hand in his to reveal the tiny row of scratches on your forearm, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his stormy demeanor. He cocked a brow at you and condescendingly said, “You and I have very different definitions of what ‘under control’ means, kitten.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, easily withdrawing your arm back to your side. “It’s not like he could have done anything serious. We had people all around us, and security would have come over eventually–”

“For future reference, don’t rely on drunk patrons to protect you. I expected better from a Linkon Hunter. You have no idea what that man wanted with you and your friend.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes.”

That one word from Sylus made you pause, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and your face crinkled in confusion as you processed the meaning behind his declaration. “You… Did you use your Evol?”

Not the least bit ashamed at having been caught, Sylus turned away from you to look out the floor to ceiling window. “He may as well have been screaming his desires with how loud his thoughts were. What he wanted was vile,” he stated roughly, “and he would have gotten it whether you were a willing participant or not.”

The silence that filled the living room was deafening, and you nervously looked down to the floor as you shifted your weight between your feet. To hear the real reason why Sylus had felt the need to intervene… it explained the cold-blooded expression you’d seen on his face. Moreover, you were glad that he hadn’t left like he had said he would.

Should you apologize? It felt wrong to just ignore the fact that Sylus could very well have saved your life tonight, and Tara’s by extension. He was as stubborn and headstrong as they came, but he wasn’t a monster. He had protected you countless times before now, and despite your brain’s unwillingness to fully agree, you had a sneaking suspicion that the crime lord had a soft spot for you. You’d come to terms with that fact a long time ago. At the very least, you felt like you owed him a sincere apology for being such a brat in the face of his kindness.

If it could even be called that.

Your mouth opened so those two little words could slip free and ease the weight that had settled on your shoulders, but Sylus’ finger stopped you. The slender digit pressed against your lips and prevented you from saying anything, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you blinked slowly in confusion.

“Go clean up. We can talk more after, if you’d like.”

The softness of his voice coupled with the tenderness of his gaze compelled you to listen. No retorts, no witty one-liners, no arguments formed on your tongue. For the first time since knowing him, you weren’t in the mood to butt heads or deny him.

So you listened.

—

He was waiting for you when you finished in the bathroom.

Maybe it was more appropriate to say that he’d simply retired to his room after waiting for nearly an hour. After all, you were technically using his shower. The gray cotton pajamas that had been left for you on the bathroom counter were soft, thin, and fit like a glove. You had taken a good minute to relish in the comfortable feeling of them before slipping out of the steam filled chamber.

Sylus was thumbing over the collection of records on the shelf when you emerged, his broad back to you as he thoughtfully debated on which one to play. He made no move to acknowledge your presence, but you already knew he had heard you walk out of the bathroom. He was too perceptive to overlook anyone sneaking up on him.

Padding over to the bed, you sat down on the edge of the mattress and mulled over the countless different things you could say to him. ‘I’m sorry’ was seemingly the most prudent. There was also the ‘thank you’ route, which wasn’t a bad option considering he had made sure Tara made it home safely in addition to coming to your aide. Part of you even wanted to ask why he cared to go so far out of his way for you when you were merely… well, you. Sure, your paths had intertwined some time ago, and he had helped you out in choppy situations a few times before. But at the end of the day, the two of you couldn’t be more different, and it wasn’t like you’d made it easy for him to get to know you.

Why did he care to help you?

You could already hear his possible responses playing in your mind. He would probably say something like “I protect my investments,” or “You have a habit of looking so pitiful, I can’t help myself”. Something that would affirm that you were important to him while still keeping you at arm’s length. This cat and mouse game you had going with him was maddening, and you were starting to lose your grip on what was real and what was a facade.

“If you think any harder, you’re going to hurt yourself, kitten.”

Sylus’ voice drew you back into the present moment, and you glanced towards him in time to watch him slide a vinyl case off the shelf before carefully thumbing the packaging open. His captivating red eyes landed on you as he deposited the disk onto the record player, effortlessly dropping the needle down without so much as blinking. An almost bewitching melody filled the room, and then Sylus was setting down the case to walk towards you, his stride slow and purposeful. Stopping a few inches away from you, he delicately picked up a strand of your damp hair to coil around his finger as he raked his eyes over your body.

The pajamas he’d chosen were definitely meant for hot nights, that was for sure. The soft, gossamer shorts left nearly all of your legs on display. Nevermind the racy neckline of the matching, lace-lined tank top. All in all, you were wearing more skin than you were clothes.

“I was thinking,” you started to say, tilting your chin up to meet his unyielding stare. “I owe you an apology.”

One perfectly groomed brow quirked up in response. “Oh?”

“I know I can be stubborn sometimes–”

“The understatement of the century,” he mused thoughtfully.

“Shush, I need to say this.” You sighed before pressing on undaunted, your tone hardening, “That being said, I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t acknowledge that I was out of my element tonight. I honestly don’t know if things would have gone the way you said they would, but even so I can see now that I wasn’t in a state of mind to properly protect myself or Tara. Your methods were… unorthodox, but you being there was appreciated, and I’m sorry that I snapped at you.”

Sylus was quiet for a few seconds, taking in your words with an almost serene expression on his face. His thumb traced over the strand of your hair around his finger, then let it slip away to caress the side of your cheek with his knuckles. Your breathing hitched– startled by the gesture– but you made no move to pull away or stop him. It was rare for you to be able to perceive him so… openly.

His voice was low, barely a whisper as he murmured, “You never have to thank me for the things I do. Especially not for tonight.”

The way he grazed your cheekbone with his fingertips before tracing the outline of your jaw had your mouth firmly sealed. If you tried to speak, you already knew your voice would come out pitifully small. It had nothing to do with feeling small, however. The utter longing in Sylus’ gaze coupled with the almost reverent way he touched your face made you feel… important. He was looking at you like you were the only thing he cared about within the four walls, which was saying something when you stopped to consider all the valuables and collectables he kept hidden away in his bedroom.

But you didn’t stop to think. Not really. Your brain was mercifully silent as you studied his eyes, his posture, his lips. Something had shifted between the two of you, and you didn’t know if you were eager or scared to discover what that meant. Sylus’ thumb slid over your lips, his touch featherlight as well as chill-inducing. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable as the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smirk.

“Let tonight be a lesson to you, kitten; never let your guard down around anyone,” his gaze flickered from your face to your chest, then lazily swept down the rest of your seated form. “Especially not when you’re out for a night on the town looking like the human embodiment of temptation.”

“Temptation?” You echoed dumbly, and Sylus shook his head to himself as he laughed softly.

“Don’t tell me you were completely oblivious to how you looked in the middle of the club earlier. I’ll admit, the amount of eyes you had on you made me… twitchy. I should burn that dress to cinders, but then I’d never get to see you in it again.”

You blinked in surprise, a tingling warmth spreading from your chest all the way down your torso before settling between your legs. “I– you liked it?”

It should have made you laugh the way Sylus had to bend down so much to put his eyes at the same level as yours, but humor had flown right out the fucking window the second he started caressing your face. His blatant desire burned you, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Red eyes bored into yours, and his face was close enough that you could see the darker shade of red that rimmed his irises. Being so up close and personal with his lips also made thinking difficult, but the one thought you managed to cling onto was how soft they looked, and how much you wanted to feel them against yours.

This man was quickly becoming your undoing, and you truly didn’t think you had it in you to fight against your baser urges.

“I liked the dress,” Sylus said huskily, his fingers leaving your face to ghost down the side of your neck. “I liked your heels, and I definitely liked your dancing.” His fingers moved to curl around the back of your neck, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him so that his breath fanned across your cheeks as his eyes eagerly fell to your lips. “Would you be offended if I said I like you?”

The shallow breath you drew into your lungs was like music to Sylus’ ears, and you felt his hand stiffen against the nape of your neck as he awaited your response. Formulating words was a bit of a challenge, however, seeing as all you could focus on was the unrepentant fantasies that were currently bombarding your brain. You wanted him bad, and the wet heat ravaging your lower body was a testament to that fact.

“I’m going to need an answer, sweetie,” Sylus purred, all too pleased with the way you seemed to unconsciously move your face closer to his. “Or am I meant to read your mind to find out for myself?”

“I’m not offended,” your response was airy– barely a whisper– but Sylus heard you loud and clear, and he grinned wickedly as his grip on your neck tightened. “I think I like you too.”

“It’s about time.”

Those three little words came out roughly, but you hardly got the chance to dwell on the gravelly timbre to Sylus’ voice. His lips were on yours in the next second, stealing your breath and igniting a fire in your veins that threatened to burn you from the inside out. Every one of your senses was overcome with Sylus; his smokey scent, the throaty moan he let slip, the feeling of his fingers burying themselves in your still damp hair. You heard him kick off his shoes without breaking away, and then you felt the mattress dip under his weight as he supported himself over you with one of his knees. Looming above you, you were entirely at his mercy as he used the newfound angle to his advantage, sweeping his tongue along the roof of your mouth as he devoured the minuscule sounds that emanated from you. You cautiously wrapped your significantly smaller hand around his thick wrist, drawing him close enough into your space that you had to lean back on the bed to accommodate his larger frame.

“The things you do to me,” Sylus rumbled, leaning his head to the side to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, flicking his tongue against your pulse with a low hum. “So unbelievably perfect. You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

Emboldened by his praise, you let your hands rest on his narrow waist so your nails could dig into the silky fabric of his dress shirt. “Show me, then,” you replied, turning your head so you could stare up at him as your teeth began to bite at your swollen bottom lip.

In a flash, Sylus had moved off of you to wedge his arms under your armpits, effortlessly hoisting you off the edge of the bed so he could better toss you towards the mountain of pillows near the headboard. A surprised yelp sounded from you as your ass made contact with the smooth, satin sheets, and you watched blearily as Sylus deftly began undoing the top buttons of his shirt with one hand as his eyes raked over you. “You don’t have any idea what kind of effect you have on me, do you? You drive me crazy and you’re none the wiser to it. Ignorance really is bliss, huh?”

“I–” you didn’t know what to say or where to look, especially once the muscled expanse of his chest started to show itself. “I’m sorry?”

Chuckling darkly, Sylus finished off the remaining clasps on his shirt and shrugged the attire off, tossing it somewhere near the record player before making his way to the side of the bed. “Actions speak louder than words, kitten. Why don’t you show me just how sorry you are?” His hands gestured towards his belt in an unspoken question, and while it took you a second to figure out what it was that he wanted, you were quick to shuffle towards him to get started once your brain caught up. “So eager to please… I’m impressed.”

You ignored his teasing to the best of your ability. Cold feet wouldn’t serve you well now– not when every fiber of your being was heated with blatant arousal. The urge to please him, to pleasure him, to drive him to further madness, was overwhelming. Nimble as a cat, you undid his belt and let the metal buckle fall away with a resounding clink. The catch of his pants went next, and you made sure to glance up at him through your lashes as you slowly dragged the zipper down, reveling in the lust-filled gaze he fixed you with.

Sylus let you do the majority of the work, only deigning to lend you a hand when you struggled to pull his pants down over the swell of his rear. A throaty laugh sounded from above you when your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at the sight of his briefs. The unmistakable outline of his girth was apparent through the dark fabric, and fuck– was he big.

How the hell was that supposed to fit anywhere inside you?

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” Sylus taunted, his index finger and thumb coming to grip your chin and tilt your head up at him. “Just take it slow. I’ll talk you through it.”

All his promise did was give you butterflies. You swallowed thickly, nodding as he released you so you could turn back to the task at hand. Almost hesitantly you slipped your fingers under the waistband of his dark undergarments, taking care to let your hands graze the delectable ‘V’ of his lower stomach before you pulled them down and revealed inch after inch of his insane member. You couldn’t help it that your mouth fell open at the sight.

Sylus’ cock wasn’t just big, it was thick. The sheer weight of it fought against its erect nature and had it drooping menacingly before your parted lips. The shiny, red tip was already oozing pre-cum, causing it to glimmer as it reflected the dim overhead lighting. A sparse collection of darker, neatly trimmed hair surrounded his shaft, and you unconsciously found your nails scraping gently through it before you took him in your hands. Even with both of the appendages working together to grip him, there was still ample space left untouched and exposed, and you licked your lips before glancing up at the silver haired man with expectant eyes.

Sylus still looked surprisingly put together despite the circumstances, but the way his chest rose and fell quicker than normal spoke volumes of his excitement. His red eyes glittered with anticipation, and one of his large hands carded through your hair before gripping the strands firmly enough to maneuver your cheek directly against his throbbing manhood. He sighed as soon as your skin made contact with it, gently moving you around by your tresses until his tip bumped against your lips.

“Open,” came his sultry command.

With nowhere else to go you heeded his instruction and stuck your tongue out, ready and willing for whatever he had planned for you. He let you guide his cock into the warm, inviting prison that was your mouth, and without any further pointers from him, you took him as far as you could before you felt the head bumping the back of your throat. The urge to gag came and went quickly as you hollowed your cheeks around your mouthful, and the ragged sound Sylus let slip conveyed his approval well enough.

It was a tad difficult to crane your neck back to sneak a glance at him, but from what you could see, he was breathing heavily and looking down at you with wonder. “You’re quite the little minx, aren’t you?”

You hummed your confirmation, the vibrations from the action making the hand in your hair squeeze tighter around the strands, and the soft curse that emanated from him was like music to your ears.

“Fuck– slowly now, keep your tongue out and mind your teeth. Tap my leg if you need to stop, alright kitten?”

Stopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you dipped your head just enough to let him know you were in agreement. Sylus cupped the underside of your jaw with his free hand while the other stayed firmly rooted in your hair– fully in control of your head from that moment forward– and you allowed for your hands to slip away from the base of his cock so you could brace your palms on his toned thighs. His first few thrusts were meant to test your resolve, seeing as they were shallow and relatively wary. Your jaw stayed slack throughout all of it though, and you even took it upon yourself to tense and untense your tongue as he plunged in and out.

“Damn,” Sylus groaned as his eyes fell shut, the euphoric sensations prompting him to increase his pace ever so slightly. Your nails scraped against the skin of his thighs as you curled your hands into loose fists, the sordid, wet sounds of your mouth making your face flush with barely there embarrassment. “That’s it, darling. You’re doing great.”

With his fingers wrapped under your jaw, the placement of his digits allowed you to become acutely aware of the bulge in your throat. Sylus’ cock edged deeper and deeper into your mouth with every pump of his hips, and when a strangled, choking sound finally broke free from your stuffed mouth, Sylus laughed darkly before opening his eyes to turn his attention back to you.

“I wish you could see yourself right now.” Sylus emphasized the statement with a harsher buck of his hips, the head of his cock sliding past the back of your throat and reaching far enough that you felt it near the top of your esophagus. Your eyes pinched shut as tears welled up within them, then flew open as the man above you withdrew his shaft nearly all the way to give you the chance to breathe. Greedy gulps of air were sucked down immediately, followed by a harsh cough that forced the pooling tears in your eyes to cascade down your cheeks. “You make one hell of a pretty picture, sweetie. I’ll have to keep a camera on hand next time.”

“C-Can I try?” You rasped out the question as you worked to catch your breath, and the amusement that lit up Sylus’ features was enough to harden your determination.

He released the underside of your jaw and affectionately brushed a few strands of hair out of your face before dropping his hands entirely. “By all means. Show me what tricks you’ve got up your sleeve, Miss Hunter.”

You weren’t inexperienced by any means, but the impressive size of Sylus had you reevaluating everything you’d ever learned. A blow job was a blow job, however, and you were certain that your enthusiasm would help cover any blind spots that would no doubt appear.

Sylus watched with anticipation as you took him back in your hands and smiled up at him, resting the heavy head of his cock between your lips before you pursed them to press a warm, messy kiss to the sensitive tip. The tiny, evil glint in your tear-stained eyes clued him in on just how badly you yearned to make him crumble, and for probably the first time in his life, Sylus couldn’t wait to see someone try to knock him down a peg or two.

With your eyes still glued to him, you slipped your tongue out and ran it slowly over the slit before curling the muscle around the swollen head with a soft sigh, gently stroking him once, then twice. You twisted your wrist slightly as you opened your mouth again to suck wetly at the pre-cum beading before your eyes, laving your tongue over the head hard enough for Sylus’ eyes to narrow for the briefest of moments. His hands clenched at his side, the insatiable urge to fuck into your mouth again taking over him, but he refrained from interrupting your show through sheer force of will alone.

You smiled coyly up at him, entirely aware of the larger man’s internal struggle, and slowly slid his cock back into your mouth so your lips sealed right over the head as you sucked. It was wet and messy and noisy, and Sylus couldn’t help the way he twitched forward for more as a string of broken curses fell from his lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tilted your head to the side to mouth down Sylus’ length, sucking gently and soothing your tongue over the warm flesh as you went, and if the feeling and the sight of you wasn’t enough to leave Sylus a panting, eager mess, the slick sounds of your mouth would fucking do it for him. He kept his hands off but groaned loudly, trying his best to indicate that you should absolutely keep doing exactly that.

His head fell back between his tense shoulders as he let out a low, rumbling moan, shivering when you curled your tongue around the underside of his cock and breathed a soft chuckle against him. You worked to stroke the parts of him that your lips weren’t worshiping, and the smooth, even touches were made even smoother by the copious amounts of saliva and pre-cum that already soaked his shaft. Sylus’ leg twitched minutely, his knee banging against the side of the bed frame, but all he could feel was your soft lips at the base of his cock followed by an agile twist around the slick head, smearing all the combined moisture around blindingly. He didn’t think it could get any better than that, but once you dipped your head low enough to take the skin of his balls into your mouth and suck delicately, Sylus was fighting to keep his head out of the clouds, because the sensation was absolutely otherworldly.

“Fuck,” came Sylus’ garbled, gritted voice, his stomach tensing as his hands finally returned to your mussed hair. “Alright, you’ve proven your point, kitten.”

Hardly, you thought. You ignored the high strung edge to his voice and continued your ministrations, wrapping your lips around the head and taking him as deep as you could before you swallowed, and when Sylus choked on a rough gasp in response, you withdrew slowly, using the tip of your tongue to press along the underside of his cock. Sylus desperately wanted to stop you, because the last thing he had anticipated was cutting all the fun short by finishing in your mouth of all places– but then your tongue swirled around the tip again while you stroked every wet, exposed inch– and his fingers tightened around your strands of hair as he fought the urge to shove his cock back into the welcoming embrace of your mouth.

He didn’t think it was possible for such a tiny thing to have such a dexterous tongue. There was simply no way anything born of this Earth could possibly be this versatile.

“Enough,” Sylus growled abruptly, willing his brain to supersede his baser urges as he promptly pulled you off of him by your hair. The sting from the motion made you gasp, but the pleasure that came with being so easily manhandled quickly overshadowed the pain, and your hooded eyes drank in the sight of Sylus as you breathed in deeply.

Red eyes hazy and unfocused, chest rising and falling rapidly, and a pretty flush you’d never seen before sneaking up his neck and spreading across his cheeks and ears. Oh yeah, you thought, he was definitely getting close.

“Don’t look so smug,” Sylus rumbled, the slight strain in his voice barely noticeable. But you were a Linkon City Hunter, and being perceptive was technically a job requirement, so you absolutely took note of it. You couldn’t help but grin– awfully proud of yourself for riling him up this way– and let go of his cock to brace yourself on your arms as you leaned back.

“Sorry, I just really liked the face you were making.”

His eyes narrowed in an unspoken challenge, and before you could so much as blink, his larger body was covering the bulk of yours as he hoisted you back up the mattress so you were leaning against the throne of pillows once again. Red tendrils of his Evol aided him in the removal of your shirt, the lacy attire vanishing from view as he crawled backwards just enough so he could slip his fingers under the waistband of your pajama shorts before he said, “I hope it was worth it, because now it’s my turn to see what kinds of faces you’ll make, sweetie.”

The effect his words had on you could have honestly been deemed concerning, and the pure bolt of arousal that shot through you when he started to drag your pants off without breaking eye contact was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as he had tossed your bottoms to the floor to join his own pile of clothing, he wasted little time in settling between your outstretched legs, wrapping one of his thick forearms over your waist to hold you in place as a devious expression spread across his face.

“Try to hold still for me,” he breathed out softly. You opened your mouth to reply, but your words got cut off the second one of his fingers slid along your slit and pressed against your clit, wringing a strangled gasp from you as you inadvertently bucked your hips up into his touch. He tutted disapprovingly, “That’s the exact opposite of holding still.”

“I–” another gasp filled the room as Sylus took to drawing languid circles around the bundle of nerves between your legs, the accumulated moisture there making the action effortless and positively heavenly. It took an insane amount of restraint to keep your hips still despite the blissful torment, your breathing becoming increasingly erratic as Sylus played with you, testing your reactions and pushing your limits as though your body was a new toy he was trying out. Your nails dug into your palms in an attempt to ground yourself, your bottom lip throbbing as you savaged it with your teeth.

As soon as Sylus’ mouth appeared against your entrance, there was no stopping the unconscious jerk of your hips against his face. His muffled laughter against you didn’t help matters, and you wheezed shakily as you grabbed for a fistful of the sheets with one hand while slapping the other over your mouth. Keening, desperate little moans slipped through your fingers, Sylus’ tongue reducing you to a brainless pile of limbs faster than you could process. The tense muscle probed and swept inside of you while his thumb rubbed maddeningly over your clit, the dual stimulation borderline torturous, and your stifled groan drew Sylus’ attention as he increased the tempo of his tongue.

The arm draped across your waist extended in the next second, and you felt as the silver haired man grabbed for the hand covering your mouth. You let him pull your arm down to your side, his palm tracing down your heated skin until it reached your own, and then he was intertwining your fingers together to hold the limb there. His lips left your core for the briefest of moments, just long enough for him to murmur breathlessly, “Don’t hide those pretty sounds from me, kitten. I want to hear all of it.”

It should have been anatomically impossible, but you somehow managed to flush even deeper than before. Sylus kept his eyes on you as he returned to licking and sucking at your soaked center, his pupils blown wide and completely dilated as he worked to tear the most sinful, desperate noises from your scratchy throat. He truly looked like some kind of irresistible sex demon– risen from the depths of Hell to torment you and reduce you to a brainless, twitching mess of a human– and God was he succeeding. You were torn between wanting it all to end with your release and simultaneously wanting it to continue forever.

The idea of staying here for the rest of eternity was not an unpleasant one. Not in the slightest.

Sylus’ thumb vanished from your swollen nub, replaced almost immediately by his mouth as he sucked the tender bit of flesh between his lips, and the cry that ripped from your chest was unlike any sound you had ever heard yourself make. Your spine arched clean off the mattress, your hips pressing against Sylus’ face so forcefully that you were certain you had to be suffocating him, but as you tried to writhe away from the overwhelming ecstasy, Sylus clenched your hand tight in his and held you firmly where you were.

“Fuck– Sylus, please, please,” you babbled mindlessly, the tight, hot feeling in your lower stomach roaring to life as he teased his tongue over the small bit of flesh held firm between his soft lips. “I–I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come–”

The euphoric rush within your body was more powerful than any Aether Core. It was dazzling. Your muscles tensed, your mouth fell open, your eyes squeezed shut, and your hips bucked harshly against Sylus’ unrelenting mouth as an orgasm unlike any you had ever experienced washed over you. The sound of your hoarse voice dimly registered in your ears as you came, and you faintly realized that you were screaming– but there was nothing in the world that could interrupt the extraterrestrial experience you were currently living through– so your voice reverberated off the walls of the room until you were wholly and truly out of breath.

When you finally sagged back into the mattress, Sylus had eased up the intensity of his ministrations, much to his credit. His tongue made one final plunge into your wet walls to lap up the evidence of your pleasure before he pulled away entirely, and all you could do was tremble beneath him as he pushed himself up onto his knees.

He made no move to release your hand as he crawled over you, instead lifting and pinning the joined appendages beside your head before he dipped down to passionately kiss you. Sylus growled savagely as he swallowed up your pitiful mewling, every tiny sound you made fueling something deep inside of him. Trapped under him with nowhere to go, you were entirely at his mercy as his free hand came to slip under your neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss impossibly further. Sylus forced more of his tongue into your mouth and imbued you with the taste of yourself, humming thoughtfully when he felt your nails dig into the back of his hand, at which point he pulled back to stare down at you.

“I should count myself lucky that I have no neighbors this deep in the N109 Zone. I wouldn’t be surprised if you scared Mephisto off with that scream.”

“Screw,” you panted harshly in-between the words, “that bird.”

His hand clenched around the nape of your neck as a wicked smile stretched across his face. “You’re actually screwing me, in case you’ve forgotten. Or is your head still somewhere above the clouds?”

Leave it to Sylus and his smartassery bring you back down to Earth. “One of these days someone is going to cut out your mocking tongue,” you grumbled under your breath, though there was no genuine animosity in the statement.

Sylus only laughed, his red eyes twinkling with amusement and pure male satisfaction. “If that someone is you, I think I can rest easy. You seem to like my tongue far too much for that to be a viable threat.”

“…Touché.”

His lips resumed their relaxed exploration of yours, bestowing a few quick pecks to the corners of your mouth before he peppered a trail of kisses along your jaw, bumping your head to the side with his own as he went. His warm breath fanned across your sweat-slick skin as he sanguinely said, “I think you’ll like the other parts of me, too.”

On cue, you felt the hard length of him settle against your thigh as he continued to press his lips against your thundering pulse, your hand coming to grip his firm bicep as arousal buzzed through you. Not a shred of doubt existed within you as you hummed your approval, angling your head to the side to give Sylus more room to lick a broad stripe down the column of your neck. You wanted more, and you were well past the point of pretending you weren’t keenly interested in experiencing everything the leader of Onychinus had to offer.

In an act of complete and utter depravity, Sylus began rocking his hips against your thigh to rub his cock against your heated skin as he unabashedly groaned into the crook of your neck. You felt his sharp teeth clamp down on the skin above your clavicle before he sucked lightly, laving his tongue over the little bit of flesh he managed to latch on to. The barely there sting was more pleasant than anything, and you sighed contentedly when you felt him move higher to repeat the motion on another patch of unmarred skin.

A small, needy sound came from deep within your chest when Sylus abandoned his hold on the back of your neck to feel his way down your prone body, your eyes falling shut as you relished in his gentle fondling. You felt his fingers graze over your collarbone, then over the hardened peaks of your breasts, before settling between your legs once again. His touch against your clit was slow and testing, prompting you to lean your head back with a quiet gasp as you rocked your hips into Sylus’ hand. The movement played into Sylus’ steady rocking nicely– your pelvis elevating and sliding against his cock easily– and the low-pitched groan of approval he met you with had you smiling softly to yourself.

When Sylus pushed his finger into you again, you bit your lip at the same time he pulled his mouth off of your neck. You opened your bleary eyes to peer up at him, only to find that he was watching you with a tender sort of reverence. You flushed brightly under his flustering gaze, suddenly incredibly bashful at having him watch you so closely even though his mouth had just been ravaging your most intimate area– but despite that fact, you found yourself angling your face to the side in an attempt to hide your reactions.

“Oh no,” Sylus uttered, a lone tendril of his Evol snaking out to turn your face back to him. “No hiding, kitten. I don’t intend on missing a single one of the pretty expressions you make.”

As though to punctuate the statement, Sylus curled his finger inside of you up– just enough that he found the spot he’d been searching for– and his efforts pulled a strangled moan from you at the same time your hips jolted against his palm. “Sylus, I– hng–”

Your pleading was cut short by Sylus adding a second finger before he repeated the motion, taking care to slowly rub the pads of his fingers across that same spot over and over again, evidently drawing immense satisfaction in watching you wriggle and twitch under him. That damnable smirk of his showed itself once more as he pressed into the spot more insistently, his eyes devouring every inch of you as your stomach tensed and your toes curled, a telling warmth bleeding through your chest and coiling its way down between your legs.

It seemed impossible for any one person to be so good at this. Then again, this was Sylus, and you were fairly positive finding people’s weak points was something of a speciality of his.

The fact that your weak point was buried knuckle deep inside of you was irrelevant.

As Sylus continued to rub little circles over your sweet spot, he lowered his head once more to work yet another dark bruise into your skin, silently filing away the mental image of your body tensing and arching beneath him for later. The sight of you alone was enough to leave him breathless, but as nice as the imagery was, what really got to him were the sweet, gorgeous sounds of your voice. Your lips parted around quivering moans, tiny gasps slipping through every now and then, and your stammering pleas filled the quiet air around him and imbued him with a newfound sense of urgency.

Sylus had always loved the sound of your voice, but hearing what it was like when it was hitched and raspy, repeating his name like a mantra… he knew then that there was no better sound in the world. It would be all too easy for him to become addicted to it– to you.

As your whines became more urgent, your hips practically riding his fingers as he brought you close to the edge for a second time, Sylus couldn’t help but feel a sense of male pride. He was the one pulling those noises from you. He was the one you were calling out for, the one you were trusting to take you higher, to hold you and kiss you and make you feel good. He was the one making a noisy little wreck of you and branding you like he was born to do it.

He needed more. Sylus needed to feel you from the inside out, and the way his cock twitched in response to the thought was all the motivation he needed to withdraw his fingers from your soaked heat.

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parted freely around beautiful moans and brainless praises, breathless whines of Sylus’ name escaping you alongside the rattling breaths you sucked down. He almost hated that he was interrupting when he murmured, “What do you think, sweetie? Think you’re ready for me?”

Your eyelids fluttered as your brain returned to the present moment, having completely spaced in lieu of Sylus’ never ending finger torture. Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rasped out, “F-Fuck, yeah, I’ve been ready. You’re the masochist drawing this out.”

Sylus laughed– the sound deep and rich– before pushing himself up and sitting back on his heels, the heavy head of his cock dragging over your impossibly wet entrance as he got settled. He finally let go of your hand to maneuver you exactly where he wanted you, your knees resting on either side of him as he gripped your waist with fiendish strength.

“It’s not masochism, sweetie,” he purred, sliding his rock hard member up and down your slit to further tease you. “I’m being attentive. There’s a difference.”

Sylus’ idea of being ‘attentive’ bordered dangerously close to persecution, because you were hanging on by a sliver of a thread after all his prep work. You swallowed thickly and wriggled your hips against his solid manhood, aiming to drive him into action before you lost your mind entirely. “I’ve been spoiled more than enough. If you’re any more attentive, the sun will start peeking through the blinds.”

“Would that be so bad?” Sylus pressed the blunt head of his cock against your hole, not pressing in yet, but applying enough pressure that your heart rate quickened in your chest. “If I have any say in the matter, we’ll be seeing the sunrise regardless.”

In one quick, fluid motion, Sylus effortlessly rolled his hips forward and pressed into your fluttering walls, a throaty growl reverberating within his chest as he was overcome with your unbelievable heat. The abrupt intrusion was far from unpleasant, but it was sudden enough that your mouth fell open around loud, stuttering moans, your eyes rolling back in your head as Sylus gingerly worked more of himself into you. Your hands scrambled for purchase against the silky sheets in an effort to compose yourself, and by the time he was sheathed nearly all the way within your core, your patience had evaporated.

The size of him was insane. You could feel every inch of him, every vein that lined his incredible length, and the way he pulsed against your walls reignited the flame of desire that burned in your blood.

“Sylus– God– Sylus,” you wheezed, tilting your head back as you forced yourself to relax your muscles. Rocking your hips up in search of stimulation wasn’t enough, not by a long shot. You needed to get fucked through the bed. You needed Sylus to plow you like the fucking world was ending, and the visceral want that coursed through you was so strong that you wanted to cry.

Sylus groaned your name, the combined effect of you calling for him and the feeling of your absolutely drenched cunt sucking him in deeper making his goddamn head spin. He wanted to be gentle– to let you get acclimated before he went any further– because it wasn’t egotistical for him to acknowledge that he was big compared to you. But when he felt the heel of your foot press against his lower back, silently urging him to move, his reservations dissipated into the night like vapor. He knew what you wanted, and being the thoughtful, quick learner that he was, there was nothing holding him back from giving it to you.

“No God here, kitten.” Sylus rewarded you with a deep, grinding thrust that left you frantic with hunger. “It’s just me, and you’re being so good for me.”

Before you even had time flush with embarrassment, Sylus gripped your thigh with one of his hands and braced himself over you with the other, then pulled out nearly all the way before ramming his cock back into you.

Your shrill voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, and your spine rounded clear off the mattress as you half whined, half screamed in ecstasy.

Every slam of Sylus’ hips knocked the breath out of your lungs, his powerful, cervix kissing thrusts leaving you winded as you blindly gathered a fistful of satin sheets in your trembling hands. His brutal rhythm never faltered as he pounded into you with inhuman stamina, breathing loud moans of your name while a mix of concentration and pure bliss settled over his stunning features. Lost in the throes of rapture, you could barely find the brainpower to appreciate the sight of him above you, but you sure as hell tried.

Sylus’ muscles rippled with power as he held himself over you and pumped his hips; his abdomen undulated, his shoulders tensed, and his lower half moved in a way you could only describe as wave-like. It was too much, and yet you couldn’t get enough of it. Every time he would withdraw his cock and leave you nearly empty, another toe curling thrust would follow, the force of his hips connecting against your ass jolting you up the bed until you were bracing your hands on the headboard, pushing back against him desperately.

Entranced by your attempts, Sylus let you move back against him for a few beats– just enough to appreciate how your ass bounced against his pale hips– until the urge to take you over again completely filled him. He groaned, low and savage, and released his hold on your thigh to slide his hand under the curve of your spine, pressing you against him hard enough that you could barely move at all. Your whimpered protest fell on deaf ears, and Sylus hauled you back down the bed to pin you under him with his upper body in an act of complete possession, and you were almost tempted to pray when you heard his animalistic growl against your ear.

Sylus leaned his weight onto the hand braced against the mattress before fucking into you harder, faster, his long thrusts switching to deep, hammering ruts that drove the swollen head of his cock against your sweet spot so fast and so precisely that it damn near knocked you out. If you could use words at all anymore, you would have warned Sylus that you were about to come. There was no fucking way you couldn’t– not when you were so full of his cock, your throat raw from sucking him off earlier and from screaming. You were being held down and fucked like you were Sylus’ personal toy, his nails scratching at your back as his hand curled into a fist in his efforts to hold you closer to him.

“You feel–” Sylus gritted through his teeth, the deep tenor of his voice making you clench around him impossibly further, “–so fucking incredible.”

All you could manage was a broken stammer, “S-Sylus, I’m– I’m–”

The soft strands of his hair brushed across your cheek as Sylus’ face loomed directly over yours, and when you blinked up at him with glassy, unfocused eyes, his one command threatened to bring tears to your eyes.

“Don’t even think about coming.”

Your noisy, incoherent pleas were ignored as Sylus continued to dominate you. Somehow in the midst of railing you through the bed, he moved his hand away from your back to dexterously maneuver your bent legs up, hooking them over his shoulders before bracing his weight on his forearm, and the result was catastrophic in the best possible way. Every inch of your body was vibrating, the pleasure mounting in your lower stomach driving you to abandon your hold on the sheets so you could rake your nails down Sylus’ shoulders. Fighting against the urge to finish was nigh impossible, your focus shifting to the feeling of his muscles working to fuck you as well as the enticing sound of skin slapping against skin.

Your vision was blurring. Your legs were quaking so violently that you were surprised Sylus wasn’t shaking along with them. He laughed wickedly as he took in the sight of you beneath him, dragging his free hand down to feel around your body for something. Through the haze of it all, you didn’t realize what he was searching for until you felt his fingers on your clit, and the sound that left your mouth wasn’t one that you’d ever thought you could make.

He wasn’t just a masochist, he was a fucking sadist.

Your head snapped back against the bed as you wailed desolately, your begging and pleading reduced to shaky iterations of “Pleasepleaseplease” as the pain from being on edge for so long drove you to madness. Overwhelmed tears streaked down your temples, frustration and desperation and too much fucking pleasure twining together with the sharp ache of holding back. Every one of the sensations that wracked your body pooled into an immense rush of stimulation that had you moaning out a string of incomprehensible curses, until finally Sylus decided to have mercy on you.

“Eyes on me, kitten. Show me what you look like coming on my cock.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice.

Sylus’ finger flicked over your now tender bundle of nerves once, twice, and then the world went white around you. You could dimly register Sylus’ gravely moans as he watched you crumble, his brows pinched with focus as he drank in the sight of your lips parting around a rattling gasp, his rough thrusting never letting up. It was so good– better than anything you had ever imagined– and your body trembled violently as Sylus’ movements became more erratic, but all you could pay any attention to was the blistering heat that flowed through your veins.

Amidst the exultation of your release, you felt Sylus’ hand return to yours, your fingers interlacing in a contrasting act of tenderness as his thrusts became shallower, his breathing turning heavier. He committed the expression on your face to memory instantly, and it took everything in him to savor every second of your fluttering walls sucking him in deeper before he was coming too– one last powerful thrust finding its mark. Thick, hot release filled you, the added sensation bringing you higher than you thought possible, and Sylus groaned appreciatively as he ground his hips against your ass to milk every last drop into you.

You were still catching your breath when Sylus finally stilled his movements, his haggard panting reaching you through the distant buzzing that rang in your ears. There was no way for you to know how long the two of you laid there joined from the waist down, but you knew that it took a good chunk of time before either one of you could think clearly enough to form words. Eventually, his soft hands gripped your calves to guide your legs off his shoulders and towards the mattress, the trembling limbs settling there like dead weight.

Sylus brushed his fingers against your neck to rouse you from your post-coital state, and when you cracked open your heavy lids to peer up at him, his expression was one of relative amusement. “You alright, sweetie?”

“Mhm.” You hummed your response, and even though your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, you managed to mumble, “I can’t feel my legs.”

The sudden bark of laughter that burst from Sylus was something you’d never heard before, and you watched as he shook his head to himself before slowly pulling out of you. Part of you missed the feeling of him stretching you the second he was gone, but a bone deep fatigue that was much stronger than your meager feelings was winning the war of what you deemed important. Your eyelids started to slide shut of their own accord, every muscle in your body going lax as you melted into the bed.

Sylus watched you with a measure of worship, utterly transfixed by everything about you. He gently skimmed his fingers over your stomach as he moved to settle against the pillows, taking exceptional care not to jostle you too much while he got comfortable. You didn’t seem to think similarly, however, because as soon as you felt his weight ease into the mattress, you were throwing your arm over his broad chest and hitching one of your legs over his, effectively straddling him sideways as if he were your own personal body pillow.

He laughed softly, moving to cradle you close with one arm while his other moved to lovingly brush your hair out of your eyes. Sighing contentedly, you fixed your eyes on the record player across the room, suddenly overcome with a strange sense of fondness for the Onychinus leader. “You know,” you murmured, your voice slightly muffled against his firm chest. “You’re not what I expected, Sylus.”

“Hm? What exactly were you expecting?”

The cautious edge to his voice told you that he was prepared to hear the worst, but you surprised him by rolling your head to the side to plant a chaste kiss right above his heart. “It doesn’t matter. I just know that I wish more people were like you.”

Sylus smiled, letting his head tip back against the headboard while he used his Evol to turn off the lights, plunging the room into comfortable darkness. “Careful, kitten. Keep up the flattery and I won’t take you home in the morning.”

Your hand traced lazy shapes against his torso, and the corner of your mouth quirked up as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “I don’t work tomorrow… besides, I seem to remember you saying you’d keep me awake long enough to see the sunrise. Or were those just empty words?”

A devilish grin stretched across his face as he took your hand in his, pulling you to the side until you were made to roll entirely on top of him so you were straddling his hips. His lower half began to rouse back to life as you settled into place in his lap, and Sylus gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger as his lustful gaze bored into your very soul. “I was going to be nice and let you sleep, but if this is the game you want to play, then I’ll hold true to my word. Any objections?”

Your fingers wrapped around his thick wrist as you brought your face closer to his, your eyes greedily falling to his lips. It should have worried you how addicted to him you already appeared to be, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Sylus’ cock twitched against you as your gaze rose to meet his, a silent challenge twinkling behind your irises.

“None at all.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

As the night droned on, you came to realize that these were the sorts of promises that you didn’t mind making with him, especially when the sunlight streaming through the curtains hours later conveyed that Sylus had made good on his promise. The break of day didn’t stop him though– not in the slightest. His stamina and vigor remained intact as he dutifully ravished you all through the early hours of the morning, and as you fell apart beneath him once more, the only thing you knew for certain was that it was going to be a long, long weekend.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x mc #lads sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lads fanfic #love and deepspace fanfic #lads fanfiction #sylus smut #love and deepspace oneshot #my writing #this shit is LONG #already wanting to write shower smut or something because of misty invasion releasing this week #anyways I can't proof read this thing anymore I was up until 2am making revisions so ENJOY

2K notes · View notes

writersdrug · 10 months ago

Note

OMG OMG I JUST READ YOUR THING ABOUT BARTENDER SIMON RILEY!! I’m like actually obsessed rn like…. Imagine how that interview would go… 😳 just the reader is shitting bricks because “omg my interviewer is this tall ass beef cake who doesn’t show majority of his face”

You don’t know how much I love this concept…

YESSSS

You're sitting at a seat at a tall table, feet swinging nervously as you sit across from Simon. He's looking over your resume, one foot planted on the ground, the other hiked onto the lower bar of the chair. Your eyes are trailing his intricate tattoo sleeve as his fingers tap against the sheet of paper in his hands. The lil crease in his brow as he mulls over it, soft brown eyes going back and forth over the words.

You're caught between finding him adoringly soft and kinda scary (you're staring at his biceps, remembering that tiktok trend you saw where girls had their buff boyfriends crushing their face with their arm muscles and oh god you're dying to get a taste-)

"You've never had a waitressin' job." He says gruffly, looking at you. "Never really done anythin' customer service, either. Just bookwork."

You chew your lip and sigh. "I know- I just want something different. Rent is due and, surprisingly, data entry doesn't pay the bills." Oh my god, did you just complain about money in your interview?!

"N' you think serving pub food to sad old wankers 'll be better?"

Well, he doesn't seem to care about professionalism, either.

You nod eagerly. "Yup! Plus, you need some young appeal to this place."

"Meanin' you?"

You nod again. "I can be the life of the party if you need me to!" No, you can't, but you desperately need this job.

He huffs, standing up on his feet. Jesus, he could throw you across the bar like a ragdoll - you kinda want him to. "Fine. Be here tomorrow at eight hundred."

You slide off the chair and brush your skirt off. "I got the job?"

"We'll see. Give it a week." He says, shoulders thick and tense as he walks back to the bar. "If you're late, consider yourself fired."

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riely #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x you #bartender ghost #cod blurbs #ghost cod

1K notes · View notes

everythingspokenfor · 4 months ago

Text

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓴 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼~

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Summary: You end up running into your boss, Pro-Hero Dynamight, whilst working your other job...

Pro-Hero Dynamight in his late 30s, so focused on saving the world, he barely gives himself time, has a set routine of wake-up, go to work, patrol, reports and eventually back to bed at 9pm.

Doesn't let anything or anyone mess up his routine, if he went out with the squad, he would work extra hours, all the vacation hours saved up, over the years he worked. Barely ever takes leave even tho he owns the agency.

You have seen him around, perks of working at his agency, it pays decently, enough to pay the bills, but if you want the luxury of early retirement and being the cool aunt, then you'll need more than one job, cons of being born without a quirk. What more would you really expect working data manager, tasks including hours of sitting in front of the computer typing away details of the villains.

The world isn't as harsh to your kind, as it use to be, that doesn't make it easy for you tho, working twice as hard still not being able to land a job, that doesn't matter, not anymore, you are fine have been fine for few years.

The entire time you have been working at the agency, you have interacted with Bakugou enough times to know he is a good guy, someone who has a mental checklist of things to do, of places to be and this is definitely not a place for him to be, as far as you believe.

Dingy strip club, shoved in the back alley, it's more decent that it seems if you were being honest, the bouncers and bartenders always ready to step in if something goes wrong, and it pays well, good enough to allow you to eat out few times a month, good enough to always have that expensive bottle of wine stored in your kitchen.

It's not a posh place moreover, celebrities, heroes, the high-end people seldom come here, place catering more towards the locals, the drinks mostly sugary concoctions with cheap liquor,

Maybe that's why his presence surprised you. He looks out of place, especially hunched over the bar counter, the same one, on which the dancers were shimmying out of their see through lingeries, tossing them around, collecting money from the desperate men.

He wasn't one though, eyes focusing on his glass of scotch, even when one of the dancers kneeled on the table beside him, mumbling something in his ear, but from her sudden retreat you could tell whatever she was offering was rejected.

You contemplate, whether you should approach him or not, afterall you were working here, donned in a lacy red and black two piece lingerie, you still had sheer cover-up on, that barely did anything to cover, tonight you were stationed at the counter, work focusing on getting men to buy more expensive liquor.

You signal your co-worker over your shoulder, gesturing towards your other boss, "he is a friend." Grabbing a bottle of scotch and two glasses to strutted towards him.

"What are you doing in a place like this?" You slide onto the seat next to him, eyes focused ahead as you pour the liquor into the glasses. Locking eyes with the bartender behind the counter, pleading silently, fortunately he moved away to the next customer without questioning you.

He looks surprised, either to see you here or to be caught here, you don't know, neither do you wish to find out.

"The fuck are you doin' here?" He grunts, looking over his shoulder analysing the place again, before turning to look at you incredulously, eyes wide as he put the two and two together, your outfit making sense.

"Working."

He stares at you, eyes twitching as he tried to make sense of the situation,"Why are ya' working in this sketchy strip club?" He huffed out, grabbing the glass from your hand and

"Pays well." You sip on your drink, avoiding looking at him.

"What do ya' mean? Don't we pay you enough?"

"Enough to live by, Bakugou", you wince, not used to calling your boss by his surname,"not enough to afford me an early retirement." You look over to him, finally meeting his eyes, before glancing lower, he wore dark pants, with a loose baby blue shirt.

You snort,"Where you planning on getting lucky tonight?" You tease him, still showing genuine curiosity, maybe the little sips of scotch is getting to you, why else would you ask him that.

"Non' of yer' business, nerd." His ears turned bright red, peachy blush spreading over his cheeks the longer you stared at him, his intentions obvious, despite wanting to, you don't tease further.

"Well, I have to get back to work." you get up from your stool, eye glancing over to where you co-worker was handling your spot, you turn to leave him, before you could move two steps away, his hand darts out, clasping around your wrist.

"Wait! When do you get off?", he sounds a little desperate, for a fleeting moment you wonder why before looking at the clock, it's barely mid night, still few hours before your shift ends.

"Few hours." you sighed out, his palm still wrapped around your wrist, he stands up, moving a bit closer, he towers over you.

"Can ya' not leave early?" He queried, you tilt your head up, the proximity making you dizzy, you tilt your head, eyes finding his,"Where are you gonna take me?" You shouldn't have entertained that idea, should have pulled your wrist away and gotten back to the work, maybe you shouldn't have approached him to begin with.

Alas, you are here, in the middle of the club, contemplating putting your coat on and leaving with him. Your boss wouldn't really mind now that you think about.

"There's a hole-in-the-wall diner a block away." He tilts his head towards the club entrance, somehow already aware of your decision to leave, his shoulders are still tense, waiting for confirmation, his thumbing rubbing circles on the inside of your wrist.

"Lemme grab my stuff." It's impulsive but right now you don't really care, he seems to visibly relax, hand finally letting go of your, you turn around, walking straight towards the side doors, avoiding meeting eyes with your co-worker who is still covering your shift, hopefully she'll forgive you for the impromptu duties.

You don't bother changing our of your 'work' clothes, opting to just put on a pair of pants and a sweatshirt, shoving your cover up in your handbag. You turn around to leave the dressing room, strutted over to wear he was standing by the entrance.

"You could have waited outside, ya' know," you chimed, hands stalling as Bakugou leaned in to take your bag from your hand, glittery bag looking comical hanging on his shoulder.

"Had a word or two with yer' boss," he side-eyes you, opening a door wider, slowly nudging you out with a palm against your back.

"Hopefully you won't get me fired." You snickered, cheeks taking on a rosy hue as you both stepped out of the club, the cold air nipping at your skin, as you followed him to his car.

This was supposed to be part of something I wanna write in future...

635 notes · View notes

queen-of-diamonds-xo · 1 month ago

Text

That Night (OP81)

Oscar Piastri x Reader! smut

🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂

Summary:

It was a fling, a one night stand;

A drunken mistake made in a moment of weakness.

But did he regret it?

Fuck. No.

Where Oscar Piastri, the hometown hero, sneaks his way to the end of your bar. No words spoken as he drinks his sorrows away after royally screwing up his home gran Prix. Oh, and to top it off his girlfriend left him.

Warnings: Smut! Alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex (seriously wrap it before you tap it, who can afford kids in this economy?) slight!dom Oscar, angry sex, swearing

word count: 2k

A/N: Okay y’all here is a little Oscar smut for you all, written in my anxious state as I'm holding out for Monaco quali (i'm so nervous i'm gonna throw up). This is my first time writing smut in years, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think, and what I should write next :)

Masterlist

🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂🤍🍂

Oscar thinks about that night, more than he will ever admit. His (ex) and him had decided to take a break- that’s what the media team told the press anyways.

In truth Oscar was crumbling under the weight of expectation, the ever growing pressure that comes with a growing career in formula one. He was acting out, pushing away anyone and everyone he could, cornering himself in a continuous cycle of sleep, wake, eat, simulator testing, data checking, press interview- you get the idea.

He stopped answering her texts and calls, stopped reaching out.

So, she told him she needed time, and space. Oscar respected her decision of course, knowing how self destructive his behaviour had been.

Oscar hated himself, disgusted in the idea of the man he had become. He had lost the one girl who had stood by his side through it all. He let her slip through his fingers as his world titled on his axis.

And to top it all off, he has just royally fucked up his home race, the first race of the season.

Fuck.

So, he drank.

Melbourne Australia, a dingy pub on the corner of a random street in some rundown and no doubt sketchy neighbourhood;

He sat alone, the time on the clock reading 1:15 am, last call had been announced and patrons slowly shuffled outside into the unknowing night. He had shuffled into he doors sometime past ten, sat there with his black hoodie pulled up over a hunched frame, eyes cast down on his shaking hands.

Hours ticked by on the clock as he ordered drink after drink, a polite yet taught exchange with the bartender, not once meeting her eye.

You had recognised him instantly as he made his way into the dimly lit room. His hood pulled up and hands stuffed deep in his pockets. Situating himself at the far end of the bar, sitting his phone, wallet and keys on the sticky surface without a care.

You watched as he breathed a deep sign, shoulder slumping and his rests his elbows on the bar, palms cupping over his tired and sore face. His rough hands cupping the dry and sensitive skin under his bloodshot eyes, the area red raw and stained with hot and heavy tears.

You heart skipped looking over at the man, his broken demeanour only accurately described as a sick puppy that had just been kicked.

You had watched the race- heartbreaking and shouts angering your neighbours as Oscar Piastri, the home hero, loses control and ends up stuck in the mud. You cheered for him, in your shittiy mould infested apartment as he reversed his McLaren out of the mud, and cried as he crossed the finish line.

Okay.

Be cool.

This. Is. Totally. Fine.

You walked over to him slowly, he clearly didn’t want to be recognised. So you weren’t about to go ask for his autograph or number or anything like that.

“Hi, my name is-“ he raises his hand to stop you. He huffs a deep sign and swallows harshly, biting back the sting of a sob in his throat.

“Just a vodka soda. Please-“ he stops, hand retreating back to his side, pulling out a stack of cash.

“I don’t want to talk, just keep my glass full.” His words weren’t harsh, or snobby like other guys you have had to deal with. He wasn’t here to flaunt his cash or try to pick up- he just wanted to drink.

And we’ll; it is sort of your job to comply.

And he is tipping so very generously.

So, as the night went on and the crowd got rowdy, demanding your attention. You continuously checked in on the man at the end of the bar. Filling his drink silently and stuffing his tips into your bra.

You flirted with the men around you, drinking in their attention. Low cut shirt revealing just enough to keep their money flowing your way. You weren't ashamed of your job. Flashing a bit of skin and doing shots while flirting with hot guys- all the while paying off your shitting apartment- not much to hate.

But as the night carried on, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling pulling on your chest. Dragging you towards the driver hiding at the end of your bar.

You never cared about the guys you meet, never paying much mind to their comments. Never wanting to know more.

But, you couldn't drag your mind away from him. Wanting to know his every thought, his every feeling.

As the night slowed to a crawl and last call was announced, you studied Oscar as he sat unmoving in his chair. You coworkers whispered, questing if they should get security or not. You wave them away, sending them home and closing up shop yourself.

As your coworkers shuffle out the door- kowling smiles on their faces- you lock it behind them, cussing out a good buy before latching the door closed.

You shuffled behind the bar, humming low to yourself as you cleaned away the mess of a busy night.

Oscar eyes peer at you through hooded lids. Dragging slowly up your frame as you lean over the bar. Tight jeans hugging your hips as you stand on your tiptoes, arm raising as you put away fresh glasses.

Your top raises with your movement, exposing the smooth skin on your side, Oscar’s eyes catching a brief glimpse of the soft black lace of your bra. He swallows and shifts in his chair as he watches you cautiously. Pulling his lip between his teeth unknowingly, unable to tear his eyes away.

You knew he was watching you, and could feel his hearted gaze burning into your skin. your body is warming under his watch. shaking off a shiver as it crawls its way up your spine, your stomach dropping and core tightening.

You shake your head, not missing the low chuckle rumbling from Oscar. Continuing your closing routine as you desperately tried to ignore the broad shouldered man. The air in the room seemed to thicken, a heavy blanket on your already warm skin. Oscar's demeanour seemed to change as he leaned back slightly- eyeing you up like a predator to prey.

The old bar stool croaked in protest as Oscar slowly rose to his feet, hands placed firmly on the bar- leading forward just slightly. The deep blue veins of his forearms presenting themselves under the strain of his body. A slight tilt to his head as his jaw clenched, tongue sliding over his teeth. His eyes were wild, breath escaping his nose in forced puffs.

Adrenaline spiked in your blood, stopping still. Hands growing clammy as you watched the man close, a wicked smile forming on your lips.

“You know-“ you started, slowly making your way towards him.

His face contorts in surprise, as he leaned back. The action sending gives you a boost of confidence.

“I know who you are.”

A sharp, manicured nail reaching forward. Lightly grazing Oscar's cheek. His skin flushing deep and eyes falling closed at the contact.

“And I’ve felt you staring at me all night.”

Your voice grew hushed as you leant across the bar. Oscars eyes falling unapologetically down to the hanging neckline of your stretched shirt. His cock jumping at the sight of your black lace bra, staffed and overflowing with cash. The sight awakens an unknown and hungry desire within him as a low groan rumbles in the back of his throat.

He was panting now, mind focused on nothing but the woman in front of him as he lifted his head to meet your sharp eyes.

“you going to keep staring at me Piastri or are you going to do something?”

In an instant he was in front of you, hopping with ease over the worn bar. His arm snaked around your waist as he pulled your body to his in an electric hold.

A gasp escaping your parted lips as his hardened cock presses into your thigh. One hand coming up to grasp your jaw, his grip firm but not uncomfortable. He titled your head, leaning forward slightly as his lips brushed yours. Stopping short, his gaze softening as he blinked at you.

“I need you to tell me what you want sweetheart.”

His voice was gruff as he spoke, his accent thickened as the words flowed from his mouth like honey.

“I want you to fuck me. Please Oscar.”

Your words dragging a feral growl from the man as he attacked your lips. His kiss burning with passion and anger- all Teeth and tongue as he swallowed the moan bubbling in your throat. Histhigh coming to rest between your legs, lifting to apply pressure to your soaked cunt. He rushed hands exploring your body, igniting your every nerve. Grabbing and clawing over your every curve, ripping the frail fabric of your worn tee.

His large palms come to rest on the rounds of your breasts. Tearing his mouth from yours as he kneaded the soft tissue, a small whimper escaping you as the rough edges of the notes stuffed in your bra scratched the sensitive skin.

“God, look at you.’ Oscar spat.

A huff coming from the man as he spins you in his arms, forcing your body down onto the cold bar. Yours hips tilting upwards as you stand on your tiptoes. arms coming forward to grip the edge of the counter, a soft whine escaping your lips.

”You want me to fuck you like thus huh?”

His hand coming down to strike your ass, the sound echoing through the crowded room. A sinister chuckled on Oscars lips as he leaned forward into you, his hard cock pushed against your hot core. His hand winding around your throat as he pulls your head back, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispered

”I need words pretty thing. Come on. Tell me how bad you want it.”

His emphasised his point with a teasing movement of his hips, drinking his hips into your core.

Your mind had gone blank, tongue tied and unable to form a sentence.

he hasn’t even touched you yet.

another pathetic whine escaping you as his free hand planting firmly on your waist- effortlessly stopping your desperate attempts to grind your hips into his.

“Please Oscar, need you. Please”

The last part stretching into a strangled moan as Oscar makes quick work of your jeans and panties, tearing the fabric down your legs. A teasing finger running over your desperate heat. Your body shuddering.

“Fuck your soaked. Okay baby girl. Give me a second here.”

He placed a firm hand on your back as he made work of his belt. Freeing his erection and hissing slightly as he pumped himself slow. His other hand leaves your back to land on your heat.

His fingers ghosting over your dripping slit, teasing you as he spreads your arousal over your folds. His thumb coming down over your clit in soft, precise motions. Watching as you shake and stutter under him. A shocked gasp escaping you as he prodded two fingers into your desperate heat.

“Fuck baby. So tight. You think you can take me huh? Gonna be a good girl for me?”

he drew his hand away, replacing it with the angry, leaking tip of his cock. Dragging it over your folds as you whisper his name in a silent plea, all the permission he needed to push into your dripping walls.

Moaning in unison as Oscars cock stretched the walls of your tight heat, his painstakingly slow pace driving you wild as your body is ablaze. Your mind is hazing as Oscar’s hips reach your ass, thrusting deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

He shakes behind you as his hand grips your hips, applying pressure that will sure blossom a bruise or two in its wake- not that you will complain.

Hes gasping, breathing heavily as he desperately clings to any sense of self control he can muster.

He holds you there for a moment, allowing your body to adjust to him. His resolve quickly crumbling as you jerk your hips back into him. A quick thrust sending you toppling forwards, his arm holding you in place.

his pace if battling, rough thrusts snapping his hips into you. The slapping of skin and dragged out moans filling the room.

The sounds coming from the man were anamalastic as buries his cock deep inside you. Grunts and moans falling from his lips as he fucked away all his anger and frustration.

”fuck yeah baby- thats it. Take it.” He speaks through clenched teeth, his hand winding in your hair.

You were completely powerless, body overcome with pleasure as Oscar pounded into you. Your mind fuzzy as you focus on the forming knot in your stomach.

“I can feel you clenching around me. Your gonna cum- huh?”

You could only moan in response, body falling limp as Oscar’s fingers find their way to your pleading clit. His movements sending you toppling over the edge unexpectedly as your came around Oscar’s cock, pussy gushing. The knot forming in your stomach unraveling as Hot tears spilling from your eyes

He didn’t stop, his hands coming down to grab your hips once more. Fingers burying deep in in your skin as dragged your hips into his, desperately chasing his own high.

his head thrown back as moans tumbled from his swollen lips, his eyes blown wide with lust, reveling in the way your body was spamming around him.

“Fuck pretty girl. Gonna cum.”

Oscar pulled himself out of you, pumping his cock in his fist as explodes onto your back.

He didn't kiss you, he couldn’t even meet your gaze as you offered to drive him home. He refused, shoving his hoodie in your hands as he made his way towards the door. Stoping once to turn and look at you one more time, before slipping into the night.

133 notes · View notes

jazzthatonewriterchick · 6 months ago

Text

MOST WANTED III (Sukuna x Self-Insert!Reader x Toji 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK CONTAINS R*PE & NONCON SEXUAL ACTS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS.***

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Toji Fushiguro x Self-Insert!Reader x Gangster!Sukuna Ryomen (Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You are spiraling six months after your "encounter" and failed mission with Sukuna. You've quit your job as a spy/hit-woman for your agency and you are trying to live a normal life despite the hauntings and hot dreams of two certain criminals. But when a chance reunion happens at a bar with Toji Fushiguro, you realize that you have a chance to make things right for yourself and finally get the fucking your body desperately needs.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Reader is Fem, Black & Plus-Sized; (Poorly Written lol) Action Sequence; Kidnapping; Threesome; Dubcon/R*pe; Bondage/Handcuffs; Blindfolding; Sensory Play; Knife Play; Facefuck; Cunnilingus w/ Vibrator; Edge Play; MDom!Toji & Sukuna x fsub!Reader; Mating Press; Doggystyle; Rough Sex; Reader Cums 3x; Facials; Creampies; No Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

READ PART I HERE!

READ PART II HERE!

Writer’s Note: WE ARE HERE AT THE END!! Thank you all so much for reading this little series from the mind of @switchkitty143! I had so much fun writing this series & delving into the dark, kinky world of sex with Toji & Sukuna's evil asses lmaoo. I may continue this series or make a spinoff at some point, but my brain has too many fucking ideas already. Enjoy! -Jazz

*************

Another night spent in a martini glass. ‘What a Friday night,’ you somberly think as you sip on the last morsels of your dirty martini.

When you flag the bartender down, he nods and is already getting you another glass. Despite the fact that he can probably tell that you are drunk as a skunk and don’t need another glass, you also tip like a motherfucker and you’ve been here many times before, getting drunk and being responsible by taking an Uber home instead of driving.

You have been frequenting your local bar way more often now in between your shifts at your new remote job as a data analyst. It is a good job, pays the bills, and allows you to continue to live your life as a nomad which you have become accustomed to for the past six months…not your choice, but it is necessary.

As soon as the bartender lowers down your glass, you snatch it and take another sip of the medicine. You stare at the two empty glasses in front of you, your vision slightly blurry. Your head has become fuzzy, causing the sounds, sights, and tastes around you to be sharper than normal. You can feel eyes on you, rolling over the nylon stockings and burgundy top you paired with your leather jacket despite the bitter cold.

You are drunk and you don’t care. That is why you came tonight, right? To get drunk, meet some hot guy, and forget the fact that you’re a total failure, a nomad, and you gave up a career that used to be your entire life?

It has been six months since you quit your job as a hitwoman at C.O.D.E and since your encounter with Sukuna. The events of that night compiled onto the ones with that damn Toji Fushigiro until you had no choice but to quit. Having two of your targets fuck you out of your mind and get away doesn’t exactly look good on your performance report. So you took one for the team and “extracted” yourself from the situation yourself.

It was hard. God, was it hard. You’ve been working at C.O.D.E. for a long while and it became your life. But more than walking away from a job you have come to love and cherish, you couldn’t stand to see the look in your boss’s eyes when you handed over your badge, gun, and resignation letter. You saw pity. You hated his pity.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, when you walked out of the agency’s doors, you could hear whispers and feel eyes staring at you. The entire floor was silent except for the few hushed voices trying to keep their conversations down. It didn’t work. The entire walk from work to the parking lot felt like you were doing the walk of shame.

You knew people found out about you fucking Toji and Sukuna. You knew people were talking about how slutty and stupid you were. You couldn’t stand the thought of continuing on with the rest of your days trying to ignore the whispers down the lane before your boss fired you (aka took you out back and put you out of your misery), so maybe quitting was the best decision.

And although you keep that in your head, the past six months have been nothing short of a self-loathing hell, mindlessly wandering through each day wasting away in your apartment, shoveling down ice cream and wine, having meaningless sex, and attempting to not cry every morning and night. If you aren’t doing that, you’re working your remote job or going to the bar to get smashed only to repeat the same hellish, depressing cycle.

There is no change and you don’t even know what “change” would look like to you. You feel like you have no future. No excitement. No purpose. No nothing.

At least until you happen to turn your head slightly to the left to look down the bar. You don’t know what makes you look. Maybe the lights were getting brighter. Maybe you heard someone laugh a little too loud. Or maybe you just sensed a certain presence that caught your attention. You realize that it may be the third option when you see one of the men who have been haunting you for months sitting at the bar with a shot of expensive whiskey.

It is impossible to not recognize him. Not with the way he fills out his leather jacket and jeans, how big he is, and the scar at the corner of his lip. You know those cool, gray eyes anywhere. They have haunted you for months, bringing both nightmares and hot dreams that leave you sweating in the night. He is completely unaware that you are staring or that you are even here, just a short walk away down at the bar.

You know you should look away, but you can’t. Your attention is completely drawn to him like a month to a flame…or like a scorned woman to revenge. And that is what you are: a scorned woman. A woman who is angry and broken and in need of getting even. All of that rage comes rushing back the moment you lay eyes on Toji Fushiguro who has the nerve to be in here of all places. Not in prison. Still living his life while yours is crashing down.

All you see is red as you watch Toji pick up his shot glass and drain the amber liquid in it, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his thick neck. You briefly think about snatching the glass from him and smashing it against his head. The violent image is quickly wiped away when he suddenly checks his watch and slips the bartender a crisp $50 bill before rising from his stool and abruptly leaving.

You watch him still, your eyes glued to his moving back as he heads to the side exit leading out into the alleyway. Suddenly, you grab your martini and drain the rest of it before sliding the bartender $20. “Put it all on my tab,” you call to him before you rise from your seat. And then you’re following the criminal in his footsteps, moving as quickly as you can despite your unsteadiness and the risk of tripping in your boots.

But you don’t care. You have a one-track mind now hellbent on seeing Toji face to face and…and what? What will you do? Will you hurt him? Will you confront him? Will you kiss him? Your mind is a muddled, jumbled, drunk mess, jumping from emotion to emotion.

When you finally stumble outside, the cold air is like a shock to your system. You suddenly hear a click and turn to see Toji standing in the alley, his back to you. The orange glow of a lighter flicks, illuminating his clothes and his black hair, against the cold, dark shadows of the alleyway dumpsters. He holds the tiny, flickering flame of the lighter to his lips where a cigarette stick protrudes, lighting the butt until it turns red.

You quietly watch him for a few seconds, shivering. From the cold, yes, but also from how nervous you feel. He truly is an intimidating man. He has made that very clear to you. But you aren’t afraid of him. You can’t be. ‘Fear is weakness,’ you think. So you clear your throat and open your mouth: “Hey,” you call, flinching at the sound of your voice. “Toji, right?”

You see Toji’s shoulders tense at the sound of his name. Slowly, he turns, his big frame blocking off the other end of the alley from you. “Who’s askin’?” he demands, squinting at you in the dark. You step a little closer but still keep a good distance from him in case he tries something. “You don’t remember me.” You lift your head to show him all of your face. Every feature. Every line and curve.

Toji continues to squint, his brows narrow in confusion. He takes a drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke out between his O-shaped lips, creating a cloud between you. “Should I?” he asks, a slight chuckle in his voice. Then, suddenly, a light of recognition appears over his face.

“Wait…V, right?” he questions. Your body buzzes at the sound of your name escaping his lips.

Toji scoffs like he can’t believe it is really you. Like you’re old friends or something and not the woman he took advantage of and ruined the life of. “Shit…I do remember you. It’s been a long time. How’ve you been, sweetheart?” He gives you a toothy smile that angers you and gives you butterflies.

“Horrible,” you growl. “And it’s all because of you.” All of the venom you have been feeling has laced your tongue and escaped your mouth, embedded in your voice.

Toji’s smile falters an inch, taken aback by your answer. “Uh, sorry?” he chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “I think you’ve got it wrong, sweetheart. I don’t even know what’s goin’ on.”

He takes another drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke, squinting at you through the thick, gray rings. You scoff to yourself, adrenaline pumping through you. “Of course, you don’t because people like you only think about themselves and not about the harm you cause other people, you selfish dickhead.” You watch his smile slip and his eyes flash with irritation from the insult.

“I lost my job because of you,” you hiss, taking a step toward him. “My career. My entire identity.”

Shockingly, he steps back. “Whoa, wait, wait, wait.” Toji puts his hands up as if calming a crazed wild animal, holding his cig between his thick fore and index fingers. “Look, m’sorry and all, but I didn’t do shit to make that happen. I didn’t sit behind your boss’s desk and fire you, did I?”

His expression is sharp and narrow, his jaw set. You can’t care if you’re playing with fire here. You don’t care what happens. Your anger is too strong, pushing you forward with each thud of your boot. “I should kill you,” you hiss, venom lacing your voice. “I should take you out right now like I should’ve done that night I met you.”

Your hand inches for your back pocket and Toji follows it, not moving but rigid as a board. When you pull your gun out and cock it–click–, he barely even flinches. He is used to this. Perhaps he was even anticipating it. Has he been expecting you at some point, you wonder? “V,” he says, his voice deep and on the hint of a warning. “You need to back up right now and take that gun away from me. You don’t want none of this.”

He drops his cigarette and lets it die out on the payment. Unlike your anger, it snuffs out like a light and the smoke wisps through the air like ghosts. Though your hand shakes, you keep it aimed at his face. The same face that has followed you and taunted you for months now. “Yes, I do,” you growl. “I want it all, you evil motherfucker.”

Crash!

Something attracts your attention from behind just for a second. It sounds like a glass breaking inside the bar or someone falling outside. Either way, it is enough time for Toji to make his attack. As soon as you turn back around, he grabs your wrist and twists it. With a grunt of pain, you are forced to drop the gun. Hopelessly, you watch it clatter to the pavement before Toji kicks it away to somewhere behind a dumpster.

With a growl of anger and determination, you use your knee to nail him right in the balls. His face twists in pain and his hold slips, allowing you to break free and nail him in the jaw with a right hook. His head flies back from the impact and your knuckles flare from them hitting solid bone. It is a sweet ache. You go to punch him again, but he stops you with one hand blocking your fist.

With a grunt, he twirls you around and shoves you into a nearby wall, your front pressing up against the bricks while his front presses into your back. You grunt in desperation, trying to wriggle free, but he presses harder. “Y’know, I don’t hit girls,” he sighs, “but I do fight bitches.”

Bitch?

Thinking quick, you open your mouth and sink your teeth into Toji’s arm that is pinning your hand to the wall. He grunts in pain before you snatch your hand free and elbow him in the stomach. When you turn around, he is absolutely furious, staring you down with a look that would make a man shake in his boots. “Let’s see what you’ve got then, dickhead,” you hiss, putting your fists up and assuming the position for a brawl.

Toji smirks at you, a quiet deviousness in his eyes. He sizes you up for a moment before he lunges at you. You jump back against the wall and quickly move out of the way, causing him to nearly crash into the wall. Using that as an opening, you pounce on him and lock your arms around his neck, attempting to strangle him. He grunts, gripping your hands as he tightens his neck, making it thicker. He then stands on unsteady knees and tries to throw you off, but you’re not letting go.

Toji laughs, his voice raspier now with his throat constricted. “Not bad,” he grunts. “Maybe losin’ your job at that whack-ass agency was what you needed. Now let me go.”

But you don’t. You hold on tighter, squeezing his neck with your elbow. Toji grunts again, this time in pain, and falls back onto his knees. You are almost fully on top of him now, nearly strangling him. “C’mon, V, lay off,” he huffs. “That hurts.”

It should hurt. You want him in pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your gun glistening underneath a dumpster just a foot away. You could reach it with your foot and kick it over to you.

You could kill this fucker right here. Take him out and show your boss that you got at least one criminal that you were tasked to get. You can complete your mission.

But Toji’s big, veiny, calloused hands stop you short. Not yet. Unfortunately for you, you’ve still got unfinished business with him and that business includes curing your horniness for him for good.

“Not until you give me the answer I’m looking for,” you whisper in his ear.“I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately and I remember that you told me if we ever cross paths again, you’d let me join your side.”

You loosen your grip on his neck, allowing him to take a proper breath. “Well, I’ve decided that I’ll do it: I want to be your hitwoman.”

Finally, you release him and step back, allowing him to do what he wishes at this moment to you. All he does is turn to face you and then slowly stands, using the brick wall for support. You stifle a laugh as you watch him. You like seeing him struggle. His gray eyes roll up and down your body, sizing you up as he rubs his throat. “What’s the catch?” he asks, suspicious.

As he should be. You can’t exactly blame the guy since you almost strangled him to death. You shake your head, offering him a smirk that is probably slightly off-putting. You kind of like intimidating him. “No catch. I just figured since I’m as close to you as anyone at my agency, I can help you and you can help me by letting me use my skills again.”

Toji stares at you in utter disbelief, still rubbing his neck. “For evil?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “Isn’t that, like, totally against everything you used to work for?” You huff to yourself, rolling your eyes. “What else am I gonna do, Toji?” you rhetorically ask. “Even if I get another job at an agency, we’d probably cross paths again because you’re on every government agency’s radar.”

The man stops short of his next smart-ass remark and looks as if he is finally taking in what you are saying. To make him trust you at least an inch more, you back away from your gun, leaving it lying where it is. You raise your hands in defense, letting the cool air slip between your fingers. “I have no attacks left. No games. No weapons. Nothing. Just give me a chance.”

This can either go one of two ways: he either walks away from you now and leaves you totally humiliated or he takes that gun and shoots you dead. You are prepared for both at this point. There is no way that he will–

“Fine,” he agrees. You gape at him, shocked, but nothing in his face reads that he is playing around here. Nothing about Toji Fushiguro says “playing around” as long as you’ve known him. “But if you want to prove yourself to me, you’ll have to do it my way…and prove it to someone else.”

“Who?” you demand, blinking at him. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your body is buzzing, kicking your fight or flight into gear. He suddenly begins sauntering up to you, the scarred corner of his mouth lifted up in a slight smirk. You back away the more he gets closer until your back collides with the brick wall behind you. Toji looms over you like a damn villain, his face shrouded in darkness. “You’ll see. Sorry for this.” Suddenly, in a flash, his hand is gripping your hair and slamming the side of your head into the wall. Pain explodes in your skull and your vision blurs as you lose your footing and collapse onto the pavement.

Faintly, you sense Toji kneel beside you and smell the mint gum and whiskey on his breath as he leans in toward you. “Nighty-night, mama,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your cheek. Then everything is dark.

************

The next time you wake up, you are in a soft bed that isn’t your own.

You don’t jolt awake and shoot up out of bed. It is a slow awakening….and you coming to consciousness. The last thing you remember is blackness.

But now, all of that is replaced with a luxurious king-sized bed and a soft, wine-colored duvet that you’re currently underneath. Your clothes are also gone, leaving you exposed in your lace bra and thong panties that you got from Soma. You had worn them to the bar in an effort to be “prepared” for a possible hookup.

You finally sit up and hiss at the ache at the side of your head. Your brain feels like a sledgehammer is knocking against it. You go to rub it, only for your fingers to caress a quarter-sized lump at the base of your scalp. ‘What the hell?’ you think. Where did that come from? Did you run into something while talking with Toji in the bar’s alleyway?

In an attempt to jumpstart your memory, you look around at your new surroundings, noticing the large window overlooking the late-night sky of Tokyo displayed in front of you. You have no idea what time it is, but you know it has to be somewhere in the AM hours. On your right-hand side is a lounge area with burgundy and black armchairs and a couch staring at a flat-screen mounted on the wall.

To your left is a polished kitchen, mini-bar, and the door. Are you in a hotel suite? A penthouse? “Where am I?” you ask aloud.

“Don’t worry about it,” a rasped, deep voice answers you. You gasp, turning back to face the lounge area and squinting into the darkness to try and make out a face. A limb. A body. You see absolutely nothing until a light flickers on. Sitting in an armchair with his ringed finger wrapped in the chain of the lamp at his side is someone no short of the Devil himself. “Just be glad we have ya luxury. You coulda woke up in a warehouse.”

Your body tenses and your heartbeat increases dramatically at the sight of the spiked, pink-haired, tattooed gangster clad in a black tank top, jeans, and a gold chain necklace that hangs down to his tatted pectorals peeking from underneath his top. Sukuna. You thought for sure that you would never see this man again. “You,” you exhale.

Sukuna smirks at you, taking a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. “Me.”

He sits back in his chair and watches you over the rim of his glass, his crimson eyes hunting you despite you already being present. You grip the duve to your chest, hiding yourself from him. “What are you doing here?” you hiss. “Where are my clothes? Where’s Toji?”

Like clockwork (or being summoned like the demon he is), Toji comes waltzing out of the door behind you on your left, scaring the hell out of you. He is laughing as he does, dressed in black sweats, polo socks, and a white tank top that is way too tight on him and defines every single muscle of his upper torso. “Whoa, whoa, little V,” he chuckles. “One question at a time. You’ll give yourself a damn heart attack….or make that head throb even more.”

He stops at your bedside, peering down to look at you. He looks almost apologetic as he stares at your face. “Sorry ‘bout that bump, by the way. If it’s any consolation, you still look damn gorgeous.” He gives you a smirk and a glass of water that you didn’t notice he was holding. You hesitantly take it and take a tiny, suspicious lick of the cool liquid before you slowly sip it.

Sukuna rises from his seat, making an irritated grunt. “Cut the sweet talk, Fushiguro. We ain’t here to woo the bitch.” His eyes, just as menacing and devious as the night you met him at the masquerade ball, bore into yours, gluing you to your spot on the bed. You snap your head around to glare at Toji. “What’s going on?” you demand. “Why is he here?”

Toji’s brows raise in surprise at you, unswayed by your scornful expression and steely tone. “Oh, you ain’t know? We’re in business together—have been for a couple of months now. I thought your agency was aware.” He gives you a toothy grin that pisses you off even more. Sukuna chuckles, sauntering over to you in his boots. “Shit, me too. You people have been keepin’ tabs on us for a while now, pissin’ me off…”

He holds a toothpick in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and soft lips. The bottom lip is pierced now and you just see the slight glint of another piercing in his tongue. He regards you with a less-than-sympathetic expression though his lips twitch into a smirk. “So you quit, huh? What’s up with that?”

He stands on your right while Toji looms over you on your right, the both of them trapping you in the bed. You feel like a prisoner. “I needed a change,” you quietly lie, clutching the duvet closer to your chest. “I’m sure he already told you.” Toji chuckles, liking your bite. “Oh, he did,” Sukuna replies, flicking his toothpick away to somewhere across the room. “I just can’t help but think you’re up to somethin’ if you’re so adamant to be under our wing.”

He too sizes you up, reading between your lines like you’re an open book. You roll your eyes, threw with their suspicions. “What the fuck do I have to lose?” you ask, exasperated. “I’m not even in law enforcement anymore! I have nothing!” You spread your hands towards them, flipped up and open-palmed. Empty.

You watch the two gangsters look at each other, silently conversing with one another until they come to a joint decision. Toji’s smirk widens while Sukuna only wears a tight-lipped expression that makes you feel nervous about what is to come. What could they possibly do to you?

“You really wanna prove yourself to us?” he asks.

You aren’t sure if you should even answer. But what else can you do? And more importantly…what will they do to you if you don’t answer? Swallowing roughly, you nod.

“Then kneel.” You blink, not expecting those two threatening words to come from Sukuna’s mouth. You stare at him and then at Toji, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. This is really happening. And you can’t stop it.

Biting your tongue and swallowing back your fear, you slowly position yourself to kneel on the bed, but Sukuna’s angered expression stops you short. “No,” he barks. “On the floor.” Biting your lip, you slide off of the bed and onto the floor, obediently sitting with your palms placed facedown in your lap. You sit at the feet of the two sexy, dangerous men, staring down at the floor and regretting your life choices. “There you go,” Toji coos. “That’s a good girl.”

He places a hand on your head, gently petting your hair. A shiver runs through you at the unexpected praise and he notices. “Yeah?” he teases. “You like bein’ called a good girl?”

To subtract the pleasure, Sukuna takes lockful of your hair and yanks it, bringing his mouth to your ear. “You’d better answer right,” he growls. “I don’t have the patience for bratty bitches.”

The sting mixes with Toji’s gentle strokes, creating a confusing cocktail of pain and pleasure. “Y-Yes, sirs,” you stammer. A hand grips your chin and forces you to stare up into two sets of intense, lustful eyes. “And you’re gonna do whatever we say, right?” Toji adds, his voice silky and smooth. “Because you wanna prove that you can be good and follow instructions, right?”

“Yes, sirs,” you repeat. Sukuna releases his harsh hold on your hair, flicking the strands. “Then you’re gonna sit there and let us tie you up, blindfold you, and then do whatever the fuck we want with you,” he sternly says. “And you’re not gonna complain or bitch or moan. You’re gonna let us use you as much as we want to because that’s what you signed up for.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire from the inside. Your entire being buzzes to run. To fight. To be away from them….but at the same time, you’re tempted to stay. “Now be a good slut and close those eyes,” Toji demands. You do as you’re told, doing your best to not shake, even as you hear sudden noises. Even as you feel your wrists being forced behind your back and bound along with your ankles. Even as you feel a blindfold fall onto your eyes, darkening your vision. Even as you feel the cold blade of a knife slice off your bra, leaving your breasts exposed.

You are completely naked, blind, bound, and at the mercy of the two men in the room. “Comfortable?” Sukuna asks.

“No,” you answer, your wrists already aching from being restricted.

“Good,” he deadpans. “Now lean forward and hike that ass in the air.”

Slowly, you tilt yourself forward in an effort to not crash into the floor, but Toji helps you, keeping a hand on your back. You hear the two audibly groan at the sight of your plump ass in their faces when you’ve assumed the desired position, your cheek squished against the floor. There is no warning to the several harsh slaps that the two men give you, open-palmed and without mercy. The burning sensation you feel on both cheeks is intense, the loud sounds of their hands colliding with your butt evidence of how hard they are hitting you.

SPANK!

“Ow!” you exclaim, flinching at the harsh spank. Sukuna gives your asscheek a scrape with his teeth, making you flinch. “Shut up,” he demands. “You knew what you were in for when you decided to pursue him outside the bar. Just who the fuck do you think you are, huh?”

“Aw, I like hearin’ her sing,” Toji cackles. “She’s so adorable like this.” His big hand cascades down your stinging ass, soothing the fiery sensation. Sukuna is less gentle, instead opting to give your pussy a couple of smacks over your panties. “As soon as he hit me up, I shot over here just to get the chance to use you again.”

Snip-snip. The knife cuts through your panties with ease, leaving your cunt exposed to the cool air and the two men. You do your best to not shake. “And you’re goin’ to enjoy it: because that’s what sluts like. And you’ll really like this shit.” You hear a buzzing sound and already know what they are planning for you.

You can’t run or hide or squirm when Sukuna presses the vibe against your clit as he begins eating your pussy, his soft lips and tongue caressing your slit. You moan into the floor at each long lick that he gives you, start with your slit and prying your lips open to slurp you straight from the source. The buzzing sensations from the vibe are too intense, each vibration rocking you to your core and quickly making you soaked. “Ah!” you gasp. “W-Wait, it’s too much!”

“That’s ‘cause it’s on the highest setting, baby girl,” Toji chuckles, watching Sukuna lick you down. “Don’t squirm or even think about grindin’ that pussy against that toy. You won’t like what we’ll do next if you do.”

Click-click.

Your body freezes at the familiar sound of a gun cocking. Of course, they would have a fun. Sukuna stops his eating and his hand suddenly grips your hair, forcing you to sit up. Your new position causes the vibe to settle between your thighs underneath you, pushing itself right up against your pussy. The cool barrel of the gun presses against your wobbly lips. “Suck on it, babes,” Toji coos. “C’mon, you’ve done it before. You know exactly how to put those lips to work.”

With no choice in the matter, you open your mouth and allow Toji to slowly insert the gun into your mouth. And you suck. No matter how afraid or how much your body is fighting against it, you bob your head up and down as if you’re sucking a cock, hollowing your cheeks along the cold metal barrel. “Aaaatta girl,” Toji teasingly drawls out. “Open that throat for us.”

You whimper around the gun as the toy continues to buzz against your cunt, making you sobbing wet. You feel that it is against your will…is it? Is anyone of this? The lines are becoming blurry now. “Enough of this shit,” Sukuna growls. “She needs to suck on somethin’ else now. That’s why she’s here.”

Toji huffs, but fortunately takes the gun out of your mouth now slick with spit. “So impatient. Whatever happened to foreplay?” You hear the rustle of clothes and you already know what is coming next. Minty breath fans over your face and soft lips kiss the shell of your ear. “Want somethin’ else in that mouth, mama?” he whispers.

He doesn’t wait for an answer…and neither does Sukuna judging by the very real, very warm, and very hard cocks suddenly lightly tapping your face. “Instead of one big cock, you get two! Aren’t you a lucky slut!” You make a noise between a whimper and a grunt as one cock pushes past your lips and settles on your tongue.

“God, I’ve been fuckin’ waitin’ for this,” Toji sighs, already moving his cock past the threshold of your soft, wet mouth to intrude your throat. You gag, not quite ready for him yet, but you open your throat in an attempt to yawn as he begins fucking it like he would a toy. Spit begins to drip from your mouth as he fucks your face, allowing him to do so more easily. “Not bad, baby doll,” he grunts. “You’re better cocksucker than a fighter honestly.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound rumbly and deep. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He grabs the back of your neck and forces you to take him now, shoving his cock deep down your throat until his balls touch your chin. “That’s it,” he groans, rolling his hips against your face. “Take me. Just like you need.” He is more ferrous in his fucking than Toji is, gripping the back of your head to pull you back and forth onto his dick.

Toji hums pleasantly as he watches you–the beautiful little slut blindfolded and bound–get face-fucked like there is no tomorrow by a grunting and groaning Sukuna, his face as flushed as his pink hair. “Slow your roll, Ryomen,” he chuckles. “Don’t forget that I’m here too.” You feel his hard cock slap against your cheek, his sticky head dripping with pre.

They take turns using your mouth like this, grabbing your hair to push you back and forth between them, forcefully fucking your face. You have no choice but to go along with it, relaxing your jaw as much as possible despite how much it aches. They are too fucking big! How the hell did you do this before?

But no matter how rough they are fucking your mouth, the fact that it turns you on remains. The toy buzzing against your sloppy, sobbing wet cunt knows it–it slides against your lips and continues to send those intense, merciless, damn pleasurable vibrations throughout your needy little button, making it almost impossible for you not to cum. It just happens. While Toji is fucking your face, complimenting you on your “goddamn beautiful mouth”, you moan around his cock as your pussy unravels on the toy.

The men notice. Of course, they do. “Stop,” Sukuna orders Toji, glaring down at your whimpering, quivering lips. He tuts at you as if you’re no more than a bug. “Cumming without permission, huh?” he sighs. “‘Dumb slut just doesn’t know when to quit. Guess it can’t be helped.”

Once Toji has got his dick out of your mouth, Sukuna roughly bends you over and replaces the toy with his mouth. “Let’s see how you’ll do this time around,” he hisses before his tongue is invading your pussy, making your quivering walls and each muscle even more tender and sensitive from his relentless tongue-fucking. “S-Sukuna, wait!” you wail, desperately panting and wailing from his mouth.

“But nothin’,” Toji growls, his cock sinking back into your mouth. “Nothin’ but you takin’ the rest of this dick. C’mon, pretty girl…don’t you wanna please your new boss?” His chuckle is almost evil as he fucks your mouth once more, his hands indulging in your soft tummy and ass, smacking the beautiful globes as Sukuna greedily laps at your cunt. You thought that the vibrator was intense? Sukuna’s mouth tops that by far. His soft lips and long tongue caress every single part of your pussy and clit, alternating between slurping at both, drinking you in like a starved man.

It doesn’t take you long for another orgasm to rise to the surface, forcefully so. Sukuna can feel it in the way your pussy tightens around his moving, swirling tongue as Toji groans, plap-plap-plapping away at your mouth. “Hold it,” the pink-haired gangster growls, sending vibrations throughout your pussy. “Tell us you’re ours and you can cum. Don’t you dare fuckin’ disobey me.”

Gasps and moans leave your lips, your fingers and toes curling at the pleasurable sensations and the sheer willpower it takes for you not to cum. “Tell us, mama,” Toji moans, tapping your chin with his fingers. “Tell us that this body is ours and we’ll make you cum as many times as you need to.”

And you do. Goddammit, you do. You’ll do anything it takes to just cum. It is too much for your body to hold on and not release. “I’m yours!” you sob. “I promise I’m yours!” Your beautiful voice crying out for them both is enough to make both men stick their cocks in you and rail you until they fill you up. Finally, finally, you are allowed to cum after you commit the ultimate sin and sign of disrespect to yourself. “Do it,” Sukuna growls into your pussy. “Cum for me. Don’t deny me, V.”

It takes a while to build, but once it does, it comes crashing down like a house of cards, washing over you. As your pussy cums into Sukuna’s waiting mouth, the gangster quickly tears himself away from you and slides his cock inside of you without warning. You let out a high-pitched yelp at the sudden stretch just as you are in the throes of your second orgasm.

Sukuna leans down to nibble on your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe. “Gotcha,” he whispers. He grabs your hips, digging his nails in, and proceeds to slowly rock into you, giving you both a chance to get used to each other. Unfortunately for you, he feels good. Horribly, sinfully, disgustingly good. The way he stretches out the velvety, wet walls of your pussy and creates sloppy, squelching sounds whenever he thrusts add to the tingles of pleasure in your core that grow with every passing second.

Sukuna grunts in your ear, overcome by how tight and wet you are. You grip him like a vice, tempting him to get closer by gripping your ass with one greedy hand while the other toys with one of your juicy, dripping tits. Toji watches on, pumping his cock with one fist in your face by your blindfolded eyes. “How’s she feel, man?” he asks, his tone husky and low. Sukuna’s hooded gaze briefly meets his before falling back down to your jiggling ass. “Fuckin’....fuck,” he groans.

Toji tosses his head back and laughs as if that was the funniest shit he has ever heard. “I knew it was a good idea to stalk your pretty ass!” he guffaws, giving your ass a hard smack. Your brows narrow, confused by his statement. “What, you really thought us meetin’ at the same bar was a friendly coincidence?” he chuckles. “I’ve been after your ass ever since that night at the strip club.”

Oh, no. OH, NO.

“And when we started workin’ together, I knew it’d only be a matter of time till we met again,” Sukuna adds, wrapping a hand around your throat. “Ad now here we are.” He squeezes, causing you to let out a wheezed gasp as he sinks his cock in deeper, his balls slapping against your clit. “C’mon, fuck me back. You don’t get to just enjoy this shit. You’ve gotta work for it.”

You do your best to rock yourself back, only causing him to fuck you harder. The sounds of his balls slapping your clit and your ass colliding with his thighs echoes throughout the hotel room along with your moans and his deep, guttural grunts. You’ve never been fucked like this before–so rough and ferocious. No man could ever fuck you and make you feel such a way or take you out of yourself. “Oh, my God!” you bellow, losing all composure.

Sukuna chuckles, massaging your throat as he continues to plow your pussy just right, nailing that spot that makes you see stars over and over again. “Thanks, but not quite, baby,” he sniggers. “Guess the dick has got that brain goin’ stupid, huh?”

Toji cackles, massaging his cock head against your soft, juicy lips. “Stupid is a nice look on her,” he comments, chuckling. “You look so pretty takin’ cock, sugar. Now isn’t this better than fightin’ in a dark alleyway?”

You don’t respond. You can’t. The act of talking has completely left your brain as the man behind you fucks your pussy off of its hinges, rutting into you and grabbing your ass for leverage. His fingers dig into the flesh of your buttocks, the sting of it mixing with the pleasurable sting you feel from his cock repeatedly plunging in and out of you.

You can tell that he is close when his moans start increasing, getting louder, and his cock starts swelling inside of you. “Take it,” he hisses into your ear. “Take this shit. Just like a good girl should.” And without warning, he finally blows his load inside of you with a loud moan that nearly triggers your own orgasm. You gasp as you feel a warm shot of his cum enter you, filling you up.

Sukuna purrs–no shit, he actually purrs–as he nuzzles his face into your ear, nipping at your cheek with his teeth. “That’s a good girl,” he whispers, still softly groaning as the rest of his spunk escapes him and enters you.

Once exhaustion and post-nut clarity kick in, he slowly slides out of you, emitting a weak moan from both of you. His cum drips from your pussy and down your thighs, making them slick. Toji smiles at you, looking proud of your ‘accomplishment’.

“Not bad, baby,” he chuckles. “I was sure he fucked you out of your mind.”

And he did. You are so dizzy, dazed, and disoriented that it feels like your head has been dunked underwater. Your eardrums are throbbing. You’re in need of air despite your lungs filling with it every time you inhale to catch your breath.

“Uncuff her,” Toji orders. “I wanna lay her down.” There is a pause, obviously because Sukuna is giving him a WTF look. “She’s not gonna go nowhere,” Toji scoffs. “The girl can’t even breathe!”

And you can’t. The exhaustion is too intense to even think about an escape route. That is why you let Sukuna uncuff your aching wrists and ankles. And you let Toji lie you down on the floor on your back. You feel him on top of you, hovering over you. “Hey.” Tap-tap. You feel his hand lightly smack your cheek. “You good, baby?” he asks. “Talk to me.”

Somehow, you find the willpower and energy to speak: “Y-Yes,” you stammer. The criminal is pleased. “Good. I need you alive and lookin’ at me when I fuck you.” Without another word, he snatches your blindfold off to allow you to see his face twist in ecstasy as he slides his hard cock inside of you. Your eyes squeeze shut as he fills you just as Sukuna had, stretching out your wet walls and tenderizing your cunt. You can’t take it. It’s too much. Your pussy is about to burst!

Toji grips your chin hard, damn near imprinting his fingerprints into your chin. “Look at me,” he demands, his handsome face flushed, black strands of his hair falling in his face. “You look at nothin’ but me while I fuck this pussy, got it?” You don’t answer. You can’t–not while he is slowly and deeply filling your pussy with his cock, plunging in and out of you, drawing weak moans and sobs out of your tired, aching body.

Suddenly, Sukuna’s cock head is pressed against your lips as his hand wraps tightly around the base, pumping himself in your face. “Sorry, baby doll,” he chuckles. “Couldn’t help myself. Lucky for you, all you gotta do is lie there and take it.” He hovers above your head, his balls hanging down to lightly brush against your nose as he strokes himself away to the sight of Toji fucking you dumb in mating press.

They use you. Take you. Break you. With every thrust of Toji’s hard, throbbing, pulsing cock, you know that you will never be the same. Toji digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass, fully mounted on you and drilling his cock into you. “Keep this shit up and you’ll make a very nice hitwoman for us,” he chuckles. “Maybe even our personal fucktoy. Wouldn’t that be a job!”

Wouldn’t it? No responsibilities. No missions. You would just get paid to suck and fuck these two mobsters. You would just lie on your back, hike your legs in the air, and let them use your holes as much as they want to, day or night, rain or shine. Your job would just to be a slut for them.

And so far, you’re doing a good job at that when you watch Toji’s face. His eyes roll to the back of his head, showing the whites of his eyeballs, as his thrusts become harder and fast paced.

“M’close,” he warns. “‘Bout to fill this pussy up. Make me cum, baby V.” You grip his forearms and hold onto him as he rails you harder, faster, making your tits and tummy jiggle with the force of his fucking.

Finally, with a moan louder than Sukuna’s, Toji explodes inside of you, releasing rope after rope of cum inside of your pussy. You can’t help it: you cum too. Sparks of electric pleasure shock you from the inside out as your pussy tightens and flexes around the hard cock inside of you, drawing your third orgasm out of you. Seconds later, Sukuna gives a guttural groan and busts another load onto your lips, coating them in his spunk.

“Taste me,” he demands. You open your mouth, allowing him to slip the head in and gently fuck your mouth, letting his cum settle onto your tastebuds. Meanwhile, Toji is pushing the rest of his load inside of you, soft grunts leaving his lips, quite possibly knocking you up…or maybe Sukuna did too? You don’t know. You can’t find it in you to care right now.

Finally, Toji slows his thrusts and pulls his cock out of you, causing his cum to leak from your cunt and mix with Sukuna’s. He leans back onto his haunches, his toned body dripping in perspiration. “Consider yourself hired,” he pants. “You’ve convinced us well.” He gives you a smirk, a playful glint in his grey eyes. Sukuna chuckles, slipping his now-flaccid cock out of your mouth.

You feel tired. Sticky. Achy. Used. You should ask where your clothes are and get out of here as fast as you can to avoid what will happen next. But the only thing in your head is how you need to be clean. “Can I use your shower please?” you rasp out. They are the first words that you’ve actually spoken in an hour since the sex began.

The two gangsters give you a curious look, still kneeling before you, naked and coated in sweat. “Can ya walk?” Toji asks, raising an eyebrow. You slowly nod, standing on your own despite how unsteady and wobbly you feel. They watch you as you find your clothes and take them with you to the bathroom. You can feel their eyes burning into you as you go. Even when you close the door, you feel them staring.

After digging into your jacket for your phone and setting it on the sink, you leave your clothes discarded on the floor and turn the shower on. The showerhead is the kind that has jets that remind you of rainforest waterfalls, steamy and fresh. You immediately step in and sigh, the hot water taking everything away–the sweat, the spunk, the exhaustion. All of what you just did gets swept down the drain.

As you begin washing yourself with the lemongrass soap left on the inside, you hear your phone ding and you smile. Your smile only deepens as each second passes and you hear Toji and Sukuna talk among themselves outside the door. They have no idea. Not yet.

And then you hear it.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

You don’t flinch or jump or drop the tiny bottle of body wash. You know they are here. You were counting on it. “Who the fuck is that?!” Sukuna barks over the rushing water in your ears.

“Police!” a loud, booming voice bellows from behind the hotel door. “Open up now or we’re kicking the door down!”

The sound of running footsteps as the two criminals lose their shit makes you giggle as you continue to peacefully wash away. “Shhhhit!” Toji hisses. “Who the fuck called the fuckin’ cops?!”

“I told you we couldn’t trust that bitch!” Sukuna angrily hollers.

And then you hear a crash and splintering wood as the door comes crashing down. There is loud shouting. Booming footsteps. The cocking of guns. Thudding against the wall from possible fighting. “Toji Fusiguro and Sukuna Ryomen, you are under arrest,” one of the officers announces.

With a smile, you shut off the running water and finally strut out of the bathroom, fresh and clean. You grab your phone and snatch up a rope left hanging on the hooks beside the shower, sighing at the soft fabric as it hits your skin and falls to your ankles. When you open the door, you are greeted by an officer in full gear already standing at the bathroom door, prepared to kick it down. “Are you V L/N?” he questions.

You nod, calm and collected. “I am.” Even as the sight before you isn’t calm or collected: Sukuna and Toji are pressed to the floor on their stomachs, luckily semi-clothed…and very angry. Two officers are sitting on their legs, pinning them down as they handcuff them. Among the officers, you see C.O.D.E. agents checking out the scene, plastic gloves on their hands to avoid contaminating evidence.

When you and your boss lock eyes, you feel a rush of gratitude and like everything is going to be okay. “V!” he yells, immediately moving towards you. “Are you alright? How long were you here for? We lost track of you at some point.”

You give him a smile, shaking your head. You are fine. You are more than fine.

Slowly, you turn towards the two men who have been haunting and destroying your life for months lying helpless on the floor, cuffed and restricted. You kneel down in front of them and they follow your every move like you’re a crazed animal.

“You think you two were the only ones doin’ some stalking?” you ask, your voice cool and quiet. “I’ve been stalking you two for weeks now, using everything C.O.D.E. provided on you.”

You watch as a light of realization flickers in Sukuna and Toji’s eyes. They had no idea and you were counting on it. When you left your agency that first day, you made sure to stop by the file room and snatch Toji’s file after keeping Sukuna’s with you. You studied them for weeks, including their locations, before you started doing your own research.

And then started talking to guys who knew guys who knew other guys who knew Toji and Sukuna. You paid them, of course, for their time, and began following your targets. To different cities. Hotels. Restaurants. Clubs. Sitting in your unmarked car with the windows tinted. Pressed against buildings, straining to ear conversations. Sitting close enough to hear but not be so obvious or suspicious. Your skills as a hitwoman came in mighty useful hand.

And then finally, when Toji ended up on your side of town, you knew the time to act was now. So you texted your boss your plan that very night and told him to keep track of you by your bugged phone. You kept the C.O.D.E. tracker on your phone for just this reason: to finally bag these two fuckers the way you should’ve months before. It has all come together.

You stare each of them in the eye, willing them to see the finality of their situation in them. “You two are sloppy criminals,” you growl. “If you’re going to fuck a hit-woman, you should make sure that her phone isn’t bugged.”

Toji blankly stares at you, giving you the impression that he may not have clearly heard you…but then he smiles. Really smiles, all of his pearly teeth shining at you. It is unnerving yet beautiful. As he is hauled up by two officers, he gives you a once-over, his grey eyes roaming over your body. “Not bad, babe,” he comments. “Not bad at all.”

But Sukuna is way less appraisal or accepting. As the officers hike him up in his boxers, keeping hold on him because of how much he fights, he gives you a glare that is full of a thousand scalding fires that are painful and rageful. Not at all lustful or passionate. “You may have won this now, but it’s short-lived,” he hisses. “It’s only a matter of time until I get out and when I do, I’m comin’ straight for you. That’s a fuckin’ promise.” He practically spits the word at you, staring at you like you’re the enemy.

You know you are. You knew that despite all of what they just did to you, you would be seen as nothing more than the villain in their story after all of this went down. So you play the part. With a small smirk, your shoulders back, and an unwavering, determined look as you stare into his crimson eyes, you answer him: “Don’t worry, Sukuna–I’ll be waiting.”

The officers don’t wait for you to see Sukuna’s reaction. They haunt him and Toji off by their cuffed arms while four others keep their guns aimed at the two criminals in case they try something. You stand there in your robe, watching them as they are dragged away out of the hotel suite.

Your boss lays a comforting hand on your shoulder, firmly squeezing it. “V, are you okay?” he worriedly asks.

You turn to him and it feels as if for the first time in months, a weight has been lifted off of you. No more nightmares. No more urges. No more hauntings. You feel nothing but peace. Finally.

“I’ve never felt better, sir.”

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #jjk smut #sukuna x black reader #sukuna ryoumen smut #toji smut #toji x black!reader #plus sized reader #mama i'm in love with a criminal #commission fill

140 notes · View notes

marigold-hills · 17 days ago

Text

your hands; mine Part 1

Milk, potatoes, camera film, body wash.

Remus writes his shopping list down on a little piece of paper. He keeps the pad in the glovebox. The pages are decorated with yellow flowers and cute cats. He’s running low on those, too.

Organiser pad, bread, eggs.

He’s writing against the steering wheel and the words are coming out all wonky. The pen starts to stutter ink half way through the list

Pens, cigarettes, courgette, peppers.

He’s trying to eat a little more healthily - been subsiding on a steady diet of Sainsbury’s lunch meal deals for a smidge too long and he’s starting to feel it. Makes him sluggish, a bit too pale. Iron deficient, probably.

Spinach, beef, beetroot.

He’s a bit sick of their meagre sandwich selection anyway.

It’s just after five. The office buildings around where Remus is parked are steadily emptying, depositing suited workers onto the still-sunshine filled street. Sirius always leaves last, hyper fixated on whatever data set he’s analysing, stretching out his work hours as long as it’s reasonable.

Remus doesn’t mind. He’s not in any rush.

Cat food, water, laundry detergent.

Remus doesn’t work. His bad hip and bad spine and bad heart prohibit any kind of gainful employment. He makes a bit of money selling stained glass portraits of dogs on Etsy, and the rest he gets from the Department of Social Security and Disability. A neat little bank transfer on the twenty second day of every month, ever since he was eighteen and the money started coming to him instead of to his parents.

It’s not really enough to live on. Remus crosses off the water. The one from the taps tastes a bit funny but it’ll do, if he boils it first.

Spinach, beef, beetroot canned beetroot.

Sirius comes out forty minutes past five, once the rush hour traffic has dissipated. He looks beautiful and so Remus texts him to let him know: you’re beautiful, he writes. He’s written texts like this one countless times, a wall of blue messages he can scroll through endlessly. From across the road he can see Sirius taking the phone out of his pocket (nice black work slacks, such a contrast to the leather jacket). He reads it and doesn’t respond. His face does the thing it always does when he sees a text from Remus: a grimace, an exasperation. A twist to his pretty lips that would look ugly on anyone else.

Remus loves to see it. Snaps a quick photo with his camera, makes sure to get the way the afternoon’ sun hits Sirius’ hair.

Sirius’ car is parked close enough that Remus can see him clearly - getting in, taking a deep, grounding breath. A little post-work ritual, like Sirius wants to breathe the office out of his body and replace it with fresh air. Only then does he drive away.

Remus follows.

It’s a Friday afternoon. On Fridays, Sirius goes to the pub with his friend James. James sometimes brings his wife along, and sometimes just countless pictures of his son. Sirius sees the kid at least twice a week but still he looks at each photo as if it were a great treasure.

Remus goes in fifteen minutes after them, sometimes half an hour. Sometimes he doesn’t go in at all and sits in his car instead, waiting for the bartender to call last orders. Twice he felt brave and sent a drink to Sirius’ table, but left before it was delivered. Both times the bartender told him the same: this is a pub, mate. You want to talk to him, go talk to him, I ain’t doing table service.

A good tip changed his mind. Remus lived on boiled eggs and toast that week, but it was worth it to imagine Sirius drinking a pint (Moretti, his usual order) that Remus had got for him. Enjoying something that Remus provided.

Maybe he’ll be brave again. It feels like a good day to try. There’s something about sunny weather that brings out a recklessness in people, and Remus is not immune.

Before going in, he takes a quick shot of Sirius through the pub window, where he and James stand around a pool table. Sirius doesn’t like playing pool much, but he’s a good friend. Indulges when James whines for it. Fine, but you’re getting the next round, is usually his only condition.

Remus parks his car three away from Sirius’. He always walks home after Fridays, leaves it there to pick up in the morning. Responsible driver, Sirius is, never gets behind the wheel after drinking. Remus appreciates that about him.

There are two more men with Sirius and James by the time Remus gets into the pub. They put their two pound coins on the table to secure the next game but one of them - stocky, bearded - seems more interested in Sirius than in pool.

Remus sits at the bar. Orders himself a soda water and some peanuts. The tall stool isn’t very comfortable on his hip, but he can see Sirius and the man in the mirror behind the drinks shelves. They’re talking. The man leans forward as James takes his shot. Hands Sirius a drink and Sirius takes it, clinks their glasses together.

Someone else’s day to be brave, then, Remus thinks. Maybe next Friday it will be his chance again. He fancies doing this, flagging down the bartender and asking pint of Moretti, please, and walking it over there himself. How many steps it would be between the bar and the pool table, how many breaths would he take before the air became one Sirius had breathed already.

Sirius takes his shot and fumbles. It’s beyond endearing, the way he laughs it off, the way he pushes James’ arm away when he gloats.

Remus can’t hear their conversation but it’s obvious from the body language: the stocky bearded man suggests he can help Sirius get better, teach him how to play. He reaches one meaty hand to Sirius’ hip and the gesture is so suggestive Remus can feel it as if it was on his own skin.

Sirius laughs it off and pushes the hand from him. The man doesn’t get the hint. When Sirius turns to the table again, he positions himself behind him. Helping Sirius line the shot, hand on the lovely slope of Sirius’ spine where it bends, the other on the divot of his waist.

It happens quicker than quick. James doesn’t get a chance to react. Remus is so very gratified to have a seat with a view.

One moment, the man is groping Sirius, and the next the sharp end of the pool queue is digging into the skin of his cheek, just below the eye - a suggestion of violence. Sirius still has that same smile on his face, something bordering bored politeness, but his eyes are cold now. Ruthless.

He’s so beautiful.

PART 2

✨✨✨✨

Fair warning: this one will get a bit violent.

hi! Hello! Little new fic I’m so so so excited about. Stalker Remus my beloved him and his boiled eggs ❤️❤️❤️

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts

#fic: your hands #stalker Remus au #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #remus x sirius #dead gay wizards #fanfic #marauders era #stalker Remus Lupin

69 notes · View notes

typewritingyip · 3 months ago

Text

The Arcturus Missions

Part Thirty Nine - Dazed

Part Thirty Eight

———

It is estimated that the Second World War’s financial cost for the world was at least a billion dollars in roughly present day dollars, though there is no specific statistical data. There were however other estimates.

Between twenty and forty percent of dwellings, agricultural property, and general structures in Europe were destroyed. Leaving another unknown cost for repairs and rebuilding.

Then the standing death toll.

Wars came after, with their different costs and horrors.

Korea cost another estimated 687 billion with direct, indirect, and mixed costs in todays dollars.

Vietnam cost roughly 828 billion just on the United States military with another estimated 111 billion in other ventures.

Both wars created endless destruction of rural and suburban areas, leaving an unknown cost for structure and infrastructure.

For all war it is near impossible if not entirely impossible to estimate the total loss, both financial and physical loss. There is never a perfect number to point out and say that is how much it cost to create weapons of destruction, then use them. An imperfect number of casualties. Estimates.

It is estimated that the cost of the war against the Quintesson costs three times the combined cost of the last three major conflicts.

—

The paint on his hands had come away from digging. Shifting rubble and clawing at the remains of what had been their bar.

It was strange how quickly the place had become theirs, how they made reference to it, but it played music from home from a far simpler time. That made it theirs. It was likely the bartender was somewhere under this mess too and that tore at his heart while the paint came away across chunks of metal and concrete.

Pausing, he breathed heavily, looking up at the twins who were still digging as well. Bits of red and yellow paint being flung from the hole each time they could get a hold of a piece of scrap. Watching for a moment, Hound turns back and goes back to digging.

No pings were going through the remains of the structure, all the boosters were destroyed and made it impossible to get a signal through it. Some buildings nearby were designed specifically for that, but most weren’t. His hands ached with each pull of metal, he winced for a second when a sharp piece gouged his hand.

Stopping, Hound stares at his hand for a moment before slightly slowly. His hands were shaking again, but he looked back at the hole, there was some metal that wasn’t the same tone or shape as the rest but still grey, “Wait!” The twins stopped, both heaving.

It shifted slightly and the three of them shared a look before going back to digging, scooping aside what they could as quickly as they could.

—

This was not the first time he had been trapped under a collapsed building with Megatron pinning him to the surface, it was however the first time it had happened with Megatron trying to protect him and not kill him. So there is a sense of character growth in that he supposed.

The last time had been on an organic planet with overly large fauna that they hadn’t been able to understand, but they had rudimentary construction. Energon had been prevalent on the planet, surprisingly, and it had brought both starving forces together.

When Megatron had slammed him into the building, there had been only a slight hope that it wouldn’t fall on them. That hope had not lasted long. Heavy stones and poles of metal had them pinned for cycles, spending most of it bickering at each other, as Ironhide would say ‘like the old married couple you would become.’ He still did not find that funny.

It always brought a laugh out of Megatron though.

If he wasn’t still so mad, he’d be very happy to hear his protectors laugh.

Over the last seven months, Optimus had chosen work over repairing his relationships but so had Megatron, focused on protecting New Kaon. The Quintessons had been consistently attacking their nearby settlements and protected planets. His best commanders were spread out among the stars and it tore at his spark. This war was reminding everyone of why they worked so hard and long for peace, a thousand years of peace negotiations had only led them to a vorn or so to enjoy it before the attacks started again.

Now he was under a collapsed building with people who were so willing to risk their lives for his own, their selflessness in the face of the unknown bewildered him. He saw how it left his own kin stunned, no one wanted to fight the Quintessons of course but these humans, their pilots, understood that the end of their species was likely if they didn’t finish the fight quickly.

Just because he didn’t agree with their methods doesn’t mean he couldn’t understand the misplaced judgement calls. Leaders, when faced with desperate circumstances, would make drastic and dire measures. He knew he had during the last war and was trying desperately to not have to this time. Then again, there were five pilots who were taking those orders without having to give them.

Optimus wasn’t sure if he felt grateful or guilty about knowing that, sometimes it was one or the other, and other times it was both. Back when it had just been Jazz, it was more grateful than he’d like to admit. Now that it’s five pilots it was more often than not guilt that ate him alive.

He knew Megatron and him felt similarly on the subject, but Megatron was already ready to wage war against a people he knew so few of. It was frustrating, even he wouldn't let his anger go and instead let it blind himself.

They hadn’t been as close as they had stood in that bar in more than a quartex. Also two of his timing was running right, but that hadn’t been the top of his priority list of late. His medic had been mostly off-world after all, not venting down his neck.

Anger had clearly gotten the better of both of them, he leaned his head back against the stone under him for a moment, he still deserved an apology. He’d return one once he had his, of course, but he wouldn’t give without one.

Some fights honestly would last forever, same with stubbornness.

Then he’d make sure they both apologized to the humans, clearly they weren’t understanding something about where they came from.

Venting slowly, his hand pinned to Megatron’s back with a metal beam across it, he onlined his optics again and tried not to panic. Tight spaces weren’t his friend and hadn’t been in eons, this was no exception. Clutching at the back kibble of Megatron’s platting, he tried to vent slowly.

Trying to remain calm.

While there was a building on top of him and his love, with Quintessons above Iacon, yeah he was calm. Completely comm with every ping bouncing back at himself except those to try and rouse Megatron, which was going nowhere.

Clutching at his back, Optimus vented slowly before starting to finally move.

—

The metal was grey and Hound’s heart was racing. They all had seen what a dying or dead frame looked like, it wasn’t a pretty picture. They’d seen human bodies in a million states, it was as if they could be numb to that now. This was different, watching the vibrant colors of their unit, their friends, drain and the subtle glow you didn’t notice till it faded from their chest just disappear was horrifying. Energon, the way it continued to almost glow after, made it worse.

In a way, he was thankful his suit wouldn’t lose all of its color upon his death but then again there was a peace to it. If any of them were still with the Cybertronian’s when they died, what would they think? It’s not like they get to see the spark fade like they do with their friends and family. His crew was human. When they died it would be a miracle if all the blood stayed in the cockpit instead of spilling out the seams.

He kept digging, the metal of his palms cracking and bending under the stress. Grey left behind instead of green.

Whoever was under this mess thought, was moving and Hound couldn’t help but think it was Megatron and kept digging. If it was Megatron, the Prime would be nearby, even if they were fighting like the old married couple they were. Everyone knew they’d thrown themselves in front of bullets for each other, it was almost sickening.

Mirage, the bartender, and maybe Optimus were still missing under this rubble somewhere.

Not hyperventilating was a good idea, that sounded like a good idea. Staying focused, he kept pulling chunks of concrete away, trying to be what rescue class is supposed to be.

He couldn’t stay solely focused on this or he’d lose his mind.

None of them had been trained in it, which now Hound found endlessly stupid because he was sure there was some training of how to rescue a trapped pilot from a collapsed building or something at least. It was something they could have been trained on easily, or literally anything a rescue did, it might have been useful in space.

But, they were sent to die, for whatever reason, they just happened to live.

Whoever they were digging out started to move again, using their almost free hand to shove at a sheet of metal, “Hold up.” Holding up a hand, Hound looks to the twins and watches his fingers shake while whoever was in the hole they were digging shifted the sheet of metal away from their face.

”Holy shit.” His heart stopped before racing again, moving forward quickly to go back to digging. Blue optics shone at him as Mirage tried to smile, most of the blue in his paint was gone, but it was clear to him now that he was seeing through Mirage more than anything else. Being able to tell he was there even when he was using his outlier.

Tearing at the ground, Hound went back to it with a fever, more desperate, “Hound, who's been found?” Mirage’s voice cracked and broke, there was energon leaking from the side of his mouth as he came into view again, “I, I don’t know. Just let me get you out.” Sunstreaker pressed a hand to Sideswipe’s chest, holding his brother back as Hound kept digging.

They would crush Mirage if they got in Hound’s way right now. All they had to do was share a look before getting out of Hound’s way, Sunstreaker more gawking then Sideswipes light smirk.

“Hound, is everyone okay?” Mirage tried to shove at more of the rubble while Hound kept digging, “I don’t know, just hold still.” His heart skipped with fear as Mirage sat up, wincing and holding his side, “Primus,” and he reached out to steady him, “Easy, Mirage, easy.” Moving to his knees, Hound held him up and looked to Sunny, “Go get Knockout, or a medic, someone.” Looking back to Mirage, he didn’t even bother to see if the twins left. Just going straight back to freeing him.

The hole was a horrible mix of green flaked paint, blue paint, and energon slowly seeping into the ground.

Mirage’s hands grasped his head, even as he dug his legs out, lines punctured and dripping slowly, his plating dented. Glancing up only briefly, Hound frowned and looks back down to keep moving the building off of Mirage, “Are you feeling okay?” Mirage’s grasp on his head tightened slightly, “I could have died.” Closing his eyes for a second, Hound sighed slowly, “I know, I’m sorry.” He tugs on Hound’s head and his hands slide over the rubble, falling into Mirage, “Damnit, I’m trying to get you out!”

Looking up, Hound freezes, Mirage was staring at him very intensely, “I could have died Hound, you’re the only one who saw this coming.” Slowly, carefully, Mirage leaned his forehead against Hound’s visor. His face burned, “Mirage, I’m going to get you out of this and you’ll be fine.” But he shook his head, fingers brushing against the back of Hound’s suit and causing him to shiver, “God.” Pulling away sharply, Hound goes back to trying to get his legs clear.

—

The twins were just getting out of the hole when Bluestreak came running over, taking Sunstreaker’s remaining arm, “We think we found Optimus.” He pulled sharply at Sunny’s arm and they went sliding over the metal and rubble.

Sideswipe stared after then, still numb from it all, but he was trying his hardest to not hyperventilate.

A ping startled him out of his stupor, blinking as the pings light up one of his screens, he reaches over and answers with a strangled voice, “Hello?” His voice broke, “What happened? Where are you?” He could almost cry, “Elita,” The anger in her voice almost shook him to his core.

”What happened, Sideswipe?” He sighed shakily, “The Quintessons blew up the bar, we were all inside, we don’t know where Joan or Megatron is. I, It fell on us.” He dragged a hand down his face, turning slowly, “We’re still in the rubble.” Her breath was audible over the comm, “Sideswipe, focus for me, okay?”

Humming a bit, he started walking over towards where Jazz, Prowl, Bluestreak, and Sunstreaker were pulling away chunks of metal, “Sideswipe?” Getting down on his knees, he started to help next to Sunny, “Yeah, I’m here. Just trying to get them out from under the building.” There was a moment of pause, “Sideswipe, are you alright?” His hands were shaking again, pulling at the metal and rubble, and he really couldn’t answer.

She was quiet for another moment, “Damnit,” and the line clicked dead.

He kept digging, trying to help as a blue hand attempted to shove aside metal and concrete, Prowl’s face turned down towards the hole and clearly listening intently to his comms. Shoving a beam aside, Sideswipe stared at the carnage for a moment.

Grey metal which was cracked and dented had covered the Prime, the grey metal of Megatron, his stomach turned and he had to sit back.

It was too much, too much like his apartment building, concrete and metal holding his family hostage, how it took his mom and then after ages took his dad. How his parents had made sure Sonny would be okay, not ensuring their own safety.

Sunstreaker’s hand landed on his shoulder and shook it, hard, “Simon, you there?” Looking over, he took a shaky breath, “I can’t breathe.” Nodding a bit, Sunny moved over and grasped his shoulders, “We’re not in Florida, this isn’t our apartment. You need to talk to Elita-One.” With a lightly shove, Sideswipe climbed away from where they were digging.

His comm only had to ping once before he was picking it up, “Sideswipe, we can’t get to you quickly so you need to focus.” Nodding slowly, he sits back down and straps his oxygen mask on after a moment of struggling, “You’re going to be okay, just breathe for a minute.” Dragging a hand down his face, he leans back against a metal chunk.

Breathing in slowly and out, Sideswipe looked anywhere but at the sky and tried not to look where his friends were digging each other out of the rubble, “Sunny is okay.” He couldn’t think to say anything else, “I know, I was on comms with him, I’m not asking about him I’m asking about you.” He sighed shakily, “Sunny is okay, that’s what matters. He’s digging out the Prime right now, I should help him.” He was shaking, “No, you should breathe. Take a moment.”

Tucking his head down to his knees, he tried to breathe, and then started to sob, “They took down our building! It was ours goddamnit!” With a flick, he turns off his external speakers, so he could focus on Elita.

Her voice came in clear, “I know, I’ve heard about this bar, I’m sorry. I know it was your closest connection to your home.” And he shook his head angrily, “They tried to bury us, they took our home and tried to bury us in it. I wasn’t even there.” There was a long pause, “Sideswipe, you’re there.” With a nearly growl he stands up and starts to pace.

”No, no mom, I wasn't there when you died. I was in the hospital with dad when we unplugged him, he couldn’t thrive, couldn’t even breathe on his own. God, I can’t breathe. But I wasn’t there, Sunny was there. Sunny is fine, he’s right there. Missing his arm but there.”

Elita didn’t know what to say, “Alright, you need to focus, pull yourself out of this. Your brother needs you right now,” He shakes his head, “No, he has Blue, no matter how much I hate him Blue right there.” And she could almost smile, “He needs you, told me that he needs you. This is too much like your home, but it’s not and you need to focus.” He took a shaky breath.

Letting it out slowly, he adjusted his helmet and checked over his monitors, “You’ve got a job to do Sideswipe, I’m relying on you to help the Prime and Lord High Protector,” She bit off the last bit, always distrusting Megatron, “I’m not there right now and you need to fill my position, same as Sunstreaker is filling Ironhide’s till he can get there. Can you do that?” Slowly, the shaking stopped.

With another breath, finally out of tunnel vision, he nods slowly, “Yes ma’am.” She sighed, “Alright, now. You’ve have to go back to that hole and dig out the prime, can you do that?” He shook his hands off, “Yeah.”

“Alright, I’m going to stay on comms with you, you keep me updated. Primus knows Optimus won’t.” He gulped before going back to the hole, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got you.” He slid down and looked at his brother. Sunstreaker lightened his visor slightly and together, they went back to shifting the building off the leaders of Cybertron.

—

Hound had his arm around Mirage, helping him up and out as Knockout ran towards where the Prime and Protector had been found. For now, Mirage was stable, even if Hound wasn’t. His mind was racing and he was still trying not to hyperventilate or throw up. The shaking had yet to subside.

They stood together, Mirage looking at Hound’s battered suit, his hand falling right over the spot where his platting had been torn away by Knockout months ago. On instinct, “Does it hurt?” Hound shrugged lightly, “Not any more than normal, my ears are ringing though, my head hurts, back hurts, ass hurts. It doesn’t feel good to have the build dropped on you.” Mirage chuckled weakly, “No, no it does not.”

With a shaky breath, Hound looked over, “Are you hurting?” Mirage had a nasty gash across his face, but still smiled, “I’ll live, it’s not the first building dropped on me.” Hound blinks slowly, “What?” Mirage chuckled, wincing and holding his side, “It’s a long story, Dear-Spark.” If Hound was actually made of metal and wires, he would have probably short circuited, “What?” After a moment, Mirage rested his head on Hound’s shoulder.

Keeping his arm around Mirage, his mouth had gone dry, “Alright now, let’s go over and check on the Prime.” Humming, Mirage kept his hold on Hound as well, and they shuffled forward. It was slow going.

Hound couldn’t help but keep wracking his brain, maybe it had just been a poor translation, that was always possible. Yeah, poor translation. He tightened his hold on Mirage carefully. Mirage’s cheek shifts on his shoulder, his heart rate didn’t come down.

They came over a small section of mounded rubble, it was roughly where the bar top had been and came back down towards where the Prime and Protector had been found. Only one still unaccounted for was the bartender, either somewhere under this mess or long gone, it pulled at Hound’s heart to know they just didn’t have the time to look.

Distance gunfire was the only thing keeping him sane for the moment, knowing there were people in Iacon protecting the city.

Breakdown was sat down with Sideswipe, his arm over the younger mans shoulders, who still seemed to be dealing with shock or worse. Sunstreaker was standing with Bluestreak, who was holding his hand and had Sunny’s fallen arm tucked under his, even with his eye put out he was gazing at the significantly more grey, yellow pilot. Prowl and Jazz were standing together, Jazz keeping a hand on Prowl’s back and keeping his voice down while Prowl’s door-wing hung awkwardly still.

Honestly, it looked like a scene from a war movie, never in his life did he think that his life would be straight out of a movie scene. He’d been very determined to not think that in all the years he’d been a pilot, even when his suits’ likeness was used in a cheesy propaganda movie.

It left a lump in his throat, holding up Mirage. Taking a shaky breath, he needed to focus. But everyone was giving Optimus Prime space. It was hard to watch, as Optimus pulled himself up from the rubble, dragging an unconscious Megatron, the erie calm that was over his face even as Knockout moved in was one that felt all to familiar.

They all looked like hell. Missing paint, missing parts, missing confidence behind their eyes. They sure as hell weren’t ready for what came next, but they had to be.

With hardly a glance around, Optimus straightened, a brief flicker of pain hit his face as his battle mask slapped shut, “Whose well enough to fight?” Every hand went up, even if it was a lie, even if Sunstreaker had to lift both his and Blue’s hands up, none of them were going to let this stand as it was.

“Good. Prowl, do you have comms with command?” Shifting forward a bit, he nodded, “Yes sir.” Nodding slowly, Optimus, even with dented plating and missing paint, gave off a determined confidence that everyone else lacked, “Well then, Hound, what would you suggest we do?” The lump was still lodged in his throat, but he shifted slightly.

Letting out a slow breath, Hound nodded, “Well, I’ve got a plan and you ain’t going to like it.”

———

A/N

This chapter was like pulling teeth, I swear. Partially because I’m like, sorta sick. I don’t feel like 100% crap but I also don’t feel great. Go figure.

So, yeah, part 39 is crazy. 131k words is nuts. And I feel like I’m losing my mind a bit. This chapter is a bit of a short one for that reason, it was hard to write and just the bits that probably should have been a part of last chapter but it wasn’t finished. Sorry.

The action starts again next part with Arcturus 3 coming again soon.