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winterarmyy · 8 months

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Welcome Home, Daddy

The aftermath of when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Bucky was over the moon when he discovered that Y/N was pregnant with his child. But, when the danger that lurks in dark threatened to steal his family away, a fellow soldier decided to come home.

Note: Highly recommend to read 《 Welcome Home... Soldat? 》 for backstory. But, you can also read this as a stand alone (though you might miss some call backs on the soldat's behaviour if you skip)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Words: 7.1k++ (bare with me, please)

Warnings: graphic violence, torture, blood, gore, deaths, dark undertones, sudden fluff, tiny bit of angst, google translated russian, and just so much detained anger exploding around, soldat is just deadly yet adorable in this one (i can't even handle it, and i'm the author), this event takes place far in the future after what happened in 《 Welcome Home...Soldat? 》

A/N: Looks like we have the winner for the poll 👀 Who's ready for our lovely soldat to make his appearance again? I know I'm not, but here we are. So, strap in and let's do this!

P/S: Also, I might as well make this as my submission for the seven writing event hosted by @nickfowlerrr 💌 Check out the event masterlist and support the writers by reading and reblogging their stories!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

They say the wrath of a fighter may threatened a heinous war but the wrath of a lover will let the earth drenched in bloody gore. And if a fool was daft enough to tore a lover from his other half, then they might just court themselves right into the hands of death.

And this couldn't be more true, especially if we consider the crime that the soldat was currently committing. Surely, the blood pooling on the floor will forever leave a grim mark that'll haunt the people who ever witness it.

"Where is she?" the soldat prompted the frail woman, limping on the chained chair. Despite the horrid situation, he sounded rather calm when he spoke.

How unfortunate it was for Elle to be associated with Hydra yet to also be so exposed to the dangers of the ghost himself, the Winter Soldier. Hydra may have their suspicion about the soldat making a move, but she didn't expect that she would be involved in the mess of this ordeal.

The cold metal of the soldat's vibranium fingers, particularly his index and thumb, latched themselves on another one of her nails. Her mouth slacked open but no sound was able to be formed when the soldat mercilessly ripped her nail right off her finger.

And oh, the pain was beyond any kind of injury that she had ever experienced, not a even a bullet through her flesh could be compared to this agony of a torture.

He harshly grabbed Elle by the back of her neck, forcing her to watch the blood leaking from the reddened flesh of her fingers, "I asked you a simple question, су́ка (bitch). Where the fuck is she?" The soldat's patience had been running thin and rage had clouded his judgements.

He needed to find her. His precious Родная (darling).

No matter whose neck he needed to slay or whose blood that have to be shed dry. He had to bring his darling home; no matter what it takes.

Unfortunately, it had been almost a month since he lost her.

And no one saw it coming.

Who would've thought that the old Hydra compound that the team raided were meant to be a part of a plan to weaken the Avengers. It was just a distraction filled with unexpected traps and triggers. By the time they flew home, the team were already tired and injured as the result of the raid.

So imagine the desperate struggle and utter panic that Bucky had to go through the moment he stepped his foot into the comfort of their home and had to witness Y/N's exhausted figure fighting for her life.

Hers and the baby's inside.

After hitting the 2 months mark of pregnancy, Bucky decided that Y/N shouldn't be involved in any high stake mission anymore. At first, she only laughed to his statement, thinking he was surely joking but when his stern expression didn't flatter, that was when she reliazed Bucky was not open for negotiation.

Y/N knew it was way too early to settle into her maternal leave but after having a long conversation with Bucky, they both agreed to keep her missions strictly on low-risk stakeouts and desk works at the tower.

It was supposedly be some kind of a precaution for her, to keep her and the baby safe, away from any type harm that might come their way. But, that certainly back fired.

When Bucky's burning anger had pumped him full with high stream of adrenaline, it was as if he went into an auto pilot; a murderous one at that. And soon enough he managed to take down half of Hydra's best agents that joined the mission of collecting Y/N from the tower.

For a moment, it seemed like luck was on their side, at least it felt like it.

It lasted only until Bucky saw how harsh the kick of the enemy landed on Y/N's hip, and how she managed to shield her stomach seconds before her body slammed down to the ground.

That was when fear crawled into his pumping nerves and the roots of it ran extremely cold.

And that was all it takes for Hydra to distract Bucky then immobilize him on the spot with a replica of the Sonic Taser developed by Stark Industries a few years back.

Bucky grunted painfully in protest of the high pitched sonic frequency from the device that overloads his nervous system. His body couldn't help but to slowly paralyzed its movements as his skin turned pale and the strain in his blood vessels became visible.

On the opposite side, Y/N could be seen being forcefully dragged away by a few of the Hydra agents that was left. There were couple of nasty injuries torn all over her body yet she was still stubborn on fighting back.

While she was being pulled farther away from him, she shouted his name loud and desprete, "Bucky!" Hot tears broke from the corner of her eyes as she desperately reach out her hand.

It felt as if she was right there when Bucky's hand was reaching back towards her. Like, a little bit of a push would've been enough to catch her but alas fate was not planning to be merciful.

Bucky's menancing eyes never left her wavering ones as Hydra tortured Bucky by stealing a part of his soul from him; and no one really knew how his heart clenched and torn to the fact that he was helplessly useless when Y/N needed him the most.

And when he only managed to scream back Y/N's name, he was forced to watch her wailed as she was unwillingly being taken away.

The moment when Bucky drowned himself in regret and rage, that was when the Winter Soldier took over his consciousness.

Unfortunately for the soldat, his mortal body was already worn out from all the intense fight that happened prior; he was knocked out right after he took over the body.

But in those few seconds before the darkness consumed him, the soldat managed to catch a glimpse of his darling. He saw the image of her; teary and bruised in the hands of those who created him. The very same monsters who uses him for despicable things.

That was all that he needed to see in order to break those chains around the dark pandora residing deep within his being.

The team was absolutely not ready to deal with the soldat again, this time without Y/N to tame him. Especially when his demands were unrealistic for them to fulfill.

It's been nearly 3 weeks since the incident and they had failed to locate Y/N; repeatedly. Even if they did manage to get some kind of an intel, all the of bases they had raided were basically bunch of abandoned spaces that Hydra used to occupy.

So of course the soldat was agitated. He had every right to be, more so when he thought of the increasing risk of his darling getting hurt in the hands of Hydra. And at this point, those scumbags were just messing with their minds. Especially with his.

"Listen, we're doing our best here, soldat." Steve tried to reason with him but it only fueled the burning flames within the soldat, "ты делаешь недостаточно! (You're not doing enough!)" He spat harshly that he didn't even noticed that he uses Russian language. It seemed like the unkempt irritation had conquered the chaos of his mind.

So that very night, the soldat decided to do this on his own; thus he ran away from the tower in search for his darling. He had to. Especially when he knew precisely why the Avenger was not able to find Y/N as quickly as they should be.

It was because they were the good guys. They were the heros, they were the light. And the soldat was not. In fact, he was the very opposite.

Unlike the Avengers, the soldat was not planning to play nice and soon enough he managed to find a lead.

Which bring us to this very moment in which he successfully snuck into a Hydra agent's home to interrogate her.

But, in contrast of those Hydra troops that attack the Avengers Tower a few weeks ago, Elle was not even involved in the mission of retrieving Y/N. She was actually on a solo mission to infiltrate a certain high school to collect informations on Peter Parker. Hydra suspected that he might be involved with the new hero appearing in Queens.

However, even if she was not a part of the team mission, she knew bits and pieces of the overall plan, especially the whereabout of the main character herself, Y/N.

However, the appearance of the Winter Soldier in her temporary house was completely unexpected.

It felt like it was just few moments ago that the intel on Y/N's location reached her ears. Then, she distinctly remember the glimpse of those murderous eyes glaring into her soul. Next thing she knew was everything went pitch black.

Even if it was temporary, however it felt so surreal.

The darkness surrounding her.

The bone rattling cold.

It felt like death itself.

But unfortunately for her, the soldat was far from stopping.

Elle was fraying at the edges while the soldat crouch to her level. Even if she could barely reconstruct the unclear and blurry images through her dazed eyes, however, that didn't stop the soldat from maiming the dying woman's soul through his unforgiving gaze.

"Wake up..." he growled as he yanked her face upwards, "...we're not done yet."

It took a while for Elle to finally adjust to the light, after being in the dark for – how she felt like – so long.

After the light hits her vision, the striking pain came next. The pulsing pain surrounding of her right eye, her broken nose, her busted lips, her bleeding skin; neck, chest, arms, and almost every part of her limbs.

Everything were – slowly but surely, in each cuts and bruises on her skin – blooming its pain into existence.

How can she skipped all of this when she lost her consciousness?

Perhaps that was how she managed to stay alive as long as she had. By running away from the misery; from her reality.

Elle whined in pain but her voice suggested that she might already torn her throat apart when it sounded more like a broken grunt. Her disoriented gaze fell into her aching fingers, each were missing its nail; the tips of them was where the icky blood trickled from and had shaped a pool of blood on the floor where she rested.

The dim lighting from the room reflected on the surface of the deep-red puddle, revealing the resemblance of it to a mirror. And the blurry image looking back, was the soldat, with a sinister expression on his face.

This game, that they're playing.

It hardly seems fair to one of them. To be tortured if not speaking the truth? That's simply unjust; but if we're talking about fairness, then none of those injuries could ever be compared to the pain Y/N might be going through at this very moment. Every second of Elle's useless stubbornness was costing Y/N's safety.

And the soldat didn't like that. Not one bit.

"You mentioned Spain? Where exactly?" In one swift, harsh motion, the soldat thrust his knife through her thighs, "FUCK!"

The loud scream of pain that tore from Elle's throat was probably the last coherent word that she uttered as the torture continued.

The soldat pulled the knife out and stabbing it into the open wound, he listened to Elle's gasp for a moment, relishing her breathless pleading and the tears now openly streaming down her face.

He stabbed again, twice, each was quick and deep, not caring about the blood that spurted out across his face.

At this point Elle was just a puddle of blabbering mess; streams of saliva pouring out her mouth, sobbing, gasping for air; mixture of grunts, moans and whispers of curses and pleas were all spouted incoherently.

Anger.

Frustration.

Rage.

Wrath.

Even hatred.

The soldat was feeling it all.

It was consuming him, devouring any sanity that was left of Bucky's moral values. The eerie glint in the soldat eyes suggested that he was not planning to stop until she gave him what he wants.

God, if it wasn't for chilling atmosphere around her, Elle might just mistook that she was actually in hell.

"Pyrenees!" She cried out. The soldat instantly stopped when she confessed. He waited for an answer and right on cue, she spoke again, breathless and almost silent as the fear that engulfed her prior refused to release her from its haunting grip. And truthfully she doubt that it will ever let her go, "T-there a secret base n-near the Irati forest."

She exhaled a shaky breath as she pleaded, "S-so please. Please stop this." The was tired of the pain and the numbness that came after. And the soldat knows it.

The room was left silent momentarily, as if he was actually considering her plea but alas he already had plans for her all along, "Shame. You should've killed yourself before I came here."

As he finished the last word, the soldat viciously plunged his knife deep into her neck, digging the sharpness of it through the delicate flesh until it reach the base of the blade.

Elle gasped in response, her hands scrabbling around in effort to break free, to stop all of this. But considering the situation she was in, there was nothing she could do about it other than to take it as it was given to her.

When the motion finally stopped, the soldat simply walked away from the scene as if it was a complete norm for him to behave as he was. He didn't even thought of cleaning the mess he left behind. Or hide the corpse somewhere.

Isn't he afraid that he might leave his tracks for the police to find?

Why would he?

This has been his life for decades on end. His sole purpose of living was to kill. So best believe that the authorities will never be able to link the soldat or Bucky to this crime.

Not today, not ever.

Through the days that Y/N was locked deep within Hydra's base, she hadn't been treated the worst. In fact, the sick and twisted agents and residents in the facility was more than willing to care for her.

This was all because they wanted her baby.

It was always sickening to hear them referring her child as merely a tool for their success. And the way they worship Y/N like she was a gift from God to fulfill their purpose, was beyond insanity.

"Oh, to have the privilage of bearing the offspring of the Winter Soldier. To be able to create the perfect weapon, unlike the father. It is just honorable."

It made her stomach churned with pure disgust whenever she heard those types of comments floating around her.

Besides the eerily digusting behaviour of the agents, there was also the regular check-ups and the lab tests that she needed to attend. Out of all the things she had to endure these past few weeks, the medical check-up has always dreaded her the most.

There was this constant debate within her troubled mind; of the possibility of Hydra manipulating her baby's health and genes by inserting unknown substance into her.

"Come on, mama. On the bed." The doctor said as he patted his rubber gloved hand on the surface of the rigid single bed.

She always found it vile that the people here calling her by that nickname. It tickled her throat in a way that she wanted to puke all the tasteless gunk that they had fed her with.

As she laid on the bed and let the process went on as it usually do, the doctor suddenly stopped everything that he was doing. At first she was weirded out by the irregular act of the man, but when she felt the vibration on the ground and the rushing footsteps from the floor above her, she knew exactly why the doctor suddenly froze on his spot.

And the emergency siren that shortly blared after, had only confirmed her speculation.

But mostly, it was the panic in the doctor's eyes that gave him away; then when Y/N noticed the man scrambled to search the drawers from one of the cabinet, she knew that he was up to no good.

The second that the doctor's hurried his steps towards her with a syringe in his hand, Y/N's body immediately recoiled. She quickly stopped him by grabbing his wrist and twisted it back until the syringe dropped from his hold.

The man cursed under his breath and decided to take her by force when he grabbed a handful of her hair, almost dragging her out of the bed. Y/N shrieked painfully while her hands blindly grabbing the silver tray by the bed next to her.

She then slammed it hard against his head, and watched the contents on the tray fell and scatter onto her. She took quick skim over all the tools and saw a potential weapon for her defence; a scissor.

"Stay still, mama. Or the baby will get hurt." The doctor foolishly threatened.

Maybe it was her defence mechanism or maybe it was just her motherly instinct kicking in but something just snapped inside of her when he said those words. There was this incredibly strong urge to either fight or take flight.

Of course she could easily slipped away and make a run for it but she just couldn't risk it. Especially when her baby's life was currently at stake. So, after a short moment of hesitation, she swiftly grabbed the scissors and surge it through his ribs. The man wailed in pain as he staggered off the bed and fell onto the floor.

You'd thought a single yet firm stab through the guts was enough to quench Y/N's need of fighting back but no. Apparently, the haywire of her nerves had drove her feral and she needed him to be soulless by the time she walk out the room.

That had forced her to nearly jumped on him like a predator pinning on a meek prey and the lack of struggling on the victim's side had only gave her full control to dominate him.

Then all of the sudden, the doctor felt another strike of the pain, digging into the flesh of his chest.

He woefully cried in extreme pain while Y/N did not utter a single word or let out any sound, she stayed silent as she thrusts the scissor in and out his flesh.

Each surge was vicious than the previous. Each stab was gradually speeding up as the motion increases it's number of repetition.

She completely let her emotions took over her sanity.

Until what's left in the room was only the sloshing and splashing sound of blood seeping through every thrust, as she continued to violate the body of the corpse.

Until the calm puddle of blood on floor rippled as the tears that broke from her eyes dropped on it's surface.

And when she realized that the doctor was long dead, that broke Y/N out from her feral state. Realizing what she had done; she shakily loosen her grip on the scissors and scrambled off from the lifeless body.

Her breath was near erratic; it was a chaos of unsteady rhythm as her words was lost at the tip of her tongue. She jolted in shock when the commotion in the facility got louder than before, reminding her that Bucky was there to save her.

Y/N felt a sob choking in her throat as her hands searched her stomach to coax the child in her womb, "It's okay sweet bean, daddy's here for us."

Have you ever heard how ear-ringingly loud it is when it's hailing? How the sounds of the frozen raindrops hitting – the top of your car or the roof of the shades of an outdoor café table – can completely mute your words for anyone to hear?

That has nothing compared to the thundering sounds that echoed throughout the whole facility. The shots were fired from multiple range of stolen guns, all were coming from one moving figure.

The once clean grey and white painted walls of the hallways, were now stained and splattered with the color of crimson. The usually empty hallways, were occupied by the dead bodies of fallen Hydra agents. And the distinct scent of well-kept lair, were effortlessly replaced by the unpleasant and pungent smell; a mixture of blood and sweat.

It was a clear trail of the Winter Soldier's deeds.

This place was supposed to be pristine, but now feels more like how it should be; hell.

While the enemies were roaring into their death, the soldat on the other hand was very much the opposite.

Unlike his foe, it took him very little work from the tips of his tongue and much more on the tips of his gun. When the enemies barked like a dog, the soldat pounced like a wolf; silent and resilient.

By nature, the soldat had never been a patient man, especially when it comes to people harming his darling.

Sure, maybe he can tolerate and play along with people who messed with him, but if one were to touch even a strand of hair of his beloved, then they practically reserving themselves a first class ticket of a one-way trip to hell.

And that unhinged tendencies of his only worsen when wrath was the one reigning his mind while hatred was its ruler. His mind was nothing but a chaos of rampage and vengeance. Seeking nothing but blood and death of his foolish foe.

At this point of time, with the amount of life he had taken from the moment he step foot into the gate of the base, to the very stairs he was currently climbing, one could probably matched his heart rate with the rhythm of the shots formed by the bullets he shot.

Magazine upon magazine he reloaded his gun and waste no less than zero bullet as every shot made was accurately deadly and terrifying fatal to his prey.

As the soldat's feet reached half way up the stairs, a Hydra agent's voice spoke from the lower level, "She's on the LG2, we need a team to come and collect her as soon as poss--" A bullet went straight through the top of his head before he could finish his sentence.

And that was the soldat's last ammo.

While he mentally took note on the intel, his feet was quick to jumped into action and made his way down to LG2. As he entered the hallway, his wild eyes wondered around to steal another gun from a dead man's body.

But he rose into a stand, he felt a tip of a cold steel nudged at the back of his head.

Some would call out the soldat's mistake for letting his guard down in the middle of a battle, but another would definitely ridicule the stupidity of that fool's guts for even thinking that the soldat couldn't counter-attack his weak threats.

However, none of the two man managed to made any move towards each other when there was a faster, more accurate trigger was pulled from someone else, from across the hallway.

And that action left an aftermath of the fool's body to drop flat on the floor, quickly finding it's perfect spot with between the other pile of corpses scattered around.

When the soldat turned around, the sharp of his gaze softened almost immediately.

There she was standing there, in the pastel blue of her 'prison' attire. Her hair was a bit messy even if it was tied, and her complexion looked slightly pale with fatigue but to the soldat, she was glowing like angel; despite the blood on her clothes or the gun in her hand.

She was right there.

His heart.

His love.

His darling.

Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had been crying for days. Her pouty lips trembled when the soldat stepped closer and closer towards her, tears threatening to fall as if she haven't done that during all the weeks that she had been here.

The soldat's steps grew faster.

So does Y/N's.

Tap taping until they were almost running towards each other.

Until the moment they reunited in the middle.

Catching each other's lips in a desperate and insatiable kiss, the soldat pulled her body tight around the waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Both whimpered in a yearning moan, both still had their guns hanging on one of their hands.

So many feelings at once, relief and grief, with each of them had a different story to tell.

The couple kept breaking and mending the kiss ever-so-passionately as if they weren't in the middle of the grave-less cemetery; as if they weren't in the center of the piling corpses.

Briefly opening his eyes, the soldat could see a shadow running towards them. When Y/N heard the footsteps from her back, she knew they need to pull away, but the soldat was firm and stubborn with his hold.

So instead of letting her break the kiss, he groaned in disapproval and pulled her lips back to his. An angry growl vibrated against her lips as he continued to explore her wet and warm mouth.

Caught off-guard she melted to his silent demand, almost forgot that the enemy was right behind her. But, she should've know better when the soldat loosen one of his arms from the embrace and pointed his gun towards the target.

His finger pulled the trigger almost as easily as his teeth tugging into the bottom of her lips. And suddenly the sound of a body collapsing behind didn't matter anymore.

When the soldat felt that he had enough of the sweetness of her kiss, he finally pulled away, at least for now. He whispered dearly, "Родная (darling)..." he cupped her face in his large hands and rested his forehead on hers.

She thought she heard it wrong, but did he just called her darling? It took her a few second to piece it together and realized that this man was not Bucky, that he had relapsed into the Winter Soldier again, "Soldat?"

The soldat smiled and leaned forward to steal a chaste kiss on her lips, "Yes, it's me, мое Родная (my darling)" he cooed as he swept her by her feet, off the bloody ground and carried her in his arm, "I got you, Куколка (little one). You can rest now."

"We're just wanted make sure she's alright."

"You can follow us if you want so just please--"

"Soldat! You're going to hurt her."

The familiar voices leaked through Y/N's ears as she was drifting through her dreamless slumber. Soon enough, the loud commotion of her surrounding woke her up from the deep sleep.

The words that the Avengers were yelling out became clearer as she gained her consciousness, and the ever-changing movements of the soldat, evading every step the Avengers made to get closer to him, made her aware of the way she was resting in his arms; perfectly cocooned in a form of a bridal carry style.

The soldat halted on his spot when Y/N opened her eyes to see what was going on, "Soldat?" She blinked multiple times as she adjusted to the lights. The menacing frown of the soldat melted into a much softer expression, "Родная(darling), you shouldn't be awake yet." He craddled her closer to him as he cooed.

Where is she? How long was she out? When did she changed her clothes?

"What is happening?" She asked as she peered over his shoulder to see Natasha sighing in relief, "Sweetheart, thank god you're awake."

Y/N then looked over to Steve, "You've been gone for weeks, y/n. We got news about your rescue yesterday, and you guys just arrived home. Now, if we could just to take you to the medbay and get you check-up, that'll be great." He briefly explained.

"Yeah, that's all we want isn't it? But, someone just had to be sappy and refuse to let anyone touch you. You know, how it is with the soldier." Tony quickly intercepted.

The soldat didn't pay them any attention now that his darling was awake. He was merely focusing on whispering the sweetest things as he traces delicate trails of kisses on her forehead, her nose, her cheek, basically all over her face.

Sam took it as opportunity to get closer when the soldat was distracted on suffocating Y/N with kisses. But he should learn by now how alert and agile the soldat can be, especially when he have Y/N close to his proximity.

So, when Sam took a step closer, the soldat recoiled almost immediately, putting quite of a distance between them.

"Man, if Bucky has a staring problem, then the winter soldier over here has a hogging problem." Sam accusingly pointed at the soldat, only getting grunts as a reply.

Looking at the current situation, Y/N pondered for awhile. As much as she wanted to get herself check-up, it was also wise to not pressure the soldat to give her away.

Considering what she witnessed at the Hydra base, Y/N knew the risk that comes when we let the soldat dwell in anger for too long.

So she consulted the rest of the team to back down for now, and let the soldat do what he wants. Y/N promised them that she will conviced the soldat to let her get a check-up as soon as possible. But for now, they really need to trust her words.

At first every one of them was reluctant to let her go but in the end they agreed to her suggestion.

When the team spread out and gave some space for the soldat, he didn't waste any time and marched straight to where their bedroom supposed to be. As soon as they arrived at their safe space, the soldat almost threw Y/N onto the bed and swiftly drew a knife from the holster of his thigh as his predatory eyes searched the room.

He refused to move even an inch away from where he stood and remained close to Y/N; shielding her figure with his own.

It was very faint, but the soldat could sensed that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Y/N eyed him curiously, wondering why the soldat was still on edge when he wasn't supposed to. So, she hopped off from the bed and stood on her feet before reaching out to hug the soldat from behind.

"You can put the knife down, soldat. It's just us here." She coaxed but the soldat refused to believe her. He pulled her by the arms, breaking her hug in the process and hold her close to his chest, "There's someone else here."

His actions was rather rougher than he intended it to be; even Y/N was startled by the sudden movement, "Oooff, careful there, soldat. You might give the little one a fright." She chuckled softly as she give her belly a loving rub.

And suddenly his attention was completely focused on Y/N now. Usually his frown symbolized irritation, but this time there was a clear confusion in his eyes. The amount of appalled blinking of his eyes increases when the puzzle pieces in his head started to merge.

The soldat knew that he heard a third heartbeat in the room; that was why he was on alert for threats but apparently he had been closer to the source than he thought was.

In fact, it was right his arms. Or maybe a little bit lower, somewhere around his torso.

Y/N didn't say anything, she simply nodded and smiled up to him as she continued to rub her belly.

When the conclusion finally hits him, the soldat dropped the knife in his hand at the same time he fell on his knees. His gaze never broke from hers, not even a split second, until he was face to face with her tummy.

The soldat leaned one side of his ear closer to her and the thumping sound of the third heartbeat got louder. The discovery had caused him to jolt away as shock decorated his features. He titled his head upwards to Y/N with the same wide, confused look in his blue eyes.

"It's okay, love." She giggled amusingly when the soldat repeated his previous actions. He leaned in and jolted back again as if he couldn't believe what he just heard was real, "Is it... his?" The soldat asked as he implied his existance to be separated from Bucky.

There was a hint of sadness in Y/N's expression when he said it like that. There's been many long conversations that she and Bucky had about the soldat after his first relapse.

Though Bucky was still unsure of his own dissociating self, Y/N on other hand believed that the soldat, this particular man whose drenched the earth with blood just to save her, the same man whose currently on his knees to hear a heartbeat of an unborn child; he deserved a little kindness in his life.

"Yes..." Y/N answered truthfully before she continued, "...and he's yours too."

And that surely knocked the air out of the soldat's lungs, he couldn't tell if she was telling him the truth or was just trying to kill him; either way the butterflies in his chest was suffocating him from the inside.

The soldat couldn't speak a single word; because he didn't know what to say. But there was this beam on his features, light in his eyes, softness on his smile when he dreamily stared at her growing belly.

Y/N took him by his flesh hand and place his palm on her stomach, then she spoke tenderly to the baby inside her, "Wanna say hi to daddy, sweet bean? Say, 'Welcome home, daddy.' "

She knew it was silly, because obviously the child in her womb shouldn't be able to speak, and he was not yet developed enough to be kicking his feet. Hell, they don't even know his gender yet.

But how could she not say it when the soldat looked so damn happy when she did. He looked so peaceful and has this daze and some of those twinkling hearts in those steel-blue eyes of. The soldat sighed in pure joy before he leaned to kiss her stomach.

And as it turns out that was all she needed to do to persuade the soldat to letting her see the doctors. He was there through the whole process, refusing to let go of her hand. It was such a good news to hear that the baby was healthy and there wasn't any foreign substance that might contaminated her during her times in Hydra.

After getting proper medical care and some food in her system, the soldat immediately carry her back to their room to settle down. While she laid on the bed, making up for the lost time to finally get the mental rest she desperately needed, the soldat on the other hand, had made himself comfortable by lying his head on her stomach.

He just couldn't stop; as if he was hypnotised by the melody of the baby's heartbeat. His hand snuck under her shirt, lifting the fabric up to reveal the belly where their miracle resides.

Y/N's droopy eyes followed his actions as she watched how carefully the soldat approached her. Out of habit, her hands absentmindedly rake through the softness of his hair as she held him by the head.

The soldat dotingly caressed the child's sleeping chambers as he leaned closer to it, "...Hi there, little one." he greeted with a quiet and loving whisper.

Immediately, a smile beamed brightly on Y/N's face when the soldat proceed to pamper her belly with countless of tender kisses, "...it's daddy." he introduced himself, as if the baby was able to understand him.

The silence that came after was so sweet and comfortable. And Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to have this without the soldat. She tucked a piece of his loose strand of hair behind his ear when she spoke gently, "Thank you for saving me, soldat."

He briefly lifted his head and smiled up at her, "You know I can't live without you Родная (darling). I will always need you." He declared a truthful confession before turning his attention away. His lips grazed on the skin of her belly as he mumbled against it, "And you too, little one."

Y/N could burst into tears just from this interaction alone but she try not to. She doesn't want to look back at this moment and remember how much she wept, so she blinked her tears away while she watched the soldat spoiled the little buddle of joy inside her with so much endearments.

Even though it was always a happy memory for the soldat when he spend time with his darling, but this... this was rare. And he wanted to cherish it for as long as he could.

The soldat laid on his ears again when he peered from where he had his head rested, his deep gaze captured her attention, "Has he been taking care of you good, darling?" He asked.

The soldat probably had no idea how Bucky adored her; if anyone paid enough attention they might even caught him worshipping the very ground she stepped on.

A breathy chuckle escaped from her mouth as nodded with a drunken grin, "He's the best." She hummed approvingly, "Best husband, and best daddy too." She exclaimed brightly as she glanced at the ring on her finger; it was barely visible through the thick of the soldat's hair.

Surprisingly, the soldat didn't react negatively to her remarks, instead, a proud smile curved on his lips as the pride in his chest overflowed and leaked all through his very being, "Good." He simply said.

The smile lines on the corner of his eyes didn't flatten even when he closed his eyes. For a moment, he tried to silenced everything else around him and focused on the fluttering sounds of the baby's tiny heart.

It might have been the thick haze of lavender smoke in their head or the swarming butterflies in their chest, that they didn't even notice the fatigue that had been slowly taking over them, until the tenderness of their caresses were barely moving.

When the heaviness of her eyes weighted the lids, she sleepily asked the soldat, "Will you still be here when I wake up?" Truth to be told, she was afraid that all of this was just a dream; an escape from reality of the cruel captivity.

The soldat briefly opened his own tired eyes and cooed softly, "I'm always with you, Родная (darling)." And Y/N took it as a promise for her desprete soul to cling on; a ray of hope for her to hold onto, if she ever wakes up in that cell again.

Not long after, both of them lost to the lure of somnolent and their soul quickly drifted into the peaceful dreamland. Soft snores were filling the quiet of the room as their mortal body continued to entangled themselves with each other.

It was safe to say that if Steve would ever barge into the room, he'd probably maxed the storage of his phone with photos of the soldat smushing his face on Y/N's belly as she perfectly curled around him.

Maybe it was the sunlight leaking through the window or maybe it was the intense gaze she felt burning on the skin of her face. Eitherway, it certainly disturbed her from her sleep.

When her body stirred, Y/N realized that she didn't need to open her eyes to know that last night was not a dream, especially when she can feel a pair of familiar arms wrapping around her waist under her shirt.

Y/N slowly peeled her eyes open to see a recognizable ceiling. Her eyes then trailed to her side and met a pair of blue of eyes staring back at her. Her gaze searched for the soul within him and found the semblance of Bucky reflected in his eyes.

Still dazed from sleep, she continued to watch him blinking at her, slowly and silently, like a cat declaring their love to their human. But even then, he couldn't hide the afterglow of the tears on his face.

"Bucky, honey. Have you been crying?" Her voice rasped from lack of use, yet her tender fingers find themselves crawling across his wet cheeks.

It was as if her voice was a trigger, and tears quickly reformed in Bucky's eyes again. Y/N gently pulled him to her chest, one hand threading his hair and another rubbing his back as he sobbed in her arms, "It's okay, Bucky. We're okay." She continued to coax him lovingly.

They spend most of the early morning holding each other close and dear. Then when the tears started to lessen, Bucky finally pulled himself away from her. Y/N wiped the excess tears on his cheeks but he caught her hand underneath his; he relished in the relief of her presence when he sighed to her touch.

Bucky's gaze wobbled in the pool of tears in his eyes but he was still determined to speak his mind "I'm so sorry, doll." He apologized, "I couldn't stop them. Even with this damned serum in me, I still couldn't protect you; both of you." If his defeated voice didn't convey his truth, then the tremble of his touch should be enough.

And Y/N's heart simply shattered for him; what did he meant by that? He did save her though. The winter soldier or Bucky. It didn't matter who but she was here now because of him. She was safe; they both were, "But you saved me, did you not?"

"But, I didn't. The sol--" Before Bucky could even finish his sentence, Y/N quickly cuts in, "The soldat is always going to be a part of you, Bucky. And if he saved me, that means you saved me too." She reassured him.

Seeing the hesitation in his eyes, she continued to persuade him, "And if I could speak for our child, which I absolutely can because I'm his mother, then he would say that he is proud that his strong daddy managed to beat the absolute shit out of those bad guys."

Bucky blurted out a hearty laugh, "I don't think it's good to teach our baby to curse when he is still in your womb, mama." His laugh gradually reduced to a chuckle when he wiped the remaining tears from his eyes.

Y/N simply shrugged to his suggestion, "It's not like he wouldn remember this anyway." She smirked playfully.

Another chuckle managed to slip through Bucky's lips before he lowered his face to her tummy, "And you? How's your play date with Winter, hmm sweet bean?" He mumbled as his lips planted on her skin.

Besides the heartbeat of his child, he could also hear the tiny twitching of the baby's limbs moving ever-so-slightly, "Yeah, I bet he spoiled you with lots of kisses and cuddles, huh? Like he did your mommy?" He continued to coo against her belly, unaware of the shock on his wife's face.

"Winter?" A small smile cracked from the corner of her lips. Yes, she was shocked but that doesn't mean she wasn't pleasantly surprised by it.

Bucky didn't even bother to look up at Y/N's face as he was busy blowing raspberries on her stomach, "If he's going to keep popping up in our lives then we might as well call him something else other than 'soldat', don't you think?" He simply said, marking one last kiss on the small growing bulge on her belly, before working his way back up to her face.

Y/N's heart swelled to his gesture and when he laid his head next to hers, she carefully took him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a gentle kiss, "I think he'd love that, Bucky." She whispered against his lips, feeling his smile in return.

Bucky nudges forward to catch her lips again; kissing her slow and sweet as if his whole world has been waiting for this moment. And when the kiss naturally broke, he tempted her with something he knew she couldn't resist, "Now, how about we grab you both something to bite, hmm?"

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The use of the title in the fic is suprisingly wholesome despite the insinuation of it, don't you think? Lol. Btw, thank you so much for stopping by and read my work. Leave your thoughts behind for me, I'd love to hear from you!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #the seven writing event #nickfowlerrr’s writing event #winter soldier!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fluff #bucky fluff #nickfowlerrr's writing event

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gomzwrites · 11 months

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Task force 141 found out about your soft spots

Summary: You’re one of the members in the taskforce, and you’re one of the more quiet, self-reserved and stoic soldiers among them. They didn’t mind since they respected your personal space, but at some point, they saw just a glimpse of your rather different, softer side. a/n: I’ve had this idea in mind for a long time and just wanted to get this out there, English is not my main language so I apologize for any mistakes along the way! This is also my first fic so feedbacks are appreciated :] Tags: incorrect military terms/training, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, x gn!reader, reader's text is in purple Part 2 is out! PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

Captain John Price

You were on a mission with Price in another city, stalking and trailing the target, when suddenly the target decided to take a turn and entered a cafe. With the captain’s signal, both of you followed and took a spot in one of the corners in the warm, bustling cafe. It was a perfect atmosphere; the cafe was not necessarily noisy, but the number of people and music were busy enough for you and your captain to stay hidden and blend in well. You kept a keen eye on the target, noticing that he was in the queue and, so far, not presenting any signs of danger or threats. The captain gave your foot a nudge as he diverted your attention to the young waitress beside the table that you didn’t notice. "Hi! What would you like to order?" The waitress spoke in the local language that you didn't understand, but you knew she was most likely trying to take an order with the way she held a small notepad and a pen. You gave a small nod as you glanced at Captain for a moment, who was also reading the menu. You do the same, only frowning slightly as you couldn't read anything as well, and because you wanted to get this over with, you randomly pointed at one item to the waitress as she smiled and jotted down your order.

When the waitress walked away, you followed the captain’s gaze on the target; it seemed that he was still in line. You're slightly confused but relieved that the target remains in sight. Not long after, the drinks ordered previously arrived, but your eyes remained fixated on the sketchy figure. It wasn't until the Captain cleared his throat that you broke your gaze and stared down at the table. You froze slightly at the sight before you.

You watched a little wiggle action of the foam on top of what you assume is coffee before you. Except it's not the normal flat latte art kind of foam, but a huge bear foam with a cute face drawn with chocolate. You blink once, then twice before releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding.

This is so cute!!

You thought to yourself internally as you felt yourself smiling, before realising the situation at hand as you snapped your head towards the captain, hoping he didn't see you, and to your relief, his eyes were still glued to the target. You take this opportunity to slowly take out your phone and take a quick picture of the drink before doing the same and observing the target again. As soon as you do, the target made its move and headed to the exit, which made the both of you follow promptly, seemed like he had a bag as well which was definitely not good news. You were a bit disappointed that you were not given the chance to try the cute drink, but you know you have a job to do, so you just hope that perhaps you can take a closer look again at the coffee later on your phone.

What you didn’t know was how the Captain noticed the change in your demeanour when you spotted the drink; he honestly wasn't expecting much from you, thinking you might just ignore it. But he saw from the corner of his eyes just how your eyes widen slightly, how they are shining when you realize what you ordered, and the way your cheeks had a shade of pink on it as you smile. He rarely gets to see you smile, and he found it endearing to think a cold soldier like you has a liking for cute things. He smiled internally as he noticed how you took the photo sneakily when you thought he wasn’t looking.

He made a mental note to bring you to a cafe he knows that have those famous latte art drinks after the mission, just to see you smile like that again.

John Soap MacTavish

The military base has decided to bring in military working dogs to aid in the next mission, which involves scouting and detection for drug detection at the port, where secret drug trafficking from a certain group of terrorists has been reported.

"Soap, you’re assigned to Max and Judy; you’ll have to talk to Sergeant Sam about the training," the Captain says as he walks through the compound. You noticed how Soap seemed to tense slightly as he clenched his jaw; you also noticed how his breath hitched as he stared at the two German shepherds standing on the sides of the dog handler; you knew he had a bad history with canines in general when you stumbled upon his journal once; and seeing how uncomfortable he was, you decided to step up for the job.

"Captain, can I do it instead?" The captain glanced back, his beard shifting as he thinks for a moment before nodding and giving you permission. Soap stared at you upon hearing your voice and gave you an apologetic yet grateful look as he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Aye thanks… Let me know if yae ever need something from meh in the future."

He watched as you gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder as you nodded. Unbeknownst to him, you actually own a German Shepherd yourself, and you’re very much a dog person, and you’re excited to start the training with the military dogs. He stood on the side as you approached the two dogs, nodding along to the instructions given by Sam. As you bent down and extended your hand out, the two dogs gave a few sniffs before finally warming up to you, with their tails wagging as they circle your body. He’s impressed with how friendly you seem with animals, and you were natural with the dogs.

After the training, he went around looking for you as he held a bottle of ice-cold mineral water, hoping that he could give it to you since you were training heavily under the hot, blazing sun. As he turned a corner, right behind the shed, he heard a few barks. He softened his steps as he leant in and took a peek behind the wall, and he was glad he did.

Who’s a good boy? Yes, you are! Yes, you are! Come here! Oooh, such a big boy are you? You did such a great job with me just now~ oh! No wait wait- aH-!

He watched with a grin as he took in the image before him. You, giggling and rolling on the floor as the dogs lick and nuzzle your face and neck, having fun and relaxing with the dogs. He would almost forget that they were military dogs, and yet, with you? They looked domestic. On top of that, he has never heard you laugh or speak like this before; sure, you were using a baby voice and all as you cooed the dog, but he didn’t care because you have the softest yet brightest giggle, a stark contrast to your usual stoic self. He left after watching you for a while, smiling as he walked away to let you have your moments with the doggies. Next time, he’ll definitely want to join you in the training if it means getting to see this side of you more often.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

You groan as you sit on the passenger side as Gaz drives the Jeep. It was almost 9.30 pm as you were both ordered to buy a few furniture pieces, tables, and chairs specifically as an emergency thanks to Soap breaking them when he was messing around earlier.

"Why can’t we buy it tomorrow?"

Gaz asks as he, too, frowns and crosses his arms as a yawn escapes his mouth.

"We have a meeting with the other members from London tomorrow, and we can’t make them sit on the floor now, can we?"

Captain replied with a sigh as he frowned; he too was tired and annoyed with the situation, but he has a point. Gaz has asked you for help since the furniture needs to be carried, and you followed along (not without silently complaining).

The day has been terrible for you, it seems like bad luck was looming around your shoulders in every moment. Just this morning, you stubbed your toe and you couldn’t find your left sock, then sprained your shoulder slightly during the sparring session with Ghost. Not only that, the sandwiches that you always order for dinner were out of stock, so overall, you’re not having the best day. But who can you blame? You just decided to suck it up as you nod and follow Gaz.

After parking a spot in IKEA, both of you decided to split up to find the respective wood and parts of the tables and chairs that, thankfully, the details of them have been sent to you by the Captain, so that the process can be faster before the store closes for the night. You sigh as you place the last part of the table in the trolley, crossing off the last serial number and name. You walk towards the place that Gaz told you to meet up with before stopping when you walk past the kid's section.

There it is, in all its glory: Djungelskog and the other notable plushies in the corner. Truth be told, you actually own two Blåhaj (they're in your house) and a baby Blåhaj in the quarters. You’re a big fan of plushies, especially the ones from IKEA and Miniso. You just haven't saved up enough cash to bring the big brown bear home. You take a step, then another, inching closer to the tray, until you’re right in front of the bear. You glanced around to make sure no one is around before you gently pick up the bear, thankful that there weren't many people in the first place due to the late hour. Without a second thought, you gave in and squish your face into its tummy as you give a big sigh and hug it tightly, smiling to yourself as you feel the stress dissolving away. Something about burying yourself in the soft cushion of cotton is healing for you; it gives you a safe, warming feeling, and it reminds you of the comfort that you never got much of as a kid.

You gave it a few more squeezes before finally parting ways with the bear, softly nudging its nose a few times as you whispered softly:

I swear I’ll come and bring you home next time I come.

You smile and place the bear back in its original position, glancing at it one last time as you spot Gaz in the distance, then swiftly push the trolley towards him. Gaz pays for the parts, and both of you head to the car. You get ready in your seat and fasten the seatbelt before Gaz speaks up.

"Oh, I forgot something. Give me a sec"

You haven’t even had the chance to ask back as he bolted back into IKEA. What did he forget? All the parts have been bought, and the store is nearing its closing time as well, but whatever it is, you waited patiently.

Maybe it's because of the long day, but as you rested your head on the window, you dozed off while you were waiting and didn’t wake up until you heard the driver's side car door open.

"Sorry it took awhile, we’ll go back now"

You nod sleepily as you murmur. "What did you forget?"

"Oh, don't worry about it", Gaz replies as he presses the gas pedal and promptly drives back to the base. You didn’t question further; you figured he probably needed something himself.

You went straight to bed after dropping off the equipment for Soap and Ghost to handle, immediately passing out as you landed on the soft bed.

The next morning, you were getting ready for the day as you stretched, satisfied that at least the sleep last night was good enough. As you open the door, a soft material lands in your room with a soft “umph” sound, you immediately look down cautiously, and that's when you see it.

Djungelskog, with its head tilted to your side as its fluffy hand remains on its tummy, on your floor. You were confused, and frankly, you were not awake enough to fully comprehend what just happened. But once you connected the dots, you smiled to yourself as you lifted the bear up and hugged it.

You make sure to buy Gaz something next time as a thank you.

Simon Ghost Riley

The day was mundane; after a few gruelling missions, the task force had many reports to do. You’ve opted to do them in one of the empty meeting rooms; you liked doing work in these rooms more than facing the concrete wall of your own quarters. At least here, the table was wide and it was fairly quiet; sometimes Ghost will join you as he feels the same. You enjoy his presence because, unlike the rest of the group, he is one of the few people you like spending time with in silence. Today was no different.

The hours go by quickly with the room filled with nothing but paper shuffling and turning pages. You sigh as you place down your pen and give a big stretch, deciding to take a break as you stand and move towards the door. The big man himself also follows along; you don’t question it; you figured he might need a break too.

As you walked away from the room, you decided to go to the bathroom. You passed by the training hall as you overheard the Captain and Laswell talking over some topics for the upcoming mission, but something caught your attention.

"....My wife brought cheesecake; it's in the fridge…."

Your ears perked up to the sound of cake; you haven’t had any dessert recently, and you do like cheesecake. You make a mental note to take a trip to the mess hall after using the bathroom, hoping to have a slice yourself.

As you make your way to the fridge silently, you approach the kitchen and let out a soft sigh of relief when the place is empty. You slowly open the door of the fridge as you poke your head in and search for any sign of cake. You were about to give up when you couldn’t see any, but you jolted slightly when you felt a pat on your shoulder. You quickly turn around, only to be met by Ghost again, with a plate in his hand. As you look at the plate, which has a slice of cheesecake, your eyes blink with hope as you slowly glance back at him. He gives you a nod as he hands you the plate, and you nod back as well with a smile, happy and grateful that he saved you a slice. You take a seat at one of the stools and grab a fork as you eat the cheesecake happily. Ghost leaned against the counter opposite you as he makes himself a cup of coffee. He watched silently as your mood seems to improve. Earlier, he saw how you stopped in your tracks when you overheard the conversation, how your eyelashes fluttered, and how your steps grew lighter. He immediately went to the kitchen when you head to the bathroom and managed to pry one last slice of Soap before he finished them, hoping to save you a piece when you come by later. As you take the first few bites with your eyes closed, you give a hum of approval as your shoulders drop. It’s not like the cheesecake was extremely good, but you can tell from the texture that it was homemade. You miss baking yourself; the last time you did it was with a roommate before you joined the military. You missed those silly moments as you clumsily mixed the ingredients and argued with your friend to stop adding too much sugar into the batter, or the time your friend made fun of you for baking the hardest brownies that can break cement if thrown at them. You also tend to have favouritism towards home-cooked stuff, no matter who made it; you always liked how the food tends to taste just slightly better. Is it because of comfort? Or the memories that flood your mind when you take in the smell? You honestly don't know; maybe it's both. Or maybe you like the thoughts and love people put into the meals when they cook. You were so lost in thought that you didn't realise you were swinging your feet idly on the stool. The stool was slightly taller than the regular one, and your legs barely touched the floor.

Ghost finds the view a bit charming—to see you relax and content over a slice of cake. It's not that he is complaining; he just never really saw you this comfortable before. He observes you silently and takes note of how you like to munch on your right cheek more than the left, making it puffy. He chuckles to himself when you start swinging your legs too. He's glad that he managed to snatch the last piece of cake, and perhaps in the near future, he’ll bring you some cake to share with you.

•·················•·················•·················•·················•·················•·················• a/n: that's all! Let me know what you think!! like a part two or something, have a nice day/night! :>

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stxrvel · 3 months

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the cliff (1)

hi guys! this is the first azriel fic i post here. i mainly do marvel but i just couln't stop thinking about this so i decided to take it forward. i hope you guys like this! see u next time <;33

summary: you never thought that the road to your mate could bring so much suffering… pairing: azriel x f!reader words: +4k warnings: briefly descriptions of torture, bad words, descriptions of sorrow¿?, angst but a happy ending, i think. also, English is not my first language and i actually read acotar in another language, so sorry for any mistakes! and also!! i haven't read a court of silver flames, so probably the facts around cassian and nesta's bond and feyre's pregnancy aren't accurate, sorry for that!

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

part 4: the routine

You were sure that the decisions you had made shouldn't have led you to that place. With your limp legs dragging against the grass, the wet feel of the mud drying coldly on your skin with each gale, increasing the chills that ran through your body, not only because of the dread and fear you had for your life, but because of the scorching frost on the top of that cliff.

There was something magical about wishing upon a shooting star. You knew it, your parents were living proof that it worked. They had met just after your mother had wished upon a dying star. Mates. And they promised you it would be the same for you. You hoped it would be the same for you when, encouraged by your same parents, you wandered Prythian in search of meeting the other end of the bond that you knew connected you to someone beyond, in search of a connection greater than you could ever understand.

You firmly believed in that magic one night, in the midst of the lonely and almost desolate journey from end to end, when lying watching the night sky you saw it pass by. A helpless shooting star.

You made your wish with your heart in your hand, closing your eyes and whispering as if it were a prayer. Maybe it was. You didn't know if that was what had gone wrong.

All you knew was that, the next day, your journey was over.

You hadn't finished waking up when you found yourself being dragged across the ground of the Day Court, right at the border it shared with the Night Court, from the hands of Ilyrian soldiers who wouldn't listen to your shouted words. Or simply preferred to ignore them.

You weren't sure how much you had screamed at them, even as they took you in the most savage way possible and furrowed you through the wind, the cold gusts of the Nightmare Court piercing your skin. But it had to have been a good while, because the next time you were above ground your throat was so dry you could barely breathe.

You didn't know what was going on, not even when days later, after feeding yourself with only mush and water, you met the first person willing to tell you something and not turn his face away from you. It was a man, Ilyrian too, with gigantic black wings that covered almost all the light in the small room where you were held captive. His constant presence invoked darkness.

He never introduced himself. He would only ask “who sent you?”, waiting for a sane answer from you, one that you couldn't give because every time you tried to say something that was not remotely like what he wanted to hear, he would move two fingers of his left hand and two more soldiers would enter the room and grab you roughly by the arms, pulling you closer to a barrel with water that was in the corner of the room. That was the water you usually drank, and it was never as cold as when they entered the room.

Needless to say, after a couple of days, you couldn't even go near the water anymore.

It could've been a couple of days, weeks or months… you weren't sure anymore. Time had become an insignificant concept compared to your desire for freedom. You had explained countless times to the Ilyrian the reasons why they had found you wandering near the Court, but that wasn't enough. Not even when you told him that they could confirm it with your family in the Summer Court. No excuse was good enough, the Ilyrian seemed to simply want to find a culprit, whatever he had to do, whoever he had to point the finger at.

And then, one day, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Another lone shooting star, which you barely caught through the bars the room had for windows. The memory of your parents flooded your memory, a dark cloud settling over you and drowning out any sense of calm you were able to collect after the ilyrians left. Through tears and sobs you begged the star for a way out, hoping its magic was powerful enough to fight the savage soldiers.

The next day more ilyrians than usual appeared, but they did not enter the room. Not after the High Lord of the Night Court did so first.

And you thought the star had heard you.

“She didn't say anything?”

His dismissive, indifferent tone almost made you shudder on the icy floor, but you didn't let that take away your hope, kneeling in front of him with dried tears and dirt on your face. With your hands clasped in front of you, as if he were a deity personified, you begged him to listen to you, but you had to watch him send you a disinterested glance before he turned in the direction of the entrance.

“Take her away.”

You didn't know why you had expected the high lord to intercede on your behalf, knowing the stories that brimmed through the Courts in Prythian. Your parents had warned you. They encouraged you to pursue the bond on your chest, but begged you to go no further than Court Day if the bond demanded it. They made you promise to return, and that they would then seek a way to find your mate if he or she was beyond the Night Court. You should've heeded, of course you did. When you saw the cold, emotionless eyes of the high lord's face, you regretted every decision you had made.

Even though you knew it shouldn't have been that way, because you had never done anything wrong. You had never tried to harm someone. Maybe that made it harder. Wondering every night why. Why did you deserve to go through that? What evil was it that you were paying for?

There was something magical about wishing on a shooting star, but that magic wasn't guarded for you.

Azriel had been spending sleepless nights for weeks now, without explanation. Things were quiet in Velaris, even in the Court of Nightmares. But when he entered the darkness of his room at night, when he tried to close his eyes with his wings spread across the bed, a knot stirred in his chest. Tears would well up behind his eyes and a sadness would engulf him from head to toe. It was so overwhelming that there were few nights when Azriel could contain the feelings and despair of his shadows.

He tried not to let that deficiency interrupt his work, but it was difficult when his eyes would close at the table during breakfast, or in the middle of the room when Rhys talked about the weekly goals. Several times his friends would start asking questions, but it was easy for Azriel to say he had trouble sleeping because that was never an uncommon occurrence over the course of his long life.

It was once Rhys told him that he had told Madja about his problem and she had sent him some herbs that it all started to get weirder.

Yes, Azriel was able to fall asleep. But every night he had strange dreams. Dreams of a life that was not his own. Memories of someone else he didn't even know. Another woman's life, somewhere Azriel could barely remember when he woke up, with more people who must have been close to her, but not to him, who shared her day to day life, who celebrated together with her, who were happy. Azriel didn't wake up much better in the mornings than when he spent the whole night without sleep.

Now he not only had to deal with the heaviness of lack of sleep, but with the questions. He could never think they were random dreams because he heard the same laughter every time, the same voice, the same place. He felt the same tranquility before waking up.

Azriel believed Madja would be his source of answers then.

“Your mate is looking for you,” the old woman answered him, one sunny day in Velaris when he chased her through her tent hoping she would answer his one question. That stopped him abruptly on his feet, his body from the abdomen upward leaning forward a bit from the suddenness of the movement.

“Mate?”

Madja barely hissed in response, a sound of affirmation that would haunt Azriel for several days afterward.

“How is that possible?”

“What?”

Madja was turning her back to him, her small body hunched over as she inspected the medicinal plants she kept for sale. Azriel watched them along with her, his mind moving through the threads of thoughts, between every memory of his dreams and every memory…of her.

“How can she do that?”

Azriel heard Madja sigh and the sound of metal followed as she dropped the gray watering can she had kept for years into place. Azriel could still remember the first time it had been seen, shiny and pompous in the Velaris sunlight. Madja's brown eyes roamed over his face and Azriel hadn't felt this way since the time when Rhys's mom had looked at him with loving motherly eyes.

“Don't ask me how the bond works, Shadowsinger. The Cauldron knows how it does things.”

Azriel could sleep less after that. Madja had left him with more questions than answers. And, on that note, Azriel began to fly over Velaris more often. For some reason, he felt she was close. The bond hadn't snapped into place yet, but he knew that the time was near when that would happen. He didn't even know if it had snapped for her yet, all he knew was that he had a mate over there, too far away from him, and too scared for him to stand idly by.

Eventually, Azriel had to talk to Rhysand. Rhys, his high lord, his best friend, his brother. Probably the only person in the Inner Circle who could fully understand how he felt at those moments. Because Azriel felt he was going to lose his mind if he didn't find his mate and end whatever suffering she was going through. The uncertainty was eating him alive and the hours of hopelessness and fear that were going on inside him, around that emptiness in his chest, did not ease things at all. If he felt this way from the comfort of his home, he didn't want to imagine what she was going through.

Rhysand agreed to allow him more outings to enlarge the perimeter of his search, but the passing days proved his effort fruitless.

“Everything okay, brother?”

Cassian had met his mate. Nesta, Feyre's sister. Azriel was very happy for him, very happy that his brothers had found their life mates and that he could realize the good they brought into their lives. But there was a huge shadow that haunted him, beyond the darkness he carried with him, and it had much to do with the guilt of not being able to find and deliver his mate from suffering. He no longer knew how much time had passed. His shadows stirred restlessly every day, with every memory, with every gale.

Azriel sighed when he felt Cassian's hand on his left shoulder, as they both stood watching Velaris from the top of a mountain.

“I don't know what to do anymore, Cassian,” Azriel let out, his shoulders slumping under the pressure and stress.

He usually didn't talk about the subject of his mate with his brothers, not as often as someone would think to be so close. It was something Azriel held close to his heart and wanted to resolve on his own, but so many failures were beginning to weigh him down.

Cassian patted his shoulder and then gave it a squeeze, trying to silently comfort him, though he knew that would do little to soothe the clamor in his soul. Because, though the bond hadn't snapped for Azriel, he could well believe that he had had it tugging at his chest in an unfamiliar direction for months now. Even if he didn't feel the bond, the mere acknowledgement of its existence was agony, especially when it didn't help him find his mate.

Cassian sighed beside him, letting a few seconds pass in silence before speaking again, his gaze fixed on Velaris' expanse and his heart shrinking at the visible suffering on his brother's face.

“Rhysand is traveling to the camp, will you accompany us?”

Azriel lately had little desire for anything other than touring Velaris and the surrounding area of the Court of Nightmares looking for his mate, but this time he decided to accept. For some reason, Azriel decided to accompany them.

The Night had been feuding with the Summer for a couple of years. Tarquin and Rhysand… were not on the best of terms. The last time Feyre had traveled to the Summer, pregnant with Nyx, Tarquin and his army had held her captive because of a misunderstanding in the information they had obtained from the Spring Court and the Mortal Lands. Rhysand almost destroyed the entire Summer Court with his bare hands if not for Cassian and Azriel, who were able to broker a deal between the two as mediators. It was a very tense time at the beginning.

Mind you, Rhysand did not leave without letting Tarquin know that it would be years before they would return to the same trade, diplomatic and friendly relations as before, if they could ever speak of forgiveness. Azriel remembered how the only person from the Night Court who could cross Tarquin's lands, for a time, was Mor. They were all warned and the meetings of the high lords were suspended, at least with respect to attendance.

For that reason, Rhysand became extremely wary of anyone connected with the Summer Court and for him, being the high lord, it was not too much work to know who wandered near his lands. They had already captured a handful of Summer Court spies in recent years and held them captive in camp with the Ilyrian soldiers.

Of course, the Night Court was much more careful with their spying, having Shadowsinger himself on their side. Azriel had visited the Summer Court a couple of times by stealth, handing Rhysand reports and any strategic breakthroughs he could decipher.

There was one, however, that they could not foresee. Someone Azriel never knew was coming out of the Summer Court. It had been a couple of years since then and it seemed the Ilyrians had been unable to break the spy's stone will.

“Are you going all the way to the mountain?” Rhysand had stopped in front of Azriel as soon as his feet touched the grassy ground, a few feet from the entrance to the camp. His eyes flicked briefly to the bustle behind his high lord, his shoulders tensing unconsciously as he took slow steps towards Rhysand with his hands in the pockets of his tunic and his wings tucked neatly behind his back. Cassian landed behind him, kicking up a layer of wet grass and mud that soiled his boots.

“Argh.”

“I think I'll be at a distance this time.”

Rhysand nodded, with no intention of convincing Azriel to accompany him to give the imprisoned spies of the Summer a death scare.

“I hope the screams are worth this mudslinging,” Cassian spoke up, moving closer to his two friends, forming a small circle. Rhysand barely gave him a glance before turning on his heels and beginning to make his way to the entrance of the camp, where some of the soldiers were clustered to see the high lord. “You're going to be in the bay?”

“Yes,” Azriel walked alongside Cassian, scowling at the entrance through which Rhysand had just crossed, the Ilyrian soldiers freezing in front of their high lord. “I'll watch from afar. Right now I don't have the stomach for anything.”

“I understand, brother,” Cassian squeezed his shoulder again amicably, sending him a tight-lipped look. Cassian was quite good with words, despite many labeling him as insensitive for being Ilyrian, but he knew Azriel well enough to know when he wanted to talk about something and when he preferred not to. “See you then.”

Cassian followed in Rhysand's footsteps, approaching in long strides, while Azriel paused watching his companions disappear into the distance.

Sighing, the knot in his chest tightened. It was so strange to have a void that could feel so many things. Azriel often wondered how it was possible that he still didn't feel the bond, when his emotions had expanded out of his head and there was no longer a feeling he didn't sense inside his bones.

Flapping his wings to take flight, Azriel set off towards the bay, close to the cliff where Rhysand planned to take the Summer Court spies. He was a few yards away, close enough to make out figures, but not too far away that he couldn't hear the screams.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, damp despite the early rising sun, his shadows began to stir around him, restless. They must've sensed his nervousness, the anxiety that ran through his chest like electric currents to his fingertips, causing him to spasm and break out in a cold sweat. Azriel could barely see them moving around him, separating from his body and stirring on the ground just a few centimeters before turning back.

At the top of the cliff he could already make out the figures of Rhysand and Cassian, walking menacingly towards the inmates, leaving them no choice but to keep walking backwards until they fell into the void, where Cassian would then land them, one by one. Azriel could hear them if he wanted to, but his mind and his shadows kept him a bit distracted.

He barely made out the first screams and the sound of Cassian's wings when his shadows began to whisper, much more restless.

Close.

Help.

Fear.

Help.

Azriel raised his head and his eyes stopped just short of Rhysand's figure in front of about three spies. At that moment, Azriel's shadows took off, moving at great speed across the grass and stones, with the Shadowsinger unable to do anything to stop them, though he tried. His confused gaze swept over the small figures on the cliff, with such speed that his head was beginning to ache, but he couldn't recognize anything.

He was about to fly in the direction his shadows had gone, when a strange, overwhelming sensation, somewhere between irrational fear and deep sadness, sent his back to the ground moving across his chest, as one of the figures slipped and fell into the void. Azriel felt all the air stolen from his lungs, opening his mouth to try to catch his breath, as those sensations coursed through his entire body and settled in his chest, taking strong root as if they belonged there. They were so overwhelming that they caused him physical pain. The ache he must've been feeling for months.

The bond.

The few remaining shadows beside him whispered endlessly.

Help.

Azriel raised his head, breathing hard. He felt his chest split open, as if with great force they were breaking his sternum to pull out his heart. It was such an overwhelming and painful sensation that, but for his strong will, he would surely have lost consciousness.

Help.

Mate.

Azriel thought afterwards that he had never moved so fast or with such force as that moment, when he realized what was happening. The adrenaline that coursed through his body, even feeling electric currents run through him from head to toe from the precise moment he felt the bond, didn't allow him to think too much about how the air hurt his eyes because he already knew exactly where he had to go. He had spent so much time flying without direction, walking the wrong paths and searching in empty places. At that moment, when he had a reason and a direction, Azriel couldn't think of anything else. He didn't want to.

He could only look at the figure falling off the cliff from the moment he raised his head. He could only head blindly towards it. The overwhelming fear that threw him backwards was the fear she felt as under her feet she felt the void, her hands moving forward trying to hold on to something that would allow her to live.

Azriel felt like he was about to die with her.

He met Cassian halfway from afar, who seemed to be about to fly in her direction to catch her when he ran into his friend, but Azriel moved too quickly and with anticipation without losing sight of his mate. The chill that ran through his body could've paralyzed him with fear, but how could he stand by and do nothing when his mate was falling to her undisputed death.

He thought he heard Rhysand's scream. Surely it was so, but in his mind there hovered only the thought that he must reach her, he must get there in time. Her hands were outstretched and Azriel stretched out his hands, hoping that would help him move faster.

Mind blank, Azriel felt like he had just pulled his head out of the water, his chest opening in an unfamiliar thrill as his body felt the warmth of his mate's body crashing against him and his arms wrapped around her in a promise to never let go again. His wings wrapped around her immediately after his arms, impacting a few seconds later against the muddy ground.

He was too close to not catch her. The thought left him breathless.

For a moment, he only heard his and her labored breathing, with the whistling of the wind through the trees and the movement of the water of a stream a few feet away. For a moment, Azriel went completely blank. Whether he was there or dreaming, he didn't know.

His hands clamped tightly around her arms, encircling her entire back, feeling the reality of what had happened sink in on him bit by bit. Fear gripped him once more then, considering that there was a chance he hadn't been there to stop that. To prevent it.

He didn't want to move. Still adrenaline coursed through his body and he was so alert that he could clearly hear the voices of his friends in the distance. Seconds later, when he heard their wings, he finally moved.

Azriel met your eyes and with that look alone he knew you had felt the bond as well.

“I'm sorry,” was all Azriel could think of, his eyes crystallizing, voice breaking. “I'm so sorry.”

You were transfixed. Azriel felt you looking at him with fear and that motivated him to move away from your body, but you gripped his arms tightly to hold him in place.

Azriel felt a great heaviness in his chest as he examined your face and what he saw did not please him at all. Guilt swelled on his shoulders, a great weight that ascended with each passing second and he could hardly imagine all that you had had to go through in that camp. You were right under his nose and he couldn't find you. What kind of a partner was he to let all that happen?

When he heard the footsteps of his friends, his shoulders tensed. But it didn't go unnoticed the way you also became aware of their presence and let go of his arms, rushing to hug yourself as you moved to sit behind Azriel. scared. Still breathing rapidly, Azriel sent a warning look. Cassian and Rhysand stopped a short distance away, noticing the obvious hostility emanating from their friend's body, but Rhysand just stopped for a second.

“Azriel, what the fuck?”

Rhysand was so angry that he seemed to have a little red tinge over his face. Good, he was angry, maybe then Azriel wouldn't feel so bad about breaking his face.

“Rhys,” Cassian frowned, quickly picking up on the tense and hostile atmosphere around him. He grabbed the arm of his high lord, who jerked angrily and turned his gaze back to the Shadowsinger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you aware of what you just fucking did?”

“Rhysand,” Cassian stopped his high lord, raising his voice and holding his arm tightly this time.

Rhysand turned to look at him with a frown and it seemed that, through his mind, Cassian spoke to him. The next time Rhysand looked back at him, his expression was unclenching, but Azriel stood stone-faced in front of you, his hands clasped at his sides and ready to face anything.

“No way,” was all Rhysand muttered, moving to run his hands through his hair.

Azriel felt one of your hands on his back, his senses splitting in half to try and attend to you as he kept an eye on his brothers on the other side. He moved his head to look at you, your frightened expression trying to hide you from Cassian's curious eyes.

“Is this real?”

Azriel felt his heart crumple. Tears welled behind his eyes and burning hurted the back of his throat. He wanted to say so many things, apologize for a million other things, but in that moment he only responded, moving to squeeze your hand:

“It's real.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #rhysand #cassian #the cliff

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sweetbbarnes · 1 year

Text

Can't hurt me

part II [coming soon]

Pairing: Neighbor!BuckyBarnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're the one that takes care of Bucky after missions, only this time he asks for a different kind of relief.

Warnings: descriptions of blood and injuries; Bucky being needy and begging; a tiiiiny bit of angst because Bucky doesn't really care about his wellbeing; SMUT, +18 ONLY, MINORS DNI; smut while injured; shower makeout; oral (m and f receiving); cum eating; handjob; fingering; a lot of feelings here; pls let me know if I forgot something

A/N: I'm really sorry about the shitty ending, it took me three days to think about it and I couldn't come up with anything so it is what it is, but I promise I'll make up for it in part two.

If you like this fic, please let me know :)

When the Winter Soldier himself, or the man formerly known as him, moved to the apartment across from yours, you were the only person in the whole building who didn’t ignore his presence. Of course, you and Bucky Barnes weren't best friends. During the first month of his moving in you would merely exchange polite greetings when you crossed paths in the hallway, but at least you didn’t immediately flinch and/or look away as soon as you saw him. Sometimes he even attempted some compliments, as he was still trying to rediscover the charming soldier he once was, but that was it.

At least until the day you came home to discover your supersoldier neighbor sitting in front of his door, drenched in blood and barely clinging to life.

As you approached your apartment door, your heart skipped a beat at the sight that unfolded before you. There, in front of his own door, sat Bucky, his figure hunched over, covered in a chilling crimson. Panic surged through your veins as you rushed to his side, dropping to your knees beside him.

"Hello? Hey, Bucky!" You snapped your fingers in front of his face, desperate to rouse him from his dazed state. But all you received was a feeble murmur in response. Panic washed over you. "Oh shit, you're... Oh, gosh. Fuck."

Frantically, you rummaged through your bag, searching for your phone to call an ambulance. Your trembling fingers made the task of finding it more difficult, but after a moment of frantic searching, you finally located the device. Your hands shook as you dialed the emergency number, your voice trembling with urgency.

"I'm calling an ambulance right now," you reassured Bucky, your voice laced with concern. "We'll get you to the hospital, and everything will be alright. Just hold on."

But you were about to hit the call button, you felt a firm grip on your wrist, cold vibranium fingers encircling you. Startled, you looked at Bucky, confusion etched on your face.

"No hospital," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

"Barnes, sir? Sergeant-" Unsure of what to call him in this moment, you cleared your throat, trying to find the right words. "You're... you're seriously injured. You need medical help. It's okay, they can-"

"I'm not dying," he interrupted, mustering a firmer tone. "No hospital."

You hesitated, torn between your instinct to seek professional medical assistance and Bucky's adamant refusal. With concern etched on your face, you watched as he took the phone from your hand and gently placed it back into your bag.

"So what do we do then?" you asked, a mix of worry and confusion in your voice. "Have you seen yourself? You're covered in blood-"

"The serum will help," he managed to say, his voice strained. "Just... just let me rest."

You vaguely remembered reading about the super soldier serum and how it enhances healing abilities. While unsure of the extent to which it applied in this situation, you decided to trust him, realizing that he probably knows more of his own condition than you do.

"Alright then," you relented, your voice still filled with concern. "But let's at least get you inside. We'll find a way to make you comfortable. Can you try to get up? I'll help you."

With a mix of determination and concern, you carefully offered Bucky your hand, guiding the barely alive man to your couch.

The next day, Bucky woke up feeling a lot better, and you were glad. After you made him coffee, Bucky addressed the blood-stained couch situation and as much as you assured him you could clean it, he didn’t leave your apartment until you agreed to let him take you to a store so he could buy you a new one. “It’s the least I can do, doll,” he said, and you chuckled at the unusual pet name. With the new couch in the living room, you pestered Bucky until he agreed to inaugurate the furniture with you. So on a Wednesday night, he brought some snacks and you two watched The Hobbit, then proceeded to stay up until early-hours talking because Bucky, as the huge nerd he is, had to point out every single difference he recalled from the book - which he proudly announced he’d read in 1937, when it first came out. You didn’t complain, though, it was kinda nice to see this side of the man you only knew through the news and people’s opinions.

Next you knew, you two were inseparable. You quickly learned that Bucky needs a routine, so Wednesday’s nights became movie nights, and Sunday afternoons became dedicated to reading sessions together, then Tuesday mornings were designated as "breakfast with Bucky" time. Soon, there wasn't a single day when Bucky didn't show up in your living room. Your apartment became his second home. You became his second home - though you didn’t know that.

But of course, Bucky’s life wasn’t simple like that, and as much as he cherished your friendship, there are some things that he can’t control. Oftentimes, Bucky would come home in the same state he was on that first day, and although the sight started to become strangely familiar, it never ceased to break your heart. That’s why every time he showed up battered and bruised, you’d take him in and patch him up. You both know you don’t have to, and Bucky tried to convince you countless times that he just needed to rest, that the serum would do all the work, but you didn’t listen. You clean his wounds and stitch him up because that’s the only way you found to tell him that you care, and Bucky willingly lets you do it because he knows it eases the concern you feel about his dangerous lifestyle. So you’re the one Bucky seeks right after week-long missions or brutal battles, if not to help patch him up then just to let you know that he’s okay.

Tonight is one of those nights. When he knocked on your door at 3 am, the disheartening sight of Bucky, once again drenched in blood, almost made you collapse to your knees and plead for him to stay out of fights, to do something else, to stay in your living room and never leave again. But war is all Bucky knows, and as much as you recognize the unfortunate reality of the situation, you don't want to take away one of the few things that gives him a sense of familiarity in this modern world, so you swallowed the overwhelming urge, like you do every time, and helped him get to your bathroom.

The chamomilla scented steam invades your nostrils as you use the soap to gently wash all the blood away. You feel Bucky’s muscles slowly relaxing under the warm cascade of water, and he lets some relieved sounds escape through his lips. If someone had told you months ago that you would eventually find yourself in this very situation, you would have scoffed in disbelief, yet here you are now. You’re not really sure what you did to earn Bucky's trust to such an extent that he feels comfortable being so vulnerable with you, and the thought brings a dangerous warmth to your chest.

These showers are always innocent. You help Bucky clean the blood, leaving the intimate parts for him to clean, and then you take care of his wounds. It’s tender and respectful. But Bucky is not exactly the ugliest man you’ve seen and, well, you’re only human. Sometimes, it gets hard to ignore those not-so-innocent thoughts your brain insists on having. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself - the man is dripping blood on your bathroom floor and there you are, thinking all those nasty things, wanting to touch him in a way you’re not even sure he wants to be touched by you.

Little do you know, Bucky struggles just as much as you do in managing his own thoughts and feelings. Sometimes, he has to stop you from rubbing your hands too much around his torso, because he’s scared he’s not gonna be able to control himself if you keep going. It’s torture, but at the same time he can’t bring himself to stop coming here every time he gets injured. He could stop. He could stay away for a few more days after missions, just enough time for the serum to do its magic and he doesn’t have to go through this, but he can’t. Because everytime he gets injured, he finds himself looking forward to your touch. He barely cares about the pain anymore, because he knows he’ll get to feel your silky skin against his, even if it’s just for brief moments. So usually, he comes back and lets you do your thing while he makes a hell of an effort not to stare at your peaked nipples through your wet shirt - Bucky doesn’t know if he should be upset or glad that you don’t take your clothes off, because seeing you naked would probable make the task impossible, but it’s not like he doesn’t want to - and holds himself back from returning each and every touch you give him, in a very specific, very not-innocent way.

Usually. But today is different.

Today, Bucky was reminded that his wounds go way beyond the ones on his skin. Today the soldier needs another kind of care, one that’s a little bit more effective for his pain than bandages and stitches. And, honestly, he’s a bit tired of holding himself back. That’s why, without warning, he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you a little bit closer so he can rest his head on the top of your shoulder. You don’t move for some time, which makes him doubt his action, but soon he hears your gentle voice.

“We’re almost finished, and then you can rest.” You say, placing your hands and his back to hug him, but not applying pressure on the bruises.

“I need you.” He says, his mouth on your neck sending vibrations through the area and making a shudder travel down your body. “Need you to take care of me.”

“I am taking care of you, Buck.” You manage to say, fighting the urge to glue your body on his. He’s in pain, you have to remind yourself.

But he tilts his head back, cupping your face with his flesh hand so you don’t take your eyes off of him. “Not like this,” he whispers.

For a moment, you simply stay there, suspended in time, lost in the intensity of the moment. His proximity sends a shiver down your spine as you hear Bucky's heartbeat racing, and you're acutely aware of the weight of his gaze on your face. You can see the pain etched in his features, but there's something else there too, something that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a raw, unfiltered emotion that you can't quite put into words, but it's there, simmering just beneath the surface.

The more you look into his eyes, the more you understand. The person in front of you is a broken man, momentarily defeated by the demons that come to haunt him ever so often, and his eyes are begging you to make those demons go away. He’s asking you to give him the only thing that could possibly make him forget this pain that is so much worse than the bloody cuts, to fill his senses with the only sensation stronger than the fear that's been luring behind his eyes ever since he stepped foot in your apartment tonight.

You gently place a hand on his cheek. His body tenses at your touch, and for a moment, you think he might pull away. But then he relaxes, leaning into your hand as if you’re the only thing that can offer him solace right now.

"I don't want to make it worse," you whisper softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

"You can't," he whispers back. "Many things... and many people may hurt me, but not you. Never you."

Bucky's words hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of his complete - almost blind - trust is overwhelming. He had been through so much, faced so many torture and pain, yet here he is, willing to give you all that’s left of his trust.

“Please,” is the only thing he whispers, but it’s enough. Slowly, you raise another hand to his face and bring your lips to his. The kiss is tender, carrying an air of uncertainty, as if exploring uncharted territory. It holds the unmistakable essence of something new and unfamiliar, yet it overflows with raw and intense emotion.

“We still have to finish cleaning you up.” You say, breaking the kiss, and Bucky attaches his mouth to your neck, giving you permission to continue doing your thing.

Bucky gives you small kisses as you continue to cleanse his torso with soap, trying to avoid applying pressure on his still open bruises. You focus on each area with care, gently wiping away any dirt or blood while checking to ensure that he is comfortable throughout the process. As you rub the soap all over his body, Bucky starts caressing your hips, slowly going up and exploring your body like he always wanted to do. He can feel your stomach trembling with his touches and kisses, and it almost makes him go feral.

“Do you like this shirt?” He whispers in your ear.

“Why-” but before you can even think about your question, impatient as always, Bucky tears your old shirt in half, ending the outrageous fabric that was separating him from his greatest desire. You don’t care, though, because Bucky’s clear desperation only turns you on more.

“I’ll buy you another one.” He mumbles, but you’re not sure he’s paying attention to his words.

Continuing your work, you pay special attention to the intricate details of his vibranium arm, taking your time to meticulously clean between the plates from his fingers all the way up to his shoulder - careful not to miss a single spot like you’ve seen him doing multiple times - while Bucky distributes lingered kisses along your jaw down to your neck, until your right nipple is inside his mouth, and you have to hold back a gasp of surprise - but, of course, Bucky’s not having that.

“Wanna hear your noises.” He whispers and lightly passes his teeth through your nipple, getting you to moan out loud this time.

Satisfied, Bucky licks his way back up until your mouth, biting your bottom lip almost too hard and then kissing you passionately soon after. His tongue invades your mouth as he swallows every single one of your breaths. Reluctantly, you break the kiss. You finish the vibranium and go back to the flesh, working on the scarred skin on his shoulder, gently rubbing the soap, then brushing your fingers, and then your lips. The blood is almost entirely gone, leaving behind only the ugly outline of his wounds, which you start kissing lightly, earning a guttural moan out of Bucky’s throat.

Slowly, you slide your soaped hand through his body until you reach his rock hard length, carefully circling your fingers around him. One pump is enough to make Bucky moan loudly.

“Fuck, doll-” but you shush him with a kiss, invading his mouth with your tongue as you pump his dick. Bucky grips your hips like his life depends on it to hold himself back from bending you over and fucking you senseless. No, he wants to enjoy the moment. He wants to learn what you like and let you take care of him how you want.

You continue kissing his cheeks, then his neck until you reach skin around his bruises and then lick the water drops down his torso until you’re on your knees in front of him, staring at his huge length in all its glory while he leans his back against the wall to remain standing.

“Well, I’m glad at least one part of your body was left untouched.” You joke, looking up at him with a playful smile.

Bucky can’t help but chuckle at that, and you notice it’s his first genuine laugh since he arrived home. Good. “Gotta protect what’s yours.”

“Mine?” You ask, just wanting to hear him say that again.

“All yours.” He smirks, completely aware of your intentions.

Before the conversation can go any further, you slide the tip of your tongue through a prominent vein along his cock, and Bucky’s words are lost in his breath. You circle your lips around his pink tip, sucking a little, and the noises he makes are like music to your years. You proceed to slowly slide your entire tongue through his length one, two, three times, taking your sweet time while Bucky drops his head back and rolls his eyes. He raises his flesh hand to the back of your head and despite the context, his movements on your hair are gentle, like he’s somehow trying to thank you for everything, though he’s too busy moaning to say the words. You see that as an encouragement and take him deep inside your mouth, making up and down movements with your head and sucking as hard as you can while you massage his balls with your fingers. Involuntarily, he starts jerking his hips up into your throat.

“Babe, fuck-” he tries, but gets lost in the feeling when you fasten your movements.

It’s too much. The warmth, the feeling, the softness. Everything is too much, and Bucky is coming inside your mouth before he even realizes it.

“Oh, fuck- Shit, I’m sorry-” Bucky starts apologizing, but he immediately stops, watching in awe as you take a drop of cum that slipped off your mouth with your thumb and sucks it back into your mouth, swallowing everything he gave you.

Bucky helps you get up and kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. You’re a little surprised when he presses two vibranium fingers in your clit, starting tiny circles. Despite the electric jolt that it sends through your spine, you hold his wrist.

“Bucky, you don’t have to,” you whisper.

“You don’t like it?” He asks against your lips.

“No, I do. It’s just-”

“Then let me make you feel good.”

You moan loudly when he inserts his two fingers inside your aching cunt, the sensation better than anything you could have ever imagined.

“So wet, baby. Is it all for me? Did you like sucking my dick that much?”

You try to say “yes”, but it sounds more like a whimper since Bucky had just found your special spot. Realizing it, he rubs his fingertips over and over again against the spongy area, and your legs start to shake. But as you’re about to warn him that you’re close, he stops.

“Not yet,” he whispers before you can complain, “wanna taste you.”

And that’s how you end up in your bed, lying naked in soaked sheets with Bucky’s face between your thighs, almost screaming as he moves his vibranium fingers in and out while sucking and licking your bundle of nerves. Soon, you feel that familiar heat in your lower belly.

“Bucky, I’m gonna-” you’re interrupted by a moan escaping through your throat.

He only hums in response, sending vibrations through your whole body and bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your eyes roll back as the pleasure gets to its peak, and you feel like you’re floating while Bucky happily cleans you up, the sensation of his warm tongue touching every single part of your pussy, inside and out, riding you through your orgasm.

When you come back down from your high, Bucky’s hovering over you, a mixture of lust and gratitude taking his features. He gives you a long chaste kiss.

“Told you, you couldn’t hurt me.”

You smile at his words. “Will you let me stitch you up now?”

“What if we just…” he covers you both with your blanket and hugs you tight, “forget about the stitches?”

“Buck…”

“You know I don’t need ‘em, doll.”

“But-”

He interrupts you with a kiss. Then another. Then one more. “Just today.”

You sigh, defeated, but snuggle up inside his arms.

Bucky gives you a long kiss on the forehead, whispering a very low “thank you” before you both fall asleep.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes smut #my fics

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oopsdevil · 6 months

Text

COD + Tropes

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + FWB TO LOVERS

i have said it before but simon really struggles when it comes to relationships.

he insisted that this was a casual thing but soon realized that's not true. from the way his heart beats faster when you rarely cuddle, to his trouble sleeping wondering if maybe you were with some other bloke. his insecurities got the best of him and he would end up saying something mean out of jealousy. when he saw you took offense to it he decided in four seconds that he was not gonna lose you. he confessed his feelings (in a sentence or two) and since then he has no problem with everyone knowing you are his.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

kyle was always a romantic. outspoken, proud romantic. you guys probably met in high school and just fell in love. you both knew you were it for each other but everyone kept insisting it was just a first love kind of thing. it was not.

circumstances brought kyle into the army and leaving you was the hardest of it all. you both also decided staying together was just gonna be painful so you broke up.

a couple years later kyle came home and got his life together as an adult. after seeing the reality of bills, rent, taxes and just life, he realized maybe he doesn't wanna do it at all without you. a call and a few tears is all it took for admitting you are still each others soulmates.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + FAKE DATING

look at me in the eyes and tell me this is not HIS trope. it was simply meant to be. maybe he saw you in a bar and some guy was being too insisting for his liking, maybe johnny got sick of his family asking about a future wedding or maybe gaz told you guys you couldn't pull it off and you took the bet. doesn't matter, but it happened.

after months of intense eye contact across the room, flushed faces when realizing you were holding hands but there was no one around and holding you by your hips for group pictures, johnny felt his stomach turn when you mentioned something about going on a date with some other soldier for real.

next thing you knew he was kissing you against a bathroom door. really kissing you, not like those pecks for the public that always left you wanting more. in breathless sentences you both decided to be together like you always wanted (probably in a quick to be continued kinda way so you could keep kissing)

KÖNIG + SLOW BURN

it took him years. years.

from the moment he saw you in base he was thankful his hood could hide his red face when he developed a crush in about 15 seconds. he was also very surprised when you just talked to him.

könig kept you as a friend for years and himself busy with missions, it wasn't until you were thinking about transferring when he decided you wouldn't do it. you can't just go, right?

the only condition to staying was a very long conversation with him, where you admitted being in love with him for the longest time, and thinking maybe he felt the same way. but after that many years you needed to have him now, or just try to move on.

i don't think könig ever felt that relived. he mumbled something in german, suddenly ripping his hood off and kinda tackled you to the bed in a hug. you laughed and decided yeah, this is gonna work.

JOHN PRICE + FORCED PROXIMITY/ SECRET RELATIONSHIP

having a new secretary in his office was the last thing john needed.

he was sure it was about the fact that it was someone new in his personal space, someone who knew nothing about his routine.

it obviously had nothing to do with the fact that he looked at you longer than he looked at papers. or about your accent being so distracting to him that you had to say most things twice.

being trapped in an elevator with him was the last thing you needed.

again, its about the fact that you have so many things to do for your impatient boss (not about his cologne being intoxicating and his shoulders looking a little too big right now)

neither of you knew how it happened, but it did. and you were sure he pressed you against every inch of the elevators walls while kissing you like a mad man.

the truth is everyone else on the team knew the reason why you drove each other crazy, and john was more than grateful when the person who opened the elevator doors and saw the state of you was simon.

after fixing your clothes and an awkward apologize to simon, you talked about it.

having a secret relationship with him didn't last long, this man likes to move fast. but after the elevator incident, you were more than okay with that.

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unreliablesnake · 7 months

Text

You're reading what? (Ghost x reader x 141)

Summary: Soap finds out you're reading porn in your free time. Ghost decides to ask you about it.

Note: Barracks bunny, barracks bunny, barracks bunny! Sorry, reader's a slut. (affectionate) / I'll probably write more parts, maybe smut, maybe suggestive stuff, maybe fluff... I don't know yet. Check the #barracks bunny fics tag for more. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

It was Soap who found out what you were reading in your limited free time during missions. You left your Kindle on the table while you went to the bathroom, and he wanted to see what book you were so invested in lately. When he read the first two paragraphs, his jaw dropped and a wide grin crept on his face.

"Hey, LT, you won't believe what she's reading," he said while he checked the title of the book just to know what to check later.

Ghost rolled his eyes, completely uninterested at the moment. He was busy writing a report that was due by the end of the day, and he had promised Price that he would do it on time. So he didn't have time to think about what stupid novel you were currently reading.

But Soap didn't give up. He put the device back where it was before, then took the chair next to the lieutenant. "It's porn. I'm not joking, she's reading porn," he said excitedly, keeping his voice down as he spoke.

With mixture of disapproval and interest in his eyes, he turned to the sergeant and asked, "And?"

"What do you mean? She's reading porn. No wonder she dodges every question regarding the books she's reading all the time," he replied before he typed something into his phone. "Here, this is the one she's currently reading."

Ghost took the device from him and tapped on the first search result. He read the summary, then moved on to some quotes the users highlighted. It was interesting to say the least. Were you really into this type of stuff?

When they heard your voice from the hallway, Soap took back his phone and closed the browser before you entered the room again. To you it probably seemed like they were talking about the mission and the report Ghost was writing, and this is why the lieutenant felt a little bad for this invasion of your privacy.

After being on this mission for so long, he was obviously frustrated. He couldn't just go to a bar to pick up someone, and his hand was less and less satisfying these days. His mind recently began to travel back to you and your book, and one afternoon, when he had some unexpected free time, he found himself buying and downloading that novel on his phone.

He got quite far in a matter of hours, and he couldn't help himself when he found you alone in a room after dinner. Ghost sat down across from you and took the Kindle from your hands to take a look at it. "Still reading porn?" he asked teasingly.

You gulped, your cheeks probably burning from the embarrassment you clearly felt. "H–How do you know about that?" you asked him after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Soap stole this the other day," he replied as he gave back the device. "Don't worry, I think I'm the only one he told about this. Your secret's safe with me."

"I don't even want to know what you think about me now," you said with your head buried in your hands.

Ghost let out a dry laugh as he peeled your hands off your face. "Hey, it's okay. We spend way too much time here, I think it's safe to say we all need our fix one way or another," he assured you while holding your hand, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles into your skin.

Maybe he was flirting with you. The more he thought about you and what he had read in that novel, the more he wished he could do that in real life with you. He had always liked you; the disciplined, tough, but also kind soldier that got along with everyone on the team.

And the one Price played favorites with, he reminded himself. They all had their suspicions about the captain's motivation, believing he himself had a crush on you from the start. After all, why else would he bring you small gifts every time you met again? Why would he spend hours talking to you alone?

Sometimes Ghost wondered if there was anything between the two of you. Were you off-limits? Or was it a one-sided thing?

"And what do you do to get your fix?"

Your question brought him back to reality and he instinctively let go of your hand. He couldn't say that he jerked off to the thought of you. No, that would be way too creepy. So he shrugged, hoping this was enough to answer your question.

After a short pause, Ghost folded his hands on the table and leaned a little closer to you. "Have you ever tried anything that you read in your little books?" he asked you with a grin under the mask.

With your head tilted to the side, you watched him in silence for a while as you thought about your answer. "Do you even know what's in them exactly?"

"I began to read one of them. The one that reminded me of the Fifty Shades of Grey stories, only in a hardcore version," he replied casually.

An amused hum left your lips. "How do you even know what those stories are about? You don't seem to be the type who's into them."

Of course, Ghost had an answer to that. "I had an ex who made me watch the whole series. I didn't like it. Back to my question, have you tried anything from that book for example?"

"I have," you replied immediately, shamelessly grinning as you watched him.

It was hard to surprise Ghost these days, but hearing you answering so honestly definitely took him off guard. "The whole power play thing?" You nodded without hesitation as you took a sip of your soda. "With who?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, it doesn't," he admitted, knowing full well he probably wouldn't know that person anyway.

The pair of you sat there in silence for a while, your eyes locking every now and then before you flashed a smile at him then dived back into your book. He didn't mind, instead of complaining he just leaned back in the chair and watched you.

Ghost hated feeling this way, he hated that he could do nothing but wish for a cold shower in your presence. If he stood up now, you would surely notice how excited he was to be near you. He wanted to play with you too, he wanted to find out what you had learned from those books of yours.

Gaz walked into the room with a stupid smile on his face then put his hands on your shoulders as he leaned closer. "Price wants to see you," he announced before suddenly taking the ebook reader from you and taking a look at the page you were at. "Ooooh, another one? Do you even read anything else?"

Biting on your lower lip, you exhaled through your nose angrily. "I'm gonna kill Soap. I swear to God I'm gonna shoot him before we go home," you told them before snatching your Kindle from Gaz's hands and heading towards the door.

But on the way there you stopped behind Ghost and leaned down to his ear. He could feel your hot breath on his skin which made his cock twitch in his pants. Fuck, what were you doing to him?

"By the way, if you want to know more about what I want to try from those books, just say it. I'm sure we could arrange that," you added as your hand squeezed his shoulder.

Before he could say anything, you left the room, leaving him alone with Gaz. "Oh, you haven't figured it out yet," the sergeant said with a laugh.

"Figured out what?" Ghost asked, completely dumbfounded.

But Gaz only shrugged. "She's fun to be around. That's all I'm saying."

And with that, he left too. The lieutenant had absolutely no idea what to think. There were you, probably suggesting sleeping with him one day, and there was Gaz with his mysterious comment about you. As he let out a groan, he let his forehead hit the table with a loud thud. Why couldn't things be simple?

#call of duty #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #john mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #barracks bunny fics

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hairyjocktf · 21 days

Text

New Recruit

Luke was at a low point in his life. He’d graduated high school but wasn’t smart enough to get into college. He had tried working some retail jobs around but he never had the work ethic to last long in those. He had similar problems in other gigs. It had been months of him bumming around and his parents had finally had enough, he was officially out of their house. With few options left, he was desperate. While walking down the street one day he saw an ad for the military, boasting stable careers and plenty of benefits. He’d played a couple seasons of sports in school and felt like he might be able to at least pass the initial evaluation, and out of near desperation he decided to try and enlist.

He made his way to the army office nearby that had been listed in the ad, and to his surprise there was no trouble. They did a quick physical evaluation and he was good to go, ready to sign up for boot camp. Luke was nervous; there was no coming back from this point. He thought about it for a couple minutes while being stared down by the recruiter, realizing he really couldn’t think of a better option. And so he signed the contract, unsure of what was to come.

Two weeks later he was on a bus out to the base to start his boot camp. Luke didn’t know what to expect; he’d heard numerous stories about how brutal this training would be to weed out people. The bus was filled with the strangest mix of people he’d ever seen. Some guys looked like they’d been using steroids since they were 12, some looked like they belonged in an accounting department, and some he just couldn't pin down. Regardless of who surrounded him, Luke felt out of place, and he was only growing more nervous as the bus sped through the dense woods. After what felt like hours they finally cleared the trees and he saw the huge fences that would enclose the next few months of his life.

The buses pulled into a large dirt clearing at the center of the base where they forced everybody out. A huge and built man addressed the new recruits with his booming voice.

“Privates! Welcome to Fort Eagleton!” he shouted above the noise of disembarking men. “I am Drill Sergeant Thornton, and I’ll be in charge of whipping you lot into shape!”

Luke gulped, it looked like those rumors had been true. He was in for a world of hurt.

“You’ll be under my watch and command for the next ten weeks, learning what it takes to be a soldier. First, I want to see what I’m working with. Privates! See those chalk markings on the ground? Space yourselves on them for inspection!”

His loud voice echoed across the clearing. The men all scrambled to stand in position, each on a chalk marking that were spaced four feet apart in a grid. Luke found an open one unfortunately near the front of the pack. He glanced nervously around at the others. Some were standing at the ready like they had been born for this, but the rest also looked around with worried looks on their faces. Their attention was brought back to the front by the thundering voice of the sergeant.

“Listen up, privates! Here with me I have Corporal Evans, a prime example of what you should all strive to become in the next ten weeks!” The sergeant gestured to a tall and strong looking man next to him. Evans was at attention in full uniform, but Luke could tell the man was absolutely jacked underneath. He could see how the coat was straining against his huge, broad shoulders.

“He is the epitome of a soldier, and what all men should model themselves after,” the sergeant continued. “I will make a real man out of each of you! That is my promise as your Drill Sergeant. However, some of you may take to that easier than others.” He began walking through the rows of men in plainclothes, observing each of them with scrutiny. Luke’s eyes went wide as the sergeant stopped directly in front of him.

“You, boy. What’s your name?” The sergeant did not quiet his voice even when right next to him.

“Luke,” he said shakily, “Luke Peterson.”

“Private Peterson, you may have passed the exam to get here, but I hold doubts that you are up to the challenge that is basic training,” the sergeant said while making intense eye contact. “Do you think you have what it takes to become a soldier?”

“Yes.. sir,”

“Well! Let’s put that to the test,” he boomed again. “Evans! Bring me this private’s new uniform.”

Within seconds, the man was at his side holding a folded army uniform. Thornton took it and handed it to Luke.

“Put this on, boy! Let’s see how you’ll fit in here,” he said with an almost sinister twinkle in his eyes.

Luke had no choice but to then strip down to his underwear in the middle of the crowd. The eyes of the dozens of men he had entered with were burning holes in him as he changed into the fatigues. They immediately felt too large for him but he continued as the sergeant watched impatiently. He pulled up and belted the pants before buttoning the shirt closed. They were at least two or three sizes too big, Luke thought, and he looked ridiculous in the oversized fatigues. He laced up his boots which were also excessively large and stood back up to address the sergeant’s burning gaze.

Out of nowhere, Luke suddenly felt like he’d taken a punch straight in his stomach. He collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping for air as the pain in his stomach did not lessen, but began to spread. His torso felt like it was on fire, and he groaned in distress as his body was overwhelmed. Everyone else in the clearing was watching in awe as Luke’s body began to grow. His spine lengthened slowly, back widening and shoulders broadening. His legs began to stretch and grow longer, adding a good eight inches to his height. He began packing on muscle like he’d been working out for a decade, limbs inflating in seconds adding strength and size. His chest pushed out into two meaty pecs, which finally caught Luke’s attention from the incredible soreness he felt as his body exploded in size. His eyes widened as he watched his own body fill out the fatigues that had moments ago been far too large, arms swelling to fill the sleeves and chest pushing against the now tight shirt. His legs also bulked up, adding 20 pounds of muscle as quads and hamstrings grew in and thickened. His feet expanded, pushing against his large boots. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his jaw as it widened, giving him a square and masculine face. The pain began to subside and Luke managed to stand back up, this time matching the sergeant in height.

The drill sergeant addressed him, “Good start soldier.” He had a hint of a grin on his stern face.

Luke was angry and confused, “What the hell was that? What did you do to me? What do you mean good start…” His sentence trailed off as he felt an intense tingling feeling arise on his chest. Underneath his tight uniform shirt, in the center of his massive pecs, tiny brown hairs began to poke out of his skin. The hairs started out thin and wispy but quickly thickened as they grew longer, spreading out across Luke’s mountainous chest muscles. The hairs erupted across the expanse, burying the skin under a dense layer of fur as they grew thicker, longer, and tangled together. Especially dark hairs sprouted around his sensitive nipples, causing Luke to let out a moan as he brought his hands up to massage them. The crowd watching Luke was stunned at his actions in front of the sergeant. Some of the men closest to him could see what looked like thick hairs beginning to poke out from above his shirt collar. The fur on his chest had spread up across his collarbone and had started peeking up onto his neck, where it was finally visible. The sergeant stood watching with a smirk as Luke was lost in a world of pleasure, rubbing his nipples as hair began taking over his body. The hair was not confined to just his chest, and shot down south across his stomach, coating his new abs and muscle in the same thick rug. The hair was growing in so densely that it started to push out through cracks and seams in his uniform.

The other privates were speechless watching this erotic display in front of them, not knowing what to do. A few noticed Corporal Evans, who was standing behind the drill sergeant, subtly mimicking Luke’s actions, seemingly lost in his own bodily pleasures as his hands roamed his body. Luke’s breaths grew louder as the hairs continued climbing up his thick neck, creating a river of hair traveling up from his chest to his square jaw. He’d never had much stubble before, just some light peach fuzz, but that was changing. The soft hairs were overrun with thick, wiry, testosterone-fueled growth that coated his jaw in an incredibly dense beard. His upper lip was next, first darkening with the shadow of thick stubble before the hairs pushed out and completed the full beard on his face. Luke’s hands moved upwards, stroking his fingers through the long wiry hairs that now covered the lower half of his face. His eyes closed as the pleasurable sensation began to control his actions, wanting to experience every ounce of this growth. The beard growth was very noticeable to the crowd as well, as men further away began to break formation and inch closer to see what was happening to Luke. Evans was in the back, feeling the scratchy stubble on his own face as it pushed out a couple millimeters, just enough to leave a dark five o’clock shadow.

Unbeknownst to the crowd, Luke’s body was continuing to change under his uniform. Luke could feel every new hair sprout out of him as the hairs spread, conquering more of his newly buff body. His armpits tingled as the follicles there went into overdrive, pumping out hair after hair. What had previously been a sparse grouping of hairs quickly became a thick tuft of sweaty, musky hair. Dark and wiry hairs pushed out of bare skin, spreading out and covering his pits in a full manly bush, already dense enough to trap his body sweat and stench. Luke stuck one hand into his shirt to scratch the growing forest in his pit before pulling it out and smelling his fingers. He shivered from the euphoric smell of his own musk that was only growing more potent. The pit hairs continued to spread and even connected with his chest hair, creating a seamless rug across his whole upper body.

The wave of hair growth continued advancing across his muscular body, with hairs beginning to pop up across his broad shoulders. They were joined by more and more hairs, giving Luke a thick coating across his traps. The hairs began to crawl down his brawny back, knitting a rug as they grew thick and tangled across his shoulder blades. As the hairs advanced down his spine they also began covering his arms, where long dark hairs were pushing out across his triceps before utterly engulfing his forearms in dark fur. Luke watched as the thick hairs poked out of his sleeves, ensuring anyone would know even in full uniform how hairy he was under there. That is, if they didn’t notice his large, calloused hands, which had their own small carpet of hairs sprouting across the backs. Luke could feel as the hairs creeping down his back reached the bottom, where a bushy tuft sprouted up just above his waistband. He subconsciously knew what was next, and moments later he was overcome with bliss as his thick ass cheeks sprouted their own rug of dense curly hairs. He could feel how the thickest, longest, and darkest hairs were pushing out of his crack, and he reached his hand into his pants to feel the silky fur that filled the gap. As all eyes were on Luke, Corporal Evans was still engaged in his own stimulation, feeling his pit hairs push out a little more, his back get a little more hairy, and his ass plump up just a bit more.

Luke felt his now size 16 feet heat up in his boots, beginning to grow itchy. Hairs were crawling out of the tops of his massive feet, popping out of his thick toes shortly after. The hairs climbed up his thick legs from his feet, coating his calves in dark hairs before engulfing his massive thighs. The hairs came in thicker and darker as they neared his groin, where his formerly modest bush began to double, then triple in size. Thick pubes were sprouting up all across his crotch, enveloping the area in a dense forest of curly hairs. Luke let out another moan at the sensation and shoved both his hands into his pants. He felt the coarse hairs sprouting through his fingers as his bush continued to spread outward. His cock began gushing precum before it too began to grow. It had almost been swallowed up by the immense bush, but now it hardened and pushed out, growing longer and thicker. Luke grasped his growing member and felt the hair climbing up the shaft as it continued to push further out of his bush. He felt his balls swell in size and drop a little farther down, becoming coated in hairs just like the rest of his groin.

Luke was overcome with euphoria, and the animalistic instincts took full control as he began stroking his nine inch cock with both hands, each pump blasting his brain and body with pleasure. The sergeant and everyone else watched as Luke jacked off to his own transforming body right in front of them, stunned into silence. Corporal Evans, still unnoticed, slid his own hand into his pants to deal with his rock hard problem. Luke kept at it, moaning louder and louder as precum poured out of his cock. Every stroke seemed to make him grow just a tad bit larger, just a little hairier. Finally, after a few minutes of being overcome by pure ecstasy, he erupted, a fountain of cum spraying out covering his new uniform in sticky white semen. Some of it even got on the sergeant, who seemed unfazed. Evans grunted quietly as he pumped a massive load directly into his jockstrap that he had on under his uniform. He wasn’t prepared for quite how large it would be, leaving a wet spot on the front of his trousers and leaking down his leg. Luke panted as his mind returned to his body, finally taking stock of the situation and realizing in a moment of panic what had happened.

Before he could say anything Sergeant Thornton started to laugh. His roaring laughter pierced the awkward silence that had overtaken the space for the last while. He walked over to Luke and slapped him on the back.

“Atta boy! That’s what I like to see,” He said to Luke with an uncharacteristic smile. The crowd was shocked. That was not the response they’d expected in the slightest.

“You’re fit to be a real soldier now, and I trust you’ll serve us well. A fine specimen!” he turned to the crowd. “Look here, privates! This is a real man, a bastion of strength and masculinity who can take a beating and give some hell.”

Luke too was stunned. He was scrambling to process what had just happened to him, and that it was seemingly planned by the sergeant the whole time. His thoughts were cut short by the sergeant addressing him again.

“Well son, you’ve done good today. We’ll have to clean up that scruff of yours to get you in regulation,” he stroked Luke’s new beard with his hand, sending a bolt of lightning directly to his still semi-erect cock. “Corporal Evans will help you out with that, and with cleaning up your fatigues,” he said as Evans approached from behind. Luke noticed the darker stubble on his face and the dark splotch in his bulging crotch.

The drill sergeant once again spoke to the crowd, “The rest of you will be assigned living quarters and shown the areas for training. I want you all back here at exactly 1300 hours!”

Evans ushered Luke away from the grounds and into his own private quarters, where he stripped out of his cum soaked uniform and finally got a look at himself. He was taller, absolutely built, and incredibly hairy. It turned him on in a way he never knew he could be, his cock once again rising to full mast. He rubbed his hands through all of his new fur, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“I was in your shoes when I enlisted,” Evans said to him. Luke turned to face him and saw a slight blush in his cheeks, and his bulge was even more noticeable. “I’ll make sure you get cleaned up and everything, but how about first we just enjoy the new you in its raw form,” he said, stepping right up to Luke and wrapping his hand around Luke’s cock. Lost for words, Luke pulled off Evans’ hat and leaned in for a kiss, grabbing his bulge and pushing him against the wall.

Maybe bootcamp wouldn’t be that bad.

This was my longest and most ambitious story yet! Hope y'all enjoy it and thank you for nearly 400 followers in just a month! Feel free to dm or send an ask if you have ideas for future stories.

#male tf #hairy tf #jock tf #hair growth #hairy #hairy chest #hairy pits #hairy back #beard #military tf #my writing

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cyrusthedragon · 10 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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captianbrnes · 3 months

Text

Pretty like the Sun

Summary: When you start to doubt yourself, Bucky is here to pick up the pieces you left behind.

Warnings: Insecure reader, that's all i think

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader, friends to lovers

Word count: 1k

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

You don't even remember how it started. It just switched one day and now all you could focus on was ur ‘faults’.

Were you even fit to be an avenger? How did people like you? Did your friends even truly like you? Weeks went by and you could feel yourself slipping more and more, you tried to act normal to your super friends hoping no one would notice. Bucky did.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆

“Have you noticed anything wrong with Y/n? She just seems off, im worried” Bucky expressed to Sam and Natasha in the kitchen while making a cup of coffee.

“ Idk man she's your girl shouldn't you know?” “She's not my girl Sam.” He rolls his eyes knowing Sam knows about his crush on you.

“Maybe go up to her, just go check on her.” Nat says as she pats the super soldiers’ back, leaving the kitchen.

He decides then that the only way he'll know is to ask so Bucky gets up to head to your room.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ You're laying in bed staring up at the ceiling when you hear 3 knocks from the door. Not feeling up to talk to anyone, you don't say anything hoping whoever’s there will just leave. “ Doll it's me Bucky, I want to talk, can you open the door for me?”

Oh Bucky… Your crush for the longest time, also one of your closest friends. Ever since you first joined the avengers you knew you were done for. His immediate smile threw you off your feet and it was then you knew.

You and Bucky started to become closer to each other over the months, spending most of your time together either watching movies or walking around New York. Bucky was one of the people who you cared about the most and that's why you felt so insecure. You wanted to be your best for him all the time, be perfect in hope that he’ll maybe fall for you just like how hard you fell for him.

What you didn’t know was that he already fell just as hard.

The first time Bucky spotted you he couldn't believe his eyes. He didn't understand how someone could be that beautiful, your eyes shined and your smile glowed, you look like the Sun. He cared so much for you and hasn't felt this much love for anyone ever and just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that's why he's here.

You decide to get up and open the door for him, checking the mirror beforehand making sure you look okay. “ Hey Buck, everything okay?”

You choke out looking up at him while trying toseem happy. “ Yeah everythings fine, just wanted to check on you, haven't seen you in a while… Can I come in?” Bucky says rubbing his hand on the back of his neck hoping that you'll let him in and open up to him. “ Uh sure-” You both opt to sit on your bed and it's then that Bucky takes your hand and decides to speak up.

“I'm here because I'm worried about you doll.. What's going on? You know you can talk to me right.” He says looking down to you with genuine worry in his eyes. He could get so scared sometimes worrying if he upset you in some way. “ No, I'm fine-” “Dont.” Bucky interrupts. He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

“ Don't act like it's fine when it's not. Some Things upset you, I want to know what it is. Let me help you like you helped me” This was it. As he said that you felt yourself breaking and water managed to make it out of your eyes finally breaking down.

“Hey hey hey, i got you, you're okay breath baby, breath.” Bucky says holding you closer to him and accidentally letting a pet name slip out. After Bucky gets you to breathe and calm down he sits you on his lap and starts to speak.

“ You're okay Y/n, I'm here with you okay. Just talk to me whenever you're ready.”

It's then you finally speak up and voice all your insecurities about how you dislike how you look and feel as if youre useless and don't matter to the team. Bucky’s heart starts to break hearing these words come out of you feeling as if you're not good enough. He can't stand to see you like this anymore and put his forehead on yours making sure you're looking at him.

“ Look at me, doll, I have never thought about you in any of those ways. You are the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen and the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“I want you to know how incredible you are and that I understand how you're feeling but that none of it is true. I am so in love with you it's crazy.” Bucky spills out not caring about if you feel the same anymore, he just needs to get it out.

“ You light up a whole room with that smile of your doll. You're the funniest person I've met and bring me so much comfort… I've never cared about anyone like i've cared about you.``

“Bucky i-” Is this true? Does he really feel the same way? “ Bucky, are you serious?” you exclaim.

Realizing that you might not share the same feelings, buckys eyes go wide with worry looking like a kicked puppy, before saying “ I um- I know that you might not feel the same ways as me but i couldn't keep it in any longer. And I'm sorry if I ruined anything I didn't mean-”

You silenced him as you crashed your lips into his humming into the kiss. You guys finally pull away after a while and decide to cuddle up under the bed together, your eyes closing.

There's still much more you guys need to talk about in the morning but none of that comes to mind now that Bucky’s finally holding you in his arms.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n : Hiii!!! Hope you liked the story. Im going to try to write more just and super busy.....

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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hedgehog-moss · 10 months

Text

I was woken up last night by a sound like a machine gun being fired... loud clak-clak-clak that went on for like 10 seconds and I sat in bed completely bewildered because my brain couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for it. Then I remembered about the thunderstorm warning and thought oh shit, the greenhouse. It could possibly be the sound of thick glass cracking and breaking after a branch fell on it...?

I ran outside in my pyjamas and found the greenhouse intact—then thought oh shit, the chicken coop. Had no idea how a chicken coop could produce such a noise but I ran there anyway, and the coop was fine. It was a dry storm, lots and lots of wind but no rain or hail and I stood there uselessly for a moment, trying to think of other explanations with my 3am brain (not easy), then went to check on the llamas just in case, and I found all three of them standing with very alert ears, staring at a fallen tree—one of the four very tall wild cherries in their pasture.

So that was a relief ! From where I was I couldn't see if the tree had crashed on the fence and destroyed a chunk of it, it seemed possible but I decided that was a problem for tomorrow-me, and in any case it could have been worse. The fact that Pampe was still here boded well (for the integrity of the fence)—but seeing as the llamas were lined up in front of the tree like mourners paying their respects at a funeral, maybe she just felt that taking advantage of the tree's misfortune to immediately escape via the opening created by its prostrate body would be inappropriate.

First thing I saw this morning when I opened my bedroom window was the fallen tree, and I started feeling less optimistic because from afar things really didn't look promising for my poor fence.

(And from up close either)

But the tree missed the fence by just a few metres!

Its branches were tangled up with the other trees' branches and I think some of them slowed its fall until they broke one by one, which would explain the prolonged cracking noises, it wasn't just the trunk. But only 1 branch fell on the fence and it wasn't a large one, so there's no damage!

The God of Fences was on my side last night. :)

Consulted on whether he had been frightened by that loud sinister noise in the middle of the night, Pirlouit declined to comment, as he has more tragic problems right now. Our neighbour made hay recently which means Pirou now has several tonnes of hay staring at him and taunting him just outside his pen, out of reach. He is in a bad mood for reasons that have nothing to do with a stupid tree. It's like if you had to live right outside a pastry shop's window, except worse because you're a donkey (they already find life unfair as it is.)

I wonder if the wild cherry tree will soldier on...? Its roots + part of the trunk are still intact, and there are fallen trees in the forest with only 1 toe still in the ground who take their fate pretty philosophically and just start growing perpendicularly, like okay I guess we're sending our branches in that direction now. I'm going to leave it here and see if it rallies. I think it actually looks pretty breezy right now, it kind of looks like this:

Good luck, wild cherry! Let's see if you still have some life in you...

Oh and since we had a new obstacle, I tried to check if Pandolf remembered the word "Saute !" (Jump) and he does! We did it a bunch of times because I was trying to make him understand that I wanted 1 majestic jump and not his lazy 2-steps solution, but I didn't manage to explain it.

Maybe if I said "no :/" instead of "good great what a dog!!" he would think harder about how to improve his technique, but I'd rather fluff up his ego. Even that ridiculous failure at the end was met with a "yes amazing!!" response from me and he felt like an agility champion instead of a bumbling bag of fur. I'm going to try and get him to find his balance and walk on this part of the trunk, so I expect to see a lot more of his "argh, oops, wait" facial expression :)

#crawling along #j'espère que tout le monde a de l'électricité & pas trop de dégâts avec ces orages dans tout le pays...!

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callofdudes · 1 year

Note

Can have funny Headcannons for Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, and Soaps see their s/o who came back from long mission and they are cover in dirt and mud with very grumpy expression walking pass and saying: “Don’t. Ask. Or Say. Any. Thing.”

Here ya go! 😄

Ghost 💀

Ghost hadn't seen you for a whole month. Your mission was supposed to only have lasted a few weeks, but you were being held up longer than expected and he wasn't getting told why.

Honestly he was a bit worried for you, not having much information on your whereabouts.

Plus this was your first solo mission, it made him even more worried.

He felt relief, utter relief when he was addressed down to the landing strip a couple yards from base. You were on that helicopter. He couldn't wait to see you again.

He waited there, watching the helicopter come in and land, the back ram opening and hitting the ground.

And you came out....

Oh my.

Ghost stared as you tromped down the ramp. Your clothes were ruffled and you were covered head to toe in mud. Sticks in your hair, caked, drying mud on your cheeks. And that scowl. A scowl for the books...

You noticed him and trudged over.

He opens his mouth to speak and you just keep walking. "Don't. Ask. Or. Say. Anything." You hiss angrily.

It didn't take him much time to figure out you had headed straight for the showers. You were in there for over an hour, picking away at the mud and twigs in your hair. Scrubbing yourself clean in every crevice and corner. Shivering when you found leaves and mud places you'd never want it.

Simon looks from you over to some of the soldiers offloading equipment. They shrug, giving him some information and leaving him to his own devices.

He snickered, he could only imagine what happened.

But finally you came out, refreshed and less disgusting.

You redressed in fresh clothes and walked out, spotting Simon leaned against the building entrance. You playfully scowled at him.

"How did it go?" He leaned off the wall and approaches you, slipping his hands around your hips.

You scoff, rolling up his mask and sinking your lips to his, missing him after the exhausting mission.

"You'd never believe me."

He hums, pulling away and kissing your nose. "Try me."

"I'll tell you later. For now, I just need rest."

"Fair enough, I'll let you go then."

"Thank you."

You kiss him again and head off to your bunk to catch some rest. You needed it.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz was excited to have you back. After two weeks finally you were coming home! He was so relieved to have you back it made his heart spark to life.

Unfortunately your trip was delayed so he was waiting out on the tarmac for you a little over 20 minutes.

And then the helicopter arrived. He smiled, ready to welcome you into his loving embrace, kiss you all over and tell you have much he missed you.

His smile disappeared when the lift of the helicopter came down and you walked out.

He most certainly would not be hugging you...

You had an angry scowl, covered in mud and dirt. Some of it still looked fresh. Your gun was jammed and cakes in the stuff.

You walked over when you saw him, face set on one hell of a glare.

"Well-"

"Not. A. Word Kyle Garrick."

Kyle shut his mouth and watched you pass by. Boy, you'd think he was responsible for all that mud.

He wouldn't ask, but he'd help. So he followed you back to the showers at a safe distance - he's not crazy.

You pulled off all your gear and hopped in the shower, growling and whining about all the mud.

Kyle went after you, stepping in behind you and cupping your waist.

"Kyle-!"

"Just miss you." He decides on that, grabbing your shampoo to try and help you wash the mud out. You whine, never able to say no to Kyle's head massages.

"Don't judge me."

"I didn't say anything love." He rinses some mud off your shoulder and kisses it. You sigh, leaning back into him. "Thank you."

Alejandro🎖️

"Anytime love."

"You did look ridiculous though."

You sigh loudly, you couldn't argue that, you probably had.

Alejandro misses you. And you know what happens when Alejandro misses you. He missed his one and only so much. His other half.

But, unfortunately you were out on a mission with Rodolfo. Alejandro trusted his soldiers well, especially you two. Some of his best soldiers, he had no doubt you would do well.

He has gotten word the trucks had picked you up just north of one of the lakes by the building you were raiding. And you were now headed home.

Alejandro was happy to see both of you. To know you were alive and well after four days. (Yes, he's a bit impatient if he isn't on the mission too ☹️)

He was waiting in stance when you both arrived, ready to greet you. He smiles when the door opened. And out stepped Rodolfo.

Oh my.

Rodolfo was absolutely drenched. He was covered in a blanket, his gear stuck with wire and his hair was all out of place.

"Rodolfo." Alejandro greeted him, wrapping his arms around his shivering friend. "What happened??"

Rodolfo shook his head. 'Im sorry colonel, the mission was a dud..."

Alejandro frowned. "Where is y/n, are you both alright??"

Rodolfo nodded.

And sure enough, out you came from the truck. Slathered in mud. Absolutely caked in it. Some of it was still dripping off your uniform. You had a scowl, the scowl Alejandro only saw a few times through your cheery disposition.

You stomped over, arms crossed. Mud all down your body.

"Mi amor-"

"Don't. Say. A. Word. Don't. Ask."

Alejandro shut his mouth right away. You stomped past him toward the showers leaving him a bit dumbstruck.

"Rodolfo, you should go wash up with them, no?"

Rodolfo nodded. "Yes colonel."

Alejandro figured out what had happened from the soldiers and waited till you retired to your room to talk to you. You flopped down on your shared bed and groan, snuggling up to him now that you were clean.

"I'm not mad the mission went bad, if that's on your mind, my little mud monster."

You shake your head. "Just... Hold me. Please?"

Alejandro pulls you into his arms and kisses your head. "Of course mi amor."

Soap 🧼

Today you were back! The sergeant is coming back!! My babe for life is returning!

Johnny skipped along the hallways. After two weeks you were home!! You were home! He'd been worrying sick about you but now he has nothing to fear.

He skipped out across the yard and wandered down to the tarmac where your helicopter was landing.

He couldn't wait to see you again, make out with you until his lips were sore and his jaw locked up.

You stepped off the helicopter and he physically recoiled. It was like he could smell you from there. Oh my goodness you looked awful.

You were covered in drying and dripping mud. You were scowling as you approached him.

"Not. A. Fucking. Word. MacTavish!!" You snap at him.

He blinks at you, whispering, "Damn, you smell bad."

Your eye twitches and you yell in exasperation. Stomping over to the showers. Johnny looks between you and a few recruits who shrugged, too afraid to ask you on the plane.

Johnny falls in line after you and makes a break for the shower where he knows you'll be.

He waits outside for you, smiling when you come out. "Look at you, all nice and clean!"

You roll your eyes and walk over to him, letting his wrap his hands around your waist. "it's good to have my love back, not whatever sludge monster took your place." He grins.

You smack him and press your lips to his, pulling him in. He hums excitedly, pushing for his tongue in your mouth. Lapping and exploring you all over again. He missed you so much.

When you pull away he's panting. "You're so amazing, sludge monster or not."

"Johnny. Shut your mouth and kiss me, I had s long fucking mission, this is the least you could do for me."

"Yeah, you're right." He cups your jaw and begins to kiss you again.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #ghost x reader #alejandro vargas #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x you #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #soap x reader

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talesofesther · 7 days

Text

until one of us caves

Rolan x Reader

Summary: After fighting Lorroakan, you decide to stay with Rolan.

A/N: I know that like maybe three people are gonna read this but I couldn't care less. The more I learned about Rolan's story, the bigger of a soft spot I got, and this little thought wouldn't leave my head so I had to write this down. Nothing serious, just something I wish I could do in the game. Also, this story kinda drifted a little from the original plan about halfway through and started writing itself, so don't blame me if the quality is dubious lmao. Requests for him are open I guess, if anyone's interested.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The scent of smoke and ash hung in the air. Stones and mud, remains of the elementals, littered the floor of Ramazith's Tower; as well as a few burned books here and there, smashed furniture, and splatters of blood in the marble. It would take a while to get the place back to the glory it could hold, but you figured it was doable.

The body of its previous master lay lifeless on the floor, spine broken, skin torn. You held no pity for him, only resentment.

From the corner of your eyes, you could spot a twitching tail and clenched fists, staring blankly at the body of his tormentor. He said nothing, merely huffed and walked away before you could think of saying anything, your gaze followed his steps.

The time between when you'd first set foot in Sorcerous Sundries and now had gone by in a haze. You had stopped dead in your tracks then, breath hitching as you caught sight of the countless bruises on Rolan's skin, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness took over you. You'd walked up to him, the words "Who did this to you?" were stumbling past your lips before he even had the chance to utter the practiced greeting. Rolan had evaded the matter, as you'd expected, building ever higher walls around himself. And you'd surprised yourself with how restless the sight of him had made you feel.

"Soldier?" Karlach's hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present, making you quickly turn your head back to her.

You blinked several times until your eyes regained their focus; "yeah?"

She gave you a halfhearted smile and you wondered just how much your turmoil showed on your face. "I was just asking if you're alright, and… where do we go from here." Her voice held kindness to it, as it usually did. More often than not Karlach was, surprisingly, a calming balm in your hectic days.

"Uh-" you hesitated. Perhaps you should already be used to being the one people turned to in search of guidance, leadership. But it was a title you'd never really asked for, was it?

"You guys should go ahead, dispose of him somewhere," you gestured to Lorroakan's lifeless form, "before anyone walks in on… all of this."

Karlach nodded along and then raised a brow at you. "And what of you?" She asked, yet there was a smirk on her lips that alluded to the fact that she already knew the answer.

"I'll hang back." Your cheeks warmed up, "I'll meet you guys at Elfsong later."

"Take your time, soldier," Karlach winked at you, then turned to hurl the dead Wizard's body over her shoulder. "Right let's go people, nothing left to see here."

"And how exactly do you intend to walk around the city with that?" Shadowheart asked exasperatedly, yet followed Karlach to the swirling portal nonetheless.

The tiefling shrugged, holding Lorroakan's body with one arm, "I don't know. If anyone asks we'll just say he's drunk or something."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Oh, I want to see that."

Shadowheart and Astarion added simultaneously, one rolling her eyes and the other smiling brightly.

"Alright then, you think of some excuse for-"

You chuckled at the banter of your companions, their voices growing distant as they disappeared through the portal that would take them back to the bustle of Sorcerous Sundries.

With a deep breath in and a long exhale out, you turned around, gaze slowly roaming over the empty expanse of the luxurious tower; now so quiet, bordering on serene, save for the damage the battle left behind. Until you finally spotted the one you were looking for.

Rolan was tucked away in a shadowy corner, head bowed as he stacked a few fallen books on his hands and then beside each other on the shelves. His movements all stiff and slow, as if the books were much too heavy and it hurt to carry them.

The worry twirling in your stomach threatened to escape as you took careful steps towards him. Yet you still weren't sure how to approach him. The tower suddenly held a nearly intimate air. It was delicate, fragile. The lines between you and him had started to blur, you couldn't pinpoint when, but they did; and now, in the privacy of the high tower, you started to feel the weight of it.

You cleared your throat, but the tiefling didn't turn to look at you, though his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. You wondered if he knew you'd stayed, or perhaps hoped you would.

"Rolan… would you like some help with organizing things a little? At least for the night?" You tried, unsure what else you could possibly say and biting back the urge to tell him that he looked like he needed a good night's rest. He wouldn't admit it, you knew; but the fight had taken a huge toll on his already bruised body. He looked utterly exhausted; shoulders slumped, tail laying limply on the floor, barely holding himself together.

He turned his head to glance at you, an unreadable expression on his face, and lips hovering with uncertainty for a moment. "No, I can manage…" Rolan's voice was quiet, his features softly highlighted by the last fading rays of sunshine coming through the tall windows. You could see the bruises on his cheek, jaw, and nose—some new, some old; darker shades blooming on his reddish skin.

"You can go," he turned away again.

"Are you… sure?" You took half a step forward, fidgeting with your own hands. You didn't feel like leaving him just yet.

"Yes. I'm sure." He finally faced you fully in a quick motion, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "I'm not a helpless child, I can at least take care of organizing this mess by myself, if nothing else."

You closed your eyes momentarily at his words, "That's- that's not what I meant, I know you can-"

"What is it you want then? That I thank you for saving my sorry ass? Again?" His tone held bite to it, anger even, yet you had a feeling that it wasn't directed at you, but at himself. With a huff, he threw aside the one book he still held in his hands, "Okay then, thank you, your heroic attitude of the day has been achieved." He gestured toward you, speaking as if he had been just another thing to check off your list.

The movement of his mouth had pried open a fresh cut he had on his lip. Rolan didn't seem to notice, but the small sliver of blood glinted in the low light. Your heart ached, but not for his words, they were mostly empty. It ached because you saw how much he was hurting. That defeated look lingered in his golden eyes, the same you'd seen at Last Light Inn when he had been incapable of rescuing his siblings. You wished you could tell him he was enough. You wished he would believe you.

You took in a steadying breath, holding onto your composure for both of your sakes. "It's not about being a hero, Rolan, it's about helping the people I care about."

Another scoff fell past his lips, he avoided your eyes, looking distantly out the window beside him; "What are you doing here then?"

You merely raised an eyebrow at him, features soft, allowing him to believe in whatever he wanted to believe.

His throat worked through a heavy gulp when he glanced at you again, tail swishing behind him as he took half a step back. "Sod off," the words came out heavy and unstable, "You came here because Lorroakan was after your Aasimar friend… Your job is done now, you can leave." He stormed past you then, quick steps taking him to the other side of the tower.

With a roll of your eyes, you followed after him, "I came here because I care about you, too." You tried to convey as much sincerity in your words as you could, staring intently at his back as he raised a fallen chair. You caught a glimpse of his tail, coiled tightly around his own leg. You wondered if he even realizes he's doing it, if it's some kind of self-soothing habit he's learned over the years.

His hair had been undone, too, falling freely over his shoulders and looking a tad longer than what you were used to. The look suited him—a touch of softness in his usually sharp appearance—in the back of your mind you promised yourself to tell him that someday.

Several beats of silence went by. With Rolan holding tightly onto the back of the wooden chair. You tended to be annoyingly insistent, the tiefling thought to himself. Ever since the first time he met you, you had a habit of refusing to give up on people. On him. Rolan tried to tell himself it didn't get to him, that the butterflies in his stomach, and the overwhelming relief your mere presence brought him meant absolutely nothing. Because of course, you wouldn't look twice at someone like him, would you?

It was ironically sad that his heart would choose you—the hero, his hero—of all people, to have a soft spot for. He could never measure up, not really, and he knew that; told himself that very fact over and over whenever his mind dared to hope with what-ifs.

"You don't mean that," his voice was small and he berated himself for allowing it to be. He closed his eyes tightly, knuckles growing white with his grip on the chair. "And I was fine," Rolan emphasized the words yet he didn't know anymore if he was trying to convince you or himself.

Silence engulfed the tower again. Deafening silence. One sharp claw tapped the back of the wooden chair, a fast rhythm, following the heartbeat thundering through his veins. With a defeated sigh, Rolan turned to face you. Still, he refused to meet your eyes, focusing instead on the fabric of your glove wrapped around your hand; he could see faint scars on your fingers, wondered how you got them.

"Were you, really?" You asked then, softly, near desperately; waiting with bated breath for him to just look at you.

Rolan was a little difficult to get to, had been since you first met him. Part of you rather enjoyed your harmless bickering every now and then. Behind the witty words, there had always been hidden smiles and bashful eyes, the hopeful glint of being in each other's presence, if briefly.

Alas, you weren't exactly entitled to pry or demand, much as you cared for him it wasn't your place, so you relented; "Tell me you're alright, truly alright, and I'll leave if that's what you want so bad."

Rolan hesitated for a heartbeat, and then two, and three. Any words he might want to say were stuck in his throat, tangled in between feelings that confused the hells out of him. How could he ever tell you that he's not alright? That he hasn't been for a long time?

How could he tell you that he doesn't want you to leave, ever?

There was a distant stinging behind his eyes and he hated himself for it, for being so needy and vulnerable. He hated how his palms were sweaty and his heart threatened to break free of his ribcage with the speed it was beating. He hated how his knees seemed on the brink of collapsing with his weight. He hated how he suddenly felt all the bruises in his body hurting so badly, as if only now he allowed himself to feel the pain they inflicted. He hated-

A soft touch on his lower lip halted Rolan's spiraling thoughts abruptly, and his breath. With the sleeve of your robe, movement as light as a feather, you cleaned a sliver of blood that had escaped the fresh cut there. Rolan shuddered under your touch, for like a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning to death, that was all he could feel.

Pointy teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, holding back what would only be a flood of embarrassment for him if he allowed his pestering emotions to spill. His throat closed up tight, vision growing hazy until you were nothing but a blur in front of him.

There was something about the way you touched him oh so tenderly that got his walls tumbling down as if they were paper under the rain. Your hand lingered, refusing to part from him. Your fingers trailed a hesitant path to his cheek, mapping the bruises underneath- no, mapping his skin, him.

And he could crumble. Rolan felt himself falling, falling, falling.

When was the last time he felt a kind touch? one that didn't hurt or sting or threatened? He couldn't recall.

"I do mean it, I care about you, Rolan." You promised him, and only him. Whispered words dripping with affection.

The front of your boots hit his shoes as you took a final step closer. Rolan brought one hand up, his fingers closing around your wrist with urgency. Yet his hold was gentle, pressing into the veins there and feeling your pulse running beneath his fingertips. He held you there, all but begging you to stay. Words were difficult, complicated, and messy; hopefully his soul could tell you what he couldn't.

With your heart in your mouth, you mumbled; "it's okay. It's over." You're not sure if he heard or felt the words, but Rolan dipped his head forward until his forehead bumped yours.

Suddenly close wasn't close enough. You wanted to kiss away his tears, his bruises, his pain; promise him that everything would be alright now even if your own life was a sea of uncertainty.

"Why?" It fell past his lips. Such a genuine question uttered with such a small voice that it hurt you like a dagger to the heart.

"Why do these things happen to me?" Rolan's voice cracked and stumbled, his eyebrows briefly furrowed in a mix of anger and sorrow. "I-" he breathed in deep and unsteady, bright eyes welling with unshed tears that shone brightly under the soft candlelights on the walls.

You gulped back your own heartache, struggling to keep to yourself how soft he made you feel. You slowly raised your other hand to push fallen strands of hair behind his ear.

"I hoped it had a purpose," he admitted then, quiet as breath. His lower lip quivered before he spoke again, closing his eyes and leaning timidly towards your touch. "That it was a test, and he would- he would eventually stop. That I just needed to endure a while longer."

A choked sob stumbled past his lips and you felt the first of his tears landing on your thumb. Rolan shook his head, a self-deprecating scoff falling past his lips; "that I deserved it."

"Stop," you said before you could think, finally taking your hand away from his cheek, only to bury it into his hair instead. With the encouragement you knew he needed, you pulled him to you.

Rolan fell forward with no restraints, no hesitations, only a weary soul looking for solace. He buried his head between your neck and shoulder, both arms coming around your waist and squeezing tightly, to the point of his claws nearly ripping your robe.

You held him back with the same desperation, one hand tangling in between his hair and cradling his head to you. Your lips brushed the nape of his neck in a silent confession of adoration.

The fabric of your robe grew damp as silent tears fell past Rolan's defenses, his body shaking in your hold, releasing months if not years of bottled-up emotions.

With a kiss to his warm skin, embers of the fire he ignited in your heart broke free; "You could never deserve what he did to you. You're so very special, Rolan. To Cal, To Lia…" You told him, slow and tender, twirling strands of his hair between your fingers, and a small smile stretched your lips when you felt him relaxing against you. "… To me." It was nothing but a whisper, blown into the wind only for him to hear.

Rolan's breath stumbled, you felt it in the way he gripped you tighter—if that was even possible—and heard it in the soft gasp beside your ear.

"Please don't-" His voice broke in the middle, all husky and wobbly from his tears. "Don't say… that. If you don't mean-" he hesitated, fresh tears cascading freely down his cheeks, beyond any foolish attempt to be held back; they dripped down the bridge of his nose and soaked the fabric of your robe, making him curl into you all the more to hide his embarrassment from the outside world.

"Please," it was so quiet as he pleaded. For what, he wasn't entirely sure anymore. Maybe he just knew he couldn't take losing anything else.

You pulled back and Rolan felt his heart stumbling and cracking in his chest. But you were quick to mend it back together, with both hands coming up to hold his cheeks again, your thumbs brushing away the wetness there, near reverently.

"I promise," you whispered, gaze drifting ever so slightly downward before focusing back on his bright eyes. You were bold enough to lean in until the tip of your nose touched his, and as you did so you felt something coiling around your leg. You smiled; "I promise."

Rolan gulped, his mouth parting as he barely held himself back from closing the gap between you. Goosebumps littered his whole body when his upper lip accidentally brushed yours.

He pulled away but refused to loosen his grip on your waist. "I don't want you to leave," he said it so quietly, offering you his bleeding heart with a shaking hand.

Gentle fingers brushed away the messy strands of hair clinging to his forehead. When Rolan looked up, there was a loving smile on your lips, it was the first time he saw it and he already knew he'd kill to see it again.

You leaned closer, and with a kiss between his brows, you said; "then I'll stay."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Rolan’s taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us

#rolan #rolan x reader #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #rolan baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #rolan imagine #rolan x female reader #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #rolan fanfic #my story

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aphroditelovesu · 10 days

Text

Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.

Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.

Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.

Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.

Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.

You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.

Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.

Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.

Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.

As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.

He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.

In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.

You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere headcanons #headcanons #soft yandere #commission #x reader

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credince--writes · 1 year

Note

I just found your blog and holy shit the size kink fic with König hits different! Your work is so good, I'm glad I stumbled across it!!

I was wondering... Would you be able to do the breeding kink part as a continuation?? Please 🥺 It's totally cool if you're not comfortable with it!!

Ask, and with nearly a month-long wait you shall receive.

Hands (2)

Prompt:

Continuation of the Breeding Kink (mildly) explored in the shower scene of part 1.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - AO3

König x Fem!Reader

Oh, how pitiful.

I mean, look at you.

Look at how you sat there, on that chair in that shitty little office scribbling away at paperwork whiles your eyes came so close to shutting on their own. Drifting off to sleep while you should be working.

Sitting back in your seat and raising your hands to your face, rubbing against your eyes in an attempt to chase away the drowsiness that seemed to be working to glue your eyes shut.

Glancing down, noticing how even your handwriting had started to become sloppier with your drowsiness you decided that yea, sure. You'd accept the defeat against your exhaustion and trudge back to your room.

Setting the pen down, bunching the papers together, and pushing them into a folder to be tucked away for the next morning. Standing from your chair, pushing it in, and turning off the lights to the office you made your way, slowly out into the hallway headed in the direction of your soon-to-be cavern of slumber.

Aka your room with that shitty little cot and the light that made the horrible buzzing sound.

Trying to ignore the few other people buzzing about you couldn't help but try to walk that much quieter as you walked past your boss's door.

There was no way he could see you, the blinds were shut.

Just a few more steps-

The sound of the handle turning and the door sliding open- "Hey! Well, aren't I luck I caught you. Deliver this for me?" Extended in his hand, a folder.

You wanted to tell him to shove it.

You really did.

That awkward, 'i know you're tired but I'm your boss so do what I say' a smile plastered on his face.

You sigh.

Nodding.

Extending your hand out and grabbing the folder, nodding a little bit while he thanks you for glancing down at the paperwork and turning around to begin walking in the new direction to deliver the paperwork.

...

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"Come on."

"Just a little bit more."

"Please?"

"I'm talking to a fucking storage room."

"Who makes these fucking cubbies?" You snarled, leg extended with one awkwardly lifted up and pulling yourself up by your left hand, extending outward trying to stuff the folder in the correct receptacle.

"God- fuck!" Your hand slipping, sending you sliding back, your foot going over your head and sending you tumbling to the ground, landing ass first on the cold cement floor.

You groaned, thankful for the fact no one had been there to see your fall.

The sound of the door pushing open, and a male voice calling out. "Hello? Is everything all the right?"

König.

Your face burned. Shameful, bright red.

And you stayed silent, hoping that by not responding he would simply leave.

So you sat, looking like a dumbfounded puppy with a folder of papers scattered to your side, still awkwardly sitting on your ass with the twinge of pain in your rump from your unruly fall.

But the sounds of his boots against the floor coming closer-

"I'm alright!" You squeaked out.

"Oh, Ärztin." You could hear him exhale, shoulders slightly relaxing as he glanced down at the scene before him. "Why did you not responded to my callings a moment ago?"

"Kind of hoping you shut the door and didn't investigate." You sighed out, awkwardly laughing, tilting your head up to look at him. "As you can see I have had a fall."

"A soldier who would not investigate those sounds has no place here." He scolded lightly. "Now, Ärztin, up you go."

Because you could protest, he reached down, large hands grabbing around your waist. The hands engulfed around your midsection as he lifted you as if you weren't as much as a duffle bag to be tossed over his shoulder while he marched through the halls.

"Oh-" You gasped, suddenly being upright and back pressed against his chest. "Thank you, König." You paused for a moment, looking down and realizing his hands were still wrapped around you, holding you by your midsection, and your back was pressed up against his chest.

"Of course, Shatz." You could hear the smile from under his hood- the snarky little tone dancing around in his smug words. "Now why had you fallen?"

"Just, um. Getting this." You motioned to the folder. "Up there." You motioned to the too-tall cubby.

"Ah, leave it to me." He said, releasing your midsection and grabbing the folder, easily lifting his arm and placing it into the cubicle with no problem.

"Gonna have you file the paperwork from now on." You joked.

"Ah, I prefer my work on the field. Thank you though. Good night." He curtly nodded his head and left as quickly as he had arrived. Leaving you puzzled- embarrassed- and lingering on the feeling of his large hands wrapped around your waist.

...

At this point?

It was not innocent anymore.

Your cheeks burned as you laid back in bed. Hand reaching down past the soft expanse of your tummy and pushing through your waistband.

Just thinking of it being him.

König sliding his hands around your body- feeling you. How his hands could envelop all of your arm, the majority of your thigh, how they slid up against your breasts and one hand completely reached around your fragile little neck.

The light squeeze gives the warning to behave.

Pulling you up into his lap, his legs folded at the knee as he leaned back, pulling your back up against his chest just as he had you lifting you off of the ground. Hand wrapping around your neck and the other hand snaking around and diving down.

The single, large digit would dip between your folds and gently tease at your entrance collecting all of the evidence of your excitement, dragging it upwards, and slowly circling your clit.

The sound of his breath, hot and heavy against your ear and neck as his hood would be lifted, just enough for his teeth to graze against the tip of your ear.

Arching your back and releasing a whine, his hand leaving your clit and grabbing hold of your hip. The large hand grabbed hold of the flesh and bone and pulled you back onto him, stilling your movements and proving any resistance against his intentions wouldn't be tolerated.

"Are you going to be good for me, Shatz?" His voice was breathy- husky. Deep as he growled the words into your neck, moving his hand back down to slip a finger into your tight pussy.

"Yes, please. yes, I'll be so good I promise-"

"You sound so sweet." He compliments, before pushing another digit inside of you, hand reaching up and pushing two fingers into your mouth- stretching out to your tongue and pushing down against it holding your mouth open in the process.

You let out a choked moan sound, the heat in your abdomen at the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you- another outstretched and rubbing smooth circles into your clit with he pad of his finger.

You could feel the saliva gathering in your mouth, tongue fighting against his fingers and closing your mouth, sucking on the digits and swirling your tongue around them.

He chuckles, softly but in that deep dark tone that feels as if it's vibrating out of his chest as he removes his fingers from your mouth and leans forward. Attaching his mouth to yours and breaching your mouth with your tongue.

His fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, wet sounds filling the air and mingling with the soft moans of your heated makeout session. Feeling his tongue invading your mouth and pushing up against yours, the feeling of his spit mingling with your own in your mouth.

Pulling your head back, a thick string of saliva bridging off of his tongue into your mouth. Lifting his hand from your pussy he pushed them into your mouth- not even in a gentle manner. Pushing them inside of your mouth and collecting yours and his own spit and pulling them back before pushing three fingers into your cunt.

"a-ah... Ah." You cried out, the feeling of his fingers stretching your pussy open causing a slight burn as he slowly pumped them in and out.

"Doing so good for me. Need to make sure you are ready. Do not want to do the hurting of my sweet little Ärztin, do I?"

You nodded, mindlessly bucking your hips down onto his fingers as he began to pump them in and out with more purpose.

Against your thigh, you could feel it. You were sure of it- his large and hard cock pressed up against you straining against his pants.

Your hand reaches down, trying to grab his waistband but his hand snags your wrist quickly and pins it to your waist.

He tsked, curling his fingers in a way that made little spots of white appear in your vision. Body falling forward as a moan escaped your lips.

"Oh, does that feel good?" He mocks teasingly. She knew that if she could turn around and see his face it would have that snaggle-toothed grin. The evil little glint in his eyes. A monster holding its prey ready to devour.

"Yesss....." You whine out. "I want you, please."

"You do, do you?" He asks, mock innocence as he continues to push and pulls his fingers from inside of you.

"I do. Please König."

You could feel the shuffle of his hand reaching for his waistband, pulling his belt with a metallic clatter and the zrrrt of his zipper. The sound of rustling fabric as his pants were dropped and his boxers pulled down.

He gripped his cock, rubbing the head of it against your thigh and smearing the bead of precum that had accumulated on it. Rubbing the sensitive flesh against the soft skin of your thigh.

His breath shuddered behind you, as he brought his hips back lining his cock up against your cunt and pushing forward slowly.

His hand wrapped around your front, stabilizing you and bringing his finger forward to rub slow circles into your clit as he continued to push his cock into your tight wet hole.

He groaned- in appreciation would be the only explanation as he bucked suddenly, the feeling of his cock raking against your walls sending you into a tailspin.

"Come on soldier, fuck me." You half whined- half ordered.

His hips and breath stuttered before snapping back and forward as one hand held your throat pushing your back to his chest, the other wrapped around your hip and dipping down rubbing against your clit.

"I will, Shatz." he hisses out, pulling himself out completely and thrusting himself back into the base.

The coil in your tummy pulled tight, the sound of your moans becoming higher pitched while his fingers continued their onslaught against your clit.

"You gonna cum? be a good girl and cum on my cock?"

"Yes- yes I'm gonna-"

"Then be a good girl, cum on my cock while I fill you up."

You moaned the feeling of his jacket against the skin on your back, the slight scratch of some kind of velcro on his pants, and the hot feeling of his finger on your clit sending you over the edge. The fluttering walls of your cunt gripped onto his cock as he continued to snap his hips back and forth into your wet pussy, the squelching sound of wet skin and the slapping of his thighs against yours.

He huffed, grunting, then grunting again before removing his hand from your clit and neck. both hands reaching down to your hips, holding you in an iron grip, and pushing his cock as deep as it could as he came inside you.

His body snapped like a rubber band, wrapping around you as his head fell on your shoulder, feeling his chest heaving behind you as he kept his head rested against you and hips pushed as close to yours as he could.

He lifted you, sliding a hand down to your pussy and using two of his large fingers to push his cum back inside of you, fingering your oversensitive pussy in the name of keeping his seed inside of you.

God,

his hands.

You glanced down, staring at your knees and the sound of the bedside lamp making the strange buzzing sound that would keep you up at night if you forgot to turn it off breaking you from your trance.

You sat, ass resting against your calves with your hand dipped down, fingers curling up into your pussy while you dreamed of him splitting you open on his cock. Holding you up by your waist with his big hands.

Two fingers inside of you, what would it feel like if it were his real fingers? The ones you'd inspected so many times. You could imagine the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers-

But his cock?

Oh, that was a mystery you'd remain to dream of.

#König x reader #König x reader smut #Konig x Reader- Hands

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sonamytrash · 1 month

Text

Nothing exciting

❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃

Tags: Levi x Reader, pregnancy, secret pregnancy, Fluff, Krista is a cutie.

❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃

The mess hall was a cacophony of clanging silverware and low conversations, the air thick with the scent of fried onions and meat. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Ymir, Reiner, and Krista sat at their usual table, their eyes trained on you and Levi, who were sitting a few tables away. They had been watching you both ever since they had seen the scene at the stables, and now they couldn't help but wonder how long it had been going on for. The group had spent the better part of the last few days speculating about the nature of your relationship, with each member offering their own unique theories.

There was you, with your playful demeanor and unabashed affection. It was like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stuffy environment. And Levi? Well, he was the strong, silent type; the rock upon which the survey corps relied.

The interactions between the two of you were fascinating to watch. Even the most casual of glances or gestures seemed to carry a weight of meaning that the others didn't quite understand. The way you both would sneak a touch or a quick brush of fingers against each other's arms as you passed one another, was enough to send the more observant scouts into a frenzy of speculation.

Sasha leaned in, her voice low but curious. "I wonder if they've been hiding this from us all this time," she mused. "They've always seemed so close, but I never would have guessed..." She trailed off, lost in thought.

As they continued to watch, Krista couldn't help but smile whenever she saw you both stealing a moment of privacy, or when Levi would blush and avert his gaze at one of your more forward advances. The air seemed charged with an electricity that was palpable even from across the room. Her curiosity getting the better of her, "Do you think they've been dating long?"

Reiner shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hard to say, really. They've always been pretty close. You remember, back when we first joined up? They were inseparable even then." He turned back to his meal. "It would be reasonable to assume they have been hiding it all this time."

Armin, who had been listening quietly to the conversation, piped up. "I heard they grew up together in the underground," he said, his tone thoughtful. "They must have some pretty deep history between them, and their reasons for keeping things quiet, it isn't unusual given the nature of this line of work for them to be cautious."

Mikasa couldn't help but wonder how you must feel during the times when the scouts were beyond the walls. It was one thing to be apart for a few days or weeks, but when the missions lasted for months at a time. The thought made her heart ache for you just a little.

Ymir decided to chime in with a suggestive joke. "There must be something about the miserable bastard that makes her like him. Maybe he's packing." she says suggestively, earning a few chuckles from the others. "You guys are at the stables this afternoon, right? You'll have to tell us if anything exciting happens." She adds, looking over at Krista and Armin.

The mess hall emptied out, and the scouts went about their business. Some to train, others to muck out the stables or tend to the horses.

You were in your element when you were around the horses. You had a way with them that was both gentle and firm, earning their trust and respect without fail. The soldiers looked up to you, admiring your knowledge and your dedication. You were strong, capable, and unapologetically yourself.

Which is why it seemed so unusual when Hange stopped by and told you to be careful around the horses, "Don't push yourself too hard and to make sure to gave the soldiers more work to do." Their words were softly spoken, meant only for you, but they carried weight nonetheless. Krista and Armin overhead the conversation and quickly averted their gaze, looking at one another with the same questionable look. Hearing you insist that you were fine and not to worry. It wasn't long before the captain himself made an appearance, walking straight over to you, his expression softening but still relaying something that only you seemed to understand as you sighed at him, leaving the stables.

After mucking out the stalls and exercising the horses, Krista was keen to hop into the showers. As she turned the corner, she let out a sigh of frustration as she approached the bathroom door, an out of order sign taped to it. Her heart sank. "Great," she muttered under her breath. The alternative facilities weren't as nice or warm as the main showers they would have to do. With a sigh, she decided to brave the less-frequented bathroom at the other wing end of the building.

As she approached the familiar bathroom door, she could hear muffled sounds coming from within. Curious, she placed her ear against the wood, and she heard someone retching violently, followed by the sound of someone vomiting into the toilet. She quickly knocked on the door. There was no reply, so she knocked again, a little harder this time. "Excuse me, are you okay in there?" She asked, concerned.

The sound of the door swinging open made her jump. Your face was pale and clammy, "Oh, hi Krista," your voice soft. "I didn't expect anyone else to be here. The water in here is always cold, you know that, right?" You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

Krista swallowed hard, her heart still racing. "Are you okay?" she asked concerned, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldnt help but notice that you were wearing your casual clothes, and the faint outline of a bump was visible beneath your shirt. Her eyes widened, the conversation between you and Hange at the stables, the captains attitude towards you still doing strenuous activities all made sense very quickly.

You smiled at her realisation, "Well, I'm not feeling my best right now, but I'll be fine." You paused, leaning against the door frame. "And I guess this means the cat is out of the bag." You chuckle to yourself.

"Look, Krista, there's something I need you to promise me." Your voice taking on a gentle but serious tone. "You can't tell anyone about this, you understand?" You gestured to your midsection, your fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt. "My uniform just about hides it for now, I know it won't be long before it's too obvious. But it would just be easier to keep things quiet for as long as possible. You know how it is around here, people talk." You explain.

Krista nodded. "I-I won't say anything, I promise." She bit her lip, feeling both honoured that you trusted her with the information, still completely shocked.

"Thank you, Krista." You reply relieved, "I don't know what I'm going to do. The survey corps isn't exactly known for its family-friendly policies." Your brow furrowed, and you ran a hand through your hair, tugging at the roots as you let out an exasperated sigh.

Krista nodded understandingly, not used to seeing you like this. Her usual passion began to shine through in an effort to be supportive and positive about the situation. A baby was surely a wonderful thing. "I'm sure there's got to be a way to make it work. You're a valuable member of the team. We need you here! and I'm sure Captain Levi will do whatever it takes to make it all work out to-" She bit her lip, hesitant before continuing, realising she had just assumed Levi was the father, confirming your previous comment about how people gossip around the headquarters. "It is Levi's, right?" She asked, blushing furiously, her voice barely above a whisper. Your face lit up, and you smiled at the mention of Levi's name as you let out a small giggle.

"Is it that obvious, huh?" You ask, slightly embarrassed that your relationship with the captain seems to have become common knowledge, you had both done such a good job of hiding it for so long. "That's one of the reasons I need you to keep it between us. You know how he is." You say, rolling your eyes playfully "He can be a real pain about our private life. Hange knowing makes him nervous enough." You chuckle.

Krista smiles sweetly and nods, "How did Captain Levi take it?" she finally asks, her voice curious, the question was burning in the back of her mind and she knew if she didn't ask now, she would never find out. The smaller details and intricacies of your relationship were fascinating to her. Having watched from afar all these months.

You hesitated for a moment, then smiled, it wasn't like you had been able to share this news with many people. "He was... surprised, at first," you chuckled. "But once he got over the shock, he was actually really happy. He's been so supportive, you know? I know he doesn't come accross as the fatherly type, but I know... I know he'll be a great dad." You said affectionately, resting a hand on your small bump. Krista smiled brightly, reaching out to take your other hand and squeezing it lightly.

"Congratulations, that's amazing, really! And a little scary, too, I imagine." She said thoughtfully. "But when you're ready, everyone will support you. Of that I'm certain." She said in an effort to reassure you. You smiled at her "Thank you, Kris. I appreciate it."

The next morning, as the group walked past the stables, Krista saw you sat down, leaving the more strenuous tasks to the cadets, Levi by your side drinking tea quietly, keeping an eye on you no doubt. You smiled sweetly as your eyes met hers, and you gave her a knowing wink. She smiled back at you, Ymir raised an eyebrow. "What was that about?" Krista shook her head, "Nothing exciting."

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