#Yes Will knows how to use a gun no Will would not be a soldier instead of a poet or king be serious.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the youngest Avenger and joining the Thunderbolts*

Thunderbolts x reader

warnings: spoilers!!! blood and guns and death n such u know the drill

a/n: i gave y/n unspecified powers until about halfway through so i just based the powers on an oc i am weak

prompt:

you’d always been the odd one out in the avengers, being the “young one” was not easy

like, you were teens during the battle of new york

sure, you were respected as a valiant hero, one of earths mightiest, but there was struggle in not having many peers to lean on

when you had wanda around, things were a little different—but that didn’t last long at all

then the blip happened, you survived, your world crumbled, and you got everyone back—but nothing was ever the same and it took its toll on you

the avengers disbanded, everyone left went their separate ways and you realized that the avengers, your family, were all you’d ever known

so you found your footing elsewhere, tried to stay in touch with those who you found comfort in. people you could count on

this included sam, clint, and bruce. rest were either preoccupied, plotting less than ethical things, or you just weren’t close with to begin with

“yeah, this kid—kate—she reminds me of you. she’s a bit more clumsy, awkward, and desperate, but it made me think of you…having another young person aspiring to save the world and all. or at least new york” -clint over the phone

“it’s nice to hear, thanks for checking in. hopefully she doesn’t accidentally destroy any buildings like i did” -you

“well, about that—” -clint

you always really enjoyed when they called you first, but no one was calling for your calling

you didn’t know how to not be a hero, it was really fucking frustrating

you were only made an avenger that early on because you had powers, and you were already a public hero. it’s not like you could get a job at a coffee shop, as entertaining as that would be

that’s when bucky called you one day, and you didn’t get close with bucky until steve died. yeah, you helped him out of a bind in germany, but that was about as far as it went. you were just acquainted because of sam

but bucky knew how it felt to be alone, lost, misguided, all that

and he just decided to run for congress

“y/n, i’d like you to be my advisor. there’s no one i could trust more—that would agree to this, that is” -bucky

“are you serious?” -you

“about running for congress or the advisor thing?” -bucky

“both i guess?” -you

“yeah, i’m serious” -bucky “i heard from a mutual friend you were still trying to find your place after…you know, everything. i am, too. so i’m asking you as a friend if you will join me on this path. it could be good for both of us”

and that it was, bucky won the election and you were now being paid decend money to be bucky’s #2. it felt right

you’d briefly been a government employee as an avenger, but now you were a lot more autonomous in a sense

yes, you had a lot of red tape, but it beat that sense of impending doom you had living with the avengers

you and bucky fought to keep new york safe in a different way. fought for the little guy. tried to clean up the system a bit

that included getting valentina allegra de fontaine impeached from her job as the head of the CIA

if there’s anything bucky and you knew about intelligence agencies, they needed to be as clean as possible. or else you’d have disasters like hydra infiltrating shield and secret human experimentation and super soldiers and child assassins. all that good stuff

you backed it, regardless of what little sway you guys had

you gave him a death glare as he was interviewed about valentina’s impeachment and all he could do was say “worrying” 10 times in a row

“we need to work on your public speaking” -you, immediately following his embarrassing comments

“yeah, i know” -bucky

you and bucky lived nearby each other, you relocated to brooklyn following the new job

so when necessary, you’d lean on each other

let me be clear that this is strictly friendship. lightly professional. the teo of you have seen dark days in your own respective ways. you were both turned into weapons without any say. had a hard time controlling it for a long time. made some terrible mistakes. tried your hardest to move up in the world. carry demons with you. misery loves company.

and right now, being new to the office, not a lot of other government officials were fond of you two. there was a lot of distrust.

first, we have the hydra super soldier who’s ledger is running with blood. his slate was wiped clean, but that doesn’t mean the people see him differently. it was a miracle he was voted into office to begin with

then there’s you, the late-20s, early 30s former avenger who was never quite taken seriously due to your youth in the public eye. you were viewed as dangerous due to your powers, as well, and some people feared you two would use your abilities to influence and intimidate

so you advised taking a very gentle approach to congressman barnes, that way no one felt threatened

that was until you and bucky went rogue to bring in valentina’s covert ops team as a last ditch effort to get her impeached

bucky bombing several CIA vehicles? not very gentle

but fun and refreshing? check!

“it’s been a while since i’ve been able to stretch my legs—the suit’s a little tight, though” -you

“you’re still rocking it” -yelena

“aw, thanks! we’re not letting you go” -you

then the rogue assassins and you guys get into it about a guy named “bob” and then bucky gets a call about “bob” its a whole mess. whatever

“okay, looks like we’re letting you go” -you

“hey, i meant it, your suit still looks good! im not even tied up anymore and i’m still saying it!” -yelena

“she’s right, you look awesome” -ava

“yeah, i need to change. my range of motion is severely limited” -you

you guys got to NYC to go confront valentina…at the old avengers HQ

you got a chill down your spine as you arrived

“you good?” -bucky

“yeah, yeah. just a lot of memories here” -you

this was the moment where it clicked for the rest of the team that you were an AVENGER. a real avenger. you were close with natasha. you knew the real steve rogers. you fought alongside thor and the hulk and wanda maximoff. and here you were kicking it with what alexei was calling “the thunderbolts”

“don’t get all misty eyed, we’ve got work to do” -john

lets note that this interaction took place after bucky crashed a commercial sized truck into the lobby, you’d just beaten everyone’s asses, and valentina invited you all upstairs

and there she was at the bar pouring a drink for herself and for just a small moment you saw a glimpse of tony stark standing in front of you again. giving you a smug smirk and asking for your ID before he made you a shirley temple. even after you were of age.

and a darkness overcame you a moment while you stood there. you were in sokovia standing next to pietro maximoff as he laid facedown on the ground. you were perfectly safe, didn’t even notice he was down. you never even realized he was beside you he was so fast. you heard wanda’s screams and you panicked, froze, didn’t know what to do. you were watching yourself go through these motions again.

and then bucky’s hand touched your back and you snapped back to reality, meeting the infamous “bob” for the first time

or as valentina called him, sentry

and immediately you were disturbed, there was something off about his presence

and immediately the team began to attack

you even hit him with a shock as powerful as thor with mjölnir, but he didn’t even flinch

it was futile, he was knocking you guys around like you were nothing

but he had this strange, kind demeanor about him too

once he ripped bucky’s arm off, it was time to GO

you all evacuated the building, a place you once called home, and wandered down the streets of new york. pathetic

and not even five minutes went by before a new form of this guy was literally turning people into VOIDS

“you know, buck, i’m starting to get real tired of shit like this happening in manhattan. this doesn’t happen in brooklyn AT ALL” -you, beginning to attack once again

you were the only thunderbolt with ranged powers—literal thunderbolts, if you will

but that didn’t seem to be doing much

the rest of them were mostly using guns and that also wasn’t working, so this became more of a rescue op

you liked fighting with bucky, it’d only happened three times before this. in germany, wakanda, and the avengers compound

and yelena reminded you so much of natasha, you knew exactly what the next move would be

alexei was…well, he took some inspiration from cap, you could see it you guess.

john walker was difficult. send tweet

he was trying though. you guess.

ava was more of a loner. she kind of reminded you of wanda. you missed her

when you saw yelena vanish, the LAST thing you wanted to do was to do the same

but bucky assured you that you were in it together

he took your hand and you walked into the darkness together

and ended up facing the worst pain of your life

for him: amputation, brainwashing, brutal torture, murder, losing steve

for you: the accident that gave you powers, sokovia, the blip, loneliness, mistakes that cost lives

but you powered through. you got bob. you saved new york. and for you, it wasn’t the first time!

and the moment valentina introduced you as the new avengers, you clenched your teeth and bucky nearly had to hold you back

you agreed to stick together to keep valentina in check, much to sam wilson’s dismay

“oh, hes gonna kill us” -you

“he’s not the only one” -bucky

“oh, my god. clint’s gonna kill me” -you

“eh, barton sees you as one of his kids, i’m sure he’ll give you a stern talking to” -bucky

he did.

you cried.

he gave you a big hug after and apologized for yelling.

and there you were in avengers tower again

just like you were 15 years ago.

“you used to live here, no?” -alexei

“i did. i did a long, long time ago.” -you, about to have a full on meltdown

“that’s great! you can show me around, then. please, show me your old room!” -alexei

he did know how to lift your spirits, for sure

and then there was yelena, who so desperately wanted to feel closer to natasha

“will you tell me a story, please? it would make me feel closer to her” -yelena

ironically, hanging out with yelena made you feel closer to nat

“well, nat trained me a good bit when we joined the avengers. she taught me how to fight, to not depend on my powers, to be a spy, to use weapons. i would be who i am today without her” -you

“yes, that’s great and all, but give me specifics!” -yelena

“okay, she LOVED desperate housewives. she’d make me sit through HOURS of it when we were off-duty. it was a great distraction. when we came back from sokovia and moved into the new compound, she had me on that couch for three days straight” -you

yelena snorted laughing

she also loved to spar with you

in a way, you felt like a sibling to her these days

in the way she was raised, at least

you laughed everytime you noticed a little “oopsie” val overlooked before the full remodel

“oh, my god. i once shocked the microwave while i was half asleep and i shorted out the whole building. this dark mark in the wall is the explosion of the microwave that led to the power outage” -you

“how long did it take to fix?” -ava

“about 10 minutes. tony was thoroughly embarrassed it took him that long” -you

there were also little dents and dings and bullet holes and such, especially it what was formerly the training room and being revamped for an even better one

“the last time i was here was when ultron booted up and sent the whole iron legion in after a party with the avengers. it was actually quite horrific, i thought the avengers were gonna disband right then and there. i thought i was going to be homeless” -you

“jesus, you sure talk about your past a lot” -john

“oh, sorry, would you rather i talk about yours?” -you, semi-threatening

he backed off

you tried to make as many new memories as you could, but everything seemed to remind you of the past

all you knew is the people needed to look up to something and that had to be the new avengers

and to have a former avenger on it? that was good for optics

did it make you feel stuck from time to time? uh yeah, you never really could escape your past

but the congress thing kind of fizzled out

so this was the next best thing

“alexei is calling me, hold on” -you

“y/n! i need directions” -alexei

“okay, where are you?” -you

“twenty third floor. i do not know how you lived in this maze as long as you did! i cannot find anything around here” -alexei

“hang on. you’re lost inside the building?” -you

you’d go to your favorite restaurant in manhattan with bucky sometimes, just to get out of the tower

“so, be honest with me. is this what you want?” -bucky

“i want to feel like i belong. and i do” -you

“because it’s familiar?” -bucky

“basically” -you

you explained that it still was an adjustment. you felt like you were seeing ghosts in a sense

but it was like a do over too

a chance to be the hero you grew up to be, to make steve, tony, natasha, clint, bruce, and thor proud

sam was still a little pissed about it. rightfully so

but making breakfast with bob, training with yelena, drinking with alexei, having heart to hearts with bucky, shit talking with ava, and ignoring john was not the worst thing to happen to you

you heard over exaggerated war stories, had eventful training, shorted out the microwave again, started to give john a chance, found a friend in bob, and more in this new life

and you were always meant to be an avenger, your calling was to protect the world. thats why you guys formed the avengers 15 years ago. so you did it in the name of the family you’d never forget.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[solxamber]

Going to get my driver's licence and now I'm curious. How bad do you think the twst characters would be behind a car?? Cause idk if they have cars in that world or some magic equivalent, but I'm 90% sure almost none of them now how. Like imagine Lillia behind the wheel. He would either crash the car or get you yo your destination with mild injuries. And I KNOW leona sucks at driving that sonnova gun probs doesn't even have his permit.

good luck soldier, hope you pass first try 🫡

leona is canonically good at driving! his liongarb vignette part 2 has him driving everyone and they say it's a surprisingly smooth ride, he's had his license since before he enrolled in nrc!

ooo let's see (these are my hcs)

How I think the twst boys drive:

Riddle

“If you don’t use your blinker, you deserve a revoked license and public humiliation.”

has a laminated printout of the dmv manual in his glove compartment. refers to it. frequently.

stress-mumbles the rules of the road like it’s a ritual to keep the car from crashing

WILL tailgate someone going under the speed limit while also ranting about how dangerous tailgating is

6/10 driving skills. you’ll get there. your spine might not survive the journey, but you’ll get there.

Trey

drives like a dad and acts like one too. snacks in the glovebox. tunes to an “easy listening” radio station no one asked for

makes full eye contact with you while backing into a parking space like it’s nothing. terrifying.

won’t yell at other drivers but will mutter very passive-aggressive things like “oh, nice turn signal, champ”

actually a good driver, but if you’re in a rush he suddenly forgets where the gas pedal is

9/10. safe, boring, you will arrive calmly unless you say something that triggers “dad lecture mode”

Cater

treats every red light like a selfie opportunity. traffic jam? story time.

“oops lol i forgot i was driving”—said as he casually swerves back into the lane with one hand and no shame

will absolutely blast hyperpop or sad girl music at full volume and sing along

uses gps and still misses every turn. rerouting? he’s rerouting his soul

4/10. looks good while driving but he’s taking you straight to the afterlife

Ace

somehow thinks he’s in mario kart. will try to drift. is bad at drifting.

screams “WE’RE FINEEEE” after hitting the curb for the third time

brakes too late, accelerates too fast, thinks honking is just “assertive communication”

if there’s a speed bump he’s treating it like a ramp. bonus points if he makes you hit your head on the ceiling

2/10. he’s the reason riddle has ulcers. do NOT get in the car if you value your life or bones.

Deuce

follows every rule with military precision. 10 and 2. full stops. checks mirrors like he’s solving a crime

“Yes ma’am, no ma’am, I mean—uh, officer! No officer! I wasn’t speeding I swear—” (he wasn’t. he was 5 under.)

will cry if you scream while he’s merging. please don’t scare the boy.

starts off driving like your grandma, then randomly hits you with a tokyo drift moment and doesn’t explain

7/10. either safest driver alive or full menace. depends on how much sleep he got.

Leona

the infuriatingly competent kind of driver who looks like he’s not paying attention, but then parallel parks in one smooth move without even checking the mirrors

arm out the window, seat leaned back, one hand on the wheel, vibes immaculate

doesn’t drive fast, but drives scarily efficient. like you blink and you’re at the destination

will not turn down the music. you are listening to the same remix loop for 45 minutes and you WILL like it.

9/10 driver. good under pressure, hates driving in the rain, will refuse to pick you up unless you bribe him with snacks or flattery.

Ruggie

terrifyingly resourceful behind the wheel. the kind of guy who’ll be like “oh yeah there’s a shortcut” and you end up on a goat trail with no guardrails

speed demon. not by choice. he just doesn’t believe in arriving late. or braking.

eats while driving. talks while driving. does parkour with the car while driving. you pray while riding.

every time he drives you somewhere, you owe him one. including emotional damage fees.

5/10. you will survive. but spiritually? you left your body three potholes ago.

Jack

rule follower. actual golden retriever on the road. if you litter out the window he will make a U-turn to go back and make you pick it up

will not speed, will not honk unless someone is literally on fire, will not change the radio station unless everyone agrees

but if someone cuts him off? feral instincts engaged.

quietly competitive. if someone passes him, he WILL accelerate. you may hear growling. don’t question it.

8.5/10. safe, solid, dependable. would drive you home from a party and make sure you drank water first.

Azul

thinks driving is a power move. like. he paid extra for that quiet engine start just to flex

fully uses driving time to monologue about business deals, plans, or subtle threats. you’re not sure if you’re carpooling or in a hostage negotiation

signals three miles ahead. checks mirrors like he’s being tailed by the fbi. he might be

very good at navigating. if gps reroutes, he reroutes it back. he wins against the algorithm.

9/10, but unnerving. you’re safe, but at what cost.

Jade

why does he have a license. who allowed this.

drives like he’s setting up a prank for someone ten miles ahead

never speeds, but takes the creepiest, emptiest backroads imaginable. says it’s “more scenic”

always smiling while driving. concerningly calm if something explodes. probably listening to classical music or nature documentaries

6/10. legally fine. emotionally? you’re not coming back the same.

Floyd

no one is shocked he passed the test. everyone is shocked he was legally allowed to take it

drives according to mood. if he’s bored, the car drifts. if he’s happy, he’s swerving in rhythm to the beat. if he’s angry? start writing your will.

makes driving sounds while driving. “vroom vroom~ screeeee~” for no reason

WILL throw fries at other cars. WILL try to high-five a biker at a stoplight. WILL unbuckle his seatbelt to “stretch” mid-drive

3/10. you either have the best day of your life or a near-death experience. possibly both.

Kalim

loudest driver alive. music blaring, windows down, shouting "WHEEEE~!" every time he accelerates

constantly turns around to talk to people in the backseat. like fully turns around. while driving.

forgets he’s not in a flying carpet. every stop sign is an opportunity to launch forward like it’s a joyride

someone told him roundabouts are fun so he goes around twice. just for the vibes.

4/10. he loves driving. driving does not love him back. you’re clutching the oh-shit handle the whole time.

Jamil

the only reason scarabia hasn’t been sued for vehicular crimes

drives like a tired single parent with 4 kids in the back screaming about McDonald's

SPEEDS when no one’s watching. you blink, he’s five miles ahead. shadow clone jutsu behind the wheel.

has memorized every traffic light timer in the city. never hits red. it’s… weird.

9/10. efficient, smooth, and will absolutely sigh dramatically the whole time you’re in the car.

Vil

drives a clean car. spotless. smells like luxury perfume and judgment

interior is curated. no trash. no crumbs. one water bottle and it’s aesthetically pleasing.

signals aggressively. like he flips that blinker with intent

will slow down to give you a Look if you’re in the wrong outfit to be seen with him

8/10. elegant and competent, but if you scuff his interior with your shoes, you’re walking.

Rook

who gave him a license. seriously. who looked at this man and went “yes. let him command a machine.”

sings full operas while driving. makes direct eye contact through the rearview mirror. unsettling.

has taken you on backroads even you didn’t know existed. somehow it was scenic.

talks like he’s narrating a wildlife documentary about the local traffic patterns

???/10. is he a good driver? no one knows. he’s just... driving.

Epel

lives for off-roading. doesn’t matter if he’s in a prius, he’s driving that baby like it’s a monster truck

drives like a 90-year-old when vil’s in the car. drives like he’s in a nascar trial when vil’s not

says “it’s fine, I’ve done this before” and proceeds to take a left turn at 70 mph

threatens to do donuts in the parking lot and then does them.

5/10. he’s trying his best. unfortunately, his best involves sick tricks and zero concern for tire life.

Idia

doesn’t.

has a license “for legal reasons,” but he treats driving like going outside is the final boss battle

owns a tricked-out car he never drives. it has led lights, anime decals, and a built-in gaming console. he uses it as a portable man cave

the one (1) time he did drive, he wore fingerless gloves, anime osts were blasting, and he whispered “initial D style” before forgetting which pedal was the brake

2/10. technically can drive. emotionally should not. you’re safer ubering with floyd.

Ortho

doesn't technically need a license but downloaded the entire dmv handbook into his memory for fun

his “car” is less “vehicle” and more “sentient ai-controlled hovercraft with wifi and snacks”

offers in-flight entertainment. like you’re not even on a plane. he just projects movies on the dashboard

drives at optimal efficiency.

11/10. the future of driving. terrifying and amazing. please stop letting him hack traffic lights though.

Malleus

he has a license. he studied for it. memorized the entire rulebook. aced the written.

the problem is: he drives like he's never seen another car before

goes 25 in a 60 because “it is the safest way to protect my precious cargo” (YOU)

stares at traffic lights like they personally offended him

car is some luxury vintage thing that makes no sense. you have to open the door with a key made of bone or something

3/10. you are deeply loved. and deeply late.

Lilia

drives like he’s lived through every era of vehicular invention. he owned a horse-drawn carriage and a tank

owns a beat-up, pink minivan with a custom wrap and dice in the mirror

speeds. aggressively. will swerve into the drive-thru and order fifty mcnuggets “for the road”

talks with both hands while driving. both. hands.

4/10. unpredictable. fun. chaos incarnate. your insurance company hates him.

Silver

good driver. responsible driver.

...except for the part where he falls asleep at stop signs

you’ll be halfway through a deep conversation and he’ll just nod off with his foot on the brake

car is clean, smells like lavender, and has one (1) emergency granola bar in every compartment

very gentle driver. almost too gentle. like “you didn’t feel the turn because he was spiritually aligned with the wheel” kind of gentle

6.5/10. smooth ride, but someone needs to keep him awake with snacks and playlist bangers.

Sebek

shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel.

drives like he’s been assigned to escort the royal heir through enemy territory

yells at everyone on the road. pedestrians, squirrels, YOU—no one is safe from his critiques of your seatbelt position

insists on narrating everything. “SIGNALING LEFT. NOW SWITCHING LANES. REMAIN ALERT!”

the gps is set to his own voice. and you can’t turn it off

2/10. the only thing louder than the engine is his righteous fury.

Grim

that’s a cat.

(he tries to drive. he sits on the wheel. honks the horn with his butt. chews the seatbelt. it's a warzone in there.)

this was so fun to do lmao

[umamaki]

THE SWEETHEART GRIP

one way soldiers kept their loved ones close during battle was by inserting a photo of them under a clear grip of either plexiglass or acrylic on their pistols. this is known as the sweetheart grip.

l&ds sylus x reader

me finding out about anything: how can i make this about love and deepspace... and yes i am american. yes i still don't respect anyone involved in or supporting the military leave me alone.

divider

So... Sylus definitely has a sweetheart grip of you. On all of his guns, actually. And you're not even aware of it.

They're all his favorite photos of you. Pictures of you on dates, selfies you've posted on social media, polaroids he's taken of you after sex.

He's insanely adept at weapons assembly so of coursee all his stuff is custom. Takes them apart, adds tributes of you, puts them back together.

You know he STAYS strapped. Always has a gun on him, always has a piece of you with him. As if your souls are not literally bound together. Whatever. He needs a physical reminder I guess. Can't go anywhere without some sort of keepsake. Keeps him sane.

Likes keeping his weapons clean; never lets your image get bloody, wet, scratched, foggy. Carries around a cloth to wipe away at any imperfections. Would never ruin your picture like that. Spends a modest chunk of his day making sure they're clean to his liking. It's so canon, have you seen this man during the in-game study and work feature even??!

Looks at your pretty picture all the time. Whips out his gun as if it’s his phone. Professional meetings, philanthropy galas, you name it. Intimidates everyone around him in doing so, thinking he's gonna shoot them—not that they would say that to his face—but no. He simply misses your cute face. Just wants a reminder of who's waiting at home for him.

Looks at your picture while he aims his gun at someone's head. Asks himself if this is what you would want. Shoots them anyways lol. Uses his palm to cover your photo as he pulls the trigger, careful to not taint your darling image with his enemy's blood.

You're bound to find out. He doesn't hide the fact from you, doesn't flaunt it either, so it's a while before you do end up finding your face staring back at you whilst looking through his armory.

"Sylus, what is this?" You ask, holding up the pistol so he can see.

"It's you, do you like it?"

"Well yes, I can see that it's me. Why is my face on your gun? And why am I naked in this one?"

"Technically your face is on all of my guns, sweetheart. That one's just my favorite." As if it's the most obvious fact in the world.

"... You did this yourself?"

"Absolutely. Do you not like it?"

"It's not that, but..." he waits, then the last thing he would expect you to say comes from your mouth, "...can you do this to my guns?"

He laughs, booming and robust, "why? You want my nudes on your guns? You must like me a lot, huh?"

It's enough for you to give him a slap on his bicep. "Fine. Nevermind. Don't know why I even asked."

He's still laughing as he pulls you into his body. He tickles your stomach, turning your pout into your own set of giggles, "I'm teasing, sweetheart. You can use as many nudes of me as you want. Shall we begin now?"

He jolts his hips up to your body, catching you off guard. He's noticeably hard now, tent in his pants evident. You get the hint.

“Why wait when we’re already here?”

“That’s the spirit, sweetheart.”

[mushies-stories]

One thing led to another and now I'm a wife to four military men? 18+

141 X F!READER

CH. One: A mission not gone as planned

Chapter one Summary: You were a hired guard to travel with a cargo container. You were not told what was in it or who you were guarding it from, and in the end your team was under prepared and your truck was overrun by a task force. After a misfire the container was shot and mist covered you and a soldier you had been tackled by. The soldier dragged you along with him when everyone began to scatter.

A little about the Reader: Reader is shorter than the guys and has some length of hair, but mostly the physical description is up to yall readers to imagine. Personality isn't anything too extreme one way or the other, but she has an interest in art, and crafting. Creating in general. reader is infertile, because I said so. It's not a big plot point, reader doesn't care. ALSO because I want this to be longer than I've written before, the guys are ‘straight’ for all intensive purposes. I love reading true poly 141 but ima keep it chill, for my own sanity. 

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, poisoned by aphrodisiac, swearing, talk of infertility. Bad accents… also lack of, sorry XD but any pointers on how our boys should sound would be very welcomed! Homies help homies, right?

Word count: 6473

The beginning.

“S’fuckin hot!” The man, your enemy grunts as he pulls his gear off along with his jacket. His mohawk is a mess and his forehead is sticky with sweat. The room you were in was void of everything but the rusted metal chair that Soap took and an old desk that he pushed against the door. You sat on the floor and against the wall across from him.

You roll your eyes. “It's because of you we’re even in this mess.” you weren't doing much better than him. You were both affected by the unknown toxin and he had only managed to make it to a dingy basement with you before it all became too much to keep walking. His team was waiting for the all clear and location from him before moving in.

“Me? If ya had just surrendered then i wouldn't have’ta tackle yer ass.” he scoffs back. “By the way, yer a terrible fighter.” Soap adds. Petty you think. 

You take off your vest and jacket with a huff, the heat getting to be too much. The wall felt cool against your back as you leaned on it and you savored the feeling. “Because I'm not even a real soldier, I've had very minimal training in combat.” you admit. Soap looks at you a little confused. You roll your eyes. “I was hired to watch the cargo mostly, I'm not half bad with guns. I work for an outside source. Meaning I'm basically of no use to you, I have no information, and can we just not talk?” you add with a bit of a cheeky smile. The best one you could muster up under your conditions. 

You settle into a mildly uncomfortable silence. Your body is too hot for the wall to have helped for long. You close your eyes and lean your head back, willing whatever was taking effect to pass.

“Did ya even know what was in that cargo?” His voice disrupts what little peace you were managing to get. 

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Amazing.”

You open your eyes to look at him. “What?”

“Yer a little dumb aren't ya?” He snorts. 

Your eyes narrow a little in irritation. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

Soap pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Ya take a dangerous job from people ya barely know anything about while barely knowing how to take care of yerself? Sounds pretty dumb to me.”

You weren't sure why but your body seemed to react to seeing him so bare. Your own body still felt impossibly warm and your pussy fluttered at the sight of him. You let out a soft huff and try to clear your head, whatever toxin you both inhaled must have been potent. “I've done just fine, I'm good with a gun.” you tell him, trying to defend yourself. 

Again he snorts a laugh. “That so? Because from where I'm sitting ye dont look like yer in the best position to be talking.” he points out. He was right, you were now unarmed and your body and mind were both being affected by some sort of toxin. “Besided, I don't know about ye lass, but i'm startin to think whatever we took in was an aphrodisiac.” he says. 

You look at him, eyes widening. “How do you assume that?”

Soap leans back in the chair, legs spreading out a bit and looking at you through half lidded eyes. “Because the only thought running through my head is ya being stuffed full o’my cock.” He says bluntly. 

A look of shock spreads across your face, your body however has a different reaction. You could feel how damp your panties were starting to get. “I think that's just your problem.” you try and lie, try to ignore the truth of the situation and the way his gaze was making you feel. Even mostly clothed you felt exposed to him as his eyes wandered around your body. 

He raises one brow and a smirk plays at the corner of his lip. “Tha’so bonnie? Body isn't hot, ya aren't feeling yer pussy getting all wet and needy?” He wasn't just teasing you, he was taunting you. 

As hard as you try, his words still have an effect on you. He was right, your mind is being flooded with thoughts of him. You couldn't just give in to those thoughts though, right? You don't respond in words, instead you shake your head and avoid looking anywhere but his body. Not like his face was any better to look at. He was good looking and had the most entrancing blue eyes. A chill runs up your spine and the dampness between your legs grows. 

This isn't helping. 

Now he was smirking. “Sorry lass but m’not sure I believe tha,” he chuckles. “Bet yer pretty pussy is aching just as badly as my cock.” Your eyes flicker to his crotch where there was indeed a bulge. Your mouth practically started watering at the sight, mind flooded at the thought of how stuffed you'd be. “See, eyein it up.” your eyes snap back to his, embarrassed of your own actions. “Wishin it was fuckin yer little pussy bonnie? All ya gotta do is ask.” he asks, voice huskier than before. One of his large hands came down to press and message at his cock, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap needed you, but he needed you to need it just as bad. He might be a killer, a soldier, but he had respect for women and this toxin was not working with his morals. 

You clamp your legs together as you take in the whole sight of him. You could barely handle the growing ache in your core anymore, ignoring it was becoming impossible and he knew what he was doing to you. He could see it in your face and your body as you begin to rub your thighs together. “I can't do that…” you try to explain but a heat wave crashed into you and your breathing began to pick up a bit more.

“C’mon lass, ya know I can help. Let me make yer pussy feel better, I'll take care of ya.” he tries to reassure you he means it, he doesn't want to hurt you, but he knows you both need this. You can't help feeling uncertain and it shows. He lets out a soft sigh, he doesn't blame you, he was probably intimidating no matter how much you pretend to be as tough as you act. “Soap, can call me soap, I'll make sure no matter what yer taken care of, alright?” He says with a softer smile, a reassuring smile. 

You nod slowly, accepting his obvious call sign. “Y/N.” you tell him, figuring using anything but your real name was pointless. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Soap says, smile widening ever so slightly. He liked the sound of your name on his tongue. Lazily he undid his pants and slid his hand under the fabric, watching you as you thought about what he said. He groans softly when he starts to slowly pump his cock, his eyes fluttering a little as they stay focused on you. You can't help but watch his movements, his pants even loose seemed to be straining his cock. He must be big and you assumed pretty thick, if it's anything like the rest of him that is. “Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods and huffs softly. “If wha ya say is true, ya were just fer hire yeah.” 

The feeling between your legs was quickly becoming unbearable and you couldn't think of anything else to do about it. Slowly you stood on shaky legs, using the wall as balance before taking the few steps across the room to Soap. He pulls his cock out and adjusts his pants so you have a good view of everything. He was big and thick, a few thick veins trailed up the bottom and sides and it was leaking precum already.

“Alright lass, take off those bottoms.” He instructed. Your eyes trailed up his body and back to his face. You didn't sleep around, and the times you have it was never any good, or special. Your brain was still trying to fight your body's urges. Soap could see the conflict on your face. He reaches a hand out and pulls you closer by the hips. You let out a startled gasp and reached out to hold onto his shoulders. “There we go, I got ya.” Soap says. His fingers do quick work with your buckles and buttons and you are free of the damp fabric. 

He glanced up at you when he noticed your underwear. Definitely not military approved lace. You roll your eyes and yank them down yourself. “Shut up, it's not like anyone normally would know.” you say as Soap guides you onto his lap with his hands on your waist. You're placed right on his cock and the feeling of your dripping pussy makes you both shutter a little at the contact.

Again he chuckles. “Guess it's my lucky day.” he teases. He's a little goofy you realize. It helps make you feel a little less nervous, that maybe under normal circumstances this wouldn't be so bad. You don't even realize it when your hips start to shift and grind down against his length. Your mind seemed to have fogged over momentarily, the feeling of his warm cock being the only thing you can think of. “Feeling good dove?” 

you're brought back to reality and halt your movements. If you weren't already so warm you knew your face would be shining bright red right now. That new nickname didn't sound too bad coming from him either you think. “Ye-yeah, I mean… i did-”

“Shh, it's okay.” His smile is kind when he looks at you, but the look in his eyes shows you that lust has taken over. “I'm gonna lift ya and I want’ya to guide me in, can ya do that lass?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” you hum with a nod. With one hand placed on his shoulders for support he wrapped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up. You reach a hand down and slide your fingers down his length and it makes your pussy flutter. 

“Ready?” He asks. You give him a nod in response and line him up with your dripping cunt. “Good girl.” he praised. 

He took a lot of care in how he held you and once the tip of his cock was pressing against your entrance he was gentle when pushing in. As much as he wanted to pull you down and have you take his whole length right then, he wouldn’t. 

You couldn't hold in your gasps and breathy moans. He was making you feel so good so easily, you wanted him to fill you up, wanted him to keep stretching your pussy on his thick cock.

The sounds you were making as he filled you up inch by inch were like music to his ears and encouraged him to keep going until you were finally at the base of his cock. “There we are Dove, properly stuffed with my cock.” he says, looking down between your bodies and admiring your pussy. His eyes stayed trained on your slick core as he pulled you up a little, cock twitching at the sight of sliding in and out of you. “Tight little pussy, gripping my cock so perfectly.” He groans as he sets a slow pace, rocking you on his cock while you hold onto his shoulders and try to stay focused. 

You almost felt like a toy as he effortlessly benched your body. You didnt mind that much, the need to be filled and fucked heavily on your mind. It wasn't long before you were craving more, needing him to go faster, make you really feel him. Your eyes flutter when you look into his. “M-more, please.” you managed to get out.

Soap shuddered at your words, the way you looked at him with such pleading eyes. “Fuck Bonnie.” he groans. His grip on you tightened before he started to move you faster. You hold onto him just as tight, nails slowly digging more and more into his skin the better it starts to feel. 

You held your voice as much as you could in case someone was still in the area. While soap would have preferred to be able to hear every sound you could make, he knew better as well and settled on what he was able to get. Soaking in your breathy moans and sharp gasps, the feeling of your breath creeping closer to his neck. You had to wrap your arms around his neck the harder you were slammed down on his cock. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting closer to snapping with every thrust. You found it hard to keep your voice quiet so you pressed yourself into soap, moaning into his neck and clinging to him. 

Your actions cause Soap to smirk a little. His cock was throbbing and precum mixing with your own juices, all of it making him feel just as close to his own release. “Gunna cum for me bonnie?” his voice was deeper, close to your ear and it made you shiver. You shake your head and a whiny moan escapes you. Soap responds with a low moan of his own. “C’mon then, make a mess dove.” he encourages. 

His words and a few more thrusts were all it took for you to come undone. Your pussy squeezed his cock as you covered his cock in your slick. You did all you could to hold back your sounds, using the crook of his neck and shoulder to mask most of it. All of it hitting Soap's ears and pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Your pussy taking his cock so well and your pretty little sounds were perfect to him. “Need to cum Dove.” he warns you and slows down his pace, letting you ride out the last of your high. He can't help the desperate moan when your pussy flutters at his words. 

Your thoughts are instantly filled with thoughts of his cum filling you up, how good it would feel. They fuel a new desire and another ache in your pussy. “Cum, like this.” you say softly, just loud enough for him to hear. 

His cock twitched. “Ya want tha bonnie, want me to fill ya up?” he groans, picking his pace back up. 

“Need it, n-need you please.” you whine. Your pussy was dripping, making a mess of his lap and pants and you didn't want to waste time explaining that it doesn't matter, you wont get pregnant. You were close to the edge again, pussy fluttering around his thick cock and you needed to feel him cum. “Please cum, need to feel you cum.” you babble.

Soap was focused now, focused on feeling every inch of you. Marveling at how it feels having you take all of him. “Fuckin perfect pussy, gunna be good and take my cum?” Your response was a needy mewl and your nails digging into his back, sure to leave marks. Soap reacted by slamming you down on his cock as he came. His hands moved to your hips to hold you there while he grinds up into you. 

Your legs shake and your pussy flutters, Soap fills your senses, his low groans and his cum filling your pussy. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you cum again. You're both lost in a haze of pure pleasure, you rock your hips in time with his now slow and gentle thrusts. Slowly you caught your breaths. You figured that was it, his cock wasn't as hard anymore but there was still something, you could still feel a dull ache. One that only grew when you focused on the way his cum was leaking out. When he was about to lift you to pull out you couldn't hold back a displeased whine.

Soap chuckled softly and settled you back down. “Like my cock tha much bonnie?” he asks, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You pull back and look at him with half lidded eyes. Slowly you rolled your hips, gasping a little when you felt his cock twitch. “Fuck, this is some poison.” his cock was already getting hard again, filling you up and fogging his brain all over again. He hooks his hands under your things again and stands, lifting you while keeping his cock snug in your pussy. He brings you to the desk and lays you right on top, leaning over you to get a view of your face. “This time I want to see this pretty face when ya cum dove.” he tells you before sliding almost all the way out just to slam back into you. You have to throw your hands over your mouth to suppress the yelp you let out. 

With his hands holding your hips in a firm grip he doesn't waste time being so gentle this go around.

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

You weren't sure how long the poison lasted, or how many rounds you went by the end. Hell you don't even remember the end, it all became a blur and at some point you had passed out. True to his word, Soap did make sure to take care of you. At least in the sense that you had woken up in a decent looking hospital bed dawning a hospital gown and not in an interrogation room. Your body was still sore a day and a half later but it's nothing you couldn't handle. Having become dehydrated in your previous state, you were hooked up to a drip bag. 

“Looks like ya weren't lyin lass.” Soap familiar voice causes you to snap your head to the doorway, you were lost in thought, trying to piece the events after you blacked out together. He was already back in uniform and roaming around and here you were still stuck in a hospital bed rehydrating. Soap closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. He grabs the empty office chair and and sets it next to the side of your bed and sits down

“Told you, there was no reason for me to.” you state, pulling the blanket up a little more over your lap.

“That ya did lass, never doubted ya either.” He says with a stupid grin. “Love the dress by the way.” He teases with a nod to your attire.

You roll your eyes and ignore the sudden reaction of butterflies. “So what now, what's going to happen to me?” you ask simply.

He eyes you for a moment and you try to stay as confident as you could. “Tell me, what is it ya want, lass?” he asks. You look at him with a raised brow, confused. “Yer job, is this what ya want’ta be doing?” he asks, tone becoming more serious. 

You blink a few times, thinking about what he's asking. What benefit knowing the answer would be to him. You shake your head slowly. “No, not really. Just kind of got stuck in it.” You admit. It was true, you never cared for the job, just the money you got from it. “Why?” you ask.

You don't know why you were feeling so anxious, but him being this close again made your skin warm a little. “Why do ya keep at this job then?” Another question. 

You tilt your head a little, trying to figure him out. “Money, it pays… well.” you tell him. “What's the point of these questions?” you were starting to get a little irritated. 

He smiled then, the stern facade wiped away. “Well Bonnie, I was thinking maybe I could make ya an offer, if you’ll hear my proposal out.” He waits for you to object and when you don't he continues. “My mates and me, we've been looking for a lass, someone to be ours.” he begins and watches your features as he explains. “Think ye’r what we're lookin for Bonnie.” 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. “What are you talking about? You want me to be a whore for you and your “mates”, that's it?” you were offended and it showed. 

Soap shook his head. “No, not at all. I mean…there's four of us, and it's difficult for us to maintain relationships because we go on long missions. But we thought, maybe if we find someone who would like’ta  be with all of us...” He tries to explain better, he was starting to become uncertain, a little shy even when he realized how it was starting to sound. “Really didn't mean any offense Bonnie, ya also happen to be aware of our jobs, and the struggles that come with it and that might be somewhat beneficial.” he adds, trying hard to save this conversation. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I know it was because of the poison, but I can't stop thinking about ya lass and I think the others would feel the same as me.” He confessed.

You feel your face heat up at his confession. You take a moment and process what he's saying. “I guess I understand, but how exactly would this all work? ” you ask.

He smiles a little, seeing that you aren't as angry now. “We have a nice home we all got about a year ago when we decided to do this. ya can do whatever ya want to it. We will take care of ya, whatever ya need, won't hav’ta worry about anything.” Soap smiles when you don't look totally disgusted at the idea. “Ye’ll be our girl.” He adds. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, like a puppy actually. 

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing a little. “Can I at least meet the others first, before deciding to sign my body over?” you ask, a little sarcastically.

Soap chuckles. “And yer heart Bonnie, don't forget that.” he jokes. You give him a small smile in return. Okay, he was maybe a little charming, in a dorky kind of way. “Sure ya can, I'm sure our captain will be by eventually anyways. Did make him a little curious when I wouldnt stop talkin’bout ya.” he admits sheepishly. 

You're sure after this whole conversation your face was a few shades redder than it normally was. “Of course you did.” you say, rolling your eyes again with a chuckle.

“Wait, not like that… well a little, hell Bonnie.” he chuckles nervously. “Just talk to Price, yeah, he’s our captain, hear him out and if yer still interested we can set up a little meet and greet.” 

You look at him, trying to look for any malicious intent but either he was a really good actor, or he meant it. “Alright.” you answer simply with a short nod.

He gives you a genuine smile. “That's it, I'll see you later then dove.” Setting the chair back in its rightful place he leaves, after one more look back with a goofy grin before shutting the door again. 

That brings a small smile to your face. He was nice you thought, maybe even a little funny. Were you really going to consider being, what, a girlfriend for hire for a group of military guys? You think back to your little accident with Soap. The thought makes you want to rub your thighs together. Though you were grateful he didn't bring it up just now, you dont think you're ready for that conversation just yet. But that was him, you didn't know who the other men where you would be with. The logistics of everything was confusing. 

Then there was the future, did they mean to keep you around forever, or would you be tossed out after a while? What kind of future were they looking for, maybe they wanted kids and to be like a normal family. That was something you couldn't give them, at least not naturally. You were told by three doctors a few years ago you were infertile, no fault of your own, just happens sometimes. You weren’t too upset at the news, adoption was always an option along with others, and if you didn't have any that was alright by you too. But did four men feel the same as you?

You let out a sigh and turn the tv on to find the least boring show you could and attempt to clear your mind. A rather hard task when memories from your time with Soap keep popping into your head. You think over the offer, you'd be lying if you said your interest was peaked. It's not like you really cared for your current job anyways, it was just a means to an end, but what was the end? Would they really take care of you? 

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. After a while the tv manages to grab some of your attention.

A couple of hours go by and you've gotten the iv finally taken out and were given something to eat, though you only ended up eating the fruit cup. You were told to sit tight and someone would be in to discharge you. You settle in and let your mind relax a little, focusing on the tv drama you found that was already half way through the series. After a while your peace was disturbed by a knock on the door.

Starting to feel anxious again you let out a huff and prepare yourself, you didn't know if it was a doctor or Soaps captain. You mute the tv and face the door. “Come in.” 

The handle turners and you knew who he was the moment your eyes saw him step into the room. “Y/N? I'm Captain price.” He greets you with a smile and closes the door behind him. He was dressed similarly to Soap and he was older than you and Soap and definitely had the ‘aura’ of a Captain by just the way stood.

You nod in response and motion to the chair for him. “You can sit if you want.” you offer. You felt even more awkward being in a hospital gown now. You didn't know what to say, this kind of situation was never something you’ve had to deal with before. 

“Thank you.” he places the chair next to the bed and sits. “I assume you know what this is about?” he asks.

“Yes.” you answer simply, trying not to show how nervous you really are. 

“I can answer any other questions you have, if you'd like.” He begins. “I know what we are asking is not very conventional, and I would hate to put you in any uncomfortable situations.” He explains.

You take in what he says and gather your thoughts before responding. “Would… would we all like, share a bed or something? Also what about money, and a job? Do I have to find a new one? How is this all going to end? And wha…” you stop, realizing you were just blurting out every thought you were having. 

Before you could dive too far into self pity due to embarrassment, the Captain surprises you. He laughs, nothing too extreme but enough to have him tilting back a little in his chair. “That boy really didn't do a great job explaining, did he.” He says, more as a fact than a question. “First, you, like the rest of us, will have your own room. That doesn't mean you only have to sleep in your own bed, you are allowed to choose wherever that is.” he explains with a knowing look in his eye. Even with something implied what he said did help your nerves a little. “As for money, so long as you don't destroy our banks, you will be taken care of. Money to do with as you please and you can ask for anything. You can work if you want, though we would prefer it to be close to home, coming home to you is a big part of the deal. That seem okay to you?” He asks. 

Soap did say something along the lines of being taken care of. You wouldn't have to work, or you could. “How do you know I'm right for all of you? What if the others dont like me or we don't get along? I'm not that attractive, you don't know anything about me.”

The captain gives you a soft smile. “Well we don't expect you to be on board right away, it is a lot to ask someone to decide in one day. I was thinking you would come stay with us for a few days in the house, get to know everyone and all that. As for how you see yourself, I can promise you, my men will prove you wrong, if you let them.” he offers but notices the look of hesitance on your face. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to love. We understand what happened between you and Soap, it wasn't either of your choices. While it is what led us to you, it was not the only reason. Soap saw something in you and really pushed for this, can't be without good reason.” he tells you. “You have every right to say no whenever you want and we will respect that.

You nod along to his words. Becoming a little flustered at the mention of Soap and you. The thought of him talking about you like that made your heart skip a beat. Your mind flashes to who the other could be, were as nice as Soap and their Captain seem to be, would you get along with the others? “Could you tell me a little about the others maybe?” you ask, voice quieter now.  

“Of course.” John says. “Their names are Gaz and Ghost. Gaz is our pretty boy, as much as he pushes my buttons. He's a good lad, kind, caring, all of that. Ghost, well he seems big and scary, wears a mask more often than not but he's really not all that scary.” he spoke of the others fondly, warmth written on his face and you smile a little at his descriptions. 

However you can't help but notice you haven't been told any of their first names, it's all been what you assume is a call sign. “Am I ever going to know your names?” you ask, raising a brow.

He chuckles. “Of course love. Ghost will be back tomorrow and I thought we could do a proper introduction then? Ghost is a little more private about himself than the rest of us, but if you just give him a little time he will warm up to you.” he explains. You go to ask one another question but stop yourself, not sure how to bring it up. The Captain notices and gives you a soft smile. “What is it, love?” he asks.

You glance down at your hands a moment before facing him again. “Kids, I can't have them.” you tell him rather bluntly.

“Do you want kids?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I mean, I can't say one hundred percent no… but I'm not upset that I can't, I can always adopt ya know and… I mean.” you take a short breath and gather your thoughts. “If that was something you all needed, a child, with me, I can't do it.” You explain.

“It doesn't make a difference to us, love, we knew our family would already look different when we decided to do this.” you can't help but be a little shocked. “We are looking for a partner, and what you want or don't want matters.what we need is for you to be happy and healthy.” He leaned in a little and eyes never left yours as he spoke.“As for an end? I can't say what will happen in the future for certain, but our goal is forever if we can have it.” He speaks with a look of sincerity in his eyes. “So Dove, what do you say, come stay with us for a few days?”

Warm, your cheeks felt warm and your heart was beating faster. Something about him made you want to trust him, he spoke so gently to you, not something you expected from someone in his profession. You look at your hands as you think, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. Soap was funny, and nice and you already knew what sex with him could be like, and if the others are as good as those two seemed to be, why not? You take a short breath and nod once. “Yeah… I think I'd like to give it a try.” you say, glancing at the man through your lashes. 

You could have sworn your heart skipped a million beats when a brighter smile spread across his face. “Glad to hear that love. I think you’ll like the place, and I'm sure with your touch added it will feel even more at home for all of us.” He says with a nod and stands. “Would you mind waiting here just a bit longer? I have some paperwork to finish up before we head home.” He explains. 

You give him a small smile. “Yeah that's okay, I've got my drama to finish anyway.” you joke, nodding to the muted tv that was still playing your show. 

He chuckles. “That's right, just a bit then.” 

With that he places the chair back and takes his leave. You unmute your show and try to focus back on the story, a task easier said than done however. Your nerves are all over the place and at the same time you are filled with anticipation. So many different thoughts coursed through your brain, making you question your decision. Could you be risking your life, or were these men actually normal, good people? If they are, will they really take care of you, would you get to live with all of them?

You replay your conversation over and over in your head and it comforts you a little. The Captain seemed so genuine and sincere when he spoke. Even Soap was basically a gentleman when he stopped by. You thought for a second about running out, hospital gown and all but quickly dismissed that idea. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath and slow exhale. 

Your moment of clarity is interrupted by yet another knock on the door, this one just a little softer. 

“Come in” You call. 

One of your nurses, Jackie, you think, entered with a black paper bag. It almost looked like a gift. “This is for you, someone dropped it off, there's clothes in it.” She tells you while setting it on the bed beside you. “Guess you won't be needing to make a fashion statement with a pair of scrubs.” she smiles. “I also have some release forms for you to sign.” she adds, handing you the clipboard and a pen. 

You chuckle and smile back, taking the board from her. “As long as it's not this stupid gown, I'd take it.” you joke and scribble your signature where it was needed and handed it back.

She snorts a laugh and nods in agreement. “Very true, well you have a safe trip home, glad you're feeling better.” 

“Thanks, and thank you for bringing the clothes.” she smiles and nods before disappearing, closing the door behind her. 

You reach in the bag and find a plain black shirt, blue jeans and a black hoodie. Under those were a few pairs of socks and… you pause a moment before picking up the panties. Red lace. You roll your eyes while your cheeks turn a shade of pink. Soap was the one who went out and got you these clothes, and being a cheeky bastard about it too. 

You roll your eyes and grab a pair of socks. Once you got them on you slid off the bed and threw the rest of the clothes on, ready to not feel so naked around everyone. They fit well enough, the hoodie was a little big but comfortable. You sit in the chair to put your boots on, loosely lacing them. 

Your eyes snap to the door at another knock. “Bonnie, cn’i i come’n?” Soap calls from the hallway. 

“Yeah!” you shout. 

He smiles when he sees you finishing up your laces. “Hope the clothes are okay, I wasn't sure what yed like.” A small smirk appeared on his face, “well, mostly.” he teases.

You glance up at him with a raised brow. “Like a teenage boy.” you mumble, still loud enough for him to hear. “But yes they are, thank you. Definitely better than scrubs.” you say.

Soap feigned being hurt at your remark but ignores it. “Pretty bonnie like yerself would make anything look good, so ya have nothin to worry’bout.” 

You chuckle and shake your head. “If you say so.” you try not to let him see how his comment  has managed to fluster you. 

“I do.” He said proudly. Then his phone beeped. He fished it from his pocket and took a quick glance at it. “Looks like we're all really to go, ya got yerself all together, lass?” he asks. 

You stand with a shrug and look down at yourself. “Yeah, I didn't really have anything with me but my clothes.” you felt that same nervous feeling begin to bubble up again. This was it, you were going to try this with them. 

Soap crinkles his nose. “Both our clothes got thrown out, promise we didn want them back.” he informs you. 

You mirror his expression as you cross the room, stopping in front of him. “Yeah, probably right.” you agree. 

For a moment he looks you over. “Well, we’ll make sure to get you more clothes, take you shopping if you'd like, and whatever else you’ll want or need too. For now though, let's get you home so you can have a good night of sleep.” He smiles and opens the door for you. 

You looked from him to the door, that same nervous feeling began to bubble up again. This was it, you were going to try this with them. It took you a moment before your legs started moving, but a cloud of excitement grew and sat right beside the swarm of nerves as soon as you stepped into the hallway. 

You weren't going to turn back now, or at least not yet. You wanted to go with them, to follow Soap and see what this life could bring you.

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

🍄 Thank you for reading!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[bunnyreaper]

captain mactavish's reputation precedes him, and yet standing before you as he does now, you can't help but wonder if something got lost in translation. 

soap is a riot once you get him going! he used to be even wilder, if you can believe it.  always was up for a laugh as a sergeant!

the man before you looks a little grizzled with age--stubble growing out to a beard, face smeared with black warpaint, and yet beneath thick brows, his blue eyes still sparkle despite his glower. handsome though, still incredibly handsome--which in your mind, is a problematic trait for a captain to have, especially one commanding you. 

he chats away to one of his sergeants, seemingly unaware of your presence on the periphery. assignment to this task force is only temporary, you reassure yourself. facing the captain's offensive good looks and intimidating demeanour will last a couple of weeks at most.

taking a breath, you step forward, just outside of the circle of captain mactavish and his sergeants. all eyes fall to you, but his are the ones you can't tear your gaze from. he seems to scrutinise you for a moment, cerulean eyes flickering up and down your form.

"you on ma team?" his voice isn't what you expected, and his accent is delicious--you know you're capable of remaining professional despite it all.

"yes sir." you chirp back instantly, obediently--hoping to not get on the wrong side of your newfound crush. 

he nods once at each of his soldiers, dismissing them before turning and heading in the direction of the nearby truck. it takes a moment for you to process before your legs catch up to your thoughts and you start following the captain. 

"keep up then lass, let's go." he calls over his shoulder, before stopping at the passenger side door. 

it's strange how he opens it for you, watching with intense eyes as you pull your gun into your lap and sink into the seat. captain mactavish takes the driver's seat, and quickly gets the car going down the dirt track.

your thoughts start to flood back to you now you're settled in the truck and have a few moments to think before you really need to get your head in the game. 

was the captain not expecting your assignment? it was rather rushed, even taking you by surprise. you'd only just had the chance to ask around about the captain before you were on the next flight over. perhaps you should introduce yourself properly. 

"i'm--" 

your words are cut off before you can even get out your name. "i ken who ye are." he says, voice a little deadpan and jaw a little tight--it makes your heart fall in a way it certainly shouldn't. 

the whole situation just left you perplexed. it seemed captain john mactavish definitely contained multitudes, and the gruff man you saw before you was what you would get while you were out on the field. 

"then why did you ask if I was the one on your team?" you ask, determined to not fall silent lest the atmosphere suffocate you. 

the captain throws his hand over the back of your seat, eyes meeting yours only briefly before he checks the view out of the back of the truck and starts reversing at speed. 

"jus' wanted to hear ye say 'yes sir.'" 

he glances back to you as he jerks the car around. a smirk tugs at his lips, and then he throws you a wink as you finally get to see that playful side you were promised. "sounds so pretty coming from yer mouth, doll." 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The House Guest 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Summary: an old acquaintance calls in a favour, leaving you with an unexpected house guest.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“When I said I owed you,” you whisper and look over your shoulder. 

“Talk as quiet as you want, he’s got super hearing. Can’t even squeak out a silent but deadly with this guy,” Sam chuckles. 

“Wow, that’s gross,” you crinkle your nose. 

“I can be a nasty boy.” 

“Not better,” you give him an apprehensive look as you face him. “I saw him on the news.” 

“Hey, I was there too,” Sam chirps. 

“I know that but...” 

“He got a bit trigger happy. We’re just waiting for things to blow over. He needs a calming personality.” 

“So not you,” you retort. 

“No, not me. I’m into choking but not by him,” he snickers. 

“I can hear you,” the man leaning on the car hood snaps back as the sucker in his mouth hits his teeth. 

“Oh, I know,” Sam shoots a finger gun in his direction. “Also, he’s giving up smoking so he’s a bit testy.” 

“No, I spent eight hours in a car with you so I’m pissed off,” the grumbly sidekick hurls back. 

You look between them. Sam Wilson, the new Cap, superhero, avengers, comedian, and Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, assassin, and... mystery. You should refuse. You owe him but that much? A near-fugitive in your house? 

“Sam, I don’t exactly got a guest room,” you cross your arms. 

“Look, if the dame don’t wanna take me, don’t twist her arm,” Bucky sneers and bites into the sucker, scraping the stick with his teeth. “I can figure myself out.” 

“That’s what you said before the explosion. I’m not falling for it again, man,” Sam shoots back and shakes his head. He puts his hands on his hips and faces you. “You’re not just doing a service to me, but to America.” 

“Yes, okay, but this is Canada.” 

His eyes drift in realisation and his lashes flutter, “right, but we’re allies.” He looks at you again and smiles, “I thought Canadians were nice.” 

You roll your eyes. “Goddamnit. Fine.” 

“Like I said,” Bucky approaches, “I can go somewhere else. I don’t wanna be a burden.” 

“It’s not you,” you assure him. “There isn’t much space, that’s all. If you’re fine with that, so am I.” 

“I told him, it’s not a big deal,” Bucky huffs. “But he insists.” 

“I have to insist. I’m the Captain now.” 

“You keep saying,” he turns on Sam. “So why don’t you get that shield and we’ll see if you’re really up to that title.” 

“Alright, alright,” you step between them. You’re not a fan of conflict. Sam knows that and that’s why he brought him here. “No need to argue. You got a couch,” you look at Bucky then turn to the other man, “and you have a long ride home.” 

“Wait, you’re kicking me out?” Sam says. 

“If you stay any longer, I won’t stop him. I said he could stay, I said nothing about mediating whatever this is,” you wiggle your finger between them. 

Bucky snorts. He’s just as bad as Sam. They seem to only know how to goad the other.  

“Fair. I mean, you don’t want this guy getting any grumpier. He’s already such a treat,” Sam smirks. 

“Enough, I just told you,” you wag your index at him. “Well, nice to meet ya,” you turn and offer your hand to Bucky, “welcome to Canada.” 

“Thanks,” he says, though you can sense him staring down the other man. 

“Sam, have a safe trip. You need water or anything for the road?” You offer over your shoulder. 

“Nah, I think I’m good. A nice ride home alone. With good music. Think I’m set.” He cackles. 

“You wouldn’t know good music if it shot you in the face,” Bucky growls. 

“Dude, go get your bag out of my car,” Sam snips. “Good riddance, is what I say.” 

“Drive safe,” you shake your head as you walk toward the house. “I was in the middle of something.” 

You climb the porch steps and leave the inner door open as the screen door snaps shut behind you. Out of sight, you stop to shake off the adrenaline. You only realise then how the unexpected rival stirred you up. You weren’t ready for Sam but especially not a houseguest. Still, the only reason you have this place is because of that man. You can do this. 

You take a breath and go back to the kitchen. If Sam trusts Bucky, you can too. You’re not one to welcome in strangers, especially men, but this is different. And even if he asked, it wasn’t much of a choice. 

You wash your hands and dry them before pushing your sleeves back up. The striped button-up isn’t exactly your Sunday best. You add breadcrumbs to the bowl of raw beef as you hear footsteps on the porch. The door opens slowly and gently hits the frame. You listen to your guest as he sighs in the entryway. 

The house is small. One-floor, a single bedroom, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen with a small dining table that doubles as your workspace. It isn’t much, but it’s yours. And it’s history. Your family’s. 

You sense him hovering just outside the doorway. You glance behind yourself and hang your hands over the brim of the bowl. You still need to chop the veggies but that can wait. It isn’t his fault Sam decided this would be the balance in the scales. 

“Let me show you around.” You cross the kitchen as he peers through.  

His beard is dark, his hair overgrown and pushed back behind his ears, and tugs at the bottom of his denim jacket. He looks skittish as you approach. He has a duffel bag in his hand. 

“Look, sorry if I came off short. You know how Sam can be,” you say. 

“I do. He assumes a lot,” he mutters. 

“Sure does. So, like I said, it’s not a big house. Kitchen here,” you point over your shoulder, “living room behind you, bathroom down the hall and the bedroom. There’s a back door. Yard’s bigger than the house.” 

“Got it.” 

“So, you’ll have to camp out on the couch but good news, it’s from 1987 so it folds out,” you squeeze by him and lead the way into the front room. 

“Beats a full barracks,” he comments. 

You nod and peek over at him. “Guess that makes sense.” 

He sniffs, “thanks. Really.” 

“Again, not too much,” you gesture to the room. “I gotta finish the meatloaf.” 

“Think I can handle it,” he affirms. 

[prettyboypistol]

How to Seduce the TF2 Mercs

Scout

Pay attention to him. Give him genuine compliments and honest feedback. He wants to feel loved and like he's worth someone's time.

Kisses and physical affection. Mans thinks about the time you put your hand on his shoulder for weeks.

Just say you love him, man. He's been overlooked his whole life.

Soldier

Take him seriously- don't belittle him or make jokes about how he views the world. He knows he's a little crazy but he is genuinely trying his best to make the world a better place.

Defend him!!! If someone shit talks him, punch that motherfucker in the jaw!!

Honest discussions with you asking a lot of questions, take the time to get to know him and you'll have a defender for the rest of your life.

Pyro

Much like with Soldier, defend them and take the time to get to know them.

Gifts, gifts, gifts!!! Give them gifts!

Be a little flirty ;> don't baby them! Treat them like the adult they are!

Demoman

Bro just ask to fuck. He'll probably say yes.

He loves a bold mf that knows how to take what they want. Come on to him, buy him a drink, and ask if he's got any company for the night.

If you're going for something a little more long term, just remove the sleeping aspect. Just say you're interested in getting to know him you'll most likely get a date and see how things go.

Engineer

He's a sucker for practical use gifts (i.e. mechanical oil, a new wrench, etc) or sentimental gifts (photograph of you two, love letters)

Call him handsome! Call him pretty and a gentleman! Appeal to that cowboy energy and treat him all respectful like and you'll definitely catch his interest.

If you're not the type to do all that song and dance, go the opposite route. Stump him with a logistic problem and tease him about it. He'll nonstop think about you for months and bitch about you to his sentries.

Heavy

Mikhail likes hotheads and determined people, someone who's not afraid to fight if the situation comes to it.

Ask him about general things and slowburn that mf about nice conversations until you two can talk about personal things.

Ask him to help you clean your guns! Ask him weaponry questions about what would suit you better in the field!

Medic

GET THIS MAN SOME ORGANS. GET HIM SOME FUNDING!!!! get him a lil lovebirddddd

Take the time to get to know his birds and if the birds like you, Medic automatically likes you more.

Take an interest in his medical discoveries and his life! He's a prime yapper and wants to t a l k. That's why he never shuts up when doing surgery.

Spy

Romance him traditionally, to be honest. Keep it classy and court him like the romantic he is. Roses placed in his locker, prime dinners delivered to his door, BE A ROMANTIC ABOUT IT.

If you can't dance, ask him to teach you "for a mission" (He will know that you're the one behind all the flirtatious gestures bc he's SPY)

Butter up that man like he's a piece of toast. Handsome young man who captured your heart and holds it hostage. Classy gentleman that could get away with world domination with gorgeous eyes like that.

Sniper

Don't come on too strong, he's a bristly one. Be calm and casual. Hit him with that friends to lovers.

He's more of a tough nut to crack and insecure of if you actually like him, so be sure to flood his mind with ambiguous hints when you think you see signs of him showing interest in you.

To really seal yourself in his heart, spend a lot of quality time with him! Go camping, hunting, fishing, driving, anything that gets the both of you alone and quiet.

[justiceiscalling]

wild opinion i know people will hate me for: i strongly dislike alfred pennyworth. i know what you’re thinking, “how could you hate him! alfred does no wrong!!!”

(loud incorrect buzzer) WRONG. omg, alfred can only do wrong in my mind. he is such a fucking enabler and then he wants to play devils advocate. recently, before starting ‘what the future holds’ i reread robin 1993—specifically tim’s birthday arc.

if you don’t know what that is i’ll tell you. on tim’s sixteenth someone delivers a package which is a holographic message from a future-alfred essentially telling him someone in the batfam is, like, evil, and trusting him to figure it out. eventually it’s revealed that the message was a test, part of bruce’s training, and ‘future’ alfred was actually just current alfred. it was a really good read, i believe it was issues #116-120.

point is, alfred WILLING sided with bruce on that shit. alfred was not held at gun point, his life was not under any threat, he was asked to assist and he. did. that. shit.

and after he had the audacity to be apologetic! ‘i’m so sorry master tim’ like no tf ur not???? like u did this, you allowed him to feel like everything was HIS responsibility and like he couldn’t trust anyone. which is just so fucked up on another level. he watched tim isolate himself and beat himself up over trying to solve this and he?? just?? let?? it?? happen???

and some how he can do no wrong?????

when tim first became robin, who gave him the suit? i’m pretty sure it was alfred. yes, tim was a relentless little kid—but that’s just that. he was a fucking kid, no older than thirteen. alfred gave him the suit. sure, it was to save bruce, but why did it have to be him? why couldn’t he call dick or superman or, hell, go out there himself? why’d it have to be the nosy ass neighbor?

also when bruce and dick used to beat the shit out of each other alfred didn’t do anything. he lowkey just let it happen. like how much is bruce paying bro for him to let that slide?

ALSO ALSO i would love someone to correct me on this, PLEASE tell me i’m wrong, but wasn’t alfred the one who put up the good soldier memorial? everyone hates on bruce (who, in a lot of ways, is a bad father) for that memorial being up but it was alfred. and i get he was but jason wasn’t just robin, he was so much more. and most importantly, he was a son. i know things were rocky for him and bruce but, god, that’s his son! like what the genuine fuck, yk?

and maybe this is only in some iterations but alfred literally influenced bruce to train to be a vigilante. he trained him when he was young, after his parents deaths. and yes, he was another one of those relentless kids, but there were things alfred could’ve tried to stop him from doing this.

what i’m trying to say is, im so fucking tired of this ‘saint alfred’ BS. he’s in the wrong! maybe not all of the time but a lot of the time. and i don’t know if that ‘jason loves alfred the most!’ thing is fanon or canon but either way i hate it. if you’re going to make bruce a bad dad, if you’re making jason and bruce’s relationship rocky, then alfred can’t be the exception. he should be held accountable as much as bruce.

like, if jason loved alfred so much and saw him as a grandfather, why isn’t he pissed at alfred for not killing the joker. sure he wanted bruce to do it but after bruce didn’t, why didn’t alfred take it into his own hands? alfred has no problems with killing people who deserve it. he was a soldier for crying out loud!

if jason and alfred are as close as fanon claims then jason should be beefing with alfred as much as he does with bruce for not avenging him.

okay, this turned into a rant about jason and alfred’s annoying fanon relationship but you get my point.

i don’t hate alfred, i hate fanon alfred and i hate this fandom and how they love to hold bruce accountable for wrongs that lowkey could be alfred’s fault too. and i also hate that’s it’s so hard to dislike alfred because people will yell at you for it. in my fics i try to keep him as out of it as i can because god forbid i make him how he is in the comics.

alfred is a flawed character—just like bruce and jason and tim and dick and damian and duke—and that’s okay! it’s better when they’re not so one dimensional, it makes them way more interesting as a character and also allows fanon to create perfect character development over the span of long ass fics that i love to binge.

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[iamthatonefangirl]

whiplash - nsfw winter soldier

disclaimer: uhh lowkey free use i'm ngl... so fully consensual although not explicitly stated. pre-established relationship. dark themes. read at your own discretion.

in my stories, the winter soldier is like an independent contractor and doesn't work for hydra ok. and his only name is james. plz humor me ok plz

~~~

the speed at which he grabbed you was sure to give you whiplash.

one second, you're sitting on the couch staring at your phone. the next, he's got you shoved against the wall, gripping your arms tightly behind you. you barely maintain your balance as he kicks your feet apart.

"rough day, huh?" you grit, although your voice is rough from the breathlessness of being grabbed and pushed so suddenly.

"shut up," he bites.

you turn your face to the side, letting your cheek press against the coldness of the drywall. you don't say anything else, but his demeanor says it all. clearly, something bad happened. not that he would ever tell you about it.

he presses his face close to yours where you're slightly turned towards him, resting his forehead against your temple. it's the only sense of closeness you think you're gonna get this round.

he breathes heavily into your ear as he smooths your hair over your opposite shoulder with his metal arm, then continuing to rest his elbow against the wall while seemingly petting your hair.

you can feel him grinding himself up against your lower back. damn him for being so tall, you think, but in situations like these where he has you caged where he wants you?

fuck, you love feeling him tower over you, reminding you of his power, his strength, all of it.

"fuck, James-"

"no," he growls into your ear. he pulls his head back briefly to look down at where he's got your arms pinned behind your back, before leaning into your ear again.

"here's how this is gonna go," he begins. "you're gonna stay right there, and you're gonna let me have my fun, you got that?"

you nod as best you can with your face pressed into the wall.

"what was that?" he questions.

"yes, sir," you correct yourself.

"good," he bites, before pulling both of his hands away to unbuckle his belt. you're pretty sure he's still got all of his gear on, not having taken off even his boots. which means he's still got all his guns and knives on him.

fuck, that's hot, you think.

he takes the belt and maneuvers it around your wrists, trapping them in place. you can feel the slight burn where the edges of the leather prick your skin, but you're absolutely not complaining.

your body moves easily with every movement he makes, adjusting without hesitation as he places both hands on your hips to pull them back, jutting your ass out while your head and shoulders stay pressed up against the wall.

he proceeds to push both your pants and underwear down and off so he can keep you spread to his satisfaction.

and when his fingers press themselves inside you, you're shocked at how wet you already are from practically nothing.

"that's right, that's a good girl," he murmurs into your ear, clearly reading your mind.

you know he can't actually read your mind, it's not an advantage that comes with being enhanced. but sometimes, you really get to wondering how he knows how to get you so riled up and how he makes you feel like you're on ecstasy.

he fucks you on two, then three of his fingers for what feels like no time at all before he's pulling back to rid himself of his own pants.

"stay," he reminds you. as if you would do anything to piss him off further right now. he pauses.

you nod your head again, giving him the go ahead.

he brings both hands to your hips once more before pushing himself in to the hilt. it always takes your breath away with how fucking deep he can get, you're not sure how your body can even manage-

you lose track of your thoughts as you let yourself just feel the way he takes you so roughly up against the wall, taking what he needs from you. you're happy to let him take out his frustrations on you anytime.

you don't hold back, letting out every moan and whine that comes to your lips, begging him, fuck, don't stop, don't stop...

he would live here, if he could, between your legs. fucking die for your pussy. kill any motherfucker who tried to come between you and him.

you can feel him getting sloppy, hear his grunts turn into soft whines. you begin to fidget, trying to encourage him to just move his hand, rub your clit, make you come-

he doesn't like that.

"told you... to take it," he heaves. "means you're gonna wait." you let out a soft cry, to which he responds by biting down on your neck.

you can feel the bruise from the bite forming as he finishes inside you.

you begin to whine as he pulls out of you and you feel his release dripping down the inside of your thighs.

his hands come back to your hair, pulling it behind your back, then grabbing hold of your bound hands by the leather of the belt around them.

“think I should leave you like this. bound and dripping.”

you whine at hearing that. he can’t, please no–

he chuckles low and deep in his chest.

“don’t worry, baby. got a lot more plans for you yet.”

~~~

ok sorry i thought of this while taking a quiz but i hope u liked it

masterlist

join my tag list

tagged:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan

[cupidsworstcrime]

teehee hey @goatgoesmbe i said 20 minutes, it is here in 30 minutes, sorry its late pooks

Gaz x Reader

You’d never seen Gaz like this before. The calm, collected, almost annoyingly confident man you were used to was nowhere to be found. Instead, you had him at your mercy—his breath ragged, his hands trembling as they gripped at your body like he was trying to hold onto something solid in a storm.

"Fuck, I didn’t mean—sorry, fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse as his lips dragged along your neck. Every word was punctuated with desperate, almost frantic apologies. "I didn’t think I’d get this—fuck. You feel so good."

He didn’t even seem to care anymore that he was a complete mess, that his usual composure had completely shattered. His mind was elsewhere, overwhelmed with the sensations of you. His hands gripped at your hips, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you, like every inch of your body was some sort of lifeline he couldn’t let go of.

"You sure you want this?" you teased lightly, knowing full well the effect it had on him. His reply was immediate—so needy, so uncharacteristically desperate.

"Yes, yes, please—god, don’t stop," he begged, his forehead resting against your shoulder. His breath was hot against your skin as he continued, muttering under his breath like he couldn’t stop even if he tried. "I’m sorry for everything, fuck... I shouldn’t have been such an asshole earlier. You’re all I can think about, please... I’ll make it up to you. I swear, I’ll make it up to you."

You could feel him twitch beneath you, the effort to keep himself together clearly taking all his focus. His usual arrogance had been replaced by an almost feverish need, his body moving against you in a way that was equal parts frantic and reverent.

"Please," he whispered again, voice barely above a rasp as he looked up at you with dark, pleading eyes. "I’ll do anything... fuck, just let me show you how much I need you."

It wasn’t just a sexual experience for him; it was like some sort of religious experience, like being this close to you was something sacred, something he wasn’t prepared for but couldn’t live without once he had it. His hands tightened on you again, his grip shaky but possessive. "I swear, I swear I didn’t mean to act like that, I—I’m sorry for everything. Just don’t leave me."

His words faltered, and he kissed you harder, more desperate than before, as if it would somehow make up for the mistakes he had made. You could hear the apology in every kiss, every touch, and it was all so real—raw, vulnerable, and undeniably Gaz.

He was a man who didn’t beg often. But for you? He was begging like he was losing everything, and it was exactly what you wanted.

"God, you're all I can think about," he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with need. "Don’t stop, don’t ever stop."

He was a mess, a babbling, begging mess—and for the first time, it was exactly what you needed.

You stirred beneath the sheets, sore but buzzing, your skin still tingling from everything that had just happened. The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the fan and the distant beat of your heart still trying to slow itself down.

Kyle sat at the edge of the bed, back turned, head in his hands.

He hadn't said a word since it ended.

You watched him for a moment, studying the tension in his shoulders. That perfect soldier stance, the one he defaulted to when he didn’t know what else to do. And fuck, he didn’t know what to do now.

You shifted, the sheets rustling, and his spine straightened like you’d just drawn a gun on him.

“Kyle,” you said gently.

His head dropped lower into his hands with a groan. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you crawled closer behind him, arms circling his waist. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he bit out. “I’m supposed to be the one in control, and—fuck, I was begging. Crying. Like a—” He stopped himself, but you could hear the self-directed venom in his voice.

“Like a man who felt something,” you finished for him. “Like someone who trusted me enough to fall apart.”

“That’s not how this is supposed to go,” he muttered, still not facing you. “You’re not supposed to see me like that. I’m supposed to have you crying. Not the other way around.”

You kissed the back of his shoulder, slow and grounding. “I liked seeing you like that.”

He gave a dry, bitter laugh. “Course you did. Got me down there sobbing on your chest like I’m some fucking rookie. Can’t even look at you.”

You slid your hand up his chest, fingers grazing his throat, gently pulling his head back until he was forced to glance over his shoulder at you.

“I don’t want a robot, Kyle. I want you. The man who goes feral for me and apologizes halfway through fucking because he’s so deep in it he forgets what planet he’s on. You can cry all you want. Doesn’t make you any less of a man. Especially not to me.”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenched. “…I wanted to wreck you.”

“You did.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he said under his breath.

You smirked, pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. “You made me cum three times.”

He blinked. “...Wait. Three?”

“Uh huh.”

A long beat. Then, very quietly:

“…Still embarrassing.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled him back into bed. “Then you’ll just have to fuck me again when you’ve recovered your ego.”

He huffed. But he curled into you anyway.

[oceantornadoo]

love is a family business ch 1 (mafia lawyer!john price x mafia princess f!reader)

masterlist | next

follow and turn on notifications: @tornadoowarning

The thing about working for your family is that you don’t get a say, in well, anything.

“I still don’t understand why we have to do this.” You mutter, eyes stuck in a glare at your conversation partner, who just shrugs. “We need outside counsel to go legitimate, Dove. You know how tricky the Shadows can be.” You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Your cousin, one of your family’s soldiers, likes to talk to you like you’re on the playground, toddlers arguing over toys. Always uses that nickname you hate - Dove. A trait he only shows with people his own age, never the higher-up bosses. 

“I get that. What I'm saying is, why Price & Partners? There are better barristers to go to.” Not to mention less overbearing, but you keep that bit to yourself. “It’s what Uncle wants.” You almost sneer at how he uses an informal title to refer to your father while talking down to the same man’s daughter, but you restrain yourself. “Ask him yourself, he’s your dad.” The linchpin to the problem - no one can stand up to you dad. You sigh, shaking off the instant regret that weighs itself on your shoulders. “You better have gotten the sister. I do not want John Price.”

John Price is in your office, caressing the spines of your books like he has the right.

“You’re in the wrong office. The Division for Pompous Assholes is downstairs.” You greet him with a glare, leaving your office door open in a clear message. He doesn’t receive it, another fault of John Price.

“You’re as cheery as ever.” Price replies, eyes flashing with contempt. He settles into one of the chairs in front of your desk, eyes flitting about as he takes in the office you never let him see. A bookshelf full of financial and self-help books takes up most of the wall, with your comfort reads hidden between tomes of theories and market analyses. Plants fill in the gaps, spots of green brightening the grey walls of your office. The visitor chairs are purposefully uncomfortable, dug out of the building basement when your father insisted that chairs were necessary. You prefer the couch off to the side, thrifted from your favorite discount furniture store that you know would be looked down upon if your family knew. It’s light brown, cushy with artfully bright throw pillows and perfect for a midday nap when you have the rare time. The desk takes up the rest of the room, dark wood to match the shelves and your name plated in gold.

Price taps the name plate with his finger, letting it vibrate on impact. You clear your throat in an attempt to go straight into business, but he gets there first. “Almost a real businesswoman.” Your eyes roll, unbidden. “Like you’re part of such a stand-up firm.” You bite out. When he shifts in his seat, you’re willing to bet your entire fortune that it’s because the gun in his waistband is digging into his spine. 

“Heard you’re trying to go legit.” Price replies, ignoring your question completely. Relieved to get down to business, you shuffle the folders left on your desk, trying to find your report. 

“Yes. The forecast I made-” 

“Surprised your daddy is letting you entertain this.”

Your head snaps up fast as a whip. “Surprised your sister let you come here all alone.” You retort, venom on your tongue. The invisible scales of your argument, tipping towards Price, suddenly straighten to a perfect balance. Your feathers ruffled, you straighten your shoulders and produce your calculations from your folder, setting the packet in front of Price. “Read it.” His calloused fingers brush the top of the paper, touching the spot your fingers just deserted. It feels strangely intimate, like he’s tracing the mark you’ve made. Your eyes meet, searing as something unknown and unspoken passes between you two.

“I-”

“Dove!” Colin, your secretary, knocks frantically at your door. He’s one of the few non-Made men that work in the building, paid more than he’s worth for his silence. “Your father needs you.” Colin reports. Price smirks at you. There’s practically a bell ringing in the distance, signaling he’s won this round. 

“Make an appointment for the next time you visit, Price.” You order him as you gather your things hurriedly. He grunts in the way that acknowledges your statement, but doesn’t agree with it. You make a grab for the report on the desk, but Price snatches it before you can grab it. “I’ll read it.” He explains gruffly. Shocked, all you can do is nod before leaving him there, staring at your desk.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Colin as you speed walk down the hallway. Your heels click rapidly, belaying your rising anxiety. Colin knows not to interrupt your meetings, which means this has to be important. “You know they don’t tell me these things.” Colin mutters. Despite his job, you’re around the same age, so he lets you nudge his shoulder in indulgent informality. 

“Be glad you don’t know. If everything works out, maybe we’ll be able to get more people like you working for us.” You reply, injecting forced cheerfulness into your tone. There’s already tension in your shoulders as you near your father’s office, on the opposite side of the building from yours. For a reason, so you don’t hear stuff like:

“Where the hell is my daughter!”

Your father’s voice reverberates through the walls of the building, echoed shortly by the sound of a pounding fist against a desk. You stand in front of the door, steeling yourself as you breathe in and out. One, two, three. You push through.

“There you are.” And there he is, in all his glory. Your father is standing, a hulking beast entrapped behind a mahogany desk. “Hello, Father.” The Chairman, boss of one of the major crime syndicates based in London. His hair, cropped close and rapidly graying in the past years, belays how frustrated he is. Its usual gelled stature has been interrupted, with a few strands laying this way and that. You’ve never seen him this out of control of his physical appearance, a sign that something is very wrong.

“Everything okay?” You ask timidly, a necessary change from your whip smart banter with Price. Father shakes his head, and a pit forms in your stomach. “Twenty dead. Thousands of weapons stolen. They took one of the MacTavishes, Charlie.” Your heart stops. The MacTavishes are one of your closest aligned families, known for supplying contraband items like weapons or documents. Charlie’s like you, determined to make something right out of all this wrong. He helped you prepare your report on going legitimate, using his extensive family connections for input on Scottish gangs with legitimate businesses. It’s symbolic that they only took him, when you know for a fact his brother Johnny was there as well.

Once a crime family, always a crime family. There’s no notion of leaving, of becoming a real company. A warning, written in blood.

“Who died? Is Johnny okay? Do they want a ransom?” You sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk, fingertips playing with the fabric of your slacks. Now more than ever is a time you wish for another sibling. One with the same violent tendencies of your father, ready to hit back with war plans rather than questions. Being an only child, and a girl at that, puts you at a clear disadvantage in the life you live. The disappointment in your reaction is written clear on your father’s face, forehead wrinkles crinkling as he purses his lips.

“Not important. You’re here for another reason.” You furrow your brows in confusion. His face is one of stone, purposeful to keep you in the dark. These days, he’s your Chairman much more than your father. Days of walking hand in hand, visiting your mother’s grave and laying down flowers, all fade to distant memories. “What do you mean?” Another timid question, another exasperated facial expression. Instead of answering, he sips from the glass tumbler in front of him, the dark liquid in it most likely being scotch. He swallows silently before answering.

“They’re targeting you. Words leaked out you’re the one who wants to take us legitimate. Your competence isn’t a secret anymore.” He’s referring to the strategy you formed together long ago. Keeping you out of the spotlight, letting you go to college in America to keep your intelligence under wraps. A picture perfect image of a mafia princess, innocent and unknowing of the blood on your family’s hands. Less safety issues for the heir if they think you’re useless, and probably not the heir at all. There’s been illusions to one of your distant cousin, Kyle Garrick, taking over, all while you’ve been prepping for years to hit the families with a force they’ve never seen.

It all assumes that you want this life, this blood on your hands.

A dangerous assumption to make.

“So what are you thinking?” You know better than to offer your own opinion. By the way he’s restraining himself, you’re sure Father already has a solution. He encouraged your education and your project, but there’s been an itching feeling that it’s all been to keep you distracted. To work up to whatever finale he’s planning to end these attacks.

“Marriage.”

Marriage?

It’s not like you’ve never heard the word. The timeline you formed for him years ago has clearly been abandoned. Marriage wasn’t planned for at least five more years, once the both of you decided which allies you could trust. To abandon the plan is a show of how desperate he is, how little he cares for your opinion. How little he trusts you.

“Father, I don’t understand.” You bite out. It’s the most you can show of your reaction without revealing your weakness, the shakeable wrongness of your position. Your hands sweat and you resist from pulling on your collared shirt. “A wedding, You. The Shadows and all the other families will have to be there. The perfect time to strike.” Father smiles when he says it, like he’s glad to commit mass murder on the day of your wedding. In hindsight, it is a good plan. Other than that and a funeral, there’s no other kind of event that will get all the families in one place. Your family, The Family, can pat them down and leave them weaponless, shooting ducks in a barrel. So why do you feel so apprehensive? Words escaping you, all you can do is nod for him to continue. 

“It’ll need to be to a family that isn’t directly part of the Outfit, one that won’t take weeks to negotiate. One that we can buy.” You’re glad to be sitting as your mind spins, dizzying questions of who and when and how floating around like a carousel. Your father seems to have no qualms with selling you off to any bidder willing. It’s clear he means to bring another exterior family under yours, one who won’t object as much as an enemy family like the Shadows or the Graves. Joining with them would be opening up the Family’s weaknesses for all to see. And God forbid the wedding didn’t go through, not to mention how evil the potential husbands might be.

You should be thanking your lucky stars that he wants to marry you off to a supplier or a smaller ally.

Should.

“Do I get to have a say in the selection?” You murmur, resolute that any outright protests will be met with a silent glare. You have no bargaining chip, and the freedom of your love life is worth being able to continue making the Family legitimate. It has to be.

“If you have any strategic suggestions.” Translation: don’t suggest someone you would actually want to marry. Although, there aren’t any names on that list either. In an attempt to paralyze him with too much information, you start listing off any names you can think of. “Well, there’s the MacTavishes, of course. Johnny, the twins, and Ben are all unmarried, though I’m not sure if they’re dating anyone.” A snort bursts from your father. You’ve already made a mistake - unmarried relationships aren’t taken seriously in lives like yours. It’s like a tax filing, single or married. You blame the insanity of the situation on your slip of tongue. Plus, while the MacTavishes are some of your favored suppliers, they’re already extremely loyal and wouldn’t bring anything to the table.

“Nikolai-” 

“Be serious, daughter. This isn’t a game. Someone who would give you an heir.” He’s referring to the unspoken relationships between Nikolai, heir to a transportation fortune, and countless male socialites back in Russia. Licking your lips, you contemplate how much longer you can skirt past actual candidates. By the tone in your father’s voice, you’ve run out of chances. Speed is the only card you can play.

“Dean Griffen.” Gun manufacturer.

“West Finnigan.” Explosives expert.

“Blake Massey.” Drug supplier.

“Theo Volker.” House of the Lords, but Made.

“John Price.” Mortal enemy.

“Lee-”

“Stop.” You look up, cheeks warming from the embarrassment of having suitable suitors memorized. Part of your job, but it feels salacious now.

“The Prices just got hit with a government investigation for evidence tampering. Something about pissing off the Graves.” Father says, almost to himself. He starts typing away at his computer, and you desire to throw it to the ground. Price was a stupid name to mention, a zero probability of an enjoyable marriage. Your game, usually both tactical and strategic, has gone out the window. “If they’re being investigated, shouldn’t we stay away? It wouldn’t look good, especially with Kyle being considered for appointment to the House of Lords.” A stretch, since you’re third cousins, but a plea all the same. Father shakes his head sharply and your heart stops. “Not if we can pull some strings. They’ll be in our debt. Kate will be desperate to keep her assets from being seized.” Finality threads through his words. You start to shake your head, one last effort.

“Father, please, I can’t marry John. He’s horrible. Give me a day and I can find you more names.” Your voice wavers at the end, begging him to remember his daughter and not just his heir. For a second, there’s a glimmer of hope. His eyes soften minutely. And then, it’s gone.

No.

“This is your duty to this family, daughter. This is what you’ve been preparing for your whole life. You do this, and I will consider your proposal to be legitimate.” A thousand butterflies erupt in your stomach at his last sentence. A chance to have your work listened to. To get rid of the guilt that haunts you every corner, knowing how many innocents get caught in the crossfires of what they do. Maybe, if your plan is successful, he’ll allow you a divorce or an annulment. Uncommon, but not unheard of. Hope. 

“Deal.” You stick your hand out for a handshake. There’s a moment when you don’t think he’ll take it, but eventually you feel his weathered hand in yours. When’s the last time they embraced? A goodnight forehead kiss or a hug after a long day? Years ago, before your mother’s death, surely. When Father squeezes your hand, it feels like pride in your business demeanor. You pull away and straighten your shoulders. It takes two steps for you to open the door to your future.

“Colin!” He’s down the hall, waiting patiently for you. “Yes?” His blonde eyebrows knit in confusion at your summons. You’re not usually so authoritative with him, but you don it like a shield in preparation. “Go find Price and tell him we have a business proposal for him and his sister. Make sure you emphasize the urgency of it.” Colin nods and speeds off, his leather work shoes clacking on the granite floors.

Married to John Price, the son of a barrister empire.

The one thing you know is you won’t be changing your last name.

The rest is up to your family.

[howi99]

A Knight second chance 9

Blake: *glaring daggers at Jaune*

Ren: ... Jaune, what did you do?

Jaune: *shrug* I stated the obvious. *Point to the cat ears* It's not like she even TRIED hiding her identity. *Doing a little wave at her, with a smile*

Blake: *looking furious*

Ren: ... But why the antagonisms?

Jaune: If i told you it keeps her from thinking about running away from here, you'd believe me?

Ren: ... Does it have anything to do with what happened at the docks?

Jaune: ... No?

___________________________________________

Team RWBY: *arriving at the docks after Blake was "forced" to explained her backstory to her team*

Blake: What the-

Jaune: *speaking with one of the White Fang which is already in handcuffs* Oh don't get me wrong, i don't like the SDC one bit, but-

Ruby: *perplexed to see her friend here* Jaune?

Jaune: *turning to see them* Oh, hey gang!

Yang: *looking at the bunch of White Fangs being arrested by the police* What... Happened here?

Jaune: *shrug* They tried stealing a shipment of Dust. And hey, i'm the first person to say that the SDC suck-

Weiss: Hey!

Jaune: *smiling* Weiss, your father is the main reason why Vacuo is dirt poor. And they refuse to send dust to Menagerie.

Weiss: *pointing at the faunus on the ground* Because of them!

Blake: *frowning at Weiss*

Weiss: *rolling her eyes* The terrorist, not the faunus.

Jaune: *taking a pamphlet from his pocket* Actually, the embargo debuted BEFORE the White Fang was even a thing. So it's totally because of segregation, Weiss.

Weiss: B-but-

Jaune: *cuting her with a smile* Anyway, that's not important for now. What's important is that the situation was de-escalated and that nobody was hurt.

Blake: How!?

Jaune: ... I called the authorities? *Shaking his head* Blake, they are civilians, not trained soldiers. Heck, it wasn't even hard to explain to them that if they cooperated, they wouldn't be tried as terrorists, but as thieves.

Black: *who had a "perfect" speach ready* Uh!?

Grunt: ... He also knocked out most of our heavy hitters while WALKING to them with a smile. And we were shooting him! So uh... Yeah, we aren't dealing with that.

Yang: That's badass.... *Smirk* And frightening.

Jaune: *Sigh* It also hurts like a bitch. *Chuckle* I wouldn't recommend it. *Picking up one of the guns* The only reason it worked was because they were using subsonic ammunitions of 9mm.

Grunt: *sigh* The guy, Roman, said it was for discretion. If it wasn't of that, we would have been fine.

___________________________________________

Ren: You did steal her moment, no?

Jaune: *shrug* Meh, it's not like that's going to be the last time... Also, duck.

Ren: *perplexed* Duck? *Get hit behind the head by a creampie Blake tried to throw at Jaune* !?

Silence in the cafeteria

Nora: *jumping on the table* I'LL AVENGE YOU! *Throwing a fish at Yang by mistake* Oops...

Yang: *her semblance activating with a grin* FOOD WAR!!!

___________________________________________

Velvet: *under a table with Coco and Russel* You want Coco expertise?

Russel: Yeah!

Coco: ... Your team did bully V, why should i help you?

Velvet: *frowning* Coco, Russel's a good guy. And even the rest of his team aren't really that bad. *Sigh* Cardin was mainly angry because the white fang kept attacking his mother's store.

Coco: ... *Sigh* You are too good, V. *Looking at Russel* What do you want?

Russel: W-well, i-

Dove: *taking cover* Oh, hi you Velvet. You were still interested in coming to the arcade with us?

Velvet: *smiling* Hey Dove and yes! But i was wondering if my team could come?

Dove: Don't see why not. *Cardin falls next to him* Hey big guy, Velvet wants to know if she can bring her friends with her to the arcades?

Cardin: *shaking off the food from his head* Uh? *Looking at Velvet with a slight blush* Oh uh, yeah, sure. *Picking up a plate as a shield, going back into the melee*

Dove: *looking for a "weapon", picking up a breadstick and following his leader*

Coco: uh... They do seem a lot nicer. *Looking back at Russel* So back to my help.

Russel: *picking up invitations to a nice restaurant from his pocket* W-well i was planning to ask my girlfriend out, but i don't really have anything nice to wear and-

Coco: Say less, i'll help you out.

Russel: *smiling* Thank you! Now if you excuse me *picking food for the fight* My team needs me! *Leave the cover to follow his friends*

Coco: ... By the way, the big guy totally has a crush on you.

Velvet: Pfft, Cardin? That's ridiculous!

Coco: Uh-huh, if you say so.

[cherie-doll]

Hey Cherie!! It’s been so long hehe I hope you’re well 💖

Can I request a How the COD men reacts when their s/o was called a nasty name like ‘stupid cunt’? Once again projecting myself a bit here, I always regret being stunned and not punching that idiot in the face 🙂‍↕️🫠

Hope you stay happy and blithe and healthy ✨✨

May you forever stay cheerful as well, my beloved <3

Speech like this just comes off as extremely repulsive and obscene to me and I feel deeply for anyone who's had to deal with this. I won't go into detail but just know whoever is reading that it deals with this sort of theme and please just scroll or avoid if you want.

𓏴𓏴 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves

Price

He does not let that fly in this base

Doesn't care if he gets called prude or mocked for not allowing it, he'd rather there be respect

Basic decency is something that is quite literally the bare minimum for soldiers

No way will he let you be dragged around with that filthy speech especially not when you're his s/o

He lets you know he'd gladly deal with it himself but you manage and tell him you'd like to take care of it

Ghost

He's not foreign to vulgar words or foul language but he isn't okay with it when it's used to degrade someone

He's heard it in public before but never has it been directed to you, seriously what was that guy thinking? That he could just say it in passing to you on the street and walk away like it was nothing?

Maybe he hadn't seen your tall masked boyfriend until he stopped and turned, heading to them and the look on their face

Eyes as big as saucers as Simon planned to rearrange their face

Soap

Quick, fiery temper strikes faster than a cobra

He's at their neck in an instant, trapping them in a death grip and staring daggers into them

He doesn't care that people are staring or that he could get the police called because he's shouting threats

And his anger won't subside afterwards, it leaves a stale feeling that has him crossing his arms and serious for the rest of the day

It had gotten him all riled up for the rest of the day that he's on the lookout for anyone else looking to insult you

Gaz

You've almost never seen Kyle get mad

Oh but he was furious, fire raging within him, knowing he was really about to do something when his jaw set hard and he went real silent

He didn't make a commotion, didn't shout or yell, just silently made his way over and took care of the problem

You didn't get to see what he did to the guy because he somehow made sure you didn't, and he wouldn't tell you either when you asked

Instead choosing to distract you with something else

Roach

He's not a fan of foul language and hates hearing it used even more but being around others so much he can't really avoid it

But the sentence that some idiot had the audacity to say to your face shocked him

How could they?

How much hatred could be within them that they're letting such words carelessly slip from their tongue?

He's worried about how you're feeling more than anything so he'll take you away before anything else could happen because he doesn't want you to show it hurt

Alejandro

Marking their grave as we speak

Don't be surprised if you see him already loading a gun

Oh boy, it's gonna be difficult to get him to calm down

He's cursing and throwing profanities much worse to the other person that they're already backing away fearing for their life

It would actually weigh down on him for a while and will get raging mad whenever he remembers

Rudy

Covering your ears immediately and glaring at the person who said that to you

He motions for someone else to take care of them while he asks if you're okay

Probably doesn't matter if you say yes or no, he focuses on not letting you dwell on those words

You're not those things and never will be, such words shouldn't be said to anyone else

And what do they know? He's shaking his head and sighing, doesn't know what to do with the anger

Phillip Graves

Yeah he allows cursing, hell he curses up a storm himself but this??

This is just unacceptable

This is the lowest form of using language incorrectly, the use of such words is as sickening as rotten food, can't imagine how much worse you would feel when it's said to your face

He's made sure to instill manners in his Shadows and he'll even send one home no matter how useful or great their skills are, but not everyone has had that great education and will freely no- carelessly use their speech for worse

Getting ready to drop a bomb on them or plan a quiet murder

[killerpancakeburger]

Dating Soap HCS: (Combatant!Reader)

A/N: Shoving in there all the thoughts I've had about him and couldn't squeeze into my current fic ideas.

When I say Combatant!Reader, I mean they can fight/kill/use a gun but aren't part of the Task Force nor a soldier.

SFW:

Two words: power couple. You guys could take on the world if you wanted, so good for the world that you’re part of the good guys.

Soap is one of those freaks who’s out of bed by 6 a.m on his days off and starts the day with a jog. He can’t help it, he’s got energy to spare and is addicted to the endorphin he gets from it. Before meeting him you’d have said that a partner up so early was a pain; but how could you be mad at him when he takes such care to not wake you up, and has coffee and a mouth-watering breakfast ready when you emerge? You enter the kitchen where he rewards you with the luscious view of his sculpted body covered in sweat, having already shed his shirt, then sneaks an arm around your shoulders to press an adoring kiss against your temple, along with a “G’morning, Bonnie.” before heading to the shower.

Sometimes you show up unannounced on base - well not completely unannounced cause you’d get shot -, barge into the sparring room like you own the place - and considering the company you keep, you might as well -, and hit all its occupants with a “What’s up losers?”. Before anyone else can react, Soap’s already leaping over the ring’s ropes and running to you, hugging you with so much enthusiasm that your feet leave the ground. “Ye didnae say ye were comin’!” His voice booms with unadulterated joy. “Yeah, that’s called a surprise MacTavish. Now let go of me, you stink.” He throws you a cocky, challenging smirk at that: “Make me.” His voice is way lower, intended for your ears only this time. The glint in his eyes, as he’s staring right into yours, is just as provocative as his smile. You retort with your own. “I could, but I would hate to humiliate you in front of the new recruits, Sergeant.” Cue Ghost, joining you by walking like a civilised human being, and already sick of your flirting. “If you two are done makin’ a spectacle of yourselves, we could have a smoke outside.” There’s no real heat to his words though.

During some evenings at the base when Ghost snuck up God only knows where, Soap, Gaz and you compete to see who can do the best impression of the Lieutenant. Soap’s in the lead with the advantage to be the one having exchanged the most words with Simon, but you’re confident you can turn it around.

Will touch you all the fucking time (except on missions), whether it’s an arm around your shoulder, or your waist, or a hand in the back pocket of your pants, or holding your hand. Will restrain himself if you’re against it but if he can’t cuddle in private he will be sad.

No PDA on missions, but he will definitely flirt over coms. You’re both skilled enough that you can afford to fuck around a bit while still doing your job expertly.

Talking about flirting, he is smooth… until the other person reciprocates. Then he needs a moment to get back in the saddle after short-circuiting. 

Fervently loyal. If someone comes onto him, he will reject them frankly. And if they dare to bad-mouth you, they’re getting an earful from him.

The rare fights you have are intense but brief. He always wants to apologise as soon as possible afterwards but he gives you your space if you need it. 

You patch each other up after missions. One day you pore over each other’s scars during a lazy morning in bed, asking how the other got them.

He loooves seeing you put assholes in their place. He’s so fucking proud and aroused. Tend to snap at them faster than you though. And if you’re not in the mood to fight, he will gladly take over. “You know I can fight. Pleaaase let me fight”

Your #1 supporter. Will Smith showing off his wife.meme. He admires you a lot. Not as much as Ghost, sure, but that’s still a lot. If you wanna try new things, especially thrills inducing ones like canyoning or bungee jumping, or push back your own limits in the gym or in combat prowess, he’s always down and so, so enthusiastic. First because he’s so thrilled to share these with you, and second because he relishes in seeing you become a better version of yourself and/or the person you wanna be.

He’s proud of his job and will rant about it for hours if you ask about it. Especially explosions. Your idea of a romantic evening is taking in the sunset with a couple of explosions fireworks. 

He’s a freaking sunshine and sometimes the light feels blinding. You worry you’re bringing him down. He has such an optimistic outlook on life, and you… simply don’t. You also fear that one day he realises he’s too good for you, whether it’s in terms of looks, personality, morals, or mental resilience… he’s always quick to appease your worries though. 

Not getting along with the TF would be a deal breaker. Not that he’s expecting you to become BFF with Ghost or anything, that role is already taken by him

Will not hesitate to use his sad puppy eyes on you. Or even pout. To get what he wants.

He demands a kiss for good luck before every mission, a bit lOUDLY, which makes Ghost rolls his eyes and Gaz makes gagging sounds. Price is just like "Lord Give Me Patience".

NSFW:

Don’t be afraid to (wo)manhandle him: pulling his hair, slamming him against a wall, grabbing his jaw… that will make him moan more often than not. 

Call him a good/pretty boy, praise him, tease him, make him beg… He will tease back to challenge you but it just means you should keep going.

He’s a good soldier, he follows orders well. Do with that what you will.

Endless stamina. Will wear you out first every time.

Gets off when he gets you off.

Did I mention that he’s terribly competitive? Will ask you what’s the highest number of orgasms you had in one night and will immediately try to beat that record. 

If he doesn't make you laugh at least once during the do, he has FailedTM 😔

[gay-jesus-probably]

Let me just preface this by saying everyone is allowed to have their own opinions, TOTK is a really fun game, and I'm glad that other people have been able to enjoy the story as well.

...But I'm being dead serious with my complaints about the narrative being 100% imperialist propaganda. And I'm getting really tired of people replying to those posts by saying it can't be imperialist propaganda, because imperialism is bad and the game says that Hyrule is the good guys.

Like, guys. That's not the argument you think it is. Yes, I am aware that the game tells us Ganondorf is a flat, one dimensional character with no ambitions, interests or motivations beyond destroying the entire world for the hell of it, and also it's totally not racist because he's green, not brown like literally every other member of his race. Unfortunately literally all of these things are kind of the entire goddamn problem.

See, the thing is, everyone trying to make these arguments is accepting the game at face value. Hyrule is the perfect and almighty nation chosen by the demigod Zonai, and whose royal family has the right to rule due to their divine heritage. The other races exist to serve the glory of Hyrule, and they're happy to do it. Ganondorf is pure evil and must be stopped at any costs.

But that's not how anything works. The story informing me that Hyrule is the ultimate good that has done nothing wrong is the whole goddamn reason why I don't trust Hyrule at all. There's always more of a reason than that. And the game fucking suggests there was more going on! Ganondorf mentions Rauru has repeatedly 'invited' the Gerudo to become Rauru's subjects, and let's be clear here, it doesn't matter how peaceful those 'invitations' were, when the guy who owns every single magical nuclear missile in the world repeatedly demands you surrender to him, there's always going to be an implied threat of 'do it or get magically nuked'. Just that power difference alone shows us exactly why Ganon would feel threatened enough to invade. It's because Rauru was holding a gun to his head, and Ganon was expected to just trust that he'd never pull the trigger.

And yes, even if it wasn't intentional Hyrule was always threatening to wipe out the other nations, considering the entire royal family walked around openly wearing their magical nukes as cute accessories. If they couldn't be safely hidden away, there wouldn't be four other secret stones sitting untouched in a vault until the last second.

But that's never acknowledged. Of course Hyrule is the only nation with the right to the secret stones; even if other races get to touch them, they can only have them if they swear eternal blind loyalty and servitude to the glory of King Rauru and Princess Zelda. Ganon wanting to have one magical nuclear bomb out of a stockpile of eight of them is proof that he's dangerous and evil. I mean my god, what if he just walked around all day wearing a magical nuke and using its power for his own benefit, that would be terrifying. It's only okay when Hylian royalty does it.

And you can't argue that Ganon betrayed his own people, considering we don't get to know fucking anything about his relationship with his people. He's shows as the leader of the Gerudo, we're told he's a hero to his people, he has soldiers that loyally follow him into battle... and then oh nevermind, they all hate him and will spend eternity trying to atone for sharing a race with him. How did the entire race do a complete 180 in the span of at most a few months? Who cares, what's important is that now they accept they exist to serve Hyrule so they get to be the good guys now and we don't need to know why they were following Ganondorf, or why they stopped following him.

Basically my point is that yeah, I fucking know how the game insists everything went down. That's the entire reason I think it's imperialist propaganda, because the entire story feels like Hylian propaganda to conceal and justify some horrific atrocities that caused all of this. I literally do not believe that I'm getting the story through reliable narrators, especially considering that the only people allowed to actually tell me the story are all the characters that have the most reasons to be heavily biased in favour of Hyrule.

When the game shows me protagonists that have a massive amount of power and control over the entire world, then says the bad guy doesn't like that system just because he's evil, and literally nothing and nobody in the game says anything to oppose that take, I have some questions about what the fuck the story isn't telling me. And I'd really appreciate it if people would stop trying to argue with me just by telling me to stop asking those questions.