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Taglist for Brothers Conflict

Reblog this post if you would like to be added to the taglist for this story.

◈ Summary: Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (final pairing: will be decided by readers, could also be ot7)

chapter one

masterlist (all chapters can be found linked there)

encore | jjk | teaser

⇥ pairing: game-designer!jungkook x reader

⇥ genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors au, fluff, smut

⇥ rating: 18+

⇥ warnings: an absolutely fluffy little piece, he is an ambivert but so hot too, talk about music and it’s really wholesome!!, coffeeshop dates and movie nights, cursing, pov switch, flirting, (okay how do i avoid c*mmunity labels uhhhh), s*xual tension, s*xual content (like: or*l, big d*ck and dom kook, s*x toys, unprotected s*x, fumbling around, m*sturbation, he can be cocky if he wants to, more when the fic drops)

⇥ wc: around 10-12k; 979 for the teaser!!

⇥ author’s notes: my friend said he looks like your next door neighbor who’ll lend you stuff and all, and of course my sick brain came up with this wicked thing. teaser is unedited!! fic still in the works which i’m so excited to post as soon as it’s doneee!<3

⇥ summary: The new guy next door seems an awfully lot like your ideal type. You might be in serious trouble.

–

When you look up from your shoes, meeting his eyes, you realize for the first time that Jungkook is staring at you.

Your eyebrows shoot up in question, humming a curious little, “Hmm?”

Keep reading

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maboiisuga

6 years ago

Tag me please 💓💓

𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚛 | yandere!jungkook |1|

Summary- ❝ There’s just something special about seeing someone lose their mind over love. ❞

Warning- This work is pure fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display any sort of this behavior in real life. Contains violence, manipulation, disability.

further links will be found in my bio

Your fingers twitched, your eyes scanned over the messy notes scrawled upon your iPad.

The turned on night lamp was useless as the light was starting to come through the dirty, finger-printed window.

It’s royal blue paint glistening in the first golden rays of the day.

A frown downs upon your face as you let out a sigh of frustration. Quietly you walk towards the window to open it, it was still early, the only time of the day when people can rest from the whir of the machines.

Hands pressed to the cold wooden windowsill you shift towards the outside and look towards, not down, there was still fear creeping on behind you that the wall could just collide and there would be no exception, only to fall and smash against the concrete.

The buildings are silhouettes against a crimson sky, the air felt refrigerated, that same coolness combined with moisture - perfection.

You eyed it for a few seconds before straightening up and going back to the table, you had to finish your assignment even if your brain was as a flat battery.

You gently shook Jimin by the shoulders to wake him up, he looked like a baby burrowed into the warm, soft sheets.

His eyelids fluttered and you couldn’t help but coo as he lifted his arms upon his face.

Giggling you shook him again, this time with a little more force.

“Jimin, you have to wake up” you whispered out of habit, even though you knew he won’t be able to hear you.

Slowly and reluctantly, he uncovered his face, blinked, closed his eyes, and blinked again. Streaks of sunlight penetrate the window and blinded him. He sat up, dragged his feet off the bed, and rubbed his knuckles into his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

You watched his legs dangle above the pastel blue polyester carpet. Still, sleepy his eyes fell over your figure and the papers scattered over the table with two cups smeared with your lip tint.

He reached for his phone before typing something and clicking the ‘send’ button.

It wasn’t long until you heard the familiar ding and vibration pace that was specially made for Jimin’s messages.

‘ Did you stay awake again? ’

You shyly smiled before nodding. Before you could even see the concern on his face you clicked to write.

‘ Don’t worry Jiminie, it’s fine, now go and get ready, we’ll leave soon ’ you typed back and waited for him to go.

Once you heard the shower running, you sank down to the cold ground. The weather was getting colder with each passing week and you had no idea how were you going to be able to pay for the heating after the bills of the hospital treatment were still screaming at you.

But as long as Jimin okay, you’ll be fine. Both of you will be fine.

The guilt was like gasoline in your guts. Your insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze. The fire burnt you out so badly there was nothing left but a shell.

You knew Jimin didn’t blame you, he said it so many times you almost believed it, but there was a monster living inside of you telling you that it was your fault.

And you wished you had a magic sleeping pill for it.

Sadly, you didn’t.

The walk to the nearest coffee shop was drowning in silence, not that it bothered you. It was an arrangement both of you had agreed on.

No sign language, no strange or frustrated gestures in public, just you and Jimin gripping onto each other’s hands, now losing Jimin in a busy street would feel equal to a parent losing their kid in a supermarket.

The headache you had since the clock struck 5 a.m.was starting to go away as both of you sat at the furthermost table. The cafe itself was inviting and warm. The lo-fi playlist was like a siren’s melody, so luring and calming.

Your eyes landed on Jimin who looked through the window with striped straw between his lips. He didn’t look bothered, he didn’t look sad.

Sometimes you wanted to ask how does it feel to live in complete silence, to lose something as valuable as sound, don’t they say silence it’s what makes everyone alone? So why didn’t he look alone, why did he look happier than you?

Part of you just wanted to shook him by his shoulders and scream if this was just a facade he built upon himself. But what good screaming would bring if he didn’t even hear you and if we’re being honest, you weren’t sure if you’re ready to face the crumbling walls and no-masked faces.

You weren’t.

You nursed the mug of coffee in your hands as you ran your eyes over the display of a window in front of you, trying to find something or someone interest. You felt like you were in a library scanning your eyes through the shelves, one old and a plain man with a cheap dark jacket, the other one with colorful socks pulled over his calves. But nothing particularly interesting.

Your phone buzzed scaring you.

‘ shouldn’t i be the one with sealed lips and empty eyes? ’ rolling your eyes you looked at Jimin

“whatever, park, let me have my moment” you murmured a little slower than you would normally say it to anyone else, Jimin was still not a pro at reading lips and you were horrified he’ll never learn.

Just two weeks ago instead of seeing “I want snacks” he thought you wanted to have sex with him and you didn’t know that until the next day when you got a message about how he only sees you as a friend.

“Would you like something else?” you heard a very soft voice beside you. Jimin didn’t notice him until he felt you shifting.

The dark bambi-like eyes caught you by the guard but before you could really look into them his eyes fell onto something else.

A heavy silence settled over you, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Unsettled Jimin’s eyes glanced towards you. Noticing how uncomfortably he shifted you returned to look towards the boy.

“No thank you” you smiled kindly and you could swear a very light shade of pink appeared on his cheeks.

Not after bowing he left.

“Text me if you need something” you smile to Jimin as he stands next to his art class door.

Before you could turn around, you notice his hands starting to move.

He’s signing.

Taking a deep breath you try to understand and catch every possible sign you learned at the cheap youtube course.

“are you g-oing…to get his d…-dog?” you furrow your eyebrows looking at him. “What the fuck are you trying to say Jimin?”

Jimin rolls his eyes with a silly smile on his face.

You groan when you feel weight on your shoulders.

“He means dick, not a dog” the familiar voice rings in your ears “By this time you should know it, it’s one of the favorite words to sign for our Jiminie here” Taehyungs laughs.

“BYE” horrified you brush Taehyung’s arms off your shoulders and turn to walk towards your class, not before letting a tiny little smile spread on your face because that’s something the old Jimin would say.

So maybe things didn’t really change?

Stepping into a class full of computers feels weird, it’s not really your ‘place’ and the only reason you’re even here because of the lack of credit you’ve faced, thank Zeus it’s only one semester.

Scanning over the classroom all you see is males and males. Not a single female sat in the IT classroom.

Only then you notice one familiar face.

Coffee boy.

Tell me if you want to get tagged

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maboiisuga

1 year ago

ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

ミmy Daddy Didn't Love Me So I Guess I've Moved Onto You

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups.

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you.

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now.

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly.

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway.

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy.

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it.

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head.

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock.

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you.

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly.

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling.

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying.

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving.

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented.

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria.

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve.

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife.

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off.

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you.

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again.

Well. Okay, then.

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk.

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go.

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things.

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?”

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words.

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice.

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused.

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming.

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else.

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily –

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face.

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him.

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs.

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy.

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious.

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering.

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy.

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static.

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent.

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside.

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you.

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him.

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in.

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much.

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today.

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach.

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness.

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest.

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him.

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies.

“Thank you.” You mumble.

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

19K notes View Post

maboiisuga

1 year ago

At Last, The Eagerly Awaited Wait Is Over! I Have Been Working On This Fanfic For The Last Three Days

at last, the eagerly awaited wait is over! i have been working on this fanfic for the last three days after a lengthy break, and to be honest, i am apprehensive about publishing it just because it has been sUCH a long time-

to be completely honest, i (initially) did not think anyone would be interested in a sequel, but after seeing the overwhelming amount of support and requests for a second installment of this fanfic, i have come to the conclusion that it was time for me to sit down and finish writing this fic for all of you!

that being said, the next part should be up within the next day or two, but in the interim, feel free to read the first part again to brush up on the details, or, if you are new to TREAT YOU BETTER, please check out the first part and enjoy some itoshi brother debauchery!

TREAT YOU BETTER PART ONE.

98 notes View Post

maboiisuga

2 years ago

guys commenting part two without reblogging is really not the compliment you think it is haha

26 notes View Post

maboiisuga

10 months ago

┌─ “ ! „ SHE’S ‘TAKEN’

tw. a/b/o, forced cheating, alpha!umemiya is sort of sleazy, noncon/dubcon, a lot of alpha/omega, spit, breeding, knotting, size kink, reader called short/tiny/little, squirting, snowballing, calling ume daddy, pseudo-cesty, niichan, unrelated vomit mention, possessiveness, praise, degradation, a lot of orgasms, (belly bulge), fighting

wordcount. 9.1k

a/n. alternate title: oh is she?,, a million thank yous to mel @gimme-hiragi for helping me with my wb questions and rhi @seijorhi loml you’re the best for always reading my writing through for me ur the backbone of my life couldn’t do nothing without you ♡ and thank you aki for letting me joIN yOUR LOVELY EVENt it is adorable i had such a good time writing!!!

for @xrux’s into the omegaverse collab

umemiya hajime x fem!reader x kaji ren

“Let go, I’m over it!” Everyone’s looking at the way you yank up the edge of your top to make sure you’re covered, yank the edge of your ripped jeans skirt a bit lower. You’re wobbling side to side on your heels as you bend to take one off, almost falling in the process only to lean your head against Kaji’s lower stomach, whimpering all the while. You hick, and pout— ungraceful in a way only drunk people can be.

The icy blond by your side still has his sweater held out to you, as he pants, fists balled to his side with gritted teeth. “Don’t made a scene. Put it on.”

They’d been out on their own, ‘til Kaji suddenly slammed his phone down on the table and left behind their orders of yakiniku. To drag his very sloppy girlfriend, you, out of some sleazy bar lined with jerks smoking enough to make the entire alley cloudy. Now he has a forming black eye to match his bad attitude, but the other guy was worse off. The -not getting up, nose crooked and bloody- kind of worse.

You’re not Hajime’s girlfriend, so he’s in no position to judge, but at the very least he’d also feel sort of uncomfortable leaving any girl in a place like this. Former gang territory. Whole lot of grimy types, the kind they protect people from. If you’re dating Kaji, he’s sure you know that.

You bend over your knees to gag up nothing, pushing away Kaji’s hand when he reaches to hold your hair back.

You’re a mess, from what he can tell perched against the wall along with Sakura, Nirei and Hiragi. The former two who look mildly uncomfortable, the latter who’s own distracted hands search his jacket for his phone. “What do you wanna do? Call it a night?”

Umemiya’s honestly off as bad as you are, curtesy of the badly mixed drinks he’d been throwing back, and he guesses none of the guys are any better off. Sakura can’t hold his drinks at the best of times, and it’s been a long night of celebrations. 5:08, the display of Hiragi’s phone shows.

His mind ticks a bit slower than he’d like.

A moment where he debates getting involved, but then sighs. “I’d like to let them fix it on their own, though~”

You’re still leaning against your boyfriend’s hip as you try again to work something out with your shoe, hair flopped forward all over your face. Round and soft and totally out of place in a spot like this, though the way you’re dressed you definitely could have him fooled if you tried. It’s in the way your eyes flick up all big and innocent-like at your boyfriend’s call, that he can tell.

Kaji’s already draped the sweater over your shoulders, something you don’t seem to realize— because when he tries to help you up you only snap more. “Stop touching me, I’m gonna go home!”

“Go home faster then.” Kaji fumes, though one hand remains around your waist until you’re done with whatever needed adjusting on your terribly flimsy looking heels. “Can’t you just once do what I ask of you? You make me crazy,” he breathes back, and you get- what he supposes should be nose to nose. You’re a couple inches too short to square up to anyone.

“You know what, Ren.” Your pretty lips sound out the words slowly. “Fuck you.”

At that, one of the onlookers hoots enthusiastically, and Kaji’s brows get even more furrowed— but he only stares you down. With neither side backing down, he eventually plops one of his signature suckers in his mouth to cut the conversation short.

You turn and start wobbling down the stairs of the club, not even sparing them a glance.

Your big eyes are dark and blown and you’ve got a nose that’s bitten by the cold with tears, or snot, dripping— he’s not sure when you started crying, but you definitely are now. “‘M so sick of your goddamn attitude.” You breathe. Kaji’s close behind to pull you back by your wrist, but this time you let out a whimper. You yank your arm out of his grip as you plant both feet against the way he tries not so graciously to drag you, and the sandy blond has a vein that thumps in his temple.

“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone. Go be a possessive prick to someone else.” You take the sweater from around your shoulders and shove it back into his chest hard enough to make him step back. Then you finally start walking off down the wet, littered street under the encouraging whistling of the drunkards lined up against the other wall.

When Kaji no longer makes an attempt to stop you, the few of them slowly make their way over to the young man— and Umemiya places an empathetic hand on the other’s shoulder. Kaji’s steely blue eyes trace you even as you swing your hips, eye twitching. “Stubborn fucking-,” he pants, “Omega brat- can’t hold a drop of her liquor.” Ah. Kaji runs a frustrated hand through his hair, making it stand up every which way, before he finally grits his teeth.

“Someone please fucking go after her. She’s days out from heat and restless to shit, she’ll get herself hurt.” Yeah, that’ll do it. That explains the big blinkers and the sweetness. Hiragi’s quick to start looking for his motorcycle keys, but the oldest waves his hand at that.

“You can’t drive in this state, Hiragi. You’ll hit someone. We still have to pay and our food is waiting for us, too.” Sakura and Nirei wouldn’t speak up about it, but leaving the food behind must’ve stung. He hands his card to Kaji with a smile. “I got ‘er. You guys are staying at my place anyway, right? Take a few hours to round off a good night.” He winks. “Leave it up to your niichan!”

He only has to follow you about two blocks before you crouch down and start sniffling, and he stops a few feet short of you as not to scare you. Even without Kaji’s explanation, he’d be able to tell that the honeyed, enticing scent emanating from you is too sugary to be anything other. With how close he comes to a halt by your side it’s almost choking on his lungs. Umemiya clears his throat. “Hey, you remember me?”

You’re crying into your palms, skirt halfway up your ass and exposing your panties— he’s just glad it’s just you two here. “I- hck- didn’t mean it. ‘M sorry, Ren kun. Jus’ wanna- I’m all over the place. Just- feel weird right now. I’m sorry, I really am.” Pre-heat mood swings. You’re cute, even cuter when you suck your bottom lip in between your teeth and wipe the tears to look up at him. When you notice he’s not in fact ‘Ren-kun’, you get a bit embarrassed.

Even though he doesn’t know you too well, he does notice you’re definitely pretty. Hot, even. Despite the mascara and eyeliner smudged onto your lower eyelids, your lips look soft as they open to say -nothing-, and you breathe in and out.

He can’t help but let eyes flick down to your ass resting on your ankles, how your plush thighs stick out from under the tightened skirt and you’re not even thinking of covering up. It’s not your fault. He’s trying not to get too much of your scent down deep into his lungs, but way he’s guessing, you’ve probably got a day before your body will start heating from the inside out- leave your pussy a wet, wanton clenching mess to get bred full-

He needs something else to think about. Something other than those sheer lace panties that show all of your pussy if he really tries to look.

“You’re… Kaji’s friend. Bofurin, right? We’ve seen each other before, though it’s the first time we’ve really talked.” You’re calmed down enough to get flustered when he too comes to sit on his heels, nice leather jacket brushing the floor. Good to know that the presence of an Alpha doesn’t scare you off. If anything, you’re calm enough to get affected by him, and it makes pride bloom inside his chest. “It’s Ume…”

“Umemiya Hajime.”

Since you’ll be staying at his place with your boyfriend for a good two weeks anyway, you might as well stay a little sooner. He’s pretty sure that’d be fine, but he’ll have to text to check. “Kaji asked me to take you home since he can’t. When you’re ready.”

You start gathering your hair into a pony as you nod. “Sorry about earlier, Umemiya-san. Don’t know what came over me. I think I’m just a little -overly emotional right now. I- might’ve drank too much too.” Probably Kaji’s frustration about the situation that set you off in the first place. You stare at a dent in the road with a lidded look as you talk- then clear your voice. “Mh.”

He smiles, before reaching out to pet your head. Being this close to an Omega getting into heat just feels electric, he can’t help it. He wants to pick you up and lick your tears from your face. Not that he will. You’re a precious kouhai’s, and that’s stronger than anything his animalistic nature demands he do. You’re quiet until he pulls his hand back, holds the urge to wind it down to your little neck and bite down on soft skin. You’re just so affected right now.

He’s sort of surprised Kaji didn’t start an all out brawl with whoever was no doubt drooling all over you in that club. He’s about halfway there himself, and he’s only got honourable intentions.

If you’re bothered by his silence, you don’t say anything. So he nods.

“Kaji said something about holding your liquor, yeah- but I-” A guttural groan rings between you two. When he looks back at you, you’re bending over your own knees to gag, placing both hands on the dirty street to hold yourself. “Oh- whoops,” he chuckles, and reaches out to hold your hair back, as you throw up away from your nice shoes as best you can. “You got it, sweetheart. I’ve got water in my car.”

He’s halfway through a cup of coffee when he hears you rummaging in the other room. A bit of shuffling, before you put your clothes from last night back on, probably. He only got you halfway through the door before you started stripping against the warmth. “Ren? Huh- babe?” You ask into the hall, and your cute, little voice rings out. You’re scenting up his whole apartment, have been since he woke up first thing at daybreak. It’s definitely stronger than it was even last night when he dropped you into his bed with the explicit intention of washing the sheets as soon as you woke up.

He clears his voice. “Ren said he’d be over in the afternoon. Apparently Sakura puked all over his car…”

”Oh.”

It doesn’t take too long for you to come out of his room wrapped in a blanket over the terribly short mini skirt, and the definite glow of a sheen of sweat on your cheeks as you process.

In the morning light it’s even easier to see that you’re an Omega through and through. Every part of you is soft and rounded and supple for grabbing, flushed face blinking away sleep. Truth is, he really doesn’t know you all that well. He knows you met Kaji through Enomoto in high school. Knows you started dating somewhere around university— and that some of the Furin guys got into a bit of a scuffle over it. Didn’t think you should be dating Kaji, or Kaji you- he can’t remember.

Seeing how you pop your hip out to watch him, blink those big doe eyes up at him— he think he sort of understands. After a few seconds too long where you start to giggle at the silence, he stops studying you to grin. “Coffee? A cold water?”

“I appreciate that you’re so willing to brush my behavior from yesterday aside, but I’m still sorry. That you Bofurin lot always have to step up. And that I ended up causing trouble for Ren again...” It might be the heat in the room, but his collar feels a bit too tight when you rest your ass against the cupboards with a little smile. Your heat is not just close, it’s full-on started. His chest feels heavier, and skin a bit tight.

You hum. “…Something cold would be great, thank you. I’m feeling a little hot.”

The way you look up at him from under your lashes tells him you aren’t entirely unaware of it, either. He can’t decide if you’re coy, or just trusting. He pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it onto the table, smoothing his shirt out in agreement. “Might be hot in here, yeah.”

It’s so quick he almost misses it. But you eyes definitely slip to the sliver of skin that shows when the fabric rides up. It makes his groin stir in his shorts to watch how you catch yourself, and heat makes its way up to the tips of your ears and nose.

He hums as he bends for the fridge, not bothering to watch you as he talks. Your scent is so strong you could hide across the street and he’d be able to sniff you out. A thought that, however guilty he feels about it, sounds really fucking good right about now. Chasing you down to sink his hot cock into that needy, fertile Omega cunt. His heart’s pounding like you’ll run any second, and he’s no longer as sure as he was last night that he could stop himself from chasing. Was it like this when his ex was going into heat too?

The cold water drips condensation down his arm when he hands it over to you. “You mean you cause trouble for Kaji often?”

You bite your lip. “We just have …discussions like that a lot, even though I love him very much. I guess we just still aren’t entirely used to each other.” When he lifts his eyebrow in question, you rub your both palms over your cheeks to get rid of the heat, dragging them through your hair. “You might’ve noticed that I’m an Omega.” Baby, ‘might’ve’ isn’t the word he’d use. It’s all he’s been able to think about since you stepped foot into his apartment yesterday.

His mind flashes to his precious kouhai for a moment, but the way your throat hitches snaps it out of him instantly.

You seem to get even hotter as you talk, and your voice pitches up into a softer sort of noise that makes the hairs on his neck stand upright. “It’s not like we’re a dying breed or anything… But ratio wise, people are used to Beta’s. Ren- would know how to handle a Beta. Most heat blockers don’t work too well on me,” you confess, “and Ren can’t just sit pretty for a week every other month to… s-service- me-”

You’re struggling on the words, like even mentioning the possible sex you’ll have pains you.

It’s so fucking cute. Poor little Omega doesn’t know what to do with herself. You’re not wrong though. He doesn’t know what it’s like for you, but without effective blockers, it’s not hard to imagine it really is all consuming.

“We’re still- trying to find our rhythm, and last time we couldn’t, a whole bunch of Furin got dragged into it because I couldn’t contain myself. It’s just embarrassing.” His breathing gets laboured just seeing you shift uncomfortably. Watches how your eyes dialate as your lashes flutter desperately up and down. You’re a fruit ripe for picking, baby. He tastes sugar in the air when he smiles, and your gaze finds his.

A stray sane thought reminds him he should back up. Open a window or something.

The Alpha in him is pounding on his brain though, making everything hard to stomach. He licks his bottom lip. “I don’t know, maybe he should consider it.”

“Wh- taking time off for me every heat?” You ask back, as your brows furrow. As you back up against the cupboards and squeak in surprise when you knock your heels against them.

Fuck, he’s getting so hard. If only he could lean you back a little further. He reaches out to take your face between his fingers and watch how your lips drop open. “Are you saying Kaji doesn’t want to?” Pretty, pink little tongue darting out to wet them. It’s only when you stop talking wide-eyd, that he notices he closed the distance at some point and is now basically towering over you, feet to feet with your face at his chest.

”I-I’m saying I don’t want him to- pu- put his life on hold… and- Umemiya-san.” Fuck. He can hear the way your heart beats like a hummingbird in your chest. “You’re too close,” you’re starting to get that signature scared bunny look. Your eyes go anywhere but up at him where he wants you, as you swallow and ignore the cold shiver going through your body. The blanket’s pooled at your feet. “Where’s my phone, Ren should come now.”

“Hm, I put it somewhere…” He does try to think. It’s just that you’re looking so woefully vulnerable and flushed and desperate to get rid of that itch that’s starting to build in your belly. He leans in, you push against his chest. It honestly only turns him on more. He shouldn’t be this eager to take a bite of you right from under Ren’s nose, right? His hands wind down your waist and you honest-to-God mewl like a fucking kit- whining when he leans in.

Just a few little kisses won’t kill either of you. His shorts feel way too tight, and a nagging little voice in the back of his head asks him to just fill you up, knot inside you. Bite an ugly mark right over the faded one Kaji gave you. “Umemiya-san.” He’s big enough that he could take your boyfriend on if he had to. He pushes in and grabs the back of your neck. “Umemiya!” You force out, before his mouth finds yours and he hikes you up against the kitchen cupboards for better access.

Your head falls back instinctively, letting his lips push against you, tongue pushing against yours as he steps up to your body. Large hands that glide up under your top and brush the sensitive skin under your tits- until you moan softly into his mouth, arching your back. He can’t help but chuckle. It’s not exactly proper to use a girl’s heat against her, feeling you spread your legs wider to make room. He kisses deeper, licks against your gums to make you taste of him, before whispering. “So vocal. What would Kaji say?”

It only takes a second of instinct, thump ringing out.

You punch him in the cheek. More surprised than anything, he grunts low and drawn out as he grabs his jaw, and watches how you scramble back to the floor and far away from him. The punch didn’t actually hurt much, you didn’t put any weight into it. Your anxious energy is what really does it, searching for his eyes with tears in your own. “My phone,” you beg more than say, hands now protectively around yourself.

He blinks a few times, until he can store away that predatory scow for long enough to speak. “Sorry. I got carried away.” Your face gets hot again, shoulders dropping. “You’re okay, I promise. The strength of it just took me aback, ‘is all. You did good socking me out of it.” The silver blond puts on a smile.

Besides that, he just wanted it more than he wanted to stop it.

He can’t exactly say that though, instead perching himself back against the cupboards. A safe distance away from where you’re rubbing the backs of your hands over your cheeks full of embarrassment, trying not to push your thighs together. It only makes him want to pin you down even more. His eyes glide down your body again. “We were switching apartments, right? You should probably head over there now. Tell Ren to head over quicker, that my heat came early.” You swallow heavily.

He definitely can’t tell you that right now, he’d rather do anything else. That would make him a bad guy. Someone Kaji shouldn’t have trusted with you. He’s got better things to do than obsess over some animalistic breeding instinct, doesn’t he? He should be worrying about making sure his little brothers are alright, that Sakura isn’t dying.

He nods as he stands to make his way past you. The scent is so heavy now that it’s taking everything in his power not to drool, and his chubbed up cock twitches to life in his boxers at the way you stare him down.

“Umemiya.” The dinner place is too loud, or the call too quiet for him to pay attention the first time. “Umemiya.” Hiragi repeats louder, and when that still doesn’t get results, he punches his arm softly. A bit harder than he could, for good measure. “Umemiya, what’s up with you? You keep spacing out on me midway conversation.”

Hiragi pops the cigarette back between his lips, watching him through his eyelashes as he sparks the lighter with one hand. In response, the blond wafts away some of the smoke, then hums. “My bad. You know the girl from the bar this morning, right- the cute, little thing… big eyes, short skirt, uhm- y’know the Omega,” he distractedly picks up his beer to tilt it edge to edge as Hiragi lifts a brow.

“Are you talking about Kaji’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” He makes a bit of a show of tapping his fingers on his bottom lip, before resting his head in his palm. “I’m just trying to figure out where I’ve seen her before.”

“Uhuh.”

If his long lasting friend thinks anything about his sudden curiosity, he has enough sense not to say it. Hiragi’s a good guy. Probably good enough to put a stop to Umemiya himself if he acted out too much. When the silvery blond doesn’t elaborate, Hiragi just clears his voice, tapping ash into the tray. “Not sure. I know she didn’t go to Furin or San Middle though.” He furrows his brows when Umemiya only drinks. “Didn’t you run into her with Kaji before? They’ve been dating for a good while now.”

“No, no, I would’ve remembered that. It was before Kaji. I could’ve sworn…” He swings his arms next to his chair, before tapping his hand on the table when he ‘remembers’. “Oh, wasn’t she- one of the Shishitoren girls back when.” A genial smile tugs at his lips before taking another sip. “Before, when they were still using girls like expensive cars and Togame would drag them around town to patrol our borders. Would drive all the Beta’s up the walls. I think I even remember Kaji getting-”

“-Into a fight over it with some of our guys, yeah.” Hiragi suddenly clicks his fingers, “that might’ve been her, after all.” He takes a drink of his own glass, humming along the rim. “I scolded him for it back then, but looking back, he was probably just protecting the person he loved. In his way.”

Sure… Umemiya stares off into the rest of the bar instead of replying. Always so genuine, Tamon’s team captain. Can’t fault the guy. But his honesty really does get in the way. Across from him, Hiragi lifts his own bottle. “So?”

He knows his eyes are too sharp in the low light. Umemiya puts on his best smile. “No, nothing. I’m just glad Togame turned a new leaf since then.” He finally allows himself to grab one of the delicious looking skewers, humming around the mouth full. “I mean, it would be some real shit for Kaji if Shishitoren suddenly wanted their Omega pet back.”

He crashes his mouth to yours, hands either side of you ass to lift you off the floor and drop you ask into bed, grunting. “Mh-hgh, came as,” he growls against your mouth, tongue tasting so much like strawberry lollipop, “soon as I fucking could. Stupid extra patrols gettin’ in my way.” His hands grab anywhere he can reach, digging in deep.

He’s short of breath, and you know it’s your scent that’s got him all rattled. Sinking his cock into you is one of the few moments he allows himself to let loose- you can tell by the way he’s chubbed up in his pants he’s been thinking about you for a while. He grunts into your mouth, tongue tasting yours. “Knew- you were- mhm-gonna get there. Been twitchy all day.”

“Uhuh, missed you. Missed you so much, all day- wan’it.” Your nails rake along his back to pull him closer, all his weight on top of you, and obnoxious kissing noises fill the room. You can’t help yourself, the heat travels down every vein, settles in your toes, your hands, in your tongue. The tongue currently being sucked into your boyfriend’s mouth as he grunts your name and makes you rock your center against the seam of his jeans until he pulls back. “Ren, Ren, Ren~”

Umemiya’s bed squeaks under the weight as he gets on top of you halfway, one thigh straddling you against the mattress.

More. You want more. Your heart is banging like a battering ram against your ribs as you slide your hands under his sweatshirt, and drag your fingers up the ridges and dents of his muscles, the thin scars. All while whimpering like an animal, something you might not be aware of, but is driving your Alpha absolutely insane.

A low rumble falls from his chest as he grips your face harshly, and steely blues flick over your expression. He black eye has started turning pretty purple under his skin, cut still on his brow. “Still a brat? Gonna fight me again for taking care of ya?”

“Nuh uh,” you quickly say back, and press sweet, messy kisses on his pink lips. They’ve gone all puffy, and it’s making it hard to think straight.

“Wanna take some medicine? Just in case,” Kaji pants after a few seconds in concern, hand worming its way between your bodies for his fingers to swipe over the absolute mess you’ve made out of your panties. They’re soaked straight through— something that once he notices, he takes a laboured breath so slow it makes him flush all the way up his chest. “Fu—ck, pretty girl. You’ve been wet and empty all day like this?”

”Mhm.” You nod again. Don’t have even a single thought to tell him that you sat with the terrible ache ever since another blond fought his way out of the door, because that was a stupid accident. Stupid. Single. Accident. “Ren, Ren- please. Mh-ghuh,” you moan, and your body curls to rub against his crotch despite yourself, “can’t take any more. Please~ please, please, please. Want- my Alpha.” Sticky, translucent slick is all over your pussy, ran down your thighs and ass and you’re now getting it all over his pants.

Your boyfriend looks so wild and unfocused it could honestly be kind of scary- if you weren’t already scenting up the whole house and terribly shaky yourself. Your legs wrap around his glutes to pull him closer, as the icy blond tries to stutter out a groan. “Your pills…”

“Don’t want ‘m if you’re here. Ren, I want your cock already~”

The tiniest twitch to his lips proves he’s smiling into another messy kiss he lays on you, before starting to drag his teeth along your neck. “So fucking whiny. ‘S cute. Yeah, you wanna have me fucking you full for days? Get stuffed full of cock ‘til you can’t stand?” Yes. Yes yes yesyesyes. You’re not sure if you’re nodding, because all you can feel is his fingers pressing into your thighs, grabbing your ass and forcing you right up against the seam of his pants.

When he reaches the spot you’re the most sensitive with his mouth, your body stills in anticipation, and almost explodes when instead of bitin down, Ren’s hot tongue makes circles over the tiniest scar he left last time. “My little Omega bitch, mine, mine.”

His eyes have gone all blown out. Your own face is burning hot, and so is everything else as you let him mark up your neck, sniffing around the area without any other thought. You want his bite, you want his cock and his knot in you, filling you up to the brim ‘til you’re nice and full and round and you’re good to nest up— you want to be bred full so bad it’s all you can think about.

”Mh-mghh, Ren~” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It barely belongs to you, pitched and tiny and so fucking desperate.

You don’t notice the way your moans are filling the room or how wet and messy your pussy’s getting his pants. Just that his heartbeat’s in his tongue as he sucks harder and harder until his teeth grate over your throat. Ren grunts as he pulls back, one hand grabbing your one of your tits to kneed greedily in the flesh, as the other starts pulling your underwear off from under your skirt. “Smells too much like Umemiya in here-” It’s angry but not accusing, as he stands back to watch your glistening pussy clench around nothing.

“Turn over.” Your legs shake, and without much will of your own you start rolling over to stick your ass in the air to give him a better view. Kaji’s voice just gets quiet, as two fingers slide the slick around your pussy down to your clit. When you mewl, jerking at the touch, he throws his head back and groans deep and animalistically, before holding the fingers to his nose. His eyes clench shut when they roll back in his skull. “Shhh-Stay down. Everything off- fuck, fucking shit, babe. ‘S fucking hot —all mine.”

It’s instinct that makes you oblige. Not a single coherent thought makes it through your brain. Just him, in you, your pussy, your mouth, you want Ren, Ren, Ren, your Alpha fucking you, over you, breeding you. It’s so hot, but you’re still cold without the heat of his fat cock in you. The top goes first, ungracefully pull it over your face and lose an earring in the process. You want him. Your poor pussy wants to be so full, full full full you can’t walk fo a week.

“Alpha, n- hurry, hurry. Hurts without you, really, really does. Wan’get bred. Hurry~”

His headphones land somewhere with a thump as he pulls sweatshirt and shirt over his head in one go, then grabs himself through his jeans with a rumbled swear. You’ve soaked a wet patch through his jeans too. As soon as your skirt’s down the curve of your ass Ren’s already leaning into you, buries his face against your pretty, sloppy pussy and starts to lick and kiss, slurping as he tongue fucks your hole every few seconds.

When he locks lips around your clit you have to force your face down into the blankets to cry out, biting down on the blanket. Spit gets on your cheek when you cry out for him, and grind back against his face. Strong hands and long fingers hold your ass open until he can lick your pussy clean, before pulling back just to spit on it again. “Alpha, alpha, need your c-knot. Please.” You’re babbling to yourself more than to him, because he’s entranced with the way your sloppy pussy winks around nothing, how the slick mixes with his spit to drip down your folds. “Ren, your cock. Puh—lease!”

His long fingers land on your ass a few times, rings stinging upon impact, before he pushes your back down into an even more extreme arch and lets out another groan. “Prettiest Omega pussy I’ve ever seen, only one I want. Ain’t that right? You can act out and be a brat, but this is mine.” You look back over your shoulder just enough to watch him drool, slick down his chin when he pulls back and gives you a look.

Dark eyes almost entirely glossed over, he pinches your clit meanly- and your squeak makes the tiniest curl grace his lips. “Say it for me. Who does this little pussy belong to?”

”You.”

His thumb swipes over your clit before grinding down, two other fingertips pushing into you. “Mh. Who?” He’s mean, he’s so mean it’s making you tear up, forcing your head back into the blankets as your cunt tingles and aches and the touch is making you push back against him.

“You, Ren! It belongs to. My. Alpha. My- aaah-ah- Ren~, fucking please put it in. Ren, Ren please. It hurts.” Tears dampen the fabric, the two fingers sliding in halfway isn’t enough. You need- need more. “Please. Please.” He places another kiss on your clit before his touch vanishes, and you can hear the lewd sound of him licking his own fingers clean. You’re so hot sweat tickles on your hairline, the base of your neck.

And then, the click of his belt makes you moan, loud.

The familiar sound has you biting down on your hand, legs almost giving in. The smell of his musk is making it hard to stay upright. You can barely hear yourself think over the rushing blood between your ears, and the heartbeat thumping in your pussy. He groans, “Look at me. Look here,” and long fingers tangle in your hair to force you. Watch your boyfriend squeeze his pretty, extremely flushed cock a bit too tight. The head’s a blushy purple glossy with precum, that drips as he holds back a little pant.

”Wan’it?”

You don’t speak- can’t. Just back yourself up against him until the cock is rubbing against your ass and the warm pre gets all over you, as you moan. As you try to form a coherent thought, and Ren chuckles. “That’s a sweet way of sayin’ yes. Open your mouth.” He leans in while rubbing geedy circles over your ass, then lets a glob of spit land on your awaiting tongue with another huff. “So good for me.”

His hand spanks you again, hard enough to have you forced forward, before lining up properly. The wet sound of his cock patting on your pussy is the only for a moment, one that seem to last entirely too long— before finally, finally you feel the hot mushroom head push in. Into your slick, wet cunt and pushing past the ring of muscle inside and deeper. Deeper, deeper, until Kaji grunts low and gutturally and his thighs hit against yours as he bottoms out.

It feels so fucking right. Good, full, you want more, wan’ stay like this and your head’s spinning so good— Your breathing only continues when he groans a low ‘breathe’, pulling your hair and shaking your head. “Breathe, baby. Don’t pass out.” Your hands are fisted so tight into the blankets your knuckles show, only managing to lift your head enough to cry out a moan.

”Move, please. Please, move- ghhuh, fuck—ing God.” His hips move back with the squelch of your clamping pussy, then dives back in. The first pump is strained, the second is heaven. It’s only when he starts to move in you that you feel how full you are- how fucking deep he’s hitting inside you and rocking the bed with his weight. He’s moaning so pretty each time he bottoms out- fucking your walls open with each thrust. His balls his against you with a wet ‘pap’, and your tits feel too- too needy.

Your Alpha’s inside, finally, finally, you can’t hold the moaned whimpers. “Ah, agh, ahhRen, t-touch me more, please. Touch me.” You search for his hand that’s holding you down to drag it under your body, making him grunt— only breathing deeper when his nose nuzzles into your neck. Something’s ringing, but you don’t have the free thoughts to think about it.

He’s gonna make you cum. His one hand on your tits, other on your clit, he fucks you like he’s made to be there. Stretches your clenching walls around his curved shaft too perfectly- every thrust makes more slick drip out down your thighs. He feels so good. So- fucking- good. And his panting in your ear, low rumbled voice grating on your brain. He licks along your jaw to wipe some of the sweat, or tears, you can’t tell anymore. “Gonna fuck y’full, breed that stupid Omega pussy like a bunny.”

It just- feels- so so good. You’re gonna cum. You want him to get stuck in you and knock you up. There’s only his breathing and your banging heart, as his cock drives in and out and hits that perfect spot, made for you. His fingers swipe over your clit so good your eyes squeeze shut, and thighs clench. “‘S what you deserve, huh, yeah? You want that? Wan’ me to fuck my knot into you and pump you full of my pups?” You can’t help lock around him, hand digging into his arm. Your entire body stutters and goes white—

Shuddering around his cock as the coil inside you snaps. ”Alpha, R-ah, aghh- ahg, gon’- Mh-ugh Ren!” He drives in again and again and again until your toes stop curling and the desperate hold on his forearm loosens and- the ringing is back. “Mhm-Ren.”

He’s barely conscious as you feel his lashes flutter against your cheek, and he turns to the sound. “Fucking’—” He doesn’t pull out of you, but does reach for the phone just to groan loud, annoyed, clicks his tongue. When he picks up he puts his free hand over your mouth, but presses a kiss to your ear. “Fucking what?” He hisses into the device, rests his head against yours. Still feels good, he still- feels so good. You can’t help clenching around him and making him choke— before he continues. “Short. Enomoto, as short as you fucking can.”

”It’s Kuguri,” you hear him through the phone, “he’s alone, and I’m out of town, so is half of Bofurin. They— it’s bad, Ren. You need to come help.” You know he doesn’t mean to, but a desperate groan is forced out of his throat.

You can tell, it’s entirely instinct the way he desperately tries a little longer to rock himself into you, before letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “W- why is he alone— what are you talking about? What the fuck happened?”

“It’s Shishitoren! Don’t know. They’ve beat his face black and blue, I don’t know either! Hurry to the Ori.” Kaji’s body’s gone entirely tight. Enomoto just says a last, “Umemiya’s orders,” before ending the call, and Ren smashes his phone down into the pillows.

“Ren,” you pant desperately, you want more. “Nhg- Alpha, please, Ren.” You know, it’s not fair, but you’re so- hot. The sane thought that rings through your mind is just so quiet when compared to the budding flower that is your heat. You’re so empty. It’s not enough.

Your Alpha looks like he might burst.

“I- I can’t- fuck,” his hand moves from your mouth to push himself back against you, before he starts sliding out. You turn onto your back to look at him, watch his internal struggle as his thin brows dig such a deep frown it must hurt. Hurt bad— you sit up to grab his hand. You can finish him off! His steely eyes find yours as he clenches his teeth. “Don’t. You say that, I’ll stay and if I stay I won’t wan’ go ever. I don’t wanna go.”

It takes everything in you to keep your mouth shut against the Omega desperately mewling inside you— as a loud bang comes at the door. “Kaji!” It’s Umemiya. “I’m sorry, man. It’s an emergency!”

“Shit- fuck,” the blond grunts out, throws his head back, before grabbing his clothes from the floor. You can’t look or you’ll cry.

“I just heard- came to pick you up. We’re taking my car,” his superior calls through the door, oblivious. It hurts. It physically hurts to watch the way he puts his boxers back on over his incredibly hard cock, breathing deeply all the while. His cock is still so slick it creates a wet imprint through the fabric. “Kaji?”

You hate him a little right now. You hate them both, pushing your hand between your legs to clamp your too little fingers where something much better just filled it— The sound of his quick dressing makes you nauseous. The ache only worsens when your boyfriend sends you an awfully guilty look and wraps his hand around your ankle to squeeze, and you have to shut your eyes against the welling up of an onslaught of tears.

“Coming!” Ren snaps when the fists pound again, and he clicks his tongue.

You know, really, but can’t help but shudder as your fingers rub over your pussy and leave it so unsatisfied. So empty it makes you go cold. Kaji groans out under his breath and opens a new sucker. He leans in to place a kiss on your shin, clenches his eyes shut hard, desperate. “Be right back, baby.”

“Fucking- go, I can’t,” you squeak back, and also cry- there’s no way this is happening. Your skin feels like it’s being turned inside out when his touch leaves you, first slow and then all at once. “Ah-Quickly, Ren, it hurts so bad- hck- agh-ahhh.” You can just manage to clamp your free hand down into the blankets to keep yourself from sliding off the bed in pursuit of more— pushing the image out of your head until you feel the fade of his presence and your body burns.

It hurts so bad.

“You were in the middle of something? Oh. —Oh.”

You hear the latch of the door, but you can’t focus on it, only roll back over to bury your face into the sheets. “Mh-hck—mn hah-Alpha, Alpha, no no no don’t leave, don’t leave. It hurts, it hurts so bad, baby- come back. Come back please. Please, Ren, please, please. Pl- gh-please.” You’re calling your voice hoarse. Your lip is pulled between your teeth at the smell of Alpha all over you, and your whining, needy pussy slicks even more obnoxiously.

“Need t’ fucking leave. Now. I’m gonna -lose it.”

Kaji growls deep and loud, coming from deep in his chest in the other room; even more Alpha scent fills your lungs. Makes you burn from the tips of your ears to your toes, as every cell seems to submit. Another familiar, normally smooth, lithe voice is more raspy when it filters through the wall. “Right behind you, man. You hurry on— I’m just gonna-”

“Where’s Hiragi and the others?”

“I’m calling them now,” Umemiya agrees.

Everything makes your clit thump with blood, your tongue thick and wet licking your lips. The door slams and keys jingle in the lock, and you whine out like a dying welp. “No! Wait, Ren— Alpha, Alpha, please. Please, please I need- I need to- be full. I’m gonna die, hurts so bad.” You’re panting makes everything worse, unsteady, shaking with that horrible feeling of emptiness. “Aw, ah! Don’t leave.”

“Shhh, shh sh shh.”

You claw at the blankets. Alpha scent fills you, and your scenting goes crazy- spiking all over the room. Umemiya’s room. His face flicks through your head, you don’t know why. “Poor pet. Does it hurt that bad?”

You find yourself rubbing your cheek into the blankets up and down weekly, rolled onto your side. Fat tears roll out of your closed eyes. “Hurts. Hurts, please. Help me, I need it- wanna be full. Hck.” A finger drags along your sweaty hairline and makes you mewl, before it's taken away to be sucked clean.

“Fuck, poor, sweet girl. Smell so good in my bed. And you’re dripping sugar-” The hand comes to your neck, down your collar to your tits, and just the single flick of his finger over your perked, puffy nipple makes your pussy gush, mouth dropping open with moans. Drool drips out of your lips and someone wipes it away, as your eyes flutter against the miserable migraine you’re having. “Such a sweet, pretty little Omega. Little breeding bitch ready to get filled up?”

“Please, please, please!” You’re pushed over onto your back, and your legs drop open in response, back curling off the mattress to get a bit closer to the hand dragging down your belly to your leaking cunny. You’re so tired, your eyes won’t work. Someone hooks your leg around them, and two fingertips trace barely sensible over your folds. “Ah! Ah, ah, ah!”

“I know, I know it hurts. Just appreciating the view.” You wanna look. Your cunt aches like the worst cramps you’ve ever had. It takes everything not to start bawling. Luckily, he takes your hand in his and tangles fingers with yours, while the clicking of metal -a belt- and shuffling happens quick. “There we go, pretty baby. Open up, —daddy’s got you.”

“Ah, ah, quickly, hurry~”

It’s only when a warm palm comes to your cheek that you manage to finally force your eyes open, right when a hot, drooling cockhead pushes at your stretched entrance. Blue, gunmetal eyes stare back at yours as an unfamiliar feeling fills you up top to bottom. Your view is wobbly because of the tears, tongue trapped between your teeth. The face before you doesn’t make sense— not until the hand forces your face to his and a kiss is laid on you.

That taste. And he groans, low, rumbly. “Ohh, there- gh- we fucking go.”

An indescribable feeling of relief washes over you so strong that your legs clamp around him and shove him inside up to the hilt, as the coiled spring pulling in your cunt snaps, you claw at him and cry out. “Ume—miya! Ah, agh- Alpha, d-daddy, thank you, thank you, than-gh uhuhh~”

“Come on my -cock, that’s a good cockslut. Such a tight, little whore.”

Your orgasm barrels through you so hard that your feet cramp and you’re locked around him, moans getting swallowed by his tongue. Your vision goes blotchy and black, and the silver blond above you groans out your name as your pussy swallows him to his balls. “Ughd-daddy, more, more, more please! Please! Cum’ feelsso gud.”

“You’re so cute, so- fuck—ing cute.” He chuckles into a messy kiss, bites your lip for you until the tingling makes your legs shake. You can barely feel where you begin and he ends, with the way he’s gripping your thigh so thigh it’ll bruise, pulling you back against his thrusts. “Polite even when you’re cumming. D’ our little Kaji train you like that? Or is that just- for,” every word is accentuated by his cock hitting an entirely different spot, higher up in your belly, “me?”

You’re not sure you even stopped cumming before he starts rubbing your clit hard and fast, but before you know it you’re feeling an entirely different sensation— wetness squirting out around his cock in forceful gushes and getting all over his hands, his thighs and his bed. “Yeah, yeah yeah cum, just like that. So pretty.” Umemiya actually growls at the sight, slipping the wetness over your raw clit over and over and over. “Perfect little Omega whore— fuck.”

”Knew you’d take it if I offered. Isn’t that right, pet?” He yanks your leg up to put it around his bicep, and the thrusts get deeper and harder when he uses all his body weight to slam into you. The sound is filthy. It echoes the walls, and makes your pussy suction around him like you’re willing him to stay. You are, you want to be bred. You want-

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy, please. Want your cum. You need’t cum- hah- in me. Please, daddy. Please, fucking— I need-.”

He’s smiling so wide it looks a bit deranged. Every lewd pap makes you more mindless, and you’re not sure when you laced your hand in his, but they feel molten together. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“K-knot, your knot, please. Breed me. I need to be fucked full.”

His laugh is high pitched, a slight bit hysterical before it dies out when staring deep into your eyes. “Does another Alpha’s cock feel that good inside you? Even better?” He’s sucking the taste of your boyfriend off your tongue, before fucking into your puffy, swollen folds with a satisfied hum. You’re floating, as his fingers dig into your tits. As your poor cunt is filled up, stretched in a completely different way.

He fucks in and out, in and out until he pulls out entirely, then forces the swollen head back in with a guttural grunt. “Good enough that you want to get fucked pregnant, fill you up with my kids? Yeah? You want your boyfriend’s bigger brother?”

”Yes, yes yes yes, please. Breed me full, Ume— Hajime! Hajime!”

He angles his hips a little to fold both your legs to your chest, baring teeth. It shifts his cock in you to the spongy spot in you like nothing else did, and has him moaning. “Oh, fuck, little girl. My cock’s reaching your womb, look— right here.” It makes him pant like a dog. Makes his eyes go wide, dipping his forehead to yours. He’s just so much bigger, so much stronger. Alpha in every sense.

“You know,” he chuckles, short before he hisses at the way your cunt squirms around him. “Since you’re Ren’s, you’re also sort of- my- hgh little sister too. Gonna let niichan fuck you ‘til you get bred?” You’re lost to the world as he bounces you up and down and your pussy spills over into the bed. Umemiya doesn’t care. The flush has crept up on his ears, his chest, he’s pink and sweaty to his fingertips and the way they dig into your skin. “Let it take, let it— that’s a good cheating, little cunt- so- pretty. Ask niichan to cum in you.”

“Cum, pl- pleas,” you slur against his mouth, let him get his face all up in yours. Let him nuzzle your cheek aside for purchase on your neck. “Niichan, niichan, nii-”

His cock pulses the last few sloppy thrusts, letting your cervix create a nice little seal around his cockhead— then he grunts. “Ah- that’s it, thatsit- fuck!” His sucking turns into teeth, and then a bite. One that has your entire body shivering, before your legs stretch out around his hips with another orgasm travelling through you. He swells inside you with a moan, and pushes you deep, even deeper onto him.

The weight of his pervic bone rubbing over your clit and his strong, muscular thighs pressing into your own is all you need to ride out another high ‘til you can’t see straight. It all has you wrapping your arms around him in an embrace that has your mouth open, panting and letting drool spill out.

The cum that hits is hot at first, rutting against you like you’re a fucktoy- but it doesn’t stop. There’s so much of it you try to shift, only to have Umemiya bite down harder on the juncture of you neck, until he breaks skin. “Stay,” he grunts, “take it a—ll. Let me fill you up.” Cum that makes you so hot inside, and squelches when he repositions to push more of himself inside, spilling out every which way. His cock is in until the thick base, and has swollen inside so wide you can’t even shift without it aching. “Ugh, so much cum inside that little body.”

Only after a couple minutes of staying that way, him growling into your skin when you try to escape, does he allow himself to pull back and watch the damage. His knot’s not deflated, but he still slowly starts moving out just to watch his cock flop out over your pussy and let the last squirts of hot cum spill over your clit. The ring of creamy white at the base of his cock and the mess he’s made of your raw pussy is nothing of proof like the bruised, mean bite right between your throat and your shoulder.

You’re too fucked out to notice. It’s cute. You’re cute all over. He squeezes his cock as he lets go of your legs and they stay that way, then laughs when trailing kisses down your thigh. “Kaji had a good thing going. I see why he went to bat over you.” Your eyelids flutter when he thumbs your pussy open, and buries his nose into it. His tongue delves into it just to lap up most of the extra cum, then leans over you to push your lips open. You just let him spill the mess of cum and spit and slick into your mouth, swallow it like a good little pet.

“And I don’t just mean your pussy either. I know you’re more than just that. If you weren’t, Togame wouldn’t bitch so much to see you again.” It makes him hum softly, and lay down beside you with a gentle motion to pull you in. Willing or not, you’re gonna snuggle into him a little longer. This is only the first of many days you two will spend like this. “We’re gonna have to make a visit to your old friends one of these days, ‘kay?”

He feels bad about the situation Kaji’s run into by now, beat hard enough to break a few ribs. It’s not enough to kill him, but Togame doesn’t know when to quit. Or rather, he quits only when he’s been told to quit. Your smell feels so nice wrapped around him, watching how you drift into a dreamless sleep with your cunt full of his cum. He could honestly go again, but maybe not right now.

“Niichan’s promised to make a diplomatic little gesture. You get it, right?”

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