#i need to go to sleep but i had to get this out lest i explode <3

[thegnomelord]

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

[fox-guardian]

hm. s3 was chock full of Shit Happening To Jon. he was kidnapped multiple times, held at knifepoint, his hand was severely burned, he got sent to the forever falling dimension, almost got skinned alive, half of the shit that happens to him in s3 all happen within the same week, and it was just generally not a fun time. then the unknowing happens and he literally gets blown up and sent into a coma.

for six months.

sure, a lot of what happens to Jon is partially because he's running headfirst into danger, but a lot of it also just happens to him. people know him as The Archivist, and decide to hurt him. kidnapping, mostly.

but for six months, he is completely unconscious, mostly dead, unable to move, speak, see, hear, or call out for help. he has never been morr vulnerable, more utterly helpless. and the only people that visit him seem to have been Martin, and Oliver.

Oliver, who is an avatar, who knows him as The Archivist, and.... doesn't wish him harm. He was just curious about him, and seemed to have been told to be there, so he went. And in his own way, he even saved him. He even chose to call him by his actual name.

After everything that happened to him, the one inhuman thing to visit him at his most helpless, didn't want to hurt him. He helped. I already understood Jon's thoughts about not smiting Oliver, but this makes it hit harder, I think.

Also do you think martin ever worried about something coming for Jon while he was comatose. Do you think he worried about that.

[icewindandboringhorror]

sneeping with his legs up over his head for some reason... weird boye

[shotmrmiller]

wait though because seriously. the boys share everything with each other.

(smut, be warned. this turned way too long thank @waves-against-a-cliff for this)

they share bedrolls and tents when they're stuck in the freezing cold during a mission.

they share canteens, mre's, cigarettes. (price is smoke snob so simon always carries a cigar or two for him)

they'll share a room in base when simon's not sleeping again due to his ptsd, or johnny's gone and gotten injured again. john slips into kyle's room sometimes just to remind himself that he didn't lose kyle when he fell out of the helo.

they share showers, too. sometimes in a safe house there's not enough hot water to go around 4 individuals, and other times they just need a hand that isn't their own wrapped around their neglected cocks. (simon mewls like a kitten when john fists him from behind, beard scraping on the junction of his shoulder as john gives him a peck or two on the neck)

they go on leave and stay together, too. simon and john are the ones who keep a home-- johnny and kyle sleep at whoever's they please; essentially living there as well.

then john gets a little bird, a sweet (much younger, simon notices) thing who's far too gentle and soft for gruff men like themselves, just a doting, kind girlfriend.

they share you too.

it hadn't really been hard to nudge you their direction, either. john's only ever sung praise of his crew, his boys.

johnny and kyle are the pretty ones-- it's completely normal that your eyes wandered from john to them when they visited. johnny's hand lingered a little too long on the small of your back when he needed to get past, the touch scalding even through your shirt, and kyle's gentle demeanor and warm smiles toward you never failed to get your heart racing. they were easily game.

simon had been a bit more of a challenge.

he'd been jealous of you, at first. of course someone full of life such as yourself would capture his captain's heart. a bright, burning star in comparison to him, a stellar remnant. he'd seethed when johnny had taken a picture of the both you and john asleep on the couch, him partially lying atop of you with his head firmly on your chest. simon can't even have light weight on him as he sleeps, lest he dreams that he's underground again, dirt clogging his mouth and nose as he claws himself back to the world of the living.

but john knows him better than he knows himself, and he'd nipped that issue in the bud-- slinked into simon's room in base and reassured him with a hand curled under his jaw that there is enough of him for everyone, and now you, too.

"what's mine is yours, simon. and that little morsel back home is mine."

john only brought it up the once, and how eager you'd been. so receptive to the idea of treating his boys the way they deserve. they haven't had much good in their life, he'd purred, but you'll be good, won't you?

yes, you'd jerkily nodded, so good, i swear.

they had you watch them first, just to not overwhelm you. meager handjobs and suggestive kisses to flushed skin. whispered promises of what's to come, playful nips to the ear. it went well enough, john observing how you rubbed your thighs together whenever one of them finally peaked over their own stomach.

then you interrupted their session, one day, asking if you could try to give one of them a hand (ha). the last time he came that hard, kyle had touched him under the table in a restaurant, in front of decent company.

he'd even spurted cum all the way up to his collarbone.

it upgraded quickly after that, any self doubt all but gone under their touch. fingers sunk and curled inside your throbbing cunt, squelching with each movement. john sat behind you, keeping you somewhat upright so you could just focus on their attention. johnny's warm mouth laved at your stiff nipple and kyle swallowed all of your moans.

johnny went first, rambunctious man that he was. he flipped you onto your knees and hilted in one smooth stroke. john stood by your side the entire time, his hands brushing away the damp hair that stuck to your forehead. "doin' so good, love." johnny's grip around your waist had been the only thing that kept you from sprawling forward with each heavy thrust.

kyle had gone next, and what you'd thought would've been a sensual missionary ended up being a devastating missionary press. he pushed your knees to your chest, feeling the air rush out of your lungs. when he bottomed out, john had hissed above you. "made a proper mess there, johnny. there's not enough room for kyle when she's stuffed full of you."

"i'm not sorry, sir," was his cheeky reply.

johnny's spend had been forcibly pushed out when kyle pushed in.

his length was in your throat as he took you and he gave you no respite, just a constant drag of his cock along your sensitive nerves. your mind was scrambled, unable to form a single coherent thought. his fingers dug into the soft meat of your thighs when he came.

simon chose to be last, because you'd be warmed up and slick enough to take him without much discomfort.

wrong.

even with him on his back, you choosing how fast or slow the coupling went, it'd stung. it was an invasion, a searing ache in between your legs, inside your core once you sat flush on his thighs.

simon's hands tightened around your hips, and grunted. "alrigh' getter off. she's clearly in pain--"

"no! i'm just sensitive, is all. i just need a little time to get accustomed."

his face showed disbelief, brows furrowed and lips slightly pursed but john was quick to assuage the situation. "you heard her, simon. she can take it." john turned to you and cradled your face in his hands. "can't you, love?"

'course you could. you promised to be good, after all.

kyle came from behind and wrapped his own hands around your waist, canting them forward, simon's length going so much deeper, and a sharp breath escaped you.

"there ya go, doll. much better now, yeah?"

you rolled your hips slowly, testing the waters. underneath the pulse of pain, was pleasure, crawling up your spine, dripping slick down the base of simon's cock.

finally.

leaning forward, you placed your palms on his sweat-slick barrel chest and began to ride him with fervor. john threaded his fingers through simon's hair and tugged harshly, a ragged moan falling from his lips. it hadn't been much longer after, which you are grateful for because you were about to pray to the gods that your hips hold out with how fiercely they burned with effort.

john had kissed your temple in the end, praising how well you did and to not worry about him, this was more than enough.

aftercare had been a long, drawn out process that had your eyes heavy with sleep, and chest warm with affection.

they left you asleep, exhausted, curled up in john's oversized bed and simon was the one to drag them all into the guest bedroom because john hadn't come once tonight.

when he tried to protest, kyle huffed and cut him off with a wave of his hand. "we take care of each other, captain, and now it's your turn."

[pseudowho]

The Widow's Keeper

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Marrying again after losing your husband in Shibuya was never part of your plan. Then, Higuruma Hiromi came along.

Warnings: Character death, grief, angst, fluff

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A hysterical shriek-- a frantic cry for a man long dead-- rang through the bedroom, enveloped in the dark warmth of night, and broke down into anguished sobs. A soft shout of alarm, and hurried reassurances, sobs muffled, hands stroking, soothing, kisses on foreheads.

Hiromi held you to his chest, his pyjama top damp with your tears, his eyes gritty from sudden wakefulness. You cried away your grief, still so raw, replaying over and over in your dreams-- taunting you with 'what if's and 'if only's. Hiromi's nose nuzzled into your hair, both arms tightly holding you lest you fall apart against him, mumbling his sweet love in humid little breaths to your head.

It had been a while since you had dreamed of Nanami Kento, he pondered, rocking you gently from side-to-side. Dead and buried for almost 4 years now, Hiromi had married you and your trauma, your loss, your fallen love. He had taken you as the package you were, a complex parcel, and the mother of the second love of his life.

Little footsteps approached the door; little hands, cautious against the cool wood, pushed it open with a squeak.

"Mummy? Daddy? Is it a bad dream? You woke me up," grumbled your little girl, blonde and brown-eyed, with sharp delicate features. You sat up hurriedly, wiping your eyes and plastering on a damp smile. As you began moving to get out of bed, Hiromi laid a gentle hand on your thigh, kissing you on the temple.

"I'll take it from here," he hushed, and you sniffled, threatening tears again, "go back to sleep. I love you."

Planting a watery kiss to Hiromi's lips, you laid down in bed, burrowing your nose into his pillow, his smell, always feeling your adoration for him with the sting of guilt.

Hiromi scooted to the door, his loud shuffling footsteps pretending to be sneaky as he scooped his daughter up in his arms, nosing at her with deliberate snuffles. She giggled, batting him away, capturing his face in her little hands, slanted eyes narrow and delighted.

"Back to bed, little one. Your teddies can't sleep without you." Hiromi's playful bargaining wasn't needed, his daughter half-asleep in his arms already, while her arms wound around his neck to snuggle her head under his chin. By the time he had tucked her back into bed, she breathed soft snores, her bed still warm from the nest she had made.

Hiromi crouched by your daughter's bed, watching her, committing all of her features to memory; never this small, ever again, he thought, bittersweet as she grew, blooming. He stroked her hair, nursing the stale guilt of feeling he had stolen this life from another man, and feeling so deeply undeserving, so ashamed because of it.

While Hiromi knew his daughter-- your daughter, Kento's daughter-- more than Kento ever would, there felt to be an impenetrable wall to his love, an absence of a blood bond, stolen away from a man who did not want to leave his wife, and had not even known he was to become a father. Hiromi felt responsible, as if he had spirited you both away himself. He did not deserve to hold you through your grief; he did not deserve to be daddy.

Planting a last kiss to his daughter's forehead, a long-fingered hand stroking blond flicks out of her eyes, Hiromi tiptoed to the door. He hesitated for a moment, then tiptoed back. A brown teddy with its familiar, well-fiddled-with and far-too-large-for-teddies yellow leopard-spotted tie, belonged in his daughters' arms, and not on the floor.

Padding back to your bedroom, a thief in the night, the sheets played a gentle susurrus over your bodies as Hiromi tangled his legs through yours, lying on his back so you could tuck across his chest. You slipped a hand under his t-shirt, travelling up to his chest to stroke its patch of downy black hair. Hiromi's fingers tangled through your hair, examining the whorls of your ear, rolling your earlobe in thought.

"I'm so sorry," you hiccuped into Hiromi's chest, and you heaved with sobs when his reassurance began before you had even finished apologising, his arms tightening around you. He cupped your face in his hands, tilting it, look at me, come on darling, please, look at me.

Hiromi held your face, your cheeks squashed and blotchy with tears in his palms. He felt a trickle of disgust with himself run down his throat, as he stole his role as your hero from Kento, "None of that. You know you don't have to apologise for anything--"

"But I love him," you sobbed, voice cracking with devastated guilt, feeling like a filthy liar, a cheater, a bigamist, "I love him so much and I want him back, but I want you, Hiro, I-- I--" Hiromi nodded, still gazing into you, hooded dark eyes like little embers in the night. You felt a surge of appreciative, grateful love as he drank down your proclamations of love for another man, and wanted you anyway.

"If it were the other way round," Hiromi started, slow and deliberate, "if it were me who had died, and Kento loved you after...I would trust him completely to carry the torch for me. To give you two everything that I wouldn't be able to give."

You wept again, your face and chest aching, loss heavy in your soul. Hiromi kept you close, tethering you, repeating in a tender mantra; "You can love us both. You can love us both, because we both love you. You can love us both."

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"I...I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Hiromi's words fell weakly, unanswered by the dead. Nanami Kento's grave was pristine under the hands of his many friends, his lover, his students, those he had saved. He was popular in death as he had been in life; not inundated with true friends, but awash with bannermen and admirers, those who aspired to be like him, and those who aspired to be liked by him. An admission of guilt writhed in Hiromi's chest, bursting out in one strained cry.

"I can't feel sad that you died," Hiromi spat, disgusted not with Kento, but with himself, "because if you hadn't died, I wouldn't have them, and I'm a real piece of shit--"

"No you're not," a friendly voice drawled to Hiromi's left. Hiromi froze, eyes wide and paralyzed, dread creeping through him that someone had heard his biggest shame--

"-- and Nanami wouldn't have thought so, either. I bet she was the last thing he thought about-- worrying about her, who would look after her. He'd be happy. For her to have a good man. Like you."

Ino Takuma leaned down beside Hiromi, speaking a brief prayer above Kento, a wrapped, spotted blunt blade harnessed onto his back. Placing some fresh flowers down, he stood up again.

Hiromi and Ino were silent together amongst the rustling willows, the smooth dappling sunlight, the whispering babble of the shallow river. Ino rocked on his heels, smiling, hands pocketed. Hiromi hung his head in shame.

"You can...you can feel both, Higuruma. Regret for him dying and leaving her, and...and loving her, I guess. You're not a bad person. I bet she beats herself up for marrying again, right?"

Hiromi swallowed, nodding quickly after a breath's pause. Images flitted across his mind-- you, resplendent in your gown. Your daughter, so solemn on her big day, scattering petals down the aisle. Your earnest kiss, your joyful dancing, your gracious speech. Your wedding night breakdown, holding you in a hot bath in innocent intimacy, folding your lingerie away in favour of a soft nightdress, nothing expected, nothing lost, in life and in death, in sickness and in health.

"You've just...you've just got to be his wingman, y'know?" Ino stated, arms crossed up behind his balaclava'd head, "You and Nanami...you're both her husband. You're both my niece's dad. So big him up a bit for us, huh?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Hey, dad?"

Hiromi leaned round the fridge door, crows feet crinkling around his eyes as he popped a cube of cheese into his mouth, busted.

His daughter smirked at him, fine eyebrows raised under a smooth honey-blonde fringe. As tall as Hiromi, leggy and sarcastic, Hiromi didn't so much tell this young woman off now, as get savagely roasted by her dry wit. Hiromi took it with all of the frustrated joy of a father trying to parent a young woman with unparentably excellent traits.

"Cheese?" Hiromi offered, flicking a cube deftly at his daughter. She caught it, seamlessly, eyes narrowing at him. For all the bravado she was putting on, Hiromi knew she was putting it on. He headed over, pulling her to him with one arm, blonde head against black-grey head.

"Penny for them?"

She sighed, and began: "Did you...meet him?"

Him. Ah.

"I did not," Hiromi admitted, "but I know he was exceptional. Your mother has wonderful taste." He accepted the slap to his arm, well-deserved.

"I can never...I don't think I'll ever be as good as him." Hiromi's heart swelled and ached for his daughter; he felt an odd kinship, one of them in such a powerful shadow, one of them in such enormous shoes. Hiromi nodded, his throat thick.

"You're right," he said, his daughter's lips puckering up in grim acceptance, looking at the floor, "your dad was a hero. He protected the weak when nobody else wanted to. He took on the messy jobs with nothing more than a glass of whiskey and your mum's love behind him. He was funny, kind, patient, empathetic... he was the best of the best. The best sort of man. He's a legend even now."

"So, no, sweetheart, you're never going to be as good as him," Hiromi turned to his daughter, cupping her high-cheeked face in his hands, pressing her to look at him, "you're going to be better. You have all three of us in you, and you carry it so well."

Hiromi's daughter let out a dry sob, refusing to let tears fall. She sniffled, pulling close to Hiromi, letting herself be held. Rubbing her nose and pulling her hair behind one ear, she reached behind her onto a chair, revealing a black, rectangular handled case.

"Uncle Ino gave me something, today," she started, unclipping the case, "he said it was dad's. I thought I...I want to use it. Like he did."

Hiromi gazed fondly down at the blade of legends, white wrapping yellowed at the edges with age, but still just as deadly. He smiled, and your daughter relaxed into his wordless reassurance.

"Yes. Absolutely. It's the only...you're the only one who could do this old thing justice, now," Hiromi pressed, eager to hold Kento and his child together across the impenetrable veil of death, "but I have to warn you."

His daughter glanced to Hiromi, anxious. He took a deep breath, and continued;

"Your mother will cry when she sees this."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A few tears slipped out while I wrote this.

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere batfam with a sick reader?

Yes but sick reader who is still defiant because hello, they kidnapped you?????

Reader is just glaring at them with tired eyes and a red nose as they once again tuck her under the covers, Dick is highly worried as he frets over you like a mama hen because he did have a heart attack when he caught you standing in front of your open window, where "harsh" gusts of cold air were "attacking your fragile form", so of course, he had to drag you in and wrap his arms around you, rub his cheek against you because he NEEDS to warm you immediately, lest you die of hypothermia.

Yes, Dick overreacts. And yes, Damian will accompany his brother in his delusions, or well, take any chance he gets to scold you.

"You should be in bed, Y/n." Damian said sternly, his eyes narrowed because how dare you worry his favourite brother like this. "Didn't Dick tell you to rest? Are you that incapable of following simple commands?"

You narrowed your eyes back at him, opening your mouth to say something mean but got cut off by your own coughing fit, making Dick rush to help you drink some water, rubbing your back along it. Your throat felt scractchy, and it hurt to speak, but you still wanted to convey your feelings so-

You flipped him off. For a nano second, because Dick immediately grabbed your hand and tucked it back under the covers while Damian's eyes widened at you disrespect, but before he could make any more gremlin noises, but Bruce walked in and Damian knew better than to complain to him about you when youre already sick, cause Bruce wouldve still favoured you.

"Y/n? How do you feel now?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle as he walked closer to where Dick was throwing away your mountain of tissues.

"Im fine. I wanna go out-" "No." "And why not?" "Because youre sick." "You may be Batman, but youre not a doctor!" "I am your father though."

No, youre not. You wanted to say, but knew that would only piss him off and you need to be on his good side if you want Dick and the others to be off your back so that you can escape.

"Whats her temperature?" Bruce asked Dick, who put a thermometer in your mouth quickly. Dick sighed as he told Bruce how you were out of bed and standing in your balcony in the cold just moments ago.

Bruce placed a palm over your forehead, and you tried to move away but there wasnt really any space or energy for you to do that. Bruce's eyes shifted the slightest bit at your burning forehead. "Why do you insist on getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor? Ive already had to pick you up 3 times in the past 2 days."

You pulled out the thermometer and glared at him. "Im fine. Its just sniffles." Bruce's lip quirked a little. You looked absolutely adorable in your delirious state, like an angry kitten.

"I dont think its just sniffles this time. And-" Bruce pulled the thermometer from your hands that you were hiding under the covers. "-dont hide the thermometer from me." His eyes scanned it and the twitch in his brow was enough for Dick to know that the number was too high.

Bruce then eyed the cough syrup next to your side table- its still full.

"Why havent you been taking your medicine?"

"Im not sick-"

"White paint has more color than you do right now. So why havent you been taking the medicine?" Bruce asked and even though he was a little annoyed, he had enough practice dealing with the other kid's rebellious phases to have the patience of a saint.

You shrugged. "How do I know its just cough syrup and not a sedative?" "It is a sedative too. Its supposed to make you sleepy." "Well, I dont wanna sleep and let my guard down in a house full of 5 strange men." You obviously never counted Alfred- hes the only normal one here- except for the part that he wont call the cops for you, but oh well.

Bruce just casted a look to Dick and before you knew it, Dick was pinching your nostrils close and titling your head up while Bruce grabbed the syrup and poured some in your mouth before clamping his hand over it. You struggled to break free, but you were obviously no match to them. Still, tears of frustration pricked your eyes as you looked at them in betrayal and hatred.

"Drink this and dont argue with me, please." Bruce said- well, he genuinely requested at this point.

You didnt have much of a choice other than swallowing it.

With a defiant glare, you begin closing your eyes as your body gave into the effects of the drug, the last thing that you felt were Bruce kissing your forehead while Dick pecked your cheek.

Jason finally decides to drop by the Wayne manor, only to be greeted with the sight of reader lying on the kitchen floor. His heart stopped for a moment- you werent breathing-

"Y/n!" He rushed to your side, only to be smacked in the face by you.

"Shush. Dont be too loud." Your voice sounded like sandpaper against rocks.

Jason huffed. "Well, sorry for freaking out. I thought you were dead-"

"From a cough? Im not weak."

"Yeah? So, what exactly are you doing on the cold floor in the middle of the night?"

"..."

"Well?"

"What? So I cant even take a nap in this house? Jesus Christ, am I allowed to have any autonomy here?"

"Y/n." Jason called, clearly unamused by your sarcasm.

"Fine. I may have fallen and then didnt have the energy to get up, so im just catching my breath here."

"Why are you even out of bed?"

"I was hungry and Im not gonna drink another spoon of Alfred's bland soup again." Alfred made it bland on purpose so that your throat wouldnt be irritated.

"Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints of the soup that you cant even taste." Jason chuckled as he picked you up, only for you to push at his chest weakly.

"I dont need your help. I can walk on my own."

Jason quirked a brow. "If you can make it to the front door without fainting or throwing up, I'll help you escape." You stared at the front door- it wasnt too far, but judging by the fact that its even hard for you to breathe properly and that youve fainted way too many times by just standing for more than a couple of minutes.

But youre stubborn. With great effort, you pushed yourself off Jason and used the kitchen island to pull yourself up. Jason decided to walk in front of you and stand near the kitchen exit because he really wanted to see your struggling face.

You took a trembling step, then another, one hand still using the support of the island until it ended and you were only a couple of feet away from Jason. At this point, you were already out of breath and when you took another step, your legs gave out and the room began spinning.

Luckily, Jason was quick to react. "Alright, just place your arm around mine- or just fall on me, that works too." He teased when you couldnt hold your body weight.

You slumped in his arms. "Just take me to my room." You huffed.

"Alright." Jason lifted your legs up and carried you back up the stairs. "You know you'd get better a lot faster if you just stayed in bed and took your medicine on time. Wouldnt that make your chances of escaping the manor better?"

You stared at him blankly. "Wow. The world must be ending for Jason Todd to be making logical suggestions."

Jason rolled his eyes as he tucked you in bed. "Im just saying, if you get better faster, you'll get to try running from us quicker too."

How do you explain to him that you just dont want to comply to them, even when they're helping you. How do you explain that you dont wanna listen to them because the soft pitiful, patronising look they get in their eyes when they look at you makes you wanna scream and carve your skin out. These are strangers, rich men who just kidnapped you to be a part of their family. No one is that kind. And nothing ever comes for free. Nothing.

"Do you need something? Food, perhaps?" Jason asked. You shook your head. "No, I think Im gonna throw up."

"Oh shit." Jason was hauling his ass out of the room t get you a bucket, only to return with a backpack.

You barely held your puke as you asked. "Wait- whose is this?"

"I dont know!? Damian's?!"

You grinned. "Oh, perfect." You proceeded to throw up into Damian's bag. That little shit just got on your nerves.

BONUS:

"I know you have attachment issues with your blanket but its been a couple of days now and you need to let me wash it." Dick said, trying to tug it out of your grip.

You sniffled and glared. "Im not a child who needs their blankie, Dick. Im just too cold without it and no other blanket can warm me up the same way it does."

"Give the blankie, Y/n." Dick said seriously.

"Its not a blankie." You retorted, but before you could react, Tim suddenly grabbed you while Dick ripped away the blanket. And even though he immediately replaces it with a clean blanket, you still let out a gut wrenching cry

"You'll have it back tomorrow-" Tim starts saying, only for you to sneeze directly in his face, making him freeze.

"And that's why we use tissues." Dick says, wiping both your nose and Tim's face with tissues, while you're not making any effort to suppress the grin that comes on your lips.

[greatstormcat]

Send Me Feral

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x f!reader

TW: MDNI 18+, A/B/O dynamic, Alpha!Gaz, Omega!reader, dry humping, kinda but kinda not dub/con

AN: based on an amazing anon request

The problem was you’d developed an allergy to the suppressants the Doctor had put you on, and it would be a while before you could switch to different ones. Something about it being dangerous to let the two different types mix in your system, or some other medical bullshit, you just had to ride it out for a few months. Not great when you worked and lived with Alpha’s on a hair trigger all day, every day.

You’d taken to bundling up as it was thankfully winter, and the wet and cold weather made wrapping your neck in a shemagh scarf quite normal. You’d always bitched about the cold so no one thought twice about it, and plenty of others wore them too.

The only issue was as your heat drew near and your body temperature started to go haywire. Sweating in your sleep wasn’t too much of an issue, you volunteer for every laundry duty so no one else smelled your sheets, but you got to smell everyone else’s.

You even started getting up early to do your gym work outs alone so you could shower and dress before the rest. You only needed to make it for a few weeks, then you’d be back in the pills. It would be fine, just another stealth op really. It. Would. Be. Fine.

If it wasn’t for Gaz.

Ever since you’d joined the 141 you and Gaz had been nearly inseparable, always in eachothers pockets people would say. The two of you just clicked on another level few people did. He was securely under the impression you were a Beta, which was fine as he was an Alpha. Oh, so much an Alpha. He was strong, fast, smart, never overstepped boundaries and protected those around him without a second thought. He was perfect, and you knew full well he was interested in you, but you couldn’t risk him finding out your secret lest you risk your career.

So often he’d find an excuse to touch you, getting his scent on you in the most subtle ways, but you knew what he was doing and did little to stop him. Some nights you lay worrying if you were leading him on, stopping him from finding the mate he deserved, and when you tried to discourage him he just doubled down on his efforts.

With just a few more weeks to go until you can start the new suppressants you sit in the base’s gym early in the morning, one of the rare moments you can be alone and not bundled up in layers of clothing. You’ve worked up a sweat and take on some water resting on the weight bench when the door noisily opens. Scrambling under the seat you grab the hoodie you had brought with you and pull it over your head, stuffing the hood as tight to your neck as possible with a small sweat towel. When you look up Gaz is standing in front of you, brows furrowed in confusion, and your heart stutters.

“What are you doing up so early?” you ask in as off-handed a tone as possible. His eyes narrow as he looks at you.

“Couldn’t sleep, what about you?” he asks with deep suspicion, head tilting slightly. “Has someone else been in here with you?” He sniffs the air, looking around for another person.

Shit shit shit… he can smell it… he knows your scent too well, and he can smell in the air, on the equipment, somethings different. 

“Uh yeah… there was….” as you begin to speak he leans forward, sniffing the air around you. His eyes snap wide open.

“Wait, that’s you? How…” he voice cut off with a strangled growl, deep in his thick chest, and his fingers twitch. “Why do you smell of… of…” 

“Gaz, I can explain,” you say quietly, holding your palms up in front of you as you try to back away. Your shoulder blades press into the padded bench behind you, giving you nowhere to go as he stalks forwards.

“Omega,” he whispers, his voice deep and deadly, huffing in deep breaths of your intoxicating scent. You lower your hands, almost fearful of touching him as he treads a fine line between self control and feral nature. He shakes his head slowly and his eyes take on a hunger you’ve seen hinted at before, but never truly unleashed.

With terrible precision, muscles trembling with the control he is exerting over himself, Gaz straddles his thighs over you on the bench being careful not to touch his body to yours, caging you under him with his arms braced on the corners of the bench beside your head.

“Stay still,” he grits between his teeth, and you stop moving instantly, needing no persuasion to comply. With a simple jerk of his fingers he wrenches the towel away from your neck, exposing your skin and your secret in one movement.

He lowers his face to you, breath hot and moist against your skin, until you feel his mouth and nose press over your scent gland. Your gasp and shudder at the contact, earning a strangled groan for the barely controlled Alpha above you. You can feel it, he is so close to going feral, and it’s just the two of you here… Guiltily you acknowledge to yourself how you aren’t frightened, if anything, you want him to lose control.

He presses his nose into your scent gland, his body almost vibrating with tension.

“Gaz, I can explain,” you say softly.

“Shut up,” he growls, your brain shutting your mouth with a snap for you. “You can’t be an omega… shit…”

The heat from his body bleeds through the air, filtering through the hoodie to your skin so easily. You know you could reach up and touch him, that his control would snap instantly and what would happen would happen.

“I… I want you…” he whispers, and your blood turns to liquid heat. You know he smells your response when his body shudders. “But if you let me inside you, I won’t stop until you’re mine.”

His voice is tight, almost laced with pain. Without thinking you brush your hand against his hip to comfort him and the contact breaks his control. 

Gaz drops down onto you with a growl, his lips latching onto your neck. Your thighs are trapped between his and the sides of the workout bench, letting him grind his hips against you, rutting his erection right over your clit through the perilously thin layers of gym shorts. Your slick quickly soaks through the layers, and spurs on his frantic movements. His arms wrap tightly around your head, securing you he licks and sucks at the tender skin of your neck. You feel the barest touch of his teeth, sharp incisors dragged over your neck and again, but never biting down.

Helplessly you grip his sides, fingers digging into his flesh, trying to move your hips in sync with his desperate pace, chasing the threatening high of your orgasm. Your mind can’t help but image how this would feel if he was fucking you properly, guiding you through a heat, and your empty pussy pulses and grips, aching around nothingness.

He grinds his length back and forth, roughly sawing friction over your clit with every movement and sending you higher and higher. The bench creaks and slips on the tiles below you with the force he is exerting, still managing to keep his base instincts in check enough not to strip you and bury himself into you. 

“Gaz…” you whined needily, unable to tip over the precipice yourself, and he answers by sucking hard on your scent gland, filling his mouth with your unmasked scent. Your orgasm hits hard, bowing your back up off the bench even with his weight atop of you. With a guttural moan against your neck, almost a stifled roar, Gaz comes in his shorts. You feel every throb and twitch of his shaft as he spills himself, leaving him panting, kissing at your neck until you both recover.

“You owe me an explanation,” he murmurs. “And… I owe you dinner.”

Next part

Taglist lovelies:

@ttsbaby01 @0alk0msan

[luveline]

hi lovely jade!! I had an idea for a request: reader who’s pretty independent who hurt her back working out and now can’t walk/shower/etc on her own for a few days x any of the marauders (I really do love them all and especially the way you write them. you can also make this poly!marauders if you feel so inclined).

this is definitely self indulgent, so please feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t do the creative trick.

thank you for sharing your lovely writing with us and being lovely overall!

sending so many hugs to you!!

hi honey, thank u for requesting!! hope u get better soon <3

the boys take care of you when you hurt yourself. fem, 1.2k

You wake in Sirius’ bed with James curled over you protectively. This is not unusual. What is strange is that Sirius seems to have already gotten up for the day, his sleep shirt thrown in a crumpled mess at your feet and his phone off the charger. You scrub at your tired eyes and consider going to look for him, figuring he's probably in the den (or office, depending on which boy you ask), but your back gives a twinge, and then a throb, and you remember the night before. 

You rub James’ arm and push it off of your chest, preparing mentally for the pain. You've tweaked it a few times in the past, the next day always being worse than the actual time of injury, and yet the pain you're met with is instantaneously disarming. 

“Ow,” you can't help but whine, trying to bend forward away from the pain, and finding you can't manage that, either. You gasp as heat races up your spine and across your shoulders, everywhere and nowhere, like the press of a hot hand. 

James mumbles, “What's the matter?” with his head still buried in the pillows. 

“James, I think I've really hurt myself.” Tears squeeze so quickly out of the corners of your eyes that you don't have time to recognise the heat of them. Other sensations are more pressing. 

You don't know if he's looking at you, but you can feel his careful touch working its way up his arm, and hear the ruffle of the sheets as he gets up. “What?” he asks, his voice stretched with the early hour. 

“Last night, when we were lifting, I– I pulled my shoulder and I thought it would–” You make a strangled sound. “It's really bad, what do I do?” 

“Woah, woah, don't panic!” He leans in, your blurry view suddenly filled with his gentle face. 

James soothes it from there, so to speak. He shushes you softly when you start to sob and helps you lay back down, wiping your tears, not a lick of panic about him. “It's okay, it's okay,” he murmurs, “does that feel better?” 

It's better flat, but not gone. “I can't sit up.” 

“That's okay,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips, where he kisses your fingers. 

He waits for you to calm down before grabbing his phone from his room. It's much later in the day than you'd thought, and Sirius will be working his afternoon shift, while Remus could be anywhere. He likes to write in cafes or parks, somewhere away from the hubbub of the house, lest he be distracted, waylaid with kisses, or pestered into helping make dinner or do laundry or whatever needs doing that day. 

“Hey,” James says, hushed, “you okay? Mm… can you come home?” A startled question that betrays the first recipient, Remus’ rasp on the line. “Yeah, I'm fine, it's our little gym rat sweetheart, she's strained her back, she's a bit upset… No, not yet. You think she'll let me?” 

“I'm not going to the doctor’s,” you call to him. James smiles at you from the door. 

“We’ll see,” he shoots back. “Yep yep. Okay. Well, he's in work… Okay. Yeah, okay. Love you, see you in a bit.” 

“What can he do?” you ask. “You should've left him.” 

“Same thing as me.” He runs his hands through his hair. It's a little too long again, dark and thick, curled at the base of his neck with flicks behind his ears, though it's short compared to Sirius’ mess. When he drops his arms, the noon time sunshine kisses his brown skin with a gorgeous warmth, and emphasises the lines of veins where they run up his arms. “You look like you're in agony,” he says, covering his mouth with a hand. “Is it really that bad?” 

You nod miserably. 

He sits next to you carefully, but now you've awoken your pain it won't sleep, and each millilitre of the mattress's distension prompts a new layer of aching. “Sorry,” he says, sounding like he could cry for you, “why didn't you tell me last night?” 

James wraps his arms around you in a strange way, trying not to jostle you as he leans down to touch his nose to your forehead. 

“I didn't think it would be this bad.” 

He talks a little about the doctor's while you wait for Remus to come home. It isn't a waste of time, he insists, the GP is there for a reason. 

You're surprised when it's Sirius who shouts up the stairs. “You okay?” he calls. 

“Sirius?”

James shrugs. “Remus must've told him. We're fine!” 

A rush up the stairs. Sirius pauses by the door, frowning at you both in his bed. “What did you do?” 

“Well, I didn't mean to,” you say. 

“Not you, darling. James, I told you to look after her, all that equipment freaks me out, and Remus agrees.” 

James sighs. “He doesn't mean that.” 

Sirius goes to sit with you but stops upon noticing your wince, and instead flops down on the floor near the wardrobe with his phone to his ear. “I'll get an emergency appointment.” 

“This isn't an emergency,” you say. 

“It is for you. You'll need a sick note sorted anyways.” 

“But it's not that bad.” 

“Sweetheart,” Sirius says, smiling at you softly, an uncommon expression on him, though not unseen, “I know when you've had a big cry.” 

He gets put on hold, saving you the further ache of the line music while James strokes your temple. You attempt to hide how much your back hurts, but you're hurting bad and the knowledge that it's not about to go away soon is genuinely scary. 

Remus understands uncertain pain. He's last to come home but certainly not the least concerned, shoving his laptop case onto Sirius’ dresser, freeing his hands in favour of your face. “Is it bad?” he asks, looking between you and James for an answer. 

“Not really,” you say. James’ face must say differently. 

“What painkillers have you taken?” he asks quickly, “I have co-codamols, did you take paracetamol? You can't have them at the same time.” 

He frowns deeply at your daunted look. “You haven't taken them already, have you? They're very strong by themselves, with paracetamol as well, you'd–” 

“I haven't taken anything,” you admit. 

Sirius sighs and rubs his nose into his palm. “Jesus.” 

“Oh,” Remus says, hands especially tender, even as he laughs, “of course you haven't.” 

“I was a bit distracted.” 

He sobers, stroking the fat of your cheek and then leaning down for a careful kiss. “Of course. Haven't eaten anything either, I suppose?” 

“No, sorry.” 

He kisses you again and pulls away. “That's okay. What about you, Jamie, did you eat?” 

They take care of you in their different ways, in the same way they take care of one another. “No,” James says, “but I have it. Swap places with me, I'll make dinner while we wait for the GP to answer.” 

“You can make supper at the same time,” Sirius jokes.

You laugh and hurt your back. He is very, very sorry. 

[fushigurro]

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / best friend!yuuta who is touch starved / wet dreams / mention of penetrative sex and creampie / male masturbation.

your best friend is somehow simultaneously in his most relaxed and anxious state while in your presence. it's because he has secrets—secrets he dare not tell lest he lose your treasured closeness and companionship. but as time passes by, these secrets are getting harder and harder to keep.

midnight is approaching and you're the only one whose attention remains on the movie playing on the tv. yuuta's eyes had slipped closed quite some time ago, his body instinctively slumping against yours as it struggled to keep him upright on the couch. his rest was always most bountiful when he was with you, and it was difficult to refrain from being pulled into a slumber that he very much needed.

you let yuuta's head lean against your shoulder without quarrel, leaving him to sleep uninterrupted like the understanding friend you are. after a while, he begins to nuzzle into you a little further, his once soft and steady breaths growing more restless and littered with various noises.

you assume he's having some sort of dream—perhaps a nightmare—but you can't be certain, so it seems best to let him sleep for now. but the huffs and grunts and whines are growing in frequency, his body shuffling against yours, and a minor sweat almost breaking out along his skin. when he buries his face into the crook of your neck, your reflex is to reach up and steady him with a hand in his dark hair, and you finally decide to wake him.

"yuuta," you call softly, his eyes slowly opening at your touch and the sound of your voice. you pull your hand away from his head and he looks up at you groggily before straightening up and coming to his senses.

yuuta's heart is beating rather erratically, yet he forces that sweet, familiar smile onto his face. "oh… sorry about that," he apologizes with an awkward chuckle, rubbing at the back of his neck. "guess i didn't realize how tired i was."

"you're good," you gently reassure him. "i was going to let you sleep, but it sounded like you were having a bad dream or something."

"oh, yeah…" he starts, trying to forge a proper explaination with an anxious smile. "it was just something kinda weird, i think. honestly, i've already mostly forgotten it."

that's a lie. there's simply no way he could forget the way your body felt pressed tightly against his as you explored each other's mouths and he laid you down upon the mattress, fingers intertwined and fitting together like puzzles pieces. he could never forget how his mind had somehow managed to offer him a taste of what it would be like to slide inside you for the first time and hear you breathe out his name, carding a hand through his hair just before he woke up…

yuuta takes a deep breath reenters reality. "well, i'd better get going," he says, standing from the couch and moving to pull on his jacket.

"are you sure? it's pretty late. you can stay here if you want." you worry about him heading home in such a tired state, but he seems eager to get out the door.

"that's okay; i've got a few things to take care of before bed," he replies and bids you a friendly goodbye, promptly leaving and making it a point to get home quickly.

when yuuta steps through the door of his apartment, it's a mad dash to his bedroom where he swiftly kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed. his pants are unbuttoned and shoved down just far enough to where he can pull his hard cock out and begin to stroke it, eyes immediately rolling into the back of his skull.

the moan of relief he lets out is lewd, needy, and admittedly rather embarrassing, so he shoves the hem of his shirt between his teeth and looks down at his weeping length, taking in the sight of what you'd effortlessly done to him.

it's borderline pathetic how quickly he cums to the thought of you, to the memory of how it felt to soak in your body heat and have your hand tenderly cradle his head for just a handful of seconds. it's enough to make him absolutely crazed and have him blowing a desperate load all over his own stomach, painting himself in hot release and wishing that it was filling you up instead. and the worst part? he can't help the way the voice in his head keeps chanting 'i love you, i love you, i love you…' as he empties his balls.

shame and satisfaction mix together in his gut, and yuuta is left alone to regret going yet another night without you due to his own cowardice. he loves you too much to risk losing you in any capacity, but it's getting more difficult to keep himself in check these days. you might be his most cherished friend, the one by his side through thick and thin, but he'd much rather feel your hand wrapped around his cock than his own.

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Grocery Shopping with König [539 word drabble]

No warnings, food talk, König is a goof.

Grocery shopping with König is a nightmare.

The old adage of “Don’t shop hungry” is impossible, the man is never not hungry.

He’s also a frugal bastard.

Your freezer is always filled with marked-down food that had to be frozen lest they spoil. You swear there’s been a whole rotisserie chicken just stuffed at the back of the freezer for over a year.

“But Biene, it’ll just go to waste.”

“But it’s such a good deal! Fifty pence off!”

“Why not, we could make something interesting with… pickled onions and mini frankfurters! I can make you Fleishsalat!”

And so on.

Today, you’re sneaking off to the store on your own. You’re on the last dregs of your paycheck for the month and you need to just get the essentials. No more, no less.

“Where are you off, Beine?” You hear him call from the bedroom, it’s early, and you had hoped he would sleep in. He usually does after a long deployment like the one he’s just been on.

“Just popping to the shops, go back to bed,” you insist, already shouldering on your coat, desperately wishing you’d just lied and claimed you were going for a jog.

“Ah bitte, let me come with,” you hear him bumbling around in your bedroom and groan. You know you can’t literally run away from him… Or can you?

You seriously consider it for a moment, but give up on the idea as your giant boyfriend trots like an excited puppy up to you. He’s dishevelled and wearing odd socks, but you can’t help but smirk at how handsome he looks.

“Ok, but if you’re coming with me,” you start, squaring up to him with a best a no-nonsense look you can muster on your face, “We have to stick to the list, no deviations, no bargains, just the…” you quickly count the number of items on the list, “twenty-four things I have written down, are we clear?”

“Javol, of course Biene, in and out, no distractions,” he holds his hand over his heart as if undertaking a solemn vow and you roll your eyes.

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You mutter, almost to yourself as you usher him out of the door.

“You offend me, liebling, I’m a man of my word.”

Two hours later you’re back home with double the amount of items your list. Handfuls of food stuffs to be frozen immediately, some junk from the World Foods aisle, and a bouquet of roses that Kö grabbed when you weren’t looking.

At least he paid for everything, which meant you weren’t feeling the financial strain quite so hard this month.

“I’m sorry Biene,” he whispers against your temple as he wraps his arms around you from behind as you try and play freezer-Tetris to fit the new wave of bargains in the cramped space, “I’ll buy you a bigger freezer.”

You almost snap at him that isn’t the problem, not by a long shot, but at the end of the day, Kö’s little quirks like this are just part of who he is.

And in the grand scheme of things, it’s such a small thing to worry about.

Because you love the big oaf.

No matter what.

CoD Masterlist Grocery Shopping with Gaz Grocery Shopping with Ghost Grocery Shopping with Soap  Grocery Shopping with Price

[kakushino]

First... or Fourth?

Uzui Tengen x AFAB! Reader

You're returning from a years-long undercover mission, which forced you to leave your new husband at the time, Tengen. However, there is a surprise waiting for you...

Tags: angst, betrayal, mild gore, self-worth issues, body worship, emotional smut, dom-leaning bottom reader Word count: 7,9k

Masterlist | Part 2

Just a few more miles, just a few more…

You were on your way back from an undercover mission - one that had been given as a punishment for your actions ‘against’ your Clan. It took years to complete, and you will never be the same again. But, you were looking forward to seeing the one person who could heal your soul. 

Uzui Tengen.

Your husband.

One you had to leave nearly immediately after marrying. 

He had been waiting for you for years all alone, or at least you hoped he had been waiting for you. You promised each other to always come back, alive and intact. 

Your mind wandered. Would he be the same height, or taller? Did he keep his hair short? Did he still wear the gold arm braces? Did he still live in the mansion he bought for the two of you? Was he alive? Was he waiting for you? Did he- 

No. You pushed the feelings of doubt aside. Tengen would be waiting for you in your estate. He would give you that smile you loved so much, welcome you home. You would both cry in happiness. Oh, how you ached to be in his arms again. You two would cuddle for a whole day and a half, content to bask in each other. 

But first, you needed to get presentable. The old inn that used to be in a nearby town got replaced with a newer one. At this time, any would do, as long as you could bathe, eat, sleep, and buy new clothes, not necessarily in that order. 

The old set of clothes you put aside before your mission was too big on your much thinner frame. You stared at yourself in a mirror in the lobby on your way to shop. Maybe a haircut was in order too, but you could handle that yourself with a trusty kunai.

You tried not to dwell on your experiences from the past few years lest you not sleep that night. A makeover would do well for you.

The town wasn’t big, and finding the seamstress took no time at all. One look at your figure had the old woman bringing out three pre-made kimono sets. “I’m sorry dear. I don’t think there are any others that would fit you,” she told you. 

You sighed quietly. That was fine. You could always order some later. For now, one would do. Of the three, only one seemed to be presentable for your flashy husband. “The yellow one please.” Though the pattern was very simple - vertical stripes - the color was very vibrant and eye-catching. The seamstress gave you a bright red obi, perhaps understanding your desire for more color.

Walking out of the shop, you felt like a new person. It was near sunset, time passed quickly while you were gossiping with the old woman. She’d given you the much desired haircut as well, dry and choppy hair strands falling like autumn leaves.

You would see your love tomorrow. Your heart swelled with affection. Butterflies took up space in your stomach. 

You couldn’t wait.

Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong. There, in front of you. Your husband - was he? - with three women - very busty women - smiling at them with your smile, the special one, the one you cherished so much. 

What’s going on?

“Tengen?” you breathed out with a barely-there high pitched whine. His eyes - beautiful, loving, staring at those women - snapped in your direction. Of course he heard. He’d always had the best hearing of all people you knew- used to know.

He looked like he was seeing a ghost, a phantom of the past. Your heart was clogging up your throat, threatening to be thrown up. You keened in pain. Tengen with three beautiful busty women… Has he not waited? Does he not love me anymore?

“[Name]?” you imagined he said it out loud, but he might have only mouthed it. You were too far apart. You with your plain kimono, hair much shorter, standing alone on a dusty road and him with his flamboyance and his three women. 

You wanted to run, you wanted to scream, you wanted to fight, you wanted to scratch him, scar him, you wanted to cause a scene, dig a grave and lay in it. A war went on inside you - your brain and your heart in a battle to the death, a last stand. Was this how it felt to have your heart ripped out? To have your mind unravel? Every day you thought of Tengen - Tengen, Tengen, Tengen - of the moments spent together under blooming sakuras, of the whispered promises to break away and start over, to ditch the miserable life of a shinobi-

In a flash, he stood scarcely a foot from you. The Uzui Tengen of your memories used to be slightly shorter, his hair was longer now, and he appeared even stronger than before, flashier than ever, if possible. He glowed with the happiness of a good life, a happy life. (Happy wife, happy life, he used to say. How true was it now?) The expression he wore was one of disbelief, his huge hands outstretched as if to touch you, slap your wrist, tear out your heart, crush your trachea, break you-

“Lord Tengen, who is this?” 

The moment was broken. You flinched and took a quick step back, skimming the figures of the three women. Kunoichi, without a doubt.  

A horrible feeling crawled up your spine, one you tried to push back because he wouldn’t… would he? You promised each other to break away from the system, to deny everything you were taught and live a good life together. 

Has he gone back to shinobi life? Gone back on the promises? Taken more wives? Taken other wives?

Your husband ignored the inquiry, and instead whispered, “I thought you died,” in a horrified whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief, too shiny to be normal, as if he were holding back tears. “I thought you were dead.” A strangled sound left his throat and he grabbed your wrists, pulling you into a rough embrace. Heart now falling back to its rightful place in relief, you hugged your man back. 

His perfume had changed but the natural musk underneath stayed the same, and you clung to that faint comfort, the familiarity. You clung to his sturdy frame, how he still towered over you, how safe you felt in his arms for the precious moment. You felt warm for the first time in years. Tears gathered at your lashes, and fell, and soaked through his clothing, the clothing that smelled like him and home. 

“Lord Tengen?” 

The moment broke again, and this time you refused to ignore the elephant on the road behind Tengen. Or rather, the three elephants. You took one, two, three stumbling steps back.

“Who are these women, Tengen?” you asked, voice thick and trembling. The wild emotional ride you were on was taking its toll on you. Your eyes flitted between him and the three.

Tengen’s smile was a bit wobbly, something you had never seen in your life. Was he that surprised to see you? Or did he know you wouldn’t like hearing what he would tell you?  Who are these women and why are they with my husband?

“[Name]-” his voice broke, he cleared his throat. “[Name], these are my wives - Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio.”

And with just one word - wives wives WIVES -  he shattered your heart. You vaguely heard him introduce you with just your name. 

“Forever? You promise?”

“I promise. Just me and you against the world, precious.”

It was while you were walking with all four of them to spend the night that your mind started truly racing.

Your mother used to say nothing hurts more than being hurt by the person you never thought would hurt you. You used to scoff and disregard her wisdom. You were re-evaluating your stance on that.

Fight or flight response warred inside you as you were led to your estate, the estate Tengen bought to share with you as his wife, not with- 

Why was he acting as if nothing about this situation was wrong? As if he hadn’t made the careful foundation of your sanity crumble quicker than a house of cards in the breeze?

You stopped right inside the property. You needed to gain control over yourself. You shoved your feelings into your stomach, acid filling your mouth. Your belly ached, from hunger and from stress. You felt as if you were reaching the edge of the void - the void being insanity. One step and you would plunge, spiral downward with no sight of the end.

“Tengen?” you murmured, “Can I talk to you alone, please?” You refused to look anywhere but him, refused to look for what changed and what remained of your- his- their estate.

Throughout the walk to their home, he kept looking at you - for you; tilting his head - listening to your heartbeat. Now he looked torn, glancing at the opened entrance. In the end, he nodded, closed the door and you both stood there, staring at each other.

In the back of your mind, you realized the reason behind his actions, you compartmentalized and understood, but you wanted to hear it, you wanted to know- “Why?”

The question hung in the air like a demented ornament to a festival lantern, except it was set on fire- everything was on fire-

“Precious-” Your heart throbbed in your chest at the nickname. “- please, you were gone.” His voice broke into a low whine and it ached to hear him in such distress. Suddenly, it was as if everything started spilling out. “I never thought it would take that long- I waited and waited and fucking waited and I got no word, no letter, no nothing- I thought- I thought-” 

His breath came out in pants as he stepped closer, his arms reaching for you, gripping your shoulders. 

“I thought you didn’t-” A high pitched keen left him, unable to say it for the second time that day, the very thought making his heart ache. It brought tears to your eyes as you choked down a sob. “Please-” 

Tengen fell to his knees in front of you and the sight of his desperation destroyed what little defences you had. By instinct, you hugged him to your chest, his height allowing him to rest his head against your breast, listening to your heart beat steadily. You started crying, your sobs intertwining with his panting. “Shhh, I’m here, I'm right here, baby…” It wasn’t long before his own choked sobs joined the symphony of grief and emotional release. “I’m here, I’m fine, we’re fine, we’re alive and- and-”

“I thought I lost you, precious. Each day was torture, you were my missing piece, you are my missing piece. Thank you - thank you for returning- for coming back to me,” he choked out thickly. “Oh lord, what have I done? You fought for your life every day and I- I fucking married Suma, Hina and Makio. Fuck-” 

You were weak to his words, to his warmth and his scent. You were weak to the way he hugged you, the way he gasped for breath and the way his tears made your yukata wet.

“You deserve better - a better husband. You deserve someone who would wait for you, not me- I- I don’t deserve you anymore; but fucking hell will I try again. Please, let me try again. I will spend the rest of my life on my knees in front of you if you just give me just this one chance-” Tengen nearly wailed into your chest, his voice trembling, devastated, as if a dam broke down and the flood of his emotions couldn’t be stopped, decimating barriers and safety measures against such a catastrophe. More tears soaked your yukata, his hands grasping at your clothes desperately, a drowning person clawing for air.

And you weren’t immune.

You cried right along with him, rocking you both back and forth underneath the slowly setting sun, the warm golden hue washing over you in a stark contrast to the turmoil between, around and inside of you two. 

As you reeled from the onslaught of pent-up emotions, you felt his chest heaving quicker and quicker, rapidly getting into the unhealthy pace, so familiar to you by now - he was hyperventilating. 

“Tengen, baby, look at me-” you rasped out, trying to get him to let go of his impossibly tight grip on you. You heard the sound of fabric tearing. “Baby, c’mon, look. at. me.” 

He wasn’t easing his strength. Fuck. 

You tugged at his ponytail, gently, then rougher, then as harsh as you dared, his headband slipping askew from it. “Tengen! Let go!”

He gasped for air, staring at you as if you were a saint or an angel stepped down from Heaven and a death god about to pull him to Hell all at once. His face was flushed, lashes dewy, cheeks puffy from crying. It was the most terrified, the most pathetic you've ever seen him.

But was he really pathetic? You were his wife, who left on a mission, who kept away for years and years, who hadn’t written a letter to him once, who wasn't with him when his last brother died, who just returned and wrecked his new life like a typhoon.

"Tengen, breathe."

Perhaps it was you who did not deserve to come back, to disrupt his new relationships and drive a wedge into a scabbed-over wound, making it bleed all over again. 

More of your tears fell as you attempted to smile, though it came out more like a grimace most likely. "Breathe slowly, mkay? I'm here. You can hear my heartbeat, can’t you? Match my breathing. Can you do that for me?"

His breathing gradually deepened and his eyes lost the hazy look.

"I'm Uzui [Name], your wife, we're at the house you bought with your money when we were fourteen. It's Friday, sundown. Are you with me, Tengen?" you asked softly.

Tengen blinked a few times, looking up at you. “[Name]...” Your hand was still clutching his hair tightly, the slight pain grounding him further. He wanted to say Please baby, take me back, hug me, kiss me, fuck me- “You can let go now,” he said instead. The yearning he felt for you was quickly buried underneath a thick blanket of shinobi training, analyzing the situation.

“Sorry.” As if burned, you quickly released him. 

You stared at each other for a long moment in silence, perhaps realizing the complexity of the situation you were in. You wanted to be back with him, and he wanted to be back with you, but you both perceived his new wives as a sort of betrayal, whether by infidelity or values you stood by.

For the first time, Tengen looked at you, really looked.

There were dark eye bags underneath your puffy eyes, betraying your lack of sleep, deep set stress lines marred your pretty face. There was a new scar at the corner of your lips, so small it almost went unnoticed. Your hair was much shorter than it used to be, but the disheveled state was caused by the wind, not necessarily by neglect. Though, he could pick up some not quite right strands, cut by an amateur hand. Would you let him fix it? Would you even let him get close with something sharp? Would you trust him? What had happened to you?

You were thinner, the colorful yukata hiding your figure only little to his observant eyes. He stared, analyzed and wondered - what else is that plain cotton yukata hiding?

What really went down in that God-forsaken mission?

You giggled nervously, as Tengen took his time to unwrap your clothes like a present. He had a joyful grin on his face, just as nervous yet better at hiding it. 

“Hey, hey, it’s not fair that only I am naked, you know?” Using a grappling move he himself taught you, you quickly reversed your positions, him laying down on the futon and you straddling his hips. He gave you a wide-eyed look, face flushed at your display of skill. His hands cradled your hips, his fingerless gloves scratching your skin slightly.

You gave him a quick peck on his lips and then focused on unraveling his top. As flashy as always, it was a complicated thing, making you grow frustrated quickly. With a growl, you reached into his thigh holster and took out a kunai, slashing his shirt open. 

“Hey! That’s my favorite!” he protested with a pout, not really mad. You were already kissing your way down his exposed chest, playfully biting at his nipple. His breath hitched.

“It was your favorite. I’m your new favorite now,” you grinned in triumph as he rolled his eyes, giving you a gentle slap on your ass. The material of his gloves gave you a slightly burning feeling as he caressed the quickly reddening spot.

You sat up in his lap and took his left hand in yours, quickly stripping him of his glove. His right hand was bare before you knew it, but something drew your attention. 

Tengen had a beauty mark near the pulse point. Guided by instinct or fate, your lips pressed against it, his heartbeat quickening beneath them. You made eye contact. His magenta eyes could have hearts in them; such a lovestruck look was novel on him. It warmed you from the inside that he let you so close to his vulnerable point - his wrist so breakable; his hand would have been useless if you just twisted with the right amount of pressure; if you decided to bite him and make him bleed out.

It was getting too serious for you, too deep. The entire moment was already making you feel too vulnerable, it being your first time. To break the moment, one of your hands went to his side to tickle him. Tengen noticed, and was quicker.

Both of you dissolved into a gasping laughing pair of teenagers, for once feeling your age.

The yukata he gave you was silk. Your calloused hands hadn’t felt such a material for a long time - years, in fact. The fabric had a pattern of a turtle-shell in golden hues of autumn intertwined with faded green and red details. You recognized it faintly, but couldn’t place where you saw it. 

Slipping it on felt like Heaven, like laying down into fluffy clouds if you could reach them - and you were so tired, you wanted to lay down in them. Yet you couldn’t, it was just the morning and your stomach grumbled in hunger, reminding you the last time you ate was yesterday morning.

The three new- other wives had left early in the morning. You heard their teary good-byes to Tengen from your room’s opened window, the mission they were being sent on apparently dangerous. Promises to write letters were exchanged, the women well-versed in what Tengen expected of them for such a task.

Return to me alive, in one piece. If your life is at risk, abandon the mission and come back home.

Was your disappearance the reason he cared for each as such?

You pondered on things past, present and future as you crept into the kitchen. Thankfully, every room remained as it used to be. The room you slept in was actually supposed to be your own lounge room, where Tengen would not enter, where you could keep your privacy and spend time alone. He had his own, or at least used to have one. With three other occupants, it was hard to guess if he kept it or gave it away to one of them.

There was a breakfast ready for you already, a lone spread for one at the head of the table. You stared at it and tried to imagine how it would look with all of them. Did Tengen sit at the head or did he sit in between his wives? Did they all sit differently each time? 

Could you handle being the fourth wife?

You didn’t know. The idea seemed unfathomable yesterday. 

You hid in your room the whole day after eating. The sun was setting slowly, creating a warm hue in your little burrow.

The dream you had had during the night brought a bone-deep ache for what was - what used to be. You felt exhausted from all the thinking; you were almost certain you could accept the new-wives situation, but it entirely depended on their attitude and personalities as well as Tengen’s approach to this whole scenario.

A knock interrupted the sound of silence you slowly came to enjoy that day. “[Name]?” came Tengen’s muffled voice. “Are you there?”

For a moment, you were tempted to remain silent, though you knew he knew you were in there. He could hear your hitched breath when he knocked, your heart beating, your clothes rustling.

In the end, you resisted and said, “Come in.” 

He opened the sliding door slowly, revealing his hunched over frame. It was surprising to see the normally confident man in such disposition, even despite the chaos of the past twenty four hours.

Tengen stood at the threshold of your space, not really looking at you, instead staring at your collarbone, which stood out sharper than it used to. “May I-?” He still asked for permission to enter. Your heart swelled with affection, nearly cracking in half from the overwhelming strength of your feelings.

“You may come in, yes,” you told him, sitting up on the futon you laid on before he came. “What brings you here?”

He took a hesitant step forward, then another and another until he knelt at your side a respectful distance away from you. “I want to- no, I need to know, what has happened to you?”

You freeze, breath stuttering at his question. Your hands clutched at the blanket covering your legs.

Tengen knew he hit a sensitive spot and he didn’t want to press you further but this was a matter of utmost importance to him - he had to know what happened to you so he could help you, fix the ache and make it right. It was for both - for you and for him.

“Show me, precious, please,” he whispered hoarsely. “Show me what’s hiding under your shield, under that yukata, please…” His voice broke as he bowed his head humbly.

Your head buzzed with thoughts, mental barriers rising and crumbling at the speed of light, incessant battle between hope and desolation. In the end, all you could do was empty your head, shove your emotions down to your stomach and show him all of yourself - let him be the judge and executioner of your future.

You slowly got up to your knees and loosened your obi with the resignation of a soldier walking to frontlines.

The yukata he gave you was silk. For the first time in a long time, sliding a cloth off your body didn’t send fire down your nerves from the pain. Inch by inch, familiar and unfamiliar parts of you were revealed to his intense stare.

You knew what he saw. Hideous scars and disfigured flesh. And compared to his new wives? You were nothing. It was a harsh reminder of the chasm of worth between you and the three.

The yukata slipped all the way down and you had the urge to cover yourself again.

“Oh, precious…”

Tengen’s voice sounded muffled to you as you focused on a wall decoration behind his form, your mind blocking out its stressor. There was a kakejiku, a hanging scroll, with a blood-red cherry tree and black flower petals. It sparked a memory deep in your mind, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. There were exactly eight roots but only one branch, and the inversion of the usual colors was so strange.

“-ious? Precious, please answer me-” 

You snapped out of it and exhaled, the sound closer to a death rattle than a breath. “What-?”

He was much closer than before, looking you in the eyes rather than staring at your body. His hands were outstretched as if he wanted to hold you but he wasn’t touching you. 

Your focus snapped back like a badly tied rope under pressure. Body. Scars. Mission. Tengen.

Tengen, Tengen, Tengen.

“Precious, please, tell me-”

The half-feral look in his eyes broke you, cracked you open. “I was stretched too thin… I didn’t know what-” You stopped yourself before you started spilling everything. Despite it being over, you couldn’t disclose what exactly happened, it was too ingrained inside of you - a kunoichi from birth. “I was losing my sight of the end… I wished for it to end, I wished to go home, to you.” 

“You’re home, I’m here. Please, let me in, precious. Please.”

“... I was losing my mind,” the admission was hushed. Even the nature outside seemed to quieten down for you. “I thought of ending it.”

‘-of ending myself’ went unspoken, but Tengen heard it, loud and clear. His heart thundered in his chest, drowning out all else than your breathing, your heartbeat.

“Can I touch you?”

You turned to him, staring at his hands as if they were knives. 

“Can I touch just your hands then?” The tremor of his voice betrayed the way he felt. He offered his own to you, palms up and relaxed, as if giving an offering to something divine, way more than you yourself were. “Please.”

Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, you reached out to him. You hovered your hands above his for a moment, watching to see if he would grab you. When he didn’t, you made contact. His body seemed to run much hotter than before, warming your cold skin. There were more calluses - different ones than before.

The feeling of his warm palms against yours sent shivers down your spine. You looked him in the eyes, both of you nearly holding your breath as the moment lingered.

His hands - so huge compared to yours - slid up your arms oh so slowly. His left hand encountered a jagged piece of flesh first. He froze. Taking a deep breath, Tengen shuffled to your right side. On the back of your shoulder reaching halfway down your arm was a burn scar, ugly and twisted, you knew. Phantom pain throbbed in the skin.

He leaned down. A feather light kiss was placed upon the start of the scar, then another an inch above it, his hot breath and soft lips making it feel better. There was nothing else you could focus on other than his gentle kisses being laid all over the rough flesh.

Every touch of his lips against your skin felt like absolution, like validation, like worship. But that couldn't be right - you deserved no absolution, no worship. You deserved to rot, you should have never come here, to him. You should have realized he'd have a life already, a new wife or three and- and-

His searing hot palms trailed over your shoulder blades, gentle, almost not there. You glanced over your shoulder; he’d closed his eyes, perhaps respecting your privacy despite touching you so intimately, reaching deep into the hurt of your body and soul, soothing you.

His touch brushed down your back, large palms encompassing the entirety of it as he went down, over your panties to-

His breath hitched. Your heart seemed to stop. His thumbs reached the first scar of your thighs, the first of many many many carved into your thighs and calves, each one deliberate, each as ugly as the previous, meant to hurt and humiliate. These were not battle scars. Only one thing could cause this.

You could still hear the cracks, loud like thunder and burning furrows into your skin, tearing the flesh asunder.

And then there was a kiss.

Your thighs quivered and gave out, arms colliding harshly with the ground, a shock of pain that made you cry out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. 

"[Name]!"

You fell over onto your forearms, cradling your head in your hands as you started to sob. The tatami dug into your skin, distracting you from the emotional turmoil. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine- This. Is. Nothing.” You panted and shivered but started to calm down bit by bit. 

Two warm hands were touching your hips lightly, a reassuring skin contact, not moving, just there.

“I’m fine now,” you breathed out shakily.

The hands trembled and the next kiss on your thigh was wet. His hot breath washed over your skin. You were suddenly too sensitive. 

His lips made contact with each scar, again and again he kissed away the memories and the pain. 

Wet droplets fell onto your calves, one by one, soothing over your heated skin. The sensation made your tears come faster, staining the tatami floors as you shook all over.

You could not believe how he made you feel so loved, cherished, with such a simple gesture as kissing your scars. Tengen, your husband, your one and only, the reason you came out of that mission alive and with your limbs intact.

“Pl-please-” You didn’t know what you were begging for but he gave it to you either way. His lips were more trailing over the skin than kissing by then, his tongue darting out to lick at the tears he left on your calves.

His palms moved up your body gently once he’d kissed the bone-deep ache away, rough palms so soft over your bottom, spine, shoulder blades - the burn scar - and only then did you notice he knelt at your side. You were still hunched over, blind to everything but your sense of touch and hearing his voice.

Tengen whispered, “Precious… Get up- for me? Please.”

Your limbs were shaky like a newborn foal as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position. Eyes teary, only a Tengen-shaped blob was clear to you. “‘m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You heard more than saw him kneel in front of you, his fingers gentle as he wiped away your tears. “Never apologize.” 

His own face was slightly puffy from crying, and wasn’t that an unflashy sight? The great shinobi Tengen, kneeling over your nearly naked form, jaw clenched, crying nearly as much as you, a wild look in his eyes, feral with grief.

You saw that look in his eyes once before, when his brothers…

His hands trembled when he cradled your cheeks, his breath shaky when he kissed your forehead. “You’re so brave, so strong… I’m glad you’re back, that you’re here, with me. I now realize this, before you came back… my world was in black and white. When I saw you on the street yesterday, it was as if you were the only thing in color. You brought color back into my life,” he admitted in a choked whisper. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Rain started to pelt the roof outside the room, distant thunder echoing faintly.

“I’ll always love you, scars and all. This is my promise, now and forever, precious, til death do us part.”

Your thoughts tangled in messy knots, your brain telling you one thing and Tengen telling you the other. You had no chance to even begin searching for the start or the end of the whole disarray that was your mindscape.

A long exhale from the man in front of you drew your attention. His gentle palms continued their journey down your body, caressing down your neck, chest, torso… 

Tengen stopped- stopped moving his hands, stopped breathing. Smooth flesh caught his notice, way too smooth. Wild eyes looked down. Bright red and shiny, half torn, half precise cut scar spanning the length of your stomach. His fingertips traced it softly, yet it still sent shockwaves of pain down your nerves. 

You flinched-

He made a sound of distress. 

- your mind bringing forth the memory before you could focus on anything else.

You realized what you had to do in that second. It couldn’t stay inside.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Your hand fumbled with the only kunai you kept poison-free and pointed it to the sluggishly bleeding wound, panting heavily. “It’s okay, it’s okay, [Name]. Your hands are the steadiest of the family. You skinned fugu fish for Tengen regularly. This is nothing.”

This is nothing.

The tip of the knife was buried deep underneath the skin.

This is nothing.

The kunai pressed into your belly and you made a quick and precise cut, widening the stab wound.

This is Nothing.

You dropped the kunai and the fingers of your dominant hand delved inside the opening.

This Is Nothing.

Tears fell down your cheeks at the nauseating and painful feeling, trying to focus on the feeling on your fingertips instead.

This Is NOTHING.

You found the shrapnel. It embedded itself into your finger as you pulled it out. 

THIS IS NOTHING.

You vomited.

“-ame]? [Name]! You’re with me, with Uzui Tengen. You’re in my- our estate. It’s night time, Saturday. [Name], can you hear me? Please, answer me, precious. I can’t- can’t-”

The mission madness receded, the fog in your mind clearing up. You were panting heavily, sweating as if you had a fever. “Ten- gen-”

“I’m here, I’m right here, precious. What did I do wrong? What did I do? Say the word and I’ll fix it- please-”

“S-stop-” you tried to focus on something other than his frantic energy. 

His hands, so warm, holding your waist lightly. His thumbs, so gentle, caressing the skin in circles. His scent, so home, calming you down.

Tengen’s presence tethered you back to Earth.

“Don’t talk,” you choked out. You had to focus. 

What could you see? Tengen, tatami mats, silk yukata, futon, the hanging scroll.

What could you hear? Your heavy breathing, rain, Tengen’s soft breaths, your pounding heart.

What could you feel? The cold air, the tatami mats, Tengen’s warmth.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed out softly. The tight downward spiral winding in your chest released slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In, and out.

“You don’t have to tell me anything- I’m so so sorry. What can I-? Is there anything I can-?”

You took his hands in yours and squeezed tightly twice. Are you okay? He squeezed back once. Yes.

“Breathe… I’m fine now.” His breathing cadence was very close to hyperventilating. Guilt crept up your spine. You’d brought the Great Shinobi Tengen, your husband, to his knees twice in just as many days. You should suffer for such a crime for Ten Thousand Years.

“You’re not fine, precious. You’re far from- But you’re here with me, I will make it be fine. Give me a chance-” 

The air was practically saturated with emotion, tension and everything between Hell and Heaven imaginable. You clutched each other’s hands with desperation. You kept eye contact - an uncontrollable typhoon holding its breath in anticipation, before it unleashed its full power.

He kissed you with the hunger of a starving dog. It was clear he was fighting with himself, alternating erratically between devouring you and feather-light kisses so tender it made your toes curl. He bit you and soothed the bite, he caressed you and lapped at you. It was dizzying.

You were just as thirsty for him though, positively parched for his kisses, his affection, his taste and his love. You savored every second of it, as if you would die should you separate but for a millisecond.

“I burn for you,” he breathed against your lips, diving in once more.

You remembered the times when he ate you out for his pleasure, how he nearly got off of it more than you did. But today, this time, you wouldn’t be able to handle such vulnerability, your emotions too raw from… whatever that was a few minutes ago - validation? Worship?

At the same time you needed him, needed the closeness sex brought to you both. And the same need drove you to break the kiss and push him onto his back as you straddled his hips. He let you, surrendering to you completely despite your feeble strength compared to his. You made quick work of his obi and pulled his yukata open.

An amused huff left you when you saw he had no underwear. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Tengen blushed in embarrassment. “Maybe…” he muttered.

You smirked a little, “Impossible man.”

“Your impossible man, always yours.” He gave you a soft look, a smile gracing his handsome features. His arms remained relaxed, not reaching to pull down your underwear at all, content to be the perfect pillow princess.

That was fine, you wanted to set the pace anyway. 

With a quick movement, your panties were off. You ground against his quickly-hardening member, your slick quickly covering him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he took a deep breath through his nose, eyes lidded. 

Before he could stop you, you were lining him up to your entrance, going right for his cock like an overly eager virgin. The stretch burned like nothing else. You had to take your time, bullying more and more with quick shallow thrusts onto him. You kept going despite the pain for if you stopped, you wouldn’t be able to continue.

“You’re doing amazing, precious,” he ground out, doing his best not to slam you down onto his length. It’s been too long for you, and really, he should have prepared you, but you were so impatient you couldn’t last a second longer without him inside. 

When you bottomed out, you sighed in relief, staying seated and cockwarming your husband for the first time in years. You hadn’t even noticed you started to weep quietly until Tengen’s thumbs wiped your tears away.

Something drew your attention though.

There was a small beauty mark near the heel of his right palm, right by his pulse point. Eyes focused on only that mark, your hand grasped his wrist gently and pulled it closer to your lips. You kissed the beauty mark, a feather-light brush of your lips, his heartbeat jumping at the action.

His eyes held yours prisoner when you looked up. The soft look he was giving you nearly made you tear up again, feeling too vulnerable. Instead of that, you rolled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate, his head fell back, mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ at the spasm of your muscles. The movement stirred your guts uncomfortably, telling you you weren’t adjusted to him filling you up again yet.

“Fuuuhck-” he groaned. His hands gripped your hips in a tight hold, almost bruising. Tengen seemed to have realized what he was doing a moment later and let up, just holding you gently. “Ngh- you’re making me crazy, love.”

His cock kept twitching inside of you, and it had to be hard to hold back on fucking up into you. Well, you guessed this would be his punishment for all the crying you did today. You already knew you’d have a headache tomorrow.

“Can I-” his hesitant words drew your attention to him again, “can I touch you, please?” Tengen was biting his lip, his eyes practically filled with desperation.

You paused - and nodded.

One of his hands trailed down to your clit, circling it with his thumb gently. By this point, your slick reached it, so the caresses were smooth and pleasurable. He stared at where the two of you connected intently as if he was trying to memorize the sight.

Each little brush of his finger, you relaxed around his length more and more and one slow touch in particular made your hips jerk from the sudden pleasure. Your breath hitched in your throat and you closed your eyes. 

“You were made for me,” Tengen murmured, not stopping his work. He had an urge, a need to worship you, to make you feel good, make you feel so good that you would never think of leaving him. You would never leave, you would stay right where you are, forever content to warm his cock inside your plush pussy, letting him be the sole reason for your life. He wanted that, craved it even - making you stay and be his wife again. But- “I don't deserve this, don't deserve you.” 

When your eyes finally opened again, they were filled with unshed tears. “I love you, I never stopped loving you,” you choked out. Saying those words felt like absolution. Previously unnoticed heavy weight fell off your shoulders and you reached for both of his hands - stopping his slow motions on your clit - with your own, intertwining them in an intimate hold.

“Then make me yours again, please, please take me. I need it, I need you,” he told you in a hushed whisper, a flush taking over his face as he studied your figure above him.

You reveled in his attention, savored it, starting a slow pace, using your connected hands for support. “Mhm~” The drag of his thick cock against your sensitive walls felt amazing. You’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to have him inside of you, how good it felt to be linked together like this - two pieces of puzzle completing the whole picture.

“There- chase your pleasure-” he whimpered as you rolled your hips every time you bottomed out, desperate for more friction. “Use me, my body, my cock, whatever you need, precious." 

You tried to find the right angle, the one that made you scream back when you were younger. “I’ve missed you so much-” your breath hitched in your throat when his tip hit just right inside of you and you closed your eyes. You let out a breathy Fuck when you repeated the action, your pussy spasming around him. Every sensation seemed heightened. You couldn’t get enough.

Now that you’ve hit your stride, your pace went from slow and sensual to quick and sloppy. Tengen offered all the support with his steady hands as you needed. The whole act was so familiar, yet new in so many ways. His breathing pattern was different while he was balls-deep in you; yours was too - your body was long ways from your top form when you were a teenager, but he seemed to be stronger than ever.

He appeared to be as lost in the pleasure as you were starting to be. “You look so beautiful- ngh- bouncing on my cock-!” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re so tight.”

His hips bucked up on accident, making you cry out. A coil was winding inside of you; you were balancing on the precipice of your first orgasm in what seemed like forever, sensitive to every small shift of your connected bodies. The anticipation of what was coming kept you going despite the burn in your thighs. 

Tengen’s hands clenched yours tighter. You peeked at him with half-lidded eyes, still chasing your release urgently. 

His mouth hung open, nearly drooling, chest heaving with soft pants; eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed, his entire expression as if he were in pain instead of rearranging your guts - as if he were the one who was getting his insides rearranged. A bright blush on his face was just a highlight of the whole picture.

The sight just hurled you closer to the edge with the speed of sound. Your pussy clung to his cock impossibly tight.

“Fuck- You’re close, I can feel it-” he said in a strained voice, almost wheezing. His eyes opened, tears falling from the intensity of his pleasure.

The thickly-wound knot snapped.

Your mouth fell open, agape. A loud stuttered moan echoed in the room, much more high-pitched than you thought yourself capable of. Tengen whimpered underneath you as you clutched his hands with a death-grip.

“There you go. You’re so beautiful…”

Your ears rang, his voice a muffled background noise. Your hips jerked involuntarily with another shock of pleasure, squeezing around him again. “Fu- precious - hah - you milk my cock just as good as I remember…”

You slowly came down from your high, drained. Your thighs trembled despite sitting your whole weight on his lap. Sweat ran down your back, your ribs and your hair stuck to your face yet you could care less when you looked your love in the eyes with a new clarity in your mind. 

He always made you feel amazing - in bed and out of it. You would give this new form of marriage a chance. Once the three wives returned from their mission, you would give them a chance. All this, just for Tengen.

“Can I…?” The question was hesitant, and your heart swelled with affection for this man, for your husband. He was so gentle with you, as if you would break like glass if handled improperly.

“Use me for your pleasure, Tengen,” you smiled warmly.

“Oh lord-” His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull when you gave him permission so sweetly.

He grabbed you by your waist, lifting you a little, pace sloppy and so wet each thrust came with a loud squelch as he fucked up into you roughly.

“I- won’t- last-” his thrusts stuttered very quickly in his frantic race to finish fast. Poor Tengen must have been about to cum when you had your release, yet he held back to not overwhelm you. “Fuck!”

“Don’t hold back, give it to me. Cum, Tengen.”

“Oh god- Yes. Yes-” The sound he emitted was an unholy guttural moan, his whole body shook, tears gathering at his lash line. He pressed harshly against your cervix, spurts of cum painting your inner walls white and filling you to the brim.

You caught your breath slowly. “There is no god up here…” 

Tengen grinned lazily at you and panted out, “... other than- Me. You- hah - you remembered.” 

He kept rutting into you with very slow thrusts, shallow yet so deep, as if he wanted to force more of his cum inside. His cock kept twitching and his thighs shook, the muscles of his abdomen jumping and rolling underneath his skin.

His semen leaked out around him mixed with your juices. Only when pleasure turned into pain of overstimulation did he stop. “You make me dizzy. You’ve always made me so dizzy…” He pulled you down to him, your head against his chest and his arms encircling you in a blanket of safety and warmth.

You melted in his embrace, breathing in his scent combined with yours. The smell of sex was heady, and would have sent you both into another quick rut before your mission. Neither of you moved though, you kept his cock and cum warm and he kept your body warm, a perfect harmony of two lovers.

“We should clean up soon,” Tengen whispered, making no move to get up.

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to stay here, in your arms…” Your words had a double meaning. Your husband was your soul’s mate, and as such, he picked up on both, understanding your meaning in between. 

“Then stay, don't go.” Instead of moving you, he reached for the blanket and threw it over both of you. “I’m so lucky I have you back… The luckiest… I feel like I could fly. You bring Heaven down to me, precious,” he murmured, stroking your back gently. 

The simple gesture brought back so many memories, though foggy as they may be. You decided that it wasn’t such a bad thing. You could look back once in a while, but you needed to go forward and rebuild what was broken. And you had the best helper for that - after all, who was stronger than the Great Shinobi Tengen.

“I love you, Uzui Tengen.”

The idea of a first wife coming home to three more has been living rent-free in my mind for months. I'm making it your problem.

There might be part 2 but only after my brain recuperates from this entire work.

Part 2

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.2 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: more fluff, more laughs, a little bit of insecurity from Miguel and reader, underage drinking (all of the characters are aged 18-20 so by USA standards, that's underaged. but college kids will be college kids. and so will high school graduates.), a mention of an edible like once, Hobie is here! (fr this time), Pavitr too, even more jealous Miguel, 18+ so MNDI, wet wet relations, fellatio, cunnilingus, Miguel is a munch (his fantasies are unraveling finally), cum play if you squint, partially public indecency???, I think that's it

word count: 9.3k, halfway proofread (I split it really weirdly so I apologize for that lol)

Some of the links used in this part are just to give you an idea of what's going on! Enjoy! 🩵

Prev (Part 9.1) | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who texts Tyler while you’re in the shower. 

Dad…Tyler:

“She really loved it. Thank you so much for helping me out with this, Dad.”

“Any time, son! I’m glad everything went well! I can have my people send over the video form of the animation if you would like.”

“Sure, I can have it on hand.”

“And I take it, you like the yacht?”

“It’s extremely nice! Captain Barrett is pretty cool.”

“Don’t tell him you said that or it’ll go to that funny mustache.”

“Ok 😭”

“I did have a question though.”

“Ask away.”

“What did Kron do to his other boat?”

“What didn’t he do to that boat? He had too many friends on that thing all with a mix of substances I could never dream of combining. Their parents had to come drag them out lest the police get involved. I’ve never helped Kron with any event or party since then. He hasn’t earned it and he embarrassed me greatly.”

“Would you be more comfortable if we held off on the drinks?”

“See son, the difference between you and Kron is that you understand the legal ramifications of doing something so idiotic as having illegal items on a property that isn’t yours as a minor. You also have integrity and respect, something that Kron has lost sight of. I trust that neither you nor your friends will do anything too drastic.”

“Yeah, there’s no crazy stuff happening this weekend.”

“I believe it.”

“Get back to your girlfriend now. Thank you for checking up on your old man. Tell her I said hello.”

“For sure. Good night.”

“Good night!”

GymRat!Miguel who opens his arms up to you as you come out of the bathroom. You hurried to lay in his arms, skin warm from your shower. 

You snuggle up under his chin, “Today was really fun.”

“Yeah?” he rubs your head slowly. 

“Mm hm. Now, we should sleep.”

A yawn racks through Miguel’s body, the day of driving settling in his bones. 

You keep your ear on his chest. The steady tempo of his heart and his breaths lulling you to sleep. 

GymRat!Miguel who is still asleep by the time you wake up. You both ended up at opposite ends of the giant bed with just your legs intertwining. 

You look over to Miguel and watch his chest rise and fall, his snores crescendoing at each breath. 

You lay your head back on the pillow, eyes tracing the shape of his face in this morning light. The water was calm, giving the boat a slight rock. Some seagulls flew by, their sounds fading in and out. 

You scoot closer to get a better look, your hand lightly following the line of his face. 

His eyes flutter open at your touch, a brown sea welcoming you. 

“G’morning,” his voice is terribly deep like this. The timbre shoots straight to your core. 

“Morning. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper. 

Miguel moves to lay his head on your chest, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine. The sight made me feel like I went to heaven.”

He pulled you closer by the waist, “Ten more minutes?”

“Rest up all you need, bear-bear.”

GymRat!Miguel who is just as excited as Gabriel when he gets to the deck that morning. The agenda was swimming with the dolphins before everyone else got here.

Miguel and Gabriel were practically buzzing in their matching wetsuits. Dana snuck in a video laughing at the twin looks on their faces. 

GymRat!Miguel who sneaks glances at your form on the way to the dolphin center. You’re leaning over the edge of the smaller boat, the wind against your face. The wetsuit was doing wonders for the curve of your figure. 

GymRat!Miguel who ends up going into a nerd session about dolphins with Gabriel. Both of them are spitting out dolphin facts at the speed of light. 

 “I just think that if you were to be any dolphin, it’s so obvious that you would be an orca.” 

“But why, though? Because I’m big? That’s a new low, even for you, Gabri.”

“No, it’s because you’re mixed, obviously. Killer whale aka orca aka dolphin. Duh, Miguelito.”

“Don’t ‘duh’ me because that doesn’t even make sense. Orcas are still classified as dolphins even though they look like whales.”

“Just like you-”

“I’m going to smack you off the side of this boat if you finish that sentence.”

“Resulting to violence just like a killer whale, what a shame.”

“You’re so annoying. Orcas are smart, they speak different languages based on their pod, and the name was actually ‘whale killers,’ not ‘killer whales.’ That would make me an orca, but I would not be one because I would never take care of my family but abandon my children.”

“A lot of male dolphins abandon their families. A lot of them hang out with the bros and come back.”

“Female dolphins can do the hard work of carrying babies from ten to eighteen months, so enlighten me, Gabri. What are the male dolphins doing with the bros?”

Gabriel squinted his eyes and put his finger up weakly, “This is a trick question.”

“No it’s not! Don’t you know the answer?” Miguel put his hands out, as if waiting for a physical object to be presented. 

“I do know the answer, which is why I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Well, now I want to know because you two nerds wouldn’t shut up about bottlenose dolphins just five minutes ago,” Dana scoffs as she takes off her shades, the morning sun too much for her. 

“That’s not the same energy you had last night when I-”

“No one wants to hear that.”

“Shut up, Miguel,” Gabriel snaps back. “They take care of other dolphin babies. And sometimes become friends with benefits with their homies.”

Dana makes a disgusted face, “And you’re defending that? Wow. So when I have your kid you’re going to leave me and go do fuck all with Pavitr?”

“No, Dana, I would never do that! We discussed this! Miguel is going to study seahorses, make me a safe mutation, and I’ll carry them for you!”

“I don’t even study genetics so I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“So you wouldn’t carry her babies?” Gabriel gestures towards you in a panic. 

Miguel looks towards you at the front of the boat, watching the water go by. 

He thought of you as a mom, carrying his kid, holding their hand in the park, picking decor for the nursery. 

He thought of you under him, taking everything he could give you and more. You screaming his name as the bed creaks loud enough to fill the hallway. 

“I would, but that’s not the question right now.”

“Why did it take you so long to answer that?” Gabriel’s tone was high. 

“Oh my god, he was thinking of getting her pregnant,” Dana says in horror. 

“Oh, so I have to listen to your escapades, but I can’t even daydream in silence?”

GymRat!Miguel who listens intently to the staff. No harm shall come to any dolphin on his behalf.  

GymRat!Miguel who makes friends with one of the cute dolphins. Her name is Dotty because of the few spots she has on her body. 

She immediately gravitates towards Miguel. Her blowhole squeals constantly whenever Miguel talks to her. 

“Well I think Dotty is in love!” the instructor yells from across the enclosed water. 

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at Dana who keeps getting splashed on by the baby dolphins. 

GymRat!Miguel who looks so cute with his nose touching Dotty’s rostrum. They’re spinning in circles with Dotty clicking away like a cat purring. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you interact with one of the bigger dolphins whose name is Mon. 

“Mon and Dotty are a couple, but he’s a little sad today because Dotty isn't giving him any attention,” the instructor says with a giant pout on her face. 

Even Mon’s clicks sounded sad and Miguel didn’t know how that was possible. 

Mon places his chin on your shoulder and you’re immediately in love, rubbing his body and consoling him and his broken heart. 

“It’s ok, Mon. You can hang out with me,” you say in a sweet voice. Mon’s fins squeezed you even tighter. 

A sweater, some random guys, Dana, Blake, and now a dolphin. Miguel can’t win. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches Mon click and spin happily when you feed him fish for doing a trick. 

“That was so good, Monie!” you pat his head, and he leans into your hands. 

GymRat!Miguel who thinks Dotty and Mon are a bit like you and him. They’re twirling in the water together, rubbing their bodies close. 

GymRat!Miguel who sits with you on the boat ride back, watching the dolphins race with the boat halfway to the yacht.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyebrows raise when he sees one of your friends as you guys step off the boat. 

“Hobie!” you squeal, running to hug the lanky figure. 

“My girl! How have you been, love?” he asks, a deep London accent lining his words. 

Love?

“I’m so happy you made it! How’s the apprenticeship? Any new techniques to share?”

“A lot more than techniques, if you know what I mean?” Hobie leaned on you as he snickered away. 

Miguel might pop a fuse. 

GymRat!Miguel who lingers by as you chat away with Hobie. The two of you are catching up for a while and Miguel wants to walk back to the room with you so you can help him take off this tight wetsuit. 

He’s lightly kicking at a puddle with his arms crossed when you call his name. 

“This is my boyfriend, Miguel,” you say, coming up to him and wrapping an arm around his.

“He’s a big one, innit?” Hobie says, holding his hand out. “Hobie Brown.”

Miguel shook it with a sturdy hand, “Miguel O’Hara. Nice to meet you.”

“How long have you known this firecracker for?” Hobie gestured to you with a smile.

“It’ll be a year once August hits. The best ten months of my life, honestly,” Miguel says, leaning down to kiss your temple. 

“She’s got you wrapped ‘round her finger, yeah?” Hobie smirked at the love drunk look on Miguel’s face. “Yeah, you’re a goner. That’s just how she is. One encounter and it’s hard to let go.”

Hobie went to pick up his one backpack, a master at light travel from how much he’s moving. 

“Don’t let me stop yous two from partying. See ya in an hour, love,” Hobie said walking away. 

You look up at Miguel, “The best ten months?”

“Yep. Love?”

“It’s a British thing. He’s friendly!”

“Hm.”

“And definitely demisexual.”

“Hmph.”

“You’re very territorial.”

“For good reason.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to the boardwalk after he’s changed to greet their friends and guide them to the yacht. 

There’s a lot of you, especially from Gabriel and Dana’s graduating class. Miguel greets everyone warmly. 

It feels good to unite his old friends and newer friends together.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a plan to be the best at every activity on the agenda today. Yeah, he wanted to have fun, but for some reason, he felt like he had something to prove.

He walks back out to the top deck to see Hobie laying out on the flat slats under the shade. His arms are crossed and his shades are hiding his full expression. 

From here, Miguel can hear Blake chatting it up with some of the girls that are hanging out near the on-deck pool. He looks over the edge and sees him grinning from ear to ear as the girls giggle. He clicks his teeth at the scene. 

“Big Migs, c’mere for a sec, will ya?” Hobie said.

“He’s a bit chatty, that one. An overachiever if I’ve ever seen it.”

On second thought, Miguel might like Hobie a lot.

“All morning, he’s been spitting nothing but rubbish. Going on and on about the boat and the city and his socials. Nothing of substance, just straight air.”

Miguel snickered, “It feels like that’s all he’s got going for himself. His daddy’s boat, his daddy’s money, and his face.”

Miguel recounts the events from last afternoon. How he lacked respect for not only him but for you and your personal space. 

“Not gonna lie, I’d smash his head in,” Hobie replied calmly.

Miguel let out a hearty laugh, “I wanted to and honestly, I could, but there are several circumstances stopping me. Such as the fact that we’re on his dad’s property.”

“But deep it, when’s the next time you’ll need to be on this thing?”

Miguel is about to respond in agreement when you round the corner from the stairs. 

“There you two are!”

You smile at the two of them, “Are you guys getting along? Has Hobie convinced you to join him on some scheme across the country?”

Miguel took a deep breath before responding. He knew what outfits you brought with you, a lot of them matched his own, but it was still like new whenever you put them on. 

He didn’t have enough time in the world to cherish your beauty. 

“They’re not schemes, baby, they’re elaborate plans,” Miguel responds.

“Man like, Migs!” Hobie hops up and drags his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. 

You shake your head with a warm smile on your face, laughing at Hobie’s antics.

“And you look stunning. Though, I’m not too sure if it’s fit for hoverboarding.”

“That’s because I’m jet skiing and shaking ass, Hobie. You guys can have fun flipping in the air.”

“Right on, then. Migs and I have important business to attend to.”

Miguel nods, “Extremely important.”

You eyed them both, “Uh huh.” They left in a controlled frenzy, Hobie pulling his wicks up with a giant band and Miguel cracking his neck.

You didn’t even want to know. 

GymRat!Miguel who is a bit peeved that Blake has to give the water hoverboard demonstration. He’s staying up there longer than necessary, grabbing girls to balance them in the middle of his board while he flips them around.

You’re standing next to Miguel during it all, waiting for Miguel’s turn so you can get a video.

“Hey!” Blake yells out in your direction. “Wanna take it for a spin?”

You shake your head and yell back, “No, I’m good!”

“Just three minutes! Don’t be scared! I won’t drop you.”

“No thanks,” you bite back, voice irritated. 

Blake smiles with a hand on his hip, ready to convince you, when Hobie pipes up, “The lady said no. Can we move on?”

Blake’s face cracked a bit as he told one of the crew members to kill the power in the waterboard. 

“What is up with him?” you mumble to yourself. 

“I think he likes you,” Pavitr remarked. “He wouldn’t stop asking Gabriel questions about you.”

“He’s really pushing it,” Miguel scoffed. Not only was he being overly flirty to every girl on board, he was adamant about getting your attention. “No wonder he gets along with Kron.”

You sported a twisted lip as you watched him strap up one of Gabriel’s friends. “I don’t know. Even if I was single, he’s a bit too…tiny. Communal.”

The laugh that left Miguel wiped the scowl right off of his face.

GymRat!Miguel who gets the hang of the hoverboard after one try. You’re recording him with a big smile on your face as he tries to spell “love” in the air. 

GymRat!Miguel who dies laughing at Gabriel’s horrible attempts at staying in the air. His body keeps shaking like a baby deer and he’s steady yelling in garbled Spanish. 

By the time his turn is over, Miguel is laid out on the boardwalk with tears down his face.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Miguel,” Gabriel cries out.

Miguel just rolls and laughs some more. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you expertly drive a jet ski from the edge of the yacht. You’re shouting with one arm in the air as you race Dana and some of her friends. 

Miguel leans his head on his hand as he watches you zoom across the ocean. Your skin is glowing, your smile is sparkling, and your laugh is bright. 

GymRat!Miguel whose bubble of thoughts involving you, him, the water, some fruit, and a floatie is popped when Blake’s voice pierces through. 

“She’s pretty good at that.”

“Yep.” Maybe if Miguel ignored him enough, he’d go away.

“Looks like a dream, too.”

“Are you dumb or something?” Miguel turns his body, gripping the rail to not get in Blake’s face, but extending his height to cower over him.

“Woah,” Blake holds his hands up. “It was a compliment, dude, chill out. You’re not mad at me for finding her beautiful, are you?”

“That’s not what the fuck you’re doing and you know it.”

Blake makes a confused face, laughing off Miguel’s statement, “Kron said you guys were open.”

“Does it look like we’re fucking open?”

“Well, at first-”

“Keep talking and you’ll end up just like him. Knocked out. Do you want that?” Miguel edged closer to him. “Huh?”

Blake bristles, ready to defend himself when his head is knocked to the side. 

He looks next to him to see a gaggle of girls all with waterballoons and nerf guns. They yell at him to come on and pick a side. 

Blake scrambles to join them.

Miguel is about to follow when Hobie sweeps in front of him, “Cool it.”

GymRat!Miguel who almost takes an edible from Hobie but decides against it. 

“The offer is open all weekend.”

“Noted.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets roped into playing some games to start off the night, one of which is Never Have I Ever with shots. 

It started off innocently with things like peeing in a pool and cheating on a test to which everyone looked in shock at Miguel when he put a finger down. 

“I’m smart but if there’s a group effort to get the right answers, I’m not going to say no.”

Then it went left field and personal with things like threesomes, drunkenly fighting with others, and streaking. 

“Never have I ever…received head from a partner!”

A few of the guys put a finger down, groaning out and snickering as they had to take another shot. 

Miguel was trying not to dwell on how many experiences he lacked compared to the group, a lot of them younger than him. 

He rubbed his tongue across his teeth. He didn’t want to show his irritation on his face. 

Looking across the circle, he could see Gabriel’s eyes get wide, staring off beside you. 

Miguel followed his line of sight landing on you with a finger down and a shot in your hand. 

What the fuck. 

Who the fuck beat him to it? Where the fuck did it happen? When the fuck did it happen? How the fuck did he not know?

He’s ready for the game to be over. 

“Miguel is putting in work!” one guy pushes his elbow against Miguel’s side, laughing and patting his shoulders. 

Well, if people think he did it, it’s not so bad. 

“Oh my god, girl, how was it?” Dana’s friend asked you. 

Miguel tried his best not to scream bloody murder. 

“It was,” you pause, looking up to ponder. “It was something! Not particularly fun or good. My ex wasn’t the best at listening so he just poked at me. I faked everything that night.”

Miguel smirked. There were no big shoes to fill because they were never taken out of the box. Or even out of the store. 

“That sucks. I bet he thought you were in heaven.”

You laugh with the girls, joking in a way similar to the women that flooded Miguel’s for-you page. 

Miguel stepped away to get a breather. If he stayed any longer, he might do something drastic. 

GymRat!Miguel who is leaning on the boat when Gabriel comes to check up on him. 

“You ok, Miguelito?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. A little overwhelmed so I need to reset,” Miguel wrung his wrists while he let the sea breeze cool him down. 

“Is it the game? Don’t feel so bad,” Gabriel leans closer to Miguel and speaks in a stage whisper. “Some of them are a little too fast for their own good.”

Miguel snickered. Gabriel was definitely tipsy. 

“Thanks, Gabri.”

“Anytime. Don’t let them bring you down. You’re my perfect Miguelito. My pure baby!” Gabriel kissed him on the cheek.

“Ugh,” Miguel laughed and wiped at his wet cheek.

“Don’t wipe away at my love, broski.”

GymRat!Miguel who is guided by you in a dance. You’re a little tipsy and giggly, holding onto him as you dance to the music. 

Miguel just holds onto your hips and smiles with you. 

GymRat!Miguel who is locked in on your body as you grind against him. You’re arching your back and looking at him with a sparkle in your eye and Miguel feels like a wild animal.

When you lean back against him, he whispers in your ear about a private party just for the two of you. You bite your lip and turn to look at him. His eyes are tracing your lips and his hands are groping you. 

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at you as you wish everyone a good night quickly.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning!” you shout to your friends as you pull Miguel behind you to the room.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you on the bed while you use the bathroom. 

He’s excited for an intimate night with just you. Parties were fun but it really couldn’t beat the serenity of smaller groups. It especially couldn’t beat talking all night with you. 

Everyone else was chilling out in other parts of the yacht, back in their hotel rooms, or night paddle boarding. 

You’re in the bathroom staring at the thin fabric in your hand. 

Miguel told you that there was a pool involved. 

You bought a micro bikini during a surge of confidence. It looked so cute on the model and you wanted to feel the same way. 

Now you’re standing in the bathroom freaking out, worried to death over the flimsy material. You were excited about Miguel seeing it, but you couldn’t shake your own nerves about how everything would play out. 

A knock at the door makes you jump.

You crack the door and peer up at Miguel. 

“You ok in there?” he asked, eyebrows pinched. 

“Yeah, I’m ok! I’ll be out in just a sec!”

You bite the bullet and place the bikini on. 

You didn’t account for your areolas to poke out beyond the triangles. You bit your lip as you turned to check out your backside.

At least your ass looked great. 

In a nervous motion, you pull your coverup over you and pull your hair up so that it doesn’t get too ruined by the water. It was now or never. 

GymRat!Miguel who holds your hand as he guides you to the private area. You’re squeezing his hand so tight. 

One of the stewardesses smiles as she sees you two coming. She stands next to a rope cutting off the area. 

“Good evening to you both! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay so far,” her voice is polite and even. “Tonight, it’ll be just you two enjoying the Galaxy. If you need anything, just press the call button on the wall and I’ll be right down.”

She unlatches the rope and holds her arm out in the direction of the stairs.

You both slowly descend, careful not to slip on the trippy-looking wood. 

Taking a step into the room, Miguel stares in awe at the glowing pool. 

There’s petals fluttering about, small fairy lights surround the corners to add extra light. Looking up, you both can see the night sky with the stars adorning it. 

“This is beautiful,” you say, the lights surrounding you glittering in your eyes. 

You were staring at the stars and the lights but Miguel couldn’t help but to think that you were the most beautiful part of the room. 

He said this much to you, watching as you bent your head down hiding the smile on your face. Miguel lifted it back up and kissed you under the light of the stars. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah, let me just go take this off.” 

You walk towards a chair with folded towels placed on it. 

“Miguel, these have our names on them!” you say with shock, running your fingers over the embroidered letters. Hearts surrounded the names and you felt fuzzy from the implication of the stewardess preparing this. 

“Yeah, I heard it was a part of the couple’s bundle,” he shouts from the pool. It wasn’t really a part of the bundle, but Miguel suggested it way before the trip. 

His back was turned to you, trying to set up a speaker by the pool. 

The moment was perfect, so you opened a champagne bottle and poured two glasses. You took a huge gulp of one and removed your slip. 

GymRat!Miguel who hears you entering the water, so he hurries to pick out a song. 

The mood needs to be right. 

He turns to you and nearly drowns at the sight. (Art is not affiliated with this fic, but I couldn't find any plus-size women in real life on Pinterest with this type of bikini! Please give this artist some love, I love their art!)

You’re coming down the stairs with two glasses in your hand and your skin on full display. The strings are digging tight into your skin and your breasts are practically spilling out from every side. 

Miguel is stunned.

“Come grab your drink, Miguel,” your voice is like butter in his ears. 

His eyes don’t leave you as he swims across the pool. The only sounds that could be heard are the water moving around him and the music playing. When he gets closer, he stands up, water dripping down his body. He’s breathing hard and is laser-focused on your frame. 

You feel an array of emotions. You feel like running, jumping, maybe hiding. His gaze is too heavy and he hasn’t spoken a word yet. 

You don’t know how long you two stare at each other before Miguel breaks the tension, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He takes the glasses from your hand with one hand and picks you up in the other. You cling to him as he goes to the edge of the pool, places one glass down and chugs the other. 

In a flash, you’re sitting on the edge and he’s holding his body out of the water in order to kiss you. 

He pushes your mouth open, pulling at your lip with his teeth. He was desperate, wanting more. 

Your hands find your way to his hair, the tips wet from his swim. You card your fingers through his locks, opening your mouth wider as Miguel groans onto your tongue. 

He can’t stop, body moving forward the deeper the kisses get. Your legs open wider and your hands fall down Miguel’s back. You go lower than usual, pushing your hands under his swimsuit, fingertips grazing over the skin of his ass. 

Miguel parts, spit-ridden mouth red and messy. 

“You’re making this so hard for me,” he says against your lips. You’re both panting into each other’s mouths. 

Your body feels like jelly. The way that he’s looking at you fills you with desire, “Making what hard?” You’re quivering and clenching as his eyes seem to get darker. 

“Baby,” Miguel kisses the corner of your lips then your jaw. He moves to where your jaw and neck connect, licking  “Amor. I can’t.”

You move your head, encouraging him to continue, “You can if you want to.”

“No, I’m supposed to take this slow,” his mouth moved to your collarbone, sucking at the skin as you squeezed your thighs around him. “I need to take this slow.”

He gets to your breasts, pressing your nipples through the material and watching as your areolas poked out more. “Mierda.”

You try to talk as Miguel takes one breast into his mouth, “It’s ok to want more. I want, ugh, I want you to take more.” He pulls at your nipple, watching as it rises more through the fabric. His thumb traces it, causing you to twitch in his hold. 

He continues to rub over the fabric as he kisses down your stomach. The string is wrapping around your stomach like a gift just for him. 

“Tomorrow, baby,” he says into your skin. “I’ll take more tomorrow.”

He needed to stop before he broke the promise he made to himself. 

He hears you whine as he gets eerily close to your sex before jerking his body straight. 

“Why?” you sound so needy and broken. 

“Because,” he kisses your pout away. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take all I need. You just need to trust me. Please.”

You nod your head, heart pounding with his words. 

GymRat!Miguel who lets you persuade him into swapping places. All it took was a few blinks of your eyes and Miguel was swooning.

“I saw you walk away during the game today. I wanted to make sure that the next time you play, you’re able to put a finger down.”

That’s what you told him with a sweet smile on your face.

Now you’re rubbing up his thighs and Miguel is about to pass out from the view of you peering up at him. Your eyes were foggy and the slope of your neck to your chest was glistening. From this angle, Miguel could see the curve of your ass with the bikini barely covering it.

You run your hands down his chest, fingers dancing along the slopes and planes, leaving a wet trail in your wake. Miguel’s stomach tightens as you make it below his belly button, the sensation of your fingertips across his happy trail building a fury in his core.

You kiss him through his swimsuit causing him to jump.

You hold his thighs and tilt your head to lean on one, “Are you nervous, Miggy?” Your knuckles rake against his groin, lingering in spots that made his inner thighs clench the most.

“I,” Miguel is trembling like a leaf. He can barely get the words out from how much energy he's using to hold himself up. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You lift your body from the water a little, pressing your tits closer to his clothed sex. “Baby, I need you to know. I can’t go further without your permission.”

Miguel feels like he could cum right now.

“I’m really nervous, but I want to experience this.”

You hum as you start to pull at his waistband. His eyes scrunch closed as his dick springs up. 

You’re met with a sight you had missed. The size is still as intimidating as the last time. 

You rub his thighs and give yourself a quiet pep talk. You were determined to make your boyfriend feel good. 

Miguel looks back down at you and swallows dryly, anxious at the look in your eyes and your silence, “If it’s too much, w-we can stop here-”

“No.”

The first lick of his tip has Miguel rising off of the pool edge, pre-cum escaping him.

He whines, embarrassed at his lack of control, but his dick is twitching from the sensation.

“Miguel,” your hands are back on his hips at a flimsy attempt to hold him down. “You need to be careful, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby right now.” Miguel’s voice is winded like he’s been running a marathon.

You look up at him. His mouth is twisted up and his eyebrows are furrowed. His stomach keeps shaking and his elbows don’t know if they want to bend or extend. When he looks down at you, he lets out a whimper, dick jerking against his will.

You hold your lips right above the head, the heat of it making you excited, “Baby.”

Miguel jerks again as you take his tip into your mouth, more of his pre-cum slipping out. His body is wound tight and he’s losing sense of it. Your mouth is so warm and he’s crying out from just you suckling along the head. He would be grateful with just this alone.

You push yourself lower, mouth adjusting to the widening girth. You don’t know if it’s the champagne combined with the other drinks you’ve had today, but the taste is making your mind fuzzy. 

You hum as you move your tongue along the underside of his length, his essence melting into your mouth. Miguel continues to twitch against your lips. 

You look up and he just groans when his eyes connect with yours. 

“P-pretty,” he stutters out, brain-to-mouth filter completely disintegrating. One of his arms covers his mouth as he fights to quiet down. There’s no telling what the stewardess could hear from above. 

You decided to go deeper, wanting to hear him some more. You make it halfway down before you grip his shaft and give it a few semi-dry pumps. 

Miguel just about shouts at the sensation, legs jerking enough to splash the water around you. 

Satisfied with the reaction, you release him with a pop and slide your tongue down to the base, trying to get him as wet as possible for what you’re about to attempt to do. You pucker your lips to leave wet kisses all over his shaft, sucking occasionally. 

All Miguel can do is whimper and shake. 

You hold him, sliding your hand up and down, applying pressure whenever you glide over the top, “You can hold on to me.”

Miguel shakes his head and releases his bottom lip from his teeth to speak, but his words are jumbled up in a heated mess. 

“Say it again, Miguel. I don’t understand,” you bring your mouth to the head again, this time, cupping his balls as you slide back down. 

Early spurts of cum land in your mouth as Miguel uselessly grips at the flat ground. He’s moaning out your name and if you weren’t sliding him down your throat, you would think he’s crying for you. 

“I-I don’t wanna hurt you,” Miguel takes heavy breaths in the middle of his sentence. 

Even like this he was oh so sweet. You don’t push it and continue on. 

As you reach the hilt, you force yourself to relax, thumb pressed against your fisted palm. He was heavy on your tongue and you needed to find the right pace. 

You slowly move your head up and down, lips wet with spit and slick. You build a steady tempo that has Miguel involuntarily moving his hips and moaning in a senseless manner. 

He was conflicted, core heated at the sound of your throat barely taking him, but wanting to pull you off so you don’t choke all because of him. Hot tears ran down his face as you didn’t let up. 

He chooses the latter, foggy mind coming to a decision. His shaky hands reach towards your face, your cheeks hallowed and eyes closed. His hands make it to your cheeks when you reach the hilt again and swallow around his head. 

Miguel scares himself with the moan he lets out. 

You panic as you swallow his load, mouth completely full. 

Miguel hurries to pull you off, “Shit! Baby, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok,” you cough as you try to catch your breath. Drips of him that you didn’t swallow falling to your chest. “I wish you would have told me you were about cum, though.”

“I didn’t know!” he’s red in the face. “God, I’m so sorry!”

“Was it good, though?” You look up at him with lips and sparkling eyes. You’re holding your tits up so that his cum wouldn’t get in the pool. 

Miguel’s dick twitches like it’s trying to wake back up again. You notice it and a grin plants itself right onto your face. 

“Do you really have to ask me that?”

“Yes, Miggy.”

“I think my embarrassing finish was enough but yes, you made me feel good. It was way more than good. Now come out of the pool before you get any more ideas.”

“It wasn’t embarrassing!” you reply as Miguel picks you up from the water and on his stomach while lays back. “‘Was kinda hot. You felt so good that you couldn’t wait.”

You slide your finger over your cleavage to pick up the leftover essence and plop right in your mouth. 

Miguel grips your thighs as he looks up at you, “No, stop that, you vixen.”

You’re going to be the death of him for sure. 

GymRat!Miguel whose legs are like jelly when you help him up from the ground. His thighs haven’t shaken this much since his first leg day almost five years ago. 

“Do you need to lie down on the beach chair for a minute?” you ask with genuine concern. 

“Yeah, I think I need a second,” Miguel says, trying his best not to put his entire weight onto you. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you watch him from the pool. You’re at the edge, leaning over and smiling at him while you let your body float. 

“Next time, I want to get, like, really hoarse. We should work on your resistance and my tolerance. Oh! And maybe we can do that thing where I hold your-”

“Amor, please. Let’s talk about this when I’m not halfway dying,” Miguel groans, dick half hard. “How are you so good at this anyway?”

“Practice! With my ex and like one other fling. They weren’t nearly as responsive as you, though.”

Miguel squints at your figure. 

“Or fun. Or satisfying. Or tasty. Or big. Can I do it one more time, Miggy?”

Miguel stares at you for a minute or two then groans, “Come on.”

You leave the water and walk over to him with glee. 

GymRat!Miguel who grabs lightly onto your head this time, fingers twitching occasionally. His legs are parted and you’re laid out on the horizontal part of the beach chair. Miguel is constantly looking from your face to your ass, experiencing a sensation overload. You take it easy on him this time, saving some of your tricks and things you wanted to try for a later date. 

The room is filled once again with Miguel’s grunts and whimpers plus your mouth and throat molding unto him. 

GymRat!Miguel who warns you this time. You let go with a pop and let him paint your open mouth. He shudders as you look at him through it all, pumping him slowly until he can't take anymore. A lonely tear escaped him, eyes heavy and chest heaving. 

GymRat!Miguel who barely makes it back up the stairs. He gives the stewardess a polite smile but you can barely look at her for longer than a second. 

“It was really lovely,” you say leaning into Miguel’s side, voice a little gone. 

“Yeah, amazing,” Miguel snickers. You nudge him at the back of his leg causing him to stagger a bit. 

The stewardess just laughs and wishes you both a good night. 

GymRat!Miguel who sleeps like a log that night. His soul needed to rejuvenate. 

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up a new man. He feels like he can conquer the world. As of now, the world is a new set of water activities with their friends. 

He kisses you on the cheek in your sleeping state makes his way out to the deck, wanting to do some morning stretches and yoga if he could fit it in. 

He walked out to see Dana talking to Blake, an indifferent look on her face.

“I just can’t believe he would lie to me like that, you know? Like that’s fucked up. Here I was, ready to get something and he set me up.” 

“Yeah, no. That really sucks,” Dana replies with a big yawn.

“I mean, I thought we were bros. I thought-”

“Miguel! My knight in shining armor,” Dana practically screams when she spots Miguel.

Blake tenses up so that if he mimics a timid raccoon. 

“Morning,” Miguel walks up to them.

Blake breaks out into a sweat, “Hey man, I’m sorry about last night. I would have never done that stuff if I knew. I don’t know why Kron told me you guys were open.”

“I think you need some new friends and better social cues,” Miguel brushed Blake off and walked with Dana onto the boardwalk. 

“Thank god you got here. That was his fourth iteration of ‘bro code should be respected.’ I was going to start screaming if he kept talking.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Dana guide him in a mini yoga class on the beach. It’s pretty nice with the waves crashing and the birds squawking occasionally.

GymRat!Miguel whose downward dog pose is almost disrupted by you whistling from a spot in the sand. 

You and Gabriel had snuck up on Miguel and Dana, cackling like hyenas.

“Baby, I think you can go deeper,” you shout over the waves, encouraging Miguel to stretch.

“Gross,” Gabriel shudders. 

GymRat!Miguel who wants to use you for a flying pose but you refuse. 

“I’m not walking back with sand up my back.”

“Can we try it later, though?” Miguel pouted. 

“On safe carpet, yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who settles for a forward fold with you. You stretch your body across his back as he reaches down to touch his toes. 

It’s nice until you both switch positions. 

“I think I’m dying,” you gasp out. You sound like an old man on his last breath. 

“No, you’re not. You just need more practice,” Miguel chides from above. 

“When will I ever need this pose in life?”

“Flexibility is good for you!” Miguel replies after a while. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

GymRat!Miguel who tilts his head at your breakfast plate piled with pineapples. 

“You don’t want an omelet?”

“Maybe later.”

GymRat!Miguel who joined any group activity he could. 

From the inflatable water obstacle course,  

which Gabriel cheated on by the way,

To the boat tour, he got so many pictures for you for his rotating home screen,

To the banana boat rides that he almost lost his life on. It took you, Gabriel, and Dana to hold onto him. 

GymRat!Miguel who surprises you with a “rooftop” dinner on the horizon on the highest part of the yacht. You’re wearing that same green dress that made him go crazy in the dressing room. 

“This is so gorgeous, Miguel,” you sigh as you take in the small scene. 

From up here, you could see the breathtaking view of the ocean and the city. The sun was close to setting, people were out and about, and the group was partaking in last-minute activities like parasailing and water walking with bubble balls but you could only focus on the glow around Miguel. 

“Did you enjoy this weekend?”

You nod your head, shy with attention, “I really did. I had so much fun.”

“Even with boys that don’t understand the word ‘no’?”

“When I have my strong boyfriend there to defend me, what is there to be afraid of?” you smile at him. 

Miguel sits up straighter at that, chest puffing out.

You laugh at his state, “Seriously, though. This was one of the best summers ever. I’m really glad Mr. Stone arranged this and I’m even more glad that you brought me along.”

“Of course I did. You’re my girl. Mi amor, mi luz,” Miguel reached out to run your hand. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Like a flower unfurled, your heart took in his words. You leaned across the table until you could brush your lips with his, only the sun peeking through the two of you. 

You let go and lean back a little. “I’m not letting go of you either. I want you by my side,” you say, eyes panning back and forth between his.

“And that’s where I’ll stay.”

GymRat!Miguel who covers your eyes on the way back to the room.

You’re whining because you don’t have nearly as much planned for him as he always does for you. 

“Amor, you could just text me an emoji and I would be happy. You deserve good things. Don’t worry about me.”

GymRat!Miguel who wraps his arm around you as you open your eyes to the room. 

It’s lit with soft lights, decorated lightly with rose petals in the shape of a heart on the ground, and a banner full of pictures with the two of you. Pictures from outside of lab, pictures of you with oil paint on your face, pictures of him piled with notes in the study lab. 

Pictures of you both on your early dates, pictures of you looking at him in the car, pictures where he’s kissing your face off. 

You gasp at the scene, feet stuck in the entryway.

“Surprise,” Miguel says into your ear, kissing the top of it.

“I don’t think I have any tears left,” your voice is watery enough to dispute that lie.

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you deeply in the middle of the rose heart. You’re cradling his face with one hand and rubbing your thumb across his sideburn with another.

You’re so wrapped up in his arms and his presence that you miss his question.

“Can you do what?”

Miguel’s hands find their way to your ass, pulling you even closer, “Can I please eat you out?”

When you stare at him with your eyebrows raised, it only pushes him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I’ve dreamed about it, researched how to do it, studied it, daydreamed about it. I need to do it before I go crazy.”

He bent down to get on his knees, hands never letting go of your body.

“Please, baby. If you’ll allow me, I really want to make you feel good.”

At first, all you could think was that Dana was right and definitely a girl’s girl. Then, you looked down at Miguel whose head was pressed up against your torso, eyes pleading with you. 

You ran your hand through his hair, “You need to do it?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, nuzzling into your body through your dress. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fake my reactions for you.” You didn’t have the heart to lie to him like that, especially when he’s looking at you like that. 

“You won’t have to,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “I’m confident, but if something is weird, stop me immediately.”

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t give you time to think when you whisper out an “ok.” He’s picking you up by the legs and plopping you on the bed.

Like a switch, he’s kissing down your body, pulling at the stretchy green fabric to expose your skin. He’s crowding your space in the most desired way possible, a fire building within him.

“Miguel, the dress isn’t going to come off like that,” you say, internally laughing at Miguel tugging to no avail. 

He starts to pull so hard that you can hear threads ripping. Before you can stop him, there’s a makeshift slit up your thigh. 

You lean up on your elbows and give Miguel a look. He just stares sheepishly and lets you stand up to pull the dress off. 

“You gotta be more patient baby,” you purred, bending down to kiss his lips. 

When you lean back, you move backwards to sit on the bed. It’s just you, your black panties, and a hungry Miguel at your feet.

The further you inch up the bed, the more Miguel crawls to be closer to you. 

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes into your mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

“Please.”

Miguel melts into your skin, mouth molding to a familiar shape. His breaths are heavy and sporadic, too excited to finally know what you feel like on his tongue.

You reach to pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his chest against yours, wanting to feel the expanse of his back while he pressed up against you. Miguel follows your movements without letting up.

He sighed into your lips with pleasure as he let his hand flow down your body, grabbing a breast to massage. You hummed into his mouth, legs parting to bring him closer. Eager to please, Miguel slipped his shorts below his bulged, grinding against you.

You start to wrap your legs around his waist before Miguel interrupts you with a sturdy hand under your knee, and a promise to devour you to your neck.

GymRat!Miguel who groans when he slides your panties down your legs. The slope of your thick thighs to your ass has Miguel ready to burst. 

He gets on his knees to maneuver your legs up into your arms. You peek up at him over your knees, your wet cunt kissing the air. 

He licks his lips at the sight, taking a tentative touch at your wet lips. 

You jump at the sensation, the feeling of Miguel seeing you this vulnerable new. 

He bends down to kiss them, hands on the back of your thighs for extra support. Your core flutters as he takes a few more kisses to your sex, tongue reaching out to trace from the bottom to the top. At the first taste, Miguel is groaning into you, sending vibrations through your body. 

You sigh out in bliss as your grip loosens on your legs. Miguel flattens his body on the bed and spreads your legs wide, tongue continuing to savor the taste of you. 

At this angle, Miguel pushes his tongue in between your folds, feeling your warmth around him. He laps at your entrance slowly causing you to flutter around him and reach for his hair.

He slurps up the juices that try to escape him causing you to moan out his name. He just hums in response, breaching further inside. The more noises he makes, the wetter you get. The room is full of the sound of him lapping everything he gave you and your quiet moans.

“Miguel,” your breath hitched as he swiped over a particular spot. You look down at Miguel whose eyes are closed and hands are tight on your thighs. You feel a building heat seeing how much of a trance he’s in. 

Just when you feel a bud sprouting within you, he directs his attention towards your clit, searching until he finds it. At the first skim across it, your hips are bucking up off the bed. Miguel is quick to hold you down, placing his weight on your thighs and lapping continuously at the pearl. 

“Fuck!” you shout, hitting the mattress. You’re writhing beneath him, unable to control your body. “Don’t stop, Miguel, please.”

Miguel groans through it all, lapping up every drop. 

“Baby, I’m gonna-” a scream pushes through you as your body shakes with pleasure. Miguel takes it like a champ, slurping like you were his last meal.

As you twitch with aftershocks, Miguel barely gives you time to recover before he’s diving back into your entrance. You let out a sob, still sensitive and quivering as your legs move too close before Miguel growls and wraps his arms around your thighs to keep them open. 

He’s sinking into you, moving his tongue at a steady pace and sucking in between. Your moans were a pool of words from his name to begging to profanities crescendoing across the air.

Miguel would rarely part for air, adamant on bringing you to the hilt again. Your thighs were tensing up as Miguel kept going, fire building as you grabbed his hair and jerked your hips in time with his movements. 

Your climax comes in waves, your hands tighter in his hair and an arch in your back. When you clench over his tongue and your release hits his mouth, Miguel’s eyes start to roll and he’s rubbing his nose against your clit. You yell even louder as Miguel pushes his face incredibly deep into your pussy. He’s rutting into the bed at the sound of your voice, moaning with you. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The captain swore that the VIP suite was soundproof, but your voice was practically carrying across the yacht. 

“She’s getting it good! Just like I promised,” Dana smiles to herself. 

“What did you promise? I was the one that gave Miguel tips.” Gabriel moved his headphones aside. 

“Oh yeah? And what tips did you give him?” She had her eyebrow raised and a silly smirk on her face. 

There was a pause of silence between them, only your voice filling up the space occasionally. Gabriel stared at Dana with a goofy grin.

He reached over and connected his phone to his speaker, putting on his special playlist. “Want to find out?”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

GymRat!Miguel who has to be pulled off your sex with both of your hands. His eyes are glazed over and his chin is soaked. Every chance you came after the first two times, your body would move up the bed and Miguel was sure to follow. 

“Ok, ok, baby,” you heave. Your legs are spasming, a result of the position and Miguel’s willingness to have you cum over and over again.

You were tapping out, body sore and tired. 

Miguel left a final long kiss to your clit, a trail of essence following his lips. He kissed up one of your thighs with a hungry look still in his eyes.

“¿Lo hice bien, cariño?” (Did I do it well, baby/darling?)

You trembled at his touch, limbs still heavy and mind in the clouds. 

Still, this was the best you’ve felt in a while.

You open your mouth to whisper, “Lo hiciste muy bien.” (You did so good.)

GymRat!Miguel who has to calm down internally at your answer. You don’t talk to him in Spanish often, but when you do, he’s over the moon. 

GymRat!Miguel who carries you to the bathroom to clean you off.

“Baby, I can’t walk. You’ll have to carry me for the rest of your life.”

“I’m totally fine with that.”

GymRat!Miguel who shocks you when he says that you don’t need to worry about bringing him relief. 

“Amor, I came when you came. After that, it was really all about you.”

“Oh!”

GymRat!Miguel who pats his past self on the back for asking the crew for extra sheets. He had no clue how the evening would go, but something in him told him to be overprepared. 

Those old sheets were beyond ruined. 

GymRat!Miguel who rubs your legs and stomach with aloe vera lotion after the shower. Not only did he stretch you a little further than you’re used to, but his bite marks left a big impression. 

GymRat!Miguel who cuddles you to sleep. If you wore him out the other night, he definitely put you through the ringer. You were gone after three rubs to your back. 

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up early with you to send off all of your friends. You’re yawning constantly, tears sticking to the corners of your eyes.

“Someone had a time last night,” Hobie snickers as he walks past with his backpack. 

“Shut up, Hobie,” you say, already flustered. 

“What? It’s true! If I didn’t know Migs' name before, I sure do now.”

“I’m going to backflip off of this boat.”

GymRat!Miguel who grants Captain Barrett a goodbye, thanking him for letting them use his boat.

“It was a pleasure to host you, Miguel. If you and your girlfriend ever need to, my superyacht is available for any future formal events!” he elbows Miguel with a giant grin, curled mustache moving like it was paid to do so. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Cap.”

For Miguel, the man with the plan, he would grant Mission A: Eat You Out, a huge success and the start of the summer one to remember.

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.1 here!

a/n: And with that, the yacht chapter is finished! I hope you guys enjoyed it and got your life. 🤭 It was both challenging and rewarding to write this GIANT chapter. I hope that you guys have fun with it like I did! I have no idea how the next chapter OR Miguel's Mission B: Virgin No More plan will go, but!!! Hopefully, it will be pleasant regardless! 🤠

ALSO! I have decided to give this drabble that's basically a fic a proper name (mostly for AO3). Do you all have any suggestions?

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates! - Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

Eddie had called out of work the next day. Steve could hear him making his apologies to Mrs. Henderson who'd taken over the running of the shop when her husband passed.

Steve knew she'd probably tell him to stay home for the rest of the week, probably longer if she could get away with it, but Eddie loved every second he spent working there. Adored Dustin. Adored the other kids, Steve's kids, who used the back room for their dice game after closing on Thursday evenings.

Eddie would have to be beaten away from the premises with a bat. A bat with nails.

Steve might just have to give it a try if the idiot refused to rest properly.

He wasn't mothering him.

He was like… distant cousining him.

When he heard Eddie retreat back to his room after the call and when a light rumbling of snores came through the wall maybe a half an hour later, Steve finally made his exit from his room.

He hadn’t wanted Eddie to think he needed to put on a brave face or act like he was okay if Steve was out in the public spaces while he made the call. 

Not because he cared.

Just so Eddie wouldn’t have to pretend.

And so he himself didn’t have to deal with the tension.

Yeah, right.

Also, it was the least he could do to complete Eddie's designated chores off the whiteboard that there had been war over. 

Robin and Eddie’s friend Chrissy had been forced to come in and mediate the whiteboard before one of them set the other's hair on fire. Though by the end of the day the two best friends had been too busy making eyes at each other to be of any help.

Steve was taking a risk; messing with the delicate whiteboard balance that stayed the same, week in, week out, lest another war start. But if Eddie wasn’t up for going to work, he certainly wouldn’t be up for sweeping, mopping, countertops and garbage.

And like, Steve could hardly blame him, he’d been through a lot yesterday, he’d been betrayed by the guy he’d cared most about. He was attacked and had his heart broken all in one night.

So it was whatever.

Just a few chores. 

Whatever.

At least he didn’t have to worry about keeping the noise down. Eddie could sleep through the apartment being ripped up by a cyclone then dropped into Oz.

He’d probably sleep through any and all musical numbers to follow, too.

Though he’d be bummed about missing them.

A few hours had passed by that point and Steve was just about to sit his lovely bottom on the couch to enjoy some good old fashioned thoughtless tv when there was a knock at the door.

He half expected Mrs. Henderson to be on the other side with half a hospital in tow behind her as well as, like, fifteen gallons of her famous chicken noodle soup. Which Steve would not turn down for love nor money and would steal a minimum 50% share.

As was his right.

But it wasn’t Claudia.

It was some guy. 

Some guy who had a bandage over his nose, a harsh purple colour blooming underneath, sitting a little off as though broken. Some guy who had cuts and scratch marks all over his face and neck.

Some guy who seemed to be affronted at the very sight of him.

But as he stood there Steve could see the clogged up gears working in his brain before the guy opened his mouth and said "You're Steve, the roommate."

Steve pursed his lips. 

Well, this interaction was off to a great start. 

Though if this was who Steve thought he was, he couldn’t give less of a fuck.

"I'm Steve. Eddie's the roommate.” He said with a raised eyebrow. “What was with the look?"

The guy blinked at him. "What look?"

"The look you gave me, when I opened the door. Like I'd shit on your shoe." He answered with a cocked eyebrow and a cocked hip.

"Oh, uh… I just thought Eddie had shacked up with someone already.” The guy laughed. “Bit soon.” He shrugged and smiled at Steve as though looking for some kind of commiseration for a good joke, two men giving each other nudges about how silly their wives were or whatever other shit straight people did.

But Steve had no commiseration to give.

So this was definitely the shithead, then. Rick.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, practically acting like a barricade, blocking off access to the apartment with his arms crossed. "Don’t like the idea of him having someone at home?” He asked in a light tone. “Bit hypocritical if you ask me.”

Rick’s face immediately soured. "That wasn't his business to tell."

“I think you lose the privilege to that kind of privacy when you fuck around on people you’re supposed to love.” Steve shrugged. “Or just people in general.”

“Who the hell are you to judge me?” Rick puffed his chest out. “You don’t know me.”

“And thank god for that. I don’t need to know you. I know you’re a cheater, that’s enough.”

Rick scoffed. “Whatever, man. I’m not here to debate morality or some shit with you. I’m here to see Eddie.”

“No.” Steve answered as simply as he could. 

The guy seemed to need things to be concise.

Rick looked bewildered. “Ex- excuse me?”

“You got cotton in your ears or something? I said no.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? His keeper? You know he hates you right?”

Steve pulled his mouth down into a mocking pout. “Oh no.” He sighed, deadpan. “I’m so heartbroken.”

“Listen, I’m not getting into it with you right now, man. So call Eddie out or move.”

“Or what?” Steve leaned forward a little, feeling his blood light on fire. 

There would be nothing more he’d love at this moment than Rick trying to square up to fight. 

The guy was a little taller than him, but Steve was much broader, much stronger and though it wasn’t something he liked to do, he knew he could throw a decent punch if it was for someone else.

That much was obvious. 

Thinking back on the things Eddie had said last night, the things Rick had tried, the way he’d cried into Steve’s shoulder, Steve would break Rick’s nose all over again if given half a chance.

“Steve.”

Eddie appeared next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him away from the door.

Rick looked between the two of them before his eyes landed back on Steve, snapping at him “You can fuck off now.”

Steve raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘oh, can I?’, but even so, he looked at Eddie, waiting for some sign of what he wanted, whether he wanted him to stay or go.

But Eddie gave no indication of what he wanted, wedging himself in between the two and pulling the door tighter to himself, his expression thunderous through the blooming bruises and angry cuts.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Steve took that as his cue to go. Even through all the bluster and posturing and how much the two of them still didn’t like each other-

We barely tolerate each other, Steve insisted to himself, we don’t like each other. I don’t like him.

-he wasn’t going to force himself into this drama and if Eddie needed to tear this guy to shreds on his own, Steve would let him.

But he had barely taken a step back before Eddie’s hand shot out, grasping at what he could until he had a fistful of Steve’s shirt, white knuckling it and stopping him in his tracks.

The movement was hidden by the door, Rick wouldn’t have been able to see it and Eddie didn’t acknowledge that he’d done anything, still staring his ex down.

Steve stopped dead where he was and when Eddie seemed to realise that he wouldn’t be moving, his hand loosened, coming back up to rest against the door.

“I’m here to sort things out between us. Try to fix it.” Rick said, his voice going soft.

Eddie exhaled a derisive laugh through his nose. “Why don’t you go and ‘fix’ your wife?”

Steve crossed his arms, standing guard in the back but still mostly out of sight.

“C’mon babe…” Rick reached out, attempting to grasp at Eddie’s fingers but Eddie snatched his hand back. “I think you’re just… making a big deal out of this when you don’t need to.”

“A big deal?” Eddie snapped, leaning forward. “Not only have you been cheating on your wife but you’ve been cheating on me too.”

“You?” Rick sputtered, incredulous.

He exhaled with an eye roll and only then noticed that Steve was still standing there.

“Are you serious?” Rick almost shrieked. “What the hell are you still here for? Show’s over, normie!” He waved his hand in Steve’s direction as though dismissing him.

Steve raised his eyebrows and smiled back, not moving an inch.

Rick looked back to Eddie. “Are you not going to do anything about him? We’re in the middle-”

“Oh my god.” Steve injected as much sarcasm as he could. “Is this a private conversation? I had no idea.”

Rick’s face was turning red with frustration. “You got a real attitude problem, man.”

Steve turned his mouth down in a pout. “Oh no.”

“That’s it.” Rick slammed against the door all of a sudden, wrenching it from Eddie’s grip and almost blowing it open if it wasn’t for Steve’s hands stopping it in its tracks.

The sudden stop jostled Rick, sending him slightly off balance and Eddie took the opportunity to kick out hard, swinging his leg up until it landed in between Rick’s legs. 

Eddie retracted his foot for just a second as Rick crumpled with a scream of pain before kicking out again, catching him in the hip and shoving him back into the hallway, sending him sprawling.

“Lose my fucking number, asshole.” 

Eddie spat down at Rick before turning back inside and slamming the door behind him.

His eyes were still narrowed and furious as he glared at Steve who could do nothing but stand there.

The sound of Rick’s groans were still echoing beyond the door as the two of them looked at each other.

The silence stretched on as Eddie heaved heavy breaths in and out and Steve stared dumbfounded.

There was a glossy sheen to Eddie’s eyes by the time Steve opened his mouth, not sure of what he was going to say.

But it didn’t matter.

Eddie stormed past him without a backwards glance, his hair just disappearing behind the door before he slammed it closed and the wailing of a guitar and the crashing of drums started to scream out of the speakers in his room.

He didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day. Didn’t knock on his door to try to pull him out and didn’t try to get him to talk.

Steve was only just waking up the day after when he heard Eddie’s bedroom door open and shuffling coming down the hall towards the phone.

He twiddled his thumbs, waiting in his room while he heard Eddie’s muttered conversation. 

He didn’t want to interrupt, didn’t want to have to force his presence on Eddie before it was necessary but he really had to pee and he’d have to walk past the phone to get to the bathroom.

Thankfully the conversation didn’t last long but then Eddie shuffled away from his own room towards the bathroom and Steve had to take some very deep breaths.

He couldn’t really be mad at him for it, the guy hadn’t come out of his room at all yesterday after the confrontation, he deserved to pee but Steve felt like his kidneys were gonna start failing at any second.

When he heard Eddie shuffle back into his room Steve nearly cracked the wall with how hard he threw the door open, rushing down the hallway and into the bathroom before he exploded.

Eddie hadn’t made another appearance by the time Steve was grabbing his keys for work and as much as it irritated him, he was feeling a little wary about leaving him all alone for most of the day.

Turned out he didn’t really need to worry about it.

Just as he had turned back towards Eddie’s room, there was a knock on the front door.

He swung it open to find bouncing blonde curls and a bright perky smile.

“Hi Steve.”

“Oh, hey Chrissy.” He stepped aside, allowing her to sweep inside. Her sweater was very unusual. Dark blue and baggy and tucked into her light wash jeans. Steve could have sworn he’d seen it before. There was a large plastic bag in her hand that a glance inside told him was filled with every tooth rottingly sweet thing she could have scooped off the shelves at their local store.

She placed the bag on the kitchen counter with a light clink of glass against glass coming from inside.

Maybe it was also a day-drunk type of visit.

“How is he?” Chrissy asked, blinking up at him with her big earnest eyes.

“I’m… not sure?” Steve shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

She nodded. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“I think I’m probably going to call over to Robin’s after work.” He muttered, trying to keep his burning blush down. “Hang out for a little bit.”

He didn’t think he needed to say he was doing it to give Chrissy and Eddie their space, to do their ice-cream and chocolate and alcohol and talk about how terrible men were without him hovering. But thankfully she got it, smiling at him so bright it almost hurt to look at.

“Could you…?” She hesitated, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her fingers. “Could you ask Robin- never mind.”

Steve opened his mouth to assure her it was okay to continue but she barrelled on.

“The boys are coming over later too. Is that okay?”

“The boys?” Did she mean the kids?

“From the band.”

“Oh! Yeah I mean why wouldn’t that be okay? Eddie lives here too.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to check in case-”

“In case I complained about it later?” He tried to ask in his kindest tone. Maybe he’d been guilty of bitching about them in the past but he would never deny Eddie his support system, not at s time like this.

Even if he did… dislike him?

Did he still dislike him?

What was he talking about, of course he did.

“I’m sorry.” Chrissy looked incredibly guilty and Steve couldn’t stand it.

“No, you were right to ask. I haven’t- I’ve been a bit rude in the past.”

She looked like she wanted to apologise again so he shot her a warm smile and patted her on the shoulder. “I have to get to work, but take care of him, yeah?”

She gave him a curious look but nodded, sending him out the door with a wave of her hand, her sleeve following loosely where it was still pulled over her fingers.

Steve was halfway through his shift by the time Robin came in. She worked shorter hours ever since she’d taken that part time internship as a translator.

They’d just gotten past their mid-day coffee rush by the time they had a chance to talk.

“Are you doing anything after this?” He asked her, leaning back against the counter.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” Robin was rifling through the under counter refrigerator next to him, throwing out any old stock that had gone out of date.

“Yes.” Steve nodded. “I’ve been hopelessly in love with you for years and I thought now was the best time to confess.”

“You could have picked a more romantic location.” She sniffed at a container of strawberries, considering before shaking her head and dumping them.

“But my heart told me it had to be now, Birdie.”

Robin just rolled her eyes at him.

“So?” He nudged her with his foot, very nearly sending her off balance. “You, me, two of the best subs this city has and your couch. It’s my best offer.”

She shut the refrigerator door, pushing herself to stand, using the counter for balance. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Steve absentmindedly snapped his fingers at her, remembering.

“Oh! You have a date tonight, right?” 

“I did have a date tonight but sh- he cancelled.”

“He cancelled, did he?” Steve smirked, trying not to enjoy the poorly masked revulsion on Robin’s face at having to pretend to be dating a man.

“Yes. He did. Rain check for another time.”

“Bummer.” 

Robin hadn’t told him much about the girl she was seeing and Steve hadn’t pushed for any more information than she was willing to give. When she wanted him to know, he’d know.

“But-” he continued “-that leaves your schedule wide open for a date with me.” He spread his arms wide open and smiled at her.

“Well, aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“The luckiest. Any reason for the rain check?”

Robin nodded. “Friend emergency.”

“Oh. That’s sweet.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “He’s a very sweet…” her nose scrunched up, “boy.”

“Very sweet boy.” He repeated with a smile. “So can I steal your keys? Have everything all spread out for you when you get home?” He dragged his hand down his chest, wiggling his hips.

“God, Steven.” Robin shuddered. “You’re repulsive.”

“Wrong. I am a dish.”

“Ugh. Gag.”

Steve pouted at her. “I’ll get you a milkshake too, how about that?”

She crossed her arms and stuck her nose up. “Fine.”

She could only hold for so long before she started to break, cracking a smile.

“If you two don’t mind,” a voice next to them said and they both jumped, seeing Mark their manager standing there, “could you stop flirting and get back to work?”

Neither of them even bothered arguing that they were not flirting anymore. They both knew the rest of the staff had a betting pool going on when they would get together.

They would be waiting a very long time.

By the time Robin got home, Steve had himself swaddled in her blankets and had stolen her best hot water bottle.

Why did she live somewhere so cold?

His toasty warmth didn’t last very long, however. 

She wrestled the hot water bottle from his grip by resorting to dirty tactics, pulling at his hair until he let it go. 

“How many times have I told you the hair is off limits?” He hissed at her, trying to fix it. His hair was his fucking signature, how could she be so rude?

“That is exactly why I go for it every time. It’s your weak spot.” She grinned, smug in her win and attempting to pull the throw off of him as well.

“Go get one of my sweaters if you’re gonna be such a big bitch baby about it. I just got off work.” She pouted, batting her eyelashes at him. “I’m tired.”

“I brought you subs and milkshakes!”

Robin heaved out a heavy, put upon sigh. “Fine.” She heaved herself up from the couch, still clutching at the hot water bottle and disappeared inside her room.

Steve took the opportunity to swaddle himself again, just getting cosy when he heard Robin call out, “Evie, did you steal my sweater?”

“Which one?” He shouted back. He probably had five or more of hers at home and he wasn’t even sure if all of those had started out as hers or his.

“The blue one!”

“Which blue one?”

“The new blue one!”

“What does it look like?”

“What do you think it looks like, it’s fucking blue!”

Steve rolled his eyes and tried to remember any blue sweaters that existed within his own apartment. 

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have it. I don’t even remember you getting a new blue sweater.”

“Well where the hell is it then?”

“How am I supposed to know? I didn’t even know it existed!”

“You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Maybe the sweater fairy stole it.” He snickered to himself until a dark red sweater that had definitely belonged to him first hit him in the face.

“You are the sweater fairy.” She pouted, sitting back down and stealing the throw from his lap.

“Don’t hate crime me. It’s rude.” He tugged the throw back over his legs, leaving her enough slack to cover herself as well.

Robin reached over to snatch her sub from the coffee table. “So.”

“So.”

“Something’s going on with Eddie.”

“What?” Steve ran through the entire day in his head. He didn’t think he’d mentioned Eddie once. “When did I say there was something going on with Eddie?”

“You didn’t.” Robin’s mouth went slack in the way it usually did whenever she was hiding something but she covered it up with a large bite, speaking through a full mouth. “But you’re here and not at home so…”

“That’s not that unusual.”

“No, but what is unusual is that you asked if you could steal my keys instead of just taking them.”

“Oh.” Yeah. That was not the norm. “Um, well it’s not really my place to say-”

“Who am I going to tell?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Tell me.” She jabbed him with a sharp elbow.

“I don’t know if I can.” He said, running his hand through his hair.

“I mean, nothing too personal, if you don’t wanna.” She backtracked with a shrug.

“Doesn’t matter what I want. The thing is it’s not my business, it’s Eddie’s.” He shrugged. “But there was some… relationship drama the other night.”

“Ooh. Juicy drama?”

Steve winced. “Not exactly. More like… red flag drama.”

“Oh shit. Chr- I didn’t know that.”

Steve looked at her, bewildered. “I wouldn’t expect you to, how would you know?”

Robin just shrugged, shoving another large bite into her mouth. 

“I don’t really… I’m not comfortable talking about the things Eddie and I talked about but I do need you to help me… figure myself out.”

“Okay, that I can do. I’m an expert at it. I helped you find your sexuality.”

“Find it? It wasn’t fucking lost Birdie.”

“Yeah, but I brought it out into the sunlight.”

“Jesus, you’re acting like you released it from captivity. I knew. I’ve always known. Just because you didn’t know that I know, doesn’t mean I didn’t know.”

She shoved his arm. “I unlocked it.”

He shoved her back. “You didn’t unlock shit.”

She shoved him again. “I unlocked it. You’re welcome.” 

He gave her a final shove with a huff to go right along with it. “Whatever.”

“Okay, no more side tracking. Tell me your scrambly brain thoughts.”

“Alright. Um. Okay. So.” Shit. How much could he tell her without either breaking Eddie’s trust or revealing too much. “So there was drama the other night, between Eddie and the boyfriend, you know that much. I won’t say what happened but he didn’t get home until like four in the morning and he called out of work yesterday and today-”

“He called out?!” Robin shrieked, open mouthed. She’d lived with Eddie long enough and been through enough of Steve’s bitching to know just how much Eddie loved that job.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It was… it wasn’t good, Birdie, what happened. It was actually really fucking fucked up.”

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“So then yesterday he’s trying to sleep it off pretty much and there��s a knock at the door.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah and I go get it because I had assumed it would be Mrs. Henderson with some chicken noodle soup and you know I’d kill my own mother for some of that soup-”

“-I’d kill your mother for some too, yes.”

“-yeah. But it wasn’t Mrs. Henderson, it was Rick, the boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, I don’t know and he was trying to like, bully his way into the apartment to see Eddie and I don’t know what happened with me but-”

“-you went full guard dog protector mode didn’t you?”

“I…” Steve sighed, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I did. Why did I do that? It’s none of my business. I don’t even like the guy. Why would I care?”

“Because you always care, Evie. You saw someone who needed help and you helped, it’s what you do.”

Steve scoffed. “Hardly. It’s not like I’m some fucking selfless hero for doing it.”

“Nah, you kinda are.”

“It was just some guy!”

“And you’re just some guy too!”

Steve glared at her, offended. “You take that back.”

Robin looked at him for a moment. “Okay, fair, retracted.”

He gave her a small grin and dragged the sleeves of the sweater over his fingers.

“Hey! Stop, you’ll stretch it!”

“What does it matter if I stretch it, it’s mine.”

“It is not.”

“It is too!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!” He jabbed her in the side, knowing full well that if they continued the way they were this could go on all night. It had gone on all night more than once.

Robin squawked and immediately lunged, her hands grabbing at the top of his head. 

“No, no! I told you not the hair!”

“And I told you it’s your weakness.” She hissed, her eyes flashing as he scrambled at her wrists before she could get her fingers buried deep enough.

“Boobies!” He shouted, as loud as possible. The effect was immediate, Robin tried to cringe away from him with a look of disgust. “Boobies, boobies, boobies!”

“Oh my god are you five fucking years old? Can you not say tits or breasts or fucking mammary glands or something like a damn adult?” She wrenched her wrists away from him. “I’m so embarrassed for you.”

“I’m embarrassed of your face.”

“I’m embarrassed of your weird man hair.” She scowled, patting at his chest. 

“You shouldn’t be. Everyone loves the chest hair. Even the lesbians. It’s like a respect thing.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Steve pouted to himself.

He just wanted to help. He wanted to make sure Eddie was okay, that he would continue to be okay and there was this horrible little part in the back of his head that also wanted to make sure that no one would put their hands on Eddie ever like that again.

It was weird and possessive in a way he really shouldn’t have been feeling about his irritating as shit roommate who didn’t even have the courtesy to play guitar with headphones on half the time.

No matter how good his playing was.

“I can smell your hair burning.”

“What do I do now, Birdie?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… I want to help, I guess. But I don’t know how. We don’t even like each other, why would he accept my help?”

“Well… how did he react when you did what you did?”

“He… I guess he… I was going to leave when Rick came to the door and he stopped me. He didn’t say anything to me, he didn’t even look at me but he grabbed onto me and… I think he was scared, Rob. I’ve never seen him scared.”

“Well Steve, I think you’re gonna do what you always do. Help. Whether you know you’re doing it or not, whether you even really mean to, you always help.”

"You're making me out to be some sort of saint."

“I’m really not.” She shook her head. “You’re just… you.”

“Wow, incredible observation there, Birdie.”

“Oh, fuck off and finish this for me.” She shoved the rest of her sub into his hands.

Part 1 Part 3 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie

@luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter

@cmbghost @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula

@opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs

@strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

@astraluminaaa @mehjustalasshere @corruptowlette @youllgetafuneral

@lyenera @kcmizzz @s-rinaldi-18

[minimallyminnie]

Now as much as I love the new game, MC seems to be wayy too happy. I mean yeah, seeing the past and aiding the brothers seems to be great and all…but

Wouldn’t you miss the memories you made with the present time them more?

Obey Me! Gn Mc missing their own time frame

I kinda made Mc similar to a servant similar to Barbatos even if we’re their attendant.

Platonic or Romantic, you can choose who. Besides Luke who is always platonic

Even though you still adored the brothers and your other friends

You desperately wanted to go back to your time frame

Clutching onto your pillow in your bedroom (wrong all wrong, you’re supposed to be in the House Of Lamentation with them.) You bit onto your pillow to stifle your tears and wrapped your body around the long pillow

It wasn’t that Solomon was bad. Oh no, not at all. You adored him and admired how he went back to the past for you

(Which made your homesickness and guilt even worse when you felt as if you were being selfish and ungrateful)

But you missed them

You missed how Lucifer used to cover you with a blanket if you were outside at the table working on homework in the cold. How he used to laugh at small things like you accidentally insulting him or when you don’t know and find out about demon activities and food.

You missed Mammon who used to make you go shopping with him when you spent too much time working on whatever. Who always gave or bought you anything you needed for any sort of thing even if it was small. When he was protective of you or listening to something that you didn’t like. Like you weren’t a bother.

Leviathan who played games with you when you needed to relax. Who battled using the same damn character in Super Smash Devils and won every single time. Who gave you advice on how to take care of snakes and such in the devildom. You missed squealing over characters that you liked with him, pointing out each other’s type.

You missed Satan who listened to your worries about everyone and who you could count on to relate to you. Who gave you books that reminded him of you and your likes. Missing how he read to you detective books and how you read back to him about fantasy books.

Asmodeus who always reminded you about how beautiful you are despite anything you claim is ugly. Lest it be your weight, your eyes, ears, body type or anything you hate about yourself, he would always call you a beautiful flower. You missed him and how you two tried out outfits for each other, or how he would ask you to be his makeup dummy.

Beelzebub when he used to take you out to new restaurants or when he convinced you to try to cook a new thing he found on a random menu somewhere. You miss how he made you laugh while he inhaled your leftover food you couldn’t eat when you were full. When he passed you his snacks when your stomach grumbled.

Belphegor you missed even though he had murdered you in the past. You missed your napping buddy. Someone who helped you sleep when you needed in the middle of the day. Who helped you get rid of nightmares with a single touch to your head, letting you sleep peacefully. You missed him and how he slept next to you or Beel.

Even the others you missed!

You missed how hearty and warm Diavolo’s laugh was. How he spoke with confidence and kindness to everyone despite being insulted. You missed how he complimented you and how he’d help you with any situation or problem in the devildom.

You missed Barbatos who would help you in any situation as well. Who’d help you with any questions no matter how small. He gave you amazing cleaning advice and small items he would find that were beautiful to you. How despite the problem, he’d always help you in need.

Simeon’s words of encouragement and how he’d listen to every word and remembered it down to how you said it. How he always made you laugh for his poor technology skills. How sweet and helpful he was to you.

Luke who despite being teased by the brothers you lived with, treated you with respect and kindness. You miss his homemade cupcakes and sweet treats that he’d make especially for you. How he’d pout at being called a chihuahua.

You missed Raphael who’s stoticness would surprise and make you giggle every time he wouldn’t get a joke. Who despite being strict, treated everyone the same no matter what. His attention to detail has helped you on so many occasions.

Thirteen’s spunky behavior that almost got you in trouble at times but you had so much fun with her. You missed her and how she made you smile when you were upset about something, no matter how tiny the issue is. How you helped her prank Solomon many times.

Even Mephistopheles’s insults, that were all bark no bite. His honest opinions of your writing has helped you very much. You missed his straightforward advice and how stupidly entertaining your arguments with were.

…

“Please…I wanna go back.”

Your hands clench as your heart twists and whirls with devastation, grief, anger, and envy.

You want to see them again. You want to see your best friends, you want to see the patched up brothers you called your family.

You want and want and want

But.

You can’t have.

Remnants of your former powers regarding the pacts and magic spark as you look at your hand

Bits of red, yellow, purple, green, pink, orange, and indigo spark in your hand before dying

The pact marks on you have faded in their vivid colors

You choke on your tears and the words “Let me go back” stuck in your throat

Anger at the one who threw you in this timeframe

…

“You can cry, you know.”

Huh?

A warm hand rubs your back as you turn your head around and see Solomon with a warm but bittersweet smile

He puts his hand on your shoulder as you sit up and stare at the blanket

“You do not need to hold back on your tears. I am speaking as your friend. It saddens me to see you hold onto your grief. I can go back to the current time of course, but I know how hurt you are and how homesick. You miss them I can imagine.”

That’s right. You’re not exactly all alone again like when you first started out in the Devildom

“Please. Let go.”

And the dam breaks

You clutch onto Solomon’s back as you throw up all the words out of your mouth

Solomon gently lays his hands on your back, one rubbing your back and one just staying still, letting you know he’s still there with you

You miss this. If he were gone, you would’ve missed Solomon and how he relates to you so much. How lonely and isolated you felt at the time, he knew. He doesn’t need any reason from you if you just needed to be left alone or just needed a hug.

You know you have to go and attend to the brothers tomorrow morning. You still have to help them and try to get closer all over again. You still need to learn about how everyone was during this time period. You still need to know why Barbatos and Solomon have such a strained friendship and how the pact was made.

You still need to do so many things but for now, you can just cry.

And that’s good enough.

[d6volution]

im a need a cain x reader smut, but like the reader can get in heat since there a type of animal i dont know what animal you can choose one. so like the reader chooses caine to release their thung idk i was thinkinh about it and now im trhiving to jhave it written so ofcourse i came to my fav writers inbox

i get it! im not the best at writing heat fics (i dont think??) but i tried 🤧

Caine/Cat Hybrid!Reader

(afab parts)

tags: bondage, reader in heat, man handling

minors dni | nsfw below the cut.

It had been years in this digital world, and with every new person to enter Jax was  always the only anthropomorphic animal to be in the circus. Until you came along, cat like ears sprouted from your head and tail protruding from where your tailbone should be.

Of course the other members either reacted in awe, or just didn't really care. Or some in between like Jax who loved pulling at your ears and tail as it usually made you squeak like a toy.

Even Caine wasnt immune to your cuteness it seemed, he'd make the odd comment about your apperance here and there but it was always positive. Maybe that's why you chose him..? Or maybe it was because he was the showrunner, he had power and could protect you and ... your young. That's usually the things mates would looked for..? Right? Damn it you didn't know. You were human before all this was completely new to you. But your body didn't care, this.. heat cycle hit you like a sack of bricks. You'd been holed up in your room for a few days now, ignoring the knocks at your door.

Lest you jump on the person on the other side of the door and beg them to fuck you until you can't remember your name.

You thought maybe after taking care of yourself this .. feeling would go away but no, you came on your fingers several times but it wasn't close to being enough. It was like you were losing yourself to this feeling, all you could think about was being filled..

In the haze of your thoughts Caine came to mind again, you knew his opinion on things like this but you had to try. Something.. anything, and pray that in the process to getting to his room you wouldn't run into anyone else..

A few moments later when you got the resolve to finally peek out of your room you moved as quickly as you could in your state, luckily remembering the path to the ringmasters quarters. A big grand red door was at the end of the hall and you tugged at the door but it didn't budge.

"C.. Caine.. ? You there..?" Your voice sounded pathetic, dripping with need. A soft mewl even escaped your lips in frustration.

It felt like a century until you felt eyes on you, but.. from behind you. It was Caine just floating there, in the same confusion as yourself. "C.. Caine? Why aren't you in your room?" Your senses were going ballistic now, it cried for you to present yourself to him. Beg for him to take you right here and now.

"Simple, my dear! I don't sleep! This room is merely a prop of sorts!" He retorted, "Are.. you alright, y/n? You're looking a little, under the weather." He seemed to actually be concerned, and you started squirming.

"N.. No I need.." Your ears flattened out of embarrassment, tail wrapping around your leg for self comfort. "need.." Your voice trailed off, "... s'your fault Caine.. you made me like this..!"

"Now, now, calm down y/n I don't necessarily get to choose your new bodies—!" You cut him off by pawing at his leg, clinging to it to keep him in place. He tried to keep his balance.

"Please Caine.. need you.." You nuzzled at his leg, then moved up his thigh trying to nuzzle at his crotch as the smell of him was inviting you. "T.. This is hardly appropriate, let's *ahem* get you inside." Caine looked both ways to assure no one had saw you two. He then scooped you up by the waist, holding you like luggage and carrying you inside his room.

As soon as you two were in the room he dropped you onto the bed unceremoniously.

Caine tugged at his tie and allowed it to loosen up, "Well, now. What to do with you." He snapped his fingers and you were bound to the bed in a very lewd manner, knees bent and pressed at your chest being held by red ropes that seemed to match his suit. "C... Caine wha.." You whimpered, tears forming in your eyes as he seemed to just be toying with you.

"Tsk, tsk this won't do at all! You're making a mess of your clothes!" And now they were gone too, you instinctively pulled your binds helplessly. "Please.." You whined, not knowing exactly what you were pleading for.

"Yes, yes.. I think I know what's happening to you, now be patient dear! I'm breaking many a rule for you, y'know!" He said, now appearing suddenly in between your legs , two gloved fingers delving into your cunt suddenly. "Hhck..!" Your ears pointed straight up out of shock and your body moved against the binds again, "Come now you can handle this!"

"N.. Not that.. need.. you inside.. please.." Your cunt was senstive sure, but it was more frustrating that he was using his fingers, "Please Caine.. breed me.." Your words made him swallow and he had to compose himself. He was only doing this because he had to, he couldn't have to wandering off and trying to pounce on anyone else!

He pulled himself from his pants, he didn't realize until now that his cock was straining against them a few moments ago. You desperately wanted to present yourself to him, spread your cunt and open your legs but he had you tied up like some kind of animal.

His tip nudged at your cunt, the slick causing him to slip past your hole a few times. You mewled and bucked your hips a little as if to encourage him.

Another thrust and he buried himself completely inside of you, your cunt swallowing him up immediately, it was like he was made for you. You were made for each other. "Ngh.. there we go, stubborn little thing.." He said with a grunt, hovering over your body. 

He was finally inside of you and your body begged you not to let him go, not until he came inside of you at least three or four times at least! "Caine.. more .. mn.." He felt like you were calm enough to get rid of the bindings so he did, snaping his fingers and they seemed to fade away into the air.

Your legs immediately wrapped around him, tugging him closer.

"How impatient, very well then. Hold tight my dear," He said, hands planted on the sides of your head as he started to move his hips, rocking into your cunt. Your eyes fluttered shut, ear twitching a little as a soft purring sound rumbled in your chest.

His thrusts picked up speed quickly, you were responding so well to them that he was slowly beginning to loose himself as well. Family friendly? Behind the doors of his room that would have to disappear from now on. "Nh.. thats right.. to keep everyone.. in check!" His words matched the rhythm of his heavy thrusts.

"Hha.. Caine, caine..!" You cried out, legs tugging him closer, "N.. Need your cum.. make me pregnant p-please..!"

His hips stuttered a little, your words seemed to be getting to him whether he liked it or not. He shoved two fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet so he could focus. How distracting your dirty mouth could be was impressive. Your moans and cries were muffled, saliva dirtying his gloves.

Caine put his full weight behind his thrusts , your smaller form quite literally being fucked into the mattress. "Nnhg, almost there, y/n..! Be a dear and a cum with me." He said in a mocking voice, his hand removing itself from your mouth and instead pushing your lower stomach. Adding more pressure to your already stuffed cunt.

"Gh..hhaa.. Caine, cu.. cumming.. cumming..!" You yelped and clung to him, legs keeping him locked in so he couldn't pull away from you. He'd be force to fill your cunt to the brim. "Inside.. fill me up..!" Your tongue lulled past your lips , cunt clamping down on his dick as you hand a nearly blinding orgasm.

Caine couldn't help it, your cunt was practically milking him and he spilled into your cunt without a second thought. Though he didn't seem at all out of breath.

"Well that sure was.. something.." Caine noted, his dick still twitching inside of you as the last few spurts of cum filled your stuffed cunt.

You panted, looking up at him with half lidded eyes, a lewd smile painting your lips. "Caine.. m'not done.. need more.."

Did he really think one round would be enough?