#cod x transmasc!reader

Working on base with the 141, hooking up with some random recruit that happens to be next door to Ghost. Ghost is constantly stuck hearing the guys moans, but after a few nights he realizes- he’s never heard yours. He watches as you leave the guys room one night, seeing that it’s the sweetheart from the records room. Starts going down to records more and more often, saying Price needs some things (liar liar pants on fire).

He manages to get you into his bed, watching how you get on your knees almost instantly without a word. He has to admit, it did make his cock chub up a bit, seeing what a good boy you were. But he knew this wasn’t the time for that, no. He wanted to hear how pretty you’d sing for him. The thought was what made his masturbation sessions interesting.

Listening to you slurp another man’s cock, jerking his dick furiously, only to let out a groan of annoyance when the moans of the other guy were audible. Multiple nights he thought about storming into that guys room, slapping a hand over his mouth and offering himself up to you instead. He could only cum now if he was thinking about you- and christ that was annoying.

And now he finally had you in his room, looking up at him so sweetly as you reach for his fly. A little part of his heart breaks when he makes himself grab your hand, pulling you up onto the bed instead. “Sorry sweetness” he’d grumble, starting to pull off your pants. “Need tha’ cunny too bad, eh? Promise I’ll make it up to ya’” he smirks as he shucks your briefs off, bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep breath. “Fuckin’ hell..” he groans, making quick work of his own pants.

Your face is radiating heat, legs snapped closed as you watch him undress, trying to ignore how your hole was leaking onto his comforter. “S-Si-“ you say weakly, trying to find your voice.

It doesn’t take long for him to put you on your knees, your face hiding in his pillows with embarrassment flooding your system. The cold air of the room blowing just right over your boycunt had your hole clenching, which of course had Simon’s mouth watering. “Be good f’me” he grunts, leaning down as licking a stripe up your slit, making you jump. “Bloody hell” he moans softly, shifting so his lips could wrap around your little bud, his nose digging into your tight heat.

You whine as you hide against his bed, body trying to move so you could close your legs- but he quickly had his large hands on your shins, keeping you in place while his tongue massaged your clit. “oh f-fuck- simon” you cry out, legs shaking already. The worst (best) part was when you could feel your cunt leaking onto his face, each gush of fluid sending a shiver up your spine.

A low chuckle fell from his lips, the vibration making you jolt. “Pretty boy” he says slowly. “Haven’ had this cun’ eaten much b’fore ‘ave ya?” He smirks, his tongue dipping higher with an amused glint in his eye. “s’a shame, really” he mutters. “Always givin’ away tha’ mouth. But yer pussy is where it’s at, eh?”

You whine at his words, embarrassment flooding your features. “I- I just-“ you try to say, cut off by his tongue teasing your hole. “I like giving.” You say weakly.

He grunts, planting a gentle but sudden spank to your ass. “Never gave ta’ me now did ya? Can’ like it tha’ much.” He spits, jealousy riddling his words. “On yer knees for some stupid recruit. Ought’a let ya’ suck me off under my desk- for makin’ me listen to yer gaggin’ every oth’a night.”

A small gasp slips past your lips, his tongue working you over so well- it was definitely the best head you’d gotten in a while. Fuck, maybe ever. “M’sorry!” You plead, pushing back against his face, begging for more. “Please- please, let me suck you off. I want to..”

He scoffs, forcing his face deeper into your cunt. “Not ‘till ya cum on my tongue.” He mumbles, ignoring the very clear stain forming on his boxers, his hips bucking against nothing. “Cum f’me. Then maybe ya can have me.” He grunts.

It doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his tongue, a smirk plastered to his lips. When he pulls away he uses his fingers to gather up some of your slick, slipping them past his lips with a hum. “I lied to ya” he murmurs, popping his fingers out of his mouth and sinking them into your cunt. “Ya won’ be suckin’ me off for a while. Gotta get a few more out of ya.” He muses.

Needless to say.. it was going to be a long night.

It’s in the kitchen that you gather the courage, “Can we try something?”

Four heads turn to you, sandwich assembly line quickly forgotten. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to speak up, your tummy is grumbling already. But you’ve started, so you should see it through. 

“Good god, keep your pants on. This is serious,” you say, voice growing quiet, “And about me.”

The boys swarm around you, eyes burning and ready. Sitting at the table was supposed to let you watch them as they work on lunch, but their looming turns it almost ominous. The sounds of you cracking your fingers, which you tend to do when you’re nervous, does not go unnoticed. 

Johnny chuckles, trying to keep the mood light, “Maybe shoulda phrased it a little differently, love.”

It took you forever to find the right dining table, one big enough to fit all of you and your plates. Days and weeks turned months as you scoured for the perfect one. But as they take their seats, it feels too small. The air is tight. 

“Do you guys remember that talk we had? About gender and me maybe not feeling wholly like a woman?”

They lean towards you, further dwarfing the table, waiting for you to continue. Your belly feels like it’s boiling, tumbling with nerves. That conversation went well, so surely this one will too, right?  If you take the time to look up at them, you’ll see their soft expressions. Simon hunches, blatantly trying to make himself smaller, as if wanting to create space for you to speak. Kind grins adorn Johnny and Kyle’s faces, remembering the conversation well and trying to be encouraging. John just looks proud. Silence breaks as you take a deep breath.

“I think I’m a guy,” you whisper. 

Smiles spread, bodies still, waiting for more. 

“I’m a guy,” you say louder, their grins coaxing yours out.

Kyle takes your hand in his, squeezing gently, “Watch out lads, I’ve got a boyfriend.”

What starts as a giggle soon overwhelms you, turning into a deep belly laugh and running tears down your cheeks. You cling hard to Kyle’s hand, wiping your face a little sloppy. It’s your first time saying it out loud, and there’s no way you could have predicted how fucking euphoric it would be. A spark’s been lit inside your chest, and you think that this must be what true happiness is. It feels so right, and Kyle’s immediate claim fuels you. Another deep sigh steadies you. The hard part is not quite over.

“I hope this doesn’t…” the words come out slowly, “Doesn’t change anything.” Your hand moves in a wide circle, gesturing at each of you.

Their bodies stiffen, caught off guard. Of everything you could have said, that was not what they expected. Worry melts their posture and brings their shoulders down to droop. John and Kyle exchange glances, failure written on their faces. If they’ve left room for this concern, they’ve clearly done something wrong. Johnny cocks his head, confused because why would that be a question? 

When Simon speaks, he almost sounds exasperated, “We’re all men.”

“Yeah, but-”

“All men,” he cuts you off, eyes locked on yours, challenging you to try again. “Boyfriends, like Kyle said.”

“Boyfriends,” you repeat, grin back in place. 

“Get to confuse the cashier at the grocery even more now,” he winks, relieved to see you smiling again. 

A calm silence settles the room again and easy breathing can be heard from all of you. The sinking pressure is lifted from you, letting you bask in the moment. Everything is okay. Your world didn’t crumble. Boyfriends, they said. Sweat threatens to slip your hand from Kyles, making his grip tighten. The pride on John’s face is loud, his dimples growing more pronounced. Johnny drops his chin into his hands, elbows on the table, an impishness about him.

“Logistics,” he says, “Pronouns, please?”

“He/him,” your voice shy.

He cups his ear, “What? Didn’t catch that.”

“He/him,” you say, fullbodied.

Under the table, he squeezes your knee with support. If you weren’t sitting, you’d be squeezing the life outta them, cracking their backs with the force of your hugs. They didn’t even fucking take a beat to respond, they were so immediately onboard. Darling boys continue to bring warmth into your life, erasing your doubts. Though truthfully, it was the possibility of losing them that you were most scared about.

“Terms?” John asks. 

You hesitate to respond, not having gotten quite this far just yet.

“Sweet boy?” he prompts.

Hearing it makes you gasp, your eyes widening and face burning. It hits sweet in your chest and the pleasure of it is visible. It’s the only confirmation John needs. Easing back into his chair, he crosses his arm with sweet satisfaction. The rest of the boys smirk, taking note, minds filling with more ideas.

Kyle has to clear his throat, and thoughts, before he speaks again, “Who do you want to include in this? How do you want to navigate it?”

“I’ve already told my doctors and it’s in my file,” you say proudly, and Johnny answers with excited whooping.

“He/him pronouns in public?” Kyle continues.

“Yes, please,” you eye your guard dogs. The four of them beam, chests swelling from knowing you have so much faith in their abilities to protect you, to keep you safe. 

“Please tell us if there’s ever a situation in which you don’t feel safe doing so. We play by your word,” he swears.

You nod in response, his words spreading a new and lovely warmth through your body. They must have done some homework after that initial conversation, always wanting to be prepared. And it couldn’t be more fucking soothing. Air returns to the room, bringing in levity once more.

“Lovely lads all around,” Johnny looks at each of you, wicked joy painting his face, “What a lucky bastard I am.”

His toothy smile is infectious, catching the rest of you until your faces hurt from mirth. Of course they were amazing with this, they’ve put so much work into maintaining this relationship. All those late nights working through clarifications, the probing answers and check-ins. And they’re doing the same thing now, meeting you head on. And eager to boot. Sweet boys stay sweet. 

you had decided that you wanted to do something more purposeful with your life. Instead of working a retail job during the summers between your college courses, you decided to start volunteering with the Red Cross (or whatever your equivalent would be).

You end up being sent to work at a military base, mainly focused on the care and comfort of the soldiers. you were almost acting how a therapy dog would- you go around and interact with the soldiers sweetly, doing your absolute best to be a ray of sunshine for them.

you kept a clipboard on you at all times, keeping track of every soldiers name, rank, and adding little notes for things you wanted to remember. There were a lot of men here, and keeping track of them all was hard- especially when some didn’t even show their faces.

Always wearing silly little pins on your shirt, one with your pronouns, another that said ‘free hugs’. You liked them and you always felt a little smile creep up over your lips when you felt some of the men reading them.

You quickly became familiar with the task force 141, as they were some of the more highly trained soldiers, easily setting them apart. You had also been assigned to focus on a certain sector of barracks, which just so happened to include their own. Little did you know what it would be like to be a bunny walking into a wolf’s den.

The first person you met was Ghost. You had decided to do a ‘treat day’ once a week, where you went to each barrack and knocked on the door, either handing the soldiers their treat or leaving it by their door. The other three hadn’t answered, but when you get to Ghost’s dorm you heard a huff and the click of the lock.

What you never expected was to see Ghost shirtless in dark gray sweatpants and his mask pulled over his face. He looks down at you with a hard stare, and naturally your eyes flit to his bare chest for a moment before quickly looking up to meet his gaze. You’d seen him in passing, but you’d never spoken.

“You’re Lieutenant Riley, correct?” You smiled up at him, doing your best to act like he wasn’t half naked in front of you.

“Call me Ghost. Wha’ do ya’ want?” He mutters gruffly as he keeps one hand on the door and the other on the door frame.

Smile faltering for just a moment, you quickly reach into the small satchel you had on. “I’m the new volunteer that’s assigned to your dorm sector” you explain as you pull out a little bag of cookies, tied with a ribbon. “I thought I’d do a treat day for you all once a week” you murmur as you offer him the bag.

He stares at it for a few seconds, a little caught off guard. He gently takes it from you, looking at it carefully before looking back at you. “Dogs get treats.” He mutters, though there’s no real bite to his tone.

Your smile quickly widens, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips- which immediately makes his heart stop for a moment. That laugh.. that laugh was something he knew he’d want to hear again. There was nothing soft or sweet on this goddamn base. They couldn’t even hire someone for the night- no way to sneak them in. But then you showed up on his doorstep.

Closing your satchel, you look up at him with a playful smile. “Good boys get treats. I don’t think the species matters.” You grin before you offer a small wave of goodbye, walking down the hallway onto your next stop. He stands frozen in his doorway, watching you as you walk away. You just called him a good boy? Christ almighty.

It was pretty damn obvious what happened next- Ghost told the rest of the boys about you. How soft and sweet you were- how you flirted with him and made it seem like nothing. You were a natural at being kind. Something they weren’t used to.

The second to meet you was Gaz. He was a charmer, and unlike Soap he was actually successful at it. He’d had a whole plan of how he was going to be all suave when he introduced himself to you formally- but that changed pretty quickly.

You had been doing some work right next door to the medical ward when some soldiers returned from a mission gone wrong. Multiple men were injured, and without even thinking you went in to help. You weren’t qualified to work in the medical field whatsoever, but you knew you had to help.

When you ran into the med bay injured soldiers were being brought in one after another. Someone saw your jacket that indicated you were a volunteer and in the midst of the chaos assumed you were working in this ward- meaning you had training. They pointed towards the doors and yelled at you to check for anyone else outside.

You immediately followed orders, running outside and seeing different vehicles parked. Running up to them you checked the backs for anyone else, finding one injured soldier left with his side bleeding heavily. When you look around for help there is no one to help found, everyone within the area inside to help.

It was a good walk to the doors, and you knew the keys weren’t in the truck. You huff, opening the back of the truck and pulling him out, taking a deep breath before helping him down. He can barely walk, and even you know you can’t lift him. You try multiple positions to see if you really could lift him, or help him walk, but he was too weak.

You end up settling on hooking your hands under his shoulders, pulling him the best that you could. It was incredibly difficult, and you felt like your shoulders were going to pull out of place. But in the heat of the moment you tugged as hard as you could, simply worried for his safety.

Gaz had just walked outside to get a breath of fresh air when he heard something, looking off to his left. His eyebrows quickly raised when he saw you practically killing yourself trying to lift and pull a man that was way too heavy for you. He quickly ran over, and seeing how distressed you were and the injured soldier he crouched down, picking the guy up himself.

“Fucking hell- what happened?” He says with a grunt as he starts carrying the man inside.

Taking a shaky breath and wiping your eyes, you follow him, opening the doors for him when you reach the building. “I don’t know” is all you can manage to choke out in the heat of the moment.

Once the injured soldier is settled, you look down and find yourself stained with his blood. When you’d tried to pick him up you must’ve gotten it all over you- god and you left a trail on the floor. Before Gaz can come check on you like he intended to, you disappear into a janitors closet, pulling out a mop as you try to clean up the trail of blood you and the soldier had left.

When Gaz sees you frantically trying to clean up the mess, he walks over and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey.. you’re alright.” He says softly, gently taking the mop from your hands. “Someone else will do that. Let’s get you taken care of, hm?” He hums comfortingly as he leads you out of the medical ward and to your dorm area.

You sniff softly as he closes the door behind the two of you, helping you out of your blood soaked vest. “I’m sorry” you whisper faintly. “I just- I was scared I couldn’t help him.”

He gently shushes you, turning on the shower in your small bathroom for you. “You did good, love. The best anyone can expect from you.. it was out of your job description, eh?” He smiles softly. “I’ll go get this cleaned for you, alright? Just worry about calming down, I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

He came back maybe an hour later to you all cozied up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants with fluffy socks, hair wet with an apologetic smile on your lips. Taking the now clean vest from him and setting it aside before gently slipping your arms around his neck, hugging him. “Thank you for being gentle with me” you say softly against his shoulder before you pull away.

He left your room with his cheeks slightly flushed, and already head over heels for you. He thought Ghost must’ve been exaggerating at least a little by saying you were the sweetest thing he’d seen- but Gaz knew he was right.

Meeting Captain John Price himself was a bit of a dream for you. You’d always see him in the halls and you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. Of course, all of the boys were attractive- but there was something special about John, with him being older and his thick beard.. he was just so strong and soft at the same time, always offering you a kind smile when you passed each other in the hallway.

The first time you really spoke to each other was right around Valentine’s Day. You’d been there for a few weeks, but with John being so busy you hardly ever saw him. He heard a lot about you though with how much the boys talked. He knew they were all obsessed- even Soap when he hadn’t even had the chance to speak to you one on one yet.

You’d knocked on the door to his office, and when you heard his gruff voice tell you to come in, you gently opened the door and peaked inside. “Captain Price?” You said softly with a shy smile.

The second he heard your voice he quickly looked up, a smile crossing his face. “What can I do ya for?”

Stepping inside and closing his office door behind you, you hold your clipboard to your chest as you speak. “Well- with Valentine’s Day coming up, I wanted to do something sweet for the men.” You smile softly. “I just wanted to ask if you thought they would prefer flowers or chocolates” you chuckle.

His eyes soften as he hears your words, and he can see what his boys meant now. Christ you were soft. Flowers? Chocolates? Who would even think of giving that to a soldier?

“Flowers.” He says firmly. “Can’t ‘ave my boys getting pudgy on me, can I? Got to keep ‘em on their game.”

Smiling sweetly, you nod before politely excusing yourself. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, all of the boys were surprised to find a red rose taped to their door with a little personalized note for each and every one of them. Imagine how annoyed they were when they realized you had to give them to every soldier and not just them?

And last but not least is Soap himself. While you’d seen his goofy antics from afar, you hardly ever truly spoke. Just passing flirts and teases, brief hallway conversations. You’d only ever seen him in an upbeat mood- never truly upset or angry. The first time you see behind the puppy dog facade is surprising to say the least.

You had heard a crash a few doors down from your dorm, and you immediately rushed up- not bothering to put on your binder or even your shoes. Darting down the hallway to find one of the soldiers in their room throwing things and yelling, clearly having some kind of mental break. When you read the name on the door you rack your brain, trying to remember any information you can. That’s when you recall he has PTSD- and he’s probably having an episode.

You were the first one there and without a care for your own safety you opened his door, speaking as gently as you can as if you were talking to a wounded animal. Soap had been a few hallways down coming back from a mission, fully planning on getting a good nights rest. When he saw people running and heard yelling he immediately went on alert, running towards the source.

When he got to the room he saw a higher up on the phone with medical, but no one was doing anything. When he looked inside, his heart stopped when he saw you- how you were putting yourself in danger. You were a few feet away from the soldier, arms out trying to show you weren’t armed.

“Hey- hey, sweetheart you’re okay” you say as comfortingly as you can, the man clearly confused. “Adam- Adam, right? Honey you have to look at me, okay?”

Soap had seen how badly PTSD episodes could end, and the thought of you being in there put him on edge. Without thinking, a higher up rushed into the room, pushing past Soap. Of course, the sudden movement triggered the soldier, sending him into a panic. Since you were the closest person to him, he grabbed you by the neck and shoved you against the wall, yelling at the other men to get back.

The second Soap saw how he touched you, he immediately ran in and rushed the man, shoving him off of you. Gasping when your throat is released, you start to cough heavily, bruises already starting to form on your skin. Before you know it, Soap is fighting the man, throwing a punch before you can grab him and pull him back. As the medical personnel run in and restrain him, you’re left with your arms tightly around Soap’s torso, his back to your chest.

Shaking from the adrenaline of it all, he quickly turns around and pulls you close into his arms. “Fucking Christ lad- never pull that shite again, alrigh’? Gonna get yerself killed.” He says as his voice starts to calm.

Without a second thought he brought you to his room, examining your throat and making sure there weren’t any cuts or scratches. He can see how you’re still shaking, and he sighs softly before moving back onto his bed, motioning for you to follow.

“Won’t try nothin’, eh? Jus’ gotta stop yer shakin’.” He says quietly. Hesitantly moving onto his bed, he pulls you to rest on your side in between his legs, holding you against his chest. “Ya got a big heart lad.” He says softly. “Gotta keep ya safe, yea? Me an’ tha’ boys will do tha’ from now on.”

Bumping into Ghost randomly on the street, he gets annoyed and glares down at you, you immediately react after having a horrible day by darting into an alleyway with tears in your eyes. He unknowingly just stumbled upon an emotional little bunny with no one to protect him. You who is lonely, touch starved, and cannot handle any rejection or negative feelings coming your way.

As soon as he looked down and saw how tears welled up in your eyes, his gaze softened and followed you as you scurried off into some dark alleyway that probably wasn’t the safest for a little thing like you. He knew he probably looked big and scary and mean, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to follow the sweet little thing whose day he very clearly just ruined.

He finds you in the alleyway with your face in your hands, trying your best to stop your tears. Digging your palms into your eyes, breathing heavily as you try to calm yourself. He watches from a few feet away, his mind riddled with guilt. What kind of asshole makes a little bunny like you cry? He walks over silently, standing right in front of you and waiting for you to say something.

When you see his boots on the ground in front of you, your tears slow slightly, but not enough to gather yourself. “I-I’m sorry” you choke out between sobs. “I didn’t m-mean to.” He sighs when he sees how tears are soaking your shirt slightly, and how you were shaking like a leaf in front of him. He wasn’t good at comforting people- he never had been. But there were a few things he was good at. He knew how to fight, kill, and fuck.

You didn’t know how to react when he gently leaned forward, cupping your chin with his large hand, his thumb stroking over your skin. “Don’t cry” he said quietly in his gravely voice. “I’ll fix it. Jus’.. no more cryin’.” He murmured softly, his hands reaching your torso, gently kneading your soft flesh through your shirt. You tense, a small gasp leaving you at his touch. “little birds cry when they’re wound up too tight” he says softly as he leans to speak against the shell of your ear. “let an old dog help ya’.”

A few moments later he had one arm against the brick wall of the alleyway in front of your face, ensuring you wouldn’t hit the brick while his other hand was down your pants, thick fingers circling your little clit. “such a good boy” he says against the skin of your neck where his face was currently buried. Every touch to your little bud made you arch closer into his chest, heavy breaths leaving the both of you while he occasionally checked to make sure no strangers were getting a free show. Even if they were, he couldn’t blame them. A soft little thing like you being manhandled? It turned him on too.

You can feel his bulge pressing against the curve of your ass, pushing back against it whenever you get the chance. His fingers shift lower, teasing at your tight entrance while he manages to get his mask up slightly, pressing small kisses to your neck. “f-fuck-“ you gasp out, wanting to moan his name but he never even told you. When the tip of his thick finger sinks inside of your boycunt he groans, shifting his thumb to still knead at your puffy clit.

“Yer so warm down ‘ere” he groans against your skin, sniffing in your scent as his face rests against your neck. “fuckin’ hell, yer tight..” he murmurs as he sinks in a second finger. “no wonder yer crying so easy.. hell, i’d cry too if I were this pen’ up.” He mutters against your skin.

You can’t help but choke out weak moans while his fingers explore your cunt, rubbing along every bump and ridge he could find, doing whatever he could to find that perfect little spot that would make you sing. With one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, your other one reaches up to wrap around his thick arm, craving some kind of skin to skin contact. “s-sir-“ you whine weakly when his thumb presses hard against your clit.

He groans loudly when you call him that, picking up the pace as his erection grinds up against your ass. “christ, yer a good boy.. lettin’ me take care of ya’.” He mutters when suddenly, you cry out against your hand, eyes tightening shut with embarrassment. He immediately smirks, rubbing the pads of his fingers over that little spot he just found. “there he is..” he says proudly as he presses against your g-spot.

Within no time you’re completely soaking his hand, clear fluids dripping down his fingers and coating his hand. He groans when he feels how tightly you were clenching around his fingers, but he can’t stop himself from rubbing even quicker over that soft little spot inside of you, all the while his thumb teases your clit. “shit- oh shit” you whine, the sound barely muffled by your hand.

Simon quickly looks to see if anyone is around, and when he knows the coast is clear he starts to hump against your ass while his fingers move quicker. “Come on- fuck yeah” he huffs when he feels a rush of slick spill onto his hand, and he hears a sharp cry from you. While he carries out your high he moans weakly against your ear as his hips start to stutter against your ass. After a few moments he groans against your ear, letting his head collapse onto your shoulder.

As he lets himself fall against the brick wall, he shifts one hand to wrap around your waist, keeping you from escaping his grasp. The other slowly slips out of your wet pussy, moving up to his lips and pressing inside as he groans from the taste. Your cheeks heat up from embarrassment, keeping your head downcast. “Ya taste like a dream” he mutters as he looks down at you. “Feel better?”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding slightly. You really did feel better. “..thank you.” You whisper shyly, making him chuckle.

Wiping his hand off on his jeans, he spins you around so your back is to the wall. He can’t help but lean down and press a gentle kiss to your lips, stealing away any breath you had. When he pulls away, he looks over your body. “Yer probably all sticky now, eh?” He grumbles. When you nod shyly, he places a small kiss to your cheek before sinking down onto his knees, pulling your pants down your thighs. “Don’ worry. Big boys know how ta’ clean up their messes.”

hey guys !! Sorry I haven’t been super active lately. I started school last week so I’m more busy than usual. hopefully I’ll have a longer fic out for you guys soon ! :D

You and John had been together for a small while. The two of you got on well, balancing each other’s personalities out easily. But as you started to spend more time together, like John sleeping over at your apartment, you found yourself having to be more wary. You had always been an emotional person, which was clear for anyone to see. Always having a smile on your face, it was easy to tell you felt things more deeply than some. But of course, there are two sides to every coin. You did your best to not show your ‘negative’ emotions to anyone. They were known to be.. explosive at times.

After a long day, it wasn’t unusual for you to go home and lock yourself in the bathroom for a small while, sitting on the cold tile floor to ground yourself as you let the tears flow. You learned a long time ago that trying to prevent them just makes it ten times worse. And crying could be triggered by anything for you.. messing something up, thinking someone is mad at you, spilling something on your outfit or your routine being overshadowed. It was hard- feeling like the world was against you. You couldn’t help that you were ‘sensitive’. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t not cry.

Getting your own apartment had been a positive and a negative thing. Positive in the sense that you could cry or express your emotions when you needed to. Negative in the sense that if you were having a really bad emotional episode? You were completely by yourself. Dark thoughts popped up sometimes. You knew it would all pass- but it was still hard to have to sit and listen to your brain telling you it would be easier if you didn’t have to feel it all anymore.

Being different than others had kept you from typical romance scenarios. Not dating much in high school, always feeling too emotionally mature for everyone.. a blessing and a curse. Meeting John and him asking you out was something you never even expected for yourself. But it ended up making sense. Having an older guy with higher maturity really allowed you the space to for once feel less obligated than others to always be mature and in charge. He was like a breath of fresh air when you’d been breathing in smog for far too long.

You had an incredibly shitty day. One of the few friends you had was being distant, your work was piling up so much you had to bring some home, you’d practically forgotten to eat all day.. everything was falling apart at the seams. Unable to hold yourself together, you started crying during the car ride home- which wasn’t all that unusual for you. Pulling into your parking space you make it up the elevator to the door of your apartment. Unlocking the door and walking inside, as soon as the door clicks closed behind you a sharp sob slips past your lips.

Tossing your bags onto the floor, you continue to sob almost uncontrollably as you stumble into the kitchen, vision blurry from tears. Wiping your cheeks with your sleeves as you open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. You can’t drink and cry at the same time.. it was a good hack that never felt like you were forcing yourself to stop crying. Letting yourself slide down the kitchen cabinets, you hit the floor with a weak gasp for breath, face heavily flushed and eyes bloodshot as you continued to cry to yourself.

After a few moments to yourself, you suddenly hear heavy footsteps from the hallway of your apartment. Looking up, your puffy face meets John’s, who is clearly concerned. Wearing a towel around his waist, his hair only slightly wet from the shower he must have taken- you interrupted him drying himself off. He wasn’t supposed to come over today. Christ- you interfered with another persons life. Why did you have to be such a bother?

He quickly darted over, immediately crouching down as his eyes scan over your form, checking for something wrong. “Sweetheart?” He says quickly, his voice slightly panicked. “What’s wrong?”

Staring up at him like an idiot, you can’t help but look away out of embarrassment. You never let anyone hear you cry like this. “Nothing” you murmur faintly as you wipe your cheeks. “Just.. needed to cry.” The embarrassment of getting caught like this made the tears stop almost instantly.

He looks at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze. “Love..” he murmurs softly as he kneels in front of you, cupping your chin and pulling you to look at him. “I’ve barely heard men who’ve been shot cry that hard.” He says softly out of concern as his thumb rubs over your cheek.

Sighing softly, you lean into his touch. “I just.. I cry really hard. Always have.” You confess faintly. “I’m sorry- I never wanted you to see that.” You sniff.

With a huff, he gently leans forward and pulls you into his arms, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “Hearing you like that broke my heart.” He whispers gruffly against your ear. “Don’t you ever hide from me again. Not when you’re hurting like that.”

Sniffing faintly as you let him hold you, you can’t help but feel the guilt bubble up inside of you. You weren’t hurting that bad.. you just cried really hard. For some reason. It was never justified- you were just always overreacting.. nothing can hurt that bad. At least, that’s what you’ve been told your whole life. “I’m really okay.” You murmur softly, but you can tell your heart isn’t in your words. “I just.. overreact. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Shushing you, he holds you tighter against him. “No one could fake that, lovie.” He murmurs against your heated cheek. “Your little heart is too damn big.” He sighs. He gently scoops you up into his arms, bringing you to your bedroom which you’d perfectly crafted to be a safe space. Setting you down, he reaches to grab one of your stuffed animals before putting them in your arms. “I know ya like the softer things, sweetheart.” He says softly as he walks over to his overnight bag to pull out some clothes.

Sighing contentedly, you wrap your arms around your plushie, holding it tightly to your chest as you try to forget about the day you’d had. The crying spells came out of nowhere, but ended after a small while. Even then.. you’d learned early on that other people don’t need to cry that hard. But for some reason you always did. “Some friend in high school saw me cry like that once.” You whisper faintly, burying your face into the plushie in front of you. “They stopped being friends with me after that.” You sniff. “Are you going to leave too?” You asked, unable to look at him.

He paused at your words as he slipped his sweatpants on before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve seen combat, love.” He murmurs comfortingly as he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. “You think a few tears could scare me off?”

Shaking your head slightly, you let out a soft sigh. “I wish I didn’t do that.” You said faintly. “It gets hard.. having to run away and cry. But if I don’t- it starts to hurt. Physically, I mean. Well, it hurts either way. But it hurts more if I try not to.”

John sighs softly as he looks down at you. “I don’t remember that last time I cried.” He murmurs softly. “I miss.. being able to feel like that. Emotional.” He says faintly as his hand reaches over to stroke your hair.

Letting out a contented sigh at his touch, you let yourself melt into the mattress slightly, reaching behind you to tug your weighted blanket over yourself, which he quickly helps with. When you process his words, your bloodshot eyes meet his own. “C’mere” you murmur, holding up the blanket for him.

He chuckles slightly, shifting to lay down next to you, smiling to himself when your arm slips around his waist to hold him close. With his back to your chest, he can’t think of another time he felt this.. safe. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had let him be the little spoon. “I should be holding you, yknow.” He murmurs.

When you grab another plushie from your bed pile and reach over him, placing it in his hands, he can’t help but laugh. “Let me hold you.” You say softly. “And you hold him.”

With a tired smile, he wraps his arms around the silly little stuffed animal, letting his mind fade away into the warmth and comfort of your arms. Only his baby would find comfort in comforting others. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten to find someone like you.

hey!! on the last writing i posted i added a poll, and John Price fluff was in the lead. I know I haven’t been posting much fluff w/o smut, so i hope y’all enjoy :D

“Repeat the rules back to me, please.”

“I move and you stop, hands to myself,” Kyle responds, each word breathier than the last.

“That’s right, mi vida,” you smile down at him, hand gently caressing the curve of his ass, light fingers trailing over the seam of where his thigh meets the plush of his cheeks. He can’t see you with his face buried into the bedding under him, his ass high in the air for you, but the honey in your voice is enough to have him arching deeper. “Always so beautiful, Kyle.”

His thighs tremble with the force of holding himself still, thick muscle twitching, and the sweat along his back glitters in the low light of the bedroom. You can hear him swallow loudly before he speaks, “You’ll undress too?”

Your hands continue to roam, keeping touches light to test his stillness, “Would you like me to?”

Kyle nods as eagerly as he can with his face crushed to the bed, hands flexing open and closed in concentration. You keep an eye on him as you shed your clothes, using the moment to also pull your box of equipment for the night from under the nightstand and onto the bed.

“So good, speaking up, telling me what you want,” the warmth of your words has him practically keening, his cock hanging heavy between his thighs. You reach down to give him a slow tug with your hand and his breathing stutters, precum blooming and dripping to stain the bed. He arches just a tiny bit deeper as he feels you position your body behind him, not enough for it to count as movement, but to present himself more fully to you. “Want to spoil you rotten,” you breathe into his skin as you nip at his ass, inching closer to his hole with open-mouth kisses. 

You’ve only just started and already he’s so lost in the sensations, his body heaving with every breath, his lips parted for the little moans you pry from him. It’s a fucking blessing to have such a gorgeous man splayed out like this in front of you, and an even bigger gift to know he’s yours. Tonight, you’re determined to make him feel just how appreciated he is, how loved, how wanted.

“Color?” you pause, your mouth a hair’s breadth away from his sweet hole. The way it twitches makes your heart swell and your pussy drip.

“Green. Very green.”

You reward him with a slow lick, your tongue held broad against his flesh, and a guttural sound rips from his mouth. His cock is so hard you can feel the deep throb of it in your palm. When he quiets down a little, you give another lick. He shudders under you and this time you don’t wait for him to still. Lick after lick, your hand working his length, you take in every little sound Kyle makes. Every sigh, every whimper, every stuttered breath. You can’t help but smile against his skin, proud of the joy he’s getting out of this. 

Once he’s pliant under you, his body rocking gently to keep pace with your mouth, you begin to push your tongue into him. Half a laugh escapes him, and he instinctively pushes against you for more. He’s too fucking delicious to be punished for it, so you let out a little hum against him, appreciating the way he grinds into your hand.

“Don’t need to hold back, sweetheart,” it comes out jumbled, but you don’t care, you just need to delve deeper into him with your tongue.

“Can’t,” his voice raw, “Wanna feel you.”

You move your hand to cup his balls, gently squeezing and tugging, “You will. Not stopping at one.”

With that, Kyle relaxes further into the bedding, inching his thighs further apart to give you more access. Again, you push deeper, thrusting into him with your thick tongue and only pulling back out to swirl and caress. The slick sounds of your hand on his cock only get louder with the spit running down from your mouth and all the precum he’s producing. It’s lovely, the wet clicking of your touch and the deepening moans falling from his mouth.

You feel him stiffen further, so close to orgasm, broken sobs bursting out of him. So when his hand reaches around to press your face deeper into him, you take the instruction. Pushing your tongue as deep as it will go, you focus on stroking him all the way through, reveling in the way the man jerks and trembles under you. Kyle is loud as he cums, his moaning long and drawn out, drowning in the feel of your hand on his cock and your tongue in his ass. His ears ring a little bit from the force of his orgasm, the world muted around him, his panting the only sound existing. You gently remove yourself from him, letting him collapse on his side, knees too weak to support him.

“Color?” your own voice rough as you lick your hand clean.

Kyle lays there for a moment, not saying a word, eyes zeroed in on your mouth and fingers, heavy breaths moving his chest. 

“Kyle?”

“Green.”

“Thank you.”

He reaches for you, bringing you down to lay next to him. Taking care to cover the wet spot on the bedding with his own body, he pulls you into him, seeking your warmth in his glow. You cradle his head against your chest, peppering his forehead with kisses and compliments. 

“Did so good. What a beautiful boy. So lovely and sweet.”

He melts against you, letting the quiet take over for a moment. It’s a pleasant near-silence you both inhabit, the only sounds coming from your ragged breathing and the quiet static of skin brushing against skin. A giggle escapes you when you notice he’s still hard.

“Ready for the next one?”

Kyle nods. His hand snakes down your side, over the curve of your hip, staring at your visibly hard cock, but you stop him before he can reach your pussy. You giggle again at the whimper he lets out.

“Tonight is about you, precioso. We’ll get there later.”

He looks up at you with such hopeful eyes that you can’t help but kiss him. Those sweet lips greet you eagerly, following your motions in adoration, tongue peeking out to seek yours. He groans at the taste, his chest rumbling with affection. He’ll never get enough of you, of the taste of you. And when it’s combined with his? It’s evidence of you two coming together, how could he not love it. 

You break from his hold, your kisses drifting over his jaw and down the column of his throat. The quick little nips you give there have him gasping. With a dip to the side, you bring your mouth to the stretchmarks on his chest and shoulders, tracing the pattern with your lips, teeth gently scraping. Your path continues down, your tongue laving at the curve of his tits, mouth wrapping first around one nipple and then the other. You take your time there, sucking, biting, teasing with your tongue until you see his shaking hands flutter to clutch at the bedding, the stunted jerk of his hips rocking your body. His nipples are swollen and tender by the time you raise your head, and you can’t help but smile at him, reveling in his grunt as you reach up to roll his left nipple with your fingers. 

“Such a wonderful boy.”

Following the lovely trail of hair, you make your way down his body, kissing and licking and biting, savoring the salt of his skin. A compliment sprouts from your lips each time he makes a sound because he’s so good, so pretty, taking all this love so well. Kyle can barely keep his hands to himself when your mouth reaches his hip, his fingers twisting into the bedding, the warmth of his panting breaths hitting you. You nuzzle into the dip of where his thigh meets his hip and bite at the lush fat of his body, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for him to wish you had. One of his hands lifts towards you, and you freeze as it comes closer. The pause is enough for him to remember, groaning as he pulls his hand back. 

Kneeling between his legs, your elbows nudge at his knees to open wider, and he immediately obliges. You take a moment to look at him. He’s fucking stunning. His eyes are a little glazed over, moving over your body in anticipation. Those lips you love so much are swollen from your kisses, spit slick making them shine. All along his body, you can see little patches of raised bumps on his skin, temporary marks of where your teeth sunk in with love. His cock jerks at your attention, weeping precum. Little shivers wrack his body, the motion of his breathing making the sweat coating him glisten.

“How did I ever get so lucky?”

Before he can say anything, you bend to take Kyle’s length into your mouth, as deep as you can manage. A choked sound spills from him at the warmth of your mouth, his cock gently following the curve of your throat as you take him deeper. You lift up, gently suckling, to see a dreamy smile on his face. It doesn’t stay for long, his lips falling open with another moan as you continue to bob, tongue swirling around the tip every time you rise. Your hand wraps around the length you can’t reach, stroking in rhythm. When his thighs start quivering, you release him with a soft pop of your mouth, much to his dismay, please please please pouring from him.

“I got you, cariño.”

A quick reach into the box next to you and you’ve got lube to coat the fingers of your free hand. Kyle, knowing exactly where this is going, spreads his thighs even wider. Bringing his cock back to your mouth, you gently lick at the tip, refusing to waste a single drop. Your other hand moves lower, gently sinking a single finger into him. He stills, his breath catching, until you slowly start working your finger in and out of him. 

You keep your mouth on him as you work him open, gently adding a second finger and then a third when he’s ready. His hands flutter at his sides, clearly struggling to keep them to himself. Each moan he releases, each gasp and choked breath, makes your pussy gush with need. You might be leaving a little wet spot of your own soon. But when you look up at him, his head thrown back against the pillow, his shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself back, you can’t seem to care about anything else.

When you finally feel he’s relaxed enough around your fingers, you curl them just a fraction, brushing against his prostate and making his hips jerk. You press a little harder and he clenches around you, his hips bucking up, thrusting deeper into your mouth. He mutters out broken apologies as you repeat the motion over and over again, unable to control his body anymore. You’d tell him his apologies aren’t necessary, that he’s free to take as much as he wants, but you’re too focused on sucking, giving his needy slit extra attention.

Reluctantly, you release him, the wet smack of his cock hitting his belly loud in the room. He lets out a long whine as you gently ease your fingers out of him. 

“Color?”

His answer is immediate and breathless, “GREEN.”

You can’t keep the smile from your face as you reach into the box again, this time pulling out your hand harness and the small blue dildo he loves so much, curved to hit his prostate. The smile Kyle throws at you in response is devastating, eyes soft and his bottom lip snagged on his tooth as he bites it. Strapping the harness into place, you straddle his thigh for a better angle. His eyes widen as you take your seat on his thigh, the position allowing him to feel just how wet you are for him, your cock throbbing against him. You wink at him, coating the dildo with a generous amount of lube.

You move slowly as you push the dildo into him, pausing every couple of seconds to let him adjust. Your other hand continues to work his length from root to tip, slipping down every now and then to cradle his balls as you know he likes. His hips rock the smallest amount, trying to take more, and you can’t find it in yourself to mention it. He’s been so good, so patient, he deserves to feel good. Once the toy is fully seated in him, your fingers curling beneath him, your blunt nails biting into the swell of his ass, you pause so you can both catch your breath. 

Kyle cups your jaw with one hand, turning you to face him, “I’m okay.” 

He strokes your lips, slipping his thumb into the warmth of your mouth. You suckle eagerly, rewarding him with a thrust of your hand, your wrist moving to make sure you hit his prostate. His whole body jolts with pleasure, your first couple of tentative thrusts hitting all the right spots. You know you’ve set the perfect pace when he lifts his hands to tease his nipples. Keeping your motions steady, you watch him writhe beneath you, his back arched in ecstasy, his head tossing from one side to the other, his tummy covered in the precum leaking out of him. One last check in and he replies with a chant of greengreengreen. You could cum untouched at the sight of him.

You scoot a little lower and bend, your mouth at his cock again, tongue running up the underside before allowing yourself to fully take him into your mouth. When you wrap your lips around him, you feel a hand come to rest lightly on the back of your head. He doesn’t push you or hold you, he just wants to follow the rhythm you’ve set, hand and mouth moving in tandem. Riding it out, he does his best to hold on, not wanting this to end even as you push him higher and higher towards a blinding orgasm. You glance at him quickly only to find him already searching for eye contact, unrestrained moans erupting from him. A grin breaks out on Kyle’s face as he lifts his knee to grind it against your soaked pussy, the pressure making you groan around his cock in your mouth and grind your dick against him. You both buck into each other, the sensations heightened. 

“Dámelo, mi amor,” voice whiney, practically begging him for his cum. 

He tenses at your words, you can feel him clenching down on the toy in your hand, his balls drawing up tight in warning. His grunts grow sharper, clearly holding himself off to make this last just a little longer. With a tiny twist to your wrist, you have his mouth falling open. You take him deeper into your mouth with a hard suck, and that’s all he needs. His cum floods your mouth, threatening to spill out the corners with how much he’s releasing, but you’re not wasting a drop. You’ve worked for this, you’re swallowing it all. You keep both your hand and mouth moving as he grips your shoulder to keep you from pulling away. You follow your orders, not withdrawing until he’s hissing with oversensitivity. 

Easing away slowly, you drop one last sweet kiss on the head of his cock. Kyle waits until you put your equipment aside to maneuver you over him, sitting up to wrap you in his arms and plant a heady kiss on your lips. You eagerly welcome his tongue, knowing he’s searching for traces of himself, loving the taste of his cum in your mouth. As his breathing evens out a little, and yours quickens with the intensity of the kiss, you break apart. 

“Good?” a little bit of self-consciousness creeps into you. 

“Heavenly,” he replies in between the kisses he leaves all over your face.

Encased in this bubble of intimacy, you both soothe each other for a while, hands lovingly running over skin, love-struck chuckles bursting out every now and then. Eyes lock a couple times as a check-in, joyful grins serving as affirmative answers. This could be the perfect end to the night, but Kyle has other ideas.

His touches, as calming as they are tracing patterns on your skin, wander lower. One of his hands makes it down to gently cup you. You want to tell him that you’re fine, that he doesn’t have to do anything, but a sharp hunger in his eyes silences you before you speak.

“This is still for me,” his tone possessive as he slides his fingers between your folds. “So fucking wet, so hard, just for me.”

You can’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. You’ve been dying to feel his touch this entire time, and now that you have it, it’s rendered you silent.

Kyle smiles down at you, fully aware of what he’s doing, “Gotta work you open, tesoro. So you can take all of me.”

He strokes your cock between his fingers for a moment, enjoying the way you thrust against him before shifting to slide a single finger into you, and your eyes flutter closed. You start panting almost immediately, tongue darting out to keep your lips from drying. Watching you with rapt attention, he works another thick finger into your pussy, feasting on each twitch of your body. His hand is drenched in your juices when he finally adds a third finger, the loud squelching splitting his face with a boyish grin. 

He bends his wrist a fraction, bringing the heel of his palm to press against your dick, and you all but fall apart in his hands. You chant a soft don’t need it, don’t need it even as you grind into his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders. The grip he has on your hip is nothing short of encouraging, adding to the momentum of your rocking. You feel like he’s barely touched you and still your whimpering grows louder, your body too worked up from the pleasure you’ve given him. This is meant to be about him, and yet he’s whispering in your ear that he needs it, that’s right grind that sweet little cock against him, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder. That possessive marking sets you off. The fragile thread in you snaps, spreading a tortuous heat through your body, cumming so hard that your pussy clenches down on Kyle’s fingers and nearly locks you into place. Still, he keeps moving and curling his fingers as best he can, drawing out your orgasm until you’re trying to flee from his touch. 

“Thank you,” he says, placing little kisses on your cheek, “I needed that.”

You playfully shove at him and stick your tongue out, laughing at his silliness and lifting yourself off him. He quickly sneaks his fingers into his mouth, eyes closed tight as he practically growls at the taste of you. His cheeks hollow with the intensity of how he sucks your juice off his hand, his palm smearing the rest onto his chin. He wants to make a comment about needing to suck you off directly, but his mouth is too full to talk around.

Reluctantly, you break his private moment, “Still good for another?” You gently grasp his cock, hard again at the taste of your pussy, and give a tentative stroke.

He hisses, bucking immediately into your hand, “Won’t last long.”

“Don’t need to. Just gotta fill me up,” your strokes growing more confident.

His hands come down on your hips and he practically wrestles you into place on top of him again, eyes dark and focused, but he restrains himself a little as you pull back. You motion him to sit higher on the bed, help him settle so he can lean against the headboard comfortably. 

One last check in and green has you sinking down onto his cock, your pussy almost unbearably tight around him. He twitches inside you, and choked sobs ring from both of you as you try to adjust, his hands gripping tight at the plush of your hips, keeping you locked in place. You wrap your arms around his neck, blindly pulling him into a kiss with too much teeth but it’s too fucking good to stop. The press of his bush against your swollen dick has you moving, needing the friction. With Kyle’s help, you rock back and forth against him, keeping him nestled deep inside of you and still giving you both the motion you need. 

You don’t know exactly for how long you stay in that position, hips rutting and sweat pooling, your chests pressed to each other, breaths shared through open mouths. It’s too good to stop. Every time you pull your hips back you can feel his cock brush against yours, and you’d kill before letting yourself lose that. He’s of the same mind, dragging your hips back and forth as he leaves a trail of bites along your neck and shoulder. But the pleasure is quickly building in you both, and you know what he needs.

Without breaking your stride, you lean back enough to create space between you. A deep sound rumbles in Kyle’s chest in protest, but it dies when you slide two fingers into his mouth and press down on his tongue. He immediately devotes himself to coating them with spit, unsure of where it’s going but too excited to ask. When he’s done enough, you reach between your bodies to circle his nipple with your wet fingers. He jerks with a curse, hips moving involuntarily. You keep at it, pinching and rolling his nipple, moving to the other one for equal attention. His pace picks up, taking over your movements and rocking you against him. You bring your mouth to his ear, just enough to reach and not disrupt his rhythm, to whisper praise into his ear, tan lindo, tan dulce, taking such good care, taking you so well, what a perfect boy. Using the honed strength of his arms, Kyle stops your rocking and instead lifts you to bounce on his length, his hips rising to meet yours as he cums deep inside. He moans into your neck and reaches down to place his knuckles on either side of your cock, quickly jerking. This time he’s the one speaking, need this, need this, cum for me. His thumb gently brushes against the head of your dick and that’s all it takes. You writhe in his arms, and he bites into you again as he feels you pulsate around him, stroking you through your orgasm. 

Neither of you can bear to move as you catch your breath, soaking in the affection clear on both of your faces. You can even feel his smile as he kisses your forehead. You kiss every part of him you can reach, savoring as much as you can. The sweat on your bodies starts to cool when you finally break apart. 

“Thank you for letting me do this tonight,” you tell him, noticing his eyes are starting to droop with sleep just as yours are. You cup his face and bring him in for a sweet kiss. 

You don’t often have to remind yourself how much you love your partners, how you cherish them, because it comes so naturally. But with the hovering and the near constant check-ins and the way they won’t let you even walk on your own, you have to recite a mantra about it so you don’t pull out your own hair.

“Yall realize that 6-8 weeks of recovery does not mean 6-8 weeks of being bed bound, right?”

John is almost too quick to answer, “Hasn’t even been a full week yet. You need to take it slow.”

“None of you ever take it this slow when you’re injured.”

“None of us have to deal with that major of a surgery usually.”

There’s plenty of pillows around you, you can chuck one at his head without it affecting your posture. You spend a second looking for the right one to throw, but the pillows John bought you are slightly bigger than what you can currently lift. Motherfucker has the gall to grin at you, proud of himself.

Needing to at least exit the room, you wiggle around in the nest of pillows as much as you can without hurting yourself. A too hard lunge makes you gasp and Simon appears at your side, reaching in with strong arms to pull you free from the tender trap. You sit him down once you’re on your feet, motioning for him to stay there. You can make the walk to the bathroom. You should make the walk to the bathroom. You need to make the walk to the bathroom.

“Remember not to strain yourself,” he calls from the bed, edge in his voice making it clear that he’s only barely able to stay where you left him.

Any other time, any other one of them, you’d be turning and mocking them with an “okay mom.” In fact, you still want to with all the careful tiptoeing, but when you turn and find those big brown eyes full of soft concern, the anger dissipates. Simon is in uncharted waters, feeling helpless and clinging to what he can do for you. His hands clutch the bedding under him, knuckles turned white.

You answer him softly, “I will Moncho, thank you.”

As silent as he is, you know he’s standing outside the door the moment you close it, waiting for your call should you need him. It’s usually not a problem, but having to swear to no locked doors for the foreseeable future makes you move carefully in the bathroom. The last thing you need right now is to grunt a little too loudly and scare Simon. 

“You know you don’t all have to stay housebound, right?” you try to keep your tone friendly as you open the door. “Yall can take turns stepping out for groceries or snacks.”

“Everything delivers now, love,” Kyle sounds a little too smiley for your liking right now.

“I just don’t want yall to get bored, cooped up.”

Johnny’s laughter drifts in from the kitchen, “Please, we’d stay home every day if we could. Delighted we can now.”

There has to be fucking something. They’re sweet, they’re lovely. The surgery and recovery would be impossible without them. But there has the be some fucking way to not have all eyes on you every minute of every day. You ease back into the plush nest made for you, trying to drum something up. Thankfully, the sound of the doorbell saves you from spiraling deeper into your frustration.

“Damn, yall really did order everything for delivery.”

Johnny sprints for the door, excitement in his eyes, “This might be one of the things we ordered for you specifically.”

Swear to god, if they ordered more of those impossible compression socks, they’re never gonna hear the end of it. At least it’s been a good day. You’ve got clean sheets and bedding, you showered with little to no pain (Simon insisted on joining you to help), and the incision sites are healing well. The bladder pain you could do without, though. 

“Special delivery,” a new voice sings. Two?

“Ale! Fito!” you surge forward to stand, but too many men shouting in protest sits you back down. “What are yall doing here?”

They make their way through the pillows to greet you properly, facial hair rasping against your cheek. Thank fuck for that shower earlier. Can’t be too mad about this being orchestrated now. 

Ale smiles bright, plopping down next to you, “Un pajarito medio nalgón-”

“Cuatro,” Rudy interrupts, taking a seat much more gently, “Cuatro pajaritos bastante nalgones.” 

“Simón, Simón. Cuatro nos pidieron un favor.”

“We did say ‘special delivery’.”

They each place a white box in front of you. No labels or tape, just folded closed gently. The folded pieces bloom open in their hands, revealing a giant ziploc bag full of lots of little somethings in each. You can make out little star and flower shapes, all coated in a clumping white powder.

“Are these my tía’s cookies?” 

Ale sucks his teeth, wrapping an arm around you, “Clarín cornetas, mi niño.”

“Which of you did she flirt with?”

“Both,” Rudy chuckles, “We got that bordertown charm.”

It’s then that you remember your tía’s bordertown and their bordertown are on opposite sides of Texas. Not only did they have to deal with her shameless flirting for who knows how long, sweet fools must have gone so far out of their way to get these. And the sheer care they must have put into the transportation. These cookies are frail and yet so few of them are broken. They even accounted for the lard used in them, little ice packs peek out from underneath the large ziploc bags. Tears blur your vision, their voices going out of focus as they give you updates on your family.

“There is one condition though,” Rudy hands you a tissue. “One bag is for you, and the other is for them to share.”

Johnny comes running in from the kitchen again, “Wait, just one for all four of us?”

“That’s what Tití said.”

“Fuck, I really thought she liked us,” Johnny stands completely still for a minute, clearly reviewing the interactions they’ve had with your tía in his mind, cookies forgotten. 

Kyle takes their bag, diving into it immediately and coating his chin in the powdered sugar falling from the cookie. It doesn’t take long for the other 3 to converge around the bag after that. They’ve only had these cookies once before, at your youngest cousin’s quince, which was full of too many “so exactly how are you related?” questions. Your tía says she saves them for special occasions, but you know that the labor that goes into making them is too much for the cookies to be in regular rotation. Either way, they’re a true gift. Your cousins must have helped her this time, the start and flower shapes are just off enough to not fit into your tía’s perfectionism. It won’t take a whole lot of convincing to get Simon to use his fancy calligraphy to write them a thank-you note.

“We were also promised grilled goods upon arrival?” Ale speaks loudly over the cookie commotion.

John perks up at that, faint surprise on his face.

Kyle makes an excited noise around a mouthful of cookie, speaking from the corner of his mouth, “Right, and we’ve got everything set for the chef.” He wrangles John towards the backyard. 

Simon looks worried as Johnny approaches him, clearly meaning to take him to the backyard as well. He’s been firmly by your side since they brought you home from the hospital. He looks over at you, tracing your figure slowly, double-checking every inch of you. Taking a deep breath, he stiffens.

“We’ll look after your boy,” Rudy says softly.

“Aquí te espero, amor.”

He nods, your words enough to ease him through the door. 

With all the prep before the surgery, a couple of really intense weeks where you all worked to prime the house for recovery, this is the first chance you’ve gotten to exist without them being in the same room. And it’s so fucking nice. You couldn’t ask for better partners, but it’s almost relieving to not have to worry about accidentally setting one of them off and launching them into motherhenning. Rudy and Ale have clearly been given the task of looking after you, but even just having new faces to talk to is refreshing.

“Which one of them set this up?” you ask them.

“It was less a request and more a suggestion from us,” Rudy says.

“Bien los conocemos,” Ale adds. “Te quejas, pero bien chiple que te tienen.”

You grin, not even trying to deny it.

It’s muted, but the sounds of the boys chatting drifts into the room. Some back and forth about marinating and time, some laughing about sneaking around. You can’t quite see them from your window, but it’s reassuring to know that this time is helping them relax as well. 

Ale and Rudy tell you more about their trip to visit your tía, passing along the greetings and well wishes your family sent you. It’s an easy rhythm: one talks, the other corrects, and you get to giggle as you listen. Then you swap: you talk, Ale listens, Rudy shushes him. It’s soothing in a way that reminds you so much of home, the ruckus everywhere and laughter echoing. When the tension in your shoulders has finally slipped away, Ale turns to you, curious and serious.

“So about this recovery period,” he says.

“And a grueling schedule before the surgery?” mischief lights Rudy’s eyes.

You did warn them. And they did seem to listen. But maybe because of their jobs they’ve come to underestimate the little things every now and then.

It’s their first time visiting your hometown and you very clearly warn them as yall step out to lounge in the patio, “Aguas con el sol.”

Kyle smiles, already knowing what’s to unfold, as the others huff a chorus of it’s not that hot and a little sun can’t hurt and I’ll be alright. The heat has the white boys in less clothes than you’ve ever seen them leave the house in. The shorts are short, just enough to loosely cover the important parts. Shirts are so stained with sweat that they’ve just been tossed off, sweat left to glisten untouched, all their freckles on proud display. It’s fucking delicious, you can’t argue that. Even Kyle can’t help but drool a little, helping you wipe your own mouth with a chuckle. 

“Boys, you need sunscreen,” you tell them before they get too far. They look back, the three of them pointing at themselves in surprise. Reluctantly, they each thoroughly cover their legs.

Kyle speaks up, helping you lure them back, “Will you put it on for us?”

At your nod, Johnny is jumping to your side, his smile so wide his tail would wag if he had one. You try to be gentle, wanting to make this cute, but he’s so wiggly that you end up roughly slathering him up. 

“Done?”

“Are you in that much of a hurry to lay in the kiddie pool?” You already know the answer. In fact, he’s out of your hands before you can even rub the sunscreen into his skin, wide swaths of lotion bright against his skin.

Simon steps into your space before you can try to catch Johnny, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “Me next?”

You wave Kyle over to help you cover this gentle giant, making sure to cover the tattoos on his arms well. Simon melts into your arms, all but purring as he closes his eyes to focus on the feel of your hands roaming his body. Kyle’s hands come around to Simon’s front, fingers kneading his hefty tits, lingering to pinch and rub at his nipples. You kiss the back of Kyle’s hand and the big man lets out a soft grunt. Pulling the front of Simon’s body to yours, you reach down his back, hand sliding slightly into his shorts to grab at his ass. You can feel his heartbeat kick up against you. Gently, both you and Kyle pull away a little, back to taking your job seriously. 

“You’ll have to reapply a little sooner than the rest.”

Eyes hazy, you know Simon is a little too far gone to fully hear you. He just nods and finds his way to one of the lounging chairs. You and Kyle share a look, knowing you’ll have to keep an eye on him.

When John steps up to you and Kyle, he already has white streaks of sunscreen on his body, “Thought you two could help me rub it in properly.”

The two of you easily slot into place. You take his back, using the slick of the lotion to help you give his wide shoulders a massage, staying there until it’s all worked into his skin. Kyle goes directly for his tits too, but a raised eyebrow from John keeps him from any teasing. Instead, Kyle uses the chance to grab at his arms, squeezing along the way, making John lift his arms and pose. You grab at his belly as you cover it in sunscreen, hands greedy for the feel of his body, your smiling mouth pressed against his back. When you try to follow the trail of hair, he stops your hand.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

You and Kyle both let out a quick disappointed sigh as he saunters away to join the other two. What could have been. You find some solace in each other, helping one another with hard to reach spots and traveling hands. He helps you with your legs, smooth circles inching higher and higher up your inner thigh, loving the way his fingers dig into the soft fat. The grin on his face sharp as your breaths quicken. You shove your hands into his shorts, following the waistline of them from one hip, around his back, and to the other. He arches into your hand, trying to move his body towards it so you’ll touch him, cock straining against the fabric. 

Kyle pauses for a moment, hands holding the hem of the crop top you’re wearing, “It’s just us and it’s a closed space. Do you want to?”

“I don’t think I want my titties out directly in the sun. But thank you for asking.”

“Alright, sweet boy,” he kisses your forehead, “pero dime si cambias de opinión. I can help you with your sunscreen again.”

Giggling and swatting at each other, you join the other boys, ready to spend your evening doing nothing for once.

The next morning is quiet. You meet Kyle in the kitchen, helping set up the table for the chilaquiles he went out early for. But the rest of the house is unusually silent. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you call out for them. Slowly, they shuffle down the stairs in tiny shorts, bodies stiff and limbs barely bending. 

“Did you guys slee-” there’s no point in finishing once you see them. 

Simon’s pink all over. It’s not too deep of a hue, but it is absolutely all over, a stark contrast against the freckles and moles covering his body. He winces as he bends his arm to wave, the crease of his elbow tight. He doesn’t say a word as he sits at the table, worried about the sounds he’ll make if he opens his mouth. The least he can do is wait until the food is served, then maybe everyone else will be too busy to notice the sad whimpers coming from him. You and Kyle exchange worried glances, trying to remember how often Simon reapplied his sunscreen. He must have brushed aside the heat gathering on his tattoos.

“Trajimos bastante sábila, yeah?” you ask Kyle, and you know he’s worried even as he nods.

John doesn’t look so bad when he comes down. Everything seems to be fine with him, skin glowing with a golden touch that wasn’t there before. Honestly, it makes him look that much more delectable. He moves without hurting, taking the plates from your hands to help finish setting up the table. Ultimately, it’s his silence that gives him away, calling your attention from his body back up to his face. His nose is peeling, the freckles around his eyes sharply outlined in red, the apples of his cheeks rosier than you’ve ever seen them. 

“Are you that happy to see us, cariño?” Kyle immediately teases him. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered.”

John’s face goes darker as he truly blushes and you both blow him kisses. Then Johnny comes down and it knocks the wind from the room. 

This has to be one of the worst consequences of his impatience. In his rush to settle and have some fun, he didn’t rub the sunscreen into his skin. At all. He has patches of golden skin, matching where you remember the white of the lotion adorning his body, and in between them, large streaks of angry red. You can clearly see the outline of your fingers where you started to apply the lotion before he ran off. The curve of his shoulders is glossy from how tight the skin is from the burn, the freckles adorning his skin darkened by the almost purple tone. The center of his chest, the middle of his back, and almost his entire stomach are practically radiating heat. He doesn’t speak, standing in front of you and Kyle in absolute misery.

“I kinda wanna smack it,” you whisper to Kyle. 

He chuckles, matching your volume, “Think we can leave handprints on it?”

Johnny’s eyes widen and he drops into the chair furthest from you, clearly hearing you both. He keeps readjusting, unable to find a comfortable position in which the vinyl cover of the seat won’t pull at his skin. The room is silent save for the crinkling coming from the chilaquiles, the brown paper package adjusting to the heat of the food. 

“What is the first rule of taking care of tortilla boys?” you ask them, words coated in disappointment.

“Don’t die.”

“Come home.”

“Drink water.”

Kyle is already bubbling with a laugh, “Those are good rules, but you all know better.”

They look down, mumbling under their breaths, pushing at the tableware in front of them.

“Louder,” you sound a little too much like a parent with that word. 

“Don’t let the tortillas burn,” they say at once.

“And what did you do?”

“Let the tortillas burn.”

With that, you dish out the food and pull Kyle further into the kitchen with you, “Do you think they know why we call them that?”

He throws his head back and laughs, loud and from deep in his belly, and it sets off your own laughter. A minute full of cackling passes, both of you clenching at your bellies and backs, mirth so forceful you feel it in your bodies. You each wipe away tears and find the three white boys staring at you, confused.