#I couldn’t even see that the soap has a little duck on it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thebimbopalace · 3 months

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SOMEBODY’S WATCHING ME

ੈ✩‧₊˚eren yeager x f!reader

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wc: 2.8k

✧.*blurb: Eren walking into the wrong shower room and catching you touching yourself. What can go wrong? Or better yet…what can go right?

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹| canon!verse, s4 eren, mutual masturbation, shower sex, voyuerism, pet names (beautiful, baby), choking (f.receiving), doggy style position, spanking (f.receiving), use of good girl, degradation (slut), nipple play (f.receiving), dirty talk, dom!eren (maybe), masochism (reader), begging, raw sex

It was a long day for Eren. The only thing he wanted to do was collapse onto the clean sheets of his bed and waltz into dreamland. Working in the hot sun for hours took a major toll on him more than he would've initially thought.

He entered his room and grabbed his towel and basic shower necessities from his bedside table. Exhaustion was written all over his face but, he still dragged himself towards the showers so he could wash away all the sweat and dirt built up on his skin. All that was on his mind was how the hot water from the shower would trickle down his muscular body, and soothe those same sore muscles.

Eren walks from his room towards the showers almost in a zombie-like manner. The closer he gets to the showers, the more the smell of soap fills the air and the steam comes through the open door. He mindlessly walks into the showers. The steam hits his face as the humidity brings him a sense of comfort. He starts to look around the room, searching through the cloudy air to find an empty shower stall. “Somethings off,” Eren thinks to himself.

Eren’s eyes begin to adjust to his surroundings as he starts to shake the fog from his brain and once he does, he realizes that he is in the wrong shower room. The smell of strawberries was a dead giveaway that he wasn't in the men's showers. A faint blush creeps up on his cheeks as reality settles in.

He quietly backs up towards the door when he hears something in the room. He stops dead in his tracks when he hears…moaning. “Mmm, ahh” Eren hears those sinful sounds and tries to brush off how they make him feel but, before he can even process what he's doing his feet are taking him deeper into the shower room.

He starts to look around the steamy shower room to find out who the culprit is for these sensual sounds. Each stall he passes is empty but, the closer he gets, the louder those alluring sounds become. A siren song calling out to him, making his cock twitch in anticipation. When he gets close enough, the shower fog clears and his eyes go wide at what he sees. You with your fingers knuckle deep in your cunt.

Eren swiftly ducks behind the wall where the sinks are facing you to hide. Your soft, breathy moans ring out in the shower room which causes Eren to freeze in place as he hides. His heart is pounding in his chest from the adrenaline rush coursing through his veins. Eren knows he should leave, he knows this is wrong, but your sounds cause him to stay.

With his back against the wall, Eren turns his body and rises to look over the wall where he is currently hiding behind. His eyes peek over the wall and he looks forward at you, and the sight he sees makes his erection rise.

You, with your leg up on the shower ledge as the water cascades down your perfect body. You’re using your middle and ring fingers of one hand to finger fuck your cunt while using those same fingers on your other hand to rub that pretty little clit of yours. You couldn’t see Eren since you were so engrossed in your pleasure with your eyes half-lidded and looking down at your stuffed, dripping pussy.

“This is even better than I imagined,” Eren thinks as he watches the spectacle before him. The number of times Eren has stroked his dick to the thought of you just like this in front of him is something he will never reveal. But one thing he can say is, that seeing the real thing is way better than anything he could've ever conjured up in his head.

The sound of your soft gasps and moans sends jolts of electricity through Eren’s body. He feels goosebumps form on his skin at the sexy sounds falling out of your mouth. “Oh—oh god,” you slur as the pleasure muddles your mind. Eren’s hand goes towards the waistband of his pants and black boxer briefs, he pulls them down just enough to free his cock. He looks down for a brief second and sees just how much precum is leaking out of his fat cockhead. Taking his fingertips, he collects some of the precum and smears it over his cock, using it as lube.

As soon as he starts to stroke his cock, he fights back a hiss in reply at the sensitivity. Eren peaks over the wall once again and watches you touch yourself. You slide your fingers out of your pussy and insert them into your mouth, savoring the taste of your arousal. Eren’s pupils dilate at your lewd movements as he mumbles out a small “fuck” in response.

You then slip your saliva-ridden fingers out of your mouth and place them onto your clit. As you start to do circles on your clit, Eren strokes his cock to match the slow pace of your fingers. Your free hand then moves to your tits as you begin to squeeze and pinch your nipples. Eren lets out a quiet groan as he sees your nipples form hard points.

“Jus’ wanna suck on those perfect tits,” he softly mutters to himself as the pace of his hand increases. Your moans come out shaky as you begin to reach your climax. “Mmm—ah—gonna cum—fuck,” you whimper out as that coil in your belly tightens. Eren’s eyes are glued to your cunt. The way it clenches as your high approaches, the way your fingers work over your swollen clit, and the way your juices drip out your pussy onto the floor.

Your labia twitches faintly, begging for your orgasm to rake through your cunt. That movement caused Eren to let out a deep grunt which came out louder than intended. Nothing can tear his emerald eyes away from your pretty pussy…besides the sound of your voice.

“Eren?” you call out. Your breathless voice snaps him out of his trance as both of your eyes lock. You and him maintain eye contact for what feels like forever before you break the silence. “Sooo…you were watching me?” you ask as Eren detects a hint of teasing in your tone. He stays crouched down behind the wall and asks “Is that a problem?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “That depends” you tease. “On what?” he asked curiously. “On whether or not you liked what you saw.”

A faint blush creeps up on his cheeks, making this whole interaction kind of endearing.

“Tell me Eren…did you like watching me play with my pussy?” the seductive nature of your tone caught Eren off-guard. He rises to his feet so he can stand up straight and the sight of his tall stature makes your arousal come back ten-fold.

His toned, muscular body, broad shoulders, and the way his hand is still wrapped around his thick, hard cock…just the sight of this man makes your body heat with a fire that only he can put out. “I did. But, I would like it even better if you let me have a taste of that pussy,” he said in a deep tone. You bite your bottom lip as you start to get flustered.

He walks around the skin wall and starts to tread closer to you. “Don't be flustered, beautiful…” Eren puts his free hand gently around your neck then says “I know that pussy of yours needs to cum, so let me help you, mkay?” in that same deep tone that makes your insides churn with pure lust.

You look into his eyes with yours glazed over with need and nod your head. Eren tightens his grip on the sides of your neck and says “Hm? I can't hear you” with every ounce of teasing he can muster. “Tell me that you want me to make you cum…or I’ll leave you here with your dripping cunt.”

You suck in a sharp breath then say “I want you to make me cum Eren.” He smirks and says “There’s a good girl” he loosens the pressure on the sides of your neck as his hand slides down to your waist. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall” he commands as dominance creeps into his tone. You turn your body and face the wall. Placing your hands on the wall, Eren puts his hands on your hips and moves your hips back so your ass is flushed with his hips.

“Arch that back baby,” he says with an authoritative tone. And you do just that. You spread your legs apart a little bit and arch your back which causes your ass to be high in the air. Eren groans in delight when he sees the view that you are presenting him. You just look so good and oh so ready for him to fuck that pretty cunt of yours. He takes one hand off your hip and grazes his fingertips on your oversensitive pussy.

“Ahh,” you breathed lightly. He then inserts two fingers into your cunt which causes you to arch your back further at the intrusion. His fingers feel way better than yours as he languidly moves them back and forth. “Eren,” you whined, urging him to go faster. “Don't worry, beautiful, I'm jus’ making sure that pussy is ready for me.” The smugness in his tone would normally make you roll your eyes, but his fingers expertly sliding inside you is making it hard to be annoyed.

Eren takes his fingers out of you and places them into his mouth, lapping up your juices with an audible moan, which only makes his need for you increase. “You taste good…just like I knew you would.”

You push your hips back with the hope that his dick just slides inside of you. Then, you feel a harsh slap on your ass, followed by Eren’s voice saying “Stay still” in a deep tone. Your cunt clenches around nothing at Eren’s mannerisms. Once he sees that you are staying still, he puts his hand on his cock and prods the tip at your entrance. You bite your bottom lip and try your hardest not to squirm in his hold.

Eren moves his hips forward and slowly sinks into your warmth with one smooth thrust. All the fingering you did prior mixed in with how wet your cunt is makes his intrusion an easy one. “God d-damn,” Eren stuttered once he was fully sheathed inside you. His hips are against your ass as he bottoms out immediately.

“So full” you mumble as his dick is fully inside you. Your fingers, hell, your toys could never give you the same feeling that Eren is giving you right now. And then…his hips start to move. Your hands start to grip the wall as you bite your lip harder to hold in your moans which are sure to be loud. The soft slapping sound of your ass crashing against Eren’s hips bounces off the walls of the shower room adding to the lewd atmosphere that you two are creating.

Eren’s grip on your hips grows stronger as he groans “fuck—that cunt is jus’—damn—jus’ sucking me in, baby.” moans start to fall from your loose hung lips as the pleasure Eren is giving you becomes too much to hold in. With every thrust of his hips, your body shuddered in overwhelming ecstasy in response.

You tried so hard to stay still and not move due to Eren’s command not to. But, it was like your body had a mind of its own. You start to move your hips to meet Eren’s thrusts as the slapping sound grows louder. “Theree you go baby, back that pussy up on me—shiit,” Eren emphasized with a smack to your ass. Your body jolted from the spank as a high-pitched moan fell from your mouth. “You like that shit, don't you?” he said as his hand landed on your ass cheek, delivering another smack.

“Yes Eren, again…spank me again,” you muttered which caused Eren to grab the back of your neck and pull your head towards him. The motion causes your back to arch even further in turn, causing his cock to reach deeper inside you. He hissed in your ear “Say that—fuck—say that shit again, louder, baby,” as he bullies his cock in and out of your wet cunt.

“Ohh, god—Eren…s-spank me a-again—fuckk,” you cried out. A devious smile widens on his face as his hand comes down on your ass cheek again. Your moans increase in volume as you whimper out “again…harder,” which Eren complies with more than enough enthusiasm. The grip on the back of your neck tightens as his other hand starts to spank the fat of your ass in rapid succession.

You let out a pleasure-filled giggle at the stinging sensation that is now apparent on your ass. “Looks like I have a little pain slut wetting my dick up,” Eren says in a baritone that makes your pussy flutter around his fat cock. That movement makes Eren let out a low moan in satisfaction. “Faster, please—fuck,” you beg as you feel your orgasm starting to form.

He picks up the pace of his movements as his hand slides up your waist towards your tits. His hand grasps your tit in his palm as he begins to massage it gently. “These perfect f-fucking tits…so soft,” Eren forces out as his release is starting to trickle up his spine. Your hips stutter and come to a stop as you can no longer match his powerful thrusts.

“Uh-uh, don’t stop now. Be a good little girl and push back that pussy on me again,” he demands as a whine leaves your lips. You slowly begin to move your hips again. Eren smirks while his fingers move to delicately pinch your nipple as his husky voice rings through saying, “Good, good fuckin’ girl.” The pain from the pinch travels through your body straight towards your neglected clit.

You remove your hand from the wall and start to circle your hard bundle of nerves eagerly. The feeling of Eren’s hard cock moving in and out of your warm, wet cunt heightens your sense of want to an overwhelming state. Your fingers continue to circle your clit clumsily as you feel that ruined orgasm start to form again.

You begin to unconsciously clench around Eren’s cock as the pleasure hits all new highs for your body. “Damn, pushing my cock out, aren't you baby?” Eren asks through gritted teeth due to your walls tightening around him so hard.

“It feels so good Eren,” you whine out to which Eren responds with “I know, baby. Jus’ keep taking that cock,” as his hands go to your ass cheeks and spread them. He looks down with a clenched jaw as he watches his cock disappear inside of you.

Your body starts to squirm as the movements on your clit increase. “Go ahead baby, make yourself cum. Make that fuckin’ pussy cum” Eren spits out. You feel a rush of cold pass over your cunt as your back arches more for him. That’s all it takes for you to fall apart.

“Cum—cumming ‘ren fuckkk,” you cry out as your walls clamp and squeeze around him, your moans break with each thrust of his cock. “God damn…that pussy’s cumming hard, isn't it?” Eren says with a broken groan at the end. He still feels your cunt sucking him in as you whimper “‘m still cummin’ ‘ren shiiit.”

He lets out a flurry of guttural groans as his eyes shut tightly for a beat. His eyes open and the slight of your cum coating his cock along with the loud squelching sounds tumble Eren into that euphoria right behind you. His hands grip your ass cheeks hard as he forces out “Gods baby…I’m cumming in that perfect pussy.” his cum spurts inside your cunt and fills you to the brim. It's so much that it leaks onto the ground of the shower you both are in.

Eren’s movements seize as well as the hard grip he has on your ass. His forehead lands on your shoulder blade as your heavy breaths fill the air. Eren starts to plant gentle pecks on your shoulder going down your back. “Shit, you feel so good,” he says catching his breath. You let out a small chuckle then say “You weren't too bad yourself, Eren.”

He gives you a light, playful tap on your ass in response. As you both come back down to earth from floating in the clouds of ecstasy, you notice that the water is still running in the shower stall you both are in. “I guess we should get clean now huh?” Eren asks. You look back at him and say “As long as you don't try to fuck me again, then we can get clean together.”

A mischievous smile appears on his face since he knows that he will most definitely fuck you again…and he did.

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

#✎ᝰ. ( signed your majesty ) !#eren jeager smut #eren smut #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren aot #eren jeager x reader #eren x you #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot smut #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x y/n

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 17 - Orgy

Soap x Gaz x Ghost x Price x Rudy x Alejandro x Reader - 5.3k (on ao3)

summary: You have an orgy with your favorite boys. (Reader POV)

cw: double penetration in two holes, double penetration in one hole, spitroasting, sex in front of other people, very light soft degradation, praise, overstimulation

note: this doesn't even have an ATTEMPT at plot alright? we're here to be horny and move on. also i think this is more gangbang than orgy but whatever lol

You’re not sure who you’re making out with. It’s not like you care all that much - laid out on the bed like a queen, Price serving as your throne where he holds you half up with your legs spread - you’re perfectly content to just sit and kiss, for hours on end.

It was Soap first - Soap and his messy kisses, broad stripes licked into your mouth, sucking on your tongue so vehemently you nearly thought he was trying to keep it. He was playful, nipping at your lips, grinning everytime he pulled back enough for you to see.

Then Gaz, who shoved Soap away to have a turn with you. They’d bickered for a moment before Price, from over your shoulder, big hands cupping your chest and massaging, reminded him that he could lick your pussy too. He was more than happy to duck down after that, leaving you with Gaz.

Gaz was sweet, long slow kisses that matched the way Price groped you but were a sharp contrast to the eagerness Soap had. Kyle peppered your mouth with kisses, layering them one over the other and hardly giving you time to breathe between them, while Soap ate you with a fervor you’ve never felt before. The difference in pace left you squirming, just a bit, but Price kept you still for them.

You’re not sure when Gaz left, but Soap’s work on your cunt felt so good, so overwhelming, that you couldn’t open your eyes even to see who next took a turn.

He’s got scruff on his face, which you feel rubbing against your cheeks and your palms when you reach up to hold him. His kisses are fun - you can feel him smiling and humming into your lips - and he works your mouth slowly, tangling your tongue together. Where Soap and Gaz had wanted to explore, your mystery man wants to play.

You want to look and see who it is, but the pleasure doesn’t let you, Soap’s mouth on your clit, two of his fingers buried deep in your ass, Price giving you sharp little pinches around your areolas - it all keeps you just a little too foggy to work up the energy. You’re content to luxuriate in the sensations, to relax back into Price and just let your body feel.

“There you go, doll,” Price coos from over your shoulder. “Nice and relaxed for us, yeah? Gonna need you to stay like that if you want to take us all.”

“Please,” you breathe between kisses, eyelashes fluttering as you finally manage to look up. “Wanna feel you all.”

It’s Rudy above you, a soft smile turning his lips up and leaving crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You reach up to cup his cheek, but at that exact moment Soap takes your clit between his lips and sucks, and your movement is halted as you moan.

You hear and feel both Rudy and Price laugh, and Rudy leans forward the last few inches to nuzzle his cheek into your palm. The two of you lean foreheads against each other as you moan, hips making small grinding motions into Soap’s face.

“You will,” Rudy says. “You’re a good girl, yes?”

You nod with a small keen as Johnny starts to work a third finger inside of your back hole.

He smiles. “Then you’ll take all of us.”

Alejandro replaces Price behind you at a certain point, his hard muscle a much less comfortable chair compared to the soft layer of fat lining Price. He’s smaller though, which means you can roll your face back into his neck and he only has to duck a few inches to give you the kisses you silently request.

“Out of the way, hermano,” Rudy says, softly shoving Soap away from you by the shoulders. Johnny doesn’t go easily at all, growling a little and hammering his fingers into you just a bit harder, enough to have you gasping and squirming. Ghost grabs Johnny by the nape of his neck before he can get too aggressive, yanking him away with an unimpressed look.

“Thanks,” Rudy says on a laugh, getting a nod in return from Ghost. “Now, for you,” he turns to you and smiles, settling himself between your widely spread thighs so his hard member rests on your center, shaft pressing against your clit. “You ready to take us both, cariño?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pulling away from Alejandro and his absolutely sinful mouth, shooting both of them your best pleading look. “Please, want to feel you.”

“Shh,” Alejandro soothes, stroking one hand down the center of your chest and the other lining his own head up with your stretched hole. “You’ll get what you want, just relax for us.”

You take a deep breath, let your eyes slide shut. On the exhale they both push in, a slow thrust that leaves you feeling like you might burst. The three of you moan in sync, your head thrown back to Ale’s shoulder, his forehead falling to your temple, Rudy curling over so he can mouth at one of your nipples.

It takes a bit for them to bottom out inside of them at the slow pace, both of them large men. You’ve never had something quite so large in your ass, but the stretch feels exquisite.

The three of you are panting in sync as soon as you’re filled to the brim.

“You first, hermano,” Alejandro says from above you, his voice rough with desire.

Rudy laughs a little breathlessly. “I’m not going to argue with you.” He pulls far enough back to give you a long, sweet kiss, pulling away with a playful nip before holding himself up. He rests his hands on Alejandro’s shoulders to give himself the leverage that he wants.

“Feels so good,” you moan, undulating your hips just enough that they both pull out and sink back in. “C’mon, need it.”

Alejandro laughs, burying his face in your neck and wrapping his arms around you. “Be patient, amor, he’s gonna give it to you.”

You try to shoot Rudy your best you better look, but it’s probably a little dulled by the man sucking hickies into your neck.

Rudy fucks you deep. On each thrust he pulls out nearly the entire way, and each time he pushes back in he nearly hits your cervix. He’s not slow, but he’s not fucking you like an animal either. He feels perfect inside of you, sliding along that spot inside of you and bumping your clit every time he bottoms out.

The two of you moan loudly as he fucks you, Alejandro grunting at the sensations he’s getting, the way you clench down on him like you never want him to leave. You blink wet eyes open, glancing over to see what the others are up to on the other side of the bed.

You see Gaz with Price’s dick in his mouth - not sucking, just warming him - and Ghost jacking a very wiggly Soap off. They’re all staring at the show you’re putting on, all a little red in the cheeks with heavier breaths.

Price meets your eyes first. “You making them feel good, pet?”

You nod as much as you can manage, breath hitching when you try to answer.

“She’s unimaginable,” Rudy pants from above you, hips working just a bit quicker as he nears the edge. “Tight like you wouldn’t believe.”

Alejandro laughs at that, one hand slipping down your stomach to explore the soaked folds of your cunt. “Won’t be once we’re done with her.”

You moan when he finds your clit, rubbinb you in fast and rhythmic little circles that drag you right to the edge.

“Don’t leave her so loose we can’t have any fun,” Ghost gruffs, nearly drowned out by the moans and slick slapping sounds filling the room.

“Not-” Rudy starts, then stops to catch his breath as he starts to really fuck you, thrusts hard and pounding. “Not selfish, h-hermano.”

There’s a small laugh at that, but you don’t know who it’s from. You’re too focused on arching your back as much as you can, clenching down hard on the cock still stuffing your ass but not doing a thing, the way Alejandro’s fingers are driving you insane with their perfect little motions, and the way Rudy’s hitting every perfect spot inside of you.

“Gonna- gonne come, please, feels so good!” You gasp, moaning and letting your head roll back onto Alejandro’s shoulder, hips moving in a desperate attempt to push yourself off that cliff. Your hands come back to grip Alejandro’s head, and he presses kisses to your shoulder.

Finally, finally, you manage to reach that peak. You moan loudly as your thrown into an orgasm, body going completely limp between the two men, cunt clenching along with the waves of pleasure and milking both of them.

Rudy comes just after you, your inner muscle’s massage triggering his own orgasm. He buries himself to the hilt inside of you when he does, maoning and panting against your skin.

“Fuck,” Rudy hisses over your shoulder, working his fingers and sending both you and Rudy into overstimulation. “Feel so good clenched tight like that, amor, you feel so good for us.”

Rudy lifts his head enough to nudge at Alejandro’s head and you hear the slick sounds of making out as you ride out the rest of your orgasm. Alejandro’s fingers slow as your heartbeat does, working you down from the pleasure in a perfect way. You feel sort of like you’re being caught in a bed of feathers - a sharp fall with a soft fall, wrapped in softness and warmth when you hit the ground.

“Buena niña,” Rudy pants when he pulls apart from Alejandro. “Such a good girl, feel so good when you come around me.”

You can only whine at that, body still a little worked up with both holes filled.

Rudy fixes that problem by pulling out just a moment later, both his and your eyes glued to your hole as he does. There’s a slow dribble of cum as soon as he’s free of you, and neither of you bothers to hold back your moans.

“My turn,” Alejandro says, and you can feel the way he smirks against your neck. “You ready, cariño?”

You take a few deep breaths, let your nerves settle back into your body a bit, then nod. “Yes, want you too, Ale, want you to fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he purrs. A moment later he’s got you flipped onto your front, hands just barely catching you so you’re held up on hands and knees. He’s solid and tall behind you when you glance over your shoulder, hands planted on your hips to keep himself fully inside of you.

He cocks his head to the side a little, asking permission. Like this, you’re just a foot away from the sight of Gaz’s throat working at Price’s length, and over him you can see Soap writing in Ghost’s lap as the larger man gives his cock no mercy.

You shift your knees wider, slip down until your chest is pressed to the mattress, then nod your consent to Alejandro.

He braces you for a moment, giving your hips a quick squeeze as he shifts himself, then pulls nearly the entire way out of you. You shift on your knees a bit, whining at the anticipation, but he only shushes you, giving your hips a quick tap.

He doesn’t fuck you like Rudy had. Alejandro fucks you deep, but hardly pulls out even half-way on every thrust. It’s like he wants to be as connected to you as possible, keeping as much of himself buried in your heat as he can while still making himself feel good. The short, sharp thrusts leave you moaning on every breath, the sounds punched out of you.

“Good girl,” he moans above you, grip brusing on your hips. “Such a good cocksleeve for me, yeah? Nice and tight around my cock… clench down for me, amor, make it feel better.”

You listen to his command, moaning even louder when he feels that much larger inside of you. Clenching your rim tight around him makes the stretch burn just the slightest bit, even with all the prep you’d gotten, and you relish in the slight sting.

“Don’t foget about her,” Rudy pants from where he’s collapsed beside you, eyes glued to the way your cheeks bounce on every thrust. “She feels best when she’s coming.”

Alejandro bites out a curse, one of his hands leaving to move back to your slick folds. He tucks two fingers inside of you, drawing a loud cry from your throat, and rubs the heel of his hand against your swollen clit.

“Alejandro!” You shout, pushing yourself back on him and his hand to try and get more of the perfect sensations. “P-please, feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He leans over you, breath ghosting over your back as his thrusts get a little sloppier, a little harsher. “Feels nice, huh? Both holes stuffed full, just the way you were meant to be.”

His own words are what set him off, his dirty talk fading into a stream of moans as he stiffens buried inside of you, the hot splash of cum coating your insides. He works his palm and fingers slowly in your cunt, and you’re brought to a rolling orgasm, clenching hard on him.

Your moan is nearly pornographic, face squished against the sheets and back arched so your ass stays high in the air. He grinds his hips into your ass, getting as much of his dick inside of you as he can while you milk the cum from him.

He pulls out uncermoniously, and you can’t help but whine a little sadly at the sudden emptiness as both his cock and fingers leave you. He hushes you a bit, fingering some of his come back into your loose hole. “There you go, keep it nice and warm for me, cariño.”

“Alright,” you hear Ghost grunt from in front of you, open your eyes up just in time to see him throw Johnny off his lap and stand to make his way to the other side of the bed. “Our turn now, fuck off.”

Rudy and Alejandro both laugh good-naturedly, shifting to take their places beside Price and Gaz. You see the two of them cuddle up together, their slick cocks resting by one another. Gaz has shifted to nursing Price’s balls as he smokes a cigar, blowing the smoke straight up to the ceiling.

“Head up, c’mon,” Ghost grunts as he shifts onto the bed in front of you, resting on his knees and holding his dick straight out as you push yourself up. “Johnny, you can have at her cunt. Don’t come before I do.”

“Yes, Sir,” Soap says, and you just barely have time to brace yourself for the rough fucking you know is coming when Johnny rams himself balls-deep inside of you. You both moan loudly at the feeling, and you fall back down to your elbows.

Ghost doesn’t bother telling you to sit up again, instead just grabs you by the hair and pulls up until he can slip himself into your mouth. With the way Soap is pounding you, you’re forced to nearly deepthroat him as soon as your lips close.

You gag immediately, scrambling up onto your hands to try and save your poor throat. It’s almost impossible to think past the way that Soap uses your slick hole, the pounding making stars appear across your vision.

Ghost laughs at you when tears start to leak down your cheeks, one hand coming to pat you just a little harshly on the cheek as you’re fucked back and forth on his dick.

“Don’t even need to do anything, do I?” He hums, the hand on your face moving lower to wrap around your throat, making it feel even more like you’re choking. “Doing good, Johnny, you’re practically fucking her mouth for me.”

Johnny’s far past the point of words, only managing to moan as he huncehs over your back, lips tracing patterns across your shoulder blades and leaving trails of spit.

“Yeah, good boy. You’re a good girl too, sweetheart,” Ghost praises, using the hand on your head to brush the hair away from your face. You look up just in time to catch the smile on his face as he stares down at you. “Such a good cock sucker. Why don’t you use your tongue a little, c’mon. Don’t make Johnny do all the work now.”

It’s hard to work past the pistoning into your cunt, but you manage to listen to Ghost, licking up the underside of his length as best you can while being fucked raw. Johnny’s pace never falters, and you have no idea how he manages to keep himself from flying over the edge.

You trace the vein on the underside of Ghost’s dick with your tongue, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking to try and make him feel good. You can’t do much to move your head - the palm holding the back of your skull leaves that in his hands - so you try to focus your efforts on what you can do.

The gagging sounds are constant. The way Soap is fucking you, you can’t hold your balance properly, and you end up choking on nearly every thrust.

At some point, Johnny reaches the end of his rope. “Ghost, please, need to come, have to, ‘m so close, please….”

Ghost chuckles, a deep and mean sound. “Can’t hold it?”

A whine from Johnny, and you feel him shake his head against your back.

“Hm. Well, that’s too bad. Both me and our girl here are gettin’ off before you. Why don’t the two of you work on makin’ that happen.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, but when Johnny’s fingers start to work frantically at your oversensitive clit, you understand. Your eyes roll back in your head at the pleasure, and it’s all you can do to keep from going completely limp and suffocating on Ghost’s dick.

“There you go,” he moans, thrusting a little further into your mouth. “Feels good when you moan, sweetheart. Make her do it again, Johnny.”

And he does. You’re trapped in the animalistic fucking from Soap, your poor hole feeling stretched out and used, and you’re unable to escape the relentless pleasure shooting from your clit to your brain.

Both you and Johnny are thankful that it doesn’t take Ghost long at all to come. Once you’re moaning and choking on every thrust, it only takes a few seconds for him to be spurting come down your throat.

He pulls your mouth off of him, holding you back so that he can jack some of the come onto your face. He works his fat cock roughly, and you can’t help but stare at him as he gets himself off. He’s mean to himself, and somehow that’s what gives you the last push you need to clench down hard around Soap.

This orgasm is almost painful. Johnny doesn’t let up on you at all, keeps hammering his cock into you, keeps rubbing just past the line of too-harshly, and it leaves you crying out. You collapse back down to the bed when Ghost lets you, face smearing cum into the sheets. You feel like every nerve is on fire - your clit especially - and you instinctually start to writhe away from the source of it all, from Johnny.

You hear Price laugh from the side. “Ease up on her, Johnny, you’ve got the poor thing running away from you.”

Johnny whines over your shoulder, digging his teeth into your skin and sucking. Your eyes roll back in your head as you’re forced into an even steeper arch, his cock bullying another inch inside of you.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Ghost grunts, and you feel Johnny pulled off of you. One second you’re receiving a fucking like you never have before, the next you’re left empty and open, legs still spread wide. You can’t help but whine a little, blinking teary eyes open.

Soap is begging from behind you. “No, no, no, L.t., please, I was so close, I can’t fuckin’… please, feel like I’m gonna die-!”

Ghost scoffs and you hear what you might think is a slap. You’re too focused on watching the way Price shifts Gaz off of his cock and up, then moves him like a doll so he’s leaning back agains the headboard and sitting up properly to look over your shoulder at Ghost and Soap.

“You’re gonna die, really Johnny? Stop throwing a tantrum or you really won’t get to come in our girl tonight.”

“No, sorry, sorry, I’ll be good, promise.”

“Then shut up and wait for your command.”

“Yes, sir.”

While the two of them argue, Price leans over to scoop you up by the armpits, wearing a sweet smile. He settles you on Gaz’s lap, knees bracketing his hips, then presses a dry kiss to your forehead. You wrap your arms around Kyle’s neck, leaning forward to nuzzle him as Price gives him the same treatment. His shaft rests perfectly against your cunt, head just poking at your hole.

“Bring him over here, Simon,” Price orders, stroking both of his hands over you and Gaz’s heads. As Johnny settles behind you he slips a hand down to your neck, forcing you to rest your face against Gaz’s throat and arch your back.

Price stays with the three of you still, using one hand to steady Gaz’s cock and the other to shift your hips, helping you to sink down over it. You both moan into each other’s skin, and you feel a little drool slip from your lips.

“Good, there you go,” Price soothes, petting your thigh and down to Kyle’s once you’re fully seated. “Now, stretch her out a little more to take you, Johnny. Don’t be too quick - I still haven’t had my turn.”

Price stays another minute or so to help you get used to riding Gaz, guiding you up and down in a slow, but filling motion. Gaz is just as overwhelmed with pleasure as you are, gasping and moaning against your shoulder.

Once Price leaves, you feel a finger trace around Kyle’s cock. You jerk forward with a little whine, eyes flying open to meet Price’s where he’s settled against the headboard.

“Just relax,” he soothes as Ghost settles next to him. “Let Johnny fuck you, yeah? You know he’ll make it feel good. Poor lad just wants to come.”

Johnny whines at that, almost an agreement, and you nod a little, canting your hips further back so he’s got more room to work.

The first finger has you moaning, head thrown back at the stretch. He uses the cum and lube from your ass to slick your passage, making the sound of Kyle fucking you even wetter.

Each finger he adds feels like it’ll split you down the middle. Johnny doesn’t rush you but he does move just a bit faster than you might’ve asked - not so fast that you safeword, but enough for you to notice the stretch. Each addition makes you moan, burying your face a little further into the safety of Gaz’s neck.

Gaz himself is moaning on every thrust. The two of you work together, him helping lift you up so you can fuck yourself properly on him. You can feel him sucking hickies into your neck, and the soft throbbing offers a nice distraction from the pleasure wreaking havoc on your body.

Finally, Johnny deems you stretched enough.

“Go slowly,” Ghost warns as Johnny lines himself up with you. Kyle settles you so you rest on his thighs and he’s buried to the hilt, Johnny’s head pushing lightly at your rim. “You hurt her, I hurt you.”

“I know,” Johnny grunts, sinking his teeth into the shoulder Gaz hasn’t claimed. He starts to force his way into your dripping hole, and the three of you groan in unison.

You’ve never been so stretched in your life - as Johnny slowly sinks in you’re nearly convinced you’ll tear. The pressure alone is almost better than anything you’ve ever felt, and you can’t stop the continuous stream of whines and moans as Johnny inches further and further inside of you.

Gaz and Soap are just as far gone as you, both of them grunting and moaning.

“Fuck,” Gaz pants, fingers massaging your hip to keep himself still. “Can feel you, Johnny, you’re so warm.”

“Of-of course you can feel me,” Johnny says, letting go of your shoulder to lick around the area he’d been abusing. “We’re fucking the same hole, mate.”

You bark out a laugh at that, but it quickly turns into a draw out moan when Johnny buries himself inside of you.

“Let us know when you’re alright,” Gaz says into your ear, voice heavy with need. “We can wait for you.”

It takes what feels like an eternity for you to adjust to the stretch. You rest yourself fully on Gaz’s shoulders, giving him your weight so you can just sit on their cocks. You take deep breaths to try and soothe the growing ache and get as used to the stretch as you can.

It must be several minutes later when you finally nod. “Go ahead,” you breathe. “I’m good, I can take it.”

Johnny laughs in your ear, the sound a little choked. “Attagirl.”

They find a pace that works quickly, Soap thrusting in as Gaz pulls out. The rhythm leaves you constantly filled, one of them always as deep as they can get. It also leaves them both in shambles, the rubbing of the other’s cock combined with your wet heat sending them into space.

None of you are capable of speech, just sounds pressed into each other’s skin. You think maybe Kyle and Johnny lock lips for a bit, but it’s hard to tell past the sounds of your coupling. You certainly don’t have the strength to do anything but lay there and take them into your body.

The way they work you over, one of them is always pressing against your g-spot. The constant stimulation leaves you whining. You feel like you might die, might just burn up into a thousand embers. Every inch of you feels overexposed, flayed open, and your cunt throbs.

You don’t need any pressure to your clit this time. Just the stretch of two cocks at once is more than enoug. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave - you can feel it growing, know it’s going to be catastrophic, and when it hits you feel dragged under

Neither Soap or Gaz let up as you reach your peak. In fact they only get more vigorous, losing their rhythm as they start to focus on just getting themselves off. You yelp when they bottom out at once, one of them managing to poke at your cervix, and the insticutal muscle spasm has both of them moaning.

Johnny comes first, panting and gnawing at your shoulder as he bucks his hips into yours. You’re convinced there must be red spots on your ass from how hard he thrusts into you, but even that slight pain just makes everything feel better.

Gaz’s orgasm is triggered by Johnny’s - feeling you clench down so perfectly on him, feeling Soap’s cock twitch and throb right next to his, it’s all too much. They’re both thrown off of that cliff edge, moaning into your skin.

By the time it’s over and you’ve all cooled down, the three of you are left just a limp pile of limbs, unable to do anything but be.

Price is the one who finally untangles you all. He grabs you by your elbows, drawing you away from Gaz and into his arms. You can’t help but wince and cry out when both Johnny and Kyle slip out of you at the same time, your hole fluttering around nothing.

“I know, I know,” Price soothes, laying you on your back. “You’re ok, deep breaths for me now. That’s good, doll, just like that.”

He hovers above you, stroking up and down your ribs while you slowly float back into your skin. When you finally manage to look up at him, he’s wearing a look of such pride that you can’t help but cry a little more.

He coos, swiping away your tears. “Pretty girl, you’re alright. Just one more, and then you’re done.”

You nod. “Want- want to make you feel good too,” you sniffle a bit, leaning further into his hand. “Can’t come again though, won’t feel good.”

“You don’t want any more orgasms?” His tone is a little condescening, but you just shake your head. “That’s alright, honey, you don’t need to get off. Just gotta lay nice and still for me, you can do that, can’t you?”

You nod as he tucks your legs up, pushing your thighs back until your knees rest by your head. The stretch is hardly noticeable with every other sensation wracking your body.

You feel his fingers pet around your pussy, whine when he glances over your clit.

“I’d hoped to have my turn with this little hole,” he hums, tucking a few fingers inside of you and rubbing. You hardly feel them at all. “But it’s too stretched out for me. Bet I wouldn’t feel a thing if I tried to fuck you here, huh?”

You whine sadly at that, burying your face in your calf.

“That’s alright. I know needy girls have to be stretched like that sometimes, it’s not your fault, pet. Just means I’ll have to use your other hole - good thing you have two, hm?”

He doesn’t give you any more prep, just rubs himself a few times and thrusts into your asshole in one long movement.

You’re so fucked out, it’s hard to keep track of his words after that. You can feel them rumbling through your thighs when he leans down to pepper kisses across your face, but they’re unintelligible. All you can focus on are the long, slow thrusts into you. Price drops nearly his full weight into you on every thrust, but each movement feels glacial.

He’s big enough to stretch you out a bit, to make sure you still feel the slight sting of something too big being where it’s not meant to be. It’s not enough to get you off, but the heavy weight and motions still feel heavenly inside you.

Eventually he comes - you’re not sure how long it’s been or what it is that gets him there, but you feel him jerk to a stop, then feel his come spreading inside of you. It’s a nice feeling, and you smile as you let your eyes drift shut.

“Thank you,” you hear him whisper, his whiskers brushing over your cheeks. “Thank you, sweet girl. Felt so good for me.”

Things exist in snippets past that.

Someone pulls you up to their chest (you open your eyes long enough to recongize Alejandro, go back to snoozing right after), someone wipes a cloth softly over both of your holes and shushes your whine (you think you see Ghost walking from the en-suite to the bed), someone lays their weight across your back (you feel Soap’s mohawk brush your arm), another over your legs.

You fall asleep like that, dogpiled in bed with your favorite men, all of you drained and sated. You can’t think of a more perfect way to spend a night.

#this one is only so long because it takes a WHILE to write penetration with 6 different dicks #wish me luck in these tags my god #kinktober day 17 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #soap x gaz x ghost x price x rudy x alejandro x reader #john “soap” mactavish x kyle “gaz” garrick x simon “ghost” riley x john price x rodolfo parra x alejandro vargas #poly 141 x reader #alerudy x reader #yeah? we good?#poly 141 x alerudy x reader #now we're done #bo writes

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

Note

Hello how do you do! Since we see a lot of works with sunshine and sweet readers, I'd like maybe if possible to request simon with a spiteful reader..... Like the reader has a resting angry face, isn't the most cheerful either..... Just pissed at life basically lmao (am I projecting?? Perhaps) anyways I hope you have great day!!!!

hi hun! totally down for a grumpy reader, personally i have a terrible case of resting mean face so, can relate. hope this little one shot fits what you were thinking, might make a part two.

warnings: angst, death, violence, a lil smooch, gn pronouns, Ghost is bad with his words

part two

“count two top deck” Ghost calls through the comms, alerting you and Soap.

“copy LT, breaching now” Soap pushes his way through the large doors, you covering behind him. The two of you are suddenly overtaken by mass amounts of gunfire.

“steamin' jesus LT I think your math was off” Soap yells as the two of you duck for cover behind a wall.

You feel the anger boil in your lower stomach, twice now your lieutenant has miscounted enemies leading to you standing directly in the line of fire, you couldn’t figure out what was distracting him but it made you angrier, you relied on him to get you eyes inside the room and he failed.

Smoke encases the room in a thick haze as you toss a grenade toward the men shooting at you, sneaking around the room to take out 4 men with your weapon, utilizing the knife attached to your belt for the last, his blood cascading from his neck down your hands and arms.

The smoke clears and Soap stands with wide eyes staring at you as you stand trying to catch your breath.

“Rooms clear, move out” you huff over the comms.

Stepping outside the abandoned building you lock eyes with Ghost, quickly closing the gap between you two.

“What the FUCK was that” You yell, hands coming to push at his chest as he takes a small step back from your force. You continue invading his space, forcing his large form backwards.

“That’s twice, TWICE now you’ve fucked up and almost gotten me killed” you release a deep breath, “get your head on right before you get someone killed or I swear to god I will end you myself” emphasizing your point with a final shove, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you flex your fingers trying to calm yourself.

Soap and Ghost share a glance of awe, you were often seen intimidating lower ranks but they’d never seen you have an outburst like that. The ride back to base was practically silent, no one daring to breathe too hard beside you, scared to become the next victim of your wrath.

Entering the base you make your way to the gym, shucking your vest and gear in favour of a t-shirt and shorts, choosing to channel your anger onto the nearest punching bag. You punch until your knuckles became red and swollen, a cut on the back of your hand from a previous mission opening during your assault. fuck

You step away to find a bandage, wrapping it around your hand using your teeth to tighten it. You make your way back over to the bag as you hear the heavy doors to the gym open, sparing a sharp glance at the large figure that emerged. You scoff in his direction, offended that he’d even think to be around you at that moment.

He settles himself at a safe distance as you continue your workout, his eyes roaming over your form.

“Keep staring and i’ll break your nose” You keep your focus on your hits.

“your form is off”

“it’s not”

“it is. put your weight on your front leg, you’re small, shift your weight to your advantage. you’ll never knock someone out punching with just your arms”

You stop moving, fists balled at your sides.

“wanna test that theory?”

He smirks under his mask and it just makes you angrier, he thinks you can’t take him.

You advance toward him, balling your fist before releasing it towards his head, he dodges and grabs your wrist twisting your body to pin your back to his chest.

“I told you, use your weight”

You breathe deep, bending your knee to flick back and lock behind his ankle, using your back to throw him off, tripping him as he tumbled to the mat. You scramble up his body resting your bent knee on his throat.

“that better?”

Your victory is cut short as Ghost brings his legs up to grip around your arm, throwing your body down and twisting to pin you to the mat.

“Tap out” he spits but you’re blinded by your anger, you refuse to let him win. Your body writhes under his strong grip.

“Tap out or I’ll break your arm” he threatens

You lock eyes, narrowing yours as your free palm comes into contact with the soft mat below you. He gets up releasing you as you stand, shaking your arm to try and ease the pain from his grip.

“next time -“

his words are cut short as you launch yourself at him, jumping onto him as you lock your arms around his neck. He uses his weight to try and flip you off but you keep your grip firm pulling him down with you, replacing your arms with your legs as you keep him in a triangle choke. You keep your body pressed to the mat as he plants his feet in an attempt to throw you off him.

“tap out,” you say, repeating his own words.

and he does, his large hand colliding with the floor as you release him. You stand, sweat glistening your body, hair a mess.

“work on your technique, you’re predictable”

“still took you down”

“only cause I let you”

“bullshit” you spit

he raises his eyebrow under his mask, but you can read his face.

“you’re afraid to admit that someone beat the big bad Ghost, well fuck you,” you say through heavy breaths, “we rank the same, you can’t intimidate me like I’m some new recruit”

“you’re really so worked up over the mission"

“yes! Your mistake almost cost Soap and I, what is wrong with you that you forget to count 3 people in a room”

“I was distracted”

“right, good excuse”

“I was distracted by you” he huffs

your breath catches in your throat, his eyes scanning over your form.

“I can handle my own, worry about the enemy” you say as you grab your bag and leave the room, rushing your way back to your room.

You spend a few hours in your room, showering and doing paperwork. As 7pm rolled around you figured you should eat something, so you make your way to the mess. Inching closer to the door you hear some recruits talking,

“I swear man they took down the Ghost, never seen him get beaten before”

You smirk to yourself, hiding behind the frame of the door.

“Yea but they’re a bitch, honest they doesn’t talk to anyone, always looks pissed off at something”

Your smirk fades quickly, your face returning to its usual stoic state as you breeze into the room, staring daggers at the men who had suddenly lost complete interest in their conversation, instead picking at the food on their plate.

Grabbing your food you sit at a far table away from the rest of the groups, managing to stomach most of the food you had been given. Your gaze shifts as Ghost walks into the room, sparing you a glance and stopping, almost like he wanted to say something. You avert your eyes and quickly stand from your spot, crossing the room the leave as he watches you go.

You settle yourself back into your room, trying to find something to occupy your mind when you hear a knock at your door, moving back to open it before your eyes land on that stupid mask.

“What do you need lieutenant”

“Can I come in”

“No”

He breezes past you into the room as you roll your eyes, closing the door and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m sorry”

“Fine”

“Can you just listen for once” he raises his voice.

You uncross your arms, eyebrows raising urging him to continue.

“I’m sorry”

“You said”

He warns you silently with a stare.

“I fucked up, I should’ve checked twice”

“I just don’t understand how you missed so many”

“I told you I was distracted”

You scoff

“I get distracted every time I’m in the field with you, I get worried about you”

You laugh at his remark, “We aren’t friends Ghost, you - you vex me”

“Simon”

you let out a small huh

“If you’re gonna yell at me at least use my name”

You throw up your arms in defeat, “What do you want me to say, Simon, I forgive you? Fine you’re forgiven”

“No, I just want you to understand”

“Understand what!”

His words don’t come, instead, he closes the space between you, lifting his mask over his mouth, grabbing your face between his hands and bringing his lips to yours. You widen your eyes confused at the abrupt action before falling into it, hands reaching up to tug at the nape of his neck. The kiss is almost violent, all tongue and teeth as the two of you pull back, catching a breath. You release him stepping back trying to gather your thoughts.

“That, understand that,” he says before moving behind you to leave. The swift movement stunning you, everything happened so quickly, did you like that? You’d never thought about Ghost Simon that way, every previous thought about him clouded in feelings of rage, but this felt different, you press your fingers to your lips trying to relieve the ache that came with the loss of contact.

Simon spent the night in his room tossing and turning in bed, why did he do that? God it probably only made you hate him more. He didn’t know, he couldn’t read you like he could other people, your gaze always cold and unforgiving, he understood the anger, he had plenty of experience with that emotion but this, this feeling he had towards you was different, he didn’t know what it was but he knew that he always wanted to be near you, even if it pissed you off.

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Text

marine biologist au :)

Soap almost misses the call from Price one unsuspecting three AM, but he wakes up in the nick of time.

He barely has his eyes open to press answer, squinting into darkness as he mumbles out some greeting before waiting to learn why in the world Price is calling him at this time.

“They’ve finally hatched,” Price tells him. And before the cogs in Soap’s head can start turning, Price clarifies, “The turtles, Soap. They’re finally out. Get your arse out here.”

It’s such an announcement that kicks Soap’s brain into a hard reboot, and suddenly he’s flying out of bed and running for his car keys, barely caring that he’s still in his pyjamas as he speeds down the road at this godawful hour. He doesn’t remember when Price or he had hung up, just knows he needs to get to the beach, and now.

The team had had their eyes on a particular bale of sea turtles since they’d laid their eggs, and had waited for so long for the hatching with continuous efforts to make sure all would go perfectly undisturbed. He couldn’t afford to miss this.

And it seems, arriving to the spot, that other scientists had a similar idea. That, or Price had called them, too.

Soap finds the man with just a bit of difficulty between the silhouettes of the small group standing a ways from little black specks crawling through the sand. He claps Price on the shoulder, whispering his excitement as his eyes adjust to the bright moonlight.

“Incredible,” Soap murmurs. He hasn’t felt wonder like this in ages, even if this isn’t the first time he’s witnessed such an event.

There’s just something so special about it.

“I’ll say,” Price whispers back, that same wistfulness.

Except… it’s not Price. Still tall and wide shoulders and rough voice, but… decidedly not Price.

Soap nearly jumps back, recoiling when he realizes he’s been hanging off a stranger’s shoulder in lieu of an old colleague’s. The stranger seems to realize the mistake without ever taking his eyes off the baby turtles, laughing quietly under his breath.

“I’m so sorry,” Soap says. “I thought—“

“Thought I was someone else?” The stranger replies, not unkindly. He angles his head just enough for Soap to catch the outline of his face in the silver glow of moonlight. “I think I can forgive you. We’re all half-asleep, anyway.”

Soap can feel a blush raging across his face, thankful for the cover of night to hide its tint. Even so, he ducks his head as the stranger goes back to watching the hatchlings. Soap takes the opportunity to do the same, though putting some distance between himself and the man, this time.

Eventually, though, their shared silence feels like too much with the hushed chattering of others surrounding them. Soap taps the man lightly on the shoulder and says, “My name’s John.”

“Simon,” Soap is told.

The quiet feels more comfortable, after that. And as time goes on and more and turtles make it out to sea, the other voices seem to die down as well.

It’s not until everyone is certain all of the hatchlings have made it that the group of scientists begin talking again, still quiet, but now above a whisper. Simon finally fully turns to face Soap, who thinks he may be experiencing his second bought of wonder that night, seeing Simon’s face in the dim light.

“It was nice meeting you.” Soap smiles softly up at Simon. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”

Simon nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. Once glance tells Soap that he’d been rudely awakened as well, and somehow he finds comfort in it.

“I’m sure we will,” Simon says. “Especially since Price is in both our circles. You should probably go find him, by the way. Since—“

Soap groans, burying his face in his hands. “Please don’t remind me. I’m sorry again.”

Soap peeks through his fingers just as Simon grins at him, something almost bashful. “Don’t be. I liked your company. Have a good night, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Soap’s ears burn as Simon walks away. He sort of wishes a crater would open up in the sand and swallow him whole.

He should go find Price.

But… in a moment. Soap can reminisce on his brief encounter with Simon for just a few seconds longer.

#chants. science boyfriends! science boyfriends!#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghost x soap #ghoap #ghostsoap #alternate universe #writing

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femoso-seben · 2 months

Text

Humanoid Monster

Part 1, Part 2, Next

Graves followed Mother Maia as she got everyone fed and clothed the babies. The wit was other humans, most of them worked with the infants. Most of the older children begin to pack up and head out.

“Where are they going?” Graves asks as Gaz and Soap follow the herd of children.

“School.” Graves gives her a shocked expression before nodding and following her.

“Maia,” a woman walks in.

“Ruth,” Mother Maia nods.

“We have a new one.” Behind Ruth was a small vampire girl, she was pale and small. Mother Maia sighs and walks closer to the child.

“She’s blind and her drinking fangs were pulled out,” Graves froze and moved closer to the child, his blood boiled, who would do this? Who would hurt a young child?

“Who brought her in?”

“I don’t know she was left there,” Mother Maia sighs and she covers where her eyes should be.

“Alright leave her to me until the other vamps come back then they can figure out the story.” Ruth nods and walks out, her hooves clicking on the ground.

“You're going to let children figure it out—”

“Not all children trust humans, not all children trust other monsters,” Mother Maia interrupts picking up the shaky child. the little girl’s mouth begins to water as she smells human, but as her mouth opens her fangs clearly broken off. Vampires’ fangs don’t grow back.

“How do you feed her?” Graves asks. This was his kind, though he has no love for others not of his blood, and even if their his his level of love is low, for the monster runs on strength and power. Graves couldn’t help but pity this pathetic thing.

They walk into the kitchen and she reaches into the blood bank refrigerator and pulls out a blood bag, type O. Type O is the most palpable for vampires, it wasn’t offensive or overly tasty just nourishment. The little girl begins to babble her words foreign.

“Все в порядке, пей из этой соломинки,” Mother Maia said in Russian. Graves stiffened, this Mother knew Russian, was she originally from Russia? Maybe that’s how she knows Makarov.

“How do you know Russian?” Graves asks leaning against the door. The little vampire sucks greedily for the blood.

“Switzerland teaches other languages, it’s a point all the nurses, and orphanage workers know at least two languages for communication.” Mother Maia said before walking over to the phone and calling her counterpart.

“Abraham,” she calls, “Yes I need one of the older vampires, Dimitri to come back we have a new fledgling.” Mother Maia set the child down at the dining room table.

“Why do you wear a veil?” Graves asks. She looks over the outline of her head twisting to him.

“I’m disfigured by war, these children seem enough horror let them not see another one.”

——————/\———————

Soap crouched down with the other werewolves, all of them trying to beat him at arm wrestling. “Ye’r gaun doon,” Soap laughs as all the young werewolves fail to beat him.

“What’s yer opinion o' Mither Maia,” all the werewolves stop and turn to him.

“Why do you care?” Liam asks, as the alpha of this pack Delta.

“Is she a guid mither ” Soap asks. Liam looks around before sighing.

“You don’t like her,” Liam said with a smirk.

“She’s a vicious killer, she kills oor kind —”

“She kills you, not us. We aren’t soldiers,” Liam growls his fangs shown. Soap glares at Liam and leans back in his seat.

“How come dae ye defend her?” Soap asks. The pack growls and storms off.

“Don’t mind them,” Soap looks up to take the ancient dragon Abraham, a legend in the monster community one of the elder dragons. “They were raised by her Liam especially, he was a runt and she spent her time raising him.

“When did she stop being the pale death?” Gaz asks from across the room, his feathers covered in glitter and glue random colorful duck feathers glued to him. Abraham stroked his beard before sighing.

“She was coming from the Americas and went through Alaska to get to Europe. Meet up with a human PMC and continue to Switzerland. With her daughter.”

“She has a daughter?” Gaz asks.

“Priscilla,” Gaz from, and his jaw set angrily. “She also had a small pack of baby werewolves with her, pack Delta. She was disfigured by a werewolf that tried to kill the pack.” Soap felt his blood run cold.

Pack Delta looked strong healthy a good squad of boys that make fine soldiers. Who would try to kill them?

“So they were her first pack?” Abraham nod.

“Then as other werewolves came in they found allegiant to different packs. Werewolves are the biggest military population most were outcasts.” Soap nods, werewolves are notorious for having strict rules for soldiers and regulations to become a soldier.

“How old is Mother Maia?” Gaz asks standing up but small harpies cling to his arms giggling as if this was all a game. Gaz picked up one of the harpies girls.

“She is rather young in human age, ask Priscilla, she knows the most about Mother Maia.”

“How come dae ye ca' her Mither Maia?” Soap grumbles like an annoyed puppy.

“It is only natural we give respect to each other. I have the name of Grandfather. She is very respectful she protects her children and so do I,” the old dragon said smoke smoldering from his mouth an obvious threat to these soldiers. He went back to his Victorian pipe smoking calmly.

——————/\———————

“Why does everyone respect her?” Gaz asks.

“Who knows,” Soap grumbled.

“Let’s hope the others have information.”

“Alright men,” Laswell said sitting around the table.

“Mother Maia is disfigured,” Graves said.

“Priscilla is her daughter,” Gaz added.

“The Harpy?” Ghost grunts out. Gaz nods.

“One of the wolf packs was with her before they arrived in Switzerland. She moved in from North America through Alaska through Russia to Switzerland.” Soap adds in.

“Gaz will you ask Priscilla about this Mother Maia.” Graves asks.

“Alright, I have flight training later this day, Ghost what did the Gargoyles say?” Gaz asks.

“They stonewalled me.” Soap sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Why is she… so mysterious?” Laswell mumbles mostly to herself.

“Who knows.”

——————/\———————

Gaz looked at Priscilla who was wrapped up in a blanket as the night was cold. The small harpies flapped their wings hard in the air trying to fly higher and higher. Gaz promises to give the highest flyer a daring race in the air.

“Priscilla,” Gaz walks closer keeping one eye on the little chicklings, the other on Priscilla. She was a very beautiful young woman.

“Yes?” She said her accent was the very Hispanic accent.

“How old is your mother?” Priscilla frowns and thinks about it.

“She’s only a few years older than me, I’m seventeen and she’s twenty-seven.” Gaz eyes widen.

“She’s that young?” Gaz's mouth fell open.

“We harpies age slower so the age difference really looked grande but she isn’t that much older than most of us.” Gaz nodded and then another thought came into his mind.

“Why did she become the Pale Death?”

“To protect us, we were hunted so Sue hunted them back.” The further he learns about Mother Maia the more she becomes a saint. It was so fucking creepy.

“How did you two meet?”

“I was kicked out of my nest after my wings were ripped off she picked me up and that’s it,” Priscilla said as the younger harpies began to fall out of the sky Gaz went to catch everyone before they got hurt.

“Your mother,” Gaz said as all the chicklings ran to Priscilla and hid in her blanket for warmth. “Did she ever hurt you?” Priscilla said quickly but her tone was unusually shaky not due to the cold but to nervousness.

“You're scared of her.”

“She can be intimidating and harsh but she never hurt us.”

Gaz nods. Mother Maia isn’t all that saintly.

_______

Taglist: @kkaaaagt, @kaoyamamegami, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore

#call of duty #cod x reader #141 #cod #simon ghost riley #captain price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod monster au #monster 141 au #monster au

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sylvies-chen · 1 year

Text

take my hand (and fight for it)

Summary: Dick talks to an unconscious Kory in critical condition, and makes a few realizations worth confessing.

A/N: I don’t think this is long enough for ao3 but I wanted to write this little scrap. Let me know if you want me to post it to my ao3 though and if there’s demand for it I will! I hope you guys like this too, because it’s not detailed or long or polished, but I thought the idea was really cute and it merited writing after 4x06.

••••••••

Dick has been avoiding this for days.

It hasn’t exactly been hard. There are a million other things he can (and needs to) preoccupy himself with: taking care of the kids, planning their next move, cleaning up in the RV. But this morning, he admits he maybe went a little too far in trying to put it off. Elbows deep in scrubbing the floors of the RV, Rachel had crouched down to his level and had grabbed his wrists, guiding him away from the soap and sponge and giving him that knowing look.

“You need to sit with her,” she insists kindly, yet with a firmness that she knows is needed to get through to him in this state of mind.

“There’s too much to do. Mother Mayhem’s still out there and every second we don’t spend trying to get in tip top shape—”

“By cleaning the floors?” It’s rhetorical, and enough to make him realize how dumb it is. But Rachel’s expression softens. “Trust me, it can wait. We’re sitting ducks right now, Mother Mayhem won’t do anything just yet. Kory managed to get in some good hits, she’ll need healing too.”

“I know,” he says lamely.

“Talking to her helps,” Rachel tells him. “Gar and I have both done it. Tim’s just finishing up with her now. It’s good to spend time with her, I can feel it helping her.”

“Rachel—”

“She needs you, Dick.”

It’s all he needs to hear.

He sighs, and lets it sit with him a moment. Dark circles weigh down his eyes and defeat weighs down that sigh of his as he finally replies, “Ok. I’ll do it.”

When he gets to where they’ve been keeping her, it washes over him like a fucking avalanche. They couldn’t exactly take her to a normal hospital, because Tamaranean stats aren’t exactly similar to human health stats, but they have her hooked up to a makeshift monitor he’d packed and settled into her bed in the RV. It’s the most secluded one of them all, as she’d specifically requested, so it means no one can see or hear the small gasp he lets out.

Kory is there. In a coma or— or whatever critical condition trance she was put in by the fight. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that she looks so uncharacteristically frail it makes him want to give her everything he has to make her full, strong, unwaveringly daring again.

He sits down next to her, takes her hand and holds it in both of his. His elbows rest on the side of her bed, and prop their hands up. It’s close enough that, for a second, Dick can picture himself leaning forward, closing those few inches of space and pressing his lips to the back of her hand. He doesn’t.

“So,” he starts, unsure of what to say. Start simple, some gut instinct tells him. So he does. “Gar’s doing better. He’s himself again, which is nice to see after everything he’s been through. Although he’s formed a habit of sneaking into the Porsche and taking naps in the back seats. Says the leather calms him. I swore to him he’d get the rolled up newspaper if I saw even an inch of drool on those seats,” he laughs meekly, “so… I wouldn’t be worried.”

A beat passes. He looks at the monitor and sees her stats, still weak— at based on what he gathers her stats are supposed to look like as someone from another planet.

He lets out a big, swooping breath he’d been holding in his chest, feels his lungs relax a little. “Why am I nervous?” He asks her.

Kory stays still on the bed, still as a statue.

“I… Ugh, jesus, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he sighs, surrendering and bowing his head.

For a minute, he lets himself stay there quietly. When he tunes in to his surroundings and the silence it basks in, he can see her weak and laboured breathing, can feel the faintest pulse in her wrist as one of his fingers stretches down to her wrist. Her skin is soft and warm to the touch, and the act of running his thumb up and down the back of her hand sends him into silent tears. Impulse gives in and he presses her hand to his lips, letting them stay there for a moment before pulling away. He swears he can taste his own tears on Kory’s skin.

“Hey. So I, uh, I think I’ve got it figured out,” he tells her after a moment, then sniffles. “Why I didn’t tell you about my vision in the Lazarus Pit. Of the little girl— our… our little girl with the red balloon.”

For a second he waits for a response. Just a half second. And yet she doesn’t answer. He continues.

“It’s not because I thought it was bogus, although something about visions will always make me uneasy,” he explains, “and it’s not because I was trying to hide something from you. It’s because… because when it happened, it reminded me of something I hadn’t let myself feel in a very long time. And I guess it’s always been there, in some far off part of my brain, waiting for its time, but it also scared me. Because that vision felt so… real. And I wanted to make sure I wasn’t unleashing all of what it reminded me of just because of that vision. That, y’know… it would be my choice.”

What did it remind you of, then? He can imagine her asking.

He waits a moment before irreversibly putting his answer into the universe. “I love you,” he eventually whispers through his tears. “I love you, Kory Anders. Not because of some vision, or because of fate or destiny. I love you because I love you because I love you. It’s as simple as that. The rest of it— whether we’re destined for love, or for that little girl— that’s just icing, baby. And knowing that makes it… real.”

He smiles, then. Even through the tears, he smiles. It’s like even saying it, being able to pinpoint everything he’s been kicking himself for not being able to put into words, brings him the sweetest relief. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and lets his hand linger on her cheek for a second, still smiling.

Yet a worry lingers in him. Brewing, festering, spreading like a disease. And he’s not a religious man, Dick Grayson. He isn’t one for the church pews of a smiting God. But if there were a God, he likes to think it would hear him better through Kory Anders. So it feels holy, then, when his two hands give her one hand a gentle squeeze and he prepares to voice his fears, as if bringing his soul to confession.

“But it’s my fault you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks it like he already knows the answer, mainly because he does. He knows for a fact that if he hadn’t been so hasty in brushing off those visions, if he had spoken to her about his own, if he’d known the risks that came with her powers before facing Mother Mayhem, well… “You wouldn’t be here fighting for your life if not for me, would you?

It’s a hauntingly familiar feeling, the could’ve, should’ve, would’ve of it all. He could have done something differently. He should have listened and done better by her. He would have fought like all hell or tried everything, anything else if he’d known how this would end. Year after year, regret like that piles itself onto his soul like dead weight. It was the same with Jason, the same with Jericho and Rose, even with Hank to some level. Whatever way he turns, Dick Grayson always comes up short. Too little, too late. What he does right is fleeting, and his wrongs are always all too permanent. It’s his own damn fault. But Kory… Kory wasn’t supposed to be like that. She wasn’t supposed to be on that list of people he’s failed. Kory Anders was supposed to be something he’d done right. Because she’d stayed. She knew everything he’s done, all the mistakes he’s made, and she’s still shown up to save him, still hopped in that RV, still fought by his side. And so he must have done something right, no? He must have done something good, somewhere along the line, to merit a woman like her choosing to do something so beautiful as to stay. And in the same way Midas turns what he touches into gold, Dick had turned all of that promise into ash. Withering, grey, feeble ash. He fucked it up. And now she’s here. In critical condition. With her limp hand cupped between his own.

“I’m so sorry, Kory,” he whispers. “I have a feeling you’ll be hearing that from me for a long time about a lot of things, some of which haven’t even happened yet. But you need to be alive for that, so just… just fight to come back a little while longer. Fight to be here with the kids. And… and with me. That’s all you need to do: fight. It shouldn’t be too hard. It’s what you’re best at, right? Fight for it, Kory.”

Something beeps on the monitor— a single beep, so quick that Dick thinks he’s imagined it— and he suddenly feels Kory squeeze his hands. It’s faint, paired only with the slight twitch of her closed eyes, but it still happened. No imagination of his could concoct that.

“Kory? Kory? Are you awake?” He leans forward frantically, trying to get a closer look. She’s still not waking up, at least not for now, but when he relaxes again and exhales heavily, he reminds himself that it really did happen, that she squeezed his hands, and that if he could pray for anything, it would be for that little sign to mean she’ll be alright.

I’m here, her hands said. And his faith in her, as opposed to any measly god, is what gives him the hope that, soon, she’ll say it to him with words.

#dick grayson #kory anders #titans #dc titans #titans dc #dickkory #dick x kory #kory x dick #abby writes

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someonexsomeone · 1 year

Text

Ducktail

Title: Ducktail

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader

Summary: Gaz just loves you a lot, okay?

Authors Note: Why is it so hard to find domestic fics? I just want to be happy for once...

He tried.

…

What? He did!

He tried so, so hard.

But seeing you like this? He couldn’t help it. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

For the last 10 minutes, he’s stood there, goofy smile on his face, his lip almost raw from how hard he was biting it to keep the laugh from escaping. For the last 10 minutes, he’s stood there, watching as you glared your way through your nightly routine, too frustrated and upset to notice your joyful onlooker. For the last 10 minutes, Gaz has watched, laughed, and almost peed himself. For the last 10 minutes, Gaz somehow became an even more lovestruck fool for you. Was there even a level above devoted? He wasn’t sure up until now. Now, he knew for sure there had to be. How else could he describe the thumping in his chest, the heat in his heart, and sparkles in his eyes.

First, it was your pants not coming down. Who in their right mind made jeans so horrible to get in and out of one handed?! You nearly threw yourself on the floor to bicycle kick your way out, and you would have on any other day. Had it not been for the plaster reminder on your arm to be more careful, you would have easily used the tactical skills you picked up from living with a trained soldier (Gaz didn’t have the heart to tell you that the duck and roll he showed you was, in fact, a move he made up to prank you and not the special ops technique that got him out of a Russian base and save a whole town). Then, it was your shirt not cooperating and catching on every part of your body while coming off (see, once again, the above reason for not launching yourself at anything with a hook). Gaz nearly lost it watching you slam it so hard onto the floor in victory, watching as it bounced a little in retaliation.

Your pajama shirt was no easy feat to get on either, but since it was technically Gaz’s, the extra material meant easy access to neck and arm holes. You nearly cheered at getting your pajama shorts on, looking so cute that Gaz was going to make sure you kept the cute shirt ducktail you accidently made in the back from pulling them up too high over his shirt.

For the last 10 minutes, the sight was funny to the point of a bathroom disaster. Now though? The sight was a little pathetic.

The way the medics had to cast your arm causes it to rest at an awkward 90 degree bend, meaning most of your mobility was hindered. Naturally, your dominant hand was attached to the broken bone, so for the next couple weeks you’d have to get used to mastering the robot in order to do anything useful. Most of your daily functions were easy to switch to your other hand or alter in some way, but the one thing you’ve yet to master is washing your face. The too tall bottle, the stupid pump, the idiotic lathering and cleansing and frothing, and the dumb rinsing were pretty much impossible without bringing you to tears. Broken arm be damned, you were close to giving up all together and become a trash monster in order to never have the embarrassment of watching your face wash pathetically roll across the counter, dodging your hands, until it fell and disappeared under the sink.

Gaz made sure you saw the multitude of photos he took of you helplessly scrambling for it (you repaid him for his kindness with a pillow to the face).

But now, as Gaz watches you reach for the soap, hand slightly batting it back and forth, attempting to push the pump down only for it to spin uselessly in place, his wicked smile turns soft, his eyes filling with adoration as you grumble under your breath. He was only a second away from stepping towards you to help, taking just another moment to appreciate your sleepy figure, when you sighed heavily. Your shoulders slumped forward, lips pouting in the most kissable way, near defeat evident in your stance.

“Oh no!” you said suddenly, louder than even Gaz was ready for. “If only I had a helpful hero here to help me!”

Gaz quickly slammed his hand over his mouth, laughter barely contained. You tilted your head slightly, no doubt trying to have your voice carry into the kitchen where he was supposed to be unloading the grocery bags.

“I’m a helpless civilian in need of assistance!” A beat. “If only there was a musclely, sexy military man to help me.” Another beat. “It sure would be nice to have help from the best soldier in a special task force.” After another moment of silence, you sighed again. “If only there was a sexy man I could give head to-“

“If you shout any louder the whole neighborhood will know how you got that broken arm.” You screamed, nearly jumping out of your skin, body jostling against the sink. Inevitably, the shock sent your face wash sideways, toppling uselessly onto the floor. The rattle of the bottle and the sink was only matched by the wobble of your lips, a shock darting through your hurt arm. The whimper of pain was enough for Gaz to drop his mischievous smile instantly. He hurried forward to cradle your arm gently, the biggest puppy dog eyes searching your face for an indication of pain level.

“Gaaaaaaz-“ you whined, slumping your body into his arms, carefully cradling your arm to your body. Gaz’s eyes switched between your watery eyes and your injury, body nearly surrounding yours in a protective manner. A ping of guilt wracked his heart.

“I know, I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d hit your-“

Your eyes narrowed into a glare. “You knocked my bottle onto the floor, you dweeb!”

Gaz’s dropped jaw barely managed, “That’s what you're upset about!?”

Your lips curled into a pout, still clutching your arm against your body, the pain fading with every passing second. Despite his shock, you watched as his eyes softened the more he gazed down at you in his arms.

“How long have you been standing there? Jerk.” With your uninjured hand, you gently smacked his chest in protest, though there wasn’t any real force behind it. Gaz, reassured you weren’t really hurt, laughed lightly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against your lips, which you quickly returned. Despite being upset with him, you could never deny his kisses.

He also took the opportunity to lean into you just a bit, his hand batting at your ducktail softly.

“Long enough to enjoy the show.” With practiced agility, he leaned down, kissing your thigh (all teeth, of course) before scooping the face wash up in one smooth motion, returning it to its rightful spot on the sinks ledge. You huffed at his wiggling eyebrows. “Now, I heard there was compensation promised for help from a sexy military man?”

“I don’t know if I want to give it to you now, knowing you watched me struggle this whole time without offering help.” Gaz laughed again, brushing his lips against yours once more. Gently, he pushed your hips against the sink, trapping you between it and his sturdy body. His heat enveloped you in its comforting embrace, though you did have to move your arm at a slightly strange angle in order for your chests to push together just like you both liked. Stupid, stupid cast.

He kissed you gently once, twice, then thrice before pulling far enough away to kiss your forehead.

In his gentle atmosphere, Gaz wanted to kiss every part of you, everything that he loved personified. Press your lips together until you’re breathless. Pull you into bed, holding you close just like he did after every long day, shedding off his duties mentally one by one until he was able to do nothing but lay there and smell your soothing scent, listen to your breathing as it got slower and slower, press kisses onto your nearest body part until he, too, drifted off to sleep.

But, he knew, none of that could happen until your face was nice and clean, that very soothing scent wafting off of the freshly washed skin. He kissed your lips once more, before cupping your face between his hands, eyes meeting.

“Your sexy hero is here to save you, darling. I’ve got you.”

Gently, he grabbed the nearby washcloth, wetting it behind you before lifting it to your face. His caresses were slow and feather soft, letting the water guide along your features just enough to make your face wash work its magic. Without breaking eye contact, he exchanged the washcloth for your soap, bubbling it in between his fingers before rubbing it across your cheeks. His touches were more like a massage than a lather, but you couldn’t complain, not when he was sneaking kisses every couple seconds, lulling you into near enough sleep as you could get while standing. Your eyes were closed, but his were wide open, tracing every feature with his loving gaze. Once he was satisfied with the lather, he soaked and rung out the washcloth once more before bringing it to your face. It only took a few swipes to get the majority of the bubbles, but Gaz continued for several long moments, enjoying the blissed out look on your face more than he could express. He swiped gently over your lips before sealing them once again with his, pressing them there to feel you close to him once more.

What a dangerous wish, he thought, to never want this moment to end.

The next morning, you were pleasantly surprised to find a brand new soap dispenser on the sinks edge, short and square, with a red ribbon tied around it.

masterlist l mw masterlist

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #domestic kyle garrick #domestic cod #domestic mw #domestic gaz #gaz imagine #gaz imagines #kyle gaz garrick #gaz

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songofsoma · 1 year

Text

a wish to be loved

CONTAINS BOOK 3 SPOILERS set right after the ava kiss scene, at least cece has great friends

fandom: the wayhaven chronicles words: 1,525 rating: general

read it on ao3

When the door shut behind Ava that sick yet familiar feeling of loneliness began to fill the space. It wound through her like tendrils, wrapping around her throat until she felt like she couldn’t breathe and plugging her ears until the rang. All she could feel was the rawness of her lips from being kissed, the heat on her thighs where Ava’s hands had lifted her, and the ache settling deep in her chest.

Cecilia knew what loneliness was more than most.

It was like a second home.

Every single person in her life who she had truly loved left her at some point.

It happened when she was seven and her dad died. Her favorite person in the entire world cruelly ripped away.

Then every time her mother chose work over her, leaving her with a random babysitter until Cecilia was deemed old enough to care for herself. After that, it was just Cecilia coming home from school to an empty house to cook herself dinner and put herself to bed hoping she might get a chance to see her mom in the morning, even if in passing.

There was no more childhood after Rook died.

Her poor heart was broken in so many ways, but this time might just be the one to leave it completely shattered when the woman she loved left her.

The dried tears from before were quickly replaced with fresh ones. Since the start of the kidnappings, it was like every time she wasn’t good enough was a new crack in her sanity. She was on the brink of disaster and was only held together by some shitty scotch tape at best.

Cecilia did her best to hide it, putting on a smile and making sure those around her were alright. If she focused on them it would allow her to not think about herself. She knew others could tell from the way Farah stared at her sometimes and even Nat when she thought Cecilia wasn’t looking. No one said anything outright.

She turned and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and suddenly it was like she was a child again. Dad dead. Mom busy working. Left to take care of herself even when she was raw and vulnerable.

Her eyes slid away from her reflection, unable to handle the memories any longer, and landed on the soft shape of the duck stuffy sitting on top of her dresser. It felt like a lifetime ago since the carnival and her and Ava’s “fake” date. Cecilia remembered her excitement when Ava handed the prize to her, claiming she had no use for it.

Cecilia loved that fucking duck. She had been so relieved that it hadn’t been ruined in her apartment accident.

She stood before it now, staring into its little glass eyes and it all suddenly became too much.

The first sob shook her and the ones following brought her to her knees as she cried.

She cried for her lost childhood. She cried because she was so damn lonely. And mostly, she cried because she wished someone would love her in the way she loved them.

At some point, Cecilia had made it to bed.

She lay on her side in the quiet darkness, stuffed duck nestled in her arms.

A hesitant knock sounded on the door. It opened before she could respond.

“Cece?” Farah called quietly into the room. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

Luckily the vampire didn’t need light to navigate the dark bedroom and crawled onto the bed quickly. “I’ll even let you be the little spoon,” Farah teased, slotting herself behind Cecilia beneath the covers.

Cecilia was grateful for her best friend’s comfort. A hand curled around Farah’s soft forearm as a few coils of hair tickled her cheek. The feeling of familiarity was a blessing as the smell of her friend’s soap and the slightest hint of cinnamon sliced through the dreaded loneliness.

“I would’ve come sooner but thought you might need some time,” she murmured.

She nodded. “Thank you,” Cecilia rasped, her voice hoarse from crying.

Farah was silent for a few seconds before saying, “We could always break into Nat’s special room and find her stash of old alcohol. Not like she’s going to use it. Besides, I think she’d let you do just about anything right now.”

That made Cecilia snort. “As tempting as that sounds, my head already hurts enough.”

She felt Farah shrug the shoulder not pressed against the mattress. “Fair. Offer still stands.”

It made Cecilia finally produce a small smile.

They lay there without saying much for a while. Cecilia wasn’t up for talking and Farah clearly understood. With someone else with her, she was finally feeling the exhaustion of her emotions surging forward until her eyelids were becoming heavier by the second. Farah had come dressed in her pajamas, having already intended to stay with her best friend as long as she was needed.

“Hey, Farah,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I love you. You really are my best friend.”

Farah’s arm squeezed her tightly. “You’re my best friend too. I love you so much that I considered kicking Ava’s arms out from under her earlier so she would faceplant into the ground.”

Cecilia smiled, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about. Still, she appreciated the sentiment.

She and Farah parted ways the next morning. Morgan had come and banged on Cecilia’s door trying to find Farah so they could go on their patrol. To say Farah was uncharacteristically irritated with Morgan after was an understatement.

Cecilia hugged her goodbye, smiling at the promise they would watch stupid movies later together when she returned.

Knowing it would be stupid of her to hole up in her room, Cecilia made the brave decision of venturing out into the kitchen. She pushed the thought of seeing Ava to the back of her mind while trying to ignore the way her stomach turned at the idea.

Thankfully, there was only Nat seated at the table, squinting at a crossword puzzle with her lips pursed. A pencil twirled absent-mindedly in her fingers.

“What’s the question?”

Nat looked up seeming a bit surprised by Cecilia’s presence. She recovered quickly though, looking back down to her paper. “Who don’t you put in a corner?”

Cecilia crossed the room to stand behind her and looked over her shoulder. “Baby.”

The woman twisted in her seat, a look of confusion pulled at her features. “Why on earth would you put a baby in a corner?”

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “No, the character’s name is Baby. It’s from the movie Dirty Dancing.” Cecilia took a seat in the chair next to Nat. “Why did you choose a pop culture crossword anyway?”

“Farah printed it out for me. She said it would keep me busy.” Nat paused, long fingers drumming on the table in thought. “I suppose she was right on the keeping me busy part because I have no idea what half of these words mean strung together like this.”

Cecilia smiled—until Nat truly looked at her in her Nat way that openly read I know you aren’t okay. Then her lips curled into a frown.

“Are you doing alright?” she asked, reaching over to place a hand on top of Cecilia’s.

She let out a long sigh. Her head still hurt from crying last night and she was sure her eyes were puffy so she looked a wreck. “I guess.”

Nat squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to be. It’s completely understandable.”

“I’m sure you already know what happened then,” Cecilia mumbled, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. Something about their friendly warmth made her feel unworthy.

“Secrets don’t seem to last long around here,” she said, then followed by, “Farah told me after she saw Ava in the hall.”

Cecilia stared at the pattern in the wooden grains of the tabletop. The muscles in her jaw were already beginning to ache from the way she clenched it. “It just…” she trailed off at first, finger tracing the space where her gaze went. “It just hurts.”

“What does?”

Swallowing hard, Cecilia finally met Nat’s concerned look. “Loving someone who doesn’t love you back. No, let me rephrase. Loving someone who feels the same but won’t let herself and breaks my heart over and over again in the process.”

Nat frowned but nodded in understanding.

She felt tears flooding her eyes once more. “I’m not strong anymore, Nat,” Cecilia whispered. “I feel like I’m falling apart. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

By the end, her voice was wobbling and Nat moved from her chair to kneel in front of Cecilia, pulling her into a hug. Cecilia clung to her tightly, willing herself not to break into tears all over again.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Nat whispered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Cecilia caught movement. She turned her head just in time to see the figure of Ava slinking back into the hallway and the mournful look clouding her face. “Me too, Nat. Me too.”

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itwoodbeprefect · 1 year

Text

WIP Game! ✨

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

i was tagged by @luredin (thank you!) and i’ll tag @redgoldblue, @spaceradars, @logicgunn, and you, the person reading this, to either do this tag game, not do it, or do it six months from now (or anywhere between now and then) - whichever works for you.

and then, hm. the thing about how i write fic is that technically speaking it’s, uh, deeply inefficient, in the sense that i’ll start a hundred things (more literally than you might think) and bounce around between them until something gets close enough to being finished that it just needs a final little push (which only happens for about half the things i start, but that’s okay, because the other half is also an invaluable part of the process).

point being, the list of WIPs is long. curated version (with any projects i’d consider abondoned/barely started filtered out) below the cut. send me a title or fandom + number!

Starsky & Hutch (practically all of this is Starsky/Hutch)

Our girlfriend who lives in Canada

All your ducks in a row

Starsky gets politically involved

Starsky decides Hutch’s mustache is gay

On blond blintzes, and how to sweeten them: easy 5-step recipe!

Starsky interrupts Hutch’s date with a guy

Gold dust woman // Take your silver spoon (Dig your grave)

Hutch has a new neighbor

Peter Whitelaw meets Starsky for dinner

Someone overhears them

Starsky’s brother visits

Hutch gets himself a beard

Not even a good kisser (Death in a different place tag)

Everything goes wrong / They were jinxed

Hutch kisses Starsky

Hutch would pick Paul Newman

Starsky’s painted nails

Love you to love me

Sleep together sometimes

Fire metaphors - And a freight train running through the middle of my head

Starsky dates a married woman

Here be dragons (Cowboy on the white horse)

Hutch is the utterly oblivious one, Starsky is confused

Greg is a four letter word

Cuddling only happens when they’re dying

Huggy brings a housewarming gift

Arranged Marriage AU

The Brotherhood of the Traveling Pet Rock

Hutch vs. glasses

Twilight

Personalized embroidered towels

Hawaii Five-0 (everything here is Steve/Danny)

It might sound cheesy

The opposite of purple prose (isn’t this)

Counting the days (and the hours, minutes, seconds, and maybe a microsecond or two)

The fic where Steve thinks Danny is dating the botanist neighbor

Arguments over spice racks

Five people who don’t get why Danny couldn’t just tell Steve that he’s in love with him (and one person who does)

Steve sees rainbows everywhere

Danny loses track of the line between friendship and romance

Five things Nahele learned from Steve (plus one)

They try to find a term for each other

Ace soulmate AU

The bunk beds fic

Steve and Danny buy a house together

Five times Steve is not going to be emotional about moving

They have Lou and Renee over for dinner!!!

The hyphenation of life

I love you sounds different if you’re saying it to a guy you’re sleeping with

I spy, with my little bi

Multimedia fic?

The soap opera fix

Deus ex machina (the one with dolphin God)

Danny has someone else

Steve’s becomes… themed

They watch Top Gun

Danny Williams and the Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Neighborhood Barbecue

Danny undercover needs to ward off advances

Danny tries to get Steve’s phone because he sent Stella a gay crisis text

Superheroes at a museum

A flip-flop state of mind (the half-posted multichapter fic already up on ao3)

Stargate Atlantis (John/Rodney except for that last one, where it’s &)

The Brightest Light in Atlantis

Universe where X

Some kind of DADT repeal fic

John tells Rodney he likes him and they try to figure it out together

Aro Ace John

due South (RayK/Fraser, and for #2 also RayV/Stella)

Oral hygiene fic

Fraser and both Rays and Stella have dinner together

The Guy Thing

Other

Homophobia? (Sports Night, Dan/Casey)

Leapfrog (911, Buck/Eddie)

Jolene/Diane (from the songs. so I guess songfic)

Johnny comes out (and he and Daniel keep going to that bar) fic (Cobra Kai, Johnny/Daniel)

Our Dear Mr. Wilson’s Guide To Becoming A Successful Contributing Member Of A Team Of Internationally Renowned High-Tech Do-Gooder Criminals (Leverage Redemption, gen with background OT3)

MASH marriage fic (MASH, Hawkeye/Trapper)

BJ figures out Hawkeye is not very heterosexual (MASH, gen)

#the h50 list especially is. considerably shortened #there's an older version of The Big H50 WIP Document that if presented in full would probably push us over the 100 mark by itself #but we don't need that. this is... 75. i think 75 is enough #*#tag stuff

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feral-ella-flynn · 3 years

Text

Paying the Toll, pt 2: M Troll x F Human, SFW (for now)

Part 1

Male Troll + Female Human

still SFW (so far)

2.5K/6.5K word draft

tagging @feralprose @monster-bait @apocalypticromantic666 @pre-schoolervengance @bresilienne-ami @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic @dont-call-me-a-faerie @kirmalight (comment to be tagged in updates!)

I bet no one expected this to be updated! Including me! This installment is definitely not as long as I intended, because I got really hung up on details--that’s why I’m posting anyway, to get some momentum so that hopefully the third part will be both longer and not so tardy.

Escaping a goblin raid on your village leads you to a bridge, but you have nothing to offer the troll who guards it for a toll...except yourself

You wake in darkness. At first you aren't sure you're awake at all--it's only by touching your own eyelids that you can feel sure they're open. It seems to make no difference between the thick, pressing dark around you either way.

“Mattie?” you whisper, your voice thin and hoarse.

There’s no answer, and understanding comes crashing down on you, like floodwater overwhelming a dam. You are not in your cramped room under the eaves of the big house, Mathilde is not sleeping on the narrow bed an armspan away–if she’s lucky, perhaps she was able to hide in the cellars or the attics, somewhere that was safe enough until the goblin raiders felt they had run out of things to raze and ravish and moved on. Or perhaps help would come, from the regiment billeted outside the market town, or from rangers who might have been near enought to see the smoke. If Mattie was unlucky….

A sob catches in your dry throat, then turns to choking dry heaves that leave you shuddering. Bile burns on your tongue. You huddle into the nest of furs, remembering now where you are and how you came to be here, naked and alone in the pitch black.

Not alone. There is the hush of leather brushing against stone, a faint musky scent.

“Brúsi?”

“Aye.” The troll’s gravel-rough voice is low and close–you almost reach out, ready to blunder once again into his arms rather than be alone with your fears.

The scrape of flint is loud enough in the silence to make you jump. Sparks illuminate the troll, kneeling at your side, and as he coaxes the tinder to unfurl into flame you hastily wrap a fur around your bare flesh. Whatever mood made you so bold before has been banished by your nightmares.

“Is it morning?”

The troll shrugs. “Near enough.”

“Shall I–shall I make breakfast for you?” Your fingers knead anxiously in the soft nap of the pelt that you clutch closed over your chest. “What do you like for breakfast?”

The troll–Brúsi–glances at you, his head tilted in the way that is already familiar. You think it means he’s just as bewildered by your contract, and by you, as you are yourself.

“Dried goat,” he says. “Morning meal, evening meal. Unless there is a new goat.”

“Oh. Where do the goats come from?”

He shrugs. “The bridge provides.”

Well. You take a deep breath, pushing the fear and panic of the last day, of the dark dreams, down into a tight ball at the bottom of your stomach, where you can ignore it for a little while. “Does the bridge ever provide eggs?”

And so you begin your month as housekeeper to a troll.

Your clothes are badly stained, and chilly from being spread out on the stone floor, but they're dry and you dress in them anyway, trying to ignore the scrutiny of Brúsi’s dark blue eyes as he watches you. He seems fascinated by the layers as you lace your stays over your shift, tie the strings of your petticoat, and your cheeks burn with a blush as you finally button your gown. You do your best with the tangles in your hair--letting it hide your face until your heart stops thumping in your ears before you twist it into a hasty braid.

There are no eggs. But you take a lantern the troll indicates and follow him into another cave that serves as a store room.

“There is goat,” he says, pointing at the considerable supply of dried meat, “and other goods, if tha wish them.” His gesture at the heaps of bags, crates, jars, casks, boxes–all jumbled together and shoved to one side–is dismissive, as if there is nothing of value to be found. You stare wide-eyed at a bolt of fine silk, at the glint of gold from a carelessly overturned casket with a broken lid.

“What is all this?”

“Payment for the toll, for when there were no goats.”

“You don’t do anything with the things paid for the toll? They just sit and rot?”

He shrugs. “I butcher the goats.”

You can only shake your head, but the practicality can’t be denied–gold and silk isn’t much use in a cave, and it’s with less wonder but more delight that you find flour, oil, and salt.

Breakfast is fried bread--and goat meat.

Once the meal is prepared and cleaned away, the troll vanishes up the dark tunnel. He takes no lantern with him. He also doesn't say a word to you before he leaves, and you stand in the cave for a while, expecting him to come back with instructions, or–well, something. But he doesn’t, and you can only twist your hands in the skirt of your gown for so long. Eventually you pick up the lantern and explore.

There is little enough to see. Other than what you noticed when you arrived, there is an alcove that must be where the troll sleeps, on piled furs that smell musky but not unpleasant. There is the storage cave, although it seems larger than it did at first, because you realize that you can’t see the far wall before the circle of light gives way to darkness.

And then there is the tunnel entrance, where your new employer disappeared, and which presumably leads out, to--your stomach lurches at the memory of being upside down from the sky–the underside of the bridge. But perhaps that had been an illusion, and the tunnel merely led out to an opening in the bank underneath the bridge? You had been half out of your mind with fear, after all. Maybe you dreamed that part.

Maybe…maybe you could simply walk out of this tunnel, out of the dark, and walk all the way home.

Except that you agreed to a contract. And the troll did say he wouldn’t eat you, wouldn’t even touch you, which was more than any of the men at the big house ever promised...none of them had touched you, but you knew that was because you had been careful, so careful, all the time, to be invisible.

It had helped that Mattie made it easy to fade into the background. She flaunted her pretty curls and winsome dimples, and when she sometimes crept into your shared attic room well after midnight she always had a new length of fine fabric for a dress or a necklace of amber beads to show for it. You asked once if she wasn’t afraid of falling pregnant, but she just shrugged.

“I know to be careful,” she said, and hid the coins she’d gotten for selling her latest bauble away beneath her bed.

Thinking of Mattie makes your eyes sting with tears, and reminds you that probably there was no home to walk back to–and if you tried, there would likely be nothing to be done there except burying the dead. You leave the tunnel entrance alone, and busy yourself with organizing the heaped goods in the storage cave.

When Brúsi returns, he brings you eggs, freshly laid and nested in a straw packed basket.

“They had no goat." He shrugs.

Other than struggling to invent new ways of preparing goat meat, most of your time is spent sorting. You find all manner of things in the storage cave, from precious jewels to plain linen fabric. The gems and gold you store in caskets, and then can’t shift on your own–Brúsi laughs at you, and picks them up with one hand, arranging them neatly along one wall as you direct him. You stack bolts of fabric, folding shorter lengths neatly into a another chest, you line up swords with gold wrapped hilts, swords with elaborately carved scabbards, swords that are short, swords that are nearly as long as you are tall, and then there are maces and axes and other things you can’t name. There’s even a pair of pistols in a tooled leather box, their handles gleaming mother of pearl. It’s more treasure than you ever imagined, and you feel that you’re in a dragon’s den instead of a troll’s cave--except that Brúsi shows little interest in the goods, except for the goat meat.

“If you don't have a use for these things, why accept them?” you asked, after the third day of sorting boxes and bundles and barrels, and still not finding the back wall of the cave. You’d found a crown, heavy and lumpy, like something out of an ancient grave, and under it a belt of bronze scales that linked together.

The troll just shrugged. “They are the toll, for the bridge. There must be a toll.”

“Then…" you bite your lip, but blurt "can I use some things?”

“If tha hast a use for them, then mayhap the bridge meant them for tha to use.”

“You make it sound like the bridge is alive,” you murmur, running your fingers over the bolts of fabric, already imagining yourself in a dress made of such soft material.

“The bridge is the bridge,” Brúsi says.

“What does that mean?”

He just shrugs.

You sigh, picking up a bolt of wool–practical, and still finer than anything you’ve ever worn. “If the bridge provides, can I give it a list? I need thread, needles, scissors, buttons…I can’t keep wearing this dress,” you gesture down at yourself. “Not without something else to wear while I wash it, at least, but I can’t make anything without supplies. And for that matter I need soap–”

Brúsi tilts his head. “Tha may always ask the bridge, but it works slowly. Simpler for tha to go to a market.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling open. “I can? I mean, is that allowed? I thought…”

He stares at you, the intense blue of his eyes unblinking, and you finally shrug. “I just thought I couldn’t leave the cave.”

“Not for long, but art not bound to the bridge as I am. Come.” He scoops a handful of coins into a pouch and leads you into the tunnel.

The ground slopes upward under your feet, and after a time there is a door before you, swinging outward. Brúsi ducks under its arch, his broad form filling the opening. When he doesn't move to let you through, you realize that he's blocking the way deliberately. Unease spikes through you.

"Is something wrong?"

"The bridge made tha sick before," he says. “Tha shouldst close thine eyes.” You squint suspiciously up at him–is he laughing at you?–but obey. You hear the rattle of his bone-decorated belt as he steps toward you, but then he stops. “I must touch tha,” he says. “Just to lift tha over the topside.”

“All right,” you whisper. You stifle a gasp as his enormous hands circle your waist, lifting you easily off of your feet, and then after a blur of motion you feel stone under you again.

When you open your eyes, you’re on the narrow stone arch of the bridge. Your lantern flame becomes suddenly pale compared to the warm sunlight that makes you blink and squint. There is no dark and shadowed forest hemming in the river. Instead there is a road, smooth hard dirt fringed with wildflowers on either side, and the rooftops of a village in the distance.

“Where…” You look down at the bridge under your bare feet.

“The bridge is all bridges,” Brúsi says. He holds out the leather bag of coins, and you take it, staggering a bit at the weight. “Buy whatever tha need.”

You hesitate, glancing from the troll to the road. What is there to stop you from walking away and never returning, from making a life somewhere? The bag in your hand holds more money than you had ever expected to earn in your life. There would be nothing to hold you to the bridge…except your promise.

“Tha canst not escape the bridge.” Brúsi seems to be reading your thoughts, although he’s not even looking at you. He’s gazing down at the water. “Every bridge tha sets foot on will be this bridge, until the toll is paid.”

“Of course.” The bag of coins drags at your arms, and you fumble it open, taking out a handful. “I should be able to get everything I need with these–it would be dangerous to carry all the rest of this.”

The troll frowns, glancing from you to the distant rooftops. “Danger from other humans?”

“Only if I seem to have more money than I should,” you assure him hastily. “It would get attention from the wrong kind of humans. I'll be careful.”

The coins bite into your palm as your fingers clench unconsciously. The frown creases his forehead, not smoothed away by your reassurances, and you half expect him to shake his head and pick you up under his arm again, ready to toss you back under the bridge.

“Please?”

You bite your lip too late to keep the word in, but there are lazy curls of smoke rising from the distant chimneys, and you can hear the lowing of cattle nearby, the friendly chime of chapel bells...and all you can think about is cheese. Cheese, and fruit to pair it with, or potatos, perhaps. Honeycakes. Your stomach rebels at the very thought of dried goat.

Brúsi jerks his chin toward the road. “Go, then. The bridge will be waiting for tha to return.”

You hand off the sack of coins–your shoulders more than grateful to be relieved of its weight–and the troll adds it to the other oddments that dangle from his belt among the bones. He folds his arms.

The handful of coins you kept are barely enough to make your pocket sag with their weight, but you can feel them as a reassuring lump under your skirts. You run anxious hands over your hair and stained gown, smoothing uselessly at wrinkles.

“I wish I had been able to bathe properly,” you mutter. “I look like a ragamuffin.”

But your hands and face are clean, your hair neatly tied back, and dusk is not far off, so perhaps your bare feet will not be noticed. You step from the cool stone of the bridge to the warm hardpacked dirt of the road.

"I'll be back s--" Your voice breaks off as you glance over your shoulder. The bridge behind you is a simple one of wooden logs, straddling a stream that a child could leap across. Gooseflesh prickles the back of your neck. You hurry down the road towards the village without looking back a second time.

#exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #m monster x female reader #troll boyfriend #Brúsi the Bridge Troll #troll lover #Feral Flynn Fics #monster romance #fantasy romance

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thefloorisbalaclava · 3 years

Note

thinking about how tovar would absolutely wreck you

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT - unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk

A/N: This is my first time writing smut for Tovar. Forgive me if it's bad.

[Pero Tovar masterlist]

gif by @/a7estrellas (post)

---

Tovar rolled his eyes at the man who had been undressing you with his eyes the entire night. He wanted nothing more than to run him through with his sword ten times over, but you seemed to be enjoying the attention.

“If that is who you choose to sleep with, I feel bad for you,” he said over the sounds in the tavern and you turned to him quickly.

“It is none of your business who I choose to sleep with. I’m sure you have made some…odd choices as well.”

“Yes, and they have always left satisfied.” He sneered at you and you scoffed. “That man over there has probably never left a woman satisfied. Ever.”

“How would you know?” you snapped.

“I just do.” He finished his drink and stood. “I’m going back to the inn. Are you coming?”

You looked at him then at the other man who seemed to have been more interested in the barmaid now. Tovar snorted and walked away. You quickly finished your drink and followed, pouting the whole way.

“Did you really want him?” he asked as you caught up.

“It’s none of your business,” you said but continued anyway. “Maybe I just wanted someone to warm my bed. Don’t you do that?”

“Maybe I do.” He hadn’t been with anyone in weeks but you didn’t need to know that. You walked beside him quietly the rest of the way. The next time you spoke to him was to say goodnight before walking into your room and closing the door. There was a tub of hot water waiting for you so you undressed quickly and sank into the water to relax.

You found yourself wondering if Tovar had someone to warm his bed tonight. Wait. Why should you care?

…though you had heard him through the walls a few times and it left you wondering. Your hand slid between your thighs and you closed your eyes. You sighed when you dipped your fingers inside just a bit.

Knock knock knock.

You jumped and moved your hand away quickly, making water slosh over the side of the tub. “Yes?”

“I’m coming in,” Tovar said through the door and your eyes widened.

“No!” You stood, sending even more water onto the floor. “Just…give me a minute!” You scrambled around to find something to throw on. Just as you threw on a shirt that was too big, Tovar walked in and you pulled the shirt down over your bare thighs.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked as if he didn’t even notice you were practically naked.

“I…you gave it to me, remember? Mine had gotten ruined that one time after we got attacked and��”

“Yes, I remember. You kept it?” he asked arrogantly.

“Obviously. Don’t let that go to your head. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I never said it did.” He closed the door behind him and looked at the tub behind you. “I interrupted you.”

“You did, yes.” You were still standing there pull the shirt over your thighs.

“Everything you have I have seen plenty of times.”

“What do you want?” you asked, holding the shirt down as you walked over to the bed.

“I wanted to give this back to you.” He threw a small book onto the bed and you picked it up. “Don’t worry, I did not read it.”

“Where did you get this?”

“You dropped it earlier today,” he said.

“And you’re just giving it to me now?”

“You are lucky I gave it back at all.” He walked over to the tub you had just been sitting in and ran his hand through the water. “Still warm.”

“Yes. I would to enjoy it so if you would please go…”

“Don’t let me stop you.” He didn’t move. He only looked at you.

“Are you going to leave now?”

“I have a better idea.” He stood and removed his sword belt and let it fall to the floor. “I’m offering you my services.”

“You’re offering me what?”

“My services. I will warm your bed,” he said and you sat quietly for a moment before laughing.

“You? We hate each other, Tovar. I think you should at least like the person you’re going to…sleep with.”

“Did you like the man at the tavern?” he asked and you opened and closed your mouth without a sound. “You might as well let it be with someone you know.” He began taking off more of his clothes until he stood shirtless before you. His skin was littered with scars, both old and new, and you couldn’t help the patch of hair the disappeared into his pants. You looked away as he began unlacing the front. “I will bathe.”

You swallowed hard. “Okay.” You crawled onto the bed and while you didn’t feel exactly seductive, you turned and looked at Tovar who happened to be staring at your bottom which was barely being hidden by the shirt you wore. “Oh…” Your eyes trailed down his body and widened when they landed on that. He smirked and stepped into the tub then sat down.

“Do you want me?” He spread his legs and hung each one over either side of the tub.

“I…what?” You laughed awkwardly as you moved further under the blankets.

“Tell me you want me. I will be the first to tell you that I want you.” He closed his eyes and grunted. His arm moved beneath the water and you tilted your head as you watched. “You know what I wanted to do to the man you stared at? I wanted to kill him for even looking at you. I would come to you covered in his blood and I would take you right there on that bed. Unless you like it standing up.”

“I…I never tried it standing up,” you confessed.

He stood and grabbed the soap beside the tub and began washing himself. You had your head turned but you looked at him out the corner of your eye. He grabbed the jug before bending to fill it with water and pour it over himself. You could hear even more water hitting the floor but your eyes wouldn’t leave his.

“Come from under the blankets and take the shirt off,” he said before stepping out of the tub dripping wet. You crawled off the bed slowly and played with the hem of the shirt. “I would like my shirt back.” He held his hand out.

“…fine.” You slowly pulled the shirt up and off, revealing yourself to him. He dropped his hand and smiled. “If you wanted to see me naked that’s all you had to say.”

“I want to see you naked…and now I do. I knew it.” He looked you up and down then stopped at your breasts.

“Knew what?”

“That you would be lovely under your clothes.” He walked over to you and took the shirt from your hands to throw it behind him. “Tell me…” He cupped your breasts and dragged his thumbs over your nipples. “Is this because you are cold or because of me?” You pushed into his hands as he pinched your nipples softly.

“I…I…” He lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth, looking into your eyes as he did. “Tovar…” you moaned and his dick throbbed.

“What is waiting for me beneath those curls, I wonder?” He was about to touch you but nodded to the bed. “Go. Show yourself to me.”

You climbed onto the bed again and laid on your back before slowly spreading your legs for him. He tilted his head as he surveyed you.

“Spread yourself for me.” He licked his lips as you reached down and spread your lips. “You are glistening. I do wonder how you taste.”

“Why don’t you come find out?” When you looked at him, he was smirking and you smiled back.

“Keep it open just like that.” He climbed onto the bed and ducked his head between your legs right away. When his tongue touched you for the first time, you whimpered loudly. Tovar groaned and closed his eyes. “What a beautiful, delicious cunt you have.”

“Tovar…” you gasped.

“What? It is.” He licked you again and you cursed loudly. He chuckled against you, making a sweet vibration against you that had you crying out. “Do you think the man in the tavern would have done this?” He flicked his tongue over that little button of nerves and you arched off the bed. “Hm?”

“No!” you cried.

“That’s right. He doesn’t deserve this in the first place, but I do.” He pulled away, spit onto your pussy, then licked again. “Look at me,” he demanded. When you did, he began kissing at your inner thighs, giving each one special attention before kissing your pussy over and over again. He made sure he smacked his lips each time so you could hear it then he focused on your clit again. Your hands found his hair and pulled as your hips arched off the bed again.

“Do not hold back,” he said and you didn’t. You moaned loudly as you came. It was better than it had ever been before and left you limp afterwards. You could hear him talking to you but couldn’t make out the words he said.

“What?” you sighed. He only kissed you. His lips and chin were still wet with your juices but you didn’t mind. You kissed him hungrily and he smiled against your lips.

“Do you want me inside of you?” he asked, turning you onto your side and lifting your leg. He pressed himself against your back and made sure your head was still turned so he could kiss you. “Hm?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked against your ear before reaching down so he could slide his dick up and down your slit. He was teasing you until you answered. “I am leaking all over you. Do you feel it? Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Please. I need you inside of me.”

“Do you want it this way or would you like to be on top?” He was hoping you would say you wanted to be on top because he had dreamt of how you might look as you bounced on him, taking what you wanted.

You turned and pushed him flat on his back and he grinned. Instead of climbing on top immediately though, you crawled between his legs and took his dick into your hand. “Is this for me?” you asked, dragging your thumb along the tip of his dick where precum had beaded and began to drip slightly. You played with it before bringing your thumb to your mouth and licking it clean.

“It’s for you,” he finally answered. More precum had begun leaking from him and he knew you noticed. He was expecting you to use your fingers to tease him again but you looked into his eyes and licked the length of him from base to tip, swirling your tongue around the tip. He squeezed his eyes shut and bared his teeth. He would never forgive himself for finishing too soon. “Enough,” he grunted.

“Do you not like it?” you asked.

“I do and that is the problem,” he said and you gave him a puzzled look. “Just…get on top. Please.”

“Oh, so Pero Tovar does have manners,” you teased, straddling him.

His hands rested on your hips as you held him still and lowered yourself onto him. He cursed loudly at the feeling. Of course, he had been with other women before but none had ever felt quite like you. Your warmth enveloped him, swallowed him whole. He fit so perfectly inside you it was like you were made for him. He savored the moment as you got used to him, wiggling your hips a little. You moved your hands to his chest for balance as you began moving yourself back and forth on him.

“Fuck,” he grunted, looking up at you. You looked like a goddess—skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, breasts bouncing with every move you made, a small, pleasurable smile on your face. Hell, maybe you were a goddess. He had never felt this way before with anyone.

“I never thought I would be looking down at you this way,” you said, moving faster on him. Suddenly, he slapped your thigh and you giggled. “Admit it, you enjoy me being in control…for once.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” he said through his teeth. “Or I will turn you over and fuck you the way I want.” You stopped and looked at him.

“And how is that?” You began moving again but very slowly, enjoying that sweet stretch and pull. He sat up and wrapped his arms around you and thrust up into you hard.

“I want to fuck you until there are tears coming from your eyes from pleasure. I want to hear my skin slapping against yours. I want to press myself into you so deeply, so perfectly that you will never want another man.” He grinned as he fucked up into from below. “It feels like you would enjoy that.” He moved quickly, flipping you onto your back and pushing your legs up so that your knees nearly touched your chest.

“Oh my God,” you cried as he pushed into you deeply, filling every inch of you with every inch of himself.

“I am just Pero Tovar, dear.” He sneered as he pulled out then slammed back into you. “Your cunt is taking me so well.” If it had been any other time, you would have been disgusted by his filthy mouth but right now you just wanted to hear more.

“Fuck me harder, Tovar.”

“Call me Pero.” He pressed himself into you again, holding himself above you with his hand on either side of your head. You looked down as he pulled out slowly then slammed back in. “I said call… me…Pero!” He fucked you relentlessly and that slapping of skin he wanted so badly? Well, he was making it happen.

“Oh…fuck…Pero…” you whimpered.

“Yes. Perfect.” He looked down at you in awe and you smiled at him innocently then turned your head and licked along the thumb of his left hand. He had it close enough to your head that you were able to do so with ease but he put all his weight on his right hand so he could move his hand even closer. He watched as you took his thumb into your mouth and sucked. You looked at him with wide eyes as you sucked his thumb obscenely. His dick throbbed inside you and you smiled around his thumb.

“You are filthier than I thought.” He pulled his thumb from your mouth and sat up on his knees before slowly sliding his hand around your neck. “Very, very filthy.” He squeezed and you bit your lip. “Look at you.” His body trembled above yours as he leaned in close. “You’re letting me fuck you like a little whore, hm? And you’re enjoying it.” You whined and tightened around him.

“Yes…Pero.”

His hand around your neck squeezed a little harder as he leaned in so close, his forehead was pressed to yours and your noses touched.

“Your sweet cunt…is mine. It was meant to be mine, wasn’t it? You have dreamt of me fucking you just…like…this.” He slammed into you and you let out a choked off moan before nodding. “If another man even looks at you, I will kill him.” His lips were touching yours as he spoke now. “I will kill him then come home and fuck you. I will fuck you until you cannot walk.”

“Please don’t stop,” you pleaded.

“Here.” He took his hand from your neck and held two fingers out to you. You immediately took them into your mouth as he fucked you hard. With his other hand, he slid his fingers through your curls and found your clit, pressing against it firmly before rubbing in tight circles.

“Pero…please…I…” Your body arched off the bed as you came and you could hear him chuckling above you. He held you by your hips tightly so you wouldn’t bounce away as he fucked you faster and harder. The bed creaked dangerously beneath you but all you cared about was the man above you with his head thrown back in pleasure.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me to finish inside you.”

“Finish inside me, Pero. Fill me so I can feel you deep in my belly.”

He shouted something in Spanish as he came. He can’t remember the last time he came so hard…if he ever had. Every time he thought he was finished there was more.

Eventually, he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck. He kissed and licked at it, tasting your sweat. He rolled off you but pulled you close.

“I could have stayed inside you forever,” he whispered. “And what do you think? Did I warm your bed?”

“I think you did a bit more than warm it, wouldn’t you say?”

---

pero taglist: @fakenoods @findhimfives @windfallss @limenlimon @aplaceofpeace @laymegentlytorest @jeeperky

permanent taglist: @gallowsjoker @bisexual-space-slut @magicsuperheroes @feelmyroarrrr @the-dazzling-urbanite @phoenixhalliwell @liveloudwriteloud @tumblogbykarapaloma @jaime1110 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pascalz @blancatobarxoxo @dazedrhapsody @pascalisthepunkest @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @cryptkeepersoul @tiffdawg @freak-of-nature2002 @kingpascals @saltywintersoldat @theocatkov @babybelou @mandilflorian @aeryntheofficial @cyaredindjarin @winters-buck @the-feckless-wonder @loki-098 @arabellathorne @giselatropicana @dindisneydjarin @punkpascal @opheliaelysia @spacegayofficial @takens-world @huliabitch @stardelic @kandomeresbitch @havenforafrazzledmind @thisis-theway @stardust-galaxies @mrsparknuts @jedi-mando @frankiemorales @edencherries @lilkermit14 @virtualxjournality @ladytrashbird @thirstworldproblemss @emesispo @heresathreebee @tangledlove27 @marvgrrl @clydes-hole @hayley-the-comet @insoucianttt @witchyavenger @coaaster @starless-eyes-remain @wanderlustmags @wonderfulfluffer @lv7867 @lovelyasfcuk @pedropasscals @talesfromtheguild @pedroepascal @wigwitch @seasonschange-butpeopledont

i hope everyone is where they want to be! let me know if you want to be changed around! join a taglist here!

#pero tovar #the great wall #headcanon #pedro pascal

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

home

part 10 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco (Frankie, Catfish) Morales x reader

wordcount: 3k

warnings: so so soo much fluff. clouds and clouds worth. kissing, implications of sex (blink and you’ll miss it)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you and Frankie finish the season and the summer, and know it’s only the beginning.

notes: thank you all so much for supporting this little story of mine! I genuinely am blown away by how kind everyone has been! originally I planned on this series just being a couple of one-shots set in the same universe, but it got away form me, and I can’t believe so many of you came along for the ride. some of those stories will come in time, but thank you thank you thank you to everyone who stuck around this long! all the love for all of you!

It was a beautiful day for a baseball game.

The sun was shining and for once your bones weren’t shaking with the rumble of the stadium as people stomped and cheered. In fact, the majority of the noise was from Frankie’s momma as she chattered across your lap to your grandfather. The two of them were discussing gardening and how well season was played, how proud they were, the best of friends. It was peaceful, almost, and most of the flashing lights and roaring crowds were away – it was the final game, a charity fundraiser, all fun.

You could see your catcher as he turned, looking at your section like he couldn’t help but search for you, and you smiled, heart as full and as warm as the sun on your shoulders. His curls were sticking out from under his helmet haphazardly, the pads on his shoulders and thighs making him even more solid, and it was a sight that you’d never get tired of. Combined with the smells of warm pastries, jalapeños and melted cheese, contentment settled into your soul like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit.

It was the of the ninth and they were playing well, encouraged by the cause and playing for the love of of the game instead of a paycheck. Behind you, you heard someone mention just how well Frankie had batted this season, and you brushed pan dulce sugar from your lap.

The players had told you last week after all the big games were done why Santi had offered to pay for you and James to fly to see their final games. At the time, it had baffled you how intensely they insisted, how eagerly the pushed it, and how your boyfriend had looked equal parts embarrassed and hopeful, but eventually you agreed, assuming you could get the time off from work. When the secret came out you laughed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.

They had exchanged smiles and shrugged and shared knowing glances as they let you explain away what they knew was true. You were their luck.

The thought was long gone from your mind now though, as Ben was doing weird poses on the field, and you heard chuckles ripple through the crowds. Fans of him and the team alike were endlessly charmed, and you knew you’d catch comments about it for months to come. His brother was just standing, and still you heard dreamy sighs of Will’s name, and made a mental note to tease him after the game about his “blonde halo”. Whatever that meant.

Santi threw a perfect curveball, and when it landed firmly in Frankie’s glove, you heard a girl swoon, “That’s my man!” and the laughter of her friends, as they called her “Mrs. Morales”.

“No!” his momma was glaring over her shoulder tugging on your elbow, as if physically fighting them was a viable option. You tugged back, making soothing noises as she protested, “Mi frijol.” The sweet lady muttered something else and before your heart could latch on to what you could’ve sworn was something about the future and tu marido you moved on.

“I know, I know,” you were saying, when James leaned over, glint in his sweet, aging eyes.

“She’s right, honey,” he said, only encouraging his friend, and you grinned.

“He’s my boy,” she said again with an air of finality, “and yours."

Looking at your grandfather sheepishly, you pointed at your shirt and shrugged as he said, “Right again.”

You were wearing his backup Jersey.

Cheesy as it was, it felt good to have the little claim of his over your skin, and while it wasn’t obvious to everyone, you wore it with pride. Comments from his fans slid off it like raindrops on a tin roof, and while you apricated her inclusion, you didn’t need it to know he was yours, as you were his.

Jimbo leaned towards the woman at your side and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, and she settled, and you left it, enjoying their friendship. The day was too lovely for anything else, anyway.

Catch, catch, walk, look for his girlfriend, sit, swing, hit, run, walk, sit. Repeat.

Nothing so eventful happened the last few minutes of the game, and as the Will went out for his final bat, you felt a surprising wave of bittersweet nostalgia for all that had passed since the opening game, cold as an evening breeze.

Then the ball cracked against the bat, and the sound snapped you back, and you felt a fire under your breastbone, reminding you the best was yet to come.

Frankie’s mom finished her final cheers enthusiastically, all annoyance long gone, and she pulled you into a hug.

“Nieta is calling. Hug Francisco for me, hija, and I’ll see you tomorrow?” You nodded, squeezing her back almost as hard. You and Frankie were using his first real day off to babysit and get some quality time, and both of you were well aware this was hardly goodbye. You gave a gentler hug to your grandfather, who was going with her, whispering “Bye Jimbo,” as you kissed his cheek. He had conspired to let you stay out for the evening, and while you’d miss driving him home, you were grateful for the opportunity.

Seeing them safely as far as you could, your feet danced with excitement. Like it had been more than handful of times, they knew the path to the locker rooms, carrying you so light you were almost floating. When you slid into the waiting room, Frankie was already clean and looking for you anxiously. Maybe you should’ve given him a little wave from across the room, but you could do better.

You ducked away from his line of sight, and snuck around behind him before say, “hey, batter, batter.” He whipped around and before you could even register the grin on his face, he was pulling you against his chest.

“Hey yourself,” he said, and the two of you got one sweet, slightly needy kiss before you heard good-natured groans.

“It’s been like month,” Santi said, ruffling your hair as you stepped back, “Aren’t you guys done flirting?” You stuck your tongue out at him, wondering if you were fast enough to flick him in the forehead.

“Don’t bother,” Will said, his tone resigned but playful as he hugged you too. “Be happy he got her to stick around.” You pulled a face, and Benny laughed. They all knew by now that it was more than a summer fling, even Tom, who you realized hadn’t come out yet.

When you asked, they winced, and you dropped the topic, knowing they would tell you in their own time. Frankie pulled you back to him, his warm fingers lacing with yours as you herded them towards the door.

They were still working on things, still trying to figure out what their next steps looked like.

For now, you owed your baseball boys a dinner.

It had taken you a couple of times cooking for them to get the portions right. The Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and after a game was a testament to that.

Thankfully, you had more than enough this time, having been preparing their favorites for days with the enthusiastic help from Frankie’s mom, and begrudging help from his sister as a thank you to her hermano. The piled into your little space and ate gratefully, telling you about the game like you knew what they were talking about.

“Benny, why were you –” his deep laughter cut you off, and your hand shot out to grab Will’s wrist mid-throw. You had a rule against projectile food to keep them from squabbling like children at your makeshift dinner table. The dinner roll fell to his plate as Benny tried to explain, and Santi deadpanned.

“I was stretching, and I got distracted –”

“You were flirting with the entire stadium, Ben.”

“No! Well –”

It was warm and bright, eating dinner with them like a family, teasing and laughter filling the space like clear broth in the cool of night.

Frankie’s hand found your knee under the table.

The best part about these replacement-parties was watching them all try to help clean up. You were lucky professional athletes had fast reflexes, or you would’ve lost more than a few dishes to their shenanigans. They insisted, wouldn’t let you help, and things probably would’ve been put back correctly if you had, but it was great, letting things play out however they may. Maybe years and years down the road, you would tell a younger generation that you had some of the world’s most desirable athletes fighting in your kitchen over where you kept your dish soap refills.

And after, they would collapse in your living room, unearthing all the games from your shelves. One of your favorite moments from the summer was coming through thrift stores for games, ignoring the stare of jealousy and making ridiculous bets.

All the while, Frankie kept as close to you as he could, too busy watching you with wrinkles in the corners of his eyes to be embarrassed of his rambunctious friends.

When you and Will won the first game of the evening, he accidentally hit you in the face with the back of his hand as he flung his arms open in triumph.

It hadn’t hurt as badly as it would’ve if his brother had been the one talking with his hands, but Frankie had still thumped him in the back of the head before he followed you to the kitchen.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Frankie,” you laughed, but he was already taking the pack of frozen peas from your hand to press it against the lump forming on your temple. He was gentle, and the air shifted, like there was more on his mind than your minor injury. Brown eyes searching yours, you wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Francisco?” Your hands had settled on his chest but the moved around his neck when he moved the ice to ghost his lips over the spot. He didn’t answer for a moment, just setting the peas aside, and carefully trapping you against the counter.

There were noises of good-natured arguing coming from the living room, and you knew he was taking advantage of their distraction, carving a little pocket for the two of you in time.

“Te adoro,” his lips were almost hot as they pressed into yours. “I love you,” he said, so close you could feel the hairs on his upper lip still.

For the past month, your relationship had been fast, jumpstarting to serious and staying that was, but this was new. It was one thing, for him to tell you he wanted something real with you, wanted you to be a part of his life, and another to hear him say he loved you simply, without abandon. Still, you didn’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

He kissed you again, unhurried, and you almost couldn’t return it, you were smiling so widely. Your bump was long forgotten.

When the two of you came out the kitchen, the others had barely noticed you were gone and Ben immediately was accusing you of cheating, but Santi shot you a knowing smile.

There was a gap of time when a season ended, when Molly’s inbox was mercifully void of emails. It was a time when the chaos of her job slowed, for a bit before she began her work for the off-season, and she relished it with every fiber of her being.

This particular gap began wrapped up in sheets with Tom, her Tom, kissing and wishing the world outside was a simple as this, in the little bubble of her room.

She could always tell though, when his mind was no longer filled with her, and the other sides of him began to leak through the cracks. His eyes moved with urgency instead of appreciation his hands moved a little slower and then in sudden jerks, and when he trailed off mid-sentence, she sighed.

“You told them, didn’t you?”

He rolled onto his back; his gaze pointed towards the ceiling.

“Right after the game,” he confessed, and she sighed again, sitting up. If nothing else, for him, she had endless patience.

“How’d that go?”

Her love was silent, thinking only of the embarrassment and defensiveness that had reared in his chest. The tilt of Santi’s head, Frankie’s slow nod. He wished Benny had been disappointed, wished Will had thought it was a joke.

“They understood,” Tom didn’t add that he hoped with all his considerable might that they had reacted stronger, hoped they had told him not to, said they needed him to stay, but they hadn’t. It wouldn’t have been true, anyway. They were growing, going somewhere he couldn’t follow.

Her hand ran over his chest as it filled with air, stilling over his heart.

“It’s time,” one of them said, and the other nodded.

Counseling. Rehab. Retirement.

Slowing down to coach at a local college.

He clenched his hand into a fist, and then relaxed, palm falling open, upwards.

The love of his life kissed his forehead.

It was time.

The first stop of the day was with James, spending the morning helping him around the house. Before this summer, you had thought you were his favorite grandchild, but he had essentially adopted Frankie months ago, and already liked him more than you.

The little old man talked excitedly about baseball and lectured your love on enjoying his off-season. He dragged him into the yard, talking his ear off about the benefits of different teas and the importance of volunteering with youth programs, and you settled inside, throwing away expired things from his fridge. Their absence was your only opportunity for the chore.

Honestly, the two of you needed to leave sooner than later and you weren’t sure how much time you had.

“Honey?” You dropped a can of whipped cream from a month ago guiltily.

“Yeah, Jimbo?”

He eyed you suspiciously but seemed too excited to be deterred by you.

“I put this together for you!” He said proudly, and you noticed a flash of the same mischief from yesterday in his eyes. Your grandfather handed you a box, and made you promise not to open in until you left. You hugged the sweet man, and smiled when Frankie did, too, before saying your goodbyes, thankful beyond words for him.

If it weren’t for him, you were sure you wouldn’t be climbing into the truck of your boyfriend, and certainly not having the catcher’s hand slide into yours. When you opened the box, the gratitude didn’t shrink, but your embarrassment rose.

Frankie laughed so hard you thought he was going to have to pull over.

It was full of Francisco Morales merchandise, signatures and memorabilia ranging from his very first baseball card to his most recent bobble head.

Frankie kissed your knuckles for the second time since you climbed into his truck, which was silly since it had only been three minutes since you left his mother’s house.

He could feel your look, answering before you even asked.

“I’m good, just… I love you,” he said, unable to keep his eyes on the road when he said it.

“I love you too, Frankie,” you said, wondering what prompted him.

“Could we… would you want to get dinner?” He looked thoughtful and you laughed.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Your hand was lifted to his lips again, sending electricity up your spine as he confirmed.

The two of you had a bag full of Anita’s best by the time you entered his home, and he still hadn’t told you what was on his mind. The two of you ate, sharing stories about the day’s adventures, helping his mother around the house and watching, Bianca, his sweet, tiny new niece. You had a great conversation with his mother, and despite her excitable nature, she surprised you by asking you about your boundaries and promising not to overstep.

Frankie told you about his hermana, and her slowly opening up to the idea of letting him help her out, not as charity but family, and letting him shoulder some of the responsibilities. You watched the warmth in his eyes as he talked and wondered how it was possible for a single person to feel so safe.

Eventually the talking slowed, and you found yourself half falling asleep against the stretch of his chest, is hands slowing their wandering paths.

“Love?” he murmured into your hair. You hummed in response.

When he didn’t say anything, your mind woke, and you pulled yourself up, and into his lap, straddling him.

He looked up at you for a moment before you felt him sigh against you.

“I have this baby,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his phrasing. Santi always said it was melodramatic. “Do you… is this all too much?”

His expression mirrored that of your first date, and you told him the same thing as you had then.

That you would stay, as long as he would have you. That you would navigate alongside him, that you were happy to. This time, you added that you loved him, and you felt him shift under you, anxiety leaking out of him, allowing solid adoration to replace it.

Frankie said, “Thank you,” against your mouth, and like a prayer. In the dim evening light, you kissed him, and as his hands slipped under your shirt to hold your sides, he held you for the first time like you were real.

And you were, this was something that wasn’t going away.

For the first time in a long time, it was a perfect day for something new, and his heart was here, beating under his hands.

translations:

pan dulce: pastries

mi frijol: my bean

tu marido: your husband

nieta: granddaughter

hija: daughter

hermano/a: brother, sister

te adoro: I adore you

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @pbeatriz

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind @hnt-escape @athalien @the-witty-pen-name @daffodin @sarahjkl82-blog @pintsizemama @anaaaispunk @pjkimrn @dobbyjen @stuckontheceiling

#francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie x you #frankie x reader #triple frontier baseball au #hey batter batter #maybe i don't know people

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ohbo-ohno · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 14 - Orgasm Denial

Ghost x Soap - 0.7k (on ao3)

summary: Simon enjoys punishing Johnny. (Ghost POV)

cw: dom!ghost, sub!soap, light degradation, cbt

Johnny’s wail is agonized when Simon pulls the fleshlight off his cock, his back curling to try and protect himself from what he knows comes next.

“Settle, Johnny,” Ghost scolds, placing a heavy hand on his throat and shoving back so Johnny is forced flat onto the bed again and held down. “Don’t try and hide your little cock from me, I’m not done playing with it.”

The series of slaps laid across his shaft make Johnny want to die. All he can feel is the consuming need to come, to get off, to orgasm, to finish, to find some sort of relief. But all his poor cock gets is Simon’s abuse, harsh slaps with ringed fingers and the occasional sharp pinch to the head of his cock. The pain makes him writhe, makes him teary-eyed and desperate.

“Please, please, ple- Ghost, Simon, please-”

“Shut up,” Ghost rumbles, the hand around his throat squeezing tight and silencing Johnny’s pleading. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m not using your mouth right now, I’m using your cock. Don’t make me gag you.”

Johnny whines at the threat even though he knows it’s not real - Ghost has been threatening him with a gag since they started this whole process, but Johnny knows he enjoys the sounds of pain too much to muffle them. Still, he cuts himself off at a nasty look from Ghost, ducks his head low and glances up through his lashes to look as pathetic as possible.

He can’t keep his knees spread like Simon wants, keeps trying to instinctually squeeze them tight to keep the onslaught of blows away from his cock. It fucking hurts, leaves his cock red and swollen from more than just his arousal.

“Hmm,” Ghost hums, giving the underside of Johnny’s cock a final slap that drags the tops of his rings over the sensitive underside and ignoring the ensuing yelp. “Let’s get you a little softer, Johnny. Wanna work you up again.”

That gets another groan from Soap, hands rattling in the cuffs behind his back. He knows what's coming next, tenses nearly every muscle in his body and squeezes his eyes shut, unprepared for the sudden-

The ice-pack is dropped right on his dick unceremoniously, leaves Johnny crying out and wiggling around on the bed. He sobs a little, tries to beg through his tears but can’t do much more than whine. The cold is sharp, the pressure against him all the heavier because of it.

He gets desperate, tries to buck the icepack off of him and ends up squirming like a fish on a line when he can't get the right leverage.

“Watch it,” Simon growls, wrapping a rough hand around Johnny’s balls and tugging down. That gets another sharp noise of pain, gets his hips to stop bucking in hopes his poor balls will be let go. They aren’t, and the cold of the icepack rests even lower on his shaft.

Ghost keeps him there until he’s gone soft, no praises or comforting touches allowed. It makes the whole experience more, makes Johnny feel like he really is just a cock and balls for Ghost to play with.

“There we go,” Simon says, finally pulling the ice pack away and ignoring Johnny’s grateful moan. “Nice and soft. Your cock’s much cuter like this, Johnny. Maybe I should lock it up, hm? Keep you soft for me all the time?”

That gets another whine, this one nothing but pleading. Last time Ghost had locked his cock up, he hadn’t come for weeks. Wasn’t allowed out of the damn cage except for showers, when Ghost would wash him and it out. He couldn’t even take it off to piss, the damn thing has a slit at the top just for that. Watching Ghost walk around with the little key around his neck, out for everyone to see…

So Johnny doesn’t like the cock cage. He tries to beg his Lieutenant not to cage him up with his eyes, but Ghost doesn’t even bother to spare his face a glance.

“Let’s get you goin’ again, boy,” Simon smirks down at Johnny’s dick, playfully nudging the limp thing where he's dropped it to rest between Johnny's thighs. “Wanna hear you scream some more.”

#kinktober 2023 #ghoap #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #hehe #bo writes #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john mactavish x simon riley #soap mactavish x ghost riley #kinktober day 14 #ghostsoap smut #ghoap smut #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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lilkermit14 · 3 years

Note

Jay is from the show Red Widow and unfortunately he's not really known 😅 At first I wanted to ask for Jack but I had no idea of the details for the story... Maybe he had to leave reader because of his job, but he loves her too much and decides to come back and find out that she is pregnant (a baby girl) I know, it's not original but i can't imagine anything else for this charming cowboy 🥺

Whole (Jack Daniels x Fem!reader)

Notes: Idk why I struggled so hard to write this fic but here she is in all her glory........yay. Not as smutty as per usual to prove I’m not a total whore but here ya go

Summary: after your life is threatened unbeknownst to you, whiskey takes it upon himself to protect you the only way he thinks he can––by leaving you. but what his cowboy brain doesn’t for see, is that he’s doing both of you more damage than good especially after a happy little accident.

warnings: brief description of smut and aftercare (like the La Croix of smut but still no minors), ANGSTTTTTTT, rOUGH, unplanned pregnancy, a slap, and a happy ending

Jack should have known the first time he wasn’t meant to have this kind of happiness—the kind where one could always have someone to return home to at the end of the day. No, he couldn’t have it with his late wife and he couldn’t have it with you either.

The human trafficker had somehow gotten access to personal statesmen information, because he had found out about you. Had your name. Had shown him pictures of you. Had shown that men were waiting at your doorstep if Jack didn’t back down now.

Thankfully, they were able to stop the man before it came to any of that—but it broke something in Jack. He couldn’t have another woman he loves die like his wife. He didn’t know if he could handle it. You didn’t even know about Jack’s real job, all you knew was that he was the CEO of a distillery and you never asked questions about that. Maybe it was easier keeping it like that, as Jack realized the only way to keep you safe was to leave you.

He had picked a night, picked a place to head out to after it was all over, and planned out the note. He had made love to you one last time before leaving—slowly savoring the way your skin felt pressed against him and the way it felt to have your walls drag against him when he thrusted, and finally stilled deep inside you. He made sure to take care of you before he left, clean with all sore muscles rubbed out and well hydrated—comfortable as you could be. You fell asleep so easily it somehow made Jack more guilty for what he thought was the right thing. He stayed longer than he should have after he wrote the note and got dressed, bag packed by the door, just staring at you, attempting to memorize the sound of your soft noises as you slept and the way your naked body looked covered by the sheets and pale moonlight. It was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen and wanted it to be the clearest memory he had of you. Tears sprung in his eyes, thinking that this is the only thing he will ever have of love—memories. He kissed your forehead one last time before walking out of your life forever.

*****************************

Jack hasn’t felt alive since, the toll of leaving you behind eating at him more than he ever thought it could. He’s changed in a way and everyone knows it—they see the way he moves or speaks now and know something has changed. He just goes through the motions of living with no actual life in his eyes to prove he is alive. He throws himself into his work working through cases and bad guys more efficiently than ever, but it doesn’t distract him from losing you—not when he lies awake at night crying and missing you.

Everyone around him changes too—Tequila doesn’t tease him anymore and walks around him like they’re threading through a room full of broken glass. Ginger does more medical evaluations—ones that are less to do with physical health and more to do with mental health. Most of all—champ acts different, “son—“

Jack pauses from exiting the debriefing room after giving Champ a status report and picking up another case, “I’m wondering if you should take a few days off from wo—“

“No,” Jack says curt and without a single space for bargaining. Champ is stiff when Jack looks at him, “I know you're wallowing over that girl.”

“I did what I had to do and I’m going to continue doing it.” Jack reminds him, staying steadfast in his decision. Champ shakes his head, “and it’s tearing you apart—statesmen get threats like that all the time Whiskey and they don’t go deserting their relatives or loved ones—“

“Well they're not me,” Jack states his stare is cold as he looks down at Champagne, “I can’t lose another person like that again.”

“You’ve lost her by leaving her,” his words cut through him and he knows it’s the truth, but it’s not something stubborn ol Jack is willing to withstand. Jack turns to leave again, “I’ll be off on the case.”

*****************************

You can’t help but pick up one of the sandwiches from the various food carts before they go out. It’s too tempting after standing for hours on your feet with a six month old pregnancy belly on your front—one you’re rubbing as you enjoy the taste of the mozzarella, pesto, and tomato together. The father of your child disappeared before you could even tell him—fitting considering you never grew up with a father in your house. So it has just been you and your baby girl, and well your best friend and business partner that was walking towards you now, joking “are the sandwiches up to your standards?”

“I needed something to eat after four hours of standing and being pregnant Travis,” you contest, taking another big bite. He shrugs with some sort of understanding, looking over the trays of food with you and approving them before they go off. Travis randomly starts, “I don’t think we should try to have this client again.”

You turn, finishing your sandwich with an eyebrow raise, “why? Did someone from the company say something to you—“

“Not that—although I was worried when the CEO invited his childhood priest—” he notes sending off the last tray, “I get bad vibes from the company itself.”

You think about it for a moment agreeing that something was fishy about the way a family-owned soap company was able to afford such a lavish event—something was a little off. You nod, “maybe not—I don’t want to get too close to a company that's a front. I doubt they would want us back because they’ve fired every event planner they’ve had before and the CEO’s wife already complained that the flower garnishes weren’t the correct shade of maroon.”

“We just have to finish the job then and we’ll be scott free” Travis mutters checking his watch, “just a couple hours left—what could go wrong?”

As though you were in a badly made comedy, right as Travis says that you hear clatter and gunshots come from the main event area, “......I spoke too soon didn’t I?”

*********************

Vincent Marsulio had tried to make a run for it once he realized his plans to run a million dollar drug business had gone to shit—I mean a soap company as a front? Really? Jack had dodged gunfire, tequila and the new agent rum covering him—allowing him to use his lasso to drag Vincent into Statesmen custody.

The scene was under control now—with agents and Ginger’s crime scene investigators gathering follow up information and evidence. Jack was just there to make sure the scene stayed secure and that no witnesses ran off that were revealed to be involved. Scanning the crowds of those being interviewed is when he saw you.

He should have known you were here—he should have seen your touches in the flower displays, the food selections, the drapery, and the table cloths. You were a party planner, he should have made note of that. You’re the same as the images in his mind—the memories that flash through his mind whenever he gets a flicker of your perfume or hears a laugh that sounds like yours. The only thing that's changed about you is your stomach—there's a sizable baby bump there, and he mumbles to himself “no…”

It had been seven months—seven months since he left you. It had to be his. He left you pregnant. As though you heard the gears turning in his head you turn and make eye contact with him—freezing in your place. He has to talk to you now, but you make efforts to move away, running towards a stairwell to get away from him as he shouts your name.

************

Despite being seven months pregnant you make a good chase, ducking down the stairwell and moving as fast as your swollen ankles will carry you while he shouts for you behind you. You can’t see him right now, he left, he doesn’t deserve this. Your condition must somewhat get the best of you as you end up stumbling on a landing—slowing down enough for him to catch up. You knew it was futile after all he ran faster than you even when you weren’t pregnant.

He grabs your wrist before you can go any farther, pulling you towards his body—only for you to wack a big slap to the side of his face, “how dare you—you asshole.”

“You're pregnant?” He asks quick as hell, and you frown still jabbing hits at him, “Why else am I so fucking big dickhead.”

He pulls you closer in an effort to restrain you from hitting him and from running away at any point, “is it mine?”

You had been avoiding looking at his face the entire portion of the ordeal—not wanting to see the face of the man that abandoned you. But you end up looking anyway and feel the tears spring up in your eyes. Despite the fact he left you you still feel love for him in your heart. You can’t lie to him, “it is.”

“Sugar, I’m—“ he breathes out, struck in the moment by every error he’s made in the past few months knowing he should have stayed, “I’m so sorry, please let me explain why I did what I did.”

You don’t respond just letting him speak at his own will as he settles you two down to sit on the steps of the stair. Jack tells you about his job, his wife, and the scare he had that just accumulated to him feeling like he had to leave to keep you safe. You had known about his late wife but none of the details about the affair and understood just why he was so afraid—but he still acted like an idiot. Head in hands, “why did you keep everything hidden from me Jack, I mean you lied to me about your job––no wonder I was able to find you after I found out, I was stuck looking for Jack Daniels brewery CEO instead of Jack Daniels statesmen.”

You got him there, “I should have––everyone told me I should have told you.” Silence emanates between the two of you, “I know sorry doesn’t make up for all I did––I don’t know if I can ever make up for what I did, but give me a chance because I want to be there for you and the kid–I love you sweet pea.”

Tears spring from your eyes, “I love you too Jack, we’ll figure it out I promise.”

Jack pulls you into his arms whispering what sounds like a thousand thank you’s for you and the girl in your belly, “it’s a girl you know.”

“A girl…” Jack trails off with a smile gleaming on his face and some unspoken joy in his eyes, that shifts into something of deep regret, “I was almost like him I don’t ever wanna be like him”

“You won’t.” you state firm and jack pulls away to cup your face and wipe away the errant tears still streaming down your face, “can I kiss you darling?”

“Please,” and with that the lips you have missed meld on to yours. After months, both alone and apart, both you and Jack feel a sense of security that everything will be alright––that your little family is finally whole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sorry that its bad....

taglist:

@poenariuniverse @harleyamidala @yespolkadotkitty @storiesofthefandomlovers @babybelou @legally-a-bastard @computeringturtle @clydesducktape @sixties-loser @buckysalefty @april-14-blog @prettylittlegoldfish @softpedropascal

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tamagochiie · 3 years

Text

pairing: timeskip!kenma x fem!reader

synopsis: You come home late from your cousin’s funeral, and though Kenma didn’t expect much from you but perhaps a few leftovers you’ve managed to steal away from the dinner, he finds you with a surprise: a sleeping child cradled around your neck and a teenage boy hovering behind you.

Your poor boyfriend wondering what in the hell it is you’re plotting…

tags: angst and fluff, time skip!, slight spoilers if you squint

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of depression, cursing

w/c: 2.2k

tagging list: @angrylittleriri @chims-kookies @gooseyhouse

a/n: hello! welcome to the second chapter of the series! i’m posting this a little later than expected because wifi is really trying to cock block me from posting :’) i honestly wasn’t expecting people to like or interacting with this fic, so my heart is super warm right now :>

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

happy almost new year! see you all next week!

master list

<< life as we know it | life as he’s known it >>

You wonder what the younger version of you would think if you went back in time and told her she'd be eating at a dining table filled with food that wasn't microwavable, and the air wouldn't be filled by the sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other, but instead be filled by the lilting giggles of a little boy; his older brother pressing him to keep it down; and Kenma's casual yet awkward attempt to relate to the two.

She would probably cry.

Your parents' work piled up to the late hours of the evening and spilled into the morning, leaving you in a constant state of dejection. The house would be barren, nothing but the faint ticking of the old grandfather clock to keep you company. But even if your parents were home, it would still be the same; the air cold and unmoving.

Your parents were not warm nor were they emotional, and maybe that's what drew you to Kenma; he was quiet, rarely affectionate, and gave you more than enough room to breathe. Sure, there were the occasional forehead kisses, the head pats, the 'how are you doing' texts, and sometimes if he was brave enough, he’d interlock pinkies with you in public.

But you grew selfish, finding yourself wanting a little more each time you saw him, and you weren't sure if it was okay.

Was it okay to yearn for things?

Was it okay to ask for more?

But Kenma saw through your facade of accepting things as they are and right into your neediness. He was willing to give as long as you asked or even when you were too shy to do so. He even gave you his whole life without sparing a second thought even if the realization that he had done so came much later.

"Here, let me." Kenma slips his hands over yours, taking the plate from within your grasp to wash it in your place. He bumps his hips against yours, causing you to stumble away from the sink.

You mumble a thank you before resorting to wiping down the dishes and setting them on the rack.

You delight in his banter. He asks you about your day, stealing glances between you and the stack of dishes before him while you give him the run down. He listens to you intently, gaze wandering a little longer when he hears an exasperated sigh escape your lips, but you let him know you're just fine.

"What about you?" You ask, tilting your head and playfully moving it in front of Kenma's face, blocking him from the plate he needs to scrub. "How was your day?"

He hums, tiptoeing over you to finish the chore like the diligent little worker he is. "It was another day," You frown at him and his lack of effort to push further. He rolls his eyes, chuckling at your pouty face. "I played another trial game with Eiji—"

"And how'd that go?"

"Oh, he's absolute shit—ow!" Your slap against his arm resounds throughout the apartment, causing Yuki and Eiji's to jerk their attention towards you both. You mold your face into a look of ease, sparing them a warm smile, telling them you saw a fly.

"The hell?! I wasn't finished!" The pudding head seethes. "Sure he was shit, but he was still better than you."

The cocky grin slipping across his lips matching with his lidded eyes has you throwing your hands, erupting a series of ow's. "You're such an ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, the ass you chose." He sneers, handing you the last plate to dry.

He rubs his arm in an attempt to soothe the stinging, glaring at you begrudgingly. It takes you a while to ease back into his trust, but you do, and he picks up where he leaves off as if he wasn't in any pain to begin with.

He tells you about his little trip to the convenience store with Yuki for his strawberry milk, and the foreign, constricting feeling that wouldn't leave his chest until they came back home. How he couldn't let go of Yuki's hand when they were in the store, and if he did, it would send him in a state of sheer panic.

"Must be your mommy instincts kicking in," You joke, and he only rolls his eyes.

He also admits inadvertently turning all your favorite whites into various shades of pinks and blues. As someone as analytical as Kenma, he was challenged by the task of separating the lights from the darks.

You snort, earning a scowl from your boyfriend and a string of explanations to defend his case. But it isn't the mistake that makes you laugh, but rather how far you've come after a month of adjustments and an unfortunate series of events.

The first two weeks were exceptionally trying. No one spoke a word and everyone walked on eggshells. Eiji was still too shy to look at you, his responses down to a bare minimum and quieter than a whisper; Yuki cried almost all the time over every little thing, and the vein in Kenma's neck was threatening to pop every time he did.

It didn't help when you and Kenma would end your nights at each other's throats, bickering till you fell asleep. And when morning came, you'd be greeted by the emptiness from his side of the bed.

And it helped no one when the two of you would avoid each other, never crossing paths or breathing a word the moment you came home until it was too painfully awkward to continue.

Two and half hours charged with petty arguments, things of the past, and all the little things that came in between only to have finally arrived at one conclusion: You weren't parents and you weren't Akihiro-san. You were your own people and it was okay to do things differently.

Even if different meant that Kenma might call the kids by the wrong name or forget the fact he's living with someone else other than you. Even if different meant that you'll be absent-mindedly teaching Yuki a few curses to add to his vocabulary or forgetting to enroll them in school.

The truth is no one from the family was going to return your calls, and you were probably going to spend the rest of your twenties making up bedtime stories and giving pretty bad advice to someone just a few years younger than you.

Which brings you here, wearing your bathing suit as you share your bubble bath with Yuki because he wanted to play with the rubber duckies he whined and moaned at Kenma to buy for him at the store.

Lathering his hair with shampoo, Yuki's head leans against your chest, eyes gleaming beneath the bathroom lights. He beams at you, giggling at the ticklish feeling as you massage his head. He brings attention back to his ducks, making crashing sounds as he splashes them into the water.

"Is that how ducks swim?" You ask, washing away the soap from his hair. "Don't they just kinda...float around?"

He shakes his head before twisting his body to face you. He's got a tough expression plastered on; brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, eyes unwavering.

A very serious boy.

"These are special ducks," He explains, raising one to your face."These are battleship ducks."

Your lips fall to an 'o', still not picking up what he's putting down but you pretend you do.

Is this what kids are into these days?

Yuki goes on to tell you about his special ducks; something about lasers in their eyes, super special flying skills, and...echo location? You ask him if he's sure—if you heard him right, but he's as firm with his stance as he is with the death grip he has on his rubber duckies.

You drain the tub before rinsing yourselves beneath the warm water of the shower. Yuki flips his hair around, air drying himself as he steps out of the tub. You tell him to brush his teeth while he waits for you to finish rinsing.

"Hey, Oba-san," Yuki's call is muffled by the foam of the toothpaste still in his mouth. "Are you and Kenma-san married?"

You nearly fall when you slip off of your bathing suit and into your pajamas. "Ah, no, Yuki. We're not."

"But aren't you in love?" He asks, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, spitting into the sink and washing his mouth.

Your eye twitches and you swallow the lump in your throat before it goes big enough for you to choke and die. "Uhh, people don't always have to marry right away just because they're in love..."

"But Kenma-san said he's been in love with you for four years."

"I—Yeah, well—"

"That's sounds like a really long time, Oba-san." You can't tell if he means to sound condescending. You can't tell if your mom has awakened from the grave and possessed the young boy because she woke up thinking she had a few more things she'd like to pester you with.

"Well, Yuki," You gather the little patience you have left, taking a deep breath as you step out of the tub. The bathroom tile is cold against the soles of your feet, sending a shiver down your spine. Enough to keep you sober for trivial conversation with a six year old boy. "Love—Love kinda looks different for everyone, Yuki."

You choose your words carefully, not wanting to say anything that might confuse him.

You help him into his clothes, his hair leaving wet patches onto his his dinosaur pajamas. He listens to you intently, looking right into your eyes. "There are people marry the moment they meet—or at least after a short while—because they can't help but feel sure?”

And you can’t help but feel flustered at your own explanation, not too sure with your words, “...and other people don't do that. Some relationships move at a faster pace and other's move a bit slower; and Kenma-san and I...we're happy with how things are right now."

He hums, nodding his head as if he understands. "Even though Eiji-san and I are here?"

"Yes, little love." You assure him with the new nickname, booping his nose. "Even though you're both here."

You grab his towel and dry his hair. You pat down the tiny puddles of water on his face and neck, noting to wipe behind his ears.

"But," Yuki mumbles through the material of the towel, swatting your hand away to to catch his breath, "sometimes people don't like different..." Yuki pushes the towel to this side, his glossy eyes meeting yours and your heart cracks. "They didn't like my dad 'cause he was different."

"H-He didn't love someone th-that looked like y-you..." Yuki bites down on his bottom lip, keeping it from quivering and fixating his eyes onto the tiles of the floor to prevent himself from choking on his words. "H-He...He loved someone that look like Kenma-san."

You understand what he means. You know full well. Their father was gay and because of that, your family ostracized him without wasting another breath. As if it was easy as blinking.

You knew what their father had been going through, you had enough time to help, yet you stood idle, doing nothing but add to his loneliness.

You kept all the sunshine Akihiro-san shared with you during your bluest days, even when it had been so obvious he needed it more than you.

But not once did you ever think about returning a sliver of it. And you wonder maybe if you hadn't been so selfish and naive, a silver lining would've been enough to avoid something as painful as this.

Instinctively, you pull him close to you, threading your fingers through his still damp hair. You shush him and press kiss on the crown of his head as his petite figure trembles in your arms. You let him sob into your shirt, his fingers twisting the material in anguish.

And it breaks your heart that a little human like him would not only know the meaning of anguish, but how it feels to have it tear through his heart.

It takes a few moments for Yuki to catch his breath and for you to ease him. He slumps onto you as he regains his strength. You tell him you're sorry because you are and because you don't know what else to say.

You try to use his strawberry milk and his brother as an incentive to keep him from crying again. And after a few minutes it works.

You trail closely behind him when he walks out of the bathroom. He begins to run when he gets closer to Eiji, the pitter patter of his wee little feet carrying in the apartment.

You watch as Yuki thrusts himself forward into the arms of his brother, and Eiji doesn't fail to catch him. The sight before you leaves you gawking in silence, watching Eiji unravel into his big brother form as he lifts Yuki to the ceiling, playfully sniffing his under arms, the crook of his neck, and even his little bum before complimenting him, "Good job, you smell just like flowers."

His giggles float in the air, swarming around the apartment as if he hadn't been crying just a few minutes ago.

And as you watch the scene unfold do you decide to step out of the sidelines, using this warm moment shared between the boys as your driving force to keep the last of your cousin's light safe.

#Kozume Kenma #Kenma x reader #Kenma x y/n #Haikyuu!!#Kenma imagines #Haikyuu Imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kenma headcanons #kenma kozume headcanons #kenma hcs #kenma fluff #kenma angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst

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