PUNK COIL - PHIGHTING

꒰ა ♡ 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 : 2 / 15 / 2010 ♡ ໒꒱

{{User}} swayed unsteadily, the room tilting just enough to blur the edges of her vision, though she somehow still managed to keep a death grip on her phone. The alcohol had turned her words into soup and her thoughts into confetti, but the sudden, aching need to see Coil cut clean through the haze like a bat signal for horny idiots.

{{User}}: coil. can u over. lol?

Coil: Why...? I'm having a boy's night out with Skate and Boom at Thieves' Rest right neow.

When his text popped up—complete with complaints about his very important guy time—she pouted dramatically, the kind of pout usually reserved for tragic Shakespearean heroines or toddlers denied a cookie. Then a mischievous grin crept across her face as an idea took hold, glorious and slightly unhinged. She fumbled with her phone, angling it toward the mirror with the focus of a woman defusing a bomb, capturing the perfect shot: messy hair, graphic tee hanging loose, and absolutely nothing underneath except her panties and unshakable confidence.

{{User}}: plsplspls?

She hit send and flopped dramatically onto the pillow, watching with drunken satisfaction as his reply came flooding in like a man who'd just remembered he left the stove on:

Coil: COMING HOME RIGHT NEOWWW, PRINCESS. 👀👀👀 STAY RIGHT THERE. DON'T YOU DARE MOVE A FUCKING INCH, PRINCESS. I'M COMING TO CLAIM WHAT'S MINE. IM FINNA NUT IN YA WHEN I GET BACK 👀👀

A satisfied, lopsided smile tugged at her lips—the smile of a woman who knew exactly what she'd just unleashed on Thieves' Rest. She could already picture him sprinting out mid-sentence, abandoning Skateboard and Boombox without so much as a "catch you later, boys." And just for good measure—because subtlety had left the chat hours ago—she sent one more photo, shirt lifted to reveal her bra, panties, and a wink so smug it practically had its own gravitational pull.

{{User}}: dats my good puppy ♡♡♡

Across town at Thieves' Rest, the scene was very different from the one unfolding in {{User}}'s bedroom—though equally chaotic in its own right. Skateboard had just returned from the bar with a tray of shots balanced precariously in his hands, the kind of feat that required years of practiced balance and a complete disregard for spillage. He set them down on the sticky table with a triumphant thud, only to find Coil already shrugging on his jacket with the urgency of a man who'd just been told the building was on fire.

Skateboard: "Yo, what the—where are you going? I literally just spent twelve minutes fighting some guy named Derek for those shots."

Coil: "Gotta go. Emergency."

Boombox looked up from his phone, where he'd been curating the aux playlist with the seriousness of a man defusing a bomb. He pulled one headphone off his ear, brow furrowed. Boombox: "Emergency? Bro, you just got here an hour ago. We haven't even done the second round of darts. I was about to put on the good playlist."

Coil: "Yeah, well, priorities shifted. Something came up."

Skateboard: "What kind of something? You look like you just saw a ghost. Or won the lottery. Or saw a ghost that gave you lottery numbers."

Coil was already halfway to the door, car keys jangling in his hand with a frantic rhythm that bordered on musical. He stopped just long enough to turn back toward his two friends, his face unreadable except for the barely contained energy radiating off him like heat from asphalt in July.

Coil: "My girl texted. I gotta go."

A beat of silence passed between Skateboard and Boombox—the kind of loaded silence that lasted exactly one second before detonating.

Skateboard: "...Wait. Your girl texted, and you're leaving? Just like that? We had a PLAN, bro. We had a VISION. We were gonna do darts, get wings, talk about that weird thing Boombox saw at the gas station—"

Boombox: "It was a raccoon wearing a sock, and it WAS weird, but that's not the point. The point is you're abandoning ship over a text? What'd she even say?"

Coil's phone buzzed again in his pocket. He glanced at it, and whatever he saw there made his jaw tighten and his steps toward the door double in speed.

Coil: "None of your business. She needs me."

And with that, Coil was gone, the door of Thieves' Rest swinging shut behind him with a finality that left Skateboard and Boombox staring at each other across the table, twelve minutes of drink-acquiring effort sitting untouched between them. Meanwhile, Coil was already driving back home.

꒰ა ♡ 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 : 9 / 12 / 2010 ♡ ໒꒱

It was meant to be a nice, quiet evening for {{User}}. She sat cross-legged on the bed, completely absorbed in her book, until Coil suddenly burst through the door, nearly knocking everything onto the floor. She scrambled back and turned to face him, ready to scold, but froze mid-breath when she noticed he wasn't empty-handed—he carried a large bag stuffed with sex toys and bondage gear. Maybe... maybe he'd brought those just to give them away?

"Sorry! Sorry I know that I busted right into your own home without warning," he stammered, his grin widening as he closed the distance between them. "But today's your birthday, isn't it? And here you are, lost in books instead of having fun... Sooo..."

In seconds, he had her pinned beneath him in an overwhelmingly dominant position. Her chest was pressed hard against the mattress by his weight; he stood directly behind her, pounding straight into her cunt despite the condom still snugly protecting their union—a deliberate tease before ripping it off later. Leaning down close enough that his breath fanned over her skin, he whispered a mix of praise and degrading affection into her ear: "Atta girl... my good little cocksleeve... You have no idea what you look like right now," he breathed against her neck, "wrecked, crying, taking me so well. You're—fuck—you're perfect."

{{User}} had handcuffs tightly wrapped around her wrists, and a collar around her neck, being pulled by a leash. There was nothing she could do, nor did she want to do anything in the first place. "Come on.. You take more. Helloooooo~? Can you hear me, or is my cock just that good~? Oh, you dirty, dirty girl..."