#los vaqueros

[docdudo]

Vampire 141 - Fledgling!Reader

This was hell.

Actually, you truly believed hell must be kinder than whatever the hell was happening to your body these past few days.

Should you call the support line after all?

And to think it was all your boss’s fault. If that jerk hadn’t made you work overtime and close the stupid convenience store without any warning, maybe you could have found a way to get home safely.

But nooooo...

Now thanks to that, you were attacked on your way home after work.

Attacked in the middle of the night, on a week day, too far from any houses for anyone to hear the commotion.

And it had been a vampire.

You didn’t know much about vampires. Their species was way too mysterious and reserved with outsiders. That’s not to say they didn’t interact with humans—because they did, especially with the wealthy—but it was one of those situations where someone like you would never get the chance to speak with one.

They were high society. Big families that controlled entire cities and states. Like the Mafia or some shit, living in the rich part of town that you had never even set foot in before.

Although, you had heard of vampires appearing here and there sometimes, walking around through the city quietly and discreetly when problems needed to be solved.

Problems like feral vampires.

Loners cast aside from their Covens for one reason or another, now crazed and out of control, following their bloodlust blindly. They killed as easily as any vampire did, even if their only focus was to drink their victims' blood.

Dangerous creatures...

They were rare—incredibly so—since it was the responsibility of the high covens to protect the normal folk from ferals. They rarely appeared in other vampires' territory, fearing the powerful presence of their own kind.

But sometimes...

Sometimes, a new one would appear from far away, starved and crazed like most of them were by that point. And usually they managed to kill one victim before the covens hunted them down to kill them for good.

So it was very important to call the right number to report feral vampires in the area.

Should you have done that? Yes, you should have. You really should have. But you were so. freaking. tired.

You were a college student working part-time at a convenience store. After waking up from your near-death experience, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. In fact, for a good while after waking up, you even thought you had hallucinated everything. You went home like it was just another night, your mind drifting, more absent than present.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.

But, when you looked at yourself in the mirror the next morning...

You were supposed to be dead. Someone would find your body—drained and wounded—and call the feral hotline. Vampires would show up, deal with the feral with minimal effort, and make sure the area was secured again. That’s just how it goes.

EXCEPT!

You are fucking alive!!

You didn’t even know that was possible—a feral giving up on its prey after pinning it down instead of just killing it for the blood.

It was talking, too—mumbling nonsense by your ear, like it was actually trying to communicate with you.

It bit you, injecting its venom.

Your skin was horribly marked now. The wounds that had once been there had all turned into thin layers of scar tissue. Not the usual kind, but one formed by the venom injected into your bloodstream. The red and black layers against your otherwise normal skin tone made it look like the weirdest tattoo you’d ever seen—like you were a broken porcelain doll with satan himself trying to break free from inside out.

It started at your neck, on your left shoulder, blooming into an ugly, messy bite that was definitely the most obvious problem there.

It went down your left arm and chest, streaks that looked like veins, or cracks.

The artwork was completed by ending on the wounds you’d gotten on your lower body while fighting off the vampire on top of you—scrapes around your hips and legs.

At least you actually searched a bit about vampires after that, panicking hard over the weird markings on your skin. The only and most important thing you needed to know was whether ferals could transform humans or not.

Which, unsurprisingly, they could.

At least, in theory.

They still have their venom, but when they go feral, they usually just want to drink blood from their victims blindly, and the venom is mostly forgotten. There was never a case of a feral actually turning someone into a vampire!

Maybe that feral wasn’t as far gone as the others...

But now, this was somehow your problem! You barely knew anything about vampires', or how they worked in the first place!

What do they even do after transforming someone?

Are you really a vampire now??

Why did you have the ugliest markings all over your body after being bitten, when you’d never heard of vampires leaving markings like this???

And why the hell was your boss still making you go to work after you told him you were attacked late at night last week, the asshole?!?!

Maybe you should’ve specified it was a vampire who attacked you, but you were scared to face what had happened. What had been done to you, and what you might now become. Do you need to speak to vampires now? Are you actually one? You don't even have any fangs or anything different besides the markings...

You had so much to do—so many projects left unfinished for school. You never missed class, not even when you were sick. But now that you’ve become a completely different species…

"Dearie, what happened to you??"

You were startled by the worried voice of an old lady close to you, making you look up from the chip bags you had been staring at for a solid five minutes in the middle of the aisle.

You glanced back at her for a few seconds before turning your gaze to your own body, looking down at your neck and collarbone where the giant marking started, barely hidden by the collar of your work shirt.

"Oh, it's... dunno, a birthmark." You mumble, tired, not really caring much for a better excuse.

You were so tired lately... what the hell even happened? You always had that healthy college student tiredness from working and studying, but it never made your body feel this heavy.

If you were any more weak-minded, you might have just stayed in bed forever.

But then again, college student.

"It doesn't look like one…." The woman squinted, analyzing your neck like it was her fucking business.

Okay, maybe you were also a bit more irritaded than normal.

"Ma'am, it's nothing. Can I help you with something?" You force a smile, though it’s more cynical than polite, as you weren’t really in the mood to be that polite to people who couldn’t mind their own business.

She stared at you for a few more long seconds in complete silence, her eyes squinting as she made that slow, long hum that old people make when they're being casually judgmental.

"That's a vampire thing, isn't it?" A middle-aged man appeared around the corner, his eyes also drifting to your neck as he tilted his head to the side. "It looks like a vampire bite on your neck..."

This guy you actually know—Thomas, from the real estate office nearby—who always comes to buy a snack around this time of day.

"How did you even get to that conclusion...?" You mumble, frowning slightly in annoyance.

"For one, I can see two teeth marks on your neck, clearly. Second, have you not seen the news? There's a feral mosquito zooming around our area. He was spotted last week and still hasn't been caught."

The old lady gasped in shock, eyes wide as she turned back to you.

"Have you been attacked, dear?!"

Well, fuck. So much for ignoring the problem until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.

"I guess..." You shrug, wincing slightly at the pain that shot up your left shoulder from the action.

"You guess?? You should’ve called the hotline if you were attacked!" Thomas frowned, just as confused as he was indignant.

"You don’t get it, I have so much going on right now..." You groan tiredly, already slipping into a depressive mood as you remember all the work you still had to do for your classes.

"What does that even have to do wit—?!"

"Hey, what's with the commotion?!"

You sighed heavily at your boss’s loud voice booming through the store, the balding man approaching with a huffy expression, slightly controlled thanks to the two clients standing with you in the aisle.

"Didn't know you were at the store today, mr. Miller...." You mumble softly, trying to dodge the last subject.

"I wasn’t supposed to be! But we all received a notification—there’s a Coven coming here to deal with the fucking feral!" He grunts, clearly annoyed. "I came to close the store; apparently, those snobby suckers want all businesses closed to make their work easier."

"Oh no, don’t tell me that…" Thomas sighs, suffering, pulling his phone from his pocket immediately to start a call with what you can only assume is his manager, turning away from the group.

"Does that mean I can go?" You ask, raising an eyebrow as you point hesitantly at the glass door.

"Oh, you have to let her go, she needs to go to the hospital...!" The old lady quickly agrees, nodding with the most pitiful look on her face.

"Hey, hey, wait a sec, who said anything about a hospital—?"

"You still haven’t checked the fucking mark consuming your neck? Are you trying to kill yourself, girly??" Mr. Miller interrupts, glaring at you like this situation isn’t part of his fault.

"What the hell? You didn’t give me any days off??" You sputter, indignant.

"I have only you and that stoned kid right now, I can't afford to give any days off! You should go when you have time, like everyone else who works!"

You’re ready to probably yell back at his face when Thomas quickly runs back to the group, a bit desperate as he fumbles with his bags and cellphone.

"They're already here...! I have to go back too!"

"Yeah, I should be going too! Hit me up when you're uptaded, Mr. Miller! Thanks so much, bye-bye!" You say quickly, running out the door after Thomas, your backpack already over your shoulder.

You couldn't even focus on your boss' loud ass voice as you hurried down the street, your head pounding relentlessly. Ever since you got bitten, this had been your reality—splitting headaches, aching muscles, no appetite, itchy gums, and, above all, a bone-deep exhaustion.

To be fair, some of the symptoms were still pretty mild. But deep down, a gnawing fear told you something was off. You could barely wrap your head around the fact that you were actually turning (had already turned?) into a vampire. But feeling like absolute crap made you wonder… what if something was going wrong?

You should call the hotline. You should go to the hospital. Just get it over with—at least get some help. But wouldn’t that change everything? Wouldn’t it make things even more complicated? And what would the all-powerful vampires do with you then?

God, you can’t graduate if you miss too many assignments in a row!

Don’t you have that group project due in two weeks—the one no one in your group has even said a peep about?

A small noise from the other side of the otherwise silent street caught your attention, your head snapping up in alert. The street was empty—of both cars and people, as usual—except for the two men standing by the closed pet store.

And goddamn, these were NOT normal men.

They were dressed strangely, a mix of military style and high-end fashion. Clearly rich. Heavy black clothes with small pops of color, loaded with pockets and belts. Their boots—thick, heavy, the kind that could break your bones with a single kick.

But that wasn’t the weird part...

No, the weird part was how much of their faces they were covering. One of the men wore a heavy jacket, with a hood and beanie pulled up to hide his jet-black hair. A black surgical mask—like the kind you'd see in a hospital—covered his face, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes.

The other… good lord, he had to be around three meters tall. Sure, vampires were naturally bigger than humans, but still… what the hell? This guy was wearing a full veil over his head, black, with suspicious red streaks running down it, and his heavy clothes hid the rest of his body just as much.

They... they had to be vampires, right...?

You flinched when the man wearing sunglasses suddenly snapped his head in your direction. His face was completely hidden, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The other man too turned in your direction slowly, now both of them facing you, completely still.

It truly seemed as if time had stopped for a few moments. No one moved or made a sound. You weren’t sure what to do. The ugly markings on your skin—too high on your neck to be hidden by your snug polo work shirt—seemed to burn under their stares.

You can't take this anymore.

Without thinking, you immediately turned around and tried to make your way back to the convenience store, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

But you didn’t even manage to take a single step forward.

"What is this?" the man wearing sunglasses asked, his voice rough and quiet.

You jumped in place, a small hiccup escaping your lips in surprise as you felt heavy hands settle on your shoulders, keeping you still.

How did they get to you so fast?? You were on the other side of the street!

"Fledgling." The other man spoke even more gruffly, tilting his head down to see you properly. His veil was falling forward just enough for you to almost see his face beneath it.

You could distinctly see a red glow beneath it.

"W-Wha—"

Your stuttered words were interrupted by the veiled man's big, heavy hand tilting your head up gently, while his partner unbuttoned your polo shirt, pulling the cloth aside to reveal more of the damaged area.

"Abused by their Sire." The veiled man growled lowly in anger, his voice still mostly quiet as he analyzed the markings. You could clearly hear a distinctive German accent in his words. "Who? It's just our Coven here."

"There were visiting Covens not that long ago." The other one also spoke with an accent—something Asian, it seemed—but you couldn't quite place it.

"Too fresh. This is a just-turned."

"E-Excuse me—"

"This is a grievous sin against nature itself." The Asian man growled, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound of his growl sent a shiver through you, paralyzing you slightly. "She didn't even complete the transformation."

"Fledgling, who is your Sire?" the German muttered slowly, forcing your head slightly higher so you had to look up at him.

Now they quieted down, letting you speak. Though you didn't really want to right now—not when you didn't understand what the hell they were saying.

"M-My... my what...?" You mumble anxiously, looking up in between both of their covered faces.

...

"Scheißdreck!" The veiled man cursed gruffly, his hands immediately going under your armpits to lift you up as if you weighed nothing, making you yelp in surprise.

"I did think the tribunal was too quiet recently," the Asian guy grunted, his arms crossed firmly as he watched you squirm slightly in panic in the bigger man's arms. "They're gonna love to hear about this."

"And the feral?" the German asked quietly, gently immobilizing you against him, tapping your back in small motions to calm you down.

"The others are here. No matter how smart a feral, they are easy targets. We have more important matters to attend to now. Isn't that right, Fledgling?"

You whimpered slightly in fear and confusion, your head pressed against the taller vampire's shoulder.

"How are we going to deal with this...?" The German sounded slightly calmer now, less aggressive with you in his arms. "This is serious, Horangi, a crime of this caliber..."

"I know, König. The tribunal will deal with that. For now, we keep her close. How about her teeth?"

You felt your body being slightly adjusted to lay more against the big guy's body, his giant hand coming up to your mouth to push his fingers inside it.

"No way!" you hissed defensively, trying to turn your head from side to side to avoid him.

"Shh, Fledgling. You're okay, stay calm. Open up." You let out a grunt in surprise and indignation as Horangi stepped forward, forcing his fingers into your mouth while König held your head in place. "Ha, it's what we thought. A fresh fledgling. Her teeth haven't even fallen out yet." He laughed without humor, shaking his head slightly as he let go.

"F-Fall out?? W-Wait, t-this is...! O-Oh, God..."

You whimpered, getting overwhelmed. This was precisely why you didn’t want to deal with the attack and transformation matter. And a tribunal?? You were so busy, living alone, and you couldn’t miss work—much less miss your classes.

"You are tired, Liebchen. Your body is taking a toll after the bad transformation. Settle, we'll take care of things." He patted your back gently a few times.

"She has a ton of venom in her bloodstream, and she's still awake. Rock her a bit, and she should fall back asleep quickly. I'm calling Laswell."

God Fucking Dammit!!

[oaksgrove]

hi again! this is ale anon, i hope you are well 😚

i was thinking if you can write for him? maybe like reader who has been crushing on him for a long time but he is still stuck up on valeria so she gives up and he realises it too late. you can make this smut or however you like actually with a completely different plot! i'd still gobble it up hehe~

Too Late

pairing: Alejandro Vargas x Reader

synopsis: You loved Alejandro. You knew you did. But you were tired of waiting for a man who couldn’t see past his own ghosts. So, you decided to let him go. The problem? He realized it too late.

warnings: Angst, jealousy, pining, emotional tension, Alejandro being an oblivious idiot, make-up kiss, implied feelings of abandonment/insecurity, language.

word count: 758

a/n: This is my first time writing for Alejandro, so I’m a little nervous! Thank you for the request, nonnie—I absolutely loved this idea. Hope I did it justice!

Loving Alejandro Vargas had never been easy, and you knew that it would break you

It was a slow, quiet ache. A longing buried deep beneath laughter, beneath loyalty, beneath the careful facade you wore every time he looked at you and didn’t see you.

And you had waited. God, had you waited.

You had spent years standing at Alejandro’s side. 

It was inevitable, like the setting sun, like the tide pulling back no matter how much it wanted to stay. It wasn’t his fault—he never made you promises he couldn’t keep.

But he also never turned you away.

And that was the problem.

Because you stayed.

For years, you had stood beside him, through war and blood and the weight of everything he carried. Through every lingering touch that never became more, every look that lasted a second too long but never long enough.

Through her.

Valeria.

She haunted him, a ghost he refused to exorcise. Even after she betrayed him. Even after she became his enemy.

She was in the clench of his jaw when he thought no one was watching. She was in the way his fingers twitched over his gun whenever someone mentioned her name. She was in the weight he carried in his shoulders, in his bones, in his soul, clinging to him in ways you never could.

You had tried, though. Oh, God, had you tried.

You stayed when she left. You fought for him when she became his enemy. You held him together when her betrayal nearly shattered him.

And he—

He didn’t see you. Not really.

You were just there.

Always.

Waiting.

Hoping.

You told yourself it was enough just to be near him, to be his friend, his confidant, the one who always had his back.

Until it wasn’t.

Until one day, you realized you couldn’t keep giving pieces of yourself to someone who never even noticed.

So, you made a decision.

You weren’t going to be second place anymore.

Not to Valeria.

Not to a memory.

—

Alejandro noticed before he understood.

At first, it was subtle. You weren’t waiting for him after missions anymore, weren’t the first person handing him a beer, weren’t standing just close enough that your arms brushed, how you no longer leaned against his shoulder when you were drunk, how your smiles no longer lingered when they were meant for him.

At first, he tried to ignore it.

Maybe you were busy. Maybe it was stress.

Then it became obvious.

You stopped teasing him, stopped seeking him out, stopped looking at him with those eyes—those warm, open, waiting eyes.

The worst part?

You didn’t even seem angry.

You just… let go.

And it drove him fucking insane.

Physically, you were still there—still in Los Vaqueros, still standing beside Rudy, still fighting like hell.

But you weren’t his anymore.

“Ay, mi amor,” he called one evening, using the pet name without thinking. “Come have a drink with me.”

You barely looked at him. “Not tonight, Alejandro.”

It was a knife to the gut.

You always had time for him. Always.

He tried again. “Tomorrow, then. After the debrief.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Got plans.”

Plans.

Plans that weren’t him.

The realization hit like a bullet to the chest.

Alejandro stood there, staring after you, something twisting deep inside him.

He was losing you.

No.

He had already lost you.

—

The breaking point came at the bar.

He found you there, laughing at something Rudy said, your hand resting on his arm. Alejandro had never felt jealousy like that before. It curled in his gut like a snake, coiling tight.

He saw red.

He knew, deep down, that Rudy wasn’t making a move on you. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that you were happy.

Without him.

So he did something reckless.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside.

"Alejandro—what the hell?" you snapped, yanking your arm back once you were alone.

He barely heard you. His mind was spinning, heart pounding, jealousy and frustration clawing up his throat.

“What’s going on with you?” His voice was rough, sharp. "You’ve been avoiding me."

You let out a hollow laugh. “I’ve been moving on.”

The words hit him like a bullet.

Moving on.

From him.

His hands curled into fists. “From what?”

You just stared at him, and in that moment, he saw it—the years of longing, of waiting, of hoping.

And the pain of finally giving up.

"From you," you whispered.

Alejandro’s chest ached.

"Cariño—"

You stepped back. “Don’t do that, Alejandro.”

He frowned. “Do what?”

“Call me sweet names.” Your voice wavered. “Not when you don’t mean it.”

He did mean it.

He just hadn’t realized it until now.

“Mierda,” he swore, raking a hand through his hair. “I—fuck—I was an idiot.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. You were.”

The air between you was thick, heavy.

And then—

“Do you still want me?”

It was a desperate question. A plea.

You inhaled sharply. “Does it even matter, Alejandro?”

He stepped closer. “It matters.”

Your back hit the wall. His body was too close, his warmth bleeding into yours.

You should have pushed him away.

You should have walked away.

But when his lips ghosted over yours, when his breath fanned across your skin, your resolve shattered.

“Still want me, mi amor?” he murmured, voice low, dark.

You hated how easy it was for him.

You hated how much you wanted him.

So, instead of answering, you kissed him.

Hard.

He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your waist, pressing you flush against him, devouring every ounce of frustration, every second of wasted time.

You bit his lip.

He growled.

And then you were lost.

His hands were everywhere—your hips, your waist, threading into your hair as he kissed you like a dying man taking his last breath.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.

When he finally pulled away, he was wrecked.

Breathless.

Desperate.

He rested his forehead against yours, his grip on you still tight, like he was afraid to let go.

“I was blind,” he admitted, voice raw. “But I see you, and I’m sorry.”

Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, your touch soft despite everything.

“Don’t look away again,” you whispered.

Alejandro exhaled sharply.

“Never.”

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash

[lxvvie]

Y'all know that whole trend that was going around social media with women calling their significant other by their full name? Yeah, that one. Yet another conversation was had, this time it was about the reactions your favorite babygurls would have if you called them by their full government name because of reasons. Maybe.

Capt. John Price - He's, uh, startled but not enough to drop his cigar this time. Does take a puff of it, though, before addressing you like it's the calm before the storm. Isn't too fazed because he heard it enough from his own mom growing up and he figures he's suave and diplomatic enough to placate you.

Gaz - Pointedly ignores you while giving you side glances here and there which is a major indicator that he's gotten into some shit. Probably. More than likely. Yeah... it was Soap's fault.

Alex Keller - Actually did get into some shit. Does not answer the call of duty.

Soap - You hear 'ah, shit', heavy footsteps, probably a crash, and Soap's peeking his head out from the other room. Has a deer-in-headlights look about him. It was Gaz's fault, goddamnit. He's so adorable. It's enough to make you giggle.

Ghost - You get a grunt. And then it hits him. He stops doing whatever it is he's doing. Fuck, he knows that tone. Simon turns to look at you and he stares into your soul or something like that. What in the hell kind of made-up middle name is that? You spend the better part of a good minute staring each other down before you're all, "I love you ♥️," and Ghost groans and rolls his eyes and goes back to whatever it was he was doing. But not before he grunts out a "Love ya, too." in return.

Alejandro - This is one of the few things that'll actually faze the man. Will damn near break his neck turning to face you to see what's wrong and his eyes will be wide. Oh, the last time he heard his full name called like that was from his beloved grandmother and he'd gotten into some shit then, okay?

Rudy - Ducks his head. Doesn't show his face; he can't bear the sternness of your voice, your gaze. It wasn't him this time, he swears; it remains, though, the way you say his name, an echo in his mind: Ro-DOL-fo. Why'd you have the emphasize THAT part of his name, huh?

König - König.exe stops working. Actually does break something trying to get to you. His eyes are fucking saucers, okay? Oh shit, what did he do this time, Schatz? Are you getting him back after that one time he snuck up on you to surprise you and you dropped dinner? Did you find out about the time he accidentally messed up the laundry and the white clothes came out pink? WHAT DOES HE HAVE TO DO FIX THIS?! Oh, you... just needed him to grab something off the top shelf for you.

Horangi - Also did some shit. Is unapologetic about it. Hits you with a nonchalant, "Yeah?"

Graves - STAYS IN SOME SHIT, OKAY? Saunters in like the smug bastard he is. Smirks and winks at you. "Haven't heard that name in a while, darlin'. What's your fancy?"

Valeria - Pulls a Uno Reverse and calls you by your full government name. Wait―

[codnasties]

cod characters fucking fleshlights

this post includes: soap, ghost, gaz, price, graves, konig & alejandro

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soap 🧼- the one that takes his time

now, this ain't soap's first time using a fleshlight. he started with a tenga egg or something like that, just for the sake of trying something that wasn't his hand. and i just know that troughout the years he has created a decently sized collection with a lot of varietiy: fleshlights imitating pussies, asses, mouths,... even if a man like him could easily pull a pretty lass to fuck, with the job he has and what it requires of him, it isn't always ideal.

but there is one thing that soap does, no matter weather he's fucking one of his partners or a plastic replica: he takes his time. stroking himself tentatively before lubing his dick up and loweing the fleshlight onto his hard on until he's balls deep. and when i say he fucks it as if it were a real person i mean it. he's fucking int in diferent positions, jerking himself with it but also fucking into it, both slow and fast until cums all over himself

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

ghost 👻- the stretcher

ghost sometimes has to ask himself if he's really that big and thick or if it's just that the one or two fleslights he owns are way too fucking small. he doesn't know, but he very much loves it. there is something about the size difference, the way the plastic stretches to fit him and how he can perfecly see it expanding as he pushes his dick deeper into it that makes him go feral.

now, other than his size kink goin brrr, he finds himself swiping his cock against the flesglight's pussy-like entrance, as if he were teasing a real cunt, before fucking himself slowly into it. he's mersmerized by the plastic doll completely swallowing up his aching hard dick until he's balls deep. he also intends to pull out - just to save himself some clean up - but he finds himself so overwhelmed by the feeling and visuals that he just fill the fleshlight up with his potent cum - more than once, at that -.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢- mess making perpetrator

this may be my most repeated gaz headcanon but he's a mess maker and there is no deniying. when he get's home from a mission or something like that and he doesn't feel like trying to find a partner to fuck, he always has a trusty fleshlight. the thing is, he doesn't even make it to the bedroom most of the time, deciding to just fuck it in his livingroom.

he just plunged deeply into the plastic pussy, stretching the plastic over his limit because his dick is too long for the small fleshlight, almos breking it. the pent up hornyness and the feeling of something other than his hand wrapped around his dick sending him into an orgasm faster than he expected. he pulls out to first his impossibly hard cock when he feels himself about to cum. and he stains the sofa with it as the mess perpetrator that he is - and let me tell you, it ain't the first time he's had to clean his seed out of that sofa.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬- the first timer

price is an older and more traditional man, he would rather fuck another person than some piece of plastic. but he keps hearing his men talk about fleshlights, how good they feel,.. and all that combined with the fact that he ain't getting younger, he's extra tired and trying to find a partner with a job like his is tedious, he decides to get himself a fleshlight just to try it out of curiotisty.

what he did not expect was that god forsaken piece of plastic would feel that fucking good. all it took was some slow deep strokes into it before he found himself cumming. and at that moment his lust filled brain took over and he started fucking himself into the fleshlight again, trying to extend the pleasure of the orgasm. let's say he now fully understands why his men praise them plastic holes.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡- the nasty fucker

lets be real, konig is fleshlight collector number 2. anxiety gets the best of him so he would rather to make do with some plastic pussy or ass than having to deal with the hassle of interacting with people. his not that experiended ass is fucking enamoured by the feeling of and ass or pussy, even if it isn't a real one.

now, konig allways finds himself doing two thing every time he uses one of his fleshlight. a. he moans. like a bitch in heat. he can't help it, it just feels overwhelingly good to have something wrapping tightly around his unexperienced cock. and the fact of finally getting some release. b. he makes messes - yup, mess making perpetrator no. 2 -. spit, precum, lube and cum mixing all together, covering his dick, hands and fleshlight as he fucks himself dumb and slaps his dick all over yhe plastic ass.

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graves 🪦 - the stressed

now, these military men always find themselves stressed out, it's a part of the job. but for graves, said job and the tension that it generates have kept him away for some time now from a real pussy or ass. so a fleshlight is a good alternative, giving him all that he needs to reach some much needed release.

the few occasions he has had enough time to indulge in some pleasure, he's going to make the most of it. alternating slow, sensual deep strokes and fast shallow ones. hands making sure that the fleshlight stays in place as he plunges into it chasing an orgasm and moanig at the sweet feeling of release. he for sure cums deep inside of the plastic masturbator, because it may be plastic, but he loves creampie-ing it the same way he would creampie a real person.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alejandro 🤠 - the tip teaser

alejandro doesn't strike me as the type of person that would have a proper fleshlight, you know? instead of a piece of plastic that fully engulfs his dick he has one of those quickshot ones. a transparent one at that. it gives him a lot of options, from fully jerking his cock with it to just teasing his tip.

and oh does he love to tease his tip! using that comact masturbator to play with his angry red bulbous tip. pushing just the head in and out, sometimes tilting it to make his dick pop out of the fleshlihgwith a wet noise. and seeing his cock breach into the plastic, dick twitching at the feeling, his stomach spasming from the sensation... he always inevitably cums all over himself, staining his hard shaft, lower hairy stomach, thights and even the quilt.

[rockspider556]

there is a thin line between “relationships can be very affectionate and still be platonic” and “those are the gayest motherfuckers I’ve ever seen”

soap and ghost use that line like a fucking jumprope

[sky-is-the-limit]

I'm not breathing okay.

[blingblong55]

Committed- 141&Los Vaqueros

Reader was kidnapped but somehow made it out under less than 24 hours for a specific reason

Price: we know what this group does to people in our team...

Ghost: if we don't find them in 24...we notify the spouse

Gaz: can they even make it?

Ale: they will

Rudy: they have to

*Soap comes running into the room*

Soap: GUYS!GUYS!CHECK THE NEWS!

-On tv-

News reporter: and are you sure this isn't some prank?

R/N: I'm telling you...i escaped, they choked me..to death...woke up in some coffin, my phone is at 1%...but i can't break my duolingo streak...I'm learning Mexican because my wife is spanish

-everyone looks at Rudy-

Rudy: they're learning spanish for me?*water eyes bc..#proudwife*

[kittsch]

ranking cod boys' intimacy style from gentle to rough feat: 141 + los vaqueros + others reader: afab, implied different readers for each cw: explicit smut, kink, fluff, pretty tame imo but lmk if you'd like something tagged NSFW BELOW CUT * MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

1.) the gentlest, surprisingly, is ghost. make no mistake, he'll absolutely fuck the daylights out of you if you ask him to -- would enjoy it, too. but as simon riley... honestly, this man is touch-starved and nearing forty. he is tired, baby. coming home from deployment, first thing simon does is shower (knows you hate the smell of war on him), then take a fat nap with you. if you're in the middle of something, no you're not. he'll literally scoop you up and fireman-carry you to the couch or bed, whichever is closest. simon loves holding you, wants to be touching you all. the. time. his favorite way to nap is wrapped around you like a fitted sheet; skin on skin, nose in your hair as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. loves it even more when, later, he gets to wake you with soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck; the flat of his palm sliding down the gentle swell of your tummy, cuping you through your sleep shorts. simon likes you best like this. how you just... melt into him, still sleep-sodden and docile. it's one of the few things that feels right in his life. chemically, cosmically, karmically (somehow--simon doesn't think he'll ever feel like he earned this. you. that he'll ever really deserve to be yours). he takes his time; fucks you slow with his fingers, savoring your muted whimpers as he grinds into your clit with the heel of his hand. to simon, watching you come apart in the firm circle of his arms is kin to a fresco on a ceiling; a sliver of the divine, and he, a sinner, doomed to watch heaven from afar. but by some small miracle, you offer him salvation. when you cum, it's with his name on your lips, so round and lush with love, and fuck--if that isn't the thing to save him, then nothing will.

2.) second is rudy. sweet, sweet boy. he sees you barefoot in a sundress one time. one. that's all it takes to precipitously shift the trajectory of his life to one where he wifes you up and makes you a mother, in that order. you're the first person he's ever envisioned having children with -- the only one he thinks knows will be worth risking everything for. and once that mental picture settles in his mind, it’s all he can think of. it becomes his sole mission to get you under him and fill you with him til it takes. rudy is a missionary guy through and through--wants to see that pretty face, cariño so he can watch your cheeks and chest flush when you're about to cum. and the cute way your lashes flutter ("como alles de pollila, mi amor. fuck--") as he bottoms out in your sweet pussy, stretching you so good. and you're always so good for him -- wrapping your legs around his waist and tilting your hips to take him deeper, deeper. but god help you when he succeeds in knocking you up, you’re never getting a moment alone. consider rudy glued to your side for the foreseeable future. can’t seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself, either. doesn't matter that you’re uncomfortable and prickly and prone to random bouts of inconsolable crying at the worst moments. he takes it all in stride. his love is steady, solid. once, you blurt out something to the effect of i'm never going to be attractive again, my body is gonna be ruined by the end of this. and rudy (after a beat) laughs. pulls you forward til your face is buried in his chest, cradles you there when you try to squirm away. tells you he's literally so attracted to you right now he feels like he should be on some sort of list. he's watching you build a new human being inside your body. you're fucking powerful. he can't imagine anything sexier.

3.) next up is könig. from jump, he adores you; the way you smolder at the edges, the unwavering bite of your tone. kleine katze, such pretty claws you have... and he's perfectly content to settle for admiring you from afar; but where others shy from him instinctually, finding his size and perpetual quiet off-putting, you don't. seem to gravitate towards him because of it. you touch him with a gentleness that should feel foreign, but actually feels like home. this man is fucking gone for you. loves you in a way that irreparably and fundamentally changes him. may or may not have cum more than once to the thought of you: hips bucking desperately into the clench of his own fist. but he knows precisely nichts about romance, even less about flirting. has no idea you've been trying to get his attention for months. ultimately, you have to make the first move. and you do--crawling into his lap one night in a grimy off-grid safehouse after a mission went the wrong kind of sideways. when you draw up the mask he goes rigid, tense; but he almost lost you today. (thought for one endless, horrific moment that he had.) so he lets you pull back the mask--lets you see his face. and when you finally kiss him, it pulls a kind of sound out of him the likes of which he's never made before. a desperate, animal keen that claws at the walls of his chest. and könig's a gentle giant, but he is giant. you're both too hasty the first time; too desperate for closeness to prep properly, so it hurts when he bullies his cock inside you. he's significantly bigger than any of your previous partners -- twice as thick and several inches longer -- and by all rights shouldn't fucking fit inside you, but you're both tenacious enough to make it work. könig is certain salvation resides in the gummy clutch of your cunt when you take him to the hilt; shuddering as you cum around him from nothing but the way his cock stuffs you full and the pressure of his calloused thumb on your clit. it's so unbelievably hot, he cums on the spot; not needing friction or movement when he has you clenching down on him like that, scheiße. after, he takes care of you--holds you close to his chest til your breath evens out and you slip into the dreamless, black pool of sleeping.

4.) alejandro, my love. truly a man of passion. it's a long process seducing you, and he enjoys every minute of it. loves finding new ways to get you to blush almost as much as he enjoys fucking you til you're blubbering and cock-stupid. almost. he likes the idea of having a family with you, but is less pernicious about it than rudy. he knows how he feels about you; is confident it'll happen someday. that said, this man's breeding kink knows no bounds. the mating press was built for him; the perfect mix of intimacy and intensity, where he can look you in the eye as he ruts you so deep you can feel him in your fucking throat. also the most likely to suggest expanding your sexual horizons. frankly, alejandro is bisexual as fuck. loves the idea of you getting railed by another man (perhaps rudy, winkwonk) while he watches; loves the idea of you taking the both of them at once even more, but it's always about you. your comfort and pleasure is paramount, and he'll go to unfathomable lengths to make sure your needs are met. happy wife, happy life, he says, hauling you into a deep kiss when you point out that you're not technically married, yet.

5.) alex is the perfect equilibrium of rough and gentle. initially respects you as a colleague, maybe a friendly acquaintance. internally, he finds your competence and no bullshit attitude deeply attractive, but he's a consummate professional; would never put you into a position where you'd feel unsafe (outside of the obvious dangerous shit you already do). and then--he sees you shoot a gun. the way your body slides liquid-smooth into weaver, the easy roll back into isosceles in the recoil... it gets him so fucking hard so fucking quick. he has to physically remove himself from the range and rub one out in a bathroom stall, images of those firm hands pumping his weeping cock pulling him over the edge. images that don't fade, to his chagrin, even after the initial arousal is dealt with. every time he sees you, it just... pops back up, so to speak. he keeps it locked down as best he can, but fails pretty comprehensively at doing so. alex finally breaks after catching one too many recruits staring after you when you walk away (fuckin' animals--only he's allowed to do that). he seeks you out when you're both off the clock and ends up fucking you on top of one of the washing machines in the base's communal laundry room. the epitome of soft dom, comes pre-programmed with an obligatory daddy kink that you absolutely abuse to get your way. takes you out to nice restaurants seemingly for the express purpose of fucking you in the fancy-schmanzy bathroom. honest-to-god almost passes out when you choke on his cock for the first time; begs like his life is on the line for you to do it again, please, please--oh, fuck baby, yes. that experience reveals two truths to him: one, that he might be a switch, and two, that he might just have to marry you.

6.) now, keegan is a pretty tough nut to crack. it's hard to read him initially, even without the mask--but once you pick up on his tells, he's an open book. and that book wants you upended on the couch within seconds of you both entering the room. initially its just sex; a shared need to vent some frustration and stress. keegan is very private, mostly due to social discomfort and introverted tendencies. in the early days of your relationship, it manifests as him keeping you at a distance. for the first few months, he only ever kisses you when he's balls deep, and leaves after a five-minute come down. you rectify this through sheer persistence and charm. it's clear to you (far sooner than it is to him) that he's weakest to you when you give him big, sweet doe eyes and ask real pretty. this little trick works particularly well when you're riding him slow over the course of an hour, grinding down each time he bottoms out, til he's shuddering and begging you to please go faster--ah. f-fuckin' hell, kid, you're so tight, so good, fuck. when he cums, it's with a crackling whine of your name that pulls the knot of heat in your belly, sending you over after him. then, exhausted and fucked out, he falls asleep with you in his arms. he's still there the next morning when you wake, expression open and lax as he watches you wake. it's the first time you see keegan without reservations, when you realize he's got a gentleness to him--a kind of poet's sensitivity meant for libraries, museum archives, and the kinder side of nature. all overwritten by force to survive, to complete his mission. once you've seen the cracks in his mask, there's no going back for either of you. very quickly, your relationship shifts from distant and transactional to deeply personal; a tenderness blooming in the same garden as the newfound dedication to one another. keegan doesn't say I love you for a long time, but you know he does--you feel it in the way his dark eyes find you in a crowd, always seeking your familiar shape. you feel it in the way he presses your bodies flush from tip to tail while he's fucking you, when being inside of you isn't close enough. you feel it when he, for the very first time, asks you quietly if you'll stay the night with him, because he sleeps easier when you're there. so you stay--the night, and all those that follow.

7.) oh, gaz. such a mischievous little shit. your friend from your training days, you two scrap like puppies over anything and everything. banter is the cornerstone of your relationship, one-upping being a close second. you delight and infuriate one another in equal measure, bickering amongst yourselves til one of you takes a swing at the other. price has reprimanded you both multiple times for horsing around, but you're never in any real danger--you work too well together. there's a kind of shared consciousness between you; a base-level understanding, two wolves hunting in tandem. still, ghost refuses to let either of you sit together on the heli; not since that one time your game of grabass devolved into full-on grappling on the tarmac. ultimately, one of your little tiffs goes too far; ends with you both laid out on a training mat, groaning into each other's mouth as you grind your hips together through your clothes. you both pretend it didn't happen for maybe a week--then it happens again. and again. and again. being 'together' is never something you actually discuss with kyle. it just... happens. much to the chagrin of your lt and captain, the bickering actually increases when you two get together; becomes more like foreplay you can get away with doing in front of your superiors. and if this man isn't an absolute goddamn menace when it comes to exhibitionism. when he wants you, doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a meeting. fuck it--it's happening, and it's happening now. very playful in and out of the bedroom, likes teasing you in every sense of the word. he edges you so long sometimes you nearly kick him in the head when he finally lets you cum. there's my girl--oh shi--ah, haah, good fuckin' girl. he's largely aloof when it comes to his emotions--not the best at verbalizing how he's feeling or what he needs. so instead, he shows you. he shows up every. single. time. kyle's your friend before he's your lover; your partner in (war) crime(s). he's always got your six, you've always got his, and what is love if not someone who'd die (and live) for you?

8.) soap proudly describes himself as a pleasure dom, which is mostly true. but he's got serious switch potential. which you know for a fact because fuckin' hell, does that boy whimper somethin' pretty when you throat him juuuuust right. he's such a 'tits' man, it's crazy. loves to hold you close, feel your breasts smashed against his chest while he drives deep into the tight clutch of your cunt. but most of all, soap loves being on his knees for you. this man definitely moans while he eats you out, tonguing your pussy like it's a mouth. he feels big in every sense of the word--in sex, in love, in anger. and make no mistake, he loves you deeply. you two have some serious yelling matches, storm about slamming doors til the neighbors threaten to call the feds, but it's just your way. you're both headstrong and stupid; arguments are bound to happen, and any unresolved hurt feelings get a solid patch-job from the frankly earth shattering makeup sex that follows. like rudy, soap wants a big family with you, and he knew early. actually doesn't tell you just how early til years down the line. how after your first official date, he called his ma and asked if she'd send his nan's ring, please? because he's pretty sure he just met his future wife. said ring which glitters on your hand now, as you reach over and flick his forehead teasingly. tell him he can stop trying to romance you, you're already married. and could he grab more diapers on his way home from work?

9.) as are all things with graves, your sexual relationship is about power. he's an asshole in the worst way--condescending, smug, underhanded, sneaky in his sexism so you always look like some hysterical woman when you retaliate. the kicker? it turns you on as much as it pisses you off. he's happy to string you along, work you into a lather just to leave you high and dry. lord help you once he gets a taste of you--bending you over his desk and cramming you full of his cock with precisely zero prep. he kisses you, loves you, fucks you like he hates you. because he kind of does--he just wants you more. graves loves it when you cry, wipes your tears with his thumb before forcing it into your mouth. coos when you offer your neck up to him--yeah? want my hands on ya that bad, sugar? gonna be a good girl for me, hm? fuck yeah you are--and proceeds to make you cum so hard you black out. your 'relationship' (which it is; ring on your finger a year in, a little one on your hip not long after) is intense. toxic. would be just downright miserable if it wasn't so fucking hot. you cling to each other with gouging force; a livid-blue kind of love, painful and permanent. he carries a picture of you in his wallet: a small polaroid of you in your wedding dress, ashing a cigarette with one hand while the other flips the cameraman (him) the bird.

10.) and the roughest of them all: price wants more than to love or fuck you -- he wants to possess you. he's so tightly controlled everywhere else in his life (has to be for his work), doesn't seem the type to lose his head over a bird. but when he meets you, something shifts. you're soft. impossibly good. flippant and stubborn as a mule, sure -- you drive him up the fuckin' wall with your headstrong antics. (so goddamn petulant. so sure you're fuckin' right.) but war and death hasn't stained your world, left your indomitable spirit unsullied and intact. which, unfortunately, means you haven't gotten a thorough education on the importance of discipline. price wants to consume your disobedience; crack your rose-tinted glasses under his heel, roll the ambrosia of you in his cupped tongue. he'll do more than make you fall in line -- he'll make you want to do it. it's really just a matter of time before he acts on it. when he does, it's decisive. unsubtle. he crowds you up against the door of your flat on a sticky summer night, brandy on your breath. sinks a hand into your hair, holds you steady as he brings your mouths together with bruising intensity. he fucks you before he ever makes love to you; sinks his teeth into the velvet of your shoulder as he crushes you flat to the tabletop using just his bodyweight. snarls low when you keen wordlessly, overwhelmed and empty-headed at the deep burn-sting of his cock stretching your pretty little cunt, the lewd slap of his thighs against your ass. he batters you til you're not sure what's sweat and what's tears; til your skin bears a mural to his cacoethes, all blue and purple like a deep west sunrise. til there's not a person alive who won't be able to see you're his. always have been, always will, right dove? go on--tell him. tell him who this pussy belongs to.

written by kittsch, do not repost. not to be used for bots nor AI of any kind.

[deathblossomm]

I'm going to leave this here and go slowly...

[docdudo]

Hi, I really loved your Fledgling story!

Quick question: the fledgling seems kind of hyper-independent and very much in denial/shock about what happened to them. Is that gonna change quickly or is there quite a bit of problems in the future?

And can I just say, I really appreciate how quickly you alway update your masterlist! It's super helpful and makes it so easy to read all your fics in one go.

Wish you lots of inspiration!

First of all, thank you for enjoying my stories!! And yeah, when I'm writing, I keep the Masterlist open on the side, so I just update it when I'm finished kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

Now, about the fledgling reader—yeah, she's in shock. She's overwhelmed by all her responsibilities and has no support system in her life. Being attacked to death and then coming back as an entirely different species isn’t something she can properly process right now; she’s simply trying to autopilot through everything.

What Horangi said earlier was true—she has a lot of venom in her system, and she wasn’t even supposed to be awake yet. The most basic part of her transformation isn’t even complete, and her body still has a looooong way to go before finishing the rest of the changes.

If those two hadn’t found her, she would have died within a week.

[cod-indulgences]

heyaaa. idk if u js do 141 or not but I have (i guess) an extreme request for u…wanted to know if u could make a short fic or smth of a gangbang between reader, 141, and los vaqueros (js rudy and alejandro). it doesn’t rlly matter how it starts or not. thank you 🤍

Tf141 x Los Vaqueros x female!reader, gangbang, oral, facesitting, spanking, rimming, anal, breastplay, nippleplay, blowjobs, face fucking, tit fucking, squirting, come play, multiple orgasms

(read more under the cut because this shit got LONG)

Rudy has been at you all damn day- little touches making you aware of your body and his. His hand curling around the back of your neck for a kiss, more possessive as he licks into your mouth. Stepping behind you with his hands on your hips, drawing you back to feel his semi against your ass before he moves on. Dipping his hands up your shirt for a quick grope, tweaking your nipples, then backing away again. It's served only to wind you up- hes been hinting at some big surprise, but your only clues were Ale advising that you get some extra stretches this morning- and the way he stared between your legs when you pushed yourself into a full split.

They've pulled the couches closer together, fussing around with pillows like a couple of broody hens- when the door knocks they both smirk at you in a way that sends a thrill between your legs.

"Ready, cariño?" Rudy croons into your ear, when Alejandro answers the door.

You answer unsteadily, "ready for what?" as both hands come up your shirt this time, rucking up the fabric, and when four more men come in behind Alex you realize just what they've been working on. Rudy's hands on your tits, now fully visible with your shirt pushed up and his strong arms holding you still, so that everyone can see the way your hard nipples, the flush down your chest.

Price comes forward first, and when you nod and smile, takes one of your breasts into his own hand and squeezes, watching your face as his grip gets tighter until you wince and squirm. His fingers leave red marks when he lets go, your tit bouncing at the sudden lack of support, and suddenly you're surrounded- Rudy at your back, grinding into your ass, Ale and Price in front of you, taking turns passing your breasts back and forth between their hands. Soap and Ghost are at either side, and you can feel their own fingers gently tracing up your thighs, petting the soft skin and teasing around the edge of your shorts.

Gaz slides in against your back with Rudy, and he's the one who first kisses you, soft lips against your throat, cheek, and finally finding your mouth, swallowing the little moan that slips past your lips. You're caught in a web of hands and hard bodies, feeling their cocks fill up against you as you're quickly stripped of your clothes. When the fabric of your panties pulls away with a little damp cling you hear someone swear. Soap actually smells them, the perv, holding the gusset against his nose and inhaling like a dying man, his hand on his cock.

"fucking delicious," he groans, and yanks your hips forward. "I call dibs on eating her first- c'mon bonnie, on the couch, you're sitting on my face-"

Ale sucks a hickey on your neck as he sets you up kneeling over Soap, and the Scotsman wastes no time- he yanks your hips down and licks a fat wet stripe up the seam of your pussy, and you moan with a sudden slick rush when he starts sucking at your lips, tongue flicking against your clit and then shoving into your hole. He's damn good, too fucking good, and you know you can't hold out long against him- not when the task force are still playing with your breasts, slapping so that the flesh bounces before taking your nipples into tight pinches, making you squirm and bounce on Soap's face from the stimulation.

Ghost pats your head and chuckles. "Yeah, he's good with his tongue," and pulls his cock out, fat and dripping a little pearly fluid at the tip. "Show me yours love, c'mon," and he guides your head down to suck his cock, licking up the precome before taking the head into your mouth, working your way down his shaft. Every time Soap sucks your clit, you twitch and moan, and Ghost's grip in your hair tightens.

Someone moves you- Rudy?- and you're suddenly leaning forward, Ghost shuffling back to keep your mouth on him, and you settle into a new position, your thighs more spread and ass exposed.

Ale kisses your ass, murmuring sweet lovings, and then suddenly pulls back and spanks you. You yelp, muffled from the cock still in your mouth, and then moan helplessly when Soap catches your clit again and sucks hard. He spanks you again, the other cheek, and Soap sucks at the same time, and Ghost thrusts in a little more- and oh, now it's just sensation, hot tongues and strong hands and a thick wet cock to swallow around, your ass burning under each slap until Soap sucks one more time and you clench and quiver, Ghosts cock slipping from your mouth as you cum, gushing creamy slick from your pussy.

Soap moans and you feel his arm jerking under you where he's stroking himself, rubbing his face against your flesh as if to cover himself in as much of your fluids as possible. His stubble scratches deliciously where you're hot and sensitive, and an aftershock leaves you whining. You feel soft and dumb, malleable around these men, something to be kept caged between them.

And then Gaz's tongue slides into your ass, licking your own cum from around your pussy and using it to drive in further, wet and slick, and you about come off the couch in surprise, yelping and then moaning at the wriggling wet intrusion. Price braces you in place, his own cock rubbing against your cheek as he grips your hair. "Steady there, just let the lad play," he says, and Gaz redoubles his efforts, slurping at your ass, letting his own drool gather and drip down where it mixes with your cum, leaving more wet streaks on Soap's face. Two sets of fingers slide into you at the same time, in both holes, and when your mouth drops open on a moan Price slides his cock into you.

He's rougher than Ghost was, his cock heavier, moving your face where he wants it and driving in. You can hear your own choking noises over the wet slap of his balls against your chin and manage to look up at him with teary eyes. "There's my girl," and he swipes his thumb across your cheek, collecting tears, offered to Ghost to suck off his thumb- oh, you clench hard seeing that, and hear Gaz and Soap groan together as they feel it.

"fuck, and you two were keeping her all to yourselves?" Gaz pants, pulling his fingers out with a wet pop, and you feel the pressure of his cock to your ass even as Soap begins to suck again. Your clit feels hard in his mouth, rolling between his lips and bouncing on his tongue, and you can't hold back the keening cry as Gaz slides his cock into you, one steady push that sets his balls against your cunt and Soaps chin, burning hot and so full inside you.

Price and Gaz set a fast rhythm, pushing you forward from the cock in your ass, pulling you back again to breathe around Price before he fucks your face again. Soap is still playing with your clit, his tongue licking around your pussy and even against Gaz's balls when he bottoms out, making the other man moan where he leans over your back. Through your tears you can see the blurry shapes of Ale and Rudy entwined on the other couch, their hands on each other's cocks as they watch you get fucked into a second orgasm, Price shoving his cock into your throat as Gaz swears and grips your hips, his own stuttering into an orgasm of his own as your ass clenches and squeezes his cock. You hear a wet choking sound and through the pleasure haze recognize Soap is coming as well, furiously jerking his cock, choking and gasping for breath through the fresh flood of slick that coats his face.

Price pops his cock from your mouth and slaps your cheek with it, drool and precome hanging in thick strings from the head and your lips. Gaz pulls out as well, collapsing back against the arm of the couch, and you don't resist at all when Ghost lifts up under your arms and moves you off Soap to instead kneel on the floor. There's a cushion under your knees, you realize, and then lose yourself in the taste and scent as Price and Ghost pass you between them. Ghost is easy, slow, gentle almost as he rubs the leaking head of his cock over your tongue, his fingers petting your hair and tilting your head to the best angle, letting you suckle and leave the flat of your tongue against the underside of his cock. He uses you alongside his fist, jacking his cock as he presses your face to his balls, moaning when you suck them, rubbing your lips over the soft hair and delicate skin.

Price is harsher- harder- he grips your hair and fucks deep into your mouth, popping the head of his cock into your throat just long enough to feel you choke before pulling back, letting the wet sounds fill the air between your moans and whines. He loves it when you look up at him with teary wet eyes, begging without words, and he holds you all the way down when he comes, your nose pressed into his groin, a reflexive clutch of your throat around his cock milking his come out of him. When he pushes you back and you gasp for breath, the last ropes of come stripe your face, dripping over your gaping lips, down to your breasts. Ghost pushes back into your mouth, laying the head of his cock onto your tongue while you pant, blinking up at him blearily though the tears and come clinging to your eyelashes.

"there love, hold still for me- perfect, so good, letting us just use this pretty mouth," he grunts, and jerks himself off onto your tongue, thick and salty. "Dont- no, don't swallow, hold that for me now," Ghost orders, and you moan and feel another heady rush between your legs as you hold your mouth open, showing off the puddle of his come, Price's still streaked over your face and tits, Gaz's leaking out of your ass with every little muscle clench. You feel whoreish and degraded, stripped down to basic functions, covered in the come of three men and your own still wet and gleaming on the face of a fourth.

Ale reaches out from his seat, taking your chin in his hand, drawing you over as Ghost and Price stagger to Soap and Gaz, all four men boneless and satisfied, but still watching you with interest as you shuffle on your knees to your vaqueros. Both Ale and Rudy lean down to kiss you, licking the come from your cheeks and lips, and you whine in sudden desperation for more of their touch. Rudy gets his hands back on your breasts and tugs your nipples, reigniting the nerves that had been teased before. He smears the come on them as well, groping you as Ale licks into your mouth, drawing Ghosts come out on his tongue before feeding it to Rudy in a deep lush kiss.

Ale coos at you when he looks down and sees your eyes full of new tears, gone past being able to use words with your wrecked throat and melted brain, but you're so fucking desperate- Rudy is still playing with your nipples and each touch sends a throb to your clit, and into your aching pussy. You want their cocks, want to be filled up so badly, and you've had your ass and throat fucked but only fingers in your cunt. It's devastating in a simple animal way, and you feel like a cat in heat, ready to present your hole for filling by anyone who will give you a cock.

"Here, sweet thing, come on up," Ale says, and pats his knees, helping you up off your own rubbery legs and into his lap. You are wet down your thighs, and Ale doesn't even try and check you with his fingers- instead he lifts you up and then brings you down, a single smooth movement that takes you from empty to full in a second.

You find your words again.

"oh, thank you, thank you, please keep fucking me, Ale, fuck so good so big so full-" you babble, and Alejandro grips the soft flesh around your hips and begins to slam you down onto his cock, forcing your sloppy wet cunt to slap against his groin, a squeal coming past your lips as your clit, sore from Soap's attention, rubs against his pubic hair each time he bottoms out.

You're coming almost before you realize it, screaming as your thighs shake and cunt squeezes Ale so tightly he swears and has to hold you in place to keep from being pushed out. You moan and limply collapse against his shoulder, panting and shuddering. Your whole body tingles, and as your breathing steadies you can hear more moaning, wet sex sounds, and as Rudy and Ale lift you up off his cock you see the task force. Gaz and Price are pressed against each other, making out as both men tug and play with the others cock, and Gaz leans over and swipes his fingers through your slick, puffy pussy lips (he catches your clit and your thighs spasm) before bringing them back to Price's cock, stroking the older man with renewed speed. Ghost is sprawled with his thighs open, holding Soap's wrists together in the small of his back as he drives his cock up into the smaller man's mouth, slow and deep.

Ale lays you on your back on the floor, spreading your thighs, and you smile at him with dumb animal pleasure as he slides back into your drenched cunt, no resistance at all, just wet flesh welcoming his cock back where it belongs. He moans and lets his head hang forward as he bottoms out again, fucking into you slowly.

Rudy kneels next to you, and you realize what's coming as he swings his leg over and settles his cock between your tits, his ass hovering over your face as he grips your nipples and uses them to pull your breasts up and in- you cry out and bury your face in the hot seam of his ass and thigh as the pain-pleasure ripples through you. His cock leaves streaks of precome between your breasts, slicking the way along with your sweat and Price's come that's s till drying on your skin. Your nipples ache in his ruthless grip, and you gasp in relief when he at last releases them to instead grip your tits and press them around his cock, fucking between them.

You moan and lift your arms to grip around Rudy's thighs, kissing the so-soft skin in front of you. You want more from him, more of his taste and pleasure, and find your lips traveling higher, nuzzling and licking until you reach his hole- just a little furled muscle, and when you lick across it with just the tip of your tongue you hear Rudy make the softest, sweetest moan. His hips stutter fucking between your tits, and you lick again, tasting his skin and sweat. He tastes good, and you float in a liminal space of heat and pleasure, working your tongue past that tight little muscle and into Rudy's ass, your pussy throbbing with your pulse. The man pinches your nipples again and you moan into him, gone beyond pain, spearing your tongue as far as it will go as Rudy fucks himself on it, rocking his hips back and forth to fuck the soft flesh of your tits. Your thighs have fallen open around Ale, limp and quivering, and you find yourself surrendering utterly to the two men.

Ale and Rudy fill your world, sight and sound and taste and pleasure all formed around their bodies against yours- and vaguely you hear the 141 all moaning and climbing to their own peaks. Ale lifts your hips and puts his thumb on your clit and oh- oh, oh oh-

Pressure builds in your belly, deep and hot, and there's a sudden new sensation you vaguely recognize, growing alongside your orgasm, but you can't think past the pleasure. Rudy is still fucking your tongue, letting it pop out and leave across his ass before you manage to stiffen it again for him, his fingers pinches your nipples mercilessly, so tight you want to cry as he forces your breasts together to massage his cock.

Ale is still fucking you so slow, so fucking deep, and as the pressure bursts through you like a grenade you hear a scream and feel the hot wet flood against your groin and thighs where Ale suddenly begins slamming his cock into you, frantic. Your tongue retreats limply into your mouth as your eyes roll back and you keep coming, coming again, arching and squirting and screaming as Rudy spills over your breasts and belly, nipples released with a snap that brings another quiver from your poor cunt. Ale groans above you and stills, his hips grinding his cock in deep as he comes, adding his own to the creamy mess of your come.

Rudy collapses on the floor next to you, and someone lifts your head. Blearily you manage to see Soap, his face wet with Ghost's come, bring his straining cock to your lips. You can't move even to suck him, and instead let him fuck into your mouth like a fleshlight, using your soft tongue and palette until he shudders and comes, swearing. You're so blissed out the come just drools out of your mouth, sloppy, and when Soap leans down to lick it off you you hear two more moans and feel slick bursts of come across your breasts, Gaz and Price jerking each other off over you, painting you like tiger stripes.

You float in a soft come-soaked haze, body thrilling with each little muscle spasm, used to the end of your rope. There's gentle hands wiping your body down, a pair of tongues gently laving the come from your skin. You shake when someone licks over your pussy, too-much too-sore, and are shushed with kisses as the man between your legs gently cleans you, pressing a kiss to your clit, still standing full and hard, and you cry out as the easiest, gentlest orgasm rolls you into oblivion. Thats alright, you can let yourself go- you have your Ale and Rudy and the 141 to take care of you until you wake.

[lxvvie]

Call of Duty, Father's Day edition:

Just fatherly things, or how you honor the men in your life on this special day.

Capt. John Price - Price never asks for much, just your safety and happiness, but the kids wanted to give him presents for Father's Day, so you do. A new hat that looks like all the others but more expensive, a new mug for his tea, and kisses galore on his chonky cheeks. What more could the Cap'n ask for?

Gaz - Kyle just wants to hold his family in his arms, so he does. He didn't think he'd make it back in time to be here with you guys but he did and he's so damn happy. Now he and the little ones can get caught up on the latest gossip.

Alex Keller - It's not too often that he gets to do this. You all enjoyed his favorite breakfast with him: a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's worth the sugar rush you know Keller and the kids will experience afterward.

Soap - Soap's been meaning to help his girls with their cheer practice so you honor him by... letting him be the bottom of the pyramid. With his cheer uniform on. And Whiskey keeps licking his face. You took a photo and he'll never live it down. The wee ones laugh every time.

Ghost - The Missus™ achieves his dream of sleeping in today with his girls right beside him. There's Simon, his big arm wrapped around his kids who're cuddled up against him, and Pup by his feet sleeping peacefully. He'll wake up to a wonderful gift courtesy of his girls: a pink shirt that says Princess Daddy in glittery letters across the chest, and it's adorned with a tiara, too? Missus Princess Daddy™ is life, Simon. You cannot escape it lmao.

Alejandro - Alejandro wakes up to his kids tackle-hugging him in bed. There's breakfast and a card with heartfelt messages on it. They're very proud of their papa for everything he does and continues to do for them. Oh, and he's about to be a papa again. Best Father's Day gift ever, amirite? Congrats, Alejo!

Rudy - Oh, you let the mother hen rest today. Rudy loves to pamper and cater to his family but now it's his turn to be pampered and catered to. The house? Clean. Dinner? Cooking. Kids? Loving on Rudy. All is as it should be.

König - The kiddo's Father's Day gift has been pranking König something fierce all day and all you can do is shake your head in faux exasperation and revel in the gremlin laughter (from both of them) echoing throughout the house. You'll have his favorite meal for dinner.

Horangi - Today, Horangi is being honored by his kid beating him in card games. Repeatedly. And Horangi trying to figure out how and why this is happening lmao.

Graves - Graves is also pretty content with his lot in life. You and Boss Baby Graves give him a gift card to a spa he's been wanting to try. And then you get his ass by having some of the men from Shadow Company call and wish him a Happy Father's Day and call him Dad. Real cute, darlin'.

[codnasties]

forced creampie w/alejandro 🤠 (🌽 link)

this shit is always said about price, but alejandro also has shitty hips. a type of pain that sadly prevents him from fucking you nicley and making you as dumb on his cock as he wished he could. but that ain't preventing him from pleasuring you.

alejandro is down to let you ride him as much as you want. alowing you to use his cock as your own personal dildo. ans he fucking loves it. the way you jump up and down on his rock hard dick. your dress hastly pushed up your hips and down to let your boobs out.

the pleasure may fog his mind, hands unable to find a resting place, looming on your hips or groping your tits. but one thing does actually pop up clearly on his mind as you hump his dick: you have to get up, he's about to cum and if you don't get off, the little resolve he has left in that fucked-dumb state won't let him pick you up and get you off himself.

but when you tell him no, he regrets - let's be real, he doesn't - his decision of letting you use him and fucking without a condom. the obvious consecuence to this was him getting miked by your twitching walls, making him fill you up with his cum.

after that one, alejandro is going to fuck you raw every single time, he's obsessed creampie-ing you and a silly little condom isn't going to stop him.

[lunarw0rks]

Hello I wanna request some Valeria SMOOT cuz I'm down bad for cartel mommy. A short fic abt Valeria fucking the absolute brains out of you to the point of being dumb and squirting everywhere

warning(s): nsfw (18+), exhibitionism, overstim., dom/sub, degradation/praise, val's purple strap strikes again, humiliation, squirting, fem!reader

MAKING MESSES | VALERIA GARZA

overbearing bass, candlelit lighting, constant chatter; surrounding the two of you. the noise of nightlife is muffled by the oversized doors, still original to way before your time — almost an irony compared to the modernized club they’re housing.

it wouldn’t matter either way. your ears were ringing. every gasp, every whimper, every mutter into your ear echoed and fizzled into the noise.

her pink nails dug like needles into your hips, guiding every rut onto her strap. valeria lolled in the leather armchair, leaning back and enjoying the show you were giving her. she paid no mind to the risk, how patrons could be a hair away from hearing or seeing you two.

it was her club; her place. and you were fucking hers. anyone who had a qualm about that? they never stuck around long.

she controlled everything, every single body roll. your cunt clenched tight around the violet silicone, swallowing its entirety. “sigue adelante, nena. so fucking desperate.” she spits out her words, relishing in your whimpers. they echo off the stucco walls, likely carrying all throughout the hall. “desperate whores should get nothing. but not you. riding me out in the open like this.”

your bottom lip seeps a bit of blood from how harshly you had been biting it, pathetically failing at silencing yourself. it wasn’t any use when you’d already finished twice, leaving a milky ring around the base of the strap. your wetness dribbled down the slick shaft, soaking onto her cargo pants.

the night dress you wore, pulled down at the top to expose your nipple. it might as well be her own personal stress toy — to lap, squeeze, pinch, and slap as she sees fit.

it was pure luck that none of the clubbers had rounded the corner. if it were up to valeria, she wouldn’t skip a beat. the buzzed onlooker getting a surge of jealousy when they ogle your bouncing body; hem pulled up to expose your bare ass as it jiggles. or the drip of your pussy, messily and audibly being stretched out.

your head dips down, getting a rush of fatigue from the physical strain. if it weren’t for her harsh hands, you were sure your grinds would be nonexistent. with precision, she outstretches a hand and grips your jaw, forcing eye contact. “eyes up. you don’t get to tap out after teasing me, cariño.” valeria patronizes.

if you were of sound mind, perhaps you would’ve agreed. not wearing panties was a risky move; as risky as riding her in the dim hallway. but she always packed — that violet temptation just a zipper away.

you felt yourself plunged into another high, mewling against her palm as you climaxed. she locked in, both hands returning to your hips as she drove you down faster. this was your most intense orgasm yet; eyes rolling and body shivering.

pleasure pumped through you as violently as the strap, a warm gush messing all over her lap. you had squirted, proving that the sticky mess before was nothing. “mierda… mi putita, so messy.” valeria groaned lowly with amusement, as if she had climaxed herself.

“we aren’t done.” she leaned in close, showing the forced grinds to a stop. you had no choice but to believe her — and valeria always stuck to her word.

a toy being used on a toy <3

a/n: this is so bad... | ⊹。°˖➴ divider cred. - cafekitsune

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

66 / 500 words / Alejandro snippet dusted off + edited for Ale anon :)

...

“Do you sleep alone?”

Alejandro looks at you over his bottle with a halting look. “Come again?”

You grin around your own drink before you take a swig. “Just asking.”

He chuckles. Not because it’s a funny joke, but because of your audacity. It’s not the worst thing he’s ever caught coming out of your mouth, though. He’s not sure how your team deals with you. “I do. And if I didn’t, that’s not your business.” Two can play at this. “Why? Would you like to join me?”

“I’m asking the questions here, boss.”

“After you, then.”

“What do you look for in a woman?”

He takes a much longer swig. Then he swallows his drink slowly, counting the bar lights above your heads until he reaches twenty. “Someone who can keep up with me.”

“The kind who can outrun you.”

“You know what I mean.”

You roll your eyes. What every guy claims to want. “Someone who’s smart, sexy, and confident.”

“And willing to stand up to me.”

“Yeah?”

He leans back in his chair and watches a game of pool play out nearby. He’d swear one of the players is hustling the other. “A good sense of humor doesn’t hurt.”

You notice him not noticing you and lean forward on your elbows. “Someone who won't let you get away with copious amounts of bullshit."

He rolls his shoulders back in a half-stretch, half-shrug. “Someone who can keep me on my toes, eh?”

“Not someone to comfort you at the end of the day?” That’s all your teammates can seem to talk about, at least. You figure that’s what everyone wants. Not a troublemaker.

“Oh, I’m good with something soft once in a while. But, ah, I once knew this girl…” Alejandro rests his bottle on the table and turns the glass, smirking into the middle distance beyond it. “Who wasn’t afraid to call me a stubborn idiot to my face.”

“Yeah, right.”

He grins. “But you didn’t let me finish. She can call me out on anything--other than when I’m in the field. Then I’m the one in charge. But a woman who can put me in my place when we’re alone together… that’s something I like very much.”

"You need conflict to stay interested?"

“Sometimes a good fight gets me a little hot. When it leads to other, more fun things, it’s worth a good argument.”

You scoff. "You need a hobby."

He shoots a dazzling smile at you. He’s only looked at you out of the corner of his eye this whole conversation—and you know you’re hardly the type to catch his full attention—but still. You’d love to get Alejandro in bed just once. Just for the experience.

“Hobbies are boring. They’re for those sad men who can’t find a beautiful woman to be with,” he tells you. His smile turns sharp, and you swear you catch his gaze darting down to your neck. “Besides, why have a hobby when I have someone to take home instead?”

...

more Alejandro / masterlist

[supernova2205]

The Silence Of The Mole

Part 2

Summary: The past has a way of catching up, no matter how far you run. Years after leaving the 141 behind, you’ve built a new life one filled with purpose, loyalty, and something close to peace. But when fate forces your paths to cross again, old wounds are ripped open, and buried emotions resurface. Some things were never meant to be forgiven.

The moment you handed Price your transfer papers, you felt something inside you shatter.

You had spent years with the 141, built something you thought was unbreakable, but after everything after the interrogations, the bruises, the betrayal you couldn’t stay. Even if Soap and Gaz had started to mend the wounds they helped create, it wasn’t enough. Not when every time you saw Ghost or Price, all you could hear was their cold accusations, feel the phantom pain of their hands gripping you too tight, their voices laced with distrust.

Price didn’t try to stop you. He read the papers, his jaw tightening, then gave a single nod. “I’ll approve it,” he said gruffly. No apology. No fight. Just acceptance, as if he had already known this was coming.

Ghost hadn’t said a word. He watched you pack your things in silence, his mask betraying nothing, but his body was tense, like he wanted to say something anything. But he didn’t. And that hurt more than anything else.

Soap had been the one to argue, to try and convince you to stay. “We can fix this,” he had pleaded. “We will fix this.”

But some things couldn’t be fixed.

So you left.

The weight of the past was always with you, even when you thought you’d left it behind.

After the betrayal of the 141, you had nowhere else to turn. Los Vaqueros offered you a chance to start anew, and though you hesitated at first, something in you clicked when you met them. They treated you like family, not a tool or a weapon.

Alejandro was the first to speak with you when you arrived. His eyes were kind, though you could sense the professionalism in his demeanor. He didn’t ask too many questions. Instead, he offered you a place on his team, and with it, a new sense of purpose.

Rodolfo was the one who welcomed you with open arms, like a sibling you never had. He taught you the intricacies of their operations and helped you adjust to their way of working. Your Spanish, though solid, became smoother under his guidance. You felt a pride in being able to converse with ease now, the words rolling off your tongue without hesitation.

In the months that followed, you found comfort in the family dynamic of Los Vaqueros. They cared for each other in a way that made you feel safe, valued. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could be happy again.

But when the mission came when you found out you’d be working with 141 again it felt like the universe had decided to toy with you.

The first time you saw Ghost and Price again, you felt your heart stop. They were standing in the same room, their presence so heavy that it felt like the air was suffocating.

“You,” Ghost whispered, his eyes not meeting yours as though he couldn’t quite process seeing you again.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice even. “Me.”

Price was quieter than usual, his gaze flicking between you and the rest of Los Vaqueros. He nodded but said nothing, his face hardened.

“Are we working with them?” Soap asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he glanced at you.

“Sí,” Alejandro replied. “We need all the help we can get for this mission.”

It was the first time you had heard your old team’s voices in years, and despite your resolve, your emotions churned beneath the surface. You thought you had moved on, that you had buried the past but seeing them here, now, stirred up memories you weren’t ready to face.

You barely spared them a glance as you moved to your new team’s side, but Soap’s eyes lingered on you. You could see the pain there, the regret that was still fresh in his expression. You wanted to ignore it. You wanted to walk away from the past entirely but you couldn’t.

The mission was a blur of violence and strategy. You worked seamlessly with Los Vaqueros, and the team’s camaraderie was unmatched. But every moment with the 141 was a struggle.

Soap tried his hardest to bridge the gap, even joking with you in the same way he used to, but it fell flat. The wounds ran too deep. You could feel him watching you when you weren’t looking, as though waiting for a sign that you would return to the old dynamic.

Gaz was softer in his approach, but there was still a distance, an invisible wall between you and the rest of them. You felt it every time they looked at you, as though they were unsure whether you were still the person they once knew.

But it was Ghost who caused the most turmoil.

His eyes never left you, not for a moment. Even when you were deep in the mission, you could feel the weight of his stare. It wasn’t just the old tension between you two. No, it was something else guilt, regret, fear.

One night, after the mission had wrapped for the day, he approached you.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the words hanging in the air between you.

You glanced at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “What?”

“The past,” he said, his eyes flicking to the ground. “Do you ever think about what happened?”

“I think about it every day,” you said, your tone steady, but the weight of your words hung heavily between you. “But that doesn’t mean I can forget it.”

You watched him swallow, his hands clenched at his sides as if he were fighting some internal battle. “I never meant to hurt you,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you turned away and walked off, leaving him standing there, a shadow of the man you once knew.

The mission progressed, and tensions mounted. Days passed with little change. But then, during a particularly dangerous operation, everything went wrong.

Soap got separated.

You didn’t know how it happened one minute, you were all moving together, and the next, Soap was gone, lost in the chaos of the battlefield.

Rodolfo immediately took charge, his voice commanding as he directed the team to search for him. You didn’t wait for orders. You moved, your mind on nothing but Soap’s safety.

You found him a few hours later, battered and broken, his breathing shallow but steady. His eyes flickered open when he heard you approach.

“You came,” he whispered, his voice weak but relieved.

“I always will,” you replied, your hand gently touching his shoulder.

You worked quickly to patch him up, your hands steady despite the pounding in your chest. The mission had already been a nightmare, but losing Soap after everything was too much.

He winced as you worked, but he didn’t complain. “I’m sorry,” he muttered again, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity you hadn’t seen in years. “For everything.”

You didn’t know what to say. Instead, you just nodded, wrapping the bandages tight to stop the bleeding.

Rudy stayed close by, his presence a comforting constant as you worked. He’d been by your side this whole time, a steady hand when you needed it most. He wasn’t like the 141. He didn’t judge you or question your worth. He just supported you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said to him quietly, your voice hoarse.

“Siempre,” he replied, his hand resting on your shoulder.

After the mission, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed irreparably. Soap had apologized, but there was still a distance between you, one that couldn’t be crossed so easily. Ghost had said his piece, but his actions spoke louder than any apology.

Price? He stayed quiet, as always, but his eyes were full of things left unsaid.

But you were no longer the same person.

And neither were they.

After all that chaos you guys were supposed to meet with Graves. The mission had started well, or so you thought. You had tracked your targets to a small compound nestled deep in the mountains. Alejandro led the way, as always, with his calm and steady presence. You had become accustomed to the rhythm of the team the way everyone knew their place, the way Los Vaqueros operated like a well-oiled machine.

But then, as with most missions, things went wrong.

You had been in the middle of clearing a room when the explosion rocked the building. Dust and debris filled the air as the ground beneath your feet gave way. The next thing you knew, you were thrown to the ground, your ears ringing, your vision spinning.

By the time you regained your senses, Alejandro was gone.

The panic in Rudy’s voice was unmistakable as he called out for Alejandro, but there was no answer. The silence that followed was even worse than the explosion itself.

Then came the realization: Alejandro had been taken.

And you…

You’d been captured too.

They didn’t waste time.

You were dragged through dark, damp corridors, your hands bound tightly behind you. You had no idea where they were taking you, but you knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“You worked with them,” one of the captors hissed. “You were with 141.”

The words stung more than they should have. The weight of the accusation the way they spat it at you felt like a blow to the chest. You were no longer just a soldier. You were the traitor who had betrayed them.

They made sure to remind you of that with every strike, every torture, every demand for information.

At first, you held your tongue. You knew better than to give them anything, but the pain was unbearable. They knew what to target, what to make you remember. And every time they dug deeper, every time they tore at your flesh, your mind flashed back to the 141 back to the accusations, the interrogations, the betrayal.

They knew about your past with them. They used it against you.

It felt like days weeks even before you heard any familiar voices. You barely recognized them through the haze of blood and pain, but when Rudy’s voice broke through the darkness, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“Hold on, we’re getting you out,” he said, his voice full of concern.

The next few hours were a blur of gunfire, explosions, and chaos. Rudy’s steady hands helped free you from your restraints, but the pain was still fresh. The wounds were deep, but they didn’t matter as much as what had been taken from you.

By the time Alejandro was found, it was clear that something inside you had broken. You had always been the medic, the one who healed others but you had nothing left to give.

Back at the safe house, the mission debrief felt like a slow-motion nightmare.

You sat in the corner, barely able to look at the 141, who had just joined the operation. The tension was palpable like a wall that had been built between you and the rest of the team. You could barely meet their eyes without feeling the weight of everything that had happened.

But it wasn’t the 141 that you were most concerned about.

It was Alejandro.

He had seen the toll that the torture had taken on you, and while he didn’t say much, his eyes betrayed the concern he felt. He pulled you aside after the meeting, his gaze soft but unwavering.

“Are you alright?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“No,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m not.”

Days passed, and the pain of the mission lingered in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t shake the memories of the torture, the feel of their hands on your skin, the words they had used to break you.

You couldn’t do it anymore.

The decision came as a shock to the team.

You told Rudy you couldn’t do it anymore and talked to Alejandro, unable to find the right words to explain why you were leaving.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you said quietly. “I’m not the person I was before.”

Alejandro didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you, his brow furrowing as if trying to understand, trying to find a way to fix this.

“I’m sorry,” you added, your voice cracking. “I know you were counting on me. But I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay. I’m not.”

Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with regret. “You’ve done enough, hermana,” he said softly. “No one can ask you to carry this burden forever.”

It was the hardest decision you had ever made. Leaving Los Vaqueros was like tearing a part of yourself away. You had built something with them, something real. But you couldn’t stay in a world that had broken you, couldn’t continue fighting when everything inside you felt like it was already shattered.

The 141 they had taken that from you. You had been so loyal, so willing to fight for them, but now all that was left was a hollow shell.

So, you walked away.

The days following your departure were lonely. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak to anyone, not even Rudy, not even Alejandro. It felt like they had all moved on without you.

But one night, as you sat in a dimly lit bar in a quiet corner of the world, you heard a familiar voice.

“Not the kind of place I expected to find you.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Soap’s accent was unmistakable, even in the quiet hum of the bar.

When you did look up, he was standing there, his face tense but soft with emotion. His eyes searched yours for something anything.

“I’m not here to fight,” he said quietly. “I just… I need to see you.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to.

But in that moment, you realized that you were done with them. But you weren’t ready to forgive either.

The days following your decision to leave were filled with uncertainty, but they were also peaceful. You moved to a small town, far from the chaos of the battlefield and the haunting memories of what you had endured. It wasn’t an easy transition, but you found comfort in the little things things you had once pushed aside in the name of duty.

You took up painting, something you had always loved but never had the time to pursue. The soft brushstrokes on the canvas became your refuge, your way of expressing what words couldn’t. You would spend hours lost in color, in texture, in creating something beautiful from the turmoil that had once consumed you.

You also started gardening, planting flowers in your backyard. The smell of fresh soil and the sight of buds slowly blossoming into life brought you a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in years. It was strange to feel peace again, but it was also liberating.

At night, you would sit on your porch with a cup of tea, staring at the stars, thinking about the life you had left behind. The memories of your time with Los Vaqueros and the 141 faded slowly, like the setting sun. It was as if you were finding yourself all over again, carving out a new identity far from the battlefield.

But no matter how far you went, no matter how much you tried to forget, there was one thing you couldn’t escape your past.

Years had passed since you walked away from the life you knew, and for the most part, you had found a quiet peace. But in the back of your mind, the shadows of your past still lingered, always just beyond reach.

One evening, while you were painting on your porch, you felt a strange sense of being watched. You glanced up, your breath catching in your throat as you spotted him. Simon, standing just at the edge of the trees, his figure cloaked in shadows.

He didn’t move didn’t say anything. He simply watched you, his masked face hiding whatever emotions were behind it. The familiar weight of his presence settled in your chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t run. Instead, you stared back at him, trying to make sense of the moment.

What was he doing here?

Had he been watching you all this time?

Years of pain and uncertainty bubbled up inside you, but you didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Finally, Simon took a slow step forward, but stopped at the edge of your yard. He stood there for a long while, silent, his gaze never leaving you.

It wasn’t until you put down your paintbrush that he spoke. His voice was low and steady, as if nothing had changed. “You’ve been busy, huh?”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t the words that mattered it was the presence. The weight of everything that had come before this moment. Moments passed with just the two of you standing in silence.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Simon continued. His words were raw, more vulnerable than you had ever heard them. “But I didn’t know how else to protect you.”

You stood still, letting the silence stretch between you, letting the weight of his apology settle in. It was enough for now. The years of hurt, of betrayal, of everything that had gone wrong, were too much to unpack in a single moment. But what you felt wasn’t anger anymore. It wasn’t rage. It was… sadness. A sadness that you had lost something you would never get back.

Finally, you broke the silence. “I’m okay now, Simon. I’ve found peace. I don’t need anything from you.” Your voice was soft but firm, as if you were reassuring yourself more than him.

His eyes softened his blond short hair slightly moving with the wind, It was calming in a sense staring at the face you once loved and would give your life for. And for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of regret. But he said nothing. He simply nodded and turned, walking away into the night.

Months went by, and life returned to its quiet rhythm. You still painted, still gardened, still lived a life you could be proud of. You didn’t think about Simon every day, but there were moments like when the breeze would rustle the trees or when the stars hung low in the sky that you couldn’t help but wonder if he was out there, somewhere, still watching over you from a distance.

But you didn’t need him anymore. You had moved on, built a life for yourself, and in the end, that was all you could ask for. The weight of the past had finally begun to lift, and though there were days when you still felt the sting of what had been lost, you were stronger now. You had learned to live again.

And as you sat on your porch one evening, painting beneath the stars, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. You had come a long way farther than you had ever thought possible and for the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Even if Simon still watched from afar, you knew that you were finally free.

This is where your journey truly began. The story of pain, loss, and healing had come full circle. It was no longer about the past, or the choices you made, but about the future you were building on your own terms.

Authors note: Hey everyone! I really hope you enjoy this chapter! I wasn't quite sure if I wanted to keep going with it because the last chapter felt like it could stand on its own, but all the love and encouragement from my last post inspired me to continue. I truly appreciate your support! Please let me know what you think and what else you’d love to see in the future. Your feedback means a lot to me!🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼