#(i don’t know the ship name here :P)

[incorrect-star-allies]

Susie: I’ve caught this stupid disease because of Zan.

Magolor: For the last time, Susie, feelings are not an illness.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TWO YAKUZA HEIRS ARE FIGHTING OVER WHO GETS TO MARRY YOU ?? ❞

✧ pairing: yakuza!satoru gojo x f!reader x yakuza!suguru geto

✧ summary: you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, inspired / dialogue / scene concepts taken from the manga “yakuza fiance,” (which the fic is named after), reader's age is ambiguous, but all are 20s+, violence (as expected from mafia / yakuza stories), blood, stsg have tattoos, implied satosugu (just a passing mention of dating briefly), stsg have sadomasochistic tendencies, a little ooc, switch! gojo (very sub gojo), switch! geto, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), double penetration, sex (p in v), creampie, poly relationship implied ending,

✧ wc: 18,476

“I don’t want to marry either of you,” 

And your statement is met with confused stares — and normally stares like this wouldn’t be terrifying to the average person, but these were not average men you were dealing with. 

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto were anything but average — in many ways. 

Both were incredibly handsome — Satoru was blessed with a piercing blue gaze of the heavens and snow white locks that could stun any person into silence, and Suguru was no slouch either — with long inky black locks tied into a neat bun and his sharp features and his almost all too alluring smile — the two of them looked like they belonged to a modeling agency. Both were also brilliant, attending one of the best high schools in Tokyo, before going to the best university, leading in their respective specialities (Satoru studying physics, while Suguru chose literature). 

And, the two were both the heirs to two of the most dangerous Yakuza families in all of Japan. 

But right now, they are your biggest problems, personified. 

Their families were both vying for your hand in marriage — thanks to your meddling grandfather who shipped you off to Tokyo to get a would-be Yakuza husband — your yakuza family hoping to broker peace after decades upon decades of fighting with one of the other two biggest yakuza families around — the Gojo and Geto families respectively. 

“Excuse me?” Suguru speaks first, a single eyebrow raised, arms crossed over his crisp white button up. 

“I’m not here for this yakuza bullshit. I’m trying to live my own life — and I’m not in the mood to get swept along in my grandfather’s wishes for me to get married,” your hand is in your bag, fingers curled around your collapsible metal pole, “and I don’t care to know either of you, I don’t really care to stick around you — especially because all its earned me is the disdain of all the other students who have crushes on you — so how about we simply tolerate each other for this year?” 

Satoru whistles, “how disappointing,” his eyes raking over you from head to toe, “you’re worse than your reputation — we heard you were a stuck-up, spoiled rich girl that would do anything to get her way, but turns out you’re just normal,” he sticks out his tongue and makes a gagging noise, “how boring,” 

“Truly tiresome,” Suguru hums, his bangs falling in his dark gaze, “I was looking forward to a woman who could match up to us — maybe fuck me up, punish me, and strip away my dignity — type of girl who’d ruin my life, do you understand?” 

You stare at him, lips parted, brow furrowed, “What?” 

“In other words, we were hoping you were much more interesting than you were — as you are now, you’re just useless,” Satoru sighs dramatically, his pink lips curled in a smile, “bor-inggggg,” 

“You might as well go back to Osaka, or wherever it was you came from,” Suguru shrugs, hands in his pockets, as he pulls a cigarette and a lighter, “you could stay, but as it stands, you would be better off back home — maybe it would even start a war — that could be fun, Satoru,” he remarks, his grin growing more sinister by the minute, as he places the cigarette between his lips, and lighting it. 

“Let’s actually not be so hasty, Suguru. She could have some use,” he holds out his fingers to frame you between them, “could be worth something if we have her work at one of our families clubs — selling her body. She could make some use for us,” he says cruelly, “Otherwise, go back home, and let them know we’re the ones not interested in you,” he says, brushing past you along with Suguru. 

And you couldn’t decide which one of their smiles were the most bone chilling — and why you couldn’t quite find your voice in that moment. And you didn’t — not until you finally reached home, your phone ringing. 

“How’s it going, dear granddaughter?” you could hear the grin of the old coot even over the phone — and how could you tell him you wanted to go home now? You had hoped to go there to give two rejections — not earn two of your own. You hoped to stick out the year before leaving this place behind, if only to appease your grandfather. 

“I’m fine, but I think…I think I’m homesick,” you sit on the edge of your bed, hunched over, hand holding your head up, propped against your knee. 

“Why’s that? Did something happen?” 

“Nothing, I just—” 

“You’re not coming back home,” and your hopes fall, “one year, you have to stay one year no matter what. Don’t care if you have to fight with every bone in your body and fiber of your being — last a year,” 

“But why—” 

“Make those boys fall for you, and then break their hearts, heh — your grandfather is a heartbreaker and I know you can do the same,” and you know his lips are curled in a smile not too dissimilar to the two men you met today, “don’t forget where you come from — and what you’re worth,” and he cuts the line, as you stare at your phone, before tossing it away and lying back. 

Well, you know what you had to do. 

~~~

“Morning,” you know where’d they be — the only free period they had together that they spent in the dining hall with their entourage — including some girls who had been harassing you about how you knew the pair — ones you had suspected in fucking with your locker, smearing mud all over your shoes. A small retaliation for capturing their precious crushes’ attention.

The two heirs only stare for a moment — it had been two weeks since they had seen you, “thought I had gone home?” 

“Surprised you didn’t,” Suguru remarks, utterly disinterested from the look in his eyes, despite the smile plastered on his lips, “guess I lost the bet, Satoru,” 

You raise an eyebrow at Satoru, “you thought I’d stay?” 

“Thought you'd stay to take me up on my offer to sell your body,” he holds out his hand as Suguru slaps a stack of bills in his palm, “did you?” 

“I did actually,” your lips curl, as their gazes slide to one another, before you drop a bag on their table, “one kidney, 5,000,000 yen,” and you take delight in the smiles that slide off their expressions, as they stare at you, Satoru looking over the lip of the bag before you knocked it over and let the stacks of money spill over the table, “it took two weeks since it took a while to arrange and recover, but it was well worth it,” 

The pair only can stare — expression unreadable and words seemingly stolen from their mouths, as you only smiled down at them, your gaze digging into their faces like daggers.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit together, “How did you—“ 

“Friend of a friend,” you shrug, “I’ll have to be on a low sodium diet and probably do blood work a little more frequently but you were right about one thing — I was being weak,” you lift up your shirt to show the bandage on your side, their eyes wide, as they can only stare, “I won’t be making that mistake again,” 

And you place your foot up on their table, leaning in, as the mask slips from your face, and your anger surges forth, “listen here, you masochistic fuckers, I’m not scared of either one of you. I don’t care if I have to crawl home choking on my own blood, I’ll be sure you’re choking on each other’s as I drag you both to hell. I’m staying here, whether either of you like it or not,” 

“You can’t talk to them like that—“ one of the girls pipes up, her lips twisted in a frown. 

“I can talk to them however I want - do you know who I am? I come from a family just like there’s but we actually know how to cover up our crimes,” you chuckle, head tilting, “do you know how easy it’d be to get rid of you two?” Your gaze slides to the other girl, “it’d be all too simple — and trust me, I’d get my hands dirty if it’s the two of you,” your lips curl into a wide grin as you add, “after all, you guys did me the favor of dirtying my shoes already,” 

And the two blanch white, all indignance replaced with genuine fear — and you had never known someone could look at you as someone to be feared. 

And you didn’t know you would like it so much. 

You staple the smile on your face again, as the two heirs still sit speechless in their seats, eyes glued to you,  “Well that’s all,” you slide back, “I have to head to class—” 

But then your wrists are caught — pulling you back, as you find yourself pinned on either side by the two heirs, your body tense, before your gaze slides between them, “What?” 

“Marry me,” they both say simultaneously — and you gape at them. 

You are pushing them back, palms pressed against their chests, but find yourself met with two immovable objects, instead trying to squirm out of their grips. “What?” And their grips loosen enough for you to take a step back, but their hands remain around your wrists. 

“I have to have you,” Suguru presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, dark gaze lidded as he looks up at you, and a shiver climbs up your spine, “I’ve never been so terrified or turned on in my life — it must be love,” 

Satoru is the same, mesmerized with eager words, “I want you to do what you promised, Princess — ruin my life,” Satoru’s lips curled in a wide grin, “want you to completely fuck me up, dominate my entire life — and there’s only one way to do that, marry me,” 

Suguru only scowls at Satoru, “You know Satoru, it’s very rude to propose after your best friend does,” Suguru’s gaze slides to him, “she’s mine,” and his other hand finds your shoulder, pulling you against his chest, even as you struggle against their grips, “her family reached out to mine first,” 

“Fuckers, I swear to god, let me go—“ but they act as if they can’t hear you, a current of possessiveness sweeping their thoughts away. 

“So what? Her family decided to ask for my hand — looks like yours wasn’t good enough,” Satoru only grins, pulling you against him instead, his breath warming your flushed skin, as you grimace, “and I’d make her happier than you ever would.” 

“Want to take this outside, Satoru?” Suguru’s glare sent chills down your spine, but Satoru’s lips split into a smile so wide, you were afraid his head would crack in two. 

“Why? Feeling lonely? Go by yourself,”

And finally you stomp on Satoru’s foot before elbowing Suguru in the stomach, drawing groans from both boys, as you stumble away from them, whirling to face them, “Don’t treat me like your goddamn property or that I’m a prize to be won,” your words slip like venom from your lips, “don’t ever fucking touch me without asking,” 

“Of course, we’re sorry,” Suguru only grins after, holding his stomach, but he still looks all too delighted, “you should reprimand us like the scum we are, isn’t that right Satoru?” 

Satoru nods, pouting, “Yeah we deserve more of a punishment,” and your skin crawls at their eagerness. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you two, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” you walk away, hiding your dumbstruck expression, but the two only followed you. 

“You can’t just walk away from us, you have to decide who you want,” Suguru calls after you, their long strides meant they caught up all too fast, and you’re armed with your collapsible pole now, pointing it at both of them. 

“Two minutes ago, both of you thought I was normal and boring,” your eyes narrow — was this another plot to just sell you to some club? 

“And I’m sorry about that sweetheart,” Satoru’s arm is around your waist again, while Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, “we were clearly wrong — and you have to take responsibility,” 

You stare at them, “for what?” 

And he’s leaning to whisper in your ear, “I’m so hard for you right now,” And you’re whirling on them with the pole, but they both expertly dodge your assault, before you’re hurrying away. But they let you go, watching after you with a grin. 

“This is going to be fun,” Suguru remarks, looking at his best friend, “I can’t guarantee I won’t kill you for her hand,” 

Satoru only smirks in reply, “You stole the words out of my mouth, Suguru.” 

~~~

It had been a week — a week of you trying skillfully to evade the two yakuza heirs. 

And you had failed. No matter how fast you left your classes, where you hid, where you sat — the two always found you. And now you have resorted to sitting outside to eat your lunch, being careful to avoid any stray glance of your presence. You sat, back against the building, as you held your head, bento box in your lap — how long until they would get the message? How long until they figured out you wanted nothing to do with them? 

Your grandpa had told you to make them fall for you, but you didn’t think you had too much more to do with how the two were following you around, dogging your every step. 

How would you last another year? 

You opened your bento — at least for once, you could enjoy your lunch without one of them— 

“There you are,” and your lunch nearly goes tumbling out of your lap, but you grasp it, keeping your food from spilling out of your bento, and you turn to meet the gaze of Suguru, leaning against the windowsill, “you’re a fast one, sweetheart,” his head tilted and lips curled in his signature smile. 

“How the fuck did you find me so fast?” you stare at him, brow furrowed, “it’s barely been five minutes, and this campus is huge,” 

“It’s the power of love, of course,” you cringe, and he laughs, bringing his knuckles to his lips, “oh rather, it’s the power of the tracking device I slipped in your bag,” 

And you blink, “You what?” 

He shrugs, “Well how else would I have found you so quickly? I’ll slip it in your shoe next time,” and he sighs, as you dig through your bag, before turning it upside down and letting your things spill out on the grass, “besides, there’s a good reason I’m tracking you,” and you find the tracker before stomping on it, digging your heel into it, crushing it into the dirt, “there’s been a kidnapping of another Yakuza heiress,” 

And your eyes flit to him, and he’s still smiling at you, “Who?” you continue to collect your things, shaking out textbooks and examining your things for any other hidden trackers. 

“You’ll learn tonight — come to the compound tonight — you’ve been formally invited by both my father and Satoru’s father,” and he’s hopping out of the window, fingers brushing yours as he hands you your pencil case, and he’s all too close now, his warm breath warming your lips. 

“And if I refuse?” and his lips curl in a smirk. 

“You’d be offending not only my family, but Satoru’s as well—” and he’s rising to his feet, offering you a hand, “and it might end in an all out war, but that would be just fine for us — would it for you?” 

You glare at him, taking his hand reluctantly, as he helps you to your feet, and you brush the dirt from your skirt and legs, “Fine, what time?” 

“After school, Satoru will be waiting by the gates for you,” he smiles, as he settles next to you, pulling out his own lunch, and you tilt your head, “oh are you curious about me? I have my own business to attend to,” 

“Is that what the other bastard is up to?” and he chuckles at that, taking a bite of his food. 

“Something like that.” 

~~~~

“Took you long enough, pretty,” the Gojo heir’s eyes drag over you like spotlights as he leans against the gate outside, the other students staring as you two speak, whispering as they walk by, slowing down to either catch a longer glance at Satoru or hear a bit of your conversation, “with being so quick to leave for lunch, I thought you’d be just as quick leaving the building,” and he’s offering you a drink from the vending machine that you reluctantly take. 

“Well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to being a spectacle,” you grumble, as you power walk away from the burgeoning traffic jam that Satoru was causing, and he follows behind, “why do they all stare anyway? They know you're a yakuza, don’t they?” 

“Part of the draw,” he shrugs, the hiss of his own soda filling the air as he pops it open, “everyone wants what they can’t have, but don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, sweetheart,” you grimace as he sips at his soda, raising an eyebrow, “so what can’t you have?” 

You both finally reach the heart of the city, bustling with people left and right — the one thing you couldn’t get used to from the quieter life you led, “Some peace and quiet, apparently,” you adjust your bag on your shoulder in a tighter grip, if only you could lose him in this crowd and be done with all this shit, but it wasn’t that simple, and then it occurs to you, “did you put a tracker on me as well?” 

“Nah, I just used Suguru’s,” he smiles, as he downs the rest of his drink with his head thrown back, before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away in the recycling bin nearby, “plus, I didn’t have time, been busy with other things, unfortunately,” 

“What things have you—” 

And you’re suddenly tugged into an alleyway, an arm around your neck and a hand clamped over your mouth, “Don’t struggle, it will only make it more difficult for you,” the man whispers in your ear, as another two men draw closer to your sides, “we’ll kill you if you do,” 

You can’t scream, but you don’t need to — because the man who grabbed you screams first. 

“Who the fuck are—” and he screams, his hands slipping from your side, the thump of his body against the pavement making you flinch, as you slowly turn to find Gojo, as he only glares at the other men, before his gaze slides to you, softening with a smile. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, come here,” and you swallow, before taking shaky steps to his side, and he’s pulling you behind him, “wait here,” 

It happens far too quickly.

Or maybe it’s just a blur now. Because now he’s beaten the three men into submission, their scarlet blood splattering against his uniform, the wet squelch of their flesh as he punches and kicks them, his shoe digging into their sides. He winds his fist back again. 

“That’s enough,” you say hoarsely, swallowing thickly, “they’re barely alive,” 

“More than they deserve,” he mutters, before sighing and grabbing one by his shirt, fabric straining against the dead weight of the man, and pulls him close, his hand connecting with his face as he slaps him awake, “You hear me? Listen,” he shakes him, until the man’s eyes blink open, bleary, “You see me? Don’t forget my face. You touch her again — and it’s the last thing you’ll see before the afterlife, got that?” 

“Yes,” the man slurs. 

“That’s my girl,” he jerks his head at you, “she’s mine and if you or any of your stupid friends or family see her, don’t talk or touch her, much less even look at her,” and his lips curl again, “or I promise my family and the Geto family will slaughter you — until there’s nothing left.” and he drops the man onto the ground, “let’s go,” he mutters, shaking the blood off his knuckles, before using the inside of his uniform jacket to wipe the rest off. 

“Your uniform, it's—” and he glances at the blood seeping into the fabric of his jacket and crisp shirt, and you’re digging through your bag, “I have my hand towel and some—” and he’s shaking his head. 

“I have a sweatshirt I can wear in my bag,” and he’s tugging off his uniform jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, and you can’t look away fast enough — not before seeing the tattoo littering his back. 

A large lion against his back, seemingly roaring, against a backdrop of bamboo, stared back at you, as your breath catches in your throat — he wasn’t just a spoiled heir, he was a real yakuza. And what he did to those men — his eyes met yours again, as he tugged the sweatshirt on, lips still in that ridiculous smile — it was likely the least of what he could really do to them. 

“Oh, sorry, guess I never told ya,” he pulls the orange sweatshirt down, pulling a pair of sunglasses on, and your horrified expression in the circular black rims stare back at you, “sorry for scaring you, sweetheart,” 

“You’re really—” you cut off, heart caught in your throat. Yeah, you had spent too much of your life surrounded by men covered in tattoos, but these two — their auras — were on another level that was simply — terrifying. 

“A yakuza?” he finishes, peering at you over the rim of his sunglasses, “Surprised it took you this long to figure out — thought you had that pieced together a while ago — what? I assume your family shielded you from that kind of violence — probably had guards on you 24/7 so no one would mess with you. Well you aren’t in Osaka anymore,” his fingers intertwined with yours, his larger hand engulfing yours as he tugs you along away from the alley, the faint groans of the men disappearing into the ambient noise of the city, “Stay close, princess.” 

And you flushed, biting your lip. There was a lot you didn’t know, but you knew you better learn — you spare one glance back at the alley — and quick. 

~~~

You both arrive back to the compound, as you’re funneled into a room, you get a glimpse of Suguru in an adjacent hallway, his clothes as bloodied as Satoru’s was, if not more. His dark eyes catch yours and his lips curl, as he holds his hand up as a greeting, mouthing, “Yo,” 

You’re shepherded away to sit, and soon enough, Satoru and Suguru join you, as you fidget in the middle of the room, the three of you sit on cushions, while another cushion directly in front of you. Your fingers can't help but toy with the ribbon on the front of your uniform — what if this was just a ruse to sell you off? Maybe they even found out about you selling your kidney? Anxiety swirled in your mind, dragging down your body to even the tips of your toes, your body buzzing and stinging with thoughts. 

“This really is just a talk to discuss the missing Yakuza heiress,” Suguru cuts through your thoughts, as you stare at him, slack jawed, and he only shrugs, leaning back against his hands flat on the floor, “you’re not hard to read, sweetheart,” 

“Besides, if we wanted to kill you, why not let you die in that alleyway?” Satoru chimes in, ever so helpful, as you glare at him, before his gaze slides to Suguru, “did you take care of that like I asked, Suguru?” and he nods, and before you can ask a question, the door slides open. 

Instead of the heads of the household, a yakuza comes in, sunglasses stare back at you, his dark brown hair slicked back, shaved on the sides of his head, as he stared down at the three of you, “The heads won’t be able to make it to this meeting — something has come up,” 

“Yaga, good to see you,” Suguru chirps, while Satoru only sighs, hands behind his head. 

“Glad to see you haven’t gotten yourself killed since you’ve been away, old man—“ and Satoru earns a fist to his head, “ow!” 

“Keep it up and you’ll get something worse than a whack to the head,” Yaga grumbles, taking his seat, “you must be the girl,” he eyes you up and down, “I’ll get straight to the point — the Akazawa heiress is missing. She’s assumed to be kidnapped,” he hands you a photo of her — shoulder length black hair, her eyes look past the camera, her head tilted downwards, but her hazel eyes pierce through the picture. 

“How long has she been gone?” Suguru asks, “any chance that she just ran off?” 

“There’s a chance she’s been sold off for a couple hundred thou,” Satoru remarks, crossing his arms, “people would pay a premium for a yakuza heiress,” and his eyes slide to you, and you glare back. 

“We don’t know — maybe she ran off, maybe she’s been sold, maybe there’ll be a ransom coming in at one point or another, or maybe she’s dead—” and you bite your lip, “but we can’t take the risk, especially since we have a similar heiress under our care now,” Yaga says, crossing his arms with a hefty sigh, “that being said, you’ll be staying at the compound until further notice— your things have already been brought here,“ you gape at him, mouth nearly hanging open, “and you’ll have Satoru or Suguru with you at all times — their schedules have been rearranged to have class with you,” 

“But—“ and Yaga shoots a look at you that silences your protests. 

“These orders came from the three heads, including your grandfather, would you like to defy them?” And your mouth clamps shut, your head falling. 

“No, sir,” Yaga rises, leaving, but not before ordering the two heirs to show you where you’ll be staying, “and any real threats to you appear, and your classes will be made online and you will remain under guard in the compound,” Yaga adds before disappearing behind another door. 

“It won’t be that bad, Princess,” Suguru grins, as they walk you to your room, “now we can really get to know each other before we’re married,” 

“Don’t you mean before we’re married?” Satoru says, as Suguru only smiles back at him. 

“I would rather not marry you, Satoru, dating you for a week was enough—“ and Satoru opens his mouth to reply. 

“I’m not marrying either of you,” you rub your head, feeling the beginnings of a headache creeping on your temples — you barely could make it through the day with enduring the amount of insanity these two already inflicted, you were sure you’d murder one or both of them if you had to spend 24/7 with them, “we should be keeping a low profile from now on, not going out—” 

“Except for the dates we have planned,” Satoru says, offering you the key to your room, and you unlock the door, stepping inside. 

“Especially not for those.” And you slam the door shut and lock it. 

Your eyes take in the boxes that surround you, full of the things from your apartment, and sigh. 

Fuck, this really was your life now, wasn’t it? 

~~~

“Why are you staring at me?” you can’t ignore Suguru’s stare in the subway, even when you refuse to meet it. The light from the windows flooded into the subway, flickering as the carts sped by, as the two of you hung onto the grab handles. Your usual peaceful ride to university was now impeded by Suguru who stood by your side, his eyes seemingly glued to you. 

“I see that your left side is slower to respond than your right,” and you shift under his gaze, “that’s why your bag is always on your left side, so you can spot a threat easier and have a stronger grip, smart,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “How did you figure that out?” 

He shrugs, “From observation — I also move a little slower on my left — I even blink slower,” and you face him, staring into his eyes, trying to notice any difference between the two eyes. The only thing you could see is how pretty they really were — dark and lidded, not as bright or striking as Satoru’s, but just as mysterious. 

“I can’t tell,” you tilt your head, and he only smiles. 

“There isn’t a difference, but I got you to stare into my eyes, didn’t I?” and you glower at him, your remark cut off by the influx of people flooding into the cart. Fuck, you never had seen it this full before. You forced yourself not to cringe under the tight quarters — you could handle this, it wasn’t a big deal, even as the people sandwiched themselves all around you, anxiety biting at your nerves. And then you’re knocked around by the crowd as the cart jerks, but then, Suguru is pulling you lightly so your back is pressed against a wall and he’s caging you in, his body protecting you. 

Your breath catches — he’s so close, “You don’t have to—” and your gazes meet again, your breath catching, your bag caught between your bodies. He’s nearly pressed against you, the heat from his form seeps into your own. And he smells good, despite the sticky heat of the summer lingering — something musky but sharp at the same time — what was that scent? 

“You seemed uncomfortable,” he says, his hand holding onto the grab handle above, “this seemed like the easiest solution, especially so I can protect you — it would be much easier to shield you with my body this way,” 

“Shut up,” you grumble, as he chuckles, before you’re sighing, “I’m not used to taking the subway — I used to have a car that took me back and forth,” you chew your lip, “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of myself,” 

“Makes sense to have you driven — as a yakuza heiress, they wanted precautions,” Suguru nods, his eyes sliding around the cart, “you never know,” 

“Is that why your eyes keep scanning the subway cart?” you raise an eyebrow. 

And his lips curl, “I did say I’d protect you with my life, didn’t I?” 

“Did you mean that?”

A chuckle escaped his lips, a noise that makes your breath catch, as the cart jerks again, pressing you both even closer, “I never say anything that I don’t mean, princess.” 

~~~

“Is following me around really necessary even after classes?” you hadn’t bothered to pull your usual disappearing act — it was counterproductive in multiple ways (the first being that either of them would find you and the second being you had to be glued to one of their sides at all times), “it’s not like someone is going jump from the shadows and kidnap me on campus.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you, princess?” Satoru drawls lazily, as he twirls his dinner knife around his fingers with a skill that said he’d done it a million times before — probably instead of doing the thing he was supposed to be doing, “a man comes up behind you while you’re studying or shopping, presses a weapon or gun to your side, just out of view, and he’s got the perfect hostage,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve done it before,” and the knife stops between his middle finger and pointer, the tip pointed at you, as he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Don’t get jealous, sweetheart, you’re the only girl I’d want to kidnap,” he leans forward and swipes a mochi from your plate — even though he had already ate his own — and you scoff, as you turn your attention back to your neglected dessert, choosing to use your brain cells to focus on your food instead of this psycho. 

“How lucky,” you mutter, as you stab your remaining mochi instead of your escort, “do the two of you have to take shifts like this? I’m surprised the two of you aren’t glued to my sides 24/7 together,” 

“We thought it was only fair the two of us split our time — and as much as I’d like to spend each and every hour with you, we both unfortunately have other responsibilities to tend to,” and he takes a bite of the mochi, “plus, this way, we get to spend time with you alone without the other interfering, and trust me, if I saw you with Suguru,” his lips curl, “I’d interfere,” 

“Well you don’t have to be worried about that, because I don’t plan on being with either one of you,” you reply, “I’m here to finish school and go home as soon as I can,” 

“You won’t be saying that once I make you fall for me,” 

You get to your feet, as you pull out your wallet — but Satoru waves you off, already pulling out his card for the waiter, “You’d have a better chance making me fall for you if you tripped me,” you roll your eyes, as you round the booth, and quick as a light, you trip right into his arms, your body bumping against his chest as his arms steady you. A hand tilts your face up to meet cerulean eyes filled with mirth, “did you trip—” 

And then you spot the chair leg you had tripped over oh-so-gratefully, “I don’t need to resort to those measures to make you fall for me, princess,” his finger traces your jaw with a featherlight touch, “I have plenty of other ways to do that,” 

You get to your feet properly and shove him away, as he chuckled, as you rolled your eyes, “Maybe in your twisted dreams, but—” And Satoru is tugging you away from the booth — a tight arm around you waist, as you stammer, “what the fuck are you—” 

“Guy’s been following you — just spotted him from a distance,” he murmurs, and your shoulders tense, resisting the urge to look back, “just keep walking with me, don’t worry,” his arm gently squeezed you, “won’t let anything happen to you, princess,” 

“Don’t call me that,” you murmur, as he leads you back inside the closest building, “where are we—” and he’s pulling out his phone, texting several people. 

“Getting us a ride in case I need to get you to safety, and letting Suguru know of the situation,” he offers you a small grin, “I could send you back, but that would be that and you will be on lockdown. Things might be getting a little more interesting from here — so it’s your choice, will you stay or go?” 

You considered your choices — you could run away from this, go back to the compound, but going back was a guarantee that you would be stuck 24/7 in the compound and stuck there for the remainder of your time here. And these two would take full advantage of that. Plus, your mind wandered to the girl who had been taken — you wanted to know more about what happened to her and why you were being targeted next. 

“Let’s go,” and his lips curl. The two of you round several street corners, Satoru’s arm remains tight around your waist, as he leads to a more and more secluded corner of the city, “is this the right move?” your hand wanders into your pocket, fingers around your collapsible pole. 

He sighs dramatically, “Do you have such little faith in me, sweetheart?” 

“Considering the two of you are insane, yes, I do,” and he clicks his tongue at you, “where—” 

And someone punches you, fist connecting with your left cheek as you stumble sideways into the wall of a nearby building. You hear the cock of a gun, your eyes catch sight of the weapon pointed at Satoru. You caught a glimpse as your eyes flicker open, several men stand behind him, all bearing weapons of some sort. 

Your ears ring, as you clutch at your head, as you struggle to get your balance, your vision in your left eye blurry from the impact,  “Come with me, and your girlfriend won’t have to watch you die,” you feel something warm run down your nose, and you touch it — scarlet stains your fingers. 

Fuck. 

Your eyes flicker back to where Satoru stands, eyes flickering to you, a shiver running down your spine at his hard gaze — not a hint of euphoria left — his lips a thin line, and his fists clenched, “I’ll fucking kill you,” his words leave in a whispered hiss, and quick as lightning, the gun is knocked from his fingers, and Satoru’s got him pinned down, fist winding back to punch his head in. The other men don’t hesitate to join the fray, just as Satoru doesn’t hesitate to take them down, blood spilling from their bodies as they fall one by one. 

You said you would be stronger — that you wouldn’t let this happen again. You weren’t some person who needed to be sheltered away. Your fingers clutched at the pole in your pocket, pulling it out, as you slowly uncollapsed it — you were a yakuza heir, just as much as these two were. 

One of them got up to shaky feet, lifting up his knife to stab Satoru from behind, “DIE!” and you slam into his side, hitting over the head with the pole — a grisly crack as the pole nearly snaps against his skull. 

“Fuck off and die!” the words leave your lips as you taste your own blood dripping from your nose. And you can feel Satoru turn to see you, eyes wide as he stares —  your words burn as much as your head hurts, as you wipe the blood from your nose. 

And the men are all down now, as Satoru walks over to you, and his fingers reach gently for your face, as he examines the blood dripping, “it’s just a nosebleed,” you say, and his gaze softens ever so slightly, before darkening, as a groan comes from the man that punched you. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” your heart flutters at his gentle touch, the calluses of his fingers against your cheek, as he pulls tissues from his pocket to wipe the blood from your nose. 

And his eyes linger on your face for a moment, before he turns to the culprit, fingers clenched tightly around the napkin soaked in your blood. 

He drags the man up by the collar, shaking him, a gurgled groan leaving his bloody lips, “You might want to go, sweetheart — I have to make sure I let this one die for ever laying a hand on my woman—“ and you clasp your hand on his shoulder, shaking your head. 

“He’s half dead already — you don’t need to finish the job,” and he pouts, shaking the man again for good measure. 

“You said he should die—“ 

You shrug, “People like this aren’t worth the trouble of killing. And you don’t need more problems on your hands — so if you’re doing this for me, don’t bother. Let’s just go,” 

And you see his lips slowly curl into a grin, as he pulls you into a hug, arms around you waist, as he runs his fingers through your hair gingerly, “I didn’t realize you cared, sweetheart,” and you frown, “don’t want me getting in more trouble, huh? If it’s for you, I’ll oblige, but you owe me one,” and his fingers slide under your chin. 

“Oi, is the party over without me?” A familiar voice calls, Suguru walks over, several other Yakuza in tow, his sleeves rolled up, as he takes a once over of the situation, seemingly uninterested in the scum, his eyes falling on you and Satoru, lingering on the blood that still was trickling from your nose. His eyes narrowed, “which one—” 

“It’s already taken care of, Suguru,” Satoru rubs the back of his head, “but for your information,” he kicks the one who had punched you in his side, forcing him to roll over, a slight groan escaping his lips, “that’s the one who hurt her,” 

Suguru nodded, stepping over the bodies as if it was nothing more than a spill that had been yet to be cleaned up, as his hand brushes over your chin softly, drawing close, a sharp gasp leaving your lips when his fingers decide to travel to your nose, “It’s not broken, just bleeding, but I should still get her checked out at the compound,” 

“You?” Satoru furrows his brow, “you’re going to leave me—” 

“To clean up your own mess? Yes, I am,” Suguru smiles, “because it’s my turn to keep watch,” as he shows his watch, already well past midnight, “and I should be getting her back to the compound,” the two glare at each other, a tension settling over the scene that you were far too done with. 

You sigh, stepping past both of them, walking over the bodies splayed out on the floor, “Let me know when you both decide,” you yawn, hands in your pockets now, “I need sleep,” and Suguru follows behind, and you don’t see him turn to smirk at Satoru. 

~~~~

You swore someone was watching you. 

A presence loomed over you, hovering slightly, as you shifted in your sleep, a sigh parting your lips as you turned, still caught between in realms of deep sleep as you drifted in and out, eyes fluttering open a moment, and caught sight of a shadow. 

No, it was nothing. It was nothing. And then you’d wake to sunlight filtering through your windows, eyes fluttering open, but you would still wake with the lingering touch of someone else against your face. 

But each morning you’d check the locks, and it would be locked, with no signs of tampering — and you’d be left wondering if it was a dream or not. 

It had been like this for the last week — you’d sense a presence, for a split second of what you thought was consciousness, and then it would be morning again. 

And finally, you decided to stay awake, a knife you had pilfered away from the kitchen under your pillow. You let your eyes drift shut, drifting in and out of a half sleep, until you hear it. 

The slow slide of the door opening, and the soft close of the door behind. The person takes nearly soundless steps towards you, before leaning above you and you feel the faint brush of hair against your skin, before leaning back with a quiet sigh. 

Suguru?

And his fingers slide through your hair softly. He watches over you, quietly, until you turn to face him, eyes open. 

“You know it’s really creepy to break into a woman’s room in the middle of the night,” and Suguru blinks, before his lips curl in a small smirk, “and it’s even weirder when you just sit there to watch her sleep,” 

“Just trying to make sure you’re safe, sweetheart,” 

“In a locked room?” And he shrugs. 

“I broke in easily,” and you scoff, as he rakes his own fingers through his hair, “who else would keep an eye on you?” 

You sit up, crossing your arms, “Surprised you and Satoru aren’t in here,” 

“We take turns,” and you stare at him, as he leans back against the wall, “all we do is keep watch princess — would you have let us in otherwise?” 

You open and shut your mouth, before you find words again amidst the haze of frustration, “I’m not so fucking helpless that you both need to sit here and watch me sleep,”

“We have been doing this since the threats began nearly and you only noticed recently,” he points out, his eyes catching the faint light of the moon, as cautious and patient as Suguru was — his expression as indiscernible as a new moon was, “and it’s only because Satoru had gotten sloppy,” he shrugs. 

You rub at your temples, “you’re not the only one who is a yakuza—“ 

Suguru tilts his head, “Princess, you don’t know what it means to be one — not even your fingers have never been bloodied, and it should stay that way—“ 

Your fingers close around the handle of the knife as you lunge at him — you snapped. You were tired — tired of the men in your life running your life — your grandfather, these yakuza heads, and these two idiots — all of them treating you as if you were spineless. 

And you weren’t. 

His hand darts out — and it happens quickly. The knife clatters against the hardwood, and he’s pinned you underneath him. 

You glare, embarrassment licks at your cheeks like flames — you had placed your fingers on the stovetop and what were you expecting other than to get burned? You can’t meet his gaze, and you’re expecting another lecture or sanctimonious attitude, but instead, his fingers skim your cheek, “You should pick your battles wisely, sweetheart — because not all of them will let you off the hook,” and he leans close, breath warming your lips, as your eyes can’t help but squeeze shut. 

Only to wince after a sharp flick to your forehead. 

And his weight leaves you at once, your head turning to find him examining the knife you had stolen, “You should also choose a better weapon than a kitchen knife — especially one as dull as this one,” 

You scowl at him, “Well, how else will I defend myself?” 

And he smiles, shrugging, “Isn’t it simple? Use the weapons already at your disposal,” 

Your brow knots together, “What weapons?” And his hand is sliding the door open, as he casts one more glance over his shoulder, lips curled in that insufferable smile. 

“The ones sworn to you.” 

~~~~ 

“You’re staying home tomorrow from class,” the thermometer is plucked from between your lips, the white haired yakuza scrutinizing your room, cerulean eyes catching the pile of tissues you had failed to stuff properly in your trash bin, “how long have you had this, Princess?” 

You lay bedridden and pouting as you draw the covers over your face — you had not been feeling well this whole weekend, but you developed a fever last night. You thought it would be gone by the morning, “Just since this morning,” and he’s tugging the covers away, his brow wrinkled, and then you see it, bandages on his forehead, “when did you get hit on the head?” 

And he blink, fingers running through his hair, “This? It’s nothing,” and you raise an eyebrow, “if you must know, it’s just my punishment for taking you into the thick of things the other day,” 

Your brow wrinkles, “Who—“ 

He waves you off, “It’s not important — the important thing is that you get better — can’t have my future wife succumbing to the flu, now can I?” And you scoff. 

“I’m not your future wife,” you mumble, and you hear a small chuckle from him. And then your muscles begin to grow heavy, eyelids fluttering shut under the weight of exhaustion, and your skin feeling far too cold for your burning insides, “Gojo, I’m not—“ 

And you slip into darkness. 

You can feel the world around you move, the sounds of wind brushing against your skin, and the flicker of lights in your eyes. Your lips part, a desert inside your mouth with no oasis in sight, “where—“

A voice quietly shushes you, fingers raking through your hair gently, lulling you back to sleep. Was it your grandfather? No, he never coddled you like this. Not even he had his yakuza to look after. You were expected to care for yourself —- you couldn’t show weakness. 

Not as an heir — even if you were just a kid. 

And when you do wake for a moment, it’s with some prodding, a voice whispering for you to open your mouth at the press of a medicine cap to your lips, and your eyes flutter open to catch a glimpse of blue eyes — so you do, swallowing it with water. 

You fall into the arms of sleep again, only waking to your head slightly aching, and a distinct void in your stomach. You reach around blindly for your phone, and find that it’s still Sunday, nearly the evening. Your eyes adjust as your gaze spots the last glimmers of the sunset in the window. 

How long have you slept? Like four hours? You sighed, slumping back into bed, as you stretched. Your fingers pressed to your forehead, still a slight fever, but it was definitely lower. Maybe you could sleep for a bit longer, and you turn on your side only to find a familiar, not-so familiar sight. Your lips can’t help but curl a little. Again there is someone in your room, but instead as your eyes flutter open you see that Satoru has dozed off.

You hold back a chuckle, as you slowly get up, drawing a little closer. His head was against the wall, slightly tilted, soft breaths leaving his lips, arms crossed. He had a prescription medicine next to him along with a water bottle. Your fingers reach for the medicine, and you glance it over — seeing that it was prescribed earlier today for you. 

Your brows knit together, when did you—and then it comes back to you slowly — the lights, the sound of wind and cars — he drove you to a hospital. And his shoulder starts to slip 

And then you reach for him, trying to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. 

That’s when he grabs you — his eyes fly open, as he grabs you by the wrist, pulling you close, his hard topaz gaze cuts through you, until it slowly fills with recognition. His fingers digging into your wrist loosen ever so slightly, as he blinks. 

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” but his fingers don’t leave your wrist, “are you feeling better?” 

“I am,” you admit, as his other hand reaches up to brush against your forehead and then neck, sending hest crawling up your skin for a different reason. 

“Looks like the medicine worked,” he sighs, leaning back, “guess I can scratch beating up that doctor off my list,” and you furrow your brow, “it was a joke, Princess,” 

“Why did you take me?” You asked and he tilted his head, “I mean you could have had me looked at here, so why did you—“ 

“As much as my father pays for these services, they don’t work weekends, usually — we do have an on-call physician, but,” he shrugs, as his thumb brushed back and forth against your wrist, right where your pulse was, “I didn’t want to wait,” 

And your eyes slide to the bandages around his head, “but you couldn’t get that checked out?” 

“Worried about me? I’m touched, Princess,” and your fingers reach for the bandages and brush against his locks, “hey, you—“ 

“It’s coming loose,” you lean over and slide your hands until you find where it’s coming undone and tie it tighter, fingers brushing against his soft locks — noting the undercut you hadn’t noticed before, “there,” 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as your eyes meet his and your breath catches, your face an inch or two from his. And he looks different in the dark of the room, illuminated by the last vestiges of sun that were quickly fading into the night — softer. 

“Why did you take care of me?” And he blinks a moment, taken aback and he tilts his head, “someone else could have—“ 

“I wanted to,” he cuts you off gently, “why would I let someone else do it when I could? It was the least I could do,” and it was your turn to tilt your head, as he adds in a whisper, “I let you get hurt. I should have sent you home,” 

“If you had tried, I would have stayed anyway,” and he chuckles. 

“I know,” he murmurs, “and I know what it’s like to tough through things as if you’re invincible — as if nothing can touch you — and it’s only a matter of time until it does,” and your fingers brush against the bandages on his head, as you dare closer, less than a breath away. 

“Maybe I should make you take your own advice,” you whisper, and his lips quirk upwards in a smirk. 

“I’d love to see you try, Princess,” he adds with a grin, “you know I’d love to submit to you anyti—“ 

And you swallow the rest of his sentence with your lips, a chaste brush that leaves your entire body burning for more — a spark to kindling that you told yourself you wouldn’t start. But, your lips part his to see his soft gaze meeting your own, before finding your lips again, how could you not? 

“I’m going to get you sick,” you manage between kisses, lips meeting and parting, as he chuckles against you, a vibration sending a shiver that definitely wasn’t from your fever.

“You’re worth it, Princess,” but he kisses you one last time, noses brushing, before your stomach rumbles loudly in the relative silence of both of your soft pants. You flush, and he can’t hold back his laugh, as you smack his shoulder.  

“Shut up, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, thanks to someone,” and he’s still laughing as you try to smack him again, but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Don’t forget, I really like it when you punish me,” his lips press to your wrist, your breath catching for a moment before you hit him again on the chest regardless. And he laughs, leaning on his hand, “oh what will I do with you, sweetheart?” 

You scowl at him, rolling your eyes, “You can start by getting me dinner,” you grumble, and he repents, getting to his feet, “Satoru?” And he pauses, eyes flickering back, “thank you,” you manage, biting your lip all the whole, unable to meet his eyes or see the smile on his lips. 

“Anytime, Princess.” 

~~~~

You hadn’t seen Suguru or Satoru all week. 

Once a sought after rarity l, but now a foreboding concern. Satoru had been away on business — you didn’t care to know what, but you knew he’d come back only more clingy than ever. You chewed on your lip — especially after the kiss. 

Fuck. You kissed Satoru, you buried your face in your hands, what the fuck were you doing? Could you use the excuse that your fever had rendered you momentarily insane? No, Satoru would only crack a joke saying that he’s crazy for you too. 

What was your plan? You were only trying to bide your time for a year — not become further entangled 

You lay back on your bed, as you scroll through your phone — but Suguru was a different story. You heard from Satoru that he had returned. Yet now there was some random yakuza checking in each hour  — and even worse, keeping you confined to the compound. 

And a small part of you did worry for them as you tossed your phone aside — those fools may have death wishes but that didn’t mean you wished the same. 

You leave your room, sighing as you explore the compound. You had done your fair share of exploring, but you had never wandered into Suguru or Satoru’s quarters. You had been told by each of them where their rooms were, only for you to glare at them for providing you the implication. But now…maybe it was useful. 

You walked through the halls — seemed like most people were away at the moment. When Satoru had captured those people who had attacked you both, there was information learned about who was targeting you and of where that girl who was taken could possibly be. But it’s not like you were able to find that information out — unless you went looking yourself. 

Satoru and Suguru’s rooms were close to each other’s — but Satoru’s room was locked, as you tugged at the door to no avail. You glared at the handle as if it was the white haired idiot itself, before turning to Suguru’s door. 

You pressed your ear to the door, it was silent, not a single noise inside. You pull at the door and it opens. You step inside — the room is neat, a desk in the corner, along with a bed on the opposite side, but not much else. There were a few other things — a dresser with a few containers tucked beside it and a small bookcase against the wall near the desk lined with books on each shelf. 

It wasn’t what you expected — though you didn’t know what to expect. You stepped into the room, glancing around, as you approached the desk first. You rifle through the papers, finding nothing relevant — only papers from class and a few scattered notes that had nothing but addresses and initials scribbled. 

And then the door opens, you freeze, before you slowly turn to see Suguru, his clothes tattered, blood dripping from his arms and soaked through his white button up. His gaze is dark and heavy, until he finds your eyes, his brow wrinkled. 

“What are you doing?” no ‘sweetheart’ or ‘Princess’ — just a question. 

“I was looking—“ but you bite your lips, as you watch his shoulders slump, “what happened—“ 

And he draws closer, as you slowly take steps back, until he’s looming over you, his arm pressed above you, “Princess, you shouldn’t get involved in these things, unless you want to end up like this,” and the smell of death rolls off of him, the heaviness of his gaze could drag you down to the depths of hell — but you didn’t care. 

“Sit down,” and he blinks, before you’re pressing him onto the bed, “I’m going to get a first aid kit and some bandages,” 

“Sweetheart—“ but you’re already out of the room, returning with a first aid kit and bandages, “where did you—“ 

“Well after that first time Satoru and I got jumped by those people, I figured it would be good to stock up on things,” you pull out scissors and tape, and you dampen a washcloth you had stored in the kit with a water bottle you had grabbed. “Take off your shirt,” he hesitates, “getting shy?” 

Suguru’s lips curl, before he sighs, unbuttoning his shirt, “You know I rather you hurt me than take care of me,” and you scoff, as you busy yourself with preparing the materials to tend to him. 

“Well it looks like someone else already did that for you,” and your eyes meet with his bare chest, the red and black ink of his tattoos encroached onto his shoulders, but more than that — bruises bloomed on different parts of his body, scars from old wounds of various ages littered his skin, and dried and fresh scarlet clung to his skin from fresh cuts. 

You take the washcloth, slowly starting to run it over his body, the white cloth marred with his blood, he doesn’t flinch even as it cleans his cuts or wounds.  

“Why are you doing this?” And your eyes meet his, his amethyst eyes cut through you. 

“Because you’re hurt,” 

“Just because I’m hurt doesn’t mean you have to help,” you sigh, as you urge him to turn so you can clean his back next, the sight of his tattoo on his back unsurprising now as you continue to clean it. 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to either,” he gives a soft chuckle, “what’s your goal here sweetheart?” You urge him to turn again, as you begin to clean the blood from his arms. 

“Do I need to have a goal?” And he turns to face you, leaning even closer, as his black locks fall in his eyes. 

“Everyone has one — didn’t you have one for coming in here?” And your hesitation is all the answers he needs, “curious about what’s going on with those people after you, huh?” 

There wasn’t any use lying now, “Wouldn’t you be?” 

“I would be, but I wouldn’t get caught, now would I?” and you scoff, as his lips curl, “we have been tracking the group that we suspect has the heiress, and we have been interrogating the people that you and Satoru secured,” ‘secured’ — more like nearly murdered by the way Satoru acted. 

“And where were you?” 

He sighed, “Dealing with some loose ends — and some other business that my father had me deal with,” and he adds, “I had to make sure a message got out — so no one would ever attack you like that again,”

And why does your heart squeeze at the thought, “Why are you so willing to tell me?” And your hands begin to clean and wipe his palms. And you set the washcloth down, beginning to bandage some of the larger cuts and wounds, and his fingers intertwined with yours, as you glance up. 

“Because you deserve the truth,” he shrugs, “and even if I lie, you’ll figure it out, so why not tell you to begin with?” And he leans even closer, fingers skimming your cheek, “plus I don’t keep secrets from my future wife,” 

“I’m not marrying you,” but you don’t pull away, as he’s even closer now. 

“Well, you said never before — and I’ve worn you down to a ‘not’ — it’s only a matter of time,” and his words make you want you to pull away, to scoff at his words and leave, but you don’t. 

Why can’t you? 

“And I thought Satoru was the one full of himself—“ and his lips find yours, his kiss was more insistent, his fingers find your jaw, featherlight before it finds purchase on the back of your neck. You could taste the faint taste of blood, lingering on his lips, 

“And you also thought Satoru was a good kisser,” he smirks, as his lips ghost down your jaw, nose brushing against your cheek, as you pause — how did he— “well now you know what a good kisser is actually like,” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, he tilts his head, his thumb cupping your chin, and your lips find the other’s, his forehead pressed to yours. Then his phone rings, and the moment’s broken. He pulls away just as fast, as he turns to answer his phone, “Hello?” he listens, a man’s voice on the other end, “I understand, okay.” and the call ends, as he offers a smile to you, “I have to deal with some business, but I’ll be back later. And then it looks like I’ll be your escort while Satoru is away.” 

“What business—” but he’s brushing past you, going to his wardrobe to grab a fresh shirt, buttoning it swiftly, before pulling on another jacket, as he turns to glance at you over his shoulder. 

“You know better than to ask me that,”

“But you said you would be honest,” and he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips, as he heads out of the room. 

“I didn’t say when.” 

~~~~

“We have to tell her,” Satoru stood, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall of the compound. Suguru clicks his lighter again, flicking it on and off — he had quit a few months ago when you had told him that you hated the smell. And he didn’t miss it, but he still carried the lighter — old habits die hard, “the pictures we got — they are getting better at tracking her without us noticing. And these other fires we’re being sent out to deal with — it’s leaving us with less time to protect her,”

“Do you have to?” Suguru asked, flicking his lighter closer, the silver outside glinting in the low light of the moon, “isn’t it safer for her to stay in the dark for now?” 

“Staying in the dark doesn’t mean she won’t put herself in danger one way or another without us knowing,” Satoru shrugs, “she said even if I had sent her home that day that those men were after her, she would have came after me,” 

Suguru gives a terse chuckle, “I don’t doubt that she would,” he sighs, gaze towards the inky darkness of the sky, dotted with faint stars that he couldn’t see but knew were there — just as these threats were, “if she found out that her grandfather was threatened too? There’s no way she would wait,” 

“So what do we do?” Satoru scratched the back of his head, “we could send her back home — she might be safer there than here,” 

“Her grandfather told us—“ 

“I know, but what choice do we have, Suguru?” he sighs, and Suguru can’t help but quirk his lips. 

“You know if we do this, we may have to fight her grandfather to stay engaged with her,” And Satoru smiles, shrugging. 

“I know, but we can handle it, can’t we?” Satoru leans back, “we’ll just have to fight him on it. Why? Are you afraid?”  

Suguru gives a short chuckle, “Since when have you known me to be afraid of anything?” And he turns his gaze towards the door, “so when should we tell her?” 

But they don’t notice that you’re pressed against the door, your fists clenched. And they were right about one thing — you wouldn’t wait. 

~~~~

CRACK! 

Fuck, your eyes burned as you tried to open them, the sharp pain in the back of your head radiating all over, as your eyelids refused to open. What happened? You tried to hold your head, only to have your wrists strain against something rough — rope? The fibers dig into your wrists as you try to stand, only to find them bound to something else. 

“Finally awake?” it was a woman’s voice — and your eyes still can’t quite open — fuck, this wasn’t part of your plan, “take your time, they said they wanted you in pristine condition so I can’t have you falling apart on me later on,” she scoffs, her footsteps receding away, and you could hear the quiet murmurs of other voices — men, by the baritone. 

Your eyes burned as you adjusted to opening them, still fighting the urge to flutter them shut under the pain. The dim light swung overhead, a warehouse from the bare floors and even barer walls and ceilings overhead, barely illuminated in the flickering exposed lightbulbs hanging over the middle of the room. 

“Where am I?” You choked out, voice wavering in a way that made you want to grit your teeth and chide yourself for the fear that seeped into your words. 

The quiet click of heels came closer, “Don’t recognize me? Well I suppose you never did see my face in person,” and you knit your brows together as she stepped closer, leaning in far too near for your comfort, “I should thank you for your efforts in trying to find out what happened to me. It made it far easier to kidnap you,” 

Her hazel eyes were even more startling in person. 

“The Akawaza heiress,” you stare at her — her hair had grown a little past her shoulders now, ends slightly curling at them, “I thought—“ 

“I was missing? I was,” her lips curled, running her sharp lacquered nails through her black locks, “but it was my choice,” the screech of chair legs scraping against the floor makes you flinch ever so slightly, as she sits in front of you, her legs crossed, “I’m being rude — how is your grandfather?” 

“Fuck off,” you spit, and she clicks her tongue. 

“And here I thought you had manners, but I suppose the city’s changed you, little princess?” she hums, leaning back, wood of the chair creaking as she did, “or maybe your boyfriends did,” you say nothing, scoffing, as she sighs, “or knowing your grandfather, you probably didn’t have any to begin with,” 

Rage fills your veins, lava bursting from them as the venom leaves your lips, “Don’t talk about my grandfather like that—” 

“Why shouldn’t I? You never cared for the yakuza before, right? Is your grandfather not included in that equation? Or maybe it was because he kept what he did behind closed doors, and never bothered to tell you the truth,” and you’re not fast enough to stop your brow from furrowing, and she latches onto it, “Oh he didn’t tell you, did he?” 

“You really love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” you murmur, and she laughs at your remark, her nails clicking against the forearm of the chair — lacquer on wood that began to grate on your nerves, “can you get to the point of all this shit? Why the fuck am I here?” 

“Because your grandfather is picking and choosing who he favors — and so I decided to take his heart, and I’ll only give her back if he gives me what I want — ” and then you see the way her lips curl and her jaw is cut, and it occurs to you. 

Your grandfather had said he was a heartbreaker. 

“You’re his granddaughter,” and she smirks, her nails falling still. 

“Do you see the family resemblance?” she leans against her hand, elbow against the arm of her chair, “it would be nice to meet you — if I didn’t have to possibly kill you,” 

“So you want to be the heiress? I never wanted to be one in the first place—” 

“Do you think that matters?” she scoffs, “what matters is the choice your grandfather makes —  and he’s chosen you — with no regard for the other children he has had,” her gaze falls downward, “do you know what it is like to watch your mother vye for the approval of someone who never truly cared for her in the first place?” 

Your gaze falls downward, “I don’t know,” you admit, “but is all this worth this? What do you think he will even do for me?” 

“He’ll meet my demands, and each hour he doesn’t, he’ll get another finger of yours,” she pulls a knife out, the blade glinting in the dim light, as she rises to her feet, your body straining back as she draws close to you, running the flat of the blade down your cheek, “should I start with your left hand or right?” she pulls the blade back, and you smile, “what—” 

And you lean your head back and smash your head against her own. The crack of your skulls colliding rung in your ears, along with the knife clattering to the ground, as you felt warm droplets ran down your face, and she stumbles back, clutching at her forehead, scarlet staining her face and fingers, “It’s funny you think that I came to you without a plan — how do you think I found you?” 

“It wasn’t on her own,” and a hand on her shoulder, before she’s pinned to the floor. Satoru’s eyes slide to you, a smile on his lips, as she’s struggling, trying to look for her men, “looking for your goons? Suguru has taken care of them by now, unless he needs my help,” 

“Akari isn’t the only one who likes to hear herself talk,” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair, “Satoru, you haven’t even untied her,” his footsteps echoing as he approaches you, bending down to pick up Akari’s knife. 

“A little busy at the moment, Suguru,” Gojo has Akari pinned with one hand, “unless you’d like her to get away,” and Suguru shrugs, as he slips the knife under your restraints and cuts them off, “are you doing alright, sweetheart?” 

“I’m fine, just my head’s aching,” and Suguru pulls a cloth from his pocket, wiping the blood from your face, your eyes closing and nose wrinkling as he does, “did you call my grandfather?” 

“Yeah, I don’t have a death wish,” Satoru replies as he hauls Akari up and hands her off to his associate to take her. 

You get to shaky feet, “Hold on,” you walk over, grabbing Akari by the front of her blouse, silk wrinkling under your grasp, “fuck with me or my family again, and I won’t be so lenient,” you shove her off, and then you add, “but I’ll talk to my grandfather about some sort of possible arrangement for your mother,” 

And then you wave the yakuza off and they take her away — assuredly to Kyoto to be dealt with by her grandfather. 

“Are you really going to talk to your grandfather about her?” Suguru asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s the least he could do since he caused me to be targeted,” you grumble, rubbing your wrists, as Satoru takes his suit coat off and places it around your shoulders, before a smirk pulls at your lips. 

Suguru tilts his head, smiling, “Well, how would he feel if he knew you got kidnapped on purpose?” And you shrug. 

“He doesn’t need to know that.” 

~~~

“I’m surprised you guys agreed to my plan,” you hiss as Satoru takes a damp cloth to clean the dried blood from your face, while Suguru is knelt, bandaging your ankles — their rough and bruised hands somehow still gentle, “I thought you would never let me wander into danger,” 

“Well, we knew we had to do something when we realized you were listening to us, didn’t we, Princess?” Satoru snorted, and you could hear the smile gracing his features — even with your eyes shut — “and this was the best way to ensure you weren’t hurt,” 

“Relatively,” Suguru adds, as he finishes bandaging one ankle, “did she do anything else to you?” 

And Satoru’s hand pauses as they both wait for your answer, and you shake your head, “No,” and Satoru pulls the washcloth away, your eyes fluttering open to meet two skeptical gazes, “really, I’m fine,” your lips curl after the two of them look away, Satoru turning to grab a bag of ice for your forehead, while Suguru busied himself with bandaging your other ankle, “is this threat the reason my grandfather sent me to Tokyo?” 

The timing had lined up — Akari had started the threats not a few months before — after she had reached legal age, the perfect age to contend for the position of successor to her grandfather. And by sending you here, your grandfather thought he was putting you out of immediate danger — but he didn’t know Akari would make her way to Tokyo. 

“More or less,” Satoru sighed, as you flinched when he pressed the ice pack to your head, the condensation from the bag already clinging and dripping down your face, “the geezer wanted to find the source of the threats against you—and by sending you here, to your potential fiancés—“ 

“I would be safe protected twofold by two of the biggest families—“ and you blink, pulling the ice pack away from your face, “the engagements — that’s why they were leaked — it was to protect me,” you mumble, “so that means—“ 

“You can go home if you want, Princess,” Suguru says, looking up at you, expression as inscrutable as it always was, “the engagements were only pretense,” 

“You both knew?” And Satoru sighs, scratching the back of his head, and why does it feel as if his nails are carving out a piece of your heart. 

“The old coot swore us to secrecy, we didn’t have—“ 

“But, everything, the two of you…the engagement—it’s over,” you say slowly, gaze falling downward. You should be happy, relieved, thrilled — you could go home, what you wanted to do from the start. You could get your own apartment or transfer to a different university—and leave this behind, a bad dream washed away by the events of a new day. So why? 

Why did it hurt? 

“Don’t tell me you’ll actually miss us, sweetheart?” Satoru teased, a force more than anything — bittersweet worded coated in a sugary sarcasm, “because I very well may propose here and now,” 

You almost scoff, but Suguru beats you to it. 

“A proposal now? Seems like finishing early isn’t what you just do in bed, Satoru,” Suguru scoffs, as Satoru shoots a glare over his sunglasses, “she’s only eager to get home now isn’t she? "If she isn’t so eager,” he adds, “then she would stop the one she wants from leaving her room, wouldn’t she?” 

And Suguru is slowly getting to his feet, while Satoru also turns to leave — and you don’t think—but you were sure that you truly hadn’t thought a single sane thought since you had arrived in Tokyo—

You grab at the fabric of both their shirts, fingers clutching at it, as your lips curled when they glanced back at you. 

“Who said either of you could leave?”

~~~

“You’re going to have to use your words,” you murmured, fingers ghosting Satoru’s jaw, a delightful shiver parting his lips as you smiled at him, sat spread at the edge of your bed, “what do you want?” You stepped closer, between his legs, daring even closer. 

“Sweetheart, you know what I—“ and a low groan leaves his throat as your fingers slide to the nape of his neck to tug at his snowy locks, “please—“ 

“I know you love this,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his throat, smiling against his skin, “you said you wanted me to hurt you, so it looks like you’re getting your wish,” your eyes slide to the other, sat in a chair, “I know you like to watch, Suguru, so you must be enjoying yourself,” and you’re further unbuttoning Satoru’s shirt all the same — crisp white button up definitely creased and wrinkled as it fell open, tugged out from his slacks. 

Suguru’s fingers flexed against the grain of the wood of the armrests, his muscles taut, his lips a tight line that only matched the fabric of his slacks straining against his erection. The corner of his mouth twitches, and you smirk. 

“I didn’t hear an answer, Suguru,” and you’re placing another kiss on Satoru’s neck, a whine leaving his throat, while your eyes find Suguru’s amethyst gaze darkened to nearly black, his knuckles white against the wood, as you lean down to lick a stripe up Satoru’s neck, who bites his bottom lip. 

“I’d enjoy it even more if I could touch you, or me,” Suguru adds through gritted teeth, “Princess—“ 

And you click your tongue, “You had such patience when you were watching me sleep — so where’s that patience now?” Your fingers graze Satoru’s erection through his slacks, and his head is falling back, as Suguru shifts in his seat, not so subtly adjusting himself. 

You undo Satoru’s belt, unbuckling it with ease, as his cock slaps against his stomach, and you didn’t know it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but Satoru’s was — a deep flush settled over it, pearly beads of precum dripping from the ruby tip. And a distinct heat begins to throb between your thighs. 

“You can touch yourself,” you tell Suguru, his legs twitching to get up, “but you can’t cum until I tell you can,” you run a finger up Satoru’s cock, teasing the weeping tip, a groan leaving the snowy haired man’s lips, “strip, Suguru,” 

And he does, you hear the click of his belt, the sound of fabric rustling, as your fingers tease the slit of Satoru’s cock, gathering precum on your fingers, drawing a grunt from his lips. You can hear the distinct sound of Suguru spitting in his palm, his hand beginning to work at his own cock. 

“Both s’good for me,” you murmur, as you stroke Satoru’s cock in earnest, the quiet moans from both their mouths sending a ribbon of need to your already dripping cunt, “can’t wait to fuck you both, make you my toys,” and you’re pressing a kiss to Satoru’s tip, his pretty, pink lips parting, as his head rolls back again, “but you’d both like that wouldn’t you? Maybe I shouldn’t let either of you cum, make you beg me all night,” as your tongue traces his lovely vein up the side of his cock, “what do you think, Toru?” And your mouth finally closes around his dick, sucking hard that draws a hiss from his lips, fingers fisted in the sheets. 

And Suguru isn’t doing much better, the sounds of his hand squelching and the moans leaving his lips growing louder and louder. 

“Please, Princess, I’m close, I can’t—“ and you click your tongue, a pout on your lips, as you pull away your touch, “baby, I—“ 

“Can’t let either of you cum so fast,” your eyes slide to Suguru, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink that reaches even his ears, as his hand slows, his cock twitching in his fingers, “gotta make you earn it. It’s only right after all the shit you put me through right?” 

It’s a cycle, a cycle of you bringing them both to the edge of orgasm, only to tell them to stop. Their sweat slicked brows wrinkled, as you worked them up once again and again and again — you had lost track of how many times. 

“Please, please, sweetheart,” and you knew you could get Satoru to beg, but you didn’t think it would be this easy, and you let his dick brush against your throat, as you let him fuck your throat, hips jerking, “fuuuuck, I need to—” 

And you’re pulling your lips from his cock with a pop, glancing at Suguru whose black locks are beginning to come loose from their neat bun, more of a mess now than he had been fighting yakuza earlier, and all because of you. 

“Suguru? Wanna cum?” you ask, smirking as his gaze raises to meet yours, a desperate look that tells you everything you need to know, “be a good boy and tell me,” 

He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, as pre drips down his knuckles, “fuck, Princess,” he’s shaking his head, “ I want to cum, please — I need—” 

And your lips curl, “cum for me,” you murmur before you’re wrapping your lips around Satoru again, his tip brushing against your throat, sucking hard, his fingers finding purchase in your hair. And he’s cumming hard, his hot release slides down your throat, nails digging into your scalp, nearly never ending — even as you pull away, his cum paints your face and lips, and drips onto your clothes. His cerulean eyes glazed as he looked down at you between his legs, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his cock. 

And Suguru was no better. He had cum hard all over his hand and the floor, his cock still somehow half hard, his body slumped back in the chair, as his chest heaved. His hair tie had long fallen away, his long black locks brushing against his shoulders. 

You lick your lips clean of Satoru’s cum, wiping the rest away with the back of your hand, “Made such a mess,” you tsk, as you get to your feet, slipping off your shorts and shirt, before leaning down to kiss Satoru, and he’s still sensitive by the way he jolts against your touch, before melting into it, his tongue parted your lips with ease. And fuck, you hoped he couldn’t see how wet you were — nearly dripping down your thighs at this point. 

And you’re pulling away, your thumb dragging down his lips, as his teeth try to catch the finger between them, but you’re too quick. You turn, a smile on your lips, you make your way over to Suguru. 

You’re wiping up the mess on the floor with your shirt before kneeling, “made such a mess, Sugu,” and he’s staring at you through half lidded eyes, his fingers brushing your cheek, “did I say you could touch me?” 

“You never said I couldn’t,” he murmurs, and god, his voice is far gone, raw and nearly guttural, as his fingers found purchase in your hair, “and I think I earned it after your little performance—“ and he hisses when you lean in, tip of your tongue teasing his slit and licking the dripping cum off his half hard cock, “fuck—“ 

“Not yet,” you smiled, as you started to lick his cock clean of his cum, “but maybe if you’re good,” he grunts as you sink is cock into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length, licking and sucking — and fuck, he was already twitching in your mouth. 

And then he’s easing you off his dick with a tug of your hair, and you’re glancing up at him, a question on the tip of your tongue, but he’s swallowing it with a kiss, as his hands slip down your body to haul you nearly into his lap. Calloused palms find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly, as he pulls away, cupping your chin with his thumb. 

“Suguru—” and you yelp as he picks you up with ease, placing you in Satoru’s lap whose hands wind their way around your waist, his fingers already beginning to tease your hardened buds through your bra, a gasp leaving your lips, as Suguru placed his on your neck with a smirk as he murmurs:

 “Let me show you how good we can be, sweetheart.” 

~~~~

“Tell us what you want, princess,” Satoru murmured in your ear, his warm breath doing nothing to help the needy heat between your thighs, the one that Suguru was knelt between, his large palms spreading you before him, “is she as wet as I think, Suguru?” 

And Suguru catches your gaze, a wicked smile on his lips as he replies, “Wetter, she’s a mess, aren’t you?” you bite your lip to stop a whimper from leaving your lips as his fingers graze the growing wet patch on your panties. And your squirming only makes Satoru grunt, his erection pressed against you, the friction doing little to help either of you. 

“Fuckers,” and Satoru clicks his tongue, a smile on his lips as he turns your head. 

“Think I have a better use for that mouth of yours, sweetheart,” and his lips find yours, right as Suguru toys with the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, Satoru swallows the small noise that escapes your lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth as it does. 

And god, you already can’t even think straight. 

Satoru’s fingers are pushing up your bra, teasing your nipples, as Suguru pressing a kiss to your dripping cunt through your soaked underwear. 

“So pretty,” Suguru murmurs, and Satoru’s lips part from yours, gaze darkening as he drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, and he tugs your drenched panties down, “and your cunt is even prettier, isn’t it princess?” 

And you were — your gorgeous pussy was glossy with your pre, dripping all over his fingers when he parts your messy folds, “Bet she’s even tighter, isn’t she?” Satoru murmurs, as his dick twitches against your ass, “

You whine as his words warm your aching pussy, your eyes flickering downwards, as Suguru’s lips graze your inner thigh, and you already know Satoru’s pouting. 

“You’re taking your goddamn time, Suguru, when do I get my chance?” He grumbles, nose brushing against your neck, as you can’t help but chuckle. 

“You got your turn, and now it’s time for you to watch,” and your giggle turns to a soft gasp when his lips press a kiss to your clit, “and sweetheart, can’t wait to see how you’ll punish me for this later — because I’m not stopping until you beg me to,”

Your lips part with a reply, but he pulls a moan from your lips instead as his tongue drags up the length of your weeping entrance. God, fuck, how did you taste this good? His tongue flicked against your puffy clit, drawing lazy circles, your slick already drenching his chin and lips. 

“So fucking good, baby, s’good f’me,” and your fingers are threading their way into his dark locks, pulling him even closer, his lips closing around your clit to suck, “could live in this pretty cunt,” he grunts, the tip of his tongue teasing your entrance. 

Your head falls against Satoru’s shoulders, a groan fell from his lips as his cock dragged against your ass, your slick drenching his thighs and cock alike, “can’t wait to sink my cock into you, fuck,” Satoru murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt rang in his ears, and he could imagine how wet and warm you’d be once he sunk into you, inch by inch. 

And he couldn’t wait — he needed to do something. 

Satoru’s fingers found their way down your body, tweaking your nipple before one large palm dragged slowly down your front, until he found your clit right above Suguru’s face. 

“Toru,” you gasp, as his fingers pinch your clit and Suguru glares, pulling his lips away for a moment, only to sink a finger back in insteas, drawing a moan from your lips, “Sugu—fuck—“ 

And it’s too much, one more touch and you’re cumming, body falling back into Satoru, as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm. Your release runs down their fingers, as Satoru lifts his hand a moment to lick his fingers clean. 

God, you’re too pretty for your own good, Satoru’s eyes drag over you — your kiss ruined lips, skin shiny from your sweat, and the way your eyes were lost in an endless pool of lust. 

“Suguru was right, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” Satoru grin, gently turning your head, and you’re panting, nose wrinkling ever so slightly at his words, and he tuts, “don’t believe me? Well I can fix that,” and his lips find yours again, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your moans, as Suguru continued to finger fuck you. 

Suguru’s finger stretches you open, fluttering, knuckle deep, as your precum drips down his fingers. 

“Remember who’s fucking this cunt, sweetheart,” and Suguru is, another finger parting your needy folds, and between Satoru rubbing your clit and Suguru’s fingers curling to find that one spot, drags against your insides, “fuck, how are we going to fit, Satoru? She’s still so tight,” Suguru grunts. 

You pull your lips from Satoru’s, a whine leaving your lips, “More, please, I need—“ and a third finger joins the other two — but it’s not Suguru’s. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking soft,” Satoru groans, pressing soft kisses to your skin, only serving to make you keen at their touch, and your walls flutter around their fingers. 

“Fuck, we’re trying to fuck her open and she just keeps getting tighter,” Suguru grunts, while Satoru’s lips find your earlobe, sucking, just as he adds another finger, a moan escaping your lips again. 

Suguru’s fingers fuck at a steady pace, fucking deeper and deeper, while Satoru’s are faster, pistoning in and out while dragging against your walls — and it’s not long until they are working you up to a second orgasm, it’s too fucking good — and they both find that spot in you that has you seeing stars. 

“I’m g’nna—” and Satoru finds your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva slipping from the corner of your mouth. And you cum, even harder, your swollen folds clamping down on their fingers as they continue to fuck you unendingly through your orgasm. Your lips pull away, only to moan their names, again and again, until they finally slow down. 

“Good girl,” Suguru murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to your thighs, while you come down from your high, walls flutter around nothing at the praise, while Satoru nips at your neck right above your racing pulse. And your eyes find Suguru lazily palming his weeping erection, as you lift your bare foot to rub against it, making him hiss, while you rub against Satoru teasingly. 

“Don’t forget who’s in control,” you kiss Satoru again, before biting his bottom lip, and he’s melting into your touch, “and, you were good,” your foot rubs against Suguru’s cock again, drawing another pretty groan from his lips, “but now it’s time to be obedient.” 

And they are — as you have Satoru sit back against the pillow lined headboard, because if it was anything you knew now — Satoru loved to be controlled, while Suguru liked the illusion of control, even if he didn’t have even a bit of it. So you have Suguru kneeling behind you, as you climb into Satoru’s lap, a small groan leaving his lips as your cunt grazes his hard cock. 

“Such a good boy, aren’t you, Toru?” your fingers run through his hair — and god, his undercut was so fucking hot, as your fingers found his cock, letting the tip tease your soaked folds, as you line yourself up, “tell me what you want,” 

“Fuck, princess, y’know what I want,” and a whine leaves his throat when you let his tip sink into you, only to pull out. 

“Come on, nothing else to say? You always love running that mouth, don’t you? You wanted this, wanted me to ruin you, didn’t you? Well here we are,” you hum, as you press a teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, “beg me,” 

And his dick twitches, painfully hard, and the words spill from his lips, “Please, please, sweetheart, use me, use my cock as a toy, want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours—” and you’re sinking onto his cock, his length parting your folds, as moans fall from both of your lips. And he bottoms out, your hips meeting his as you do, and you can feel every vein, every ridge, every inch notched inside your walls. 

“Toru, fuck, s’good, s’big,” it feels too fucking good, and he’s so long — god, he was brushing against places you never even dreamed of reaching. And your pussy clenched at the thought of how deep he would go when he would start thrusting. 

“Sure you have space for me, Princess?” Suguru leans back over to press kisses all over your face, before finding your lips in a heated kiss, “might be too tight of a fit,” his nose brushing against your cheek. 

“I’ll make you fit,” you murmur against his lips, your hands against Satoru’s chest, as you shift to cup his chin, “get behind me, Sugu,” 

Suguru smirks, slipping behind you, pressing himself against your back, dragging his cock teasingly against you, “So needy — you’re worse than Satoru,” and Satoru makes a noise of protest, but your walls flutter, making his back arch, “want me inside you, sweetheart?” And his tip teases at your entrance, brushing against Satoru’s cock, causing all three of you to moan, “tell me how much you want us to fuck you, how much you want both of us inside you,” 

“Fucker, I swear to god,” you turn your head, your glare undercut by the desperation on your face, “just fuck me— 

And Suguru sinks into you, your head falling back against him, as both of their cocks stretch your cunt out. You were so fucking full. And the way your walls clenched around them was nearly enough to make them cum. Their groans come in unison. 

“Fuck, Princess, you don’t have to break our dicks off — we’ll fuck you again,” Suguru grunts, his rough palms sliding to your hips to squeeze them. 

“S’good, sweetheart, so fucking right for us,” and you can’t think straight with the two of them inside of you, and you’re moaning. 

“Please, move—“ and they oblige, beginning to fuck you. You moved against Satoru, riding him as best you can, while Suguru fucked you from behind, his balls slapping against your ass. 

Suguru drives into you at a steady pace, causing you to rock against Satoru, your hips pressed against his, as they both drive deeper and deeper into your wet cunt. 

“S’good, so pretty,” Suguru presses sweet kisses to your neck, while Satoru’s eyes flutter open to meet yours, “I’m close, Satoru—“ 

“Me too,” Satoru manages, and his hips begin to meet your thrusts, “you gonna cum for us princess?” And he finds your gaze, the fucked out expression enough to nearly make him cum right there. 

A whine leaves your lips, as they continue to fuck you, and you know you’re so close. And then they find that spot in you again, and you’re falling apart, lips parted in a moan, both their names on your lips. You clamp down on them, toes curling as you cum, and neither of them can last. Their hips stutter as they give sloppy thrusts, until they both cum, 

They groan your name as they spurt their thick cum inside, notching themselves as deep as they could, continuing to fuck their cum inside you with messy thrusts. 

A whimper escapes your lips between pants, as your arms and legs shake from your position, utterly fucked out. You three stay like that for a moment, both of their sweet nothings they murmur to you falling on deaf ears.

And then finally they are shifting you onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your face and neck, as your eyes flutter shut. There’s shifting on the bed, as one of them leaves for a moment, and you make a noise, only to be reassured that he’ll be right back. 

Your eyes finally flutter open to find Satoru and Suguru cleaning you up with a wet washcloth, and your gaze finds both of their own. Your lips curl at the sight of them, their gentle gaze enough to make your heart ache. 

“Come back,” you whine, and they both chuckle, as they begin to finish drying you off, before tossing the washcloth into the wastebasket, and crawling back beside you. They help you pull a shirt on, before settling in. 

“So needy,” Satoru murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, even as he buries his face in your chest, his warm breath tickling you as you run your fingers softly through his white locks. And Suguru presses himself to your back, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his arm around your waist, and yours resting on top of his. 

“What will we do with her?” Suguru mutters, and you can hear the smirk in his tone. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, your eyes beginning to feel heavy, as you give into the warmth that enveloped you from their bodies, as it lulled you to sleep. And your lips curled into a smile, a smile that had you wondering right before you slipped into sleep—

When was it that you fell for them? 

~~~~

You couldn’t do this. Not to them. 

That’s what you had decided come morning — waking up between entangled limbs and soft breaths against your skin — how could you? You felt Satoru shift closer to you, as you leaned into his touch, running your fingers through Suguru’s black locks. You were addicted to their touch only after one night, and now you had to spend the rest of your life without it. 

It was the only way. 

This whole thing was ridiculous to begin with — you never cared to be involved in the yakuza to begin with. You wanted a normal life — or at least as normal of a life you could have with who your grandfather was. You had never expected to end up wrapped up in all of this — and in both of them. 

But you didn’t know if you could choose between them — and you knew, you had to. It wasn’t fair to either of them — not when they had asked you to choose last night and they had indulged you in both of them. And now, you didn’t want to let either of them go. 

So you had to let both of them go. 

You shifted slowly to sit up, Your fingers traced Satoru’s cheek lightly, as you toyed with a strand of Suguru’s hair. They both still stayed fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the early morning, deep in the embrace of sleep after the events of last night and the last few weeks. You didn’t want to be someone like your grandfather — you didn’t know what you wanted and that was enough of an answer wasn’t it?

The two shift in their sleep, and your body grows heavy, your back still aching from last night, as you lie back down beside them, running your fingers over both of their arms. 

Even if you had your answer, you didn’t have to face it for another few hours. And their bodies shifted, Satoru burying his face in the nape of your neck, while you rested against Suguru’s chest. This was enough — enough to last you a lifetime, wasn’t it? Your eyes fluttered shut, sinking slowly back to sleep. You had told your grandfather you’d break their hearts — 

—but you didn’t know you would be breaking yours as well. 

~~~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Satoru narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, as Suguru stepped aside to show the empty room you had left behind — a bare husk with nothing left behind, not even a note. 

It had been a day. 

When Satoru had woken up beside you, he could have sworn he was still dreaming, even as he grazed your skin gently with the back of his knuckles, he still couldn’t quite believe it. And when he spotted Suguru pressing kisses to your cheek, he knew it was real. 

“How long have you been awake?” Satoru raised an eyebrow, “it’s not fair to have your fun while we were asleep,” 

And Suguru rolled his eyes, as he rubbed the back of his knuckles gently against her cheek, “I just woke up, and all I did was kiss her, you idiot,” 

“Not fair, that means I have to kiss her too,” Satoru murmurs, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheek, and one even to your nose. Your nose wrinkles in your sleep, and Satoru’s lips quirk upwards, “she’s so exhausted from last night still,” 

“She is,” Suguru hums, as he tilts his head, “what are we going to do about last night?” 

Satoru pauses a moment to consider, “Well, what is there to discuss? She chose us both, didn’t she?” Satoru leaned close to you, to press a kiss to your head. 

“She did,” Suguru props himself up with his elbow on his side, “I thought you weren’t one to share,” 

And Satoru shrugged — he wasn’t one to share, he wanted what was his to be his alone, but with you — the more people to protect you, the better, “If it’s what makes her happy, I don’t mind,” and he adds, “and I don’t mind if it’s you that I’m sharing with,” 

Suguru raises an eyebrow, a chuckle on his lips, “Is that so? Well, good,” as he runs a finger through your hair, “because I feel the same.” 

But Satoru supposed you didn’t. 

“When did she—“ 

“My father told me she contacted her grandfather this morning, and let them know she was leaving — and her single request was to send us away on business so we wouldn’t be able to stop her,” and Satoru gives a bitter chuckle. 

“So that’s it?” Satoru crosses his arms, “why did she—“ and he cuts himself off, “have you tried to call—“ 

“I’m blocked, I assume you are too,” Suguru shook his head, a silence settling over the two of them that Satoru chose to break. 

“Do we go after her?” And Suguru pauses, his brow wrinkling a moment, before he sighs, shaking his head. 

“If she comes back, it has to be her choice,” Suguru slid his hands into his pockets, “otherwise, we’re back to square one,” and he adds, “and I don’t think I can go back after last night.” 

Suguru steps away, heading back down the hallway, and Satoru follows. 

No, Satoru thinks, sparing one glance at the empty room, before pulling the door shut, neither could he. 

~~~

“Why did you come back?” You set another box down, wiping the sweat from your brow, your grandfather simply watching as you brought your things back into your room. 

“What a warm welcome,” you scoff, as you head back out to pick up another — the other staff had offered to help, but you had waved them off, lifting another box, your back still aching — and now you were starting to regret it. But you knew if you didn’t do something to distract yourself — your phone taunting you on the top of your desk — you’d do something you’d regret. 

And you’d already filled your quota for the next six months at least. 

“Don’t get me wrong, kid,” the geezer sighed, as he watched you bring the last of the boxes in, “I’m glad you’re back and the matters are all settled — but,” he tilts his head, “you seem more miserable than before,” 

“I’m just tired,” you reply, but his furrowed brow says he’s unconvinced, as you grab a box cutter and begin to open up the boxes, beginning to sort through your things, “and still trying to wrap my head around the fact you lied to me,” 

And he sighs, “this isn’t about me right now — it’s about you—“ 

“How convenient,” you mutter under your breath. 

“You’re in love, aren’t you?” And you can’t help but freeze for a moment, until you force yourself to continue unpacking, pulling out some of your clothes from the box, “which one is it?” 

The question stabs between your ribs like a well thrust sword between the ribs, finding the center of the problem — along with your heart. 

“Gramps—” 

“So it’s both of them?” and you whirl on him, your eyes narrowing, and he chuckles, holding up his hand, “I didn’t spy — I just took a guess,” he sighed, as he pulled out your desk chair and took a seat in it, “and it looks like I was right,” 

You swallow, your eyes falling to the floor, “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what—” 

He laughs, “I know you aren’t like me, little one,” he leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap, “you aren’t one to lie — because I know there’s more you hate than liars,” and his gaze grows a little sadder, “And I’m sorry I had to become one of them,” 

You grit your teeth, “I’m not mad at you — I’m just—” you choose your words carefully — because you’re angry, you were upset — upset that he felt as if he couldn’t trust you, “wondering why you didn’t tell me the truth,” 

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “My past isn’t something I’m proud of, and I wanted to deal with it without involving you,” he sighed, “after everything with our family — I didn’t want to give you another reason to distance yourself from me,” 

“Lying to me isn’t a better option than that,” he rubs the back of his head, “you have to make it right for Akari and her mother — as well as if you have any other kids—I don’t need to know,” you add, when he opens his mouth, “it isn’t fair to them,” and it would be no fairer to not choose between Satoru and Suguru. 

“You’re right,” he raises a brow, “is that the problem? You can’t choose between the two of them, eh?” and your gaze refuses to meet his, “have you talked to them about it?” and your silence serves as an answer, “then I think you should take your own advice and talk to them about it,” 

“What will that do?” you murmur, “they still will want me to choose—” 

“Do you know that for a fact?” he crosses his arms, “I think you owe it to them and to yourself to talk to them, and to your grandfather who can’t stand to see you this miserable at home,” 

“Do you think it will change anything?” and he shrugs. 

“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t,” he tilts his head, as he pulls out his phone to call you a car, “but if it’s a chance for you to be happy, isn’t it worth taking?” 

~~~~

“I want to marry you both,” 

And again, your statement is met with confused stares, as you had all but pulled up to their compound and entered to find them seated together discussing business in a side room — and their stares were still anything but average — but to you now, they meant so much more. 

“Not marry you right now, but maybe eventually,” adrenaline was surely pumping through your system, right? That’s probably why your hands were shaking and your mouth was dry, but even so you knew you needed to say it before they spoke, “I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. I told myself after we first met I wouldn’t be a coward, but I was when I ran away, and I don’t have any excuse,” you swallowed, “but I know what I want — and I want both of you, as selfish as that feels,” guilt crawled up your throat at the statement of that sentence, as if begging you to swallow the words that spilled from your lips back up, “and I don’t know how either of you feel — but if we were to do this, I would want us to be honest and—” 

And the screech of their chairs takes you aback, and you felt your cheeks burn, was this it? 

But instead of brushing past you, they stand in front of you, one of them tilting your head upwards to meet their gazes. 

“Took you long enough, sweetheart,” Satoru’s lips curled, his hand cupping your cheek, “I know we said we wanted you to hurt us, but not like that,”

“Sent us away just to ghost us,” Suguru clicked his tongue, his fingers still under your chin, “I’ll have to plant a tracker on you again,” 

You shake your head, “Wait, what? Are you both okay—” 

“We did say we’d kill the other for your hand, but,” Suguru presses a kiss to your forehead, “But now we realize the more eyes watching you, the better, and,” he shrugs, “we don’t mind sharing if it’s just with the other,” 

“And I know you’ll prefer me sooner or later,” Satoru adds, earning a glare from Suguru, as you only chuckle, “Suguru is always so grumpy—ow!” Suguru smacks on the back of the head, as the black haired yakuza wraps his arms around you, pressing your back to his front. 

“And you are always too busy running your mouth,” Suguru replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “sure you can handle both of us in your life?” and you pull Satoru close too, letting his lips brush yours, before turning and pressing a kiss to Suguru. 

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourselves that?” you say, as the two of them wrap an arm around you, “I am supposed to ruin your lives after all.” 

✧ a/n: so this has been a longtime coming. i was supposed to be working on prof geto (5) + my nanami celebration fic but this took over my life and wouldn't let go until i finished. so i hope you guys enjoy!! and this is my reminder why i don't write multi partner scenes like this often because its....difficult. thank you to @gaylatteart for reading and putting up with me <333

✧ taglist: @midmourn, @whore-for-hawks, @ekaterinatepes, @satoryaa, @mandysfanfics, @sodoney, @sukunasfavoritehole, @kazbrkker, @satorugirlie, @itsbokutosjuicyass, @santos4, @levanadragoneel, @talkativetranscendant, @abiiebibie, @simply-a-s1mp, @jolynelovesrain, @deegausserr, @xxemmarldxx, @biancaness, @satoniko, @ackermanbby, @rintoriss, @kentocalls, @marionettte, @bear-likes-mushrooms, @forest-hashira, @catsgomurp, @k1t0u, @rat-loves, @forest-fruits-jam, @wishingforanother, @roseified, @spider-fan72, @caelestine-the-caelicatto, @gojolvrr34, @chosobun, @chuuyasboots, @nanamis-baker, @hanxyy,

[fanzou]

It’s a Match!

✗ Pairing: Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: Lost in an annoying town full of annoying good-for-nothing people, Zoro seeks refuge in an odd looking tent, only to find that it belongs to the towns famous match-maker!

✗ Total WC: 7.0K

✗ CW: SMUT! Zoro is in fact an eater, Zoro in disguise? (Not really), Cunnilingus, P in V sex, Soft Zoro (just a lil bit), Most of this is just smut, ZORO UNMATCHED LIBIDO

✗ A/C: This was such a random thought in my head but I feel like I did so well executing it. I’m hoping you guys like it just as much as I liked writing it!

It’s so nice; The Sunny is really living up to its name right now. The fire-y orb in the sky makes his skin impossibly warmer and it feels wonderful. He rests his hands behind his head and his eyes are closed—both eyes.

Even the waters below don’t crash against the boat so harshly. It doesn’t rock the floating chunk of wood so much to the point that it’s unbearable to even rest as he is, like he wants to.

He doesn’t hear any bombarding voices or obnoxiously loud steps or bangs, not that he isn’t used to it, he’ll sleep right through it because he knows it’s just the ruckus and havoc caused by the usual three idiots doing constant idiotic stuff. But there isn’t any alarming or annoying commotion right now and it makes the peace all the more peaceful, if that was possible.

It’s almost too good to be true, he grunts before he has to involuntarily peel his one eye open and scope the scenery out so that he wasn’t missing any secret attack.

Okay…

Fine. Everything’s fine. And he slowly shuts his eye once more.

It’s not like this everyday and Zoro is eternally grateful for this peaceful afternoon.

And rest he does, in pure bliss with the sun shining off of his defined skin with no havoc to be wreaked and no cook to engage in annoying banter with.

For like… 5 minutes.

-

“Zoro! Get up!” Luffy calls, jumping up and down unavoidably disturbing what he yearned for most, “We’re here!”

Welp, all good things must come to an end right?

Even for the time it was, and he knew for a fact that it was still noon, the lights of the town that inhabited the land still somehow illuminated very brightly. A headache. He gets up finally to wake himself up just a little bit more and he looks around to see almost everyone gathered and ready for the next stop. “Zoro! You finally up?”

He stretches his muscles a bit and fixes his yukata as he does so, “Yeah…m’up.” He says, there’s a little tiredness in his voice.

And now as they near the inescapable flashy lights and overly-decorated scene, he feels even less willing to jump off board and continue his travels with the crew. They’ve talked about this place for the past two days, and none of it seemed intriguing in the way they had described it to be.

Nothing intriguing, and nothing worth mentioning the second they make their way back to the ship.

Which is why he’s more than willing to keep watch of it while they do their own little thing.

“You guys can take this one. M’just gonna stay on board for the time being.” He makes an attempt to walk away before Luffy’s already starting his complaints.

“But you can’t! You have to come, it’ll be fuuuuun! Zoroooooooo!” He yells, because when is Luffy ever not yelling, and grabs hold of his muscles from across the ship with his gum-gum powers.

It’s comedic, laughable. Luffy really is persistent, and it’ll surprise many to believe that his persistence is enough to persuade the big, bad swordsman.

“Usopp said that the food here is amazing! Please, you can’t miss out on this one, c’mon!”

It really is Luffy’s word over everything.

Which is why, unfortunately, he has to join them.

-

So much for his long-gone peace. He got lost somewhere along the way.

Straying away from the group after a liquor store caught his eye, the congested area stirred him far from everyone, and now he was here—just roaming. Sure he could’ve started his search back, but he wasn’t necessarily confident in his ability to do it given the many other circumstances he had… unfortunately, put himself through. So he put his faith in fate.

Don’t even get him started on how much livelier the place is too, how is this even a town? It’s small sure, but it’s so bright, it feels like he’s getting flash-banged anytime his eyes look anywhere but the floor. If he didn’t know any better he’d think this was some sort of grand city. But Zoro would be lying if he said that it wasn’t decent-looking at the very least, the streets littered with decorations from top to bottom with lanterns and glitter shining so brightly.

It wasn’t completely an eyesore, just maybe the people that inhabited the space, and the overdone style to it.

And in the grand scheme of things, there were perks to the obnoxiously crowded area, it did well to shield his public appearance so many would not recognize him. Nor would they care with the way they practically fixated on everything but.

Arrows pointing here, lights pointing there, it only gets worse when it starts getting dark, his exhaust long fades, replaced with an indescribable frustration. He feels his eye twitch every 2.5 seconds, brows furrowed while he clenches his teeth at the bombarding and invasive illuminating advertisements for shops and restaurants that are literally right there. In front of the store.

“Hey, handsome, need a massage? Ya look pretty tense!”

No thanks.

“Hot dogs! Hot dogs for only 100 berries!”

No thanks.

“Fun for him and her! Come to our store so you and your lady can have a great night together!”

No. Fuckin’. Thank you.

He shakes off the growing frustration that brews within him, his patience runs thin and everyone and everything around him is doing little to compensate. He’s mad that he decided to tag along, because it proved worthless in the end, he got lost and now he has to reap the consequences of this stupid fiasco that Luffy so eagerly dragged him along on.

He sighs, defeat evident in his breath. He tries relaxing his shoulders a bit and without the risk of losing his other eye from how blinding every single thing in his vision is right now; he scans the area to find at least somewhere he can ease his mind.

Something, anything. At this point.

And in little time he spots that something. Between two stores, the left store labeled “WAX-IT-OFF!”, and the right being “Grand Line Finance”. He snorts. The complete irony and comedy within the two differing stores humors him but it quickly subsides once he sees what confuses him; it’s an almost igloo-shaped tent. Hm, he says to himself. He naturally gravitates towards it, or unnaturally almost. It’s quite unlike him to let his curiosity get the better of him.

The tent is covered by a velvet fabric and there’s a purple-ish pink light coming from the inside, and for a tent—it’s quite large—fit to house at least 10 people at a time. He doesn’t notice it then but there’s a line that’s already formed, and he waltz’ right on ahead almost as if he owned the huge sphere covered in blankets itself, ignoring the complaints of the crowded line that had been apparently waiting there for quite a while, they express their verbal insults and trash-talk alike towards Zoro.

They don’t do much to hold him back, though.

When he reveals the other side of the curtain, eager to see just what had been waiting, it was far more relaxed, an almost seductive energy that welcomed him. One thing he did realize, was how much more quiet it had become. His once tense muscles immediately unclench at the tranquil setting around him. His hear pears left and right to find that it was just as predictable as the outside was, but that wasn’t to say he was disappointed, quite the opposite.

“Sir, are you next up?” He looks around to see where the voice comes from, and he’s a little confused. “Down here, ya big oaf!” His returned peacefulness is quickly disturbed.

He looks down and it’s a man half his size, he had a weird looking hat and glasses that didn’t let him see behind them. He has a badge that reads “RIO” in bold letters, what Zoro assumes to be his name.

“Are you here to see Lady match-maker or not? She doesn’t have much time to wait!” The man half his size grabs hold of his muscular hand and he just follows. He doesn’t know why. Doesn’t understand how. Typically if it were anything or any other circumstance he’d probably just get the hell out of there, but he doesn’t sense any kind of danger. Not when his only opponent is a 3-foot man and the inside of this new found tent was so comfy.

And—what did he say about a match-maker?

The odd looking fellow practically has to drag him full force across the room and to expose to Zoro another curtain.

Presumably what Zoro thinks might be, “the match-maker”.

He’s got a bad feeling about this, not the sort of enemy territory feeling but a cringy uncomfortable and dumb feeling.

The shorty speaks, “You have ten minutes.” He unveils the curtain and pushes Zoro, or, tries to push Zoro in, but he doesn’t actually step in unless it’s under his own volition because he’s so heavy. When he does; he drinks in the entire scene in front of him, somehow even more glittery fabrics and silky blankets draped across and on top of one another, a table smack dab in the center with someone behind it.

Lo and behold, you—the uh… the match… making—maker. Yeah.

The small guy leaves Zoro’s sight and leaves him under your supervision.

And God, are you beautiful. A lot like your enclosed environment you wore a seemingly large robe that covers a lot of the floor almost acting as a sheet itself. It’s nicely coated around your body, the only skin on you that isn’t modestly covered is your neck and cleavage area and he doesn’t necessarily make his roaming eyes a secret.

And when you speak, “Hello, you can take a seat anywhere.” Your voice is smooth, and the more he takes you in is the more he falls into a sort of hypnosis. You giggle at the tension so prominently visible in his figure, “No need to be shy. Take a seat anywhere.

He snaps out of the trance you didn’t even know you put him in, or maybe you did. Who knows, he sits across from you with his legs crossed into each other and his hands laid onto his lap with a posture that you almost envy, you appreciate his formality.

And he’s just thinking about how amazing it would probably be to fall asleep in here, possibly with you.

It’s at this point that Zoro realizes that he hasn’t talked the whole time, but he makes little effort for his lack of speech until it’s you who breaks the silence.

“First, your name?”

He prepares his voice with a clearing of his throat, “Zo—” Oh wait, shit. He mentally face palms, but is quick to recollect himself. He quickly comes up with a name as a means to cover-up his true identity.

“Zorayo.”

Your brows furrow like you don’t buy it and his heart stops for the slightest second. “Zorayo?”

He feels so awkward right now. “Yeah… Zorayo.”

“Mmm, that sounds a lot like that infamous pirate-hunter… what was his name? Rorono… Roroyoa?” You think long and hard, “Roronoa Zoro!”

He clears his throat with an eye anywhere but yours. “Uh, yeah. I get that. A lot.” With a slight nod.

You scribble something down in your notes, he assumes to be his half-ass attempt at a name. He really hopes he’s not red, because everything about this is just plain embarrassing. If what he assumes about you being a “match-maker” is true and if anyone on the crew saw him coming out of this place, he doesn’t think he’d hear the end of it.

“You don’t happen to be a pirate yourself, do you?” At this, he tenses once again, “You’ve got the look.” He’s a bit taken aback, but as he scans your face for some sort of discomfort or distress, he’s even more surprised at how okay you are with the fact.

You’re not looking at him, instead you’re scribbling something down. You have been this whole time, hardly looking at him.

Yet somehow, the next words to come out of your mouth are, “I find it difficult to believe that you’re really here for match-making, Zorayo.” You drop your pen and rest your chin on both your hands, “What really brings you?”

He grunts, closes his eyes, and inhales. He’s trying to formulate up a lie, but it’s hard when you’re so beautiful. Your eyes are staring into his soul, he’s never seen anything like it. “No, I am. My friends… said that I needed to find a woman. B-But really I just wanna get laid.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his answer disappointed you a bit. “Y’know, if that’s an option.” Your hands come down and grip the pen once more to write down a few notes, and he can’t help from tapping on his knee a little bit now. His answer was shallow, desperate, and far from him, and he doesn’t understand why it bothered him to care about how you perceived it.

You let a silence linger for a bit as you bring the pen to your lips and tap it a few times, “What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “S’what I’m trying to figure out, woman.” He snorts, and your face returns with an almost bothered look.

You roll your eyes and rest the metal pen down harshly, “Do you actually wanna get ‘laid’?” You ask him almost rhetorically and using his vulgarities against him, “Then don’t be a smart ass.” You mumble under your breath, God, you pirates.

Once again, he’s taken aback by the sheer bluntness in your claim, and he’s almost offended. He gulps, he’s not nervous. Can’t be.

“Why do you assume I’m a pirate?” He exclaims in genuine confusion. “Look at you!” To emphasize your claim you extend your hand in reference to the big muscular and scarred man, “And besides, you’re not the only one who’s ever come to me for my assistance.”

He almost wants to mirror your previous eye roll, assistance?

Almost sounds like he’s having trouble getting his dick wet.

And, well—It looks that way, and he wants to crawl in a hole, anyone other than the one he was kinda already in, because of how utterly shameful this is to him.

Thankfully or not-so-thankfully you break the silence, “You have 6 minutes on the clock, mister. Better make it worth while.”

If he were being honest, all he wanted to do was just rest across the shiny blankets that littered the entire place, even if it meant he had to threaten everyone outside in line in order to get it. And he curses himself for getting into this predicament.

Speaking of outside, he did not want to go back anytime soon. The disgusting, flashy and flamboyant, utterly obnoxious, did he mention disgusting?—Outside.

Well, here goes nothing.

Zoro thinks on his response for you, he wants to make it so that it gives you at least something to work with, but not so much that it sounds tender or anything like that.

“I like women who know what they’re about. Not the shy type. I like ‘em when they can fend for themselves.” He nods in confirmation, satisfied with his own proclamation.

And you seem to be as well. There it is. Now we’re talkin’.

You scribble down on your notes once again, more impressed and relaxed by his revelation, it’s not much but it’s progress. “Anything… physical?”

“Mmm… physical?” He pans his vision from the soft scenery to you, “not… not necessarily.” He’s back to ogling you again.

You scribble, “Okay, Zorayo… You don’t like short hair? Long hair?”

You’re not met with a response, and when you look up, Zoro is still there, just with his unwavering gaze set on you, or more accurately—gaze fixed on your body, like he’s checking you out.

“Zorayo?”

He shakes his head as if to shake away unwanted thoughts. “Oh— Um. No. Yes. I mean, listen, S’long as she’s not ugly.”

Ugh, where have I heard that a gazillion times before.

Men.

“How am I supposed to identify that if you won’t tell me what you find physically attractive?!” The tip of your fingers are white from your grip.

Clients are difficult, clients are stubborn, and it’s not like you haven’t come across a guy like this once in a while, but you’d be damned if you didn’t admit that it was annoying as hell every. Single. Time.

You breathe, “Zorayo, full transparency.” You place your fingers on your chest to mark sincerity, your tone is softer. “I think you are attractive, I believe you’ll find no trouble in getting a girl in that department. I sense that you don’t often make the first move, and because of your naturally intimidating nature, it’s like a double-edged sword. Women won’t approach you.” You empathetically state. He just listens.

You ponder on your next word-choice as to not offend him if you had already, “it’s only difficult because you make it difficult. I assure you, you would have girls falling at your feet if you were just a little more… giving?” You finish with hope that he understands your meaning.

You can tell he absorbs your words a bit, and it’s definitely progress from where you started. You rest your shoulders in a bit of relief to find that he finally might seek that inner peace and comprehension, understanding maybe why he might be feeling so defeated in the romance department. You weren’t a match-maker for nothing, right?

He puts his finger on his chin, and the smallest tiniest smile graces his face.

“Well f’thats the case, why don’t you just sleep with me?”

“That’s great, Zo—Huh?” Your eyes are shot wide open, and you look at him in pure disbelief. What the hell is wrong with this guy? “How could you even suggest something so inconsiderate and vulgar? I have clients that are patiently waiting outside!”

He snorts, “They can always wait.” His smirk gets wider, his eyes a little darker. You gasp, or scoff—you don’t know what it is. You’re so blown away by the fact that he’d request something so dirty and scandalous. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m not one for the taking, idiot! I am the match-maker, not the matched.”

He becomes more relaxed in his posture, his hands are grounded to the floor behind him to act as balance, “Is it against the rules or somethin’? Like ya can’t get fucked?”

Oh, he’s getting so much more vulgar, and… for some reason, it’s… turning you on a bit. And he looks unbothered, almost bored at your fit. You’re red, you’re red all over. It’s bad. This is bad for you. Usually you’re not the flustered one, and sure clients will come in with their occasional flirting and advances. But this?

This is too advance.

“Zo… Zorayo—I can’t possibly…” you close your eyes as you look away from him and shamefully pull your face away from his direction. But he’s not hearing a no, which is something he’d assume you would have verbally expressed by now. And… sure. He was attractive, very visibly, audibly… verbally so. It’s not something you lied about with clients, which is why you were not sold on the fact that he needed any help finding the perfect woman for he in fact, was sculpted by the Gods themselves.

He takes it upon himself to get up, walk over to your side while you wallow in your state of shamefulness and whatever it is that you’re so worked up about. He’s slow in his movement, calculated to see how you’d react if he got anymore closer to you to ensure that what he was about to do wasn’t one-sided and you weren’t actually against the concept.

He kneels at your side and his hand finds its way to your lap, you yelp a bit at the sudden contact. You’re so ashamed right now, so red.

Then it dawns on him, you poor thing. He smiles sadistically. It hits so quickly by the way you react at his physical advance, that you yourself are not being taken care of. The woman who has set up many couples for life? The woman who has brought people to fate and great happiness? But herself? The smile on his face grows a little bit wider, and his hand snakes to your chin, an attempt that you almost melt into too easily. He gets closer to your face. You’re finally looking at him, and he waits for the green light.

“I’ll… I’ll tell Rio to close up for the n-night.”

He’s satisfied, “Good girl.”

You drag your knees across the covered floor as you make your way to the covers, your hands are shaking—with excitement or anxiety, maybe both. You don’t know. You fix yourself, pull the covers in hopes of only revealing your own flushed face and there he was, patiently waiting for your signature cue.

“Rio, there’s a bit of an issue.”

The short man immediately responds, “What is it, my lady?” He sounds a little alarmed so you assure, “I’ll have to reject my services for the rest of the night…”

“T-This one’s… a special case.” You feign a soft smile.

He seems confused a tad, because there’s never an instance where you’ve felt the desire to put such an abrupt stop to your services. A special case? That makes him visibly more confused, but he’s confident in your skill and trusts that you understand what you’re doing. “Understood, Miss. I’ll leave you to it while I fight off those desperate dogs outside.” He laughs at his joke and turns his back to you. You manage a small thank you.

You were confident in his ability in doing so, though he be small he was quite fierce. When the coast was clear and you hear your assistants muffled yells to the stubborn customers, you slowly cover back the space leaving you to the muscled beast, alone once again.

You turn to him, “I’m just letting you know that I haven’t had sex in a while, so you’re gonna need to prep me.” You make work of the robe that’s snug tightly around your waist.

He scoffs, as if offended by your request, “‘Thout question.”

You furrow your brows, “Don’t get cocky on me now, it’s you who needs to get laid.” And you instantly regret the words that come out of your mouth, because now he’s giving you daggers for eyes. He gestures you over nonetheless, and you crawl over to him with no question, now it’s as if you’re entranced by the green-haired man, he’s handsome—beautiful almost, it doesn’t take much will-power to follow his fingers that beckon you over.

“A-And, you can’t be too rough.”

“That’s fine.”

“—And we stop when I say so.” He nods in respect, huh, easier than you thought.

After the knot of your robe was undone, and it feels like it was forever til you got it, you reveal a loose and simple dress underneath and he doesn’t exactly make his appeal towards you discreet.

But it dawns on you, because you haven’t done this in what feels like an eternity that you literally don’t know what to do, let alone with someone so… large?

“How do you wanna…” you gulp and pick at your nails in nervousness.

“Jeez, woman. You a virgin or somethin’?” Well, right now you might as well be. He gets up from his seated position and stands on his knees, “Lay down on the table.”

It’s probably for the better that he’s in control of everything you both do, you’ve already laid out the ground rules of what he can or can’t do, and it’s only really up from here. You do as he instructs, not too eagerly, not too anxiously and you can say that you were satisfied with the way you carried yourself thus far. You just really really hope he can’t tell that you need this as much as he might.

You sit on your little table, and he’s kneeling in front of you.

He’s impossibly bigger.

He grabs ahold of your thighs, almost letting his fingers dip underneath the fabric of your short dress and you shiver in immediate reaction. His hands are so warm, and you can’t help but put your smaller one on top of his.

He takes it as a sign to let his face come closer to yours, and you could almost call him a romantic; the way he tilts his head and his eye is half-shut, he leans in almost too slow for your liking, but his lips meet yours anyways. He almost made you feel like you had to earn it.

When your lips touched, it takes you by surprise to learn that they’re much softer than they look, and he’s skilled—he comes closer, his fingers glide up to your hips and underneath your last piece of large coverage, he grips a little tighter but not uncomfortably so, and his tongue swipes across your lip almost as if to ask for permission to enter.

—And enter it does, you whimper pathetically into his attack and it’s getting very hot. Be it his body temperature or how much you’ve moved within the past 5 minutes within such a tight space, it’s inevitably warmer in your familiar environment. You wonder, is he this good at everything?

Only one way to find out.

“Lie down on your back.” He commands as he pulls away, and you oblige. On your back you get a better look at his figure that looks like it’s about to eat you alive. It’s technically what you want right now, anyway. He hooks his thick finger into your panties and pulls them down. For the first time you hear a satisfied grunt leave his mouth, he’s been damn near non-verbal this entire time so it feels like a little prize when he does.

He throws your undergarment to the side but never strips his stare away from you, “This all for me?” That smirk returns, he takes his middle finger and starts pressing it up and down your cunt that draws another whimper out of you. You think he’s referencing the wetness, and it’s kind of embarrassing.

He laughs at your sudden inability to talk back.

“J-Just get it over with.” You say, you don’t realize it until then but you’re gripping the edge of the table almost like you’re bracing for some sort of impact, perhaps you were just that nervous, would he really be gentle like he promised? He looks down at you, and your body immediately softens, he doesn’t look so mean or aggressive at this moment.

He glides his hands up to the back of your knees and presses them impossibly up to your chest and it confuses you for a split second. He dips down immediately and flattens his tongue almost down from your asshole and all the way up to your clit. Your body flinches a bit and you seethe.

Just when you thought he might have been setting the pace nice and sensually slow, he immediately goes to town, sucking and licking at your pussy like a man starved. You whimper his fake name.

He cringes at the name a little bit, but it instantly subsides when he realizes just how good your cunt tastes. He makes quick work of adding a finger inside whilst his tongue continues a nice attack on your clit. You’re in another dimension at this point. This position was so vulnerable, so open and you now understand why he decided that it was best to start like this.

Another finger joins in, and the way your pussy sounds is pornographic—his bulge grows impossibly bigger and he catches himself from moaning as a blanket softly touches his sensitive area. He’s enjoying this way more than he thought he would. As a matter of fact, Zoro forgets why he was even here in the first place, not that he cares but—wow, what a prize you were. If getting lost meant this was what welcomed him on the other side every time, he’d have to try it a lot more.

You’re gone, understandably so. “It’s—soooo goood, mmmm…” you curse and whine at his fast pace, “‘Think m’gonna—!”

And like manifestation you cum, it hits so much harder than you think it will and the come-down is so much slower than you anticipated.

His fingers and tongue fuck you through it but not unbearably, he pulls his fingers out and glides them up and down your slit as he watches your face contort into a feeling of indescribable satisfaction. He lets you come down from your amazing high before he’s bringing your body closer to him by a latch of your hips, “That feel good baby?” He says in a husky voice, kissing up and down your neck and all you can manage is a whiny mhm! before he’s pulling off his yukata and leaving you speechless.

You softly moan at his bare physique, the little window of his chest doesn’t do it any justice—it’s much better than you expected it to be, much larger too and his cock is damn near screaming to come out just by the looks of it stretching the material out.

You pick yourself up with all the strength from your arms and try to get your dress off, and he watches you struggle for a moment before, “Here, let me—” and in little effort, he pulls it over your head.

He looks you up and down, and it goes straight to your throbbing cunt once again. “Fuck, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You lay down again but this time pushing yourself up just a little bit by your elbows, just to get a glance at the action.

“You want me to take care of you, doll? Huh?” Zoro pulls his own undergarments down, revealing what you’ve been aching for this entire time. “A shame, no one thought to ever take your feelings into consideration.” He gives himself a few strokes as he lines himself up, then slowly pushes into you. He sighs at the stretch, and the way it slowly and surely disappears into you. “Takin’ it so fuckin’ well. Just like you should.”

Your eyebrows instantly smash together with your mouth hanging open, eyes squinted just the perfect amount. Zoro groans, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, hm? You want me to keep going?”

“Y-es, yes please! Need it bad!”

And since you asked so nicely, he gives a little push in and out, it makes you moan so desperately that one of your hands clenches within itself from how shameful the nature of it truly was.

And you’re so sure that even with the unnecessary amount of coverage the tent has, someone’s probably heard you if they were close enough. You should be ashamed of yourself; getting slutted out like you were some sort of cock-sleeve. No man has ever made you feel this full, so anyone curious enough to get up close was just gonna have to put up with how much of a whore you sounded like right now.

He picks up his pace and it’s not relentlessly fast or painfully slow, it was just right and you think you might be on Cloud 9 with the way the thing glides in and out of your once neglected cunt.

“Tell me how much you like it, doll.” His head is tilted and his gaze is marked with nothing but lust.

“It feels s-so… so good. Feels like nothing I ever felt before— fuck!” You grab hold of the edge of the table and any loose blanket in close proximity. “More, please! More Zorayo!” And he was so lost in his own pleasure that he’s long forgotten about that dumb name he decided to give you.

“J…Just call me Zoro.” He says breathlessly, pace never faltering.

Well, must’ve been as good a time as any to have told you that, because you really didn’t seem to care, maybe too cock-drunk to even think about it enough. And honestly Zoro himself doesn’t either, with the way your tits bounce with every time he pounds into you, you look like you’re in another world and he’s soon to join you.

You’re moaning, then it turns into soft little cries and whimpers and that’s when Zoro knows that you’re on close approach.

“Let it out, baby. Like that.” His own thrusts are a little sloppy and he’s watching your every expression with close examination. “Juuust like that, s-shit.” The way he talks you through it, his grip on your skin and the skin-ship itself—it’s so much, it pushes you over the edge. With a cry of his actual name this time, which sounds so much better and allows him to relish in his own bliss fully, you cum, and it’s even better than the last.

Your body shakes with every thrust that goes in and out, in and out while Zoro chases his own high, his body shivers a little bit and he finally pulls out when he knows the exact moment he might accidentally fuck his release into you. He pushes your legs coated with slick tightly together, then starts to thrust into your thighs, the scene is disgustingly lewd; he’s using you to get off with your own body but oh well, he’s not pushing his seed inside of you and that’s what counts.

He paints your stomach with all different kinds of strokes and you’re a living breathing mess, there’s so many fluids coating your body that you can hardly tell which is which aside from the one on your stomach, you’re tired to say the least. But you’re still aching.

You’re aching for him, in specific. It’s not enough, and after tonight you don’t think it’ll ever be enough, he’s too good. Too skilled for his own good and you can’t stop wanting him. “Zoro, *breath* n-need *breath* more.” You manage to say as you try leveling yourself. “Need more of your cock, ple—ase!”

And all you had to do was ask.

He picks you up a little and off the table with your assistance, grounding your body on the floor next to it, that way Zoro can get in a more intimate position he’d hoped for all along. His body on yours, in whatever way you’ll allow him to take you. It sounds like a dream.

You claw at his bicep while he hovers over you, and it feels like he hasn’t kissed you in forever. He comes down to meet your lips once again, shaft in hand and again, lining himself up. Only this time as a warning Zoro rubs himself up and down before entering you with a slow push. You manage a “Mmmfffhh!” At the intrusion, but you welcome it anyways. He starts his pace like the last.

There’s something different about it though, it might be the intimacy and just how close you guys seem to be this time around, you’re wrapping yourself around him like he was your life-line. You have your hands tight around his shoulders with your legs hanging off his hips for support while they rock into you with much force to accompany it.

He’s just as gone as you are, his cock is hitting you in the deepest places he couldn’t have imagined. “You’re… so good for me, s’like you’re mine. Letting me fuck you like th—is.” He says with a groan following suit, “You like getting spoiled like this, baby?”

Your eyes are shut tight and you’re dizzy, “Mhm! O—Only by you! J-Just by you Zoro!”

Now it might’ve been the heat of the room, but you feel so impossibly wet, all over. And it’s proven in the way that the blankets surrounding you are slowly getting drenched with your sweat amongst many other things, you’re a bit ashamed for a second, you wonder how you’ll clean it up.

That thought gets thrown out the window the faster it comes in through it, Zoro hits a spot you were all too familiar with and you cry out. “Oooooooh… fuck… yesyesyesyesyes—” You chant his name like your life depended on it, and he feels like he could just explode right then. He’s so enamored by you, the way your sweat accentuated every beautiful thing about you and it sends him into overdrive, he promised not to get rough but it’s impossible. His hips are automatic in that sense, he just wants to ruin you.

You don’t seem to mind the change in pace, how rough he fucks you, though. “Y-Yes, like that, don’t. Fucking. Stop.” You welcome it if anything.

He laughs at your change of heart, “M…not planning to, doll.”

And almost as if you’re trying to choke around him, it’s dangerously tight, and with every thrust it feels almost impossible going back in—it’s like he can’t imagine that this feels good for you but your face truly begs to differ. You stare at him with so much desire in your eyes and your body naturally pleads for more, bucking hips and arms like you never wanna let go. Zoro doesn’t even remember what drove him to come here in the first place, but he can’t imagine a better outcome—a doll like you, sweet and willing to let him fuck you in any position he wished. God, he almost wants to steal you away from this loser town and have you all to himself.

He feels himself dangerously closer this time, all the more sensitive. And without your audible declarations, he thinks he might cum before you.

He brings his thumb to your clit and starts his circular motion before coming down to kiss you gently, muffling your sweet sounds while you wrap your hands around his neck. Everything about this screams intimate, if it wasn’t for how rough he’d have been going you would have thought he was making love to you.

You gasp for air as your orgasm quickly reigns down on you for the third time, his strokes are a little bit sloppier and he’s instantly pulling out to once again; cumming on your stomach.

It’s quiet for a while save for the sighs and heavy breaths that leave both your throats, he’s leaning back off of his heel to get a good look at you after damn near ravaging you. He’s content, but he genuinely believes he could go for another couple more rounds. Your laid on your side, eyes closed and relaxed.

Zoro turns you back onto your position before and takes a nearby piece of cloth that is to no surprise nearby, to wipe off your stomach, “Bailin’ on me already?” He says, it’s playful but he’s as a serious as you’ll let him be. He’s still half hard and he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop anytime soon.

“How many rounds can you go, you beast?” You ask trying to sit up off of your elbows once again.

“Bout as many as you can take.”

-

And take you do, the brute man fucks you through all the rest of the continuous rounds. Slow, hard, soft—just when you think you might not be able to withstand the next one, all it takes is a glance at his hungry eyes and you’re back under his wrath, it’s pathetic almost and you should be ashamed, but it feels euphoric.

You realize about half-way through it all that you’re not fucking just anyone, but the Roronoa Zoro. The man with a billion dollar bounty on his head. It should make you stop. Shouldn’t it? You should put an end to this scandal before someone finds you out, the second it dawns on you.

And you’ll take it to the grave; the truth is that it made you so much more hungrier for him. You, a mere civilian amongst a no-name town that many along the Grand Line used as a means to kick their feet up and relax, so small and irrelevant… are fucking one of the most dangerous men across the 4 seas?

Why, it was nothing but fuel to you. To go harder, faster, just for him. Just to impress him and make him feel like you were the only one for him.

The last round is when he ruthlessly suggests that you ride his dick, you could tell that he was getting off on the idea of you being so desperate for his cock and trying to muster up any will-power to drag yourself up and down. It was comedic really, you were crying, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop even though your thighs were so painfully sore. It almost felt like a drug.

Along the way he decides that he’s bored with the theatrics and pulls you down just to fuck up into you. And the way you came just felt as good as the last. You pulled off of him and rubbed your slit onto his shaft while he came as well.

Now with him sprawled against the bedded floor with him on top of you, it’s boiling in the room now, you might even slide off of him because of how wet you both are. Lewd, dirty, disgusting. But if no one’s outside with pitchforks and fire the way you chanted his unmistakable name, you’d say you weren’t too loud. Maybe.

“So, d’you think I found my match?” He says, and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from you.

“Not yet.” You lay your head against his wet chest, “You’re gonna have to keep looking. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

His chest vibrates against your head with a big hum, “Not worth my while, not as good a fish as you.”

[jaikoyaki]

One more chance.

//kim minji x reader//Street racing AU// Oneshot //

— Tied her down to my Queen bed. Tease her just enough to hate me.

SYPNOSIS ❯❯❯❯ Rivals, exes, idiots with fast cars. you race, you fight, you kiss—sometimes not in that order. tonight’s supposed to settle the score. but when has that ever gone to plan?

WARNINGS ❯❯❯❯ Suggestive jokes/themes, Explicit Language, gayness

TAGS ❯❯❯❯ Street Racing AU, Enemies/exes to something, Fluff, Mutual Pining, teeny tiny angst, Underground Racing Culture, FEM!READER

WC ❯❯❯❯ 3.3K

A/N ❯❯❯❯ Bro. Why do all my writing sprees start at 1am. like thats my peak freak hour. I nearly titled this “fast & freaky” 😿🙏 and every time I reread it in the morning I cringe so bad oml. Also fuck tumblr i got this accidentally posted this twice

Minji looks stupid good under neon.

Always has, always will.

She’s got on this oversized firetruck red windbreaker, slung off one shoulder, and a navy cap pulled low so the bold “P” hides her eyes. Not that it matters. You know that look. You’ve memorized it. 

Her little crew is wrapped around her like she’s royalty but you know better.

She never needed an entourage.

She had you.

Once, you were the one by her side. Closer than any of them.

Now you’re across the lot, gripping the wheel like it’s her hand and praying your engine doesn’t stall the second she glances your way again.

You’re parked right at the edge of the strip—an old shipping yard they turned into a half-legal racetrack, lit only by flickering floodlights and the glow of brake lights. Smoke curls into the sky from burnt-out tires. The air’s thick with gas, sweat, and something else you won’t name.

People are everywhere, perched on hoods, crowding around the starting line, drinks in hand, phones out. Some are here to race, most are just here to watch.

“YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS!”

 The host’s voice crackles through the busted PA system, slicing through bass and bad decisions.

“Another night, another round of racing! Don’t cry when your bets flop! And don’t cry too hard when your car eats shit on the last corner!”

The crowd whoops. Somewhere behind you, someone lets off a firecracker.

You roll your eyes and lean back against your car, arms crossed over your chest.

“He’s getting more dramatic every time,” you mutter.

“Yeah,” Ryujin replies, slipping beside you, “but he’s right. Bet money’s gonna get ugly tonight.”

You shoot her a look. “You betting against me now?”

She snorts. “Please. I like my money where I can count it.”

 Then she elbows you. “You know Minji’s crew showed up an hour early just to scout the track?”

Your gaze flicks across the lot. Minji’s still there—right where you left her in your rearview mirror.

“Guess she’s worried.”

“Or,” Ryujin says, nudging your shoulder, “..she’s just taking it seriously. Word is a sponsor specifically requested this race.”

“What race?”

She deadpans. “The one you’re in. With her.”

You blink. “Huh..?”

Ryujin stares at you. “Did you not read the group chat?”

You definitely did not.

“Some hotshot sponsor asked for you two specifically. Said it’d draw a crowd.”

You frown. “Why? We always end up tying anyway.”

“Exactly,” she grins, “they eat that shit up. Everyone wants to see who’ll finally win.”

You sigh, turning your attention to the starting line where two cars rev. Another crew-versus-crew race about to start. One of the drivers signals to the crowd, standing half-out the window, hyping them up. His engine is loud like it's got something to prove. The other car flashes its headlights in response.

“Ten seconds!” the host calls out, voice echoing off rusted metal and sweat-slick concrete. A girl in fishnets raises her arms at the starting line, bandana fluttering from one wrist like a flag.

You and Ryujin watch in silence.

"That one’s from Jeno’s crew,” She murmurs, nodding toward the black Supra with matte decals. “He’s fast, but he always oversteers on turns. Cocky.”

You hum, eyes locked on the track.

The girl drops her arms.

Engines scream, tires screech, and the two cars launch forward like rockets.

The crowd erupts as they rip down the makeshift strip.

They drift the last corner hard, one nearly clipping the sidewall. It's messy, but it earns a cheer.

“Messy,” you mutter. “But ballsy.”

“Mhm,” Ryujin agrees. “Still won’t beat you, though.”

You flash her a small smile. But it fades the second you glance back across the lot—

Minji’s not in her spot anymore.

She’s moved closer to the track, standing just behind the barrier, closer than she needs to be.

And closer to you.

You spot her through the smoke just as another set of tires scream across the finish. She’s got that look on again—the one that says she’s thinking three steps ahead.

Well, fine. So are you.

You push off your car and stroll over, hands deep in your pockets, the smirk already forming.

“You finally come to get a better look?” you ask, stopping just a little too close. Like, you-can-smell-her-perfume close.

Minji doesn’t flinch. “Just wanted to see what kind of excuse your crew’s gonna spit out when you choke again.”

“Cute,” you grin. “You sound nervous.”

Her eyes slide to yours. “You wish.”

You laugh under your breath. “You always talk more when you're trying not to feel something.”

The parking lot was empty, save for the two of you and the occasional buzz of a streetlamp overhead.

“You should probably ease off throttle in that second turn. If the back end slips, counter-steering alone won’t be enough, you’ll need—” She paused, catching herself mid-ramble.

You raised an eyebrow, looking over. “Min.”

“What?”

“You’re overthinking again.”

Minji sighed, low and annoyed, more at herself than you. “I’m not.”

“Yes you are. You nervous?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes stayed on the dark stretch of road beyond the lot, and her voice, when it came, was tight. “It’s not nerves. I just... like to be prepared.”

You nudged her with your shoulder. “And I know when you’re lying.”

She glanced at you, and for a second, something softened in her expression—like she wanted to admit it, to just let it out. But then the wall came back up. She took another sip of her drink, voice casual again. “Then stop asking dumb questions.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to be scared of losing.”

“I’m not,” she said, too fast.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Her jaw ticks, just barely.

Bullseye.

“I talk more when I’m bored,” she fires back, deadpan. “And you’re a slow burn.”

You tilt your head, lips twitching. “Funny. You weren’t bored last time you were in my backseat.”

Her jaw tightens.

“Oh—we’re still pretending that didn’t happen?” you say, sweetly venomous. “Should I shut up before your crew hears how loud you were?”

Minji’s team starts glancing around awkwardly. Yours is already watching like this is the undercard fight before the main event.

“And here I thought red was your lucky color,” you muse, eyeing the way it clings to her. “Still looks better crumpled up on my floor.”

That does it.

She spins on her heel and stalks back to her side without saying a word.

You watch her go, a smug little curl tugging at your lips.

She’s rattled.

Exactly where you want her.

–

Minji stalks back to her side of the lot. The crowd’s still buzzing, cheers, engines, someone yelling about lost bets—but she doesn’t hear any of it.

Her head’s still full of you.

Of the way your voice dropped, just enough to make her pulse beat faster. The stupid smirk you wore like it was your default face. God, it’s like you know exactly which buttons to push, and worse, you do it on purpose.

She’s halfway to her crew’s car when Hanni materializes beside her.

“She’s so annoying,” Minji mutters, yanking off her gloves one finger at a time like they personally offended her.

“And hot,” Hanni chimes in like she’s checking off a list. “Annoying and hot. The deadliest combo.”

Minji shoots her a look.

“What?” Hanni shrugs, hands buried in her hoodie pockets. “You keep racing her. That can’t just be about pride. Either you’re trying to prove something to her, or you’re hoping she rear-ends you and calls it foreplay.”

Minji glares. “Hanni.”

“I’m just saying, man.” Hanni says, all innocent. “You get weird when she’s around. Stiff. Clenchy. Very Batman-core.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Hanni cuts in. “You were flirting and fighting at the same time. Flirting-with-enemies-to-lovers pipeline speedrun.”

Minji scowls, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s not—she’s just… distracting.”

Hanni grins. “Awww. She gets under your skin. That’s sooo gay of you.”

Minji doesn’t respond. She doesn’t have to. Her silence says enough, especially when her eyes flick back toward the track. Toward where you’re standing.

She still remembers the last time you two raced. The tie. The after. The stupid, breathless laugh you gave her in the dark when you said, “Bet you let me win.” As if she didn’t push her engine harder than she ever had that night just to keep up.

—

Fifteen minutes later, the host’s voice crackles to life again, loud and electric.

“ALRIIIIIGHT! We’ve got a special matchup tonight, folks—one straight outta hell!”

The crowd roars in anticipation.

“Back by very popular demand—Minji of the NJZ Crew, and Y/N from the 88s! You know ’em. You love ’em. You fear what’s gonna happen if one of them actually wins this time!”

People scream. Cameras flash. Phones are up, recording, live-streaming.

Bets are flying, shouted across the space like war shouts. You even hear someone yell “Fifty grand on the 88s!” over the din.

You step toward the line, helmet swinging from your fingers, engine still humming behind you.

Minji’s already there, leaning against her MR2 like she's posing for a photo. Her windbreaker gone, now tied loose around her waist. She’s in a fitted white tank stamped with I ❤️ ME, Her track pants sit low, hips tilted just so— and okay—

You almost hate how good she looks.

Almost.

She glances at you as you approach, then back to her car, jaw tight.

No words?

You grin.

“What? Not even a ‘good luck’? I thought you were a gracious loser, Min.”

She doesn’t flinch. Just shifts her weight and leans into the door of her car, lips curling into the faintest smirk.

“I was just thinking…” she says, voice slow and deliberate, “how nice your car would look with my initials keyed into the hood.”

You blink. Your cocky grin falters for a second—just a second. Long enough for her to catch it.

She saw.

You recover quick, letting out a short laugh. “Dream big.”

She opens her door but pauses, glancing over her shoulder. “It’s cute when you pretend you’re not nervous,” she says, voice pitched lower now. Just for you. “But I’ve seen the way your hands shake after a close race. You still get that adrenaline high?”

Your jaw clenches.

“Why, you offering to help me wind down after?”

She looks at you then. Really looks. Her eyes drag down your figure like she’s memorizing you.

“Only if you win,” she murmurs. “But we both know you won’t.”

You recover fast—ish. Coughing once. twice. Covering your smile with your hand. Okay. She wants to play like that now?

“You always flirt when you’re desperate?” you ask, trying to steady your voice. It almost works.

Minji raises a brow, eyes gleaming. “Desperate?” She steps closer. “L/N, if I wanted to rattle you, I wouldn’t be using words.”

You open your mouth—ready to snap back, or maybe choke—but the host’s voice cracks through the moment.

You blink.

Wait.

You were supposed to rattle her.

-

"Let’s make it spicy tonight, shall we?” the host’s voice booms over the speakers, dramatic. "Winner takes ten grand from our very generous sponsor and... who knows—might just walk away with a real racing contract. That’s right, our mystery backer’s in the lot tonight, hunting for the next underground icon. Think of it as your shot at going pro.”

Racing contract.

cheers and gasps ripple through the crowd. 

That’s new.

That’s everything you’ve ever wanted

Your heart stutters.

You glance at Minji. Her expression doesn’t change, but you notice how her fingers tighten on the wheel, the knuckles turning white.

“And hey,” the host adds, clearly having the time of his life, “loser’s still the winner’s bitch for the night!”

The crowd explodes.

You smirk behind the glass of your helmet as you finally slide it on, slow and deliberate. Your hands find the wheel like they belong there.

Minji’s already seated, belt clipped, gaze straight ahead.

No more talking.

But you don’t need words to know what she’s thinking.

She wants this.

Bad.

Just like you.

The girl from earlier steps back onto the track, arms raised, bandana whipping in the wind.

Red.

Your foot taps the gas once—just enough to feel the purr of your engine under your heel.

Yellow.

Minji’s MR2 booms beside you, low and steady.

You glance once at her, just once, through the smoke and heat.

She’s already looking at you.

And she smiles.

Green.

The second the light turns green, you’re off.

Rubber shrieks against pavement as your tires fight for grip. The force slams you into your seat.

Minji’s MR2 launches beside you, her shift smooth, timing perfect. She’s done this a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.

She’s right there—mirror to mirror, heartbeat to heartbeat. You can feel her, even through the roar.

She's not holding back. Not tonight.

Streetlights flicker overhead, throwing shadows across the cracked asphalt.

You take the first bend a little too tight—there’s a trash bin sitting half in the road.

You overcorrect, swerve slightly, tires skimming the edge of the curb.

Don’t oversteer. She’ll never let you live it down.

Minji doesn’t flinch.

She sees your mistake and takes advantage, cutting inside and passing you cleanly.

Her MR2 hugs the turn perfectly, tires whispering instead of screaming.

Typical.

You spot an opening: a tight, flooded alley shortcut that most wouldn’t risk. You remember it from scouting earlier, but you hadn’t planned to use it. It’s too unpredictable. Still, you dive in.

Water splashes up the side of your car, and for a moment, the whole chassis shudders.

You're hydroplaning—

Breathe. Don’t panic. Catch it.

You do. Barely.

When you burst out the other side, you’re ahead.

Final lap.

Now it’s you she’s chasing.

The road curves into a long sweeping turn, then tightens into a brutal S-curve right before the finish.

You keep your line tight, eyes flicking between the mirrors and the road.

She’s gaining on you again. She knows this part too well.

She’s not even forcing her car just waiting for you to mess up again.

But then—

Halfway through the lap, right before the last turn, something goes wrong.

Minji’s car stutters.

You don’t stop. Can’t. Not now.

You tear across the finish line a second later.

You win.

The crowd erupts. Fireworks explode somewhere off in the distance, a streak of color lighting up the night sky. Your name’s being screamed, shouted, echoed all around you. Someone grabs your arm—probably Ryujin, lifting it high into the air. You barely hear them. You barely hear anything, honestly.

Minji’s out of her car by the time you circle back. She gives you a stiff nod, lips pressed thin like she’s biting something back.

“Congrats,” she says.

You want to say something—Thank you? Did I? Are you okay? Was that real?—but she’s already walking off, disappearing into the crowd before anyone can stop her.

And maybe the crowd’s still celebrating, but all you can think about is her jaw. Clenched. Her fists. Shoved too deep in her pockets. The way her eyes didn’t meet yours long enough to say what she really felt.

She’s pissed.

You know her.

All too well.

-

Later, when the chaos has faded, you find yourself steering your car toward the place you’re 99% sure she went.

An old lot, tucked behind an abandoned strip mall. No lights. No noise. Just the faint hum of a playlist she always swore helped her “focus,” even though half of it was just twice songs and alt-pop breakup songs.

Sure enough, her MR2’s there.

Hood popped. Headlights dimmed.

Minji stands with her back to you, sleeves rolled up, frowning at the mess under the hood like she’s trying to will it back to life.

You park a few spaces down and walk over.

“I thought I told you to replace the starter,” you say casually, eyeing the cables.

She jumps. Just a little.

“You stalking me now?” she says, not looking up.

“No,” you lie. “Just figured I’d find you sulking somewhere.”

“...Not sulking,” she mutters. “Just...processing.”

“Uh huh.”

You step closer. The smell of smoke and hot metal lingers in the air. You glance at the engine, then at her hands. She’s holding the wrench wrong.

You sigh. “You’re gonna strip the bolt like that.”

“I know how to fix my car,” she snaps.

You hold up your hands. “Didn’t say you didn’t. Just offering.”

She hesitates.

Then, quietly so quietly “...Fine.”

You take the wrench from her. Your fingers brush. She tenses.

And suddenly, it’s just the two of you again. Just like it used to be. Two grease-stained idiots under the hood, arguing about torque specs and spark plugs.

“Still a little dramatic,” you mutter, tightening a bolt.

“Says the girl who revved so loud the crowd thought a jet was landing.”

You glance at her sideways. “Eh. Admit it. You missed this.”

She scoffs. “You wish.”

You grin. “You let me win.”

That gets her. Her face twitches.

“No, I didn’t,” she says, but you catch it. That tiny, guilty shift in her eyes.

You step in closer, wiping your hands on your jeans.

“You knew how much I wanted that contract,” you say, voice quieter now. “It’s all I ever talked about.”

Her jaw tightens, and her eyes don't meet yours. She’s thinking—really thinking, like she always does when she doesn’t know how to feel.

You remember those late-night conversations, way before any of this. When it was just you two, talking about your futures under the glow of her dads garage lights. You used to tell her about your big dream of making it as a real racer. You said it like it was just some offhand joke, but she saw it. She always did. The way your eyes lit up when you said it. She knew.

And then, in the present, as the host’s words echoed in the back of her mind, she saw your eyes shine when they mentioned the contract. You were ready to take it, to take that chance, and she let you.

“Min,” you say, softer, “your car was fine five minutes before the race.”

She still doesn’t speak. Just looks away. Jaw tight.

Her lips tremble slightly, but she stays quiet. Always holding back. Always too in control. But not tonight.

You step in closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Close enough to see the way her fists twitch like she’s holding back from either hitting you or grabbing you.

You don’t say anything else.

You just wait.

And maybe that’s what breaks her.

Because a second later, she moves.

No warning—just a sharp inhale, and then she’s on you. Arms locking around your shoulders, body crashing into yours like she’s trying to shove all the distance out of the way. She hugs you hard. Desperate. Her breath hits your neck hot and ragged, and you feel the tension in her spine like a livewire.

Her grip’s bruising. Her nails dig into your back like she wants to hurt you for making her care this much. But you don’t let go.

You never could.

She buries her face into the curve of your neck, and the exhale she lets out sounds like a surrender as her hands slide down your sides, fingers pressing into your waist with a force that leaves no room for escape. Her lips graze your skin when she speaks, sounding shaky and too honest.

“I missed you,” she mutters, and god—it’s not fair, the way your heart jumps like you haven’t heard her lie a hundred times before.

Rivals, sure. Exes, yeah. But damn—her hands still remember the shape of your waist better than her steering wheel.

MINJI IN RED LIKE😻😻😜😜 RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

taglist: @arihiu @fruityg0rl @keiji-jin @strangercat @yjiminswallet @hazel-tanthamore22 @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @gtfoiydlyj @Mj.Db @gtfoiydlyjm @somedaydream @peranoo @syronns @angiisss @Drvirgus @aloneinacity @nnewjeansstuff @imsogay504 @sh1ba100 @tashasmywife

[catfortress]

Welcome to Cat Fortress Blog !

• • • Here is simply where I will post drawings and possibly animations regarding my TF2 fan AU, Cat Fortress !

• • • Main Acc: @evangelina830

Basic stuff!

• No NSFW asks pls (bloody, yes ! But no sensitive topics or lewd reqs pls.)

• Asks close in May!

• Silly requests are encouraged, but please don’t go overboard ! (U know what I mean…,)

• Yes I will draw ship art ! :D dont be shy.. (I love to draw silly cats holding hands.. so yes please! As long as the ship isn’t gross…)

Also I am not super fast with asks lol I appreciate your patience!

Enjoy your visit…. =^.^=

More info under!

Tags I will use!

• #:3 - Artwork

• #:V - Doodles

• #:0 - Animation

• #:D - Answers

• #:] - (Fan?) Artwork

• #:> - Characters

• #:P - Cats info

Names!

• ⚾️Scratch - Scout

• 🪖Biscuits - Soldier

• 🔥Zoomies - Pyro

• 💣Demomew - Demoman

• 🥪Fluffy - Heavy

• 🛠️Enginya - Engineer

• 💉Meowdic - Medic

• 🎯Snipurr - Sniper

• 🚬Snap - Spy

• 📁Ms Pawling - Ms Pauling

Others so far ofc…

• 🎙️Adminhisstrator - Administrator

• 🩵Scratch’s Ma - Scout’s Ma

• 🪻Zhanclaw - Zhanna

• 🥀Beanislava - Bronislava

• 🌾Yawna - Yana

• 🫐Fluffy’s Mama - Heavy’s Mama

• 🥾Saxton Tail - Saxton Hale

• 🫒Charles Kneading - Charles Darling

• 💚Maowgaret/Maowggie - Margaret/Maggie

• 💀Whiskers - Merasmus

• 🐟Fried Fish Tramp - Fried Chicken Tramp

• 📋Furball - Bidwell

• 📕Fuzzy - Reddy

• ✈️Trots - Jerry

• ❤️Redmond Meoww - Redmond Mann

• 💙Blutarch Meoww - Blutarch Mann

• 🩶Gray Meoww - Gray Mann

• 🎀Olivia Meoww - Olivia Mann

• 🎈General Patton Dough - General Patton Doe

• 🧸Georgia Washington Dough - Georgia Washington Doe

• 🎤Tomcat Jones - Tom Jones

• 💜Mrs DeGrowl - Mrs Tilly DeGroot

• 🌷Mrs Mowndy - Mrs Mundy

• 🍅Mr Mowndy - Mr Mundy

• 🍷Loaf-Nah - Lar-Nah

• 🍵Furr-Bel - Bill-Bel

This blog is still quite new - stay tuned ! Mrow….

[yamayuandadu]

Hecate, Melinoe, "Ereschigal": when a name becomes the ship of Theseus?

(Triple Hecate on a magical apparatus from Sardis, via William Bruce and Kassandra Jackson Miller, Towards a Typology of Triangular Bronze Hekate Bases: Contextualizing a New Find from Sardis, p. 512; reproduced here for educational purposes only)

This article wasn’t planned in advance. It’s largely a side effect of trying to help a friend with tracking down a \specific source, the elusive reference to Melinoe from outside the Orphic Hymns, in order to determine whether it really treats her as interchangeable with Hecate. Investigating this topic revealed that it’s connected fairly closely with something I wanted to cover for a while already, namely the Greek (or rather Greco-Egyptian) magical papyri, a unique text corpus to a large degree focused on Hecate and in particular on supposed equations with a number of other figures, ranging from Selene, though Isis, to Mesopotamian Ereshkigal. The last of these cases is what I will focus on, as similarly as the supposed interchangeability of Hecate and Melinoe it is often presented online without context. While the two core goals of this article are establishing whether Melinoe really is just Hecate, a distinct but very Hecate-like figure, or something in between, and explaining whether references to “Hecate-Ereschigal” necessarily indicate some greater degree of familiarity with Mesopotamian theology, that’s not all I will cover. You will also be able to learn why Hecate gained an extra body in early centuries CE; whether it’s true that sources referring to her as genderfluid exist; which unexpected figure plays the role of messenger of Zeus in magical papyri; what the possible last known pre-modern reference to Ereshkigal has to do with Jewish angelology; and more!

Note that technically this is not my first Hecate article; I wrote one long ago - in the early days of this blog, probably around half a decade ago at the height of the initial covid lockdowns, if not in the even more distant past. However, it was subpar; for all intents and purposes, this is the first one which meets my modern standards. 

The case of Melinoe

Melinoe appears in a very small number of sources, all of which are fairly well studied. In theory this makes her fairly easy to write about. However, she is also fairly unique in that I can’t think of many other mythological figures who arguably received an enormous boost in prominence specifically thanks to their online reception. This is a double edged sword. On one hand, unique sources reach more people than they would otherwise, at least indirectly.. On the other, misconceptions and misreadings are abundant. For this reason, a brief introduction to her will be necessary before evaluating what, if any, connection existed between her and Hecate.

There’s no strong reason to suspect Melinoe was ever particularly popular in antiquity - more on that soon - and she had negligible presence in art before quite recently. A notable exception is apparently an offhand reference to her in one of Hugo Grotius’ poems (Edwin Rabbie, Editing Neo-Latin Texts, p. 42). I was sadly unable to track it down - if you want to check for yourself, it is reportedly to be found on p. 359 in the 1992 anthology Original Poetry 1604–1608  (De Dichtwerken van Hugo Grotius, I 2 A/B 4).

Melinoe in the Orphic Hymns

Grotius relied on what was the only source about Melinoe available to him and his contemporaries - the Orphic Hymns. They remain a pretty important point of reference for researchers today, though not exactly due to the presence of Melinoe. Even though they’re relatively late and fairly esoteric (as expected from an orphic text corpus), they’re one of the best preserved collections of Greek hymns which were undeniably performed in a religious setting. We don’t know the full history of their transmission, though. They were hardly discussed in other literature before the fifteenth century, barring a single reference in a commentary on Hesiod’s Theogony which might date to the thirteenth (Daniel Malamis, The Orphic Hymns. Poetry and Genre, with a Critical Text and Translation, p. 1). 

The full collection consists of eighty eight hymns, each dedicated to a different deity, ranging from major figures recognized virtually all over the at least partially Hellenized world, through personified abstract concepts, to local deities from the west of Asia Minor with few, if any, other attestations. Melinoe belongs to the last of these categories, alongside the likes of Mise, Hipta and Erikepaios (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 171-172). The seventy first hymn is dedicated to her. Multiple translations are available, the most recent one is Daniel Malamis’ (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 103):

The exact translation of some phrases remains a subject of heated debate, but the gist of it is fairly well understood: Persephone gives birth to a minor underworld goddess after Zeus impersonated Hades to seduce her. A minority position is that Melinoe somehow has two biological fathers (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 130). I’m not aware of any translator making it even remotely possible that Hades alone was her biological father - this is entirely an online misconception. There is no alternate account of her origin, the hymn is the only version - claims on the contrary are doubtlessly the result of online games of telephone. The friend whose Melinoe inquiry was a catalyst for this article informed me that there are online claims that the myth describes Hermes witnessing this event. It’s important to stress that nothing of that sort is evident here, as you can see for yourself - the only deities mentioned are Melinoe herself, Persephone, Zeus and Hades. I’d assume this misconception is the result of the river Cocytus also being mentioned in the hymn to Hermes Cthtonios (and nowhere else in the Orphic Hymns), which however doesn’t deal with Melinoe, let alone specifically with her birth (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 89):

To go back to the main topic, dedicating a lot of space to explaining the origin of Melinoe sets the hymn apart from the other eighty seven. It is possible that the compiler considered her obscure to the point it warranted explaining to their audience who she was by narrating her origin myth (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 266). As a result of this unusual focus, she receives very few epithets compared to most other deities praised in the Orphic Hymns. She shares this status with Nomos - in whose case the small number of epithets instead reflects the fact he was more a personified concept than a deity proper, though (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 270).

Thanks to the contents of the hymn, despite Melinoe’s obscurity we have a pretty solid idea about her character, too. At the very least for the compiler of the hymn, she was an appropriate deity to invoke to guarantee safe passage of the dead into the afterlife (Kassandra Jackson, ‘She who changes’ (Amibousa): a Re-examination of the Triangular Table from Pergamon, p. 465). Further insights might possibly be gained from her name, which has been variously interpreted as “gentle-minded” (from meilinói; this interpretation was seemingly proposed as early as in the sixteenth century, as evidenced by an anonymous translation into Latin explaining her name as placidae mentis) or “russet” (from mílinos), in this context a poetic way to describe the color of the moon (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 288).

The fact the hymn refers to Melinoe as a nymph warrants some further discussion as well. I haven’t seen this point raised in literature, but this would fit neatly with her presumed status as a minor goddess of strictly local importance. It was not uncommon for such figures to be labeled as nymphs when they were incorporated into the broader “Olympian” pantheon in one way or another, as attested for example for Callisto or Britomartis (Jennifer Larson, Greek Nymphs: Myth, Cult, Lore, p. 7).

A potential issue for this interpretation is that Melinoe doesn’t seem to correspond to any specific natural feature, though - the localized character of nymph cults reflected the fact that they typically corresponded to a specific river, mountain, island, et cetera (Greek Nymphs…, p. 9). Alcman mentions underworld nymphs (lampads) from the entourage of Hecate, but this reference is entirely isolated (Greek Nymphs…, p. 284; note the wikipedia article asserting they are referenced in Hesiod’s Theogony is essentially a hoax, though admittedly a fun, creative one). For what it’s worth, the term “nymph” might very well just be used metaphorically to indicate Melinoe was imagined as a young woman, though (Anne-France Morand, Études sur les Hymnes Orphiques, p. 182).

Nymph-centric deliberations aside, the fact that the hymn associates Melinoe with ghosts and more broadly with the underworld, and that she might even have an indirect lunar connection depending on which etymology of her name is correct, it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that it’s pretty much the academic consensus that overall her character was Hecate-like (though pretty obviously less multifaceted). The similarities even extend to terms used to refer to them (“saffron-robed” is a fairly common epithet of Hecate) and requests aimed at Melinoe in the hymn and at Hecate elsewhere (‘She who changes’ …, p. 465). However, as far as the Orphic Hymns are concerned, they are ultimately two separate goddesses (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 361). In the hymn dedicated to her, Hecate is actually portrayed as a veritable head of the pantheon (The Orphic Hymns…, p.165-166), directly addressed as the “queen of all cosmos” (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 27):

Ultimately it’s important to bear in mind that even if the compilers clearly cared about Melinoe enough to dedicate a separate hymn to her, they neither equated her with Hecate nor even attributed a comparable degree of importance to them. The investigation cannot end here, though. Melinoe has exactly one more further attestation.

Hecate-Melinoe, Hecate-Persephone, Hecate-Zagourê? The Pergamon tablet and its historical context

An illustration of the triangular magical tablet from Pergamon (wikimedia commons)

In addition to her considerably more famous role in the Orphic Hymns, Melinoe also makes a cameo on a peculiar object from Pergamon (The Orphic Hymns…, p.172). It dates to the third century CE. In contrast with the hymns, it doesn’t provide much mythological or theological information about her. It’s not even really a proper text. Rather, it’s a triangular tablet inscribed with a long series of epithets of Hecate, arranged into three columns under three depictions of her placed in the corners (‘She who changes’ …, p. 457).

In this context, Melinoe is explicitly one of Hecate’s (many) names (‘She who changes’ …, p. 464-465). This is presumed to reflect a level of familiarity with both figures sufficient to establish they were similar enough to warrant an equation (Richard Gordon, Another View of the Pergamon Divination Kit, p. 198). It’s also worth noting that Melinoe’s presence in the inscription was one of the arguments which lead to the formation of the generally accepted view that the Orphic Hymns must have been originally composed somewhere in the proximity of Pergamon, at least more broadly in western Anatolia (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 171-174).

This doesn’t mean we should conclude the Orphic Hymns were also written with the same arrangement in mind, though. Equation in a specific context doesn’t mean two figures can be considered interchangeable. It’s hard to think of better proof than the fact not only Melinoe, but also Persephone is reinterpreted as a title of Hecate on the Pergamon tablet (‘She who changes’ …, p. 466). It’s hardly the only magical text to do so (Eleni Pachoumi, The Concepts of the Divine in the Greek Magical Papyri, p. 130-131). It is probably relevant that a tradition in which Hecate was a daughter of Demeter is also attested - sparsely, but still. It might even be alluded to in Eurypides’ Ion, where Enodia is addressed as such (Ljuba Merlina Bortolani, Magical Hymns from Roman Egypt. A Study of Greek and Egyptian Traditions of Divinity, p. 232).

Hecate actually gets a fair share of other names which usually would refer to independent figures on the discussed tablet; the two cases discussed above aren’t unique in that regard. Some of the other notable examples include Leukophryne (“of the gleaming brow”), a designation used exclusively for the local form of Artemis worshiped in Magnesia on the Meander; Dione (sic); and even the angel Zagourê (“he whose fire glows), best known from the Eighth Book of Moses and other magical papyri, a genre of text I will soon go back to (‘She who changes’ …, p. 463-466). 

While as far as I am aware the last equation is unique, as a curiosity it might be worth noting that the words angele and angelos were actually sometimes used to describe Hecate elsewhere (for example by Hesychius), usually in the literal sense, to reflect moving between the underworld, the earth and Olympus (Rangar Cline, Ancient Angels. Conceptualizing Angeloi in the Roman Empire, p. 49). It’s tempting to speculate that perhaps this is why the author of the Perhamon tablet opted to equate her with a specific angelos they were vaguely familiar with - it’s not like the text preserved any distinct information about Zagourê’s character.

The Pergamon tablet isn’t unique - similar objects also inscribed with long series of Hecate names are known from Sardis and Apamea (Towards a Typology…, p. 509) - but as they don’t mention Melinoe I won’t discuss them here in detail. All three of these extensive collections of Hecate names reflect the same phenomenon, though. In late antiquity Hecate’s defining feature was arguably being “many-named” and “many-formed” (The Concept…, p. 137). It’s tempting to assume that the standard three bodied Hecate depictions, which the average person would be well familiar with, made her particularly suitable for equations with goddesses who shared some of her characteristics - which, as I outlined above, is definitely the case for Melinoe.

It's also important to stress that there was a pretty universal religious anxiety over getting the names and titles of deities wrong or omitting an important one, though. Simultaneously, it was believed that it pleases a deity to hear many of them, say, in a hymn in their honor; and, furthermore, that they could be compelled to act by sufficient familiarity with their names (The Orphic Hymns…, p. 218-219). It’s easy to imagine how this would influence composition of texts focused on a goddess whose very nature required turning this focus on names and titles up to eleven. Given that Melinoe is not attested on any other similar artifact, perhaps she was included just in case due to such a concern? Ultimately this is pure speculation on my part, though, and it’s equally if not more plausible that she is included only in this one list simply because she was exclusively worshiped relatively close to where it was found.

The long strings of names and magical formulas on the Pergamon tablet and other similar objects are also significant for a further reason: they make it possible to establish a connection with a specific corpus of Greco-Egyptian esoterica, the late antique magical papyri. The owners of the tablets were not necessarily actually well versed in Egyptian religious texts of the sort passed down in temple scriptoriums, but it does seem they knew enough about them to attempt to use the same principles - which is reflected, among other things, in the long strings of names assigned to Hecate (Another View…, p. 197-198). Melinoe is not attested in any of these texts (‘She who changes’ …, p. 465), and her role in this article as a result ends here.

Before I can move on to the second case of a peculiar link between Hecate and another deity I'd like to discuss, a brief introduction to the magical papyri themselves will be necessary.

A brief introduction to magical papyri

“Greek magical papyri” and “Papyri graecae magicae” (PGM) are the modern conventional names designating a corpus of unusual texts from, as you can probably guess, Egypt. 

The earliest example known dates to the fourth century BCE, but most are significantly younger (Jacco Dieleman, The Greco-Egyptian Magical Papyri in Guide to the Study of Ancient Magic, p. 316). While they were composed under Roman rule, between the second and fifth centuries CE, the only languages used in them are Greek, and less commonly Demotic, with no trace of Latin. This is pretty much in line with other texts from Roman Egypt. It was culturally Hellenized through the period of Ptolemaic rule, but it never really became Romanized to a comparable degree, and Latin was restricted to military administration (Magical Hymns…, p. 3-4).

Why are these papyri “magical”? Despite involving deities and frequently referencing specific myths, they generally describe rituals which took place in private houses, as opposed to temples. The stated aims often can be only described as petty (securing the love of another person, gaining material wealth, or even a specific outcome in a chariot race…), and require some rather unorthodox solutions, like quite literally blackmailing deities, ghosts or other supernatural beings. Many of the texts also stress that their contents should remain secret. Thus, referring to them as “magical” rather than broadly “religious” literature is seen as optimal by researchers, to stress that they don’t represent the official temple cults, but rather a distinct sphere of activity (Magical Hymns…, p. 14). 

It needs to be pointed out that modern terminology reflects the Greek (and Roman) outlook more than Egyptian. The closest Egyptian term to “magic”, heka (ḥkȝ) originally referred to something that was ultimately a prerogative of temple priests, rather than an unofficial application of religious principles to private ends (Magical Hymns…, p. 16-18). Since at least some of the authors of the magical papyri were Egyptian priests, possibly ones who sought new sources of income in changing times (Magical Hymns…, p. 23-24), it is possible that they deliberately reinvented their practices for a new clientele to meet their expectations (Magical Hymns…, p. 19). It was pretty clearly important to make sure the clients were satisfied - at least some of the texts were composed ad hoc for specific unique cases (Magical Hymns…, p. 277). While the magical formulas were innovative and had no direct antecedents, they were deliberately presented as a secret ancient tradition to imbue them with more authority. Sometimes they were outright claimed to be passed down from famous historical authors or religious figures, ranging from Pythagoras, through Manetho, to Moses, or even deities, typically ones heavily associated with magic like Hermes or Isis (The Greco-Egyptian…, p. 312-313).

The magical papyri feature a plenty of unusual technical terms known as voces magicae. They’re magical formulas with no actual meaning which in the context of the magical papyri might have been treated as secret names of deities. While it is possible some of them were garbled transcriptions of words originating in Egyptian or in Semitic languages, many are pure gibberish, like sequences of vowels (aeēiouō is a genuine example) or invented palindromes (The Greco-Egyptian…, p. 285). The formulas sometimes label the voces magicae as Hebrew, Aramaic or Meriotic, but this is obviously not true - at best, it can be assumed that to the customers of the experts preparing the magical papyri they sounded sufficiently “alien” for these labels to be believable (The Greco-Egyptian…, p. 309-311). Some authors of the papyri evidently went even further, and claimed that the abra cadabra formulas represent the language of animals, for example falcons or baboons (The Greco-Egyptian…, p. 311-312):

The case of “Ereschigal”

It probably comes as no surprise that most of the deities frequently invoked in the magical papyri are Greek (Helios, Hermes, Hecate, Selene, etc.), Egyptian (Isis, Osiris, Seth, Bes, etc.) or, like Serapis, somewhere in between (The Concepts…, p. 10). What is less obvious is why a few of them contain references to Mesopotamian Ereshkigal -  or rather “Ereschigal” (Ἐρεσχιγὰλ), to remain true to the Greek spelling. In a single case a Demotic form is attested, but it reflects the Greek one, and doesn’t represent an independent borrowing from any language spoken in Mesopotamia (Daniel Schwemer, Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae, p. 67). What is perhaps even more surprising is that her name is effectively treated as a byname of Hecate - one of the spells is directly labeled as directed towards “Hecate-Ereschigal” (The Concepts..., p. 21).

A crash course in Ereshkigal’s career, from Early Dynastic Lagash to Seleucid Uruk

Ereshkigal is a well attested deity, with a fair share of up to date publications dealing with her to booth. Sadly, as I’ve noticed while working on this article there’s a fairly significant issue with coverage of her in literature dealing with the magical papyri. In many cases even the authors of the most recent, rigorous publications in this field often seem to be far behind when it comes to Assyriology, and depend on and recommend questionable old scholarship. For instance, while I recommend Magical Hymns from Roman Egypt overall - it’s all over this article as a source, and I had a blast reading it - I really think it’s not ideal to use “Kramer 1960” (let alone “Wolkstein and Kramer 1981”) as the main points of reference. For this reason, I feel obliged to at least briefly discuss her history and character here. By the time Ereshkigal got to appear in the magical papyri, she was already a figure with a remarkably long history. She is attested in the textual record for the first time in an offering list from the reign of Urukagina, an Early Dynastic king of Lagash, from around 2370 BCE or so. The even earlier textual sources, like god lists from Fara and Abu Salabikh or the Zame Hymns, don’t mention her at all, though (Dina Katz, The Image of the Netherworld in the Sumerian Sources, p. 386).

Lu-Utu’s inscription on a dedicatory cone among other similar objects (British Museum; reproduced here for educational purposes only) While Ereshkigal’s very name - “queen of the great earth” -  is probably intended to hint at her role as the queen of the underworld, the first text which explicitly characterizes her as such is an inscription of a certain Lu-Utu. He served as the governor of Umma in the Sargonic period (ca. 2300 BCE), probably between the reigns of Manishtushu and Naram-Sin (The Image…, p. 355).

There are actually no other known dedicatory inscriptions mentioning Ereshkigal, Lu-Utu’s is one of a kind (The Image…, p. 352). Overall her cult evidently had a small scope, and later attestations of offerings made to her, let alone sanctuaries dedicated to her, are uncommon (Frans Wiggermann, Nergal A in RlA vol. 9, p. 220).  She is also absent from theophoric names, which makes her an outlier even as far as underworld deities go. However, it’s possible that the likes of Nergal or Ninazu would be primarily invoked in this context as the tutelary gods of their cities, not lords of the underworld (Wilfred G. Lambert, Lugal-edinna in RlA vol. 7, p. 137). The bulk of attestations of Ereshkigal are literary texts, chiefly from the Old Babylonian period (ca. 2000-1600 BCE) and the Neo-Assyrian period (911-612 BCE).

As far as I am aware, there is only one notable cuneiform text corpus dealing in any capacity with Ereshkigal which have some temporal overlap with the (early) magical papyri  - the administrative texts from Seleucid Uruk. They mention the existence of a “temple of Ereshkigal” in the city, though this term might actually refer to a cemetery, not a temple - or at least to a sanctuary directly connected to a graveyard (Julia Krul, “Prayers from Him Who Is Unable to Make Offerings”: The Cult of Bēlet-ṣēri at Late Babylonian Uruk, p. 74). Interpreting the term as something more than just an elaborate synonym for a graveyard is the easiest way to explain references to sacrifices made to Ereshkigal, though. These are at the very least implied by a set of instructions pertaining to daily offerings, according to which she couldn’t receive beef or fowl; in contrast with the other regulations (it is self-explanatory why Ningublaga, a cattle god, would be displeased to receive beef) the underlying logic remains unclear (Prayers from…, p. 62). However, even then, it was not really Ereshkigal herself who was actively worshiped - rather, it was her scribe Belet-Seri who enjoyed newfound popularity in Seleucid Uruk (Prayers from…, p. 76-77). Ereshkigal most likely was seen as an unapproachable, distant figure, just like before, and as such was hardly worshiped directly (Prayers from…, p. 75).

Julia Krul argues that Ereshkigal’s presence in the pantheon of Seleucid Uruk reflected diffusion of earlier knowledge about her status as Inanna’s sister, courtesy of the loose Neo-Assyrian adaptation of Inanna’s Descent (Prayers from…, p. 75). I’m skeptical myself - as pointed out by Alhena Gadotti, the term might very well be used as an honorary title, not necessarily as an indication of actual kinship (‘Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and the Netherworld’ and the Sumerian Gilgamesh Cycle, p. 13). No independent evidence for the existence of such a tradition exists, and the very same myth has ample evidence for use of kinship terms as titles - Ninshubur refers to three separate gods as “father” despite none of them ever being actually viewed as her family. It’s also worth pointing out that in Nergal and Ereshkigal Ereshkigal is addressed as the sister of all of the gods when an invitation is sent to her, which obviously can’t be literal. This is ultimately a digression; I plan to go back to this point in a separate article eventually, though - consider this a teaser.

Putting abstract considerations aside, to sum up Ereshkigal didn’t offer a very good parallel to Hecate, not least simply because she was not exactly commonly worshiped - while Hecate is arguably attested primarily in the sphere of cult. Furthermore, while she does appear in Mesopotamian magical texts (āšipūtu), she doesn’t play a particularly major role in them (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 67), and in contrast with deities such as Ea as Ningirima she was hardly a “deity of magic”. You probably could make an argument that if anything Ereshkigal offers a closer parallel to Hades - in the god list An = Anum a mini-section even lists names which did double duty both as her bynames and terms for the underworld (Wilfed G. Lambert, Ryan D. Winters, An = Anum and Related Lists, p. 24); the most notable example is easily Irkalla (An = Anum..., p. 196). However, as I’ll try to demonstrate in the next section, the matter of interpretatio graeca is not quite as simple as “the character of these two overlaps, so they ought to be analogous”.

Some notes on interpretatio graeca

Interpretatio graeca is a tricky subject in its own right. Equivalencies weren’t necessarily recognized universally. It goes without saying the perspective of Greeks and foreigners could vary considerably, too. For example, to Greeks the Lycian and Lydian goddess Maliya (Malis) was simply a nymph, as evident in her portrayal in Theocritus’ Idylls (Annic Payne, Native Religious Traditions from a Lydian Perspective, p. 242). However, both to Lycians and Lydians she was a counterpart of Athena - partially due to shared association with craftsmanship, partially because the Lycian kings wanted to emulate Athens politically in one way or another, and sought to portray their tutelary goddess as Athena-like (Eric A. Raimond, Hellenization and Lycian Cults During the Achaemenid Period, p. 153-154; Native Religious…, p. 241).

Oxus depicted in the form of Marsyas (wikimedia commons) Equations could be made based on very superficial similarity. For example, in Bactria a river god regarded as the head of the local pantheon, Oxus, came to be associated with Marsias (sic), and was depicted under the guise of the latter. This was the result of a random twist of fate - Greeks settling in Bactria after the conquests of Alexander largely came from Magnesia (Mary Boyce, Frantz Grenet, A History of Zoroastrianism, vol. III: Zoroastrianism under Macedonian and Roman rule, p. 180; Boris A. Litvinskii, Igor R. Pichikian, The Hellenistic Architecture and Art of the Temple of the Oxus, p. 57-58). Since Marsias was the namesake river god of the main river flowing through this area, he was effectively THE river god to them - and thus upon encounter with a different river god a transfer of iconography was possible. The fact the two shared few, if any, characteristics otherwise was of no importance. Needless to say, nobody ever recognized Marsias himself as king of the gods; but his river-related lore was sufficient for his iconography to be borrowed.

A possible Hellenistic depiction of Nanaya (wikimedia commons) This case is still not quite as outlandish as the official Seleucid policy of recognizing Nanaya as the counterpart of Artemis, which is yet another example of politically motivated interpretatio. There’s an obvious difference right off the bat - Nanaya was associated with eroticism first and foremost, Artemis demonstrably… wasn’t; the same goes for her association with hunting, a sphere of influence Nanaya had nothing to do with. The lack of similar traits was of no real concern, though - Seleucids simply needed local deities who could be presented as counterparts of their dynastic triad of Zeus, Apollo and Artemis. Marduk as a typical pantheon head made a decent fit for Zeus (despite lack of any real connection to the weather), Nabu as his son and, broadly speaking, a deity linked to the arts (primarily scribal, but hey, close enough) was proclaimed the counterpart of Apollo (Paul-Alain Beaulieu, Nabû and Apollo: The Two Faces of Seleucid Religious Policy, p. 20)… and Nanaya, as a Nabu-adjacent goddess, got to be Artemis (Nabû and Apollo…, p. 27). The fact Apollo and Artemis were siblings, while Nabu and Nanaya were not, was not an issue. It’s probably down to chance that it was Nanaya and not Tashmetum, who had a stronger and older claim to an association with Nabu who got this role, really - not that Tashmetum would be a much better match character-wise.

In particularly extreme cases it’s hard to attribute specific cases of interpretatio graeca to anything but confabulation about a deity one Greek author or another had only the vaguest idea of. Perhaps most notably, Herodotus (in)famously asserted that Persian Mitra was Aphrodite in a passage where he generally makes many claims about her foreign equivalents and moe broadly on foreign cults which make at best limited sense (Albert F. de Jong, Traditions of the Magi. Zoroastrianism in Greek and Latin Literature, p. 107-110). His mistake was repeated by Ambrosius, but to be entirely fair to Greeks and Romans, those two are outliers in this case, and other authors (notably Strabo and Nonnus, but not only them) were at the very least aware that Mithra was a male solar deity and/or that he presided over oaths, even if some of them were confused if he was Persian or Mesopotamian (Traditions of…, p. 286-288).

A unique problem with Hecate and interpretatio graeca is that in many cases we can’t really say much about the deities she was associated with in that capacity, which makes it difficult to determine what shared qualities or historical circumstances lead to the development of a close association. The likes of Roman Trivia or Thessalian Enodia are not exactly well represented in the historical record, to put it very lightly; they’re effectively epithets more than distinct deities which can be discussed in any meaningful capacity. There’s also the even more extreme case of Lydian Nenenene (sic). It’s not hard to find the assumption she was associated with Hecate in scholarship (ex. The Concepts…, p. 132), though the only evidence available is a partially preserved stela with a dedication to her found in Kula. The modern assumption rests entirely on the goddess preserved on it appearing distinctly Hecate-like thanks to the presence of a dog next to her, as no other attestations of Nenenene are available (Eda Nalan Akyürek Şahin, The Cult fo Hecate in Lydia: Evidence from the Manisa Museum, p. 38).

Ereschigal: deity, epithet, vox magica?

At first glance, even taking the difference in their respective characters, the case of Ereshkigal and Hecate might appear easier to parse just because the latter is pretty obviously nowhere near as ephemeral as Enodia or Nenenene. However, in reality the available information about her reception is at best troublesome to interpret.

Ereshkigal is not attested in Greek literature at all outside of the magical papyri and related objects, such as curse tablets and apotropaic gems (Magical Hymns…, p. 236). No cultic activity involving her is attested in areas where any of them were found (Korshi Dosoo, Magical Names: Tracing Religious Changes in Egyptian Magical Texts from Roman and Early Islamic Egypt, p. 123). To make it all even more complicated, not even once does the name appear in a context which would indicate any familiarity with Mesopotamian sources going beyond the awareness that Ereshkigal was an underworld deity. No epithets, no references to motifs from Mesopotamian literature, virtually nothing. When specific attributes are listed, they’re invariably those of Hecate or Persephone (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 66-67).

Of course, it is clear that at least the initial stage of transfer must have involved people who possessed some basic familiarity with the structure of the Mesopotamian pantheon, After all, even if none of the attributes are Ereshkigal’s, and no text where the name appears shows any familiarity with specific Mesopotamian myths or with Mesopotamian magical slash exorcisitic literature (the already mentioned āšipūtu), it is consistently clear it was understood the name designated a figure closely associated with the underworld. However, it’s hard to disagree with the view that the authors and compilers of the available texts mentioning “Ereschigal” pretty clearly had neither detailed knowledge about her character and position in Mesopotamian theology, nor much interest in it. 

Daniel Schwemer actually suggests the lack of familiarity might be central to why “Hecate-Ereschigal” arose in the first place. He suggests that the sole purpose of incorporating Ereshkigal into magical formulas was to provide Hecate with a sufficiently unusual, inexplicable new name, without much concern for its original context (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 67). He argues that the familiarity with her was so limited that it’s distinctly possible the transfer might have been indirect, though he doesn’t speculate about the identity of middlemen this scenario would require (Beyond Ereškigal…, 78).

If Schwemer is correct - and I see no reason to doubt him - we’re essentially dealing with a ship of Theseus. “Ereschigal” was understood by the magicians compiling and using magical papyri not as a distinct deity whose interpretatio graeca was Hecate, but merely as a title of Hecate, with associations derived from the latter’s character (more on that later). Rather than a strictly Mesopotamian contribution to the world of magical papyri, it is to be classified among ephemeral entities and formulas such as Abraxas or Sesengenbarpharanges (Magical Names…, p. 123). Or, to use a more modern example - somewhere near hocus pocus and abracadabra, if hocus pocus and abracadabra could be personified and assigned as names to one deity or another.

Of course, determining that still leaves many questions about the process of its transmission open - not least the problem of middlemen I mentioned already. Hopefully future research will shed more light on it. I’m fairly hopeful myself - it’s worth noting that a few years after publication of the article I relied on here, a team of researchers from the University of Würzburg lead by Schwemer received a pretty sizeable grant from the German Research Foundation specifically for a project meant to focus on comparative studies of magical papyri and other texts from similar genres.

A remarkable Syriac drawing of the archangel Gabriel (wikimedia commons) Speculation about future research aside, for additional context it’s worth noting that the adaptation of a name without much concern for its original context is not entirely without parallel in the magical papyri. For example, the names of archangels Gabriel and Michael frequently appear as “secret” names of invoked deities, in some cases respectively Anubis or Thoth, or alternatively with solar gods or astral bodies (Magical Hymns…, p. 68).  Ereshkigal’s case ultimately remains unique in other regards, though - her name is actually the only Mesopotamian theonym to appear in the magical papyri (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 66). There technically are two other potential suspects, but both cases are at best dubious.

Shamash, Semea, Nebutosualeth: Mesopotamian or magical?

The lack of references to Mesopotamian deities in the magical papyri might seem surprising, especially in comparison to the numerous sources affirming that reception of other arts and sciences, especially astronomy, was widespread. However, it’s important to note that there is actually very little evidence for interactions between specialists involved in Mesopotamian magic and their Egyptian (let alone Greek) counterparts. We do know that scholars and ritual experts from Syria, Anatolia and Egypt were present in the Neo-Assyrian court a few centuries before the composition of the bulk of the magical papyri, which might be relevant here, but this ultimately remains pure speculation (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 64).

As far as the dubious cases of Mesopotamian influence go, a handful of attestations of Shamash (Σαμας) are available, and they at the very least indicate knowledge of this name belonging to a solar god. In one case this theonym is mashed together with a Greek spelling of Ra into the unique “Samas-Phrēth” (Σαμασφρηθ). However, nothing really indicates we’re necessarily dealing with the Mesopotamian Shamash. None of the passages preserve any material which would require adoption of a Mesopotamian figure. In fact, the god is typically labeled as “Canaanite”, “Phoenician” or “Syro-Palestinian” in scholarship in this case (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 67-68). This might come as a surprise to some readers, since there’s a fairly common online trend of referring to distinctly feminine Shapash as “Caananite” or even “Phoenician”, but this theonym is exclusive to Ugarit, which was basically its own thing, and ceased to exist in the Bronze Age collapse. Meanwhile, Phoenicians spelled the name of their solar deity, who was male, with a m - so it is perfectly believable that we’re dealing with him in this case, not with the identically named Mesopotamian god, let alone the Ugaritic goddess. It’s worth noting that Phoenician conception of the solar god shows the influence of analogous Egyptian motifs (Manfred Krebernik, Sonnengott A. V. in RlA vol. 12, p. 616) - which I believe might be relevant here in the light of the pairing with Ra. The phonetically similar name Semea (Σημέα) which appears in formulas addressed to solar deities is most likely derived not from a theonym, but from the ordinary Hebrew word for sun, which was seemingly adopted as a “secret” term for the astral body (cf. σημεα inscribed on gems with compilations of such terms; Magical Hymns…, p. 124). -

The other alleged at least partially Mesopotamian theonym is the term Nebutosualeth (or Neboutosoualēth; νεβουτοσουαλήθ), sometimes held to be derived from the name of the god Nabu. For what it’s worth, Nabu was a popular deity through much of the first millennium BCE, and as I mentioned earlier at least some Greeks must have had some exposure to him thanks to official Seleucid policy. However, there’s no strong evidence for this etymology, and it doesn’t account for the origin of… well, the rest of it, really. Even if the first four letters are superficially similar to Nabu’s name, the rest bears no resemblance to any of his epithets (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 67). 

Similarly as in the case of “Ereschigal”, Nebutosualeth doesn’t appear in any contexts which would reflect Mesopotamian tradition (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 67). However, this term typically also shows up in lists of voces magicae describing Hecate. It has been proposed that three of them, which at times appear in sequence - Ereschigal, Neboutosoualēth and Aktiōphi (ἀκτιῶφι; meaning unknown) - were designations of the three moon phases associated with triple Hecate (Magical Hymns…, p. 237). For what it’s worth, Neboutosoualēth is explicitly a lunar goddess acting on behalf of Helios (or rather “Barzan Boubarzan Narzazouzan Barzabouzath Helios”) at night in the London-Leiden papyrus (Jacco Dieleman, Priests, Tongues, and Rites. The London-Leiden Magical Manuscripts and Translation in Egyptian Ritual (100–300 CE), p. 124). 

The moon god Sin on an Ur III cylinder seal (wikimedia commons) Needless to say, this would reflect ideas about the moon and deities associated with it typical for Greek culture. In Mesopotamia, the moon was invariably imagined as a male deity, and the same holds true for virtually all the other cultures across the “cuneiform world” (Manfred Krebernik, Mondgott A. I. In Mesopotamien in RlA vol. 8, p. 360).

A Ptolemaic depiction of Wadjet from Edfu (wikimedia commons) As a curiosity it’s worth noting that an alternate proposal is that Neboutosoualēth was derived from Egyptian nbt-wḏȝt, “lady Wadjet” (Uto in Greek), though it also has no strong evidence behind it (Magical Hymns…, p. 237). I think it warrants further inquiries, though, not least because both the magical papyri and a variety of earlier sources actually associate Hecate with snakes (Magical Hymns…, p. 233).

While this is unrelated to the matter of Mesopotamian influence on the magical papyri (or lack thereof), as a curiosity it’s worth noting that least one more of Hecate’s epithets attested in them is at the very least an allusion to voces magicae. The unique Borborophorba (βορβοροφόρβα) from the “love spell of attraction in the presence of heroes or gladiators or those who died violently” (ἀγωγὴ ἐπὶ ἡρώων ἢ μονομάχων ἢ βιαίων) literally means “one who feeds on filth/mud”. However, it has been argued that instead of designating Hecate as some sort of Greco-Egyptian analog of Aztec Tlazeotl or something along these lines, it is effectively an attempt at smashing syllables commonly used in voces magicae both in the papyri and elsewhere into a semi-coherent name. The meaning was most likely of secondary importance, though, and the primary goal might have been to get something sounding vaguely like the barking of a dog (Magical Hymns…, p. 230).

deities in the magical papyri are limited to literature from the early twentieth century, and have been long since abandoned. Most of them were incredibly short lived, and depended entirely on superficial phonetic similarities between voces magicae and Mesopotamian theonyms (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 68). One such proposal warrants some further comments, though, despite being disproved - the assumption that the deity Iao (Ιαω) is Mesopotamian Ea (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 68). I would argue that this assumption was actually sound on some level - Ea (Enki, not to be confused with another unrelated Enki, though) was THE god of magic (not the only one, to be fair, but by far the most prominent). He’s all over āšipūtu literature (as a matter of fact, this art was traditionally represented as his invention), and continued to be worshiped well into Hellenistic times. When cuneiform was arguably at the peak of its prestige, in the second millennium BCE, he was known virtually everywhere from Hattusa all the way up to Susa - and in at least some areas he persisted outside Mesopotamia into the first millennium BCE. It would actually be much easier to explain how a Greek or Egyptian might have stumbled upon him despite limited familiarity with Mesopotamian sources than it is in the case of Ereshkigal. 

And yet, Iao is actually not Ea. As it turned out, the reality is much stranger than the early interpretation of the name in scholarship was. Yao is actually a Greek adaptation of the tetragrammaton. The result is effectively a new deity, as opposed to simply YHVH placed in a new context, though (Magical Hymns…, p. 67-68). A short hymn to Apollo preserved in one of the magical papyri describes him as a messenger of Zeus (Magical Hymns…, p. 62). The name also pops up in some gnostic sources, reinterpreted as an archon, which is also attested for a number of other designations for the Abrahamic capital g God (Magical Hymns…, p. 68). That’s well beyond the scope of this article, though. 

The references to Iao, as well as a variety of angels, reflect a broader phenomenon: ultimately, while outliers such as Ereshkigal, Shamash or Mitra can be identified, in addition to Greek and Egyptian only Jewish culture is represented to a bigger degree in this text corpus. This is not accidental: religious specialists from these three cultures were all present in Egypt in the relevant periods, and in at least some cases competed for clients. Combining elements from potentially competing traditions could give one an edge in this peculiar supernatural marketplace (The Greco-Egyptian…, p. 284-285).

“Ereschigal” beyond Hecate, Hecate beyond “Ereschigal”

While the other references to Mesopotamian deities in the magical papyri turned out to be dubious at the absolute best, it’s worth highlighting that there are a few cases in the magical papyri where the title Ereschigal is applied not to Hecate, but instead Isis or Aphrodite (Magical Hymns…, p. 236). Needless to say, this doesn’t match Mesopotamian evidence either, and I think it’s safe to say in both cases we are dealing with situations dependent on the associations between these goddesses and Hecate.

A Roman period depiction of Isis (wikimedia commons)

The identification between Hecate and Isis is an incredibly well documented phenomenon - I’m actually shocked how rarely it comes up outside of academic literature, honestly. It depended on two points of connection: like Hecate, Isis was associated with magic; and via a link to the star Sirius (Sothis), she was an astral (though obviously not lunar - deities associated with the moon were invariably male in Egypt) deity. It should be noted that Isis actually had no consistent interpretatio graeca, though, and based on which of her characteristics was emphasized could be variously linked not only with Hecate, but also with Demeter, Persephone, Cybele, Selene, Artemis, Aphrodite, Tyche or Nemesis (Magical Hymns…, p. 9-10; additionally p. 235 for the last two). It should be remembered that in many cases these one-off instances of syncretism had a political motive behind them, since Isis was regarded as a source of authority and legitimacy for rulers - this doesn’t necessarily mean the average person believed she was essentially a slurry of goddesses from all over the ancient Mediterranean (Magical Hymns…, p. 10). Sadly, questionable vintage scholarship lives on, in some cases leading to what Aren Wilson-Wright aptly describes as “Frazerian” attempts to present her as interchangeable even with deities she had nothing to do with, like Inanna (sic) or Tanit (Athtart. The Transmission and Transformation of a Goddess in the Late Bronze Age, p. 9).

As for Aphrodite, the matter is more complex. Her association with Hecate seemingly reflected the development of a new, quadruple form of the latter, which required the addition of a fourth deity to the common Hecate-Selene-Artemis set representing the phases of the moon (Magical Hymns…, p. 294). Hecate with “four faces, four names, (...) of the four roads” is attested in a hymnic passage from a text labeled simply as a “spell of attraction” - which also mentions Aphrodite in relation to her, in addition to the expected closely associated goddesses (Magical Hymns…, p. 283). The rise of quadruple Hecate appears to be the result of astronomical developments. As explained by the second century CE astronomer Cleomedes, while earlier on Greeks only recognized three phases of the moon - the crescent, the half moon and the full moon - in his times this number changed to four, with gibbous as a new addition. This also required the addition of a fourth face to the triple depictions of lunar deities (Magical Hymns…, p. 294). As a curiosity it’s worth nothing a late reference to four-faced lunar Hecate can be found in the writings of the sixth century Byzantine official John Lydus, who states that this was a visual representation of the moon’s control over the four elements - pretty clearly a secondary, philosophically motivated reinterpretation (Magical Hymns…, p. 293). The new moon seemingly had no direct impact on the notion of three-bodied lunar Hecate (or any other deity who came to share this characteristic). However, it does show up in the magical papyri in association with her in a slightly different context. According to one of them, the “inscription to the waning moon” (δέλτος ἀποκρουστικὴν πρὸς Σελήνην), it was easier for a magician to command Hecate to specific ends during the new moon. The spell bolsters the effects by having the performer make it clear they are aware of that, and pretend to be “Hermes-Thoth” and claim to know how to prolong the new moon forever just in case (Magical Hymns…, p. 251). This is seemingly a reflection of a motif already common in earlier Egyptian magical texts. It was believed that it was possible for a priest to influence, or even control, a deity by showing a high level of knowledge about their sphere of influence and using it to own advantage, or by threatening to cease to perform or to disturb regular temple services in their honor (Magical Hymns…, p. 253).

It has to be stressed that the connection between Aphrodite and (quadruple) Hecate is limited to only one of the magical papyri (Magical Hymns…, p. 293). There’s also a number of indirect connections between the two, though. Both of them were, in different contexts, linked with Isis, which might have facilitated the incorporation of Aphrodite into Hecate’s circle in the aforementioned magical papyrus (Magical Hymns…, p. 296). While this is less relevant, it’s also worth noting in Samothrace both could be linked with the local goddess Zerynthia (Magical Hymns…, p. 292). It’s worth noting that in addition to the singular case of apparent conflation, some of the magical papyri show what can be described as encroachment of Hecate upon spheres of influence normally associated with Aphrodite. In multiple cases she is invoked in erotic spells (Magical Hymns…, p. 289). As a matter of fact, they represent the single largest group of formulas invoking her (Another View…, p. 193) In one case this role might be underscored by turning the name of Peitho, the personification of persuasion frequently associated with Aphrodite and further with the nymph Iynx (a personified love charm, basically), into a further epithet for her (Magical Hymns…, p. 288). The only reference to Hecate in a vaguely erotic context outside of the magical papyri I am aware of can be found in Artemidorus’ Oneirocritica, though it’s hardly comparable. He states that dreams involving having sex with Hecate are an ill omen, “even if one delights in it” (Daniel E. Harris-McCoy, Artemidorus’ Oneirocritica. Text, Translation & Commentary, p. 149). Curiously, going by the same source, it’s the opposite in the case of Selene - it’s an auspicious omen as long as you are, to paraphrase, a shipowner, helmsman, merchant, or at least examine the heavens, enjoy traveling or wander frequently. Otherwise - it’s a sign you’ll suffer from edema (Artemidorus’ Oneirocitica…, p. 149, 151). Excursus: genderfluid Hecate?

Putting the auspicious and inauspicious implications of dreams aside, the lunar connections of Hecate might be responsible for perhaps the single most unexpected aspect of her character attested exclusively in the magical papyri. A few of them attribute a degree of androgyny to her (Magical Hymns…, p. 259). In the already mentioned “inscription to the waning moon”, she is referred to as possessing “the heart of a man” and as “manly” (Magical Hymns…, p. 247). While Athena or Artemis could be sometimes metaphorically described in other sources in similar terms due to associations with pursuits conventionally regarded in masculine by ancient Greeks, in Hecate’s case the matter is much more complicated.

There might also be a lunar angle to it as well, though - Mene is a title of Selene with strictly lunar connotations, so it’s possible that the underlying idea was that Hecate slash Selene had different forms tied to different moon phases, with gender as one of the characteristics which shifted as the lunar cycle progressed (Magical Hymns…, p. 259). The fact lunar deities were uniformly masculine in Egypt might have contributed to this phenomenon (Magical Hymns…, p. 260). This explanation is obviously speculative, but especially the last argument strikes me as plausible. It’s worth noting that Greeks also came into contact with male lunar deities in Anatolia, most notably with Phrygian Men. While none of them seem to come up in the magical papyri, as far as I am aware, it strikes me as plausible that it could have also contributed to the idea of a genderfluid lunar deity.

The only other figure described as both male and female in the magical papyri is Kronos, though the passage is unique and links this characteristic with the deity’s role as a creator. It’s essentially a parallel of the Orphic creator figure Phanes (The Concepts…, p. 96-97). This is obviously a phenomenon very different from Hecate’s apparent occasional genderfluidity.

There’s a further instance of a connection between Hecate and a male deity in the magical papyri, though it’s much less direct. Two of them refer to her with the feminine form of Hades’ poetic name Aidoneus, Aidonaia (Ἀϊδωναία). This doesn’t really have similar implications, though. This title was only supposed to designate her as an underworld deity - in other words, as “Hecate of Hades” in the sense of a supernatural realm (Magical Hymns…, p. 318). 

Deity, epithet, spell, angel: the final attestations of Ereshkigal As far as I’m aware, no passages referring to “Ereschigal” overlap with these discussed above. It might be worth noting that in one case the standard “Ereschigal Neboutosoualēth Aktiōphi” sequence appears in a spell addressed to “Typhon-Seth”, who is obviously a male figure, but the context indicates it’s not supposed to be understood as a string of names applied to him, merely as a magical formula (Beyond Ereškigal…, p. 67) 

There actually is a single possible reference to a potentially male Ereshkigal, or rather Ereschigal, though. The name might have continued to circulate as a magical term for at least two centuries after the composition of the last magical papyri. It has been proposed that the name of the angel Erechsiel (’RSKY’L), known only from the inscription on an amulet from the sixth century Maon Synagogue, was one of the results of Jewish reinterpretation of the voces magicae, now personified as angelic figures. They’re all invoked to aid a certain Natrun, daughter of Sarah, who was apparently suffering from headaches (Anna Jordanova, Untersuchungen zur Gestalt einer Unterweltsgöttin: Ereškigal nach den sumerischen und akkadischen Quellentexten, p. 499). Obviously, at this point we’re effectively dealing with a double case of the ship of Theseus: a deity turned into a magical formula turned into an angel. I don’t think the situation is really comparable to the late survival of Nanaya in Sogdia. Still, it makes for a pretty remarkable final chapter in Ereshkigal’s history prior to her rediscovery more than a thousand years later - and even if the connection between her and Hecate was hardly direct, it is safe to say Hecate can be metaphorically credited with making it possible.

[zeropro]

So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???

Love your art btw :D

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:

(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)

Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.

thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.

thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker. 

starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.

starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there. 

starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule 

megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me

skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story

starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)

starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho

starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD 

soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one. 

shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers

what other ship is there even? oh yeah

starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.

oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities

on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho! 

dont talk to me about airachnid

do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.

lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!

and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships! 

no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning. 

happy valentrine’s day!

[thewertsearch]

@bladekindeyewear asked: It’s always a gamble which livebloggers put together Betty Crocker’s identity from the logo design on the Battleship Condescension on p=4061 or “her master’s witch” and which livebloggers don’t until Act 6 (with hints like 11.11.11 called “2X3PRONG DAY”), so you can imagine how many of us were snickering in the background excited for when you would figure out the surprise. :) @morganwick asked: "'[Betty Crocker] was not human', huh? No idea who she could be then, all the trolls other than the twelve we've followed are dead. I find nothing at all familiar or notable about the symbol on the side of the Condesce's battleship or the shape of the ship itself when it shows up a relatively short time later, and I see no connection to Lord English enlisting her as his 'witch' in the kids' universe after she survived the Vast Glub a few pages after that. ~It is a mystery~" :p Anonymous asked: And the penny drops! Given how much attention to detail you pay, I was really surprised when you didn't realise the Condesce was Betty Crocker all along when they focused on the white fork logo on her bright red ship.

Oh yeah, I was never going to pick up on that.

I've bought Crocker cookie mix once or twice, but she's not a particularly big name over here, so I'm unfamiliar with her symbol. Plus, the similarities here are honestly pretty subtle, and the spoon/fork visual pun is only obvious to me in retrospect.

2X3PRONG DAY was a legitimate oopsie, though. I don't know how that one went over my head.

[aekatty]

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓮 ᯓᡣ𐭩

kiss below the line…

a/n: i hate him but at the same i ain’t mind letting him tap 😋 also using colored panels for now cause it’s cuter tee hee

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: p in v sex, oral sex, afab!reader, reader lowk a top here but sanji gets a tad bit of confidence towards the end, sanji know how to eat that kitty 🙏, reader a FREAK, call this man sanji freaksmoke ong 💀🙏, reader wears a bikini, no set arc, risky public sex, they fuck in a secluded area but still open to public, porn WITH plot

tags ✮⋆˙ smut, afab!reader x sanji, beach date, p in v bby, no set arc - no spoilers

now playing: dive - victoria monét

After a long strenuous journey of hopping from island to island, you suggested the crew stop at a tropical resort for a few days to rest and gather supplies for the Sunny. Liberating islands from tyrannical rule and going against from oppressive government is tiring…Well guess what? It’s time the Strawhats get a well deserved break!

“Hmm, yea sure,” your rubber captain shrugged.

“Wow, you didn’t really think that through did ya, Luffy?”

“No, you’re right. After a long battle, I’m pretty beat plus…”

“Plus?”

“A seafood boil sounds nice,” he laughed as he rubbed his rumbling belly.

Robin chuckled at Luffy’s expression, “Well, since us devil fruit power users can’t swim in the water, I wouldn’t mind indulging in a nice seafood feast cooked by our skillful chef.”

You suddenly see the pervy chef’s nose start to heave heavily, a few drops of blood trickling down his chin, “OF COURSE, ANYTHING FOR THE BEAUTIFUL LADIES OF OUR SHIP!”

His stance takes a 180 as he faces the men of the crew, “The men have to hunt for their own food.”

Zoro looks at him with annoyance, “Hey! Can I at least get some sake?!”

Luffy pouts, “No fair! I want to relax like the girls too!”

“Well, real men hunt for their own food!”

You sighed, “Sanji, relax, the guys worked hard at the last island. Cut ‘em some slack will ya?”

His demeanor changed as soon as you spoke, “OH MY DEAR, [NAME], YOU ARE SO RIGHT.”

“Alright, fine, since we’re going to have a seafood boil, I gotta gather some ingredients.”

“A spectacular feast created by our lovely cook, my mouth is watering just thinking about it, if I had any saliva…YOHOHOHO!”

“Then, it’s settled! Nami, set course for [insert cool island here]!”

“Right away, captain!” The beautiful tangerine-haired girl yelled back.

————

The summer sun shone upon the golden sand, the crystal blue water crashing upon the shore as the coconut trees swayed to the calming wind. The resort is occupied by many beach goers as children ran along the hot sand with beach balls, men clinked their beers, and ladies were served fancy mojitos. The smell of grilled meat lingered the air as barbecue parties took place nearby.

You reveled in the moment until hearing your captain’s booming voice destroy your peace of mind.

“WOOHOO!”

“LUFFY, DON’T GO IN THE WATER, YOU CAN’T-”

The rubber boy struggled to keep afloat in the water has he gargled for help, “HELP! HELP!”

“swim…” You facepalmed.

“I got it…” The green haired swordsman immediately dived into the water before rescuing your struggling captain.

“Captain, be more careful, will ya?”

He coughed up seawater, “Bleghhh, Zoro, I might throw up on you…”

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”

You decided to sit with the girls when the blonde cook approached all of you. He sported black swimtrunks, along with a half-opened tropical shirt while holding a tray full of orange cocktails, “Well, ladies, can I interest ya’ll in some ‘Sex on the Beach’ drinks to quench your thirst?”

The black-haired vixen smiled, “Thanks, Sanji. You really know how to read our minds.”

“Wow, these look refreshing, as expected from our cook!” Nami took a sip of the alcoholic drink.

“No kidding, I was starting to feel a bit parched myself,” you smiled.

Sanji covered his nose to prevent a nose bleed from coming out, “Ladies, Ladies, no need to thank me. Just doing my job.” He smiled to himself as he replayed the compliments in his head.

You looked at him with concern, “Hey, Sanji. How’s ingredient gathering going for ya?”

“Huh? Oh, I’ve been trying to catch some fish and crab for the last 30 minutes but I think the amount of people here are scaring them away.”

“Hmm, hey! I can help you look for a secluded spot for fishing!” You cheerfully suggested to him.

“Oh, I can’t let a lovely lady like you get up and help me out like this!”

You chuckled, “No worries, I’d rather walk around then sit down doing nothing.”

“Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have extra help.”

————

You sealed the bucket full of prawns before setting it aside and sitting down on the dampening sand, “Wow, we caught a lot today! We’re gonna be eating tonight, aren’t we?” You looked at the remaining gold rays of light slowly disappear in beyond the horizon.

He laughed at your amusement, “I should start cooking soon if we’re gonna serve this on time for the crew to start feasting.”

You attempted to carry the heavy bucket of freshly caught prawns, but it proved to be difficult with the sandy environment preventing better movement in your legs.

He noticed your struggle with the filled container, “Need any help?” He walked towards your sinking figure in the moist sand, lantern in hand to illuminate the darkened atmosphere.

“Ah, no, no! It’s ok!”

“Come on, [Name]. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No, really, I can manage-”

“I’ll just grab this part-”

“Sanji! It’s gonna-“

Splash

“…fall,” your once dried figures now soaked with sea water as both of you guys fell backwards into the incoming waves — his trembling body loomed over yours, salty droplets falling onto your face.

The sound of your increasing heart beat pounding in your ears from the closed distances between your bodies. Your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to his toned abs up close to your face, despite the evening darkness sweeping in to mask the dimming sunset.

You were embarrassed to admit it, but you always had a slight interest in the blonde cook. Sure, you were a little annoyed by his flirtatious attempts and his slightly pervy behavior — yet, in his times of seriousness that complimented his cool, stoic character, it was…quite attractive.

The amount of times you caught yourself staring at him as he cooked the crew’s meals with rolled-up sleeves, or chilling on the ship while lighting the butt of his cigarette. You had to resist the urge to bite your lip then and there.

But, seeing him on top of you while half naked and wet took the final slice of the cake.

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry! I should’ve listened to you-” The blood rushed to his cheeks and ears to form an embarrassed blush before lifting himself off you.

“Hot damn….” You muttered to yourself.

“Uh…what?”

“Um- Uh, nothing,” you shot him a sheepish smile before lifting yourself up. “It’s all good, I should’ve just accepted your help,” you laugh awkwardly as you drag the fallen bucket.

“Ahem, that would’ve been awkward if anyone in the crew saw us,” he brushed his hand through his blonde locks before searching his pockets for his cigarette box.

You suddenly halt your process of dragging the prawn bucket, an invisible lightbulb lighting upon your head. You turn to the chef before smirking at him,“I wouldn’t mind giving them a show.”

You could practically see his eyes bulging out of his sockets at your flirtatious manner. Who knew the pervy cook would get nervous by one of the only girls in the Strawhats? You wanted to take advantage of this sudden burst of confidence…

You walked up to him, his face producing a red hue on his cheeks as he watched your figure close the proximity between you two. His heartbeat increased at the sight of your practically bikini-clad body swaying in the moonlight. He clutched the cigarette between his teeth…

You look up at his flustered face before stealing the lit cigarette from his lips, a seductive tone poisoned your words, “Can we stay here for a bit?”

The nervous cook gulped, “U-Uh um…why?”

He watched as you took a drag out of his own cigarette before putting it out — He never found anything so sexy in his life; not even when he saw a naked Nami back in Alabasta before.

You harshly pushed his toned figure onto the dry sand before noticing the now obvious bulge in his pants. You were quite pleased by the outcome of this situation as you watched the cook fall to his knees for you — he relished in the sight of you using him. It was kind of different from the way you seen him with other girls. Slowly, you hovered over his body; his eyes glued onto your bikini-covered chest as he felt his mouth become dry.

“I think you know the answer, Sanji…”

————

A needy moan escaped from the cook’s mouth as you caught his lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongue ravaging with his as you grinded your clothed heat on his crotch. His body had become so turned-on from your sudden dominant nature, your touches like a tempting devil.

“[Name]…fuck,” his hands moved to your hips as you continued dry humping his erection.

You caught his lower lip between your teeth, “You’re so fucking sexy when you say my name like that, wanna scream it more for me?” You watched his body shutter as you exchanged the movement of your hips with your rubbing over his hardened bulge.

“A-ah shit, mon chérie, quit teasing me…”

You bit your lip as you continued your edge on his clothed cock, ignoring his pleas for your pussy. You relished in the sight of the blonde begging for your attention. You rubbed his erection in a faster pace, grabbing the outline of his size — he groaned at your intense touch.

A sly smirk creeped onto your face as you guided his hand under your skimpy bikini top, his hand instinctively squeezing the soft mound of flesh, brushing over your now hardened nipple. A soft moan left your mouth as you felt his rough hand roll the pearl between his fingers. You slapped his hand away with a smirk on your face.

You slowly shoved two fingers into his mouth, feeling the warmth of his tongue sucking and licking them, “Wanna show me what that mouth can do?”

You remove your bikini bottom, revealing the transparent slick trail of your arousal connecting from your pussy to the dampened cloth. You toss it to the side before hovering your crotch over his flustered face.

You harshly grabbed his face, “Make me cum and maybe I’ll give ya a reward.”

“…Yes, ma’am…”

You cautiously lowered your hips onto his face before you felt strong hands hastily grab your hips and slam you down. A yelp came out of you at the sudden pressure of your crotch rubbing on his face.

The warmness of his tongue desperately overlapping over your needy hole as you bit your lip to conceal the sounds of your impending pleasure. The sound of the crashing salt water colliding with the sand had become quieter as the sun died down and the moonlight became brighter.

The sound of sloppy wetness overtaking your hearing as he fucked his tongue inside you. You face twisting from the overbearing sensation of pleasure took over your body as you grinded your cunt further into his face, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, the smell of your arousal radiating off your warm body.

He lapped his tongue over your erected bud as sucked you off like a starved man. He groaned as he pulled your hips harder onto his face with need, his grip tightening around you. — He became obsessed with the taste of you and he was wanting more.

He slid his hands over the fleshy mounds of your ass before spreading them apart for better access. The speed of his tongue fastening had jolted the nerves of your body, your back arching from the overstimulation on your abused clit.

“S-Sanji! Oh god, keep going!” You cried out in pleasure. The moist sounds of his mouth connected with your saliva-coated cunt.

“Mmm’ Mon chérie, cum on my face,” he groaned as he swiped his tongue over your pulsating hole.

Your core tightened as you felt your approaching climax form into a pit in your stomach, “Then, you better savor it while you can, Blondie.”

He swore he could’ve felt his cock twitch in his swim trunks at the sound of his nickname slipping from your lips. God, the things you do to him…

You swayed your hips to the movement of his hungry tongue as the muscles of your increasingly tightening before you felt the imaginary coil unravel and relax. Your milky liquid leaking out your pulsating hole, smothering over the cook’s face.

He released the suction of mouth over your erected bud with the sound of a pop. His chin had been covered in his own saliva and your arousal. He huffed and puffed as he caught his breath. The taste of your cum lingered as on his lips as he licked them without shame.

“Good boy, I think it’s time I give you your reward,”you shifted your body off his face, the feeling of the cold grainy sand resting below your knees as you lowered your face over his crotch.

A surprised moan escaped the cook’s tainted lips as you pressed light kissed over his erection, the taste of ocean salt overtaking your taste buds. You could practically feel his wanting cock straining along the restraints of his wet as it ached for your touch.

You grabbed the hem of his trunks, peeling the fabric to reveal his touch-starved cock — it had a slight curve to it, the circumcised tip supporting a swollen redness as it leaked precum, his shaft with a few veins trailing down to his nicely-groomed happy trail of blonde hair surrounding it, his balls desperately awaiting to be emptied from all the edging you did to him.

“Nice cock, dude.”

“Haha, very funny, [Name],” he sarcastically rolled his eyes.

“I’m being serious, Sanji,” you swipe your index finger over the dripping slit of his tip.

A grunt escaped his lips as you flicked his sensitive cock in a teasing manner; Your hand running down his shaft before slowly fisting his cock in your hand. That fucking smug smirk painted on your face that drove him insane the entire time.

Your hand moved up and down faster as you watched his face twist from pleasure, his body jerking from the sudden jolts of electricity running in his body from your touch — You swiped your tongue over the flushed head, savoring the taste of the transparent liquid as you continued your pace on his shaft. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as you rubbed and squeezed his sensitive balls in the process; god, he was about to burst then and there.

He gripped the sand below him as you brought him to the edge of his orgasm, you enjoyed the amount of overstimulation you brought to his cute face as his curly brows scrunched together in pleasure. You bit your lip as you felt his cock twitch in your hand before-

“Sanjiiiii! [Name]! Where are you?? I’m hungry!!” You hear Luffy’s voice in the distance.

The cook looked back at you in horror, in fear that both of you guys were about to get caught by your captain. Luckily, you were out of sight from your rubber captain due to the steep rock wall that separated you and Sanji from him. You shot him a devious look as you continued your movement on his needy cock, “Gonna answer?”

Oh, fuck you.

“W-We’re still busy fishing so g-go away!” He yelled back with nervousness.

He bit the inside of his cheek as you engorged his cock into your mouth, the salty taste of his precum filling your taste buds as you slobbered over the tip and shaft.

“Well, hurry up already!!” the hurried tone of your captain’s voice echoing in the distance.

The cook groaned in annoyance, “SH- SHUT UP AND BE PATIENT OR ELSE ITS VEGETARIAN FROM NOW O-ON!!!”

“AGHH FINEEEE…”

A small snort escaped through your nose as you heard their short banter. Sanji was such a cutie patootie when he got mad at the crew you thought to yourself.

That’s probably why you enjoy seeing the cook moaned and whimpered as he submitted to your touch, wanting more of your attention from you. <3

He felt as if he could cum to the vibrations of your gagging alone as you struggled to swallow his cock whole, hitting the gag reflex that sat in the back of your throat. What didn’t help was when you caressed his swollen balls, squeezing them as if they were putty in your hands. They tensed at your touch as they added onto the ongoing stimulation on his messy cock.

He bit his lip while grabbing tufts of your hair as he felt the euphoric climax slowly creep towards his tip as you continued sucking him like a summertime popsicle.

Just when he was about to release his seed, you halted your action; releasing his cock with a pop as it bounced towards his abdomen. His cock twitched with impatience as it awaited more of your stimulation. The tip redder than before as it begged to release its seed.

He huffed, “Mon chérie…wha… what are you doing?”

You hovered over him before whispering in his ear, “I’m gonna ride you, that’s what i’m gonna do.” You bit his ear before aligning yourself over his cock.

You slammed on his cock, causing both of ya’ll to gasp in pleasure as you felt the gumminess of your walls swallow his size. He grabbed the fat of your ass as you bucked your hips up and down.

“Oh god! Oh yes!” You cried out as you felt him match his hip movements with yours.

Your pussy was practically a perfect mold for him as you sought to reach that euphoric feeling of edging to your arrival. You became obsessed with the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix as each thrust became deeper and rougher. You swore you saw a tear well up in his ducts as you watched his face become a moaning mess.

“Hah, oh fuck! K-Keep going at this speed, I might cum inside you…” He squeezed your ass harder as he kissed and sucked the skin on your collar bone.

“S-Sanji- hah!” You felt his lips lick the soft flesh of your chest as he moved his hands towards the underside of the fabric triangles, pushing them upwards to reveal the dark pearls of your cherries.

“Sanji!” You screamed his name as you felt the warm sensation of his tongue lap over your erected nipples. Now you’re the one being a victim to overstimulation.

He groaned as he made out with your right nipple while pinching your left one, the friction leaving you speechless as you were left in a moaning mess. He clenched your the soft mound as he felt your moist walls squeeze around his cock.

“You’ve been teasing me this whole time, I couldn’t help but retaliate…” He left your right boob with purple marks around your now tender nipples. He shifted his attention towards your left boob as he sucked and bit your dark pearl, enough to send electricity towards your pussy.

“Mmm’ you taste so divine, Mon chérie…This is way better than some seafood boil.” He loved the way you clenched on his cock as he sucked your sensitive nipple.

No amount of crashing ocean waves nor the sound of seagulls squawking under the illuminated night sky could muffle out the sounds of sloppy slaps and moans of the heated moment you both shared. You cried out his name in hiccups as he continued the movement of his hips guiding his cock towards your cervix, increasing his speed.

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji…i’m gonna cum!” You were going dizzy at his hypnotizing movements.

“Fuck, me too���Can I cum on that pretty face of yours, Mon chérie?”

You nodded as you felt that familiar tightening feeling in your abdomen of your impending orgasm had . The thought of releasing on his cock was racing in your mind as you wanted to savor the sensation the next time you had the “urge.”

You gripped his shoulders as you arched your back to the ripping feeling of your toe-curling release, a cry for pleasure escaped your lips as you felt your abused walls clench around him. — thick, white…it poured from your used hole as it coated on his twitching member, waiting to come as well.

He groaned at the sight of his cock being covered in your slick, like a used sex toy. He fisted his cock, your cum serving as lubrication to relieve himself.

He chanted your name in mutters as he took in the sight of your fucked-out face, sporting a tomato red and a trail of saliva dripping down your chin as you huffed and puffed for air. His hand instinctively stroked faster as the aftermath of your face around him even more. He let out a groan as he felt the nerves in his shaft jolt as ropes of hot cum spurt from his reddened tip.

You smirked as you watched the white fluid land on your face along with your hickey-covered chest. You didn’t want to lie when you felt surprised by how much spilled out of him—embarrassing amount continued to drip onto the sand from his now sensitive cock.

You bit your lip, “Didn’t tell me you had that much in ya.”

His face became flushed, “It’s not my fault, I was pent up from how much you edged me today!”

“You’re really hot when you’re hard at work, I couldn’t help seeing you in such a submissive state,” you stuck your tongue at him.

His heart skipped a beat at your embarrassing words, “MY LOVE, I’LL LET YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY.”

And…he’s back to his usual self.

The chef’s ears perk up as he hears rustling from the nearby coconut trees. You noticed his reaction before your attention redirected towards the origin of the sound.

“What the hell, where am I?

The mosshead looked towards your direction as he noticed the two figures in the distance, immediately recognizing the both of you.

Both you and Sanjj’s mouth dropped open before you guys scrambled on the sandy floor, readjusting your swimsuits and jumping in the cold salty waters to wash off the evidence. In the back of your mind, you wanted to cry of embarrassment; the thrill of almost getting caught was exhilarating itself. However, getting caught a a different story.

“Go away, moss head! We’re trying to fish in peace over here!” The blonde cook yelled at the swordsman.

Zoro smirked, “You sure this is fishing, cause last time I checked, you’re supposed to have your clothes on.”

Both you and Sanji looked at each other with an embarrassed blush on your face before quickly diverting your faces knowing the opposite direction.

“Zoro, you can’t tell anyone…” You softly pleaded.

The swordsman yawned, “I don’t really care, I was tryna find curly brow since Luffy was getting antsy about the food.”

“Oh and I was wondering where you kept the sake.”

The cook facepalmed himself, “You fucking drunk…it’s in the wine cabinet now go away.”

The swordsman yawned again, “Wow, thanks I guess. I’ll let yall do your thing but hurry up cause the captain looks like he’s about to munch on our emergency food (chopper).”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll get started once [Name] and I bring our shellfish catch back to the ship.”

You sighed in annoyance, “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the three of you walked back, the little devil on your shoulder caused you to land a nice smack on Sanji’s ass. He turned around with surprised look on his face while rubbing the impacted area. You shot a smug smirk at the cook before doing the “p in v” gesture with your fingers.

He smirked before giving you a wink. You quietly giggled before whispering in his ear, “Let’s do this again, but more private.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Heyy! I’m new here and I absolutely love your writings wksiwksjwjshe is your 300 event still open?

if yes I would love to req a cinnamon + poplar ! hehe thank you! (If it’s already closed then don’t mind me)

*HI sorry this took forever! But I hope you love it ;) Ace is such a filthy boy in this one, EYE certainly enjoyed it*

Pairing: Ace x Fem Reader

WC: 2200

Prompt: “Shh I know baby, I know it’s good. You’re doing so good for me…” 

TW: SEX, shameless flirting in public, Ace being kind of a pervert, reader is a bit older than young buck Ace, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't) creampie (also don't) fingering, teasing, pet names, filthy language. the usual?

— — 

You sat at your desk in the medical ward of the ship, up to your ears in paperwork. Blood test results to log, supply order forms to go over, you had so much on your plate and it was eating away at you. The rest of the crew was in the galley drinking but you were stuck working. 

Suddenly the door to the med bay swings open and in waltzes the crew’s head doctor. 

“Ok little chicken, that’s enough work for tonight.” Marco smiles warmly at you as he approaches your desk. 

“Please stop calling me that." You sigh and rub your eyes. "And I still have more releases to sign off on, and the IV tubing we use for Dad is on backorder, so I have to decide if we go up a size or down a size and did you know-“ You ramble on and on while Marco rolls his eyes. 

“I’ll handle it. Go out and have a drink.” Marco eyes your tired face. “Gods know you need it, kiddo.” 

You sigh. You feign a smile as you rise from your desk chair, the joints in your back and knees popping from how long you had been sitting. 

“Was… was that your back?” Marco asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Shut up.” You say as you push your way out of the med bay. You follow the sounds of music and riotous laughter towards the galley and enter quietly. You slunk between the groups of pirates towards the center of the room and grab a beer from the barrel full of ice. You pull your cigarette lighter out of your pocket and use it to pop the cap off your beer. You stow the lighter back into your pocket. 

“Hey, y/n! Over here!” 

You turn around and see a somewhat intoxicated Ace waving you over to his table. He had that stupid, goofy grin on his face. You smiled back and headed in his direction. He was standing around a wooden table with Thatch, Izou and a few other Whitebeard pirates and nurses. 

“Jeez y/n you look like you’ve been up for a week.” Ace teases you. 

“I think I have, now that you mention it…” You say and take a sip of your beer. 

“Man I haven’t seen you this down before, y/n. What the hell is going on with you?” Izou asks. 

“Well, since you’ve asked! I’m exhausted. I’m bored. I’m stressed. I can’t tell if I want 5 more beers or to fall asleep on the floor! I am wildly overworked and under-fucked.” You finish your rant and slam your beer. 

“Anyone else need another one?” You ask to the now silent group of people that surrounded you at the table. You were met with mostly blank stares, shocked at your sudden outburst. You turn and head to grab a new beer. 

“I’ll come with you!” Ace is quick to join with a mischievous smirk on his lips. 

He follows you like a puppy as you head towards the beer. 

“You know I can help you with that, right?” Ace grabs your arm and pulls you to face him. 

You laugh. 

“I don’t really think Marco would trust you enough to run my blood tests for me, but thanks.” 

“No no, the other part. The being under-fucked part.” Ace smirks down at you. Again, you laugh. 

“Haha, oh yeah? What are you, like 23? Like you’d know what to do with it if you had a chance.” You smile playfully and wiggle out of his grip, finally retrieving another beer. Ace does the same and sidles close behind you on your way back to the table. Suddenly Ace’s breath is hot in your ear as he leans in to whisper something to you. 

“Well I’ve got an 8 inch cock that might change your mind on that…” You stop dead in your tracks and your eyes widen. 

“Wha-?”

Ace passes by you and goes to join the table again. “Only if you want, though! Come on, let’s have another drink!” Ace beckons you over like he hadn’t just whispered the most crude, filthy thing in your ear 30 seconds ago. 

Convincing yourself you had imagined it, you snap out of your trance and return to the table to drink. 

You enjoy a few more rounds of drinks and you notice with each beer, Ace slides his body closer and closer to yours. You could attribute this to the size of your party shrinking as people headed off to bed, but at this point he was basically pressing his side into yours, occasionally grazing his warm hand over your hip. 

His touch was fleeting, but hot… it made you crave more. You found yourself leaning into him and he pulled you closer in return. He felt you shudder. 

“Oh man, y/n, you must really be tired. Do you need help getting back to your room okay?” Ace looks down at you with a devious smirk.  You knew what he was really asking.. and you were far too quick to respond. 

“Yes, I think I’d like that, Ace.” You smile and he wraps his arm around your hip and pulls you away from the table. 

Ace is all but giggling as he brings you back to your room, pinching and squeezing your skin anywhere he could tease it. He stops at your door and looks at you expectantly. 

You laugh. 

“Would you like to come inside, Ace?” 

“Hell yeah!” Ace practically jumps into your room behind you and slams the door shut. 

From the instant the door is closed, Ace’s lips are on yours. You barely had time to react to the kiss before he started tugging at your clothes. You laugh and pull back from the kiss. 

“Haha slow down!  We have all night Ace… I’m not going anywhere.” You purr at him and stroke his cheek. What a sweet, eager little thing he was. 

Ace nuzzles himself into your neck and plants a wet kiss. 

“‘M’sorry, just hate seeing you like this…” Ace continued licking and biting at your neck. You whimper. “Gonna fix it… gonna make you feel so good, baby.” 

Your cunt clenched in anticipated of what he was about to do to your body. Ace pulls your dress over your head and tosses it to the floor. He distracts you with more kisses as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. Ace kisses down to your stomach and gently pulls your panties down. You step out of them and realize you’re completely bare in front of your friend. 

You covered your breasts instinctively. Those doesn’t go unnoticed by Ace, who was coming up to meet your eye again. He pulls your arm gently away from your chest and smiles. 

“Aww are you shy, baby?” Ace coos at you. You blush so hard you think your face might be on fire. Why was he having this affect on you? He was a young blowhard at least 5 years your junior, and yet he ended up with all of the control in this situation…

“That’s ok, come here…” Ace gets on your bed and sits up with his back against the pillows and headboard. “Let me show you why you don’t need to be shy.” He smirks and holds out his arms to you. 

You lick your lips and climb into Ace’s waiting lap. He positions you with your back again his chest, sitting between his legs. This position reminded you how Ace was still fully clothed and you were completely naked. Something about being so vulnerable in front of him was intoxicating… 

“Spread your legs, sugar. Show me that cute pussy.” Ace whispers in your ear as he pulls your legs over his own, spreading them as far as they could go comfortably. 

“Ace…” You whimper quietly, trying to turn your head away. You were embarrassed at how aroused he had made you, all while barely touching you… but not nearly embarrassed enough to ask him to stop. 

Ace wastes no time before his hands are on your dripping sex. 

“Holy shit…” Ace glides a finger up and down your slit. “Look at how wet you are, pretty.” His one finger turns to two fingers as he collects more of your slick from your hole and brings it up to rub firm circles onto your clit. 

“Ace! Fuck!” You throw your head back, body feeling like it was filled with static electricity. He had you so worked up that every little touch felt like it was amplified by 100. 

“You’re so wet that I bet I could just slip my fingers in..” Ace smirks and swiftly plunges the two digits into your hole. You moan. “And I bet that if I do this…” Ace begins to firmly pull and tap his fingers into that delicious spot inside of your cunt. “… you’ll cum.” 

“Shit, fuck, Ace! O-oh my- Ah! ACE!” You cry out and explode all over Ace’s arm and the bed in front of you. 

“Looks like I was right, huh baby? That’s a good girl, give it all to me.” Ace playfully reacts as he rubs at your clit to prolong your orgasm. 

“Fuck… Ace…” You lay heaving on your bed in Ace’s arms, the spasms from your climax finally ceasing. 

You feel Ace smiling into your neck as he peppers it with sweet kisses. 

“I wouldn’t know what to do with it, huh???” He chuckles into your damp skin. 

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You roll your eyes. 

Ace gently moves you out from between his legs and he rises from the bed to remove his vest and shorts. You audibly gasp at the sight of his huge member springing free from its confines. 

“Jeez you weren’t kidding…” You say softly, eyes not leaving Ace’s cock in front of you. 

“I’m a pirate, baby, not a liar.” He flashes you that stupid grin again. “Now face down, ass up, sugar.” 

You quickly oblige, grabbing a pillow to cushion your face that was now stained with mascara. The first thing you feel is a warm hand sliding up your spine and massaging your skin, then you feel the prodding of Ace’s thick cock at your sopping wet entrance, the heavy mushroom tip barely breaching your hole. Ace dipped his tip teasingly in and out… 

“Ace…. please…” You whine as you push your hips back to entice him to fully enter you. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you, you don’t ever need to beg for me, pretty.” Ace plants both hands on your hips and pulls your ass flush against his pelvis, sinking his cock as deep as it will go into you. 

Strangled moans leave the both of you as he bottoms out. Ace pulls out slowly, looking down to admire the wet mess you’ve already left on his cock. He pushes back in and you moan again, squeezing him involuntarily. 

“Gods you were right… this tight little pussy is under-fucked.” Ace speeds up his thrusts and you gasp, the wind nearly knocked out of you. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make sure that never happens to you again… gonna fuck you every day… make you feel so fucking good…” 

Ace was slamming into you at an animalistic pace and you felt a second orgasm creeping up on you. You could feel the droplets of sweat from Ace’s face splatter on your back, as well as the crazed, possessive grip on your hips almost certainly leaving bruises. You couldn’t form words, only broken sobs and shrieks as your lover drilled into you, dead set on making you cum again. 

Tears fell from your eyes against the pillow and you whined, so close to reaching your peak again. 

“Shh I know baby, I know it’s good. You’re doing so good for me…” Ace coos at you. “Cum on my cock and I’ll fill you up, ‘kay sugar?” Ace leans forward and presses his chest to you as he continues his brutal assault on your pussy. He reaches one hand from your hip down and around to rub at your clit. The stimulation sends you over the edge and your orgasm rips through your whole body. “Ace!” You scream out and lurch forward, no longer able to hold your torso up with your arms anymore. 

“Good fucking girl! Now I’m gonna make you mine…” Ace praises you. 

You try to mumble out “please” but you truly have no idea if you were saying anything coherent.

“Haaa, fuck!” Ace cries out and spills his load impossibly deep into your warm hole. You whimper as you feel rope after rope of Ace’s hot seed filling you. Ace rubs firm circles into your hips as he calms down from his release. 

Suddenly, Ace pulls out of you and flops back into your bed and pulls you to his chest. You nuzzle into his sweaty pecs as you throw a leg over his hips. Ace pulls the blanket over the two of you, briefly leaning upwards to make sure your whole body was covered and comfortable before settling back on the pillows. 

“So you were serious?” You ask quietly. 

“About what, baby?” Ace answers as he strokes your hair. 

“About fucking me every day?” You chuckle. 

“Mmhmm…” Ace kisses the top of your head. “Tomorrow. And the next day.. and the next day… and the next day… and the next… and…” 

You hear Ace start snoring and smile. 

xx 

[forsaken-headcanons]

BetrayedSailors hcs because I love them so much:

-Gasharpoon is 6’4, Betrayed is 5’11

-Betrayed is Genderfluid Aro/Ace Pansexual any pronouns, I’ve already stated my Gasharpoon identity headcanon here but I’ll say it again: Bigender Bisexual He/She/It

-Betrayed goes by X (because 1x is taken) and Gasharpoon goes by Gash or, for Betrayed specifically, Ahab (because I hc that he and Captain Ahab Limbus Company have their differences, but they have the same name and same goals and stuff) No one else knows about that name.

-Betrayed had some trust issues and issues with general affection because they’ve been trapped for 1000 years by their minions, so I imagine that they’d be hesitant to trust anyone after that. He also struggled with showing affection and feeling affection because for the most part, she’s a being of hatred, and this also ties into the fact that being trapped for a thousand years really fucks with your social skills. They find someone it can trust in Gasharpoon, luckily :)

-I imagine them as close friends to lovers, in fact I hc Betrayed as the first other killer that Gasharpoon saw when they got Forsakened

-Gasharpoon had identity issues, when he was younger there was no Bigender or anything and his parents did not want him having extremely long hair like he wanted, they’d force her to cut it and they picked out her clothes. He was fine with who he was on the inside, but not on the outside. Gasharpoon internalized these thoughts and even when he’d finally been emancipated, he’d hide his longer hair and cut it but he could finally wear what he wanted, too. Eventually, during her time being Forsakened, she finds the names for her identities and grows her hair out to the length she’s always wanted it to be. He also finds Betrayed who, no matter what, has always supported her in his identity. If you’re going to be trapped somewhere for all of eternity, why not try to be who you’ve always wanted to be?

-Since Betrayed has two hands and Gasharpoon does not, Betrayed does a lot of things for Gasharpoon that it can’t because it doesn’t have another arm. Betrayed will brush Gasharpoon’s hair and help him clean among other things. Gasharpoon really appreciates this and will gift Betrayed small things in return.

-Gasharpoon’s love languages are words of affirmation, gift giving and physical affection. Betrayed’s love languages are physical affection, acts of service, and words of affirmation

-Betrayed will angrily rant about Shedletsky and Gasharpoon will listen to every word. Likewise, Gasharpoon will rant about the Whale and Betrayed will listen to every word. Betrayed likes it/thinks it’s hot when Gasharpoon gets angry like that. They’ve listened to each other so much that now they both also absolutely despise who the other actually hates. And this is beyond Gasharpoon already not really liking Shedletsky that much “He reminds me of Ishmael.”

-Betrayed HATES gold and gold things, while Gasharpoon just likes anything shiny

-They don’t do PDA much, just some hand holding and maybe the occasional kiss. Gasharpoon’s hand is always cold because the claws are somewhat metallic. Betrayed loves this, though.

-They waited an absurd amount of time before telling the other killers they were dating

“Hey, so we’ve been dating for a while now.”

“Really? Didn’t know you could feel love.”

“Yeah, it’s weird.”

“So how long have you two been dating? Cause we haven’t seen much of you two actually being romantic or anything.

“Oh, like 5 months now.”

“FIVE MONTHS?!”

Not exactly how I imagine it’d go, but that’s the general idea LMAO

Anyway I love you guys, see ya later

GOOD GOLLY?? first of all, WE LOVE YALL TOO!! :DD /P /P /P

second of all. heha. hey. hey so. aha. we might ship this now too actually /silly

GODSSS THESE ARE SO CUTE WWHATRHAJDGSD 💔💔💔 dude dude the mental image of these queer ass mfs doing all these things is Doing Something To Us... slash silly. hehehe. jason in the bg going "chi chi pa pa" but like. in a shocked way /silly

also omg wait. c00lkidd potentially seeing this as an opportunity to talk to someone new. as much as they hate to admit it, it can see why Betrayed is so fond of the kidd. and thus he is adopted into their makeshift family muehuehuehue

[rowdydevs]

*I'm reorganizing my blog and I accidentally deleted this 🥺 this is the alternate ending for Sharing.

Warning: angst, kissing, swearing, praise, pet names, make up sex, wet and mess, nipple play, fingering, oral sex (male + female receiving, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, owner ship kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, cum tasting, sucking fingers, fingering, overstim., unprotected p in v, squirting, teasing, and degradation, possessive sex with the twins they are only interested in the reader. <- please do not read if that makes you uncomfortable

“You’re goin’? I thought we talked about this?” Rafe asks breathlessly.

“Talked about what?” You ask as you look at Cam, then Rafe.

“You said you loved her, Cam,” Rafe yells.

“I fuckin’ do, Rafe. You know I do…”

“Then where the hell are you goin’?” Rafe asks.

“Hearin’ all the shit I did, it’s—”

“Do you want him here?” Rafe cuts in, looking you in the eyes. You take a little breath, lips tugging to the side, nodding ‘yes.’”

“Baby…”

“I want you here,” you push the words through your trembling lips. “Don't go.”

He bites his lips, brows pulling together as he tries to regain his emotions.

“We didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose,” Rafe says softly, pulling your attention back to him. “We’ve already wasted all this time tryin’ to figure shit out, and I don’t want to lose you. I love you. And I’m not asking you to give anything up. No ultimatums.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Wh-What does that mean?” You ask uneasily, feeling like you did when Rafe asked if you wanted the boys to share you again. This time, not just for the night...

“You’d be with me,” Rafe smiles, relishing those words as he looks down at you. “You and I… Just like before. And, Cam, you can talk to him whenever you’d like, with or without me, hang out, go on dates and shit, fuck. I don’t fuckin’ care as long as I can call you mine.”

“Are you sure?” You ask Rafe, unsure if you're even hearing him correctly given everything that happened.

Rafe exhales deeply, his expression softening as he looks down at you. “Yeah. I don’t know what to call it. I’m no good with this shit. S’just, you, baby. You’re my girl…” Rafe voice gets caught in his throat. He swallows hard before trying again. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I know you and Cam have somethin’ special. I don’t fuckin’ get it…” He laughs weakly, through his emotion as Cam returns the same. “M’not sayin’ it’s gonna be easy. But these past few weeks have been hell… I would rather work through this than be without you. I need you in my life, princess. I know what I want, and if this is the only way to keep you, then so be it.”

Cam stuffs his hands in his suit pockets, looking back at you from the other side of the suite before walking toward you again. “I don’t expect anything from you, sweetheart. We don’t have to put a label on us. This is enough. And I won’t get in the way, I swear. I’ll respect you and Rafe’s space—I’ll be grateful for anything you can give me. I don’t want to lose you either.”

Your chest tightens at his words as they all start to sink in. This wasn’t something you had planned on happening, and definitely not how you saw the night ending. It seemed too good to be true.

“Just to be clear, if this were anyone else, they’d be fuckin’ dead,” Rafe mumbles, seeing the worry painted all over your face. “I know how much he wants to be with you, and I can’t take that from him or you.”

Cam nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “I want to be with you, sweetheart.”

“I wanna be with you too,” you smile weakly as you look at Rafe, “both of you… I just-”

“You think it’ll go up in flames like last time?” Rafe asks. “I don’t blame you for doubtin’ me, princess. But I promise, this time, it’s fine. We got you. Okay?” You look up at him, still in disbelief, your bottom lip wobbling as you try to keep it together. “Co’mere,” he chuckles softly as he pulls you in for a hug, lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re okay—I swear, pretty girl. Aight? Fuckin’ promise you. We’re gonna take care of you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice muffled slightly against his muscular chest.

“Does this sound like somethin’ you want, princess?” Rafe asks as he holds you close.

“Yes,” you whisper. Rafe lets you go, and Cam grabs you, tugging at your hand to pull you into his arms and lifting you off your feet in a hug as you bury yourself in his warm neck. “You love me?” You ask gently.

“Yeah, baby,” he hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

“Really?” He asks as he sets you down on your feet, looking into your eyes.

“Mhmm,” you smile. He cups your cheeks in his big hands, bringing you in for a kiss.

Rafe reaches for you, stealing you back and grabbing your hand just like Cam did, but you jump into his arms, lips crashing against his. He smiles into your kiss, holding you in his big, strong arms. “I love you, baby,” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbles as his lips brush gently against yours. “Got you back…”

“You did,” you breathe as you scratch your nails into his hair, pressing gentle kisses against his lips and cheeks.

“N’you’re mine? You're my girlfriend?” He asks as he walks with you toward the bed.

“I’m your girlfriend, Rafe,” you smile. “And you’re my boyfriend?”

“I’m your fuckin’ boyfriend, sweetheart,” he groans before tossing you down on the bed, making you land with a bounce. You reach for him, pulling him down to your lips, kissing him hungrily. “Fuck, baby,” he grunts into your kiss as he grinds his body into yours, tongues tangling.

You watch out from the corner of your eyes as Cam walks to the foot of the side of the bed, free of his suit jacket, popping open the buttons of his button-down shirt as he looks down at you with a smile. You separate from Rafe’s lips, finishing the job for Cam as you open the last few buttons, lips pushing against his. “M’so glad you asked me to stay,” he whispers against your lips. “I don’t deserve you. I won’t lie to you anymore… I’ll tell you everything. Aight? Everything,” he pants as you pull his shirt off his broad shoulders. “You have no idea how much I crave you, sweetheart.”

Rafe moves behind your back, drawing down the zipper of your dress as he kisses along your shoulder, brushing the delicate straps off with his thumbs, letting the silky material fall to your feet. “Holy shit,” Rafe groans as he presses up into you, his rock-hard cock pressing against your ass. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, baby-”

“So perfect,” Cam mumbles between deep kisses, his voice heavy with longing. Rafe’s rough fingers unclasp your bra as you work on the button and zipper of Cam’s pants.

Rafe spins you around, pushing his lips against yours as his fingers play with the hem of your lace panties, snapping them against your hot skin, making you whimper against his soft lips. Rafe pulls them down as you kiss, leaving you bare and the boys in their boxers as you all climb onto the bed.

The boys sit beside each other, their backs pressed against the headboard. Rafe tugs you right where he wants you–your aching pussy pressed against his thigh, close enough to Cam where you could pull him in for a kiss. And that’s exactly what you do; your tongue dances with his as you grind yourself on Rafe's muscular leg while he plays with your tits.

The kiss is rough and needy; Cam quickly controls the situation. Rafe pinches and rolls your nipples, making you moan into his brother’s mouth as little spurs of pleasure spark between your thighs. Rafe captures your nipple between his lips, sucking and biting–chuckling wickedly against your skin. “Holy fuck, you’re wet, sweetheart,” he hums as he grips you by the hair, pulling you off Cam’s lips and onto his.

You let out a moan against his lips, Rafe taking the opportunity to lip his tongue inside, reeling with yours as you start to rut faster. Cam takes his chance to play with your tits, palming his cock through his boxers, but you push his hand aside, making him laugh sleazily as you do it for him. You wrap your fist around his thick dick, squeezing him, feeling the wet spot of precum gathered on the fabric.

Your stomach starts to coil, and your movements get more desperate by the second. Rafe grabs your hips, pushing you down, using his muscle to rock you, Rafe, sending you over the edge, making your pussy flutter around nothing. “That’s our girl… Fuck, princess? Does that feel good? You want some more?”

“Yes,” you whimper, shaky breaths fleeing your kiss-swollen lips.

“You’re cumming all night, baby,” Cam hums as he pushes your hair back, kissing your neck. “Gotta lot of time we need to make up for.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” Rafe hums, reaching around you slap your ass. “I’m gonna taste you, princess. You wanna taste him?” Rafe asks, soothing the sting with the palm of his hand.

“Yes, baby,” you whisper, kissing him once and twice.

“Well, aren’t I lucky, huh?” Cam mumbles hot against your ear. The two boys lay you down, tugging their boxers the rest of the way off. Your eyes darken, mouth-watering as you take in every inch of tight, tan skin, muscles to spare, their dicks achingly hard as they move a little closer.

Rafe grabs your thighs in his big hands, pushing you open. He flicks his tongue against your puffy clit, still sensitive from your first release. Rafe laps up your pussy, moaning into your cunt, burying his face in you, inhaling your scent. He starts to grind himself into the mattress, his fingers finding your bud, tongue swirling around your hole.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out as he presses his tongue inside, tongue fucking you like you’ve been craving for weeks; the man chasing your second orgasm of the night, already thinking about the third as he works his cock against the bed, getting off on your taste at the moment.

You pout your lips in overstimulation, Cam slapping his tip against your pillow lips. He traces his fat head against your mouth, spreading his precum all around, watching with lidded eyes as you lick them clean, your eyes locked on his. “You look so pretty, baby–fuck, you look pretty with your cum on my lips.”

Rafe’s tongue glided up your slit, sucking down on your clit; fingers plunging inside you. Your mouth hangs open as he sucks down, curling and scissoring his fingers. Cam pushes his cock between your lips, making you moan at the weight of him on your tongue. You wrap your fingers around his thick base, stroking where your mouth won’t reach. Rafe runs a line of spit down on his cock; your fist working over him fast, keeping time with Rafe’s hands deep in your pussy.

“Fuck, baby…” He moans. “Just like that.” Rafe could feel your body getting close to yet another release, pounding his digits into you roughly, his other hand holding onto your fleshy hip to keep you from moving as Cam started to pump deeper into your mouth.

Your lashes flutter shut as Rafe hits your G-spot again and again. Cam reaches down, wrapping his big hand around your throat, making your eyes flash open. “Not yet, princess… I’m almost there, alright? You’re suckin’ me so fuckin’ good,” he praises, his voice husky and worn with pleasure. “Don’t cum… Not yet.”

Your eyes screw shut, trying to listen, stars dancing behind your eyes as you fight against your body, the pressure of your pleasure almost too much to handle. You cry out around his cock as tears slide down your hot cheeks, his hold on your neck growing tighter.

“Cum for us,” Cam grunts, quickly filling your mouth with his warm cum. You swallow it all as your body falls apart, quickly reaching for a breath. Rafe doesn’t let up pounding you with his fingers through your orgasm. Cam reaches down, slapping at your clit, making you sob pathetically, the man quickly adding his fingers to the mix, brushing side to side until you’re gushing around their fingers.

Rafe hums out a moan, licking up the sweetness between your thighs. He lifts his hands, and you quickly take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. Cam leans down, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your tongue, groaning against your lips. “Just as sweet as I remember, princess,” he mumbles against your lips.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Rafe mumbles, completely pussy drunk. He kisses your clit, making you whimper in sensitivity, fingernails scratching into his hair. You tug his hair by the root, pulling him to your lips; he crawls toward you, eyes raking up your body. He looks down at you, completely bare underneath him, looking up at him with glossy lips and wet eyes, the sparkly R pendant clinging to your dewy skin.

Rafe bites his lips, scrunching his nose as he’s hit with a wave of emotion, just knowing you never took it off, even after everything.

“I love you more than anything, princess,” he whispers.

“I love you, Rafe,” you breathe, the beautiful boy falling out of sight before you as tears shimmer in your eyes. You blink them away, and he cups your cheeks, brushing them away with his thumbs. Rafe leans down, kissing you tenderly, and it feels like home.

“Are you ready for us, baby?” He asks against your lips.

“M’ready,” you whisper.

“Greedy girl can’t wait to be filled, huh?” He asks through a raspy breath.

“I’m a slut for Cameron cock,” you giggle breathlessly, repeating those words he said in the shower before that first night—the night that changed everything. Rafe chuckles deeply, looking down at you with lust and love as he brushes your hair off your face.

“Have I told you you’re perfect,” he breathes against your lips, rolling you on top of him fast, making you gasp against his lips. You rise on your knees as Rafe takes his cock in his big hand, pumping his dick a few times as he takes you in. “I get your pussy,” he smiles.

“Well, shit,” Cam smiles as he slaps your ass playfully. “Keep gettin’ lucky, don’t I?” He leans in, kissing you gently, lingering on your lips as Rafe runs his throbbing tip up and down your folds. “You’re gonna let me fuck your pussy later. Aren’t you?” He asks, smiling as he feels your smile against his lips.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Think we both knew the answer to that, buddy… Just a whore for us, aren’t you, princess?” Rafe hums as he wraps his big hands around your hips. Rafe biceps flex as he pulls you lower, guiding you to fall on his cock nice and slow. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he moans as he throws his head back into the pillow, feeling your warm wet cunt swallow him up again. He lifts you off of him, using his muscle to move you up and down on him, using your pussy like a toy.

Rafe drops his hand, pressing it against your clit, making you throw your head to the ceiling; Cam’s muscular body moves flush with your back. “Feels so good, baby,” you whimper as your body trembles. Cam cups your tits in his ringed hands, squeezing as you start to bounce on Rafe’s cock; your wet skin sticking and smacking against his.

“Again?” Rafe asks through a breathy laugh, acting like he’s surprised to see you seconds away from yet another release.

“Rafe—”

Cam lowers his grip, grabbing your waist, bouncing you up and down on Rafe’s cock as your eyes squeeze shut. Rafe smiles up at you wickedly, slapping at your clit again and again until you’re sobbing above him.

“I’m—Fuck. I—” You ramble as your body surrenders to your release. Cam lets you go, and your hands come smacking down, gripping Rafe’s chest for dear life as your head hangs between your shoulders, trying to get your feet under you. And just when you start to have a semblance of control, you feel Cam’s fingers press against your tight hole, pussy clamping around Rafe.

“Relax, doll,” Rafe hums, almost condescending. “You’re good n’ wet.” Crack. He slaps your thigh, making your bottom lip wobble as you look down at him. “You’re so beautiful like this, princess,” he whispers as he cups your cheek, slipping his thumb in your mouth. You suck on it for a second, your body utterly numb with pleasure.

Rafe hisses out a breath as you bite down on his finger as Cam pushes into your second hole; he chuckles teasingly, taking his hand away, eyeing the bite marks left behind. Cam wraps his arms around you, burying himself in your neck, his cock nestled in your ass; Rafe still buried balls deep.

“Relax, baby,” Cam whispers. “You okay?”

“Mmm… Mhmm,” you sigh as the pain subsides, your trembling hand resting on your lower stomach, feeling the outline of Rafe’s long, thick cock.

Rafe rubs his thumb on your clit, his other hand squeezing your hip. You relax a little more, your body getting used to the feeling again.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby,” Rafe praises. Cam kisses along your neck as he draws out fucking back into you a little rougher. Your pussy clamps down around Rafe, making his brows tug together. “Goddamn… Feels so fucking good,” he mumbles under his breath as Cam starts to fuck into you hard and fast, making your pussy bounce on his dick from the backshots alone.

“Rafe… Fuck, Cam,” you mumble drunkenly. Going so dumb on their dicks you can barely think. Rafe smiles at you blissfully, hooking his big hand around you to pull you to his lips. Your mouth crashes against his, the angle making you gasp and cry against his lips. “I can’t…” You whisper between gentle kisses.

“You are though… You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good.”

“Fuck, baby,” you whisper as Cam moans behind you, watching his cock plunge into your perfect ass with each stroke.

“Does it feel good, princess?” Rafe asks as he sucks off your bottom lip.

“So fuckin’ good,” you whimper.

“Then fuckin’ take it…”

Your climax sneaks up on you fast, bringing Rafe with it; his muscles tremble with yours as he fills you with his warm cum, your tight cunt milking every last bit of him as Cam fucks you through your orgasm, filling your greedy hole with his seed as well.

“Good, girl,” Rafe whispers

The night stretched on, Rafe and Cam, never letting you go. All the tension you held in your body seemed to ease in his arms. Their strong hands trace your bare skin, keeping you like they’ve wanted to for weeks.

Apologies were said, but even so, the pain of the past few weeks lingered on, the sincerity in their beautiful eyes making you believe that you could get back to where you were before. Rafe and Cam weren’t asking you to ‘forget what happened’ or ‘move past it’; they were just asking for a chance to show you they could make it work.

Cam’s large hand rests gently on your body as he sleeps, snoring lightly behind you as you look at Rafe, wide awake, his beautiful eyes still on you like he’s afraid you’ll go away again.

“Princess,” he begins, his voice wavering, “Can you forgive me? Please.”

“I forgive you,” you whisper as you snuggle a little closer.

“I was nothin’ without you. You are the best part of me,” he whispers as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing kisses on the top.

Without another word, Rafe tugs his ring off his finger, gliding it back onto yours and setting it back as if it has always belonged there—and it has. Rafe’s expression softens as he lives in your sweet words, knowing that you still wanted to be with him even after everything that had happened.

“We’ll take care of you like you take care of us. Alright?”

“Thank you, baby.”

He tips his forehead, sharing his breath with you. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too.”

"I get you last... I always get you last," Rafe whispers breathlessly against your kiss.

"Always."

[theladyofthevarioussorrows]

Sunspots

Fandom: Sunshine (2007)

Pairing: Robert Capa x fem!reader

Word count: 6,400+

Characters: Robert Capa (Cillian Murphy), the rest of the cast is only mentioned.

Summary: Alternate universe (duh). Reader is the 9th crew member on the Icarus II as a second physicist assigned to assist Capa; she and Capa started dating at some point during the mission. But, in this story, the mission was successful, and everyone lived to make it back to Earth; the reader and Capa have been together ever since. The story takes place during a solar eclipse two or three years or so after they make it back to Earth, and as to be expected, Capa is excited about and fascinated by the eclipse, and so is the reader. He is set on making it a beautiful and romantic experience for her, especially since it was because of them that they can see it from Earth.

Warnings and additional tags: Fluff, smut (p in v), established relationship, mention of masturbation (m and f), the mission is successful in this (everyone makes it back to Earth in one piece), soft!dom Capa if you squint, Capa is slightly out of character in this (he's happy, he's deeply in love with the reader, and he's a little bit of a tease), mention of airsickness, reader-insert, reader-interactive, reader uses Capa's first name a few times, Capa calls the reader "sunshine" (I think it's fucking cute okay? Sue me. I'm just a girl.).

Notes: This is my first fic in literal years, and it is in two parts...both are in this post. I took a lot of liberties here. Necessary ones I think, but liberties nonetheless. I don’t know a lot about space and space travel. I know very little about it actually. However, I did do some research (if you could call it that) and tried to make it as accurate to the movie as I could. I had a ton of fun writing this! I miiiiiiiiight add to this later on, we'll see! I hope you guys like it!

--->Smut below the cut! NSFW, minors DO NOT INTERACT!<---

He had been planning this for months. Years, to be exact. Up until now, he was convinced that if he made it back in one piece, he would have been alone.

Capa had spent over a year cramped up on the Icarus II with eight other crew members. Kaneda, Searle, Trey, Corazon, and Cassie seemed to take him seriously a good chunk of the time, but stayed mostly neutral towards him. Harvey and Mace tended to direct a lot of their anger towards him. Whether it was out of jealousy, anxiety, or whatever else, it didn’t matter what their reasoning behind ganging up on the lead physicist was. Despite their unfounded animosities, it was Capa’s stellar bomb that would reignite the Sun and save humanity from extinction. Even though tensions were understandably high, Capa was the only person aboard the Icarus II who knew the gravity and the importance of the mission they were tasked with carrying out. In other words, he was the only one who knew how to operate the device to perform such a miracle. It was really no surprise to anyone that they put Capa in charge of the payload; he understood the mission better than anyone else on the ship, and it showed. Mace and Harvey began to back off once it finally began to sink in that their lives depended on Capa, and because of that, they should take it easy on him. Try to, at least.

Of all the other astronauts on the Icarus II, Capa felt the closest to Y/L/N, the second physicist, a young woman wise beyond her years who was assigned to work alongside Capa. She was a bit younger than him and the rest of the crew, but she proved to have a level-headed way of looking at things, while also presenting herself with an air of cautious optimism. Her grace and appreciation of everything each of the members were doing drew Capa to her, something that initially made him nervous. She captivated him in a mysterious but welcome way, and she was nowhere near immune to his unique allure and quiet charm.

She would watch him in awe as he spoke, completely entranced by his intelligence. Every word he said, every move he made…she felt it in her heart, and deep in her core. After watching her perform her duties effortlessly without ever faltering once, Capa began to feel at ease with her, and he caught himself quietly thanking the forces that be for pairing the two of them together.

It took a lot of effort on his part to keep his composure around her, and little did he know, it was just as difficult for her to behave herself around him. He knew he was falling for her, and he tried to keep it down as long as he possibly could, just in case his feelings for her weren’t reciprocated. Even though she did feel the same way about him, she made a valiant effort to stay focused on the tasks at hand, despite the ever-looming temptation.

She and Capa grew close after spending hours alone working out equations or going over calculations, and even just spending whatever free time they had talking about anything and everything, but nothing too wild or personal just yet. After one particularly restless night, she left her quarters and came out to the common area to find Capa at the table, his head in his hands. He noticed her and lifted his face to look at her, a faint smile escaping his lips.

“Oh, hey. I take it you couldn’t sleep either?” Capa asked her, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he shifted in his seat. She looked absolutely beautiful to him, still in her sleep clothes that fit her perfectly, the fabric slightly revealing but leaving just enough to the imagination, her hair down and slightly tousled. His gaze accidentally drifted to her thighs and hips, and he looked away suddenly, focusing back on her face. Capa was trying hard to keep his cool as she stood in front of him, fighting back thoughts of how much better those clothes would look on his bedroom floor. He struggled to push the thought away, and was internally failing miserably at it.

She also felt an all-too-familiar feeling between her legs seeing Capa sitting there in his gray tank top shirt, his hair falling on his shoulders in the sexiest way possible. She couldn’t help but notice his well-defined arms, and traced the path of his veins with her eyes. She tried not to stare at him, and swallowed before she answered. “Yeah, unfortunately. A lot to do, a lot to think about, you know?” she answered back as she walked over to the table to sit down next to him. “Do you mind if I sit with you for a while?”

He motioned for her to sit down, welcoming her. “Oh no, not at all, the company would be nice. And yes, you’re right, there’s tons to think about for sure.” He sat up straighter and turned to face her better as he cleared his throat quietly, still fighting with his wandering mind.

She let out a small breath of relief before she sat down. She turned toward him and continued to speak. “What’s on your mind?” she asked. Even though she was concerned and was aware he was under an insane amount of pressure, she knew Capa had everything under control, and she trusted his judgment completely. “We can talk about it if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath before answering her. “I guess it’s just nerves. You and I have run the calculations countless times now, and we’re on the correct path with everything, the payload is operational and all that…but I’m still a bit anxious about it. It’s nothing crazy, but, you know…” his voice trails off before looking into her eyes. “I just hope everything goes to plan, that’s all. I don’t think we have any reason to think it won’t, but still.”

She looked back at Capa. “Oh believe me, I totally understand.” She moves closer to him in an attempt to reassure him as she rests her hand on his. “But hey, I have faith that we can get it done and all will be well with the universe.” She smiled. “You’re doing amazing, by the way.”

Capa began to blush as he smiled back, softly but warmly. “Aww, thanks. Just doing my job.” He turned his hand over under hers, holding it gently as their fingers tangled together. “You’re doing great, too. We’re so lucky to have you with us…with me.” His heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t believe he said that out loud, but he didn’t bother trying to go back on it either. “I know I am.” His ocean blue eyes looked at her face, searching for any sign of discomfort or apprehension. He was relieved to find neither in her expression, just her smiling and blushing back at him.

She felt his words deep inside her as if a bomb on a much smaller scale was going off within her chest, and his words almost didn’t register with her right away. She smiled and blushed deeply before continuing. “That’s very sweet of you to say…thank you,” she answered. Despite the fact that they have spent a lot of time alone together in recent weeks, the tension in the room was noticeably thicker…so thick that you could slice it in the air with a scalpel. “I try my best. It’s all I can do, really.” She held onto his hand a little tighter as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

Capa broke the brief silence. “Hey…” he began, speaking warily but keeping his smile. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I’ve been waiting for the right time, and I’m not quite sure when that would be or would have been…I hope you won’t take it the wrong way.”

She looked back at Capa, curious but cautious. “Sure, you can ask me anything. What’s up?” He returned the gentle squeeze of her hand and softly grazed his thumb over her knuckles.

Capa took a deep breath, and looked away from her for a split second before directing his focus right back on her. He could feel his face getting warmer, his fair-skinned face turning a faint pink. He hesitated for a beat before throwing caution to the wind to speak his mind.

“Well…you know how we’ve been spending a lot of time together lately? Not just on protocol and calculations and whatever else…but in general?” He continued to hold her gaze while he waited for her response.

“Yeah, of course. Why?” she asked as she looked at him, still smiling and holding his hand, butterflies forming in her stomach. “Is everything okay?” she asked, trying to gauge where the conversation is going without assuming anything or jumping to any conclusions.

“Oh yeah, everything is fine, all things considered. Amazing, actually…” He swallowed quietly before beginning again. “Um…I guess what I’m trying to say is…I feel closer to you than anyone else on the ship…” He paused and chuckled nervously before he continued to speak. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such a connection to someone. You understand me in a way that everyone else doesn’t, and I really appreciate that. A lot.” He smiled and blushed deeper.

She smiled and blushed deeper as well. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way.” She moved closer to him. “I feel the same way about you.”

He reached his free hand up to gently brush some of her hair out of her face, softly caressing her cheek as he did it. “You’re just…I don’t know what the right word is. Exhilarating? Refreshing, maybe? I guess what I mean to say is…” he trailed off before cupping the side of her face with his hand while holding onto her hand with the other. “I’m falling for you. I mean…I have fallen for you. You’re on my mind constantly.” He gazed at her for a beat before continuing his thought. “I hope that doesn’t make anything weird or awkward.” He searched your face again for any opposition. Yet again, he didn’t find any of either.

Capa wasn’t one to divulge his deepest, darkest secrets to anyone, but it took every ounce of his being not to tell her that he’s seen her face behind his eyelids almost every night for the past two or so months, her name in his throat every time his need for her took over. He let it spill all over himself when he couldn’t sleep, which was unfortunately often. She wasn’t going to tell him that she touched herself to the thought of him any time the mood struck her either, soaking her fingers and her sheets beneath her. The two of them, separated only by a thin wall, had been breathing each other’s names as they reached completion for quite some time, and neither of them had shared any feelings for each other until today. As luck would have it, their feelings were mutual.

She leaned into his hand as she looked back at him. “It’s not weird, I promise…I’ve fallen for you too. I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t.” She gazed at him, full of love and infatuation. “You’re all I think about.”

Capa looked back at her with the same intensity. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he replied. He leaned in closer to her still, less than a foot of space between them. “What I really wanted to ask is…” he trailed off as he caressed her cheek and jawline. “I know this isn’t ideal, and I’m sorry about that…but I want this mission to continue with no regrets. I would hate myself forever if I never told you how I really feel about you. With that being said…would you be okay with us seeing where this goes?” His eyes never left hers as he confessed his love for her. “I want to be with you…if you’ll have me. Now, and, God willing, after the mission, too.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she heard his words. “Of course I will. I want to be with you, too. I want nothing more than to be with you.”

Capa smiled and let out a sigh of relief before he spoke again. “Thank you…really. You mean everything to me, and I want you to know that…I’ll never let you forget it.” He closed any remaining distance between the two of them. He caressed her face tenderly once more. “May I…?”

She smiled at him with admiration and anticipation. “Yes, you may.”

Capa closed his eyes, leaned in, and kissed her gingerly at first, her eyes fluttering shut. She tilted her head as she kissed him back. Their kiss grew more and more passionate as seconds passed. He held her head gently and he ran his fingers through her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck, their tongues dancing together softly. Capa slowly broke the kiss and opened his eyes. She opened hers as they pulled away, their pupils blown out with love and desire. He wrapped his arms around her as she pulled him into a tight hug, resting her head in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long…” he breathed into her hair as he rubbed his hands on her back, inhaling her sweet scent. “Thank you…I mean it.” Capa blushed some more as he took another deep breath. “God, you make me feel like I’m a teenager again.”

“Me too…you’re absolutely lovely,” she replied, hugging him tighter. “You’re the man I’ve always dreamed of.” She broke the hug before looking into his icy blue eyes again. “Does this mean we’re together?” she asked, blushing and smiling.

Capa smiled back at her. “It does…is that okay with you?” He brushed some of her hair over her shoulder before caressing her face again.

“That is more than okay with me,” she answered. “So, what now?”

Capa blushed deeper as he smiled. “Come here…” He stood up from the table and held his hand out for her to take. She accepted his hand and stood up as he put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his plush lips met hers again, kissing her with more intensity and urgency than he had before. She matched his passion as she returned his kiss, tangling her fingers in his long, dark, soft hair.

Noticing her need for him in her movements, Capa moved his kisses from her lips to her chin and jawline, then down along her neck and collarbone, immediately appreciating her reaction as she moaned quietly, tugging on his gray sleeveless shirt. She mused to herself about how effortlessly gorgeous he looked in it again, biting her lip at the thought, instantly reminded of all those nights she fantasized about taking it off of him. Lost in lustful longing, she struggled to get the words out.

“How did you know that I…maybe…we should probably…go somewhere else…” she whispered in between heavy breaths and soft whimpers. “Someone might wonder…what if someone wakes up and…” This is the first time he’d ever kissed her, and he already figured out one of the things that drives her crazy, knocking the air out of her lungs without trying to.

Capa chuckled slyly as he softly shushed her before he agreed. “A wild guess? But yeah…good call.” He gently pulled her with him towards his small bedroom. “We’ll deal with everyone else later. You’re all that matters to me right now.” He opened his door and let her in before shutting it behind him and locking the two of them inside. He looked at her with concern. “Are you okay with this? We don’t have to…you know…if you don’t want to…” His voice was low and seductive as he moved his hands under her shirt, tracing the curve of her spine and her shoulder blades with his fingers.

She spoke as he trailed off. “Yes, I want to…I want you. I’m sure about this. Are you?” she answered, looking back at him lovingly.

“As sure as I’m alive,” Capa answered, smiling back at her with just as much love. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” He kissed her some more before gently pushing her backwards onto his bed and positioned himself between her spread legs as he laid her down.

They spent the rest of the night making love to each other, over and over, drawing out every single moment to make it last as long as possible, and after at least a few hours, they wore each other out completely. Their first entanglement started out slow and sensual until their hunger for each other consumed them. They tried their absolute hardest to keep the noise to a minimum, but that became increasingly difficult for the both of them as their makeout heated up and clothes started to fall away.

Capa was gentle with her for their first time having sex, leaving no part of her untouched or unkissed, committing every inch of her skin to memory as if it was their last night alive. As far as he was aware, the woman underneath him was nothing short of a goddess. She gladly returned the favor, marveling at his incredible beauty. She was completely amazed at how he looked as if he was carved from stone, his whole body breathtakingly perfect to her. As far as they were concerned, it very well could have been their final night together. Neither of them were worried about that now, focusing solely on each other.

She was tight like a vice and sopping wet around him, and he stretched her so deliciously that he would whisper his praises in her ear, encouraging her. Capa made it a habit to cover her mouth as he took her, something she learned to absolutely lose her mind over. If he wasn’t covering her mouth as he brought her to climax, he would make sure to devour her with hot kisses as she contracted around him, bringing his orgasm forth soon after. As much as he would have loved for her to be as loud as she possibly could, Capa found it incredibly sexy and oddly endearing when she struggled to stay quiet under him, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as he poured himself into her.

She was able to rile Capa up in all the best ways possible as well, and he too had some difficulty trying to keep his voice down. One round turned into two, and then three…and on and on until both of them were sore and exhausted. Once they were able to catch their breath, Capa would make sure he didn’t wreck her too much, and if he did, he’d kiss it all away, and she would follow suit. “I love you” were three little words that neither of them could ever get sick of saying or hearing from the other.

After all of their daily tasks were taken care of for the day, every night on the Icarus II thereafter was spent in each other’s arms, whether in Capa’s bed or hers. On nights when they weren’t ravishing each other half to death with reckless abandon, she and Capa would lay in bed together and talk about whatever came to mind until they fell asleep tangled up in each other. She and Capa were able to keep their new relationship a secret for about a week maximum before the crew found out on their own. They were delighted to discover that none of the rest of the crew were surprised that they ended up together. There was initially some concern, but ultimately the crew accepted it and let it continue, because they knew that these moments the crew had together could be the last they have with anyone, so who cares if two of the crew members fell in love?

Mace ribbed Capa about his enthusiastic nightly activities with Y/L/N, and it was nice that he wasn’t fighting with him for once. It was hard for him to believe that Capa, the usually soft-spoken physicist, had that effect on Y/L/N. He even mentioned to Cassie that he has never seen Capa smile as much as he did now, and Cassie added that Y/L/N had a glow about her. For someone as quiet and reserved as Capa, Mace found it amusing that his new girlfriend could bring him out of his shell like that, and although he would never admit it, he was glad that it was Y/L/N.

Capa was bashful about discussing his relationship with Y/L/N to the others, shying away from the sexual aspect, but he had no issue praising her and giving her credit when it was due. It was obvious that he was absolutely head over heels for Y/L/N, and she blushed anytime the crew teased her or tried to get her to reveal any juicy details about their rendezvous behind closed cabin doors. They were in love, and it brought a new positive energy to the rest of the mission. Kaneda was thankful that everyone seemed to be getting along better and in good spirits, while Trey and Harvey were indifferent towards the two physicists becoming a couple, but thrilled for them nonetheless.

Searle, being a doctor, wasn’t really concerned with it, but was also excited for them. He pretended not to notice the love marks Capa bit into Y/L/N’s neck or the faint scratches she had left on Capa’s shoulders, and especially tried to ignore the way Y/L/N would squirm slightly when she sat down. Corazon, happily content that a relationship so strong could come from something so hellish, reminded everyone that they had a surplus of oxygen coming from the garden due to overgrowth. The crew would still have more than enough oxygen to go around, whether Capa and Y/L/N were “fucking like rabbits” or not, as Mace put it.

After a few weeks of calculations, trajectory adjustments, and protocols during the day and exploring each other and falling in love more and more at night, Capa led the rest of the crew to carry out the mission successfully. Capa made sure everything was done exactly to plan, and he didn’t do anything without his girl by his side, from the ignition of the bomb all the way through the terrifying trek back to Earth.

It didn’t matter how many times the crew had practiced and prepared for the descent back to solid ground, the airsickness still hit Y/L/N the hardest. It was the part of being an astronaut she hated the most, and she never quite got used to it. Capa was well aware of this having seen her go through it during their zero-gravity training, and he felt bad that it was hard on her. He was one of the lucky ones who could handle it well; the worst of it for him was a slight change in equilibrium that left him briefly lightheaded. But now he took care of her lovingly, holding her hair out of the way and rubbing her back as the nausea won the battle against her, never leaving her side until he knew she was okay.

She was embarrassed about it as it was happening, not wanting anyone to see her so violently ill, but was eventually able to joke about it once the sick, spinning feeling dissipated. All of that initial anxiety melted away knowing her boyfriend was right there beside her, making sure she felt well enough before taking care of any other necessary tasks. He reassured her that a lot of people are really sensitive to it, and that it’s nothing to be ashamed of. In an attempt to make light of the situation, Capa reminded her that the reduced-gravity aircraft they used during their weightlessness training was called the “Vomit Comet” for a reason.

As the Icarus II landed, the crew was met with a massive crowd of people cheering them on, congratulating them on their historic achievement, while also mourning the deaths of the previous Icarus crew. Once everyone was back to their normal selves, or as close to it as possible, Cassie, Mace, Corazon, Trey, Searle, Harvey, and Kaneda all went back to their homes in various places around the world.

Meanwhile, Capa and Y/L/N settled down somewhere in the halfway point between their hometowns, close enough to Capa’s sister and her kids in one direction, and Y/L/N’s family in the other. They had found themselves a nice house outside of the city, and the two built their own small planetarium in their backyard together. Their two-story home was modest but just enough for them; not too small, but not too big either. It was there that they stayed happily for the next couple of years.

______________________________________________________________

It was a warm April day, but to Capa, it wasn’t just any typical day. Today was special.

The solar eclipse was happening today. He hadn’t seen an eclipse on Earth in many years. He has seen a few eclipses from the vantage point of the Icarus II in space, but it’s been a long time since he’s experienced one from the ground, and it just so happened that the path of totality was going right over his house he shared with his girlfriend, Y/L/N.

Of course, being a physicist and an astronaut, he knew the date and time of when the Moon was supposed to pass in front of the Sun ahead of time -- months, maybe years in advance -- and he knew he wanted to experience it with the love of his life. Even more than that, he wanted to make the experience as beautiful and as romantic as he possibly could. It was because of the couple and the rest of the Icarus II crew that they were able to view such a remarkable thing from Earth after all.

While Y/L/N was away for a few hours finishing a few last-minute errands, Capa was busy in their backyard in the midday spring air, setting up a massive telescope and a camera. Next to his setup, he spread out a large blanket on the grass, and on it he set a bottle of wine and two glasses. As he was getting the angle of the telescope just right and setting the time lapse to the correct adjustments on the camera, he thought he heard Y/L/N’s car pull into their driveway. As she got out of the car, she looked around for him, but didn’t see him right away.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” she called out. She waited a second before calling out for him again. “Robert? Honey?”

“I’m in the backyard, baby,” he called back to her. “I’ll be right there.” Capa walked over to her to help her carry the bags into the house. He helped her put the groceries away in the kitchen, and once everything had been taken in and put away, he pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her deeply, leaving her breathless. She kissed him back, returning his intensity as she held onto his shoulders. She wobbled a little, but Capa held onto her tight, not letting her fall. He gently broke the kiss, his arms still around her.

“Welcome home, sunshine,” Capa said, his eyes full of love. “I was getting nervous for a second there.”

A little dizzy from his kiss, she giggled before answering. “I’m sorry, sweetheart…traffic was backed up, but I made it.” She kissed him again as she hugged him. “How much time do we have until everything goes dark?”

Capa returned the kiss, gently running his hands up and down her back. “We have about half an hour or so before we can see anything happen.” He smiled at her as he played with her hair lovingly. “Might as well head outside so we don’t miss anything cool…what do you think, angel?”

She blushed as she leaned into his touch. “Sure, hun. Let’s go.” She took his hand as he led her outside to their backyard. He helped her sit down on the blanket he put out for them before sitting down next to her. Her eyes widened at the romantic scene he had created for the two of them, the telescope and the camera, as well as the bottle of wine and glasses, and the string lights he attached to the sides of their little planetarium.

He opened the bottle and poured the wine into a glass and handed it to her, before doing the same for himself. “Here you go, my love,” he said as he handed the glass to her.

She gently took the glass from him and smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.” They tapped their glasses together before they each took a sip. “God, baby, this is really beautiful,” she said, her voice wavering slightly as she rested her head on his shoulder.

He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Not nearly as beautiful as you are,” he said as he smiled back, wrapping his arm around her. “I love you so much. Forever and always.” he said as he planted another small kiss on the top of her head.

“I love you too. So much. With my whole heart.” she replied, nuzzling up closer to him.

Capa leaned over to kiss her on the lips one more time. “Shouldn’t be too much longer…it’s getting kinda dark, and it’s quiet all of a sudden.” He moved slightly to look through the telescope lens. “We’re really close now, I think.” He pulled away and moved the lens towards her. “Here, look at this…it reminds me of all those eclipses you and I used to watch together on the ship, just smaller and farther away.”

She looked through the lens and smiled. “I’ll never get tired of looking at things like this,” she said as the sky started to dim. “It’s always so breathtaking to see.”

While she was distracted by looking at the interstellar image in the eyepiece of the telescope, he stood up and reached into his pocket to pull out an engagement ring with a sunstone gem encrusted in the center, and hid it inside his hand. The sky was getting darker still, and the Moon was almost completely covering the Sun.

“Y/F/N?” he asked as he stood in front of her.

She pulled away from the telescope, and Capa helped her to her feet with his free hand. “Yes, Robert?” she asked as the Moon moved closer to blocking the Sun. “What is it?” The sky turned pitch black except for the light coming from the Sun beginning to hide behind the Moon.

He swallowed as he chose his words carefully. “You mean the world to me, Y/F/N. You are my world. Being with you has made me the happiest man on Earth.” He slowly dropped down to one knee in front of her, causing her to gasp as he took her left hand in both of his. “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life right here with you. Will you marry me?” he asked gently and lovingly as tears started to form in his eyes.

She trembled and started to cry tears of joy. “Oh my God…yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

Tears started to fall down his cheeks as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He stood back up and took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, his tears mixing with hers. Overhead, the Sun appeared as a white circle in the sky, while the string lights glimmered behind them in the darkness caused by the eclipse.

“I love you, sunshine. More than anything else in the universe.” Capa said as he gently wiped away the tears from her face. He smiled as he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. As they held each other, the sky began to brighten back up. He pulled away from the hug to kiss her deeply again. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. So much. More than words can ever say.” she replied, kissing away his tears. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

Capa blushed. “And I can’t wait to be your husband.” He kissed her back, holding her tightly in silence for a bit before speaking again. “So how was that? Pretty awesome, huh?”

She giggled and blushed. “Everything was amazing! Absolutely beautiful! I’m the luckiest woman on the planet to have you.” She kissed his cheek as she held him close.

Capa smiled and blushed as well. “Good, I’m glad. And I’m the luckiest man on the planet to have you, too.” He kissed her back with a little bit more passion than before. “I was thinking…”

She kissed him back, matching his intensity. “Oh? Thinking about what?” she asked, looking into his beautiful cobalt blue eyes.

“I was thinking that maybe we can go to bed early tonight…you know, to celebrate,” he said with an air of seduction in his voice. “And we don’t have anything going on tomorrow…” He kissed her again, this time biting her bottom lip softly and tugging on it with his teeth before letting it go, eliciting a small moan from her.

She kissed him back, feeling a wet warmth pool between her thighs as he ran his hands up and down her body. She moaned breathlessly before speaking. “Yeah? And how should we do that?”

Capa smiled wickedly as he began to kiss her jawline and collarbone before leaving a lingering kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. “Well, I could start there…”

She moaned a little louder. “My God…you know what happens when you do that…” she breathed as he continued to tease her.

Capa laughed slyly. “Believe me, I’m well aware of what happens, and I’ll never get sick of it. What do you say we go upstairs…” he trailed off before kissing her neck again, his teeth lightly scraping against her collarbone. “I’ve spent enough time exploring the sky when I’d much rather spend all night exploring my future wife,” he murmured, his lips against hers. “And every night after that.”

She swooned at his words, feeling weak at the knees in his arms. “Anything you say, baby,” she whispered. “I’m all yours. Forever.”

“Forever with you sounds pretty fantastic to me,” he said, full of desire for her. Wasting no time at all, Capa took her by the hand and led her into the house. “I’ll be right back, babe. I’ll meet you in the bedroom in a minute,” he said, his voice dripping with lustful need. She didn’t need him to tell her twice as she started up the stairs, but not before he playfully swatted her on the ass on her way up, making her giggle. He practically ran out to bring everything they had left outside into the house as fast as he could, shutting the door behind him with a soft slam when he came back in. He threw the blanket on a chair, leaned the telescope against the wall, set the camera down next to it, and brought the bottle of wine and the two glasses upstairs with him. He entered their bedroom and put everything in his hands on the nightstand.

Capa saw his now-fiancée sitting on the edge of their bed, eagerly waiting for him. “Took you long enough,” she teased him as she bit her lip looking at him. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come back.” Her voice was sultry as she shifted on their mattress.

Blushing, Capa rolled his eyes in mock annoyance as he smiled, and teased her right back. “I was gone maybe two seconds max…you want me that bad already, huh?” She nodded as he took her into his arms again, kissing her deeply as he pulled her closer. Kneeling on the mattress in front of him as he stood at the edge of the bed, she returned his kisses as she lifted his shirt up and over his head before tossing it to the floor. “Good, because I need to have you right now,” he said, his excitement becoming nearly painful. Capa then started to undo the buttons of her shirt, fumbling with them slightly before giving in. He ripped it clear off of her shoulders, sending buttons flying in all directions, causing her to gasp and giggle in delight. He dragged her ruined shirt off of her shoulders and threw it behind him as he pulled one of the straps of her bra down to kiss her collarbone.

“You asked for it, love…I told you, you know what happens when you kiss me and bite me like that.” She kissed him again as she started to unbuckle his belt. “I think you know by now I can’t behave when you torture me.” She shot him a sexy wink before kissing him again. His breath caught in his throat as she tore his belt from around his hips and threw it to the floor to join his shirt.

“Torture, huh? Are you sure? Because something tells me you enjoy it. Quite a lot.” His voice had a sensual danger about it, and it thrilled her. He held her chin with his forefinger and thumb before dropping his voice to a velvety whisper. “And yes, I know exactly what happens. I want to see how much you can take. I also happen to know each and every thing that drives you wild.” He unhooked her bra with his free hand and took it off of her so slowly that she trembled. “See? Just like that.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you guys liked it, and if you did, I'd be happy to hear your thoughts and my requests are open! <3

[blackrocks-king]

Hello . .? I would be afraid to freeze this device if I am going to use this ..

❄️❄️❄️

𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 ( 𝘾𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡 ) 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙜’𝙨 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜!

INFO ABOUT THE KING!

— His name is Aspen , but it’s best to refer him as Your Majesty. ( obviously . . )

— He is a Snow Owl! The only animalistic features are his wings and feathers around his body. ( Not shown due to the clothing , wings can be seen from time to time. )

— He has a sweet tooth. :P

— The King here has a bit of lore to him, maybe if you ask or talk to him about the right stuff .. he might reveal something. You’ll never know.

— ( Reference sheet coming soon idk when lol.. )

— Married to Mayor Thaniyel!

MAYOR THANIYEL CAN ANSWER ASKS NOW!

— You can refer to him as Mr/Sir!

— He enjoys indulging in desserts, especially pudding and ice cream.

— He doesn’t enjoy loud noises. Don’t scare him! ( Please. )

— His responses will be coloured green, rather than just the default colour like King.

— ( Reference sheet coming when I wanna lol sorry.. )

— Married to King Aspen! ( Or Cruel King. :)

/// PERSONAL INFO ///

— This is an askblog inspired by a good friend of mine. :)

— I don’t mind any suggestive asks. Just don’t go overboard. ( NSFW + Probs other stuff I won’t say and WONT accept. )

— I write ALOT in tags. Sometimes it’s just some personal comment , or actual context. Please keep an eye out!

— This blog contains the ship of Iced Tea ( Mayor Thaniyel x Cruel King ) and it’s pretty much implied ( or obvious… ) they’re together!

— Asks can take quite a bit. Either because of work or personal life in general. Update posts will be made at some point , but deleted afterwards.

— ↑ If your ask hasn’t been answered , it’s either cause of these reasons above or I have stuff planned for them! Please be patient .. I’m excited to do your asks. :] If they are still not answered, do not push me to answer them any further.

— Some replies/answers will either be in digital , or traditional. Don’t expect your ask to be replied with art!

— ↑ If you want your ask to be answered in a specific way, make sure to give out the details of what you want! ( Just a suggestion, but HIGHLY appreciated since I can’t always tell what you want <:] ) You can DM the mod OR say it in your ask in brackets.

DNI REQUIREMENTS

— EXTRA ( PLS READ ) —

@agenteighter is the owner of this blog. Refer to me as Agent!

‘\\\ [text]’ usually means OOC.

If YOU have any questions about the blog , PLEASE ask the person running this blog!!

ALL of the art done here is drawn by Agent. Either on a doodle board, my sketchbook, IbisPaintX or Procreate! This blog is handled by one person anyways .. Who else? Lmao ..

[monicfever]

the nickname thing. 𝜗𝜚 billy russo x ben p.

billy starts calling dex pet names — completely unserious ones. “sweetheart,” “soldier boy,” “sniperella.” dex HATES it. doesn’t show it, but his eye twitches every time. until one day billy doesn’t say it, and dex starts to spiral.

★ a / n : i beg you give this ship a chance .. they are my fav rarepair. obsessive x guy who wants to be obsessed over like he’s perfect yes pls hello

it starts because billy gets bored easily.

that’s the simple version of it. the one that makes sense on paper, the one he’d tell someone if anyone ever asked. he just likes messing with people, likes poking the quiet ones until they crack open. dex cracks prettier than most.

he’s been staying at billy’s penthouse for three weeks now. unofficial arrangement. off the books, under the radar. billy keeps it quiet. no contracts, no trace. dex sleeps on the pullout at first, then migrates to the guest room, then just sort of starts using billy’s place like it’s his own. they don’t talk about it.

billy says he needs protection — something about a guy from his past, someone tailing him; maybe no one at all. doesn’t matter. dex doesn’t ask questions, just watches from the corners, walks half a step behind, wears black. he’s a shadow with teeth. billy likes that.

the penthouse is clean in a way that feels artificial. bare walls, sharp edges, expensive furniture no one sits on. there’s a wine fridge with nothing in it but bottled water and a bottle of scotch billy never opens. he says he likes the look of it, like he’s the kind of guy who has things under control. dex doesn’t comment.

he moves quiet through the space, leaves no footprint. his bag lives by the door, half-unzipped, ready. he doesn’t unpack. doesn’t decorate. doesn’t settle. he’s not here to get comfortable — he’s here to do a job. still, he always sleeps with the door cracked.

billy watches him sometimes. not in a weird way, just in passing. when he’s walking to the kitchen or scrolling through his phone at 3am, half-drunk on boredom. dex sleeps like he fights — tight, coiled, ready to snap. like he doesn’t trust the dark to stay still. they don’t talk much at first.

billy fills the silence with music, tv, the occasional monologue about whatever’s annoying him that day. he talks about clients like they’re chess pieces, about his past like it’s a story he read once and didn’t really care for. dex listens. not always, but enough to catch the rhythms.

he knows billy has three burner phones and only ever uses the one with the cracked screen. he knows billy drinks his coffee black, hums when he’s anxious, and leaves the shower running five minutes after he’s done just to hear the noise. it’s not friendship, more like proximity dressed up as trust.

dex doesn’t look too closely at the shape of whatever this is. he’s good at shutting things off, setting boundaries no one else can see. good at staying quiet, keeping steady. and billy — billy is the opposite. a slow-motion explosion that never quite ends, all charm and chaos, every room louder once he’s stepped inside.

they orbit each other in the way stray animals do. cautious. circling. not quite hostile, but never soft. still, they fit into each other's space easier than either of them expects. dex starts learning billy’s routine without meaning to. the way he works late and wakes up early. the way he peels oranges with his fingers and always leaves one wedge uneaten. how he only watches old war movies but talks through all the action scenes like he’s too bored to care.

billy notices things too.

how dex cleans his guns with mechanical precision like it’s meditative. how he keeps his boots by the bed. how he has a scar on his left shoulder he never talks about and fingers that tremble when they’re still too long. they don’t talk about where dex goes during the day when he’s not tailing billy. don’t talk about why billy pays in cash and looks over his shoulder like someone’s always behind him. it’s easier that way. cleaner.

some nights they eat together. not intentionally — just end up in the kitchen at the same time, two shadows drawn to the same dull hum of the fridge light and late night silence. billy talks. dex listens. sometimes dex says something back and billy looks at him like it’s a gift.

they’re not friends. they’re not strangers either.

billy likes to fill space with noise. likes to keep the silence just loud enough that he doesn’t have to sit with it, so he talks. he’ll complain about clients, about the market, about the neighbour who never stops dragging furniture around at 2am. sometimes he rants just to see if he can get a reaction out of dex. he never really does.

until one night, around 1:30, after they’ve both picked at takeout containers in the half-light of the kitchen, billy leans against the counter, arms crossed, and says — “you ever lighten up, sweetheart?”

it’s casual. lazy. thrown out like a joke. except it’s the first time he’s said it like that. dex doesn’t flinch, but his fingers pause, just for a second, hovering over the lid of the container he’s about to close.

billy notices. that’s the thing about dex — you’ve got to pay attention to the details. he doesn’t give anything away unless you’re looking for it. billy grins. takes a bite of food. “what? don’t like being called that?”

“called what.” dex replies, flat.

billy taps his chopsticks once against the edge of the container, like he’s considering something serious, then he smiles. “sweetheart.” he repeats, slower this time. “seems fitting. you're sweet, in that emotionally repressed sharpshooter kinda way.”

dex closes the takeout box a little too precisely. puts it in the fridge, wipes the counter like he hasn’t heard anything. “you’re not funny.” he tries, eventually.

billy raises a brow. “that’s the first full sentence you’ve said to me in two days. i’m keeping it.” dex doesn’t respond. won’t give him the satisfaction. but billy sees the twitch. tiny. right at the corner of dex’s left eye.

he smiles to himself and doesn’t say anything else. just lets the silence sit between them, comfortable and smug. like he’s already won something dex doesn’t even know they were fighting over.

after that it becomes a bit. not every day — billy’s too clever for that. he spaces it out, keeps dex guessing. sometimes it’s sweetheart, soft and lazy, tossed out like a dare over morning coffee. sometimes it’s soldier boy, with an exaggerated salute that makes dex look at him like he’s planning a murder. once — just once — it’s sniperella, and billy swears he hears dex mutter “go to hell” under his breath. billy grins for an hour straight.

he does it because it gets under dex’ skin, sure. but also because he kind of likes saying it. it sounds good in his mouth. warm, in a weird, crooked way. and there’s something about the way dex always tenses for a split second, like he doesn’t know what it means but feels like maybe he wants to. they never talk about it. never acknowledge the names beyond the twitch, the occasional sigh, the increasingly sharp looks dex throws across the room. but billy keeps using them anyway, and dex keeps not telling him to stop. which, as far as billy’s concerned, is basically permission.

they fall into a rhythm that doesn’t have a name. russo comes and goes like weather, loud one day and quiet the next. dex lingers around the edges, always watching, always still. they don’t talk about boundaries, they don’t need to. the whole arrangement is one big, unspoken line neither of them steps over — except when they do. billy lives on the line.

he starts to notice things. not just the way dex flinches at pet names, but other stuff too. the way he smooths the corners of napkins when he’s thinking. the way he listens with his whole body — still and braced, like he’s always waiting for bad news. how he sleeps facing the door, even when billy’s the only one home. it’s not normal, the way billy keeps track of this stuff. he knows that. but dex is interesting in the way broken glass is interesting — beautiful, sharp, dangerous if you touch it wrong. and billy’s never been good at leaving things alone.

the loft feels different with dex in it. less like a place and more like a held breath, like something waiting to happen. billy starts leaving two mugs out instead of one. starts letting the music play softer in the mornings. starts looking over his shoulder on purpose, just to see if dex is watching him. he always is.

some nights billy talks too much, lets the words fill up the space between them like fog. he tells stories that aren’t really true, smiles too wide, tries to get under dex’ skin just to feel him react. other nights, dex is the one who fills the silence — not with words, but with his presence. he doesn't say much, but billy starts to realize he doesn’t have to.

the nicknames slip in easy after that. first as a joke, then as habit. then as something else entirely.

billy tells himself it’s harmless. just a way to poke the bear. nothing deeper. nothing weird. but there’s something about the way dex’ breath catches every time that makes billy say it again. and again. and again.

the thing is — billy’s not stupid. he knows how people work. he knows how dex works. he knows the difference between someone ignoring you and someone trying really, really hard not to give you the satisfaction. and dex? dex tries like hell. he tightens his jaw, flicks his gaze away, goes quiet in that charged way, like a fuse that hasn’t decided whether to burn or blow. it only makes billy worse.

“you gonna kill me in my sleep, sniperella?”

dex doesn’t look up from his gun, but his hand stills. “you’re not funny.”

billy laughs. delighted. “aw, sweetheart. you wound me.” dex slams the magazine into place just a little too hard.

they’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, late — too late. the kind of hour where everything feels a little softer. one lamp on, city noise bleeding through the open window. dex’ still in half of his gear, black sleeves pushed up, collarbone sharp under the fabric. billy keeps letting his eyes wander and pretending it’s boredom. “you know you’ve got a tell, right?”

dex looks up wearily. “what.”

“that twitch,” russo grins. “right there. little tic at the corner of your eye. every time i call you sweetheart.” he drags the word out this time, slow and syrupy. “sweeetheart.”

dex exhales. long, patient. like he’s counting to ten in his head and doesn’t trust himself to get there. “you done?”

“not even close.”

billy gets up, circles the table. he’s not trying to be threatening — just obnoxious. drapes himself in the chair beside dex instead of across from him, kicking one leg up, too close. dex doesn’t move but his shoulders go tight. “it’s a compliment,” billy continues, nudging his knee against dex’. “i don’t call just anyone sniperella. that’s reserved for emotionally unavailable men with knives.”

“you’re gonna die one day.” dex mutters.

“probably at your hands,” billy agrees. “and honestly? there are worse ways to go.”

dex shakes his head and stands, pushes away from the table like he needs distance. he moves toward the fridge, opens it even though he’s not hungry. billy watches him for a beat, smirks, leans back. “you blushing?” he calls, voice light, teasing.

“shut up.”

“you are.”

“shut up.”

billy laughs again, low and pleased, like he’s just hit a target from a mile away. he doesn’t say anything else. just sits there, smug as hell, like he’s found a crack in the wall and he’s gonna keep digging until it turns into a door.

dex stays facing the fridge a little too long, and billy doesn’t miss the way his hands are shaking just slightly when he closes it.

after that night, it becomes a ritual, almost. billy says it offhandedly in the morning — “coffee’s hot, sweetheart.”

murmurs it when dex walks past him—“easy there, soldier boy.”

drops it like punctuation, like breath, like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it anymore. except he does. every time. because dex reacts every time. never much. never anything big. just a pause, a glance, a small, sharp inhale like the sound startled him. like he wasn’t ready to be looked at that closely, even if it was in the shape of a joke. billy gets creative with it.

“sniperella,” he hums one evening, flipping channels with the remote and not even pretending to care what’s on. dex doesn’t blink.

“that one’s getting old.”

billy smirks. “you’re just jealous it suits you.”

dex shifts on the couch, arms crossed, eyes on the wall. his pulse, though — billy can see it in his throat.

he starts saying it when no one else is around to hear. just the two of them, always late, always quiet. the moments when the city feels like it’s holding its breath. billy uses it to fill the silence — sweetheart, killer, handsome, sharpshooter — like he’s throwing pebbles into a pond to see how deep it goes.

dex pretends it doesn’t get to him, but he can’t hide the way he holds his breath. the way his eyes flick to billy’s mouth and back again. the way he waits for it, like something tethered to routine. billy notices how dex stiffens less when he says it now. how he lingers a little longer in the same room, like he’s hoping for it. like maybe the name means something safe. something claimed, even if it’s a joke. even if they never talk about it.

billy starts wondering what it would sound like if dex ever said one back. he won’t, of course. but the idea plants itself somewhere deep. soft. impossible. some nights, billy says it just to watch dex’ eyes flicker. some nights, dex doesn’t say anything. but he doesn’t leave the room, either.

they fall into it the way people fall into bad habits. slow, inevitable, unnoticed until it’s already everywhere. billy calls him sweetheart in the quiet between words. soldier boy when dex’ got blood on his knuckles and silence in his mouth. sniperella when he wants to see dex glare like he might kiss him or kill him, depending on the hour.

it’s one of those days where everything feels like it’s dragging its feet through thick air. the kind of day where the weight of the world doesn’t come from the outside, but from inside your head — like you’re carrying it around in your chest, too tired to care about the weight but not able to let it go.

the apartment is still in that hazy late-afternoon light, the sort that makes everything look softer, muted. the kind of light that gets tangled in the curtains and makes it feel like time is suspended. the air smells like coffee, stale with hours that bled into each other, and the refrigerator is the loudest thing in the room. billy’s got a bruise on his side from a job gone sideways, something sharp and aching that he won’t admit to. he’s been quieter than usual, a little more distant, but not in a way that ben can place. just off.

still, he goes about his day methodically. one hand wrapped around a bottle of expensive whiskey, the other flipping through a file on the kitchen table. his mind moves quick, sharp, darting between things. dex stays quiet in the corner of the room, somewhere just out of the light. his eyes flicker over billy’s face when billy’s not looking. and when billy is, dex keeps himself still, like a shadow with no intention of breaking cover.

the silence between them stretches heavily. billy doesn’t say anything, and for some reason, that makes everything worse. the absence of words becomes its own kind of noise — louder than the tv in the background or the distant traffic outside. it rattles against dex’ chest, quick and jagged, like it’s not just a gap in conversation but a hole in the air that he can’t fill.

too quiet.

too much empty space.

billy’s sitting across from him, scrolling through his phone, disinterest in his posture. dex knows better than to expect anything from him, but the silence feels wrong. it shouldn’t be like this. billy’s supposed to be there, supposed to be doing something.

he should be saying the nickname by now.

should have said it ten minutes ago.

sweetheart.

solider boy.

anything.

but nothing.

thats when it starts.

it’s always the little things first with dex, the little shifts that slip into his mind when he’s not paying attention. the words getting stuck behind his teeth. the urge to check things, to make sure things are still in place, to make sure he’s not wrong.

he counts.

one. two. three.

the numbers sound safe.

one, two, three.

sniperella.

sniperella.

no, that’s not right.

sweetheart.

sweetheart.

four. five. six.

no, that’s not it either.

god, what the fuck is wrong with him today?

he swallows thickly, eyes darting to the clock on the wall. today it feels like the room is closing in on him, the air pressing tighter, heavier, until he can’t breathe. he pushes his hands into his pockets, feels the burn in his chest like a wire tightening.

why hasn’t billy —

no.

don’t think about it.

don’t spiral.

he can’t.

why is he doing this?

why won’t he say it?

the thought twists through his mind like a vise, tight and suffocating. he looks at his hands, sees them trembling just the tiniest bit.

why the hell are they shaking?

it’s just a word. it’s just a fucking word.

the pressure builds, tight and unforgiving. his skin prickles with the need to move, to do something, but all his energy feels trapped somewhere inside, swarming in his head. it’s like his thoughts won’t line up. they scatter, race ahead, fall behind.

why isn’t he saying anything?

billy didn’t say it today.

he didn’t say it. why didn’t he say it?

his breath comes faster, shallow, as if the air is suddenly too thick for him to get enough of it. it’s fine. it’s fine. he repeats it in his head, like a mantra. it’s nothing. it’s not a big deal. it’s just a word. but the word isn’t coming, and that’s all that matters right now. dex’ eyes flick to billy, who’s still sitting there, casually flipping through his phone, oblivious, or maybe pretending to be. but dex can feel the space between them like a chasm, stretching wider with every breath. he can feel the tension building under his skin, too thick, too sharp.

he wants to scream, but he won’t. he doesn’t have the right. he presses his palms against his eyes, tries to blink it away. tries to hold it together. but the silence in the room is a weight. every passing second feels like the room is closing in further. he feels his pulse in his throat, in his hands, in his feet — everywhere. and it doesn’t stop. it won’t stop. he needs something. anything. he needs control.

he needs something familiar to pull him back, but that nickname — the one that’s been a habit, a constant — hasn’t come. why hasn’t it come? his fingers shake in his pockets, the tremors impossible to hide. his eyes are darting around the room, too quick, like something’s going to change, like the space between them will shift if he just looks hard enough. but nothing’s different. he’s still here, still waiting. the panic settles in. the cold sweat, the rush of heat in his veins.

he’s forgotten.

he’s not gonna say it. he didn’t say it today.

his heart races, fast now. the blood in his ears thrumming with the sound of his own thoughts, too loud. he bites down on his lip, trying to hold it in, but the words slip out before he can stop them. “... you’re not gonna say it?” his voice is rough, like he’s choking on the words. it doesn’t come out the way he wants it to. it sounds small. desperate, too exposed. but it’s all he can do. all he has. he can’t look at billy, his hands are shaking too much.

billy’s quiet for a moment, not quite catching the weight of the question, dex knows this. he knows billy doesn’t get it, not fully. but dex can feel it. the pressure of it in his chest. the way his heart is thumping in his ribs, as if he’s about to drown in it. he can’t breathe.

why isn’t he saying it?

finally, billy speaks, but it’s too calm, too casual. “what?”

the word hits him like a slap.

it burns him, stings deep inside. he doesn’t want to ask, he doesn’t want to sound weak, doesn’t want to sound like he cares. he doesn’t respond. doesn’t look at billy. grips his phone tighter, knuckles white, and tries to breathe, tries to hold it together. but it’s slipping, everything’s slipping. the silence hangs again, but it’s not the same. it’s sharper now. a hum in the back of his head.

billy didn’t say it today.

billy’s not saying it at all.

the spiral is quick, too fast for him to follow.

maybe it means nothing. maybe I’m just... imagining things. maybe —

but the maybe’s don’t help him anymore. they just send him tumbling deeper, until the thought of the absence of those words feels like too much to bear. everything is shifting, cracking apart at the seams, like his whole reality is teetering on the edge of something sharp.

he can’t find his footing.

can’t find anything.

he’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there, stock-still, head spinning. but the minutes stretch on, like the air has thickened. why isn’t he calling me it? the thought keeps looping, over and over, until it drowns out everything else. he doesn’t want to say it anymore. the panic sets in deeper, cold and sick. it feels like it’s everywhere, like it’s crawling up his spine, gnawing at his insides. his thoughts are spiraling, chasing each other faster, until they’ve gone beyond his control. he’s drowning in the noise.

his mind is screaming, why why why until it’s all that exists.

then billy’s voice cuts through the chaos, but it sounds far away. too distant, like it’s coming from somewhere else. “hey.” it’s too soft. too gentle. “you okay?” the question lingers in the air, but ben can’t find the answer. he wants to scream. he wants to beg for it. wants to demand that billy say the damn word. but he doesn’t. can’t.

instead, he swallows. hard. too hard. “yeah.” the word comes out jagged. a breath. his throat is dry, and it feels like the word is lodged there, stuck somewhere deep in his chest, between the panic and the need to hear it.

just say it, he thinks. just say it, god, say it again.

but billy doesn’t. he doesn’t understand, and dex knows that.

he doesn’t understand.

russo shifts, his voice more unsure this time, and for the first time, dex hears the edge of something else in his tone. “you sure?”

dex can’t take it anymore. he wants to scream, to throw something, to break something. the words die on his tongue, but his mind races faster. the absence of it eats at him, he feels like he’s coming apart. he can’t fix this. he can’t fix himself. he looks at billy then, too quickly, too sharp, his eyes desperate. his heart stutters when he realizes that billy's eyes are softer now. less guarded, more open. like he sees it. like he’s noticed the cracks.

but that doesn’t matter.

the weight of not hearing it matters.

the absence matters.

he doesn’t say anything back.

instead, he stands up and tries to walk away. away from billy, away from the noise. he can feel his breath catch in his throat, the tremors turning into something worse. his pulse is wild in his ears. he needs the air to come back.

billy stands up. “hey, you’re—”

“stop.”

it’s not a shout, but it’s sharp enough. enough to cut through the thick air between them. enough to make billy freeze. the silence after is louder than anything else. dex’ back is to him, his posture rigid, fists curled so tight at his sides that his knuckles look bloodless. the whole room feels like it’s been turned inside out — something delicate snapped in half.

billy takes a step forward. not fast, just careful. dex hears it, tenses like a wire pulled too tight. “hey,” billy tries again, low, too casual to be real. “you’re acting weird.” dex’ shoulders twitch. he’s trying to keep it together. failing. billy sees it now. the sheen of sweat at his temple. the pacing — small, tight circles, like a dog caught in a trap. his eyes are wide. angry. dangerous. scared. “dex.”

another step.

“don’t.” dex’ voice breaks in the middle, strained, raw. “just — don’t.” his pacing speeds up. he rubs his palms against his jeans like they’re burning, like the friction might ground him. it doesn’t. billy’s breath catches in his throat; he’s not used to this kind of mess. not from dex, of all people. dex is always so still. so locked-in. a ghost in black, unreadable.

bill softens his tone, even if he doesn’t mean to.“what’s going on with you?”

and dex snaps. he spins, wide-eyed, chest heaving like he’s been holding his breath for hours. “you didn’t say it.”

billy blinks.

“say what?”

“you know what.” his voice is hoarse, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. “you broke the pattern. you always say it.”

billy’s stomach drops. not because he understands — not yet — but because dex looks like he’s drowning. like that one break in the pattern has shattered his whole foundation. he watches as dex’ fingers twitch, reaching for something that isn’t there — something internal, maybe. something safe. “you always say it,” dex repeats, barely holding it together. “every day. not the same one, but something. today you didn’t. you acted like — like I imagined it. like it didn’t matter.” his breath comes out fast and unsteady. he shakes his head. “and now everything’s off. and I can’t think. and I — I can’t breathe, billy.”

and there it is.

raw.

real.

the truth beneath the twitch. beneath the silence. beneath every sharp look dex had thrown him in the past few weeks.

billy’s voice is quiet when he answers. “jesus christ, sweetheart.” it’s barely a whisper. but the second it lands in the air, dex stills. he doesn’t relax — but the pacing stops. his shoulders don’t drop, but they stop climbing.

his eyes flick toward billy, frantic and wild and shining with something he won’t name. billy sees the exact moment the panic loses its grip, like pulling a needle from a pressure valve. just a little air let out. enough to breathe again.

dex blinks. swallows. his chest still heaving. but something in him settles, just a fraction. billy takes another slow step forward, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to cross the invisible line between them. “you should’ve just told me.” he says, softer now. “that it mattered.”

dex shakes his head. “you were supposed to know.”

and for once, billy doesn’t argue with that. he can tell whatever’s going on through dex’ head right now is intense. unstable. in need of comfort. he sees the panic still flickering behind dex’ eyes, the way his whole body is braced like he’s about to be hit. fraying at the edges. and billy isn’t the best at this part — the soft part, the gentle part — but he knows enough to recognize when someone needs it. he just says it again, gentler this time. “im sorry, sweetheart.”

and that’s what does it. not the nickname alone — but the sorry. the softness in it. the care. the tiny shift in billy’s voice that says i see you.

dex doesn’t collapse, he just stops. like someone hit pause on whatever war was going on inside his chest. his hands are still trembling, but they’re not clenched anymore. his shoulders drop by an inch. his eyes shut, tight, like he’s letting something pass through him. for a second, billy thinks he might cry.

but he doesn’t. just stands there, breathing hard, trying to piece himself back together with what little he has. billy stays where he is. doesn’t push.

dex finally speaks, his voice low, hoarse. “you broke the pattern.” he’s not accusing, just explaining. trying to make sense of it out loud. “everything felt wrong. like… like it wasn’t real anymore.”

billy swallows. “okay.” he doesn’t pretend to fully understand — but he listens. dex nods, slow, and exhales like it hurts. he leans back against the wall, lets his head tilt up, eyes closed. not relaxed — not yet — but not coming apart anymore. billy shifts his weight, scratches at the back of his neck. “…you want me to keep doing it?” the question is softer than his usual tone. like he’s offering, not teasing.

dex opens his eyes. meets his gaze and doesn’t look away. “yeah,” he says. simple. “i do.”

billy nods once. “alright.”

dex is still not fully there. his hands twitch like they haven’t caught up with his breathing yet, like part of him’s still caught in the spiral, waiting for the floor to drop again. he’s blinking too fast, unfocused, chest rising and falling like he’s chasing air that won’t come fast enough. billy watches him carefully — like he’s standing next to something fragile. billy’s not built for this kind of thing, not really. he’s better at charm, distraction, a smirk and a pat on the back. not this. but he tries. “hey, uh…” billy moves a little closer, hands halfway raised like he’s approaching a wild animal. “just — look at me.”

dex listens instantly, but it’s hazy. wide-eyed and unsteady, still floating somewhere else. billy wets his lips. he’s seen this kind of thing before — flashes of it, mostly in other people, people with glassy eyes and too many pills in their pockets. but not like this. not ben. not the guy who can disappear into a crowd in five seconds flat, who tracks footsteps by sound, who sleeps with a gun under the pillow.

“can you sit down?” billy asks, gesturing toward the edge of the couch. dex hesitates. like he’s trying to decide if the ground is real. but then he nods, stiffly, and lowers himself down — too carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break through it. billy crouches in front of him, keeps his voice steady. “i need you to take a breath for me. not the weird fake one you just did. like a real one. in and out.”

dex does. or tries to. it’s shaky.

“good. again.”

billy mirrors the inhale. exaggerated, slowly. makes it a little ridiculous on purpose, hoping it’ll make dex roll his eyes or something. anything that looks like himself. dex watches him. his fingers are still curled against his thighs, digging in slightly. but his breathing starts to follow billy’s, syncing up in short uneven patterns that eventually even out. still fast, but better.

“it’s just us. four walls. no one’s mad. no one’s leaving.” he doesn’t know if he’s saying the right things, but he keeps going. he adds, gently, “and you didn’t ruin anything.”

dex flinches at that — just a little. his lips part like he wants to deny it, but he doesn’t. he just sits there, breathing, like he’s still trying to convince himself he deserves to. billy leans forward a bit, keeping his voice low. “want me to keep talking?”

dex nods.

so billy does.

talks about nothing, really — some nonsense about a guy at the deli who cut in line, or a new crack in his phone screen, or how he thinks one of the burner phones is haunted because it always buzzes at 4am. anything to fill the space. to give dex something to anchor to. the longer he talks, the more dex’ shoulders start to settle.

eventually, dex lets his hands fall open in his lap. his head tips slightly forward like the weight of it is finally manageable. billy watches him carefully, and after a beat, reaches out — slow — and rests a hand on ben’s knee. “still with me, dexxy?”

this time, dex doesn’t just nod. he breathes. deep, quiet, and says, “yeah.” a little hoarse, but real. dex’ breathing has evened out, the panic retreating back into whatever corner it came from. not gone, not cured, just manageable.

and billy’s still there, crouched in front of him, hand warm and steady on his knee like he’s anchoring both of them. he watches dex for a moment. the curve of his jaw, the way his lashes still flutter like he’s not fully sure he’s allowed to rest. he looks . . . fragile, maybe. not weak. like someone who’s spent years building walls and just let one slide open for a second.

billy’s voice breaks the quiet again, soft as the light in the room. “you did good, sweetheart.”

that’s what does it. dex’ eyes flick up, fast. wide. startled. like the words hit something raw and tender right under his skin. his breath stutters again — but this time, it’s not from panic. his cheeks flush, high and sharp, and he immediately looks down at the floor like it’ll hide the way his heart is pounding.

billy notices, of course. but he doesn’t say anything. just gives his knee a light squeeze, like a secret. dex doesn’t move. just sits there, flustered, a little undone — with the sound of sweetheart echoing through his chest.

outside, the city keeps going; cars, sirens, night wind rattling the windows, but in here, dex feels still. held. named. he doesn’t look at billy, but he doesn’t pull away either. and billy doesn’t say anything else. doesn’t need to.

some names aren’t a joke.

started 4.26.2025. finished 4.26.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[st4rymoon]

☾ 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 ☾

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎: 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐨𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warnings: p in v, rough sex!, dom poe, unprotected sex, pet names, semi public sex!, sex on a spaceship

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You and Poe were inside the cramped bathroom, Finn had taken control of the ship once he started to see Poe drifting into sleep. But little did he know, that was poes plan all along.

The second Finn took the wheel Poe pulled you into the bathroom. “Gotta keep quiet” he cooed as he pulled your pants down your ankles, his thumb ghosting over your clothed clit as you sat on the counter.

Your back arched off the counter as he moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping into you at a painful pace. “Feel that?” He coos as he curls his fingers inside you, moving his hand back and forth.

You let out a gasped moan as he slapped a hand over your mouth “shh, don’t want Finn knowin’ what we’re doing in here now do we?” He hummed. You nodded with teary eyes as he unbuckles his belt.

You let out an audible whimper as his cock sprung out of his overly tight boxers. His fat tip spilling of Precum as he pumped himself a few times while looking at your messy pussy.

He rubbed his cock through your folds, allowing him to coat himself in your slick while softly nudging at your clit. You were squirming in need as he continuously teased you, his tip pushing in ever so slightly then completely pulling back just to hear you whine.

“I know honey I know, I’ll give it to you” he mocked. Then suddenly he slammed into you, causing your body to slam against the mirror as he held onto your plump thighs.

“A- a- Poe!” You cried, nails digging into his biceps as he buried himself in deeper. His cock plunged into you with such a force your hands how we’re holding onto the sink counter.

“That’s it, look at my pretty girl. Taking my dick while the rest of the crew does their job” he smiled. You fell onto his shoulder as he hit the perfect spot. You could feel him so fucking deep, his tip nudging at your cervix ever so softly.

“Right ther- Poe right there” you moaned. Poe hummed in reassurance as his thrust became more drawn out and determined. You watched as slick stringed off his lap and onto the back of your thighs as the gushing sound loudened.

Poe could be so fucking messy sometimes, he loved seeing the mess the both of you made when fucking. It made him even harder just looking at how fucking messy you were.

“Poe Poe po-“ you chanted out, your orgasm washing over you in completely ecstasy. Your legs shook around his hips as he continued to take what he wanted. His lip was tucked under his teeth as he watched you looking up at him dumbly.

He groaned at the visual in front of him, his pretty girl all fucked out and ruined as he pounded her into oblivion. “Yeahh” he purred, his orgasm hitting him even harder than he imagined. It was almost scary how much he came, his loads spilling out of your puffy cunt.

You smiled at the feeling of him hitting the perfect spot inside you. He was in heaven. “Fuc- fuck” he hummed.

And as quiet as you thought you were, Finn was staring out into space with his eyebrows raised. Did he just hear all of that?