#pensions specialists

[laurajenkin85]

Maximum Cillar 3 contribution

Start investing for maximum pillar 3 contribution from a young age as it can lower the burden of financial challenges during old age. The 3rd pillar plan is customized to encourage individuals to make informed and wise investment decisions. Talk to an expert and private financial consultant who can help you know the pros and cons of each investment step in detail.  

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

I read "no costuming or makeup was required" and was honestly prepared for this to turn into one of those "I can't believe this is not a shitpost" medical leaflets from my endocrinologist's office, warning that gigantism is usually a symptom of a serious underlying condition.

Even the text that follows does not entirely convince me that it's not.

Ludacris on the set of his "Get Back" music video (2004)

[federalpensionadvisors]

Federal Pension Advisors: Specialized Pension Life Insurance Services

When planning for retirement, securing a stable financial future is a top priority. Federal Pension Advisors offers specialized pension life insurance services tailored to meet the unique needs of federal employees. Understanding the complexities of pension plans and life insurance can be daunting, but with Federal Pension Advisors’s expertise, you can navigate these waters confidently and ensure a worry-free retirement.

Understanding Pension Life Insurance

Pension life insurance is a crucial component of a comprehensive retirement plan. It provides a financial safety net for your loved ones in the event of your untimely death, ensuring that they are supported even after you’re gone. This form of insurance is designed to complement your pension plan, offering additional security and peace of mind.

Federal Pension Advisors specialize in crafting personalized pension life insurance policies that align with your specific financial goals and retirement needs. By evaluating your current pension plan, Federal Pension Advisors’s pension plan specialists can recommend life insurance options that enhance your overall retirement strategy.

The Role of Pension Plan Specialists

Pension plan specialists at Federal Pension Advisors play a vital role in helping you maximize your retirement benefits. They possess in-depth knowledge of federal pension systems, such as the Federal Employees Retirement System (FERS) and the Civil Service Retirement System (CSRS). This expertise allows them to provide tailored advice that optimizes your pension and life insurance benefits.

These specialists take the time to understand your individual circumstances, including your financial goals, family needs, and long-term plans. By doing so, they can design a pension life insurance strategy that provides comprehensive coverage and aligns with your retirement objectives. Their goal is to ensure that you and your family are financially secure throughout your retirement years.

Benefits of Specialized Pension Life Insurance Services

Choosing Federal Pension Advisors for your pension life insurance needs comes with several key benefits:

1. Customized Solutions: Federal Pension Advisors’s pension plan specialists create personalized insurance solutions based on your unique needs, ensuring that your policy is tailored to your specific situation.

2. Expert Guidance: With extensive knowledge of federal pension systems, Federal Pension Advisors’s advisors provide expert guidance to help you make informed decisions about your retirement and insurance plans.

3. Comprehensive Coverage: The pension life insurance policies offered by Federal Pension Advisors are designed to provide comprehensive coverage, ensuring that your loved ones are financially protected in any eventuality.

4. Financial Security: By integrating life insurance with your pension plan, Federal Pension Advisors helps you achieve greater financial security, giving you peace of mind as you approach retirement.

5. Ongoing Support: Federal Pension Advisors offers continuous support and reviews of your pension and life insurance plans, ensuring that they remain aligned with your evolving needs and goals.

Why Choose Federal Pension Advisors?

Federal Pension Advisors stand out for their dedication to providing specialized pension life insurance services. Their team of pension plan specialists is committed to helping federal employees navigate the complexities of retirement planning with ease. With a focus on personalized service and expert advice, Federal Pension Advisors ensures that you receive the best possible support in securing your financial future.

By choosing Federal Pension Advisors, you are partnering with a trusted advisor who understands the intricacies of federal pension systems and can guide you in making the best decisions for your retirement. Whether you are just starting to plan for retirement or looking to enhance your existing pension plan, Federal Pension Advisors’s specialized services are designed to meet your needs and provide the financial security you deserve.

In conclusion, Federal Pension Advisors offer unparalleled expertise in pension life insurance services, making them the ideal choice for federal employees seeking to secure their retirement. With their customized solutions, expert guidance, and ongoing support, Federal Pension Advisors ensures that you can enjoy a worry-free retirement with the financial protection your family needs.

[hearingaidsprofessionalsposts]

Enhancing Quality Of Life: Widex Hearing Aids For Pensioners

Have you ever wondered about the sounds you might be missing? Around 80% of those who are 80 years old or older are likely to have some form of hearing loss.

But fear not! Widex hearing aids for pensioners are here to help experience life's beautiful symphony once again. Let's explore how these advanced devices enhance seniors' quality of life.

Rediscovering the Beauty of Sound

Imagine being able to catch the laughter of your loved ones, the melodious song of birds, and the gentle rustle of leaves – all with striking clarity. 

Widex hearing aids revive these sounds, as they are crafted with technology that doesn't just amplify sound but also tunes it precisely to match individual hearing needs.

Customized Solutions for Every Lifestyle

Just as one size doesn't fit all, the same goes for Widex hearing aids. Widex offers an array of options tailored to different preferences and lifestyles. These devices are discreet, comfortable, and user-friendly, fitting seamlessly into your everyday routine.

Guidance from Hearing Aid Specialists

Finding the right hearing aid can be a challenge. That's where hearing aid specialists come in! They're attuned to seniors' unique challenges and can provide personalized advice to meet your individual needs. 

They ensure your Widex hearing aids perform at their best, making adjustments as needed for optimal clarity and comfort.

How to find the best Hearing Aid Specialists

Research: Look for certified specialists with strong credentials and positive patient reviews, ensuring expertise in hearing aid solutions.

Referrals: Seek recommendations from doctors, audiologists, or friends who have had successful experiences with hearing aid specialists.

Credentials: Verify the specialist's professional qualifications, such as licensure and affiliations with reputable audiology associations.

Consultations: Schedule consultations with potential specialists to assess their understanding of your needs and their proposed solutions.

Technology: Opt for specialists who offer a range of advanced hearing aid technologies, tailored to your preferences and hearing requirements.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Widex hearing aids are more than just devices – they're pathways to a world alive with vibrant sound. If you're looking to enrich your quality of life by rediscovering the magic of hearing, consider the expertise of Hearing Aids Professionals, your trusted hearing aid specialist. With their dedication to your well-being and the power of Widex hearing aids, you'll be embracing the wonders of auditory experiences once again. Book your consultation today with Hearing Aids Professionals!

[clevermoney]

Secure Your Future with a Pension Transfer Specialist

Looking to optimize your retirement saving s? Look no further! Clever Money, your trusted partner in Financial Advisory Services, brings you expert Pension Transfer Specialists. Maximize your pension potential and ensure a comfortable retirement.

Start your journey towards financial freedom today! 

[willsandtrusts]

Retirement planning is one of the most important financial decisions you’ll make in your life. With life expectancy on the rise and increasing financial complexities, it’s crucial to start planning for your retirement as early as possible. Choosing the right pension advisor is a vital step in ensuring your financial future is secure. In this article, we will discuss the key factors to consider when selecting a pension advisor in the UK and how Wills & Trusts can help you achieve your retirement goals.

[hearingaidsprofessional]

How To Maintain Behind-The-Ear Hearing Aids?

 Hearing aids assist people with hearing loss perceive the sounds around them more clearly. This device collects, amplifies, and directs sound into the listener's ear so it can be processed and appropriately comprehended.

People get recommended to use hearing aids by their audiologist or ENT specialist after a thorough hearing assessment.

For those who have hearing loss, hearing aids are a necessity, so they must be kept in good condition to avoid malfunction or other damage. 

Thus, it is essential to clean your hearing aids frequently, or there could be a hindrance in their functioning.

How Do You Keep Your Hearing Aids in Good Condition?

To keep your hearing aids in good condition, you should follow a regular cleaning schedule or have them cleaned by a hearing aid cleaning service. Here's how you can maintain and clean your listening device:

To clean the earwax accumulation in the opening at the end of your hearing aid, you'll need a wax pick and a hearing aid cleaning brush. Keep a hearing aid cleaning kit on hand for the more effective dirt removal.

Put on your hearing aids after using hair products or water on your face or head to maintain hygiene. Wash your hands before and after cleaning your hearing aids.

Clean your hearing aids before sleeping so they can air out during the night.

Keep your hearing aids at room temperature when they are not being used, and keep them away from water if they are not waterproof.

Looking for a qualified and trusted audiologist near me? Hearing Aids' Professionals is your one-stop solution.

Cleaning hearing aids can be complicated because they are delicate devices with varying compositions based on design, material, and brand.

How To Clean Behind-The-Ear Hearing Aids?

The cleaning process differs depending on the hearing aid users. Behind-the-ear hearing aids are appropriate for various forms of hearing loss. 

They are typically wrapped around the ear's back. These hearing aids are simple to use and clean.

Here's how you can clean BTE hearing aids:

To clean the tube, use warm water without getting the rest of the gadget wet.

The earmould must be removed from the hook.

You should clean the mould with a gentle brush and remove any remaining debris with a wax pick.

If the tube is clogged, it needs to be replaced.

Hearing Aids' Professionals: One-Stop Shop For Quality Hearing-Aid Services

Our skilled hearing aid specialist can help you with your hearing issues and suggest the most suitable solutions. We also provide free hearing aids for pensioners and DVA veterans.

We also provide a variety of high-quality hearing aids made by well-known brands, as well as various accessories such as hearing aid cleaning equipment, personalised ear plugs, assistive listening devices, and so on.

We also assist people eligible for the NDIS hearing aids plan in obtaining the necessary financing approval and hearing aids through the HSP.

[star-anise]

are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

[this-smile-is-real]

Hi, I’m Hannah.

I am trying to build my life after 49 hospital admissions in 8 years. After 20+ years of trauma, an eating disorder etc. I have diagnoses of cPTSD, Anorexia, Fibromyalgia, Functional Neurological Disorder and my large bowel no longer works. I have been on the disability pension since 2019 but have increasing medical costs, increase in rent, more and more specialists and appointments weekly, fortnightly and monthly. I currently have 11 people on my team but can only afford to see 2 regularly.

I am needing help financially that I can’t find elsewhere. I am doing all that I can and am also currently studying at university but have become so overwhelmed, in thousands of dollars debt and am always behind in bills. I would be so grateful for any donations. Thank you

[mushimatsu]

I found the full versions of the job apps from this post! This was a collab with the restaurant chain Sukiya, so that's where the job app is for! Pictures from this blog post here!

Translation under the cut

Osomatsu:

Academic background/work experience (include relevant experience):

(dates left blank) NEET, factory job, Chinese food restaurant, etc Anyway I have experience with a lotta stuff! And more

About yourself:

Gyuudon! I can eat a lot of it! Beer! (something crossed out) I can drink a lot of it! 

Hobbies/Skills:

Horse racing, pachinko, all kinds of gambling!

Reason for your application:

Because I think I could eat a lot of gyuudon. And because I think a pork bowl made with a brand new model of charcoal grill would be tasty! 

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (he left this blank and just put an x through Monday, Saturday, and Sunday)

Other requests:

I’d like to immediately take off days where a machine is being replaced, store remodeling days, and horse race days! 

What days would you prefer to work?: (left blank)

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank) How long can you work for?: (left blank)

Karamatsu:

(in the furigana section where you're supposed to write the pronunciation of your name he wrote it in English instead of hiragana)

Phone Number: Secret (it's so important to tell you that he wrote "secret" as the English word in katakana, and not the Japanese word for secret)

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Theater Completed curriculum at Hybrid Oden cart (Hybrid misspelled as Hybrit) And more

About yourself:

When I take the stage called Sukiya... After that... Who knows...

(sorry if this is incorrect idk how the fuck to translate what he said. hate his ass /j)

Hobbies/Skills:

I can sing while playing guitar, and more...

Reason for your application:

Gyuudon, butadon, curry... Because your menu calls to me...

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

I'm not tied down to anyone...

What days would you prefer to work?:

What a foolish question...

How many hours would you like to work a day?:

I'm not tied down to any time...

How long can you work for?:

How many times do I have to tell you...

Choromatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Totoko-chan's manager Worked at father's friend's company And more

About yourself:

Personally, I would benefit from your company's management policy, so I think I can achieve results while working remotely. The other day, all my brothers caught a cold, but I was busy making content as a small influencer!*

Hobbies/Skills:

Kanji certification level 6, English certification level 6. Thank you very much.

Reason for your application:

Sukiya would benefit from an entrepreneur and marketing and advertising specialist with a concise plan to make KPIs a priority activity. Boosting conversions** can create solutions for Sukiya through engagement. Gyuudon benefits will surely create profit. Assign buffers and launch. Thank you very much.* ** like click through rate

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

Frankly, a pension plan is a must, with a minimum of 200,000 yen fixed and committed per month. Thank you very much.

What days would you prefer to work?:

I will send you the agenda for today's activities afterwards. Thank you very much.

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank)

How long can you work for?: (left blank)

*(struggled so much with him and his business buzzwords if anyone has corrections please tell me)

Ichimatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Honored Squad Leader for Life at Factory Worked at Cat Cafe, as a cat And more

About yourself:

I want to gather some cats at the restaurant, but not like it would be a cat cafe, and make a "Cat Sukiya"...

Hobbies/Skills:

Cat certification level 2

Reason for your application:

I want to surround the restaurant with a lot of cats.

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

How many cats am I allowed to bring to the restaurant?

What days would you prefer to work?:

No particular preference

How many hours would you like to work a day?:

No particular preference

How long can you work for?:

As long as there's cats

Jyushimatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

PRACTICE SWINGS

About yourself:

78 METER THROW

Hobbies/Skills:

BASEBALL

Reason for your application:

I WANT TO EAT LOTS OF GYUUDON!

(All the questions about when you're available to work):

I WANT TO EAT GYUUDON EVERY DAY!!

Todomatsu:

Academic Background/Work Experience:

Currently attending a very prestigious college Part time job at a trendy coffee shop And more

About yourself:

My brothers are all stupid, so I'm the best choice <3

Hobbies/Skills:

English and Japanese certified

Reason for your application:

The new menu item avocado gyuudon is my favorite, so you're going to release it, right? That is to say, you'll hire me, right? Right? Thanks <3

Working hours (for example 9 ~ 17): (left blank)

Other requests:

Rather than just beer, I want to sell kalua milk and cassis orange too ⭐

What days would you prefer to work?: (left blank)

How many hours would you like to work a day?: (left blank)

How long can you work for?:

Depends on if the customers are cute girls <3

thank you @totmatsu for ur help

[skele-ghost]

Baby, it’s Hot Outside: Part 1

I wrote this like 8 months ago as a smut fic…and never got to the smut part. Rest assured, there will be smut eventually.

MDNI, 18+, Warnings: Omegaverse AU, being sick, mentions of illicit drug use, people yelling?

See prologue for summary and masterlist

You’ve been with the 141 for about six months. A decent amount of time, plenty of missions—but you still feel like you’re the outsider, somehow.

It’s because they’re a pack, the five of them, and you’re the tag-along coworker, the specialist. You’re all good friends, sure, but they’re all mates. You don’t stand half a chance against a bond like that.

You keep your sorrows to yourself, though—your envy. They’re all happy together, and you’re happy for them, even if part of your heart aches for that kind of love and affection you’ve never known.

You’re a beta, we’re raised by betas, in a beta-dominant community. Your health class in school didn’t even cover the other dynamics, and even in college all of your irl friends had been betas.

You’re a loner, anyways. You’re most comfortable behind a computer screen, getting into files you shouldn’t, pulling the strings from the shadows.

That’s how you’d been recruited, anyways (don’t hack into the Pentagon drunk), Laswell taking an interest in your effortless talent and skill for computers and machinery.

After working on a few missions with the 141, you were given a formal invite with a nice pay upgrade that you didn’t want to turn down.

They guys are a little intimidating at times. Ghost is…Ghost. He, Price, and König all being alphas. König worried you at first—he’s something called an Apex Alpha, and while you’re not completely sure what that means, you know that the term comes from ‘apex predator’ and connected the dots from there.

But it turns out he’s just a big sweetheart. Yeah, he’s the team’s human battering ram, and yeah, he gets a little scary on the field; but none of them, not even König, had made you feel threatened or unsafe.

Maybe that’s why you stay even if you sometimes feel a little left out. You keep yourself occupied with your tasks: hacking, repairing, making little electronics. You’ve all fallen into a comfortable routine with each other, falling into your roles like good little soldiers.

Which is why you’re confused to all hell as to why they seem pissed at you. You keep going over and over it in your mind, each interaction picked over and analyzed, but you come up on a blank.

Ghost had outright shoulder-checked you this morning. You told him to watch it and he glared at you. He hadn’t glared at you since the early days when you were new.

It was worse with Soap. You were closest with him. He always comes in and checks on you since you have a pension for locking yourself away while working which causes you to forget to eat or sleep. Now he’s glaring at you, too.

It didn’t help that you’re all on a mission. Recon, roughing it in sleeping bags, camped out at an old abandoned cluster of cabins. You’re all monitoring a base down below the ridge of the mountain, intent to find intel on El Sin Nombre.

You decide to brush it all off. Maybe they’re just in sour moods? Maybe you really did do something wrong, but until either of them confronted you about it, there was no point in worrying about it.

So you kept busy monitoring the local radio frequencies in your cabin. It’s damn boring, though, and the summer heat of Mexico isn’t helping.

You’d die for an air conditioner right now. Well, you’d die to not be on this mission anymore, to be back on base and have more space away from your colleagues. And you’d die to not have this guilty, worried pit in your stomach. You always get it when something bad is going to happen, the dread getting worse and worse over time. It’s stressing you out, making you sweat even more. You probably stink.

It’s almost a relief when Gaz shows up, creaking the old screen door open, but he looks pissed at you, too, and you want to cry from sheer frustration.

“God, not you, too,” you groan, smoothing your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Captain wants to see you,” Gaz says, sounding angry, confusing her just as much.

“Seriously? This about Ghost and Soap? What did I do?”

Gaz scowls, “don’t play coy, Seraph, he’s not going to like that.”

“What are you—“ you sigh, “you know what? Fine. Maybe he’ll explain why you’re all so pissed at me.”

Being outside in the sunshine, even briefly, makes you feel worse and hotter. You wonder if maybe you’re getting heat exhaustion or something—you aren’t used to being in the field and you’re sure as hell not used to being in the summer heat for so long.

Shit, maybe you’re coming down with something. As you and Gaz march over to the Captain’s cabin, you notice that everything smells different. Off. It’s making you nauseous.

When you step into the cabin, you know you’re in for it. Captain Price is standing at his desk, glowering down at you. Soap is standing a little ways behind him, his arms crossed, and Ghost is sitting in the back corner like the spook he’s named after, arms crossed.

It takes a hell of a lot of restraint not to curse under your breath, but you manage.

“Take a seat, Private,” the captain gestures at the chair in front of the desk and you have no room to argue.

You hate when they call you that—Private. It’s not even your rank. Technically you have none, you’re a specialist, and you never enlisted. You were a CIA Special Agent before all of this. Why they picked ‘private’ out for you, you have no idea, but you do feel like it undermines your hard work. You’re not some E-1, after all.

Everyone’s eyes on you makes you want to squirm, but you hold fast. It smells overwhelmingly like several different things: cigars, whiskey, cinnamon, wood smoke, the wild flowers that are outside.

Your guts keep screaming that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’ve put this mission in jeopardy, Seraph. I have half a mind to relieve you of duty and send you home,” Price says, his voice terse.

“Sir?” You ask, wanting him to elaborate, to tell you what you did wrong so that you can fix it.

“You set König off, he’s up at the deer blind refusing to come down,” he adds, voice rising in volume.

You frown, now noticing his missing figure. “König? What’s wrong with him,” you ask, concerned.

Your Captain lets out a disingenuous chuckle, which probably would’ve made your blood run cold if you weren’t so hot.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” he says, practically growling. “We can tell. There’s no hiding it.”

“Wh—“

“Why did you do it?” Soap interrupts, fuming. “You’ve been part of the team for nearly two years, you don’t think you can trust us?”

The CIA training kicks in and you keep your mouth shut for the moment. This is starting to sound like a set up—like you’re being pinned for something you didn’t do. Or like they think you’re lying about something and are waiting for you to spill first.

But the other part of you, the part that knows your team, doesn’t think so. Maybe that part of you just doesn’t want to imagine them betraying you.

Price sighs, stepping away from the table, running his hands down his face. A sour smell begins to stack in the room and you crinkle your nose.

You hate confrontation. It was your biggest downfall, considering that you now work in special forces. You’d just barely passed your interrogation training after four attempts—yelling people upset you, which is why you never thought you’d be working alongside the military.

“I don’t…know what this is about,” you say, your voice small and meek.

“Yes, you do,” Price insists, crossing his arms, and before you can open your mouth the screen door opens again.

Gaz comes in holding your medicine, the ziplock bag stuffed with your prescribed medications and supplements.

“What the fuck,” you whisper as he puts it on the table, and then raise your voice, “that’s a HIPAA violation, you can’t just take those!”

Gaz’s hand on your shoulder is the only thing stopping you from taking your bag back. Price points at the bag, “which ones are the heat suppressants? I’m giving you a chance to come clean, (L/N).”

“Come cle—“ you stop yourself, frowning as you try to pull the new piece of evidence into the mix. “You…think I’m abusing prescription drugs?”

Soap huffs, “let me see, I know what they look like.”

Price hands him the bag, and everyone’s still just glaring at you while you try and think.

“What are you looking for, opiates? I’ve never been prescribed—“

“The heat suppressants, (L/N), where are they?!” Soap shouts, tossing the bag back onto the table. “Do you ‘ave any idea what that shite does to your body? They can kill you!”

You take in a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Your head is starting to pound with all this shouting. “What the fuck are you guys talking about? What are heat suppressants?”

“Oh, come on,” Ghost growls, rising from his chair in the corner and stalking over. “Quit acting daft and tell us the truth!”

Soap’s hand on his chest holds him back from coming any closer. You’re about ready to cry, now, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You have to stay calm, that’s what your training taught you.

“You can be discharged for this,” Price continues, still angry. “Hiding any medical history can get you booted, especially your designation!”

“My designation?” You furrow your brow, “I never lied about my designation, I’m a beta.”

“You fucking—“ But Soap holds Ghost back, walking him to sit back down in the chair in the corner. He’s livid. You’ve never seen any of them so mad.

“No, you’re not,” Price says, and you can tell how hard it is to keep himself calm and at an even tone of voice. “Heat suppressants might’ve tricked your body into thinking that, but that’s not the truth, is it, (Y/N)?”

This is beyond frustrating. Fuck being calm, you’re on your last nerve, “what the hell are heat suppressants, and why the fuck do you think I’m taking them? And for the love of god, will one of you motherfuckers tell me what I’m being accused of here?!”

Your voice echos in the old cabin for a minute. Somehow, that managed to shut them up and get them thinking. Less angry now, they look at you with confusion, apprehension.

“You really don’t know what’s going on?” Gaz asks next to you, and you glance up at him briefly.

“No! How many times do I have to tell you fuckers?” You wince at the ache in your skull that’s becoming worse, “and will someone pass me a Tylenol? Y’all are making my head hurt.”

You rest your face in your hands, trying to get your erratic breathing to calm down along with your skipping heart.

“(Y/N), when was your last heat?” Soap asks, his voice much, much more gentle.

You look up at him, squinting, “huh? I never had heat exhaustion before. My mama did, when I was little…”

“I think she’s serious,” Gaz says, as if you’re not right next to him.

“Shit,” someone says, and you can’t really tell who. You look up when you hear the sound of your medicine bag again, Soap fishing out two Tylenols and handing them to you along with a nearby water bottle.

“Thanks,” you mutter, quickly downing the pills and the rest of the water. Looking around the room at everyone again, you almost wish they were angry again. The anxious looks of worry on their faces is much worse, because they’re worried about you, and you don’t know what for.

Price sighs, sitting down at his desk chair. “You’ve never had a heat before?”

“That’s what I just said,” you quip, snippier than usual.

Price glances up at Soap, who nods, and then he looks back at you. “That’s not what this is, Seraph. You’re going into heat. You’re an omega.”

—

You scrunch your face up, frowning. “No, I’m a beta,” you insist, voice soft.

“No, (Y/N), you’re not.” Your captain pinches the bridge of his nose, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him at a total loss for words.

“You’re going inta heat, bonnie,” Soap says. “Even Gaz can smell you.”

You freeze, picking up the collar of your shirt and taking an experimental whiff of yourself. No, it just smells like sweat and laundry detergent.

“Am I the one that smells weird?” You ask, “because it does smell weird.”

“No, that’s us,” Soap explains. “Your nose is sharper now that you’re going into heat.”

“Mm-hmm,” you say, not believing a word of it. “But there’s no way I’m an omega. Both sides of my parents lineage goes back six generations—all betas. It’s literally impossible.”

“You never had the genetic testing done?” Soap asks. Testing can be done when you’re born to best guess what you’ll present as by looking at your dominant genes.

“There was no reason to, seeing as there’s a 0% chance of me being anything other than a beta,” you argue, wiping the sweat from your chin. “I mean, if I’m an omega, then Soap’s King of Scotland.”

“And it’s damn good to be king,” Soap says, crossing his arms.

Price shakes his head, “it’s not a debate, sweetheart, you are an omega. Is it possible you’re adopted?”

“What?! No!” Your head snaps up to glare at him, “my mom would’ve told me.”

“Have you seen your birth certificate?”

You roll your eyes, “have you seen yours?”

“I have mine,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you sigh.

“My ma lost the original copy—house fire,” you explain, but you know you’re not wrong. “Even if I was, that wouldn’t change anything, right? You present your designation in puberty, and I never presented, therefore…beta.”

You cross your arms.

“Then explain the smell,” Ghost says, speaking up from his quiet corner. You had almost forgotten about him.

“Obviously I’m sick,” you say, “maybe I ate something bad.”

“We all ate the same thing,” Ghost sighs, unsatisfied with your answer.

“Allergic reaction. I’ve never been to Mexico; we touch plants all the time.” That one’s more feasible, you think.

“That’s not—“

“Alright, enough,” Price says, stopping yours and Ghost’s banter. “Arguing about this isn’t going to change anything.”

“Right,” Soap agrees, walking over to you. “Whether you’re sick, or in heat, or having an allergic reaction, you need rest.”

“But who’s gonna monitor the radio?” You’re a little wobbly as Soap hauls you to your feet, but you shake it off.

“Gaz knows how to use the equipment,” Soap says and you begin walking out of the cabin and back to yours.

“Who’s gonna do Gaz’s job?”

“Me, probably.”

“Then who’s gonna do your job?”

“Quit it, (L/N).”

—

A/N: If you made it this far, thanks! I’ve recently been inspired by the fic authors I follow to post my own content. I write a lot, mostly for my own enjoyment, but I’ve never really shared anything except this and the Graves fic I posted forever ago. I think I’m gonna post fic like this that I’m comfortable with and see where it goes. I’m not taking requests and I can’t guarantee I’ll reply to messages or asks, but I will look at them lol

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Run, pretty girl, run Chapter 6

Summary:  Even with the safeguards put in place after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., the remaining Avengers find themselves on the run after the American government falls into disarray.  The code word is sent, and they’re officially fugitives.  Bucky makes a run for the safe house set up for emergencies like this where the Avengers are told to meet up, but on the way saves the pregnant agent turned payroll specialist that he was partnered with.  Will they make it before she goes into labor?  Or at all?

Warnings: violence, pregnancy, childbirth, death of minor character, language, eventual smut

“Бегать”: run “Подтвердить” : confirmed “Enkosi”: thank you “Дома”: home “Добро пожаловать”: welcome

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Once they got back to the Avengers compound Y/N kept good on her threat and retired.  She had had enough, and losing her baby was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Fury made sure that a hefty restitution was paid to her as a last ditch effort of goodwill.  Bucky followed her lead, though his retirement was much more of a headache, being an enhanced person who was on the main team of the Avengers.  As he finally finished his outgoing paperwork and he and Y/N got paid out on their pensions, he booked flights and got things in place for them.  

“You all packed, pretty girl?” he asked a few weeks later.

“Yep.  Though I wish you’d tell me where we’re going,” Y/N said, giving him a hesitant look.

“Don’t worry about it, Mamas,” he reassured her, kissing her cheek.  “You’re gonna love it.”

A few hours later they were on a plane, graciously provided by Stark Industries from Pepper.  Y/N relaxed against the large seat, her eyes fluttering shut as Bucky held her hand.  She had stopped bleeding from after childbirth, and her body was finally feeling better after all they’d gone through.  They hadn’t done anything more than kissing, which Bucky was fine with.  He was inexperienced after 70 some years under Hydra, and as much as he wanted her, he knew it would take time and healing before either of them might be ready.  That being said, as they got further and further away from the Avengers, the more relaxed and flirty she seemed.

On their descent Y/N became more jittery, trying to look out the window and see where they were.  “Uh uh, no peeking,” Bucky admonished her, taking her chin between his metal fingers and making her look at him.  He winked at her when she met his gaze and she bashfully smiled, blushing and looking away.  

“Come on, Buck, the suspense is killing me,” she whined.  

“Soon, Mamas, soon,” he murmured, grabbing her hand and kissing the back of it.

They landed and Bucky blindfolded her before they walked off, leading her carefully to an awaiting car that was quickly loaded with their luggage.  As the driver took them to their destination she never let go of his hand, squeezing it tightly in anticipation.  The car stopped and Bucky helped her out while the driver unloaded their bags and promptly drove off.

“Okay, it’s driving me nuts, where are we?” Y/N demanded.

Bucky chuckled as he started untying the blindfold.  “You,” he paused, kissing her ear and she gasped, “me,” he kissed her neck, “and a cocktail in Monaco,” he finished, kissing her shoulder and pulling the blindfold off.  Y/N blinked rapidly as she got used to the sun in her eyes, then looked up and gasped again.  They stood in front of a French villa that faced the neighboring sea.  The sun was setting, creating a rainbow collage that made the white walls of the villa look like they were glowing.  The borders of the house were covered in flower gardens and walking paths that circled around the back.  She looked around in shock and turned to face him.  “Well, technically Nice, France,” he said.  “But we’re taking a boat tour of Monaco tomorrow.”

Y/N squealed and jumped into his arms, hugging him tight around the neck.  “This is amazing, Bucky,” she said reverently as she pulled away and looked at him.  “We made it,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his forehead.

“We made it,” he agreed, leaning in and kissing her lightly.  He led her inside and they took a tour of the house and grounds, watching the last bit of sunset before going inside and getting unpacked and settled for the night.  As he lay down in the bed of the main bedroom he sighed loudly, Y/N smiling at him as she exited the adjoining bathroom.  “I’m so tired,” he breathed.  “Long flights really take it out of me now.  My age is catching up with me,” he smirked at her.

Y/N huffed a laugh.  “Well, if it’s any consolation, you look incredible for 107,” she teased, laying down next to him, propped up on her elbow.

Bucky laughed, turning to face her.  “Oh really?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” she said, reaching out and tracing the tip of her finger down his nose.  “You live up to your name, hot stuff.”

Bucky blushed and fought an oncoming smile.  “Big words from the prettiest girl,” he retorted.

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “I don’t know about prettiest,” she said.

Bucky scoffed.  “You are,” he said earnestly.  He took her hand and started kissing it all over the back of her hand to her knuckles to her fingers.  “My pretty girl,” he mumbled into her palm.  He started kissing up her wrist to her arm, continuing to pepper featherlight kisses up to her shoulder and into the crook of her neck, making her lay back as he hovered over her, his metal hand gripping her hip.  Y/N sighed as he worshiped her skin, her fingers gripping the blankets beneath her.

As he sucked on a sensitive spot he found weeks earlier near her ear she moaned.  “God, Bucky…” she breathed.

He smiled against her jaw.  “Yes?” he asked.

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands and making him inhale sharply.  “I’m still waiting on that cocktail,” she murmured in a teasing tone.

Bucky laughed into her neck as she shook with laughter under him.  “Whatever my pretty girl wants,” he murmured, nipping at her earlobe, making her squeal.  “Though I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it.”

“Have you never made a cocktail before?” Y/N asked, looking at him in surprise.

Bucky grimaced.  “Uh….no?” 

She rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her.  “Okay, let’s go,” she grunted as she stood up from the bed and headed out the room.

Bucky quickly followed her out to the kitchen where a bar was nearby facing the view of the ocean.  Y/N walked behind the bar and started rummaging through the small drink fridge, pulling out different bottles.  She pulled out two glasses from the wall and loaded some ice into them before turning back to the bottles.  “Have you ever had an Aperol Spritz?” she asked.

“No,” he said, watching her intently.

Y/N smirked as she started showing him what to do.  Bucky loved watching her hands confidently grabbing the bottles and pouring them, adding the bitters and mixing everything together.  She finished with a slice of an orange in each glass then handed it to him.  “You, me, and a cocktail in Monaco,” she said, holding up her glass.

Bucky smiled.  “Saluti,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.  Y/N smiled and sipped her drink while he took his first drink.  He hummed as the taste slipped across his tongue, his eyes narrowing at the drink.  “Wow, that’s…that’s really nice,” he said.

“Right?” she said, her smile widening.

“You’re really good at this,” he said.  “Where did you learn to make drinks?”

“Well I wouldn’t say an Aperol Spritz is hard,” she scoffed.  “But, funny story, I was undercover for a while before being partnered up with you,” she said, putting her drink down and lifting herself up onto the counter of the bar to sit.  “I was gathering intel on a nationalist group that was trying to partner with the Flag Smashers after the Blip,” she continued, taking another sip.  “Thankfully, people like Karli Morgenthau were at least sensible enough to not want to associate with racists,” she cocked an eyebrow at him.  Bucky huffed, nodding as he remembered Karli and the Flag Smashers that he and Sam fought with a few years ago.  “I worked as a bartender in the bar the nationalists met at,” she said.  “Had to blend in.  Most of the drinks were easy, but for the odd cocktail every once in a while I had to look like I knew what I was doing, so I was trained in making drinks.”

“How did that mission end?” he asked.

“Oh, I just gave over intel and washed my hands of it when it was over,” Y/N said, downing the rest of the drink.  “I heard that it was a quick clean up.”

“Good,” Bucky smirked.  “What were you doing until we got partnered up?”

“Small missions,” she shrugged.  “That’s unfortunately how I met Tim.”  Bucky’s mouth tightened at the mention of the disappearing baby daddy.  Y/N looked down, her hands gripping the counter.  She was quiet for a moment, and Bucky quickly downed his drink before stepping toward her and between her legs.  He ran his hands from her wrists to her shoulders then up to her neck, his fingers under her jaw making her lift her head up to look at him.  She looked sad as she gazed up at him.  “I thought he loved me, you know?” she whispered.  Bucky nodded.  “He was really intimidated by me working with the Avengers,” she continued, a small lopsided smile breaking through.  “Especially working with you.”

Bucky scoffed.  “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.  “He didn’t like how well we partnered together.”  

Bucky couldn’t help but smile widely.  “How insecure,” he murmured, his thumbs tracing along her jaw.

“Though I guess he wasn’t wrong,” she ventured, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, leaning forward and rubbing his nose along her nose.

“Because we’re here,” Y/N whispered, her hands leaving the counter to reach forward and grip his shirt.  “And he’s not.”

Bucky kissed the tip of her nose and started rubbing his nose and lips across different parts of her face.  “Do you remember how after he left, I was so angry,” he muttered, slotting his hips between hers and against the counter further, “and I disappeared for a few hours?”  Y/N nodded, her hands moving up from his stomach to his chest.  “He never made it out of the state,” he said, a bitter tone to his voice as he tilted her head and his lips skimmed along her cheek to her earlobe, continuing what he was doing earlier.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

“You don’t wanna know,” he whispered, then licked her neck up to her ear, and she squirmed and moaned into his ear.  “You like that, Mamas?” he said.  “You like that I would do anything for you?  That I would kill for you?  That I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you?”  Her breath stuttered at that revelation.  “That even though I had a hard time trusting people, I knew I could trust you…with my life, my love, my heart?  That I’ve loved you since our first mission together, and you patched me up so tenderly?”

Y/N sniffled and he pulled back.  Her face was a look of desire, but there were tears streaming out the sides of her eyes.  “Yes,” she groaned.  “Yes, I like that.”

Bucky bit back a shit-eating grin.  “What do you want, pretty girl?”

“You,” she sighed.  “I want you.  All over me.  All around me.  Please, love,” she begged, which made Bucky’s brow furrow and his jaw tighten.  “I love you,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down.  

Just before their lips met he groaned.  “I love you,” he murmured, then kissed her hard.  

Y/N damn near climbed him like a tree, pushing herself up off the counter and into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as one of her hands gripped the hair at the back of his head and tugged while licking along his lower lip.  Bucky whimpered as he turned and carried her back to the bedroom, his fingers digging into her hips.  When he finally got back to the bed he set her on it without breaking apart, sliding her up the bed until he was able to start to thrust against her hips, dry humping into her as his hands slid up her sides, pausing near her breasts.  

“Please, Buck,” she said, removing her hands from him and reaching down to start pulling her shirt off.

Bucky gasped as she revealed herself to him.  He had seen her breasts from their awkward mastitis encounter before, but getting to see them in this way was completely different.  “So pretty, Mamas,” he moaned before dipping his head down and licking at her nipple.  Her back arched, pushing her breast up into his mouth, and he sucked at her nipple fervently as his fingers played with the other one.  Y/N took off his shirt next, hastily pulling it up and over his head and flinging it across the room.  Her hands then massaged over him from his shoulders, down his arms and across his chest.  As he switched his mouth to her other nipple she lifted her head up and started kissing along the wound that connected his metal arm to his body.  It made him shudder, releasing her nipple as he gasped against her skin.  

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed.  “So sweet to me.”  His fingers traveled down to her hips, pulling at the hem of her shorts and underwear and looking up at her.  She nodded and he pulled them off down her legs.  She was already wet, her pussy glistening as he stared down at her.  “Goddamn,” he muttered.  “Can I taste you, Mamas?  Please?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, spreading her legs further apart.  

Bucky smiled and positioned himself to lay down between her legs.  He hooked her thighs around his arms as he kissed her inner thighs up to the crease between her leg and her pussy lips.  He gave her a broad-tongue lick up her slit, making her gasp loudly.  Bucky hadn’t done this in a very long time, but he followed his instincts and did what felt good, watching her reactions and noting what made her squirm more.  Her fingers grasped his hair, holding his head against her as he ate her out with desperation.  Y/N’s legs began to shake as he sucked hard on her clit before releasing it with a loud slurping sound.  As he gazed up at her he noticed the scar near her navel where the doctors had removed her baby.  He moved his head up and kissed it tenderly.  She stiffened at his actions, her fingers relaxing in his hair and scratching his scalp gently.  He kissed along the entire scar before kissing back down to her clit.  Y/N looked down at him, the tears returning at his tenderness.  He returned to licking her clit, this time not as desperate or frenzied, but more intentional and purposeful.  Within moments she threw her head back and moaned as she came, her hips jerking against his face as he helped her ride through her first orgasm.  “Good girl,” he said, licking up her cum.  

Bucky lifted himself back up and moved to hover over her, dipping his head down and kissing her.  Y/N moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her hands reaching down to start pushing his pants down.  Bucky pulled away and watched her eagerly slip her fingers past the top of his boxers and dip down to grip his cock.  He lightly gasped at how her hand felt wrapped around him, his hips jerking against her.  “You gonna make me feel good, hot stuff?” she teased, giving him a wry smile.  

Bucky nodded, his mouth agape as she gave his cock lazy pumps with her hand.  He quickly slipped his pants and boxers off then reached for something in his pants pocket.  “Let’s be sensible about this,” he muttered, pulling out a condom.  He opened it and rolled it on himself as Y/N stared down at his cock.  “Even though I’d love for you to have my babies,” he teased back as he settled between her legs again.

Y/N looked shocked at his words, but a small smile lit up her face.  “You wanna have babies…with me?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” Bucky said incredulously.  He gripped his cock in his metal hand and slowly rubbed it between her lower lips, coating himself in her cum, making her shiver.  “I want it all with you.”  He aimed himself at her entrance and slowly started to push in.  She moaned at the stretch he gave her, her hands gripping onto his shoulders.  He kept going until he was fully seated inside her, his hips fully flushed with her hips.  He sighed heavily as she enveloped him, her grip loosening on his shoulders and her hands smoothing down his arms.  “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek as he gave her time to adjust to him.  “I want to make you my wife,” he continued, kissing her other cheek.  Y/N hummed as he kissed the tip of her nose.  “I want you to have my babies,” he smiled.  “I want to live the rest of my life with you.  All I want is you, pretty girl,” he smiled, kissing her lips.  

Y/N wrapped her legs around his hips, squirming against him.  “I’m all yours, Bucky,” she said.  “All I want is you.”

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling.  He pulled his hips back and then thrust back into her.  Y/N’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan.  “Mine,” he moaned as he continued to slowly thrust back and forth.  

Y/N’s hands moved back up his arms, shoulders, along his neck until she was cupping his face.  She brought him close to her face and rubbed her nose along his.  “Mine,” she said.

They both smiled at each other as Bucky kissed her again, his hips never stopping.  His pace picked up speed as he dug an arm under her neck to hold her closer, his kisses moving from her mouth to her neck, nibbling along her throat to her ear.  Y/N’s nails scratched down his back, making him snap his hips harder into her and she moaned loudly.  “Fuck yes!” she yelped.  “Do that again!”

Bucky huffed a laugh against her cheek.  “You like it hard, Mamas?” he asked, giving her another snap.  Y/N squeaked, her eyes shut tight and nodded frantically.  

“Yeah…please Buck…hard and fast…just keep calling me that,” she said, opening her eyes and looking down between them where they met.

“Oh really?” he teased, pulling out until only the tip of his cock was inside her.  She looked up at him in annoyance, her hips wriggling to try to make him push back in.  “You like being called my pretty girl?” he asked.  Y/N nodded, her face scrunching up with desire.  “Or do you like Mamas better?” he asked, giving her a quick snap of his hips.  

She shrieked, her fingers scratching him harder.  “Shit!  Bucky please…”

“Answer me, Y/N,” he instructed, nipping at her lower lip and sucking on it.

Y/N was nearly shaking beneath him.  “Mamas,” she whispered, licking at his mouth that was still holding her lip.  

Bucky smirked as he released her lip.  “I knew it,” he chuckled.  He braced his knees more on the bed then started pounding into her at a frenzied pace.  Y/N gasped, her head wrenching back against the bed.  Her breaths and moans came out faster and more high pitched, her arms wrapping around his back.  Bucky kept himself close to her, wanting to feel her skin against his as much as possible.  “I’m close, Mamas…fuck,” he groaned.  “You gonna cum for me again?”  Y/N nodded, biting her lip as she looked up at him.  “Shit, you can’t look at me like that,” he moaned, closing his eyes.  

Y/N’s fingers scratched up his back again then around his sides to his chest, up his neck and then tangled into his hair, scratching his scalp.  “Let me see those pretty eyes, hot stuff,” she murmured, her voice coming out airy and seductive.  Bucky opened his eyes, his breathing getting heavier as he looked down at her.  His hips started to roll against hers, and it made her eyes slightly roll as she swallowed harshly.  “I love you,” she breathed, then kissed him like she’d never kissed him before.

Bucky whimpered, his metal hand sneaking between them and his middle finger flicking her clit fast.  “I love you,” he mumbled against her lips.  Y/N whimpered, then her orgasm crashed over her.  She stiffened, her legs locking behind him, her fingers ripping at his hair as she came with a muffled scream against his lips.  Bucky grunted as her pussy clamped down on him, and within two more rolls of his hips he was cumming, a long, deep groan reverberating in his chest.  

They panted against each other as they came down from their highs, Bucky dropping his head into the crook of her neck, lazily kissing her collarbone.  “Goddamn, Mamas,” he mumbled.  Y/N giggled, her legs starting to relax and release him.  “You’re so good,” he continued.  “Feel so good…god I love you…”

Y/N softly ran her fingers through his hair as he lifted his head to look at her.  She had a lazy smile on her face, her eyelids half drooped as she breathed deeply and looked up at him.  “Heya hot stuff,” she muttered.

Bucky smiled.  “Hey pretty girl,” he said.  

Y/N sighed.  “Thank you,” she breathed.

“For what?” he asked.

“For this,” she replied, cupping his face in her hands.  “For taking me here.  For doing all you could to keep me and Grant safe.  For being my partner, my best friend,” she said, her thumbs swiping across his cheeks.  “For loving me.  Thank you for everything.”

Bucky shook his head with a small smile.  “And I’d do it a million times over,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose.  “Anything for you, Mamas.”

@vioplay19 @mrsnikstan @scott-loki-barnes @tufflepuff23 @itsmytimetoodream

[blkdaddie]

The Doctor's House Calls

Story tags: PG-13, Fluff, Interracial, Age Gap, Mpreg, Gay Romance

I was raised in the deep south, where family is everything. I’m the youngest of 8, all boys. So when Mama got sick wasn’t no girls to take care of her, and I promised to stay by her side. My brothers were all off starting their own families and businesses and such, and couldn’t send but so much money home. Not enough to get a nurse more than a coupla times a week. So I got a little job doing landscaping for the town; nothing exciting but I get to be outside and got a nice little pension waiting. Rest of the time it was just me and Mama.

When she took a turn our family doctor said I needed to take her to a specialist over in the city, a young buck straight out of school and still wet behind the ears. He didn’t look old enough to tie his own shoes but Mama took to him straight off and wouldn’t see anyone else. It was a long ride back and forth, few times a month. So when her doctor offered to come do a house call I sho nuff said yes. With the price of gas these days and such, it was a blessing. So Dr. Nate - he tol’ me call  him Dr. Nate- started coming up to see Mama on the regular. But each time he came a little earlier and stayed a little later. He was new to the area, said he didn’t know nobody and liked our company. He helped a lot, and getting on almost 60 years old, my bad knees were grateful.  We was so thankful I started inviting him to stay for dinner, and when peach season came I made a cobbler. He said it was the best thing he’d ever eaten and I had some talented hands. Such a silly thing, don’t know why it made my cheeks hot.  

Even still, I never thought ‘bout Dr. Nate coming ‘round so much but Mama started fussing at me to brush my hair and put on a clean shirt before his visits. I was mighty surprised that night I was washing dishes while he got Mama settled and he came right up behind me and kissed my neck! I ‘bout dropped the gravy boat. You see, I been with some of the faster girls in the town when I was younger, but wasn’t  no woman trying to date a man with a momma to take care of round the clock. Figured my romancin' days was behind me.

So I whirled round and said “Now see here, I ain’t no sissy!” And don’t you know that man grinned dead in my face and said “No, you’re all man.” And grabbed me right through my levi’s. Well it had been a while and his hand felt so good, maybe I didn’t protest as much as I should have.  He really took liberties and started kissin’ me but good.  Tasted like peach cobbler. And him being a doctor and all, when he said he wanted to give me an anatomy lesson about the prostate, I was curious. Well we got to having more lessons and next thing you know, I’m getting swole. Sure took me by surprise but Mama said children are a blessing. She passed quietly in her sleep when I was about 4 months gone. Seemed silly rattlin’ around this big old house by myself so Nate moved in, said he don't mind the commute if it means coming home to me.

I been thinkin’ about retirement, been 40 years on the job and it’s getting hard with a big ol’ belly. Nate thinks I should stay home anyhow; he wants at least 4 more kids and we’ll have to do it fast before I’m too old.

Mama said birthin' is a natural as breathin' and ain't no reason for big hospitals so I delivered at home way it's s'posed to be. Nate got a taste of being a country doctor. He did a real good job taking care of me, real good indeed.

He’s aiming for a houseful. It’s what Mama would want.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Comment in the Standard: How dare Montecito millionaire Prince Harry demand our tax money to cover his legal costs

This subject matter cannot be covered too much for my taste.

Emphasis and comments by me:

Prince Harry’s latest court defeat in his rightly unsuccessful bid to overturn the decision to refuse him guaranteed Met police protection after he pulled out of royal duties might seem like a trivial battle over legal fees.

But in fact the duke’s failed attempt to pass 50 to 60 per cent of the costs incurred by the Home Office in fighting his unmerited claim tells us much about the preening prince and his selfish disregard for virtually anyone other than himself, his equally self-obsessed wife, Meghan Markle, and his children. [No one else matters of course. It is all about them.]

That’s because when the Duke of Sussex, as he still wants to be called despite ditching his royal role, wasted yet more of the High Court’s time in arguing for the taxpayer to fund at least half of the hundreds of thousands of pounds that the Home Office was forced to spend on the case, what he was really doing was trying to pass on a large chunk of the bill to ordinary taxpayers. [Sponging off others is quite on brand.

That’s right: instead of having the decency to accept that he’d have to pay up when he lost, the Montecito multimillionaire, for whom the legal expenses will be loose change, wanted taxes paid by everyone ranging from people on the minimum wage to bus drivers, cleaners and pensioners to cover his costs. It’s frankly contemptible. [Does he think it is his birthright to have the peasants pay for his temper tantrums?]

It's notable too that yesterday’s costs order by the High Court judge, Sir Peter Lane, reveals that Harry, who is so protective of his own privacy (when it suits him), managed to breach a confidentiality agreement made as part of the litigation by emailing “certain information” that was meant to be secret to one his lawyers and the MP Johnny Mercer. The prince might have apologised for the error, but the costs order refers to the “seriousness of the breach” and it was at best a sloppy mistake that added to the Home Office costs that he was trying to avoid. [What were you up to Harold?]

Harry’s whole case was, of course, misconceived from the start and it’s worth recapping why.

He asserted that the decision in 2020 by security experts on the Government’s Executive Committee for the Protection of Royalty and Public Figures, known as Ravec, that he should no longer receive publicly-funded police protection in Britain because of his move abroad should be overturned.

The supposed reasons were that the committee had allegedly failed to take into account the impact of a successful attack on the prince and had also acted unreasonably, unfairly and with a lack of transparency.

It was nonsense for the prince to think that he knew better than a panel of experts informed by the latest security advice from the police and intelligence agencies. [This man has a very high opinion of himself.] The High Court unsurprisingly dismissed Harry’s claim on all grounds, finding that there was no reason to overturn the Ravec panel’s decision. It had in fact left open the possibility of occasional police protection for the prince when in Britain, if there was evidence in future of a sufficient threat to his safety.

An attempt by the prince to persuade the courts that a later offer by him to pay for police protection should have been accepted was also rebuffed. Yet another judge dragged into Harry’s interminable litigation ruled it would be wrong to allow the wealthy to receive a service from the limited pool of specialist Met protection officers that a less affluent person could not afford.

That too was the correct and inevitable decision. Police protection officers are highly skilled specialists, trained at significant public expense, who exist only in restricted numbers and who are required to safeguard those facing the highest risks such as working royals, Cabinet ministers and prime ministers current and former, not others like Harry wanting the comfort blanket of protection they don’t need.

In short, every argument put forward by Harry was flawed and rejected by the courts. It’s a sign of his delusion that even the succession of earlier rebuffs from the judiciary didn’t stop him basing his attempt to get off a big chunk of the Home Office’s costs in fighting the litigation on the fantasy claim that he’d achieved “partial success” in his legal action. [He learns nothing from his experiences.]

Maybe that was how Harry viewed it. After he all, he told the world in his biography Spare that “there's just as much truth in what I remember and how I remember it as there is in so-called objective facts”.

But it simply wasn’t true, as yesterday’s High Court costs order reminded him.

It pointed out that Harry had “comprehensively lost” and that there was “no merit” in his claim of partial victory with his judicial review argument failing “on all of the pleaded grounds.” [Harold is a big loser.]

It was the obvious outcome from the start and the claim should never have been brought. His inevitable defeat was deserved and now it’s time for the penny-pinching prince to pay up.

👉 How dare Montecito millionaire Prince Harry demand our tax money to cover his legal costs | Evening Standard (archive.ph)

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author: Von_und_zu_

submitted: April 17, 2024 at 10:53AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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[cryptid-corpse]

Finally might be unwell enough to permanently get on the disability support pension which means I'd be able to spend my time seeing specialists for my conditions and focus on my endometriosis and PTSD