itsmeamysworld

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Beautiful work

ribbons & rage | b.barnes

[warnings] dark!gray!congressman!bucky barnes x feral!hybrid!reader, daddy!bucky, power imbalance, possessive bucky, pet play elements, dollification, political manipulation, age regression tones (dd/lg dynamics), dom/sub dynamic, stockholm syndrome, forced domestication, DUBCON

summary: After a diplomatic mission turns into an extraction, Congressman James Buchanan Barnes brings home a prize no one knows about. She’s impulsive. Dirty. Disobedient. But under his eye, with enough ribbons, praise, and correction, he’ll turn the wild thing into something beautiful. Something his.

word count: 5.8k

bucky barnes masterlist

Sam warned him not to get involved in Project LUPUS. He was only a year into his congressional term and he’d managed to fully rid the public of the image of the Winter Soldier. For the first time in the century he’d been alive, he was just James “Bucky” Barnes. Some of his colleagues had even begun to take him seriously. Despite this, Bucky knew Sam didn’t fully understand. He’d never fully understand the destruction that Hydra had caused to his mind. Bucky was the only one who could understand the minds behind the deep-state project. Modern American scientists influenced by Hydra’s science. 

Project LUPUS was Hydra’s legacy. The experimentations, the genetic manipulations, the violence. They hadn’t been erased. They were buried, waiting for someone to dig them up. It was his responsibility to make sure everything tied to it was destroyed. 

The classified file came across his desk because one of his colleagues recognized he would be the best person for the job. He was granted limited access under the purpose of an oversight audit and a bioethics violation review. 

According to the document, everyone involved had been terminated and all the experiment subjects had been exeterminated. His colleague believed otherwise. Bucky read the documents even closer during his private flight to Outpost-25 A, and undisclosed location in Alaskan territory. A snowstorm had grounded most flights but he’d been given “special clearance”.

The scientists, under the direction of a network embedded within the Department of Defense, were intending to create self-healing, biologically engineered hybrids with enhanced aggression, sharp senses, and fast reflexes. They’d be able to detect and eliminate threats, control public unrest, recover key asessets, and could even be deployed during warfare operations. 

They’d learned nothing from the past. 

The very last document in the pile of fifty pages peaked Bucky’s interest the most. It was a scanned intake form, faded, stained and partially redacted. This one had many notes written in the margins. A different tone than the documents describing the purpose of the project, the different subjects and how they’d been exterminated. 

Subject 109. LUPUS-F. Status: Unconfirmed termination. Last seen on Sublevel 3. 

Ah, the real reason he was here. You were nineteen at the time that the project had been terminated. Many of the notes were similar to the other subjects. Rapid healing. Strong territorial response. Pre-verbal communication. A few others, including you, had been listed as non-compliant. 

He stared at the paper longer than he should have, becoming unsettled as he read further. 

There were so many incident reports related to you. Reports on the use of deadly force. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. The accidental death of a Lt. Carney. Another accidental death of a Lt. Wynn. Destruction of two containment doors during transport. The standard dose of sedation being ineffective due to rapid metabolism.

Avoid eye contact. 

Will only accept food from [REDACTED] 

Your termination order was prior to the termination of the project. The justification included unmanageable behavorial volatility and emotional instability. It stated your body had been incinerated but there were no autopsy photos included. 

Double dose required for sedation. 

Rejection of mating partner 103-M. 

Rejection of mating partner 98-M.

Rejection of mating partner 115-M. 

Bucky searched for anything that gone right during your captivity and didn’t find anything. Bucky finally tore his eyes away when the plane dipped from turbulence. The storm was building. As the jet began its descent into a snow-covered valley, Bucky caught sight of the outpost. It was buried under permafrost in a decommissioned missile silo.

The pilot warned him not to stay long before he finally stepped off the transport. It was a thirty-foot walk through snow, reaching up to his mid-calf, to the entrance. The tall steel doors of the entrance had been sealed off. He used his clearance code, courtesy of his colleague on the oversight committe, and the steel doors groaned open. 

Lights flickered weakly above. He passed through long corridors and security checkpoints until he reached the main lab. It didn’t look abandoned. Only frozen in time. Notes were still scrawled across whiteboards, papers stacked on desks, and metal trays with half-used syringes. A shattered, glass, containment chamber sat nearby, clawmarks across the glass. 

But there were no bodies, or bones, or even any bullet casing. 

Carefully and methodically, Bucky cleared the first two floors of the outpost. He found each cage door open and and empty. When he finally reached Sublevel 3, he noticed something in the air had shifted. The air cooled even further and lights dimmed. That’s where he found the bones. Animal bones. 

He checked each cage for a sign of life. Though there was a pistol on his hip and a shotgun strapped to his back, he didn’t ever reach for them. He paused at cell 12-C and stepped inside. There was bedding, sheets created from lab coats, chair cushions and even shredded documents. Muddy foot prints. Small and barefoot. 

You weren’t in a cell. You were loose. Surviving. 

He stepped back into the hallway. And then he saw you. No chains. Just … standing at the end of the hall. Watching him. 

Despite the the lack of sunlight and coldness of your home, your skin was rich and radiant. Your curls, though some were matted, defied gravity. Your frame was slender, most likely from being trapped here with dwindling resources, but the curves of your body remained. Gunshot to the abdomen. He saw the scar above your hip bone. He also saw another one on your right thigh and an even larger one on your collarbone. 

It wasn’t just the scars or the angles of your body that made you unlike anything Bucky had ever seen. Unnaturaly wide pupils that he could see even in the dim light. Slightly pointed ears. You looked him over, scanned him, and Bucky noted the faint twitch of your nostrils – scenting him. Though you were physically much smaller than him, you did not cower. You were not prey. 

Your lips parted and Bucky could see your canines, just slightly too long. 

He remembered your file. 

Hybrid Type: Homo sapiens/Canis lupus (Genome Series III)

Ancestral Donor: [REDACTED] 

You were made this way. Selfishly, inappropriately, Bucky wondered how something made by evil minds could be so … beautiful. Something switched in his mind then. He couldn’t ensure the full termination of Project LUPUS. 

You were like him. A monster of another’s creation. He had to save you. Someone decided to give him a second chance, he could do that from you. 

Perhaps they had evolved. Maybe he was here to get rid of you like the others. He was armed. There was no reason to trust him. 

You didn’t speak. Just stared. Assessed. 

Until you did move. 

Part of you expected to easily pierce his skin. To be so much faster and stronger that the shear force of pushing your body against his would easily knock him down. You hadn’t met a worthy opponent yet. Until now. 

He caught you. 

He moved but barely. You let out a scream of anguish as his arms wrapped around your torso, pulling your body against his. You thrashed wildly, trying to pull your knees into his groin, before you decided to go for his throat. Bearing your teeth, you lunged for him, but the wind was almost knocked out of you when you suddenly found yourself slammed against the concrete wall. 

Now you were mad. Blindingly furious. 

What was he? He didn’t smell like a hybrid. He smelled chemical, metallic, and synthetic. His arm, across your chest, pinned you against the wall. You looked up at his face now, long dark hair shielding half his face. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” His first words to you weren’t a threat. You knew that much although you couldn’t decipher the full meaning. He was surprised. Not scared of you. Not the least bit scared of his own safety. It made you even more furious, “You’ll hurt yourself if you don’t stop.”

Dead. Hurt. You knew those words. Those were bad words. But he almost seemed worried. He looked … conflicted. 

You couldn’t breathe, your chest was tightening under the pressure, and it felt like your bones might crack at any minute. Your eyes burned from the rage and frustration. No one had ever made you feel like this. You wanted his heart in your hands. You wanted his head off his shoulders. But you forced your body to still. Not in submission but to allow yourself time to think. 

A growling whine left your throat, the pain finally fully registering. His grip loosened and something changed in his face. He managed to keep you pinned but the pressure lessened, “I don’t want to hurt you,” He spoke and you hung onto every word. You needed to think. To try to understand him, “You won’t be able to hurt me. Not in the way you want to.” 

Your nostrils flared. You didn’t believe him. You also didn’t move. Clearly, you would have to take a different approach.

He talked like a human. Carried weapons like the humans. You weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like he needed them. You could take another bullet, you’d done it before. You wished that the food hadn’t started running out a few weeks ago. You would be stronger. But there was still fight left in you. 

He didn’t notice the switch flip in your mind. He was already pulling away, giving you space, but you quickly struck again. Dropped your weight, slammed your forehead against his jaw as hard as possible. Nails slashed against his throat when you successfully caught him off guard. You drew blood and smiled. 

“Fuck,” He growled, actually growled, and your smile grew bigger. 

So he bleeds. What was he? 

A metal arm wrapped around your throat before he shoved you to the ground. You scrambled and kicked as he got on top of you, straddling your torso. When he reached into his pocket, you thought he was reaching for his gun. 

“You don’t get it,”  He said. You screamed as best as you could. Your chest heaved, “I’m not your enemy.”

You didn’t see the syringe until it was already pressed against your arm. The sting was nothing. You’d felt much worse. You didn’t flinch. Despite the way his face softened, you showed him your rage. You pushed at him until you couldn’t feel anything anymore. 

Bucky didn’t realize he’d taken on too much responsibility until it was too late. 

“You’re safe here,” He’d say over and over, “This isn’t a cage.”

Now you were here in his Brooklyn home, barefoot, feral, and you were close to destroying every valuable item in his home. His first mistake was trying to make sure you didn’t feel caged. He realized quickly that he couldn’t be nice with you. The only things you responded to were pain and control. 

This would be a journey. A long one. It would be a slow, brutal fight to drag you out of whatever darkness they left you in.

And Bucky wasn’t sure yet who would survive it.

For the first two weeks, he kept a bit gag in your mouth to stop you from biting, and padded gloves on your hands, leather on the outside, soft inside, to keep you from scratching him. He had to sedate you everytime he deemed you needed a bath or your teeth brushed because you’d fight him until your body went limp from exhaustion. You completely refused any clothing, leaving Bucky to draw every curtain in the home. 

He hadn’t found a way to make a click. To help you understand. Until he’d prepared you a breakfast one morning and you’d thanked him by flipping the table. He lifted you by your waist and dragged you kicking and screaming to the living room. He bent you over the couch, vibranium arm pressed against your upper back, and spanked you until your growling turned to whimpers. 

He hadn’t seen you cry yet. Not until then. His heart panged, realizing he’d let his anger make him lose control. He hand’t wanted to hurt you. Not really. But the spanking had done more then bruise your ass. It embarassed you. Made you truly realize how much stronger he was. You were deadly but Bucky had an extra eighty years to perfect his craft. 

Bucky could tell in the way your posture softened. How you leaned into the fabric of the couch for comfort. You weren’t broken but you were beginning to understand. He was the one in control. He could keep you here no matter how much you fought it. 

You allowed him to lift you, to place you softly on the material of the expensive sofa. As he rounded the piece of furniture and sat close to you, he watched how you pulled your knees into your chest. And then quickly sat up and tucked your knees under yourself instead, bottom sore.  Hesitantly, he rested a hand on your thigh. You looked up at him, eyes sad and confused. 

“I know,” He said quietly, voice rough but steady, “But there are rules to follow. You were being a bad girl–”

You pointed to your chest and spoke to him for the first time, “B-ad girl.”

Bucky was taken aback by your tone of voice. Gritty from misuse but he heard so much softness underneath. A delicateness he had not expected. Bucky nodded after a long pause, “Yes, you were being a bad girl. But I know you can be a good girl.”

Your brows furrowed and Bucky saw the way that you momentarily grew frustrated before you pushed it away. For the first time, you pushed away your gut instinct to fight him. You pointed to him next, “Good girl?” You asked, confused. It didn’t sound right and Bucky could see your mind working.

Bucky grinned, “No, I’m Bucky.”

“Boy,” You corrected yourself, “Good boy?”

Bucky’s lips parted. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d get to this point with you so he hadn’t spent enough time considering how he would explain all of this you, “No,” He said after clearing his throat, “That one’s for you. You get to be the good girl.”

You tilted your head again, “You … Alpha?”

Bucky shook his head, “No, not exactly. I want to be your …” He thought carefully about his next words. He pointed to you, “You … good girl. Baby. Doll. Pet.”

He pointed to himself next, “Me …. I’m Daddy.”

“Hmm,” You made a noise as you looked him over. You reached out next, your fingers wandering curiously over the fabric of his white button up. You felt his chest, hard and thick before you gripped the metal wrist of his left arm, “Daddy arm … this … you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Still me,” Bucky spoke a little breathlessly, not realizing how much that word on your lips would make his heart race. You studied his face and then subsequently his heart rate. You placed a hand over his heart and felt the beating. It fascinated you. Your heart rate was so much slower, so much more controlled.

You made another noise and your hands wandered back to your own lap. It would be a strange sight to anyone looking in. You were completely naked and Bucky had, somewhat, grown used to looking at your figure. Sometimes his eyes lingered a little too long on the perks of your nipples or the plumpness of your bottom. And your legs were slightly parted, he could clearly see your slit. You didn’t mind it. It bothered you more when he wanted you to wear clothes. 

“No baby,” You interrupted his thoughts and Bucky realized his hand was traveling closer to the gap between your thighs. 

You were so soft. 

“What?” he asked, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“No … not baby,” You pointed to yourself then and gestured to a lower height, palm facing downward, emphasizing how small an actual baby would be, “This baby.”

You wanted to be understood, “Not a real baby, no,” Bucky said, “But I want you to be my baby,” When you went quiet, he continued, “I want to take care of you. I will take care of you.”

You shook your head, “No need.”

“I know,” Bucky agreed, “You’re right. You’re strong. But I know you don’t want to be alone again. All by yourself. No family. No friends. No love. It’s bad for you.”

“Bad for me. No love,” You said after awhile, mimicking him. Trying to understand. 

Bucky nodded, “It’s good to have someone. Stay with me. I won’t hurt–”

“You hit,” You retorted, some of that fury returning. Your palm touched the skin of your bruised bottom, “See, you hit! No like. I … don’t like.”

You raised a hand and Bucky quickly caught it. His eyes grew sharper and he sent you a warning. 

“Hey, you’re not supposed to like it. I hit, yes. But it’s different than this,” Bucky emphasized the scars on your skin, the bullet wounds, the scars from where knives had sliced you open, “Sometimes it hurts more here.” He pointed to you heart. 

“I don’t like,” You said again, softer this time. 

Slowly, Bucky’s tight grip turned gently and he took your hand into his. One hand on your thigh, his metal hand on your soft one. 

“Then you won’t be a bad girl, okay? No fighting. No hurting Daddy. If you want something, you have to tell me. You can’t just throw a tantrum. There are rules to follow.”

You sighed, considering. Your lips parted again, uncertain. That was good enough for Bucky. 

Bucky leaned in, his voice gentle, “Do you know your name? I’m Bucky. You are …”

“109-F,” You answered easily and flashed him a look of boredom, like your name didn’t matter. 

“That was your name. We’ll think of something better, okay?”

Another week passed and Bucky found he had little use for the bit gag and leather gloves. The tantrums remained but Bucky noticed your intentions had changed. You didn’t get riled up and try to hurt him anymore. You pushed at him and knocked things over but mostly only when you wanted to communicate something and Bucky couldn’t understand you. 

As the spankings increased, the good behavior increased as well. He started new routines with you. 

Your room was currently only a twin bed and soft carpet despite the size of the room. It allowed for less things to be destroyed. You didn’t sleep in the bed anyways. Bucky started to notice that his couch cushions, blankets, old newspapers, and even clothes from his closet were starting to go missing. He found them later in the small closet connected to your room. 

A nest.

You had created a soft, safe space for yourself inside. At first, you bared your teeth at him when he tried to step inside. Instead, Bucky sat right by the entrance of the closet door. He brought you breakfast, a simple bowl of oatmeal. He’d take a spoonful into his mouth and exaggerate an, “Mmmm,” as he ate. Then he would hold the spoon out to you and wait for you to take it, “Your turn, baby.”

You refused the first few times. Then eventually you took the spoon in your hand and catapulted it at the wall. Not out of anger, mostly out of curiosity. And then you clumsily dipped the spoon inside the oatmeal, brought it to your nose, smearing some on your nose. “See, it’s not so bad. Try it.”

You looked at him like he was from another planet. 

Eventually, you took the spoon into your mouth and had a few bites, “Good girl, baby.” That’s how he knew you were warming to him. 

His work in Washington continued even as he continued to help you settle into a routine. There were still meetings and late-night calls. Stacks of policy briefs piled high on the living room table and his phone buzzed constantly. Soon, he would have to return but he hoped by then you would be more house broken. Easier to manage. Easier to leave on your own. 

You responded well to the corporal punishments. To make even bigger changes, Bucky tried to workout a system of rewards for you. It started with the stuffed animals. Soft and cute. He knew you’d never seen or held one before. He sat outside the closet, further than he usually did, one evening holding a stuffed, brown bear, “Look, he’s soft. Do you want to hold him?”

“ … hold him?” You made you way to the edge of door and reached for it.

Bucky pulled back, “You may hold him. You’ve been such a good girl, eating your food, and not throwing things. Come here,” He patted his lap. 

For a long moment, you mentally debated whether or not you would leave the closet. When you finally decided the risk was worth it, you hesitantly crawled forward, sitting your bare bottom on the worn fabric of his jeans. Bucky let you take the bear into your hands and he saw something your face soften immediately. You brushed your hands over the fur methodically, over and over. Bucky counted fifty brushes of your hand over it’s head. 

“You can hug him,” Bucky demonstrated for you, realizing then that you wouldn’t know what a hug was. He pressed the bear to your chest and then guided your arms around the plush toy, “See, sweet girl. Do you like him?”

“I like bear,” Your voice came out muffled as you pressed the bear against your face, “Soft.”

You were mesmerized for a solid fourty-five minutes. You didn’t mind when Bucky shifted you in his lap so that you were fully straddling him, the bear between the two of you. His hands caressed your back, the sides of your waist and eventually he fully grasped your bottom in his hands, “Fuck,” He cursed under his breath.

“Hurt?” You asked though it was clear your mind was elsewhere.

“No, baby,” Bucky said although he was painfully hard.

“I keep bear?”

Bucky placed a soft kiss against your shoulder blade and was surprised when your face remained soft, almost happy, “It’s yours. For you, my good girl.”

“I’m good girl,” You smiled a real smile. It was the first time he fully saw your teeth and you weren’t thirty seconds from trying to rip out his jugular, “Good bear for me.” 

He nodded, brushing your curls back with his metal fingers. He’d have to tackle another deep detangling another night, “That’s right. But when someone gives you something special, there’s something else you say, too.” He touched your cheek. “Can you say thank you, baby?”

You blinked at him.

“Thannnk—” he started, slow and patient. 

You studied his mouth. “Than...”

“Good,” he coaxed, smiling now. “Now say thank you, Daddy.”

You continued, “Thank you… Daddy.”

“There you go. So polite. So sweet.”

You just stayed there, safe in his lap, hugging the bear a little tighter.

You followed Mr. Bear around the house. Wherever Bucky placed him, you were there. The kitchen table at breakfast, the space beneath Bucky’s desk while he was working, beside the bathtub when Bucky decided you couldn’t go any longer without a bath, your bed that you had initially abandoned. You’d even spent a full night in Bucky’s large bed, letting Bucky hold your waist as you slept using Mr. Bear as your pillow. It wasn’t conscious at first. You fell in love with the small toy quickly. You looked in his eyes and squished his belly to help calm yourself, to even help yourself sleep. It was an attachment that was foreign to you. You liked that Mr. Bear was yours and that Bucky had given him to you. 

It was comfort and regulation. It was all new. 

You spent a full two weeks with that sense of peace. Until you woke from a long nap on the living room couch and Mr. Bear was missing. You’d learn to breathe, to slow down and to not let your anger rise to point of seeing red. You breathed deeply as you turned over every cushion and looked threw drawers. You couldn’t even smell him anymore. 

He was gone. Forever. Stolen from you. Had you been a bad girl? You’d grown attached and now you’d been abandoned. You started looking under any item you could find, letting items fall to the ground with a thud. You emptied an entire bookshelf of all it’s books and spread the contents of one of Bucky’s manila folders all over the floor. 

Cold, dense paper. Nothing soft. You didn’t register the sound of Bucky’s voice in the other room. You fell to your knees, cheeks wet with tears, and started to shred the papers with your nails. 

“....Then tell them to hold off until I’m back D.C. I won’t sign off on anything blind …. Yeah, he knows this. Email him again. Then call. Whatever you have to do. That’s your job …”

A second later, the footsteps came. Fast, heavy but controlled. 

“Give me a second,” Bucky said. Then louder, “Just pause the call.”

Your eyes found his when he finally walked into the living room from his office. He looked over everything quickly. You couldn’t control your breathing. 

Before he could ask you what was wrong, you yelled, “You took bear! Not here! Where?!”

“He’s not gone,” Bucky crouched next to you, eyes dark and fixed sharply on you, “I was in the other room. You need to ask when you have a question. You can’t do … this.” 

“Need bear, Daddy,” You crawled closer on your knees, “Need. Baby is sad.”

“Thank you for telling Daddy how you feel but this is not what you do when you’re sad. You didn’t ask Daddy for help,” Before he continued his lecture, he realized you weren’t the least bit sorry. Your focus was on your toy, “Daddy put Mr. Bear in the washing machine. He was dirty. He’s in the dryer now.” 

“You took bear,” You croaked and Bucky sighed, “Not dirty. Give back.”

“I’ll give him back after you clean up your mess.” 

“No, Daddy!”

“Do you want a spanking too?” You blinked, eyes wide. You shook your head slowly. It had been so long since Bucky had bent you over and done that to you, “Clean, all this needs to go in the trash. The books go back on the bookshelf. And you can put the couch back together. I will wait.”

You scowled then. You had to clean when all of this was his fault. He took Mr. Bear. 

He kept his word. He waited. You put the couch cushions back where they belonged before you stacked the books back on the shelf. He stepped in to show you exactly where the books needed to go and held a trash bag open for you to place all the destroyed papers in.

“Good girl,” He said though the way his jaw clicked made you believe he might be just as mad as you. 

He took your hand a moment later and led you into the small room with two white machines. One was loud, rumbling and as Bucky opened it’s door, the shaking came to a cease. And then Mr. Bear appeared. Before you could lunge for him, Bucky’s metal arm shot out, holding you at a distance, “My bear,” Your voice trailed off as you eyed the toy. He looked cleaner but he’d lost the smell you’d grown to like, “Bucky no more clean. Not dirty.”

“Mr. Bear does get dirty just like Baby does. He has to have a bath sometimes. Do you understand?”

You were reluctant but you nodded. “Yes,” As soon as the plus toy was in your arms, you curled up on the ground, and held him tightly. As Bucky turned to return to his call in the other room, you let out a small, “.... Sorry, Bucky.”

He paused in the doorway, glanced back.

“I know, baby,” he said gently. 

Bucky decided the perfect gateway into you finally wearing clothes around the house was yet another toy. This one was a soft rag doll that looked just slightly like you. The same skin tone and dark curly hair pinned up by two lavender colored bows. She also wore a lavender dress and matching ballet flats. She looked sweet, safe, familiar. 

His usual spiel had failed. He explained that clothes were a good thing. They were soft and kept you warm. He also teased the possibility of one day going outside with him, “The people outside always wear clothes,” He’d say, “You want to go on a trip with Daddy one day, don’t you?”

You just ignored him and let your eyes wander towards the window, “This is Mr. Bear’s good friend,” He presented the doll to you, placing her on your bed, next to the loose-fitting, pink t-shirt dress that was laid out on the bed. He chose something completely unrestrictive on purpose. You perked up then. You gave him a hungry look, as if he was presenting you with a medium-rare steak instead of a doll, “She’s a ballerina. Uh, like a dancer. To music. Her name is … Rina.”

“Rina,” You tried, your eyes locked on her, “Soft?”

“She’s very soft,” Bucky assured you, “She loves hugs too.”

“Rina mine?” You asked next, face soft, looking up expectantly, “Like Bear?”

“She could be. She wants a new friend. But she has a rule.”

Your arms crossed at that. You leaned forward to study the doll, brows furrowed, “She has rule?”

“She doesn’t want to be held unless you’re dressed, like people are supposed to be. Even cute hybrid girls have to wear clothes.  She feels the most comfortable that way.”

You pouted adorably, “Bad rule.”

“Maybe,” Bucky said, “That’s what she told me. Rina’s rules. She might let you hold her if you’re a good girl.”

“Don’t like,” You started to whine, pressing your body against Bucky’s body, forehead pressing against his chest, “Please … don’t like.”

Bucky placed gentle on your shoulders, lifting your body from him. He pressed a finger under your chin, lifting it until you were looking at him, “I’m sorry, I would help you but it’s not my rule.”

He turned away from you. Not far, only a few steps. He gave you space. Pretended to check his email on his phone. He heard you stomp your feet. Once. Twice. Then a whine. Then there was silence. The tiniest ruffle of fabric. When Bucky turned around, you were wearing the dress. He smiled wide, impressed. 

He doubted he could get you in pair of underwear or a bra today but there was time for that. 

He came closer again, running his fingers over your hair before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “Did it. See, Bucky.” You declared, eyes wide and expecting, “Mine now?”

“She’s yours.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You bounced on your toes excitedly before you happily scooped up the doll. Bucky picked you up next, and you wrapped your legs around his torso. You let out a soft laugh, a real one, and it was music to Bucky’s ears. One arm looping around his neck, the other squeezing Rina to your body, you looked Bucky in his eyes deeply. Like he’d placed gentle kisses on your forehead, your shoulder, and cheeks, you placed a soft peck on his lips. 

He stilled for a second. Then smiled, full and proud, “Thank you, babygirl.”

There was one week left until Bucky had to return to Washington. He was more than happy with the progress you’d made. You’d started wearing underwear and you’d even been open to trying different kinds of clothes. Pants were still a nonstarter. You didn’t mind the skirts. You didn’t love the tight-fitting t-shirts but Bucky often left you no options. You tugged at them and pouted. Selfishly, he liked the way they looked on you. 

There were still many gaps in your social etiquette. It took him a full three days to explain that you couldn’t lift up your skirt whenever you wanted. You had a habit of wanting to stare at the different patterns on your underwear and often would flip up your skirt in the middle of a conversation or activity or anything to look. He corrected gently, not because he didn’t like the view but because ideally one day you’d accompany him to dinners and go on outings with him. He didn’t need you putting your body on display. 

He convinced you Rina liked it when wore different hairstyles. Ribbons and bows were her absolute favorite. He’d started getting really good at braiding it into neat rows, and tying bows to the ends. During his morning meetings, you often sat between his legs at his desk, Rina in your lap, as he fixed your hairstyle for the day. 

Bucky was settling into a sense of peacefulness. A feeling he had longed for. Therapy helped. His new job fulfilled him in some aspects but also made him realize how slow change really happened at the same time. This life, the pocket of innocence he was building around you, was starting to help most of all. This life was the opposite of everything he and you were ever used to. 

He didn’t want you exposed to the real world. He would shield you from reality for as long as possible. He would give you something he never had for himself. He’d also had enough of following orders for ten lifetimes. With you, in his own house, he made the rules. 

He had to address his mission. Debrief the committee on all of his findings. He had to give his colleagues enough information to satisfy them but couldn’t risk them getting their hands on you. You were the survivicing data to a program that never should’ve been created. He decided to lie. The site was clear of any sources of life. The facility was sealed, records wiped away, and he submitted a report that suggested Project LUPUS be permanently blacklisted from funding due to “gross ethical violations”. 

He’d have to spin another story eventually. Explain your presence in his life. Mel, his assistant, was already working on using the story for political advantage. You were a rescued civilian during a humanitarian negotiation. You’d suffered severe trauma and Congressman Barnes, recognizing the complexity of the situation and understanding the importance of mental rehabilitation, he’s personally arranged for you to receive trauma-informed rehabilitative care under his sponsorship. He’d be even more of the hero than the public saw him as. 

Colleagues would raise questions but no one would push to hard. He was a war hero. His word was gospel. 

Pls reblog w/ your thoughts if you enjoyed! This will be a 2 part series with the second chapter focused on Bucky + Baby’s time in Washington! Hope you enjoyed :)

What you need

J. B. Barnes x F! Reader

Sum: Bucky comes home from a mission, and doesn't even make it past the door without you already pouncing on him ♡

Warning: Smut!!! 2k words of pure and utter filth. Thigh riding if you squint, married relationship, riding, missionary, creampie, piv sex (don't try this at home,) lots of kissing, reader is very very desperate and needy. NOT beta read.

A/n: Shitty ass short ass thing I wrote at midnight because progesterone goes crazy and I need to ride New Avengers Bucky. Goodnight.

18+ content up ahead. MDNI!!!

[ my marvel request box is back open. please see my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules. ]

He doesn't even get to set his keys down before you were on him.

You throw yourself into him so hard you knock him against the front door. Your arms are around his neck, forcing him to bend down to your height as you stand on your tip-toes and attack his face with kisses. He's so caught off guard that his eyes don't close as he tries to keep up with your kisses.

"Oh--Hi baby. Hi. Hi." He murmurs against your lips as you kiss him like a wild animal, your lips kissing every inch of his skin, leaving faint pink marks behind from your lipgloss. His hands lay at your hips, fingers curiously threading through the lace of the lavender panties you were wearing under your babydoll bra.

"How are you?" He tries to ask but you growl, pinning him to the door with your hand on his chest and your lips on his jaw.

"I cleaned the house." You nearly whine, your voice coming off as needy. "Mopped the floor, cleaned the stove, did the dishes, baked your favorite cheesecake." You continued, kissing the facial hair on his face that sprinkled down to his neck. Fuck, he was outgrowing his beard and his hair again, and fuck, you needed him so bad.

"I did the laundry--and fuck, James, I even cleaned the car." You told him, mouthing at the crook of his neck, your hands flying anywhere, touching every part of him like it was the last time you'd be seeing him. Bucky groaned and pulled his head back from you a bit.

"Baby, baby." He muttered, leaning back and putting his hands on your cheeks lovingly. You had this look in your heavy lidded eyes, a look that told him you were beyond the point of no return. "Slow down, what's up with you?"

It didn't take long for you to get mad and pull him back down onto you. Your fingers curled into the soft green fabric of his henley and you growled at him like you were mad at him. You backed up until you hit the couch. Bucky's eyebrows were knitted, confused as he tried to read you. His hands on your hips were restricting you from falling back like you wanted to.

"Need you so bad, James, please. Push me onto the couch?" You begged him, mouthing at the corner of his mouth, his beard scratching your skin. You nuzzled your face into his facial hair, earning a confused groan from your husband.

"Baby, where is all of this coming from--"

You cut him off with another kiss. Your tongue quickly slipped into his mouth, and the both of you moaned. His hands slipped down to your ass, gently cupping your flesh into his hands and making you gasp into his mouth. Shockwaves were sent through your body, along with a particular warmth spreading to your core. Given the way your tongue was moving around his, you needed him bad. So, he gave in.

Gently, he placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you back onto the couch. You feel back with a surprised grunt, the couch creaking loudly as you hit the black leather cushions. You panted, bracing yourself on your elbows as you watched your husband crawl onto the couch and up your body.

The sight had your pussy aching. His long brown hair was falling into his face, and the smile on his wet lips was absolutely sinful. Your thighs pressed together, but he was quicker. He pulled them apart fast and harsh, making you gasp.

"Poor baby." He crooned, kissing your inner thigh. "Left you alone too long." He kissed higher that time. "You missed me so bad, didn't you, honey?"

You were gasping, nodding your head along frantically as you looked down at him, curious as to what he was going to do.

"Mm I know you did." He said, his mouth coming into contact with your dripping core through your soaked through panties. "This pretty little pussy tells me so anyway."

He mouthed at the fabric, his lips brushing through the tiny wet spot on it. You made a little noise at it, your hands shooting to his head, your fingers threading through his long hair.

Your voice came out in a pathetic little plea that had him twitching through his boxers. He swallowed thickly, kissed your cunt one more time, then rose up your body like the sun on a Saturday morning.

"James," you moaned, tugging at his scalp. He looked up at you and hummed. "Please fuck me. I need it so bad, baby."

His leg nestled between your thick things, his knee nudging right where you needed him most. His arms were braced by the sides of your face, and he was looking down at you with a blank, stern face than had your thighs clenching around his thigh.

"Beg." He said, his knee nudging your cunt. You mewled, your head falling back weakly. Your hips bucked, and moved without your permission, and your cunt dragged across the denim of his jeans.

"Alright," he said. "Show me how much you missed me."

"Please, baby." You cried, clawing at his sleeved forearms with big eyes. "Missed you so much. Just need your cock in me so bad, Bucky." You were breathless, grinding against his thick, muscular thigh helplessly like it was the only fucking thing keeping you alive. He looked down at your little movements and grinned.

He sat back on his knees, quick hands working to discard the black leather belt around his waist like it was only an obstacle in his way of getting to his goal. The second the belt was off, you were on him. Your panties were off in almost an instant, and you were straddling his lap faster than you could say the word 'go.'

Bucky placed his hands on your hips, watching carefully as you lowered yourself onto his thick, heavy cock, which you stood up with the palm of your hand. The both of you groaned as he entered you fully, stretching you out completely to accommodate his length.

You were moving immediately, rolling your hips across his lap at a controlled pace that wasn't exactly fast but wasn't slow either. His hands stayed on your hips to keep you balanced, and your hands stayed on his shoulders for extra support.

"Yeah, that's right, honey." He moaned back into your ear, his hands sliding down to your ass to cup your flesh into his large hands. You squealed, the sensation urging you on. You removed your face from his neck, and you sped up, bouncing on your husband fat cock like a bitch in fucking heat. In a way, you were. You just couldn't stop clinging onto him like you were scared someone was going to take him from you.

"Oh fuck." You moaned, almost directly into his ear as you lowered your face onto his shoulder, your pace speeding up by just a tad. Usually, Bucky spent hours with just foreplay, but tonight, you seemed to have the upper hand and we're straight to the point. He was almost shocked by it.

"Ride me, pretty girl." He growled into your ear, spanking your ass and making you audibly yelp. "Just like that, honey. You missed this? Hmm?" He questioned as if he already didn't have the answer right in front of him. You closed your eyes and moaned gutteraly, your head lulling back as you moved up and down on his lap.

"I thought about it too, baby." He agreed, lowering his head to look down at where your bodied we're combined.

"Yeah--yeah. Fuck! Mm-thought about it everyday you were gone." You admitted between gasps and moans. Bucky just chuckled deeply, finding the answer amusing.

Sweet, lewd, loud, wet and utterly obscene little gushy noises were echoed throughout your bedroom as you rode him like a goddamned rodeo. The little noises combined with little noises the two of you made with your mouths, was a recipe for your pussy squirting all over him.

You grabbed his shoulders then, slowly as to not hurt yourself, lowered yourself all the way down onto your husbands cock until you hit the hilt. His cockhead brushed against a particular sweet spot in you, and you straight up whimpered and threw your head on his shoulders once again, moaning loudly as you slowly fucked yourself into that spot with his cock.

"James," you panted.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Take over, please." You moaned, palming your breast lightly. He grinned, giving you that kind of look that read, "I thought you'd never ask," and in an instant, you were flipped back on your back and he was already back on fucking you.

Bucky pulled out of you just a couple inches before he slammed back into you, making you cry out and claw at his forearms like you would die if you didn't. Chants of his name left your lips like a goddamn mantra. The couch creaked and moved slightly under your moving bodies, joining with your panting and little wet sounds of his cock pushing into you.

"Oh, fuck, sugar." He moaned, rough and gutteral. "Little pussy's squeezing me so tight. Oh, poor thing needed my cock in her so bad, hmm?"

He pulled back a bit, just to pin your knees to your chest, folding you in half and making you feel ten time more embarrassed and exposed than you already were. The new position made it easy for him to sink deeper into you, and deeper he went. So deep that your mouth flew open in shock and you swore your vision went white for a moment.

"Greedy little thing, especially this pussy." He groaned, smiling down on you devilishly and making your pussy flutter. He leaned down and captured your lips in a heated kiss, making you whimper and whine into his mouth as he thrust into you hard and fast.

"Keep up, pretty girl." He said, leaning down to kiss your neck. Your head lulled back into the cushion of the couch and your vision blurred into the ceiling.

"You begged for this." He reminded, letting your legs fall back down so he could rub your clit with a vibranium middle finger. You gasped, and your walls clamped down on him tight. He groaned.

"You gonna cum soon, gorgeous?"

"Oh fuck, there she is." He laughed darkly, tilting his head. You closed your eyes and moaned loudly, your heels scraping his back, your nails digging into his shoulder blades.

His voice rang in your ears like a sweet melody, but all you could focus on mentally was how fucking amazing it finally felt to be dicked down by him like this after so long. The sex was so good that you wanted to cry.

"Yeah," you breathed. His finger rubbed harsh circles into your tiny little button, making you moan so loud that it almost sounded pornographic. His cock twitched, and your drooling pussy throbbed for more friction--more anything.

The words fell from your lips in a sweet, broken plead.

"Yeah, gonna cum soon." You repeated, opening your eyes to lock with his. "Want--want you to cum.. in-inside."

And then something snapped in the both of you, and you found yourself gripping his shoulders tight and holding your breath as you slowly started pouring down on him like milky raindrops.

Bucky looked down at the little white ring forming around his thick cock, and moaned. You came gushing out on him warm and messy. The both of you were moaning and panting, but he didn't stop. He kept fucking into you slowly, rocking his fat cock into your sobbing pussy--in and out, in and out, until he finally lost control and a thick, hot stream of his cum came spurring into your warmth.

You mewled at the intoxicating sensation of him filling you, and a few seconds later, he was collapsing onto the cushion next to you and spooning you against his broad chest.

The room was silent for several minutes while the both of you tried to catch your breath, but once he had decided he was fine, he leaned into you and chuckled, "we haven't done that in a while."

Damn this gonna be good

Project Spindle (TEASER)- Established Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

She’s always known about her powers, but the truth of where they come from could shatter everything.

a.n - teaser for a series i'm working on. i wanted to see how the interest was before posting more chapters! i have 3 ready so far :3

spoiler warning for thunderbolts*

The team filed into the common room of the Tower, their exhaustion hanging heavy in the air. Mission gear was dumped by the door without a second thought—boots kicked off, jackets slung over chairs, weapons clinking as they hit the floor.

Bucky was the first to make a beeline for the kitchen, muttering under his breath, “If someone ate my last yogurt, I’m leaving this team.”

Yelena threw herself onto the couch with a groan, her legs dangling over the armrest. “Relax, grump. No one wants your weird protein yogurt.”

“I do,” Ava added, flopping down beside her. “Just not enough to suffer the guilt trip afterward.”

From behind them, Walker rolled his eyes. “You two ever get tired of being annoying?”

Ava didn’t even turn around. “Do you ever get tired of being so sensitive?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Shh,” Yelena cut in, holding up a hand. “The couch doesn’t argue with background noise.”

Walker scoffed and stalked off toward the kitchen, muttering something about how no one respected proper debriefings.

Alexei wandered in next, already sipping from a bottle that definitely wasn’t water. “Ahh! A successful mission. You know, when I was Red Guardian, we used to fight for forty-eight hours straight. No rest, no drones. Just fists. And grit. And vodka.”

“You also say you once took down a unit during a ballet recital,” Y/N said, curled up on the big bean bag in the corner, a steaming mug cradled in her hands.

Alexei lit up. “Yes! With the ballerina who hid knives in her tutu! A real artist. You should’ve seen the blood on the stage. Beautiful!”

Bob let out a sleepy whine and leaned harder into Y/N’s side, practically glued to her. His arms were loosely wrapped around a pillow, but his head rested against her shoulder like a clingy child.

“You smell like wet socks and smoke,” he murmured, barely audible.

“Accurate,” Y/N replied softly, running her fingers through his hair.

Bucky returned with his precious yogurt, eyeing the scene before settling behind Y/N. He lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the beanbag and placing a steady hand on her leg.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, just for her.

She gave a tired nod. “Yeah. Just drained. I almost threw Walker into traffic today.”

“I would’ve caught him,” Bucky said, deadpan.

“I know,” she smiled. “That’s why I didn’t.”

Yelena sat up slightly, glancing around. “Hands up if you listened to a single word of Walker’s lecture in the Quinjet.”

Not a single hand went up. Bob groaned. Ava fake slept. Even Alexei raised his bottle in protest.

“There was a lecture?” Bucky said flatly.

“I heard that!” Walker yelled from the kitchen.

Yelena leaned back with a grin. “Then maybe there’s hope for your listening skills after all!”

The room burst into light laughter, warm and easy. Mission chaos faded into background noise. This was their peace: bruised knuckles, aching muscles, found family—and a whole lot of sarcasm.

Before the conversation could settle, Bucky’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then answered the call, but his eyes stayed on Y/N as he listened.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone, voice growing quieter. “She’s here. One sec.”

He held the phone out to her. “It’s Sam. He found something... about Hydra. Related to you.”

She blinked, surprised. “Me?”

“Yeah. He said it’s important.”

Y/N took the phone with a puzzled frown and got up, Bob whining softly at her absence. She padded down the hall and slipped into one of the empty private rooms, closing the door behind her.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Hey,” came his voice. “Didn’t want to text this, but Torres and I found something. Something big.”

“Okay…” she said slowly, sitting on the edge of a desk.

Joaquin’s voice joined the call. “We were going through old Hydra files—stuff that SHIELD never decrypted.”

“And?”

“We found you,” Sam said. “In the records. Before the Maximoffs.”

She went very still. “What?”

“You weren’t just another Hydra experiment,” Sam said. “You were the first step. The origin test for what created Wanda’s powers.”

------

a.n - hih! thanks for reading the teaser :3 let me know if you want more!

Hi!! I’m new here so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. Just want to send some Thunderbolts!Bucky ideas maybe he called his girlfriend (the reader) for backup (maybe she’s a former shield agent) but didn’t share too many info with the group and they all a little surprised to find out he has a girlfriend

Let me know what you think, thanks!

i absolutely LOVE this!!! Ever since I saw Thunderbolts I've been thinking about almost this exact thing and I got another ask for something similar, so here we are! I'm also tempted to make a part two of this but focus on the two of them more and make it a comfort thing to apologize for my shame room fic LOL

love you 3000!

Signed Up For This

Word count: 1,143

As far as the media knew, the two of you were nothing more than acquaintances. 

But it was a bond that had gone back a lifetime, from when the two of you had first met when you were fresh out of escaping the Red Room, to when he was the contact you had made to get a fresh start on life and he was in the process of trying to make amends with his existence, so he had offered to get coffee. “We both need some… new connections,” he had said, offering that awkward smile that you had fallen for almost as quickly as he’d fallen for you. 

It was your idea to keep it a secret. You knew how he felt about weaknesses and you were currently the only one he really had. If anyone knew the truth… God, it terrified him. The idea of losing the one pure and right thing he’d gained in this side of the century drove him into a panic more often than he’d admit. So he was glad you had brought it up, worried you might be offended or think he was ashamed of you.

Which was what made him making you the head of his security when he decided to run for Congress a little out of the blue, but you took it. Any opportunity to be close. Plus… who said sneaking around at work was for teenagers? 

But tonight, you had a different reason for asking to speak to him in private in the middle of the fundraiser gala. You knew that look on his face. That look that said he was plotting when he very much should not have been. 

“What are you thinking?” you asked, peeking around the corner for a moment before your gaze fixed on him again. It was a miracle his hair had stayed in place, but there was a reason he always made you do it for him. “I can see that look.”

“What look?” he replied, that dumb grin you’d fallen for years ago pulling at his mouth. “I’m not thinking.”

“You are such a liar, James Barnes. I can see it. Whatever you’re thinking, leave it alone. We are past our meddling days.”

“I’m not meddling,” he said. 

You tilted your head. “Do not let this stuff with Valentina get personal. You can’t afford to get in trouble with all this.” 

“The politics don’t—”

“I’m not talking about politics,” you said. “I’m talking about you, Buck. We don’t know for sure what’s going on and we can’t act until we do. Otherwise we’ll be in just as much trouble as she is.”

“I talked to her assistant,” Bucky said. 

“Her assistant? Mel?” 

“Yes. She’s on the fence.” 

“Okay. Tell her to call you when she’s made a decision. Don’t make it your job to change her mind,” you said, taking a step closer. He just stood there a moment, looking you over. Not in that ‘get in the office and take off that dress’ kind of way he normally did, but like he was just taking in your existence. “You told me that my job as your security is to keep you safe. But my job as your fiance is to make sure that we’re not making dumb decisions. Let Mel come to you.”

He nodded, reaching for your waist to tug your body closer. Normally you’d pull away in a setting like this, even hidden, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Not now. Not when you had that feeling in your stomach that something was just off. And that feeling had never led you astray. “I just make your job harder, don’t I?” he said with a small, teasing smile. 

“You do, but I signed up for it,” you replied. 

“I’ll be good,” he said, nodding. “But… Mel’s just a kid. If she needs help—”

“Help her,” I said. “And if she needs more than that, call me.” 

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. “My best girl,” he whispered. 

“Always.”

And you should’ve known after that conversation that it was only a matter of time. Within thirty-six hours, you were sent a pin drop link to some place in the middle of nowhere and a message that just said “need you.”

You’d tugged on that leather uniform jacket you hadn’t touched in a long time and braided back your hair before pulling up to some abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere, intel in hand. You could hear voices from inside, something about a “Bob” and exclamations of words you hardly understood. 

You shoved through the rusted door, swiping up on the tab in your hands. “She took over the old Avengers tower,” you said, approaching and offering Bucky the tablet. “Heat signatures say she has the place crawling with security and I ran facial rec on the guy she brought in early this morning.”

“So guns blazing is the only way in,” Bucky said, reaching to squeeze your hand in a silent thank you. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Guess so,” you replied before turning to the abstract group of circus people tied up in front of you. And John. “What the hell happened here? Bucky, I told you to just leave Walker alone, he’s been through enough.”

“Who are you?” the little blonde in black asked. If you squinted, you might recognize her. Like some sort of really distant, childhood memory. 

Bucky blew out a breath before you could answer. “She’s my fiance.”

“Your what?” came from all four of them. 

“He’s married?” the brunette asked. 

“In the process,” I corrected. 

“How did that happen?” Walker muttered. 

“Oh, that is cute!” the large one exclaimed, seeming to be way too happy considering the circumstance.

You glanced at Bucky, your arms folded over your chest. “This is… who was so important?” 

“They’re witnesses,” Bucky said, giving you a look as if to tell you to be kind. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked at the others. “Most ragtag team I’ve ever seen,” you said, shaking your head. “What, exactly, is the plan here?”

“Well, originally, they were my witnesses,” Bucky said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “But now the agenda looks a little different. Take out Val, help Bob. Then we go home.” 

“Bob?” You asked. “Like Robert?” You took the tablet from his hands and swiped it open. “Yeah, he’s a big deal now. If we’re gonna move, we need to do it fast.” You swapped a knowing look with Bucky as he nodded. “I’ll start the car.” 

As you made your way towards the door, you heard the voices behind you. 

“So you’re really not all bite, huh?” one of the girls said. 

“Someone really does have a soft spot.”

“Isn’t that cute."

And despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your lips.

Omg this is sooo good

You Caught Me

Character: Bucky Barnes

Requested: No

Type: Angst/ Fluff

Summary: You're Valentina's assistant, and somehow, you manage to fall in love with a certain Congressman.

A.N: DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT THUNDERBOLTS TO BE SEMI SPOILED!!!!!!!!! I have seen Thunderbolts* on Thursday (amazing btw) and have been craving Thunderbolts!Bucky. Also reader is like 25.

Again THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS ARE IN THIS FIC

3...2..1...

You worked your whole life to get here. Straight A’s, a top-tier college, a string of impressive jobs that made your parents brag to their friends.

But that wasn’t the point. You didn’t do all of that just to climb a ladder. You wanted to help people. To actually do good. To give the voiceless a voice, to step in where others wouldn’t. You wanted to make the world better, even if it was just piece by piece.

That’s what led you to OXE. And eventually, to Valentina Allegra de Fontaine.

Or, more accurately, to being her assistant. Though calling it that feels like selling it short.

You’ve been working with her for a few years now. From the very beginning, she seemed to like you. Said you reminded her of herself. You’re still not sure if that was a compliment or a warning.

Valentina can be cold. She’s sharp, calculated, sarcastic to the point of painful. Some of her decisions don’t exactly land on the moral high ground. But she took you in, brought you closer, taught you how to survive in a world most people don't even know exists. And you’ve done things others your age only dream about. You were actually making a difference.

But now everything’s falling apart.

She’s under investigation. Impeachment is on the table. And you’re left trying to put out fires.

You’d been tense the entire hearing. And not the kind of tension that goes away with a few deep breaths. This was chest-tightening, eye-twitching, every-decision-matters tension.

Your job was on the line. Everything you’d worked for — or convinced yourself was worth it — was balancing on Valentina’s ability to lie with a smile.

She was performing. You were managing the fallout.

Your eyes kept drifting — trying to find some kind of anchor. And that’s when you caught a pair of them.

Blue. Cold but curious. Watching.

Congressman Bucky Barnes.

You met his stare, held it a second longer than you should’ve, then forced yourself to look away. Whatever that was — whatever he was trying to read — you didn’t have time to entertain it.

Then Valentina dropped the line you’d been dreading: “By all means, dig as deep as you like. I promise—there’s nothing to find.”

You knew that tone. It meant you had twenty minutes to erase every breadcrumb.

By the time the hearing adjourned, you were already outside, typing fast, juggling secure files and decoy trails on your tablet. You barely noticed the footsteps until—

“Y/N?”

You looked up, and there he was. Again.

That same cool stare, now paired with a too-casual smile.

“Congressman Barnes,” you said smoothly, tucking the tablet under your arm. “Nice to officially meet you. I’ve heard...great things.”

“I doubt it. Also, please just Bucky,” he said, offering a hand. “Unless you want to start talking tax policy — then I’ll put the tie back on.”

You cracked a smile and shook his hand. Firm. Warm. Too steady.

“You okay?” he asked, glancing back toward the hearing room. “I mean, what happened in there was... honestly? Kind of worrying. Extremely worrying. Kind of concerning if you ask me...in like a worrying way.”

You tilted your head. “You mean ‘concerning,’ or ‘I’m building a case against your boss’ worrying?”

He blinked. Didn’t expect you to hit back that fast.

You smiled politely. “No need to dance around it. I’m sure you’ve got a folder somewhere with Valentina's name on it.”

His grin crooked slightly. “Maybe. It’s a very organized folder. Color-coded tabs.”

“She always did love being underestimated,” you said with a shrug. “O.X.E. has nothing to hide, of course.”

He didn’t argue, but the look he gave you said he wasn’t buying it.

There was a beat of silence, and then he glanced over your shoulder — where Valentina was watching the two of you, pretending she wasn’t.

“She always stare like that?” he asked casually.

“Only when she thinks someone’s wasting my time.”

“And am I?”

“Depends on why you’re really here.”

He smiled. “Okay, fine. I’m new to D.C. First term, still finding my way. Thought maybe... you could give me a tour. Show me the non-corrupt parts.”

You laughed softly. “That’s a short list.”

“Still. Monuments, museums, a little fresh air — maybe a conversation?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Right. A conversation. Just two people talking. No ulterior motives, no recording devices, no traps.”

He held up his hands. “I left the wire at home.”

You smirked, but you didn’t let it reach your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he said. “Just... improvising.”

You leaned in just enough for him to know you were done playing. “You’re fishing, Congressman. I’m just not the one you’ll catch.”

He opened his mouth — maybe to protest, maybe to flirt again — but you stepped back as Valentina waved you over.

“You're a very good-looking man,” you added, softer now. “And I appreciate the effort. But whatever you’re hoping to dig up from me? You won’t get it over coffee and small talk.”

A beat passed between you.

Then you gave him one last smirk, turned, and walked back toward Valentina — leaving him standing there, watching.

And even though you didn’t look back, you knew those blue eyes hadn’t moved.

*******

You had three things on your mind.

Shut down headquarters.

Erase every trace of Project Sentry.

Clean up Valentina’s reputation before the whole thing implodes.

And somehow, you're doing all of that in a dress and heels at a fundraiser.

“Honestly, Y/N, you have such an amazing brain,” Valentina says, her smile more calculated than warm. “Putting this fundraiser together? Brilliant move. This has to sway at least some of the votes.”

“Thanks,” you reply, quickly scrolling through your tablet. “I’ve categorized the guest list: influencers, allies, and the undecideds. Left off the hard no’s. No point wasting time. I just sent the files to you.”

“Perfect. Do I need you for anything else?”

“No, you should be good. I’ll stay close though. Just in case.”

“Smart. Stay where I can see you. And hear you. Actually, just don’t go far,” she says, already turning to work the room. “Time to network.”

As soon as she walks away, you exhale, realizing you hadn’t even noticed you were holding your breath.

This job is not for the weak. Especially not under someone like her.

You glance around the room, taking in the glittering lights, expensive suits, and fake smiles. Your eyes find Valentina again, instinctively keeping track of her. Then they drift to the large Avengers logo on display at the front of the gala.

You were still a kid the first time you saw the Avengers on screen. They were larger than life. Heroes. They saved people. They made things right.

Now? You’ve seen the world fall apart more times than you can count. And more often than not, no one shows up to fix it.

That’s why you’ve stuck by Valentina. Why you’ve been willing to blur the lines. The world still needs saving. People still need heroes.

They just don’t always look the way you imagined.

“You know,” a voice says beside you, calm but unmistakably familiar, “this whole gala is impressive. The Avengers memorabilia is a nice touch.”

You turn and see him. Congressman Bucky Barnes, standing just a few feet away, his gaze locked on the towering Avengers "A" on display like it still meant something.

“Valentina thought it would help raise awareness,” you reply, keeping your tone neutral, polite. “Tie the past to the present. Nostalgia works.”

You’re careful with your words. You know why he’s here, what game he’s playing. And more importantly, you know where your loyalty lies.

He glances at you now, the full weight of those ice-blue eyes meeting yours. “Awareness for what, exactly?”

You offer a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “The mission has always been simple. Help the people. The world’s been falling apart, and heroes… they’ve disappeared. People need someone to believe in again.”

He nods slowly, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “Again, call me Bucky. Also, that was good. Very rehearsed. Very polished. Bet Valentina was proud of that one.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m just here for the hors d'oeuvres,” he says, voice smooth, but you catch the edge underneath it.

You take a step closer. “Look, Congressman Barnes. I know your history. And we both know what happens when evil comes and no one is there to stop it. OXE is trying to prevent that. Everything we do is for the people. Valentina’s impeachment? It won’t go anywhere.”

Even as you say it, there's a flicker of doubt. Small, but there.

He studies you for a moment before pulling a card from inside his jacket and holding it out.

“What’s this?” you ask, accepting it cautiously.

“My direct line. In case you remember something useful.”

You blink at him, caught slightly off guard by how calm he is. How sure.

You move closer, slow and deliberate, then reach up and tuck the card neatly into his chest pocket. “I don’t know what you think you’re implying, but I don’t appreciate it."

The two of you lock eyes, silence stretching between you. Not hostile, exactly. But charged. Neither of you blinks.

Then your phone buzzes.

You glance at your phone. Valentina. Of course.

You slip it back into your pocket and look up at him one more time.

“I have to go,” you say, steady. “Enjoy the rest of the gala, Bucky.”

Your smile is polite, but your eyes stay sharp. You turn and walk off without waiting for a response, the sound of your heels swallowed by the noise of the event.

Behind you, he watches you disappear into the crowd, quiet and thoughtful. Then, without a word, he finds himself slipping the card into your bag later in the night. Not for pressure. Not even for leverage.

Just in case.

And whether you used the card or not—that was your choice. Bucky just hoped he’d planted the seed.

Later that night, you sat beside Valentina in the back of a sleek black car, the city lights flickering across her face as she debriefed the night with a grin.

“I think that went incredibly well,” she said, proud and pleased with herself. “Honestly, I’m so proud of us. Oh—hand me my tablet. I gave it to you earlier when Gary started sniffing around asking too many questions.”

Your fingers found something thin. Smooth edges. Not the tablet.

The card.

Bucky’s card.

Your stomach tightened, just for a second.

He’d slipped it in without you noticing. Of course he had.

You stared at it between your fingers. You should’ve tossed it the second you felt it. Should’ve never looked at it again. But something kept your hand still.

“Y/N?” Valentina’s voice cuts in, sharp and expectant. “Tablet. Me. Now.”

You snap out of it, quickly pushing the card deeper into your bag before pulling out the tablet and handing it over.

She doesn’t notice. She’s already scrolling.

You tried to focus on the night’s success, the way people clapped when Valentina spoke, the headlines you knew would be glowing by morning. But that card was still in your bag. And the worst part? You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About the look in his eyes.

About the weight of what he said.

Maybe—just maybe—he really did get in your head. And maybe that seed he planted was already starting to grow.

*********

You’d made a mistake. A big one.

And you knew it.

Your heart raced as you paced the cramped hallway, mind spiraling. You'd believed you were making a difference—helping Valentina clean up her reputation felt like part of that. She said she needed you. That this was how things got done. So you listened.

Then she told you to burn the loose ends. Literally burn them.

Human beings.

And still, you followed orders. You rationalized. You looked the other way.

But the plan didn’t go as expected. They didn’t go quietly.

They were fighting back.

And Valentina didn’t like that.

Now a SWAT team is going to finish the job.

You couldn't let them die. You knew their names. Their stories. You didn’t believe they deserved this—not like this. Maybe it was too late to save them all, but maybe you could help save others.

Maybe there was still a chance.

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You dug into your bag, searching through the chaos until your fingers found it. That damn card.

You stared at it for a beat. Then you called.

It rang once. Then again. And then he picked up.

“This is Y/N,” you said before he could get a word in, your voice low, rushed, almost breathless. “I’ve, uh... been thinking. Remember that tour you wanted? You were right. Since you’re new to D.C., I figured—why not? Let’s hit the monuments. Maybe a museum. Or... I don’t know. Just talk. Just you and me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“A chat?” Bucky’s voice came through, teasingly. You started biting your nails, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m down for a chat. When and where?”

Before you could answer, Valentina’s voice sliced through the hallway outside.

“I swear to god, Y/N, do I have to spell it out for you? You're coming with us. Get your ass in the car. Who else is going to make my coffee right? I swear, you Gen Zers make me want to throw myself off this damn building.”

You went silent, your jaw clenched. Bucky didn’t say anything either, but you knew he heard it.

Everything inside you was pulling in different directions. Guilt. Fear. Fury. Shame.

You swallowed hard.

“Look…” you whispered, voice shaking a little. “I’m sorry about the last few times. You were right. You were always right. I was so stupid. She doesn’t care about the world. She just wants the glory.”

You were rambling now. You always did when your anxiety started creeping up your throat.

“Whoa, hey—slow down, sweetheart,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just tell me what I need to know.”

But before you could speak again, Valentina shouted your name, louder this time.

You turned slightly, lowered your voice again.

“Do you have an iPhone?”

“No. Samsung.”

You rolled your eyes. Of course. “Do you know how to track a phone?”

“I mean, yeah. But I don’t really do that anymore.”

“Well... start doing it again.”

You paused, then added quietly, “I have to go. Track my location. You'll get your answer.”

Then you hung up.

You let out a long breath, pushed the card deep back into your bag, and ran toward Valentina’s voice.

Hoping Bucky understood.

**********

You were pacing again. Nerves buzzing. Mind racing. You were worried about the others. They escaped when Bob distracted them. Then they couldn't find them. But something told you Bucky had gotten to them first. You could feel it in your gut.

He pulled through. Of course he did.

But now… there was a new problem.

Bob.

The new guy. The unstable one.

He wasn’t like the others. Something about him was off from the start. Too volatile. Too quick to react. And now he had powers — real powers — thanks to Valentina.

She said he was the future. Said he was the key.

But all you saw was a ticking bomb with a name tag.

He didn’t need power or exposure. He needed help. And if no one stepped in soon, he was going to destroy everything — maybe even himself.

You ducked into a quiet hallway, slipped into an empty supply closet, and dialed Bucky’s number with shaking hands.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N,” he said, breathless like he’d been mid-action. “We’re good. I got them. Everyone’s safe. I’m keeping them under wraps as witnesses, so we’re covered. You did the right thing calling me. Thank you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall.

“No,” you said softly. “Bucky, there’s more. A lot more.”

There was a pause.

“Talk to me.”

“She did it,” you whispered. “She actually made one. A super soldier. His name’s Bob.”

“Bob?” he repeated, half in disbelief, half already bracing for what was coming next.

You could hear background chatter on his end — voices muttering “Yeah, Bob,”

“Yes. Bob the super soldier. He’s... not stable, Bucky. He’s got powers, strength, speed — but his head isn’t right. He’s spiraling, and Valentina’s using him like he’s a tool.

You were rambling now, the anxiety bubbling up in your chest.

“She’s restarting the entire program, and this guy — he’s the prototype. And if she gets away with this, there will be more. Stronger. You have to stop it before it turns into something we can’t come back from.”

There was silence on the line. Then you heard him moving, footsteps pacing across concrete.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m coming. I’ll handle it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Hey,” his voice softened, “are you okay?”

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, voice cracking just slightly. “Everything I worked for is going to be for nothing. I'm freaking out.”

“You don’t have to carry this alone, you know.”

“I can't tell my friends or family.” you said, quieter now. “I already feel guilty and shameful enough. They would just make me feel worse.”

Another pause. Then softer, “Y/N... I meant what I said. You did the right thing. And I’m proud of you. Really.”

You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. That means more than you probably realize.”

“I realize it,” he said. And it was quiet, but it hit you harder than it should’ve.

You hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “Are they okay? The others?”

“They’re safe. A little roughed up, but they’re going to be fine.”

“Good. That’s good,” you said, exhaling. “I should go. I’ll keep feeding you updates when I can. Just… get here fast, alright?”

“Okay,” He finally whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

You hung up and slipped the phone back into your pocket before walking out the door. You immediately froze when your boss stared at you with raised eyebrows.

“Well,” she said coolly, “out of everyone, I never thought you would be the one second-guessing your work.”

You didn’t flinch. Not this time. “Giving Bob those powers? It’s reckless. And you know it.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head like you were some disappointing intern instead of her right hand. “I’m not going to argue with you, kid. I like you. I really do. You’ve done exceptional work—with me. For us. That’s why I’m giving you a little time to get your head on straight.”

Your jaw clenched. You said nothing.

“But,” she added, stepping a little closer, lowering her voice, “don’t let Barnes cloud that beautiful brain of yours. He’s a distraction. A loud, inconvenient one. And he’s getting in the way.”

You met her gaze evenly, letting the silence stretch.

Then, without a word, you grabbed your purse and walked past her—heels clicking, spine straight.

You needed to find Bucky.

*********

"Ladies and gentlemen, meet the New Avengers."

After countless photos and a barrage of questions, you kept your smile steady, doing your job one last time.

“Thank you all for coming,” you said with calm finality. “Photos and questions will stop here. I’ll be in touch about the next press briefing soon. Seriously—thank you again.”

You gave a polite nod as Valentina waved beside you, her signature smirk in place.

As the crowd began to disperse, you turned your attention to the Thunderbolts. With a gentle but firm push, you guided them out of view, away from the cameras. And then—without thinking—you grabbed Bucky and pulled him into a hug.

You couldn’t stop yourself.

You’d been searching for him. Panicking. Lost. The last image you had was of him stepping into the Void. The moment his silhouette became just that—a shadow—you screamed his name. And then… nothing.

You thought you’d lost him.

But now, here he was. Alive. Solid. Real. And all the emotions you’d buried came rushing back.

You knew there was something between you—something electric, something raw and waiting. It had barely started, but it already meant something. And for a bit, you'd been mourning the future that never got a chance to begin.

Now, you didn’t have to mourn anymore.

The moment stretched. Everyone around you went quiet. You barely registered your boss muttering an uneasy, “Oh dear.”

Bucky froze, stiff in your arms. He glanced around, uncertain. John gave him a look before mimicking hugging someone. Alexei flashed a thumbs-up. The girls? They just smirked.

“I saw you,” you whispered, pulling back just slightly. “I saw you walk into the Void. You became a shadow. I—I was trying to find you, and then you pulled that crap. What the hell, Barnes?”

He opened his mouth, but you beat him to it—stepping back before he could even return the embrace.

“I’m okay,” he said gently. “I swear, I’m fine.” He just wanted you back into his arms.

“You still scared the hell out of me,” you said, your voice breaking just a little. “I thought you were gone for good.”

Bucky's expression softened. “I’m not going anywhere. You still owe me that tour, remember?”

You laughed—half out of relief, half because it suddenly felt so easy to breathe again. You stepped closer, pulled him into a kiss, and he kissed you back without hesitation. Sparks. Heat. Home.

When you finally pulled away, smiling, you whispered, “Looks like you caught me.”

He grinned. “Looks like I have.”

Then you kissed again.

A loud groan broke the moment. “I feel like I’m gonna barf,” Val muttered.

“Shut up, Val,” the entire team replied in unison.

Bridging Boroughs

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Bartender!Reader with a past. Platonic!Matt Murdock

Summary: You and Matt come up with a plan to take on Kingpin politically.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Spoilers for DD:BA episode 8, (but works if you're not watching). Probably misunderstandings of the US political system.

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

Matt groans as he wakes up. He feels like he got punched in the chest by a truck.

He tries to take in his surroundings - it’s hard over the beeping of the machines, but under the stillness of night he realises someone is sitting beside his hospital bed.

“Heather?” He croaks.

“Nope,” comes the unapologetic answer. He recognises that voice, but hasn’t heard it in a while. Matt frowns - is he wrong?

The pressure of booted feet landing on his bed, one ankle crossing over the other as his guest casually stretches out her legs gives him a better idea who his visitor is. He tries another name.

“You got it," you confirm. Matt can hear the mirthless smile in your voice. “Glad to hear we’re not complete strangers, even if I never would have guessed you’d throw yourself in front of a bullet aimed at the Kingpin.”

“I wasn’t-” Matt’s protestations are cut off by a tightness in his chest and he coughs, wincing at the pain, “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”

Your feet leave the bed as you press a plastic cup of water against the back of his hand. Matt takes it as silently as it's offered, a few sips doing little to soothe the roughness of his throat.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asks, reluctantly letting you take the glass from him when the wires tangled around him stop him reaching the sidetable himself.

“Well, that’s rude.” Your tone is more amused than offended.

“I mean it. I haven’t seen you since-” his voice dies in his throat.

“Since the funeral.” You finish for him, voice softer, “But I keep up to date. You’re all over the news. Thought it would be polite to visit an old friend in hospital.”

“We’re barely friends,” there’s a bitterness to Matt’s tone, more from regret than animosity. It’s been a long time since you were close, “And I’m pretty sure visiting hours were over a long time ago.”

“I make my own hours, you know that. And I said old friend.” You pause, continuing when his only objection is an irritated sigh. “Plus I saw a mutual acquaintance of ours recently - he was worried about you.”

Matt’s mouth sets in a hard line. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Forgive me if I’m not convinced,” your eyes scan over his damaged body, the tubes and machines keeping him alive, “And honestly, when Frank Castle is concerned about your mental health, something’s gotta be pretty wrong.”

“So you’re still in touch with Frank. And you think I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

“I drop in on him now and then, make sure he’s not dead. I don’t charge in on him like a madman with a deathwish.”

Matt grimaces.

“So come on, Matt. I’ve seen the other news about you too. The other you. What’s going on?”

In the absence of anyone else to talk to who won’t judge him, Matt reluctantly opens up.

Time passes, and as the sun threatens to break over the horizon, you both sink into thoughtful silence.

"Did you ever think that maybe you need to meet Fisk on his level?” You ask.

“I’d never do what he does,” Matt spits emphatically, “That’s the difference between us-”

“That was the difference between you. The difference now is that he’s the one who’s gone ‘legit’. Officially, at least.”

Matt opens his mouth to object, but you talk over him. “You not changing the city as a lawyer is nothing new. I thought you'd resigned yourself to that after - after Foggy. But Fisk isn’t fighting in the dark any more; you’ve lost your advantage.”

“So what, are you saying I should run for Mayor?”

“God, no. But we need to look in that direction. Maybe someone else, someone who’s pro-enhanced p-”

“Wait,” Matt bolts upright, ignoring the pain that slices through him, “There is someone. We could at least ask for help, while I’m stuck here.”

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now?”

Matt grins, “How familiar are you with Brooklyn?”

—

Getting inside the Congressman’s office is easy for you, even in broad daylight. Plenty of people filing in and about, milling around - and you know how to go unnoticed. The bustling space is a much more casual, open place than you'd expected.

Getting access to him directly is more of a challenge.

After holding a store room door open for a smiling volunteer, you duck inside. Spotting a pile of discarded t-shirts from the recent campaign, you grab one and quickly swap it for your own plain top, before adding the casual blazer you'd worn to look appropriately professional on top of it. No need to be too obvious.

You'd spied his private office on your first loop around the floor, and now you make your way indirectly towards it. One well-placed slippery flyer in the path of a rushing intern later, and the woman stationed at the desk outside his door is running to the bathroom to try and soak the hot coffee out of her shirt.

Smiling benignly, you slip unseen into the Congressman’s office. The man you're looking for has his back to the door, standing behind a desk leafing through a file.

You have a moment to admire his broad back, the white shirt straining over strong shoulders, tapering down where it tucks into dark pants over narrow hips.

Forcing your eyes away from where they’ve drifted down, you've barely taken two steps into the room before he speaks.

“Are you one of those people who breaks in to try and sell me extra security?”

You stop abruptly - he hasn’t even turned around.

“No,” you answer casually, continuing to approach, “But maybe I should be, that sounds like a fun job. Do you think it pays well?”

“No idea,” finally Congressman Barnes turns to face you, dropping his papers onto the desk between you.

You let your gaze linger over his torso. He must get those shirts custom made, you think, so they're snug over his flat stomach without bursting the buttons over his chest.

Barnes crosses his arms, and the motion reminds you to look at his face, where he’s quirking an eyebrow at you, unflustered and unamused.

“So what are you doing breaking into my office?”

“Breaking in?” You try to sound offended, “I just wanted to meet the person I’ve been door knocking for-”

“You’re not one of the volunteers,” he interrupts cooly, “And you’re definitely not on the payroll. So now you need to explain why you’re lying as well as breaking in.”

“What, you know every single person who works for you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat while you recalculate your approach, then take the last few steps towards him, smiling broadly and holding out your hand, “I just wanted to say hi, have a quick chat.”

Instead of answering or shaking your hand, Barnes narrows his eyes suspiciously at you.

“And there was no breaking anything, so it wasn’t breaking in,” you grumble, lowering your hand.

“I’m still not hearing an explanation.”

“Okay,” you sigh, presumptuously dropping into one of the chairs in front of his desk, “I’ve come to ask what you’re planning to do about Mayor Fisk.”

Bucky’s neutral facade cracks in surprise. “What I'm planning to do about Mayor Fisk?” he repeats.

“His crusade against ‘vigilantes’,” you put air quotes around the loaded term, “His so-called taskforce are breaking every law they come up against to wipe out anyone they decide is suspicious, including everyone with enhanced abilities they can get their hands on. You were elected on a platform of protecting those same people, right? You can’t just do nothing.”

“I ran on more than one issue,” Bucky says, sitting down opposite you, “And Mayor Fisk was also elected by the people - and even if it wasn’t a key part of his campaign, as I understand it his opposition to vigilantes wasn’t exactly a secret.”

“That’s no excuse to just roll over and let him do what he wants!”

Bucky frowns. “No, it’s not,” he muses, “But so far his taskforce have restricted themselves to Manhattan. Unless they cross into Brooklyn, there’s not much I can do about it.”

You're visibly unimpressed at his answer, crossing your arms and glaring at him in place of a response.

After a moment of thought, Bucky’s gaze intensifies, and he leans towards you across the desk, “Do you have a - vested interest - in this?”

Fighting to keep your heart rate steady, you answer him honestly, “I’m here on behalf of a friend. And everyone else who feels hopeless about what the Kingpin is doing to our city. Everyone else who wants to fix it.”

Bucky studies you silently. Your answer was true - and you have no intention of sharing more than you need to about your history, or those nights when it bleeds into your present. Even Fisk never knew about you, and with Karen in California, Matt and Frank are the only people left in the city who have any idea what you've done, and neither of them know you've not given it up as thoroughly as you suggest.

"This friend," Bucky starts, clearly not believing you, "they didn't want to speak to me themselves?"

"They're in hospital." Your answer is more vehement than you intended, and you hope you've not given too much away.

Barnes sits back with a sigh, “Okay. I’ll talk to my team about it. We’ve been considering putting out a statement; a citizen complaint is a good enough reason to push that through. And I’ll look into what else we can do. Encourage an investigation into the taskforce, or some kind of oversight requirements. Legal protections for enhanced people with no record of vigilantism.”

It’s less than you wanted, but more than you'd hoped for from a politician. “Sounds like an okay start,” you allow.

An amused smile flickers across Bucky’s face as he stands up, dismissing you. You mirror him.

“Are you a Brooklyn resident?” He asks.

“Not exactly.”

“That’s a no.”

“Compassion doesn’t stop at the East River,” you retort, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I agree. And I give you my word that I’ll do everything I can to rein Fisk in and keep innocent people safe, inside my jurisdiction and out.” He holds his hand out to you.

“Good,” you answer begrudgingly, grasping his hand firmly, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he squeezes back, “And your friend - if it’s dangerous for them in Manhattan, there’s a safe place for them this side of the river. Always. If Fisk’s taskforce follows - well, there might be more I can do.”

“Good to know. And if you ever want to update me on your progress - save me trekking all the way out here again - I work at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen,” You give him the name as you turn to leave. “If you make good on your promise, I might even buy you a drink.”

Bucky smiles. It’s an appealing offer. “I’ll keep that in mind. Wait,” he nods to your shirt, where Vote Barnes for the 9th District is emblazoned across your chest, “Did you pay for that?”

Rolling your eyes, you slip your jacket from your shoulders, Bucky’s eyes following the smooth motion, “I was going to give it back,” you lie.

“Don’t.” he stops you, a quick twitch at the corner of his lips, “You can keep it. Looks good on you.”

You smile languidly as you pull the jacket back on.

“Thanks, Congressman,” you reach for the door handle, adding over your shoulder, “I’ve been looking for something to wear in bed.”

Once his door has swung shut behind you Bucky lets out a long breath, rubbing his right hand over his face as he sinks into his chair.

He could have handled that more professionally, but something in your fearless attitude and sly smile had intrigued him - and the reason for your questionable visit was smart, principled - and ballsy.

He’ll definitely be stopping by that bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

mdni | 18+ | pt. 1

cw/ size difference, dacryphilia, cucking, bi panic, slight dubcon

“It's all right, luv,” Simon whispered reassuringly as he stroked your thigh comfortingly with his thumb. “Johnny doesn’t think your sweet cunt can take me in. You’re just gonna show him that’s not true, yeah?”

You didn’t know what had happened between the two while you were away. But whatever it was made you spread your legs on your boyfriend’s lap, in nothing but your underwear and a spaghetti top, while his best friend watched you two on the small coffee table a few centimeters away.

“Looks like a little dolly on yer lap,” Johnny grunted out as he enjoyed the view in front of him. “Aren’t ya gonna answer Simon, bonnie?”

You nodded a little shyly. You and Simon had been dating for a while now and Johnny’s presence was one you were used to, but not like this - never like this. “…yes, m’sorry.” You mumbled out after Johnny prompted you. Of course you didn't know what to say, your thoughts were probably all over the place right now.

Your boyfriend hummed deeply, causing your skin to prickle with excitement. “Don’t worry about it, you just get a little dumb when I touch you like this, hm? You like being looked at while I do it?” He asked you while his thumb rubbed circles over your clothed clit at the same time.

You nodded slightly embarrassed and turned your eyes away from Johnny, whose gaze was fixed on Simon’s movements. “Hmm, yes...”

“Yeah?” Simon repeated your answer as he spread your leg wider with one hand on your thigh to give his best friend a better view of your cunt. “Let him see a bit more then,” he replied as he grabbed the side of your panties so that he could pull them away from your pussy. He always liked fucking you while you kept them on since they looked so cute on you. Such a stark contrast against his throbbing dick.

Johnny groaned as he caught sight of your puffy little hole and held his cock over his pants as if trying to control himself. “Bloody hell, were ya two fuckin’ last night or why does her cunt look so damn raw?”

Simon tried shoving your panties even further to the side, hooking his other arm under your thigh so he could push your lips apart since he wanted to get a better look. “This morning, actually.” He replied curtly while looking over your shoulder for a second, before lifting your body a little so that he could pull down his sweatpants and boxers. “She should be prepped enough. What do you think mate, should I just tuck it in?” He asked his best friend, talking over you as if you weren’t even there - as if you had no say in anything because you were only here to take what Simon was willing to give you.

You felt yourself getting wetter at the thought and instinctively wanted to close your legs to cause some friction. Though, your boyfriend kept a firm grip on your leg as he waited for a response.

Johnny’s eyes glazed over at how big Simon’s cock was next to your swollen little hole. He watched as he began to rub it with your slick, imagining taking his friends cock deep down his throat so that he could slide into you even easier afterward. “It’s still gonna hurt...” he mumbled to himself, wanting to see it happen.

Simon grunted. “It’s gonna hurt no matter what I do.” He stated. “Even bled like a virgin the first time we did it.”

A groan escaped Johnny’s mouth as he threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut to keep himself from cumming in his pants like a pathetic loser here and now. “Do it then. Force it in her, aye?”

Simon's eyes finally met yours. “You heard him, luv.” Was all he said as he moved your body the way he wanted - as if you really were just his little dolly. He spread your legs wide with his hands before briefly releasing his hold on your body so that he could position his tip at your sensitive opening.

You could already feel the first tears gathering in your eyes when your boyfriend stuffed you bit by bit. He tried to comfort you with his closeness and hushed whispers, but he didn’t slow down even when you begged him to. “Please Si. It hurts, hurts so much. Stop for a second.” You cried out but Simon made no move to comply with your request. “Hush, m‘almost done. Just take the last bit like a good girl and cry some more for me, yeah?” He whispered in a grunting voice, squeezing the rest into you with one last thrust and sighing happily after he felt his hips touch your ass. “Good. Now spread your legs.” He ordered you after he released his grip so that you could shakily show off what was going on between them.

Simon was pleased with your presentation as he pulled your shirt over your breasts so you could look even prettier for them. “You see that Johnny?” He asked him as if he hadn’t been trying not to blink for the last few minutes so that he wouldn’t miss anything. “Pretty girl, took it to the hilt.”

“Aye, looks like ya were right...” He replied and didn’t mind losing the little argument between them. Not in the slightest, he thought while his eyes remained focused on the scene before him.

“Should help her out then since you underestimated her so much, hm?”

; NOT MY MAN

© gif credits to @daniel-bruehl.

Simon Riley aka GHOST x READER

Summary. the team is back in town after a mission but seems like you would have preferred to stay there than having to face the kind of feelings you're discovering now.

word count: 1.2k.

warnings/tags: none. maybe a little bit of jealousy, but nothing serious.

author notes: my stories don't contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

pd: hi, y'all! first time writing for Ghost, no judging, please. i hope you like it.

The mission couldn’t have gone more successful, and the whole team was back in town before expected. That’s why Soap has had the great idea of throwing a small party for you all, more like a teammates’ barbecue. But now that you’re there, staring at the scene happening right in front of your eyes and holding a beer almost empty, you’re starting to figure out how to leave the place without looking like an asshole.

All your friends are having fun, while you’re about to break the glass container between your fingers just by the burning angriness emerging inside your guts. Why? Simple question, simple answer. Ghost is there, of course, keeping his face covered by the balaclava he never takes off, not even while sleeping; standing arms crossed next to the new acquisition for the team. Rhaia. A former soldier who is brand new to your world. Flirting with him. Or better said, trying to flirt with him. But even if Ghost isn’t moving an inch of his body, he’s letting her touch his bicep, play with the badges sewed in his jacket, and grab his dog tags to read the information written down in them.

Who does she think she is?

And who do you think you are?

Clicking your tongue, as you turn around, you give the beer one last sip before placing it on the table next to you. Silent and keeping your gesture deadpanned, your feet take you to the inside. You’ve had enough shit to deal with for today and you’re pretty tired to pretend you aren't… jealous? Ghost and you are nothing but teammates. On-duty. Off-duty is hard to explain. He’s your guardian during the nights in town like a protector, that’s how you like to see the situation. For a cop, he’s a stalker, and probably a psychopath too. But he has some power over you that you can’t even explain or run away from.

And now, everything you’ve thought you’ve had till this moment looks like it’s been reduced to ashes since Rhaia is part of the equation.

“ Party is downstairs. ”

A shiver runs down your spine. It doesn't matter the amount of time you two spend together, accompanied or alone, you never hear him coming. But you can't help but ignore his words, looking for the keys to your bike inside the pockets of your leather jacket, about to wear the piece of clothing and leave the house.

“ You going mute scares me more than death. ”

His voice is neutral. There’s no confusion, or angriness, or surprise in it. Those emotions fill you up at the exact moment you turn around, ready to go, by finding him closer than expected. 

“ Oh, for fuck sake! ”  You grumble, moving a palm onto your chest and closing your eyes for a second.

“ Where are ya’ heading at, hm? ”

“ You all are occupied with your own business and I’m tired, I just want to sleep, Ghost. ”

Raising his eyebrows as an incredulous gesture, the man tilts his head slightly, trying to figure out what’s going on inside that mind of yours. It’s not the explanation, but the fact that you have called him by his undercover name, and not just by his name like whenever the two of you are alone.

“ I'll take you home, little bird. C’mon. ”

“ You’re not coming. ” The sentence slips through your mouth before you can even think about it, watching him turn back to face you as he is ready to accompany you.

“ I am your man, of course I’m leaving with you. ” He’s now aware of what’s going on, and can’t help but drag every single word by his tongue. Demanding. With that possessive tone of voice that, in another kind of situation, would take you to your more desired fantasies later that night.

“ If my man can be touched by any woman, then… he’s not my man. ”

Oh, there it is; the attitude that rarely comes out from you, taking a step closer at the point you're breathing in the air he spells — besides the height difference. You’re challenging him with no fear, with no doubt. Looking straight into his eyes, contemplating how they darken themselves. That man is angry for real, making a huge effort to not lose his mind, the control over his body. Not with you. Maybe with a poor devil that crosses paths with him tonight. But you’re hurt. And so it’s your ego. Gho— Simon is yours. Nobody else can't touch him with that kind of intention but you, even when you don’t touch him like that; because the two of you have a non-verbal arrangement that he’s your guard dog and you don’t make any complaints.

Your heart races at the moment he takes a step back, away from you, not uttering a single word, making you feel frustrated for preventing you from seeing his face at this moment. How much would you love to burn down the balaclava he’s wearing (...).  But, at least, it seems like he has understood that you need some time alone to put down the feelings and emotions blurring your head like stormy clouds covering the sun from nowhere.

( A few hours later. )

“ What… What are you doing here? ”

Even if it was quite a surprise to find your lieutenant, fully equipped, sitting in front of your bed in the middle of the night, you didn't feel like he was a menace, nor like you were in danger. You didn't even care to ask how he had sneaked inside your house outwitting the alarm.

“ Go back to sleep, little bird. ” The murmur left his covered lips as he bent over just a little, enough to rest his arms onto his lap, getting a better view of you obeying without complaining and laying down between the sheets.

For a reason you can’t understand, you wake up with your heart racing and a thin layer of sweat covering your whole body. The survivor mode has been turned on. It wasn’t a nightmare, but a memory haunting you. The room is submerged in darkness, only illuminated by a lamppost outside, but what leaves you with no words is the empty chair in front of your eyes. Ghost is not there. And he should be.

Turning on the light, you look for your phone. No calls. No texts. Nothing. Cleaning the sweat from your forehead with a tissue, you toss away the wet sheets and walk barefoot outside of your room, touring the small flat.

“ Simon…? ”

Maybe he has gone for a glass of water or something, but you don’t receive a word back, nor a hint that he’s there. It’s only you and the silence of the night.

A sharp pinch stabs your heart. But what is that? Pain, sorrow, regret? Sadness? For a moment, you think that calling him is a good idea, disappearing as you remember what you told him earlier this evening. Has he taken that really seriously? No. That’s not typical of him. He would fight. And, for you, he would go to hell and be back before the blink of an eye, after turning off the flames that consume the place.

But then, why is the first night in almost two years he is not there, watching over you while you sleep?

Where are you, Ghost…?

feedback is appreciated and needed. please, if you have read this shot, leave a comment and / or reblog. don’t forget we do it for free to contribute to your entertainment and interactions are what make us keep writing every day.

The red queen

Title: The Red Queen

Bad Bitches Bingo Square Filled: Royal AU

Written for: @badbitchesbingo​​​

Summary: You are the queen. No man dares to break your law. No one! Or – the true story of the red queen.

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Sarah Wilson; Queen!Reader x King!Steve Rogers; King!Steve Rogers x Lord!James Buchanan Barnes

Characters: Sam Wilson, Brock Rumlow, Wanda/Pietro Maximoff (mentioned), unnamed hangman

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,8 k

Warnings: angst, language, strong reader, characters death, violence (light), mentions of attempted sexual assault, misogyny, arranged marriage (implied), hiding your sexual orientation, bisexual reader, bisexual Steve Rogers, a hint of fluff

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

2021 Bad Bitches Bingo masterlist

Keep reading

Killer Queen | Part Three

Killer Queen masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!reader Word Count: 2.2k Chapter warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, 141, retired (not for long) soldier reader, reader's callsign is Tiger, enemies to lovers (but currently just enemies), referenced past trauma and capture, allusions to forced prostitution (past), graphic injury detail/description, reader suffers from night terrors, swearing, this series will be significantly darker than my other works

Your eyes adjust to the dimly lit room, just enough to make out where the walls are. Where the low ceiling meets the edges. There's no window and the floors are bare concrete, exuding an inescapable chill that permeates your skin and bones.

The metal of the chains bite into your ankles and wrists; the bones more prominent that usual after weeks of starvation and exhaustion. You can hair faint screams beyond the single, barred door; the voices of your team echoing through the halls. Haunting your every waking moment.

There's a man in the corner, armed with a rifle. He watches you day and night - unsympathetic and unmoved.

He will be the first to die, you think. It's a though that keeps you sane. You cling to it like a buoy on a stormy sea.

The door opens and another man enters. He carries with him a bundle of cloth, tucked under one arm. You know what's in the bundle before he even opens it - the rows of polished blades sheathed within. As he takes a seat opposite you, he unrolls it onto the crude wooden table, little more than a barstool. And, as he sets about his daily work, he mentions a man; one who you will eventually be taken to.

Makarov.

You'd met him before; knew his particular brand of cruelty.

After all, he'd had to go through so much trouble to find you again.

You awake to the sound of shrieking. To the taste of copper bitter in your mouth.

It takes a second for you to register that the screams are your own.

Someone is trying to get through the door, but it's been locked and deadbolted on your side. It seems like they've realised that, as the frantic, pounding knocks give way to heavy thuds like someone is trying to break it down entirely. They're shouting too - trying to ask you if you are okay, but you're far beyond words.

You're a sobbing, shivering wreck when the door finally bows inwards, splinting and falling away from the frame. Four men are standing in the hallway, illuminated by the harsh ceiling spotlights. It's an ominous sight that only serves to make your panic worsen. You try to tell them that you're fine, but you're paralysed - frozen under the too-tight sheets.

"Tiger?" the concerned voice comes from the doorway, the men huddled there unsure as to whether or not they should enter your den.

"Go. Away." The words leave your gritted teeth, sweat drenching your skin. The screaming has stopped but your chest still shakes violently, limbs leaden with an invisible, impossible weight.

There's a pause. The four figures remain there.

"Are you sure?"

You screw your eyes shut, unable to calm your own body. You feel pathetic, reduced to a cowering wreck in front of these virtual strangers. Even worse: in front of Ghost.

"Leave," you hiss.

When your eyes open moments later, you home in on the one man still loitering in the doorway. You'd recognise that body anywhere; the broad, sloping shoulders and the tapered, masculine waist.

"Ghost," you growl, "I said leave."

The shadowy outline stays. Instead of doing as he's asked for once in his life, he asks, "You still get the nightmares?"

You don't humour him with an answer.

Regardless, he carries on, crossing the threshold of your room. The door lies, battered and useless, on the floor. "I thought you were still seeing that therapist Laswell suggested? What's the point of them if they don't help you? I thought by now you'd be..." He trails off absentmindedly.

"Better?" you supply, the word drenched in bitter sarcasm. "I'll never be better, Simon. You made sure of that."

"Don't say that name here," he snaps, instantly on the defensive. It brings you a small amount of comfort to think that he feels even half of the tension you do. "Didn't I teach you anything?"

"You said a lot of shit." You blink. "I ignored most of it."

The sound of footsteps fills your ears, heavy as they step over the fallen door. You look up at him as he moves to stand at your bedside, staring down at you. His face is covered by that stupid mask again - the cold, hard plastic shell concealing any hint of emotion from sight.

"What do you mean I 'made sure of that'?"

You frown up at him. "Huh?"

"You said that I made sure you'd never be better. Explain it."

You want nothing more than for him to leave. You're tired, drenched in sweat and pinned to the bed by the scratchy, standard-issue sheets. The door of your suite - the one flimsy layer of privacy in the barracks - has been smashed off of its hinges, and it's most likely the early hours of the morning based on the lack of sunlight coming through the drawn curtains; i.e. not the time to be having this conversation.

The best time, in fact, would be never.

Ghost taps his foot impatiently and you sigh, rolling your eyes. "You got me to trust you and then you left without a word. You went out of your way to reach out to other LTs in the area and tell them not to work with me. You poisoned the well; you made doing my job impossible." A beat of silence passes before you continue on, letting your words settle in the air between you. With every memory, you pick up steam - tone steadily rising in volume. "You moved out of our house and said nothing. I couldn't pay the mortgage so I had to sell it, and I couldn't find my family's new phone numbers or details after they were moved for their own protection, so I was completely on my own and scared shitless."

There are tears in your eyes now, but you refuse to let them fall. Not for him. "I got back in touch with Laswell. She tried her best to help me; to have me moved into sheltered housing because I couldn't get my head on right to look for a new flat. And then I..."

Your mouth feels like it's full of cotton. Throat so dry that you could choke on air.

Never in your mind had you thought you would be here with him, finally able to confront him for everything he did back then. In all honesty, you would have been happy to never see him again. To never have to dig up the horrible, brutal depths of your failures and lay them out in the open - raw, bloody, and exposed - for him to pick through and examine.

"I broke down. Completely." Your hands clench into fists under the covers. "You ruined my fucking life, Ghost. More than Makarov ever could."

"Don't you dare fucking say that." Ghost's voice thunders through the room, his thick, Manchester accent rumbling against the gravel of his tone. You turn away from him, rolling in bed to face the wall. Your refusal to acknowledge him only seems to piss him off all the more. "You were the one who ruined us. Not me. You were the one who chose to lie again and again, and ruin the trust between us. You."

Anger pounds in your ears, rising to a crescendo of boiling rage. You're up on your feet before you know it, squaring up to the man you once loved with all of your icy, savage heart.

Practically snarling in his face, you shove him square in the chest, crowding him against your desk. So unlike himself, he takes it - takes your wrath and allows himself to be backed into a corner.

"You're so full of shit, Simon!" you hiss, no longer caring that you're using his real name within earshot of the others. "You left me! You did the one thing you promised me you'd never do. You ran away when it all got too real. And now you have the calls to call me a coward."

At that, he pushes back slightly, straightening up until you have no choice but to ease back a few steps. Snarling, he retorts, "I left before you had the chance. You made it clear that you were putting distance between us - I was just doing you a favour."

A laugh leaves your lips, the sound bordering on hysterical. Even he looks a little taken aback by it.

"A favour?" you shriek. Someone opens a door down the hall. "Get the fuck out!"

Ghost's jaw slackens under the mask, but you shove him again. He stumbles back.

You push him until he's out in the hallway, blocking the doorway with your body so he can't get back inside. "Once this is all over, I hope I never fucking see you again. I mean it, Ghost - you're fucking dead to me."

He stands there, his stance almost... accepting? You don't know if that's the right word to describe it. He looks so defeated. And when he finally manages words, all he says is, "I'll get someone to fix the door first thing."

As you watch his broad back retreating down the hallway, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness. A stab of pain at what could have been had he just stayed.

Before you turn back into your own room, your eyes meet the weathered ones of Price. He's standing further down the hall, eyeing you with something akin to pity. And then he closes his door, leaving you completely alone once again.

It's safe to say that you don't fall asleep before sunrise.

The next morning, when you return from your morning run, the door is fixed. There's a new lock too - better than the built-in one that was there before - and it brings a small smile to your face.

You don't know if it was Simon or Price, but someone had clearly taken the time to put it there. You highly doubted that the Chuckle Brothers had done it - they'd taken to steering clear of you since you blew up on MacTavish.

Over the next few days, you avoid your new teammates like the plague, and they return the favour. If they hear your night terrors, they do you the solid of ignoring them.

It's a rainy Tuesday when Laswell finally summons you all, declaring that they've finally found something that might help you track down Makarov.

Some small, selfish part of you almost hopes that you never find him; that he'll just drop off the face of the Earth again, but stay gone this time. That he'll fall through the cracks and wind up someplace where he can't hurt anyone. Where he can't hurt you.

But another part of you - the bloody, seething mess that crawled out of that militia base years ago - she savours it. The methodical planning that's been ticking over in the back of your head for years now; keeping you going in the quiet moments.

You sit stiffly in your preferred seat - in the corner, facing the rectangular meeting room's only entrance and exit. You were the first to arrive, followed shortly after by Captain Price. Every once and a while, he makes fleeting eye contact with you, always being the first to break it.

"You really did a number on him, you know?" he says after a few ticks of the wall-mounted clock.

The words surprise you. "I'm sorry?"

The captain clears his throat, shifting in his crappy plastic chair to better face you. "He never said why he was so bent out of shape when he came back to us from leave. We thought it was the same reason he wears the mask; thought it was about Mexico." He eyes you warily before tacking on the next part. "Soap always reckoned it was about a woman."

You just roll your eyes.

"Just never could have predicted it would be the infamous Tiger." Leaning back in his chair, he takes off his hat and rests it on the table in front of him, a bitter chuckle leaving his lips. "You know, there's files on you that even I don't have the clearance to access."

"If you have any questions pertinent to us working together, I'm sure Laswell can make some arrangements for you," you reply, tone devoid of any emotion. You're used to this - to superior officers getting curious about your closed past. "Or, better yet, you could just ask me."

Price's expression shifts, seemingly shocked that you've called his bluff. "I... I don't think that's entirely necessary, ..."

Watching him struggle to find the name he's never received, you out him out of his misery. "You can call me T, if that helps."

It beats being solely referred to as Tiger, and you're sure as shit not about to tell any of them your legal name. Not even Simon knew that.

"Alright then, T. I think that if I don't have clearance, there's a reason for it. I'd also like the think that anything I find out about you will be done on your terms, in your own time; that it will come with your respect. Does that sound alright with you?"

You nod slowly, feeling like it's some sort of trick.

It doesn't take long after that for everyone else to file in, taking various seats around the table. Sergeant Garrick fills the seat beside you, regarding you with a somewhat-awkward smile and nod combo.

By the end of the meeting, all you have is a few more possible leads, but it's more than you started with. MacTavish and Garrick are tasked with heading to Spain - Makarov's suspected current hideout - to do some recon work, and Price and Ghost are going to Russia to interrogate some of Makarov's captured allies.

Leaving you.

"I need you to do something important for me," Laswell asks, deep blue eyes locking onto yours. Immediately, your back straightens. "There's an asset in London. She used to be... one of Makarov's girls."

You know what that means. The sea of disturbed expressions around the table tell you that you aren't the only one.

To be one of his girls was to be a prisoner; a slave in his harem. You would know; for a brief time before you joined the military, you were one of them.

"We have her under a new identity, in hiding, but there's a few questions that she might be able to answer for us. I thought that if anyone here knows the right approach, it would be you."

You can feel Ghost's gaze heavy on your side profile. Feel the heat of his eyes burning holes in you as you swallow, nodding slowly.

Solemnly, you hold Laswell's cautious gaze. "When do I go?"

a/n: hi guys, I just wanted to say a big thank you for the continued support on this work/my others! please do feel free to request to be added to any taglist :) also, the next thing I'm working on will be the next part of Unlikely Friendships, so if you are interested in that, please hold tight! - much love, lapetitelapin <3

Taglist: @420-hun @honestlymassivetrash

I BURN FOR YOU | MASTERLIST

Pairing | Duke Simon Riley x reader

Summary | Your parents and Simon’s arrange for the two of you to be betrothed against your will. Simon is away when all of this happens and when he’s back it’s already his wedding day. Your families have agreed if, when the London Season finishes in three months, your feelings remain unchanged for one another, you may separate. Simon never planned on getting married to anyone, and he certainly never planned on falling in love either.

Tags | Regency era au, arranged marriage, Simon being a douchebag, Simon being his grumpy self, panic attack, Simon slowly becoming sweet, smut, virgin reader, butler Johnny, slow burn, fluffy, angst.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Fin

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

Inspired by I Burn For You audio by GEDaudio and Bridgeton

Taglist | @watyousayin @corvusmorte @callmecurious97 @lilynotdilly @lunamoonbby @xheera @captainsarcasmandsass @c1garette-nightmares @myspaceisra @lucinda-reads @emmylous-world @svnh6021 @lucifers-demonic-breast-milk @alucardsdaddyissues @fruitymoonbeams-blog @stupid-little-birdie @misscaller06 @vivanlasbaleadas @softangxlicss @sozainturpal @3-opossums-in-a-ballgown @aninnai @itsmeamysworld

simon n his lil lady 😇

simon ‘ghost’ riley masterlist

cod masterlist | request guidelines | main m.list

NSFW ALPHABET

as a dad

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 l

a one night stand with simon riley would look like...

home

simon has been away for more than a month, you try to get some pent-up relief in the bath

stitches

Task Force 141 aren't immune to injury, so Price handpicked a medic- you. You're not immune to night terrors and strike up an unlikely friendship with the allusive Ghost. Growing a bit too close for fraternisation guidelines...

simon just can't help himself

the real simon riley

Humbling myself over this fictional man

the wedding of simon riley

Is there a word that’s a mix between angry and sad

vi struggling to open cait’s belt was SO FUCKING CUTE AAAAAA

The Vengeful Deceiver - Teen Wolf Fanfiction

Scarlett Black, she has been a vampire for 8 years and now forced to go back to school, forced to control herself in front of so much food. All for a puppy.

MASTERLIST

<< Previous - Next >>

CHAPTER 8

"So you killed her?" Stiles asked as they entered the school.

"I don't know," Scott answewd, "I've just woke up."

The puppy remembered what had happened the night before. More or less. But he remembered as if it had been a dream and, of course, that he had attacked Allison. As if he couldn't become more predictable...

Anyway, Scarlett feared that he would have remembered her, but she could not go away now; it would have been too strange.

"I was sweating like crazy; I couldn't breathe. I never had a dream where I woke up like that before," Scott said, turning to them.

"Really?" Stiles asked from next to Scarlett, "I have. Usually ends a little differently." A smirk appeared on her lips as she looked at him. Stiles spun his head towards her with wide eyes.

"I... I mean..." she could feel how flustered he was. That was so strange. She could not only see it, she felt it. And she had to fight her fangs to come out.

"It's alright," she said, smirking up at him. "We all have wet dreams."

"Oh my god..." but she ignored him, wanting to know more about the puppy and what he remembered. So she could come up with a quick response if needed.

"Yeah, but A, I never had a dream that felt so real," Scott said, glaring at his friend, "And B, never give me that many details of you in bed."

Stiles nodded his head, looking at Scarlett for a brief moment, "Noted," then he took a deep breath, "Let me take a guess here though-"

"No, I know," Scott interrupted him, "You think it has something to do with me going out with Allison tomorrow like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

Scarlett did her best not to roll her eyes. The puppy really had only one thought in his head. But that was not exactly a bad thing. If it made him remember everything as if it were a dream, the better. Well, no, maybe not, since the body of the Driever was still in the parking lot.

"No, of course not," Stiles was saying, but when Scott turned to him with a glare, he spoke again, "Yeah, that's probably it."

Scarlett shook her head, "In the dream there was blood?"

Scott looked at her before sadly nodding his head.

"Alright," she said, "And nothing of yours was covered in blood? Or have her scent?"

Scott seemed to think about it. She was sure there was no trace of blood on him since he did absolutely nothing if not put himself in between. But she needed to look nice and understanding, so when he told her that he did not see blood or remember her scent, Scarlett smiled.

"I think you're probably fine, then," Scarlett said, "It must have been just a dream."

"Scarlett is right," Stiles said, looking at his friend. "Come on, it's gonna be fine, all right?" but Scott didn't answer, "Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freakin' amazingly. You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginners class you can take," then he turned to Scarlett, "Right?" the girl frowned.

"No, listen, don't look here," she said, "He'd need another werewolf."

"Like a teacher?" Scott asked, but in the way he said it, it seemed like he had already thought about that.

Scarlett nodded her head, "Everybody needs to learn somehow," she said, "Your body changes, your needs change. And soon, if you don't control it, it's going to control you," She still remembered what Talia had always said to her. From the moment they had found her, Talia and Peter had been the ones helping her with the beginning of her change. Even if, after everything that happened, Scarlett didn't keep her promise to stay as human as she could. She killed for rage at the beginning, but then it became fun. She knew that Talia didn't want that for her, but there was nothing else to do, if not killing every single Argent.

Stiles turned to his friend with wide eyes, "Who Derek?" he asked, and when Scott didn't answer, he slapped him behind the head, "You forgetting the part where we got him tossed in jail?"

What did she have to do? Say something? Say anything? Say that she knew Derek Hale? Or maybe not?

Maybe telling everything would have been more suspicious. Maybe she could find other times to tell it to them.

She had to be very careful. Derek was an unexpected change of events and not very pleasant. He was not like her or Peter.

"Yeah, I know," Scott answered. "But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus, it felt so real." Scarlett frowned. That was so strange; he remembered, but at the same time, he didn't. Something similar had happened the night before, but it was the driver.

"How real?" Stiles asked.

"Like it actually happened," Scott said, and Scarlett did her best not to draw any attention to herself. She was glad that her heart didn't beat anymore, or it would have been very difficult to explain.

They had arrived at the parking lot entrance, and Scarlett stooped behind the boys as they opened the door. What they saw made them gasp; the back door of the bus was torn open, and blood was everywhere. Scarlett's eyes moved to the puppy as Stiles spoke, "I think it did."

Scott immediately took his phone and went back into the school. Stiles and Scarlett shared a look before they both followed him.

"She is probably fine," Stiles said, trying to calm his friend. Scarlett observed the puppy, if he lost control would have been a mess. But he wasn't the only one who was feeling worry and fear. Her eyes went to Stiles, who was walking in front of her. She knew that those emotions weren't hers; they were his.

This bond thing was actually starting to freak her out. She had never thought that she would have felt like that. She absolutely had to talk to Peter and understand how to keep it under control.

"She's not answering my texts, Stiles!" Scott exclaimed, panicking.

"You know, it could just be a coincidence," Stiles said before looking down, "A seriously amazing coincidence."

"You're not helping," Scarlett said to him.

"Just help me find her, okay?" Scott begged, and Scarlett started to look around, trying to seem as worried as she could, even if she knew perfectly well that the girl was fine. For now, at least.

Scott was completely panicked right now. He would have turned if he had kept going on like this. Scarlett put a hand on Stiles' chest, holding him behind her as Scott turned the corner.

"He's gonna turn?" Stiles asked.

"If he keeps it like this, for sure," Scarlett answered, hearing a loud noise like the one given by a punch on metal. Scott had just destroyed a locker. Then she looked up at Stiles. His brown eyes were wide as he observed his friend, unsure of what to do. Maybe she should have acted a little more worried. Allison was supposed to be her friend.

"Isn’t your dad the sheriff?" Scarlett asked Stiles as they kept following Scott.

"What? Yeah..." he answered from behind her.

"Any emergencies?” she asked, and she observed him think as his fingers tapped the straps of his bag frenatically. "If she had disappeared yesterday night, her parents would have called the police, wouldn't they?" Scarlett said. The Argents would have never slept well without knowing where their daughter was. If he could just stop for a moment and think, maybe he wouldn't have revealed to the entire school who he was.

And in fact, here she was, at the entrance, getting a jump scare from the puppy.

"Ah, thank God," Stiles said, from next to Scarlett.

"Yeah..." she muttered, looking at the two.

He did not remember a thing from the night before. Scarlett knew that werewolves could be weak; they could lose control if they felt too strong emotions, especially if they were puppies. But Scarlett could not believe that he could even forget what he had been doing the night before.

"You've got Harris too?" Stiles' question made her turn to meet his eyes. The color of his eyes was of a strange color, in a good way. But it was the smell of his blood that caught her off guard. She already knew it, but it felt different.

"Yes," she said, taking a step back. "We... we better go."

The two of them decided to leave Scott to talk with Allison, and they made their way to Harris's classroom. Stiles did most of the talking, and Scarlett could not say that she was listening to him. Her eyes would keep lingering on his face, and so would the softness of his skin. She could almost hear his blood in his veins, and she would have gladly bit him, but not for hunger.

What the hell is happening?

"Don't you think?" Stiles' question made her turn to him with a frown. The smile on his face slowly got replaced by an embarrassed one. "I've bored you, haven't I?"

"No," she was quick to answer, "Not at all, I was just... thinking what would have happened if Scott had turned inside the school."

"Yeah," he answered, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Glad it didn't happen." It would have been difficult to explain to the entire school. The puppy was lovesick for sure, and Scarlett was not sure he would be of any use against the Argent.

"Are you okay?" She looked up at him when he asked that question. He was not inquisitive, only asking. Almost concerned. She was not used to that kind of gaze.

"Yeah," she said, looking away with a smile, "Yeah, just a tough morning that will only get tougher with Harris."

Stiles chuckled. "Oh, I know," he said, nodding his head. Nobody hates him like me. " Then he seemed to think about it. "And... nobody hates me like he does." That made her laugh, and as she did, Stiles looked at her with a cute, goofy expression, proud of himself for having her giggling.

"Well," she said as her eyes met his, "His loss."

As they entered the classroom, some students, including Harris, were already there. Scarlett frowned in observing the man; he was young, pleasant to look at, but he seemed already pissed at nine A.M. That was not attractive on a man.

There were not three seats at the same table, so Scarlett gave a glance to Stiles. "I guess I'll talk to you later."

He nodded his head quickly, "Yeah, yeah, for sure." Then he started to look around. "I'm gonna sit there," he pointed at a table not far from them. But as he was about to move, he turned to her with wide eyes, "Only if you don't want to sit there! It's not like that is my seat or something, just a seat. And it is in the back. But if you want it."

"Stiles," she stopped him, "You're ranting." Suddenly, a blush appeared on his face. The rush of his blood to his face, the beating of his heart, and the shyness that she was feeling from him had another strange effect on her.

"I'm sitting there," she said, trying to move away from him as quickly as possible. That was not normal. Why was Stiles getting her so distracted?

I have to speak to Peter, she told herself.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked to a girl with long black hair and pale skin. She looked up to her when she heard Scarlett's voice, and she blinked her dark eyes.

"No, you can sit," she said in a faint voice before returning to the sketch she was making in her notebook. That was a strange girl, for sure. Scarlett had already seen her; her name was Irene Woods, and she was considered strange by many people. Lydia always said that she freaked her out. Irene was always alone; she had no friends, and she usually talked to herself and whispered when she talked to others.

The lesson had started, and Scott had made it in time so as to not get detention. But if he wasn't late for class, he surely wasn't keeping a low profile. Not him or Stiles.

"Mr. Stilinski," Harris said in a loud voice, "If that's your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while." Scarlett turned to look at the boys; they had been whispering since when Scott had first taken a seat. "I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?"

"No," Stiles said with wide eyes. But his big eyes did not work on Harris because he made him move and sit anyway. Her eyes followed him like she was feeling drawn to his figure. She was starting to regret her idea, but Peter seemed to love it, so she probably just needed to get used to sharing a bond with Stiles and understand what that meant and how to control it. Sure, she had always found him cute, and she would have gladly eaten him, but this felt different, and it was pissing her off.

"Hey, I think they found something." A girl's sudden voice made them all turn to the windows before some of them rushed to see what was happening outside. Scarlett got up so that she could seem worried like everyone else, even if she knew very well that the cops must have found the body.

"What if he is not dead?" Irene's voice made Scarlett turn her gaze to the girl; she was still sketching and not moving from her position.

"What did you say?" Scarlett asked just before everyone gasped. She decided to leave the girl where she was and made her way to Stiles and Scott.

"This is good. This is good," Stiles said. He got up; he was not dead. Dead guys don't do that." Scarlett had to do all she could to not let her shock appear on her face. What did he mean that the driver was not dead? He should have been. Dead and forgotten.

"Stiles," Scott whispered, "I did that."

********

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If you liked it, please leave a ♥️ and reblog!

Posting now on Ao3:

Summary: Y/N’s always been an obedient daughter and sister, but one foraging trip into the deepest part of the woods changes everything for her.

Pairing: Alpha!Werewolf!Geralt Of Rivia x fem!reader

Word Count: 53615

Chapters: 16

Warnings: mild assault, dubious consent, corruption, angst, mentions of suicide, biting, jealousy/fighting over a mate, public masturbation, public nudity, voyeurism, heat/rut, possessive behavior, werewolves, size kink, praise kink, smut, pregnancy, A/B/O themes (including mating, biting, knotting, breeding kink), non-canon elements (witchers are not infertile, they’re just a different breed of werewolf), some time-period-level sexism towards women, use of “little one” as a pet name. Please let me know if there are additional warnings I have missed.

LINK TO FIC: NEW CHAPTERS POSTED DAILY (provided I don't forget)

The Witcher Fics

Broken Heart (In progress)

Summary: You were the first and only female Witcher.

You and Geralt had been together since you were teenagers, training and fighting alongside each other for decades. However, when Yennefer of Vengerberg showed up, he chose her.

Now, years later, you go back to Kaer Morhen for the winter and come face to face with Geralt of Rivia, forcing old feelings to resurface once again.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, violence, death, 

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19

OCTOBER IS COMING

Ok so I got tired of Kinktober, so this year we are doing

The Big Tober™

- a mix of Kink/Whump/Flufftober. The regular rules apply and you can find character options here. Happy requesting!

Removed some since no one made any requests and I could use the free time.

Day 1 - Kinktober : Omegaverse last day of an omega’s heat and their alpha is TIRED (Omega!Dick Grayson x Alpha!Reader)

Day 2 - Flufftober: Love confession (Peter Parker x Gender Neutral Reader)

Day 3 - Whumptober: Inevitable death, we will die, let’s say the things we were always too afraid to say (John Kennex x Gender Neutral Reader)

Day 4 - Kinktober: Alienfucking (Garrus x MShep)

Day 5 - Flufftober: Falling asleep together (John Constantine x Gender Neutral Reader)

Day 9 - Whumptober: Coming out + being hated by a person you did not expect it from (Dorian Pavus x Male Reader)

Day 10 - Kinktober: Robotfucking (Peter Parker x Robot!Reader)

Day 11 - Flufftober : The 5 Love Languages (Peter Parker x GN!Reader)

Day 15 - Whumptober: Last words (Kandros x Reader)

Day 16 - Kinktober: Dacryphilia (Dick Grayson x Male Reader)

Day 17 - Flufftober: Love at first sight (John Constantine x male reader)

Day 19 - Kinktober: Praise kink (Merlin x Reader)

Day 21 - Whumptober : “I did what I had to do to protect those I love… I had no choice!” (Show!Geralt x GN!Reader)

Day 25 - Kinktober: Monsterfucking (John Constantine x top male reader with two dicks (king shark hybrid style)) [COMING SOON]

Day 28 - Kinktober: Shrek x Deadpool [COMING SOON]

Day 31 - Whumptober: Folklore (Choi Soobin x GN!Reader) [COMING SOON]

Good While it Lasted

Very angst-ridden sequel from F#*king marry me. It was birthed after a very dark day listening to this song on a loop. Loki takes a self-destructive path of self-sabotage, breaking his love's heart all for a secret.

n/w - depressed Loki - dark Loki - angst - graphic heartbreak -mentions of mental health - graphic anxiety attacks - graphic description of violence/harm - sexual references / descriptions

will they forgive and forget?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

aww your bodyguard!simon au reminds me of enemies to lovers its so cute!! 🥺

aww baby, it definitely would be! 😙 he would hate to be around all the popstar things you do, he doesn't understand it and he doesn't care for it.

continued from here

"so fuckin' stupid" he muttered, practically glaring under his balaclava at everyone around him. but especially at you. it's almost comical. ghost was a behemoth of a man, standing tall and proud at 6'4 and weighing at around 250 lbs. but one look from you and he could feel himself shatter beneath your gaze. your eyes on him making him feel exposed, vulnerable almost.

god, he hated you. your terrible attitude, horrible humour, the little miss know it all, the popstar princess bullshit. he hated you with every fibre of his body

you hated him, his arrogant cocky personality paired with his sarcasm. his silent and brooding at everything you did, his judging gaze constantly looking at you as if you've committed the biggest crime. you hated him with every fibre of your body.

and yet ghost learnt, the line between hate and love was a very thin line indeed.

despite how much he denies over and over, there's a tenderness when he looks at you. even with his frown, even with his harsh words, there's a flicker of emotion that runs through his brown eyes. it's only for a second but even for him, that's a second too long.

late at night when he's alone and relieved of his bodyguard duties, when the buzz of the songs and the chatter of the fans come to a silence, he dares himself to allow to dream. he hates how most of them revolve around you now. his breath shutters when they take a turn, his hand snaking down his abdomen and to his weeping cock for attention. he doesn't usually let himself have this pleasure but god, he can't help himself with you.

dreaming especially of the pretty sounds you would make when he pushes his aching cock between your slick folds, how beautiful you'd look splayed out across the bed as he took his sweet time learning every single thing about your body. what made you whine and arch, what made you whimper and moan. how you'd react with every sloppy thrust, how you'd clench around him with every movement of his hips

and it only served to infuriate him further when he knows he could never have you that way

•••

he's so emotionally constipated and he wonders why everyone is scared of him :")

Lies

He was suppose to be dead…so how is Simon fucking Riley standing in front of you?

A/N: Guys these tik toks make my mind RUN! So her is another idea from this tik tok! Lost of heartache and angst so enjoy! 💙

“A broken heart is all that’s left.”

Warnings: ANGST, heartache, trauma, depression, mention of suicide, violance, swearing

simon x reader list

Months. Months you sat crying in the shower. Screaming into your pillow. Hell you fucking slapped Soap because of this. Because Simon Riley died. Died when he promised to come home, you didn’t eat or sleep right. Price would eventually pull you aside to take a holiday. Clear your mind.

You did and all you did was drink and smoked the left over cigarettes of his. To eventually go shop for more and pretend he was smoking them. You drank all his whiskey and your wine. Your parents came over to make sure you weren’t dead, that you decided to pull a Romeo and Juliet bullshit. You wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t have taken your life.

Instead you drank until you didn’t feel the numbness. The sadness. The memories of both you and Simon. Simon plagued your mind, wanting his laugh to burst in the air. His voice. His hands. His kiss. Anything. So why not drink until you don’t remember the next day. You did this until going back into work.

Gaz would make sure you would be alright. Soap tried to make you laugh. Price made sure you wouldn’t run into the field killing yourself. Yet this was so much worse.

Price sat all of the task force down for a debriefing. Yet when the door opened it was him. Simon. Simon fucking Riley. Everyone froze, not because of him being alive, because they knew. They knew he would be alive. Nothing was said for a moment as you stared at him, waiting for him to say or move anything.

“Y/n,” Soap said closing the door behind him. You haven’t turned to him yet looking over the paperwork you had. “Do ya have a minute?”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “John I am not doing your paperwork. Ghost already mentioned…”

“It’s not that Lass,” Soap mumbled playing with his hands. Soap argued that it would be not a smart idea. However, with the rat in the ranks it would convince that he was dead. “It’s Simon.”

You perked from that, you gave him a confused look. “What about him?” You knew after that, after Soap used Ghost’s name. The one you would say when you laughed, cried, moaned.

“They…they tried to get him out but…” The world flipped, you yelled at Soap and pushed him. Telling him to shut up but you also didn’t know that Simon was listening in. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want you to be the one not to know. Price convinced him due to the rat falling for the trap.

Simon heard you yell until the deafening slap echoed through the halls. You slapped him hard, you gritted through your teeth that he was a liar. You said that if his body is not here then it isn’t true. However, he knew that they convinced you that he was too burned to actually see him. His true form. Not a burnt crisp. They led you to the body, left small hints that it would have been his body.

He thought about you crying above the body. Screamed until you couldn’t. Held the bastards hand. Everything was suppose to not to happen. It shouldn’t have been months. He hoped that it wouldn’t. Price would give him updates on how you were doing. It didn’t sound good. He wished he could leave and get to you, hold you, and apologize for everything but he couldn’t.

Now he stands right here in front of you. Hate. Hate is the word the best describe your eyes. “Did you all know?” You voice said in the room. The quiet room. It was filled with venom. It was quiet.

No one said anything until you stood up and slammed your hand on the table. “Who fucking knew!” You snapped your head to Price.

“It was to pull Samson out.” Price said watching your move.

“Bring Samson out,” You repeated shaking your head, looking over at Simon. “You fucking bastard. You fucking bastard.”

No one expected the next thing, you walked over to him and pushed him hard. Slamming your fist into his chest. “You know how long I fucking grieved! How long my heart has been in pieces! You fucking just let this happen! Let me be in pain!”

Simon let you slam your fists into his chest. He deserved it. “You fucking promised! You promised! And it’s broken! It’s been fucking broken!”

Price told everyone to leave besides Simon, you, and Price. As everyone huddled out Simon grabbed your shoulders. “I had no choice.”

“Everyone has a choice!” You said pushing him one last time before facing away.

Price shook his head. “He didn’t, I wanted to tell ya but we couldn’t. We had to make it believable to bring him out.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care, you know what I’ve done the last couple of months? Did you know that empty feeling? Or the nights where I thought ending it all would have me not suffer?”

“Dove,” Simon mumbled reaching out to you. “It’s fucked up and I am sorry it happened. But I’m here now.”

You wanted to lean into him and let him hold you. There was just so much anger. Resentment. You just couldn’t believe that he would do that to you. You made the choices to drink and make yourself miserable sure but the feeling you had. The darkness that pulled you away from anything and anyone.

His hand burned your arm as he gently grabbed it. You ripped your arm away. “Fuck both of you,” Price face dropped to give more reassurance. “We are suppose to be a team.”

Simon knew that was a jab more for him. You both have been secretly running together until he had to fake his death. It was easy when he first did it, making sure that everyone knew he was dead so he could kill all the men that killed his family. Once Price came up to him and asked he declined it.

“No.” Simon firmly said and reaching for the door of Price’s office.

“Simon this would be the best route for the team,” Price explained standing up. “Why the hesitation?” Price knew. Simon knew that Price knew. He just wanted Simon to state it. Confirm Price’s suspicions. “It’s her isn’t it?”

Simon held the knob of the door tighter. All he did was nod his head. He couldn’t lie to Price even if he wanted to. “A year,” Price nodded, he didn’t know it was that long. “I can’t do it to her.”

Price sighed and walked over to place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t either but…we have to. It will unfortunately be the best time and convincing.”

It felt like a poison came out of Price’s mouth. He didn’t want to do it to his team, didn’t want to hurt nobody. Why everyone got to know? Do they could take care of you. Simon didn’t want that. It wasn’t fair ok your part. He promised to protect you no matter the cost. “Johnny tells her.” He spoke softly.

Price nodded in agreement. “I already assumed that.”

Couple of weeks later was when he wasn’t suppose to be there. Wasn’t suppose to hear your scream. The wail. The heart break. He had to contain himself not to run in there to hold you. Tell you it was some sick joke. “Simon.” Price warned.

Simon stared at him for a moment. His own heart shattering, before Simon could say anything the rat came running in. Anger boiled through his body as he watched him run in the shadows. Why does he get to comfort you? While he stood and watched the heart break unfold. He had to peel himself out of the building, Price sneaking him out and leave. Never had he cried before but after being dropped off at the solitary home, he cried for hours. Wishing that he could have done something better.

“Y/n.” Simon whispered. His heart shattering. Not looking at you. Not hearing you. Nothing was coming around.

It felt like hours of you not talking. Price didn’t want to say anything neither did Simon. They wanted you to speak. Thoughts ran wild in your mind. How could they? Why would they? You knew why it was beneficial for the mission. But was it for you? Was all the heartache and not working especially worth it? You can’t do this over and over again. The pain was too hard. You closed your eyes and shook your head.

You’re tired. You are mentally. Emotionally. Physically tired. You can’t deal with this again if it happens. Your heart is still broke and broke even more of that could be possible. You could feel the water more and more drowning you, you’ve been trying to come back for air. But now this? It went back to what it was.

“I’m done.” You said ripping your patch off and placing it on the table.

im ripping my hair out, i cant find this fanfic i was reading on here, it was abt gunslinger!ghost and like the reader was taken from her home and had to live w him in his cabin, and he ends up getting shot in this bar, and the reader meets laswell + 141 but i dont remember the name of it😭 or the person who wrote it

help i beg

-🍒

ɪꜰ ɪ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀ ᴢᴏᴍʙɪᴇ; ɪ'ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ.

❝ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

❝ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ❞ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦.

❝ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

❝𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦❞ 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯! ᠌ ᠌𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 — 𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @ave661

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The world fell into an eerie silence — a silence that resonated with deep seated fear.

The once bustling streets were now deserted, the echoing emptiness interrupted only by the distant growls and shuffling footsteps of the undead.

You were scared beyond words and fear gnawed at your heart as you tried to come to terms with the nightmare that had taken over your life.

— «God, this can't be happening» you whispered to yourself as you looked out the window and watched as a group of zombies shuffled past your house.

Neither you nor anyone else was prepared for the catastrophic events that unfolded.

The virus, a mysterious and merciless force, spread like wildfire, leaving destruction in its wake, people you knew or loved turned into grotesque predatory creatures, and the world turned into a realm of chaos and despair.

However, amidst the darkness that befell humanity, you clung to a glimmer of hope — Simon Riley.

He was your anchor, your support — Simon, an experienced soldier who had served in the army, had a unique set of skills that promised protection.

You fervently believed that he would protect you from the horrors of this new world.

Simon's voice cut through the tension in the room, his tone laced with determination — «We'll make it through this, together»

It was a belief that you held with unshakable faith, but the harsh reality of the apocalypse did not discriminate.

Even the strongest soldiers could not withstand the relentless onslaught of the undead, and Simon was not immune to danger lurking around every corner.

The day that will haunt your nightmares forever began like any other.

You were in the small, dimly lit kitchen, hastily preparing food from canned food you found during the reconnaissance mission you and Simon had been on together.

There was a hint of desperation in the air, but you tried to console yourself with the presence of the person you loved.

Simon came home that day and your heart sank when you saw him, dried blood clinging to his clothes like a creepy badge of honor and his demeanor embarrassingly quiet and tense.

Worry crept into your voice as you asked if something was wrong, but he brushed off your worries with a soft kiss to your cheek and then your lips.

The consolation was fleeting and he diverted your attention by asking about the food you were preparing.

You smiled, albeit with a hint of concern, and began to describe the impromptu dish you were preparing — «It's just some canned beans and vegetables, Simon, but it'll do»

Your words sounded like a mixture of mundane details and hope that everything could be okay as long as Simon was with you.

He listened attentively, but there was a growing concern in his eyes that was impossible to ignore.

As the days turned into weeks, Simon's behavior underwent an ominous transformation as his once stoic nature gave way to irritability and a creeping paranoia began to overwhelm him.

He began checking windows obsessively, his gaze constantly drawn to unseen threats.

— «Simon, you're scaring me» нou said quietly, reaching out your hand to stroke his face — «What's going on? You can talk to me»

But he dismissed your fears, offering vague explanations that only increased your fear.

The outside world was unforgiving and you clung to the hope that Simon would protect you, but his inexplicable behavior shattered that hope, leaving behind a gnawing sense of fear.

Then, one fateful evening, as you watched Simon through the doorway, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you saw this — an ominous bite mark on his shoulder.

Terror gripped you like a vice, your eyes widened in panic, without thinking, you retreated deeper into the room, seeking refuge under the safety of the blanket.

Your heart was pounding, and you desperately tried to convince yourself that this was a hallucination, a figment of your imagination, born of the horrors of this new world.

When Simon came out of the bathroom and walked over to you, laying down and pressing your back against his bare chest, you felt his lips on your neck.

His voice, laced with tension, asked if everything was okay, and you hesitated for a moment, fighting your fears, before finally, quietly, muttering — «Yeah»

Relief washed over you as you relaxed in his arms and closed your eyes, trying to escape the horror that was engulfing you.

You fell asleep but the worry still lingered in the back of your mind, little did you know that the nightmare had just begun and the darkness of the apocalypse was gathering around you.

The room was shrouded in a deceptive calm, a refuge of fleeting peace amidst the relentless chaos that had become your new reality.

You lay in bed, pressed against Simon's body, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace — the faint, rhythmic sounds of your breathing mixing with his, a fragile symphony of hope in a world torn apart.

Simon's voice, barely louder than a whisper, abruptly broke through the silence — «You sure you okay, love?»

You nodded, your eyes heavy with fatigue — «Yeah, just.. can't shake this feeling of dread»

The night was quiet and your sleep was peaceful until an unfamiliar noise disturbed the peace, causing you to stir, awakening from the depths of your sleep with a sound that seemed out of place in the eerie silence of the apocalypse.

Sleepy, you sat up and looked around the room, searching for the source of your concern.

Your heart sped up as you realized Simon wasn't next to you, panic set in and you screamed his name in a quiet but insistent tone, the syllables hanging in the air — «Simon, where are you?!»

The only answer was a guttural growl that seemed to come from the shadows.

— «Simon?» you called again, and now your voice was shaking with fear.

But before you could understand the identity of this figure, before you could understand the pale, ghostly face that was slowly becoming visible, it rushed towards you with blinding speed.

Panic overtook you and a scream ripped from your throat as you stumbled backwards.

The flashlight fell from your hand and clattered to the floor, casting a crazy, chaotic light onto the stage.

In that fleeting moment, you saw him — Simon.

His once familiar face was now a grotesque, nightmarish parody of itself, his normal brown eyes pale and milky, devoid of the warmth and recognition that once inhabited them.

Horror filled you as you witnessed undeniable proof of his transformation.

The ominous bite on his shoulder exuded darkness and dark veins snaked out from it like tendrils of malice, your worst fears came true — Simon had turned into one of the undead.

Instinctively, you tried to back away, but he was faster, he rushed at you, his hands gripping your wrists in a vice grip.

Pain shot through your wrists as he squeezed them, and tears welled in your eyes as you sobbed in fear.

In that terrifying moment, when he suddenly turned his face towards your neck, a primal guttural sound escaped his twisted lips.

He was on the verge of giving in to his monstrous instincts, the insatiable desire to feast on your flesh while your heart ached from the profound loss of the person you loved.

But then, in an astonishing display of willpower, Simon gained a glimmer of control, his face contorted with struggle, and he turned away from you, letting go of your hands.

The brief respite allowed you to gulp for air, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief, and your knees threatening to give in to your weight and collapse any minute.

Your eyes widened as you watched in disbelief as Simon's hands moved to his own jaw, squeezing it on both sides.

And suddenly, in a nightmarish act of self preservation, he broke his jaw, and a sickening crunch echoed throughout the room, he did it, did it so as not to bite you and not succumb to the insatiable hunger that haunted the undead.

You jumped up, your heart pounding, your mind reeling from the horror of the scene.

Trembling, you carefully held his face in your trembling hands, whispering his name through your tears as his growls became quieter, as if he was trying to comfort you, to convey to you that no matter what happened, he would never allow himself to hurt you.

Simon's voice was heard, hoarse and barely audible as he pressed himself against your trembling palm — «M'sorry, love» he managed to say hoarsely, filling his sluggish speech with remorse and a deep feeling of love.

He closed his eyes, a milky veil still covering his once bright gaze, and you realized that even in the depths of this nightmare, there remained a fragment of the man you loved, fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthea, @kennedyswhore dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

toxic ghost x fem reader [smut]

cw: unprotected p in v sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), fem reader fem anatomy, name-calling, degrading, praising, toxic ghost, angst(ish) idk! idk how i feel about this one, i haven't wrote in a minute.

You've been seeing Ghost on and off for months now. Answering his every beck and call, dealing with being shouted at, disciplined for every mistake the rookies made as if it were your fault, you allowed him to take his anger out on you, resulting in this... chase. This... game. You wanted to stop, you knew this was never going to go anywhere. Why did you still try? You begged for him to let you in, show him that you could be, were more than just a plaything. He blew you off, swiftly shrugging your hand off his shoulder as he would walk away without looking back.

You lay on your bed, your hands between your thighs as your head tilted back as you sighed out in pleasure. You couldn't stop thinking about him. He's ruined you, and you were falling into it willingly. 

You felt guilty, knowing he was breaking your heart. You didn't answer his text, he'd show up at your barrack, and you would allow him in. You always do. It was that time. He just wanted to relieve some stress, and you knew that's all it was. Falling into every sweet nothing he'd spill, just to get in your pants and leave you high and dry after he was done, chasing after him. He liked the game, he was looking back to make sure you were still running after him. He had you wrapped around his finger, in such the wrong way. You gasp, slowly lifting your head as you heard the doorknob twist and open, the dark silhouette of his body looming over you. You didn't stop rubbing yourself. It is so perverse, so wrong. You should stop, you know you should. You should stop right now. Turn him away. Don't give in. 

"What are you doin', luv?" he whispered, walking to sit on the edge of the bed. His sweet pet names got your stomach fluttering, but as you meet his dark eyes, emotionless except holding desire for your body and nothing more, you remember, these pet names meant nothing, were nothing. 

"Nothin'," you lied, defeated as you looked over his body before focusing on his eyes.

"Stop thinkin' so loud, luv," he rasped, his hand groping the bulge in his pants which were tightening. "'M followin' your eyes, doll, like what you see, yeah?"

Finally your hand movements stop, pulling your hand out of your underwear, you sit back on your elbows, giving him access to crawl closer to you. His waist opens your legs as he settled between them, hovering over you. He groans deeply as he grinds against you. 

"Getting right to it, I see," you muttered. His hand cupped your jaw as he tilted your face to his.

"That's right," his eyes squinted, looking over the features of your face. "You're so fuckin' pretty, baby. I can't help it."

He lifted his mask above his lips, leaning down. His lips crash against yours roughly, sloppily, hungrily as he then traced his hand down your chest. For a split second, you forgot about all of your woes, all of your negative thoughts about him. For now, you'd drown in this fire. Let him consume you, let him win you over for what you told yourself would be the last time. You moaned into his mouth as he held a tight grip onto your breasts, moving down to grasp your waist, massaging slow circles into it. Your hips knowingly buck into his, earning any friction you could find. 

He knew every weak spot, every sensitive spot, using it against you. He made quick work of kissing down your jawline, sucking on your neck while he pulled your pants down along with your panties. He groaned against your skin as he slipped a hand in between your thighs, his fingers exploring your wet folds before he slid your shirt over your breasts. 

"So wet already, yeah? Easy access," he chuckled lowly. He unbuckled his pants, removing them enough to free his cock. He spat in his hand and rubbed the spit along the thick head of his cock, slapping it against your cunt. "Ready for me?"

You do nothing but look up at him as you bit your lip. You nodded as your mouth fell agape at the tip prodding against your entrance. You both sigh in unison at the feeling before he slides all the way in. 

"That's it, fuck, that's it," he praised you. "Good girl, good fuckin' girl..."

This is what made you weak to him. You knew you couldn't be pleased like this elsewhere, yet you craved the emotional intimacy that you would never get from him. He thrusted deep into you, his tip hitting your cervix with each push, your moans were music to his ears. He grabbed your wrist into one fist and held them over your head as his thrusts got longer and deeper.

"Such a good cunt taking all of me," he moaned. "Feels good, right, doll?"

"Y-yeah, feels so good," you mewled. His movements went to a slow pace as his eyes flickered between your own.

He sighed. "Luv... talk to me." As if he actually cared.

You moaned at him slowing down, but as you met his eyes, obviously frustrated, you hesitated in speaking your mind. 

He leaned down, his other hand wrapped around your head as he caressed it, his other hand still holding your above your head. "Tell me, come on..."

"Simon..." you sighed. "I want... more than just sex."

He grunted as he slammed his hips into yours, earning a louder moan from you. He leaned back, letting go of your hands as he held a vice grip onto your hips, needily chasing his high, and you couldn't stop the knot from tightening in your stomach as he was hitting that one spot so deliciously.

"Simon!" you wailed, covering your mouth as your pussy clenched his cock as your orgasm sent waves of electricity through you. 

His jaw clenched as he finally made eye contact with you again, leaning down once more as he breathed heavily into your face. His nose brushed against yours, as he chuckled softly.

"Fuck... you brainless little thing... how many times..." he paused as he watched his cock slide in and out of you, hearing the schlick as your juices wept over his cock. "... do I have to tell you..."

He flipped you over on top of him, his hand grazes your lower back, guiding your hips up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. "That you... you are just a warm body. A nice hole to fill. To use. A good little fucktoy. And I know, luv, I know. I know you like it just as much as I do, yeah?"

His hips buck up into you roughly, the pleasure being too immense for you to handle as you cried out, your nails scratch against his chest. "See, look at you, you fuckin' slut, you love it."

You can't deny that you love it, but god you longed for more. 

"Simon..." you moaned as tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. "Please..."

He ignored your pleas as he kept bullying his cock into you, his thrusts becoming sloppier as you could barely hold yourself up. One hand caressed your neck as the other gripped the fat of your hips, using you as his cock sleeve.

"Take it, take it, fuck," he gritted his teeth, slowing his thrusts as he pulled you off of him, his cum shooting over your ass. "What a good slut."

You lay there awkwardly on his chest as he soothingly rubbed your back for a moment, coming off of his high. You then flopped on your side next to him, waiting for him to get up. This time it wasn't as instant as it usually is. 

"I don't want you to leave me," you whispered. "I'm so tired... tired of begging for it, Simon."

He laid there emotionless, his eyes staring up at the ceiling as his breath calmed. How can he be calm? How can he do this to you? To his subordinate... someone he was supposed to protect and care for?

He sighed as he sat up, pulling his pants up as he buckled them. He stood there with his back turned towards you. "And I'll keep coming back. As long as you let me. We can quit this little game... you're the one who keeps letting me in, yeah?"

Your mouth opens and closes trying to find the words. "You know what, Simon? You're right. Don't come crawling back here or even fucking text me when you want to get your dick wet. Go get it from some other bitch, I am not a barracks bunny... Get the fuck out of here." Your words held venom within them, but if you were being honest... you don't know for sure that you wouldn't let him come back. This was the whole point of the game, right?

He chuckled as he nodded his head. Almost as if he somehow knew you weren't serious. He knew just how to get into your head, surely it wouldn't be long before you let him come crawling right back. "A'right, then, soldier. Until next time..."

He walked out the door, leaving you alone to cry yourself to sleep in your pillow, not caring to shower, not caring about setting an alarm. You want to mean what you said so badly, but there's still part of you deep down that thinks there's a sliver of a chance to creep inside his cold fucking heart. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

To be continued...? (maybe)

philophobia

I wrote this in 20 minutes and it's bad but i just wanted to write something. This man is constantly on my mind and i swear i have better things to write about him. anyways idk how to write or use tumblr, enjoy!

Two years, five months. That’s how long you had been a part of task force 141. In those two years you had bled, cried, laughed and fought beside your team. You were an unstoppable force, prepared for anything as long as you did it together. Although you could never say it, they were family. You felt as if the bond you shared between each other was unbreakable, no matter who or what tried to rip it apart. 

Ghost first came to your room in the middle of the night after a year of working beside him. After a night spent together, he quietly showed up at your door a lot more. Twice a week turned into every night. Every night you weren’t on a mission, he was knocking on your door and quickly letting himself in. 

A way to relieve stress turned into something more, a comfort shared privately between your bodies lying next to each other. It had turned into cheeky flirting on missions, longing glances in boring meetings, private jokes conveyed through a quirk of his eyebrow, hushed conversations in the dark. He went from just a teammate to someone you could bare your soul to and only feel warmth. Somewhere along the way it turned into love. 

Well at least you thought it had, but the words he had spoken with such confidence were fresh in your mind.

“I can’t fall in love with you. I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.”

He walked out on you after that, leaving you to stand there. 

The comfort you always felt around your family quickly disappeared along with Ghost. The whole team could see something had shifted in you, but didn’t comment. After three days, he reappeared without explanation. 

Every single time you tried to approach him, he shut you down. He refused to even look at you. After weeks, you gave up. Going back to hums and nods, his cold voice only reaching your ears to give orders. There were no more quiet knocks on your door and the slow scrape of his shoes moving towards your bed. 

You went back to strangers.  

Alpha, Please

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

The first two parts give context, but aren't required for this read.

Summary: It took Price talking to Ghost for him to realize he was neglecting you, his mate. He finally found it in himself to start from the beginning, courting you. You invited him into your nest, eventually allowing him to fuck you into it.

Content Tags: Angst in the beginning if you squint, bits and pieces of fluff, Ghost literally brings you food, Obtaining your mans hoodies and shirts, Dubious Consent, Fingering, PiV Sex, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: You guys really liked the sex in Maple Syrup, so here's an extension after The Aftermath with some smut that I excluded from the headcannons I made. As always, more under the cut and my asks are open <3.

Part 1, Part 2, Headcannons

Legally, you and Ghost were in the clear. It took a few weeks and some hearings to get to where you were, but they relented and allowed you to continue working. The only problem was that you couldn't go on missions anymore, not unless you got rid of the bond, which would allow you to take suppressants again.

It pissed you off, but you were more than happy to keep working, even without the missions. You were left with one problem. Ghost was now ignoring you, he would disappear from any room if you happened to walk in, and anytime you thought you caught a glimpse he seemed to disappear.

You were getting annoyed. You wanted your Alpha to want you, you were trying to get him to talk to you but it seemed all for naught. You blinked out of your thoughts as a knock on your office door echoed in the small room. You sighed deeply, giving them a simple come in, and trying to get back to the paperwork you'd been working on.

The door opened and shut, the chair in front of your desk getting pulled back and the person sat down. When you lifted your head, you gave a deep sigh. Price. He leaned back, seeming to be fully relaxed.

"What is it you need, Captain?" He looked you up and down, giving a small sniff as he scented you. You raised your eyebrows, gesturing for him to answer you.

"Has Ghost been ignoring you? You smell bothered," you groaned, wiping a hand down your face. You nodded at him, not wanting to get into it. "That's not good," you barked a laugh, throwing your pen down and tossing your hands up.

"No shit it's not good, Price, it's been pissing me off. He hasn't talked to me since the last hearing we had together," you shook your head, eyes shutting. "It hurts. More than it should, even if I don't really know him," Price nodded with your words, looking away.

He sighed deeply. "I'll have a talk with him, I've noticed it effected both of you. Ghost on the field, and you in the medbay," you had to look away at that, you knew how far behind you were in paperwork. It was piling up and everyone wanted things sorted, but you couldn't get to it. In your downtime, all you did was lay in your nest, trying to soothe yourself.

Price had walked out, and that was the last of the conversation. There wasn't much else to say, but he did make sure to let you know that you needed to catch up on your paperwork. That was all you did that night, leading into early the next morning. You'd made sure to get breakfast, but you were working on the paperwork through lunch and into early afternoon.

You hadn't noticed the hours going by, hadn't noticed how hungry you'd become. Another knock on the door made you shake out of your stupor. You blinked, eyes falling in and out of focus.

"Come in," you called out, rubbing your eyes as you leaned back. God, your back and neck hurt from being hunched over. You hadn't heard the door open or seen Ghost sit down in front of you, but you'd noticed the plate of food slide into your vision.

That made you look up, hands pausing from rubbing your neck. He'd taken off the skull portion of his mask, leaving the balaclava on. So similar to the mission, but so different. He wasn't looking at you, but at the food in front of you.

"You missed two meals," was all he said. You looked between him and the food, not sure how to feel.

"Price talked to you, I'm assuming," you grabbed the fork, finally realizing how hungry you'd become. He nodded, leaned back in the chair.

Ghost looked at you for a moment before looking away. "Price did talk to me," you groaned. God, he was so shit at conversations. Does he really think this is what a conversation entails? Not explaining anything, just hoping you could fill in the blanks.

It was silent for a few moments, the fork scraping against the plate every now and again breaking it. You hadn't looked up from the food, and it was slightly uncomfortable. Did he think this was going to fix everything?

"I want to court you,"

"What?"

It was a few days later that Ghost was called for a mission. You hadn't talked much outside of that conversation, he didn't give you many other details. He would stop by during lunch, though, bringing you food but never ate. The silence had become more comfortable as the days went on, but he'd told you about the mission.

The night he was set to leave, you found a small box in front of your door. You could faintly smell Ghost on it, but you still hesitated on grabbing it. You weren't entirely sure what was inside, or what it actually was.

It sat on your bed as you stared at it. Nothing moved inside, and you couldn't smell anything outside of Ghosts scent. It made you a little nervous, the thought that if something inside was so important then maybe he knew he would die on this mission.

In a panic, you opened the box, his scent seeming to explode out of it. It made your head jerk away, trying to find unscented air. Once you could shake your head clear of the thick scent, you took a look inside.

It looked like a shirt, black and all you could smell was Ghost. When you pulled it out, you revealed it to actually be a hoodie. It was big, and smelled so good. Leather, hints of tobacco and the gunpowder that they used on base. You turned, still holding the hoodie and opened your closet, dropping on your knees in your nest and fiddling with the different fabrics in it, trying to find the perfect spot.

You knew he was going to court you, but how long had he been wearing this hoodie for it to smell so strongly of him? The second you found the perfect spot you curled up into the nest, small purrs coming from your throat.

It'd been so long since you were happy enough to purr.

A few weeks later, just a few minutes after lunch, your door opened and closed.

Without looking up, you groaned. "Seriously, Amanda, I don't need you still on my case about my scent. You're supposed to be on suppressants, you shouldn't be able to smell much of anything," you looked up and froze. "Ghost."

"Who's Amanda?" You leaned back in your chair and gave a soft laugh. She'd been on your case about how your scent was changing, the leather and tobacco on it making you smell just a little too much like Ghost.

You looked up at him from your chair, watching as he set food down for you. "She's been on my case for the last few weeks, apparently I'm starting to smell like you, but I don't know how she can even smell it. She's supposed to be on suppressants, and I know she isn't mated. I think she's trying to get with one of your soldiers, you know," you pointed at him with the fork you'd picked up, shrugging slightly.

Ghosts face didn't change, but he put a box on your desk, taking a seat in front of you like normal. "I didn't know you were so interested in the lives of your subordinates," you shrugged.

"What's in the box?"

Without a blink, he gestured at it. You looked between him and the box, pulling it closer to you. It still smelled like him, a little stronger than normal. Opening it, you found a few items. A little blanket, small but still smelling of Ghost. When you pulled it out, you couldn't hold back a laugh.

You showed it to Ghost, trying to stop laughing. "You really got me a blanket with a ghost on it? Where'd you get it?" He shook his head, you could see his eyes crinkling a little bit. You really, really hoped it was a smile.

"I honestly can't tell you, confidentiality," you shook your head, placing it across your lap. The next item you pulled out was a shirt, black and short-sleeved. The smell on it was so strong, you had to lean slightly away.

"How often are you wearing these? The hoodie smelled about as strong as this, it can't be from just one time wearing it," Ghost didn't respond, gesturing to the half-eaten food in front of you. Putting the shirt back in the box, you started to dig in.

You were so happy to have him back, and the next few weeks went by very similarly. You tucked the blanket into your nest, starting to wear his shirt to sleep. The hoodies scent had started to fade, so you'd tucked it a little further from the center of your nest, replacing it with the blanket.

Every so often, he would give you a shirt, and you'd eventually invited him to your room for dinner. You'd allowed him to snoop around before showing him your nest.

"That's the blanket I gave you," he had said when he saw it lying in the center. You couldn't see it, not through the mask or with his back turned, but he was smiling, and you thought you heard a chuff come from him.

It took you a few more weeks to allow him to sit in your nest, but you finally did. It was usually only a night or two a week, sometimes he would read while sitting in it, or he would eat with his back to you. In the mornings when you woke up, you found a new shirt replacing one of the stale ones, or a hoodie placed on your bed. They always smelled of Ghost.

The one night he had laid down beside you, he had handed you little box. When you opened it, a necklace laid inside, a little S was engraved on a piece of metal, and a little Ghost was sitting beside it. The smile on your face was so wide, he helped you put it on. You had begun softly purring, allowing him to pull you onto his chest.

It was a few moments of silence before anyone said anything. "Simon," you picked your head up, glancing up at him. You were lost, who was Simon? "That's what the S stands for. Simon," your fingers touched the necklace softly.

"That's your name?"

It wasn't too long after that that you had begun your first heat. You had noticed yourself feeling feverish that morning, but didn't think too much of it. It was in the middle of cold season, so you assumed you had just caught someone's sickness. One of the rookies had coughed right on you a few days ago, but you thought you cleaned up well enough to not catch it.

You wore a mask, settling into your office to start some of the paperwork regarding rookies and their needed medications or allergies. You'd only been working an hour when cramps starting spasming in your gut, forcing you to stop.

What the hell? You were fine a few days ago, so what the hell was happening? These weren't consistent with a cold. Something was wrong, really, really wrong.

When you stumbled back to your room, head growing foggy, it finally hit you. You were going into heat. You could feel the slick slowly pooling out of you, you were beginning to sweat as the heat became ingrained in you.

It hurt, the spasms forcing more slick out of you, and you were barely able to stumble into your nest before ripping your clothes off. You could feel your cunt spasming around nothing, your fingers scrambling to fill the emptiness inside of you, but nothing seemed to fill it.

Simon was worried. You hadn't been in your office at lunch, but he assumed you were pulled off to help somewhere in the medbay, so he didn't think too much of it. That night, you hadn't shown up in his room, where you'd agreed to meet for dinner.

That was when he went to your room. From a few doors down he could smell your sweetness and he could feel himself hardening. When Simon opened the door, unlocking it with the key you'd given him, his eyes rolled back at the smell. He'd argue it, coincidentally, smelled as good as maple syrup.

Walking into your room, he saw the bed unkempt and could hear little whimpers from your nest, and he found you curled up and sweating, writhing. Your pretty little face was pressing into the shirt he'd left a few nights ago, whines coming from you with each pass of your hand over your clit. He stood watching you for a few moments before your eyes peeled open, whine deepening into a moan when you finally recognized him.

Alpha, you whined for him. That broke him, and he dropped down in front of you, tugging your legs over his and onto his lap. Your slick was soaking into his pants and he pressed his length into your core, dragging his rough pants over your clit and watching your back arch so beautifully.

Pulling back, he listened to you hiss and try to grind your hips back against his, but his hands caught them and held you down. Simons fingers swiped over your clit, watching your eyes roll back and moaning his name as his fingers slid into you, curling and stretching you out for him.

He could feel his rut starting to take over, and he had to take some deep breaths before it fully came over him. Dropping his head, he pushed his face into your gland and started licking and sucking. Pushing another finger into you, he could feel your nails digging into his biceps as your cunt throbbed around them. Sliding his fingers out of you, he kept one hand on your hip while pulling his cock out, listening to you whine for more, more, please Alpha, more.

Grabbing the backs of your thighs, he places them over his shoulders, lining up to slide right in. Your breath caught up in your throat, cutting your moan off partway through as he stretched you open. Moving slowly, he slid his tongue along your neck to press an open mouth kiss on your jaw.

As he bottomed out, he leaned back up to look at you. Your eyes were glassy and your fingers were scratching at his abdomen, cunt throbbing around him. While Simon slid back out, you finally seemed to catch your breath, moans coming out long and loud. He groaned from deep in his chest at the feeling of your cunt pulsating around him, sliding back in just as slow as he'd slid out. Your hips bucked, slurring out faster, alpha. need more, need it faster, please.

Your eyes rolled back as his hips quickened, all Simon could think about was getting your thoughtless, the only words he wanted coming out of you was Simon, and Alpha. He began to speed up more, hands tugging on your hips with each thrust, pulling you in rhythm to his thrust. You groaned, lifting your head to look at him through glossy eyes, tears falling down your cheeks. Please, Simon, please, before your words caught in your throat as his fingers found your clit, knot starting to catch on your cunt.

Your whines grew higher, cunt pulsing around him quicker and catching further on his knot as your mouth dropped open wider. He kept his pace, watching as your back arched sharply, hands dropping to your sides to grasp at the nest underneath you.

With your head dropping back, eyes scrunching, Simon could feel your pussy trying to milk him. It didn't take long after that, the mixture of your cunt spasming around him, your whines of Alpha, and his knot already growing for him to cum. Simons knot caught fully on you, thrusts shortening to try and keep pumping while he came, head dropping to nip at your gland, sinking his teeth in when your cunt spasming even harder around him.

When Simon finally came to, he dropped your neck from his bite and moved slowly to avoid jostling you too much. He twisted around, pulling you on top of him in order to get you into a more comfortable position. Your breaths heated the side of his neck, and when you came to all you could smell was Simon, felt his knot caught inside of you and his warm hands brushing against your back.

"Go to sleep, love," he whispered in your hair. God, he hoped all of your heats would be spent here, in a nest you carefully created. Even hoped you'd allow him to spend his ruts in your nest.

Dr. Feelgood

3. Physical Exams

Start at part 1 here!

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, finger up the butt, touching, allusions to NSFW

-----

Ghost lay alone in the medical bay, thoughts racing through his foggy mind. For once, he’d gotten Feelgood to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. After his flirtation you’d squeaked, snarky reply dead on your lips, and made an excuse to leave before bustling out, the door slamming behind you. 

You were infuriating. The way you bossed his colleagues around as if you had some sort of authority over them, the ways you tried to control him by cornering him and forcing him into bed, allegedly “for his own good.” The softness of your skin against his as you held him while he collapsed during his panic attack. The way he wished he could shut your smart mouth up with your plush lips wrapped around his–

The door to the med bay swung open and pulled him from his thoughts. Gaz poked his head in and glanced around, raising an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Where’s Feelgood?” he asked, wandering into the room with Soap trailing behind him. 

“Left.” Ghost grunted, shrugging his shoulders and scowling under his balaclava. 

“Where to? Price was asking after her and I think she has some questions for him too,” he said, peering into the office through the window in the door. 

“Didn’t ask.” the masked man grumbled. 

“How you feelin’ L.T. - seems like the lass is doin’ a lovely job,” Soap remarked, plopping down in a chair at his lieutenant’s side. 

“She’s competent.” Ghost said. What he wanted to say was ‘She’s a feisty little thing. I quite like her.’

“She’s scarier than you, mate. If I ever get shot, promise you’ll protect my arsehole?” Soap asked, snickering. Ghost fixed him with a glare. 

“Bring that up ever again, sergeant, and you’re a dead man,” he growled lowly. 

“Bring what up again?” you called out as you strode back into the med bay, a tray piled high with food in your arms. 

“Got you something to eat from the mess, Lieutenant,” you said with a smile, setting the tray by his bedside. 

“Hey, Feelgood, Price was askin’ after you earlier. Said you should head down to the office when you get a minute.” Gaz said, coming out of your office and offering you a smile. You returned it. 

“Thanks! I need to ask him about hiring medical support staff for this place. I’m sure you guys would be happy with more than just me poking at you all the time.”

“Hey lass, what does Feelgood mean? Where’d you get the callsign?” Soap asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Oh, it’s stupid. Do you like classic rock?” you asked with a laugh, sitting down and sweeping your hair back into a ponytail. 

“I know enough to know Dr. Feelgood is the title of a song - Motley Crue, right?” Gaz asked, sitting next to you. 

“Yeah! I got it when I was still doing fieldwork and running missions with soldiers on the ground as a medic in the marines. One day three of us are headed into some little village and we get hit by an IED and the Humvee we’re in flips. So I crawl out, and my guys are still alive but they’re fucked up pretty bad. 

“My buddy Marston’s lost an arm so I tourniquet it and pump him full of drugs and he starts feeling good again before he passes the fuck out. And I figured fuck, why stop there? We’re all fucked up and bloody and we might die here in the sand so why not go out feeling better than just comfortable? So I offered some to Duncan after I’ve finished bandaging him up and he was like, ‘Sure, why the fuck not?’

“Then I patch myself up and put the needle in my thigh. Next thing I know I’m waking up driving a little donkey cart down the road and there are evac vehicles coming towards us. Marston’s passed out in the back and Duncan’s singing something made up - I think pretending to be the radio. 

“Anyway, I got into a metric fuckton of trouble even though we all made it out alive. I fucked my shoulder badly in the wreck, too bad to keep doing fieldwork, so they shipped me off to work in the base hospital’s emergency department. I got my shit together and went to medical school after that. 

“But the name - when my buddies came around enough to joke about it with me, they started calling me Dr. Feelgood after the song. See, it’s about a drug dealer called Jimmy who manages to evade trouble for a long time, but at the end of the song, he finally goes down on charges. They kinda reckoned my story mirrored Jimmy’s, but instead of going to prison, I got reprimanded and put in a more boring environment.” You finished. 

“Steamin’ Jesus lass, that’s–”

“I wasn’t aware you did field missions.” Ghost’s voice cut through Soap’s, silencing him. You smiled thinly. 

“Used to. Now the closest I get is coming with evac to stabilize wounded soldiers before they reach a proper hospital,” you admitted. 

“Sorry, Feelgood, but that’s pretty funny,” Gaz said with a grin, patting your knee before standing. 

“I just feel bad for whoever’s cart that was,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz shake his head. 

—

You went to see Price not long after the conversation died down under the assurances that Gaz and Soap would watch over Ghost. The door to his office was shut so you knocked softly. 

“Come in!” he called. You stepped in, taking in framed pictures and documents lining the back wall. A little plant sat atop the sill of the little window on the left wall and a couch was leaned against the right wall. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, slipping inside, the door shutting behind you.

“Yes! I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going on a mission with Soap and Gaz in a few days. It won’t last more than a week, but I wanted to check in with you and ask your professional opinion about Ghost’s condition before we leave. How’s he healing?” he asked, closing the laptop on his desk and fixing his gaze on you as you sat down. 

“Ghost is healing remarkably quickly and I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery provided he follows my instructions. Whether or not he does that is a matter of question,” you admitted with a smile. 

“Ah, I understand. I also wanted to ask - do you have any other concerns about the medical bay? Are there any supplies you’d like me to request for you, are we running low on anything?” Price asked. 

“What I need the most right now is support staff. Nurses, care assistants, other doctors? I know that those positions might be difficult to fill, but I’m one woman. I’m also not an anesthesiologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or a psychiatrist - my scope is very limited. 

“I also looked back at old records and I’ve noticed that none of you have ever provided medical history or undergone a physical. Before you leave for your mission, I’d like to do that for each one of you to get a baseline to compare later records to,” you said, counting each thing off on your fingers. Price nodded. 

“I can get the boys to get looked at for sure, but extra staff will take time to find. If there’s ever an emergency that you can’t tackle, we go to the general base hospital, but that’s discouraged due to the secretive nature of the work the task force does,” he explained. 

“Sir, I’d like you to undergo a physical too. Not just the boys. Do you have any reservations about seeing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t doubt your competency, Feelgood, and I mean no offense, but I…dislike the idea of being prodded at.” Price admitted. You nodded sympathetically. 

“What if I gave you a questionnaire and you wrote things down? I’d settle for that and a check of your vitals - that’s really what I want from you guys anyway.”

“I’ll think about it.”

—

“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you aren’t appreciating being pampered and doted on by a cute girl while you’re laid up in bed?” Gaz asked teasingly. Ghost grunted. 

“I’d rather not have been shot, Sargent,” he said dryly, poking at the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. The bed alarm was blaring, signaling that he had gotten up, but you were too far away in Price’s office to hear. 

“But you think she’s cute, right? Come on, how could you not? And she’s got fire, too, I like her.” Gaz teased, making Ghost roll his eyes - but he didn’t respond. He finally figured out how to silence the bed alarm and the room went quiet again.

“Oh my god, you do think she’s cute! Come on mate, at least ask if she’s seeing anyone!” Soap almost shouted, laughing in disbelief. 

“If anything, I’d like to see less of her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere, buzzing around me. Won’t shut the fuck up.” Ghost said. This was a lie - he just didn’t want his teammates to see how you got under his skin. Soap and Gaz groaned in unison. 

“You should see if she’ll come out with us before we leave. I wonder if she likes bars?” Gaz wondered aloud. Ghost stiffened where he stood. 

“You’re leaving? All of you?” he asked.

“Less than a week, it’s a quick one this time. It’ll just be you and the–” Soap’s eyes widened in realization.

“Steamin’ Jesus it’ll just be him and the doc!” he exclaimed, turning wide-eyed to Gaz. 

“If anything happens–”

“Watch your mouth before you end up with me here in the med bay.”

“--you’ll tell us, right?”

“It’s perfect, you’ve got a whole week to flirt with her without him bothering you,” Gaz said, jabbing his thumb back at Soap.

—

Gaz was your first physical patient. You’d offered to take him back into your office for privacy but he said he didn’t mind Ghost sitting in. Ghost was on his phone on the couch in the corner with a cup of tea and hardly paying attention to the world - it was a compromise you’d come to once you found out he’d broken the bed alarm and he’d threatened to go back to his room permanently. 

“I didn’t know your name was Kyle. I like it, it suits you,” you remarked as you took his blood pressure. 

“Thanks, Feelgood.”

“Makes you sound like an American frat boy.” Ghost quipped from the corner. 

“Hey, be nice. Is HIPAA a thing over here?” you asked. Gaz laughed and shrugged and you went forward with the exam.

Overall he seemed to be in exceptional health and you were satisfied with your findings. Gaz seemed oddly relieved when you told him so, almost as if he was worried he’d fail the health exam. You sent him outside and called Soap in. 

“Hey, lass, no finger up the arse today right?” he asked nervously, sitting down on the gurney you’d set up as you took his temperature. 

“Not unless you’re into it,” you said dryly, earning a surprised cough from Ghost and a laugh from Soap. 

Soap’s exam went as well as Gaz’s had and he walked out with an inflated ego when you informed him that he was in excellent physical shape. You decided to approach Ghost next. 

“Your turn big guy,” you said, gesturing for him to raise his arm so you could attach the blood pressure cuff.

“I’ve been in this fuckin’ bay for days, don’t you have enough?” he grumbled but reluctantly obeyed - only so he could feel your warm hands against his skin as you secured the cuff. 

“I’ve been managing your wound and making sure you don’t get infected, not doing full physicals every day,” you said with a laugh. “Give me your hand?” 

He held it out to you and you took it, gently attaching the clip. His hand dwarfed yours and your face warmed slightly as you lowered the hand back to his thigh. Ghost watched you attentively, doing his best to read your expressions. You cleared your throat. 

“So, got anything cool you like to do on leave?” you asked, doing your best to strike up a conversation. 

“No.” Ghost grunted, a little too harshly. He winced and immediately felt bad. You took the equipment off of him when it had finished reading his vitals and tucked it away in the corner again, a little hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute as you fiddled with your stethoscope. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively.”

“It’s alright. Can I listen to your heart or would you rather me not touch you?” you asked briskly, watching him. 

“S’alright,” he grumbled, sitting forward and tugging his shirt off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to– that’s okay, I can check your bandages afterward,” you said, your face hot as you took the sight of him in. Scars and old wounds crisscrossed his chest and a large bruise extended from beneath the bandages near his side. 

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, carefully listening to his heart through your stethoscope. His skin was warm and it made butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

“Can I hear from your back?” you asked softly after a moment. Ghost grunted his assent and bent forward. You leaned over his shoulder slowly, pressing your stethoscope to his back. 

Ghost couldn’t help himself as you leaned over him. Your soft skin practically burned him where you touched him and his heart rate picked up quickly. He took a deep breath and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying his hand on your lower back. 

You looked at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. He met your gaze for a moment before pulling away and sitting forward again. 

“M’ sorry. Should go get something to eat.” he grumbled, picking his shirt up and moving to put it back on. 

“It’s - uh…it’s okay! Can I…change your bandages first?” you asked softly, your voice coming out as almost a squeak. Ghost nodded and waited patiently as you gathered the supplies you needed. The feeling of your touch against him made him shiver when you returned. 

How he wished he could reach out and sweep you up in his arms, press a kiss to your lips, whisk you back to his room, and never leave. As you changed his bandages, he watched and imagined you trailing those delicate fingers up his chest to ruck his mask up and pull him down into a kiss. 

“Thanks,” he uttered as you finished, and that’s all he did. He tugged his shirt on and was almost to the door when he turned around. 

“Soap and Gaz wanted me to ask you if you’d come out with the lot of us before they leave,” he said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

Dr. Feelgood

3. Physical Exams

Start at part 1 here!

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, finger up the butt, touching, allusions to NSFW

-----

Ghost lay alone in the medical bay, thoughts racing through his foggy mind. For once, he’d gotten Feelgood to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. After his flirtation you’d squeaked, snarky reply dead on your lips, and made an excuse to leave before bustling out, the door slamming behind you. 

You were infuriating. The way you bossed his colleagues around as if you had some sort of authority over them, the ways you tried to control him by cornering him and forcing him into bed, allegedly “for his own good.” The softness of your skin against his as you held him while he collapsed during his panic attack. The way he wished he could shut your smart mouth up with your plush lips wrapped around his–

The door to the med bay swung open and pulled him from his thoughts. Gaz poked his head in and glanced around, raising an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Where’s Feelgood?” he asked, wandering into the room with Soap trailing behind him. 

“Left.” Ghost grunted, shrugging his shoulders and scowling under his balaclava. 

“Where to? Price was asking after her and I think she has some questions for him too,” he said, peering into the office through the window in the door. 

“Didn’t ask.” the masked man grumbled. 

“How you feelin’ L.T. - seems like the lass is doin’ a lovely job,” Soap remarked, plopping down in a chair at his lieutenant’s side. 

“She’s competent.” Ghost said. What he wanted to say was ‘She’s a feisty little thing. I quite like her.’

“She’s scarier than you, mate. If I ever get shot, promise you’ll protect my arsehole?” Soap asked, snickering. Ghost fixed him with a glare. 

“Bring that up ever again, sergeant, and you’re a dead man,” he growled lowly. 

“Bring what up again?” you called out as you strode back into the med bay, a tray piled high with food in your arms. 

“Got you something to eat from the mess, Lieutenant,” you said with a smile, setting the tray by his bedside. 

“Hey, Feelgood, Price was askin’ after you earlier. Said you should head down to the office when you get a minute.” Gaz said, coming out of your office and offering you a smile. You returned it. 

“Thanks! I need to ask him about hiring medical support staff for this place. I’m sure you guys would be happy with more than just me poking at you all the time.”

“Hey lass, what does Feelgood mean? Where’d you get the callsign?” Soap asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Oh, it’s stupid. Do you like classic rock?” you asked with a laugh, sitting down and sweeping your hair back into a ponytail. 

“I know enough to know Dr. Feelgood is the title of a song - Motley Crue, right?” Gaz asked, sitting next to you. 

“Yeah! I got it when I was still doing fieldwork and running missions with soldiers on the ground as a medic in the marines. One day three of us are headed into some little village and we get hit by an IED and the Humvee we’re in flips. So I crawl out, and my guys are still alive but they’re fucked up pretty bad. 

“My buddy Marston’s lost an arm so I tourniquet it and pump him full of drugs and he starts feeling good again before he passes the fuck out. And I figured fuck, why stop there? We’re all fucked up and bloody and we might die here in the sand so why not go out feeling better than just comfortable? So I offered some to Duncan after I’ve finished bandaging him up and he was like, ‘Sure, why the fuck not?’

“Then I patch myself up and put the needle in my thigh. Next thing I know I’m waking up driving a little donkey cart down the road and there are evac vehicles coming towards us. Marston’s passed out in the back and Duncan’s singing something made up - I think pretending to be the radio. 

“Anyway, I got into a metric fuckton of trouble even though we all made it out alive. I fucked my shoulder badly in the wreck, too bad to keep doing fieldwork, so they shipped me off to work in the base hospital’s emergency department. I got my shit together and went to medical school after that. 

“But the name - when my buddies came around enough to joke about it with me, they started calling me Dr. Feelgood after the song. See, it’s about a drug dealer called Jimmy who manages to evade trouble for a long time, but at the end of the song, he finally goes down on charges. They kinda reckoned my story mirrored Jimmy’s, but instead of going to prison, I got reprimanded and put in a more boring environment.” You finished. 

“Steamin’ Jesus lass, that’s–”

“I wasn’t aware you did field missions.” Ghost’s voice cut through Soap’s, silencing him. You smiled thinly. 

“Used to. Now the closest I get is coming with evac to stabilize wounded soldiers before they reach a proper hospital,” you admitted. 

“Sorry, Feelgood, but that’s pretty funny,” Gaz said with a grin, patting your knee before standing. 

“I just feel bad for whoever’s cart that was,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz shake his head. 

—

You went to see Price not long after the conversation died down under the assurances that Gaz and Soap would watch over Ghost. The door to his office was shut so you knocked softly. 

“Come in!” he called. You stepped in, taking in framed pictures and documents lining the back wall. A little plant sat atop the sill of the little window on the left wall and a couch was leaned against the right wall. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, slipping inside, the door shutting behind you.

“Yes! I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going on a mission with Soap and Gaz in a few days. It won’t last more than a week, but I wanted to check in with you and ask your professional opinion about Ghost’s condition before we leave. How’s he healing?” he asked, closing the laptop on his desk and fixing his gaze on you as you sat down. 

“Ghost is healing remarkably quickly and I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery provided he follows my instructions. Whether or not he does that is a matter of question,” you admitted with a smile. 

“Ah, I understand. I also wanted to ask - do you have any other concerns about the medical bay? Are there any supplies you’d like me to request for you, are we running low on anything?” Price asked. 

“What I need the most right now is support staff. Nurses, care assistants, other doctors? I know that those positions might be difficult to fill, but I’m one woman. I’m also not an anesthesiologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or a psychiatrist - my scope is very limited. 

“I also looked back at old records and I’ve noticed that none of you have ever provided medical history or undergone a physical. Before you leave for your mission, I’d like to do that for each one of you to get a baseline to compare later records to,” you said, counting each thing off on your fingers. Price nodded. 

“I can get the boys to get looked at for sure, but extra staff will take time to find. If there’s ever an emergency that you can’t tackle, we go to the general base hospital, but that’s discouraged due to the secretive nature of the work the task force does,” he explained. 

“Sir, I’d like you to undergo a physical too. Not just the boys. Do you have any reservations about seeing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t doubt your competency, Feelgood, and I mean no offense, but I…dislike the idea of being prodded at.” Price admitted. You nodded sympathetically. 

“What if I gave you a questionnaire and you wrote things down? I’d settle for that and a check of your vitals - that’s really what I want from you guys anyway.”

“I’ll think about it.”

—

“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you aren’t appreciating being pampered and doted on by a cute girl while you’re laid up in bed?” Gaz asked teasingly. Ghost grunted. 

“I’d rather not have been shot, Sargent,” he said dryly, poking at the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. The bed alarm was blaring, signaling that he had gotten up, but you were too far away in Price’s office to hear. 

“But you think she’s cute, right? Come on, how could you not? And she’s got fire, too, I like her.” Gaz teased, making Ghost roll his eyes - but he didn’t respond. He finally figured out how to silence the bed alarm and the room went quiet again.

“Oh my god, you do think she’s cute! Come on mate, at least ask if she’s seeing anyone!” Soap almost shouted, laughing in disbelief. 

“If anything, I’d like to see less of her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere, buzzing around me. Won’t shut the fuck up.” Ghost said. This was a lie - he just didn’t want his teammates to see how you got under his skin. Soap and Gaz groaned in unison. 

“You should see if she’ll come out with us before we leave. I wonder if she likes bars?” Gaz wondered aloud. Ghost stiffened where he stood. 

“You’re leaving? All of you?” he asked.

“Less than a week, it’s a quick one this time. It’ll just be you and the–” Soap’s eyes widened in realization.

“Steamin’ Jesus it’ll just be him and the doc!” he exclaimed, turning wide-eyed to Gaz. 

“If anything happens–”

“Watch your mouth before you end up with me here in the med bay.”

“--you’ll tell us, right?”

“It’s perfect, you’ve got a whole week to flirt with her without him bothering you,” Gaz said, jabbing his thumb back at Soap.

—

Gaz was your first physical patient. You’d offered to take him back into your office for privacy but he said he didn’t mind Ghost sitting in. Ghost was on his phone on the couch in the corner with a cup of tea and hardly paying attention to the world - it was a compromise you’d come to once you found out he’d broken the bed alarm and he’d threatened to go back to his room permanently. 

“I didn’t know your name was Kyle. I like it, it suits you,” you remarked as you took his blood pressure. 

“Thanks, Feelgood.”

“Makes you sound like an American frat boy.” Ghost quipped from the corner. 

“Hey, be nice. Is HIPAA a thing over here?” you asked. Gaz laughed and shrugged and you went forward with the exam.

Overall he seemed to be in exceptional health and you were satisfied with your findings. Gaz seemed oddly relieved when you told him so, almost as if he was worried he’d fail the health exam. You sent him outside and called Soap in. 

“Hey, lass, no finger up the arse today right?” he asked nervously, sitting down on the gurney you’d set up as you took his temperature. 

“Not unless you’re into it,” you said dryly, earning a surprised cough from Ghost and a laugh from Soap. 

Soap’s exam went as well as Gaz’s had and he walked out with an inflated ego when you informed him that he was in excellent physical shape. You decided to approach Ghost next. 

“Your turn big guy,” you said, gesturing for him to raise his arm so you could attach the blood pressure cuff.

“I’ve been in this fuckin’ bay for days, don’t you have enough?” he grumbled but reluctantly obeyed - only so he could feel your warm hands against his skin as you secured the cuff. 

“I’ve been managing your wound and making sure you don’t get infected, not doing full physicals every day,” you said with a laugh. “Give me your hand?” 

He held it out to you and you took it, gently attaching the clip. His hand dwarfed yours and your face warmed slightly as you lowered the hand back to his thigh. Ghost watched you attentively, doing his best to read your expressions. You cleared your throat. 

“So, got anything cool you like to do on leave?” you asked, doing your best to strike up a conversation. 

“No.” Ghost grunted, a little too harshly. He winced and immediately felt bad. You took the equipment off of him when it had finished reading his vitals and tucked it away in the corner again, a little hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute as you fiddled with your stethoscope. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively.”

“It’s alright. Can I listen to your heart or would you rather me not touch you?” you asked briskly, watching him. 

“S’alright,” he grumbled, sitting forward and tugging his shirt off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to– that’s okay, I can check your bandages afterward,” you said, your face hot as you took the sight of him in. Scars and old wounds crisscrossed his chest and a large bruise extended from beneath the bandages near his side. 

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, carefully listening to his heart through your stethoscope. His skin was warm and it made butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

“Can I hear from your back?” you asked softly after a moment. Ghost grunted his assent and bent forward. You leaned over his shoulder slowly, pressing your stethoscope to his back. 

Ghost couldn’t help himself as you leaned over him. Your soft skin practically burned him where you touched him and his heart rate picked up quickly. He took a deep breath and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying his hand on your lower back. 

You looked at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. He met your gaze for a moment before pulling away and sitting forward again. 

“M’ sorry. Should go get something to eat.” he grumbled, picking his shirt up and moving to put it back on. 

“It’s - uh…it’s okay! Can I…change your bandages first?” you asked softly, your voice coming out as almost a squeak. Ghost nodded and waited patiently as you gathered the supplies you needed. The feeling of your touch against him made him shiver when you returned. 

How he wished he could reach out and sweep you up in his arms, press a kiss to your lips, whisk you back to his room, and never leave. As you changed his bandages, he watched and imagined you trailing those delicate fingers up his chest to ruck his mask up and pull him down into a kiss. 

“Thanks,” he uttered as you finished, and that’s all he did. He tugged his shirt on and was almost to the door when he turned around. 

“Soap and Gaz wanted me to ask you if you’d come out with the lot of us before they leave,” he said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

Under-Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

nsfw/smut, fem!reader, teasing/edging, fingering, cunnilingus, fem!orgasm

Today was different and you mean different. Ghost hadn’t been at the weekly afternoon meeting today which caused you to knit your eyebrows in confusion. That’s until Price had announced that Ghost was “sick” and wouldn’t be able to make the meeting. It was you and a few other people including Soap.

(Your sitting down the far of the table)

You called total bull shit on it since Ghost seems to rarely get sick and which he would of touched base with you on if he wasn’t feeling all that well.

Through a 15 long minutes of Price going on and on about the new upcoming mission that was coming in the next few weeks, your attention wasn’t really focused on him. Your focus what something in between your legs, and that something was a person. And that person was Ghost. What a surprise.

You peered down, trying not to make it to obvious, seeing as his blue eyes stared lustfully up into yours as his hands squeezed the back of your calves. You quickly looked up back to Price who was still babbling about the mission, your cheeks growing hot.

His fingers danced and ran along your inner and upper thigh, drawing circles around your exposed skin. Fuck, why’d you have to wear a skirt this afternoon. His hands had traveled more in between your thighs, pushing them further out then they where. You tried to squeeze them to get him to stop but his force out stronged you and he forced them open.

His thick fingers, ran up under your skirt, your warmth coding his cooler hands, making your skin shiver in goosebumps. You felt his two of his fingers press against the warmth in between your crotch, you knew he could feel how wet you where already getting from the quick arousal pooling in you.

He rubbed his fingers against your wet panties, pressing just around your pulsing clit, making you shutter under his touch. His index finger rubbed up and down your clothed pussy, teasing you to work you up. You practically kick him in a light manner to tell him to stop with the teasing. Which he chuckled quietly to himself, pressing his fingers harder against your pussy, teasing you once more.

He scrapped his two fingers to the side hem of your panties, pulling the fabric up. He snapped the fabric back against your pussy, making your eyes widen and look around to make sure no one had heard. Both of his hands lingered up your skirt, all the way up to the top of your panties, grabbing the hem of the elastic and pulling them down your thigh. Your heart was pounding and your cheeks felt warmer.

He made it almost past mid way down your thigh before tapping you, making you look down at him again, seeing as he looked at you and at your crotch. Motioning you to buck your hips up so he could pull them the rest off.

You looked away from him, gaining the confidence and pushing your hips up, allowing him to slide the rest of your panties off. As soon as he got them to your ankles he grabbed them and shoved them into his pocket. As your pussy was now exposed, he pushed your legs open again, a cool breeze hitting your hot cunt. You bit your lip, feeling as his slender thick fingers snaked up to your pussy, feeling as one of his fingers slid into your slit, rubbing against the wetness that was pooling. Your fingers gripped against the edge of your chair, still trying to keep some focus to Price.

One of his fingers entered you, curling his finger right against the base of your g-spot. Your vagina felt like it clenched around his finger, the sensation feeling like you had to pee but you really didn’t. He rubbed against your spot again and again, slipping in another finger. He wanted to edge you, wanted to feel as your vagina clenched around his fingers, the way your wetness lubed his fingers. He would imagine as you came around his fingers, around a room where no one knew what was going on under the table.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, stretching your plush pussy out. Your clit was jolting with excitement, until Ghost removed his fingers and replaced them with his mouth. He licked a straight line up your pussy, tension was growing inside of you, the excitement of doing this in front of people was making you wetter.

His tongue swirled around your pussy, teasing your clit, adding and un adding pressure. He grabbed your hips, sliding your lower body forward more against his face almost burrowing it into you. His mouth sucked and nibbled at your clit. This was more exciting then doing this in the bedroom, it was more of a rise in a way.

His tongue felt like it was writing his name against your cunt, feeling you up. You where covering your mouth at this point, holding back your small moans that where begging to be heard. Your bottom lip feeling as it was about to be chewed off from your teeth biting against it to keep yourself shut. Your thighs squeezing against his head as you felt yourself getting somewhat closer to your orgasm. This made Ghost stop, making you take a breath but squeezing your thighs again in a way of telling him why he stopped.

Ghost had wanted to wait for your orgasm to slowly disappear before he dug his face back into you, his tongue pacing around in nice circular motions. Tongue fucking you nice and slow but rough as he laid his tongue flat, licking a straight line. His tongue was rough in a way, not like sandpaper but still moist. Your mouth was still concealed with your hand, biting at the top of your thumb, your eyes drifting closed off and on. You still tried to focus on Price, but it got to the point where you couldn’t, you could only concentrate on how Ghost was eating you up.

That’s until…..

“(Your name)? What is your opinion about the mission? You’ve been extra quiet back there….” His thick british voice rang in your ears, making you uncover your mouth, raising your eyebrows and giving him a small smile like you where paying attention. Ghost stopped, listening to you as his head was still buried in between your legs.

“I uh…..I agree with what your saying. I think the mission will be a great succ-“ Before you could finish, Ghost had pushed two direct fingers inside of you, your hands gripped the table, getting lost in thought as Ghost pumped his fingers once again inside of you. His fingers circled and curled inside of you.

“(Your name)? Are you alright?” Price was about to walk over before you told him to continue what he was talking about, not to worry about you. You held in a moan as you powered through the comment to him. Price just raised an eyebrow, giving you a puzzled look before waving it off and rolling his eyes before he continued again. You where released.

You thought you where fucked at that point. You gave Ghost a little kick under the desk which he squeezed your calf in return. You knew he had that shit eating grin on his face like he usually does.

Ghost removed his fingers, placing his hot wet mouth right back on where he was sucking and teasing at. Your clit.

You wanted to tease Ghost back, taking your heel/shoe off and placing it right against his groin, feeling that he was already hard. ‘Already hard for me?’ You thought to yourself, ‘Just by eating my pussy?’.

Ghosts breath hitched on your pussy, which ended with a low heardless groan that vibrated against you. You smiled at yourself. Ghost went harder against you swollen clit, rutting his tongue in all the right places. The feeling of you cumming was already getting close but you wanted to make Ghost cum first.

Your foot rubbed in circles on his dick, feeling as it twitch lightly in his jeans. Ghosts eyes where closed, humming sweetly into your cunt as he ate. He was already close, all this pussy eating was getting him so worked up he was about to cum right into his jeans. You wanted to see his face so badly, the way how precious it must be, cheeks dusted pink and temple glossy with sweat. The way his dick was probably already leaking with pre-cum was making you horny. To feel his cock inside of you was making your tummy turn and your pussy pulse with excitement.

He ate you up like you where his finally meal, he went faster as you rubbed your foot against the bulge of his dick. You looked round quickly seeing as Price was to busy talking to a recruiter, you decided to grind against Ghosts face slightly. Bucking your hips more into his face. This made Ghost hungrier. He sucked on your clit, teeth grazing just ever so slightly against it, making you sigh quietly into your hand.

You spread your legs wider, making Ghost burry deeper. There was the knot again. Your lower stomach turned again, feeling it made your legs tremble, trying to get yourself to cum faster. Your foot rubbing against Ghosts crotch left, you couldn’t focus on making him cum first, you where busy with yourself cumming against Ghosts face. You bit against your thumb, your body feeling hot and sweaty as Ghost ate you out faster and faster until finally came on his face.

You hips bucked forward as you did, your legs trembled as your orgasm hit. Your eye lids closed feeling your pussy tingle. Ghost lapped you up, removing his face from your crotch, wiping the access off his face. He watched as you hips moved slowly against the chair, still coming slowly down from your climax. Your legs still spread for him.

Ghost rubbed his dick through his pants at the sight of you grinding against the chair. He was about to pull his dick out and finish himself off here but decided to wait, he wanted to fuck you like he wanted to in the first place. Hard and balls deep.

Your eyes scanned the room, seeing Price finishing up the meeting with his corny wrap up. He told everyone to be ready for the mission and he’ll see you later. You stayed out for a second as everyone left, even Price waved to you not saying a word as he left the room. You looked in between your legs, seeing as Ghost was gone, that’s until you heard the door slam shut and lock.

“Clothes off and on the table, now”