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subqtaneoussmut · 2 years ago

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The Tea Girl's Gambit, Chapter Twenty Three

[[[CW: internalized transphobia/misogyny. I know everyone has probably been looking forward to this chapter for a while (at least I know I have) but as I am going over it in preparation for posting, I’m realizing that I wrote it kind of intense? Just be aware that there’s a chance it could be pretty activating, towards the end, and maybe set up some aftercare for yourself, even if it’s just a cup of tea or a pillow to hug. <3]]]

It was that noble who had grabbed me across the stockroom counter, and that dark-eyed girl from the courtyard.

I was immediately delirious with terror. They’d dowsed and recognized me. They knew I was kuffa. I was trapped in a dead-end—nowhere to flee. My cover was blown on my first day. Aralia wouldn’t help me—she would be too incredulous that I had been caught this quickly. There was no way she would be willing to forge another legend for me.

They were still conferring quietly with each other. Then the smaller, dark-eyed girl took a careful step towards me, palms turned up and open—was she going to grab me?

I dropped the mop with a clatter, and stepped back as she came forward, my hands trembling. The tall redhead kept scanning the far end of the corridor, as if keeping watch.

The dark-eyed girl was focused on me. “Listen, we just want to—”

I bolted past her. I was good at running away, good at wriggling away from seizing hands, good at not being caught. I juked away from the redhead, and I was almost—

“Roxa!” snapped the first girl, and then I smelled sorcery.

I had time to belatedly remember the last time this noble had used her art on me, before I was yanked backwards and upwards, and suspended an inch or two above the floor.

I squeaked as dark bands blossomed from the air around me. Quick as a whip, they wrapped themselves around my thighs and ankles, and looped themselves around my wrists, which were abruptly pulled behind me and cinched together. More of them quickly wound around the lower half of my face, muffling my mouth.

The noble finished muttering under her breath. As I made a reflexive attempt to wriggle and twist my way free, she flashed me the grin of a fox eating cake. “Gotcha. No more running from you, little rabbit.”

Her tone was...friendly? This didn’t make any sense. Then I realized that I wasn’t just suspended in the air—I seemed to be moving? The noble was drawing me back into the room the two girls had just left. I was floating where she directed me, unable to resist. I sagged limply as the helplessness of my situation became apparent. I was well and truly caught. There was nothing I could do. I heard the door close behind me and the voice of the first girl.

“Roxa! Is this completely necessary?”

In front of me, Roxa shrugged and grinned. “You wanted to talk to her. And for some reason I don’t think she hates it.”

The noble winked at me and my cheeks flamed. I mumbled a protest through my gag. It was true—a part of me couldn’t help but revel in this feeling of being helplessly suspended. It was actually quite delicious? I groaned. How had this complete stranger seen through me that easily? Besides, there was no reason to find anything about this situation hot. Why was I like this?

Roxa drew me to a comfy-looking couch and then tipped me onto it so I was sitting upright, though still completely bound. The other girl joined her so that they were both standing in front of me.

“Now then,” said Roxa matter of factly, “I’d like to ungag you, but you must promise to be well behaved and not raise a ruckus. We aren’t going to hurt you. Understood?”

I nodded slowly. Roxa crooked her finger and the bands of sorcery slid silkily away from my mouth. I sat and looked from one to the other with wide eyes, waiting.

The first girl sighed. “I’m sorry about that, but the corridor is too dangerous a place to talk plainly in. My name is Mila and this is Roxa. Now, then. What’s your—what would you like us to call you?”

“Um.” A melting of relief began to happen inside me. “Ellie.”

“Okay, Ellie.” Mila exchanged a glance with Roxa. “Firstly, understand this: neither of us would ever willingly turn you in or let harm come to you. In fact, we’d like to help you.”

“Help me?” I spluttered. “W-why should I trust you? Why are you even doing this?”

Roxa crossed her arms. “Sorry, Ellie, but you’re not in a position to get full and honest answers from us, just yet. We have the edge on you, and you don’t have anything on us. So we’ll be the ones asking questions, at least for right now.”

I was suddenly acutely aware of my wrists, bound behind me. I felt my face heat up.

“Ellie, we do need to know how you got here,” Mila sat next to me, quite close. I squirmed around to face her. “How you became a maid at Stormcroft, and whether anyone helped you, and whether you are beholden to them. We have...enemies, here, you see. We also need to know if you’ve kept silent about that business between you and Roxa at the stockroom.”

I made a snap decision before she had even finished speaking. I couldn’t hesitate. This was too close to how Aralia had caught me lying.

“I bought a maid’s commission,” I blurted. My face burned deep red. Something about saying that out loud had flooded me with instant shame. I looked at the floor miserably. Now that the words were out of my mouth, I felt like an imposter, like a child caught playing dress-up—but this was so much worse than when I had been caught trying on Kisma’s clothes, as a kid. “From the bursar. I said it was for my sister,” I muttered.

These older girls must think me a fake, a counterfeit, a sad and desperate joke. Wrenching loneliness clawed at my heart. They were both actual, real girls that belonged in this House whereas—what was I?

“I used your, um, money,” I winced. My insides felt like they were plummeting down, like they would drop forever without hitting bottom. “For the bribe.” I hesitated. “I was alone.”

There. I had lied, and also told the truth. I felt painfully exposed. All I wanted now was to disappear. My throat was tight and aching, my breathing shallow. My whole face felt fragile, like it might crumble at any moment. I couldn’t look at either of them. There was a brief silence. My heart kept sinking, in endless free fall.

“I-I’m sorry,” I added in my smallest voice, not even sure what I meant, but feeling more wretched than I could bear.

Mila squeezed my leg. “Ellie, listen, I—you’re not alone, not any more, okay?” Her voice had an odd inflection to it. “It took so much courage and brilliance and love to do what you did. I-I’m honestly so impressed.”

With a massive effort, I raised my gaze to meet hers, and trembled as the deep forest pools of her eyes caught my plunging descent. A sensation like warm, rippling honey spread inside me and melted the constriction in my ribcage. I drew a deep, full breath and sighed, clinging to her eye contact as if it were a lifeline.

Mila didn’t look away, for which I was ridiculously grateful. “Let her go, Roxa.”

The rest of my restraints slackened and fell away, just as I processed that ‘her’ meant me.

Mila’s simple acknowledgment of my femininity—even with all my desperate, shamefaced lunges towards girlhood laid bare before her—landed in my upper chest and reverberated and then I couldn’t see her anymore. My vision blurred and I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. It was like feeling a landslide happen inside of me—I couldn’t hold my face together, it caved open, and everything spilled out.

“Ellie—oh, can I hug you?”

I nodded shakily, and then her arms were around me. My face fit snugly into the hollow of her shoulder. I shuddered with sobs that went on and on, storming through me like waves of rain.

“The strength of your spirit is beautiful,” she murmured fiercely. “Never doubt what you did, do you hear me? You were just ensuring your own survival.”

The aching stuckness in my throat was melting like a chunk of ice in spring. I kept trying to apologize—for soaking her shirt, or for breaking down like this, or maybe some other reason—but Mila kept hushing me and I couldn’t hold any of it in anyways.

The grief that had welled up so ceaseless and overwhelming gradually slackened, and I was overtaken by trembling. With a soft, wordless noise, Mila drew back and I curled shyly into the cushions. She offered me a blanket, which I gratefully huddled into. I felt raw, and empty, wrung out.

I heard a kettle fussing, and looked over to see Roxa pouring mugs of tea. She passed one to Mila, who accepted it with a murmur of thanks, then came over and knelt down in front of me and did the same. I took it gingerly.

“T-thank you,” I whispered tremulously. Roxa intimidated me, in several ways. She was extremely attractive, for one. For another, the electric tingle of her grabbing my neck and snarling in my face, and the melty way I’d responded to it, loomed large in my memory.

Also, she had just seen me as rawly exposed as anyone had, ever. I found the combination of all these associations…confusing.

Mila sighed. “Ellie, I know you two have met before, but please let me introduce Roxa again. She’s really fierce and protective of her friends. She’s had my back all the way and I trust her with my life.”

As Mila spoke, I saw Roxa look at her with mingled awe and wonder and gratitude.

“Hi,” I said nervously.

Roxa’s mouth crooked. “Hi, Ellie. I’m sorry to have to ask this, especially right now, but does anyone else know you’re a girl?”

The same melting relief in my breast. I took a slightly deeper breath. Roxa, too, was signaling that she saw me as I was trying to be seen. Neither of these girls seemed to think I was a monstrous degenerate or a desperate, fake imposter.

But—this was again veering too close to when Aralia had seen right through me. I knew I probably couldn’t lie successfully. Perhaps holding back part of the truth was safer.

“Yes,” I said hesitantly. “Someone does. My old roommate in Oakridge.”

Roxa frowned. “Did he hold that over your head? To compel you?”

I blushed. “No, I mean—well—we were, um—I, not exactly,” I stammered.

Roxa’s mouth quirked up at the corners. “I see.”

“He was...fucking me,” I blurted, cheeks hot. “It wasn’t blackmail, I was—I wanted it, but I. Decided to—” I looked down at my steaming mug. “To hide myself. After that. Well,” I added hurriedly, “Not right away. It took a while to go through with. But I-I haven’t told anyone about the stockroom. I promise.” I looked back and forth between them, willing them to believe me.

Roxa and Mila looked at each other, but I missed what passed between them. They both turned back to me. Mila squeezed my leg and Roxa nodded. Did that…mean they believed me? I felt tentative relief, along with a twinge of guilt.

They hadn’t hurt me, they didn’t seem to be taking advantage of me, and they were being indisputably kind to me. Not to mention I held them both in no small amount of awe. Lying to them, even by omission, was already making me feel uneasy. But there had been no time to think about it…

A bell began to toll. I tensed. I’d completely forgotten about mopping.

“Well, I am late to a session with my very cute sorcery practice buddy,” Roxa said, standing.

I cast a look back at the door. “I’m supposed to be cleaning?”

“No,” Mila said firmly. “You will rest for at least the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.”

The insistence in her voice reached right into my sternum and plucked a chord that reverberated, warm and glowing. I sighed and sank back down obediently. How easily these two near strangers had elicited an easing response in my body, in just the past few minutes…

I felt like a cat leaning into a stroking hand. I felt…safe?

I yawned. Yes, I would just finish this tea, and then get back to mopping…

~ ~ ~

I took another sip of the tea, and blinked drowsily. This room was so cute and cozy…

Mila came around the couch and I glanced up guiltily. Had I overstayed my welcome?

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I said shyly. “Thank you.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe, Ellie.” She sat down next to me, and hesitated. “Look, I don’t want to compel you, but I need your silence, and I need to know that you understand what that means.”

I nodded quickly. “I won’t mention you to anyone, or even let slip that we’ve met.”

Mila’s beautiful, dark eyes, watching me.

“Or Roxa,” I added hurriedly.

“It’s also very important that you aren’t seen coming and going from our room.”

My heart sank. I had been hoping that Mila would want me to visit again.

“For your own protection. Our enemies might target you if they think we have a connection.” Mila frowned. “I’ll have to tell you more about that soon, and we can assess risk and talk about silence more clearly then. But for now, keep this all entirely secret.”

“I will, I promise.” I looked down. “And I’ll stay away from this hallway.”

Mila snorted. “I said don’t be seen, not that I don’t want you to come back.”

A pleasant flash of heat shivered through me. She wanted me to come back? I looked up hopefully, and she raised her eyebrows. “If you want to. You seem to have tucked yourself away quite safely here, and being friends with us is risky. Maybe more risky than the protection we can offer is worth.”

“I want to be friends,” I blurted. “With you.” My cheeks heated.

Mila smiled. “Good. I want you come back tomorrow. Whenever you can spare at least an hour—and don’t worry about waking us, if it’s late. If we don’t hear from you, I’ll assume something has gone awry and I’ll have Roxa dowse you.”

“Okay,” I acquiesced, a little breathily. I was beginning to suspect that I liked being told what to do by pretty girls.

Mila’s eyes lingered on me. “Roxa was right about you, huh?”

I looked back at her, puzzled for a moment. What had Roxa said about me? My mind flashed back to when she’d first floated me in, all trussed up. For some reason I don’t think she hates it.My eyes widened and I blushed furiously, hyper-aware of the warmth pulsing between my thighs. I felt like a deer caught abruptly out in the open.

The corner of Mila’s mouth curved. “The other thing I want is a few of those black dresses and aprons and headscarves. And make sure at least one of them is tall enough for Roxa, got it?”

I nodded softly. There was a melty heat draped over all my thinking. Was she bossing me around a little? If so, it felt…way too good.

Mila reached out and patted me on the head a few times. I felt my pussy clench at her touch. “If you do well, I’ll give you some more orders to follow.”

I stared at her, open-mouthed, my face burning. She grinned back cheekily.

“’kay,” I choked. I twitched a little as heat lightning sheeted along my inner thighs.

“Do you like this, Ellie?” Mila said softly.

“Y-yess,” I whispered. If my face got any hotter, I was sure I would faint.

“Good, because I like it too.” Mila smirked and a tiny pant escaped me. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

A warm glow was suffusing my insides. I stared into the dark pools of her eyes, my lips slightly parted, feeling entranced. This was sooo nice.

“In fact, I’m sure I could tease you all day and never get bored. You look so pretty with your face all red like this.”

A wave of lusty euphoria pulsed through me. Mila watched it happen—I could see her watch it unfurl through my eyes. It was the safest, hottest, most intimate thing I’d ever experienced. I shook involuntarily and Mila’s lips curved a little more.

“Say thank you,” she said softly.

I squeezed my legs together. “Thank you,” I choked.

Mila grinned. “Good girl.”

I exhaled tremulously, unable to look away from her open, clear, dark gaze. How did she know? It was like she could read me better than I could, as if she knew exactly what to say and how.

Mila winked at me and stood. “Well, I need to study and you’ve got to clean, so.” She stretched. “Take all the time you need to finish your tea, though. Come back tomorrow, all right?”

I nodded and hurriedly slurped my cold tea, trying to blink away the melty daze overlaying my mind. I thanked Mila again, blushing furiously, and then stumbled out into the corridor.

~ ~ ~

Curled on the cot in my little stone cell, I stared at the low ceiling, feeling well-fed and sleepy. Jaques had beckoned me into the crowded office at shift change, and charged me with filling bowls of stew from a cart and pouring cups of strong, sweet, milky tea for everyone as staff bustled around, chatting, laughing and clocking in and out. And though I’d been wide-eyed and sweaty-palmed at first, I had done it—I had passed again, and also cemented my reputation as the shy new girl.

Roz had tried to engage me in conversation but quickly found me too quiet for her tastes and lost interest. I’d finally relaxed when it was clear that the old-timers had started talking over my head. I was used to being invisible, to having attention slide off me.

I wrapped my arms around myself and squeezed. I had landed safely, and the ground beneath my feet even felt somewhat stable. Most importantly, I got to be a girl. Aralia had come through for me in a big way. Another buoyant rush of euphoria filled me. I was so lucky.

And I had met Mila, and Roxa…

A strange mix of emotions swirled inside me. There were...how many people, now, who held this power over me? It was getting more than slightly worrisome. Only a few weeks ago, I had been vulnerable to no one—not like this, at least.

Of course, a few weeks ago, I had also been far more alone.

I sighed happily, thinking of Mila’s warm, dark, clear gaze, locked on mine. It was admittedly hard to muster any wariness towards her. The unsolicited friendship she had offered me still glowed softly inside me, like a powerful charm.

And she had called me pretty. That was another glowing ember lodged inside me, one that I’d taken out over and over today to marvel at. I couldn’t stop thinking about the utterly delicious and euphoric way she had teased me.

I felt so bolstered by Mila, but a seed of guilt starting to grow in me for lying to her. Had it been a mistake for me to omit any mention of Aralia? What if Mila found out? Would she be disgusted with me? I bit my lip.

Should I have risked everything, and revealed Aralia’s hold over me? I suddenly thought of Aralia, making me swear to keep her involvement secret. I wondered what she might do to me, if I hadn’t and then she found out. I was suddenly relieved my lie about acting alone seemed to have passed scrutiny.

No, I had to remember the bones of the situation. Aralia, and now Mila and Roxa too, held all the cards. All of them could do whatever they wanted to me without repercussion. The only protection I had from them lay in the fact that they didn’t seem to know about each other. Yet.

If this apparently stable ground beneath me abruptly collapsed, I might still have some leverage—so long as I could turn to one secret ally if the other threatened to betray me.

At least for now, I had to keep them in the dark about each other. Even though Mila had been so unexpectedly kind, I still didn’t know almost anything about her. Wouldn’t it be hopelessly naive of me to trust her so quickly?

And yet, what reason would Roxa and Mila have for hiding their intention from me, if they meant to use me for their own ends? They didn’t need to be kind to me, not with how much power they held over me.

What would they do, if they knew Aralia had such a strong hold over me? I shivered. Even if they were grateful to me for being honest, surely they would distance themselves from me. I was too compromised to be worth the risk. And if I didn’t tell them and they found out later? Same result.

My heart sank. What could I do?

The idea of Mila’s friendship abruptly evaporating—I swallowed, my throat aching with alarmed aloneness. I desperately didn’t want to drive her away, but the tangle of promises I had started making in order to survive was already tightening into a trap.

I was already feeling caught up by contradictions. If two loyalties conflicted, how was I supposed to know which one to honor and which one to break? Would I simply choose whichever side seemed most likely to save my skin?

The mystery of Aralia was that all the power she held over me depended on her willingness to betray me, and she had gone out of her way to assure me that she wouldn’t. Her leverage over me was effectively null if she was unwilling to turn me in. Still, I was reluctant to defy her. If there was even a slight chance that she could protect me if I were discovered, I had to keep her as an ally. And I did feel genuinely grateful to her for helping me.

I chewed my lip. The kindness that Mila had shown me also felt precious, like something I wanted to defend and protect. But was I willing to throw away all that Aralia could do for me, just to keep my promise to Mila? That seemed a little dramatic—what did Mila even have to worry about, compared to me? It was just too soon to know anything...

I drifted asleep with the memory of her dark-warm gaze catching me, again and again.

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kinsurou · 5 years ago

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63 with our icy hot baby Todoroki ❄🔥

63. Wow, I didn’t realize you were that...flexible

All characters are +18

At first, Shouto could only wonder one thing.

How in the world were you able to convince him of taking a yoga class with you? Not that he doesn’t like spending time with you, but this wasn’t what he had in mind when you proposed doing some activities together.

When you arrived hand in hand to the place where the class would take place, he took a look around. There were mats, some of those exercise balls, even a bunch of elastic bands. Apparently, this room was also used for other types of stuff such as Crossfit.

Bit by bit, more people began arriving for the class. By the looks of it, there would be more people than he thought. He knew your class wasn’t small, but this was more than what he was expecting.

Considering he knew a bit about yoga, courtesy of stretching exercises, Shouto was placed with some of the other that already had a bit of experience. But you, on the other hand, were placed in the advanced class.

And once the lesson began, he finally understood why.

To say he was speechless was putting it lightly. Shouto’s mind had gone blank the moment he saw you making such intricate positions that could make more than one person scream and with fair reason. It wasn’t something you see every day when your girlfriend twists her whole leg behind her head effortlessly.

Even when you weren’t using your quirk, you never ceased to amaze the hero. The part Shouto could never live down was just how painfully hard he had gotten just from the view, hard enough to make his arousal pretty obvious if he stayed there any longer, so with feigned dizziness, he excused himself from class and quickly headed towards the changing rooms.

He didn’t realize you saw everything. Thoughts filled with worry made you excuse yourself to break into a sprint in order to check on him.

You expected to find him sitting on a bench and doing something like using his quirk to relieve any aching in his muscles, after all, he already tried that once...

“Sho? Where are you, ba-” You were pulled from behind, crashing into a hard body with a yelp, slightly terrified at first, until a familiar pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist. “-be? Shouto, are you okay?”

His skin had turned so red that it easily made his hair seem pale in comparison. Your hand touched his burning cheek out of reflex when he quickly nuzzled against the palm it made you feel flustered on the inside, a small flush adorning your face.

“I...saw you stretching back there and....” His lips kissed your inner wrist, but when he pulled your body closer, you understood the reason for his attitude, judging by the erection pressed softly against your tight.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that...flexible”

He had to look away, clearly embarrassed by his body’s reaction, but he couldn’t help it when he saw those leggings being pulled along with your every movement, giving the curve of your ass such an exquisite appearance he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Smiling mischievously, your hand pushed his face towards you to give Shouto a soft kiss that sent him into a frenzy instantly, judging by his reaction as he pushed you against the wall to retaliate.

Good thing there was still plenty of time before the lesson ended. Pulling away from him, you gave him another smile before getting down on our knees, playing with the elastic of his shorts to pull them down.

There, in all its glory, was that hard cock you adored so much. Wrapping a hand around it, you began stroking him slowly, he gasped at the delicious feeling of your hands playing with his head before going down all the way to his base.

“I guess the lessons were worthy after all, huh?” His head leaned against the locker, hand closed into a fist on top of the metallic doors. “...Yes, they were. Please, let me...just let me take your mouth.”

“Do you really have to ask?”

That’s all the answer he needs. In an instant, he’s thrusting softly inside your mouth. Both hands grab on the sides of your face in a soft grip, tangling themselves into the locks on your scalp as Shouto keeps thrusting inside your mouth.

“Your mouth feels so good.” He grunted, pleased with the way your eyes wander up to look at him, and the little smile you gave him was enough for him to start thrusting harder in your mouth. The sloppy noises of his length ravaging his lover’s throat flare up the growing lust inside him.

You could tell he was close from the way his hips began picking up speed, desperate to release his everything down your eager mouth. Judging from the moans that sent vibrations down his whole shaft, you were also pretty aroused by this scandalous act.

Not that anyone could walk in at the moment, there was still plenty of time before the lesson ended, but that didn’t mean neither of you was just going to leave it at this.

“Can I, ngh! Can I cum inside your mouth?” Despite his roughness, he was still sweet enough to ask for permission. Pulling away from him with a small strand of saliva connecting your lips to his cock, you gave him a few more strokes before smiling sweetly at him.

“Babe, you can do whatever you want with my throat.”

He was inside your mouth in an instant and this time he moved even faster, not a sign of your gag reflex was left after so many times spent sucking on that delicious cock for who knows how long.

“ah! I-I can’t…! mmmph!”

With a final push, he buried himself down all the way to the back of your throat, a hot spurt of his seed burst all the way down, leaving behind a rich warmth all the way down to your stomach.

It was interesting how his quirk also affected something as mundane as sex, but you couldn’t complain as you swallowed drop after drop of his salty cum with a content sigh.

You only stared as Shouto’s mismatched eyes closed weakly and he tried to regain his breath. A thin layer of sweat covered his frame and yet, you knew better than anyone that he was just getting started.

Standing up, your lips slammed against his into a passionate kiss, he could taste himself in those sweet lips of yours. He tried pushing you back against the lockers just to be interrupted by your arms pushing slightly against his shoulders.

“Look, as much as I’d love to ride you right here, maybe we should head home?”

Shouto gave you a small scowl in return, that quickly disappeared when you continued.

“Why don’t we head home, and then I’ll show you how flexible I can be?”

He didn’t need to be told twice as the two of you quickly grabbed your stuff before heading back home. Eager to go for another round.

And this time, he was more than ready to return the favor.

@keigod

#mha smut #bnha smut #todoroki smut #500 followers event #prism does a prompt

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yoonjinkooked · 5 years ago

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CHEMISTRY | Closer

PART 1 - CLOSER

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS. WILL BE UPDATED OFTEN CAUSE HOSEOK IS THE #1 SOURCE OF MY PAIN

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU

Warnings: cursing, lots of alcohol and some weed, future smut, incredibly hot Hoseok

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

The one, and arguably only, downside of having Kim Seokjin as a best friend is the fact that at certain times, he is most definitely a horrible influence. Tonight serves as a perfect example. Fresh off a breakup with a dick of an ex, you were more than ready for your first night out after a week of stuffing your face with ice-cream and crying to shitty romantic movies. You dress was short, you were feeling elated and free and Kim Seokjin made sure that your cup was never empty.

Not once did you actually manage to finish a drink before he would be filling your cup again. You didn’t complain, simply because you know your limits well and you were at least two cups away from being completely wasted. Right now, you are just… a little bit too giggly, too clingy and too loud.

“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate our friendship?” your words are yelled in Jin’s ear and despite being fairly drunk, you’re sober enough to recognize that he’s not as half as drunk as you are.

“You are completely out of it, aren’t you?” he laughs in your ear, making you flinch.

“I’m not, you meanie!” you yell, not completely sure why. Jin’s words made you sulk and the look on your face made him laugh. It’s just the way things have always been with you – an endless cycle of mocking one another lovingly. You may hate him half the time, but you wouldn’t hesitate to kick someone’s ass if they dare to hurt him.

“Okay, you need water,” he laughs in your face, completely ignoring the fact that he is one of the main factors why you’re as drunk as you are. “Don’t move. Do you hear me?” he asks and after blinking rather violently a couple of times, you notice his serious expression. Simply nodding, you sink further down the couch, watching him as he walks towards the kitchen, before looking around to take in your surroundings. As much as you can, given the fact that the room is spinning, if only just a little.

The house you’re currently in is a proper example of how cool it can be to have rich friends. Seokjin’s parents didn’t think twice before renting it and even though at the start he was living here alone, it seemed as if each semester a new friend was upgraded to roommate status. The last time you’ve checked, Jungkook, Namjoon and Taehyung lived here along with your bestie, while he uses their rent money to provide booze for nights like these – a nights that happen for no particular reason, other than ‘he wants to party’.

Some faces you recognize, some you don’t, some you can’t even see well, no matter how hard you blink. You do, however, hear a collective groan and an overly defensive Jungkook. And as wasted as you are, you know the exact reason – as soon as “Closer” started playing, thanks to DJ JK, everyone in the room, drunk or not, voiced their disdain – it sounded as if everyone’s gag reflex was activated.

“IT’S A GOOD SONG!” you hear your friend yell in his defense, smiling at the whole ordeal. Eh, it’s decent, but it’s absolutely overplayed. Not that it mattered – the people who were dancing before were dancing still, those who were busy making out with someone went back to their PDA and those, who like you, were laying down and contemplating the meaning of life, simply stayed motionless.

You smile at the sight of Jimin dancing overly seductively with a freshman who looks like she’s about to explode – she is red in the face and is desperately trying to keep up with the biggest slut with the kindest heart of your friend group. Ah, Park Jimin… he could make a lamppost horny.

Not too far from him, Hoseok is dancing and for the first time since you’ve met the guy, you do a double take at the sight of him.

He’s stoned, you know that much – he offered you some a couple of minutes ago. Or was it hours? You’re no longer sure, but you do remember him and the bright smile on his face when he invited you to join him and Yoongi in the backyard. You declined, of course. As much as you are willing to fall under Seokjin’s bad influence and drink yourself to an early grave, you know better than to mix weed and alcohol.

Hoseok is still smiling brightly, to no one in particular, as he spins around on the improvised dance floor in the middle of the room, showing the skills he’s gained in all those years of having dancing as a hobby. He’s completely unaware of the rest of the world, and that includes you and your open mouth.

Because holy fuck, he’s hot. You’re not blind, you knew it before – for some reason unknown to human kind, every single individual in your friend group is ridiculously attractive. And on most days, that made you feel like an ignorable piece of furniture, right now it’s making you drool.

Ridiculously colored sneakers, ripped jeans, white shirt and a light green and white flannel shirt – paired with that ridiculous smile of his and the newly dyed, lighter hair… Yeah, Jung Hoseok is looking like an absolute snack and you’re not sure what to do with that information.

Too drunk to know better, too drunk to even think of the possible consequences of your actions, but sober enough to know damn well what you’re doing, you get up, holding onto the edge of the couch to stop the room from spinning.

Narrowly avoiding Jimin and his prey for the night, you walk directly to Hoseok, who is still dancing in his own little world. It takes him a few seconds to notice you just standing there, staring at him, but when he does, his smile becomes even wider, if that is even humanly possible.

“Y/N!” he laughs, beaming at you. “Do you wanna dance?”

“Um… I actually… I think I want to kiss you.”

You have no idea if this is a spur of the moment or a sudden realization – while you’re sober enough to know WHAT you’re doing, you’re way too drunk to know WHY you’re doing it. And apparently, neither is Hoseok, because he’s looking at you wide-eyed, too surprise to remember to shine his signature smile.

“Eh?” he asks, blinking rapidly – so quickly, you blink too.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, not waiting for an answer before you grab a hold of that white shirt of his and push him closer to you. You do not kiss him – consent is key. As much as you want to, you will not kiss him until he gives you explicit permission, simply because you’d expect the same from him. However, with him just an inch or two away from you, you have a perfect view of his face and you can only wonder if he was always this beautiful or if you were too blind to notice.

“You have a beautiful nose,” you mumble, amazed at how straight his nose actually is.

“Y/N,” he chuckles out your name, pausing to lick his lips. “I would… honestly, I’d be happy to kiss you, but you’re drunk and I don’t know if you’d want to do this if you were sober.”

“Not drunk enough to not know what I want,” you shrug. “If it makes you feel any better, we don’t have to fuck. Just… a decent make out.”

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, looking down nervously. He is biting his lip and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’s teasing you. He’s not though, not really – he’s wondering if kissing you is the smart thing to do, given that you are… well, drunk. Sure, maybe not blackout drunk to the point of not remembering a single thing, but definitely drunk enough for him to know that it’s a risk. “Y/N…”

“Hoseok, we’ve been friends for almost three years,” you roll your eyes. “You know me, you know what I’m like when I’m drunk. I know what I’m doing. I know what I want to do and right now, if I’m being honest, I really want to kiss you and maybe sit on your dick, if you let me. So just… if you wanna kiss, let’s kiss. Or let me run away and hide from you for the next three weeks. And for your information, kissing you and sitting on your dick would sound inviting even if I didn’t have alcohol in my system.”

Despite your little monologue, you were pretty sure that he was going to turn down your offer. He stays silent for one second too long and you take it as a sign to leave. You barely have a chance to sigh before he grabs you by the hips and brings you closer to him – body to body, no space left behind.

You barely have a chance to realize what’s happening before he’s kissing you.

And that is how you and Jung Hoseok hooked up for the first time, in the middle of a crowded house party, to the sound of that god-awful Chainsmoker’s song.

#jhope drabble #jhope smut #jhope scenarios #bts au #jhope au #hoseok smut #hoseok fwb #hobi smut #hobi fwb #hoseok drabble #hoseok fanfiction #hobi fanfic #hobi fanfiction #jhope fanfiction #jhope fanfic #hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts drabbles

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limited-practice · 5 years ago

Text

I saw a request from @shapeofmetal that @rawmeknockout filled fantastically well here and thought yes this is good, this is all great, I’d love to have a go at writing this myself some time. So I did.

7424 words of explicit Shockwave/Reader are below the cut.

The human mouth is disgusting, and I am going to prove it.”

Shockwave states this coldly and firmly the second you step into his lab. But his optic is bright and wide and he’s already hovering next to you, holding out a tool box as if it’s a long lost treasure he’s graciously decided to share with you and only you, and as such you should turn speechless with awe and gratitude and silently beg to be allowed to help him prove how terrible you are.

You are supremely unimpressed. You haven’t even had the chance to take your coat off yet, and here you are being told by one of the greatest scientists you know that an essential part of you is disgusting.

“The human mouth is a medical marvel,” you argue back, dumping your coat onto the pristine floor of his lab. You lean casually and definitely against a lab bench and look at him in the way he deserves for such invalid arrogance.

“You are incorrect,” Shockwave says.

“I know you are, but what am I?” You shoot back.

“…incorrect.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“Incorrect.”

“I know you are, but what am I ?”

“…?”

You cross your arms in satisfaction. “Exactly.”

“Enough.” Shockwave steps closer, the tool box rattling excitedly in his hand. “Sit down. Stop talking. Open your mouth.”

“Why? What are you going to put in it?” you say, ignoring all three orders.

“An incontrovertible means to prove my supposition that will allow even the most intellectually challenged being to understand.”

Shockwave opens the box.

You stretch up onto your toes and peer inside it. You nod your head repeatedly at what you see and what he’s just said. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. Now I’m no scientist, but there’s a few things in there that don’t look very scientific. Like that long yellow thing and that sharp purple thing with hinges.”

“You are correct.”

“I know.”

“You are not a scientist. You are an inferior life form existing with a poverty of comprehension, life expectancy and universally accepted currency.”

“Hey.” You may have agreed to be a volunteer for Shockwave’s experiments after he approached you earlier with a monetary offer you couldn’t refuse, and because he ignored you when you asked him why he hadn’t publicly advertised for volunteers and is only asking you, but you’re not going to sit back and take that. “You don’t have to be a dick about this. You don’t know me.” Two of his three statements are correct, but you’ll be floating outside in space without a suit on before you agree with him.

Shockwave looms over you, bright and purple and powerful. You’re not nervous. You’ve never been nervous around him when so many rightfully are and you don’t know why.

“I will tell you something I do know,” Shockwave says. “Something that your human ‘scientists’ and ‘doctors’ have also documented and agreed on.”

He puts the tool box down on the bench and takes out a long cotton swab from it. “The mouth is one of the filthiest parts of your body.”

You feel your lips tugging up into a smile. “But not the filthiest, am I right?”

Shockwave glances down to between your legs.

“Pervert,” you say, delighted. “I’m talking about my brain.” For added emphasis you tap a finger to your temple.

“Enough.” Shockwave puts his other arm on your shoulder and pushes you down onto a medical stool. He does so carefully, as if wanting to give you the chance to say no to this.

You sit down on the stool. You don’t want to say no to any of this.

You stretch your legs out and cross them at the ankle. “Are you trying to find out how many diseases I’ve got in my mouth? Will you be upset if there are too many or too few? Do you want me to stop talking? Or is that what you like most about my mouth? The different shapes it can make; the way my tongue moves; how wet everything is? Would you be upset if I keep it closed and denied you everything you so clearly want?”

And before Shockwave can respond, you preempt him and open your mouth.

“Are you going to slip into a radioactive suit first?” you ask. “Are you worried about your safety? It’s OK, there’s nothing to be concerned about - I’ll go easy on you. And I promise not to bite.”

Shockwave doesn’t answer. But he looks like he wants to. He very much looks like he wants to say something that he shouldn’t.

He inserts the cotton swab into your mouth and runs it along the wall of your cheek, coating the tip in saliva. He then pauses, as if reluctant to remove it so soon. He swipes the inside of your mouth again, this time anti-clockwise and this time slower. He repeats the clockwise and anti-clockwise rotations three times each. Maybe his interest with your mouth really is just scientific.

He finally removes the swab and puts it into a cylindrical container mounted to the wall. “Results from the buccal swab will be available almost instantaneously and will produce an accuracy rate of 99.99%”

“I’m so glad I’m sitting down here because wow, you just blew my mind with that fascinating statistic.”

Shockwave returns to you and doesn’t dignify you with an answer.

“There may be a trillions of bacteria in my mouth,” you tell him, rubbing the side of your face that he’d taken a painless sample from. “But they’re not just there to party. They pay their way and are useful. Essential, actually.”

“Elaborate.”

“So if we get germs in our mouth then our body doesn’t just give up and die an embarrassing death - the good bacteria are woken up and put up a fight and prevent us from getting sick. Or at least fatally sick. Sometimes we still get sick but they’ve done their best, you can’t blame them for everything.”

“Is that so.”

“Yep. Well some of the bacteria help out like that, I don’t think they all do. Some of them don’t do much and are just…there. I don’t know how many and what it is they actually do. And I’m not going to count them because one, that’s boring and two, I’m not a snitch.”

You lean forward. “Do you really not know all of this? This is basic biology even the dumb kids in the useless schools know.”

Shockwave reaches into the tool box again. “I am fully aware of the purpose of defence bacteria, how they operate, the ratio of useful to redundant organisms and how inefficient the entire mechanism is. But this has all been documented by others - by humans - and not by a cybertronian. Not by me.”

He extracts the small sharp purple thing.

You swallow. “So you don’t believe them.”

Shockwave puts his hand over yours, which is still on your cheek. “I do not believe them. I trust only my results. My methodology.”

He manipulates the instrument until it transforms into a medical instrument you recognise.

You open your mouth slightly. “And that’s the only reason you’re doing this? The only reason you want to probe me with that?”

“…correct. I need to examine and document the area personally in order to establish an accurate primary baseline.”

“Mm-hmm.” Of all the colours in existence, he chose the one that matches his frame’s colour exactly. “For science?”

Shockwave slides the purple tongue depressor into your mouth and over your tongue. “For science.”

Shockwave is careful. Thorough. He uses his optic as a focused beam of light to peer into your mouth and examine it. The metal depressor on your tongue is smooth and warm, and whenever your gag reflex threatens to start up, Shockwave adjusts the instrument instantly to help it pass. He exacts the perfect amount of pressure every single time to still it. You’re impressed. But starting to get bored. He’s just looking at you and not moving, as if he’s never seen the inside of a human mouth before and is on sacred ground he knows he needs to tread carefully on.

You make a sound, and he tears his relentless gaze from the inside of your mouth to your eyes. You raise your eyebrows to ask what’s taking so long.

“Tell me,” Shockwave asks, as he places the instrument underneath your tongue so that you can talk. “What are the carriers for the bacteria, viruses, fungi and protozoa that activate the defense mechanisms of the mouth?”

You roll your tongue on top of the depressor and feel your eyes itching to do the same. You didn’t sign up for a biology quiz. “You mean where do germs come from?”

“That is not what I meant or asked. Pay attention.”

You put a finger in your mouth. You reach as far back as the depressor goes and touch it. You run your finger along the smooth metal until it comes out of your mouth but you don’t break contact with it, you keep going, trailing your finger along the handle of the depressor until you come to the fingers that hold it. You rest your finger on Shockwave’s.

“Oh now I see,” you exaggerate loudly, as if only now the blinds have been lifted from your eyes and you finally understand what he means. “You want to know about things that shouldn’t go in my mouth. The dirty things that could make me sick. The forbidden things.”

You swallow around the metal. “And you want to know if I know them.”

Shockwave slides the depressor out of your mouth and moves his hand back. But not far enough to dislodge your finger from his.

“What if I said I did know?” you continue. “That I know all of them. That I make a sustained effort to educate myself on biology and physiology not only because it helps me to stay healthy and alive, but because I find those areas of study fascinating in their own right?”

Shockwave doesn’t move and doesn’t answer. You can practically feel his spark contracting as he realises you’re telling the truth.

You tilt your head. If he tattooed his desires across his impressive chest he couldn’t be more obvious in what he wants. You feel your heart beat faster at what you’re going to say next. “But what if I didn��t know? What if I said I didn’t know what shouldn’t be going in my mouth and that I’d…like to?’

It should be impossible, but you can sense his spark expand.

“I…would experiment,” he tells you. “For science.”

“As opposed to the medieval fine arts?”

Shockwave’s optic bores into you. “We do not have time to undertake a battery of tests to determine if every substance is dangerous to human health if ingested orally. My selected carriers have been chosen carefully and will produce…results.“

You sit back on the stool and eye him critically. This is the first you’re hearing about ingesting something. He already knows what substances are dangerous to human health. He knows all of them and you, the planet Earth, and the rest of the known galaxy know almost all of them. This seems like a ploy to put things in your mouth and see if they’ll kill you or make you sick.

“You already know what substances are dangerous to human health,” you tell Shockwave. He lowers his hand and you remove your finger from his. “And I, the planet Earth and the rest of the known galaxy know almost all of them. This is starting to seem like a ploy to put things in my mouth to see if they’ll make me sick.”

You point your finger sharply at him and speak with a fake fiery fury. “And this is the first I’m hearing about actually ingesting something. Is this whole experiment just to see if something will kill me? Is that it? Is it? Are you going to offer me a glowing stick of radioactive waste and say it’s a cybertronian delicacy and then watch me suck on it and melt from the inside and become a puddle of screaming goo as you take notes and call the overworked and underpaid cleaner to mop up what remains of me up? Is it?”

Shockwave actually takes a step back. “Incorrect. As always, you are incorrect. This is for science.”

If he had a medical frame he could detect your pulse and blood chemistry without even needing to touch you. But he doesn’t, and you’re grateful for that. If he wants to know how you’re truly feeling about this session then he’s going to have to put in the hard work and deduce it.

“Fine,” you say. “I signed up for this ‘non-lethal experiment to determine the limitations of the human mouth’ that you’re paying me for and I’m not going to back out of it. So what’s coming out of the box next?”

But Shockwave doesn’t take anything else out. Instead he crouches down so that you’re at eye-optic level. “I am curious as to how the human mouth and resulting systems react to interior contact with something your scant years of evolution have not encountered before. My hypothesis is not encouraging for you, but facts are facts. And when I’m proven right you will eventually thank me.”

Shockwave raises his hand and flexes his fingers, and you know where this is going. But you’re overcome with a prickly irritation at the casual way he dismisses your species, and decide to play dumb with him. It’s illogical to feel this way, but you’re not a purely logical being. You’re someone better than that.

You eye his fingers with a careful look of mild distaste. “My hideous ancestors went through a lot of shit to equip me with what I have now, and I’d thank you to remember that.”

You fold your hands neatly in your lap, and transform the way you’re looking at his fingers to one of mild pity. “My teeth are composed of the hardest substance in the human body. They can tear through plants and flesh and all manner of substances with ease.”

“What about metal?” Shockwave asks instantly, bringing up his hand to your face. “Reports indicates that your teeth cannot break it and your fluids cannot digest it.” He waggles his fingers. “But in the name of science this must be corroborated or rejected.”

“You’re not even trying, are you?”

“…clarify.”

“Waving your fingers about like that, ‘accidentally’ brushing my lips with them, flexing and rotating them as if they’re part of your courtship dance and any second now I’m going to be consumed with lust and fall off my seat and whimper on the floor for you.”

“…you are incor-”

“No I’m not. Stop saying that. And stop thinking I’m an idiot.”

“Incorrect.”

“You want me to suck your fingers.”

“…for science.”

“For yourself.”

“I am science and science is me.”

“That was terrible. You didn’t practice that in the mirror before I came here did you?”

“…”

Before Shockwave can get upset and pretend his sulking is a convoluted chain of logical actions that make complete sense, you lick one of his fingers.

Shockwave freezes.

You lick it again, this time slower. Your tongue moves carefully over the tip of his finger and down the entire length of it, all the way to his hand. He feels surprisingly warm and alive.

“There,” you say, rolling your tongue around your mouth. “It didn’t kill me. And if I come down with alien flu or turn a different colour later on, I’ll give you a call.”

Shockwave doesn’t move.

You don’t move.

Soft humming from the medical equipment and diagnostic machines fills the room.

“Incomplete,” Shockwave says. “The test is incomplete. You signed up for a complete test, and that is what will be undertaken.”

“First of all I didn’t sign anything, so if I choose to run out of here you can’t sue me for breach of contract.”

“Are you going to run out?”

“I was thinking of doing a jaunty saunter actually.”

Shockwave examines the finger you’ve licked. You don’t make any effort to move.

“But,” you say, drawing out the word as you stretch your arms above your head. “I’m a person of my word. We both know enamel can’t crack metal, but in the interests of science we’d better try it out anyway and document it accordingly, shouldn’t we?”

Shockwave cups your face gently, his thumb resting on your lips. “If you insist.”

“If I insist?”

Before you can protest further, Shockwave pushes his thumb in between your lips. You don’t offer any resistance, and part your lips slightly to allow him to put it in. Seemingly satisfied that you’re not about to immediately die, Shockwave rests it on your tongue. Then he puts a finger in your mouth. And when you still don’t object, he puts another one in.

He tastes of electricity and steel and graphite. Like a living battery.

You suck on his fingers carefully. There’s a pulse of blood in your ears and a pool of heat spreading along the base of your stomach, and you’re sure you can feel the energon in his fingers throb as they slide over and around and below your tongue.

His fingers explore your mouth. They massage your tongue, and count your teeth, and stroke the inside of your cheeks. He acts as if he’s an explorer sent on a mission branded with royal assent.

You bite down on his fingers gently.

Not out of fear of hurting him, but out of self preservation. You’ll crack every tooth in your mouth if you’re not careful, and you’ve got better things to do than sit in the medical bay and get a lecture.

You bite down as hard as you dare. Shockwave makes a sound that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. You bite down again and are proven correct.

In satisfaction you pull your head back. Shockwave doesn’t move his hand as his fingers leave your mouth, and you don’t open your mouth wide. You make sure your teeth graze as much of his hand as possible as you retreat from it.

Shockwave is thrumming. An undeniable thrum of excitement is pulsing throughout his frame just below his plating, and it’s bleeding into you.

“Was that good for you?” you ask innocently. “Concluding an experiment gets me all hot and bothered too. Except I don’t raise the temperature in a room by ten degrees.”

Shockwave leans in closer to you. “Incorrect.”

“Oh, smooth!“

You lick his closest finger without thinking about it. And when you like to think the temperature’s clicked up another degree, you kiss it.

“I hope you washed your hands before I came in,” you say. You’re sure he did, but it’s the sensible thing to ask.

“Of course I didn’t,” Shockwave says. “Who do you think I am? A human? I sanitized them thoroughly.”

You run your tongue around the inside of your mouth. The unique taste of him hasn’t faded. “Hygiene is important.”

“Obviously.”

“You don’t want an experiment to be ruined by contaminants.”

“Again, obviously.”

“And you don’t want your subject to suffer needlessly.” You look at his fingers and that pool of blood in your lower body heats up another degree. “You don’t want me to suffer.”

“…there is work to do and I do not like to repeat myself.” Shockwave reaches for the box again. “This next experiment is to determine the range of human taste in order to classify it as either limited, highly limited, practically non-existent or barely existent.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you say, holding your hands out with your palms facing towards him. “Slow down on all the accurate scientific jargon there will you, I’m having trouble keeping up.”

Shockwave shakes his head ever so slightly. “I thought those terms were within your sphere of comprehension, but I am obviously wrong.”

“Hey.”

“Here,” he says, holding the yellow thing you saw in the box earlier. “Unwrap this.”

You look at it but don’t reach for it. “Did you know that we have thousands of taste buds on our tongue? Thousands. Almost ten thousand, maybe more. Which means we can taste a lot. Maybe not as much as other species in the galaxy, I’m not claiming that, but we can tell the difference between a good piece of steak and a sorry looking chunk that’s unfit for a starving animal. And so could the animal. You’d throw the meat at it gently to feed it because you don’t want to get too close to it because it looks diseased, but the animal can tell the food’s terrible and has already given up the fight because it’s so disappointed and weary, and it doesn’t move as the meat thumps pathetically into the side of their face and slides down their neck to the ground and they whimper and back away into the shadows without even looking at it and now you’re out of pocket for the cost of it and starting to feel hungry.”

Shockwave twitches and looks at the fingers he put in your mouth. He’s probably wondering if he accidentally dipped them in drugs instead of sanitizing them. He holds two of them up to you.

“How many do you see?” he asks.

“Not enough.”

This is apparently a top of the class answer, because Shockwave stops twitching and looks calmer. But still impatient. Still thrumming with something not yet satisfied.

“This experiment won’t conduct itself,” he says.

“Won’t it?”

“The limited range of taste and texture offered by the human tongue must be documented precisely.” He finally unwraps the yellow thing himself and holds it out to you. It’s a thin grey rectangle on a stick and looks as appealing as rancid dish water.

“My range of taste isn’t pathetic.”

“Would you prefer I use embarassing instead?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you should put this on your tongue.” The grey rectangle he’s poking towards you reminds you of a non-frozen popsicle that’s been rolled around in dirt and hair. An abomination of a lollipop. “And tell me what you taste.”

You hold his hand to stop him from poking your eye out with it. And you don’t put it in your mouth or on your tongue as he asked. You can’t. It looks disgusting.

“This looks disgusting,” you say.

“Maybe there’s more to it than meets the eye,” he says.

You feel yourself smile. “Maybe. But why couldn’t you paint it in my favourite colour like you did with your tongue depressor?“

You bring the shape close to your nose and sniff it cautiously. And to your complete surprise it smells incredible. You make sharp eye contact with Shockwave and wish you knew what he was thinking, because he looks like he knows exactly what you are. You breathe in deeply and the scent sets off an explosion in your brain and wow, just- wow.

It reminds you of freshly minted currency, that perfect slice of cake you once had, and the three other smells you love most in the world. Without breaking eye contact with Shockwave you lick the lollipop. It has the hard consistency of boiled candy and the flavour of genius.

“It tastes OK,” you lie with difficulty. You lick it again, from the top all the way down to the bottom, smoothing out its sharp corners. It’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted in your life. A lollipop cooked in a lab by a millions of years old robot scientist who’s got a thing for your mouth is making that mouth fill with an alarming amount of saliva. It’s as if he knows exactly what your favourite smells are and has transformed them into something edible for you.

You swallow. “I’ve had better.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I have or haven’t had.”

“Then save us some time and don’t lie.”

Shockwave waves the lollipop again. An image slips into your head and you can’t help but ask “Did you wear an apron when you cooked this?” You hope that he’ll answer but you’re not expecting him too.

Shockwave doesn’t answer.

“I’m not getting paid enough for all of this you know.”

You finally take the lollipop from his hand and lick it slowly. From the base all the way to the top, again and again and again you lick it. You’d sell everything you own for another one of these. You’d commit all manner of crimes for one. Maybe Shockwave will cook you another one. Maybe he’ll give you the recipe and you can cook it yourself. Maybe you can cook it together and wear matching aprons. Maybe you should pay attention to this experiment before he stops it.

Shockwave’s plating is gleaming. He isn’t moving, and looks bright and powerful and helpless. Perhaps what he’s seeing you do has incapacitated him. Now that’s a thought almost as good as what you’ve got in your mouth.

“Am I not doing this properly?” you ask, your voice unfreezing him. You lick it even slower.

“How- how does it taste?” Shockwave finally asks instead.

You lick your lips and swallow. It tastes incredible. Delicious. Indescribably fantastic.

“Like cheap crappy candy,” you tell him. “The type you know is bad for you but you still eat too much of it. Yeah sure you enjoy it, but you’re left craving something else, something more substantial. Something more.” You give him a meaningful look that’s open to interpretation.

Shockwave leans in closer to you and takes a moment before he responds. His words are clipped and careful, infused with the energy of restraint. “What flavours do you taste? I have a list of- of all the flavours this product is infused with. I want to know how many you can identify.”

You can now identify seven flavours, but more keep blossoming into existence. But you don’t feel like telling Shockwave this. What you feel like doing is finding out what he’s going to do with you if you don’t.

You suck and don’t speak, filling the room with the sounds of swallowing.

“If…if you can identify all of them you will receive a bonus payment.” Shockwaves’s voice is thick and slow.

You suck harder, and throw in a loud groan of appreciation just to see what effect it will have on him. “I don’t know what you’ve put in this but mmmmmm, oooooooohhhhhh, it tastes so good.”

Something flashes across Shockwave’s optic. A stuttering line of shadow binary, like a line of warning code revealed and suppressed.

“Sooooo gooooood.” You swirl your tongue around it, painting it with saliva and never once breaking eye contact with him. You don’t think you’ve even blinked. “You give me all the best treats to put in my mouth Shockwave.”

An invisible wave of heat crashes into you. You know that his cooling system is silent and that he cools his frame without using fans. They’re noisy and inefficient he once told you, when you asked about modifications he’s made to himself. But he still needs a cooling system. He still needs to vent excess heat generated by reactions he has little to no conscious control over. You can feel his desire bleeding through his plating to fill the space between you, hot and heavy and invisible, like tainted steam you can practically taste.

“Metal,” you tell him truthfully, all thoughts of teasing him gone. “I can only taste you now.”

Shockwave’s optic is burning.

You remove the lollipop from your mouth with a small pop. A thin trail of saliva still connects it to your lips. You’re pleased to see that it’s barely reduced in size, despite your enthusiastic sucking.

“…apologies,“ Shockwave says quietly. "I- the experiment needs to be reset then. Re-done. I will eliminate all outside variables to ensure purity of evidence collection and retreat from your orbit and stand in the corner.”

You lick your lips, breaking the strand. He can be so wonderfully melodramatic at times. “There will always be outside factors influencing you that you’re unaware of,“ you tell him. "It’s best to just roll with them. So don’t you dare go anywhere else.”

“You are incorrect,“ Shockwave says, with a slight tilt of his head that you’ve long ago translated as a smile. "And that attitude is not conducive to a rigorous scientific study.”

You shrug your shoulders. “But now you can verify that the relationship between a human’s taste and sense of smell is intimate and real. You can have fun noting it in your records. And do you know what else is fun?” You put the lollipop back into your mouth and nod your head towards his interface panel. “Proving you wrong.”

Shockwave follows your appreciative glance down to see what you’re looking at.

His panel is open and his dick is out.

Neither of you move. You just look. You both just look.

“…how is that proving me wrong?” Shockwave finally asks in genuine confusion.

"Well,” you say, speaking slowly in order to compose yourself and to give the impression that this is a bemusing turn of events that will soon be resolved instead of escalated and that you’re expecting the former and certainly, definitely, don’t want the latter. “It proves that you don’t have complete control over your all of your actions.”

“…that was not a proposition to be proven false or correct in this session. What is incorrect are you. I have control over all of my systems, and have multiple safeguards in place to prevent them from being overridden.”

You slowly lean forward and give him a Look. “So you…meant to pop your dick out? You gave yourself the order to initiate pre-interface protocols? You’re choosing to conduct an experiment like this?”

“… … …yes.”

You sit back and fold your arms and grin smugly. The lollipop’s stick is poking out of your mouth. “So you don’t really like what you’re seeing me do? You aren’t thinking thoughts that are so explicit they’re literally banned on several worlds? You don’t want to come closer and put something else in my mouth?”

Another wave of invisible heat punches you in the face.

“…no.”

“You could save us some time here by not lying.”

“…there is no unit of time that needs to be saved. The experiment is proceeding as planned.”

“Oh is it now.”

Neither of you move. The sound of the medical equipment has receded. All you hear now is the pulse of blood in your ears and the rich, slightly stuttering sounds of Shockwave’s vocaliser.

“However,” Shockwave says slowly, eventually, “I am adaptable. Realistic. A scientist.”

“Are these bullet points on a motivational poster you have hanging up somewhere?”

“I understand the benefits that absorbing unforseen actions can have,” Shockwave says, ignoring you. “And am rolling with them.”

“Wwhat?”

“Your reaction is more conducive to further experimentation than anticipated. I am willing to indulge you.”

“Excuse me?”

Now Shockwave is the one sounding smug. “If only you could see your expression, see your body language - if you could feel the heat and analyze the pheromones radiating out of you the way I can then you would know what I know. Which is that you’re enjoying yourself. You like what you see and want more.”

You don’t answer. You hate when you can’t answer back to him immediately. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but Shockwave interrupts you.

“Are you willing to progress with another experiment? Or are you scared?”

He should know by now that you’ve felt many things with him, but never fear. Does he really think that? Does he really think that reverse psychology is going to work on you? But he doesn’t look like he does. He looks like he’s not thinking things through fully, and is speaking mainly to keep the momentum going. He looks like he’s edging from need to desperation.

That goes a long way to mollify you. “Oh I’m terrified,” you exaggerate. “So very scared. But in the name of science I’ll force myself to be brave. So go on then, let’s start another experiment.”

Shockwave doesn’t move immediately. Then he shuffles closer, and wraps a hand around his dick as if to hide it or control it. “An experiment can be stopped at any time,” he tells you softly. “We have the rest of your life to try it another time if you are willing.”

A jolt of warmth blossoms in your chest and most of your body’s blood surges between your legs and you nod. Once again he’s left you temporarily speechless with his care and consideration for you. Bastard.

Shockwave makes a move to take the lollipop from your mouth, but you smack his hand away and find your voice again. “No. I’m not finished with that.”

“But-”

“The human mouth is very accomodating,” you tell him proudly. “We can’t detach our jaw like some animals can, but we can fit a lot in here. We can stretch.” You position the lollipop to one side of your mouth, so that it fits snugly into your cheek cavity as much as possible. “Still plenty of room. See?” You open your mouth to show him.

Shockwave trembles. You nod again, and he takes another step forward. His dick is now perfectly aligned with your mouth but then he pauses. He’s thinking. Calculating. Hesitating. He inches his dick forward and rests it on your bottom lip and stops again. The hot metal weight of it, the alien chrome smell of it, floods your mouth with even more saliva.

“Go on,” you encourage him, licking a bead of fluid from the dripping tip. “For science.”

For a long few seconds Shockwave doesn’t move. And then he slides his dick into your mouth. He does so slowly, inch by careful inch, giving you plenty of time to prepare and relax your muscles. It rubs against the lollipop in your mouth and you’re flooded with flavour. Saliva dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin but you ignore it, instead concentrating on how fantastically full your mouth is becoming.

Shockwave’s dick hits the back of your mouth and he stops. You instinctively try to swallow and don’t achieve much. Actually that’s not true because Shockwave moans at what you’ve just done. Actually moans. You wonder what other sounds he’s capable of making, and what sounds you can cause him to make.

You don’t swallow again. Instead you suck. You suck his dick and the lollipop at the same time again and again and again, and Shockwave has to put a hand on the back of your head to prevent himself from buckling and you both make a long noise.

You adjust the lollipop in your mouth, hold it in place, and slowly pull your head back. Shockwave doesn’t resist you, and doesn’t remove his hand from your head as you remove your mouth from his dick, which is soaking wet and dripping. You rub your thumb over the head of it, smearing the viscous liquid around it. You rub him with two fingers, and then your entire hand, stroking his dick up and down to coat it in a mixture of your saliva and the transfluid that’s steadily leaking out of him.

“Please,” Shockwave says haltingly, as he braces himself against the bench with his other arm. “The…experiment has not been concluded.”

“Experiment?” you ask, sucking on the lollipop. “Oh yes - this extra experiment that you haven’t actually told me about. What exactly is it we’re proving or disproving here?”

“I…the…to see.”

“That sounds important.” You stroke him hard and twist, and he makes a stuttering sound of mechanical pleading.

“The…human mouth is a combination of muscles,” he finally stutters, dragging some basic information up from his depths. “It- this experiment is to exercise them. See how far they can…stretch.”

That sounds mildly plausible.

“I’ve just demonstrated how far they can stretch,” you tell him. “But do you think they can go further?”

“…yes.”

“Well would you believe it, so do I.” You lick the tip of dick and make it even wetter. “I think my mouth can take more.”

“That…yes. It would be complete. The experiment. As well as- This one. The experiment. I need…complete results or-”

“Or you’ll be a failure?” You speak around the lollipop,

your hand now languidly stroking him. “Well we don’t want that. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be associated with a failure. I have a poverty of life expectancy remember, and I don’t want to waste what I’ve got with a loser. So.”

You remove the lollipop from your mouth and hold onto his legs to brace yourself. You then slowly, slowly, take his dick back into your mouth. Shockwave doesn’t move. He lets you set the pace. Lets you do all the work more like. Not that you’re complaining, but you will complain out loud to him later just to annoy him. His dick reaches the back of your mouth again and you feel him relax slightly.

Your scientist needs to learn to be more ambitious in his experiments with you. More fearless.

You adjust your angle, instruct your muscles to relax further, and take his dick all the way down your throat until he’s fully hilted inside you.

Shockwave shudders and grips your head harder. He then realises what he’s done and lets go immediately in case he’s hurt you, but he doesn’t want to break contact with you so he holds the back of your head again but this time lightly, but it’s not enough to stabilize him so he shoots his other arm out and scrabbles for whatever purchase he can find and makes a sound that sounds like dying.

He needs to get a hold of himself. You’re not even moving any more, and he’s reacting like he’s been blessed and cursed with divine revelation all at once.

You pat the back of his legs to reassure him.

Shockwaves’s stabiliser pistons finally align and steadies his frame.

And then you move. You fuck him slowly with your mouth. All the way up and then all the way back down. His dick tastes even better than that lollipop, and you suck him with control and purpose. Your chin is wet and your throat is sticky and your heart is thumping harder than you ever remember it doing.

Shockwave is doing his best to stay silent and is failing wonderfully. You wonder if he’ll match your rhythm and fuck you down your throat but he hasn’t, and you don’t suspect he will. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t want to use more than a fraction of his strength in case even that’s too much. His self-control is impressive and welcome, but it’s not complete.

Shockwave is holding the back of your head lightly, but his fingers are tightening infinitesimally around your hair and scalp every time you suck the tip of his dick and swallow it all the way down to its base. His self-control is not infinite and not indestructible. He’s not dead inside.

You eventually feel his frame tense and tighten around you, and hear the pitch and whine of his engines straining up a gear. You’re enveloped in heat and know he’s close.

“There…is time for one more experiment,” he manages to say, his voice thick with static.

“Mmmm?” you ask around his dick, your full mouth still moving.

“…apparently saliva can digest various substances and…so can stomach enzymes and…the mouth is part of the digestive system and…if you…if you…”

You’ve swallowed transfluid before and liked it and know it won’t hurt you. You’ve had The Talk with all the medics on board just to be sure, and so long as he doesn’t pour his entire tank down your throat in one go you’ll be fine.

You nod your consent, and Shockwave makes a noise that sounds like gratitude.

He’s a bit less steady on his feet now, a bit more erratic, a bit louder and less efficient in his movements but you’re not. You’re a steady constant in the face of his fast approaching overload, fucking him in a perfect rythym that surprises him more than it does you.

He grips you harder and spasms and his engines scream dangerously loud as he overloads hard in your mouth. A shot of transfluid hits the back of your throat and you can’t help but gag at the quantity of it. You hold his legs tighter to prevent him from going anywhere, because you’re not going to miss a moment of this. You swallow as much as you can, and revel in the mechanical rumbling stuttering sounds his engines make as they fight not to cut out. His silent cooling system is blasting hard, which feels like opening an oven door and putting your face into it. Your hair is stuck to your flushed and sweating face.

Shockwave eventually quietens and stills and begins to regain himself. A series of small clicks indicate his cooling system is powering down. You suspect he’d like to keep his dick down your throat all day if you agreed to it and while that’s not something you’re opposed to, far from it, your mind is already churning with possibilities as to what three hands and a cannon can do while your mouth is occupied, it’s an experiment for another day.

Right now you have your own needs to attend to, and first on that list is to clean up the mess he’s made on you as best you ca. You gave it a good try but you couldn’t swallow everything he gave you, you’re only human, and a lot of it leaked out of your mouth and dribbled down your chin and throat. Your skin is sticky and your clothes are splattered.

You move your head back until his dick pops out, and cup a hand underneath your mouth to catch the gush of fluid that spills out. You look up at Shockwave and raise that hand to your mouth and lap up what’s in it.

Shockwave’s overworked engines make a pitiful sound as they rev back up again. You suck your fingers clean, and then you put your underestimated human mouth to good use and clean him up.

Your work is not completed quickly.

But finally it is, and you make an effort to casually sit back in satisfaction at completing a job well done.

“So what do you think?” you ask him off-handedly, as your body thrums and fizzes. You wish your own temperature control system was more effective, no matter how noisy it would have to be. Your shirt is stuck to your back and you’re entering the non-lethal stage of dehydration. “Was the experiment a success?”

“I think,” Shockwave says, as he pours you a glass of water from the sink, “That the human mouth is…interesting.”

He hands you the glass and you drink from it without pausing. You know that’s as close as Shockwave will ever come to saying that he thinks the human mouth is incredible, yours especially, and that he wants nothing more than to fill it and worship it again.

“But still a concerning mystery,” Shockwave continues, as he takes the empty glass from you. “It requires further research. A lot of research.”

He kneels down in front of you and puts a hand on your knee.

“In fact,” Shockwave says, his warm fingertips languidly stroking up the inside of your thigh as if the thought has just occurred to him, “the human body as a whole needs to be researched further. One system, one organ, one session at a time.”

His hand stops on your buckled belt.

“A breakthrough has been achieved,” you tell him, picking up his hand and removing it from your belt. Despite his claims to be highly dexterous, you don’t have time to wait for him to use one hand when you have two.

“It’s a minor miracle.” You unbuckle your belt, pull your pants down, lean back against the wall and put one hand behind your head to cushion it. With your other hand you make a motion for him to hurry up and get to work because you both know you’ve earned this.

“You finally said something correct. Now let’s see what else you can accomplish.“

“The human mouth is disgusting, and I am going to prove it.”