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cyrusthedragon · 11 months

Text

Mother of his child

Explicit ‼️ MDNI ‼️ NSFW 18+

I promised and I did: Simon sucks his wife's titties while talking about a big happy family with her.

Relationship: Simon Ghost Riley / f!Reader

Tags: porn with plot, dominance, married couple, rough sex, established relationship, breastfeeding, creampie, LOTS of dirty talk, some of spit play, LOTS of milk, LOTS of breeding, LOTS of 'mama'-calling, nasty stuff, happy family fluff for aftercare, size kink, sex after some time, no "Ghost", babying Simon.

Simon Riley really loves his wife, like... possessively. Almost obsessively.

Notes:

f!Reader gained weight after giving birth, and she has too much milk. Greedy and perverted Simon can't think about her selling her milk to people who have feeding problems. He's jealous.

You and Simon serve(d) together.

(Kinda, cuz it's funny, but not actually) Bossy!Reader in the end.

You and Simon have a newborn child.

Trigger warning: English isn't my first language, so, please, write a comment if I did a good job, I need to know if it's good, cuz I'm not really sure. But i enjoyed writing it! You can subscribe to me, I'll write a lot more about him! And I take requests, hehehe, especially most dirty ones. So. Please, enjoy ♥️

AO3

"You'll bore a hole in me..." you said under your breath, touching baby girl with just your fingertips and not taking your eyes off of her.

Simon immediately straightened his back, paying attention to the book in his hands again, and you chuckled softly:

"What's going on in your mind, baby?"

Silence in the room, only a soft melody from somewhere in the house, and the three of you sitting in your bedroom: you, feeding your precious baby girl, she, smacking from the delicious milk, and your husband, trying to pretend he's reading his book. Considering how he didn't touch a single page for the last fifteen minutes, he was either repeating that one spread or trying to memorize it all.

Or just being a pervert.

It's Simon we're talking about, no one on Earth would ever suspect him of thinking about something nasty, but... You were his wife. Mother of his child.

You knew there was something in those blue eyes of his - he looked at you exactly like that one day when you... When you decided to have a child.

You weren't, actually.

It was an accident.

But when you told him about your pregnancy and asked if you should take a Plan B, for one moment after that horrific word, he looked at you, almost shaking from nervousness, with something in his eyes that you recognized as a... Reluctance? "Yeah," he cleaned his throat, moved his gaze away because, obviously, the floor was way more interesting than a damn pregnancy test in your hands, "yes, you're right, Plan B... We shouldn't.. we should, uh...". Words have never been one of his strengths, if you were not in bed.

You looked at him trying very hard to say something, and one thing in him just matched you so perfectly, that for one second you thought maybe.. maybe...

"Can we keep-"

"What if we..."

You said it at the same time, and neither you nor he understood who was saying what, but the excitement was so loud, that you couldn't resist impulses to grab his hands. Neither could he help but stretch out his arms to you and hold you to give you a hug, even if he himself was just as terribly scared.

That shit was scary. No doubt.

It would not have been that horrifying if not for these thoughts of yours. Common.

"If we..." you heard Simon speaking, felt him swallowing loudly, "Maybe, if.. maybe we can..."

"Can keep it?" you helped, squeezing him with all your strength just to feel yourself safe. "You think we can?.."

"I think... I think I want to, but.."

"You want?"

And that was the moment when you moved away a little to look him straight in the eyes, seeking there for something you weren't sure exactly what.

"Yes?.." he answered under his breath. As freaked out as you were. Of course, he was. Both of you were soldiers, to the core. No one of you ever dares to dream about having a baby... It's a huge responsibility, and neither he nor you thought you could handle it, that's why you always used protection to minimalize your chances. It doesn't mean you didn't want to - hell yes you wanted, especially with Simon, and the more you got to know him, the better you understood he wanted this, too.

A family.

A real family, bonded with each other, someone you can hold in your hand and give all your love, all your affection, untapped awe for having something you and Simon created together. Holy hell, you married a dead man, did you think you had no strength for a little human? Just a baby? It took almost half of a year for you and Simon to finally get married, you took his last name and did it with all your patience, although the boys in one-four-one started calling you Mrs. Riley a long time before you became Mrs. Riley, and all these troubles, years of waiting for something with him, all this situationship, candy-bouquet period, all of it...for being afraid of having a child? It can't be that ha-

You were selfish.

Thinking about yourself, not your baby, who would most likely live alternately with one parent, then with the other - depending on which one of you would be called for a mission. You knew it. You knew you can have your parental leave, for twelve weeks, and, and, and...

"..ve. Love!" you shuddered - Simon rarely used to raise his voice at you, and often it was because of how easily you were distracted by thinking about something very important to you. You lose your patience when you were afraid of something. You blinked, looked up at him, and suddenly he was so calm that you were immediately infected by his calmness, without realizing it. "Breathe, love," he whispered, holding your face in his palms, so huge compared to your head. "Do you want to keep her?" and when he asked, looking you dead in the eyes, he already knew your answer, but...

You breathed out: "Her?"

Eyes to eyes, one very important dialogue without a single word between you, your shiny to his bright, deep ocean blue. "I want a girl," he whispered, not even blinking. "I want a boy", you said lowing your voice to match his, and he nodded, pulling you closer to touch your forehead with his. "Then... Let's see who it will be," Simon's lips were so close to yours, you half closed your eyes, pressed your lips into a tight line, and then closed them completely when he murmured in your mouth before kissing you full of his endless gratitude: "...shall we?"

And that was it.

You lost your little bet and were very happy about it.

The little one was happy, too, sucking milk, already ready for her beauty sleep, so beautiful, and a bit... sassy, biting your swollen nipple with per pink gums, making you hiss and chuckle softly. She had her father's shiny eyes. Your love. Your precious child.

"Simon, darling, you're staring." You finally moved your eyes from your daughter to your husband, smiled at him and he could no longer pretend he was reading his book. He wasn't. "Am I?" you heard him sighing, but his gaze started to be a little more... heavier than a second before you decided it was enough for baby girl and took her away from your chest. "Yes, darling, you are," your voice softened, small one whined, lying on the bed, twitching her hands and feet, and you giggled: "What a greedy creature... Never enough for her." But she quickly calmed down - the music changed to a comforting lullaby... You could finally get up and stretch your legs, fix your dressing gown, and move to Simon, sitting on the armchair.

"You didn't answered my question."

Baby monitor right behind your girl, and you allowed yourself to go straight to the kitchen - hungry as hell, while Simon simply followed your steps God knows why.

"What question?" He asked, watching you getting your snacks.

Bare feet, loose hair, mid-thigh gown, and the wet spots in it, right in front of your nipples. You're still leaking. And mouth-watering. And holy shit he just can't stop looking at your covered chest, how heavy your breasts are, how they freely jiggle when you're just moving. "Simon." he can't hear you, all his nature is focused there where your nipples touch your closes, these eyes are wild. You watched him, busy analyzing your chest or whatever, and didn't get yet the hell was wrong, but it's Simon, so... Whatever he was thinking about he would tell you, sooner or later.

But you didn't expect 'sooner' will be that...soon.

You turned your back to him to find something in the fridge and gasped when he suddenly lifted you, sitting you on the table, face to him. "Riley, the hell are you?!-" and then you met his eyes again.

Truly, wild.

"What? Eat your food, love." his voice was strange, he completely was strange, something just cracked in you, a blush appeared in your cheeks immediately, then he pulled back the gown and your hand trembled, accidentally dropping a snack on the floor.

He bared your chest with a face like nothing happened, and you swallowed your tongue like a proper coward, did not know how - did not want to - stop him and did not even try to interrupt whatever he was going to do. You felt the shivers down your spine - his hands on your ribs, fingertips almost tickling you, forcing you to smile, but there was nothing to smile about, just your husband being odd and making your legs shake with just his hands.

God, you didn't touch him for almost six months...

"I can't," you whispered, shutting your eyes while feeling his hand off you and somehow knowing for sure he was pulling his mask up to his nose.

"Why?" The hoarse voice of his just drove you crazy. Your brain was about to explode with this sudden satisfaction he brought to you by massaging your torso and jelly belly, and you couldn't answer properly: "Because you... What are you... Just take what you want already." You hissed, and maybe it would be fear for him to feel embarrassed by your tone and hands, hugging his head, but he did not care anymore or simply did not understand that, so he just... Did it.

You felt his wide tongue in front of your nipple.

And you inhaled.

"Simon... Simon, what are you doing, Simon..."

Your voice was less caring than you wanted it to be, and he didn't even look at you to answer: "Joining you to eat a snack."

"Oh I'm a snack now, wonderful..." words came out of your mouth before you shut it, "You little pervert, are you seriously going to su-... Oh, god."

Tongue swept all over your breast before Simon straightened up to his full height - and even though you were sitting on the table, he had to tilt his head to look at you. Giant. His gaze was much heavier than before, his pupils bigger, his brows furrowed to let you know, he was ashamed of you:

"That's how your talking to a baby, love?" Simon murmured and you did not even try to believe what you heard. He continued, seeing your confusion: "I see... I'm no longer your baby, am I?"

"Wha-.."

Oh.

'"What's going on in your mind, baby?"'

So that's what it was all about.

"You pervert," you said, watching him laying you down on the table and towering over you like he was some kind of mountain of muscles. This whole situation was quite crazy, and you swallowed, losing all your boldness just because of how dominant he became, taking your hands in his one so tightly that you couldn't move your fingers if you wanted to. Breath-taking Simon. First, you met on your first night together. A completely different person than what you usually see. His gaze was on you, examining you - how the fabric glided effortlessly over your body, showing up your ribs, tummy, chubby sides (you gained some weight after giving birth and were a little worried about it, but the way he cravingly looked at your fat...), your white panties, already wet for him. Of course, you were wet. He was between your legs, holding your hands, ready to eat you up.

"'Baby?..'" you whispered under him, trying to move your feet, but his other hand grabbed your knee abruptly and pushed it aside, leaving you completely open to him. "Don't try to hide, mama," you gasped at his words, heart started beating faster, and his head lowered to touch your belly with his lips. Soft and full. "It's nothing you need to be ashamed of.. if it's not me. Are you ashamed of me, mama?". Impossible, how he affected you with this damn 'mama' spoken by his powerful, quiet voice, "You don't need to be ashamed. Didn't you say today that your breasts are full? Don't you remember?".

You swallowed your saliva, chest up and down, and your voice cracked when Simon slightly touched underneath your filled breast, "I said we can sell it... There are many people with.. problems with.. with feeding. Simon, what are you-"

"Stop asking. You don't trust me?"

"I do, but-"

"No 'but'."

You should've said something, but when he grabbed your tit with his wide palm, compressed your nipple lightly between the index and middle fingers, everything that was in your head vanished immediately. Milk ran out over his fingers, to his wrist, and tangled in his short hair above the tattoo. "So easily, mama," he murmured, following the drop of your milk, "you're so full.. and you wanna give this to someone else? You wanna take it away from our daughter? Deprive her of that, mama? Is that what you want for her?"

You just said there's too much milk in you, useless milk, because your girl never starved, but the mere idea of giving part of you to someone who wasn't his child, just made him so, so jealous. You choked - Simon pulled your nipple with his fingers as if in punishment.

"No, no, of course not, I just wanted..."

And then the moon fell:

"You can give it to me." Your eyes widen in shock. And you saw him raise his milk-stained hand and watched his tongue follow the line from elbow to finger, licking your juice. "Sweet..." He murmured, "So sweet, so delicious..." And before you even realized, he sat you up at that table, wrapped his hand around you, and pressed his open, greedy mouth to your milking breast, moaning, like it was the best thing he ever tasted. A cry escaped your lips, you instantly grabbed his head, closed your eyes tightly - your nipples were so, so sensitive after feeding, and now he almost ate 'em. Shivers ran through your body, every cell was tense, trembling legs closed behind his back, as if locking him with a fuckin' padlock pressed against your body, yet still fully dressed. "Madman," you whined, squeezing the back of his balaclava, "you're a madman, Simon Riley, you're out of your mind...Teeth-!" Your sob forced him to let go of your chest with a loud smack, just like your baby did before, and the marks of his teeth were clearly visible on the soft, full flesh around your nipple.

"Watch your teeth- god, you-" you cried out, almost ready to hit him on the back, but then he, stooped, suddenly looked up at you, so innocent, so open, that something in your gut began to tighten. "Something wrong, mama?" He said, and you miraculously felt how his second hand was lost between your thighs. Breath didn't want to recover, he clung to you, pressing his cheek against your chest, and milk flowed out of you harder.

"No..." You answered, not sure if he's a pervert for calling you 'mama', or you for enjoying it so much, "Nothing wrong, baby... Just.. watch your teeth, okay?" Eyes to eyes, without a blink, you sucked air through your teeth and slowly put your trembling hand at his half-covered cheek, stroking until he closed his eyes, "You want to be good for mama, don't you, baby?"

"Mhm", he whispered, kissing your hand softly.

You didn't know your first sex with Simon after such a long time would be like that, but his finger, just one, was in your underwear and it pressed your clit so good, that you almost lost your mind, tilt you head back.

"I will be good for you, but I'm so mad at you..." Suddenly his voice softened and your hips tensed; his palm was fully in your panties, squeezing your cunt, pressing the middle finger to the entrance.

"Why mad, baby?.."

"I'm so mad you want to give yourself to someone else, mama," and when he opened his eyes, his finger entered you on the first finger phalanx, you hold your breath and bit your lip - you forget how big his fingers were, one of his like two of yours, and there was no lubricant, just your sloppy juices. Every tiny scar on his finger was fully felt, every callus, every cut. "You wanted to share yourself with hell knows who. That's how you feel about us, love? Is that it? Instead of giving everything to your, to my child, our child, you were going to.. what?" finger thrust further, you gasped, he pressed you into himself tighten. One small kiss to your neck and you already was useless, when he lifted you again and whispered in your ear while carrying you to the couch and putting you on his thighs so that you could lay down on him completely naked.

You don't need clothes, do you?

"You were going to waste it, love." He continued. "Instead of calling me, your husband, to help you."

"Help me with what?.. sucking this milk?.."

"Exactly, love."

You would've chuckled, but then there was a crack and your torn panties fell to the floor.

He tore them on you.

Animal.

"Beast..." You whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and feeling him squeezing your tits once more with both his hands.

"Me?" Simon's soft laughter was almost unbelievable, "No, no... I'm not. You are. A little cow, mama. Leaking your sweet milk. Just like a cow. Allowing me to drink it..." he pressed his face into your chest, threw you back, milk splashed from your nipples and hit him right on the balaclava, "What a mess you are. You're looking? Look carefully." fingers squeezed one nipple, twisted, pulled, milk splashed in all directions, flowed all over your chest and down to your torso, and his hands, warm, making you whine and mumble in pain in half with pleasure, just like a cow. "Oh love, and not just here. Don't take your eyes off, watch how wet you are, you ruined my clothes," his second hand went down to your groin, suddenly you wanted to cover yourself, but his middle and index fingers had already opened your vulva, revealing his hungry gaze your lower lips. "Look at you, you're soaking, mama... Do you hear it? That's your sound."

The sloshing of your juices as he circled around your entrance, the crackling of his clothes as you squeezed his shoulders, your whimpering as he purposely ignored your hard clit - all this cacophony was his symphony for your ears, and only yours.

"You sound so well, love..."

"Simon.. Simon, please, Simon..."

"What 'please'?"

"Simon, please, I want to kiss you..."

"Kiss me then."

"No! No! Please, Simon, I want to kiss you so bad... Please let me just-" and your shaking fingers touched the edges of his balaclava, throwing aside.

Scars.

Scars all over his face.

His bright eyes, his short blond hair, and all these scars made him look way older than he was. Breath-taking Simon.

You couldn't resist the impulse to praise him like he always secretly loved:

"You're so beautiful..." Fingers ran over his cheeks, cheekbones, brows, nose, lips, so kissable, you pressed your mouth to his with a hiss, feeling Simon again in you with his whole finger. "Damnit, baby..." You said, silencing him by taking his tongue with yours.

His hand on your ass, his finger fucking you, so tight girl, he loves feeling your walls around him, up and down - you got up on him, fucking yourself with his finger, and lowered to feel how he put his second finger to your entrance. Your breath hitched as he broadened your entrance, slowly pushing himself inside. Juices sloshing, his panting against your neck, his other hand gripping your ass so hard it threatened to bruise it, and his fingers fucking you like he was re-examining you - twisting the hand, pushing in, speeding up and massaging your inner lips and your clit, making you moan so loud, thank god rooms were soundproof. "I want to be inside you so bad, mama..." You heard him, hissing in your skin, biting it with his sharp teeth, you could've just hugged him tighten, "So wet, so delicious, look at you, how beautiful you are, ready to carry my second child...are you ready, mama?"

"Second child?.." you whispered barely audible, eyes watering from his aggressive pounding, and almost whining when the sound of unfastening the belt reached your ears and the cold steel of its plate touched your hot skin.

"Of course," and he didn't even stop pounding you, that dirty pervert; pulled his boxers down, letting the cool air touch the head of his cock. Red, wet head. Big. Thick. You didn't have to look at it to instantly lower your palms down and, howling like a wild dog, grab his cock with your both hands. "Fuck, love..." He cursed, clutching your ass, "You missed me, huh? Did you?"

"I did, I did, so much, baby, so much..." your trembling voice, your confident hands stroking his already hard fat dick, your cunt, shrinking from the memory of how sweetly he filled you that last time before your pregnancy... You, cock-drunk, beneath him, full with his thick hot sperm and covered by it all over your body - your ass, your vulva, your belly, your face; he came so much then, it was your first night together after you both returned from your mission. And now you can have it again... Finally.

"Pink on your cheeks suits you, love," he murmured, stroking your cheek like you did with his, "but I prefer your tears..." and before you even understood, his tongue already was on your face, licking off salty tears, mumbling, moving his hips to you while you jerked him off. "Everywhere... Wet everywhere... Did you always have been such a dirty fat slut?.. Crying, milking, soaking... I can eat you alive. Show me your mouth," he took his hand off your butt, roughly opened your mouth, looked, "Oh, I see... Would you mind, if I-"

And you felt his saliva on your tongue before Simon finished his sentence.

"There you go, such a good girl..."

But he didn't even think about letting you swallow his spit, and while you were trying to get back into rhythm, drunk on his saliva, he threw you onto the sofa, covering you from above, like a goddamn wall: "No, no, don't close your mouth." An animal, a real beast, twice your size, towered over you, mocked you, deprived you of his fingers and you could only helplessly scratch his hands near your head and push your pelvis in him, trying to somehow sit on his cock with your pathetic leaky pussy. "Don't close your mouth, you don't want me to fuck you, mama?" Sly bastard, so different, so cold, so soft for all of them, role model, best fighter, squad pride...Made fun of you, so turned on. You nearly hated him for this, but couldn't deny how you loved him above you.

"I want," trembled lips parted, saliva flowed slowly down your tongue to its root, your heavy breath was the only music for him.

"You want? Then be good for me, and I'll be good for you, mama, your good, good baby boy, mama... I would be anything for you, open your mouth, open it, let me fill you everywhere, will you, please?"

You barely had time to grab his short hair when he pressed his mouth to your mouth, but your tongues did not touch each other, you only shared your breath with him, as you always did, and when the tip of his fat cock touched your entrance, you held your breath, feeling how, along with his length, ripping you apart, widening you, inch by inch, he poured into you also his spit. Thick saliva - that's how hungry he was for you, his mouth was full of this viscous liquid.

"Good mama," words were hard for you, he closed his eyes, stopped at how tight you were, grabbed your leg, and slung it on his belt, thrusting deeper into you. Each vein on his long cock, each brought so much pleasure to extremely tight you... It was nearly impossible to move, but he always was stubborn and even when the drop of sweat ran over his neck, he continued entering you, sadistically slowly. "Relax for me," he almost begged, and you whispered:

"I've already..."

"So that's how tight you actually are, then, huh?" Seems Simon was starting to lose patience, fingers of one hand pressed on the upholstery of the sofa near your head, the second he squeezed your breast as if in revenge: "I almost forgot how it's like...when you're not in the shape of my cock." he sucked in air through clenched teeth, staring into the tears in your eyes, like he wanted to lick them again, "But it's okay..." He continued, thrusting you exactly to halfway of his cock, "We have plenty of time to make you perfect for me again, love. It's okay. I'll fuck you 'til you'll be open for me every time I want to fill you with my cum. You like my cum?" you cried, his heavy hand gave a slap on your ass, "Of course you do... Mama's such a slutty thing, she's always ready for me to cum in her, give her so much of my sperm, so she can give birth to our future big family."

"Big..." You whined about how he was ripping you with his dick, demonically slowly to the very core, to the root. You felt the warmth of his full, heavy balls, as he promised, filled with his cum just for you, and your back arched in an unthinkable angle, as soon as you felt the coarse hair on his groin.

"Yes, love, big family," and even his mumbling reached you with difficulty, you suffered on him, scratched him, beat, squeezed him with your legs, wriggled like a snake, and he hung over you, indestructible, like a rock, tried to take a breath from the pain in the cock. "Me, you, our children, so many children..."

And there was the first thrust.

Right on the nerves.

Until the pitiful cry and eyes rolled back.

Big, big, big-

So fucking big-

"What, you can't handle me anymore?" his hoarse rough voice came from above and your body shook as he thrust into you and slap your thigh, leaving the big red shape of his five fingers. "How you're going to have my children then? Be the mother of my babies, raise 'em, feed 'em with that delicious milk of yours-" Simon compressed one of your nipples again and you choked on a scream as the milk spurted freely up. "Dirty, dirty mama..." Was his only response.

And he fucked you.

To the cries, putting all his strength into you, moaning loud and clear, just like you love, forcing you to beg for his cock, but already fuckin' you, watching your tits jiggle and milk splash everywhere, spoil his clothes, get on your cheeks. To legs shaking, to an exhausted body, growling in your face how much he's going to cum in you so that you burst from his sperm, pregnant with his children, forever, for your whole life, so everyone, every fucking single one from everywhere could see whose are you, who you belong to. This belly, squishy and fatty, this face, these tits, hips, legs, feet, mouth, this milk, and other juices, these eyes, beautiful, beautiful eyes, these delicious lips, this heart and soul - all, all for him and his children, all for the Riley family, all of it for them and no one else, no one fuckin' else. You're trapped here, you're never gonna leave this man and his child, you belong to them with your whole being, you understand that? Do you, mama? Do you understand there's no escape, he would fight Death if that sucker would ever allow himself to at least think about taking you away from Simon; he would fight Death, and he would kill it because no one has the slightest right to take even a piece of you from him.

"Mine," he groaned, sinking his fangs into your neck, suddenly grabbing you by the waist and lifting so that you sat on his cock as tightly as physically possible, and kept fucking you, beating out from you every moan, every deep scratch your nails left on his shoulders as you bathed his neck with your tears. Pressed into each other, like two halves of a whole, crazy, lost in each other, interwoven, and you won’t understand where you begin and he ends. Your cunt hurts, but the pain is so sweet that you're not sure you want to cut it, you're not sure you want him to stop, to be more gentle, not pounding you like a fucking hammer, and the angle is so right - you can feel not just his dick deep inside you, but how your clit is stimulated by him, his rough movements. Oh, this beast, this madman, this insane man... So insane just for you. You cried out, moaned: "Simon... Simon! Simon!" as if it was the only thing you remembered in your life, and the rubbing of your bare nipples against his outer clothing forced you to snuggle closer to him and at the same time as if trying to get away from him.

He was no longer there, he was all inside you, thrusting you like it was his last day, angry, but carrying you so perfectly that you could've let yourself lay on him, and you knew he would never let you fall.

"Simon, Simon, listen, listen to me, please-" your trembling voice almost vanished in all these sex sounds, but he pushed you closer (there was no 'closer') and you simply whined: "Simon, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum, I'm going to- I want to cum so bad- please, Simon, I wanna cum, I want you to cum, please, cum with me, please-" Your fingers pulled back his hair. You yourself pulled back, arched in your back, and instantly your muscles contracted on his cock, forcing him to fall, falling with you on the soft sofa. A little more and he would've crushed you with his weight, but with a desperate groan he managed to grab your hands and, lacing your fingers together, lean on them to hang over you, not for a second slowing down the speed of his deep, passionate thrusts.

Your useless legs struggled to stay on his lower back, your breasts were shaking painfully and you felt the blessing of heaven when he clung to you, pressed, as tightly as it was physically possible, and instantly squeezed you in both his hands. "Cum for me," he moaned in your ear, his veiny cock almost touched your uterus, but it seemed that if he wanted to, he would fuck your womb just to impregnate you. "Cum for me, mama, let me see how happy you are to be pregnant for me, just for me, showing people how you love me, scream, mama..."

Heavy breathing, deep unforgiving pounds, bursting cock, burning heart, nails scratching his strong broad back, ribs compressed with iron arms - and you, so tiny compared to him, you, so little, so fragile looking in his arms... were ready for anything for this man. "Cum for me," he ordered, grunted, and you tensed on him, squeezed him with all your might to his own loud moan, and tears gushed from your helplessly rolled eyes. His moans, low but beautiful, just for you, were the only thing you heard in your petite mort.

And his seed filling you, hot, thick, was the only thing you felt.

The maddening feeling of being filled with rich cum, his cum, your husband's, your man's, drove you to a silent scream, to open mouth from which no sound came out, and saliva flowing down from the edge of your mouth only to dry on your cheek when you tilted your head back. And as if boiling sperm in you, poured into your insides.

"Greedy mama..." you didn't even come to your senses when you focused your blurred vision on Simon overhanging you, cupping your wet cheek with his large hand. His quiet, purring voice settled in your head like a gooey honey. You could nearly discriminate his words. Not understanding what was happening around, hearing only his voice and feeling only him in you, you were like gutted and thrown into the light while his sweat dripped on you from above, and his heavy breathing only miraculously did not blow you away. "Just like that..." Even his voice cracked, this man couldn't resist the devil, and mumbled inaudibly: "So good for me... So good... Such a good girl..."

Hot seed in you, his weight on you, his warmth all over you, his loud breath and your inner muscles tightening and loosening around him while he, overstimulated, continued moving in you, also overstimulated, and the movements were so...gentle ... So soft... His soft pounds, his smooth swings, almost like trying to rock you, but that orgasm was so blinding, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't concentrate on the outer world, just him and his hands, his hips between your legs, his balls tightly pressed to you, his cock inside you completely... So... Soft... Hot... Your body temperature was almost past its peak... And that gentle touch Simon gave you on your belly, lying his head on your shoulder.

After what he did, you barely remember how carrying he was... This big softie...

"You..." your hoarse voice sounded like you hadn't spoken in at least ten years, there was fuckin' Sahara in your throat, and your eyes couldn't even close from the experienced orgasm, "What you just... What you... Wha-...."

Tied tongue refused to obey.

You literally could not utter a word, only mumbling something incomprehensible.

Boneless.

Dry out.

Dehydrated.

The son of a bitch literally sucked all the juice out of you.

"Si..bl... Bml... Ah......"

And when he, as exhausted as you, pulled away to kiss you on the pink hot cheek, after all, that he had done, you nearly could look at how calm he was.

"You alright, love?"

Blue eyes glanced at you in slight worry, he stroked your wet hair, raised himself with both hands to look at you, but you could not take your eyes off him. You stared at him in disbelief or shock - doesn't matter, you just experienced the nastiest sex in your life, and he was so calm, so confident, like nothing happened, like it was a daily basis for you - being fucked 'til semiconscious state while your husband was 'mama'-calling you and sucking your tits, and, holy shit, did that really-

"Do I..." You swallowed, looking him dead in the eyes, without a single blink. "Do I look like I'm alright?... Do I?... And what happened with 'mama', baby?.. what happened with 'mama'?" suddenly your voice became demanding, insistent, from somewhere you found the strength to weakly hit him in his rock-hard shoulder, and Simon's eyes flashed with shame for a second, then he moved them from you, almost trying to hide, while leaving your core and sitting on the edge of the sofa at your useless boneless legs still shaking from whatever the hell that just was.

He inhaled, "I..."

"Shut up." and he closed his mouth instantly, staring at the floor, even before he heard properly what you said. "You sucked my milk."

"Um..."

"I said shut the fuck up- You just- where are my pills?"

"What?"

The slight surprise in his voice almost pissed you off and it was funny how he almost trembled with fear and tried to shrink under your gaze: he, that behemoth of a man, two meters tall, mountain of muscles, Lieutenant, a brave soldier of the Queen, Chain Dog of Captain Price and Commander Lasswell, trembling under your gaze, your, women half his height, twice as weaker than he ever was, furthermore, unable now to even wake up on her own, move her limbs, he was fuckin' scared-

Indeed.

You did have power over him.

"My pills." You barely raised your voice and he already was on his feet, pulling on his pants and trousers, looking for your plan B.

You watched him, nervously seeking after them, making as much noise in the bathroom as he would never make on a battlefield, and you could almost see his shaking hands turning the whole room upside down.

"We're gonna have a nice long talk about all of it," you heard yourself surprisingly serious, when he came to you with a glass of water and your medicine, helping you, holding your head for you to drink, "we gonna..." you swallowed the pill from his hands, drank all the water from the glass without taking your eyes off him, and exhaled loudly as he kissed your cheek after.

"We're gonna?.." he echoed you and you saw him squatting down next to the couch, against your head, so you could lie down and look him straight in the eyes without getting tired.

"We're gonna clear up your... This. Simon."

"Mhm?"

"Eyes on me."

"They already are, ma'am."

You could've laughed, because he never called you that unless you were extremely serious about small things in your life, no one ever saw him mocking you, or smiling like this, widely and openly, but there were topics you wanted to discuss before admitting that both of you were total perverts, and nothing would even help you clean your conscience from it.

To be fair, you didn't actually want.

You knew he was more playful, more... Different when you were alone, there were demons inside his pretty blonde-haired head, that was true, you knew the man you married, and he never was such a jealous person without any reason, and... You didn't know how, but you were sure this talk about 'sharing with someone else' wasn't just... Dirty talk. There was something else deep inside.

"You're thinking too loud, love," you heard him hawed it out and then felt his strong hands on your aching legs. "Again."

"I'm just... You know what?"

"Mm?"

"We... We should..."

"We should?.."

"We should... Holy hell, Simon... You..."

"I was serious about what I said, love."

Boom.

You tilted your head, met his eyes, moving from your legs to your face.

His deep and at first sight as if almost naive eyes.

"About?..." You whispered, feeling something strange growing inside you with every second he was looking deep into your soul.

Nasty, nasty soul.

"About having a big family." you felt his gentle kiss on your ankle, his head relaxed near your feet, he mumbled, "We already have one pretty girl... I want more. I want... I want to come home... And see a hoard of children running to me... Meeting me... And you... And then I'll sit with them, and you will work, and, imagine... Coming home, where there'll be a bunch of kids, siblings, maybe playing with each other, or arguing, or... Else. Our little world."

"Our little world..."

Unbelievable.

Dreamy, absorbed in his fantasies, soft, affectionate Simon. Telling you about that.

"Even if we could... What if something goes wrong?.." you couldn't resist your fears, not for yourself, but for hypothetical children. "What if... We won't be able to give them what they deserve?.."

And suddenly he smirked:

"I'm not telling you making a second one right now, am I?" your eyes met, your uncertain, and his, surprisingly romantic. "I'm just... Maybe we shouldn't stop at just one. She needs a friend. We were able to do so many things. I will buy a big house somewhere in the middle of nowhere..."

"With a garden and greenhouse?"

"Yep. I will arrange the area. Maybe we can have cows?"

"And chicken."

"And chicken. And..."

And you completed his sentence without looking at him, just knowing what he would say:

"...and have a daydream house with white picket fence and a golden retriever..."

"I prefer Alsatian."

There was something wrong with this man. Who was without a drop of doubt thinking that you two, and now with the third little human, can have that unrealistic happy lovey-dovey life.

Scarred soldiers, hardly married, only a year ago trembling from fear because of the thought that you would have a child in your house, such an irresponsible thing to do- and- and- now-

Now he was saying you can have more, can take responsibility for more people, more little ones- where were the guarantees that he would not die in the field? where were the guarantees that you would not be killed? where there were guarantees that you could become good parents, raise good children, fulfill your duty to them, and remain happy, not break down, challenge life, who stubbornly told you over and over again that you weren't made for this, you simply cannot have this, this isn't for you, and-

There really was something wrong with him.

And maybe, only maybe, there was something wrong with you, too.

Because you believed him.

You believed him with all your being, you trusted him, you knew he would never betray your trust, he would do more than everything to keep his promises, you knew the word "family" wasn't just a sound for him, and you became his family, he did not just wanted kids and that shitty house, fuck it, that wasn't about the house.

All of that was only about you.

Making family with you.

Having kids with you.

Introducing you as his wife, being a father to your kids, calling you the mother of his kids, knew exactly that is your and his blood running in their veins, that's your common children playing in the garden.

And in his face, which for some reason everyone finds impenetrable and dispassionate, you read so much that your heart breaks, your breath hitches, your pulse skips a beat:

Simon Riley doesn't want this house without you. He doesn't want kids without you. He doesn't want any white picket fence, no garden, no greenhouse, nothing without you. It's all is just meaningless for him, if it's without you.

You are that one thing that makes him believe he's unstoppable. You're that one person for whom he wants to try, despite fully understanding how hard, almost impossible it will be. Definitely will.

The man will move mountains just for you.

He would fight Death, and he would kill it just for you.

That's truly crazy.

But once again, if he's crazy, then you are too.

"Okay..." your quiet voice sounded in the silent room, only the cozy melody accompanying your words. "Alsatian it is."

It took a second, stretching for years, for him to slowly, with the grace of a well-fed tamed predator, get up from the floor and lean towards you, giving you the most tender kiss you have ever felt.

Delicate as silk, sweet as chocolate, a touch of love.

All his feelings for you couldn't fit in one kiss. But he needed to try.

And as soon as you relaxed, trusting yourself to his strong, safe arms, loud baby cries came from the baby monitor.

Damn.

Simon pulled away from you with a quiet "Don't move, I'll go get the Princess" and you couldn't help but giggle when you heard him open the door to your bedroom and start talking like an idiot, cuz she just loved when he was goofy around her.

In one second, promises to make you perfect for his fat cock again, and in the second after that, rocks your common child while making hilarious noises to pacify her.

"Simon!" And when he, rocking your tiny Princess, looked out from behind your bedroom door, you said helplessly, unable to remove the silly smile from your face, "I love you, baby."

His gaze softened.

"I love you, too, mama."

Oh, this man...

Oh this man!

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

Note

Hello there I have another questionable idea 😁

So 141 confusing reader home for a safe house and breaking in and the sleep deprived nurse reader is just like 😐 and patches them up cos they are hurt and that’s the start of an very interesting relationship

Thank you for everything you are doing and remember that you are amazing

Drink water not coffee

🎃anon

Pumpkin! Ohh so this is similar vibes to this which I never wrote because sometimes I love a concept but am rubbish with execution :')

I have, however, tried my best to give you a little bit of your ask <3

Hippocratic Oath

Words: 550

Nah, for real if someone was breaking in you didn't care but they could at least be fucking quiet about it so you could go back to sleep. You had not slept in an actual bed in fucking days, only catching what could barely be described as a nap in the cots at the hospital between emergencies.

“Find a first aid kit, we need to get him stable!”

Oh come on. The people robbing you were injured? Stupid fucking hippocratic oath. Technically it said nothing about having to help people who had broken into your house, it just said you couldn't harm them. So if you laid here and ignored it then Apollo couldn't say shit.

…God fucking damnit. You dragged yourself out of bed, honestly too tired to react to the gun pointed at you with anything but a withering look, and went to pull the first aid supplies from their place.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“This is my house skull mask, who the fuck are you?”

There was a man with a mohawk bleeding all over your couch. You grumbled about that a little but dutifully knelt by him and started to cut the clothes around the problem area so you could clean it out and stitch him up. A heavy tactical vest was on the floor, leaving him in just a t-shirt. The other young man was pushing a wad of bandages to stem the bleeding. Good, he was doing a good job.

Kyle looked at Price who only furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, giving him permission to follow your instructions. So that's what he did.

“We get a bonnie medic with safehouses these days Captain? Cannae say I'm complaining.”

“Shush or you'll wind up biting your tongue off when I do the stitches” you said, prepping the needle and thread.

You looked quickly around his get up, seeing he was wearing jeans with a belt and undoing it.

“I've definitely seen a movie like this” the skull mask man said which you elected to ignore.

“Tell me more LT.”

You shoved the belt in the man's mouth and he took it between his teeth immediately. Not his first rodeo then. Made sense, they were probably soldiers. He was a model patient as you stitched him up, not squirming at all.

Your focus overrode your exhaustion for long enough to give each of the others a once over, making sure there wasn't anything else serious you needed to treat. By the time you got to the last man, the one your patient had called Captain, you were completely dead on your feet and your eyes were starting to sting.

“Thanks luv, c'mere.”

Being scooped up by some military man who had broken into your house really should have caused some sort of fight or flight response, but you had nothing else left to give. You were asleep before he even made it to the bedroom, putting you right back under the blankets.

–

Your alarm never went off and you frantically called in to work to let them know you'd be there as soon as possible only to be told in no uncertain terms you were on leave for at least the next week.

It was with some shock that you emerged from your room to find that dream wasn't as much of a dream as you thought.

“Let's have a little chat about the next week hm luv?”

Ah fuck.

#mhairianswers #mhairiwrites #cod #tf 141 x reader

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modelbus · 2 months

Text

Anyone else have a newfound love for this song and an addiction to task force 141? No? Just me?

To my mcyt readers: …I can’t explain. Just know that is ✨ different ✨ from my usual. (Quite Suggestive) To the COD readers I've attracted: I haven't played the games and reality is what I decide to make it (feel free to send asks educating me or info dumping <3)

Pairing: John Price x Gn!Reader

Too sweet

Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

”Morning Captain.” The words are practically a ritual, although you know he won’t respond. He never does this early in the morning.

There were a lot of unwritten rules in 141. When you first joined, you fucked them all up. Continuously. More often than not, it was Soap who laughed at you while Price patiently explained why you can’t joke about Ghost being afraid of snakes.

This rule, though, only took you a few days to catch onto. The “don’t talk about the sleepless nights” rule. Everyone knew why that rule existed; you’d seen enough combat to not be that naive. You’d been there enough to wake up before the sunrise, to watch the sky bleed orange.

And that’s exactly why you don’t ask Price about the circles under his eyes. If he’s not up doing paperwork, he’s up for other reasons. You don’t pity him; being Captain isn’t something you could ever do.

“Had a dream that Gaz found a goat and convinced you to make it the base pet.” You continue. His lips quirk up, gaze turning amused, so you soldier on. “Then it ate Ghost’s clothes, so he kicked it out of the base and Gaz quit the task force over it. And Soap claimed he could speak to it, but I called bullshit on him and he disappeared.”

”Disappeared to where?”

“Hell, maybe? That’s where he fucking belongs.” You smile at him, and his eye roll—you pretend it’s fond—seems like a victory of its own.

You’re too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

“No.”

The finality of his word rings clear, but you persist. You were never too good at stopping before you crossed that line, never too good at giving up while you were ahead. Things, more often than not, ended up right as rain.

“Price—“ You try.

“You’re too young, and it’s wrong.” Never before have you seen a man so tortured. It wasn’t a question of if he wanted you, it was a question if he would let himself want you. And you both knew it. “I won’t take your innocence from you.”

You scoff, following him down the hall and out of the briefing room. So much for staying after to help him gather papers.

“I’m a soldier, hardly innocent!”

“Compared to me, you are!” He turns, and you automatically look up to his eyes. As you said before: tortured. “I’m harsh, and we both know it. You deserve to be with someone soft, someone who can be sweet with you.”

“I don’t want to be.”

From the second you laid eyes on John Price, you knew you’d never want to be. It wasn’t his age, although you never minded an older man. It was his passion, his care, his leadership and skills and everything else about him. He was magnetic, drawing you in despite everything.

And you weren’t blind to the way his gaze always met yours in a room, either.

Price sighs heavily. “Go to bed, soldier.”

Tactful retreat it is, then. “Good night, Price.” You murmur, turning away.

A pause, then another sigh. This one is lighter. “Good night.”

I work late where I’m free from the phone And the job gets done But you worry some, I know

Knocking twice, you don’t wait for Price to respond before entering his office. His light was on, shining out a signal to anyone in the hallway that he was awake.

”You’re about to owe me.” You announce, ignoring his groan.

“I was working.”

“And now you’re going to eat dinner. I had to smuggle these from the dining hall, you know.” You drop the napkin bundle you had made on his desk, opening it to reveal the food. His and yours.

“I was going to get food later.”

“Liar.” You sit in the chair across from his desk, grabbing a bread roll. “No drinks, because even I can’t smuggle that out.”

“I could get you in trouble for this.” He points out.

“But you won’t. I’m your favorite.”

Price reaches forward, taking his bread roll. Mimicking you, although he never puts his pen down. The paperwork spread out in front of him is just like every other night you’ve brought him food.

“Who says you’re my favorite? Maybe it’s Ghost.” Price smiles, and you beam back at him.

“Don’t insult me like that. I’m proud of my title as your favorite. I mean, I am the only one that you let lounge in your office.”

“Tenuously.”

“Still.”

His attention turns back to filling out his paperwork, leaving you to sit there. Per usual. You stay until all the food is gone, leaving him with only crumbs on his desk to show for it.

Sweeping the napkin and crumbs into his desk, you pause by the doorframe. His hat obscures his face, but you know he’s aware that you’re still there.

“Get some sleep sometime tonight, yeah?” You hedge.

“I should be the one telling you that.”

“Someone gotta look after you, Price. Besides, I’m not the one who doesn’t go to bed before daylight.”

Knocking at the door to signal your exit, you head out.

You treat your mouth as if it’s heavens gate The rest of you like you’re the TSA

"Never have I ever... been a virgin." Soap says, raising his beer.

"That's not how it fucking works." You argue. "You were a virgin at some point, obviously."

"You know wha' I mean."

"Just pick something else." Ghost butts in gruffly.

This is why you prefer not to play drinking games with the task force. Soap always ends up fucking them up first, and then it manages to devolve into chaos. For an elite spec ops team, 141 sure did struggle at these games.

"Fine." Soap groans, taking a drink of his beer while he thinks.

"In the meantime, I'll go-" Gaz starts, but immediately gets cut off.

"Never have I ever been a virgin right now."

You stare at Soap. He stares back. "I'm going to beat your ass for targeting during training tomorrow." You threaten him, taking a sip of your wine. You're the only one drinking wine here, but you prefer the taste of it over beer or whatever the others are drinking.

As you tilt your glass back, your eyes lock with Price's. You're reclined on the floor with Soap while he's in a chair, giving you the perfect line of sight on each other. He watches with dark eyes as you swallow, tracing your figure with a gaze so heavy that it makes you shiver.

In his hand, his whiskey remains untouched.

"You just need to get laid and then you won't be such an easy target." Soap is saying, oblivious to the tension simmering between you and Price.

"Unlike you dumbasses, I'm don't want to sleep with the first moving thing I see." You don't look away from Price pointedly. "I prefer to wait for the right person."

Ghost makes a disinterested noise from the chair next to Price, making you flick your gaze to him. He inclines his head slightly, well-aware of the thing between you and Price, but doesn't say a word. Thank fuck for Ghost.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Don't set the room on fire while I'm gone. Soap."

"God, I didn't do anything yet!"

"Yet."

"I'll go too." Price says lowly, his footsteps tailing yours. It's not until you're in the hallway and out of earshot from the others that he speaks to you. "You're a tease, doll."

"I'm aware." You turn to grin at him, but startle at his proximity. He steps forward and you take a matching one back, your back hitting the hallway wall.

"In front of everyone, too." He murmurs, boxing you in. Your heartbeat pounds loudly in your ears, but not from fear. You know what fear feels like, and it certainly isn't the warmth pooling in your gut. "Begging for it."

"You know I have been."

His head dips, and just for a moment the bitter taste of whiskey invades your tastebuds. Your eyes flutter shut as his tongue swipes across yours, and when you open them he's gone.

Point, you.

As soft as the rain Pretty as a vine As sweet as a grape

John Price was everywhere.

His hands on your hips, his bookshelf pressing against your back, his mouth on yours. Every inch of him invaded every inch of you, and you loved it.

As it turns out, all you had to do was get shot in the field. A graze made well worth it by this reaction.

“Don’t you ever pull that shit again.” Price says into your mouth, hands tight on your skin like you’ll disappear. You’d worry that they’d leave bruises, but you already know your love looking at the reminder of him.

“Or what?” You taunt when he pulls back for air.

“Or I’ll tie you to my fucking bed.”

The threat lights your blood on fire in a way it’s never done before. Want, roaring strong, sears through you.

“Truly a terrifying prospect, the guy I’ve been waiting to ask me out finally taking me to his bed—“

He smothers your laughter with his lips and tongue, hand coming up behind your head to protect it from the shelves. You tug at his hair, earned yourself a low addicting sound. Yeah, you need to hear that more. A lot more.

“What’d medical say?” Price asks, dipping his head to trail kisses along your neck. Because he had been waiting to ambush you the second you stepped into his office, you never got to tell him.

“Um.” You struggle to collect any rational thoughts as he nips at your neck, his beard and mustache scratching your skin. “They cleared me. Wrapped it and said I was good.”

“And what do you think I have to say about that?”

Trick question.

You groan, but it comes out less annoyed and more like something entirely different. He hums in response before you can even be embarrassed by the sound.

“I don’t want to run for training.” You complain.

“I think you’ve gotten enough things that you want from me.” As if to serve as an example, he presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back. Not too far: his hands on your hips ensure he’s still got a hold on you.

“…maybe.” You relent, staring up at him.

He smiles, reassuring, and you know this is going to stick. “Pretty thing.”

“I know you are.”

“I was talking about you, doll.”

And you knew he was, you were making a joke, but the way he says it has your cheeks flaming. He laughs, breath fanning over your hair, amused.

“Let’s grab food from the mess hall.” He suggests.

“You? Actually grabbing food? At a reasonable time?” It’s a goddamn miracle.

“Yeah yeah, don’t rub it in. Wipe that smile off your face.”

“Yes sir.” You don’t wipe the smile off your face.

“I had my tongue in your mouth, I think you can stop calling me sir. Or Captain, frankly.”

“What, you don’t like that stuff?”

His eyes widen briefly. “Oh, you little—“

#john price #captain john price #captain price #task force 141 #call of duty #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain johnathan price #cod #tf 141 #john price cod #john price x you #john price call of duty

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blingblong55 · 11 months

Text

Maybe I need it- 141 +König

Based on a request:

hi!! im here to make a request!! ignore this request if it makes u uncomfortable!! milf/dilf reader x 141 + konig or whoever u want!! maybe they had a few kids from an old marriage or adopted a few children and love them dearly!! then along comes 141 seeing sweet n caring mom/dad readers when they’re on break from their messy and chaotic lives in the military!! seeing readers being so loving and gentle towards their children makes them realize how much they need that domesticity in their lives <3 just an idea hehehe

F!Reader, Milf!reader, Mum!Reader, fluff

A/N: Bc it is race weekend here in Silverstone...I had to include F1 into this...sorry (not really)

You are a mother to 3 precious little kids. After finding out through your last marriage you wouldn't be able to conceive, your husband divorced you and you adopted these three kids later after the divorce was finalised. They have become your absolute world, always the little giggles around base, soldiers have grown fond of your children, always bringing them little toys for when they visit base or asking if they can go the football field and play some friendly game with them. All under your supervision of course. When you made the move to a new base, you found it hard for your kids to visit, always keeping them off base unlike in the previous one.

The men you work with know you have children and are a single mum. They can walk into your office and immediately spot at least three pictures of your children. None of them, or at least him, cared to even think of having kids, considering his job and what he lives through, he'd never want his own mind to ruin something that is so precious and innocent.

This past week, Laswell granted them all a small break. He of course went back to his flat, the same old empty flat, nothing special to hold. By morning on a Sunday, you and your children were sitting on the grass of the local public park, where they'd host watch parties for F1. He had heard about it, but never took much part in anything like that until he saw you four. Two of your children at your sides, tiny hands on your back as the youngest rested on your lap, talking some nonsense that made you chuckle. It was a sight for sure.

-------

Price:

he was the one who said didn't want anything romantic because he wouldn't want anyone to mourn for him (thinks he doesn't deserve it)

The second he saw you, something in him stirred. You were an attractive mum, always happy and interested in what your children had to say/do/show you.

He watched from afar, how this view from afar looked like those romantic movie scenes.

When he saw you and your children cheer on for some driver and how happy the four of you looked, that's when he wanted to approach.

Realised he needed this, the sense of a home, a wife and three kids he can spoil rotten. It was a hidden dream of his, wanted to wake up Saturday mornings, go to the kitchen and find you there, wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck, kids running to the both of you.

Maybe he was meant for more than being a captain, perhaps he could be a dad and a husband, go to races or take your kids carting, have some activity where he can show how much of a dad he is.

Gaz:

Always ran away when he saw signs of love, never needed any reason to come home, and always had his head on the next mission.

He has gotten so used to being a soldier and when he saw you, it was a weird feeling, he wanted that, no, he needed it. He sat far, not paying much attention to the sport on the screen but you four, how good you looked in a cap, wanted to give you his for a change.

Wants to sit on the grass, chase the kids when one would run off, hear your giggles, and have a picnic. Wants to listen to your kids ramble on and on over Ferrari or listen to you when you'd make a strategy for them to overtake the Red Bulls.

It was strange, for the first time in his adult life, he didn't want to run from it, wanted to hold it and never let go of it, wanted to have someone. Wanted to finally settle down, and marry the girl that makes him this excited to be so...domestic

When your kids would jump and chant some driver's name, he would chuckle, what a different life you and he lived. He would wake up to new missions, and you'd wake up to three little kids. He had a cold and boring breakfast, you warm pancakes and little dinos on the table, apple or orange juice as you poured the syrup.

He needed that change, wanted a warm kiss, trip over some car toys and then wake up early to watch some 20 guys go in complicated circles as your three children and you yelled at the tv, "C'mon, you could've used that DRS to your advantage!" you'd stand up. He'd just watch and admire.

Soap:

He is a player, always jumping from warm arms to cold blankets.

He is a young lad, doesn't need to be thinking of a girl to wife or where to live to give your kids a comfortable space to grow in. The second he sees you and your children, made him feel like he was missing something. A child in your arms as you try your best to split your time between your two children.

Maybe he wanted it? maybe he just found you attractive and seeing this side of you stirred something in him? He just can't be honest with himself.

He knows you are divorced, knows you give your kids all the attention you can give and what if he wanted that attention too? would it be bad if your kids had a stepdad?

Seeing how your figure didn't scream 'mum of three' made him want you more, made him want to move into a home, wake up Sundays and do this, sit on the grass and watch some people drive around, just wanted you and kids included.

Perhaps if he does move from where he is, he can for a second pretend he is a father, and make all the other men around jealous. He knows what he should do, but what if you don't need him? König:

He wasn't a fan of the sport but he was bored and needed to just get out of his place. The AustrainGP was happening, of course, he would support the only team that was Austrian.

When he saw your kids wearing orange and cheering for Red Bull, that's when his mind wandered. What would it be of him if he had that?

Sundays with you four, cheering for the team every race weekend, watching your children jump when the drivers would win, watching you watch them, how in love you are with being a mother.

Maybe being a soldier isn't all he could be. Having you there, how lucky he'd be if he had a literal milf as his wife, how attractive you were in civilian clothes, how your kids proved you loved them, and maybe if he was lucky, he could also receive some of your love.

The way you always encouraged your children, gave them so much love and helped them pursue their dreams. Maybe he wanted to be a dad to them, on the weekends stay up and show them how to do things, build and help them destroy them all whilst having you by his side, kissing your cheek anytime he gets so excited.

A weekend full of giggles, cuddles, tea parties and dress-up time. A whole weekend where war, criminals, guns and power had no place in his home...your home. He now yearns for it.

Ghost:

(he is Terminator...y'know..the big buffy Russian guy)

of course, he wouldn't want a family, preferred it that way.

But when he saw you there, kids in arms or at arms reach, the way they clung to you, something deep in him wanted that. It was a scary thought for him to even have. Always finds his pleasure in some woman from time to time(we've seen the comics let's be real)

His mind wandered to Tommy and his family, how he would tell him it was time to settle down, and he'd just brush that off, maybe this was Tommy's sick way of haunting him, making him want a family.

Christmas dinners at your parents, him wearing something to impress them, wrapping paper scattered on the floor the morning of. You, on his lap, as you watched your children unwrap their gifts and how excited he'd be to play with them after breakfast.

Maybe after all the running he had done, life was ready to repay him, give him something to come home to. Fridays after picking the kids up from school, heading to Johnny's, drinks and laughter, kids messing with his vinyl collection, he told them to do that.

He wanted you the most, to wake up and have you wrapped in his arms, morning kisses and how he would have to give himself an extra five minutes to just cuddle you before heading to base. liked how you got all excited and smiled with your children, being a dad, maybe this would be what he needed. Being a husband, the best there could be.

A/N: Anyways, i really hope ya liked it!

Tags: @kiamewrites

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scarletevening · 5 months

Text

STARTERS [ SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY ]

cw: none, strangers to lovers, first meeting, not beta read, might be military inaccuracies because im not in the military, medic! fem!reader. notes: i've worked so hard [exaggeration] to make this look cute but ik its gonna devolve in 0.5 seconds. this is part one of a series. words: 1,065.

"This won't be easy."

A fair warning, a meager one too, from your new, technically, superior, Kate Laswell. You had accepted her offer as a combat medic, seeing as their next mission was supposed to take months. But those months weren't even this year, they were the next.

This year, it was your mission to become familiar with your crew, have a starter and a taste.

Considering you've dealt with plenty of irritable, ill-mannered patients in the E.D. before, it shouldn't feel so stuffy when you enter the base. You I.D. card was scanned, and you were permitted entry past the intimidating security guard who's eyes nailed you like you were his prey. You might've been.

Heels clacking, you rushed to your new office,

MEDICAL WING

A sign read, in red, right above your head. You wanted to feel like you were walking into a new life, but the stares and exhausted attempts at a smile the veteran nurses tossed you made a breath you didn't realize you were holding leave.

Luckily, offices were assigned, and yours was on the first floor.

Empty and quite sad, you tossed your backpack and purse onto your desk, which didn't even have a chair, and put your hands on your hips. Laswell had told you that they wouldn't be back until evening, it was morning.

It felt like walking into your first job, gingerly taking your steps to the staff lounge where you introduced yourself to the nurses who were lounging. They returned the gesture graciously, luckily understanding of your nerves.

Soon enough, your actual superior came to greet you, smiling and laughing with the rest of the staff as she raved about you. As soon as basic information was given, you were tossed out of your nest, bidding you a good flight. The ED never waits for anyone after all.

⚬

As your first day ended and your night began, you sat in your office, which you finally got a chair for, to sift through paperwork. Boring things never really last for long, and as much as you'd like to one-go your work, it definitely wasn't happening. Especially when your sweet nurses and the other doctors bombarded into your office, playfully asking, more like dragging, you to come with them to the mess hall.

It's impolite to say no, isn't it?

It was fun. It was like being in high school again, smiling and giggling before everyone leans into to whisper, bursting back out into laughter. Oh, and it was juicy. Real juicy, juicier when they mentioned him.

"Ghost?"

You ask, tilting your head as you raise a brow, "What kinda' callsign's that?" There was a strange inkling of familiarity of the name, just right under your nose. The nurse who was telling the story went wide-eyed, grinning at you,

"Oh, honey, he's the one with the skull mask."

The mask. The fucking mask.

Everyone could see it, how you face paled like snow, your head dropping as you gawked at them. They all laughed at your reaction, it was quite comical, though they found it funnier for reasons different than yours, teasing, "I haven't even said the story yet!"

Well, Laswell did. God, were you stupid? He was from Task Force 141! They all, allegedly, saw him in the gym, allegedly lifting double his weight, and allegedly you were blushing at the idea of the number, allegedly. And that was essentially the whole story. The nurse beside you poked as he cooed at you,

"Aw, does the doctor have a crush on her first day?" Laughing as you smacked his arm playfully, a stupid grin on all of your faces. The conversation moves on, talking about the soldiers that got into a fight, and how funny it was when one got a rhinoplasty. It felt like you were half-present, like a fever dream as your thoughts swirled together. Maybe your shift was a little too long.

But you couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating?

You couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating? Your mind ran with every though, you hadn’t even seen him today, and yet here you were imagining him, strong, tall, muscular. And of high status? he sure seemed like the pear most imaginative women would like.

But you can't expect him to be a perfect romance lead, especially the more you listened, seeing as he was quite the topic.

Everyone else seemed to just know him, know him in the sense that he was a figure of admiration. The strongest, the fastest, the most intricate, coolest man on one of the greatest task forces affiliated. They knew every little intricate detail of his service. But you didn’t. You don’t even know what they mean by a ‘skull mask’, was it a full skul? does he do face paint like a 3-year-old? You've never seen him, not that you were reluctant to the chance to.

Maybe you were insane, especially since there was the entire rest of the task force for you to get familiar with too. Well, he was one of them so you should go one by one, right—

"Ya' like to talk, dinnea ya?"

You twitched at the voice, "Scottish," You thought to yourself, "John 'Soap' MacTacvish." Laswell had some comments about him, mostly about his inability to speak understandable English, and his refusal to get a military standard haircut, aka he has a mohawk. But it wasn't just the Scot, the devil answered when his name was called.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

It was almost as if he knew who you were the moment your eyes met, like a fuse set off between you. Brown eyes, deep like dark chocolate, and cold like the tundra, and more magnetic than any other man you've ever seen, he stared at you, speaking to his friend,

"Seems like they do, Johnny."

Gravelly and low, almost inaudible if it weren't for your fixated ear, his voice whispered to Soap, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap, or Johnny as Ghost had so endearingly called him, grinned, plopping beside you,

"Aye, yer that new medic Laswell's been talkin' 'bout?"

You blink a couple times before you smile, nodding as you introduce yourself. Soap smiles back, polite yet inked with a bit of his eccentric personality, taking your hand into a firm shake. You smile up at the masked figure,

"You must be Ghost, right?"

He gave a bland grunt, not that you expected much more from a quiet man. Soap grinned, ignoring Ghosts lack of proper manners to introduce himself. With small conversation, they left, almost.

Although he walked away, he never left your mind, and you never left his.

⚬ ☠︎︎ ⚬

i think i'm just gonna set the reader to female bc ik i'm eventually gonna do suggestive bits so it'll be easier in the long run. lmk if you have any ideas for simon. [or the others i wrote about!!] also lmk if i should make a taglist. [part two]

EYES THAT HOLD SECRETS

directory

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avariantflaire · 7 months

Text

Why Levi and Petra?

Of course, upon general viewing of SNK and its characters, it's clear that they have established Erwin, Levi, and Hange as the leading trio of the Survey Corps. They represent this faction of the military and in interesting ways, mirror the main protagonists of the series.

While there is a lot to be said and appreciated about Levi's relationships with Erwin and Hange, I have come to find that the character who humanizes him is the lovely (albeit forgettable) Petra Ral.

Early in the series, we are introduced to Levi as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Erwin makes use of his abilities in this sense, and Hange often relies on his strength in combat as well. That is not to say this is the extent of their relationships: we have Levi's iconic "Give up on your dreams and die" scene with Erwin (S3 E16) and the infamous "Maybe we should just live here [away from my responsibilities] together" request from Hange (S4.2 E8). However, something to note with both scenes is that while they give depth to Levi's relationship with both characters, he essentially serves to highlight others. In the former, Levi's response directly challenges Erwin's dream, and allows this commander a defining moment of growth. Similarly in the latter, Levi is used as a means for Hange to express and eventually overcome their fears and insecurities about the deal they've been dealt as the new Commander of the Survey Corps (which at the time was rapidly disbanding under the Jaegerist movement).

In other words, Levi is the "subplot character" to Erwin's and Hange's individual arcs. (According to John Truby, 'The subplot character… provides another opportunity to define the hero through comparison and advance the plot.')

Which begs the question… at what point in the series, if any, is Levi defined as a character in and of himself?

Two prominent scenes from season 1 come to mind, which are namely: 1) The dying soldier scene (S1 E9), and 2) Petra's conversation with Eren in headquarters (S1 E15).

In the first, Levi comforts a dying soldier and vows to carry on their will and exterminate all Titans. When the soldier passes before he can reply to Levi's words, Levi turns to his fellow soldier Petra and asks her if he was heard. Petra provides confirmation, emphasizing the peaceful expression on the soldier's face.

In the second, Petra confronts a gloomy-looking Eren, who has been tasked to clean headquarters along with the rest of the Special Operations Squad (aka the Levi Squad). She specifically points out how Levi is 'not the hero he's expected to be' in the sense that he has a terrible personality, though she does so while smiling almost fondly, as though it doesn't matter what his personality is because they can always put faith in him as their Captain. It seems she wants Eren to understand this - or a notion similar.

It is in both moments that we are able to clearly see Levi beyond being a powerful soldier. Always, he is a threat. When he enters the scene we expect the shift in the dynamic of the battle - we expect him to win. He's a trump card. Erwin's last words to him are an order (S3 E16), and Hange's last words about him is "he's [Armin's] underling now, so really put him to work" (S4.3.1). Levi acknowledges Erwin's and Hange's humanity, bolsters it even, with the conviction of "dedicating your heart". In SNK he is the symbolism, the embodiment, of a soldier. That's all he really ever gets to be. Even his softest moments with - heck, anyone in the series - are meant to deeply reflect on the guilt, the burden, the purpose of getting the job done. ("So… you're telling me… I've spent all this time and energy running around killing people?" (S2 E12) / "Just think, if your hands were still clean... Jean wouldn't be here right now." (S3 E2) / "If we just run away and keep on hiding, what will we have left?" (S4.2 E8))

But for those singular moments in season one, he's more than just the threat. We see him as a human not only with (personality) flaws, but also with dreams and convictions, tied so seamlessly with his comrades' cause that we are reminded painfully, at the end of the series, that it was Levi who carried them all to the end. Throughout the story we see Levi lament fallen soldiers; we are exposed to how much he empathizes with his comrades and their deaths, to the point where it can be said that no one keeps us more aware of the lives that have been lost throughout the show more than Levi himself.

In this manner, Petra was the subplot character to Levi's hero. She gave the audience a (subconscious) glimpse of the Humanity within "Humanity's Strongest" and built the bridge that would lead us to compelling and important revelations about Levi's thoughts and actions as the show progressed. It's Petra whom he finds tending to a dying soldier; Petra whom he asks for confirmation that the soldier heard; Petra who, against all expectation, asks Eren to see past the station, the status, the soldier, to the person himself.

"He's not quite the great, perfect hero society makes him out to be, huh? The real Captain Levi is shorter than you'd expect, temperamental, crude, and unsociable. (…) You thought that because he's skilled, he doesn’t have to follow the rules like everyone else?" (S1 E15)

It's even Petra who, despite her rank, asks Levi to step aside when Eren becomes a half-baked Titan. Here, Levi's robust intuition and split-second decision making skills are shown even away from the battlefield. It's Petra who leads the Special Operations Squad in their apology to Eren (S1E19 "Bite"), who first instills in us (narratively) the notion of trusting your fellow comrades. More specifically, she is who convinces Eren to place his life in their hands. It's this notion that Levi carries with him even until the final arc - "I've saved Eren countless times over - each time, more comrades dying. All because I believed he was the hope of humanity." (S4.1 E13) In the manga (Ch112), it's Petra we see at the forefront of this belief.

"Do you, Eren? Do you find it that hard to trust us?" It's Petra who dies, her words the final say in convincing Eren: "I believe my squad will be victorious." (S1 E21)

"It's like some awful joke," Levi reflects later on, as his comrades' dying hopes and dreams flash by in the canopy of the forest. "What the hell was the hope that we saw? Such bullshit. It's not even funny." (S4.1 E13) "We" here could definitely mean the soldiers who've given their hearts, but the metaphorical representative of this heart is Petra herself... "Eren! Trust us." (S1 E19)

And in the end, it's Petra in the forefront alongside Erwin and Hange, representative of her fellow soldiers, the one (experienced/veteran) Scout we've seen and interacted with in the entire series to have professed the values of hope, of trust, of belief, which is henceforth carried on by Levi himself, his own convictions, his own dreams. They are, in the entire series, the glimpse we get into the Scout Regiment beyond the series' titular character and his comrades in the 104th, and a thorough dive into what makes Levi Humanity's, not simply its strongest.

Her character song, "The Light of Dual Wings", can literally be taken as an allegory of the dreams the Scouts have entrusted to Levi. That's how prominent she is as a Scout; how coded her devotion to Levi is, whether interpreted platonically, romantically, or narratively, as the dedication of hearts.

So, yes, I love them together. I love their scenes, the implications of them narratively, the values Petra professes so effortlessly in the air, washed away by the higher tides of the Female Titan arc. I love that it's still Petra at the forefront, in all of Levi's reflections moving forward, because she is our first glimpse into Levi's character, the real him.

In the end this is just a ship post struggling to keep from delving too much into the symbolism of Levi and the Scouts (how Levi is the face of the Scouts more so than Erwin himself, really), the truest depiction of humanity's collective fight for freedom in this entire series. In his early days, Eren wanted to be a Scout, after all. It is Levi and Petra who push him forward into 'that hell' - for better and worse, respectively.

#levi ackerman #petra ral #rivetra #levi x petra #levipet #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi character analysis #levi petra relationship analysis #aot analysis #snk analysis #i even cited episode numbers!#i was too lazy to get the overall episode number though xd #so you get dumb citations like S4.3.1 lol #analysis.vtf

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lxstfathier · 1 year

Text

Mi niña

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Summary: its late at night, you can’t sleep, and a sudden knocking on your door interrupts your attempts to get some rest.

Warnings: wounds, blood, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f! receiving), loss of virginity, creampie, age-gap.

A/N: i have never played the game, i just have a thing for military men heheh. Also, english is not my first language, so i apologize for any errors. Hope y’all enjoy this! <3

It’s almost midnight. Usually, you would be asleep already, dreaming about pretty animals and cute guys, but today is way different, you’re still awake, looking at the moonlight peeking through your window and a strange feeling lingering in your guts.

You try your best to not think much about it. Maybe is just your own anxiety acting up. So you move on your bed, over and over, closing your eyes and trying to find a comfy position to sleep. But no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get some rest.

It’s frustrating. You mind screams at you to fall asleep already, telling you that you need to get your energy back for another day of hard work around the farm. Come on, it’s your turn to feed the horses and cows at six in the morning, you can’t waste more time like this.

Suddenly, your own thoughts are interrupted by the loud noise of a vehicle pulling up in your property, right in front of your house, followed by the sound of the doors being opened and closed.

Of course, you knew your bad feeling was there for a reason, and now your heart is beating faster than ever. Who would be at your property at such late hour? The police? Robbers? Sicarios from a powerful cartel?. Who knows, but when a knock in you front door breaks the silence you feel as if you were about to faint.

You’re alone, there’s no one you can ask to go see who’s knocking, you can’t yell at one of your siblings to do it. Your family is away for the weekend, so you need to be brave and do it yourself.

You get out of bed and walk all the way to the front door, feeling your legs wobbly and you heart pounding in your chest, finally opening the door with your trembling hands.

Obviously you were expecting it to be some narcos, but, to your surprise, they’re not. Instead you have colonel Alejandro Vargas and his sergeant Rodolfo Parra right in front of you. Of course you know who they are, everyone in Las Almas knows them and admires them. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on Alejandro since you were a teenager, rubbing your clit every night to the thought of him for years.

And now you regret wearing that old shirt and shorts as pj’s instead of something sexier. But you shouldn’t be thinking about that, the only worry right now should be the reason for them to come knock on your door. You’re just a normal family who makes a living selling milk, you don’t have any issues with the law.

“Is there any problem?” You ask nervously, looking at the tall soldiers with their stoic expressions and powerful weapons on their hands.

"Ninguno, bonita. We’re just looking for someone, do you mind if we take a look around your property?.” Alejandro says, charismatic as ever. You could never say no to him, no matter what he asked.

“There’s nothing to see here, coronel, just cows and horses. But sure, go ahead and tell me if you need something.”

They both nod and get back to their job, going away to look around, seeing the empty corrals and the stalls full of sleeping animals, without a trace of the persone they’re looking for. And you stay near the door just in case, still very nervous and anxious even when there’s no reason to feel like that. Your trust them, they’re honorable men, they mean no harm, just let them do their thing and they’ll be gone soon.

A few minutes later, Alejandro comes into your house while Rudy keeps watch outside, checking every single room until he’s sure that you’re not hiding his target. Even though he already knew that you would never do something like that. He’s seen you around town too, always sweet and calm, doing your best to help your family with the little business, always trying to stay away from the violence.

That’s it. His work is done here. He needs to go look somewhere else, but, when he’s about to leave, you can’t help but notice that his right hand is almost fully red, dripping with warm sticky blood, making a mess on his uniform and gun.

“Coronel… you’re bleeding” you say, as if it wasn’t already obvious, and he stops dead in his tracks. How can he be so calm and collected with a wound like that?.

“It’s just a little cut, nothing to worry about” Alejandro shrugs it off. An hour before that’s what he thought, a little cut on his hand, nothing serious, he didn’t expected it to get bigger and become a bleeding mess.

“You should definitely worry about it. Come on, let me help you and then i’ll let you go”.

He can’t say no to you, specially when you’re looking at him with those innocent doe eyes. So he agrees, following you to your room and sitting on your bed, leaving his gun on the ground, waiting patiently while you run to your bathroom to gather all the necessary stuff to take care of it.

Once you come back, you take his hand on your own, cleaning his cut with a wet cloth, disinfecting with alcohol, putting some closure strips and wrapping all his palm with a bandage. You’re no doctor or nurse by any means, but you know how to help your animals when they’re hurt, which gives you at least a little bit of knowledge.

And Alejandro is more than happy to let you work on him. He doesn’t feel any pain, maybe for the adrenaline pumping through his veins, or maybe because he’s so mesmerized by your beauty that he can’t think of anything else.

“This should be enough for the night. The bleeding is going to stop, but you need to go to the doctor tomorrow, i guess you need some stitches” you say, smiling at him, feeling your cheeks burn. You had never been so close to him, and you can’t believe that you just got to help him without freaking out.

“Gracias” Alejandro murmurs, barely audible, looking down at his bandaged hand. “You’re too sweet. You shouldn’t be in this town, you deserve a better place”.

Any other person would have let him go away, leaving him alone to take care of his wound by himself, not wanting to get involved with such a troubled soldier. But you’re different. You’re kind and sweet and the most pretty girl he’s ever seen, so distinct from all the other shitty people in Las Almas.

“There’s no better place for me, i like it here” you answer. “I have my family and my animals… also, there’s no other place where i could find another handsome colonel”.

Alejandro doesn’t get it right away. Are you flirting with him? yes you are. But he’s never been good around women, so it takes him a while to understand what you mean, taking the hint only when you dare to place one of your hands on his thigh, something that he believed only could happen in his imagination, when he thought about you while fucking his fist late at night.

“No digas eso, bonita. I’m no good for you, go and find a nice guy your age” he says, even though he’s dying to kiss you, to feel your gentle touch again, to claim you as his.

“But i like you, Ale”.

“No quiero arruinarte”.

“You would never ruin me” you soothe him, moving your hand to his chest and leaning closer, staring directly at those beautiful brown eyes that you only used to dream about. “Por favor, i need you. Make me yours.”

That’s enough. Alejandro cups your cheek with his gloved hand and pulls you closer, his lips meeting yours, sweet and tender until it suddenly turns into passionate and lustful.

He tastes better than anything you ever had before, like fresh fruits in the summer, intoxicating all your senses. And before you know it you’re already straddling his lap, slowly moving your hips against his clothed bulge, trying to get some friction to relieve the boiling heat in your lower belly.

“I don’t have much time, bonita” Alejandro says, breaking the kiss, knowing that it’s just a matter of minutes to hear Rudy’s voice in his earpiece asking what’s taking him so long. “Take off your clothes for me, si?”.

You happily oblige, getting off his lap and stripping naked as fast as you can, all of your shyness long forgotten, wanting nothing more than to be a good girl for him.

“Qué pinche hermosa” Alejandro groans, admiring every single part of your exposed body, guiding you to the bed again, laying you on your back with your legs spread as he positioned between them, dropping to his knees to kiss your thighs and taste your soaking cunt. “Are you a virgin?”.

You squirm at the sensation of his tounge on your clit, and you have no idea how he managed to know that. Maybe your inexperience is way too obvious. “Si” you reply, tugging at his dark hair.

Alejandro swears that he could cum right there in his pants. Such a pretty girl? untouched? just for him to take? way too good to be true. He feels like he just won the fucking lottery. If he wasn’t in the middle of a mission, he would surely eat you out for hours until you can’t take no more.

But the clock is ticking right now, so he wastes no more time, undoing his pants just enough to free his hard length and then kiss all the way up from your tummy, your tits and finally your neck. “You sure about this?”.

“Si, Ale” you whimper. “I wanna be yours”.

He takes himself in his hand, positioning his hard cock to your wet cunt, the red tip prodding at the small entrance. “This might hurt a little bit, if you want me to stop just tell me, si?.”

You nod and Alejandro thrusts inside you, agonizingly slow, inch by inch, splitting you open until he’s buried to the base. The strange pain making you cry out his name and your eyes fill with tears.

“Fuck” Alejandro breathes out against your neck. “Such a good girl, taking me so well”.

He picks a steady pace, pounding your tight heat as if there was no tomorrow, going way faster than he would like to. But you don’t mind, you let him be as rough as he wants, whimpering as his thick cock abuses your walls, hitting your cervix with each thrust.

“Feels so good Ale” you moan. Now almost all of his weight on top of you, his gear digging into the soft skin of your breasts. The pleasure is too much, and you can already feel the orgasm forming in your belly. “M’ gonna cum”.

“Ah- Fuck” he grunts when your walls squeeze him harder, his gloved hand quickly making its way to your sensitive clit, rubbing it fast. “That’s it bonita, cum on my fucking cock, i wanna feel it.”

His words take you over the edge, squirming and moaning like a whore, your hole spasming around him and your nails scratching at the back of his vest, experiencing the most powerful orgasm of your life. And seeing you fall apart like that, just from his touch, makes him feel really close too.

“Where do you want my cum? huh?” he asks, chasing his high, thrusting harder into your poor sensitive cunt.

“Dentro, please ” you whine, too cockdrunk to think about the consequences.

“Si? you want that? you wanna carry my seed like a good little slut? Fuck- then i’ll fill you up until you’re dripping for days, and everyone will know who you belong to.”

His cock twitches and he comes undone, grunting like an animal, emptying himself inside your pretty pussy, filling your womb to the brim with his hot cum.

You both stay there for a moment, melted into each other, catching your breath. Looking at him with half lidded eyes, you caress his scruffy beard, so in love, hating that he needed to go away after such an intimate moment. And he hates that too, if it were for him, he would spend the night with you, praising your body and making you scream his name again and again.

You kiss one last time and Alejandro pulls out, getting out of bed, immediately fixing his pants and grabbing his gun, ready to leave.

“Will i ever see you again?” you ask. What if he was like those guys who only fuck you and then you never hear from them again?, just thinking about it makes you teary.

“Claro que si, mi niña” he answers, his gloved knuckles brushing against your cheek. “As soon as this hell of a mission is over i’ll come back to you. I promise.”

“Then i’ll be waiting” you whisper, but Alejandro hears it clearly. And once he has eased your fears, he gets back to work, going away as if nothing happened, walking through your home straight to the front door.

“Carajo Ale, por qué tardas tanto?” He hears Rudy’s voice in his earpiece, just like he anticipated.

But Alejandro doesn’t answer. He can only think about you. You got him under your spell and he’s already planning the next time, contemplating on coming back with a huge bouquet of flowers and a beautiful diamond ring to put on your finger.

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod smut #call of duty fanfic

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 21 days

Text

chapter three: in the blink of a crinkling eye

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER TWO: MAKING AMENDS

warnings: language, fatshaming, self deprecation,

word count: 3.4k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes��@cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22

A/N: chapter three finally!! enjoy :) also comment if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Ever since that day, you and Bucky quickly became practically inseparable. Always sitting next to each other in meetings, he’d always come to visit whenever he could, and you’d always be jetted off to missions together.

It only took an hour or two for you to open up, pour all the poison that had slowly been burning away your insides, and the both of you lightening your burdens to each other in the dead of night. The dreams leave you both quite lonely.

You’re busy patching Steve up, just applying ointment to a bruise you’re both sure will disappear before he even leaves the infirmary. He comments on how happy you’ve seemed lately as you talk away about the plans you and Bucky have for the next weekend, discussing your idea to buy him some new clothes more suited to a man in the 21st century. And then Tony Stark walks in the room, wearing his classic thick, black sweater and looking worried as hell.

“Nurse! We need to talk.” He looks directly at you, and you flinch at his raised tone. He clocks on immediately, softening his approach. You lead him into a neighbouring empty room.

“What’s this about Mr Stark?” You remain, ever polite. You clasp your hands in front of you, smiling expectantly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, wondering how to phrase his next words.

“I know you’ve talked to FRIDAY about your spot at dinner…but I was just informed that you asked her to not have your meal sent to your room. Is everything okay? Do you need to speak to someone?” You’re well aware of what he thinks, what he’s insinuating. You’ve been here before, the last time Sharon made a mean comment about you was the last time you set foot in that damned dining room.

You swallow the bitter memory, making way for the sweet words about to leave your mouth. “No, sir. Everything’s alright with me. I asked FRIDAY to not send my meals to my room, because…well, I was thinking of coming to dinner tonight. Bucky talked me into it, and I think I should stop holding onto things that happen so long ago now.” You smile, letting your affection for the super soldier known.

He relaxes, but shoots you a confused look. “Metalbox? Really?”

“Yeah. We’re kind of good friends now.” He nods. “Alright, let me know the second anything changes or if anything is said that makes you uncomfortable. Okay?”

You nod this time, assuring him. He walks you out and lets you return to the infirmary, where Bucky is waiting for you. Your smile brightens by a millions Watts, but Bucky never seems blinded.

“Hey Buck!” You say, taking a standstill right in front of him. You haven’t really discussed how either of you stand on physical contact, but when he wraps you in a warm hug, you don’t fight it. You own arms end up around his middle, turning the embrace into something a lot more intimate, but too lost in each other to care.

The nickname of a nickname has him completely melting into every soft curve of you and never wanting to leave, forever entranced by the lingering scent of your lotion and perfume, the perfectly concocted pheromones only for him.

“Hey, doll. I missed you.” His tone is so soft, your heart can barely take it. What started off as a simple attraction has now fully snowballed into a crush of embarrassing proportions, and the fact that he even wants to be around you to this degree has you completely giddy.

When his words are such sugar, when his touch lingers just half a millisecond longer than it should, you are able to delude yourself he feels the same. You know you’re wrong, you just haven’t been shown such attention since you stopped being naturally amazing at everything as a child. But you dream anyway, of blue seas and black and gold.

“Missed you too. Did you have a busy day sparring?” He nods, keeping an arm around you as you both walk down the long corridors, arms welded like lovers to each other’s backs.

“Yeah, I got to practise giving Steve an ass whooping today to show the trainees how to defeat someone when held at knifepoint.”

“Oh, you have to show me sometime,” you say excited, trying not to show how hot you’re starting to run at the idea of Bucky dismantling someone despite the weapons they may yield. It makes you feel safer, snuggling up to him all that tighter.

And then the doors to your seemingly worse nightmares appear. Simple, made of black glass and sliding open when it recognises the two of you trying to get in.

She’s really not going to eat all of that, is she? The cruel words ring in your head and you swallow hard. “Hey, we don’t have to go if you changed your mind. We can just go to that restaurant I was telling you about on Monday.”

How long will you let your fears consume you? You shake your head. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Buck. Really, but I want to. I have to try, at least. Plus, its not just her and me in there. There’s Steve, and Nat and Wanda’s just come back from her mission, and Thor’s visiting. And you’ll be next to me. Won’t you?” You look up at him bashfully, as if you expect him to say no.

You have no idea how much he wants to kiss you and that pout on your lips. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there, doll. Always.” You grin like you’re surprised, solemnly untangling yourself from his arms as you step inside. Not that you hate the physical contact, but the idea of partaking in such activities in the presence of other people makes you sweat. You’ve never been one to share details about your romantic life, expecting nothing but a dissection and a ridicule once your chest cavity opens. You know these groups of people may not be like that, but the strange pain still ascends up your chest. You feel Bucky’s presence behind you, though, warm hand just centimetres away from yours like a promise of quick reassurance.

The room falls silent, and you notice how you and Bucky are the last two members to enter, and so theres only two open seats — one right next to Sharon and another directly in front of her. You swallow, not knowing which position is worse when Steve warmly beckons you over to sit next to him, the seat directly opposite Sharon.

You smile and accept his offer, watching Bucky as he walks around the table to begrudgingly take a seat in between two people, blue eyes burning like he’d much rather swap with Steve. “Nurse! How nice of you to join us!” Tony beckons from the head of the table, and everyone cheers and welcomes you warmly, Steve patting your back gently. It almost drowns out the scoff.

You stay mainly quiet, keeping to yourself. It’s your first day here, in this dining room, and you’ll take some time to get adjusted. Hopefully a certain someone will keep her mouth shut and you’ll come back tomorrow.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve whispers down at you in between courses. “Me too, actually. This isn’t too horrible.” You smile just as the servers set down a plate of your favourite dish — a completely vegan chicken Alfredo and garlic bread — right in front of you, hot and steaming. Your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loudly and you try your best to stay oblivious to it, not noticing how Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, at how cute you look when you’re flustered.

He chuckles and you meet his eye, smiling warmly. You get through the meal without a single hitch, and it seems that someone’s chastised Sharon before you could enter the room. You’re eternally grateful to that person, whoever that is.

During the meal, you get to hear stories of the time when Steve was at “war” with Tony, of childhood incidents from the 1930s, and the way Bucky acts when he’s drunk as shit. Thor’s brought some Asgardian liquor with him, knowing even the finest wine in the Tower’s cellar wouldn’t even get him buzzed.

One by one, people start bidding goodnight, until it’s just Thor, Bucky and you. Steve has to be up at 5 tomorrow, to prepare for a meeting, or so he says.

“And then he calls me a son of a bitch!” Thor explains, loud enough for you to flinch. He and Bucky laugh in uproar, and the sound of it takes you away. You find yourself staring, at his tipped back head and his wide grin, so beautiful all you want to do is climb in his lap and kiss him senseless. You refrain, of course.

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, Buck. Should we go?” You use your thumb to point behind you, and he nods.

“Yes, I would go anywhere for you, doll. All you have to do is ask.” You roll your eyes, not knowing intoxication also makes him a terrible flirt.

You gently move to him when he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you tight to him, face buried in your soft stomach. “Mm, can we just stay like this for a while, please?” He flashes you his bright blue puppy dog eyes, and you can’t resist. Shoulders sag as you breathe out a laugh at him. “Just a minute, then we’ll get you back to your room. Okay?” He nods, pressing his gorgeous face against your middle once again, and you can’t help but smile. He’s adorable. You gently run your hands through his hair, completely oblivious to Thor’s hunkering form leaving his seat. "How is it that a woman as perfect as you exists even in the 21st century?" He drunkenly grumbles. "It's genetics, darling." You smile like you've been completely lovestruck, and it's inevitably gotten to your head. "No, doll, I'm being serious. You're so perfect, feels like I was made to complement you. So pretty…"

“Alright, time for bed. Come on.” You drag him up and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy you find it hard to breathe and reluctantly pull away from his warmth. One arm around his back, you gently guide him to his room in the same fashion he’s brought you to the dining room. The entire time there, he rattles off every synonym for beautiful he can think of as you fight against a smile harder and harder. There is a drunken veracity to him in this moment, and you don’t have it in you to fight him in such a state. You haven’t had more than a glass yourself, leaving you perfectly capable of safely navigating the long corridor, planning to drop him off and safely retreat to your own room just beside his. But he pulls you in.

“Stay with me…please, doll. Need you.” His breath is hot against your ear, tone soft and needy. Like he’s two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you.

You yield. “Okay, Buck. Let’s just get you to bed, alright?” He nods, head lolling against his shoulders. On your way to the bed, you trip over one of his socks, his shoes long discarded at the entrance, slipping. He catches you without so much as a second thought or grunt. Reminding you of his strength. His hands on your waist turn you around, and you let out a yelp as your back meets the bed, his chest meeting yours and knocking the breath out of you.

Your hands grip the sheets while you’re trying your best to not look at him, his kind words reverberating around your head. His supposed infatuation, though deep down you know isn’t true. It can’t be.

“Stop squirming. Look at me.” He whispers, metal hand cupping your face. He’s become more confident in using it when he’s around you, you’ve noticed. But you haven’t seen how much it means to him, to have someone who didn’t know him before, and only after. Someone who knows everything and loves him despite it. Now, the definition of love used in the previous sentence can be heavily disputed —is it platonic, or something more? He feels the latter brewing in his chest, but he’s more than happy with either option. He just wants you by his side, soft and warm and everything good in the world all wrapped up in one woman.

When your eyes meet his, the sky blue has you swallowing. It’s so clear you feel like you’re flying. Even with his crushing weight sandwiching you between him and the mattress, you ache for him. More than you’ll ever admit, even as his bitter-tinted breath washes over your face.

“So pretty…Do you know how much I fucking want you? Even when I can hear every whisper, every sigh, every goddamned sound you make in here when you’re alone, after we say goodnight. All I want is to knock on your door. Would you ever answer, if I did?” His eyes are glued to your mouth, the colour entrancing him. You let out the smallest sigh, and you feel his thumb rub against your lower lip, making your eyelids flutter. The motion stirs something inside you, deep and primal, rabid and wanting.

“Yes…” You respond before your brain has even a second to catch up, to filter your thoughts. You see his pupils dilate in real time, entranced by the sight as he takes you in, the metal pushing against your teeth no longer cold. He asks you like he hasn’t already knocked, albeit for other purposes, and you haven’t already answered at the drop of a hat.

He leans in closer and closer, and you both are aware of the current pace of your heart, slamming in your ears like you would upon a door. Your head tilts up as his moves down, hot lips just grazing along yours, igniting every bone in your body as your hands grab at his chest instead, and he lets out a breath. You swallow it, eyes closing, giving in to the desires you’ve kept locked in a bottle deep inside your chest, just under your diaphragm.

Then reality come hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“Bucky…stop.” You push a hand against his chest, surprised to feel his heart pounding just as fast as yours. You’re full expecting for push to come to shove, but to your almost disbelief, he retracts immediately. Completely off, and lying next to you, while you try to hold back tears.

You know the truth — he doesn’t really want you. He’s just drunk, and you’re the only female body around. Nothing more.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You gaze is fixed on the ceiling, unable to look at him even when he’s on his side, eyes trained on you. “After everything I’ve told you about my…my past. All the bullying, and the trauma, and the pain. Why—Why?” Several shaky breaths escape you, trying to blink back the tears.

His fingers brush your temples frantically, absorbing the salt as he talks over himself. “Wait…Wait no. I— Doll, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t wanna make you cry. No, no no, not what I meant, not what I—“ You turn to meet his eyes, grabbing his wrist in yours and unable to stop yourself from stroking the inside of it with your thumb.

“Then what did you mean? I’ve told you, how people treat attraction to me like a joke. And then the second you have some alcohol in your system, you start acting the same way?”

“But it’s not a joke! I’m not joking when I call you beautiful. I think—I know you are, doll. Why else would I say it? You know I hate lying…” As you gaze upon his distraught expression, you realise the error of your ways, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this. So what’s the point of wasting your breath twice? For now, you accept it, lock it away for another day.

“Alright…Let’s just go to bed now, okay? I’m tired, baby.” The nickname slips out absentmindedly, and the way his mouth falls open lets you know that you didn’t overstep as his tongue traces his lips in the same way you wish to do so.

“Yes! Let’s get my pretty baby some well deserved rest. Works too hard…” His eyes begin to close with his hand still fondly placed on your cheek, but you jerk him awake.

“No, Buck, not like this. Properly, let’s find you some comfy clothes and tuck you in. Come on.” You stand up, extending a hand to him. God, he looks so pretty from this angle, staring at you like you’re his sun and it’s a lazy picnic in the park. He entwines his fingers with yours, again bringing up that feeling of desperation in your system but you tamp it down. You gently hum the latest song stuck in your head as you get him ready for bed, slowly taking off his socks and handing him his comfiest pair of sleeping shorts, informing him of every step before you take it so you can give him the chance to tell you if you’re about to do something he doesn’t want. What you don’t realise is that there is nothing you could do that he wouldn’t welcome. He knows you wouldn’t hurt him, only show him the gentle warmth he’s been deprived of for decades with your light fingertips and heavy gaze. You turn your back as he changes, giving him some privacy.

He doesn’t let you leave, scared you won’t come back to him. He’s never been like this, so desperate to keep you by him. You’ve only known each other a month, and you two often stay up together when he knocks after a nightmare, either diffusing the bomb in his head with mellow hands, or holding him tight as you both lose your worries to some old sitcom you introduced him to. In your heart, you can’t find yourself to leave, either. And so you use a spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom to get ready for bed, stealing one of his shirts he handed to you with the brightest, most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. When you throw it over your head, you relish in the remnants of his cologne and something else, something so innately Bucky, that all you want is to bury yourself in his scent intertwined with the magic fabric of his shirt, which turns out to be loose on you.

You set your hair, marvelling at how big he is, that his shirt is loose on every part of your body. A secret part of you wonders if he’s done it on purpose, intending to give you his clothes and opting for this looser fit…You quickly dispel the notions, ditching your bra and formal outfit on the floor, rubbing your tired eyes.

Bucky lays on his side, facing you and taking you in as you walk out. He lets out a groan and you wonder if it’s related. “You look so pretty in my clothes…fuck. Come back to bed, beautiful.” He outstretches his arms, making grabbing motions at you with his hands like an adorable child. You chuckle at his neediness and brush off the compliment as you settle into bed next to him, suddenly shy of the space in his bed you’re taking up. It’s been ages since you slept in the same bed as someone else…but you try not to dwell on it.

Bucky flips around immediately, sliding a warm arm around your waist and pulling you closer, eyes already closed. He’s so hot, practically a furnace when he pulls you in, like he can’t stand to be apart from you. What has the alcohol done to him?

“Good night, doll.” He rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His warmth is beautiful, and your glad his eyes are closed so he can’t see the absolutely wanting look plastered over your face, so deep it makes you physically ache inside your chest when you lift a hand to stroke through his hair, so soft like the sigh that escapes him. Like you soothe him, and it’s all he’s been waiting for.

“Good night, Buck.” Sleeps comes quite easily.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #x plus size reader #marvel

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radiocrypt-id · 1 year

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Gerrard is painful in a way I didn't really understand at first. He's like, 30. He's grown. A handsome prince, married to a wonderful woman that's trying to do her job and prevent the deaths of her people. But all he thinks about is the ball. he offers to look through a sword form book as a way of "helping", or to appear to be helping anyway. He's a coward. He hides with the children and escapes through a secret tunnel and runs away. He's desperate to convince anyone, including himself, that he's a handsome prince who is in love with his wife and their marriage is going great.

And I didn't get it, at first. I thought he was funny and probably more like the average person in a terrible time, not a hero. He's a grumpy adult that feels like the world he was promised got taken away from him when he did nothing to hold onto that world in the first place.

And then they played through his story. He was 9 when he was turned into a frog. 9. A baby, unable to understand what it was he'd done wrong. He was a spoiled little prince with absent parents that was 9 and didn't want to interact with a random strange old woman at his door asking for stuff. An adult could have been gotten. His parents could have been summoned by a servant and brought to the door or a higher servant could have handled the talk but no, no they let a 9 year old boy open that massive door to a random stranger asking to come inside out of the rain. Any child would have said no. Any child. Because an old woman he'd never met was asking to go inside his home. I would have said no, any of the other characters at the table would have said no. She's a scary old lady on his doorstep! And yeah maybe he said it in a dickish way. Maybe he called her a peasant or said 'how dare you' to her face, but he was 9 years old, what 9 year old isn't a weird little dick? Especially when they don't know what's going on? Stranger danger is literally a thing taught to children as soon as they can walk! Any one would have said no. But Gerrard said no, and was turned into a frog for it.

But you know what's worse then being turned into a frog and dropped in a pond a bit away from your home? Never being looked for. Not once. He was out there, he could see hunters and soldiers. A tiny Gerrard must have waited months, just staring out into the woods, straining his ears, listening for his mother or father calling his name. And then just listening for his name at all. And then just listening for any sign of humans at all. No one was looking for him. For all the servants charged with taking care of a young prince, not one saw what happened to him and not one went looking. It's hard to be small and scared and alone, waiting for someone to come get you but no one ever comes to get you. It's hard to learn that the people that are supposed to love you just... don't.

And later on, after becoming a handsome man and marrying Elody, Gerrard spent more years of his life as a frog in a pond than a prince. Day dreaming about balls and gossip and feasts and all the fun things about being a prince because it's all he can remember about his time as a prince. He didn't have the classes he should have had. He missed out on etiquette, and sword play, and politics, and war. He missed those lessons, because he was just a little frog in a pond during the years he would have learned all that. But he's expected to know. Elody loves him, but she expects him to know how to be a prince. She expects him to understand war and strife and taxes and all those important things and doesn't once stop to ask if he actually knows these things. Of course he didn't want to talk about the war effort. Of course he asked about the ball and offered to read a book about sword play. It's not that he could give more and chose not to, he genuinely didn't know how to do more than that. He was taking what initiative he could. He could teach himself how to fight, sure! but he can't teach himself how to be a general. All he wants is to be safe, and for the person he loves to be safe. And he assumes that anyone would run away from a losing battle because he would. He grew up a frog that had to survive by running away and letting someone else die so he could live. But even once he ran, he went looking for Elody. Because although Elody is falling out of love with Gerrard, he loves her fiercely. And as he goes on his adventure and fights and dies and fights more, he gets it. He gets what Elody wanted from him and what she needed him to be and that he failed to do that.

So he's learning better now. He learning to accept personal sacrifice, like with the glass shard. He's learning to be diplomatic, like with the pig. He's learning to be dangerous and capable, like in the fight against muffet. He's learning what it means to rely on people and be honest with them about his failings so they can cover his ass, like with the party. It's hard to learn these things. It's hard to try and sus out who is helpful and who isn't. It's hard to not hand off his problems again for someone else to fix. Because even though he's 30 now, he spent an unknown number of years as a frog, and he's desperately trying to catch up without letting anyone know he's behind because they might not like him anymore if they know how far behind them he is. He's doing his very best and, terrifyingly, the person that's supposed to love him is loving him less because his best isn't good enough for her. Once again, he's missing and no one is looking for him.

But that's okay, because this time, Gerrard can do the looking.

#pinocchio neverafter #d20 neverafter #neverafter #neverafter gerard #ylfa snorgelsson #d20 spoilers #d20 rosamund #dimension 20

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waywardcrow · 7 months

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Heaven and hell were words to me.

Summary: Bucky remembers your love story when he finds you singing your favorite song.

I had a strike of inspiration last night listening Work song by Hozier and this came to me. Please remember to like, reblog and comment, thanks!

Warnings: English is not my first language so please if I make a mistake let me know. Themes about nightmares, a hint of depression and made up things about powers of dream walking, Bucky Barnes being adorable but also his past as the Winter soldier, pregnancy, let me know if I miss something.

I do not consent to my work being copied, translated or reposted.

Bucky made his way to the kitchen, following the smell of the cheesecake you were making and the song you were singing very out of tune. It was your song.

Boys when my baby found me, I was three days on a drunken sin…

When Steve convinced him to move to the Compound, Bucky spent almost a month avoiding everyone as much as he could, he wasn’t cleared for missions so his routine consisted of going to mandated therapy and sneaking out of his room at night when nobody was around. You noticed it but chose to say nothing, instead you started to leave baked desserts for him knowing very well how hard it was to go back to your life after living in hell for so long.

I didn’t cared how much I lived…

There was not much his first therapist could do for him, Nat helped to find him another but his nightmares and lack of sleep were concerning everyone, despite Bucky’s protest that he was fine, he deserved to remember all the pain and everything he did. That’s when you came in.

But I swear I thought I dreamed her…

Your powers allowed you to dream walk and it was rare the occasion where you used that specific power but Sam and Steve asked you to help Bucky after he agreed. It was hard to walk with him through the horrors he endured but you were patient with him, when he wanted to stop so you couldn’t witness what he did, you showed him one of your own nightmares, making him understand you would never judge Bucky for something that wasn’t his choice.

She never asked me once about the wrong I did.

Bucky didn’t wanted to feel something for you because he didn’t wanted to feel something for no one, he didn't even believed could feel something besides guilt but the safety he found in you was impossible to deny. That safety turned into trust and that trust into affection and then it turned into love. For the first time in seventy years of torture, pain and blood, he loved someone.

When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth…

It wasn’t easy but nothing worthy ever was, you were his everything, his angel who filled his days with the sweetest love.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you and your belly, singing next to you.

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her.” He whispered in your ear, the playfull attitude of your husband made you giggle.

“You are so charming, Mr. Barnes.” you said when he made you both swing with the music, his hands always so loving in the way he touched your skin.

“It’s my job, Mrs. Barnes.” Bucky answered with a smirk, your baby bump standing in your way when he made you face him to give you a soft kiss but neither of you would change a thing.

After everything you both lived, you were there together and you’ll never be alone again.

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 4 months

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I Love You, But More Importantly, I Trust You (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Word Count: 2911 Summary: It's Valentine's Day and Bucky isn't sure what to give you that will adequately express how he really feels. Finally, he decides to give you the one piece of himself he's been hiding all this time... TW: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Trauma, Emotional & Physical Scars, Description of Past Injuries, Undressing, Kissing Note: Happy Valentine's Day!!! I thought our favorite traumatized soldier needed some loving today (even if it involves some emotional vulnerability first)

“Hey, Buck. Are you all ready for tonight?”

Bucky glanced up from the television screen, one eyebrow raised slightly, to stare at his best friend as he walked into the room followed closely by Sam. “What’s tonight?”

“Umm, Valentine’s Day?” Sam said. “Damn, I know you’ve been on ice for the last 70 or so of them, but wasn’t that a thing back in the 40’s?”

Steve chuckled. “It was but back then Bucky…well, let’s just say he didn’t usually keep the same girl around for more than a few dates.”

Sinking into the couch cushion, Bucky muttered, “Steve was the romantic one. I was young and cocky and just looking for a good time, not something serious.”

Sam plopped down on the arm of the couch. “You better not let your girlfriend hear you say that or Tony’ll have to build you a new right arm to match that shiny left one.”

“What I have with her is nothing like those girls in the past!” Bucky snapped, but then his tone softened as he stared down at his hands. “I…I love her.”

He had first whispered those words to you a few months ago when he asked you to share his quarters in the Tower with him, but it was still strange saying them in front of his friends. Neither of you were big on public displays of affection or grand romantic gestures so Bucky doubted either Steve or Sam realized how deeply he truly cared about you. To them, this might just seem like another fling or someone to keep his bed warm, but in reality, nothing could be farther from the truth.

As if reading his mind, Steve placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “Well, today’s the day you’re supposed to prove that to her. Why don’t you buy her some flowers, a box of chocolate, a stuffed animal or two, and then take her out for a nice dinner? That’s what most people do. Just show her a good time and then let her know what she means to you. She’ll love it.”

Bucky nodded though he wasn’t so sure. That stuff might be fine for most girls, but you weren’t most girls. Far from it. You were unlike anyone he had ever met before and while he did want to do something special to show you how he felt, he knew fancy food and generic trinkets weren’t the way. He would have to find something else, something you would value more than the crap they were selling at all the local stores.

And as much as the idea terrified him, he thought he knew just the thing.

Dragging yourself into your quarters as soon as the Quinjet landed, you flopped back onto the bed and draped your arm across your eyes. You loved your job and couldn’t imagine being anything other than a SHIELD agent, but weeks like this left you considering an early retirement. Globetrotting and tracking down rogue agents on less than a few hours of sleep had been the dream a few years ago. However, as you got older–and now actually had someone waiting for you when you came home–that life was losing some of its appeal.

You had just started to slip into unconsciousness when you heard a shuffling come to a stop at the edge of the room. Without moving your arm from its place over your eyes, you mumbled, “Hey, baby. Sorry I didn’t come find you but you weren’t around when I came in so I thought you might be out. However–” you said with a tired chuckle “–it would seem as though we’re both home.”

“How was it?”

Noting a slight tension in Bucky’s voice, you began to answer his question. “Ugh, just the same old, same old. Fury is all over my ass about this latest intel. I told him I can’t do anything else until he gives me–”

You fell silent as you raised your head and got your first glimpse of your boyfriend. He was wearing your ratty, faded pink bathrobe that was stretched taut across his muscular shoulders and arms. The bottoms of the robe hung open and loose–revealing a glimpse of his boxers underneath–but at the top across his bare chest, he clutched the robe closed securely as if his life depended on it. His teeth were clenched tightly, his long hair grazing his pronounced jawline as it fell over his face. And even though his eyes were partially obscured and he was avoiding your gaze, it was impossible not to recognize the fear within them.

Sitting up, you softly asked, “Hey, Buck… what’s going on?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he muttered bluntly as if that explained everything.

Quietly, you cursed to yourself. You had never given a damn about Valentine’s Day, even as a little kid in school when you were supposed to pass out the cheap cards all the parents bought for everyone in class. And now as an adult, things haven't changed. In fact, until he mentioned it, the significance of the day had completely slipped your mind. But even now that you had been reminded, it didn’t explain why Bucky was wearing your robe.

“I guess it is. Did we…did we have plans? I can’t for the life of me remember us talking about it but you know how I tend to lose track of everything while I’m gone on a mission. I could–Well, it’s kind of late to get a reservation, but we could try to order in?”

Bucky didn’t respond. Instead, he just continued to stand in the bedroom doorway, the knuckles on his right hand starting to turn white with how tightly he was clutching the sides of the robe shut.

Afraid he might be having some sort of flashback and unsure of what to do, you slid to the edge of the bed until your feet rested on the floor. “Bucky? Baby, did something happen? Why are you wearing that?”

Taking a long, deep breath, Bucky muttered, “Steve and Sam said on Valentine’s Day people are supposed to give each other flowers and chocolates and crappy stuffed animals to show how much they care about each other. I started to go to the store to get you those things, but thinking about it, nothing felt right. I’m sure you would act like you loved it, but we both know you don’t care about that kind of shit. Plus, none of that would show you how I really feel about you. So, instead, I decided to give you me…All of me.”

As his grip on the robe slowly started to loosen, you inhaled sharply as it hit you what he was planning. Jumping from the bed, you crossed the room in three long strides and placed your hands over his, stopping the robe from falling open. “No, Buck, you don’t have to do that. I mean, it’s incredible that you thought to offer, but I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable with just because of the date on the calendar.”

For the first time since you came home, Bucky lifted his head to look you straight in the eye. Fear still radiated from him–causing his blue eyes to seem even brighter than usual–but beyond that was a steely determination that you had only seen in the heat of battle. Gently, he removed your hands from his as he said in a strong, clear voice, “I want to. I love you, doll. And more importantly, I trust you.”

Tears began to blur your vision but you quickly blinked them away. Some people might have been slightly annoyed to hear him put trust over love, but you knew that to Bucky, trust was the most important thing in the world. He had been used, lied to, and betrayed so many times that he hadn’t been sure he could ever fully trust someone again.

He had told you as much just before the two of you had slept together for the first time. However, that night had just seemed like a one-time hook-up after an intense mission so as long as he gave you what you needed, you couldn’t give a fuck whether he trusted you or not. But when one time turned into two which turned into three which eventually turned into feelings developing on both sides, it became more of an issue. And while you knew at this point he trusted you more than almost anyone else, there was still one part of himself he hid from you.

No one but a select few SHIELD doctors had ever seen the place where Bucky’s shoulder met his metal arm. In the locker rooms before missions, he would disappear into the bathroom stall to change into his uniform. He would join everyone at the pool or the beach but refused to go in the water or get wet enough to cause his shirt to cling tightly to his body. And when the two of you were alone and got intimate, he always left his shirt or jacket on the entire time.

The only few times he had made an exception to this was after he bought a set of triple-layer blackout curtains for the bedroom, and even then it was a rare occurrence he would strip down completely. When he did, out of respect for him, you tried your best not to let your fingers brush against his shoulder in the darkness, but it had occasionally happened. Even without being able to see it, the feeling of the tough ridge of scar tissue abruptly shifting into cold, smooth metal painted enough of a mental image for you to have a vague idea of what it must be like.

And you understood why he wanted to keep it hidden from view.

But now Bucky was standing before you in the middle of a fully lit room prepared to bare all. All he had to do was drop the robe.

Taking a step back, you nodded. “If this is what you want—if you think you’re ready to show me— then I’m ready. But, baby, don’t do this unless you are positive you’re not going to regret it.”

The smallest flicker of a smile flashed across Bucky’s face as his fingers tightened around the edges of the robe. “I told you…I trust you.”

And he let your robe drop to the floor.

It took everything in you not to react or burst into tears as you gazed at where his scarred, raised flesh melded into shiny metal. The way the arm was fused into his mangled skin made your stomach churn and bile burn in the back of your throat. But it wasn’t its appearance that made you on the edge of breaking down. No. It was the thought of how much pain and torture HYDRA had put Bucky through to do this. How these visible scars were just the beginning of the damage they inflicted on him and how even though he had broken free of their control, there were just as many scars left behind that you couldn’t see as there were on display before you right now.

Bucky’s eyes were laser-focused on your face, seemingly scanning it for any clue as to what you were thinking. Stepping closer to him once more, you wet your lips before asking, “Can… Can I touch it?”

He nodded slightly but just before your fingers brushed against the metal, you drew your fingers back. “It won’t hurt you, will it?”

“Sometimes it still hurts,” he admitted, “but not when it’s touched. There’s just some leftover nerve damage that flares up from time to time. Hurts like hell, but even that’s nothing compared to how it was at first.”

He had never mentioned still having pain, but even more than that, he had never talked about the transition period from Bucky Barnes into the Winter Soldier, at least not to you. There was a file somewhere that contained all the information SHIELD had collected on him from various HYDRA bases they had raided as well as a SHIELD interview that had been conducted when Bucky first joined, but out of respect for Bucky, you had never sought it out.

“You remember that? Wha–what they did to you?”

“I remember every second of it.” The venom in Bucky’s words caught you momentarily off guard, but you understood it wasn’t you that hatred was directed at. “They might have wiped most of my conscious memory, but the process never erased the pain. They didn’t want it to. It was left as a reminder of what they could do and as a promise of what would happen again if I didn’t follow their orders.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Looking at his shoulder again, your own rage bubbled in your chest. “All those bastards who did this to you better be glad they’re dead because if I ever got my hands on them–”

Bucky chuckled softly. “If I remember correctly, you did get your hands on a few of them.”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew what they had done to you. If I had, I would have made them regret every scar and mark they left on your body.”

But as disgusted as you were at what HYDRA had made Bucky endure, you knew your hatred wasn’t what he needed right now. So, placing one hand on the side of his face, you turned your thoughts to the gift he had given you instead. “But, hey, I know I can’t fix what they did. However, I hope you know seeing this doesn’t change how I feel about you. If anything, it makes me love you more.”

Taking his metal hand, you gently placed a kiss on his cold fingertips. Then you placed another on his knuckles. Then the back of his hand. Then his wrist.

Slowly, you moved up his arm, peppering soft, feather-like kisses along the way. You knew despite its hard, steely appearance, the vibranium prosthetic was sensitive enough to detect the slightest changes in temperature or the lightest of pressures. And judging by the way Bucky’s eyes flickered closed as he leaned his head back with a peaceful sigh, he could feel each and every one of your kisses.

You had done this many times before, especially on those nights he was wrestling with his past or consumed with feelings of guilt and remorse. It was always the same: you started at his fingertips and continued until you reached the red star on his shoulder. Each kiss was to remind him you loved him—all of him.

However, this time, after you kissed the star, you didn’t stop. Bucky’s eyes flew open and his body went rigid as you placed a kiss on the top of his shoulder…one on the silver metal covering his chest…one on the place where skin and metal met.

You could feel him shaking slightly and you peered up through your lashes to make sure he was still alright. When he caught you staring, he gave you the smallest of nods. With this reassurance, you placed another kiss on his scars and another. You moved diligently from the top of his shoulder down to the very bottom of the metal plating. Once there, you worked your way back up the same path. When you reached the top of his shoulder, you began moving up his neck and then across his jaw.

You only stopped when your lips were hovering a breath above his. Tears were glistening in both of your eyes as you whispered, “I know you thought this would change things or make me feel different about you, and it has.” Bucky’s face crumpled slightly and he tried to pull away, but you held his face firmly in your hand. As you smiled, you continued, “I thought I loved you this morning. But seeing how much I mean to you, how much you truly trust me…I’ve never loved anyone or felt as loved by them as I do right now. This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you, baby.”

You leaned forward slightly, pressing your lips against his as you tried to put all of your love and gratitude into the kiss so he knew what he meant to you. For just a second, he froze. But then Bucky melted into you as you felt the last of his walls crumble around you. He was standing before you as raw and as vulnerable as a person could be, it was the most breathtaking thing you had ever experienced.

Without breaking the kiss, you took his cold, hard hand in your warm, soft one and blindly began leading him to the bed. Once there, you turned so his back was to the mattress and you pressed forward, forcing him down onto his back.

Finally breaking the kiss, you climbed onto the bed too, straddling his waist as you placed your hand over the damaged part of his arm he had shared with you. Rolling your hips slightly against his, you purred, “It’s still Valentine’s Day and though I don’t have anything half as special as the gift you gave me, I plan on spending the rest of the night showing you how much I love you.”

In one fluid motion, you removed your shirt and tossed it behind you where it landed on top of the discarded robe.

Taglist: @tavners, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @merlehs, @princessmisery666, @ohtobeleah, @musings-of-a-rose, @blue-aconite

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mistydeyes · 9 months

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first line treatments: how the pharmacist met the 141

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summary: After your time as the pharmacist in the army, you think back to your days when you first started at the pharmacy. You were in your late 20's, less experienced and also less stressed, and more importantly had not familiarized with your patient. However, you fondly remember how you got to know each member of the 141.

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

some other parts of the pharmacist!series:

counseling the 141 - first part to the pharmacist! story

weird dreams when they are injured on the field

being sick and having the 141 come to the rescue

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and violence

a/n: this took me a while to think of because I knew I wanted to continue my pharmacist!series but I wasn't sure where to go with it! hope you enjoy!

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price

"Alright Captain, here's the keys," the head of the medical department said as she dropped them in your hand, "the pharmacy opens in an hour." You held the heavy chain in your palm, noting the various tags on the individual keys. "Wait, what do you mean in an hour?" you questioned as you stood outside the locked gates. She let out a laugh before responding. "An hour, Captain," she corrected and your eyes widened, "you're the new pharmacist in charge and the Army wouldn't have picked you if they didn't think you would be able to do this." With that, she walked off, leaving you to fumble around and try to orient yourself in the new area.

Despite the awful time you had waking up at 05:00, any sense of sleeplessness was gone and you were fully running on adrenaline. You felt like someone injected you with epinephrine based on how you ran around the pharmacy, trying to fill scripts and get your logins in. At 06:30, you heard a knock on the door to the pharmacy. You practically jumped, almost dropping the bottle of Metformin in your hand. "Hello?" you questioned as you saw a uniformed officer standing with a water bottle. "You must be the new pharmacist," she smiled and you opened the door to fully, "I'm your technician." You could feel your stress subside as she gave you a quick tour of the pharmacy. By the time she was finished, she informed you she would take care of the incoming scripts while you managed the queue and the verification process.

To your delight, the automatic pharmacy doors opened and you saw there was not a large queue of soldiers waiting for their scripts. You took a moment to catch your breath and review some of the new scripts as well as the occasional filled prescription that required your verification. You were focused, drowning out the sounds of the pills hitting the tray and the occasional conversations in the hallway. "Um Captain," your technician called, "I think someone is waiting." You felt your face flush as you quickly walked over to see a captain politely waiting. "I'm so sorry," you apologized as you looked up at him, "first day on the job." "It's alright," he reassured and you smiled, relieved he wasn't an irate customer.

"Did you check in with the app?" you asked and he shook his head. "I like to come early to avoid all that nonsense, I believe medical sent something down for me," he spoke gently, "the name's John Price." You turned to the computer and took a few moments to orient yourself with the system. Eventually, you were able to find his file amongst the surprising amounts of John Price's in the system. "Yes, looks there's two here for you," you said and turned to search around the bins. You thought searching the system took you long but navigating the bins took even longer. You eventually found the clear bag of his items and returned. "Here you go," you responded, "any questions?" He shook his head and you handed over the bag. Before he left, he turned back to you. "It's already half past 7, you're making it through your first day," he commented. You weren't sure if it was a compliment or a complaint based on your slow time, however, you were comforted knowing the day was going quickly.

soap

After a few more patients, you finally had time to review your emails for the day. You sighed as you clicked through the reminders for meetings and on-boarding. You finally reached something of note. You sat back in the chair as you read through the email and attached file carefully. In summary, it notified you of a certain non-compliant patient who would be visiting your pharmacy soon. You laughed at the bold red letters that read “PLEASE ADVISE SERGEANT MACTAVISH TO TAKE THE FULL COURSE OF ANTIBIOTICS.” This was the first email of its kind you’ve received and you laughed at the childlike recommendation.

The incoming scripts had dissipated and your technician decided to take over the counter for you. Eventually, you heard your name being called and you walked over. "Captain, there's a mandatory counseling notification for you," she remarked and you nodded. You looked up to the patient who seemed to know what this was about. "If you don't mind Sergeant, you can come to the vaccination area and we can discuss," you explained with a smile. He nodded at your command and you walked to the private corner. You settled into the plastic chair and he sat across from you. “You're not in any trouble," you joked, "I’ve actually heard a lot about you, Sergeant.” He let out a laugh as you grabbed his medication. “You can drop the formalities,” he said before you began your counseling, “it’s just Johnny.”

"Well Johnny," you returned the conversation to you, "medical wanted me to talk to you about how to take these." Another laugh and this time you looked at him a bit confused. "Doctors are always tellin me that," he said as his voice boomed in the small area. "They are right after all, you should be taking the full course of these," you advised, "they even come counted out for you." You turned the bottle of Amoxicillin/Clavulanic acid in your hand, looking at the nine white tablets. "I'm serious, Johnny, you know the types of recurring infections you get if you don't take these," you said, sternly, as if you were a mother chiding their child. "I know, I know, Captain," he said defensively, hands in the air. "Good," you said handing the pills over, "then I shouldn't be seeing a script for you anytime soon." With that, he nodded and you dismissed him before returning back to your computer. Little did you know, you would be cursing at the pharmacy system as a script for Mactavish, John came in for MRSA infection.

gaz

After a week, you were finally comfortable in your role as the pharmacy officer. You were able to fill and verify scripts quickly and keep the queue from turning into an angry mob. The constant self-dosing of paracetamol was a thing of the past for you. However, as your technicians were frantically running around when you returned from lunch, your mood changed. After one of them sheepishly explained the situation, you felt like screaming. "What do you mean the medical file system is down?!" you exclaimed as your heart dropped. Apparently, it would be fixed once it was determined to be an error and not a malicious hack. You were also advised to stay off the phone lines and other systems as a precaution. This didn't help you as a platoon of soldiers was coming in for their prescriptions and were leaving on a 6-month deployment.

It would be no issue but you found that you were unable to verify an NSAID allergy for a patient. "Guess I'm doing this the old-fashioned way," you mumbled before walking out the pharmacy doors. As you exited the pharmacy, you soon realized your haste. Despite receiving a full tour on the first day, you had no idea where to go. You spent 15 minutes exploring the halls but to no avail. Finally, you threw in the towel and decided to ask someone. You looked around and saw a sergeant walking down the hall, casually. "Excuse me, Sergeant!" you called out and he walked closer. You read his name tag before continuing. "Sergeant Garrick," you asked as you looked up at him, "would you mind directing me to the medical wing?" "The directions are a bit confusing, so I can walk with you," he offered and you nodded happily.

As you walked, you made pleasant conversation. He asked you many questions about your short time on base and took an interest in your hospital pharmacy job before this. "The career change came when I was tired of mixing IV bags" you explained, remembering how after that shift you went to a recruitment center. In contrast, he described how he enlisted after secondary school and eventually worked his way up the ranks. "Do you ever regret it?" you asked, hoping not to offend the soldier. He let out a small chuckle which rebounded in the linoleum hallway. "Lots of people ask that but there's never a day that I do," he responded, smiling back at you. After the afternoon you had, Sergeant Garrick was a fresh of breath air. His optimism and smile made you think he was his squad's dose of Vitamin C.

Eventually, you saw the sign for the medical wing. Part of you had forgotten this is how your stroll had begun. "And here she is," he presented, sarcastically having his hands. "I can't thank you enough, this would've taken me ages to find," you said with gratitude. He nodded before turning around and walking back to his initial destination. "Thanks for the walk, Captain," he called and you smiled to yourself before navigating through the various doctor's offices.

ghost

As you looked up at the clock, you watched it painstakingly go second by second. Fridays and weekends were especially slow as most soldiers were on leave or off-base. You even relieved your technician as the hours slowly passed with no scripts being entered. Eventually, you heard the doors open and you walked to the counter.“Can I return this?” the man spoke, pushing over a small bottle of pills. You looked up at him, reading his name tag. “Well, Lieutenant Riley. If it’s an antibiotic you can toss it once the course is completed, you don’t have to come back here,” you clarified, expecting him to take the bottle back. But he simply shook his head. You placated the lieutenant and picked up the bottle. It looked like one from a civilian chemists and you turned the label to find it was a prescription for fluoxetine.

"Oh I see now," you realized, "I can dispose of this for you." As you threw the bottle into the bin to process later, you realized he was still standing at the counter. "Did you need something else, Lieutenant?" you asked as he stood in place. "Is there any way to get it off my file? The chemists gave this to me for the third time and I don't take it anymore," he requested and you were more than happy to oblige. "Yes, I'm sorry that it still gets sent out when you're on leave," you apologized, turning your gaze to the computer. You typed in a few things and after requesting his full name and date of birth, you were able to pull up his medical file.

Despite looking like a well-oiled machine, his file was as long as the base itself. You scrolled past various psych evals, mandatory therapy notes, and hospital records until you reached his prescription list. You tried to hide your dismay when you saw he was initially prescribed this in 2001, over 20 years ago. You wondered if this was the first time he had ever thought to get it discontinued officially in the records. "Everything alright?" he asked, noting how you stared at the screen and you nodded. "I can remove it for you now and add a note to prevent any further refills," you said and with a few codes and your confirmation, it was successfully removed. You returned back to the counter, letting the lieutenant know it was completed. "Thank you, Captain," he said quietly and turned to probably head back to his quarters. You made sure to close his file before you returned the item, trying to avoid the copious amounts of alerts regarding his plethora of scripts and refills. "Guess I'll be seeing you soon, Lieutenant," you said under your breath, not realizing how often you would be seeing certain patients.

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countessqin · 1 year

Text

A family of three

Character: Jing Yuan × fem!reader (romantically); Yanqing × fem!reader (platonically: mother-son relations)

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[Author note]

Me and my thoughts about Jing Yuan and Yanqing father-son relations are living rent-free in my head as well as different ideas connected with these two, so here we are. (Again, purely my headcanons were used!)

PS. Maybe a little OOC. My apologies for any typos and mistakes! Uni takes the most of my time, so I will correct them when I will be free from my assignments and exam preparation.

Hope you enjoyed reading it and thank you for reading it!

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- You still remember that day very clearly. Being an advisor of Luofu is quite a job, and you have just returned from meeting held in another Xianzhou region, so you decided to work from home

- You have finished your papers for today, and were doing some ink painting, when you heard the main door opened

- To say you were surprised will be not the right word... when you came to greet your husband you saw not only him but him with adorable 4 year old child

- You were confused but decided not to question, who, why and how for now. Being married for God knows how long (being a native person from Xianzhou meant being blessed with long life) you knew that face of your husband, when he was tired and was concerned with some problems. And the mara-struck problem striked again with bigger waves, so you decided not to throw all your question at the General, who already have had enough problems

- When Jing Yuan wanted to introduce you and boy to each other, you were faster and leveled yourself to boy's height

"Hi! I'm Lady Y/n, what is your name?", - you said with warm smile. The boy quietly and shyly said "Yanqing", "Oh what a pretty name! Are you hungry? I baked some mooncakes, and made some spring rolls, wanna try?" The boy beamed with happiness and agreed.

- After eating, you showed boy around. When you entered your study room, Yanqing saw the ink art on your table and asked if he can try to draw too. Of course, you agreed, firstly being kind-soul you are and secondly, how to say no to such adorable child.

- After some tries you proposed your help and boy agreed. Within 30 minutes a masterpiece was finished. You saw that the boy was yawning, so you took him to your bedroom which was closer to you.

"Here, you can sleep here. If you will need something, I will be in the study, the next door, 'mkay?", "Yes, thank you miss N/n!*", "Good, sleep well Yanqing, have sweet dreams~"

- When you and Jing Yuan finished all work-related issues, you sat on sofa reading your favorite book, while massaging Jing Yuan's head which was lying on your lap.

- He said that mara-struck problem was getting more and more serious. And that Yanqing was a son of one of his most trusted soldiers, about whom you have heard, but unfortunately the soldier died because of mara. His wife came to Jing Yuan, and told that she may been striked by mara too, she felt some symptoms of it, and she wanted to ask general to help find new family for Yanqing, so he would life a happy long life.

- Of course, you knew the horrors of person being mara-struck. They became monster, who didn't recognize anyone. Although you are not strategist on the battlefield nor general as an advisor you also dealt with consequences of such curse-illnesses.

- Jing Yuan said that tomorrow he will find a good family, for Yanqing while you proposed to raise Yanqing together. You have had more that enough resourses to ensure that boy will grow up in good conditions. You and Jing Yuan have lived for so long but were too engaged in work that you did not have children of your own.

- Of course the General have had such idea, but he wasn't quite sure, whether you would agree or not. Raising your own child is hard, what to say about not your one? He knew that you are kind and loved children but still it such a big step, what if you felt that you are not ready?

- So after you proposed to raise Yanqing together both of you agreed. Then you held a small discussion, what to renovate in household and what you need to buy for Yanqing. And that how a family of three emerged.

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[Small note]

* N/n stands for nickname, I thought that if your name is quite complicated for child to pronounce, he will use name similar for it, for example - Cecilia = Lilia and so on. But even if it's easy one, children still tend to give some nicknames.

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#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail yanqing #hsr yanqing #qin's stories~

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ariseur · 2 months

Text

you stood there as you and zack both stared at each other. his hands, once holding cardboard swords similar to the ones you used as kids when you two would sneak off to whatever small clearing you could get in gongaga and clash, now held a thick metal sword. a sword that you recalled was the first class SOLDIER, angeal hewley’s, most prized possession. at least that’s what you heard from zack. he always did admire him, you wondered where angeal was at now.

you almost felt guilty that zack trusted you enough to tell you all these things, even with you as a turk. you felt guilty standing there, knowing that the man you loved was the man who you were supposed to kill. you felt guilty as you reminisced on the missions where you saw zack so excited, the two of you following tseng’s orders. you felt guilty knowing that zack just dreamed of being a soldier, he didn’t ask to be roped into all of this.

his hands stayed firm around the handle of the sword, the sheen metal glimmering in the sun as it practically blinded you. in his eyes, they stayed not the blue you were so used to, but instead a glowing aqua as the mako infused itself with the natural color of his iris.

“how did we get here?” you asked, your weapon remained in its holster as you not dared to use it on zack. a frown graced itself upon his lips although his weapon never faltered.

“i don’t know.” he said.

you spotted the man behind him, obviously unconscious as his head hung low. his blond hair covered his face but you could clearly see the calm rise and fall of his bulky uniform-clad shoulders.

you looked back up, zack’s eyes never leaving yours as they held such a solemn slant. you could’ve sworn his eyes started to glaze over, tears washing out the glowing tones of mako resonating in his irises. swallowing thickly, you spoke again, “you have to go, zack. they’re on their way. you don’t understand—“

with a soft call of your name, you looked up again. god, look at you. a turk, one of shinra’s goons, and there you were choking up at someone who had a manhunt out for him.

“i’ll be alright.”

“zack, no—“

“go.” he said, managing to give you one last meager smile before nodding his head to the other side of the cliff, a small opening where one could pass through and flee. with your bottom lip quivering, you glanced back at zack. he nodded his head at you in reassurance, lowering his sword and sheathing it once again.

your breath quivered as you sighed and began walking to the small crawl space, your footsteps heavy with each aching step you took.

the cool wind suddenly felt more evident in the air against your sweaty palms, wiping them against your black sleek uniformed pants. you could feel zack’s eyes on you, watching you trail away— and you almost didn’t turn around until you were face to face with your exit ticket out of there. his name felt thick on your tongue as you breathed out a call of his name, “zack?”

just the syllable was enough to leave a bittersweet taste in the back of your throat, swallowing in hopes of moistening your now dry mouth. you turned your head slowly to look at him. he adorned that same smile as he always did, the same smile he’d wear when he’d get good news from lazard or when he had triumphed in a sparring session.

you recalled the numerous times you two would rant to each other. he’d talk about how well it was going over there, how much work he had put into himself and his job.

and you recalled how you’d talk about your latest victories and accomplished missions, although you always rambled about your latest failures as well. that memory shifted to the front of your mind as you managed to flash a poignant smile whilst you talked once more, mimicking the tone you’d use during your late night talks, “man, you know what sucked today?”

he cocked his head.

“i failed my mission.” and with a wistful grin, he gave you one last nod.

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nrdmssgs · 10 months

Note

Hi hi! I was wondering if I could request a 141 reaction to reader asking them to dance out in the rain with them, civilian or a fellow soldier? I really loved the headcanon you did of falling asleep on their shoulder and I just need more fluff of them please

Masterlist

Oh how I love doing anything in the rain with SO!!!!!!!! I live for such requests, thank you so much!! I had the best time writing this.

TF 141 reacting on reader, asking them for a dance in the rain

Simon Ghost Riley

This was the most important day in his life, the happiest one. But Ghost still felt guilt stinging him time to time. What if you said, you wanted it to be quiet and private just to make him comfortable? What this didn't match your dreams, what if his whole life didn't meet your expectations? There were no guests, no intricate or pompous speeches, no tears or happy laughter - everything was down to earth, calm and fast. Simon didn't even get it right away, when everything was done. He just stood there before the clerk looking at your certificate.

"You sure, you don't want any gift to remember this day?" He took your hand so that he doesn't lose you on a crowded street.

"Oh, I have a gift, don't worry. And I'm planning to keep it for life." Your smile illuminated even this colorless autumn day.

Simon heard a large raindrop hit your shoulder. The next drop touched his cheek. This rain reminded a more summer one: it did not cover the city with a moisture gray veil, but merrily played with the rays of the sun, which appeared at the other end of the sky and refracted in lonely drops.

People around you fled, seeking shelter from the rain, and Ghost cursed softly. "Not only haven't I arranged a proper ceremony for you - now the day will be ruined by the rain..."

"How many times do I have to repeat, that it is primarily me, who didn't want any ceremonies?" You lift his hand and place a kiss on his knuckle.

"If you ever have second thoughts - let me know right away. I'll find a tailor, arrange a cake and the isle, and what else people do normally..."

"Mister Riley, this may come as a surprise, people do whatever they please." Your laughter immediately eases his soul. "Now please stop beating yourself for not being an incarnation of every teenage dream. I don't need it. What I need to remember this day forever is you, Simon. Just you."

"Just me is not enough..." This was meant to be inaudible, but you still heard him and stopped in your tracks.

"Please, never say that again. You are enough. Now, if you want to go above and beyond that badly today - dance with me. Right here, right now." Your request takes him by surprise. But it's you, and he swore to himself when you two signed the papers earlier, that you'd get whatever you ask for. Always.

He stands motionless for a while, never taking his eyes off you. And then he holds out his hand to you. His heart beats as fast as the day you met.

"May I have this dance, Mrs Riley?"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

"Kyle!" You would jump on the hospital bed right into his arms, if you were sure, it wouldn't hurt him.

Gaz smiled widely the very second, he heard your cry. "Hi, sweetie! I'm so glad, you made it here, I missed you so much!" His lively voice doesn't match his appearance: his body is covered with patches and stitches, and it almost screams 'let me rest and don't even think to go on another mission in next few months'. You frown at the sight of it and come closer, inspecting every centimeter of his skin.

He tracks your gaze and says lightheartedly, "Don't worry, sweets, in a week ill be as good as new."

"In a pair of weeks," corrects him nurse, who lead you into his room.

"In a pair of weeks, I'll be dead of boredom here..."

You profusely apologize to the nurse for Kyle and when she leaves, closing the door behind her, you turn back. "It's okay, I've got my job done, and I'll be here with you for as long as it takes." You are so relieved to finally see him in one piece, after you got that frightening call. You know, it's his job, his life, but you can't lose him, cant even imagine waking up, knowing, I will never see that myriad of different smiles of Kyle Garrick.

One of your favorites is that sneaky shit-eating grin, when he is about to win a bet or a game. It is so pure, so full of joy - it makes you believe for a short moment, there is no war out there, no hell, he will have to return to sooner or later. So for the next two weeks you come up with all kinds of games, only to see that smile on his face.

Even though it was Kyle who ended up in the hospital bed out of the two of you, he takes care of you as usual, not the other way around. So every time you lose a bet - he makes you eat a desert from his lunch, or wraps you in his shirt, so that you are cozy and warm. But in rare cases, when you win - you exploit it as much as you can. After your very first win you make him promise, that he will follow every instruction of his doctors, and in two weeks he will dance with you in the courtyard of the hospital.

Gaz keeps his word, and after two weeks you finally leave the hospital. It would be the perfect moment - if not for one "BUT": the street meets you with pouring rain.

"Sorry, sweetheart, looks like no dancing in the wild for you today. But if you are willing to wait for a few hours - I promise, well find a perfect ballroom somewhere in my flat." Kyle touches your shoulder and smiles reassuringly.

"Oh no, all your ballrooms require us to press ourselves as close to each other and not swing at all."

"And that was... pretty much the most significant part of my plan." Even when he is flirting with you that shamelessly - Kyle somehow keeps the softest eyes and sweetest smile.

You know him too well - Kyle can't refuse you. So when you hold out your hand to him, he shakes his head, leans the bags against the wall, and leads you out into the little garden in front of the hospital building. There he puts one arm around your waist and circles slowly with you, oblivious to the rain. He does not hide the admiration with which he watches your movements. When you get closer to each other - he covers every inch of your face with kisses, repeating "Losing to you was the best thing, my angel. Thank you for helping me out".

Captain John Price

On your first date, you looked nervous. Despite knowing him for years already, this evening felt different. You knew, at some point you'll have to explain, what's going on, but words kept failing you.

"You ok, love?" John noticed it. Of course, he would, since his eyes never left your face.

No.

"Yes! I mean, of course... Sorry, where were we?"

But he knows you too well, and you already feel his eyes scanning through a smile plastered on your face. So John takes your hand and starts asking questions. He doesn't pressure you, but just helps you to navigate through your anxiety, trying to specify, what causes it. So you finally give in and explain that even the most insignificant physical contacts are difficult for you. At the same time, you are incredibly glad that you two finally went on a date. To your relief, John reacts calmly, lets go of your hand and reassures you, that your wellbeing is much more important than social customs, demanding, that every good date must end with a kiss or a hug.

"I promise to not touch this topic, if you don't feel like sharing, but I must know, if anything... or anyone caused this or if it's just the way you are, which is absolutely ok." His voice is soft. It sounds so comforting, you feel safe enough to share your reasoning, which Price accepts right away.

Since then, he catches himself urging to touch you, but freezing, before his hand actually reaches your personal space. No matter how badly he wanted to comfort you and share his warmth - John remembered, he better come up with an alternative way to do that. So he made you warm with words, little presents, acts of service - anything, but touch.

One day, he was walking you home from another date when lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, illuminating the evening sky.

"Oh no, it's about to rain, John, come wait at my place."

"Don't worry, love, you don't scare a brit with a few raindrops. You need a good sleep before working week, so I'll get you home and be on my way to my place right after."

When you are saying goodbyes at your door, it starts raining. John turns away and heads right into a thick wall of raindrops, falling all around a canopy. "It's just water, it's not gonna harm him," you think to yourself. But something inside you asks, demands, pleads you to stop him. So you dart after Price and grab him in an awkward embrace from back.

"Love?" John turns his head. "I told you to not wo-"

You cut him off, shifting around and now pressing your cheek against his broad chest. It is unexpected, but so much awaited, John barely holds back a shiver, that runs down his body. You start quietly humming some vaguely familiar melody and gently rocking back and forth.

"Can I hug you back?" Even startled by your sudden act of affection, John still guards your border.

You nod, still pressing yourself so close to him, that raindrops can't wet his jacket from the front. Carefully and slowly, he locks you in an embrace, letting you continue slowly dancing with him. He doesn't care for the rain or late hour anymore - he only cares for you in his hands.

Johnny Soap Mactavish

"Seriously, another bloody traffic jam? " Soap presses his face against car window and groans. You've asked him for about a hundred times not to do that, but it is impossible to make Johnny cooperate, when he is unhappy.

Hes been venting to you about that gig for the last few months. You were pretty sure, it was because you owned a car, which was practically the only reasonable transport to reach such a secluded small town, where the concert took place. One must have witnessed Johnnys puppy eyes, when he asked you to ride there together with him, to understand, why you just couldn't say no. You invited the rest of the 141 to join you, but all of them, by a strange coincidence, remembered some urgent personal plans at the last moment.

So there you were, alone with a whining Sergeant in a car, stuck in a traffic jam, that was very likely to not let you make it in time even for the second half of the gig. And as if things weren't bad enough - it started raining.

"I'm sorry, Soap. I'm not sure, we will be there in time." You hated it that, you couldn't change the situation, because Johnny always did everything in his power to cheer you up, help you or just make you smile. You wanted to be as good friend as he was to you, but this traffic jam required a true magician in order to get sorted out in minutes. So you sigh deeply, tapping the steering wheel with your fingertips.

The idea hits you out of nowhere. You pull to the side, as soon as you reach a small, empty parking area in the woods.

Soap turns to you with a puzzled face. "Lass? Everything alright?"

Without answering him, you turn off the engine and pick up the phone. "Ah, you want to look for another route again?" suggests Johnny. "But we already tried it a hundred times - there are no alternatives ..."

"Calm down, MacTavish, I'm bringing you the concert."

"You mean, you're bringing me to the concert?" He tilts his head to the side in confusion.

"I said what I said, Johnny... Now, give me ju-u-u-ust one more minute.... Here, perfect!" With these words, you jump out of the car right into the rain and open the passenger door. "C'mon, MacTavish, we spent a few hours trying to get there, we might as well enjoy our very own concert."

With the first chords of the song, a radiant smile blooms on Johnny's face. He throws his head back and laughs out loud, covering his face with his hands. "Ya crazy, lassie, you know it?"

You pull him out of the car and take his both hands in yours. "Listen, I know, this is no way as fun as the real gig. But I dont want you to remember this day as 'that time, we killed a day in a car', ok?"

Johny moves closer, not stopping laughing and starts slow dancing with you despite a rather jolly and fast melody. "Oh fuck that concert. This right here is worth a month spent in a traffic jam. I wouldn't trade it for anything"

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