#would the new girl fare better????

[fazcinatingblog]

you can do your tax yourself, don't believe what they say, it's easy

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

~

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

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[cregansdingdong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: pregnancy fluff, the tooth rotting kind <3

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“There you are.”

There he was. Watching from the threshold of their marriage doors—the only separation between their traditional chambers—Cregan gazes over the form of his bare wife, who was enjoying a nice bath in her alcove. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking her in and committing her to his memory like it was the very first time. A sleepy smile graced her perfect face, head leaned back against the edge of the tub. Just barely breaking the surface of the water was her stomach, rounded and taut with his child; her wrist had been resting on it as he entered, a letter held loosely in her hand. “I am.” He murmured, feeling himself relax just at the sight of her, and he crossed the room to sit on the chair by the tub. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. Jace wrote to me.” She holds out the small paper to him. Cregan hums at the mention of her brother, and his eyes scan the words on the page, quietly snorting after a few moments of reading—he was as funny as he always was. Nothing new, really, in the letter. He’d mostly asked about how his sister was faring, questions about the pregnancy, and gushing over his coming nuptials to Baela. But it all brought a smile to his wife’s face anyway. Cregan felt guilty sometimes, knowing how far Winterfell was from King’s Landing. She missed her family often, but even more now that she was having a child. “He’s eager to be an uncle.” He muses, handing it back to her. “The second he learns the babe is born, he’ll be outside our quarters pouting.”

“Yes he will.” She laughs and places it off to the side. “Only a few weeks more.” Cregan peers down at her stomach, expression softened now, his hand reaching out to gently pet her bump, fingers caressing the skin. “The water is almost cold.” He notes, a slight chide in his tone. His wife nods along, obviously aware. “Mmhm. The maesters say hot baths aren’t too good for the baby—warm is fine, but it becomes tepid fairly quickly. I’m comfortable though, I promise. Supper was divine. I was craving that stew all day. And grapes, but mostly the stew. I missed you.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips at her soft ramble. He loved hearing her speak—just as much as she liked to prattle his ears blue. “I assure you, wife, I missed you even more. You and our babe. How is she doing?”

“Are you truly still convinced we're going to have a girl?” She muses. Cregan gently splashes her in mock offense, tutting lightly at her teasing. “I know we're having a girl. I can feel it in my bones, wife.” He leans in, pressing a less-than-chaste kiss against her mouth, tongue just barely slivering past her supple lips. She tasted like something sweet. “Cake?” He asks, head tilted even though it wasn't really a question. She grins. “Sara brought the letter up here—and sneaked me some frosted scones from the kitchen. I love your sister.” Cregan rolls his eyes. “I should've known you two would scheme behind my back…and not leave me any. I'm your leige-Lord.” His wife reaches out to pull him in again, not satisfied with the previous kiss, and their mouths clash together nearly with a mutual clack of their teeth. "Get in." She was pulling him down into the jasmine scented water, hands fiercely tugging at the laces of his leather doublet. "This water is so damn cold—" He barely had a moment to remove his boots. "You'll be fine." What Lady Stark wants, she gets.

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[lokischocolatefountain]

at last, my love has come along

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: General Acacius x Wife!Reader Rating: PG13 Word count: 2.9k words Summary: After the end of a loveless marriage, your father finds a match for you in General Acacius. Warnings: age gap, arranged marriage, mentions of maternal and infant mortality, widowed reader, widowed Acacius, past neglect, virgin!reader. A/N: Marcus Acacius has me in a chokehold and he knows I like it. This is a second look at the characters from home in three days, do not wash but happens earlier. You can read them in whatever order you wish. Title stolen from Etta James' At Last.

“What is he like? The Dominus?” 

“He is very kind,” said one of the girls who worked on your toga. You nodded, the pearls in your earrings brushing against your skin and making the hairs on your body stand upright. 

“What of my hair?” 

“What of it, Domina?” 

“The sun has already set. You said the Dominus will be home soon,” you said, fidgeting with the silk fabric that your sisters had presented you with before you began your travel from your village to the city. Something that would help you fit in better with the fashionable ladies and not make your husband, the General, look bad in society’s eyes. 

It was not for lack of wealth that you did not own many luxurious fabrics. Only that such things did not reach your village easily and your father, despite his place in the Senate, never brought the right things home. Not for a lack of love for you and your siblings but a lack of taste in women’s clothing and jewelry. 

You thought as a young girl of only fourteen that your husband, the first one, would bring you the soft silks and lustrous gold unlike your father. But he did not even bring himself home. You had been married off through letters exchanged between him and your father. It took two of living in his mansion and raising his two children from his last marriage before he finally came home. And when he did, he did not act as a husband should. Not how your older sisters told you he ought to be. 

When Consus passed, you mourned not as a wife but as a friend. 

“The dominus prefers unbraided hair,” the girl standing behind you said. You nodded, registering the information in your heart. You wanted to know all that there was to know about him before he even arrived. Perhaps then you would be pleasing enough to have a fate different from your last marriage. 

It had been all but a year since you were widowed that your father brought you news that you would be wed to a General who lived in the capital. There was no wedding for you even this once. A repeat of your last fate. You had resigned to never knowing your husband when you reached his grand home and spent your night with servants rather than his bed. 

How foolish you were to hope. 

But the situation changed for the better quite suddenly when you received word that General Acacius was returning from his travel soon. You expected that the news would calm your nerves but it somehow achieved the opposite. Fear. 

When the girls were happy with how they had decorated you for your husband’s eyes, they led you to his chambers. They left you there alone to stew in your anxieties about how the night would fare. The quiet of the night did not help matters. All that filled the space was the tides of the sea and the occasional clinking of your bangles as you fidgeted with your dress. 

It was all you yearned for in your last marriage, a night of intimacy as a husband and wife should. But now that you were at the precipice of getting what you wanted, dread filled your chest. You’d heard from your older sisters and servants what it was like to lay with a man. From their stories, it did not seem enjoyable. Not for women. It was only something to bear for the sake of having children. And all you wanted was to have children. 

You loved Consus’ children of course. They were all you had in the lonely life you led with him. But they were taken from you soon, married off or sent to battle in many campaigns. And you wanted your own children. Have what your brothers and sisters had. Hold your newborns in your arms and raise them from their first breaths rather than from the middle of their childhood. 

In your fantasizing of motherhood, you had completely forgotten that you had to be bed by your husband to become a mother. You had forgotten your sisters describe how painful it would be the first time a man took you. If one’s husband was a barbarian with a big cock, it would hurt each time although not as much as the first. A servant girl told you that she had the luxury of a kind husband who would not touch her if she said she was feeling unwell. But there were also husbands who would beat their women for refusing to perform their marital duties when asked. 

Your thoughts grew louder and louder in your head until you couldn’t hear the ocean anymore. And you most certainly did not hear when the doors opened and your husband entered. When you perceived his presence, he was already sat by you. When he spoke your name, your heart nearly jolted out of your chest. 

He laughed softly and looked you over with a smile on his plush lips. The candle lights illuminated his golden skin and the strands of gray that interspersed his dark hair. The candle on his other side shone bright to highlight his silhouette, his aquiline nose standing bold, characteristic of a valorous man. The sight had you transfixed and you wondered if his godlike visage aided him in battle. If it distracted his enemies long enough for him to slay them. 

He reached his hand out to yours, brought it up from your lap and placed a kiss on your fingers. He looked up at you from your fingers, his brown eyes drawing you in like Cupido himself was pulling your strings like a marionette. 

“I have kept you waiting for long.” 

Not as long as Consus did. But you kept the comment to yourself. You’d never come close to a marital bed but something told you that men did not want to hear about a woman’s previous husband. 

You spoke for the first time in his presence. “You are an important man. I understand.” 

He smiled, dropping your hand to the space between you but not leaving it. His hand was rough from battle yet gentle in touch. It enveloped yours, exuding a soft dominance like the rest of him did. He was quite large and you winced internally, hoping that it did not translate to his size elsewhere. Did your sisters ever tell you about the relationship between the size of his man and his manhood? You couldn’t quite remember. 

“Have the servants made the home comfortable for you? It has been quite a while since this home had a domina.” 

You nodded and licked your lips, wishing you could run out to fetch some water for your drying mouth. “It is comfortable. And very beautiful. I have never seen the ocean before.” 

“There is nothing like the peace the sound of the waves brings. Nothing like the cool breeze at night and relaxing on the balcony to indulge in the stunning blue expanse.” 

“The sight of the ocean when the sun sets is truly incomparable. I spent many evenings mesmerized by it.” 

Like magic, the pressure in your lower belly disappeared. You spoke about the beauty of Rome and indulging in it. He put you at ease, drawing smiles out of you, each one wider than the last. But you had a way of finding something to torture yourself over. As you exchanged details about your past, you blurted the question out. 

“Am I to your liking?” 

“You are beautiful. Worthy of the praises your father sings of his younger daughter in the senate. And at banquets. The bathhouses and libraries and markets. Rome does not know your name but she knows you.” 

“I…” you swallowed, relieved that he found you beautiful but afraid for everything else to come. You were inexperienced but even you knew that beautiful faces were not enough to be an adequate wife. It was not adequate for Consus and you did not want a repetition of that with the General. “I do not know what you require in a wife. But I will learn. I have kept my hair out of braids. I learned that you prefer it that way. I will learn everything else too.” 

Please allow me to learn. Do not discard me for my inadequacies before I have the opportunity to prove myself. 

“Your father also described you as dutiful. I see he was right.” 

“Stand up,” he said and took your hand once again, guiding you to stand in front of him. “Undress. Let me see you.” 

He leaned towards the headboard of the bed, relaxing with his arm draped over it as he looked at you. You felt your heart thud like a galloping horse on the battlefield. Like a good soldier would, you persisted into your own battle and undid the ties and clasps that kept your clothes in place. He sat back, exuding power with his broad shoulders, wide chests and thick thighs spread apart. 

Something about the situation made you feel like cattle in the market being evaluated by customers. Did the cows feel the way you did? Did they wonder as they were purchased if they would be slaughtered for meat or kept to be bred and milked? At least they had the peace of mind knowing that the man who bought them was satisfied with his purchase. 

The General hadn’t seen you before he took you for a wife. 

Silk pooled around your legs and the cold breeze he’d waxed poetic about caressed your skin. The cold and the shame of being bare in front of a man persuaded you to cross your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the ground, focusing on his feet and yours being so close together. 

You jumped when his hand grazed your elbow but refused to look at him for fear of what you would find. Disappointment? Disgust? Anger? You could not fathom which would be the worse outcome. 

“Do not hide from your husband,” he said, gently prying your arms apart. Arms by your side, you dug your fingernails into your palm to keep from covering yourself again. Consus never laid a hand on you— never bedded you, never hit you. The General had been sweet so far, but you did not know who he was and what he did when angered. 

He held your hip and caressed your soft skin with his calloused hand. You inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by the proximity of his hand to your core. You pressed your thighs together, your feminine demureness anxious to keep your most intimate parts hidden from men’s eyes. 

“Turn around. Slowly,” he said, guiding you by your hips. As soon as you faced away from him, you brought your hands back up to cover your breasts. He did not seem to notice as his hand trailed down to your rear and grabbed your flesh in both hands. You whimpered, feeling somehow more exposed though you had not become more naked.

“Beautiful…” he hummed as he rotated you to face him once again. You dropped your arms to your sides as though you had touched a hot pot, his instruction ringing in your ear. 

“And obedient… I could not have chosen better. Now show me what you can do, girl.” It was enough for you to finally look up at him. There were none of the expressions you feared you would see. He looked quite relaxed and you were afraid you would ruin that with your ignorance of what you were to show him. 

“I will do anything you ask,” you answer meekly, hoping he would tell you exactly what he wanted you to do. Hoping he would instruct you every step of the way. 

“Show me how you will serve me.” 

You swallowed, thinking through every bit of information your sisters and servants had given on pleasing a man. It all came down to obedience, to lying down and taking what your husband gave you. Were you supposed to do something else? 

“P-please,” you whispered, the world distorted as it spilled from your trembling lips. “Show me what I should do.” 

He stood up, startling you and forcing you to take a step back. He placed a hand on your lower back and caressed gently like you did a litter of feral kittens when you were a girl. 

He placed a finger under your chin and nudged you to look up at him. “Nothing you should do, beautiful girl. I only want what you want to do.” 

“I have never…” you trailed, shaking your head in denial. “I am still chaste,” you blurted out. He froze in place, deep brown eyes boring into you.

“Your father said you were a devoted mother.” 

“To Consus’ children. Borne by his first and second wives. After his second wife died in childbirth, he— I raised the children.” 

“You do not want children of your own?” 

“I do!” You exclaimed quickly, afraid this life would be taken from you once again. You kept silent throughout your marriage and you couldn’t do that again. Not if it meant your womb staying barren. “I do. Consus, he— both his wives before me died in childbirth and the children— he did not want them to lose another mother. So he never touched me. I am chaste.” 

“Your father did not tell me.” 

“I did not tell him. Consus wrote to my family that I lost pregnancies. Had my father known that he was— that we did not live as a married man and woman— he would have had me divorce him. Consus did not want that for the children and I could not tell my family the truth until he passed. Please… If my father believed I could not bear children, he would not have arranged for our marriage.” 

You naively believed your father would have informed the General of your predicament. Giving one’s daughter to a man when you believed her barren was no small slight. Your felt as though a stone had lodged itself in your throat. You had just doomed yourself and your father. He could march up to the senate come sunrise. Humiliate your father. Take his sword to his neck. All because you were too foolish to know how to please a man. 

“What of you?”

“What of me?” You asked, confused. He took your hands in his and guided you to sit on the bed. He joined beside you.

“Why did you remain loyal to such a loathsome man? One who besmirched you to your family rather than admit to his deficiencies as a man?” 

“I was young and foolish. When I realized that he would never give me children, I… he had already lied enough to my family about my—” you stopped and shook your head. There was no need to speak ill of the dead man. No need to remind yourself how your barrenness made you the laughing stock of the village. “I resigned myself to the fate the gods had chosen for me. And I grew to love his children as my own.”

“I want more children. I ha— all my sons are dead, a few daughters too.” 

You nodded, your chest clenching from the pained look in his eyes. It was universal. Almost everyone who’d had children had lost children. But the pain never subsided. You’d seen it in your sisters, noble women of the highest ranking, in servants and slaves. The first time in a General.

“I want to have children.” 

He smiled and nodded before picking up your linen stola from the ground and wrapping it around you. He cupped your cheek, his hand engulfing the entirety of your face. He tilted his head, a soft sigh escaping his lips as his eyes bore into yours.

You leaned closer to him, praying you remembered how to kiss from the few times with a servant girl when you were only thirteen. Anticipation and anxiety had your heart racing together. When he finally touched his lips to yours, he quietened every anxiety, leaving only excitement behind. You placed a hand on his armor, the hardness of the metal underneath the leather contrasting the softness of his lips. Your other hand moved of its own accord, finding the nape of his neck. His soft curls tickled your fingers and he sighed into the kiss. 

He traced your lips with the tip of his tongue and you opened up, welcoming him. A sense of calm settled in you as you explored each other. In his arms, you found safety for the first time since your arrival. His lips coaxed you to the gates of heaven and you followed as you imagined soldiers followed your General into war. With some fear of the uncharted territory yet brave because they trusted his leadership.

When you pulled away from each other, something felt changed. He no longer felt like a stranger. Something in his eyes, an openness inviting you into his life. 

The ravages of war and time were evident in his features. A scar on the bridge of his nose perhaps from a time he came too close to his own end. His skin was spotted with marks from the sun. His eyes were soft not from the naïveté of youth but from seeing the harsh world. His golden skin peeked from under his beard decorated with a few grey flecks. You caressed a patch of skin where his beard did not grow. 

Not an hour had passed since you met him but in his embrace, glancing into his eyes, you knew life would be peaceful.

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[ifonlyyuweremine]

Captain’s Girl [Part II]

John Price x Reader (Call of Duty)

Synopsis: Mixed tension combined with a failed mission leads to a heated kiss between you and the Captain. But what happens when kissing turns into something more? And will a new mission back in Urzikstan be the catalyst to bring you together or tear you and your captain apart?

Tags: Enemies to lovers, SMUT, guys I'm not joking I went crazy with the smut, military romance, secret feelings, pining, idiots in love, fighting, secret relationships, consequences, LONG.

Word count? Do you even need to ask?

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

The helicopter ride back was abysmal, a whole 3 hours spent in absolute silence. You'd spent the majority of the time staring at your fraying shoelace. The subtle rocking of the aircraft kept you awake while everyone else slept off the rough morning (and the hangover). It turns out that drinking the night before being dispatched wasn't the best idea. Shocking.

It didn't help that your mind was still hung up on the kiss between you and Price. Also shocking.

In the past 24 hours, you discovered that there was a widespread rumor that you and your captain had been sleeping together. Everyone on base had started calling you the Captain’s Girl. And that Price didn't apparently hate you and thought that planting one on you was the best way to prove that.

Why he kissed you was an entirely new can of worms you didn't have the stomach to open right now.

Now, did you kiss him back? Yes. Why? You didn't know the fuck why. There were several possible answers to this dilemma, answer one, it was the heat of the moment. Answer two, it just felt right to do so, it's rude to leave a guy hanging. Answer three, you were just too shit-faced to think critically about it. You were leaning toward the last one.

The worst part of the whole situation, (besides the fact that you may have given those rumors a tiny bit of validity) was that Price was a phenomenal kisser. You remembered it in excruciating detail. And unlucky for you it might have been one of the best kisses you'd ever had.

A small part of you wondered if he enjoyed it too, but given his face when you separated. All flushed and surprised, his eyes wide with horror and his breath heavy… yeah maybe it was best not to dwell on your kissing abilities.

It was a small blessing that Gaz had been the one to almost catch you in the act. He loved to tease but he wasn't an asshole, your and Price's secret was most likely in good hands. Heaven forbid it was Ghost or Soap because you would've had half a mind to jump out of the helicopter without a second thought. The thought was still tempting though.

You glanced up at Price, his head tilted back and his eyes shut. He wasn't faring much better than you were. He had heavy bags under his eyes and the line between his brows was far more defined than usual. Somehow he still looked good. In a very professional way, of course. Not in a ‘we made out last night, and thinking about it turns me on,’ kind of way.

Eventually, you would have to interact with him professionally again. When his foot healed it would be back to regularly scheduled training.

Best case scenario, they'd put you all on leave and you could have a week or two surrounding yourself with other men to clear your head. You'd never really been one for an extended vacation, but exceptions could be made. Plus, going back to base meant going back to a whole bunch of people who thought you were bangin’ the boss.

You grimaced, vacationing in hell might have been better. On second thought, you'd take the checkpoint base any day. Home base could go fuck itself, at least it was hot and sunny back in Urzikstan. You heard someone chuckle and looked up to see Ghost looking at you.

“Ya’ look like you swallowed a lemon.” He said enthused. You made a sound that crossed between a sigh and a grunt.

“Just preparing myself for landing,” You breathed as the helicopter wobbled. The aircraft began to descend in a linear motion, making your stomach sink a little.

“Home sweet home.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

One week and three days, you had been back at base for almost two weeks without speaking a single word to Price. Maybe if you kept this up you could spend your last 8 months with 141 in peace.

Your days now had been mostly consisting of training (supervised by Ghost instead of Price), mindless tasks, eating in the commons, watching movies in the break room, and naps. It was kind of perfect, this was probably the most relaxed you'd ever been while at base. And nobody bothered to tease you over Price since he was rarely around. When he did make an appearance he didn't speak a word to you, which was somewhat nice.

A part of you wished for some explanation for the night of the kiss, but maybe ignorance was bliss. Whatever the reason, it was all behind you. You could totally remain professional when he comes back from recovery. Totally.

Gaz tried to talk to you about that night once, to which you immediately shut him down. Though, you knew he saw through you, and Price too, it was probably easier reading Price than you at this point. It was odd for Price to seclude himself away, even odder that he wasn't on speaking terms with you conveniently after the night that you tracked him down and blew up at him for starting a rumor that he most definitely did not create. Ghost had caught onto the odd tension between you two almost as fast as Gaz did.

Jhonny well… he was still in his own world, the man was smart sure, but he was a bit of a dunce when it came to reading other people's emotions. On the bright side that made him the perfect buddy to be around because he wasn't analyzing every interaction you had. You were grateful for him in his own way.

You were walking down one of the hallways after a bit of a loose end. Having nothing to do after training was a pain sometimes, you had an hour or two until dinner, and the base gym was at its busiest. And you didn't feel like you were in the mood to wait twenty minutes in a sweaty gym for a turn on the leg press machine. So, you opted for wandering around like a lost spirit in search of something to do instead.

Just as you turned a corner you collided with what felt like another wall. Your eyes met a 4x4 truck with a skull mask. Ghost.

“Easy, aren't sharpshooters supposed to be vigilant? Or are you the only exception?” His voice reverberated off your eardrums like a low-pitch bass. You rolled your eyes but let out an amused breath of air. To give the big guy some credit his name fits him perfectly, you didn't know how someone who was built like a standard Lego brick could be so stealthy. He could fit into any dark corner and nobody would be the wiser.

“Just you Ghost, you seem to be the only entity that evades me.” That seemed to pull a junction of his lips up because the corners of his eyes slightly crinkled. He held a small file filled with a few articles of paper tucked away into its folds.

Ghost crossed his arms, “What ya’ doin’? Have you taken up wandering hallways as a hobby now?”

You grimaced, “Gym was all full, didn't want to bother.” You said plainly, earning a nod from the bigger man.

“So… suppose that means you're free for time?” There was a slight smugness to his tone as he held the file up to you. Your gaze dropped from him to the file, he didn't phrase it like an order but you knew it was. You sighed and took the file from his hand. “Fine. Who do I have to track down to give this to?”

He shifted on one foot, “Price. You know where his office is.” You tried not to let your mouth fall open, this bastard.

You shook your head and tried to thrust the papers back into his chest, “What? No, I'm not giving these to Price. Can't you find someone else?”

Ghost stepped back and shook his head, raising his hands up in surrender. “Nope, s’outta my hands now. It’s one file, just knock on his door and drop it on his desk, easy.” You shot him a spiteful glare, there was probably an evil grin under that stupid mask.

You squeezed the file in your hands tighter, feeling the paper wrinkle in your vice grip. “Bastard.” You grimaced, turning on your heel towards the direction of Price's office. You heard him chuckle over your shoulder, “Good soldier.” He called after you, the shit-eating grin practically spotlighted through his tone.

Trudging through the familiar hallways toward Price's office was like walking through a dead-end alleyway. The further you got, the more signs you saw telling you to turn back. Sure you saw him after the night of the kiss, but you weren't being forced to talk to him or even acknowledge he was there. This was different, you would be alone with him. Alone in his office. Even if it was for a split second that you were in his presence the knowledge still made your skin pebble with goosebumps.

Before you knew it, you were facing the dreaded door of his office. The sight of the familiar plaque of his name gives you an almost Deja Vu feeling. The last time you were here things didn't go over too well, not that things ever really went great when the two of you came in contact.

You drew in a breath, just get this over with and you could be done. Maybe go take a shower or something, just go anywhere that was a good distance away from here. Your fist met the hardwood of the door, giving it a hearty few knocks. After a beat, his muffled voice reached your ears, “Come in.”

Pushing open the door you were greeted with the sight of Price. Doing pushups in the corner of his office. Okay, I guess. You were a little dumbfounded, usually one uses an office for things like paperwork or meetings. Not a personal gym. “I thought the point of recovering was that you're supposed to be resting.” You deadpanned. The file in your hands long forgotten.

His head immediately snapped up at the sound of your voice, pools of blue staring right into you like you'd walked in naked. Price halted mid-pushup, “[Name].” He breathed, obviously caught a little off guard by your appearance.

“Unfortunately,” You said back, watching as he got up and brushed himself off. The cotton of his shirt stretched over the expanse of his biceps and chest. Your eyes shot back to his face, a little guilty. Price cleared his throat, “They won't let me train in the gym yet. So, I have to improvise.”

You blinked at him, “Base doctor must love you.” You said sarcastically, glancing down at his foot. “How's your foot?” You asked politely, filling the awkward silence.

Price looked down at his wrapped foot, shrugging. “It's better. Don't need the crutch anymore.” He said plainly. You responded with a nod and an ‘ah,’ creating an even longer awkward silence. The two of you stood there for another beat, just looking at each other. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to run to him or run away from him. Just then you remembered the whole reason why you were here.

“Oh- uh, I have this for you-“ You held out the manilla file for him to take, “Ghost told me to bring it up here.” Price's eyes darted from the folder and then back to you, he hesitantly walked closer and took the file. His fingers brushed yours and you swear an electric current shot through your spine. His fingers were warm and rough, transporting you back to when his hands were in your hair, holding your face, cupping the back of your neck.

You swallowed, it felt like your heartbeat was in your head. “Thank you.” He said, pulling back his hand and the papers with it.

It was like someone had knocked the wind out of you, you were frozen. “…Right, I'll go then.” You said, taking a step back from him as he put the file on top of his desk.

“[Name]. Hold on, please.” His voice stopped you in your tracks, making you rotate a little to face him completely. His voice didn't sound angry, but it was firm. “Everything alright?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, watching as he faced you. Leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.

His adams apple bobbed up and down, lifting a hand to rub his mutton chops. “Yeah…I just wanted to clear up something with you.” His voice was careful, the pauses and hesitance filling you with dread. Shit. He wanted to talk about the kiss, which you most definitely did not want to talk about. A part of you was dying inside but you nodded, “Yeah, what's up?” You said through clenched teeth.

“About what happened the night before the team left Urzikstan, I just wanted to… apologize. It was unprofessional of me especially considering the circumstances.” You stood statue still, well this was a first. He was apologizing to you. Price continued, “It was a moment of weakness and emotions were running high and frankly I didn't know how else to show you I didn't hate you. I give you my word that it will never happen again.”

A moment of weakness? What the hell was that even supposed to mean? It was nice to hear an apology come from him but to be honest, you weren't sure if you were happy about the fact he was sorry. Maybe that meant he didn't enjoy it, but it certainly didn't seem like it when his tongue was down your throat. Well, if you were already on the subject mind as well ask.

“Did you hate it?” You asked, Price looked at you for a moment. His face was puzzled like it was the last thing he had expected to come out of your mouth. “What?” He asked, his voice thick behind his British accent.

You stood your ground, “The kiss-” you clarified. “Did. you. hate. it?” His eyes searched yours for an ounce of reasoning, “I- it was unprofessional and I shouldn't have initiated anything as your Captain-”

“That wasn't my question.” You cut him off, your eyebrows furrowed together as your gaze bore into him. “I asked if you hated kissing me.”

Price shifted, leaning back a little against his desk. It was silent for a while, the sound of the wall clock and your beating heart was the only noise you could hear. “No… I didn't hate it.” He said after another beat.

A small part of you soared, you could sleep at night knowing your kissing abilities weren't the cause of his skittishness. The next question slipped past your lips before you had the mind to stop yourself. “Do you regret it?”

Again his lips pulled into a frown and his eyes darted away, “[Name], I don't know why these questions are necessary.” But you weren't going to let him deflect you that easy, right now all thoughts of professionalism and integrity were out the window. You deserved an explanation, even if the logical side of your mind was telling you to leave. You stepped closer to him, so he couldn't ignore your presence.

“It's necessary because you kissed me out of nowhere and I deserve an explanation.” You said defiantly, “So do you or do you not regret it?”

He gave you an exasperated look before swallowing his pride. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his pointer and thumb, he spoke, “I regret kissing you at that moment, and how I went about it. But I don't regret kissing you, no.”

Price’s cheeks turned a slightly rosy color that reached his ears. He looked like a guilty dog. You didn't know what surprised you more, the fact that he apologized or that he didn't regret kissing you. But his admission sparked a heat that crawled into your bones, burying into your stomach and coloring your cheeks similarly to his.

“Then just kiss me again.”

What came out of your mouth seemed to surprise you just as much as it did Price. He looked at you like you had grown a second head, “I'm sorry?” You felt your limbs lose feeling, fuck it, if you were going in mind as well go all in.

“I said what I said, if you regret how you went about kissing me last time…make it up now.” The silence that stretched over the two of you lasted for far longer than you were comfortable with. Price shook his head, seemingly coming back to reality. “[Name], I'm not kissing you.” He said pushing off the desk to stand at his full height.

You frowned, well shit. “Why not?” You said, trying not to let the surprise and annoyance bleed through your tone.

He looked at you incredulously, “Because we're in my fucking office and you're my subordinate.” Price said, gesturing around his office to further his argument. Jeez, you really hated this guy. He could at least throw you a bone after pulling a kiss on you out of nowhere.

“So? You kissed me out in the open at the checkpoint base- and I was your subordinate then too.” You knew that he knew you had a good point there, “If you don't want to kiss me or something you could've just said so.” You glared.

Price groaned and shook his head, rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. “No- I- fuck, of course I want to kiss you. But it's not appropriate, there are fraternization rules. Especially when it comes to me as your Captain.”

Aha! So he did want to kiss you, that at least was one more mystery solved. You craned your neck up to meet his eyes, your hands seizing his face. Cupping his scruffy cheeks between your palms. “Rules only apply if you get caught. And you owe me a better apology.” You told him sternly.

Price’s eyes were wide and his body tensed for a moment. Only to relax a moment later, the heat of his face could burn your skin. Your hands tingled as the pads of your fingers slid against the coarse scuff of his beard. His face hid something behind the mask of surprise, something that glinted in the pools of navy and grey. Everything about him looked so odd, so real.

Back at the checkpoint base, you didn't have time to look over his features or memorize them. You weren't able to watch the flicker in his eyes, something akin to a stalking wolf.

“One kiss.” Price breathed.

“One kiss.” You repeated back to him, trying not to let your voice quake.

That was all it took before his lips were slotted against yours, swallowing your breath and your mind with it. The kiss back at Urzikstan was rushed, desperate, quick. This. This was different. It was like a switch in your brain was flipped off, the mind-numbing static and the gentle rhythm of his lips replaced where your rational thought was supposed to be.

Large hands seized your waist, digging into your flesh. Slowly, the gentle probes of his mouth morphed into heavy kisses and heated groans. His mouth tasted the same as it did before, like smoke and whiskey. You doubted you'd ever forget the taste of him.

Your hands slid around his neck, and your dull nails dragged down his nape. Earning a throaty moan on his part, with each lick, groan, and movement of his lips, you only seemed to get sucked in further. Your senses were drowning in him, yet you only ached to go deeper. To let the water fill your lungs and cloud your brain.

Lips, tongue, teeth, you didn't know where it ended nor where it started. Hell, you didn't know what you were even doing. You didn't even realize you had moved until your behind hit the solid edge of his desk, making you retract for a sharp breath.

Price panted against your lips, still slick and kiss swollen. Neither of you did anything, standing still in the aftermath. The kiss said more than either of you could have ever put into words. Hands squeezed your hips, “On the desk.”

You blinked, only somewhat coherent, “What?” Price lightly pushed you further, the back of your body being pressed against the hardwood. “You heard me, sit on the desk.” His voice was rough and thick with his accent. It wasn't more of a request but a demand, and unlucky for you it made your knees weak.

Carefully you lifted yourself onto the flat surface, his body wedged between your open legs. The rough pads of his fingers grasping at your hips, and before you knew it you were kissing him again. It was addictive, he was addictive. This felt more like your fist kiss with him, the kisses became rougher, more rushed, and more desperate. Like trying to fill an endless void with his lips.

“I thought you said one kiss,” You managed to gasp out between open-mouthed kisses. You felt the pull of a smile on the corner of his lips before separating from you only to attach to your neck. Suckling at the skin and leaving trails of blooming redness in his wake.

“You said you wanted a better apology right?” Price said, his voice vibrating against your collar. The texture of his beard against your skin sending full-body shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your hands reaching to his back to fist the material of his shirt. “Yeah.” Your voice was breathy, it sounded almost foreign to you. Like you hadn't even spoken it. Hands dipped under your shirt, running up the soft skin of your ribs, mapping out your body. Price looked at you, something in his eyes was desperate, like a wild animal looking at their next meal.

“Then let me make it up to you. Please.” Fuck.

When had a man ever said that to you? And not any man but John fucking Price. A pulse drummed in your stomach that reached your core, here you were, sitting on your captain's desk with him in between your legs. Asking you to let him make it up to you. Really…who were you to refuse when he asked so nicely? You swallowed and nodded, “Okay.”

With your confirmation, Price lifted your shirt above your head, hastily tossing it somewhere on the floor. His hands making quick work of your bra with it, the offending garment joining your shirt on the floor. He stood there momentarily, taking in the new expanse of revealed skin. Price’s calloused hands glided over your abdomen, cupping your breasts and brushing a thumb over the hardened nipple.

You hissed, your spine curving at his touch. Price’s hands were hard and warm, a stark contrast to the plush mound of your chest. “Fuck, you're a vision you know that? So fucking pretty.” He breathed, his comments adding fuel to the fire between your legs. You couldn't remember the last time a man had called you anything near a ‘vision,’ but damn it felt good. It felt good to be wanted.

Your thighs squeezed together, blocked by his frame standing between them. Every movement he made caused your hips to brush, sending shocks up your spine. And shit could you feel him, he was a large man but the size of the tent brushing against your clothed core was downright ridiculous. No wonder his ego was so big, you absentmindedly thought.

A finger hooked one of the loops of your standard-issue pants. Price was looking at you, “Can I…?” He motioned down asking permission to discard the rest. To which you nodded, trying to hold back your eagerness. “Yeah go ahead.”

Price helped you out from your pants, letting them drop to the floor with a dull thud. He groaned as he caught eye of your underwear—a very embarrassing and very obvious wet spot coating the fabric. Fuck-you didn't realize that was there. You'd been so caught up in his hands you'd barely felt it. He shot you a knowing look, the corner of his lip twitched up.

“All this cause of me?” He asked smugly, circling a digit over the sodden fabric. You twitched, the contact making you bite down on your lip to keep from making a startled noise.

You glared at him, “Don’t fucking tease me.” You said, the embarrassment in your tone disguised as venom. He grinned, prick’ you thought. Price guided a finger over your clothed slit, leaning into the crook of your neck. “Never baby, just want to make things right with you.” He murmured into your skin.

Price tugged the fabric to the side, letting your slick lubricate his fingers. You shuddered, your hands holding onto him for dear life. “Fuck-” You choked out, your hips leaning into his hand. It felt infuriatingly good, the way his digit glided up and down your labia at a leisurely slow pace making you fein for more. He groaned as he watched you moan from the way he brushed his thumb over your clit.

“Atta girl, so good f’me.”

Oh.

You liked that. You'd never really paid attention to the gratification of someone praising you outside of an academic or professional level but at that moment you could tell that did something for you. And Price seemed to notice too.

He gently prodded at your entrance, earning a whine from your lips. “One finger or two?” He muttered, you could barely think let alone answer his question. What you did know was that you need more, “Two.” You said breathlessly.

A light chuckle reverberated off of him, “Greedy girl.” Price didn't wait and plunged two fingers into you slowly. You threw your head back as his thick digits stretched open the gummy walls of your core. “Fuck, look at you. So wet for me, so fucking sexy like this you know that?” You could only manage another choked whine as he mimicked the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers.

It was euphoric, the way he filled out your walls with his fingers alone. Slowly pressing the pads of his middle and ring up against the spongy spot inside you. You dug your nails into his shoulder, a silent scream fell from your lips. Price’s other hand holding the small of your back to support you. “Stay still,” He whispered into the shell of your ear, making you shudder.

You didn't listen, how could you? You could barely focus on what he was saying as it was, let alone when he was knuckle deep inside you.

When Price noticed you weren't listening he retracted his fingers, leaving you hollow. You whined, already craving the stretch of his fingers again. He rested his palm against your cunt, his digits barely tracing over your entrance. “Come on, I know you can listen, stay still for me yeah?” His voice vibrated against your neck and his beard brushed over the exposed skin. Making your body prickle with goosebumps.

“You're an asshole you know that?” You panted, going rigidly still. He smiled against you, his fingers plunging back into your wet heat. “And you're all bark and no bite, fuckin’ vixen. Always looking at me when you know you shouldn't, driving me insane all the time. Stubborn girl.”

You threw your head back, trying hard not to let your hips twitch or jerk. Your mouth fell open to let out a lustful moan that would've made anyone in the near vicinity blush.

Price continued, “You like driving me mad? Never fucking listening to me, arguing with me, riling me up.” He muttered, sliding his fingers in and out at a brutal pace. Making your cunt flutter, producing the most obscene sounds you ever heard from yourself. “Then you come in here all sexy asking me to kiss you. It's like you wanted this, wanted my fingers.”

You felt the burning fire in your core tighten and roar, “Price- slow down. M’gonna cum if you keep going.” You babbled, your nails leaving crescents on his bicep. Everything was happening so fast you couldn't keep track of what was going on.

Price’s fingers were rough, thick, they filled out the lining of your walls with ease. A thick fog started to cloud your mind, making the world almost blur. In. Out. In. Out. It was maddening, he wasn’t slowing and you were only growing more feverish.

He shook his head, his other hand leaving your hip to grab your chin. Forcing you to look into his eyes, an animalistic hunger written over his face. “No, you're going to cum on my fingers. Look at me while you do it, look at me while you soak my hand.” Price’s thumb circled over your clit, making you clench and pulse. A full-body shudder racking through you.

You came suddenly, unexpectedly. It was hard and fast, but in a way, it was like you were floating. Your muscles went rigid, your back curving, and your startled moan bounced off the walls of the office. It came in waves, crashing over you like the tide as he finger-fucked you through the orgasm. All the while staring directly into those familiar pools of blue and navy. Your pussy spasmed around his fingers.

After a minute you fell limp, like you'd just run miles, you panted. Hair falling in your face and wetness coating both his fingers and your inner thighs, the juices pooling onto the dark wood of the table. Price held your waist with one hand, letting you slump against his chest. It was peaceful bliss for a moment.

You caught your breath enough to sit up, meeting his gaze. His hand that held your waist moved to brush a few stray hairs falling over your eyes. The corners of Price’s lips pulled into a smile, and your heart stuttered, only a little though. “Have I made it up to you yet?” He murmured, the thickness of his voice could have melted your ears. Smooth like syrup but rugged enough to be devastatingly masculine.

“Apology accepted.” You breathed, trying not to sound too winded. It was too late to form any semblance of decency so the next best option was pretending he didn't single-handily give you the most toe-curling orgasm of your life. Easier said than done.

Price detached from you, walking over to one of his office drawers and pulling out a box of tissues. “Normally I'd have something better to clean you up with but these will do for now.” He said casually, pulling a few from the box and coaxing your legs back open to wipe down the mess. Somehow, you felt a blush spread across your cheeks.

This was so...domestic, sweet even, it wasn't like him. Then again, fingering you on his desk wasn't like him either but here you were. You both had crossed a line and there wasn't any going back, you swallowed. “Thanks, but uhm…what do we do now?” Frankly, it was a dumb question but you couldn't help asking.

He gave you a look, “What do you mean?” You squirmed under his gaze, trying not to look down at his warm hand brushing up against your inner thigh.

“Well, we can't exactly pretend like this didn't happen.” You clarified, watching as the wheels in his head turned. Price shrugged, “We can leave it at this if that's what you want. I think both of us are just on edge, y’know, the heat of the moment.”

Somehow his words didn't match his face, there was more that seemed to bellow beneath his tone. But rather than bringing it up, you thought about his words. This wasn't ever something you anticipated to happen but to your surprise, you didn't hate it. “What if we just kept it going?”

Price looked at you, his eyes widened a tad, the surprise written across his face doing more for your nerves than you were comfortable with. “Like- in the sense that you and I both have a lot of built-up tension and unresolved issues. But if this works to keep the peace why not give it a try? Discreetly of course.”

It was a beat before he responded, “Alright, but like you said, discreet. If anyone catches on this is done.”

You soared, why? You didn't know, it just felt like the best news you'd gotten in forever. But looking too deeply into that feeling was uncharted territory. Better off leaving it in the corner of your brain with all the other repressed emotions.

“Works for me.” You agreed, Price got up again to grab your poor clothes that had been flung across the room. Handing them back gingerly, he was nice enough to turn around as you reclothed yourself. There was a slight charge to the air, almost like static. It pricked at your skin, making you jumpy and nearly insecure. It was like you had reverted to a teenage girl.

He caught your gaze, and the unspoken tension and lingering awkwardness faded just a little. He gave you a nod, “I'll see you tomorrow for drills.”

You smiled just slightly, “See you.” Walking to the door and turning the handle, you forced yourself not to look back at him.

After shutting the door you breathed a sigh, brushing out your clothes and smoothing your hair of the lingering frizz. Getting cozy with your captain was not on your yearly bingo card, but hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. You absentmindedly thought about the implications of technically giving that stupid rumor some validity. But you were only human, a girl has to do what she has to do to get laid.

Discreetly, of course, you were great about being discreet. Yeah, easy peasy. All you had to do was make sure nobody found out.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

At first, you didn't really know what to expect when you first made the arrangement with Price about ���solving the unresolved problems between the two of you.” But after a few weeks of working out frustrations ‘on’ each other, you could say with full confidence that this arrangement exceeded your expectations.

Not only had the genuine fights between you been on an extended hiatus, but it started to be replaced with playful banter. And when you weren't bantering or training or hanging out with the group, you were fucking. And boy was it something.

For one, Price was experienced, to say the least, he knew what to do and when to do it. He had mapped out your body and played it like a fiddle. And with your extent of mediocre lovers, it was like a breath of fresh air. And his body was nothing to sneeze at either, he had muscle allll the way down. Battle scars be dammed, everything just seemed to make him more appealing.

The only troubling part of the arrangement was keeping up the ruse and getting creative when it came to the actual action portion of it. But turns out that unconventional areas to have sex weren't as bad as they seemed. Office? Hell yeah. In the medical wing private rooms? Why not. In the showers and bathrooms? You only live once.

Unintentionally getting laid was also fixing your mood. Who knew an orgasm was a great way to fix an attitude problem? Well, at least most of your attitude problems.

You were outside running the trail that weaved its way around the base, at least once or twice a week Price would make you and the team run until you thought you would pass out. Something about endurance training. Running wasn't the worst thing but the harsh trail and uneven ground that zigzagged and dipped made you want to tear your hair out.

Your breath came out in small puffs, the cold air around you doing little to soothe the hot ache of your muscles. Your baby hairs stuck to your forehead and by the looks of it, you still had a few more miles left.

Jhonny ran beside you, his heavy breaths synchronous with yours. Up ahead was Gaz and Price and a few inches behind you was Ghost acting as caboose. You watched them run in front of you like you were studying a Peloton ad. Seriously, how the hell had they barely broken a sweat yet?? It was downright annoying how athletic they were.

“I swear, neither of them are human. Price just got cleared to run a week ago and he looks like he's having the time of his life.” You said between pants, next to you Soap laughed.

“Can’t say I disagree with ya’ there Bonnie, think he just does it for show at this point.” He said, his voice equally hoarse. From behind you, Ghost chimed in, “Maybe if you two stopped talking you'd actually catch up to them by now.”

You shot Ghost a glance over your shoulder, “People in glass houses.” You quipped, considering he was the caboose it was a little ironic. Not by much but still.

Soap grinned, “She’s right ain't she L.T.? Say, how's the arse of the train treating you? Got a nice view?”

Your laugh hurt, the air felt so thin but the pit of your stomach warmed. Talking while running (especially laughing) wasn't the smartest, but it was a distraction. Ghost swatted at the back of Soap’s head, cutting his laugh short.

From up ahead Price turned his head to look at you and Soap. “Two miles left, I’d suggest you save your stamina. If you fall behind on time you run extra.” He deadpanned. His voice barely sounded tired, the nerve.

You grimaced, “I think I’d prefer one of your medieval torture methods than running any longer.” Despite what you thought was an amusing comment Price didn't look enthused.

“That was a nice way of telling you and Jhonny to shut up, am I clear?” He said sternly, you held in your groan. Hookup buddy or not, Price was still annoying. “Clear.” You and Soap said in unison.

The rest of the path was spent in lingering silence. And by the time you reached base, you felt like you had one foot in the grave. You hunched over, your hands on your knees as you took in as many breaths as you could without it hurting. Had the air always been this thin?

Price was a few feet ahead, hands on his hips as he cooled off. His hair was slightly messy and his body glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He reached for his shirt and pulled it up to wipe his face, exposing the hard muscle and his happy trail. Dear lord. You watched him like a hawk, zeroing in on his abs as they expanded and decompressed with each breath.

He glanced your way, you were incredibly obvious so it was no surprise how his eyebrow twitched up and his lips pulled into a wry smile. “I did tell you to save your energy.” He commented quite smugly, referencing your current state.

You snapped out of the trance his abs had put you in, leaning back up and darting your eyes away. “I’m fine, just catching my breath. And for the record that felt way longer than normal, at this point, you just like to watch the team suffer.”

Price chuckled, crossing his arms. “Well someone’s bitter. But look, you did it and you came out fine. It's a win-win.”

You glared at him, unimpressed. “Sure, you work me like a dog until I inevitably die of overexertion and I get a paycheck in the mail that I'll never be able to spend because I'm dead. Win-win.” You said sarcastically. Price's lips tugged up, his mutton chops creating an almost teddy bear-like effect.

The corners of his eyes slightly crinkled, “Maybe you should've taken up drama instead of Military. Might fit you better.”

Your lips pursed into a line, Price was quick witted, but way too full of himself. It was a good thing you were there to keep his ego in line, you liked to think of yourself almost as the balancing act of the team. After all, there could only be so many cooks in the kitchen before things got rocky. “Good thing they don’t pay you for jokes.” You said, finally gaining back your breath.

Just as Price opened his mouth to give what was most likely a poor rebuttal a large hand patted your shoulder.

“[Name], pub tonight yeah?” It was Gaz. His beaming face almost made you squint. You took a minute to process his words, you were rarely one to inhabit the pubs on the outskirts of the base. But a brief memory of him and Jhonny asking you to go from earlier that morning cleared up your memory fog.

You cleared your throat and nodded, “Yeah- wouldn't miss it.” You said through your teeth. Gaz looked forward to Price, “You tagging along Price?”

You looked back at Price too, curious. He stood there a moment before sighing, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I will. Someone's got to keep the lot of ya’ in check.” Your spirit plummeted, the last time you were drunk in front of Price you started cursing at him like a drunken sailor. And you started kissing him in broad…daylight? Nightlight? Whatever. The point was, that you had zero self-control when you drank.

Heck, you barely had any self-control when it came to Price. You were on him any chance you got, and mixing two of your greatest temptations just sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Gaz smiled, ruffling your sweaty hair. “Great! We’ll leave after dinner, Price you're designated driver.” You forced yourself to smile back, giving a weak excuse for an ‘excited’ laugh.

“Great.” You said through your teeth, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. Price gave him a nod as he walked off towards Soap and Ghost.

“Can’t wait.” You breathed to yourself.

Game plan: Don't drink and avoid Price at all costs. Simple enough. After all, it was just a pub, how bad could it be?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Spoiler Alert: Bad. It could be bad.

In the first thirty minutes of being at the shabby pub, you'd broken your first rule by getting roped into a drinking game with Jhonny. Not the smartest of decisions by far that you made. But it did take off the edge, now the orange lighting and the peeling paint on the walls seemed quaint instead of creepy.

The warmth in your stomach buzzed with a low frequency that made you giddy. And you hadn't paid for any of your drinks courtesy of Jhonny. Things may have been turning out for the better if you stayed on your A game. But unsurprisingly you failed to do so.

You sat on one of the barstools, a classic marg in hand with the salted rim and fancy lime slice on the glass. Ghost was sitting next to you while you both watched Jhonny trying to sweet-talk some poor girl from across the bar. Price sat a few chairs down next to Gaz, wrapped up in a conversation with the old bartender. Slowly, you felt yourself getting cozy.

And you were drunk enough that you merely hummed along with the maroon 5 reruns that played in the background.

“I got fifteen on the girl slappin’ him by the end of the night.” Ghost said as you watched the scene unfold.

You couldn't help but let an unabashed giggle slip from your lips. “Honestly I can't tell if she wants to take him home or take him to the local station for harassment charges.” Ghost grunted in agreement.

The girl gingerly took another sip of her drink as Soap talked to (at) her. Earning another hearty laugh from both You and Ghost. After another minute of people-watching Ghost patted the bar table, fishing a pack from inside of his cargo pocket. “Alright, I’m taking five’ I'll be outside.” He said as he got up.

You frowned but nodded, your gossip buddy was gone which was annoying. But instead of dwelling on it, you took another sip of your marg. The tequila burned your throat in a sickly sweet way, it wasn't the best drink you'd ever had but it did the job. Mid-drink you felt someone else walk up behind you, without warning someone slid into the empty stool next to you.

“This seat taken?” You didn't recognize the voice, it was masculine but it didn't sound like any of the guys. You looked to your side, it was a guy. He looked to be taller, with pale skin, sandy brown hair, and dark eyes. He wasn't about to be on a magazine cover but he definitely wasn't hard to look at.

You didn't quite know what to say, “uh…yeah, I suppose by you.” It was a lame response but he did kinda already sit himself down.

He smiled, white teeth, a little crooked but nobody's perfect. He had a good jaw, not clean-shaven but it made him look a bit more approachable. “That’s good to hear,” he was holding a drink, a gin-and-coke by the looks of it. “I saw you and your friend playing that drinking game earlier, pretty impressive, didn't think you'd be able to keep up.”

You gave a bit of an awkward laugh, unsure of what to make of the situation. But friendly conversation wasn't off the table, and the mystery man seemed nice enough. “Yeah, I guess I did, thanks. You uh- you done anything like that before?”

Mystery man shook his head, “No I can't hold my ale. I prefer to let the professionals handle that.” You laughed, finding the comment a little ridiculous.

“I’d hardly call myself a professional.” You replied, taking another sip of your drink. His eyes dipped down to your lips, watching as you raised the glass to your mouth and swallowed. But, they quickly averted back to your eyes.

“I don't know, I would hardly classify you as intermediate. I would buy you a drink but I'm not sure that much to drink in one night is healthy.” He said smoothly, leaning one elbow against the counter.

Buy you a drink? Okay, maybe a bit too friendly. But maybe he was just being nice, people buy strangers drinks all the time. You nodded, “Oh that's nice of you. Yeah, I'd say after this I’ll call it quits.” You said, raising your marg.

He hummed and nodded, licking his lips. “Hopefully you're not too drunk, right?” Something about his tone you didn't like, it was like he was teasing you.

You averted your eyes, “Uh hopefully not. Just buzzed for now, I’ll probably feel the brunt of it later.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Did you drive here yourself?” Okay, what was with all the questions? You weren't sure if that was a courteous thing to ask or just downright nosy.

You shook your head, “No someone drove me.” You said simply, keeping it short and sweet. Maybe then he'd get the vibes you were putting off. He hummed, his eyes drilling into you like one of those toy lasers.

“Are you going home with anyone?” He asked, you almost choked on your drink. What was with this guy? How did you go from drinking the game two seconds ago to this??

He cut you off before you had the chance to say anything, “Because if not, I’d be willing to drive you back. Free of charge, of course.”

Free of charge my ass.

The actual charge probably consisted of a blow job in the back seat of his Toyota Corolla. Or white van, you were still figuring out the vibes on this guy.

You were stunned to speak, absolutely dumbfounded by the lack of social cues. It was like walking into the shallow end of a pool only to step into eight feet of water. To make it worse he reached forward, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face. “Come on, don't leave me hanging. What do you say?”

Pound!’

Something hard hit the counter, making both your drinks wobble. You swiveled your head towards the noise, and low and behold your second greatest desire now stood between you and the mystery guy. Price.

His fist on the counter cut the conversation short as well as all the noise around him. Creating an oh-so-silent bar. The mystery man retracted his hand like he'd been scorched by an open flame. Looking up at Price with a bewildered expression, “What the fuck man?” He asked with a furrowed brow.

Price looked down at him, his expression unmoving. “Apologies, but I think it's time you go bother another person. Particularly one that isn't a part of my team.”

Whatever thoughts of arguing that the mystery man had immediately died as Price crossed his arms, puffing himself out like a bird when ruffling its feathers. You looked at both of them incredulously, sure you were glad Price came to the rescue but you could've handled it yourself. You didn't need him to come barreling through like a charging rhino to handle something you didn't even ask him to do.

You looked around to see everyone's heads turned in your direction, looking between Price and the other guy. Suddenly the alcohol in your stomach turned sour, and you felt your cheeks grow hot from the unwanted attention.

“Jeez, look I wasn't looking for any trouble. I didn't know she had a man, my bad.” He said, holding his hands up in surrender. Price didn't budge, guarding you like a stone wall. “Then off you go.” He said sternly.

The mystery guy nodded, sliding out from the barstool and walking past you and back to the table where he came from. The pub started to go back to normal, people picking up where they left off. Price turned back to you, his posture deflating a little. He looked down at you, and from the way you were looking back at him, he immediately knew something was amiss. “What?” He asked.

Your eyebrows slid lower on your face, your lips pursing into a tight frown. “What do you mean ‘what?’ What the fuck was that?” You whisper shouted at him, your cheeks still burning with embarrassment.

Price looked at you like you were crazy, a frown on his lips. “The bloke was touching you, you think I'm just going to stand by and let him paw at you?” He asked defensively.

Oh please. He barely even touched your face. It wasn’t great, but, it didn’t warrant Price making a whole spectacle. Especially not in front of the team, let alone a group of spectators. You looked back at Gaz, who was staring directly at you, then at Jhonny, who went back to talking to the girl.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” You signed, not wanting to be in earshot of Gaz who was most definitely eavesdropping. Friend or not, he couldn't know any more than he already did, the bastard was perceptive enough as it was.

Price glanced at Gaz and then back to you, his jaw working with tension. “Fine.” He huffed, you were a bit taken aback by the irritability in his tone. Why was he so mad now? He was the one who caused the scene. Nonetheless, you slipped out of the bar and followed Price as he stormed off.

You weaved through tables and people, trying your best to squeeze by without knocking into anything. Price walked into an emptier hallway that led to the restrooms. It was one of those creepy hallways with no overhead lights and weird pictures strung across the walls. You eyed the peeling wallpaper, it was like you'd stepped into a time capsule. Warm light poured from the main area of the bar, casting an orange hue against you and Price that was cut off by shadows.

He turned back to you, the furrow in his brow knitting the skin in between. He looked sexy. The thought popped into your mind before you had the sense to block it out. While very true you had to stand your ground. A hot man and some liquor in your system would not sway your resolve. (Maybe it could sway it a little.) focus!

“What was that? You charging up to that guy and slamming your fist on the counter.” You asked folding your arms over your chest.

Price leaned against the opposite wall, facing you. “I didn't charge up to him, I simply made it clear that he crossed a line.” He said defiantly. You raised a brow, unsure of what to make of the blanket statement.

“What line?” You asked, to which Price scoffed.

“He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and don't think I didn't hear the way he was interrogating you. Come off it [Name], I know you're not stupid, you could see clear as I could what that fucker wanted.” He spat.

You exhaled, either the liquor was catching up to you or it was starting to get hot. “Well yeah, but he barely did anything, and that hardly warranted you taking matters into your own hands.” You defended, “-I could have just told him to fuck off or something. I didn't need you charging in like a bull and letting the entire bar know.”

You watched Price’s hand bawl into a fist, flexing the strain in his neck as he glared down at you. “What else was I supposed to do? Politely ask him to leave? When he's got his dirty hands on you like that-” He groaned, wiping his face with one hand.

“I'm not defenseless, I don't need you to rescue me.” You retorted, your hands holding your arms tighter to your chest.

Price rolled his eyes, “I know that. Don’t get smart with me.” He said pointing a finger your way, his mouth curling into a small snarl. “You don't get it, watching him practically undressing you with his eyes. It was fucking aggravating to watch- the way he looked at you.”

You were a bit surprised that he caught on to that, but you didn't feel like he was undressing you with his eyes per se. More like just intently staring, you pushed his accusatory finger down. “You're exaggerating, and you don't even know what he was thinking.” You tried to reason.

Price looked at you with a glare that would’ve made anyone else back down. But you didn't, as Jhonny once commented, you had the rather: “Fucking idiotic tendency to never be scared of Price.” What could you say? You liked a challenge.

He took a step forward, making you take one back. Your back hit the wall of the hallway. Like a caged animal, you were trapped. “I know exactly what he's thinking.” Price snarled, he grabbed your face. The rough pads of his fingers pressed into your hollow cheeks, his hand was so big it dwarfed your lower jaw.

“-Because I fucking think of the exact same things when I look at you.” His voice was harsh and low, sending ripples through your spine like shock waves. Price’s hand forced your face up so it was locked dead onto his, making you look into his eyes shadowed by the darkness. Flecks of light caught on his face, against his beard and jaw. If anyone were to walk into the hallway, it may have looked like Price was about to devour you like a starving carnivore.

You shuddered, he was so close it was driving your senses crazy. You could smell him, taste the venom in his voice, and God did it turn you on. You wanted more, you wanted to push his buttons. It felt good to drive him to the point of fury, to watch him slowly lose his composure. Years of hard discipline and mental strength all crumbling within minutes, and you wanted to watch.

“I don’t care if every man on the planet looks at me that way. I'm not yours, you don't get to put a claim on me. And you sure as hell don't get to make a scene in front of the entire bar and the team.” You spat back. Like an open flame, the wildfire between you and Price only seemed to burn brighter, faster, harder.

“-And what happened to being discrete huh? Last time I checked, scaring off any guy who looks in my direction isn't discrete.” You pried.

Price scowled down at you, his breathing starting to grow more labored. His hand clenched your face more forcefully, not enough to hurt but enough that you couldn't move. “You're right. You don't belong to me, but I am still your Captain, and you answer to me. Not to Gaz, or Jhonny, or Ghost. Not to some stupid prick who just wants a quick fuck. Me.”

Price was slowly getting angrier, to be honest, you rarely saw him this pissed. But deep down, it kind of did something to you. Knowing that you were the cause of his anger.

It was an ache that settled deep within your bones, making your blood coarse red hot. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was something more. Either way, you didn't care, you just needed to feel the satisfaction of breaking his ressolve. Stripping him of every facet that made him a man and revealing the primitive monster that lied underneath.

Your eyes narrowed into slits, “Fuck you Price.”

There was a beat of silence that stretched for far too long. It was so quiet you could almost feel the way your heart hammered in your chest. You made hard eye contact with him, watching the way his eyes widened and how his irises scanned over the expanse of your face.

“Fuck me?” He spoke, his voice hard and breathy. His hand forced your face up, straining the muscles in your neck. The back of your head was pressed into the hard wall with firm pressure. And to your surprise, the corner of his lip turned up into an amused smile. “Fuck me huh?” He repeated, and as suddenly as it appeared, his smile dropped.

“Fuck you.” He spat, surging forward into a clash of tongue, teeth, and lips. You quickly grabbed at his head, twisting your fingers through his hair. Your arms wrapped around him like a constricting snake.

The kiss was so rough you didn't even know if it could be classified as a kiss really. His body practically slammed into you, pinning you to the wall like a fly caught in a spider's web. One of his hands still clutched your face while the other was pressed flat into the wall beside your head. You heard one of the pictures that was hung on the wall next to you clatter to the ground. Everything seemed to fade into the background, all that mattered was the man who was currently pinning you to the wall.

Price was kissing you like a man starved. You forgot where you were, what you were doing, and why you felt so angry in the first place.

You distantly felt his hands move down to roughly cup your ass and then the back of your thighs. Price hoisted you up, trapping you between the wall and himself. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, grinding your hips against his. You groaned as you felt his tented pants against your clothed core, he was hard as a rock.

Your hands raked down the expanse of his back, fisting the soft cotton of his shirt between your fingers. Price took a few steps back, holding you to his chest still. His back hit the other wall with a thud, making the other pictures rattle. He kept maneuvering around like a blind man until his back hit the door to one of the bathrooms. It gave way to his weight, swinging backward.

“Price what-” Your words were cut off by another open-mouthed kiss. You returned it just as eagerly, maybe asking what he was doing could wait another minute. Price’s back hit the door again, one of his hands scrambling for the lock. He carried you across the empty bathroom, bouncing off the walls and counters as you went.

He managed to open the door to the last stall tucked away in the corner. Slamming against the stall you kissed him like an animal, clawing at his back and rolling your hips into his.

After another minute you pulled away for a breath, panting like you'd just swam up for air. His breath fanned your lips, thick with his taste and your mixed spit. The dingy bathroom was poorly lit, casting everything inside it in a dark light. You swallowed, “What are we doing in here?” You panted.

Price’s hands squeezed your ass, “Making sure nobody else can see what I'm about to do to you.” His voice was heavy and thick, like molasses sugar. The richness of it clouded your senses, making you loopy. Without warning he pulled you off him, setting you down on your feet with a hand tangled in your hair.

“On the ground.” He spoke, more of a command than anything.

You blinked, either it was the round of drinks or just his effect on you but the words barely processed. “What?” You breathed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Price gave your head a sharp yank, a surprised gasp slipping past your lips. His thick digits curled around your hair tighter, pulling your scalp taunt. “I said on the ground, I know you can listen to me.” He said, his voice was rough now, scratching against your eardrums like sandpaper. You knew you were in far too deep to back out now. (Not that you wanted to). So, you obeyed, much like an animal self domesticating itself to survive.

Your knees pressed into the cool, hard tile. Price still held your hair, craning your neck up to look him in the eyes. You saw it, the small restraint he always held, like a second face he wore around everyone else- it was gone. There was pure, unabashed want in his eyes. You felt your lungs deflate, the breath leaving your body. Hands that held his thighs dug into his jeans, an unspoken message that screamed ‘go.’

The adams apple in his throat bobbed, and Price’s other hand migrated to his belt. Gradually he unclasped the silver belt buckle, “You’re a smart girl [Name]. I know you didn't just say all of that before cause’ you wanted to prove a point to me.” He spoke, sliding the leather band open and pushing the top button of his pants through the slit. “-I know you're not that fucking stupid. So tell me…why did you? Just to get under my skin? To rile me up?”

Your throat ran dry, eyes glued to his fingers as they slid down the zipper. Preening to watch the way his boxers spilled out of the narrow opening. Price yanked your head back again with a sharp yelp on your part.

“Look at me. Not my cock, you'll have plenty of time to look at it later.” He breathed, pools of navy boring in your eyes. His pupils dilated, the soft red that colored his cheeks and ears doing little to soothe the roaring flame that burned between your legs.

You were at a loss for words, to be honest, you weren't completely sure why either. A sense of curiosity? It was hard to put into speech, “I…I wanted to see what you'd do.” You answered, making his eyebrow twitch up.

“Thats all? Not because you have a fascination with me? With fucking with my goddamn head. You don't like driving me insane?” He spat, palming a hand over himself. Your eyes flicked down, watching the fabric of his briefs stretch over the bulge.

You swallowed, looking at him tentatively. “I wanted to see the real you. Not the front, not the put-together Captain. You.”

A silence hung in the air, one that casted a thick layer of tension between you. Price’s lips turned upwards, a darkly amused chuckle echoing through the empty bathroom. “You already had me, baby.” He reached his hand into his briefs, pulling out his thick cock. He groaned, rubbing his hand up and down his appendage, “Fucking temptress that's what you are. You want me to not hold back, is that it? To fuck you stupid?”

You couldn't take your eyes off him even if you'd wanted to. No matter how many times you saw his dick it never got old, all you could do was marvel at it. He was big, and more importantly, he was thick. You watched his hand stroke the peachy skin, watching the heaviness of its girth and the reddened mushroom tip that beaded with milky pre-cum.

Price laughed, eyeing the way you looked at him like a starving animal. “This what you wanted? What all the fuss was about?” You couldn't help but nod, wetting your lips just at the sight. “-Tell me you want it. That you want me to fuck your throat raw.” He spoke, Price held himself just out of reach. Like a cat with a feathery toy, you were completely entranced.

You nodded, “Price fuck my throat.” The words sounded so odd coming from your mouth, so raw and crude it almost surprised you.

Price gave your head a small tug, a satisfactory grin on his face. He looked down at you, nodding his head to you as if to say ‘Go ahead.’ You could barely contain yourself as your hands slid around his cock, feeling the burn of hot skin beneath your palms. He was so thick your one hand almost couldn't wrap around his girth, two hands would have to do the job.

The weight of his length felt good, oh yeah, and not to mention that he was harder than a metal pole. Hastily you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue over the bulbous tip.

Price’s head fell back against the stall door, his hips twitched forward. A hearty groan fell from his parted lips. The hand in your hair gave you an encouraging squeeze. You hummed, letting the vibrations from your voice reverberate off his dick. He tasted like skin, musky and salty, leaving an earthy kind of aftertaste that clung to your tongue like syrup.

You separated with a lewd ‘pop, watching the muscles in Price’s neck strain. Dipping your head you licked a stripe up his cock, coating the length in a thin layer of spit. One hand stroked him up and down while the other dug into his thigh, leaving small crescents into the fabric of his pants. Beads of pre-cum spilled out from the small slit of his tip, you let your thumb swipe over the head generously lubing up his base.

Price’s hands tightened in your hair, “Fuck- that's it. Just like that pretty girl.” He panted, earning a pleased hum from your lips.

Without warning you took his cock back into your mouth, sinking down the furthest you could without gagging. The gummy walls of your throat tightened around the foreign object, accompanied by a wet gulping noise. You inhaled through your nostrils, trying your best to take him further.

Price cursed loudly, the sound of his voice bouncing across the tile walls. His cock twitched in your mouth. You moved your head down then forward, repeating the motion until you found a steady rhythm of bobbing down on his dick. What your mouth couldn't reach your hand made up for, squeezing and stroking faster and faster. He was so wound up you could practically feel the tension under his skin.

You pulled off of him, your mouth agape as you panted. Spit and other fluid gleamed against your lips like a gloss. Price looked down at you, confusion written across his face with a tad of concern.

“Are you okay?” He said through heavy breaths, to which you nodded. However, you shot him a stern look.

“You're holding back.” You panted, staring at him with a knowing glare. Price looked at you, unsure of how to respond to your accusatory tone. “-I said-Fuck. My. Throat.”

His face hardened, and the same animalistic gleam came back. “Fine. You want me to let go? I can let go.”

That was all it took before his hand wrapped around your hair like a rope. Pushing you down his cock inch by fucking inch. He moaned through his teeth, “Fuck- you know what to do if it gets to be too much.” He said breathlessly. It was true, you did know you always had an out, but this was way more fun.

Your jaw went slack to accommodate him, the stretch of him down your throat sending full-body shivers down your spine. Then he started to move. Your hands found his thighs, digging your nails into his pants.

Price made good on his promise, fucking your throat like it was his life’s goal. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat making you almost gag, hot tears stung your eyes. It was rough and desperate, he used your throat like he hated your guts. And you couldn't help but love every second of it, you managed to crack him. The hard shell he kept, and the walls he built up, were slowly crumbling down.

Then, as quickly as he pushed you down he pulled you off of him. You sucked in a desperate breath, making a small noise of confusion. You stared at Price with a quizzical look, one that bordered on ‘wtf??’

Price looked wrecked, his hair tussled and cheeks tinged red. Small beads of sweat trickled down his temples, but he smiled. “I'm sorry baby, did you want me to keep going?” He exhaled, an almost pitying aspect to his tone. The hand in your hair slid down to cup your chin, a rough thumb swiping over your puffy bottom lip.

“Why’d you stop?” You frowned up at him, and try as you might the disappointment in your voice was clear as day.

Price cupped your jaw, forcing your head back further. “Because as much as I love your mouth, I would much rather cum in that beautiful cunt of yours.”

You tried not to choke, refusing to give him the satisfaction that his words sent whole body shivers through you. But, it did sound heavenly, so you nodded and let him help you to your feet again. From there he guided you up against the stall, your palms flat on the cool door.

Price’s chest went flush with your back, his face tucked into where your shoulder met your neck. His hot breath fanned against you and the hairs of his scruff tickled your skin. Thick hands found your hips, sliding to your crotch to unzip your pants. You tried not to let your breath hitch as he palmed a hand over your clothed cunt.

“Jesus- this wet for me already? Haven't even touched you yet, but here you are, soaking your panties like a slag.” Price murmured into your nape, and even though you couldn't see it, you could feel his smirk.

You bit down on your cheek, “Big talk from someone who could barely keep it together while getting a simple blowy.” Your pants slid down and a sharp blow was delivered to your behind. You yelped, caught off guard by the harsh slap.

“Careful.” He murmured, his voice reverberating off the shell of your ear. Your eyes stung with tears as the burning sting of his mark cooled into a low ache. “-We don't have a whole day for you to think of a good comeback before someone comes knocking on that door. So I’d try to cooperate unless you want me to leave you high and dry. Which I'm perfectly fine with doing.”

Liar. He was bluffing, but Price was just as stubborn as you were and would most definitely make you wait an unseemly amount of time just to cum. So, for once in your life, you listened.

Trying to bite back your moans, you stood statue-still as Price tugged the offending garment to the side. Two fingers slid along your folds before plunging inside with a wet squelch. “Fuck, you're tight. You sure you can take me?” He breathed, and you threw your head back into his chest. He fingered you slowly, mapping out every crevice and dip with the pads of his fingers.

It wasn't enough. You needed more, “Price if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to god, I will do it myself.” Okay, so maybe that sounded a little bit more desperate than intimidating, but it got the message across.

You felt his breathy chuckle against your ear, and suddenly, his fingers slipped out of you. “Yes ma'am,” he said. However, the empty void left by his fingers was soon replaced by the burning contact of his cock against your swollen folds. Price groaned as he slid himself back and forth, gathering up your slick to use as lube.

A shudder ran down your spine, your palms pressing against the door harder. You pushed your hips back against him, earning another pleased hum from your Captain. You could barely breathe, there was a burning tension that ate away at your core. Like a rope stretched too tight, all you could do was wait for it to snap apart.

His tip slowly slipped inside your hole, the burning stretch of his girth sending the hairs at the back of your neck up. Inch by inch he seethed himself into you, “Price-holy fuck.” You moaned, even with how wet you were, no amount of lube would ever fully prepare you for the sheer mass of him.

Price drew you in, letting your walls stretch and mold to his dick. His hands grabbed at your hip and lower stomach, holding you in place. His beard brushed against your collar as he placed a few nipping kisses on your neck. “I know baby, I know, taking me so fuckin’ well. Shit, this pussy was made for me.” He murmured into your sweaty skin.

Without warning, his hips drew back only to snap forward again. You couldn't help the unseemly moan that fell from your lips, he pounded into your cunt like it was his last day alive. The sloppy sounds of skin echoed through the room.

“Oh my god- Price.” You choked out, the side of your face pressed against the door. “-feels so good.” You panted between wet slaps as his hips drove into your behind. You could barely think over the sound of your moans, each second that his dick plunged back into your sopping pussy felt like sparks being lit inside of you.

He moaned, his voice resounding across the shell of your ear. A hand snaked its way up your stomach and cupped your neck like a choker necklace. His skin burned, thick fingers curling around your scruff. It didn't hurt but it was firm, making you pliant to his body. “That's it. Take my cock, let me fuck you like the slut you are.” He grid out, “-this pussy knows what she wants, and it's me. Nobody else can fuck you like I do. Nobody else can give you what you need, what you deserve.”

Your cunt fluttered around him, causing his hips to stutter before driving back into you with so much force your hips hit the door.

Knock knock knock’

You're body went rigid, and all the air in your lungs seemed to escape your ribs. Fuck! You had totally forgotten that you were in a public bathroom for Christ's sake. Price had locked the door, but that didn't mean people wouldn't try and come in.

Knock knock knock!’

It was louder this time, more impatient. You tried to look back at Price, but his hand on your neck held your head still. He wasn't stopping.

“Not so fast girly, I’d like to finish what I started.” He chuckled, angling his hips as he slammed back into your cunt. The head of his cock nuzzled against the spongy muscle of your g-spot. You were so caught off guard you didn't have time to cover the absolutely shameless moan that slipped from your lips.

Price groaned, and his cock twitched. “Fuuckk that's it, let them hear you. Let everyone know how good I'm making you feel, how good I'm fucking this pussy.” You could barely process his words, everything was starting to build up to the point you were almost seeing stars. “-Come on baby, cum for me. Cum on my cock.” He panted through firm thrusts.

A sharp cry rang through the empty walls, you saw white. Body pulsing as the waves of euphoria washed over your body like the tide. Each thrust sending new shocks down your spine, prolonging every second of your orgasm. Price’s hips stuttered, a loud curse ringing from his lips as he came inside you.

What followed was an extended silence that was filled with heavy pants. You could barely stand, Price’s chest flush with your back, his head leaning against your shoulder.

“Think they got the message?” Price mused, his voice thick with exhaustion. You couldn't help the laugh that rose from your chest, listening in for another knock. When none came you sighed, “Guess so.” You breathed.

After another minute of rest Price pulled off of you, leaving a trail of cum seeping down your thigh. Not to mention your sweaty back and all-around messy appearance. Price simply grinned at you when you shot him a nasty glare, using some toilet paper to clean up the fluids. “Whoops.” He shrugged.

It was a good thing you were on the pill, you might've slapped him if otherwise. He chuckled and pressed a ‘sorry’ kiss to your temple, “Come on soldier, you look like you've been through a war.” He quipped. You didn't even try to laugh at that one.

“Funny.” You said sarcastically, but once he opened the door after redressing you, you froze. The reflection in front of you looked well…like you had just been fucked in a bathroom stall. Small bites and hickeys littered your neck, poking up to where it was obvious to see. You hit his shoulder, “You dumbass, I look like I've been attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes! What the hell is the team going to think Mr. Designated Driver?”

Price looked at your reflection too, scratching the back of his neck. “We’ll find you a coat.” He settled on.

There was a small beat of silence, you looked back at him. “A coat, and I get to skip running drills for next week. Then you're forgiven.”

He looked back at you, “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You really shouldn’t have been doing this. It was stupid, completely idiotic. (maybe not as stupid as hooking up with your captain in a pub bathroom.) But alas, John Price could charm you into anything.

The cold night air of autumn nipped at your nose, making your face feel numb. Somehow you still felt the breeze blow through your bones while bundled up in a large coat and scarf. Hands in your pockets, you tried your best to walk inconspicuously through the small town streets next to the base.

It was late, past lights out. Just minutes before you were getting ready for bed. However, when Price called you up out of the blue asking for you to meet him for a night walk, curiosity got the best of you. To say it was odd would be an understatement, but you knew better than to pass up the opportunity. The nightlife in the little town was pretty nice, with Halloween now in full swing and all.

Small pumpkins and candles littered the ground while stores and bars were strung with purple and green lights. For a second you almost forgot you were supposed to be meeting Price. You checked your phone, reading over his message again.

[Captain]: The place is by the park, on 82th Ave. It’s an outdoor pop-up, festive. You can't miss it.

You looked over at one of the street signs, 79th Ave, it said. At least you were getting closer, directions weren't really your strong suit so all you could really do was hope for the best.

If anyone saw you out of base, especially with Price you’d 100% raise a few eyebrows not to mention you'd be in deep trouble. So you dipped your head as low as it could go to conceal your identity. Was this behavior one of a paranoid schizophrenic? It was possible. But after the phesasco at the bar, you were okay with being weary.

You heard a soft crowd of voices coming from a distance away. Walking towards it you saw a playground lit up with small lights, two children with what looked like their parents chasing them across the woodchips. More adults walking around the greener outskirts of the ground, laughing and holding dogs on leashes.

It stirred something good inside you, like a warm feeling that you didn't often get. You stopped walking, just watching the scene play out like a domestic storybook.

“Took you long enough.”

You jumped, whipping around to see the deep voice behind you. Standing there was Price, dressed in a thick coat with worn-out jeans. He held two plastic cups in his hands, steam rising off the mystery substance inside.

“You scared me,” You deadpanned. Your eyes went from the drinks in his hands back to his face. “-What’s with the cups?”

Price rolled his eyes, nodding behind him to the pop-up stand. “It’s cold, so I got you something to warm up.” He handed you one, which you accepted. Raising it to your nose, you sniffed the steam. It was warm, thick with spices, and sweet. You looked back at Price with a quizzical look, to which he smiled. “It’s cider.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “Not the spiked kind I hope.” Holding the cup a bit away from you like it was radioactive. Price's eyes crinkled, chuckling as he shook his head.

“No, not spiked. We've got drills in the morning, I wouldn't do that to you.” With his confirmation, you took a sip, pulling your scarf down so you could drink. The hot liquid burned your tongue, but the flavor was worth it as it slid down into your stomach. Your eyes flickered up from the rim of the cup, looking at Price.

His eyes were on you, looking at you with a rare kind of softness. But after the split second of eye contact, he was the first to look away. You wiped your lips of the remaining sweetness, “Price what are we doing here?” You asked.

He cocked an eyebrow, “I thought I told you we were going on a night walk.” He said nonchalantly, earning a half-grunt on your part.

“I know that, but why am I here? I doubt that you're incapable of walking alone.” You pointed out, but Price just shrugged.

“Good company.” He said serrupticously, a wry smile stretched onto his lips. “-Are you really that averse to spending time with me? I'd hope after all this time spent together I wouldn't need a reason to want to be around you.” Price started walking, and out of instinct, you followed behind him until you were shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

“You're a bad lair.” You said, taking another sip of your cider. You watched the calm nightlife and a thought bubbled into your mind. Maybe to an onlooker you and Price probably looked like a couple just going on a stroll. It wasn't rocket science to see that there was a fraction of tension between you. Your cheeks pinked at the thought, but you pushed it away as soon as it came.

Price was also looking at the surrounding people, an odd look on his face. Something akin to yearning or want. He must've felt your stare because he spoke up. “Inquiring minds?”

You averted your eyes, “Sorry.” To which he shook his head, taking a sip of his drink.

“Don't bother, it’s fine.” He said cooly, his eyes fixed on a family standing a few feet away. You looked back at them then back to Price. A dawning washing over you in an instant. Your eyes furrowed in question.

“You uh… have a family?” Jesus that sounded choppy, you cringed at yourself. He looked at you a little surprised but shook his head.

“I mean sure. Everyone does, at least at one point. But if you're asking if I do currently then no.” You nodded, feeling a little bad for asking. It wasn't too uncommon in your field, but it still put a grim mood in the air. You tried thinking of ways you could rectify it.

“So…no crazy ex-wife or estranged children that I need to be worried about?” You said humorously, when Price smiled, a part of you sighed in relief.

He shook his head again, glancing at you. “No ex-wife or estranged children, no.” You smiled and nodded, but that raised another question.

“How come?” you asked simply.

He shot you a pointed look, “You're asking me that like I'm ancient. I'm not that much older than you are,” He breathed. “-But if you have to know I guess I just never had the time. It's a bit testy trying to form long-term connections with people when you're in this line of work.”

You nodded in understanding, he was right. The long deployments, chances of not coming back, weird hours, it all would put a strain on a relationship. It didn't stop some, however, sometimes after not seeing the good in humanity for so long you lose the ability to connect with anyone. Especially ‘normal’ people.

Your mind flashed to an old ex-boyfriend who used to talk at length about how cool it was that you got to “kill people for a living.” You didn't see it that way. Desensitized or not, it was still a human life you were taking, it took a toll, even if you were getting paid for it.

“I get that. It's hard to commit to someone you don't get to see most of the time.” You shrugged, a part of you wanted to ask about every relationship he'd ever had. More importantly how you fared against them. And for some odd reason, you felt uncomfortable knowing that he had been with other women. Maybe it was just basic biology or primitive instinct.

Price nodded, “If I could I would've.” He glanced back at the family, watching as the dad swept up his toddler into a hug. It was bittersweet, the way Price looked at the display, dangerously pulling at your heartstrings.

You gave him a weary smile, “There’s still time. Like you said, you're not ancient. Why not just retire and settle down with someone?”

Price looked back at you for a split second, not saying anything. He looked back out at the dark trees, the leaves rustling in the cold wind, and the lights that wrapped around the park. “Maybe at one point that was an option, but not now. I'm not cut out for it, my life is here. I'm no good at civilian shit, so I best stick to what I know.”

You didn't know what to say to that, it was a tough pill to swallow. It was silent for a few seconds. But, You nudged your shoulder with his, “Well then, I guess you're stuck with me.” Offering a somewhat awkward smile to go along with it.

Price looked down at you as he walked, his blue eyes were dark like the ocean. You didn't want to look away, you wanted to swim in his thoughts, drown yourself in his pools of navy grey. Eyes that housed so much hostility and venom towards you now bore into your own with a warmth that struck you like a match. His lips turned up, “Guess there are worse places to be.”

Your smile came back, and the mood between you ebbed into a lighter, happier atmosphere. Taking a last swig of your cider you shook your head, “You guess? Need I remind you who asked me to be here?”

Price chuckled, doing the same and tossing his empty cup into a nearby garbage. “Alright, you win. I am grateful you came, like I said, all in good company.”

The conversation faded into a comfortable silence, and you and Price walked around the park. You watched as more and more people slowly started to dwindle, leaving it emptier than when you got there. After doing a sort of loop you both agreed to start walking back to base, and so you did. Shoulder to shoulder you walked with him through the small streets and shops.

Once you started coming up on the familiar large building a strong gust of air hit you. Your eyes shut tightly and your nose scrunched. When you did open your eyes back up Price was looking at you, you stared back at him. “What?”

Price snickered, “Wind got you pretty good. There's a leaf in your hair.” He pointed out, to which you blindly started to try and fish out said leaf. He shook his head at your feeble efforts, stopping your hands.

“I’ll get it. You're just messing it up.” He breathed, carefully his large hands combed through your head. Plucking out a pine leaf and a small fuzz, “There.” He said proudly.

He flicked the unwanted objects off to the side, but one of his hands never left your hair. He was almost holding your face in his palm, you blinked up at him. Wondering why he wasn't letting you go, “Is there something else?” You asked.

Price looked at you, licking his lips before pursing them in a line. Slowly he shook his head, “No.” It was silent for another beat, the soft puffs of your breath visible in the cold. You watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed.

“Tell me you don't want me to kiss you.” He breathed.

Without a second thought, you shook your head no, “Price kiss me.” It was almost alarming to you how naturally it came out. You barely even processed your own words.

And as his lips met yours in a chaste, soft kiss, you let yourself melt into him. You let him in.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You had five months until your time with 141 came to an end. In that time you had managed to befriend the whole team, make enemies with your captain, kiss said Captain, go on to have a very explicit no-strings-attached relationship with him, and now…this.

What was ‘this?’ Well, you didn't really quite know yourself. But after that night when he kissed you outside of base without any intention of hooking up with you, your clear-cut relationship with him became a jumbled mess of suppressed emotion. No longer were intimate gestures limited to sexual encounters, in fact, they were frequently more domestic.

Was this all of Price’s doing? No. It was both, both of you were an intimacy-starved mess. But you couldn't help it, his private quarters were so nice and his king-sized bed seemed to fit both of you nicely on the nights you couldn't sleep. And what of it that you helped him with paperwork into the wee hours of the night? He hated being stuck up in his office alone, it was a kind gesture. Now you didn't even have to make your morning tea and coffee because whenever you made your way into the small break room a fresh cup was always sitting on the counter for you in Price’s signature mug.

And on your weekends off? Oh, you bet your sorry (but not really,) ass he was stuck to your hip like glue.

Without knowing it, you and your captain had almost formed a routine together. One that slowly started filling the lonely silence of your day with his body, his voice, his presence.

You knew every scar on his body, you'd mapped them out like constellations. You learned something new about him every day too, it was exciting yet familiar all at once. Unbenoiced to you, 141 and by extension Price, had become home.

All of this had somehow been accumulating without your knowledge until now. To which this realization that you were a little too fond of your captain hit you like a truck. Bringing you to your current position, hunched over a small table that was tucked away in the corner of the break room. It was wayyy past lights out, but laying in your bed left with your thoughts and anxiety sounded nightmarish. A steaming cup of tea sat on the table a few inches away, (in Price’s signature mug of course.)

Just as you were about to finally take a sip, someone walked in. You sat straight up, your heart running a million miles an hour. On top of that, you almost knocked your tea over. Who the hell was coming in at almost one in the morning???

It was Gaz.

You placed a hand over your racing heart, letting out the breath you didn't know you were holding. “Jesus- you scared the shit out of me Garrick.” You said wearily.

Gaz stood at the door in his beat-up grey sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. He looked a little rough, well, as rough as someone with his looks could be. He scratched the back of his head, “Sorry, didn't think anyone would be up this late.” Dark eyebags colored his smooth brown skin, making him look like he was two steps from passing out.

Your eyebrows furrowed in a slight amount of worry, “rough night?” He nodded, walking into the room, and making a beeline for the refrigerator.

“Pretty much, figured it was better to be awake than sleeping if sleep wasn't doing me any good.” He yawned, grabbing one of those refrigerated protein bars from the fridge. You nodded a silent understanding. Nightmares were commonplace, nobody talked about them, but everyone had a shared understanding of what went on in and after you woke up. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish where the dream ended and reality began.

He looked back at you as he tore the wrapper off, “What about you? You look like shit…so I want to say you're in the same boat?” Gaz took a large bite of his bar.

You groaned, your head falling back down on the wood table. “Gee, thanks. But not really, just sorting out some other business.” You said bitterly.

Gaz hummed in understanding, but when you looked back up he was pulling the opposite end chair out. He sat himself across from you, folding his arms as he ate. “Okay, what's up then?” He said plainly.

You blinked at him, “What? No, I'm not just going to tell you. It's private.” You said shaking your head and putting your hands up as if to block his question. Gaz looked at you unimpressed, raising a single eyebrow.

“Uh-huh, does it have something to do with Price?” He said, staring at you with the intensity of a laser.

You almost choked on your spit, looking at him like he'd just killed your family cat in front of you. Your mouth agape, “Absolutely not. Why would you think it’d be about Price?” You said quickly.

Gaz simply looked at you, raising both his eyebrows at you. A silent communication of ‘Are you serious?’ was said by his stare. After another moment of the staring contest, you gave up, dropping your head back down with a groan. “I'm so fucked.” You said defeated.

He perked up, “Spill.” Was all he said.

You covered your mouth, almost as if to stop yourself from saying anything. This was so breaking every agreement you and Price had talked about. But frankly, you were going insane keeping it to yourself. And maybe Gaz was the best person to tell, as much as you loved Ghost and Soap, they were useless at keeping secrets.

You glanced back up to Gaz, his brown eyes intently staring at you. Your resolve started to crumble, “I think I’m in love with him.” Whispered, the haunting words magnifying the gravity of the situation you found yourself in.

Gaz’s eyes shot wider like he’d just been injected with 1,000g of caffeine. His mouth fell open, and the half-eaten bar in his hands dropped onto the table. You both sat there staring at each other with similar mortified expressions. He shut his mouth, “I-Well that wasn't really what I expected to hear.” He said agast.

You buried your face into your hands, groaning. “Fuck I know- I don't even know where that came from. But we've been like…messing around with each other for a few months, and I thought it was just that.” You sighed, rubbing your face with your palms. “But now everything is like complicated, I just let my feelings take the reins and got ahead of myself. Now I don't know what to do and nobody knows because obviously, I couldn't tell anyone. After all, either of us could get in trouble.”

Gaz sat silent as you rambled on, “-I’m still not sure exactly what I'm feeling. I've never felt this way about anyone else, I've had boyfriends, but not a weird hookup situation. So, I'm not sure how one really goes about this.” You looked down at the table, taking a breath. “So, does that answer your question?” You breathed.

He stared at you, dumbfounded. “So that rumor you got so mad over was true?” He said lamely, to which you groaned and threw your hands up in the air.

“No!” You whisper shouted, “-I mean no but yes. The rumor came first, that night I stormed off Price kissed me. And after that things just kinda… got carried away.” You said sheepishly, feeling a bit guilty.

Gaz let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Jesus [Name], I knew something was going on between you but I didn't think it went that deep.” He ran a hand over his chin, scratching his jaw. “-So…you and Price have been secretly fucking, but just recently you realized that this uh, arrangement, has gone to shit because you now have feelings for him. Am I following?”

You pursed your lips into a tight line, “Pretty much.”

He nodded and hummed in concentration, “Okay, but what changed? What made you realize you had feelings? Because to the rest of the team, it still looks like you’re at each other's throats.” Gaz said, crossing his arms.

You thought about it for a moment, trying to pull maybe a specific event from your memory. “I guess it just kinda built up…I mean he just changed. Sure we still fight but it’s more like banter now. He kisses me, and he holds me, he's funny and sweet…it's almost like I get to see an entirely new version of him that I just didn't see before.”

Gaz blinked at you, seemingly surprised. “Actually?” He said, stunned. To which you nodded aggressively.

“Yes- he's totally done a 180. But in a good way, he's still the same asshole but he's loving and caring too. And I feel like I'm pulling my teeth out just staying in a situation where he makes me feel like I mean so much, but then I have to go and pretend I hate him.” (you still sometimes did.)

Gaz listened to you speak, holding his chin while he thought about your words. After you were done, all he could do was sigh, “Well…shit. Half of me wants to pat you on the back while the other half wants to slap you across the face for being stupid.”

You scrunched your nose, holding your hands up in surrender. “Please don't, I have enough problems as it is. I don't need to add a black eye into the mix.”

Gaz breathed an amused laugh, though, it sounded more weary than you would've liked. Even if it was the worst idea in the world to tell him, you felt better now that it was off your chest. You looked down at the table, “So, what do I do now?”

He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was silence. He was just as lost as you were.

You looked at him hopelessly, “Come on man, give me something.”

Gaz looked down at the table, pursing his lips in a tight line. Obviously, he had an idea, but he just wasn't saying anything. “What if you tried to make it work with him?” He proposed.

Your eyes widened a fraction, your mouth hanging open in what only could be described as ‘gobsmacked.’ “You're kidding right?” You asked, your tone nearly laughable.

He shook his head, crumbling up the wrapper of his protein bar and tossing it into a nearby trashcan. His shoulders rose with a sigh, “No I'm not. I mean… why not just try? It sounds to me like you've got a fighting chance to make things work.” He said encouragingly.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes squeezing shut. “Two minutes ago you said you wanted to slap me, and now you're telling me that I should go for it?” You said incredulous.

Gaz held his hands up in surrender, “Yes, but that was before I knew everything. I just thought you were fucking the Captain at first, which is still completely idiotic. But it sounds to me like both of you are emotionally invested in each other.” He said putting his hands back down, “-And you're only here for a couple more months right? Just keep it on the down-low then you can do whatever you want. I'm like ninety percent sure that Price likes you too.”

You groaned, your head falling on the table with a clunk. “Only ninety percent?” Peeking up to look at him, his face morphing into one of scrunched wash cloth.

“Maybe like eighty-five. But those are still good odds in my book.” He said guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You're not helping.” You sighed, resuming your dramatic pity party. Gaz rolled his eyes at your antics, placing a comforting hand on your head and giving it an encouraging pat. “Hey, I'm not saying you have to do some big confession. All I'm doing is suggesting that communicating with him may bring some good. Like Soap said that one time, Price acts differently around you, I think you've got some good chances.”

You finally looked up at him again, his face a pitying smile. “Think about it.” He said finally, leaving you with more on your mind than you originally started with.

“Okay, I'll think about it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Four months to go and nothing had happened. Well, not necessarily, the team had continued to train, your sneaking around with Price was still going, and the world kept spinning. Turns out that realizing one's feelings for another doesn't cause the sun to explode. Fascinating stuff.

However, there was still no confession of feelings of any kind. The two of you danced around your ‘relationship’ like it was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. Maybe it was for the greater good, some things were just better off unsaid.

In the meantime, your focus had shifted in light of new events that were fast approaching. You still cringed thinking of your first real mission back in Urzik, and while nothing horrible happened, it still left you with a sour taste on your tongue. There were small things 141 had been doing but now a new mission was right around the corner. There was still little to no word about rouge commander Shepard nor an explanation of the abandoned facility you had raided months back.

You still didn't even know if the two were connected, probably not. But it was still possible, maybe best not to think too hard about it. After all, you weren't the brains behind the operations, you were just the pon they sent to die in their place.

The air around 141 had become tense again, much like before Urzik. Everyone was on edge, especially Price. You were happy to take the edge off most of the time, but there were some things that sex just couldn't fix. And this fell into that category.

You were sitting on an office chair in one of the conference rooms around base. The rest of the team stood close to the large wooden table or sat in the other scattered chairs. The tension in the room was thick, nobody said a word. All focus was on Price, who stood a few feet apart from the group, flipping through a manilla folder. His eyebrows furrowed in tension and his lips pulled into a subtle frown.

He set the folder down, “We’re going back to Urzik.”

You could almost feel the shift in the mood from bad to worse. But before you could voice your complaints Soap beat you to it. “We’re going back to that shite hole? After what happened last time I would have assumed someone figured out that we should stay out of the terrorists and the Russians assholes.”

Price sighed, punching the bridge of his nose. “We don't know if they were terrorists back at the compound. And Urzik hasn't been under Russian occupation since 2019.” He said, earning a half laugh from both Soap and Ghost.

“Come on Cap, you don't even believe that crap they're pushing.” Soap chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. Leaning against the wall behind you.

While it was true that Urzikstan had been liberated from Russian rule, some of the men under General Markov’s command had disappeared after his death. Leaving some loose ends for the CIA and SAS to clean up. There had been some word of Markov’s men teaming up with local militant groups who despised Urzik’s central government. But it wasn't confirmed, nor viable.

Price shook his head, “It doesn't matter if I believe it or not. The point is that we have a job to do and we’re not going to let past affairs get the better of our judgment.” He ran his hand over the scruff of his beard, “-Laswell wouldn't be sending us in again if she didn't have a good reason to. They have reasonable intel that just outside of Riyzabbi there's an abandoned bazaar where all of the goods from the compound were relocated.”

Ghost chimed in, “So they're sending us on the same wild goose chase they did before? Who's to say they don't pull the same shite as last time?”

You nodded along with his words, he had a point. Price grunted, waving him off. “Like I said before, they have better intel. I'm asking you to trust me, if I see anything I don't like we’re out. Whatever is in there, we have the means to put it to an end.”

Everyone fell silent, taking in the information. It was a while before anyone spoke again, Soap sighed. “If I have to eat that awful food back at checkpoint base I’m quitting on the spot.”

For a second the mood shifted, and you laughed, but the reality of the situation was hovering over you like a looming storm cloud.

For a brief moment, you locked eyes with Price, and his stare told you everything you needed to know. He was just as frustrated, if not more so. His gaze shifted again, staring down at the table with an intensity you couldn't fathom. “Everyone’s dismissed. We leave at 0500 in 72 hours.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

As Price said, 72 hours later, you were back in the air, flying to Urzikstan. An ache gnawed at the back of your head, making the already dreary ride more depressing. You were too uncomfortable to sleep and too tired to stay awake. Creating an odd out-of-body experience that you had the “pleasure” of basking in for the whole 5-hour flight.

After you had landed at the checkpoint base you took a moment to reacquaint yourself with the landscape. Not much had changed aside from a few new tents and other minor additions to the camp. You felt a sense of Deja Vu looking at the old dining hall tent and medical area. Memories from your and Price’s first kiss flooded your mind, under different circumstances, it might have been somewhat pleasant recounting the moment. But now, it only made you feel profoundly sad. It was nostalgic-back when everything was simpler between the two of you.

Whatever was bubbling up inside you, you shoved it down as far as it could go. Hating someone was a lot more straightforward than loving them.

You made your way to the ‘barracks,’ setting what little things you had onto the small cot. Everyone else was just as miserable as you were, obviously, this wasn't their first choice for sleeping quarters. A part of you wished it wasn't daytime, it would be easier to sleep away the anxiety and headache.

You had until dark to do as you pleased, when nightfall came, you were going to be loaded up into the trucks again. From there, you'd go to Riyzabbi, and once it was clear to do so, to the bazaar.

Just like the last time you were here, you felt a deep sense of dread. One that you couldn't pinpoint, nor could you explain away with ‘just nerves’. There was too much that you didn't know, and too little payoff. The only advantage 141 had was the element of surprise, and even that wasn't confirmed. A small part of you felt anger towards Laswell, she probably knew that there was something off about this mission, and yet she was sending you and the team directly into the pit of lions.

To quell the sense of impending doom, you started to wander around the checkpoint base. Not sure where you were going or what your end goal was, you continued walking. That was until you heard someone's voice bleeding out from one of the tent walls. Their tone was accusatory, malicious even, it was laced with so much venom you could feel your skin recoil. It didn't sound familiar, but the voice who came after it did.

“You know just as well as I do it's a suicide mission. I’m not sending my team out there to die. All for some fucking game of territory monopoly and protecting Shepard.”

Price.

The other voice spoke up again, seemingly more agitated than the first time if that was possible. “Shepard is gone, and he sure as hell isn't going to be here in Urzik. And It's not a suicide mission. The CIA hired your team to do a job, not back out when things get real. Your opinion on how the government deals with involvement concerning foreign enemy affairs has no merit, Captain. If it were up to me, your team wouldn't even be here, but Kate Laswell keeps you on a tight leash doesn't she?”

You heard a loud bang, akin to a hard fist being slammed onto flat wood. “Watch your mouth. You and your muppets can both go crawl back under the CIA’s boot. As for Laswell, you know just as well as I do she would be more than happy to bring you and rouge commander Shepard's previous associations to the attention of your government.”

There was silence for a beat. Suddenly you could feel your heart beating, pounding in your chest. Your fingers felt numb, and even time seemed to slow. You could say with 100% certainty that you were not supposed to be listening, you weren't even sure if you wanted to keep listening. You heard footsteps coming from the inside, in your peripheral vision, you caught the slight rustle of the tent door. Without thought you jumped out of sight, pressing yourself to the side of the tent just as a man stormed out.

You watched the back of his head as he muttered something, you held your breath. After a good minute, you exhaled, silently creeping out from where you stood. Something in you was telling you to leave, to pretend you had never heard what you did. But there was a magnetic pull that drew you back into Price.

Carefully, you peeked your head through the tent door. A few feet away was Price, his back was turned with his hand over his face, the other on his hip. Before you could speak he turned around to see you, his eyes growing twice the size. Time seemed to freeze for a second time, you watched his eyes go from surprise to anger, and then to exhaustion. By the look on your face, he most likely already knew what you were hiding.

“How much did you hear?” He sighed, rubbing his hand over his cheek.

You walked into the tent, standing awkwardly in front of the door. “Just the last part.” You confessed, swallowing what little bravery you had left.

Price didn't respond, his hand moving over his eyes to rub and smooth over his temples. His cheeks pulled in as he bit the inside of his mouth. “Right… well, I'm sorry you had to hear that.” He breathed, his voice more weary. A stark contrast to the raw anger you heard from him a few moments prior.

You shook your head, “Don't be sorry. At first, I was mad at you and Laswell for going through with this. But… I guess after that, I know you didn't want to either.” You tried your best to form a semblance of hope, giving him a drained smile. “Like you said, this mission is fucking suicide. But if anyone can lead the team and somehow come out alive, it's you.”

There was a flash of something in Price’s eyes, it was the same thing that you saw back on your walk with him months prior. You glanced down at his hands, watching the way they flexed. Like he was aching to hold, to touch something. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, “I’m sorry.” He breathed, “-I’m sorry that I'm putting you and the guys in this situation.”

Price’s hand came back up, dragging it across the side of his face. His eyes shut tight, eyebrows knit together. “It's just…the longer I stay here, doing this, the more it's clear to me none of it was for a greater good. And I don't want that for you.” He sighed, “-I…I want you to know there is a way out [Name]. You don't have to continue to do this.”

This made you draw back, Price had never sounded like this before. He sounded like he was already admitting defeat, and like he was giving you a chance to escape what you chose to do. Your eyebrows furrowed, marching straight up to him with your lips twisted in a frown. You reached up to pull his hand away from his face, your other hand reaching up to cup his cheek with your hand. Your palm pressed against his jaw, feeling the rough bristle of his beard under the pads of your fingers. Forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t do that.” You said sternly, making his eyes snap back. Looking at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion. “-Don’t act like everything is already set in stone, we don't know what's going to happen. It could go bad but it could also be fine. And you're also acting like I didn't choose to be here, I'm willing to do this job Price. Just because I don't like what shady shit someone is doing behind the scenes doesn't mean I'm going to back out.”

Price stared at you, and you stared back. Willing him to understand that you had hope for him, you had hope for the team. Maybe it was stupid to try and be strong, but if you didn't try, you'd be giving up too.

You couldn't leave, not now. Not when you had a reason to stay. As much as you hated the idea of someone sending you into a death trap, the only thing you hated even more would be leaving Price to go into said death trap. You couldn't pry yourself away from him even if you tried. Your hand squeezed his, I love you, the gesture said.

Price squeezed your hand back, “[Name], I-” I love you, his eyes said. You shook your head, staring back at him with the same intensity.

“I know.” You breathed back. You couldn't stand it, you wanted to hear the words from his mouth. You wanted it with everything in you, but this was probably the worst time you could think of to confess. So, you settled for a mutual understanding. A silent promise, that when you came back maybe things could be different.

There was another beat before he leaned in, and like an idiot, you let it happen. Your hand tightened slightly against his cheek, eyes fluttering shut as he kissed you. His lips were warm, and you sighed into his mouth as you got a taste of him. His mouth that tasted like smoke and whiskey, and you yearned for more. His body was charged with an electricity that sent shivers down your spine. Every brush, touch, and groan had you on edge.

Before you knew it, he was pushing you up against the table that sat in the middle of the room. Your hand slid down from his face to fist into his shirt as you were slowly backed against the wood. You should've pushed him off, it was too risky to be doing this now. It was mid-day for fucks sake, not only that but anyone could walk into the tent.

Yet something about the tension, exposed and raw like an open cable wire, held you back from protesting. Hell, if this was the last time you were going to see him outside of the field, mind as well go out with a bang (literally).

Price must've come to the same conclusion by the way he sat you down on the table, standing in between your parted thighs. His breath was heavy and his lips slick, taking you in with his eyes. “Fuckin’ Christ love, you're a vision. I don't say it enough, but you're gorgeous.” He murmured, breathless.

You felt your cheeks go hot, the warmth seeping up into your ears. Taking compliments was never your strong suit. Price pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, his hands moving from your waist to the belt and zipper of your pants. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Baby lay back for me.”

Well with that voice, you couldn't bear to not comply. You hesitantly lowered your back onto the flat wood of the table. Propping yourself on your elbows, watching as Price slowly pulled your pants down to reveal your undergarments. His eyes flickered to you then back to your covered pussy, an insatiable hunger in those pools of navy blue. He lowered to his knees, hooking your thighs under his biceps. Price pressed a few soft nips and kisses to the burning skin of your inner thighs, earning a few soft gasps on your part.

Your nails scraped against the wood, biting down on your lip to keep your voice down. With one hand, Price hooked his finger against the fabric of your panties, parting it to the side to show your soaked cunt. A small groan left him at the sight of you, he glanced back at you. “You’re gonna be quiet now right?”

Without a thought behind it, you nodded. Desperate to have his mouth on you, he leaned in, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe up your folds. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering for a moment. When he started to swirl his tongue over your clit, you almost broke. “Price-” You gasped out, your voice a whisper.

He hummed against your cunt, suctioning his mouth against your clit. “No Price here, we’re far past that love. Use my name baby, use my name and I'll listen.” He murmured, the vibrations of his voice making your mind dizzy. One of your hands threaded into his short hair, guiding his face against your pussy.

“Fuck- John, feels good. Feels so good.” You whispered, your voice almost a mewl. His dull nails dug into the meat of your thigh, groaning softly as he lapped at your weeping cunt. Your eyes squeezed shut, all of your concentration honing in on trying not to moan out loud.

His tongue switched between fast flicks of your clit and drawn-out open-mouthed kisses to your mound. When you got more desperate you guided him to where you wanted, and John was happy to oblige.

Your back was now flat on the table, thighs locked around Price’s head like a boa constrictor. Your voice was now silent moans and labored breaths, and with every passing moment, it was harder to stay quiet. Your nails tugged at his hair, gripping onto him like a lifeline. John suddenly pushed his tongue into your hole without warning, pushing the tip of the muscle in and out with vigor. You nearly screamed, slapping a hand over your mouth to bite on your knuckle.

Price was devouring you like a man starving.

Your back arched off the wood of the table, methodically moving your hips in tandem with his tongues movements. The slurry of noises coming from John’s mouth and your cunt was obscene. Wet smacks of his lips mixed with small groans and deep gasps.

It felt like you were floating, your senses muddied beneath the feeling of his mouth. Your body was burning, a coil in your stomach just begging to snap. You bucked your hips into his face, begging him to quell the fires raging in your body. Price seemed to catch on, he held one of your thighs tight while the other slid between your legs. His mouth hovering over your pussy, he slipped a digit into your aching cunt.

You silently cried out, your core tightly gripping his finger as he curled it inside you. Then, he slowly worked in a second, mimicking the ‘come here’ motion with his fingers buried deep in your pussy. “Atta’ girl, little longer for me.” John breathed against you, his breath fanning against your cunt.

Suddenly he was on you again, swirling his tongue over your swollen bud while curling his digits in you. You could have died happy then and there, everything felt so good you couldn't think. Your nails dug into the table, marking it with long stripes.

Between his fingers and his tongue, you were a goner. Your vision went white, trying your hardest not to scream out to the heavens. “John- shit I can’t I'm gonna cum.” You whined through heavy pants, tears pooling in the corner of your iris from the stimulation.

“Come on then, cum for me. Let go love, cum on my mouth.” He murmured against your sopping pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit and speeding the movement of his fingers.

That was all it took before you came, hard. Your back arched and your head fell back, biting down on your hand so hard that it hurt. Your thighs shook as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and mind-blowing. And John fucked you through it, never letting up on his page until you fell limp like a bag of flour. After those precious few moments, he gently slid his fingers from your cunt. Pressing a soft kiss to your thigh before setting it down slowly.

You were gone. Your brain turned to mush, a daze of post-orgasm exhaustion and giddiness. Slowly you blinked your eyes back open, letting John slowly guide you back to a sitting position. He held the small of your back while his other hand held your face.

“You alright?” John murmured, his mouth shiny with your slick. You couldn't help but laugh, your forehead hitting his lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm alright.” You breathed. The after-glow hit you hard, but there was still the looming anxiety of the mission. You knew the moment wouldn't last forever, you just hoped you could bask in it a little longer.

John sensed the shift, knowing it was his turn to be brave, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. His eyes soft, “Hey, like you said, we’re gonna be okay. Nothing is set in stone yet.” He whispered, making you nod.

“Right. We’re going to come out of this.” You said, more for yourself. He nodded, the both of you knew deep down it was wishful thinking. But maybe having something to hope for, something to come back to, would push you to fight even harder to keep it.

And in the end, you were willing to do anything to keep this.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Everything around you was dark, with an air pungent with dust and grime. The walls only grew bigger and shadowed as you passed, ducking behind doors and boxes to remain out of sight. Just like last time everyone was paired in either a group of two or three, you were with Ghost. You had to give him credit where credit was due, as large and burly as he was, he was silent as he moved.

The bazaar was large, with huge openings in the ceilings covered by hanging fabric. Open doors that connected rooms and massive lamps draped from the walls. It might've even been nice had it not been for its years of inactivity, and under the cover of night, it was simply eerie. Wires covered the walls and ceiling, some even hanging down low enough to snag someone if you weren't careful.

You weren't quite sure what exactly you were looking for, after all, you didn't know what this aforementioned ‘bio-chemical lab’ looked like. And if it was easily portable, it wouldn't exactly look like your standard chemistry lab.

“[Name].”

Ghost spoke into your headpiece, standing several feet away. You snapped out of your train of thought, looking back at him.

“Let’s get a move on, the others are on the top floor. I'm guessing it’s near the bottom, or even underground, be on high alert. There's bound to be people this time around.” He said, earning a nod from your end.

With that, you made your way further into the bazaar. Gun at the ready, you weaved through rooms and piles of storage and other junk. When you got to a large room on the north side of the building, tucked away between rubble and containers your body tensed. There wasn't anything unordinary about it, it looked exactly like every other room, but something felt off. A few steps into the space and you had your explanation for the uneasiness you felt.

With an odd thunk’ of your boot on the ground, you looked back at Ghost. He looked back at you, the same expression on his face, it was hollow.

You came off it, brushing your foot over the area again to remove the grime and dust. It was a different color and texture than the ground. “Well I’ll be damned, you were right.” You breathed, “-Think this opens up from the outside?” Ghost kneeled on the ground next to whatever you found. Pushing his hand over it and sending small clouds of dust into the air.

“Doesn't matter if it does.” He said, fishing out a knife from his bullet vest. Finding a dibet with his finger in the ground he wedged the blade in between the surface, pulling up until the ground lifted.

With a grunt, he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the trap door. Pulling until the structure revealed a human-sized rectangular hole in the ground. A latter peeking out from inside the ground pressed into the side of the dirt. You stared down at it, knowing this was it. Clicking your headpiece, you spoke, “Cap, we got something. Northside, ground floor, it’s a trap door in the last room.”

After a moment you got a response, “Copy. See what you can find, we’re coming. If you see anything don't think, just shoot. I want you and Ghost alive.” Price’s voice rang loud and clear in your ear.

With a nod, you looked back down at the hole, even with night vision, it was hard to make out the bottom. Ghost was the first to go down, with you following suit the minute he gave the all-clear to come down. Inside was dark and smelled like mildew, a tunnel leading further into the unknown. The same wires that hung down from up on the surface were strung about the dirt walls. It wasn't spacious in the tunnel, but it didn't make you feel claustrophobic.

Ghost raised his gun, nodding to you to follow as you made your way deeper. It wasn't long until you reached a door, it wasn't impenetrable by any means, but it was going to be a pain to get through. But the thing that caught your attention most was the faint light that peeked from the cracks of the hinges. Ghost looked at you, “Get back, and I’ll break the door, you follow in straight after and shoot at anything you see.”

As said, with a firm kick, Ghost kicked the door down. The metal swung open with a crackle, and with your gun at the ready, you quickly followed him inside. The first thing you heard was voices, panicked and deep. Your eyes met a man in the corner of the room, quickly scrambling up to his feet and reaching the rifle that lay in front of him. Just like you were told, you didn't think, you acted on instinct.

Your gun went off, and his body was forced back by the blow. Blood spattered the wall behind him, his head rolling limp on his shoulders. You heard another shot fired, looking over to Ghost who was in firing position, and then to the direction of his rifle. Another body, this one standing, keeled over onto the floor, pooling red onto the ground. A deafening silence followed after, you waited for more voices but they never came.

“Just two?” You said, looking between the two. “-and they don't look local.” You muttered, focusing on the pale skin and European features. You looked back to Ghost who was standing a few feet away. “-Think they might be Russian like Soap said?”

Ghost shrugged, “It's possible.” He gruffed, looking around the room. It was emptier than you expected, with a table, lamps, flasks, and a few weapons. Another voice rang out from somewhere in the cavern before you could look any further. Coming from another hallway that you had missed when you first saw the room.

You quickly ran against the wall near the hallway entrance, pressing yourself into the hard surface so you wouldn't be seen. Ghost followed suit, and not a second later another man ran out, rifle in hand. And just like before you fired, watching the body hit the ground like a sac of potatoes.

This one looked like he could be from Urzik. You looked back at Ghost, who pushed off the wall, ducking into the hallway. It wasn't long before you entered a much bigger cavern, full of boxes and equipment. Open containers of guns with ammunition, tables covered with cylinder-shaped lab equipment. You could hardly classify this as a lab, more like a glorified basement with makeshift tools. Large computers also lined what little space they could occupy. Florescent overhead lights cast the room in a putrid dimish glow.

Before you had time to react a bullet brushed past your arm. Sending a burning shock through your system. You ducked, trying to avoid what you couldn't see.

“They're shooting!” You yelled out to Ghost, finding refuge in a large container that you hid behind.

You looked around, desperate to see where the firing was coming from. Your eyes caught three at first glance, one person across the room, hiding behind another container. Another fired from a doorway, and the last one hid behind a table. All three aiming for either your box of Ghost. Your hands held your gun with an iron grip, turning your knuckles white.

You peeked out from behind the container, aiming for the second guy in the doorway. Your first shot missed, but your second shot straight through his forehead. Ghost, from wherever he was, took out the third guy from behind the table. Leaving the one behind the other container, peaking back out you felt another bullet fly past you. You scrambled back, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

You called out to Ghost, “I can't get him! You're gonna have to take the last one!” After another shot to your hiding place, chipping the wood of the contained, Ghost called back.

“Copy! I've got him!” He yelled, a final shot echoing through the cavern before everything fell into an eerie silence. You tentatively rounded the corner of the container, looking back at the first guy's hiding spot. When all you saw was his body flat on the ground, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You heard Ghost call to you again, “[Name], you hurt?” You stood up, looking over in the direction of his voice. He was behind one of the walls of the hallway, pressed against the dirt wall.

“No, I'm all good. You?” You said back, scanning him for any sign of injury. He shook his head, letting his gun fall to his side.

“I'm clear.” He said, walking out from the hallway. You looked back at the three bodies adorning the floor, which made six in total so far. These three also looked like they were locals, you walked over to one. Moving your foot to hover over their hand, you kicked the gun away, staring at the blackened tattoo on his palm. Before, Soap had mentioned that rebel groups in Urzik shared a tattoo on their palms. Much like a gang tattoo, it united them under a common collective.

You looked back at Ghost, “What do Urzik terrorists have to do with us? If this really is a problem with uprisings against their government, why would the SAS and the CIA get involved?”

Your mind flashed to the conversation between Price and the commander back at the checkpoint base. He had said that if it had been up to him, 141 would never have been involved. Laswell had been the one to push for the team's involvement, even with its potholes. Then came Shepard, whose disappearance had led to your involvement with the team in the beginning. The only link to this you had to Shepard was his name being mentioned back at base.

Jesus, your head hurt just trying to think about it.

Ghost walked over to you, “My advice wouldn't be to think too hard about it [Name]. We’re doing a job, thinking about shite like this leads into a bigger rabbit hole than you think.”

You nodded, a frown settling onto your lips. Nothing about this sat right with you, but that was the cost you paid for being here in the first place.

“The important thing is, we located the lab. Now we just make sure there's nobody else so someone else can pick up the mess over here.” He said, making you nod along with him. Price and the other guys would probably be down any minute, that would make clearing everything out a hell of a lot easier.

You looked back at the man on the ground, staring into the fleshy eyes that held no light. You were reminded of the compound, staring into the eyes of the man who had shot Price’s foot. You didn't feel sorry, more hollow.

Ghost turned his back, looking over to the entranceway hall. And the split second for him to turn around was all it took for something to go wrong all over again. With no warning, you felt something burn your side, sharp and hot like lava. A hand yanked you back, snaked around your neck, and held you back to something firm. You could barely choke out a gasp, the thorn in your side sending shocks of pain through your body you didn't even know was possible.

Something cold pressed against your temple, you could barely process what was happening before you heard a click. Ghost whipped around at the noise, immediately holding up his rifle to whatever was behind you.

For a brief moment, time stopped. You were all too familiar with what was happening, you were being held at gunpoint. Nobody moved, Ghost's voice suddenly echoing through the silent room. “Shepard. Let her go.” He said.

You blinked, Shepard? Fuck, you didn't see that coming. You thought maybe he had a small part in the involvement, but you didn't expect him to actually be here. You tried to look at him, but his arm around your throat only tightened, making you squirm. The thing in your side, most likely a knife, only seemed to hurt more the longer it was left sticking out of you.

“Drop your gun, and I will.” His voice was cold, it sounded like sandpaper. His breath made your nostrils recoil in disgust.

Ghost shook his head, his eyes darting between yours and the man holding you. “You and I both know that's not happening.” The barrel of the gun pressed into your skin harder, making you wince. Your hands clawing at his arm to pry him off your neck.

“If you don't drop that gun, I will kill this one. And that's a promise.” He said, your body felt numb, and the lack of oxygen only seemed to make you all the weaker. You heard voices from beyond the hallway, your mind screaming for John. You needed him, you needed him to come and fix the mess you had gotten yourself into. Being a hostage was by far your least favorite activity.

Ghost swallowed, still pointing his gun at Shepard. “Shepherd, it's in your best interest that you let her go. You're not getting out of this, you know that. You shoot her and it’s just another kill added to your list of crimes, let’s not lengthen that sentence.”

Shepard snarled, “I'll be damned if I'm sent to prison, we can do this all-day lieutenant. You pull that trigger, and I fire. If you put the gun down, maybe we can negotiate something.”

You tried gasping for air, your airways closing up. Nails clawing at his shirt, like a caged animal trying to get out of its enclosure. From your squinted eyes you could make out the form of Price, Gaz, and Soap entering the room, guns at the ready. The pain in your side fired back up again as the blade twisted, making you yelp.

“Shepherd put the fucking gun down!” You absentmindedly recognized John's voice, your vision growing fuzzier by the second.

You tried your best to fight, thinking of anything you could to stay conscious. You thought of your friends, family, and John. Between the knife in your side, the gun against your head, and his arms around your throat it was a miracle you could even think. You blinked again, gasping for more air. You saw Ghost and Price, Soap a few feet away, Gaz must've been somewhere in the room as well.

“Get back or she's dead!” Shepard barked, his voice ringing in your ear. You saw blotches of black in your vision, your body slowly losing its feeling.

As you blacked out, you heard a gunshot fire.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A white light flooded your vision, making your face scrunch up in discomfort. It was harsh and almost painful, you tried shutting your eyes as tight as they could go, but it was burned into your retinas.

Your limbs felt sluggish, you couldn't lift your arms. It seemed like you could only move your face, after another minute of trying to shut out the light, you gave up. Blinking your eyes open, you saw said white light hanging down from an even whiter ceiling.

“Holy shit, you're awake.” A female voice said, making you halt. You knew that voice, your eyes darted to the sound. Turing your head from its apparent, laying position to follow your gaze. Your eyes met an older woman, she had bangs and blondish hair.

“Laswell?” You croaked, your voice was shot. It sounded like a frog, making you internally cringe.

Kate Laswell stood at the foot of your bed, her hands grabbed at your arm. “Don’t talk [Name], the nurse said you shouldn't be using your voice for the next couple of days.” She scolded. You grunted, your throat felt as dry as the Sahara.

The pain slowly started to come back, a deep-seated ache that made you wince. “What happened?” You breathed. Your mind was fuzzy, the last thing you remembered was being in the bazaar and being held at gunpoint by Shepherd.

Laswell pursed her lips in a line, obviously not too thrilled about the events that transpired. “Well, John told me after you passed out they managed to disarm Shepard. But by that point, you were already gone, so they got you out. After that, you were transported to the checkpoint base and now you're in the hospital.”

You were following up until the hospital part, last time you checked, the checkpoint base didn't have a full-fledged hospital. “Hospital where?” You croaked, looking at Laswell for an answer.

“D.C,” She said plainly, almost like it was obvious. “It was the easiest place I would be able to keep an eye on you until you woke up.”

You barely had the energy to be surprised, “Oh.” Was what you settled on. “Where is the rest of the team?” You asked.

She sighed, “John is here. Garrick and Ghost are still in Urzik for another day, they have other matters they need to sort out first. Soap also came here with you, though he's not in the hospital.”

You nodded along, a small part of you relaxed when you heard John's name. He was here, which meant he was most likely safe. Your eyes closed, “oh, good then.” You sighed, your voice a whisper. Any louder and it would sound like your vocal cords were being torn to ribbons.

Laswell looked down at you, a sadness in her eyes. Almost guilt, “[Name].” She said, grabbing your attention again, “-I’m pulling you off the team early.”

You froze, your eyes doubling in size. Maybe you misheard her, 141 was your family, she couldn't just pull you off. You still had a few more months with them! “What? Why?” You asked throatily.

She looked at you incredulously, “Because you almost died. Honestly, it was my fault in the beginning, I shouldn't have put you in the situation.” Your eyes narrowed, you tried to sit up but she placed a firm hand on your chest to keep you from doing so.

“Laswell, I’m fine. I don't need to be taken off 141, everyone in the world has probably had a near-death experience.” You protested, “-I want to keep being on the team, I know at first I was only doing this as a favor but I'm not anymore.”

Laswell looked at you, a bit stunned. Her eyes stared into yours, deciphering if you were really telling the truth. “Are you sure? I was only going to do it because I believed that is what’s in your best interest. But are you positive this is what you want? Even after what happened?”

You stared back at her, determined as ever. “I'm positive.”

There was a beat of silence before Laswell sighed, rubbing her face. “Okay,” she breathed. “But you're still not allowed to participate in anything until you're fully healed.” Your demeanor relaxed again, almost sinking into the mattress. It was a win, a small one, but a win nonetheless.

You looked back at her, “You said Price was here right?” You asked, trying your best to hide the eagerness in your tone.

She nodded, “Yes, he's outside. He's been coming with me to check on you.”

You could've run out of bed at that exact moment, from the first minute you'd woken up he was occupying half of your thoughts. “Could I talk to him…?” You asked, trying to disguise your desperation.

Laswell gave you a pointed look, obviously, she knew more than what she was letting on. “You have ten minutes, then I'm pulling him out so you can get more rest.”

You thanked her profusely, waiting in anticipation for John to walk through the door. You shimmied up into a sitting position, trying not to irritate the stitches in your side. After a minute, your captain walked through the door. His hair was a bit tousled, and his beard had been trimmed, but there were large bags under his blue eyes. Clad in an army-green cotton shirt with jeans. He was a sight for sore eyes that was for sure.

After a minute of staring he bolted across the room, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His hand holding the back of your head to his chest and his other arm wrapped around your back. You weakly tried to hug him back, inhaling his scent.

“You have no idea how worried I was.” He breathed, pulling away to get a good look at your face. His hands cupped your jaw like a precious jewel. You smiled, laughing to the best of your ability.

“Well, I'm alive. That's saying something.” You breathed, taking him in. You’d barely spent any time away from him, yet you missed him, you needed his presence like you needed air. “Nobody can kill me that easy, not even Shepard.”

He looked at you, unimpressed by your attitude, “I wouldn't boast your level of confidence for someone in a hospital bed.” He deadpanned. You simply waved him off, but a question popped into your mind before you could say anything.

“Hey, what was Shepherd doing there anyway? I know you mentioned him earlier but I still don't understand why he was involved.” You asked, making him sigh.

John rubbed his neck, leaning back a little from his position. “If I'm being honest? I don't know either, I had a feeling he would be there but I wasn't positive. My best guess would be that he probably got involved with Markov's goons after he went rogue. After they must've teamed with underground gangs to keep tabs on what the CIA was up to.” He looked back at you, “A few people from the inside still had communication with him, that was most likely how we got the tip-off that he was in Urzik.”

You hummed, mostly glad you could put Urzik behind you. It was over and that was all that mattered, “So what happens now?” You asked.

Price raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“What happens now that you caught him?” You clarified. Staring at him curious.

John shrugged, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Well Shepherd is dead, he died during the altercation back in Riyzabbi. As for the team, we go back to normal. A few people who had relations with Shepherd are being tried in international court for unauthorized communication with enemies. But that's it, as far as I know.”

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. Basking in the feel of his thumb against your skin, “Mm, and us…?” You asked, feeling a bit brave.

You felt him halt, “Well, you obviously know we can't exactly be public about this.” You opened your eyes back up to him, “-But, I don't think I can really deny what I feel for you.”

Your lips curled into a warm smile, one that seemed to say ‘I love you.’ John traced the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, ‘I love you’ the gesture said.

“I love you.” You said, unable to hold yourself back from uttering the words any longer.

John smiled, “I love you too.”

Pulling you in for a chaste kiss, you smiled against his lips. Your nose brushed his, his eyelashes tickling your skin.

You were going to be just fine.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Hey, don't go!

Okay first things first, I want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who liked, commented, reposted, or send me kind messages on my last post. I never thought I would reach 1,000 likes but you guys work miracles! It literally means the world to me.

Second, so sorry for the long wait. I know it was awhile but I’m balancing my classes, social life, and my writing so it gets hectic sometimes. But I appreciate you for having patience in me, I want to ask if you would be so kind as to like, repost, or leave a comment! It really helps, more than you know.

Lastly, you definitely haven’t seen the last of me yet. There is more content coming! It might take a bit but I am working hard to please you ;) and with that I hope you enjoyed Captains Girl Part II, I love you all! Toodles ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ 💕

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Taglist

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So sorry if you weren’t tagged and you wanted to be, some of the usernames weren’t showing up!

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Part I of… Captains Girl: ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Thank you

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

[vhagarys]

The Conquerer

brother!aegon x reader, sister!helaena x reader

summary: aegon decreed he’d take both his sisters for wives. luckily, you and helaena were already quite taken with each other.

warnings: smut, canon-typical incest, oral, breeding kink, oral fixation, voyeurism, licking?, reader LOVES her brother and sister <3

MDNI

Following in Aegon the Conqueror’s footsteps, your older brother Aegon decreed he would take both his sisters to be his wives.

This decision was not met joyfully by his mother nor the hand. However, his position warranted no argument and soon he exchanged vows and blood in the tradition of your house.

Luckily for him, you and Helaena had taken a fondness to each other from a young age. Practically tied at the hip, you two were rarely found without the other at their side.

As the years went by, that fondness began to morph into something deeper. A twisted desire for one another that never seemed to wither.

Behind closed doors you and your sister ravaged each other like men starved. Devouring each other body and soul, with an almost endearing desperation to please one another.

The two Targaryen girls each harbored the blood of dragons and fire, showing itself in their unwavering passions for one another.

This arrangement soon became common knowledge to the other members of your family. Your brothers Aemond and Aegon never batted an eye. Such incestuous endeavors had remained common practice in your house for generations.

Aegon knew any attempt to separate the pair of you would prove futile, thus wedding you both seemed a kindness on his part.

After a night of drink, feast, and revelry, the bedding ceremony was soon announced. With a faint blush to your cheeks, you and Helaena were both escorted to your shared chambers to prepare yourselves for your lord husband.

“You lucky bastard,” Ser Criston Cole slurred as he sat down next to the king.

Aegon smirked and lifted his goblet, “Given the title of king must come with some benefit, should it not?” he took a large swig of his wine.

“Who am I to marry now that you’ve stolen both of our sisters away,” his brother Aemond scowled at him, jealously etched all over his features.

“Perhaps a new tradition is in order, hm? I shall not only marry to my sisters, but i shall take my brother as a husband,” wine escaped through ser criston’s nostrils as he howled in laughter.

With a disdainful scoff, Aemond promptly stormed out of the room.

“I must take my leave to bed my two beautiful, blushing brides,” Aegon loudly announced before his made his way out of the room and towards his chambers.

As if the prospect of bedding you both did not excite him already, upon peeking through the doors he almost released in his trousers untouched.

You were completely bare, you lower body hanging off of the bed as your older sister held your hips with her mouth attached to your cunt.

You whimpered and wreathed beneath Helaena who aggressively licked and slurped at you like a man deprived of water for days.

A sheen of sweat appeared on your hairline as you held tightly onto your sisters silver tresses.

She reached up to pinch and pull at your nipples and your moans grew louder, whinier.

Seven hells, he gaped to himself.

He stood right at the doorway, though he knew neither of you had an inkling of his presence.

His mind blanked save for the scene before him. he stood frozen in place, immediately reaching to release his cock from its confines and began to stroke himself.

“Kostilus ivestragī issa māzigon jorrāelagon mandia,” you cried out. Your body beginning to spasm and chasing after your incoming peak. (please let me cum sister)

Offering no more than a hum, Helaena tightened her grip on your hips and pushed her face deeper between lips. Her harsh sucking on your clit sent you barreling into climax.

Aegon fared no better. He was hypnotized by the erotic scene, his wives caught in the throes of pleasure.

After a moment, your breathing began to steady and you sat up. A gasp escaped you as you registered your brother pleasuring himself, eyes feasting on the pair of you.

A low growl left him as he tugged at his dripping cock. You briefly met each others gaze and just as quickly you and your sister climbed from the bed and stalked over to him.

A cruel smirk graced your lips as you stood behind him and lightly pressed your nose to the sensitive spot of his neck.

“It seems our husband is quite the pervert, mandia. He’s been watching us,” your hand delicately pushed a lock of his hair behind his reddening ears. (sister)

Aegon couldn’t bring himself to stop. He stroked himself faster, aroused at the proximity of the two of you.

“I’d say he’s enjoying himself. Tell me, did you like watching me devour our little sister, lekia,” Helaena muttered in his ear as her nails scraped down his chest. (Brother)

“Gods,” Aegon practically whined as he felt both of your hands roaming over his body.

“Relieve yourself, husband. Let me see you make a mess of yourself,” you whispered with a hint of cruel delight in your tone.

With a final grunt, he spilled his spend all over his hand and trousers, knees on the verge of collapse after experiencing such a strong release.

Helaena grabbed his hand and led him to sit on the bed. With no more than a quick exchange in glance, the two of you kneeled between his parted legs, admiring his soaked clothes.

Your mouth began to water at the sight of your brothers spent cock. Helaena could see the hunger cloud your eyes and a wicked idea soon made its way out of her mouth.

“As his wife, it is your duty to clean your husband, sweet sister. You don’t wish for him to be uncomfortable, hm?” Helaena mused, a devilish grin consuming her features.

Already feeling a pool of arousal in your small clothes, you met Aegon’s exhausted yet wide eyed gaze.

“Of course, my king. I live to serve you,” and you leaned forward and began to hungrily lick his seed that began to stain through his trousers.

Never breaking eye contact, you moaned at the addictive taste of him. You could feel your slick began to seep through your small clothes and onto the floor.

You didn’t care, you were consumed with the need to please your brother and sister.

After you deemed his clothes cleaned, you immediately moved to his shaft, lapping up each drop like a kitten.

Aegon could feel himself hardening once more. He watched in sick delight at his baby sister, lost in the taste of him.

If only I knew what a slut for cock you were sooner, he thought.

Your sister couldn’t help but grow aroused at the depravity before her.

Grabbing you by the nape of your neck, she turned your head to face her.

“Show me,” helaena commanded. Ever the obedient sister, you stuck out your tongue and presented the sticky, white substance that coated your tongue.

Beyond impatient to taste, she surged forward and met your lips in a filthy swap of tongues. You groaned as you felt her wet muscle lap up the remaining seed in your mouth.

You both gripped onto each other for dear life, lost in the lustful moment.

Consumed with the need to claim both of his wives, Aegon pulled you away from one another.

“Desperate little things, aren’t you,” he cooed.

Both of you gazed up at him with ferocity. he almost came once again at the sight.

He watched a line of drool slip from your lips and promptly scooped it up with his thumb. without being told, you obediently opened your mouth and allowed Aegon to push his digit inside.

Eyes glossy, you suckled at his finger until clean and swallowed. Aegon couldn’t hide his fondness for your easy submission, knowing you’ll take whatever he gives you.

“This marriage must be consummated, and I must fulfill my duty as your husband and pump my seed into your little cunts until you swell with my heirs, hm?”

You both whined at the dirty words.

Extending his hand, he roughly pulled you both on the bed and began to tear through the layers of your sister’s gown. Exchanging in a ferocious kiss, you watched the two dragons battle for dominance.

Your brother reached down to rub his fingers through her wetness and soon your sister was reduced a whining mess beneath him.

You watched them consume each other, and when both pairs of eyes landed upon you, your cunt throbbed at the prospect of what was to come.

authors note: i need more helaena content !!!!! also, enjoy!

- alice +++

[kaizokuniichan]

What You Want

Roronoa Zoro x AFAB reader

Summary: You have a tendency to slip into Zoro’s bed every time you drink. For some reason he lets you keep on doing it

This is the absolute longest fic I’ve ever written in my life. I don’t know how it happened, I just let my hand take the lead. Apologies for any weird formatting, I was forced to write this on my phone.

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, light choking, slight degradation, use of “good girl”, nipple play

Word Count: 5.6k (😰)

MDNI; 20+ readers please

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Sometimes you had this nasty habit of slipping into Zoro’s bed when you drank. You didn’t know why, it was just something you did.

The first time it happened you’d been so inebriated that your stumbling around had resulted in you tripping over a pair of boots, scrabbling onto the bed to break your fall, and flopping unceremoniously onto his legs. He startled awake and attempted to shove you off but your drunken delirium insisted that you were in your room and you had every right to be there. Exasperated, he rolled you off his knees and you eventually passed out by his ankles.

A mumbled apology came the next day during breakfast which he wordlessly waved off. After quickly gulping down his food, he grabbed his katanas and headed out the door. No other exchange about the matter was made.

The first time you slipped under the duvet, the dip of the mattress was what pulled him from his slumber. It was just enough for him to see you at the furthest edge of the bed, your head flopping onto the pillow and your soft snores soon following. You’d only slept for maybe 2 hours before you jerked awake, realizing where you’d mistakenly wound up again. You quickly gathered your shoes and pants that had been haphazardly discarded, and snuck out of the room.

The first time your bodies made contact, your back had been pressed against his. He hadn’t actually been sleeping much that night; you were unaware of his watchful eye as he looked over his shoulder at you. Subconsciously you knew something was different (still convinced you were in your own bed), a comforting wall of warmth bleeding in through the thin cotton of your tank top. He rolled his head back to face his side, eye growing heavier as he finally succumbed to sleep. When he woke a few hours later your spot was empty and cool, rumpled sheets slightly flipped back being the only indication that you’d been there.

A new thing started happening where you faced your front to him, inching closer to his bulky form. You’d ungracefully throw an arm over his waist, hot and clammy palm spreading over his abs. Sometimes, you’d swear a larger hand covered yours with a quick squeeze. But the thought never registered for longer than a second, sweet unconsciousness beckoning you soon after. Those nights his curiosity got the better of him, and he wondered what you looked like up close while you slept. As he turned under the weight of your arm still flung over him, he was met with your face half stuffed into the pillow, mouth open with a thin layer of drool dampening the pillowcase. As he adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, your body stirred and one of your eyes cracked open to stare back at him. He’d thought your focus would be foggy but you looked deep into him, down to his very bones. You held his gaze for what felt like hours under the calm nothingness that only existed during a night faring the seas, before you promptly sat up and hastened to exit the room as you always did; this time forgetting to grab the shorts and bra you’d carelessly tossed.

You knew he was aware of what you were doing but for some reason you couldn’t stop it from happening, and he wouldn’t stop you from doing it. You rationalized that the only reason he allowed it to continue was because he was just as intoxicated, sake vapors always permeating his clothes. It remained an unspoken thing between the two of you, the only acknowledgment being an amused look from him every time you took that first gulp of whiskey.

You wondered how no one else seemed to know, you weren’t exactly quiet anytime you stumbled into the men’s quarters. But then again they all slept like logs and you always managed to slip away before the sun could peak over the horizon.

Tonight was your birthday, and contrary to popular belief, you tended not to drink as much on this day, wanting to fully experience the joy and laughter with your beloved crew. A few glasses of bubbly and maybe a shot or two here and there, but not enough to put you on your ass.

Zoro had a good sense of your drinking habits, so he could tell you weren’t going as hard as usual. He wondered whether or not you’d be joining him in his bed tonight, seeing as how your mostly sober mind could possibly hold you back. His eye caught yours as it always did. Your skin was warm and glowing, cheeks puffed up from the ever-present grin plastered upon your face. It took Usopp, knocking into you and spilling his drink onto your shirt, to finally pull your attention away from Zoro as you screeched with laughter, chasing the sniper around the deck with a handful of cake meant to be smashed into his face.

Things finally wound down to lull as everyone crashed outside under the milky glow of the moon. Zoro looked around but couldn’t find you or either of the other girls anywhere, and deduced that you’d all probably left together. Oh well. Looks like he’d have the room to himself. Throwing Luffy’s arm off his cheek, he dusted off his pants and made his way back inside. His heavy footfalls echoed throughout the empty halls, wood creaking as the Sunny rocked him along. Finally arriving at his door, a fleeting image of you waiting in his bed, curled up under his sheets, crossed his mind. He quickly shook it off, knocking it back towards the huge pile of other non crew-like thoughts he had of you, and opened the door. Instead he was greeted by an empty bed, and as he closed the door, he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, and collapsed onto the mattress.

As you stood outside the door to the men’s quarters, you cursed yourself for your lack of self control. Your mind had now associated any amount of drinking with sleeping in Zoro’s bed, and that revelation had caused you to lie awake with a mysterious insomnia. After an hour of tossing and turning, your body had gotten up and your feet lead you, seemingly of their own accord, to wherever they wanted. And now here you were at his door, fully cognizant of what you were doing. Your knuckles turned white from your hand’s grip on the doorknob, and you tried to gaslight yourself into believing that you were actually drunker than you thought. This was a perfectly normal thing that you always did.

Pushing the door open you found Zoro in his bed, asleep as always, positioned in a way that was normally reserved for napping. Laying on his back, he looked luminous under the shafts of moonlight filtering through the window. Arm under the pillow behind his head, his bare chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm, his soft snores tumbling from his parted lips. Your chest tensed and you stilled. You hadn’t expected him to look like that . Normally he was more of a misshapen lump under the blankets, but tonight his body looked almost as if it was offering an invitation to you. You tiptoed closer, using a few moments to take him in. With sheets rumpled at his waist, you had a clear view of his torso, which rippled with bunches of muscles beneath the skin. His jawline was as sharp as ever, head tipped back to reveal a clear line between it and his neck. He was so achingly handsome it made you gasp, chest tightening even more as you wondered how the hell you’d survived sleeping next to him during the past few months without melting completely through the floor. Liquor really did seem to have a dulling effect on your nerves. After a quick mental battle of building up your nerve, you finally lifted the covers and slipped beneath them, inching closer and closer until you were almost touching. After a few moments of admiring the wrinkle between his thin brows, you settled more comfortably into the pillow and finally dozed off.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour long nap before your dreams melted away. Something was different. You’d fallen asleep on your stomach but instead of a firm mattress beneath you, you were angled on your side and there was a portion of a body pressed against your chest. You wiggled your fingers and felt the taut skin of someone’s pec, and your leg was thrown over the large, corded muscle of someone’s thigh. This couldn’t be right. You didn’t have any current situationships on your roster that justified this level of intimacy. Embarrassingly, your body wanted to welcome the comfort with little resistance. But your mind and your body were always at war, and your flight instincts kicked in as you planned to rip yourself away and slink on back to your room. But just before you could remove yourself completely, a heavy arm you hadn’t realized was around your waist pulled you back against him. You looked up to see a mirthful smirk and a steely eye peering at you.

“Done using me like a hunk of meat?”

“What?” You croaked, heart anchoring into your gut.

“You’re cutting our time short, usually you stay longer than this,” he continued with a poke at your side, grinning like he’d finally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. And perhaps he had.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here tonight. I’m not even that drunk.”

“Yeah that’s the problem, you only seem to come around when you’re drunk.”

Your mind whirled in confusion. Was that what this was about? Did you give the impression that you didn’t enjoy his company in any capacity other than when alcohol was involved?

“Zoro, I’m sorry if that’s how this is coming across, I don’t mean that at all, of course I like being around you-“

Your frantic excuses were cut short by his amused chuckle.

“You’re making this too easy. I knew it was gonna be worth it, messing with you tonight.”

His toothy grin irked your spirit and you thumped his chest in retaliation. Of course that’s where this was going, this was Zoro. Annoyingly perceptive and slightly mischievous, despite what most people thought of him.

“Why haven’t you told me to leave then? After all these months?”

“To be fair I did the first time, but you kept arguing that I’d actually snuck into your bed.”

The faint memory was promptly squished back into the deepest parts of your mind.

“Well…you still allowed it to continue. Why?”

He hummed as he scratched his chin, pretending to ponder.

“Dunno. Figured you had a reason.”

“What possible reason could that have been?”

Zoro’s arm, still around your waist, pulled you closer as he turned onto his side to face you. The dip in his tone made your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Figured you wanted something from me.”

Breath caught in your lungs as to what he was implying.

“Like what?”

His brow arched with a knowing look, slipping a leg between your own and lifting yours higher around his waist.

“Something I’ve been wanting to give to you. If you want it.”

His eyes bore into yours, waiting for your next move. You hesitated a few beats before finally wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, pulling his face closer.

“I want this,” you sighed, brushing your lips with his.

He smiled against yours, pulling you tighter.

“Finally.”

The kiss that followed was like an ocean storm, knocking you off balance in its undertow. The groan that settled in his chest sparked electricity in your veins, causing you to whimper. Your tongue met the seam of his lips and he curled his own around it, guiding and tangling them together. The sound of your lips smacking was unseemly, but you accepted it as proof that this was actually happening. Your mouths soon parted to catch your breaths, chests heaving in unison.

“Zoro…”

He grunted in response as he rolled you onto your back, groin settled against yours. You could feel the bulge of his arousal rub against your center, and your leg that had been draped over his waist remained hooked around him. His hand next to your head gripped the sheets as his mouth descended upon your lips once again, the hand on your waist pressed more firmly and made up and down motions against your skin. He caught your bruised bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, sucking it into his mouth until there was nothing left to give. You let out a whine and he moved to the side of your face, pressing his lips to your ear.

“I wanna keep hearing that tonight, you saying my name like that.”

Not waiting for your reply, his teeth came out to bite harshly into your earlobe. You yelped, helplessly rocking your hips against his. His thigh slid further between your legs until it met your wetness at your center, nudging to provide a place for you to grind against. His mouth continued to do sinful things to your neck and collarbones, taking note of which spots got you to squirm wriggle against him.

Eventually the hand massaging your ribs slipped under the hem of you shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts. Wanting to see them before he felt them, he stopped himself from giving your pulse point another nibble to look at you properly. The unwavering inspection had you feeling shy as you made a move to pull your shirt back down.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered, grabbing your wrist to stop you, slamming it back down into the mattress.

Your chest continued to heave as you tried to quell your insecurities, hoping that he liked what he saw. Seemingly reading your mind, he tsked loudly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Huh?” You balked at him, utterly dumbfounded. That was definitely not the response you could’ve ever predicted to receive for providing him with a full display of your tits.

“You know how hard it’s been for me, letting you leave all of those nights?”

You had no reply prepared but it didn’t matter, any possible words would’ve failed you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue licking playfully at your nipple.

“Even watching you drool all over my pillows and snoring in my ear couldn’t stop me from wanting you.”

Annoyance tickled your temple, even as he sucked on the underside of your breast.

“I may have drooled once or twice but I definitely don’t snore.”

He looked up with a smile showing all 32 of his teeth before replacing his mouth with his hand to rub his thumb softly against the pebbled nub. A surprised gasp broke free from your lips. Sometimes you wondered if you were the type of person who could cum just from your nipples being stimulated. Maybe one day you’d test that theory.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side, unable to argue with all of his pinching and prodding. His hand reached over to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look back at him.

“Stop being difficult or I won’t give you your present.”

Your teeth clicked with the force of your mouth snapping shut, making him snicker.

“Is that all it takes to get you to listen to me?”

“Yeah if that’s what’s always being offered. I can be good for that.”

“Hm. Greedy.”

“I’m allowed to be, it’s my birthday.”

His fingers smushed your cheeks together, but he made no move of keeping you waiting as his mouth continued it’s journey down your body, sucking on your skin and biting the softness of your tummy. Slowly he peeled down your sleep shorts, discarding them into the darkness. Immediately your knees knocked together but he pulled them apart to stare intensely at the large wet patch in your panties. This time you felt pride as you watched his mouth go slack, his eye flitting back up to meet yours, dark with desire. He hadn’t thought it would be this easy to get you worked up like this, you were normally so stubborn about everything . If only you knew what this was doing for his ego.

As he bent down to bite into the plushness of your thighs, you sat up to enjoy the visual of his face nuzzled between your legs. You’d never seen him look sexier than when he glanced back up at you, intense eye contact stealing your breath once more. He nudged his nose against the covered lips of your pussy and gave it a sniff, an unexpected moan rumbling in his throat.

“Fuck. Never imagined you’d smell this good.”

You were left speechless as he removed your panties, finally exposing you to the cool air. You gasped as his tongue poked out to taste the juices leaking between your lips, and your head fell back down as you whimpered. One of his hands kept your hips firmly in place while the other crawled up to resume dragging his fingers across your nipples.

His tongue curled along the seam of your entrance, serving him another moan of his name and a firm grip on his hair. Not being able to hold his composure, he dragged your body closer to drape your legs over his shoulders.

“You know, if you were thinking this was gonna be a one time thing, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Stop being mean,” you sighed, pulling his head closer to your untended wetness, “get on with my present now.”

His mouth kicked up into a smirk before he brought it back against you, tongue chasing the leaking juices before stuffing them back inside. Your nails clawed his scalp as he hummed against your clit, his tongue making practiced and precise traces along the bud. You were briefly brought back to a conversation you’d had with Robin where you wondered if the power that it took to fight with a sword in his mouth resulted in his tongue developing an unusual strength. As his tongue bullied it’s way inside and along your walls, you concluded that it had to be true, and you gave thanks to his three-sword style as if it had provided a favor specifically for you.

Zoro’s senses were saturated with the essence of you. Your plump thighs squeezed his head deliciously as he fucked you slowly with his mouth. Your hand gripping his hair made him growl, rubbing his face further between your legs, groaning at your continuous whines dancing in his ears. You were so wet, clenching around his tongue, he had to reach a hand into his boxers just to bring himself some relief. He was unbearably hard and the more your hips bucked in time with his movements, the more he had to squeeze himself at the base just to keep himself at bay. Thankfully, you seemed interested in watching him work, your half-lidded eyes and pouty, kiss-swollen lips being any indication. He liked performing for you, and silently praised your bold approval.

His hand still played with your nipples, and every swipe of the pad of his thumb had your hips jumping so fiercely, he knew he’d have to file that away for later. But now you were moving too much, and he had a job to finish. Taking both of your thighs still hanging over his shoulders in his hands, he folded your body in half so that all you could do was lie there and take everything he gave to you. His tongue, still darting in and out of you at a steady pace, began making languid swipes along your clit. Your panting became louder as he continued his teasing, sucking one of your lips into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

“Zoro…Zoro…please don’t stop. Please.”

You were begging now, and that was good. He’d oblige you, of course. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he provided a combination of licks and suction, working in tandem as your whimpers climbed louder and more breathless until finally, everything crashed. You came into his mouth with a throaty wail, body convulsing in his hold. He continued to lap at your juices as you shuddered with aftershocks, steadily coming down with a weak whine. You eventually settled down with a sigh and he released your thighs, causing your lower half to flop back onto the mattress. You sat in silence still panting and spent, spread-eagle with him kneeling between your legs. You cracked your eyes open to look at him, shaking your head.

“You are an absolute demon.”

He grinned smugly in reply, fingers swiping along your lower lips.

“I didn’t hear any complaints.”

Zoro’s dick cried for attention, and he was normally too disciplined to be led by it. But as he pulled it free from his briefs and used your slick to lube himself up, he was thankful that tonight he was going to indulge. He stroked himself lazily, looking up when he heard your soft gasp.

“Fuck…me.”

You’d let the words slip before you could scoop them back into your mouth. The sight you were met with went absolutely mad, beyond your wildest imagination. Here was Zoro, big, wide, and powerful, looming over you with the muscles of his bicep flexing as he jerked himself to the sight of you. His face was still insufferably smug as he kept his pace.

“You good?”

“Hm.”

Your lack of reaction had him quirking his eyebrow, curious as to whether or not you had met your limit and were ready to conclude the evening.

“We can stop now if you want to-“

“I thought it was still my birthday?”

Both of Zoro’s eyebrows rose as your energy seemed to return and you watched him intently, hand still wrapped around himself. You sat up on your elbows and licked your lips before giving him those shiny, doe eyes.

“I want the rest of my present now,” you pouted.

It was Zoro’s turn to be speechless as you grabbed his waist and forced him to lie back down over you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” you murmured, sliding his briefs down to give his ass a squeeze. The movement had him bucking forward, his hand finally ripped away from his dick to catch himself from dropping all of his weight onto you. You continued tugging his underwear down until he leaned on his side and slid them off, flinging them aside. His free hand grabbed your shirt still bunched above your chest, and roughly slipped it over your head, tossing it to join the rest of your clothes. He brought a hand to you hip and slid it down slowly to your thigh, hooking it once more around his waist as he settled back over you.

“Still got time to back out sweetheart.”

Your chest stuttered as you felt him poke at your entrance. You carded a hand back into his hair while the other touched his cheek, thumb tracing his lips. You were so caught in the moment, your feeble mind unable to focus on anything other than him. The feel of his strong body against yours, his veiny cock gliding smoothly between your pussy lips, his head turning slightly into your hand, giving it a whisper of a kiss. You were too far gone.

“Zoro…”

“Tell me what you need.”

You brought your mouth to his for a long, soft kiss before you looked back up at him. God, you were so pretty. Maybe he was kinder than he thought because in that moment he would’ve given you absolutely anything.

“I want you to give me everything,” you said, and he was convinced you’d read his mind.

He released a breath and guided himself into you, squeezing his eye shut as he felt the immediate squeeze. You were still so wet from his spit and your own arousal, but your walls were tight as he hadn’t used his fingers to stretch you. You didn’t seem to mind as you pulled him close, and he shallowly pumped himself in and out, going slightly deeper with every roll of his hips. You relaxed more against him and it became easier for him to slip inside; you opened up so nicely for him. Your hips rose to meet his careful thrusts, and before he knew it he was completely and snugly sheathed inside you.

He’d underestimated how warm and tight you’d be, even after your initial orgasm from earlier. He had to stop and catch his breath, panting in your ear as he willed his body to calm down. It wouldn’t due for him to cut this prematurely. You were looking to get thoroughly fucked and he was the only one who was going to give it to you how you wanted. After he was done with you you’d never be able to crawl into anyone else’s bed ever again. He was going to mold your pussy so only he could fit.

You hadn’t stopped moaning since his hips connected with yours, and you began clawing at his back, begging him to move. Your body was hot and wound tight as if you hadn’t just cum earlier. He finally lifted his head from the crook of your neck and slipped a hand beneath your body to press it up to his.

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, limbs turning to goo.

Giving you another quick kiss, he shoved inside you and lost any last dredges of sanity. You felt unbelievable, gripping his cock in a way that wouldn’t let go. His hand sandwiched beneath you grabbed your ass, giving him leverage to slam back into you. His breath came out in heavy pants as he built a bruising pace, grunting and groaning into your ear.

Your hand still pulled at his hair while the other held onto his bicep. The force of his thrusts made your whole body bounce up towards the headboard, and the rhythmic squeaks of the bed were embarrassingly loud. You hoped nobody had woken up in search of the room you both were defiling. Your pussy ached and fluttered against him as he fucked you, his stomach flexing with every grind of his hips. He was so brutal and so mean you were sure he was going to put a hole through the mattress. Suddenly he dropped your leg and pinned both of your wrists above your head.

“Wrap your legs around me sweetheart.”

God, what could you do besides follow that voice? So sinful that it gnawed at your spine. You wrapped both your legs around his waist, and his thrusts became more slow and rough.

“You gonna keep taking it?”

“Ye-ah.”

He pressed you further down into the mattress, your endless stream of moans becoming stilted from the force of his pounding.

“You gonna let me keep stretching this pussy out?”

“Please,” you pleaded, eyes watering as he plowed away at you.

You were so pliant for him, allowing him to use you as he pleased. He was going to batter your pussy red until it was swollen. Taking both of your wrists in one hand, he rested his other around your throat.

“Yeah?” He prompted, asking for permission.

“Fuck Zoro , please, ” you begged, all stubbornness and shame flying out the window. He was going to be insufferable when he was finished with you, your right mind was already dreading it.

“I knew you were a nasty girl,” he smirked, squeezing lightly at the sides of your throat. Despite his obvious strength, his discipline helped him hold back when he needed to. Obviously he’d never seriously hurt you.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you whined as he continued to slam into you. His grip tightened as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

The growl in his voice made you wetter, and you squeezed tighter around him. He released your wrists and throat, sitting back up on his knees. His dick slipped out of you and slapped against his stomach, glistening with your slick. Getting a proper look at it, he was just as thick as you’d thought, with a nice curve that was sure to scramble your brains from the new position.

“You gonna keep drooling over it or are you gonna let me fuck you properly?”

“You are such a dreadful man, I didn’t drool!”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he sighed with impatience, grabbing your arms and manhandling you onto your stomach. You whined and cursed into the pillow while grabbing another to stuff under your hips. Keeping your weight on your elbows, you pushed your hips back, making a nice pretty arch for him. His palm met your ass with a loud smack, and you felt his teeth take a bite at your cheek.

“You’re the one that’s nasty.”

He tapped his dick against your ass a few times, watching the strings of his precum and your juices coat your skin.

“Yeah.”

Without any warning he shoved himself back inside you, covering your back with his body and pressing his palm into your lower back to deepen your arch. You continued to wail into your pillow as you shoved your ass back against him. He nuzzled his head along your shoulder and neck, cooing condescendingly in your ear.

“Aw, I know. The big bad man keeps treating you mean.”

“So mean,” you hiccuped, dragging out the end of the word as he picked back up his brutal pace. The slapping of his skin against yours was abhorrent, and absolutely erotic. You felt your thighs jiggle as he slammed his hips, the curve of his dick dragged along your walls, carving a space for himself inside you. The head suddenly bumped against that soft, fleshy patch inside, and you keened. This was gonna be it for you.

“Zoro…I can’t. I can’t hold on for much longer.”

He took sympathy on you as he licked and sucked at the back of your neck, hands fisting the sheets as his body continued to climb with yours.

“It’s alright, you can let go. You’ve been so good for me. My good girl.”

His words had you squeezing him so tight he thought he would choke, a stream of moans and curses escaping your lips as the pressure built tighter and tighter. One of your hands came down to circle your clit, fingers slipping over the absolute mess covering your pussy. You gave a few more weak grinds against his hips before everything snapped and you caved, orgasm pulling at every last one of your nerve endings, down to your toes.

Your cries were in time with the pattering of his hips, and he sat back on his knees to watch the ripples of your ass as it connected with his pelvis. You were such a messy, crumpled heap against the pillow, and you’d never looked more beautiful. His body begged him to let go and release, and he was going to listen to it.

“Where do you want me to cum?” His voice was strained, panting and breathless as if he’d been in a harsh battle. God you were really wearing him out.

“Inside,” you said weakly, voice muffled by the pillow you’d stuffed your face into. He chuckled to himself. You were always so greedy.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” he teased, still managing to be a shit while his threads unraveled.

With great difficulty he pulled himself from inside you, your walls still trying to drag him back inside with a weak grip. Taking his cock in one hand, he looked at your ass still raised in the air, and pumped furiously until his will broke and he spilled, long ropes of cum painting your ass and your back.

His body collapsed on top of yours, knocking the wind out of you. You allowed him a few seconds to catch his breath as he groaned into your skin before you whined at him to get off. With a tired sigh he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. You followed his lead, wiping the sweat from your face.

“I can’t believe. You just fucked me like that.”

He gave a half chuckle and glanced over at you.

“Hey I was just giving you what you wanted.”

You bit your lip as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, you did.”

He went to grab the sheets that had been kicked aside, and pulled you against him for a spoon.

“Zoro,” you protested, attempting to free yourself from his grip, “I can’t stay here. I’m sweaty, I’m gross, I’m covered in cum. Someone will find us.”

“I’ll wake up before anyone gets back,” he mumbled, pulling you closer until your back was flush against him.

“But my clothes, I’ll never find them under that sea of junk.”

“Just wear mine.”

“But…”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Any strength left in your limbs depleted as he kept a boa-tight hold around your middle. His soft breaths fluttered against your ear, and you knew he had already slipped into sleep.

Tired and weak, you snuggled back into the curve of his body, pulling the blankets up to your chin as you allowed your final moments of consciousness slip away.

You prayed that no one had turned up to the other side of that door.

[wileys-russo]

taught a lesson II a.putellas x sister!reader

taught a lesson II a.putellas x sister!reader

"alexia!" you yelled loudly with a scowl, stomping out of your room to find your sister sprawled out on the lounge, her girlfriend laid in between her legs as both older girls gave you a curious look.

"why is there a lock on my window?" you moved to block their view of the tv and crossed your arms, glaring daggers at your older sister whose face remained blank.

"why don't you tell me why you would need a lock on your window hermana?" the blonde hit back raising an eyebrow as you scoffed. "because you think you're a prison warden!" you snapped, the warning glare sent your way doing nothing to deter your anger or where it was directed.

you'd moved in with alexia when after years of academy training and playing on the junior team you were finally offered a contract on barcelona's senior team.

you'd all been over the moon and you weren't sure if you could ever do anything to make alexia prouder than she had been once you'd picked up the phone and called her first.

quickly accepting the contract, the club had offered to set you up with your own apartment, car and a nutritionist to visit weekly to help you settle in and form a healthy routine around balancing this new adjustment to your life.

however both your older sisters and your mami declined this on your behalf, all sharing the opinion that at eighteen you weren't responsible enough to live by yourself even with assistance, and your protests fell on deaf ears as you were instead moved into your eldest sisters spare room.

to her credit she'd done everything she could to make it feel like it was as much your place as hers and olga's, allowing you full creative control over everything about your room and even offering to move about or change some things in common areas in an attempt to help you not feel like just a guest.

though not dissimilarly to both your older sisters you had a temper, especially at eighteen it hardly took much to have steam pouring from your ears and as much as it amused alexia to wind you up she knew where the line lay between teasing and taking things too far.

that did not however stop the two of you from being at one anothers throats more often than not. alexia had always and would forever be fiercely overprotective when it came to her younger sisters, and about as close to a helicopter sibling as one could be.

it was rare things got physical now alexia was thirty and knew better, never afraid to smack or shove you when she was younger and you'd be on her case about something refusing to leave her be until you got your way. now for the most part she left the wrestling and the rolling around to you and alba, rarely involving herself.

as much as she was also protective over alba, with nearly twelve years between the two of you it meant she'd adopted more of a maternal role. this only seemed to worsen once you moved in with her and she had much easier access to every little aspect of your life, trying to control as much of it as she possibly could in order to keep you safe, happy and healthy, at least in her eyes she was doing what she thought was best for you.

but this lack of autonomy, privacy and independence didn't fare well with you, and caused the two of you to clash heads frequently. olga more often than not acted as the mediator between your disputes, much more reasonable and in touch with her emotional intelligence than your sister was.

but when you'd stupidly left your laptop open on the kitchen bench having stepped out of the room to shower, alexia had snooped and found your iMessage threads with friends, head boiling as she read through weeks worth of successful executed plans to sneak out and get up to god knows what with them at all hours of the night.

so to prevent this from happening again she'd had the lock installed when you were out with your mami for lunch the next day, olga warning her against it and trying to remind her of when alexia herself was eighteen, prompting that you needed the room and space to make your own mistakes and learn from them.

warnings which of course, fell on deaf and very stubborn ears.

"stop sneaking out then and i would not have to put things in place to keep you in." alexia spoke coldly, olga squeezing her hand trying to catch her eye and encourage her to take a different approach which went ignored.

"how did you even know about-" you scoffed in disbelief, shaking your head firmly and storming back to your room. "i know everything pequeña, including what is best for you!" alexia yelled after you, having never been able to let you do anything without poking her nose in or getting involved.

"stay out of my life!" you yelled back, bedroom door slamming with such force that a picture in the hallway could be heard falling off its hook and to the floor with a thump.

a string of angry catalan leaving her mouth alexia gently moved her girlfriend off and stood, ignoring her warnings to leave you be to cool off as her footsteps raced toward your room.

olga sighed as your door could be heard being flung open and the two of you started to argue, voices raising higher each minute as both you and alexia refused to relent or budge an inch, not able to see at all where the other one was coming from.

"you looked through my personal fucking messages?" you yelled as alexia finally got angry enough to let it slip what had prompted the lock in the first place. "no! you were stupid enough to leave your laptop open." alexia defended herself as you scoffed.

"so you thought you'd read them instead of just...being a normal human being and going about your day. you're crazy alexia!" you hauled a pillow at her which she caught with ease only further fueling your rage.

"you are my responsibility pequeña. you live with me! i know what is best for you and i did what i needed to do to keep you safe. you are eighteen what if someone had taken advantage of you walking around in the middle of the night huh? mierda!" alexia spat throwing her hands up in the air.

"i wasn't walking around in the middle of the night puta i was picked up and driven to my best friends house. my best friend who i never get to see anymore because if barça's training schedule isn't enough you are always on my back about doing more." you paused to take a breath, feeling a little light headed for a moment.

"extra laps, extra weights, extra media study, extra shooting practice, extra drills, if you had your way i would never leave the pitch alexia. i need a life outside of football too, please!" your anger quickly melted away as honesty leaked through, your voice straining and eyes pleading for her to see it from your point of view.

"just because you don't have a life, doesn't mean you get to ruin mine." you spoke quietly, sitting down on the edge of your bed and rubbing your face tiredly with your hands, your sister missing all the signs that now would be a great time to wrap this up.

"football is your life, and if you don't see that then you don't belong at barça." your sisters words hurt more than you let on, face falling just for a moment before it hardened, olga now appearing realizing she should have stepped in sooner.

"get dressed, now. we have training!" alexia warned sternly, again ignoring the way her girlfriends eyes burned into the side of her head and she tugged on her shirt in warning.

"i'm not going." you spoke, eyes trained to the floor as alexia scoffed and stepped further into the room. "perdón?" she spoke, eyes drilling into you and cold tone warding you off of arguing, intimidation often her best tool of communication these days when she didn't know what else to do with you.

"mami is picking me up soon and taking me to the doctors, i have an appointment. jona already knows!" you rolled your eyes, still refusing to meet hers which bore down on you as you stood to your feet.

"why did you not tell me? what is the appointment for? i could have taken you." your sister rushed out, eyebrows furrowing as you snickered. "because my body is none of your business alexia, and you're my sister, not mami!" you grunted, pushing at her chest so she stumbled out of the room, the door quickly closing in her face.

scoffing at the gesture alexia's hand reached for the handle to push it open again, never allowing you the luxury of a lock bar the one now on your window, but fingers caught her wrist and tugged it away, olga staring up at her with a firm look and a raised eyebrow.

"sí, vale." alexia sighed, moving away from the door as her girlfriend followed after her to their own bedroom to continue the conversation.

~

"go, go go!" mapi chanted, raising from the lounge and clutching onto alexia who was sporting the same wide eyed stare as they watched the barcelona mens team play.

"bah! where was he offside huh? joder!" mapi threw her hands up with a roll of her eyes as the whistle blew and both girls dropped down into their seats with annoyed frowns.

alexia's head turned when she heard your key in the door, sure enough a few seconds later you were walking through, only alba was following you which caused her eyebrows to furrow.

"pequeña! we missed you at training." mapi greeted you with a cheer, opening her arms expectantly for a hug as you breezed right past and made a beeline for your bedroom. "what was that about?" the defender asked confused as alba joined the pair on the lounge.

"ask ale." the younger putellas chuckled with a shake of her head. "i thought mami was taking her to the doctor?" alexia ignored the previous remark and directed the question at her sister who shrugged.

"no? mami's been at work all day, i just picked her up and took her to get food." alba shrugged as alexia frowned. "from where? the doctor?" alexia sat up more as alba shook her head and her phone rang.

"no from the bus stop not too far from here. conned me into paying for her food of course, diablillo." alba rolled her eyes as mapi chuckled, the phone ringing again. "so mami didn't take her to the doctor then?" alexia clarified as alba gave her a look.

"no, why are you being so pushy?" the younger putellas questioned as alexia ignored her, the phone ringing again. "mierda! alba would you get that?" alexia snapped as it rang for the fourth time, her patience breaking.

"vale relax its not mine! its hers, took it cause she wouldn't stop taking ugly photos of me eating." alba scoffed, pushing her hips up and grabbing it out of her back pocket.

"that is hilarious." mapi chuckled as alba shoved her and clicked accept. "she's busy call back later!" your sister spoke the phone without looking, but her face clearly changed when whoever was on the other line spoke up.

"no lo siento i understand. i will have her call back soon as she can, gracias." alba spoke much more politely as the older girls beside her gave her a funny look. "amor." before alexia could question her on anything olga appeared, nodding for her to follow.

"two seconds cariño." alexia waved her off and turned back to alba as olga cleared her throat. "alexia, now." at the more serious tone the blonde was quick to her feet, ignoring her sister and best friends teasing jests after her.

"before we speak, you need to promise me you will stay calm amor." olga closed the bedroom door as alexia took a seat on the bed with a confused nod of agreement, stomach churning at the anxiety of what could be going on.

"you need to talk to your sister." olga sighed without giving much more context. "about this morning? cari i know she was upset but-" olga shook her head and cut her off.

"no, you need to talk to your sister." olga repeated as alexia's frown deepened. "i do not understand." the midfielder shook her head as olga stepped into their ensuite for a moment.

"what?" alexia questioned seeing her girlfriend had something hidden behind her back. the younger woman hesitated for a moment before slowly moving her hand, holding up something which made alexia's eyes widen.

"calm alexia, you promised me calm." olga warned as the blonde snatched it out of her hand, staring at the positive pregnancy test in disbelief. "why would i be upset? amor i did not even know you were speaking to doctors or-" as her girlfriends large hand settled on her stomach olga's eyes rolled.

"its not mine! idiota." olga smacked her on the head with a huff as alexia frowned. "then who would it-" suddenly everything clicked into place and the spanish captains blood ran cold.

"i found it in the bathroom."

"ale." olga warned seeing the instant switch in her facial features. "amor think about this and how to-" but her words fell on deaf ears as the bedroom door opened and alexia stalked back to the living room.

"maría, vaya." alexia ordered nodding to the door as the defender looked confused. "ale the game still has-" she gestured to the tv but was promptly shut down with a stern glare.

"vale, vale! i know where i am not wanted." mapi held her hands up in surrender and stood, grabbing her keys and quickly leaving the apartment to head to her own.

"we need to talk." both alba and alexia spoke in sync, frowning at one another. "you first." again they spoke at the same time rolling their eyes now, though as alexia held up the pregnancy test alba's jaw dropped.

"felicidades hermana!" the girl leapt up and tried to hug her sister who pushed her off. "it is not mine, and not olga's." at those words alba's eyes widened even further in shock.

"the call on her phone. it was a nurse with her test results, wouldn't say anything else but that she has to call back as soon as possible." alba explained, the two having a conversation entirely with their eyes before nodding and turning to head to your room.

"mi amor, go easy. if you push and yell she will just close off!" olga warned, hovering by the bedroom door respecting this was more a family matter as alba sent her a small smile, though she winced as alexia basically kicked your door open.

"hey! what i have to knock when i enter your room but you can't do that for mine?" you glared up at your sisters from your bed, spotting your phone in alba's hand. "oh i was looking for that." you sat up and held your hand out expectantly.

"alba!" you huffed when your sister didn't hand it to you, shifting a little uncomfortably as they both glared you down wordlessly. "what?" you questioned with a frown.

"what test did you have today?" alexia spoke first, voice seemingly calm as you rolled your eyes. "i told you, my body is none of your business." you repeated from earlier.

"well i know mami didn't take you, so you tell us or you can tell her." alexia threatened as you paused, looking them both over and finding no weakness you could pick at or exploit.

"i am eighteen i am an adult, i don't have to tell you or mami anything." you held firm as alba scoffed, tossing your phone onto the bed beside you. "and is that what you think you are, sí? an adult?" alexia taunted as you glared up at her.

"good, good. because you will need to be to look after a baby!" alexia yelled suddenly causing you to flinch, pulling the positive pregnancy test out of her pocket and holding it up.

"thats not mine." you spoke quickly, trying to keep your face as still and as calm as possible. "oh no? well pequeña it is not mine, not olga's, is it alba's?" alexia's voice dripped with sarcasm making your eyes roll.

"you have friends over all the time." you scoffed, crossing your arms and shrugging. "sí, friends who do not sleep with men! idiota." alexia threw the pregnancy test as you as you ducked and it went sailing behind your bed.

"the doctor called, said they have your test results hermanita. time to stop lying!" alba warned sternly, moving to stand beside your eldest sister as both of them stared you down.

"okay, it is mine." you spoke with a shrug. "we said stop lying! we-" alexia started to lecture but stopped as alba tapped her shoulder and she registered your words.

"it is yours?" "sí."

"dios mío, we're going to be tia's! we can't be tia's first, you're supposed to have a baby first." alba moaned in shock, smacking alexia and siting down at your desk in shock.

"you are too young to be having sex joder! who is the father? you're a baby you can't have a baby!" alexia roared, vein in her forehead near to exploding as alba grabbed the back of her shirt stopping her from lunging at you like she wanted.

"alba, call mami. olga!" at her call the brunette appeared in the doorway, alexia asking her to go to the chemist and get a few more tests. but all three of them stopped their fussing and planning at the sound of your laughter.

"you think this is funny?" alexia's eye twitched as she took a step closer and you nodded, ignoring both alba and olga frantically gesturing for you to stop behind her, both girls recognising the eldest putellas was about one second from exploding.

"sí, very funny." you grinned tauntingly, alexia's mouth opening and closing like a fish as the tips of her ears turned red and you laughed again.

"i'm not pregnant, idiotas" you smiled, leaning back on your hands as all three girls frowned. "but you said-" alba gestured to the test on the floor and your stomach. "it is my test, but i'm not pregnant." you replied with a shrug.

"pequeña. you have five seconds to explain before i rip your arms from your body." alexia growled, fists clenched by her side as you chuckled. "i bought it online, its a fake test that always show positive." you explained as alba's jaw dropped.

"i bought it to scare you. so now i hope you learned your lesson about snooping around in my life, alexia." you spat with a roll of your eyes, alba quick to grab her sisters wrist as she stepped toward you again.

"what about the test? the doctor called." alba pushed with a frown. "mami found a weird spot on my back last week, made me an appointment to go get it tested to make it sure wasn't cancer or anything bad. call her! she will tell you." you replied honestly, pulling down the collar of your shirt and twisting to show the marks.

"you are not pregnant?" you fixed your shirt and shook your head with an infuriatingly smug smile that had your sisters seething. "prove it."

with a shrug you bent down and grabbed a pregnancy test from your side table, assuming this would have been the outcome. "muévete por favor." you shooed your sisters out of the way as olga stepped aside and you went to the bathroom.

olga again recognizing this for now was a family matter stepped out of the room as your sisters took a seat on the edge of the bed, both were silent still trying to process everything.

"see? negative." you returned around five minutes later, handing the test to alba as both her and alexia studied it with a frown. "i peed on that you know." you reminded as your sisters face scrunched in disgust and she promptly dropped it on alexia's lap.

"alba!" the older of the two smacked it away, both starting to bicker as they wiped their hands on one another making you chuckle, the noise alerting them back to the issue at hand.

"i hope this taught you both a valuable lesson about snooping." you rolled your eyes, hands on hips and staring them down in a stance scarily similar to eli's.

"you are not pregnant?" "no." "promise? on papi?" "yes, not pregnant."

"good, dios mio." alba exhaled shakily, catching alexia's eye as they seemed to again wordlessly have a conversation, your suspicions peaking as they stood and fixed their eyes back on you.

"you go left, i'll go right, she can't outrun us both. vamos!" your eyes widened and you nearly fell to the floor in your haste to get away, both your sisters launching at you.

"olga!"

[lalunanymph]

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, child neglect, childhood trauma, flashback-heavy, language, repressed trauma, allusions to d/rug a/buse, mentions of s/moking, mentions of food, mentions of a/lcohol, explicit s/mut (sukuna x este), cuckcake-ish vibes, tension, MDNI

masterlist | playlist

He sees the invitation in his brother’s hand first thing in the morning, and wishes he hadn’t woken up in the first place. 

Groggy and still drunk from the night before partying with Ino and his gang of friends, Sukuna blinks the crust from his eyes with wary bleariness.

“What do they want now?”

He groans, recognizing the L/N family seal from a single glance.

Jin, clad in a beige sweater the color of boring and a similar pair of bland slacks, shakes his head. “I don’t know ‘Kuna. But, I think your future in-laws want to get to know you better.”

His brother tosses the invitation onto the dining table, and turns to refill his coffee while humming under his breath. Despite his hesitation and dismay, Sukuna reaches for the innocuous item, turning it around his fingers to check the edges; evaluating the invitation like its a show pony up for sale.

Constellation Snow paper with Waterman ink. 

The L/N’s were serious about their reputation.

A cruel smirk plays on the corners of his lips. Compared to the Naras, the L/N’s were shams in their society—new money desperately trying to climb the ladder. Your mother, Lia, was descended from department store royalty but chose to taint her blood with a middle-class business associate from Shibuya who scrappily acquired his own company at the age of twenty-five.

Your family’s history was thoroughly researched on by Hiromi even before the idea of marriage was put forth, attesting to the lawyer’s incredible foresight.

And now the snakes are waiting in the bushes to strike.

However much Sukuna wants to refuse this invite, it would not look good on the Itadoris if they dismissed a future business partner.

Jin, too, appears to have the same line of thought, sitting across from him with a slight frown. The buttery smell of coffee beans wafts in the air, coaxing him from his drunken fatigue.

“So?” his younger twin asks. “Are you going to say ‘yes’?” 

Sukuna turns the card over, flips it over to his brother. Jin catches it before it goes tumbling to the ground, tossing him a scowl. He unfolds it, reads through its contents quickly.

“A getaway for a week at their private mountain lodge,” he mutters wryly. “Whatever could go wrong?”

Hearing the note of amusement in Jin’s voice, Sukuna rolls his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It's so they can force us into this alliance. How else are we going to plan an escape if we’re trapped with them on a goddamn peak.”

“Is this what you see your fate as?” Jin murmurs, trying hard not to smirk. “A trap?”

“You got a better term for it?” Sukuna grouses. “You didn’t give me a chance to say ‘no’ to the whole thing. You forced my hand before I could even consent.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jin mutters, returning back to the table with a plate of toast and some butter. Sukuna tries to grab one of the brown slices, but his brother swats his hand away with a scowl that says go get your own food.

Begrudgingly, he stands to make himself a bowl of cereal before he comes to a stop.

Usually, someone would be here to take his plate, toast his bread for him, and prepare his usual fare of strawberry jam and manuka honey on the table before he could even lift a finger. Or, they would prepare the granola and milk for him on the table before he even has to ask.

“Where’s the help today?” He suddenly realizes, perturbed by their quiet absence. 

In response, Jin hums. “I gave them a day off."

Sukuna looks at him like he has grown two heads, wondering what could possess such a man to debilitate his household like this. When he would become the man of the house, Sukuna wouldn't give them a day off on a whim like his weak-hearted younger brother.

“Why? What did they do to deserve it?” 

His blood is boiling, about to spill over in his infamous temper tantrums when Jin sighs, stopping him in his tracks with his next words.

“It’s her Death Day anniversary today.”

Sukuna almost blurts out “Who?” when the sight of Jin's grim expression suddenly jogs his memory.

He immediately remembers and wishes he hadn’t been so blunt. 

Ah.

Kaori. 

The older twin shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “Happy… Death Day. I guess?” 

Sukuna was lucky Jin was in a decent mood and didn't sock him in the face for that insensitive comment. As her death was two years ago, the young air stewardess’ absence was still very much felt by her grieving husband until this day—a blow to his soft heart which he will never get over for as long as he lived.

“We need to respond to that invitation,” he switches the subject, cleaning up after himself. “Oh, and with kind consideration for our future companions, the L/N’s have also offered the Gojos and Naras an invite.”

Sukuna almost choked on his cereal. “T-the Naras are coming?” 

Without turning to him or being ticked off by the change in his older brother’s tone, Jin nods, continuing to scrub his dishes. 

“James wants to talk new business terms with Ken, and he’s interested in hearing what the guy has to offer. Also, Gojo Sr. might be bringing his best cigars. It’s unmissable.”

The older Itadori internally swore, wondering if the entire universe had just upended and gone entirely insane. 

Though he was a bastard through and through, even Sukuna could admit that having his future wife and hookup slash sorta girlfriend under one roof would be a disaster waiting to happen. 

You could never find out about him and Este. 

“That’s… interesting.”

“You can join us if you want,” Jin adds, “Only if you can keep your partying tendencies on hold for three days.”

“Just for three days?” Sukuna smirks, and Jin finally turns around, giving a look he is all too familiar with.

Throwing his hands up, the older Itadori shrugs, trying his best to look as innocent as possible.

“You know me, Jin-Jin. I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Darling, we must hurry,” your father scolds, and you struggle to keep up with them in your tottering heels. Behind you, your mother shoos you down the tarmac, towards the humming private jet ready to depart. 

“We can’t keep the Itadoris waiting!” 

The maids rush with your bags, one of them carrying your fur trimmed hat in case it flutters off your head.

Once the butlers had stowed away your luggage, each of them formed a line and bowed to you and your parents as the three of you climbed up the airstairs, waving you off with polite smiles.

“I can’t believe we’re going to spend three whole days with the Itadoris,” Lia gushes as the cabin crew starts to pat down the overhead compartments, doing their final checks. She looks radiant in her mink-trimmed fur coat hanging off her shoulders, the picture of elegance with her sleek bodycon dress and sparkling golden jewelry dripping from her throat and ears.

Relaxing into the muted beige seat, you nod. “Me, too. I wonder what activities Itadori-san likes.”

In comparison to her, you're dressed in all monochrome; your stylist came in at the nick of time to take inspiration from some of his ex-girlfriends' winter fashion—settling you into a ribbed sweater dress with some stylish earmuffs and a black trench coat that feels like a million bucks under your splayed palms.

Your mother turns to your father who was trying to catch his breath, shaking out his handkerchief to pat his shining face.

“Jiro, darling. Do you think it’s brazen if we request for them to share a room together?” 

Your father looks over his half-moon spectacles, tilting his head to the side. “Itadori-san and our daughter? Well, I don’t see why not.”

You blanch, but before you are able to voice your discontent, an air stewardess glides by with three flutes of champagne. Setting it down, she asks in a soft voice if you were all ready for refreshments.

Unsure how to broach the subject, you stew in your disappointment for the entire plane ride to Hokkaido, glad you chose the window seat so you could spend a little more time alone in your thoughts.

Your phone vibrates with a text, and you switch it on to find Utahime sending you a GIF of a cat waving a good luck banner.

Smiling to yourself, you respond with another cat GIF, this one sticking its face to a window with its whiskers twitching sorrowfully, and put your phone on silent for takeoff.

Iori could always make you smile, no matter how nervous you are. You kind of wish she could be here with you. Staring out at the passing scenery below, you tilt your head back, wondering what kind of carnage awaits at the base of mountainous Hokkaido.

Since striking lucky with his marriage to your mother, your father began divesting his profits into property, and the 5,000 feet lodge instantly became the highlight of his purchases. 

Imposing and standing firm on fortified concrete to withstand the harsh, cold mountain air, your childhood days were spent playing in the narrow hallways, fashioned similarly to the labyrinth-like interior of Europe’s oldest castles. Your parents absolutely adored German architecture with its spiraling spires and brick red slates upon such historical monuments, and wanted to emulate the design right on the slopes of Hakodate. 

It’s been years since I’ve seen the lodge. 

The last time you were there, you were just shy of your sixteenth birthday. 

Bright-eyed, and romantically wistful. You often imagined how pretty it would be to walk along the grand balcony as the sun performed its final best for the day; orange rays soaking your skin from head to toe as you admire nature's best while hand-in-hand with a man you love.

And now, your fantasies have a chance of turning into reality. 

You wonder how Sukuna will feel when he sees the spires, the chimneys, and the cozy old brick walls that allows for the warmth of the house to seep into them despite the persistent chill.

He would be impressed—you like to think he might be a bit more polite once he sees your family is just like his. Just as powerful and grand and worthy. 

Smiling secretly to yourself, you swallow down an Ambien, slip on your headphones, and settle into the comfortable seats for the start of your wildest hopes coming true.

The private car taking them up the winding road almost makes Sukuna turn green around the edges.

Jin sits beside him, a faint flush on his cheeks from the cold despite not having reached the mountain’s first base. Their mother used to always tease how he was the easiest to blush or bruise; so much different from his staunch older brother.

“The weather is lovely,” his twin muses.

Sukuna stares out the window, not bothering to hide his sulky mood. His phone is off, his last text from Este snidely insulting the L/N’s on how they only had two private hot springs in their lodge went unreplied. 

He hasn’t bothered to respond to her because he’ll see her soon enough. 

Fuck… this is some twisted shit. A part of him still can’t wrap his head around the fact that his situationship and future fiance would be in the same room together. 

Jin hums, breaking him from his thoughts, and after a brief lull, shoots up excitedly, tapping the driver’s seat. “It’s this one! We’re here.”

Unable to match his enthusiasm, Sukuna sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. The driver stops the Jeep right in front of the lodge, and for a split second, Sukuna wonders if the Ambien he took on the private-plane ride here accidentally knocked him out long enough for them to appear in the middle of Heidelberg or some far flung place in fucking Europe. 

This lodge had fucking spires, for god’s sake. 

He can’t help the bubble of distaste gurgling in his chest when he sees such opulence in the middle of nowhere. Inaccessible to the base unless with a Jeep and a day’s worth of travel, one could only imagine the amount needed to keep a money drainer like this going. 

They’re rubbing their wealth in our face, he sneers inwardly. What a nouveau riche thing to do. 

A butler rushes out to hoist their bags, allowing Jin and him the leisure to crane their necks and take in more of the grand rooms. Wooden timber floors echo the dull thuds of their boots, high beams in the same honey color wood arching and intersecting, opening the living room into an expansive ceiling and windows that seem to touch the sky. 

The interior is tasteful with accents of natural wood on the walls, a spiral staircase, and a large fireplace that’s happily belching heat across a sunken pit fitted with black corduroy sofas. A flat screen TV is on, and Sukuna almost misses a bundle moving from the end of the chair, walking right to them.

You're in a silky black dress with a sweetheart neckline, house slippers on your perfectly manicured feet. So different from the beige and bland girl he saw at the cafe that Sukuna has to hide his double take behind a sudden cough, the tips of his ears feeling a little bit warmer than before.

Jin is the one who smiles widely, bowing low. “Y/N. It’s good to see you.”

Returning his gesture, you grin. “It’s lovely to see you too, Itadori-san,” and not forgetting Sukuna, you added, “You too, Itadori-san.”

“Please, call me Jin,” the younger twin extends a note of familiarity and you receive it graciously with another smile. 

From the corner of his eye, Jin glances at Sukuna, as if expecting him to drop all formalities with the woman who was soon to be his wife. But, the older twin did no such thing; nodding to you in greeting while keeping his antipathy closely tucked to his chest.

“Hello again, Y/N.” 

Though his abrupt unfriendliness puts you off, you plaster on your best hostess smile, about to show the two brothers to their rooms when your mother’s shrill voice pierces through the quiet. 

“Jin-san! Itadori-san!” Exuberant, she bounces down the steps, fresh from a shower and wearing a new coat of makeup after the dreary flight. “You’re both here!” 

Jin takes her hand, and in a gallant gesture you never expect him to do, presses the back of it to his lips. “Lovely to see you again, Lia.”

You never thought you’d see the day when your mother stutters like a schoolgirl in love. She coughs, batting her lashes and turns to the older twin. “Itadori-san.” To him, she bows slightly, showing him deference as the older brother in this dynamic. This time, Sukuna returns her bow, knowing full well that to lord his rank over them would be disrespectful to his host.

“Lia-san. You look well.”

Beaming at the two men, your mother sinks her fingers into your shoulders. “I’m so happy you finally got to meet Y/N in person, Jin-san. Isn’t she lovely?” 

Diplomatic to a fault, the younger twin nods. “She is as lovely as you are, Lia-san.” 

Expectantly, she turns to Sukuna, who clears his throat, his skin suddenly crawling from all eyes on him. “The cold air does wonders for all of us,” were his words. You feel your mother’s fingers digging deeper. 

Sparing the room from an awkward note, you clear your throat. “Shall we show them to their rooms, mom?” Emphasizing on the last word, you effectively break Lia’s spell, her million dollar modeling smile back on. 

“Yes. Yes. Jin-san, I hope you don’t mind rooming with Gojo Satoru when he arrives. He barely sleeps, but then again, so do you. I’m afraid his father couldn’t make it due to a sudden stomach bug so he’s the only one representing the Gojos.” 

Jin remains genial. “I would love to catch up with Satoru when he arrives.”

“Perfect.” She turns her smile to Sukuna, who feels every expectation surrounding him amplifying; dread pools in his stomach when the physical embodiment of lies and deception starts deepening her grin. Lia unclasps one hand from your shoulder to grip Sukuna’s bicep.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty to make a special arrangement for you, Itadori-san.”

He wonders if they’re going to put him with your father in a separate room; already the picture of the older man’s twisted words and smarmy grin come to his mind, trying to force his hand to hurry up and marry you.

But, what Lia says is much worse than his imagination could conjure. Her hand on his arm burns hot and prickles his skin past the cashmere sleeve.

“I’ve put a room together just for you and my daughter, of course.”

Jin swears he’s never had to drag Sukuna out from a room fast enough. 

His brother seethes, hands clenching open and close while he tries to find a quiet enough spot so the older twin doesn’t explode into a raging temper tantrum. 

“‘Kuna, it’s okay,” he consoles, but Sukuna doesn’t want to hear it. 

“How dare they think they can do this!” His jaw tenses, veins popping from his neck. The kitchen is empty, though for it to be free of errant eyes and ears, Jin can’t be sure.

“Hey, come on—don’t lose it here now,” Jin begs. 

The older twin’s volatile temper is hard to predict and even harder to cool down once he reaches that peak of no return. To think it would be triggered by a simple room assignment would be comical if Jin has had a few beers, but this just solidifies to him how acutely Sukuna truly resents you.

It takes Jin aback. You’re such a sweet person; a kind soul. Why would his brother react in such a way to you was a mystery to the younger man. He doesn't have time to prod further. Voices ring down the hallway, and Jin recognizes Adam Nara’s jolly baritone, following Gojo Sr.’s cheerful greeting to your father.

The other players have entered the game. Jin couldn't afford to lose face now.

He grabs his brother by the shoulders and shakes him a little. 

“Listen, shit face. Our enemies and alliances are just beyond this door. If you love ka-san and oto-san—” Scratch that. Sukuna cares for no one but himself. Jin shakes his head. “If you care about the money and getting your inheritance, I need you to pull yourself together. Just for this evening. Got it?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond, and Jin’s no longer the nice, younger brother he has to be in front of others. He transforms into Itadori Jin, de facto Chairman of Itadori Holdings, his shoulders squared and mouth set in a firm line. Purely meaning business.

If he wasn’t in such a rage, Sukuna would find the change impressive; he’s almost quivering in his boots. 

“You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to play nice, you hear me?” There’s a threat hidden behind his calm words—the edge of a sharp knife wrapped in between soft sheets. “You will be polite to Y/N, treat her parents with respect and you will be married by the end of this month, am I clear?” 

It stung. It bruises his ego to have Jin control his life. 

But, didn’t you give up the crown when you decided to leave the family and make it on your own? A small, bitter voice in the back of his head quips. 

He’s quick to shoot it down, though a lingering sense of loathing balloons in his chest. It’s humiliation and resignation all in one. Sukuna pauses for a second, letting Jin stew in his anger, before slowly nodding.

His younger brother exhales, and releases his death grip from his twin’s shoulders. 

“Good. If you’re antsy about the room situation, you can always tell Lia you want to protect her daughter’s virtue. It’ll be a decent enough reason and score you brownie points with the family.”

Jin’s words which were meant to soothe and comfort him, strikes a chord, flipping the switch in his mind. Excitement bubbles right in the pit of his stomach.

If I can’t change my fate in this arrangement, maybe I can influence it. 

“No,” he says coolly, taking his brother aback. “I’ll do it.” Jin stares at him as if someone had just swooped in and switched his twin with a different man. 

Is he planning something insidious? Though the Itadori Chairman has his suspicions, he can’t outright call his brother out on it—not when Sukuna is making the effort to appease and honor the deal.

“Okay,” Jin says slowly, though the note of hesitation and distrust is palpable. 

Sukuna maintains his innocent facade with a blank mask, the markings on his face starker under the orange light.

Jin represses a shudder, trying not to let the memory of that day come up again.

The voices outside grow louder, and he can scarcely ignore them.

Duty’s calling and he has to answer.

“Alright,” he murmurs into the quiet. “Let’s go outside to meet them.” Before Sukuna can leave, Jin grasps his shoulder, forcing him to round back and look at him.

Wearing a look awfully similar to Wasuke, Jin wags his finger. 

“Remember, ‘Kuna. No fucking funny business.”

He stops, rolls his eyes and plants a crooked smile in place. It’s the smile that could win any girl over into his bed for the night no matter her relationship status; reassures the most fidgety investor that their returns would be safe with him.

“You have nothing to worry about, Jin. No funny business—I promise.”

Itadori Wasuke wasn’t just a father—he was the blueprint to Jin’s lifepath. 

Ever since he could walk and talk, Jin loved following his dad around—tottering into meetings, plopping himself onto the older man’s lap and grabbing the papers on his desk to drool over them. 

Despite his status as a ruthless businessman and one of the shrewdest minds in transportation, Wasuke loved nothing more than to indulge his boys with time, wisdom, and guidance. He would never push his youngest away—always with a firm hand and a soothing voice to lead him in the right direction. 

Rainy days were Jin’s favorite. His father usually sat himself in the parlor with a cigarette and the latest paper, relaxing after a day filled with nothing but meetings.

The memory of him clambering on the couch next to him, curls of nicotine smoke filling the air, was such a vivid one Jin still thinks he can smell the tobacco on his skin. 

“What’re you doing here?” His father’s faded pink hair, a rarity in this world which he passed to his two sons, shone like silk under the amber lighting, those red-brown eyes dancing with mirth at the sight of his golden child. 

Jin fiddles with his fingers, suddenly aware of the secret he was holding and how much it could ruin his father’s mood. But, he had no choice. He had to tell his dad before the maids could beat him to it and get his nii-san into more trouble than he already was in.

“Um… it’s ‘K-Kuna, oto-san.”

At the mention of his oldest, Wasuke snaps the paper close, the fine lines around his mouth deepening.

“What happened to him? Did he do something wrong again?” 

Blaming Sukuna was a default in the Itadori home. Sometimes, Jin overhears his father lamenting to his mother past the thin doors, wondering where and how he went wrong in raising two sons who were as different as day and night.

“He… made a bet at school and…” Jin sucks in a breath.

Putting the newspaper down, Wasuke’s attention was fully on him, those vermillion eyes ablaze. “Well? What happened? Did he hurt someone?”

Flinching, Jin shakes his head. His brother may be a jerk and a rebel, but Sukuna would never hurt someone intentionally. Deep down in his heart, the youngest twin was sure of it. 

“He made a bet with some boys and lost and he—” Jin exhales out the last part in one, frighteningly quick breath. “—hewentandgothisfacetattooed.”

His father blinks. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt, pushed past his elbows were stretched across his taut arms, as if he was holding himself back from slamming his fists into the table.

“Where is he?” Deceptively calm; a storm brewing in the distance.

Jin naively hoped his father would put things right again—talk some sense into Sukuna to get those tattoos removed from his face and arms.

They were the Itadoris, a respectful house.

How was his nii-san supposed to lead a company when he didn’t look professional at all? And not to mention, they were both fifteen—they were too young to think about permanent inks and bets.

Wasuke seems to echo his youngest son’s thoughts, sinking back into the plush, leather sofa and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Jin can tell his father is going through a range of emotions—the blood rushes to his face, leaves his cheeks red, puce, and then sickeningly green around the edges.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

“Thank you for telling me, Jin,” his father finally manages to compose himself enough to pat his head. “You can go back to bed now. I’ll speak to Sukuna when he comes back home.”

Stiffly, the youngest twin stands, bowing once to his dad. He wishes the old man a goodnight and trudges back to bed, unaware of a woman lurking in the corner who slinks into the room, having heard everything that transpired between her husband and son.

“—what did he do now?”

A resounding crash shakes the walls, and Jin freezes, darting behind a potted plant to listen in.

His mother’s shrieks filter past the flimsy wood; their argument front and center for the whole house to hear.

Jin hears snatches of the altercation, his heart plummeting right to his stomach.

“—your son!” His father roars.

“You mean, our son!” his mother yells back. There’s another crash, and Jin covers his ears, shaking his head from side to side.

Make it stop, please. Make it stop. 

The guilt eats him alive, especially when he hears what his father says next.

“Fifteen years I’ve been tolerating that boy, but it has to end here. He can’t keep misbehaving as if the world owes him everything at his feet. If this keeps up—” Wasuke swears, and a heavy object crashes into the wall. His mother shrieks. “—I’ll make Jin my heir!” 

At the mention of his name, the young boy freezes, not daring to even breathe.

His father can't make him the heir. It would break his older brother's heart.

“You can’t!” she sobs. “It’s against the natural rule of things! Sukuna is set to inherit the fortune. You can’t change the order of our world, Wasuke!”

His father laughs, a terrifying, full belly roar which makes the ground shake and his chest cave in. 

“I can and I will. You watch me, woman. The will is mine and mine alone to execute. If you keep this up—protecting that stupid boy when he doesn't deserve it, I will send him to the military and keep him there until he finally grows a spine and some common sense, you hear?! I can have him killed in battle—”

Kasumi screams again, and this time, it claws straight through Jin’s soul; a wounded animal sound of a mother terrified for her young.

“Dear, please. He’s only a boy. Only a child. You can’t expect the world of him. He is your blood and flesh—”

“Someone this idiotic and foolish will never be my son and I will never claim him!” 

From the corner of his eye, Jin spots movement by the stairs. His brother, backpack slung across his shoulder, skin around his face and arms mottled and red from the tattoos, pauses at the top step.

“He has done nothing but bring shame to the Itadori name!” 

Wasuke bellows, his next words rattling the roof and breaking every heart within the vicinity; most of all, his oldest son’s who had innocently stumbled into the middle of the fray without any warning. 

“I wouldn’t care if he lived or died! I have Jin and he’s the better choice.” A loaded exhale—a reloading of more emotionally charged bullets. 

“You and that bastard can fucking rot to death for all I care."

Sukuna rubs a hand down his face, feeling the steam clinging onto his pores. 

The onsen was quiet tonight, everyone in the house either up in the parlor drinking, smoking, or by the sunken sofa fireplace, exchanging gossip about another up-and-coming family or an investment scheme gone wrong. 

He’s never been one to belong in a world like this, so Sukuna had taken his leave early after dinner with the excuse that he was feeling a headache coming along. The maids had already hauled his suitcase up to the suite he would be sharing with you, and thankfully, you were locked in a conversation with Gojo Satoru, the only other person around his, Jin’s, Este’s, and your age on this trip to notice he had gone missing. 

While his brother plays along with the whims of the upper echelon, Sukuna prefers to submerge his tired body in the mineral-dense waters. 

Though the woman he was fucking was here, too, Sukuna had reservedly given her a one-sided hug when Este walked in, green eyes sparkling and looking like the picture of allure in her ermine coat and slinky black dress. Throughout dinner, she kept on glancing at him, and he tried to pretend like her eyes didn’t bore holes into the side of his head; that her accusatory glare didn’t feel hot on the back of his neck when he was forced to sit beside you during dessert, striking up an awkward conversation.

For your part, you had no idea the woman whose bed he warms is in the same room as you, and Sukuna likes to keep it that way. There will be hell to pay if word of this gets out. 

Footsteps resound, prickling his ears. Through the steam and fog of this glass room, he makes out a familiar figure walking right towards him, clad in just a towel.

“Sukuna-san.”

Este stands, long brown hair shimmering like a coat of silky chocolate down her back, the rise of her collarbones already flushing red from the steam. There’s a look in her eyes that spells trouble when she slinks closer towards him.

Acutely aware of his nakedness, Sukuna does nothing but a cock a brow in her direction.

“Getting bolder now, I see.”

But, he doesn’t stop her from sinking one foot into the natural hewn pool, her towel melting off her body and falling in a heap behind her.

He unabashedly drinks in her curves; the mole on her left breast he loves to bite down on, those puckered nipples tightening from the humidity. The planes of her abs defined from years of pilates led right to a smattering of dark hair near her pubic bone, and he caught the slightest glance of that little hole he loves when she parts her legs, sitting comfortably against the rock across from him.

Rolling her neck from side to side, Este sighs deeply.

“What a bore this is. I honestly thought mom would let me smoke here, but she says she doesn’t want to give the Gojo’s a wrong idea.” Her full lips twist into a sneer. “You’re not looking any better.”

He scoffs, splashing her with the warm water. Este shrieks, giving him a murderous glare.

Outside, a light snowfall starts to descend, tiny flakes lingering on the transparent dome. It’s ethereal and romantic, though the woman in front of him ruins his view. 

You stand by the door, unsure if you should step in when you see Sukuna and another gorgeous woman in the onsen. They’re both bickering, and Sukuna stops when he notices you about to turn and leave.

“Hey. Join us.”

His low baritone is crisp. Commanding.

You can’t turn away, not when he’s already noticed you.

Plastering on a fake smile, you shake your head, trying to beat a hasty retreat. “M-my bad, Itadori-san. Nara-san. I thought the onsen was empty—”

Este, daughter of James Nara and one of the richest trust fund babies in Japan, snorts. She’s beautiful, but something about her sharp features and those plump lips makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s as if she’s a bloodhound, trying to sniff out your weakness. She bares her too white teeth and you’re reminded of a Great White seconds away from snapping a fish’s spine in half.

“Nonsense. This is your house, Y/N-san. You should join us. We want to know everything about you.”

The back of your neck prickles, and it’s not from the heat. 

Sludges of white gather atop the dome, trickling down to the packed ground like you were stuck inside a live snow globe. Your smile tightens around the edges and you clutch the towel in a numb grip, mind blanking out on an excuse.

These onsens were your private escape from the real world, and you rarely took a dip naked in front of your own family, let alone a pair of strangers.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, growing annoyed at your floundering and hesitation. “Look. Either you join us, or you leave us to continue our conversation. We were in the middle of something.”

Cheeks flushing warmly, you felt the chill deepening in your soul. Your smile never broke, but you darted your eyes away from his indifferent expression, corners of your lips quivering.

Snapping your mouth shut, you nod. “I… I’ll leave you two alone, then.”

The minute you leave the room, Este turns to him. “Ouch. That was kinda harsh.”

Sukuna snorts, and with the knowledge of you not returning into the room now that he had humiliated you, he brazenly draws Este to his lap, nuzzling his face into her neck.

She purrs, looking like the cat who got the cream when she straddles his lap, letting him feast his hungry eyes over her perfect body. The tip of her acrylic traces down the tattoo near his jaw, and that diabolical smile of hers deepens. 

“That was your fiance, Ryomen. You should be nicer to her.”

He makes a sound of disagreement in the back of his throat, moving his cool lips from the hollow of her neck to the rise of her breasts. Licking and sucking at her nipples, he alternates, biting down on the flesh, blowing on those buds to watch them harden into stiff, pink peaks. Her soft moans carry together with the steam rising to the top of the glass ceiling; those verdant eyes rolling back into her head from the shivers he was wracking in her body.

“Stop talking about her,” he murmurs, lifting her up slightly by the hips and sliding his already throbbing cock deep into her twitching heat. She winces, stabs her nails into his shoulders from the sudden stretch. “I need to fuck you.”

She ticks her hips forward, a little slutty show just for him. Sukuna can tell the idea of fucking him with you under the same roof is driving her wild.

“m’not on the pill today,” she whispers into the hot shell of his ear, running her tongue over the delicate ridges. Sukuna’s fingers are bruising her hips, rutting deep into her. He likes how she takes him without complaint or prep—the perfect hole to be used and abused. 

He’s thrusting into a spot inside of her that’s too deep to reach, snaking his hand around her throat and squeezing down hard.

“Don’t care,” he breathes heavily, vermillion eyes hooded; harsh tattoos lining his face jumping out from under the low light. “Just pop something after.”

He’s evil and tantalizing—the devil she readily gives her body to whenever he snaps his fingers.

Este nods, leaning back to brace her hands against his strong thighs, eager to please him. 

“Yes, Sir.”

It was once said that the greatest artists in this world found contentment within their own solitude where their wildest inspirations could come to life with no judgment from the public eye. 

Though you could not compare to Van Gogh or Monet, you had to admit that there was a shred of truth to those words. 

Mountain air fills your lungs, and you span your gaze towards the horizon as your eyes can see. The easel you requested the butlers to prepare was your standing guard, the blank canvas leaning on it your enemy to parry with.

Like a writer hunched over their incomplete manuscript, your art block was equally as vicious. The lines and colors eluded you, and you could not focus a single thought on what was to be the final outcome. 

You could paint the view, but it was overdone and frankly, expected.

Maybe you could dig deep into the stinging pain in your chest you felt the night before and scoop it up, smear it across the blank whiteness, and stain it with your embarrassment and indignation.

Sighing deeply, you lean back on the stool, setting your paintbrush down and rubbing the back of your neck.

“Art block can be a bitch, huh?” 

You whirl around to find a tall man with a mop of white hair approaching you with his hands in his bathrobe pockets, wearing a charming, lopsided smile. 

“Gojo-san,” you immediately straighten and he waves your formalities away. 

“Satoru,” he says and looks you up and down. “You left last night. After dessert. Smart.”

Letting out a gust of breath you didn’t know you were holding, you tilt your head to the side in confusion. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, just your parents pulling us into the parlor for some charades,” he chuckles at the recollection, and this close, you can’t help but notice even his eyelashes are the color of powdery white snow. “It’s been a while since I went on a family getaway. I’m not much of a homey son, you see. I rarely spend time with family and would much rather be handling business.”

“Ha,” you snort, and then, slap a hand over your mouth as if to cover for your mistake. 

Though word in your world runs rampant, no news came faster (even to a wallflower like you) of how rebellious and unorthodox the Gojo family’s only son was.

Satoru’s bright eyes, the color of a melted icy river in the middle of summer, seems to twinkle at your slip-up.

“Did I say something amusing?”

You quickly shake your head, though your warm cheeks betray you. “N-no, Gojo-s—Satoru.”

Cursing your careless mouth and actions, you take this moment to turn back to your canvas, picking up your paintbrush and pretending to concentrate on your next stroke.

Undeterred by your lack of forthcoming conversation, you feel him approaching you from the back, coming to stand over your shoulder.

“You know, if you wanted to lie, you could’ve done so by telling me how I absolutely do not deserve the Gojo Chairman position.” Those eyes sparkle with barely concealed mirth. “Or, don’t you agree with what everyone else is saying?” 

Gaping, you turn to him. “Wh—Satoru, that’s a cruel thing for me to say to someone I barely know!”

That amused grin never left his sightly lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how well-moisturized they were. Not even a dry fleck of skin on them, despite the atrociously cold weather.

As if noticing your train of thought, Gojo smiles and changes the subject. “It’s awfully cold out here. Why are you painting in the middle of such freezing weather?”

The words tumble past your defenses before you could rein them in, yet another slip up from your distracted morning. “I find the cold air to be refreshing. It helps to clear my mind.”

Gojo stands there, back straight, and for a single moment, you can imagine him in the middle of a boardroom, scrutinizing a subordinate and catching them in the middle of a flimsy lie.

But, you were not his employee, and Satoru was a welcomed guest under your roof. He could not overstep his boundaries.

“I see.” 

It seems he has something he wants to say but can’t put forth; the minute struggle in those cerulean blue eyes gives away a deeper meaning. The vulnerable connection that trembles between both your held gazes dissipates like fine mist—never there in the first place—and he’s back to being his usual cryptic, teasing self.

“I shall leave you alone then, Miss Y/N. Ah, my apologies.” He smacks his forehead, correcting his mistake instantly. 

“Wrong name. I hope you have a wonderful painting session… Mrs. Itadori to-be.”

That night, you return to the huge double rooms to find your fiance out cold.

His broad back turned towards the wall, arm dangling from the edge of the huge, ornate sofa your mother personally sourced from Istanbul. You try and fail to hide your surprise, wondering what he’s done to venture into your part of the room.

The memories twist and turn, rising like black smoke from the ashes of your dismay and stinging disappointment at how petty Sukuna could be.

“You’re sleeping on the sofa,” he mumbles, “I don’t do well with company in my bed.” 

You’re about to argue, when he takes the room, slamming the door closed and clicking it shut. At least the maids had left out some pillows and a blanket on the sofa for you both to divide and claim… but if Sukuna didn’t want you near him, shouldn’t he be a gentleman and take the couch instead? 

There’s no soothing the prickling shame you feel when you realize your fiance has given you the cold shoulder in a space that belongs to your family. Belonged to you. Is this how he will treat me for the entire marriage? You approach the door, about to bang on it with your fists when you hear the first stirrings of a snore. 

Faltering, you bite your lower lip. To risk waking Sukuna up and infuriating him further which would ruin the entire arrangement your family was trying to secure for you… or to bite your tongue for a night and hope he would be more forgiving come morning? 

You sighed, plodding over to the sofa, still in your dress which Okura-san sourced straight from an underground Chinese designer—the same talent Sukuna’s last ex-girlfriend, Sora Hyuk, was fond of. Thumbing the hem, you feel like tearing it off and throwing it into the fireplace, your cheeks warm with embarrassment and resentment.

If only your parents could see you now. 

The truth was, you could tell them what Sukuna had done—how he had embarrassed you so openly and without hesitation right in the heart of your vacation home. But, knowing your parents and how diligent they were with moving up the ladder, your complaints would be nothing but fodder for them to sneer at when they were both alone.

A daughter is nothing but a bartering chip. That is what your mother had once told you. 

And that is why, despite how coldly Sukuna had locked you out of the shared room, you took comfort in the antechamber where no one, not even the maids, could come in without your permission. 

Good thing the fire is burning, you thought, as you kicked off your slippers and sank into the soft couch, trying to drift off into an uneasy sleep. I'll count that as a small blessing for today.

Blinking back the painful reminder, you’re about to roughly shake him off the sofa, marching towards him with your expression scrunched up in anger.

Grabbing his shoulder, you give it a push, and he barely moves.

“Oi,” you huff. “Wake up. You’re in my spot.”

Another push. Sukuna doesn’t even groan.

Suddenly, a chilling sensation seizes over you. Without wasting time, you flip him onto his back, bracing yourself on the edge of the wide sofa. 

Sukuna’s eyes are rolled back into his head, the whites of them shining under the warm, orange light of the chandelier above. You scream and try to shake him, smacking his shoulder to rouse him back from unconsciousness. When he doesn’t move, you grab the first thing you see—a cup of tea you were halfway drinking in the morning, long cold and still with the tea bag attached—and throw it right into his face.

Immediately, his eyes snap back, pupils smaller than pinpricks as he roughly grasps you, dragging you under his bigger build.

Flecks of black tea fall into your face, almost dripping into your wide open mouth, frozen in a mid-shriek.

“What the fuck did you do?” He snarls, and without warning, the tea bag clinging for its dear life on top of his head slides off his pink locks and plops right onto your cheek. 

Sukuna grabs it and brings it closer to his face, sneering at the small brown-soaked sachet and tossing it over his shoulder with his scarily fast reflexes.

“You weren’t responding,” you stutter, pointing one trembling finger to his eyes. “And your eyes were rolled back. I—I thought you were having a seizure.”

“I wasn’t.” His nostrils flare, and those piercing red-brown eyes feel like they could dig right into your soul; scooping up your second-hand embarrassment and smearing it all over your shell-shocked face. “You had no fucking right to pull such a stunt on me—who the fuck do you think you are?”

It’s the most he’s ever spoke to you, and it riles you up how defensive he’s being—like you were some nuisance of a toddler purposely destroying his expensive things and not someone who was trying to save his fucking life.

Who did this man take you for?

You open your mouth, but he beats you to the punch. 

“Don’t ever touch me without my permission. Do you understand me?” 

You snap your mouth close, feeling the chagrin and indignation brimming behind your eyes. If he didn’t let you go right this instant, you were going to burst out in tears right in front of him—an act which would surely annoy him more rather than make him suddenly tender to your afflictions. 

It’s like he doesn't even have a heart.

Thankfully, Sukuna releases your wrists and rolls off you. 

“We both can’t sleep on the sofa since it’s fucking stained with tea—no thanks to you.” His expression is like someone had shoved sour powder down his throat. “I suppose… there’s the room.”

You don’t even try to hide the disbelieving confusion bleeding across your face. This man who nearly threw a fit because you had tried to resuscitate him… was buying into the idea of sharing a bed with you? 

“But, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you without your permission?”

An honest inquiry. You had only wanted to remind him of the words he said to you in case he thought you hadn’t clocked it in.

However, the reaction you receive confirms everything you implicitly knew and more: Sukuna, without a doubt, hated your entire guts for reasons unknown to you. 

Those vermillion eyes become glacial, freezing over any attempt at diffusing the tension in this situation you were trying your hardest to salvage. 

“Who said you would be on the bed?” He gestures behind his back, towards the room you were forbidden from sleeping in despite your family name stamped on this lodge.

“The floor’s comfy,” his callous words chill you right to your soul; you think you might actually start to lose it because of how cruel he’s being to you. “You can take it, can’t you?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you physically have to will the tears away—not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. 

“Yes,” you murmur softly, turning your gaze to the floor. 

You have to do this—you don't have a choice. 

For the sake of this arrangement. For the sake of your father’s business. 

“You can take the bed. I’ll take the floor… Itadori-san.” 

After another day in the mountains, your mother thought it was a good idea to bond with you over a foot massage. 

There’s a Thai massage parlor down at the base of the mountain, their herbal baths and footstone rubs rumored to cure even the worst altitude sickness. Driving past the winding mountainous edge slowly, the car ride was bumpy, jolting you with jerkish movements that make your head spin. As the Range Rover idles to a stop, the driver opens the doors, and your mother steps out, barely paying him any attention.

Meanwhile, you turn to the older driver and whisper, “Thank you,” while handing him a ¥1,000 bill. He takes it with a bright grin, tips his hat, and waits inside the humming vehicle as you both get started on your pampering session. 

“Sit here, Y/N,” Lia waves you over, completely ignoring the masseuse ushering her to another seat further back.

You follow your mother obediently, taking the reclining chair next to her. 

The leather creaks under your weight as you slowly slide to a comfortable position. Glancing at your mother, you’re surprised to see her eyes sparkling, and she’s close enough to grip your arm, excitedly shaking your shoulder. “So?” she demands, and you give her a confused look.

“So… what?”

“Sukuna, you dummy,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. If there was a man here, he would stop dead in his tracks, enamored by your mother’s alluring and natural sass. 

Thankfully, the masseuses were all foreign women, and as they washed your feet with soap and warm water, you hesitantly updated here about your living situation with Sukuna.

“He’s nice enough,” you mumble weakly. Lia taps her milky white French tips on the chair’s arm, waiting for you to add more. 

“Um.” You flounder. “He’s a heavy sleeper, too—barely moves when we sleep next to each other.”

Another lame addition. This time, her nose crinkles. If only she could be a fly on your bedroom wall, seeing how Sukuna treats you with disdain and exasperation; making you sleep on the floor while he hogs the king-sized bed all for himself.

“It sounds like you’re both barely speaking to one another,” Lia deduces, arching a perfectly groomed brow. “Is that right?” 

You deflate. If there’s one person in the world who can call you out on your bullshit, it would be the woman who birthed and raised you. “Yes.” You finally admit. “I can’t seem to crack through him, mom. He’s so guarded.”

At your rising frustration, she hums and leans back, eyes falling close. You follow the same, feeling the older masseuse’s firm knuckles rubbing up and down your aching Achilles tendon. 

There’s nothing filling your senses but the smell of lemongrass oil and the warmth of the heaters blowing hot air circulating around the room. Someone places a cup of tea and biscuits on your left side table, and you open your eyes; picking up the brew and enjoying the sourish sweet tang of lemongrass tea on your tongue.

“Sukuna-san is a notoriously hard man to know because of his upbringing.”

You pause, cup hovering close to your lips. Setting it down on the lacquered wood table with a crisp click, you frown. 

“What do you mean, mom?” 

Lia opens her eyes, staring up the ceiling as she rummages in her memories for a recollection you weren’t aware of. 

“Sukuna-san’s mother—Kasumi—passed away when he was just 18. Wasuke, his father, followed her 3 years after, and they made Jin Itadori heir because Sukuna fled Tokyo and stayed in Madrid for almost a decade.”

Filled with curiosity, you furrow your brows. “Did they say why he left home in such a rush?” 

“No one knows,” your mother clarifies. “But, one day, he showed up, and Jin took him back in—the prodigal brother making his return.”

“I bet it would’ve been interesting to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” you snort.

Lia gives you a look. “It wasn’t. I heard the rumors that both brothers were more than estranged—they barely spoke to each other in that decade when Sukuna was missing. But, Jin has always been a kind man, and he let his brother’s misdoings slide—just wanting him to come back home.”

You feel a begrudging sense of respect for the younger Itadori twin. “He seems more like my match than Sukuna-san.”

Your words were meant to be a joke, but it rubs Lia the wrong way. She scowls, lifting a brow. “Don’t you even dare to think of something like that, Y/N.” 

Instantly chastised, you quieten. Lia continues, on a roll from your careless remark. 

“Jin-san loves his wife too much—she passed away during childbirth and he treasures Yuuji more than any gold in this world. He would not spare you a second look, and so, Sukuna was chosen for you.”

“But, why?” 

Frustration bedevils you, and you spew out the first question on your mind. “Why would Sukuna-san be a better match for me? We have nothing in common.”

The masseuses are pretending not to listen in to the conversation, heads bent low and focusing all their attention on melting away the stress that was mounting more and more with every passing second you spent in your mother’s presence.

Lia’s left eye twitches, a sign she’s growing more irritated by the second. “Y/N, don’t spit in fate’s face when they give you a golden egg. Sukuna-san is perfect for you because he’s not picky. He would have anyone familiar with the ways of our society… even if they call you a Wisteria Woman to your face.”

Hurt bleeds through her tone, and you’re reminded once again of how low your family standing is compared to the Itadoris. While they were a family from old transportation money back during Tokyo’s electrical motor boom, your family rode on the backs of your grandfather’s standing to give your father’s ideas a chance to win over prickly investors. 

Eventually, he clawed his way through the world of politics through grit and a good dose of ass-kissing, earning a cushy spot at the top where he’s starting to see his results flourish—the first one being your marriage to a well-established house.

But, it wasn’t always a smooth journey to where your family was now. 

Your mother had to endure years of other rich wives' subtle digging and whispers behind palms—calling her a “Wisteria Woman”—mocking her patience in clinging onto your father as he steadily rose to popularity; calling her a foolish woman only concerned with social status.

It was an insincere attempt at making her an object of ridicule, at best. Your grandfather’s wealth as the king of department stores before his demise could buy over any of these small family’s trust funds three times over.

“They don’t know what they’re saying, mom,” you remind her. “You’ve always stood by dad’s side because you believed in the man he could become one day. And it’s paid off—they’re the ones eating their words now.”

Lia fixes her gaze on you, her expression softening. You think she might even reach out and pat your head. But, she only gives you a single piece of advice, further solidifying that despite all your protests, your marriage to Sukuna has already been woven in the threads of fate long before you were even aware of it. 

“Y/N, I want you to remember this well—no matter what these people say to your face or whisper behind your back... don’t you ever give them the satisfaction of seeing that they’re right.”

a/n. drama on the mountains alert! drama on the mountains alert!

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story thus far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms. and claim as your own

[koenigami]

exes to lovers with togame jou. tags : +18, fem!reader, nipple play, fingering, mentions of cunnilingus, some hiragi x reader, angst to fluff to smut? wc : 1,9k

-

You broke up because you both believed that it was the best. For both of you. You believed that it was what you two needed in order to grow, to find yourselves, to be happier.

But neither of you were. Happier that is.

Because through every new step of your life, you had to suppress the urge to text him. Send him pictures of your new apartment, tell him about the sweet old lady next door, tell him about the new show that you started watching. Letting go of a lover is never easy, but Togame was most but foremost your best friend that you had fallen in love with at a young age, and that your heart could not seem to let go of.

And as it seemed, he was not faring any better. Because the moment you spotted each other in the bar that you used to go to together, neither of you had it in you to control themselves. One shy "Hi.", another hopeful "Can we talk?", mixed with one or two drinks, and you found yourself relapsing.

Before either of you could properly bid goodbye your initial dates, you found yourselves at Togame's place. Little had changed after two months, you noted as you walked through the little apartment. The same curtains that you had bought him ornamented his windows. Your cup was still neatly placed beside his in the upper open cupboard. The picture on the bedside table which you took on one of your first dates was also still there. A little dusty, but it was there. Though somehow you felt as if nothing seemed to be the same.

“Did you- ” You sounded breathless, your bared chest heaving rapidly up and down as you barely dared to ask what’s been on your mind this entire time. Togame stilled as he intently looked down at you, though you couldn't stop squirming when his thumb didn't cease tracing your areola. “Mmh, Jou…”

“Did I what?”

“T-The girl you were with. Did you guys- ”

“You wanna know if we slept together?” Date was what you actually had aimed to say, but that did it as well. He said it so casually, and you thought that you even discerned a tinge of disgust in the way he spoke. And the fact that you didn’t know whether that disgust was directed towards you or mentioned girl made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

The moment your eyes started to nervously wander to the side, you felt the warmth of Togame's hand seep through your skin as he guided your head to properly look at him.

“I barely even know her. We- ” He sighed, and it was only when he leaned down, the black bangs tickling your forehead, that you noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes which all of a sudden also seemed to wander around the room. “We did go on a few dates but-”

But it felt wrong. But she was not you. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you, because no matter where he went, you were everywhere. You were in the fresh air that he breathed in, in the morning when opening the window in his bedroom. You were in the sweet tune that the birds would sing on his way to work. You were in the beautiful sunset that he'd get to see on his way back home.

You were still in his heart.

He didn’t say it, yet somehow at the way he was silently looking at you, you could tell what he meant.

Your teeth sank into your lips when Togame's hand slid down to your pants and undid them enough for it to slip into your panties. His lips parted the slightest as he exhaled shakily when he felt how wet you were. Tracing your slit with his thumb, he spread your arousal and you couldn't help but buck your hips into his hand when he grazed your swollen clit.

“And you?-”

Both of you cursed when his middle finger slowly entered you with a squelching noise. Your pussy squeezed around it but you kept mewling about how it was not enough. You needed more. More of him. Further profanities spilled out of Togame's mouth, and both his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your bottoms before his husky voice reached your ears again. “Fuck. Lift those hips for me.”

In a swift motion, he helped you rid yourself of your pants and panties before he nestled himself back between your thighs. This time, however, you felt two fingers carefully pry your walls apart until they were knuckles deep inside you.

“M-Me?” He made it hard for you to think straight. Hell, even looking at him was difficult when your eyes nearly crossed as he kept grazing that spot inside you. Shit, he definitely had not forgotten how your body needed to be touched to get the right reactions out of you.

“Yeah. You and Hiragi apparently.” You keened when the pad of his thumb drew circles over your clit. Slowly. Way too slowly. “At least, that’s what I've heard.”

Your eyebrows creased when the coil in your stomach started to tighten, but you knew that you were nowhere near relief. Sex with Togame was never fast or rushed. The line between foreplay and the actual act was blurred, because you didn't think that the former was even necessary with him. One look of his was enough to make your legs quiver and spread wide for him. But he had always preferred taking his sweet time with you.

You need to savour the good things in life. That was what he had always told you while you'd watched his face disappear between your thighs.

You whimpered his name when his fingers stilled inside you, your walls desperately clenching and unclenching as if wanting to pull them in deeper. “I-It’s true but it was not like that. It’s not like we went out on dates or-”

“But you did fuck, right?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The clock on his bedside table ticked. Time kept going forward but you were frozen, and there was this sudden feeling of guilt tugging at your heart. It was the same guilt that had made it so hard to even get aroused whenever you had lain down in Hiragi's bed. The same guilt that had made you sob in his embrace whenever he actually did bring you to orgasm. The same guilt that never seemed to leave despite his reassurances that you did nothing wrong, that you had nothing to be sorry for, that everything was going to be alright.

You tried to come up with so many things to forget Togame. To distract yourself. Up until this day, you were not sure how Hiragi had ended up being the one to keep your bed warm. Maybe it was the familiarity. Being intimate with another person that you had known for years and trusting them seemed to be easier than meeting someone new. But in the end it did not even matter because nobody could ever make you feel as warm as the man right in front of you.

Wordlessly, as if too embarrassed to say it out loud, you nodded. Though, your heart squeezed painfully at the hurt expression on his face, and the sudden jerk of his fingers inside you made you gasp audibly. His hand beside your head clenched into a tight fist before he spoke lowly.

“You did, huh? Was he any good? Tell me, did he make you cum?”

Togame watched your eyes glaze over with unshed tears the second he spoke, and he regretted it in that same instant. When did he stoop so low? It was not like he had any right to be upset, though the simple thought of someone else touching you, kissing you- It drove him mad. Especially because it was his own fault for letting you go.

“Damn it. I'm sorry, doll. I didn’t-”

“He did-” The words quickly tumbled out of your mouth. Almost too quickly for Togame's liking, though he did not deny you when you fisted the front of his shirt and ushered him to lean in closer to you. As if it was second nature, he kissed you so softly when your lips started quivering the slightest bit. There was a tear that rolled down your temple that he wiped away before his lips delicately connected with the apple of your cheek. He cooed when you sniffed and wrinkled your nose, and left some more kisses along your face until you seemed to be calm enough to resume.

“He did but it meant nothing, I swear. Every time I c-came... I thought about you, Jou. ‘T was always only you.” You swore you were starting to see things when Togame's eyes turned glassy, the green in his eyes sparkling brightly in the dimly lit room. He didn't even give you a chance to utter another word before his lips were on yours. Your teeth clashed and his tongue slipped into your mouth, licking and sucking at every bit of you that he could reach. The kiss was urgent, almost dizzying. He was kissing you as if he was trying to savour every last bit of you, as if he feared that you would slip right through his fingers.

"Jou-" Your palm lay flat against his chest as you tried to push him back and let you breath for a second, though the moment you noticed how fast his heart was beating beneath your hand, you let him. You let him have all of you because you realised that he needed it. You both needed each other.

The empty feeling you suddenly felt was nearly painful when he planted both forearms beside your head, his lips travelling lower to your neck where he stilled.

"Tell me that you won't leave again, please. I-I've been feeling so lost without you." He croaked, his voice raw and weak as he pressed his forehead into your collarbone, his skin feeling how against yours. "Shit, Choji's been giving me hell because I couldn't stop acting like a goddamn loser."

Your bodies quaked as you laughed tiredly, and when Togame lifted his head to look at you with red, droopy eyes, you could feel your heart doing summersaults.

"Just come back to me-"

"Hey." With nothing but utter care, you cupped his cheeks in your palms as if he was the most delicate thing in the world. Your thumbs brushed over the wet stains along his cheeks, and you realised that this was meant to be. You realised that you had to lose each other in order to love each other. "I'm here now, alright?"

Seeing the timid smile slowly stretch across Togame's face, made you feel so warm and tranquil inside. Even more when, out of the blue, he grabbed your face and started peppering kisses all over it until all you could do was succumb and simply giggle at his sudden eagerness.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. My baby's here." He mumbled between each little peck before his lips hovered right above yours, your breaths mingling until you felt like you were about to breathe each other in.

Amidst the serene silence that lingered in the room, the clock kept ticking though you couldn't hear it. It's like time was frozen, and all that existed in that instant was you and him. That's how it will always be. Only you and him.

"Jou?" You eventually muttered his name after another beat of silence.

"Hm?"

"Can we please fuck now?."

"Yes, ma'am."

[megalony]

He Owns The Club

This is a new kind of Buddie x reader imagine I had an idea for based on a gif.

I hope you will all like this, please let me know what you think and if I should do any more ideas like this.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff

@jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Buddie Masterlist

Summary: Evan isn't sure what he's getting himself into when he lets Eddie take him to a club. A club that is much more than it first seems where the stakes are even better.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So uh, you never… you never said where we're going." Evan scratched the back of his neck as he followed after his friend.

He would follow Eddie anywhere. All Eddie had to do was smile and Evan felt instantly at ease and like he could be lead anywhere and still feel completely safe and secure. But he didn't like not knowing where they were going.

Being told to 'dress to impress' wasn't something Evan was used to and it wasn't the sort of dress code he was familiar with.

What did that mean? Who was he trying to impress? There were very different meanings if Evan was supposed to be impressing a lady or impressing some of Eddie's friends or their colleagues. A suit and tie would be to impress someone formal, someone with something to prove. A manager who could give them a promotion. Someone who could offer them something.

Impressing a girl meant wearing a tight set of trousers and a short sleeved shirt that was one or two sizes too small to show off all his attributes.

Evan had been so frazzled and flabbergasted at those instructions that he wasn't sure what to wear. It took him ten times longer than usual to finally settle on something.

A suit. Dark blue trousers that were starched and had been ironed to a crisp so that they could stand up all on their own. A matching blazer jacket that was just a little on the small side when it went over his shoulders. Enough so that it looked fetching, but if Evan tried to button it up, he would be in trouble. And a dark magenta dress shirt with the top two buttons undone so he could actually breathe.

"I told you, we're off for some fun." Eddie's reply was short but full of questions and Evan found himself huffing.

That wasn't the kind of answer he was searching for. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He didn't like being cryptic, he liked clear instructions and information.

The way Eddie arched a dark brow made Evan shiver and when Eddie patted the back of his hand into Evan's chest, it caused his heart to stutter. He let out a short breath and found his blood fizzling in his veins when Eddie leaned over him.

He opened the door on Evan's left and motioned with his hand. Evan hadn't even realised the car had stopped. He slowly clambered out, catching a quick glance over his shoulder at Eddie and furrowed his brows when he realised Eddie didn't pay the fare. He climbed out after a few exchanged words with the driver who only grinned, somewhat mischeviously.

"A club?" Evan was surprised, he couldn't hide that from his voice.

The lights were bright. Flashing royal blue and blinding white lights flickered on and off in intervals, all lined up in an oval around a club doorway.

Evan could see through the old-style windows with square glass pannels. People were dancing, lights were blazing so brightly it was giving him a headache already. And if that wasn't enough of a giveaway to where they were, the music was pulsing through the air like a defibrilator on full blast. He could see bodies mashed together on the dance floor, forms huddled in quiet corners that weren't really quiet at all. People thinking they were being discrete when Evan could see exactly what they were doing; acts that would make him blush if he were any closer to them.

His foot lifted up, about to walk up the three steps that led to the doors guarded by two bouncers who were eyeing them curiously. No, not curiosity in their eyes, but familiarity. Eddie must have been here before.

But he didn't go up the steps, not when Eddie's fingers found his elbow with such a firm grip that Evan almost stumbled backwards. He twisted his head to the right, looking sharply at his friend who ticked his head to the side and started walking.

Were they not going to the club after all? Why had they pulled up right outside the club if this wasn't their destination for the evening?

"This way," Was the only clue Eddie gave. He tugged on Evan's elbow before his touch was gone and Evan felt suddenly lonely.

He obliged like a dutiful dog following its owner, but his eyes kept glancing behind him towards the club they were walking alongside.

Five steps away from the main doors, Eddie undid a gate in the metal fencing that blocked off a set of stairs leading down to what Evan would have presumed was the cellar beneath the club. All the houses on this block were old. The club was a set of four, maybe five old houses combined into one big unit.

Once upon a time they would have been flats and all the flats had lower levels beneath the pavement like this.

Why was Eddie going down here? How was he allowed to go down there? How did he even know what he was doing down there?

Eddie wordlessly headed down the stone steps, bypassing the large bay window that had thick black curtains pulled across so no one could see in or out. At the bottom of the stairs was a large metal door that clearly wasn't part of the original architecture.

Three sharp knocks on the door, a single pause, and then one long knock on the door seemed to be the secret access code. Evan watched Eddie's knuckles, that were unusually bruised and cracked tonight, tap on the metal with a demanding urgency that needed to be addressed.

Not a moment later, the door opened and a catfish grin spread across Eddie's lips. He nodded silently to the man who opened the door and waved for Evan to follow, as if he would go anywhere else right now. Evan was too far in to turn around now and his curiosity was peaked, he needed answers and he wasn't leaving without them.

The hallway was narrow and called for single file and Evan realised once the door was closed that he couldn't hear any music from the club up above them. Were the walls and floors soundproof down here and if so, what for?

Eddie led the way down the corridor and Evan peered over his shoulder to see the young man following behind him with his hands clasped together behind his back. Very formal. Very strange.

A left turn into a larger hallway. A right turn into a vast but overheated kitchen that sparkled like something out of a magazine with how shiny the counters were and how bright the lightbulbs seemed to be.

And through the kitchen they went, into what seemed to be three or four rooms all busted through into one large room, the size of Evan's loft, doubled. A casino, it had to be. There were poker tables set up around the room, large circular tables with leather trims and velvet, lime green bases that reminded Evan of astroturf.

A person in a tux at each table who had to be the dealers. Packets of unopened playing cards resting at their sides to make for clean games and no chance of cheating.

If there had been cigarettes in people's hands and smoke filling the air, Evan would have thought he had gone back in time to the twenties when prohibition was around and underground clubs were all the range if you knew who to ask. Clearly, Eddie was the person to ask when it came to the night life scene.

How did he know about this place?

"Ah, so our night of fun is gambling?" Evan's voice came out lower than he first intended and he leaned forward with his hands behind his back and his chin hovering over Eddie's shoulder. He wasn't sure where the nerve came from to stand this close to the one person at the station who could get his blood boiling without uttering a single word. But it was too late to move now, and Evan didn't want to move anywhere when Eddie turned to look at him like that.

Eddie's head twisted to the left and a shark tooth grin formed on his lips, flashing his pearly whites that sank down into his lower lip as something flashed across his eyes. The look was brief, but it made Evan's stomach flip, and when he watched Eddie rake his fingers over his chin like he was debating something, Evan could have melted on the spot.

"You said those bets at work were like child's play… so I thought I'd give you a challenge."

A subtle blush started to creep up from Evan's collar, along his rather tense neck and it bloomed over his previously pale cheeks, turning them fuchsia with swirls of crimson.

He had said that. He found it strange intoxicating when Eddie started boasting about his newfound math skills. And he liked how smug Eddie would get whenever Evan got a question right and started to place bets with the other members of their team.

"How'd you know about this place?"

A knowing smile fluttered over Eddie's lips and his index finger gently tapped the side of his nose.

So he was going to be like that, was he?

Evan rolled his eyes before he cast them around the room. There was no need to panic about what he was wearing. He had felt overdressed from the moment he put the outfit together, but now, stood here in a club with people in dinner jackets and women in dresses that reminded Evan of cocktail dresses in twenties movies, he felt like he fitted in rather well.

And when his eyes raked over Eddie for the hundredth time that night, he took a deep breath to calm his feverish senses.

Eddie didn't know how good he looked. Tight fitting blue trousers just a few shades lighter than Evan's. A high-neck jumper that sat an inch or two below his jaw and looked like a thick collar- or a thick belt- wrapped around his neck. The navy blue jumper suited Eddie, all dark colours seemed to make him stand out rather than blend him into the background. And the royal blue blazer jacket he wore which again, was a few shades lighter than Evan's own clothing, was inviting to say the least.

The blazer clung to Eddie. It made his shoulders look broader. It puffed his chest out and made his muscles look confined and restrained like they were desperate to break free from his clothing.

And when his hand rubbed along the light coating of stubble on his chin, Evan could have melted into a puddle on the stone floor.

But he didn't. He held himself together with laboured breaths to regulate his system and followed Eddie who again took the lead. He thought Eddie would make pleasantries with the people here, after all, everyone kept looking his way which gave the impression that he was a regular here.

A round of adrenaline sparked through Evan's system when Eddie led them towards the table in the centre of the room.

They weren't going to sit on the outskirts. They were going for the bullseye, dead centre, where the most laughing and the most chips were on the table. Eddie was the embodiment of 'go big or go home' tonight, and Evan didn't know what to do with that information.

There weren't as many people at this table, but it seemed to be the the fullest one in the room somehow. More boldened, more exclusive, if that were possible. Or perhaps it was just Evan's perception of the table and the atmosphere in the room.

He took his seat and watched Eddie sit down next to him with such an air of confidence that showed he had been here more times than one.

The way Eddie sat in his chair had all eyes on him. He slouched down, but he didn't look uninterested or like a teenager unhappy to be here. If anything, slouching like that made him more confident. His left leg stretched out beneath the table, his right leg crossed over and showed off his tensing thighs and how his trousers were straining to contain his thighs and his knees without breaking.

His left hand rested on the leather edge of the table and his short nails began to tap against the dull brown that was worn and faded with age. While his right elbow propped up on his thigh and his hand curled into a fist beneath his chin, keeping his head up and his eyes on the table.

He didn't have to say anything for chips to be placed in front of him and Evan, and it made him smile tepidly. He didn't want to smile too bright or attract too much attention tonight. Not yet, anyway.

Eddie started to relish in the way he could get Evan to look shocked, bewildered and amazed, all at once and all for different reasons.

When Jess, one of the waitresses, timidly approached the table and set down a martini in front of him and Evan, Eddie's smile turned sweeter. He winked at her before uttering a quiet "Thank you," before she left.

He relished in the fact that Evan was shocked they hadn't given a drinks order and yet the waitress seemed to know exactly what Eddie would like. Of course she did. Eddie wouldn't be very happy if none of the staff knew his preferred drink. And they could all see that Evan was here with him, and therefore would most likely want the same drink too.

And he relished the way Evan's brows lifted and his tongue darted out across his lips, catching the remnants of sugar from the rim of the glass. He liked the martini. Eddie hadn't often seen Evan drink something other than beer or shots, but he guessed he had a sweet tooth. He had been right.

The dealer, Marcus, dragged his thumb across the edge of the deck in his hands, creating a vibration that was like music to Eddie's ears. He watched intently as Marcus started dealing out the cards to the four other people at the table before he stopped and looked over at Eddie.

"In or out?" His expression was calm but his smile was careful. All the workers here were careful when it came to Eddie.

Eddie kept his hand beneath his chin but when he raised the fingers on his left hand from the edge of the table, Marcus nodded. Eddie didn't want to play yet. He wanted to observe. He wanted to see if Evan was going to be as good at poker as he was at math. He wanted to see if Evan's skills could be put to good use, if he could fit in here. Eddie wanted Evan's face to be a regular at the club.

This was Evan's first game and he could feel the nerves pulsing through him. He took a large gulp of the martini, almost draining the glass before he looked back down at his cards. He knew how to play, and he knew how to count the cards and add up the numbers. He knew how to guess what everyone else's cards were by watching which sets they dropped when they exchanged their cards. He knew if they dropped the high numbers, they were going for a lower set and if they exchanged hearts, then they clearly had a set of diamonds, spades or clubs.

But the nerves still hit Evan, because of who was sat beside him.

He didn't want to lose and make Eddie think bringing him here was a mistake. He didn't like the thought of losing the first game and then losing his bottle and his nerve and going on a bad streak.

More importantly, he didn't want to disappoint Eddie, in any way.

"Your bet."

Evan nodded, rolling his lips together as he looked down at his set. Aces and a row of Spades starting from the King and going down to ten. He had a good hand. But he didn't have a flush or a full run. Was it worth upping the bet if he could fold and lose the least amount of money? Was he right in guessing the elder gentleman across the table was bluffing with a high bet?

A shiver rushed down Evan's spine and his body jolted when he felt a pointed chin pressing down on his shoulder.

He felt Eddie's hot breath on his neck and his strong fingers squeezing his thigh and it made his breathing stutter and come to an abrupt stop. What was Eddie doing? Was he trying to wind him up? Was he trying to put him off and make him lose?

Didn't he know how this worked? They didn't play in teams when they played poker.

Why weren't the others at the table saying anything?

"Go high." The words tickled the shell of Evan's ear, but he couldn't make any sense of them or work out what was happening. Not until Eddie's right hand grabbed a stack of green chips and pushed them into the middle of the table, placing the bet for him.

Evan rolled his lips together and tried to focus on regulating his breaths, in through his nose, hold for three seconds, then out through his mouth. It wouldn't do him any good to get hot and flustered when the night had only just started.

He worked on controlling his expression, he needed to keep a poker face and he guessed he did a good job because when he laid his cards out, he could see the look of surprised faces staring back at him.

His fingers began to tremble when the chips were pushed towards him. His winnings. Could they even be classed as Evan's winnings when he hadn't bought those chips? Had Eddie bought them beforehand when he arranged for them to come here? Because clearly people were expecting them. Was Eddie a high stakes player here? How did he have so much respect from everyone?

Evan watched the way the man opposite him tossed his cards down. Two meager pairs, nothing to win on unless he pulled a good bluff and got everyone else to fold.

It looked like he was going to say something by the way the anger fuelled his eyes and he glared deeply at Evan. But one look at Eddie curbed his anger immediately.

With a raised brow, Eddie pressed his fist to the base of his chin just beneath his lower lip. While his fingers on his left hand pressed down into the rim of the table and his index finger slowly started to tap along with each passing second on the clock. A warning.

He wasn't having anyone throwing a fit tonight, especially not at Evan. This wasn't beginners luck, this was Evan doing what he did best and Eddie was going to make sure no one said anything to him for it.

This was Eddie's club, after all.

***

Evan cast his eyes around the club for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He kept taking in new details and familiar faces he couldn't quite place. He noticed the cealing was slightly domed in places, as if it were a chapel from a country castle or an ancient wine celler or the catacombs. He wondered how many layers of stone there were up there to keep such noise and atmosphere from the upper lounge club from seeping down here.

All Evan could hear was the slow music from the speakers in each corner of the room. Sometimes a Spanish song came on and Evan would catch Eddie nodding his head along, clearly knowing the tunes. The odd jazz one came on every once in a while and really made the atmosphere feel like what Evan guessed the twenties had been like.

He looked ahead at the tables while he slouched his right arm on the bar counter, another cocktail in his left hand. He didn't want to drink too many and go off his game, especially when he seemed to be on a winning streak so far.

But when his eyes roamed over the tables, his blue orbs locked onto a familiar face blended into the crowd.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Evan noted the way Eddie had his back to him. He was on the phone to somebody. Evan didn't want to interrupt, and he didn't need to be babysat, he knew what he was doing by now and he could go and have some fun while he waited.

Drink in hand, Evan pushed off the bar and weaved through the tables until he sat at the one at the far left. Up to now he had only played on the middle table which seemed to be the one with the highest stakes and the more regular visitors.

"Fancy seeing you here."

(Y/n) lifted her head and tried to stop herself from tensing up when she felt a hand on the back of her chair and a body leaning over her.

A soft smile curved on her lips when she looked up behind her and realised it was only Evan. She let herself relax and her eyes followed him as he moved to sit down in the spare seat next to her. There were only two other people at this table besides (Y/n).

He hadn't seen her in a while. She worked at dispatch with Maddie and he knew she often babysat Chris for Eddie on occasion when he needed her to. Evan got along well with her. That smile could get her anything she wanted. It was like Eddie's smile, it made Evan weak at the knees.

"Are you winning?" She asked as if she already knew the answer and it made Evan look at her with a quizzical smile while he reached into his pocket and fished out a handful of chips. The rest were sitting on the middle table, waiting for him to either bargain with them or cash them in.

"What about you?"

"I'm doing alright," (Y/n) let herself sink into her chair while her fingertips tapped against the chips in front of her. She was doing okay considering she hadn't been here long, and she wasn't used to playing without Eddie's assistance. "Has Eddie been helping you, or are you winning on your own?"

Her words weren't snappy or rude and the way she smiled and tangled her fingers in her hair behind her neck had Evan's stomach fluttering with adrenaline while his heart lifted.

"He makes the bets, I win the cash." He dragged a hand through his short curls, ruffling them on his head while his shoulders hunched forward and he twisted to look at her properly. "I didn't have Eddie pegged as a gambling kinda guy, you know. But everyone here keeps watching him, does he win a lot? I haven't seen him play yet."

A confused look crossed (Y/n)'s face and the small curve of her lips had Evan straightening up in his seat.

What had he said? Had he done something wrong? Was he not supposed to ask things like that?

"You- you know this is his place, right? Eddie owns the club." (Y/n) sank her teeth into her lower lip and leaned both elbows forward onto the table, leaning closer into Evan's side.

Had he really not known? How did he come down here and not know that Eddie was the one in charge?

Granted, it wasn't something any of his team at the station knew, it wasn't something Eddie liked to flash around. He didn't tell people he met on the street that he was the owner of a club and had a gambling ring going on. Nothing illegal, at least as far as anyone else knew. But it was strange that Eddie hadn't told Evan this was his place. He told (Y/n) the first time he brought her here, and it was obvious to the naked eye.

The way the staff all knew his favourite drinks and never questioned him when he joined or left a game. They knew how many chips to place in front of him and didn't ask for his cash first. They knew he could roam around and go anywhere he liked. He had the discretion to kick people out if he didn't like their attitude or if he thought they were cheating or getting too big for their boots.

Everyone was nervous around Eddie because nobody wanted to be the one to get on his bad side. It wasn't pleasant to be on the other side of Eddie and see the darkness seeping through.

"I… that makes sense." Evan's voice lost a little power and his words turned to a whisper while his jaw hung down.

He did not know that.

But it made sense. It was why Eddie knew exactly where to go and how to get in and no one questioned him or asked why he was here. No one even came over to talk to him, everyone was too meager to even try. It explained why he didn't have to ask or pay for drinks and why he was given his playing chips without giving any cash first. It was why everyone kept looking at him and therefore looking at Evan, wondering who he was and why he was here with the boss.

It was why no one was questioning or arguing with Evan when he won, and why no one had kicked him out yet since he had won all night without losing a game.

Eddie was the boss.

With a deep breath, Evan ran his tongue across his lower lip as he leaned in closer so he could lower his voice but still be heard by (Y/n).

"Wanna make this game interesting? Fancy playing for something other than these?" He flicked a chip across the table, briefly glancing at the dealer who subtly placed the chip on the rack before continuing to shuffle a new deck.

"What did you have in mind?" (Y/n) couldn't help the way her lips quirked up at one side and she dipped her head down, looking at Evan through her lashes. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but she was intrigued.

He looked a little drunk but mostly in control and Evan was always carefree whenever (Y/n) bumped into him. Seeing him sat there in a suit with a cheesy grin and those sweet, drunken blue eyes made (Y/n)'s heart swim almost as much as when she saw Eddie sat at the centre table like a King among thieves.

"How about a date?"

"Sounds good to me."

Another jolt ran down (Y/n)'s spine and she tilted her head back over the chair when a set of hands clamped down on her shoulders. She could feel Eddie's fingers squeezing into her skin and she felt his abdomen pressing into her shoulders, keeping her upright yet caged down in her seat at the same time.

His voice sounded gritty and deep and his smile flashed his teeth and gave off an air of confidence that no one else in the room seemed to possess but him.

His words made (Y/n)'s stomach jump and had Evan's lips parting, unsure what to say to respond to that.

His eyes watched intently as Eddie leaned over, mumbling an unusually soft "Ola amor," against (Y/n)'s temple that he pecked.

Oh dear. Had Evan overstepped the mark?

He had always been intrigued by Eddie. Always wanting to be closer, to be around him, to be within his company and to admire him and touch him if possible. But Evan never acted on it. How could he? He didn't know what kind of response he could receive.

It always seemed safer to act on a feeling towards a woman than risk the reaction he would get if he hit on a guy. And (Y/n) was someone Evan found himself attracted to. He saw her when he dropped Maddie off at dispatch on occasion. He saw her at Eddie's place when she was watching Chris. He found himself thinking about her smile almost as much as he thought about Eddie's wolfish grin.

But if she was Eddie's girl then Evan couldn't hit on either of them and he would have to control how he acted around them. He was learning fast tonight that Eddie was in control here and Evan still didn't know the rules of this game. He didn't want to end up on the wrong side and make any enemies tonight.

(Y/n) feathered her fingers over Eddie's wrist and watched him sit down in the spare seat to her left. He nudged the chair as close as it could get to (Y/n)'s side and draped his arm over the back of her chair so he could nudge his nose against her neck and breathe in her scent.

She could feel his lips curving into a grin against her skin and his tongue dragged over her neck.

But once Eddie heard someone begin to tap their fingers against the table like they were becoming impatient, his smile faded and his head snapped to the left to look around the table. Two regulars.

"Leave." Eddie's voice was authoritive, his brow was set and his lips weren't curved into a smile, showing he wasn't playing around. Both men left the table without complaint. They had riled up the boss and sitting here was only going to make things worse. If they got told to disappear to a different table, then that was what they did unless they wanted to be kicked out of the club.

When they vacated their seats and left it so it was only the three of them and the dealer at the table, Eddie relaxed. He pressed his chest up against (Y/n)'s arm and leaned around her a little so he could get a good view of Evan, his special guest tonight.

"So, Buck, you wanna up the stakes?"

"I- I just thought, since I got all those chips… maybe we could change the stakes?" He wasn't sure why he was explaining himself and he knew the strength had gone out of his voice. He didn't want Eddie to get the wrong idea of him and he didn't want to impose or make (Y/n) feel uncomfortable if she was Eddie's girl and Evan had just hit on her.

But the way Eddie smiled made Evan's stomach rise up to his chest and had his heart doing summersaults.

"Alright." Eddie's voice was firm and with a nod of his head, he glanced at the dealer and clicked his fingers. "We can make this interesting. If you win, you get a date."

Despite the lack of confirmation in those words, there was no way for Evan to mistake the offer being held out to him.

It would be a date with the both of them. (Y/n) and Eddie.

That wasn't something Evan had ever done before, but the thought wasn't sending his mind reeling or making him back away. It was rather the opposite.

He couldn't help but lean in closer, scraping his elbows along the table as he inched closer until his arm was touching (Y/n)'s and his face was a mere few inches away from Eddie's. A date with them both. With the two people who had caught Evan's attention from the moment he met them. That would be Evan's dream, and by the look on Eddie's face and the way (Y/n) was biting her lip, they both liked that idea too.

"And- and what if you win?" Would the stakes stay the same? Would Evan still get a date if he lost? Or did Eddie have something different in mind for his own winnings?

(Y/n) let herself sink into Eddie's chest and her lips pressed against his temple in a gentle touch.

She didn't think Eddie had been serious when he said he would bring Evan along to the club tonight. And she was even more surprised that Evan seemed to eager to get involved with both of them. She hadn't thought that would of been his style or his thing, but he was seemingly open to the idea and that was sending excitement through (Y/n)'s core.

She tried to stop her hands from shaking and sat up straighter in her seat when Anton, the dealer, started sliding cards across the table to each of them. If they were going to play this game then they couldn't be leaning into one another in case they caught sight of their cards. Eddie liked to play fair and this was high stakes.

She watched her partner click his back into place and push his sleeves up to expose his wrists before he reached out for his cards. His expression was plain and stoic but one brow raised when he looked across at Evan.

He dragged his hand across his stubbled face, seemingly contemplating what he wanted if he won this game. This wasn't about money or pawns after all, he couldn't offer the usual winnings he would for a better game. He had to up the ammunition tonight.

"If I win…"

Eddie scratched his nails down his neck and tilted his head back, but his eyes stayed completely locked with Evan. Noticing the way his tongue darted across his lips in anticipation and he leaned just that little bit closer to the table. Not wanting to miss a single word.

"You're both coming home with me tonight." He didn't miss the way Evan's fingers scrunched into the playing cards he was holding. He could see the new cards, fresh out of the pack, become crumpled and creased in Evan's crushing grip while his palms began to sweat.

His jaw hung open and he stared at them both, waiting to see who would crack first, expecting one of them to burst out laughing and say they were only joking. But as Evan watched them and noticed Eddie be the first one to pick up a card from the dealer, he realised the game had started. And they were both deadly serious.

They didn't seem to ask what would happen if (Y/n) won the game, but Evan suspected she would be the deciding vote. She would decide whether they went home or went on a date. And something told Evan that (Y/n) wasn't going to win tonight.

She didn't often play unless Eddie was here playing with her and giving her tips. Whenever she played, Eddie practically sat on her lap and helped her along the way and no one dared to question him. Eddie hardly played whenever (Y/n) was here and it looked like it was going to be the same with Evan because until now, Eddie hadn't joined in a single game yet.

But these were the kind of stakes he loved to play for. Money was invaluable and insufficient. It was a boring child's toy when Eddie owned this place. He liked to play for something more powerful, more worth his time. And his expression showed he was fully intent on winning tonight.

"Okay." Evan nodded and waited for (Y/n) to take a card before he looked through the hand he had been dealt and switched a card out.

He was conflicted. He didn't want to lose, he had gone all night winning and losing right now was going to ruin his streak. That didn't sit well with Evan. But on the other hand, the stakes were better if he forfeited this game. If he lost, he was going to be in for what could be the best night of his life.

How could he pass that up?

His free hand began to tap against the table, drumming out a beat in time with the music in the background that was only just fizzling through his ears that were full of static. When he glanced to his left and looked down at (Y/n), Evan ticked his head to one side and his nose crinkled while his eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure why she was looking at him like that but when she leaned in closer, Evan tilted his head towards her so she could whisper in his ear.

"I haven't known Eddie to lose a game."

All the times she had seen Eddie play, she had yet to see him lose. And it wasn't just because he was the boss. People liked to try and beat Eddie because they knew he wouldn't be mad if they did. He liked a challenge and there was no downside to beating him, he wouldn't kick them out of the club or throw fists. He had the night time fights to let out his anger, this was to get creative and have some fun.

But when (Y/n) had been here, she hadn't seen her partner lose a game. He called her his good luck charm because he lost on a few occasions before (Y/n) started coming to the club, but with her here, he was on a winning streak.

Evan dragged his fingers across his freshly shaved jaw, unable to stop a chuckle from passing his lips as he nodded.

"Yeah? Somehow I don't think he's gonna lose tonight either."

[princess-of-songs]

Tashi’s Jealousy and Possessiveness

*originally posted on Reddit*

I like how Tashi’s jealousy and possessiveness manifests itself in different ways.

Patrick: We see her jealousy and possessiveness in the way we are used to seeing it. At 19, we see her get visibly upset over Art suggesting Patrick may not be loyal and that he may not love her. I think this possessiveness started when they first got together when she asked him not to tell anyone or she’d stop seeing him. It meant something to her because I think Patrick was her first serious relationship. In the original screenplay, Tashi mentions to Patrick in the Atlanta scene, that her dad hated his guts because as far as he was concerned, Patrick was the boy who ruined Tashi’s life. In the film, we see Tashi mention her parents didn’t want her to go to boarding school for a multitude of reasons, one being distracted by boys like Patrick and Art. Tashi’s cross necklace also pointed me in this direction. I would remiss if I didn’t point out the chaotic hypocrisy. Challengers has strong motifs of repeated behaviors coming in cycles of 3 and specifically with Tashi’s relationship with Patrick- cheating together has always been inevitable. Patrick cheated on his girlfriend with Tashi and Art at the Junior US Open, Tashi and Patrick cheated in Atlanta, and Tashi and Patrick cheated in New Rochelle. Each time, Tashi attempts to ignore Patrick’s luring charm and fails spectacularly. Our girl is nothing but consistent and I can’t say I would’ve fared much better. The specific jealousy part of it is fascinating to me. Tashi gets irritated with Art over the simple idea of imagining Patrick being with other girls on tour or being filled with quiet, simmering anger when she sees Patrick with Helen at the hotel bar, and even making a snarky comment when Patrick mentions he’s still staying at Helen’s house. But we never see her jealous when Patrick is with Art. Tashi only smiles and cheers when they’re together, she’s devastated when Art tells her they fell out of touch, and she’s pissed off when Patrick tries to put Art down in the alleyway. Patrick and Art are just as much of each other’s as they are her’s. What pops out at me also in the midst of this, is seeing Patrick both excite and frighten Tashi. Here is someone who can see through her facade she puts on, calls her out on it, still thinks she’s hot, and loves her anyway. I can easily see why that would scare her. It’s not a secret that Tashi loves to be in control in any and all aspects of her life. Patrick disrupts that and gets under her skin like no one else does. It’s not a feeling she’s used to. She’s probably used to getting praise from others like Art (though I think his is so raw and genuine) or ignoring the not so glamorous parts of who Tashi is as a person. Patrick doesn’t allow for that and it drives her (and Art) crazy.

Art: We see her jealousy and possessiveness in a unique way. Tashi is simmering with jealousy over Art being able to heal from his surgery with no issue. The thing really withholding Art in the present, is his emotional and mental exhaustion from a myriad of things. Art still gets to play the sport that Tashi lives and dies for and it drives her crazy that Art’s heart doesn’t seem fully in it. She tries to do everything in her power to help him get his confidence back despite saying she can’t do that for him. Art is her avatar in tennis. His body is her’s and through him, she can still play the sport and accomplish her dreams. The idea of hanging up her racquet is unfathomable. Tennis is so intertwined in her soul. The question rises who is Tashi to the world without tennis? Tashi clearly wants to delay that answer as long as she can. This possessiveness and jealousy unravels when the night before the final match. I honestly think Tashi’s conversation with Patrick opened her heart. As much it hurts to leave tennis, I think she’s finally fully allowing herself to see it from Art’s perspective. He’s tired. I think in the best way an emotionally repressed person can, I do think she does try to reassure and comfort him by saying he doesn’t need her permission. It’s okay and he can retire. What throws Tashi for a loop is when Art questions her being okay with it, he was expecting and hoping for similar argument he had with Patrick, something to fuel him. I think he wanted Tashi to neg him in a similar way. Tashi and Patrick are extremely similar but there are key differences. As much as Tashi can be quite brutal with her words when talking to Patrick about his tennis career, we don’t see her be as harsh with Art. In fact, Tashi highlights his skills and praises him. Tashi doesn’t really neg Art and we can see why. She goes too far with her statement. At first, she looks visibly ill before and after she says it. Topped off by her rubbing Art’s head, asking if that helps him. This makes Tashi spiral into desperation with her feelings all over the place. I think she’s too stubborn to take her words back so she comes up with a last ditch effort plan to get Patrick to throw the match so Art can win. So she doesn’t have to lose Art or tennis. The chaos of this act is logically speaking, Tashi could’ve texted or called Patrick. Getting in the car in the middle of the night with the your ex that you’ve been passively aggressively flirting with and gotten jealous over is setting yourself up for failure. But Tashi’s feelings and intentions are all jumbled up because she’s desperately trying to cling on to tennis and she isn’t ready to leave it or them because she cannot have it without Art or Patrick.

It isn’t that Tashi isn’t herself around Art, she is. How I’ve read it, is that the two of them are deeply repressed in several areas of their lives so there is a wall of passivity between them in addition to the current lack of passion in their marriage and the pedestals they put each other on. They’re both fully aware of each other’s flaws and the issues in their marriage but they dance around it until the bedroom scene. With Patrick specifically, I was thinking about him saying to Tashi “You like precisely one thing about me. It’s the fact that I’m such a piece of shit that I can see you for exactly who you are.” In the original script, Patrick mentions he didn’t treat her like a mystical being who was going to change his life. I believe that he is Tashi’s twin flame/mirror. To me, Tashi is a more raw, unfiltered version of herself when it comes to Patrick. He pushes back and challenges her, which is something I don’t think Tashi is quite used to in her life when she first meets him. I think what’s also notable to me is whenever Tashi and Patrick talk, they’re saying the most raw unhinged things but they aren’t beating around the bush with each other. It’s fun foreplay for them. But unlike with Art (for the both of them), they struggle to surrender to the deeper feeling of love, longing, and surrender. Being vulnerable and soft with each other doesn’t come easy to them. Ultimately looking at it from Tashi’s perspective, she can be herself around both of these men but displays different aspects of her true self.

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

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"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

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[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 6)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Mentions about Relapse and Talks About Getting Better After a Relapse

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.0K

Summary: Rafe doesn't know if he has what it takes to be the person that Stella and Y/N deserve.

Masterlist

Rafe has been giving Y/N her space, but it didn’t mean he stopped trying to get her to forgive him. He sent letter after letter. Gift after gift. All of them returned. NA meetings, anger management sessions, therapy appointments and calls from Diana all go ignored as he seeks solace in his drug of choice and ways of getting Y/N to let him back into her life. It is safe to say his week is not going so great.

Lucky or maybe unlucky for him, Wheezie and Sarah were still allowed to see the light of his life and would report back to him how she had been doing. Learning how much Stella misses him causes guilt to form in his stomach. He told his father he wouldn’t be the type of father to leave his daughter, but it was his decision that forced Y/N to create that distance. Every fibre of his body wants to hate Y/N for taking Stella away from him and causing Stella pain by doing so, yet he only seems to crave Y/N’s smile and proximity. He craves their late-night phone calls and her reassurance that he can stay sober. The silence on her end makes him believe she has given up on him. That he has no hope of getting back on the proverbial horse. Again, the only thing that can help remove the little voice inside his head saying he isn’t good enough for his dad, Y/N and Stella is the powder the powder that dries up his nose.. 

After yet another attempt to gain Y/N’s forgiveness doesn’t work, Rafe finds himself returning home from Barry’s with Ziploc bags in his pockets. He has been sleeping in his house in the Outer Banks since his apartment near Y/N’s only reminds him of what he has lost. Before he met Stella, he thought the big house was all he could ask for. That the material things could fill him with happiness. But with Y/N and Stella now in his life, he knows he could not have been more wrong. He begins to feel he will never be happy again without them in his life and he rushes to the closest flat surface. 

His hands shake as he tears the bag open, letting the coke spill all over the entranceway table. He takes his credit card out and starts to form line after line. One finger comes up to his nose to block one of his nostrils so the other can inhale the drug. He does every single line until he runs out. Frustration overcomes him when he can’t get the next bag out of his pocket, so he gives up and opts to try to sleep to help dull his toxic thoughts. He is too lazy to move out of the front room, lying down in the middle of the room spread out like a starfish. 

——

Sarah and Wheezie find their older brother as soon as they open his front door. Sarah would have walked on top of him if she wasn’t looking where she was going. Both girls knew what had happened and that he wasn’t faring well. They knew he had started using again. Wheezie kneels beside Rafe’s head and slaps him awake. He bolts forward, letting out a gasp of fear. “What did you do that for?” he groans, rubbing his cheek. She looks at him with slight disappointment, “We both know you wouldn’t have woken up if we tried a nicer way of doing it.” “Okay, that may be true. What are you doing here?” he questions. It is Sarah’s turn to reply. “We are worried about you. We know you are using again and you are never going to get sober again if you don’t talk to someone.” He lies back down with a shake of his head, “What is the point of getting sober again if I’m never going to see Stella again?” 

Sarah doesn’t respond for a second; instead, she looks for something in her purse. She finally finds what she is looking for and pulls out a piece of paper. Rafe takes the outstretched paper hesitantly. The worry that he is about to read a custody agreement from Y/N fills him with dread. However, he carefully unfolds the paper to find a drawing. The stick figures with pointy hats would not make any sense to most people, but to her father, he knew exactly what they were meant to be. It is a picture of him and his little girl holding hands with witches’ hats on their heads. The big round circle beside him must be a cauldron and the black blob beside Stella must be the cat she has always wanted. The only word he can make out from the indecipherable letters is Stella’s name. Y/N is doing such a great job at teaching Stella to write her name. 

Wheezie can see the confusion about the words on Rafe’s face and goes in to translate for him. “It says get well soon. Y/N told Stella the reason you aren’t coming over is because you are sick. You want a reason to get sober?” Wheezie starts to explain. “That’s your reason to get sober again. Yes, you may not be able to see her right now, but that little girl is waiting for you to come back and you are never going to do that if you keep spiralling.” He sits back up to see the picture in a better light. Tears start to form in his eyes as all his feelings about missing his daughter come crashing down. 

“She needs me still,” he whispers to himself. Yes, his father and Y/N may think he is useless but Stella doesn’t. She hasn’t forgotten about him and still wants him to come back even after he hasn’t talked to her in a week. That is one thought he doesn’t want to leave his head, except he realizes it always does whenever he seeks comfort from the cocaine. It may help him forget about the pain Ward has caused him, but he also forgets the love he gets from Stella. And that beats every other feeling. He gets up from the floor, pulling the rest of the coke easily out of his pocket now that he can think a little more clearly. He hands it to Sarah, “Get rid of this for me, please?” She nods her head and he brings both of his sisters in for a hug. “Thank you for not giving up on me. I promise I’m going to try again,” he tells them. They both return the hug, Wheezie pressing her head against his shoulder, “We believe you and we are here to help.” He may never hear those words from his father, but he is so glad he has his sisters to give him the support their father never could. 

——

“I screwed up, Diana. She’s never going to forgive me.” Diana gives him a concerned look, “Rafe, it’s going to take more than a week for her to forgive you, especially since you only decided to try to get sober today.” Rafe nods his head, playing with the band of his watch. “Right… So you think I have a chance,” he hopes. She gives him a soft smile, “I do. If you give her time and take this one day at a time, I think she’ll come around. Show her how much they both mean to you.” “I can do that. One day at a day,” he repeats. 

——

Luna’s Diner feels so much darker with the knowledge that Y/N is angry at him. He knows he should give her space, but this week has been the longest he has gone without seeing Stella or Y/N. He’s nervous as he listens to the little bell announce his arrival. The little girl at the counter looks up from her colouring and her face lights up when she sees who it is. “Daddy!” she yells, running over to him. He picks her up and brings her into a tight hug. “Are you feeling better, Daddy?” He gives her a kiss on the temple, “I am, little witch. Thank you for my card. I loved it.” Rafe sits on a stool with Stella in his lap. She tells him everything he has missed during their week away. Sabrina is now her friend again because they realize Will is a gross boy. Stella and Sabrina are now dating and their wedding is on Monday. 

“Uncle Benny and I made sculptures. His was as tall as me,” she recounts, throwing her arms apart to exaggerate. Rafe giggles at how happy she is. The sight Y/N comes back to angers her and she is about to blow a fuse. “What are you doing here?” she grits through her teeth. She rounds the counter to take Stella in her hands. He stands up with his hands in the air to show he meant no harm, “I just wanted to talk to you. And catch up with Stella.” “You lost the right to do that when you rela- when you did what you did while Stella was home,” she argues. 

“I know, you know I regret that completely. I will never forgive myself for putting her in danger. I want you to know I’m back on track to getting better.” 

“That’s great. But I can’t just trust you like that again Rafe,” she snaps her fingers to iterate her point. “I want you to leave, please.” Stella looks between the two adults in confusion, wondering why it seemed they were talking in code. Rafe looks into Y/N’s eyes and sees the frustrations she feels. He doesn’t want to cause her any more trouble, so he heads toward the door. “Daddy, where are you going? Aren’t you going to play with me?” Stella calls out in a plea. His heart stops for a second and he doesn’t know how to get it to start beating again. He shakes his head sadly, “I’m sorry, little witch, but I have to go. I have work tomorrow.” Stella’s eyes start to brim with tears. “But you didn’t give me a hug yet,” she cries, holding out her arms for him. He looks at Y/N to confirm he is allowed to and she gives a solemn nod. She can’t deny her daughter a moment with her father. 

Y/N puts Stella down on the floor and Stella runs to her father. She goes into his arms, burying her head into his neck, “Bye-bye, Daddy. Forever and always?” He returns the intensity of her hug and kisses her. “Forever and always.” Her feet find the floor again and she watches as Rafe leaves her. He turns around when on the other side of the glass, blowing the little girl a kiss. Stella may not understand what is going on between her parents, but she can sense something has changed between them and that she might never see her father again. She goes back to her mother with hopeful eyes, “When can we see Daddy again?” “I don’t know, Baby. I’m sorry,” Y/N hates to say, giving the girl a hug to comfort her. 

——

Rafe does not blame Y/N for still being mad at him and for being hesitant to bring her back into their lives. He broke her trust, which is a sacred thing. The gifts were obviously not working and he is honestly glad it doesn't. Thinking back on it, he wants to gain her trust back through actions instead of materialistic things. He isn’t sure how to make it up to her, but he knows he can start a plan. First things, booking his next therapy appointment and increasing how often he sees Dr. Winters. Next, he will meet with Diana and reflect on why he relapsed so he can make a relapse prevention plan. Finally, make a list of possible places to go to rehab if he feels he can’t get sober in his current environment. 

Yes, this plan isn’t about getting back Y/N, but it helps him with recovering from his relapse and this will hopefully show Y/N how serious he is. As he writes down his plan, he vows to do everything in his power to gain back Y/N’s trust and show her he will never make the mistake of putting Stella in danger again.  

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[starcrossedxwriter]

Babies on Board Part 1 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Sort of a part 3 to Falling Apart? Gonna be honest... this is just 5k words of Els and Bakari being cute lol there's no plot here... just fluff and cute pregnancy vibes.

12 Weeks

“Any concerns before we get started?” Simone asked as Michael helped Charlotte get situated on the examination table. 

Her initial response was a mere disgruntled huff as she flopped back against the cold uncomfortable material of the table. 

It would have been easier to list what was not a concern at this point. She was was not even close to done with teh process and was already ready for this baby to move the fuck out of her uterus to a new address. She was constantly uncomfortable, throwing up every hour of every damn day, dizzy and to make matters worse, she was gaining weight faster than she could have ever imagined. Limbs that never ached before seemed to now only know one setting: pain. And she knew it was only going to get worse.

The A list couple had made the conscious decision to not publicly announce their pregnancy yet. That decision had made the final week of their press tour decidedly miserable and their vacation did not fare much better as Charlotte fought off non stop morning sickness. While she enjoyed the first week of their trip, laying out on their private beach in Saint-Tropez, she was essentially sequestered to the cabin of their yacht during the final week as the deadly combination of morning and motion sickness hit her. She tried to power through but even she could not hide how miserable she was. So she was not shocked when Michael cut the trip short so they could get home and Charlotte could relax at home and be close to her doctor.  

They both knew their runway to announce this themselves was quickly running out as Charlotte had, much to her chagrin, already formed a small but distinct baby bump. Her wardrobe now consisted almost exclusively of Michael’s oversized clothes from his Killmonger days to hide it. And while it was cute and chic now, she knew it would not last without someone noticing soon enough. She knew it was not a secret they could hide forever but she thought they would have more time than this. 

The bump was the first physical and tangible sign that they were going to be parents and that their lives were about to drastically change. And every time she looked at herself, she was hit with this all consuming dread that she was not ready, that she had gone on this journey and she would not be good enough. Michael was ready, he had been born to be a father and his excitement was bright enough that she did not think he even noticed how dim her light was.

“Umm the only thing… I feel like I’m already gaining too much weight?” She paused when she heard Michael make an annoyed tsk noise, whipping her head around in frustration. “What? That’s my concern right now.” 

“That ain’t what we talked about, baby,” he sucked his teeth in annoyance, though his tone maintained its usual sweetness toward her. He knew she was struggling with all of this and the hormones certainly were not making it any better for her. 

Vain was not a word he would have ever used to describe Charlotte. She cared about her appearance and being a fashion it girl on red carpets but she never really harped on putting on extra weight or things like that. However, as her body started to make subtle changes week by week, she developed an obsession with her weight and figure. And every day she looked in the mirror and noticed something different or saw the number on the scale increase, it only added fuel to the fire in her mind. And while he understood all of that, there were real concerns that he did not want to get lost in her pursuit to maintain her weight despite being pregnant. 

She groaned, rolling her eyes as she folded her arms like a petulant child. “It was just the once, Bakari. And everything I read said it’s normal.”

“It wasn’t just once. And you know it’s hella convenient when you choose to listen to Google and when you don’t.” He turned to address his rant to Simone who merely sported an amused look on her face. “100 articles told her it was totally normal to start showing at 12 weeks but she’s convinced that can’t be right. But WebMD, which told her she had brain cancer once cause she had a fuckin’ headache by the way, is right about you faintin’ left and right??” 

“First, ‘left and right’ is dramatic… this isn’t a set, no need for theatrics.” She sucked her teeth in annoyance. “Second, there’s no reason to trash Web MD, real doctors submit that information and it is literally science…” she started to fuss at him when Simone cut her off, shaking her head at the couple’s antics.

“Ok, ok, ok. How about you tell me, an expert, you know years of schooling and residency and a mountain of debt, and I’ll tell you if it is normal or not?” 

“Well the two things are connected, in my opinion,” Charlotte responded. “When we got back from vacation around 9 weeks, I felt like I was already gaining a lot of weight so I increased my workouts a bit. Got dizzy a few times and someone,” she cut her eyes toward Michael, “insisted I cut back. But I already have a bump and it’s huge… I look like I could be six… EIGHT months pregnant!” Simone and Michael both snickered at her exaggeration but her hormones gave her a pass. “Don’t laugh at me, Michael! I’m serious! This all just feels too soon and I know it’s not my diet. I just started being able to keep food down all day like yesterday.” 

“She’s leaving a lot out,” Michael chastised, though his tone mirrored the loving and exasperated expression on his face. “We cut back because she’s fainting after her runs. And not just after runs, I bet she didn’t tell you about her fainting spell on our press tour.” 

“Once!” She cried out. “And I already compromised with you on this! And that was weeks ago… such a snitch,” she whispered the last part under her breath.  

“Twice,” he called out louder. “She fainted twice, once in the driveway and once trying to walk up the stairs after her run. She was alone the first time and I was behind her the second time thankfully. Or else, I would’ve been taking her to the damn ER. She could’ve been seriously hurt. And she’s been getting lightheaded and dizzy almost every day. Her compromise was to cut back from 5 miles to 3, which is the point of this argument that I’ve been having with her for the last 72 hours since I caught her from falling down the damn stairs. She needs to stop completely and she thinks she shouldn’t because of the weight gain.” 

Simone’s hand went to her heart as she made a small “awww” noise and wheeled around in her chair. 

“An overprotected husband and a wife who can’t slow down… you two are in for a very long 9 months,” she chuckled before turning her attention back to Charlotte’s chart. “Many women have a bump at 12 weeks. It’s jarring, which is totally fair, and can be overwhelming but it’s true. Everyone’s different. We’ll make sure nothing’s wrong. But Charlie, you’re gonna have to learn to accept the changes in your body as they come. I’m sorry but you aren’t gonna be able to outrun a baby bump. If there was a way, lord knows I would’ve done it for my kids. And you’re both right and wrong so that’s fun and please, for the love of God, stay off WebMD. Dizziness and fainting are common and there can be several causes but if they persist as time goes on, you should let me know. You are fine to work out for now but listen to your body and take it easy. I would lay off running outside and trails unless someone is with you thoug. Is that a good compromise for both mom and dad?”

“Fine, if Michael gets us a better treadmill than that janky one in the gym.”  

“If it keeps your ass from running through our neighborhood, I’ll buy 10 treadmills. I assume that’s in addition to your real push present?”

“Naturally. Diamonds, baby… lots of them. And a new car if you ever want me to go through this shit again,” she winked at him and pushed herself up to kiss him softly. 

Michael knew she was half kidding and did not expect all of those things, however, he would get them without question. In fact, he was already shopping for a new car for her and a new family car. He had not figured out her other gifts yet but they would most certainly be of the sparkly and expensive variety. His baby deserved every push present he could afford.

“Hope that Black Panther check is still coming,” Simone mused as she stood up with the ultrasound wand. “Alright, let’s see what we got going on in here.” 

Michael pressed his lips to Charlotte’s forehead to calm her as she nervously fidgetted. It was more than nerves, they both knew, she was terrified. Terrified that they had made it this far only for something horrible to go wrong. She would never admit it to Michael but she had barely forgiven herself for their miscarriage. If something happened this time, she did not know how she would survive it. 

She was thankful every day for Michael, his steadiness and calm. His face was already the picture of fatherly pride as he stared at the black and white ultrasound monitor. He was the only thing holding her together, the only thing keeping her ever present terror somewhat at bay. They waited in a slow silence until a soft thumping filled their ears. Charlotte let out a deep exhale of relief as their child’s heartbeat sounded through the room. 

Michael did not outwardly show his relief, even though he had been just as nervous as Charlotte. He was simply better at hiding it and did so mostly for her benefit. He could tell she had been keeping the pregnancy at arm’s length up until this moment. Her excitement was muted, she spoke in terms of ifs instead of whens as if she was convinced something would stop them from seeing that glorious finish line. While Michael had always been more of the optimist in their relationship, he was a bit surprised at how little Charlotte wanted to talk about or acknowledge her pregnancy until the first trimester was over. He imagined that was what fueled her obsession with her weight and the changes in her body. Those were the physical signs that she was indeed pregnant and that it was not something she could push to the back of her mind because she was scared. 

But Michael, regardless of his fears, had faith that this was their moment. Every day that passed assured him that this was different. He saw their child and future family so clearly, it was as if God was speaking to him. In a few months, they would have a healthy baby. His mind would not allow him to believe anything other than that. 

“And there’s our little one’s heartbeat. Very strong.” 

Charlotte squeezed Michael’s hand as they listened, both of their eyes filling with tears as they listened to the steady beat of their child’s heart. Proof that they had created this miracle together. 

“Thank you, baby. I love you so much,” Michael whispered as he kissed her lips.  

Before she could say it back, Simone interrupted them. 

“And… oh, give me a second. I see something that could be…” Simone continued moving the wand around, the heartbeat fading away as she studied the black and white ultrasound machine. The doctor was clearly preoccupied with whatever was on the screen that Charlotte could not hope to understand, her half completed sentence dying off much to the couple’s chagrin.

Charlotte glanced between her husband and her doctor, her joy souring into panic within an instant. This was the one moment and place she did not want her doctor to see anything that gave her pause. She glanced back at Michael whose face was no longer the excited one from minutes ago, but had gone utterly stoic. His eyes were the only thing that gave insight into his emotions, his worry swirling around in them despite his best efforts to shield his wife from it.

“W-what’s wrong?” She asked, clearing her throat, hoping she could keep the pure panic she felt out of it. 

“Relax, Charlie. Nothing’s wrong. Sorry, I just wanted to triple check but our friend has a friend in there. Hear that?” She moved the wand to another part of her belly, another heartbeat sounding. “You’re having twins.” 

Silence.

“W-what?” 

“N-No, no. That can’t be right. H-How’s that possible?” 

Simone laughed. “Well, sex… genes and pure luck, honestly. Can’t tell the genders yet but you definitely have two growing in there. Which would explain the weight gain and bump and lightheadedness… multiples can make symptoms more severe. So just listen to your body and take it easy,” Simone smiled. “You two look like I just grew three heads.” 

Charlotte let out a nervous chuckle. “No, no… I think that just wasn’t on our list of things you’d say today. Twins… whew… God’s just throwing us in the deep end, huh?” she laughed, glancing at Michael. She was excited, her eldest sister had twins and their bond was truly beautiful to see. However, she could not tell how Michael felt. They were doubling their household in one go and she could not tell if he was happy or utterly terrified. 

Michael merely smiled and kissed her. “We know how to swim,” he whispered. Michael knew he should be terrified at the prospect of two babies but he wasn’t. But with Charlotte, he knew he could tackle anything, they could do anything.

“Famous last words,” Simone remarked, enjoying their blissful excitement. 

***

New Years (15 weeks)

“Come on, bed. You’ve been on your feet all night.” 

Charlotte laughed and glanced back at him as they walked up the stairs to their master suite. “You gonna be this overprotective the whole pregnancy? You were damn near pushing me into every open chair all night, Bakari. I stood for maybe two hours total.” 

“Yea well, still too long. And you just started to feel better a few weeks ago. Bey did not care that you weren’t tearing up the dance floor. She’s been where you are. She said she was shocked you even made it out of the house.” 

Charlotte sighed as they both walked into their giant closet. Their garment bags were already hanging and ready for their matching New Years Eve fits to go back into their safe homes. 

“She has been amazing… so much good advice. And please… as if I was going to miss Bey and Jay’s epic New Year’s party. It’s the party of the year, babe. Though this year was not the same with my stellar dance moves.” 

“Drunk dance moves,” he whispered as he came behind her to help her take off her jewelry. 

“Don’t pretend like drunk Charlotte isn’t your favorite,” she teased. “Too bad she’s serving a ten month prison stint. I miss her,” she moaned quietly. 

Michael let out a barking laugh. “I love you in all forms, baby.” His eyes fell down to her boobs, which were straining against the deep v neckline of her dress that stopped right at the top of her belly bump. “Particularly this form,” he leaned over and sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on her neck. 

He loved every aspect of Charlotte’s body, always had. And while Charlotte continued to bemoan the changes her body was going through, Michael was not complaining one bit. Her boobs were bursting out of every top and her already perfect hourglass figure had started to fill out a bit more. She looked radiant and sexy as fuck. Michael could barely keep his hands off of her. All of his friends who were dads warned him that there might be a lot of cold showers in his future depending on how the hormones affected her. But that had not been an issue. When she was up for it, his honey bee was putting his high sex drive to shame. 

His hands rested on the sides of her perfectly rounding belly, which is why Charlotte decided to enter 2019 with on full display. She had Law only pull outfits that would accentuate her growing bump and new curves. She was still getting used to them but she knew she looked damn good tonight. And she was pleased that her husband thought so too. 

She let out a breathy moan. “Let me get out of this dress and shower first and then we can ring in 2019 properly.” She paused. “Oh! First, we gotta pick a photo for Instagram. Gotta get something out before the official photos get out there. I know we took those great ones before we left but… I kinda want to post one of the photo booth ones. They’re so fun.” 

“Sounds good. We can each post our favorite. You sure you’re ready to announce?” 

“Don’t second guess it after I basically told all of Black Hollywood babe! We don’t have a choice now. Besides, I’m tired of hiding under giant sweaters, it’s just getting weird.” 

“I hear you. Just wanna make sure you’re sure and don’t feel pressured to do it. We don’t owe people shit.” 

“I know. But we also deserve to share our news and joy… we’ve always done our thing on our time and I don’t want that to change. I’m just glad we waited till the second trimester. Now it feels good. ” 

Michael unzipped her dress, helping her shimmy out of it. “Are you excited now?” 

“I was always excited,” she muttered as she anxiously pulled the excess rings off her fingers, leaving her with just her engagement and wedding rings. 

“Lighthouse?” he whispered, kissing her bare shoulder. 

Her eyes clenched shut. That was their code, the one word they could invoke that demanded vulnerability and honesty, not assurances that placated the other’s feelings.

“I was always excited… my fear was just bigger,” she amended. “I didn’t want to disappoint you… or myself again. I know things that could still go wrong, b-but the fear is just different now, I guess.” 

Michael nodded as he started to take off his own outfit, carefully hanging them both back up and zipping their bags so they could be picked up the next day. He already knew everything she said, but Charlotte often needed to be pushed to voice the insecurities rattling around in her brain. And he knew that their relationship always struggled when they did not voice their fears and concerns. Neither of them were particularly good at being vulnerable and leaning on others but they were both working on it. He thought her subdued nature around the pregnancy was merely her fear of another miscarriage but there was still something that felt slightly off to him. It was something so subtle that he would have missed it if he did not know her so well. But this went beyond the typical fears of impending parenthood and he was determined to figure out why. 

“For the record,” he remarked as he pulled her over to their bed. He sat on the edge and pulled her between his legs, his hands resting on her sides. “You never disappointed me. What’s scaring you now?” 

Charlotte studied him for a few moments before shaking her head. She was not ready to share what weighed her heart down now, what terrified her. He would merely question why he decided to have kids with her and she could not take that. 

She ran her fingers down his arms and shrugged. “Just you know… scared of how fast everything is changing. Feels like we’re gonna run outta time before they get here. I’m excited, Bakari, I promise.” 

He decided to leave it there for now, knowing that she was not being entirely truthful. But it took time and perhaps she did not even know what bothered her yet so he would let it go… for now. 

“Excited enough to spend tomorrow in bed picking out baby names??” 

Michael could not explain it but he was particularly excited about picking out their children’s names. While Charlotte bemoaned the process of having to find enough combinations of names they liked to name multiples, Michael found pursuing baby name books and the internet to be oddly fun. He already had a list on his notes app of every name he loved. 

“Never met a man this excited about naming babies.” 

“How many men you tried to name babies with??” he asked playfully, gently tickling her sides. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” she begged as she broke out into laughter. She tried to move but his strong ass legs kept her trapped. He continued his playful assault for a few moments before giving her a reprieve. “Only you, I promise.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he kissed her belly. 

“Can we wait till we know the genders, please?” she pleaded. “Without that, it’s too many potential combinations to think about.” 

“It’s crazy that your mama can keep the lyrics to every musical ever created in that big brain of hers but she can’t keep names straight,” Michael whispered to her belly, causing Charlotte to roll her eyes. 

“Once upon a time, your mama was a musical savant,” Charlotte bragged with a playful grin. “Now, she can barely remember her own name. Let alone 100 combos of first and middle names. But as soon as we have genders, yes… we can pick out names. Aka review your list.” 

At his jaw dropping, she shrugged. “Daddy’s kinda tech illiterate, doesn’t even know that his notes sync to his laptop. It’s ok, y’all will teach them.” She offered to the two babies in her belly that could not remotely hear a single of their playful insults to each other. 

Michael pursed his lips before nodding. “Fine. Once we know the genders. No gender reveal… I ain’t waiting that long.”

“Deal. I hate that shit anyway.”  

22 weeks

"So Michael... this one learned how to slow down yet?" Malcolm called from the other end of the table, Charlotte covering her face jokingly with a napkin.

"Not a chance in hell," Michael joked as he gestured for staff to refill everyone's glasses. "Remember, mocktail for her," he motioned to Charlotte at the other end of the table. "I see she didn't tell y'all how I found out she was pregnant?"

"Some of us are more interested the story of how she got pregnant?” Chris joked, his husband playfully swatting him on his arm.

“Right because that’s an appropriate story for dessert?? But… maybe call me to tomorrow,” Charlotte winked at him jokingly, causing the entire table to erupt in laughter. "Michael's literally never gonna let me live this one down, yall. I may or may not have passed out right before our press conference."

"And then, check this out. Told our director to give her a minute and she'd be ready. As if we hadn't just picked her up off the floor?"

"Soooo embarrassing," Charlotte laughed. "And totally ruined my cute onesie situation that I actually had planned."

Loud chatter and laughter filled the Jordan home at their long farm-style table at a dinner party with some of their friends. A few of Charlotte's co-stars from her last musical and friends from the Hamilton were in LA for work so naturally Charlotte used it as an excuse to host, much to Michael's chagrin. Malcolm, Chris, Lin, Renee, Leslie and most of their spouses were able to come. And though he thought it was too much stress for her, he could tell that she was having a ball.

"Charlie never learned when to sit down and relax though," Chris mused as they dug into dessert.

Charlotte took one bite of the perfect tiramisu she had stood on her feet for half the day making before discreetly pushing it away from her. When she tasted it earlier, she had to make Michael hide it so she did not eat the entire thing. And now? The taste was so sickeningly sweet that it made her want to vomit.

She had not had too many insane cravings or issues over the last few weeks but when her body was turned off by something, it felt as if it was in active revolt. All night, despite the ravings of everyone at the table, Charlotte merely took one or two bites of everything before wanting to toss it out the window. Her body did not want any of this fancy stuff.

She wanted In & Out. But the host could hardly sneak away for a burger and animal-style fries run. So she transformed into her usual outgoing self, so talkative and bubbly that no one even seemed to notice she was not eating.

Well... no one except a very perceptive actor seated across from her.

"So what are you most excited about?" Lin asked. Almost everyone at the table were parents.

Charlotte glanced down at Michael for a moment before sitting up straight. "I'm excited about a lot... but I think I'm just excited to get to know them. See and experience their personalities and uniqueness. Michael and I are insane," she chuckled. "So we're in for a real treat with these two."

Michael grinned. "Yea same. I have so many memories with my pops... I'm just excited to spend time with 'em, you know? Build all those core memories that they'll remember when they're our age."

"That's beautiful. You two are going to be amazing parents. Those two don't know how lucky they have it."

Charlotte's hand rested on her belly, rubbing it gently. "Thank you... and thank you for all the advice. All of you are my parenting role models so I'm keeping you all on speed dial."

Dinner progressed and by the time Charlotte hugged their last guest goodbye, she was ready to collapse into their bed. The only thing stopping her was the gnawing hunger and craving she felt. But they had spent so much money and energy on this party and it had been her idea. So she was not too keen on admitting to her husband that she was still starving.

"Thank you for indulging me and my friends. Everyone had fun." Charlotte stretched onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips in their foyer after they closed the door. He had been a trooper all night and during Charlotte's planning.

"You have fun?" Michael asked as he pulled her flush to his chest.

"I really did. Though the only other party I'll be hosting before these babies move out is the baby shower. Cause fuck I'm so tired," she moaned, leaning her head into his shoulder. "You were right."

"Gonna savor this moment cause I know I'll never hear those words again," he whispered against her massive curls as he pressed his lips onto the top of her head. "But you can't crash yet."

"Why nottttttt?" She whined like a child.

"Because you need to eat."

"We just had dinner?"

"No... I and everyone else had dinner. You pushed your food around and acted if I was one of these oblivious niggas. You need real food. So what do you want?"

Charlotte's heart turned into a puddle and then the water works started.

"Oh baby. Els, don't cry."

"No... it's just, you're so sweet to me. A-and I spent all our money on this p-party and t-then all the food m-made me want to die a-and now you're gonna s-spend more money on m-me... I d-don't deserve you."

Michael chuckled as he rubbed her back. "You didn't spend all our money. I think I can afford a second dinner for you, honey bee." He leaned back so he could look at her. His fingers whisked away all her falling tears. "So, what sounds good?"

"In & Out?" She asked with a smile. "OH NO! The tacos... a-at that taco truck we went to. Fuck what was the name??"

Michael steered her toward the garage as she ranted about how delicious the tacos at this place were as if they had not gotten food from there almost once week for the last 4 weeks.

"Tacos it is."

"Thanks babe." Charlotte paused, squeezing his hand.

"For what?"

"Taking such good care of me... and CJ and MJ."

Michael pecked her on the nose before stopping. "Who tf is CJ and MJ?"

"Our children???" she gestured down at her belly, her tone signaling her appall at him not knowing her made up baby names.

"What do they stand for?"

"Charlotte Jr and Michael Jr? Duh!"

Michael almost doubled over in laughter . "We ain't naming our kids that, Els." He made sure she was settled in the passenger's seat before he jogged to the driver's side and climbed in.

"You don't like it because you haven't let me tell you the vision!"

Michael let out an exasperated laugh before he nodded, sliding his hand onto her leg, rubbing her soft skin as he drove.

"Don't think the vision will change my opinion, baby. But thankfully, tomorrow, you'll probably forget both those ideas... hopefully," he whispered the last part.

"Just for that, I'm gonna write them in your official brainstorm list," she grabbed his phone from the console, Michael playfully swiping for it. She let out an evil laugh as she added her objectively insane name choices to his ever-growing list.

"Pregnant you is a menace."

"I thought you loved me in all forms?" she teased.

He eyed for a moment before acquiescing. Pregnant Charlotte was certainly different... a more dramatic, hormonal, sour yet sweet, chaotic version of the woman he loved. And he wouldn't trade her for the world.

"I do," he pressed a soft kiss to her ring finger before squeezing it. "Except when you're hangry so let's get you some tacos."

26 weeks

“Alright, an Oreo milkshake for you, my love,” Michael handed her a homemade milkshake, the young woman practically dancing in her seat on the couch with excitement. 

After bursting out into tears one night at 4 a.m. because there was no place open to get the coveted milkshake her body craved, Michael started making them from scratch to her exact specifications. He made sure that every week on their grocery run, her emergency milkshake supplies were restocked so she never went without. 

He positioned himself at the end of the couch and slid her feet into his lap.

“Thank you. This is the exact brain fuel I needed for baby names. I still think, we shouldn’t rule out -” 

Michael immediately shook his head, he knew exactly where she was going with this. “No, absolutely not. The Michael alphabet-middle-name Jordan complex dies with me, baby. Besides what would they be? Michael C. And Michael D. Jordan?? That’s insane. We ain’t the Foremans.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so stupid,” she laughed. “Not even a junior?? For me?” 

“No juniors. They deserve their own names, their own reputations. And I don’t like the idea of naming one after me and not the other.” 

They found out a week prior that they were having twin boys, which was exciting and terrifying in a mixture of ways. They both genuinely had not had any preference, they had hoped it would be a boy and a girl so they could get the best of both worlds. But neither of them minded at all. 

She moaned, frustrated. “Ugh, you hate me. Fine. What if, compromise… We could do your initials? MBJ, it's a nod but not a junior and we could find B middle names for them both and you had some M names on your long ass list.”

“My thorough list,” he corrected. “And I… am not against that. I do like when families’ names have a theme. I do love the name Miles.” 

“Miles Bakari Jordan… not too shabby. I think it’s really nice. Let’s write that one down?” she instructed Michael who was in charge of their official notes app note that contained their final baby name choices. 

“What’s another one?” 

“Maddox is cute?” Charlotte tried as she scrolled through a baby forum. 

“Yea if he was a white boy. You know any niggas named Maddox?”

Charlotte opened her mouth to rebut, however, immediately closed it and acquiesced. “Touche.” 

“Mason?” 

“So everyone can say I stole a name from one of those Kardashians? Fuck that. Nextttttt!” Michael laughed as they continued scrolling. “Malcolm?” 

“Malcolm Jordan? That’s awful. Maybe you should let me lead this, babe?” Michael joked, seriously questioning his wife’s naming ability. 

Charlotte jokingly swatted at him with a pillow while she laughed. “I really hate you. Umm… Oh I love the name Malachi?” 

“Miles and Malachi, I like them together. What middle name though?” 

“Ugh this is why I hate this! You land on a good name then you gotta come up with another name!” She threw her head back dramatically. “There are too many options.” 

“Boys… you’re gonna see pretty immediately why your mama has two Oscars.” Michael lowered his voice to talk to her belly as if she could not hear him. 

“Ummm why their mama is an EGOT… put some respect on my name in front of Malachi and Miles, please?” She grinned. “See? It just rolls off the tongue. Wow, I’m so good at this,” she mused, giddy as she took a long sip of her drink. 

Sometimes she finished it within seconds of Michael handing it to her, inhaling it so quickly that Michael was genuinely concerned, and others she held onto it to “savor” it. Tonight seemed to be a “savor” night. 

“Yes, you are. I dunno… I kinda thought it could be cute if we did your middle name for the other? You know… carry on something of your name too. But Malachi Bennett Jordan is a mouthful.” 

Tears welled up in Charlotte’s eyes causing Michael to smile and rub her leg. 

“Els… what’s wrong??” 

“That’s j-just really sweet… UGH these fucking hormones,” she pouted, hating how the smallest things made her start sobbing like a weeping willow. How did her body even produce this many tears?? “That’s super sweet of you, baby.” She shifted so she could crawl across the cushion and kiss him. She decided to just settle in his arms instead of returning to her spot, a content exhale escaping her. “My dad had two sons to carry on his name, he’s all set. I think it’s gotta be shorter. What about… Brooks? Malachi Brooks Jordan?” 

“I like it.” 

“Can we add it to the official list?” 

“Yes but… let’s pick one more back up.” 

“Michaellllllllll…” Charlotte groaned. 

She could tell he just enjoyed talking about it, putting names to these children who they’d been referring to as “the babies” 100 times a day. It did make them more real in her head, hearing them test out future names. She decided to indulge him, she loved Michael’s enthusiasm about all of these mundane and random aspects of pregnancy. He was not content with just sitting on the sidelines, he was active in every decision and step. How to decorate the nursery, baby names, the changes in their development week to week, the changes in Charlotte’s body, researching and buying every gadget and baby item that he thought would keep his future princes safe and sound and happy. 

One day last week, Charlotte literally burst into tears as she listened to Michael ask a list of 100 safety questions about the stroller they planned to buy. He was so excited about being a father, active and present and it just warmed her heart at every turn. 

“Fine but I need another milkshake, please?” She flashed him her signature puppy dog eyes, which had him up and in the kitchen before she could say please again. 

Pregnancy did have some perks. 

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @roguekiki @tythaitie

***

A/N: My brain sort of ran off with itself with this one lolol I just needed the fluff lol Thanks for reading!

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 31 - All Blends 2

Holy crap is this chapter a doozy lol. It's quite a bit longer than my other chapters. Lotta stuff happens. So I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! None this time? Sad stuff happens ofc. We are introduced to someone new.

P.s. I was going to use some random son for Big Mom but like. I did a Lil research and I can't help but like Katakuri. 😬 again. I apologize if Big Mom and Kata seem a bit off. I'm trying to keep myself spoiler free for the anime.

Masterlist

Benn runs through the courtyards of Mihawk's castle, dodging swipes from the Humandrals until he hears the sound of striking steel. He turns that way, picking up speed as he goes until he arrives at a small clearing in the dirt. Shanks and Mihawk are both grinning, a joy so easy to see that Benn thinks he may go blind. Usually, he'd stay and watch, but he can still hear your terrified voice pleading for help.

He slides to a stop, and the two men sparing turn and look at him, brows raised.

“Benn? What's going on?” Shanks asks his first mate. Benn wouldn't come get him unless it was important.

“It's, _ Shanks. They found her.”

The temperature of the surrounding area plummets, and all ambient noise disappears. Neither man can believe what they are hearing. They'd both been so sure that no one would be able to find your tiny island tucked away in Paradise, so close to the Calm Belt that most ships would be torn apart by sea kings. How could this have happened?

“What did you say?” Mihawk hisses and his grip on Yoru tightens to the point of pain, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He ignores the feeling of hot liquid dripping down his hand.

Shanks isn't faring much better. He looks ashen, pale faced and nervous. He and Benn share a look, one that Mihawk easily catches.

“_ called the transponder snail. She said that the Big Mom pirates had made landfall,” Benn frowns, one hand running through his graying hair.

“She sounded terrified.”

Mihawk is moving before his mind fully registers what's going on. He speeds through the castle, grabbing his coat and bag he'd packed the other day in case you called them. His haki is lashing, sending furniture falling and making the old stone walls of the castle crack and fracture. The ringing of his snail grabs his attention, and Hawkeye grabs it before loping out of the castle and to the bay.

Shanks is right behind him, Benn keeping up with his captain. It is with a silent, shared look with his lover that Mihawk reluctantly steps aboard the Red Force. He isn't fond of being on another's ship, especially one as big as this one, but like hell, would he let the younger man out of his sight.

While Shanks is barking orders, Mihawk takes the time to answer the still ringing snail that he clutches too tightly.

Ca-lick

“Mihawk! Finally! I've been calling forever!”

Perona’s shrill voice is a little comfort, but fear still clutches Dracule by the heart. She is rattling on before he can get a word in.

“You've got to get back to _’s island. She thinks it might be Big Mom and her crew!”

Mihawk feels a vein pop in his brow with his hard he scowls down at the snail.

“I know! Where are you? How quickly can you go back?”

“I'm three days out! So, two and a half if the sea doesn't hate me. What if she's already gone? What if…what if it's worse?”

Mihawk can hear the thickness in Perona’s voice and knows that the ghost girl is probably crying now, having worked herself up in a tizzy. He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Perona. I need you to calm down, girl. Listen to me when I say that _ will be fine. We can handle anything that's happened, but I need you to do something for me, okay?”

He hears the pinkette sniff over the transponder, but she sounds like she's gotten a hold of herself.

“Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to go back to her island. Find out if she's still there, but be safe. If you see her jolly roger, then you sail right to us. You've got your log pose, right?”

Perona sniffs again and nods even though her father-figure can't see it, “Yeah.”

“Good. If the island is clear, then investigate carefully.” He stresses the word, “Call me back as soon as you can, got it?”

“Yes, Mihawk. Will she really be okay?”

His heart breaks at the fear that he can hear swimming in his charge’s voice. He licks his lips. He is terrified in all honesty, but he keeps it together for her sake.

“She will be. Be safe, Perona.”

The ghost girl assures the older man that she will be careful and the transmission ends after that. Mihawk pockets the snail and looks around the ship to try and find Shanks.

The redhead is at the helm, still barking orders at his crew. Dracule picks his way past the pirates until he arrives at his lover's side. Shanks glances at him and then looks away, his haki curling tight around himself as if he was trying to hide away from the other man. Mihawk can't help but feel a little hurt.

Shanks is panicking. How could he tell Mihawk that all of this was his fault? That it had been him That had slipped up, his lips loose with drink and his heart heavy with wistful thoughts of his treasure that night so long ago.

The hawk hadn't trusted him with this from the beginning, and it killed him to admit that Mihawk had been right about Shanks after all? All the trust and affection that his lover had given him would go up in flames so quickly that Shanks wouldn't even be given a chance to mourn it. The redhead had little doubt that Mihawk would spirit you away from him as soon as he was able once he found out about his mistake.

The captain keeps himself busy for as long as he is able, but Mihawk is nothing if not patient, and he stays by his side until there are no more orders to be said. Before he can make a getaway, his hawk grabs him by the arm and practically drags him across the deck and into the Captain quarters. Shanks could have wrestled away, but then Mihawk would have been even more suspicious of him.

Shanks is shoved in a chair, and his lover putters around the room, pouring them both a drink before settling down in the seat across from Shanks. He sips delicately, but Shanks' nerves have him knocking back the glass of rum like it's a shot of whiskey. He jumps when Dracule speaks up.

“Perona is three days out from _’s island. She'll call me with news as soon as she gets there and if the island is clear or not.”

Shanks forces himself to nod. He licks his lips and scrubs his hand through his hair, “Good. That's good.”

Mihawk raises a brow at the other man's attitude. The man was acting more like a scared rabbit than the powerful Emperor that Dracule knows him to be. He sets his glass away and stands, crossing the short distance to stand between the redhead’s legs, and sets his hands on those tense shoulders. Mihawk guides him forward to rest his head against his bare chest, and his hands snake up to thread into red hair.

“How are we going to find her, Mihawk?”

The Emperor’s voice sounds shot, broken and beaten, and it breaks his heart listening to it. His grip tightens in Shanks’ hair, and Mihawk sighs softly.

“I don't know. But we'll search every island in Big Mom’s territory if we have to.”

~~~~~ Tomura ~~~~~

Tomura dashes through the streets of the city, a mischievous smirk on his face when he looks behind him and sees his little sister chasing after him. You look furious, but the expression just looks adorable on her chubby baby face. Tomura had snatched her favorite blanket this morning to try and wake up the sleepy head, and the chase had been on since.

Obviously, he wasn't going as fast as he could. Tomura was older than her by almost a decade, after all, and he didn't want his sister to get lost in the crowds of people. Not that the citizens of their Kingdom would let their only princess get lost.

The people laughed and urged her in the way her oldest brother ran, encouraging her to catch up to him. Their king and Queen had always been kind to their subjects, and in turn, they stayed loyal to the royal family.

Tomura slows to a stop, ducking behind a stall selling fruit and waiting for his little sister to dash past him. He springs out and grabs her by the waist, spinning you around in the air. You shriek in laughter, clutching at his wrists as he turns his lower body into dust and flies back the way he came, back to the castle and to where breakfast awaits.

Tomura opens his eyes, squinting when the sun makes them water. He wonders what you look like now. Had you found a way to survive and flourish after he left you behind? Would you even remember him? The thought of you not knowing who he is made his chest tight with fear and his throat clog with emotions he carefully hid from his men. Could you forgive him for leaving you behind, even if it had been the best course of action?

An angry scowl twists his lips, and Delemur lets out a string of quiet curses, mostly centered around a certain red-headed Emperor who had somehow stumbled across the safe house. Damn Red-Haired Shanks.

“Captain! We're going to make landfall soon!” The voice of one of his crew startled Tomura out of the fond memory and his less than savory thoughts. He rubs his face, sighing as he straightens up from where he'd been leaning on the railing.

“How long?” The white-haired man asks and looks at the lieutenant before him.

“Lookout said we're about thirty minutes out, Sir.”

Tomura nods. They would need to be prepared if some of Big Mom’s crew were there. Same with Shanks and his crew.

“Get the men prepared for a skirmish. Big Mom won't be here, but I'd bet she'd send some of her stronger men to get my sister.”

The news of his little sister being the reason behind his sudden disregard of orders had swept through the ship quicker than scurvy. But his marines were loyal, and technically, they were still chasing after pirates, so the higher ups could be too mad at them.

“Yes, Sir!” his lieutenant snapped, and then he was off, getting the other crew members up and running.

Tomura stalked to the front of the ship, and from here, he could see the outline of your island. His mouth twists in a grimace, and he prays that he's gotten here quick enough to beat Big Mom’s crew.

However, the closer he gets, the more his chest grows tight. There is grey smoke rising into the sky on the east side of the island, and even after so long away, Tomura knows that is where the safe house is.

The shore comes into view soon, and Delemur frowns when he sees a small ship docked at the shore, a large cross on the flag. He's seen that before, but he doesn't understand why Dracule Mihawk would have a shit all the way out here. Maybe it'd been stolen?

They drop anchor in the next couple of minutes, and Tomura flies ahead and drops to the sand, taking a look around with a frown. The beach looked awful, the beautiful sands trampled all the way up to where it became grass. Most of the lush forest had been torn down, most likely caused by the larger members of the raid party. He followed the trail up, picking up the pace until he was in an all-out run.

Tomura slides to a stop, sticken at the sight before him. The entire place is a disaster, the cottage a charred husk of what it used to be. The scent of burning wood is thick in the air, and the once lush and full gardens that you had cared for have been overturned and stomped on. He can see the broken remains of a small pen on the side of the building, but there were no animals in sight.

Carefully, he steps forward, bending down to collect a shard of green sea glass that had survived the fire. The Vice-Admiral flips it end over end then pockets it before walking inside the destruction. The living room is full of burned books and clothes, the furniture broken and ashen like the rest of the house. There is a shelf holding on for dear life, an old record player with a stack of melted records resting beside it.

Tomura moves to the kitchen, taking in the shattered glass of the window and the many planters that take up the majority of counter space, each plant dry and brittle or nothing but ash. A wind chime is still intact, and he reaches forward to brush the pads of his fingers across the metal tube, frowning when the beautiful melody fills the air. That kind of sound didn't belong in such destruction.

Onward Tomura goes, learning about his little sister as best he can through the ruins of her home. Your love for music and books could easily be seen, but how could he ever know what they were? What is your favorite song to listen to now, or what you liked to do on long lazy days. Were you all alone? The pen outside suggested his sister had found animals, but where were they?

Your bedroom was in a bit better shape from the rest of the house since the door had been shut before the fire had started. Tomura carefully sits on the ashen bed, green eyes looking at everything he can as quickly as he can see. He wanted to know everything about you. He had missed so much of your life, and the regret of leaving you behind was suffocating.

Would you have been safer in the military? Maybe, but Sengoku would have taken one look at you and your devil fruit and thrown you into training, just like they did with him. Tomura didn't want that for his baby sister. He had wanted you to live a good life, even if it would be a lonely one.

His thoughts are stalled when he catches sight of what hangs in your closet. His green eyes zero in on the long coat with a high collar decorated with intricate designs. Delemur knows that coat. He has seen it on the occasional times he had run into Mihawk.

The two of them had a mutual understanding to not speak about what had happened between them. Tomura didn't like that the older man had helped Big Mom, but being in the Navy gave him a different perspective. Not to mention his own skeletons hidden away in his closet, and in the end, Mihawk had been the reason that Tomura and his sister got out alive. They were even as far as he cared.

But seeing the Warlord’s coat made him pause. The tiny ship in the bay had already been suspicious, but the coat only added to his rising confusion. All the rumors had pointed at Shanks being the one to have found you, so then why in the fuck wasn't he seeing anything that might belong to the Emperor?

The sound of a bleating goat suddenly grabs his attention, and then he picks up the sound of his men shouting. Delemur bolts out of the house and finds Mihawk's pink charge, Perona glaring daggers at his men, specifically Private Nitchell, who points a shaking pistol at the young woman. Three chickens and an ornery looking goat stand behind her.

“What the fuck is going on out here?” He demands, and glares at the private, “Stand down, Nitchell. Does she look like a threat to you?”

The young man shakes his head, a blush high on his cheeks at getting reprimanded, “No, Sir! Sorry, Sir!”

The Vice-Admiral watches Nitchell stow his weapon and back up from where the ghost girl looks ready to tear his head off. Tomura rounds on the pinkette, cockimg a brow at her.

“Perona right? The hell are you doing here?” He demands and crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed by the glare that she proceeds to aim at him.

“What's it to you?” She spits at him and floats up, crossing her own arms. He spots several ghosts behind her and prepares to turn himself into dust if one flies at him. He'd seen what those things could do. However, his annoyance skyrockets at her answer, and Tomura is hard pressed not to reach out and try to wring her neck.

“I asked you first,” he snarls right back, and feels like he is arguing with a little kid when Perona sticks her tongue out at him.

“I was coming to visit my friend, Navy Man. You should leave before my dad gets here.”

Tomura rolls his eyes and ignores the threat, “Your friend is my little sister. How did you find this place?”

Whatever argument that Perona was hyping herself up for deflated like a popped balloon when she registered what the marine said. She looks him over, dark eyes flickering from head to toe. The more she sees, the less Perona thinks that this man is lying. He looks like you. His cheekbones and brow are a familiar and comforting sight. But what should she tell him? Perona didn't think that Mihawk would be very happy with her if she happened to spill the beans on everything that he's been doing.

Perona licks her lips and floats back down, dismissing her ghosts and setting a hand on top of Neal's head. The goat grunts at her and butts his head into her hand, happy that the only other person he tolerated had found him and the three chickens hidden away in the intact part of the forest.

“Mihawk found this place a few years ago. After a while, he told me about your sister, and I wanted to be her friend. She seemed lonely, and I know what that's like,” Perona begins and shifts her weight with a sniff. She's been here for two days looking for anything that would help them find out where Big Mom’s crew may have taken you. The only luck she had was finding your goat and chickens. Hank and Sukuna were nowhere to be found.

Tomura's hands clenched into fists at the information. Mihawk had known about you for years, and Delemur was just now finding out about it. How were Shanks involved then? To his knowledge, the redhead and the hawk stayed away from one another. Until recently, that is.

Just what the hell had his baby sister gotten up to?

“She called me five days ago and said that some of Big Mom’s crew had found her island. I came as fast as I could, but I was too late. Shanks and Mihawk are on their way here now.”

Tomura doesn't like the thought of such powerful men working together and all for the sake of his little sister. What had you done to catch their attention? Did he even want to know the answer to that?

“How long until they get here?” Tomura asks after a moment. He would wait here until they arrived. At least he wouldn't have to go tracking the pirates down. He had a couple of choice words to give both of them now that he knows that Mihawk has been here as well. That bastard had looked him in the face not four months ago and had said nothing about knowing you.

Perona shrugs at him, her face morphing into a pout, “I don't know. Another week?”

Shanks and his crew were strong enough to go through the Calm Belt if they wanted to, and that would cut their travel time down by a lot. Gloom Island was a two week trip from here by normal means.

Tomura grumbles at having to wait that long, but he isn't that much of an asshole, and so stalks forward and offers Perona his hand.

“I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot with you. My name is Tomura. Thank you for being my sister's friend.”

The ghost girl blinks dumbly up at him before tentatively taking his hand and shaking it.

“Uh. You're welcome?” Perona has never been thanked for being someone's friend before. It was a little weird, but Tomura seemed genuine and kind like you. Just a bit more…violent it seemed.

Tomura blushes and takes his hand away, rubbing them together before pointing at Neal and the chickens, hoping to change the subject.

“Are those _’s?”

Perona nods and introduces Neal and the chickens. She couldn't remember if you had named the fowl, so she had taken it upon herself to name the rooster Henry and the two hens Harriet and Henrietta. The crew of his ship piddled around the island while Perona told Tomura stories about his little sister, and soon, the sun was beginning to set on the little island. He sighs heavily and invites Perona on his ship for dinner. They may as well get to know one another if they were to be stuck on an island together for the next couple of days.

Those days pass in the blink of an eye, and it is late in the evening on the fifth day when the lookout on his ship announces that the Red Force is entering the bay. Tension skyrockets, and Perona stands away from Tomura while they watch the pirate ship navigate to the shore. She can see two people standing at the bow of the ship, and tears of relief sprout in her eyes when she spots Mihawk's wide hat.

~~~~~~

The fear and anxiety that Shanks has felt during the entire trip explodes the moment they spot the navy vessel docked at his treasure's island. Of course, the rumors had reached your brother. Shanks should have known Tomura would be on his way here to see you. He curls his haki close to himself, refusing to let the older man feel just how manic he is right now. He needed to keep his head clear for this.

Next to him, Mihawk's haki lashes like an angry snake, golden eyes wide and full of fire when he sees the ship. He recognizes who it belongs to and cuts his eyes over at Shanks, who won't even look his way. Dracule had been silent about his concerns with just how Big Mom had found out, and he doesn't like the picture that has been painted for him. He doesn't want to accuse anyone of anything until he has all the knowledge he needs.

Mihawk and Shanks flash to the shore, and the warlord gets an armful of sad ghost girl the second his feet touch sand. Perona buries her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist and holding the warlord tightly. Tears sprout and run down her cheeks, and Mihawk can do nothing but sigh and hold the young woman close, one hand stroking the back of her pink hair.

Shanks steps up beside him, a kind smile that he forces on his lips as he pats Perona on the back, “It's alright, kid. We're here now.”

Mihawk shoots him a grateful look, and thankfully, Perona decides to pull away, reaching up to wipe her eyes free of smeared makeup.

“It took you two long enough to get here,” She grumbles and takes a step away, turning to look over at the Vice-Admiral, “Tomura has kept me company.”

Dracule looks up and catches the Navy man's eyes, the green dark and full of suppressed rage. He doesn't expect the younger man to bypass him almost immediately, instead, aiming that almost familiar glare at Shanks. The tension deepens, and sand is kicked up by the haki that coils between the three men. Tomura wasn't anywhere near the pirate's power level, but that wasn't about to stop him. The Emperor was the one responsible for his baby sister getting taken.

“Did he, now,” Mihawk murmurs and carefully maneuvers Perona to stand slightly behind him. He didn't want her to get caught in this, and the Warlord could tell that whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be very pretty.

Tomura isn't here to beat around the bush and cuts straight to the case, “Did you have any fucking plans to tell me that you knew my sister, Mihawk? How the hell did you even find her?”

Mihawk keeps his face free of any kind of expression that may give away his true feelings. Brother or not, Mihawk wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now. Not when you were obviously still missing. What he doesn't expect is Tomura rounding on Shanks, his tone dropping and turning dangerous.

“And you, you son a bitch. You're the fucking reason my gods damned baby sister was found.”

The silence that blankets the shore of the island is deafening. Tomura grins meanly when he sees that panic that pools in Shanks’ dark eyes and stands taller, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead. Mihawk follows the gesture, his heart seizing in his chest when he catches sight of the look of devastation that paints his lover's face. He takes two steps back, bringing Perona with him, away from the man who had promised Dracule that he could trust him.

“You promised me, Shanks,” Mihawk remarks and tries to keep the hurt out of his tone, but the younger man easily picks up on it, making him feel worse than scum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. The hurt quickly turns to anger, and the warlord reaches for Yuro, the blade swinging around to point at Shanks.

“You promised me that you would keep your mouth shut! You drunken, lying bastard. I never should have put my trust in you again.”

His ringed eyes blaze with a rage Mihawk hasn't felt in decades. Not since he was young and impressionable. His heart feels shattered, and out of everything, disappointment rings through his body like a live wire. He shouldn't have allowed the redhead to pass his walls.

Shanks’ eyes widen at the threat, and he takes a couple of steps back from the wicked blade. His own hand curls around Gryphon, and Shanks braces for the fight that would no doubt happen because of his mistakes. He didn't want to fight Mihawk, but he would defend himself if the older man made the first move. He quickly began to explain before Dracule could try and take his head from his shoulders.

“I know, and I'm so sorry, Mihawk. I was drunk that night, and I missed the two of you so much. I didn't know I was being so loud until Benn told me to shut it. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Shanks is pushed back when Mihawk's haki lashes out, his face flushed red from how angry he is at the lame excuse. How dare he.

“When are you not drunk off your ass, Shanks? There is no excuse that you can give me that will make any of this okay. _ is gone! Most likely slated to be married off to one of Charlotte’s sons because of your inability to keep your mouth shut!”

Perona grabbing him by the arm is the only thing that prevents Mihawk from following after Shanks. He glares at her, about to snap at the girl to let him go, when he sees the unshed tears and fear in her dark eyes.

“We need his help finding her, Mihawk,” Perona says, voice thick with emotion. She doesn't like seeing them fight, and it hurts seeing what she has begun to call family fall apart in front of her eyes.

Her words seem to bring everyone back to the situation at hand, and the wild haki from the three men is pulled back and settled. Tomura relaxes his shoulders, shifting his weight and glaring at the two pirates.

“She's right. Big Mom has a lot of territory. It'll take months for us to search each of her islands if we don't work together,” Delemur frowns even as he speaks, disliking the idea of working with the men who'd found his sister. What even were the three of them?

“What is she to you?” Tomura demands and regrets it the second both men look at him like he was an idiot.

“We,” Mihawk begins and then swiftly corrects himself. He didn't want anything to do with Shanks right now, “I love her. She had no idea who I was when I found her, and it was…refreshing to have someone like that. We should move quickly. _ is in a delicate state.”

Tomura doesn't even want to think about what that means and glances at Shanks for the redhead’s answer.

Shanks shifts his weight, his hand falling from his sword once Mihawk had sheathed his own, but he keeps his distance. He gives Tomura a helpless shrug.

“My crew and I drifted close to her island one day, and we got to know one another. I can admit I was jealous of what Mihawk had with her, so we made it work. The three of us.”

Tomura doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth glued shut. How the hell had his little sister pulled not one but two of some of the most powerful men on the Grand Line. He would ask once he found her.

“I'll use whatever resources the Navy can give me to find her,” Tomura says after a moment of rather awkward silence. He reaches into his pocket and takes out two mini transponder snails, and hands them to Shanks and Mihawk.

“I'll ring you if I find anything. I hope the two of you do the same.”

Mihawk dips his head in agreement, handing the snail to Perona and Shanks pockets his. They would work together to find you, even if none of them wanted to.

“I'm going to take a look around and see if we can't find something that'll lead us in the right direction,” Shanks says and whistles loudly to signal to his crew that it was fine to disembark from the ship now. He chances a glance at Mihawk, but the dark-haired man refuses to look his way. He frowns, guilt eating him up from the inside out before he lopes away without a word.

“Perona and I will head to the New World and begin our search,” Mihawk says and then he struts to the ship Perona had taken from his island, not bothering to look back at the Vice-Admiral. He can't bring himself to search the island. Dracule had seen the smoke curling into the sky, and seeing whatever remained of his home away from home would only make the hurt worse.

Tomura is left standing alone on the white sands, and he sighs heavily, looking out over the crashing waves. He smooths his white hair away from his forehead, and he murmurs to himself.

“Where the hell did they take you, Princess.”

~~~~~~

Thousands of miles away, you are escorted past hallways full of mirrors that make you feel dizzy if you look too closely. You cast your eyes back to the floor, one hand tangled in the fur of Hank's shaggy coat and the other holding Sukuna close to your chest. Your pets had chased after the men who had dragged you kicking and screaming from the tiny cave you'd forced yourself into.

Surprisingly, once they had seen that you were pregnant, the men had handled you with much more care and had even allowed you to take the cat and dog with you. Despite not wanting to leave, you had been much more willing once they assured you that you could have them. Hank and Sukuna were the only two things keeping you sane right now.

Sukuna wouldn't stop hissing, a constant low growl echoing in the hallway. His tail was poofed, and he glared at everyone with furious golden eyes. Hank fared no better, his hackles raised, and his ears pulled up. He stayed pressed against his human’s legs as they walked, unwilling to let you out of his sight.

It wasn't long before your group stopped at massive double doors that creaked open. You waltz inside, relieved at the lack of creepy mirrors, but that relief disappears the moment your eyes lay on who hovers in the middle of the room. She is the biggest human you've ever seen, sitting atop a cloud that glares down at you.

Beside her, another massive man stands. He has deep purplish hair, and the bottom half of his face is covered in a black and white scarf. He wears an open vest, and you can see a tattoo running down his exposed chest.

“It's about time you showed up,” Big Mom’s booming voice startles you, and you cut your eyes up to look at her. She grins down at you, her smile wicked as she looks you over.

“Such a pretty young thing. You'll make a nice wife for my son Katakuri. Don't you think so?”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom