By day four, the quartet has come up with a cheeky name for your affliction. Operation: Crimson Tide—you swore you’d fist fight Luke if he called it Shark Week again.
You’re at the peak of it, and so is your patience. Why are you being punished for not being pregnant again?
The boys don’t make your suffering any better, smug little shits, so annoyingly prepared for war. So patient. So considerate, making you feel like the biggest bitch for lashing out or crying or smothering their stupid faces with kisses.
Zayne’s got your cycle down to a science by now, tracking your mood fluctuations and energy levels like a doctor with a clipboard, monitoring his patient. When you reach for an energy drink in one of Akso’s breakrooms, he freezes your hand with his Evol, giving you a disappointed dad look as he hands you water instead.
Kieran’s a sweetheart despite how much you spew venom, keeping something warm and hearty beside you whenever he can—soup, coffee, cocoa, tea.
He’s sure to keep your Menstruation Crustacean on deck and warmed up in case you start cramping, too. Cute and functional. His hands work wonders, too, when you prefer a little skin-on-skin.
Luke carries on like his typical, cocky self, making you laugh until you snort when your hormones are awry, and pulling back on the pranks when he knows you’re shouldering too much. He also keeps those little chocolates you like so much in his pockets, dishing them out like an owner subduing his pet with treats.
He’s lucky they’re the good kind with almonds in them. Otherwise, you’d bite him—and not in the way he likes.
Sylus, as is typical, carries on like he’s unfazed by your mood swings and how you drag yourself around base and Lux like something half-dead. He does, however, slip a heating pad filled with lavender beads to assuage your nerves onto your lap during one of his meetings. His hand stays on your thigh for the rest of it, squeezing, soothing.
When you eye him warily, the kingpin shrugs, and you sink further into your seat with a relieved sigh. He could tell you were getting antsy. Ornery, itching for a reason to drive one of your blades through someone’s hand. Better you be the only one bleeding today than the walls of his conference room.
It’s criminal how well they know you. How much they dote on you, either afraid to let you suffer or they suffer the wrath of a woman scorned.
For a moment, things are fairly innocent. Normal. Safe. And you think you’re getting through Shark We—Crimson Tide just fine.
—
But day five begs to differ.
Because you’re ravenously horny. Willing to rend the flesh off your boys’ bones just to get a little relief. You don’t understand how other period-havers can be so cutesy about it; you could tear a man in half with how violently you’re raring to go.
And the guys…
Gods.
They know you’re jonesing. They capitalize on it, sending suggestive texts and pics your way that would bring a virgin to their knees.
Luke, that asshole. In his most recent selfie, he’s fresh out of the shower, water droplets clinging to that shock of red hair spilling down his shoulders, towel slung low enough to reveal the catastrophic cut of his hips.
Kieran’s in the background, flexing with his back turned like he doesn’t know the camera’s there. Like he doesn’t know they’re torturing you with thirst traps on your most vulnerable of days.
‘Just got done with our morning warmup,’ reads the caption. ‘Someone should help us scrub our backs next time. 😜😈’
You nearly snap your phone in half.
Zayne’s not above the debauchery despite you praying he’d take it easy on you. His selfie is made to look like it’s caught off guard. He’s in his office, white coat thrown over his chair, shirt sleeves cuffed at the crooks of his elbows.
Those pretty scars marring his forearms taunt you, spilling like rivers alongside his veins down to his overwhelmingly large hands. There’s a whisper of a smirk on his lips. Spring-colored eyes shining with amusement behind the lenses perched on his nose.
‘Surgery ran longer than anticipated,’ comes the context. ‘I think I’ve earned a reward in the form of your touch.’
Luckily, Sylus is filthy rich. Because for every photo you receive of muscles and hair and wolfish grins, you come closer and closer to chucking your phone into the stratosphere.
Speaking of the Devil, the boss treats you with no less mercy than the other three. You’re sure it was either Mephisto or one of the twins taking his pictures. They don’t have that weird, blurry, Boomer thing he’s known for.
No.
These photos are immaculate. A slideshow of him flexing his money. A well-placed shot of the red sole of one of his loafers, ankle propped on his knee, slacks pressed. His veiny wrist, donned with a watch from a brand you can’t be bothered to pronounce. Another just of the rings on his fingers.
You shudder, remembering their cool texture colliding with the fire of your skin while he whispers filth and encouragement into your ear. His hands have always been your favorite necklace.
The last selfie is one of him leaning against a rail overlooking the city as the nightlife shines like glitter spilled over black velvet below. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone. His hair’s loose, a few alabaster strands caught in the breeze. There’s a glass of something dark clutched in his elegant fingers.
You hate him because even when he’s “unsuspecting,” he’s an absolute marvel to look at.
He prefaces his impromptu photoshoot with a, ‘Wish you were here spending my money. It turns me on when you allow yourself to be greedy, sweetie.’
—
Day six, you try to brush it off as a coincidence. Deep down, you know better. The four stooges have been tormenting you like this since yesterday.
Luke’s shirts fit more snugly than usual. Distantly, you wonder if he’s rummaged through a kid’s closet.
Kieran “forgets” to zip his vest all the way up, teasing you with a swallow of throat and collarbone.
Zayne’s slacks fit him like a dream—a wet one—boasting the power of his thighs and that monster hiding beneath the stitching.
Sylus has made a point to wear that color you adore so much, its expensive pleat practically painted onto his torso, it’s so tight. You do so love the fullness of his chest…
They know what they’re doing, trading smirks and raised brows whenever you clock them.
They haunt you like ghosts with unfinished business. Fleeting touches playing down the notches of your spine. Hot breath on your shoulder or near your ear under the guise of reaching over you.
Zayne grazes your cheek with his knuckles while inquiring about your mood, painting a sultry triangle between your eyes and mouth as you stumble over your words.
Kieran catches your hand whilst you work Lux’s bar, grinning in that devastating way over the counter that makes your knees wobble, and he smooths his thumb over your wrist bone, looking like he can’t resist the pull of your mouth.
Luke leans close during a business deal while the three of you stand in good form at Sylus’ back, murmuring about how he intends to punish you if you keep squirming and biting your lip like that.
Sylus is the worst in all of this, not even granting you the luxury of his touch. All he has to do is look at you like he’s already disassembled and reassembled you in every way imaginable. And that fucking voice—he wields like blessed silver, curling his tongue around words that have no business sounding like sin.
You’re about ready to claw off your skin from all the teasing. If someone doesn’t fuck you now, you’ll surely level the city.
LISTEN. Shhh... Just come here... take my hand... I need to tell you something...
I'M SORRY I'M SORRY BUT I SPLOOGED ALL OVER THE SCREEN WITH THIS ONE....
I have never felt so understood by four men SO DAMN WELL.... WHEN ARE THEY APPEARING OUT MY SCREEN. I just need to know so I can assume the position
K but FR.... WHY are we getting punished for not being pregnant every damn month???? Shouldn't we be getting a consolation prize in the form of glowing skin? Perkier tits?? More luscious lashes?????
smug little shits... So patient... so considerate...
🤣🤣🤣 Yeah cuz fuck them why are they all so good at this??? Fuck this group chat and their "Crimson Tide" battle strategy bullshit. Now there is no way around feeling anything but a giant butthole for being anything other than goopy for the FOUR STOOGES. LMAOOO I died with this. Tell me we're old without telling me. I instantly was brought back to the good ole black and white tv show and got a damn good laugh thinking about them all laughing like idiots and thwacking each other on the heads.
Zayne freezes your hand with his Evol....
And instantly, my hand is not the only thing frozen HARD... I was biting my lip off like DAMN DADDY.... you missed.... next time freeze my wrists to the wall.
KIER HAS A MENSTRUATION CRUSTACEAN FOR YOU?????!?!?!?!?!?
BUDDY I'M SO GONE FOR THIS MAN. I started chewing on my phone screen at this. And then he massages you? Why is Kieran the most adorable thoughtful little shit. I need to nom his face immediately for self preservation reasons.
He does, however, slip a heating pad filled with lavender beads to assuage your nerves onto your lap during one of his meetings. His hand stays on your thigh for the rest of it, squeezing, soothing.
Hi. Hello. It's me again god. I need you to make my Syloo real. WHO'S LISTENING to ANYTHING that is going on in this meeting if Sylus slides you a heated lavender pack and keeps his hand on your thigh???? I JUST NEED TO KNOW. BECAUSE it 'TIS NOT I. I would be the biggest mush puddle with heart boba eyes as I drooled and stared at him. Big bad enemies watching me look like a soft fragile little crush induced girl? DON'T FUCKING CARE. LOOK AT HIM. JUST LOOK AT HIM! *faints*
Willing to rend the flesh off your boys’ bones just to get a little relief. You don’t understand how other period-havers can be so cutesy about it; you could tear a man in half with how violently you’re raring to go.
This took me out because I was DYING laughing. *this is when my cat jumped off my lap like, DAMN BITCH stop squealing and jostling me around, get A HOLD of yourself.* Imagining how feral you'd have to be to jump them all and just tear their clothes and damn near skin off.... YES.
Also, like EVERY single one of the word pictures you drew of all these MENACES to society, sending you "not-so-innocent" photos... like I could instantly see it, like my brain took a Polaroid and printed it right then and there. And trust me that i am framing every gat damn one of them.
They haunt you like ghosts with unfinished business. Fleeting touches playing down the notches of your spine. Hot breath on your shoulder or near your ear under the guise of reaching over you.
GOD.
Zayne grazes your cheek with his knuckles while inquiring about your mood, painting a sultry triangle between your eyes and mouth as you stumble over your words.
FUCKING.
Kieran catches your hand whilst you work Lux’s bar, grinning in that devastating way over the counter that makes your knees wobble, and he smooths his thumb over your wrist bone, looking like he can’t resist the pull of your mouth.
DAMN.
Luke leans close during a business deal ... murmuring about how he intends to punish you if you keep squirming and biting your lip like that.
ITTTTTTTTTT.
Sylus is the worst in all of this ... All he has to do is look at you like he’s already disassembled and reassembled you in every way imaginable.
I'M SO WET. HELP. JUST.... HELP. NONE OF US ARE MAKING IT OUT ALIVE.
Yes bitch.... IF SOMEONE DOESN'T COME FUCK ME NOW I AM LEVELING THIS GAT DAMN CITY. I swear to GOD if you four aren't in positions when this heat BUSTS open... hell will NOT contain me.
