#I think it's almost time to retire for the evening

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Greta Garbo (Camille, Anna Karenina, Queen Christina)—Enigmatic and alluring and made me bisexual. The perfect example of the eroticism in silent films that literally transcends text. Could literally not change anything about her expression but you knew by looking at her eyes what she was thinking. She’s so gorgeous.

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 5 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Garbo:

A cold-ass Swedish WLW Sphinx. Had plans to murder Hitler that she never got around to. "She will remain always a child of vikings, moved about by a snowy dream."

First of all, she's on the money; that's how much of a treasure she is. She's beautiful in such a distinct way you need very few lines to draw her. (Drawing by Einar Nerman) She managed to be mesmerizing in both silent and sound films. She kissed a woman in Queen Christina (and probably several more in real life). She was super dry and really funny in Ninotchka. She got the hell out of Hollywood and stayed out, living for almost 50 years after her retirement.

Garbo is one of the many reasons why I'm gay. If you haven't seen Queen Christina please do, She is so gender in that film. Also her accent makes it sound like she's always talking in cursive and it's so hypnotic (or at least I think so).

She's a gay introvert, like all of us here on Tumblr.

Probably a lesbian, absolutely a mood when she retired

Mysterious and aloof, charismatic and enigmatic, with beautiful androgynous characteristics, Garbo is undoubtedly the most eccentric and unique Hollywood vintage star. Her aversion to fame and stardom makes her even more desirable to the audience, and her insane chemistry with the camera, an actress one of a kind! Her particularity and her oddity is what discerns her strongly from her hollywood co workers at the time, noone was like her and would never be like her. I think, to the utmost extent, that she deserves the title of the hottest vintage star, even though that would be an understatement of what she is!

SO gorgeous, her thick Swedish accent makes will turn your brain into pudding

Audrey Hepburn:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

[girlgenius1111]

I miss sol can we get some headcanonsss 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 with or without future ms Fresa 😌

any chance to talk about my solstråle 🥰

-school is very much not her thing. not because she isn't smart. she's really smart. she just hates sitting still and being inside all day, and she's never been very motivated to try very hard in school. so when she arrives in spain and ingrid like sits down to help her with her homework because she's heard that sol has heinous grades, sol can do all of it. she doesn't need help. and ingrid is absolutely baffled because... why wouldn't she do it if she could? but sol's thinking is... why would she do it if she didn't want to.

-in one of the family line chapters, its mentioned that sol broke her arm as a kid, and her mom didn't believe her that something was actually wrong. it didn't heal right and now it hurts when the weather changes, and if she moves her wrist in the wrong way. she'll never know if it's because she didn't get it into a cast right away or not, but it is always a very physical, painful reminder of her childhood.

-sol was a really anxious kid. it was a lot for her parents to deal with, and sol thinks that this is part of the reason they treated her like they did. they had to go through so much with her when she was young with her anxiety that they were just... done parenting by the time she got older. her parents really weren't even very helpful with her anxiety either. it was always ingrid who could calm her down or talk her into doing things she was reluctant to do.

-she was a really good softball player when she was younger. it was always pushed to the side for ingrid's football, and the team she was on wasn't a very supportive place. her anxiety got really bad at this time, especially before games and tournaments, and she decided to quit the sport all together, because she couldn't deal with it anymore.

-once ingrid moved out, sol would wear her old clothes around the house, and try to act just like ingrid, because she thought it would make her more tolerable to her parents.

-sol loves her sister very much, but Mapi is her biggest role model. it won't ever not amaze and surprise her how easily Mapi took her in an loved her. her biggest wish for her life is to be as loving and kind as Mapi is.

-sol can play the piano. she learned as a kid and it's always kind of stuck around. she can just sit down and play some pieces from memory. she has a really nice singing voice too, but ingrid and mapi only know because they can hear her in the shower. she'll sing for fresa if she asks nicely, though.

-she has a HUGE sweet tooth. she has 'emergency chocolate' in the glovebox of ingrid's car that fresa finds one day. fresa: ?? what is this?? sol: emergency chocolate 🙂 fresa:... in what kind of emergency do you need chocolate. sol: all of them??

-sol likes to prank ingrid by telling her that she's pregnant at least once a month. ingrid always believes it even though sol has literally never dated a man in her life.

-ingrid refuses to change her number from 23 for the rest of her career. it wasn't really her favorite or first choice before, but it's sol's tattoo now, and she will NEVER change it. she'd almost rather retire.

[b0r3dtod3ath]

LITERALLY anything for Art PLEASE I need him so desperately. Maybe something with an argument that leads to fluff? idk

Thanks for the request!

The living room is illuminated by the soft glow of lamplight, casting shadows across the walls. You pace back and forth, your frustration reaching its peak. Art, your boyfriend and a professional tennis player, sits on the couch, his tennis racket leaning against the armrest, his expression tense. 

“I just don't get it, Arthur! Why do you always let your coach push you around? You never stand up for yourself!”

"It's not that simple," Art says defensively. "She knows what's best for my game."

You stop pacing, almost speechless. "Your game? You have been losing for the past months! What about you? And don’t lie, you don’t even enjoy it anymore! When was the last time you did something for yourself without worrying about what your coach or your sponsors might think?"

"You know it's not that easy," he responds, frustrated. "Tennis is my career. I have to do what Tashi says to succeed."

Your voice softens. "I understand that, Artie. But at what cost? You're constantly sacrificing your own happiness and well-being just to please others."

He sighs. "It's not just about pleasing others. It's about fulfilling my dreams, about making something of myself."

"It’s her dream and not yours! You know it. She just uses you to achieve what she’s not able to! Remember when we used to talk about having a family, about living together? You always wanted to be a dad! And now, you don’t even spend half a day at home."

Art looks at his hands. "Maybe I sometimes forget that there’s life beyond the court. Tennis has been my life for so long."

You take a step closer, standing between his legs, you stroke his hair as he wraps his arms around you. "I know. And I admire your dedication, I really do. But you have to remember that you're more than just a tennis player. You're a person with feelings and desires that matter too. And I don’t want you to quit because of what I said. I know it's hard, Art. But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here for you, always. I just want you to be happy and not devote your life to someone else’s dream."

He smiles weakly, bullying you even closer. "I'm lucky to have you. I'll try to find a balance, I promise. I will call Tashi, tell her I want to retire soon. I have been thinking about it but I guess I didn't have the guts. I just want to spend time with you. Well, maybe still occasionally play tennis."

"Whatever you want to do we'll figure it out together."

You don’t move from this position, in comfortable silence, the tension slowly melts away as you hold onto each other. In the warmth of each other's presence, Art finds peace and stability.

May 1, 2024

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

First Time Footie Fan (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the "Purchase Your Time" Series

Summary: Talking stage has been complete and at last you get John in his comfort zone, not where he thinks yours is, and progress is made.

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only. Reader is gender neutral and a sex worker, but no smut/sex in this chapter.

First Meeting and First "Meeting" // AO3 Version // Masterlist

“Oh, I saw he’s retiring,” You pointed to a massive electric screen, somehow immune to the rain and spray of the motorway, that boasted the pride and joy of Liverpool, Jürgen Klopp, “And everyone in the city is going into mourning.”

“More like half the country,” John’s eyes briefly acknowledged the advert before zeroing back on the road, “One of the greatest football coaches ever.”

“Greater than Ted Lasso?”

“Who?”

Eager to spew about the new show you’d binged between your last meeting and now, but wanting to remain as cool as possible, you said in best attempt at a casual affect: “It’s a show about an American soccer coach becoming the coach of a British football team. All I know about football is from that show.”

John shook his head with a sarcastic chuckle, “Soccer, it’s bloody football.”

You nodded in agreement, “’Course, they call rugby ‘football’ even though-”

“They use their hands!”

“And they wear helmets and shoulder pads. Wusses.”

“You into rugby then?” John caught your eye quickly before returning it to the road ahead.

You grinned, “Not at all.”

That got you a proper laugh from deep in John’s chest, puffing out under his coat.

You stuck your hands beneath your lap, restraining the anticipation for your first proper date. Yes, you’d been for dinners and stayed at hotels together. But now you were both past the talking phase and John wasn’t like a deer in the headlights every-time he was allowed to do something that could be construed as intimate. You’d shushed his apologies for jumping straight to the bedroom – even when there was no sex – and insisted that this “partner package” he asked for meant he could treat you like an actual spouse. Besides, you wanted to engage with something he liked, and he did promise you a football match.

His black truck was parked amidst a hoard of other vehicles, half a mile from the stadium – “so we’re not stuck in traffic later”, John had said. You were ready to rumble. But, when you reached for the car handle, John touched your arm. He already had his gloves on; the moulded leather almost tricked you into thinking it was hisbare callouses.

“I got something for you.” Then he pointed to the glovebox in front of you, his keenness hidden behind a carefully constructed expression of neutrality. You popped the glovebox open to reveal a black tissue-paper parcel.

As you sat it in your lap with your hands curved around it as if to safeguard it from waddling off you, you said cheekily, “If it’s lingerie, it’s too late for me to change.”

Rolling his eyes with an air of fondness, not a sting of derision, John dodged your gaze as he corrected your assumption: “Another time, perhaps.”

Unable to hold back, you sliced through the paper. A scarf of burning red fell out in a bundle. Liverpool Football Club’s insignia sat bold on both ends with snow white frills, a proper scarf to wear to the stadium.

You freed it from the rest of the tissue paper and immediately wrapped it around your neck, “I’m like a good luck charm!”

“Certainly lucky to have you here,” John replied.

As he still had yet to let you near his lips, you leant over the centre console and kissed John’s cheek. “Thank you. Now c’mon, I wanna get food before we watch the match.” As you stepped out of the car, you allowed yourself a little smirk at the smile lines forged on John’s face from your kiss.

Brewing eagerness echoed around the concrete walls of the stadium from everyone you walked past. Faces painted, shirts as bright as your scarf, you and John appeared quite casual by comparison. Content, you jostled and edged your way to purchase your overpriced fried food before you made your way to your seat. No dainty way to eat it, the condiments spurted out the opposite side with every bite and the napkin fell apart as soon as it came into contact with the viscous foodstuffs. It was only made more awkward when you had to stand up twice to allow other fans scooch on past.

“How was work, by the way? Good?” It was all you could ask John, and it was all you could presume since he called you a week earlier than his final text had alluded to.

“Fine. Nothing we haven’t done before,” John wiped his mouth clean of ketchup, “And you?”

Now you knew how he felt being asked. Your job was hardly as normal as his.

“All normal too,” You said. There was a lull between you. Perhaps you could market that as the real domesticity he was missing out on: not so comfortable silences on a date.

But John had to be the smooth operator he was, his knees slanted slightly towards you to share a secret: “You know, I got my job at a football match.”

You perked up, “Yeah?”

“Hmm, my colleague and I met in this stadium,” And he pointed across the pitch where you could see a family holding up a banner in the stands. “That section there.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a coincidence.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Your secrecy levels imply there’s not such in thing in that line of work.”

John cracked a smile, “She spent the whole time calling it ‘soccer’, until I corrected her. Then we got talking and she dropped the offer five minutes later.”

“So she annoyed you into taking the bait?”

“Pretty much.”

You flattened your lips together, impressed. “She sounds cool.”

“Well, don’t tell her that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Kick-off at quarter past eight met with a comfortable end to your conversation. You spent half the time on your feet. Players on the pitch were relentless with Liverpool constantly pinging the ball back towards their goal. Felt unfair to the other team, but you didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, the energy had transmitted into you and John. Up and down like Jack in the boxes, you felt it in your stomach’s pit each time an attempted goal missed, tapping your face in John’s arm like a door knocker with another missed opportunity.

John often let out roars in accordance with the intensity of his disappointment. He’d pat your shoulder to help recover you both as fast as the team whose scarf you wore.

But by half-time, the score was 2-0 to your new (only) favourite football team.

“I’ve got a goddamn stitch from all that!” You gasped, slumping a little in your seat. Your hands became sore with the amount you were clapping. “Is it always this nuts?”

“I will say this one is a bit of a spectacle.”

No wonder he liked it: harmless entertainment to take his mind off his job, whatever it was. It was the same reason you had binged Ted Lasso over the span of last week. You decided to link your fingers in his and squeezed tightly, and he accepted this with a kiss on your temple in return. Score. Literally. He was getting acceleratingly more comfortable with you than he had in all those restaurant floors and hotel beds.

Your hand only left his when the match was off again, rejuvenated and ready to amplify your cheers.

When Chelsea managed to get a goal in, your inch of self-control got away from you, loudly booing with everyone else. Chanting their demise and that everyone on their team’s mother was a slag no longer seemed mean. You were too invested with Liverpool’s two goal lead and were another Chelsea score away from praying to a God you weren’t sure you believed in. Once or twice, you caught John smiling at you – a cross between sly and pride over how he’d indoctrinated you into the cult of football.

At last, after a blocked attempt, the fourth goal smashed into the bottom right corner. Jumping on the spot, you used one hand on John’s bicep for balance in case your footing did not land square on the tiny section of concrete your seat granted. You almost knocked his beanie off as you joined the Mexican wave rippling around the stadium.

As the crowds started to dispel, you and John remained in your seats as you both recounted your favourite parts. John seemed a bit unawares at first, and you remembered he usually came to these alone. So you had to lead with your highlights, John chipping in with previous games he’d seen to add to your newfound interest.

Eventually, you were made to leave the stadium, with only fond memories and your scarf, without the adrenaline.Your energy levels plummeted through the ground with each metre you moved away from the pitch and your feet were complaining loudly. Crowds filtered into Premier Inns and Travelodges and car parks, you amongst them with your hand tight in John’s until you were at his car, where he held the door open for you, a task you were glad to avoid at the end of a fifteen minute walk. Radio hosts gushing about the amazing match became your lullaby while you snuggled into your scarf.

Time passed like water down a slide and it wasn’t long before John squeezed your knee. “We’re here.”

Thank god you’d already dropped your bags off at the hotel earlier. Eyes were drooping as John led you into the elevator of your hotel for the night, him letting you attach yourself to his side like a limpet while he yet again opened your door.

“Thank you,” You mumbled hoarsely, dropping onto the side of the bed you designated your own.

John caught you by the arm just before you could curl up on the bed, using it to lift and seat you, “Oh, you don’t.”

“I want to,” you whined.

A minor success was barely celebrated as John released you, only to capture your left foot and remove your shoe. It was a pair you regretted wearing and the source of that regret was revealed to John as he peeled off your sock to reveal a blister, formed from all your jubilation during the match. You winced, tempted to yank your sweaty foot from his loose grip.

“Behave,” John said as he checked the blister, your ankle trapped in his curved grip. His voice had been teasing you, just a light-hearted reproach at your attempted resistance, keeping you in a good mood, but you felt your chest full with flustered feelings that you should store away when you were more capable of dealing with it.

From his overnight bag, that you hadn’t seen him collect, he withdrew an antiseptic wipe and a small plaster, one that fit perfectly over your wound.

“You always carry plasters around?” You asked sheepishly.

“Never know when you need an emergency plaster,” John replied, smoothing it over before swapping to your other foot, “Crisis averted.”

A far-away internal dialogue reminded you that you shouldn’t find your customer picking a bit of sock fluff out of your open blister attractive. You failed to hear it over the blood flooding beneath your cheeks whilst he unwound the scarf from your neck.

“I guess it’s that cool-under-pressure quick-thinking and ready-for-anything attitude that got you poached at that match.”

“Among other things.” And John took your paired shoes over to the door.

You could appreciate that John was trying to connect with you whilst keeping sturdy those walls of his. But he couldn’t help it. His personality was a reflection of his ideology, therefore his job. He was telling you more than he wanted, and you were craving a little more each time.

From the bed, you watched him hang up his coat and beanie beside your scarf, his hair sticking up at the back on ends. An idea struck you like a slap and woke you up a little.

Knelt onto the bed, you beckoned him over as he finished removing his boots. As he sauntered over to you, he began smiling. It only grew as you drew him in to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands, guided by your incentive, found themselves behind your back.

“Thank you for today,” You whispered into the space between you.

“Of course.” There. You caught him, shamelessly looking at your lips. You took the plunge and leant in. At the final split second, John did too.

The second his lips touched yours, it stole any thoughts from your mind, as if the volume of the city was turned down. A slight tickle from his moustache, not bristly but smooth and trimmed, that was not the main reason behind your smile. It was how his paw of a hand hugged under your jaw, turning your head so that he could slot your body up against his and still slip his charming tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away first. You always let them pull away first. Rarely did you feel like you had to leave it, and this was one of those kisses you wouldn’t have minded continuing. By the rosiness on his cheeks and how loudly you could hear him taking controlled breaths, you hypothesised that he felt the same. Yet again, his gentleman-like nature getting in the way of what he wanted. Never mind, there was always more chances you could create next time to get him more into his comfort zone.

“Just wanted a goodnight kiss,” You said as you released him with an innocent smile.

John raised an eyebrow, though his lips were still smirking at you, “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” And you bounced off the bed to get changed into your pyjamas, leaving the bathroom door open.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps each time it felt him stealing glances at you. Therefore it felt only necessary that you take a peek too. The two seconds leaning over to the ajar door confirmed what you’d felt during your nights together: a firm body that slightly softened the touch of his muscles yet without masking the power beneath it. A few scars, a trim waist and the blur of a tattoo were on show before his sleep shirt was yanked over his body. That was when you retreated back to brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face.

Even as you tucked yourself into bed, John was still pottering around. You were already halfway off to dreamland by the time he slid beneath the covers on his side. Maybe that was why you asked:

“One more?” Cherry on top, you pouted with your eyes closed up at him like you were Sleeping Beauty. A gentle chuckle and a peck upon your lips was well received and you were greeted by the lights switched off and John looking younger as he rested his head on his pillow but close to you.

“Goodnight,” He said with a sigh.

You wriggled a bit deeper into the bedclothes, smothering the butterflies in your stomach until the fluttering stopped. “Sleep well, John.”

[birinboom]

not sure why but I'm once again thinking about the Kiri x reader roommates to lovers quarantine fic I never got around to writing during the pandemic... (would people even be interested in reading something like that now that it's finally over?)

Kiri is fine as roommates go. He keeps his mess out of the communal areas, he leaves your food alone, he pays rent on time. Most of that, you think, is probably attributed to him only using his room for sleep. It's rare to see him outside of early mornings while you're both preparing for work. After work he usually hangs out with his friends, or goes to the gym, or whatever, coming home long after you've retired to your own room.

You don't really mind; you have the apartment mostly to yourself this way. And it's not like you really know him, anyway. He's just a roommate.

Then the pandemic happens.

You're surprised, to be honest, that he doesn't go stay with one of his friends. But he doesn't, and now you're stuck with him. And you soon learn just how loud he can be; he cranks the volume on the video calls with his friends, laughing boisterously at almost anything they say. He shrieks and hollers at the online games they play. And even though he's quick to turn the volume down when you scowl at him, it still frustrate you to no end.

Until one morning where you discover him on the verge of a breakdown, trying his best to not cry into his cereal. You learn about how lonely he is. How much he misses physical human contact. Cranking the volume makes it feel like his friends are in the same room as him again, but it doesn't change how touch-starved he is.

"Can I have a hug?" he asks, eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears.

You realize in that moment that you could probably use a hug too. And maybe this is a good opportunity to actually get to know your roommate.

[amydimmer]

Allow me to get sappy? Alright, thanks.

Some doodles before I get too used to posting only finished pieces here! Truth is, I'm a doodle girl. I love em scribbles.

These two are Leonardo and Elizabeth (dearly nicknamed Leobeth, by yours truly). THE big love doves in my story! Their wedding anniversary is later this month, so I'm all about doodling them right now. They make me kick my feet and get all tingly in my stomach.

They met about 882 YEARS AGO. Quite a while... I guess I don't even need to say they're best friends, first and foremost. I too would be someone's twin flame after 800 years together. They're also my personal textbook ~friends to lovers~ and ~raincloud x sunshine~ They married in the 17th century, and the honeymoon phase never really dies down, almost 400 years later. Today they're that cute old couple that got retired and now live in a little house by the shore. Leonardo also makes jewellery. Elizabeth has HUNDREDS of bling-blings he has made for her throughout the years. Their house is full of his knick-knacks, and though it drives his clean freak lady insane most of the time, they find their ways. I have a little sketch (part of a bigger piece) of a locket he made for her when they were still just courting <3

Lastly, some sillies to break up the sappiness ;)

As my bio puts it "I turn countries into immortal deities".

Leo and Lizzie are personifications of Portugal and England, respectively...Let's say they share many of the same dreams and goals then. Very romantic. There's just SO much about them, I barely know how to start. You can be sure I'll flood this blog with them though, and also my ask box is open! I'd love to yap about them. This is it for today, I think. Byeee

[deeptrashwitch]

I just remembered a @mctvsh post about Jen and she mentioned the Hardman dynasty. And to be honest, it make me remember that I gave Alicia a big family from her mother side and most of them are military! I only write a bit with Nicolás and Camila, just once with Elías...but her mother side of the family is big and almost everyone is or was a soldier.

So! Maybe I won't write a lot with these characters, but I want to introduce some of them. It'll start from the elder one alive to the younger ones (except kids for now).

Taglist (bc of yes): @stuffireadandenjoy @snootlestheangel @alypink @tapioca-milktea1978 @islandtarochips

@mutantthedark @mctvsh @hookhearted @midnight193 @catterdraws

Martínez Family (Colombia 🇨🇴)

1st Gen:

Julio Armando Martínez Rincón

The elder member of the family, right now he's near of 85 years old. He is a veteran of the Korean War, sent to South Korea as part of the 5100 soldiers part of the Colombia Batallion transported on the frigate Almirante Padilla. During the war he participated on the Battle of Old Baldy as part of the three companies defending the line of the 7th division, earning the nickname of "trench demon" after their victory along with all the colombian survivors.

After that, three years later and while he was a Lieutenant, he was part of the first Lanceros course, becoming the first in the family to wear the badge. (There's only four people who wear it in the family, a minusculous part considering how big really the family is)

He married Rosa Elvira Guzmán Villanueva, a woman he met after he came back to Colombia and continued his career, and had four kids. They're a lovey-dovey couple that love to have all the family reunited in his house, or at least their kids and grandchildren.

Julio has ALWAYS been good to read people, mostly his family, since the beginning. That's how he kinda "predicted" if they would be soldiers as well, he did it with his four children and all his grandchildren, and hopes he can "guess" with his great-grandchildren. And even if some of them weren't keen towards the military, he gave all of them the same advice: "do what you want and feel you need to do, do it one, two or three times if it's needed. Don't give up without a fight, our family NEVER gives up without trying and failing, and only then we only step back to get prepared and find another way."

...His children blame him for the legendary stubborness that his grandchildren have. And well, yes, specially Alicia and Elías are just as stubborn as him.

2nd Gen:

Gabriel Martínez Guzmán

The oldest child of Julio and Rosa, basically a clone of his father (they joke about him having his mother hair, that it's the only thing stopping people of thinking that the trench demons are inmortal) and he's near 67 (who know how he looks so young). He is part of the Colombian Army as Brigadier General, and has lived through the most horrid years of the colombiam history, leading with guerrillas, narcos and paramilitary.

Since the first time he commanded any team, he has tried to complete the mission as perfect as possible and to keep all the soldiers alive as possible too. Gabriel is the second Lancero in the family, earning it during the early 80's and he keeps it always in his formal uniform near the badge for the 2016 peace treaty.

He has seen how his siblings flew away from the country one by one, but he helped them every single time even if it hurted. And he loves his nephews and nieces as much as his own kids, who also love their cousins. Also, he tells his stories about his non-classified missions to his nephews and nieces when they were younger, and Andrea smacked him because of it.

"They are KIDS, Gabriel! Don't tell them that!" she said to him

Isabel Martínez Guzmán

The second born and first daugther, she was more like her mother than like her father and she's 62. She was part of the Colombian Navy during ten years before retiring, going to Switzerland to marry the professor Dorian Müller. Now they're living in Bern, near the university where Dorian works.

She was strict with Elías and August during their childhood, but also gave them some freedom to explore, sighing with a smile when she learned they would join the Swiss Army. Even after all those years, Isabel still love going to sail and loves going to the beaches or anything related to the water. And also...she nags Elías when he does stupid shit outside of duty, but he always just smile and shrug.

José Martínez Guzmán

The third sibling, was part of the Colombian Air Force during two decades, he's 61 and another clone of his father. He made his career with aeronautic communications, so after his retiring he started to work as the director of comms for an airline. He's the only one without children, and is the one who messes the most with his nephews and nieces (and the reason why all of the 3rd Gen have quick and sarcastic answers for almost everything).

Currently he's dividing his time between Los Angeles and London, but prefers to stay on the UK because of it's convenience. Sometimes he goes to his parents house, he's the one who goes more after Gabriel and Juan David.

Andrea Martínez Guzmán

The younger sister and the only non-military between the four siblings, she has her mother's personality and his father looks...more or less, also she's 60 right now. Andrea was the first one to leave the country when she started her company, which now is really big btw, and during some years she stayed in San Antonio, Texas working on her own. Years later she met Jackson Marchant, who everyone calls Jack since he prefers to be called that way, and they started dating some months after meeting.

Time passed and they fell even more in love, with Jack proposing to her after some years, and asking if she wanted kids. Also, there was a moment when Jack asked her if she preferred to be a stay-home mom...he almost was thrown out because of it, but when he laughed and explained it was a joke, Andrea just rolled her eyes and murmured something.

They had Nicolás, Alicia and Camila with some years apart one and the other, and they love the three of them with everything they have. She just laughed when she noticed they had the stubborness of her familiy, but taught them to be open minded and receptive, mostly because some of her uncles used to be really narrow minded and basically cut themselves from the people who loved them just because they couldn't hear other opinions.

She's proud of the three of them, always telling everyone who wants to hear how good her babies are. Of course she doesn't tells a lot about Alicia's job, for her security, nor gives a lot of details of Nicolás' trials, also for his security. It makes people think that Camila is her favorite, but no, she truly doesn't have any favorite.

(Jack does, but is only in the sense that just one of his kids has his eyes, nothing else. He really loves the three of them equally)

3rd Gen: (Main Story)

August Müller Martínez

He is the eldest between all the cousins, being 45 years old, and has a baby face, which only confirms that the rest of them are so tired and screwed. He also is military, but isn't part of the Special Forces, he's an administrative officer. When people ask him why he didn't continued until becoming an special forces operator, he just says that he doesn't have the kind of habilities to do so.

And that's right in some sense, he has seen how his younger brother and younger cousins are, and he's admired of how they can react and move so quickly when they are training. At first, when he learned about Elías and Alicia becoming special forces, he was envious...but he has already come to peace with the fact that he's made to other things. He has a more relaxed personality, and even if he is stubborn, he isn't THAT stubborn.

But someting is sure to say, he can be scary when he fucking wants to be. Once the family learnt about Alicia's capture, he was this near to pack Elías into a plane himself to make him go and look for Alicia. And no, he had nothing to do with the grandpa almost going out of retirement (that's a lie but let's pretend he didn't tell him anything).

Nicolás Marchant Martínez

(I wanted him to look like a lawyer, but for some reason I think he looks like some kind of tv seller ;-;) (Also I love giving him heterocromia, I think he looks good)

Second older, and the eldest of the Marchant siblings, he's 42. He isn't a soldier and he has nothing to do with the military, instead he's a lawyer specialized on international cases. Nicolás is patient, really patient, and kind with people outside of court, but inside the court room...this man is fucking scary (he took that from his father hehe).

At first he was working on an enormous law firm in Austin and he had big cases by the time Alicia contacted him to help her Corporal, but after some years he was offered a job in La Haya. From there he has had a rocketed path, and now leads with some important and delicate cases, and also he's well respected by his co-workers. And now he just focus on his job, but isn't closed to a boyfriend, isn't really convinced he'll have one either (Camila and Juan David are looking for a good candidate for him :3).

He usually keeps the peace during the family reunions in granny's house, because leaving José, Elías, Alicia and Juan David together in the same place is a time bomb. He's (supposedly) the voice of reason when his family start to talk about unhinged shit, but in reality he just gave them the legal lagoons to not be acussed nor found.

Elías Müller Martínez

THIS is the family's little shit!

Alright, he's 36 and just a month older than Alicia, but always pisses her off because of it and has being kicked for that. He's the younger brother and is a bit...clingy to his older brother when he's out of duty. When he's together with all the cousins, his only mission is pissing them off, and has succeded once.

He even has pissed Nicolás, and that time he was chased by two feral Marchant sisters and a furious Juan David while Nicolás gave them sticks to have their way with him...and August didn't do anything to help or stop them (he had to climb a fucking pine to not die, but Alicia followed him and smacked him in the head almost restarting his brain). Anyway, leaving alone that he's an expert in making people furious, he is a soldier as well as most of his family, part of the 10th reconnaissance detachment of the Swiss Special Forces.

He's the third Lancero, wearing the badge just a group before Alicia did, and he's also a hand-to-hand combat specialist. He commands his own team as well, and they work mostly with scorting VIP's to safe places, but also they have their infiltration and rescue missions. And even if he bothers Alicia a lot, he really apreciates his cousin and he was FURIOUS when he learnt about her being MIA. (And this man is a giant as well, it was like looking a demon in a human body)

Alicia Marchant Martínez

(I never get the scars right ;-; but imagine she has them all over her mouth and nose)

We all know Alicia, but let's talk a bit more about her! She's 36 and is younger than Elías for a month, and hates that he reminds her that. She look just like her grandpa, even he says that if she was a man, they could've been twins (speak of powerful genes, huh?). When she's with her siblings they fight a bit because of Camila taking her sister's things without permission or Alicia stealing Camila's food, while Nicolás stop them to kill each other, and when she's with all the cousins...oh dear, what a chaos.

Speaking of her military career, as I told before, she's a hand-to-hand combat specialist as well, and has trained with Elías everytime they find eachother in grandma's house. It makes them the nost dangerous duos inside the family, because they move and think like they were one, they supply for the other weakness. And she's the fourth Lancero, the first woman in the family to have it (but won't be the last one), also has done a short course in the rain forest (why? Because she wanted to, there's no other reason).

She's a way more calm than Elías, but he ignites her bad temper when they are together, and they end up fighting. And yes, she's stubborn, A LOT, that's why she is a Captain right now (and it stresses Luke and Jackson all the time, meanwhile Edward just laughs in the background).

Juan David Martínez Rojas

He's the second youngest of the cousins, but the oldest child of Gabriel and he's 32. Juan David has the worst temper of all family when he's off duty, he's snarky, sarcastic and get's pissed easily. He passes most of his time on his grandparents house, and he's the spoiled one, but still being disciplined.

He's part of the Colombian Army just like his father, and just started his path into the special forces when he was 30. Right now he's part of the DIVFE, detachment ALFA, and he's getting prepared for start the Lanceros course to become the fifth one. He trains all time and is pretty confident in his abilities, but he prefers not to get cocky about it.

When he's with his cousins, he nags Elías a lot and passes most of his time with Camila, while his siblings cling onto Nicolás. He admires his father and grandpa, even his cousins,but that last part he will never admit it.

Camila Marchant Martínez

The 3rd Gen baby even if there are younger cousins, but for some reason she's the baby. Camila is 30 years old and the younger Marchant sibling, also is Jack's favorite because, in his own words, "Cami is the only one who took part of my genes! She has my eyes and my hair...that doesn't mean she doesn't look a lot like you, but it's nice to finally have a kid that decided to look a bit like me!" (Alicia and Nicolás shared a look and laughed after that, it was grandpa's genes fault). And even if she looks so innocent, she's a lil' demon as well, she was the agressive and biter kid during kindergarden.

She isn't military, she's a conflict journalist who has being assigned to many war zones and tense zones to report them. As far as her family knows, she has been sent to Western Sahara (Alicia almost had a heart attack when she heard that), Sudán, Nicaragua, Afghanistan during the war, the Korean Border and Myanmar. In despite her inmature attitude on her daily basis, she is really professional and serious during work, and also really brave when it comes to be under attack during a report.

When she's at home, she just let's herself go and become more or less like a kid, except when Elías starts with his shit. And she's in her way to win a Pulitzer Prize, she has been asking help to his siblings to get some non-confidential details.

[journeysendinlovers]

My dad is starting to realize he's officially old and it's getting weird/interesting.

[silverislander]

so after the prof cancelling like 8 classes in old english, losing quizzes and assignments and grades, never making expectations clear, barely explaining what he was teaching, etc, we didn't complete all of the things on the syllabus and i don't think i can. calculate my grade going into the exam?

there's supposed to have been 9 quizzes with the lowest mark of that 9 dropped; at my best count there was 6 and i have no idea if we can still expect that lowest drop

there was supposed to be two tests and no exam, but i suppose the exam is the second test bc having an exam was his plan from the start and the dept wouldn't allow it so he's doing it via loophole + we did do one test already

we completed 2 translations as expected but i won't have the second one returned before the final exam is due, so no idea how i did on that since i felt ok abt the first one and only got a 50

i also don't have my essay back, which was like 20% and the only thing i've felt confident abt all semester

multiple quizzes and assignments were returned with random numbers on them with no indication of what they were out of (i was given a quiz back with "12" written on the top? 12 out of what? 12%?)

can't find half of the quizzes- i don't think i even have them. i have 1, 3 and 6. we were emailed some of the marks, so they might be in my inbox somewhere? but i don't have the physical quizzes and can't use them to review or like. learn from them

also the prof is out of province rn i think. this is the third time this semester. so i can't meet w him to check up on this

like i need a 65 average in every course to stay in honours, if this course fucked it all up for me i'll lose it i really will. i THINK i'm over that but i have no fucking clue. and not to catastrophize but if i don't get a 65 i can't do my essay next semester and everything is completely set up for me to go do that already, and ofc then i won't graduate in spring and won't get the degree i worked my ass off and paid a fucking exorbitant amt of money for that i am almost finished. i hate this fucking school man

[yawn-emoji]

[bronzebtch]

it's the intimacy in little things: the way she takes her gloves off. the way she lets her full hair down. the way she asks you to join in her hunts.

[moodr1ng]

think i need to figure out some sort of meal that allows me to bulk buy ingredients, prepare in batches easily and then eat the same thing every day cause i reckon thats the only way ill get to a proper diet without burning out immediately.. the question is to figure out something ill both be up to eating daily and which would contain everything i need to eat..

[moralesispunk]

I think you're either team ghost x civilian wife! reader where the rest of the 141 have no idea you exist or team they know and it's a very familial like and I'm the first one

simon who does everything he can to keep you his secret, even more so when your family starts to grow. when he's finished with a mission he will spend the next 48hrs barely sleeping, moving around to make sure no one is on his tail before making it home into your arms.

it's not that he doesn't trust the 141, but you and your family are far too precious to trust anyone with. you've heard the stories of all of the other men, are sure you would need only one look at them to be able to guess which man belongs to the many names he's told you over the years, but you're aware they don't know that you exist.

that on the rare nights simon ventures out to meet them for a sole pint between missions they think he's holed up in some bachelor flat back in manchester, perhaps with a string of women that come and go, but they couldn't be more wrong with his wedding band hidden under his gloves when he's home like now or safely in his drawer at home when he's on missions.

and it's not that he doesn't wish he could shout about you from the rooftops. everyone in your town knows that the big scary man whose face is always conveniently hidden in the shadows has a missus at home who brings your chubby babies to the toddlers and drops your kids off at school.

but the 141 don't know about you, not until enough time has passed since simon retired to consider it safe enough. simon with his aching joints and trembling hands, the ringing in his right ear and back pain that requires at least two, hour long soaks in the bath a week. simon the husband and dad who has butterfly clips in his hair and at least one nail painted from the game of hairdressers his oldest likes to play, a bright pink plaster on his knee to match the youngest, and one hand on your belly at all times with the third (and final in your opinion but simon is working on that) of your brood.

simon who is out for drinks with the 141 three years after retirement and slips and says something about moving house and the hassle, the rest of the men deciding they will help and so simon decides it's finally time. but he doesn't forewarn them about his family before the day, standing in the garden of your packed up house that your family has outgrown while the men stumble out of the van they hired only to stop dead in their tracks when they see you.

you who is waving in the doorway, a toddler on your hip and looking like you're about to pop while another child - maybe six or seven by their guesses - swings from simon's arm, with a dog jumping up paws on his chest. and like the man he is he doesn't explain, just jerks his chin towards the piles of boxes and empty moving van he's started to pack.

"think you can start making a move on that?"

a few hours later and still no explanation from simon, he's in the first van packed with all the furniture and bigger boxes with you and the kids and the guys follow behind, slack jawed and still confused as they stay speechless until they pull up at the new house.

they're still staring at you as you pile out of the first van and you're shaking your head, elbowing simon in the ribs and muttering a "put them out their misery, Si" and they swear they almost drop dead when they see how gently he handles you, an arm around your waist and a kiss to your temple as he guides you and the two gremlins towards the guys while the dog starts sniffing around its new home.

"fellas, this is the missus and kids," he says and you roll your eyes, holding out your hand towards them and introducing yourself by name, adding on the kids who beam up shyly at these strangers.

that seems to shake them out of it. john takes your hand first, shaking and turning to simon with a "you hide her away in case we try to steal her from you?" he winks and you and only grins wider when simon's hand on your hip seems to squeeze tighter. gaz and soap are bending down and coaxing your two girls out of their shyness, complimenting their light up trainers and asking if it makes them run faster before cheering them on as they run to the front door and back.

they set you up on a fold out chair and do all the heavy lifting as you point them and the boxes in their arms to their correct rooms. later, Simon treats them to dinner (a takeaway) and has you sitting on his knee with the girls in bed and for the first time he spends a night with the guys telling you stories of Simon "Ghost" Riley.

"they're lyin' love," he'll mumble in your ear at every story, "don't believe them do ya?" his hand strokes up your back, squeezing your neck.

"yeah, babe, believe you," you say while smiling at the men around your new dining room table, men who have saved your husbands life more times than he can count, and you find yourself curling closer to simon because of that

[bboricha]

y...yes, sir! anything you say, sir! || bori's 1k special - part 1

➳ pairings: al haitham, ayato, baizhu, childe, cyno (separate) x subordinate afab!reader ➳ part 2 with diluc, heizou, tighnari, venti, and zhongli coming soon! ➳ cw: not proofread, a bit of power play (duh... they're your boss), oral (m and f!receiving), dry humping (on a shoe lol and mattress), exhibitionism, deep throating, swallowing, face fucking, dumbification, mentions of impregnation (ayato), marking, mentions of tying up hands, overstimulation, unprotected, aphrodisiac (baizhu), kinda dubcon, fingering, you're a cicin mage in childe's blurb, mention of marriage in ayato's, lmk if i've missed any...!

➳ synopsis: what would happen to you as their subordinate...?

al haitham x secretary afab!reader

you’ve met al haitham several times before… the whole mess all the sages have gotten themselves into. it was only natural, being the grand sage’s secretary and all, you would often deliver documents and knowledge capsules between the two of them. you never really thought too much of the man and neither did he think anything of you. sure, he was, well, younger than some of your colleagues, a vision holder, and… undeniably attractive. 

maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself in this position. underneath the grand sage’s desk with a mouthful of the acting grand sage’s dick. you cannot believe the amount of control this man has talking to a matra with a straight face and unwavering voice despite being balls deep into your throat. not to mention, he keeps fucking his shoe against your clothed cunt and you’re absolutely sure that both his shoe and your panties are drenched at this point. you moan on his cock, the vibrations seemingly doing something for him as you hear his voice audibly hitch and his hand fly immediately for your hair, tugging at it as if to warn you.

it wasn’t your fault, it really wasn’t. if he would just stop using his shoe on you, order the matra to leave, and finally fuck you on his desk, you both wouldn’t be in this predicament. you’re almost led to believe that maybe he likes the idea of being caught, but then it dawns on you that he just actually likes seeing you anxious. this asshole only likes seeing you in this predicament, because he couldn’t care less about what others think about him. caution to the wind, you guess, and gulp down another whine, swallowing and stretching your throat out to make room for him even deeper as he digs the tip of his stiff sole against your clit. 

you’re so close and you can feel that al haitham is too. with the way his dick is twitching in your mouth, you decide to speed up your ministrations and apparently so has al haitham. you tune in a bit, noticing that their conversation is about to end as he hits a certain spot, noticing you falter and begins to abuse it. it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet with how his shoe works itself so well against your cunt, your slick aiding in the feeling. you’re about to pull out to cover your mouth when you hear the door click shut as al haitham pushes your head, your nose hitting his abdomen with ropes of his cum sticking to your throat. you’re shaking at the feeling—at the fact that him using you like a fucking sleeve made that coil snap and you spill your essence all over his shoe.

he yanks you up from your knees before the cogs in your brain could generate another thought, forcing your mouth open by pushing down your tongue with his thumb, making sure you’ve swallowed every last drop.

“you’re a competent secretary, by the way. i can see why you were kept around—your services are much needed everyday in my office.”

kamisato ayato x retainer afab!reader

you grew up with the kamisatos, your family serving them as their retainers. your parents served the former heads while you were taught from a young age to serve their heirs. when the former kamisato heads had passed, your parents began to serve ayato, until he had dismissed them—told them they should retire and enjoy themselves—something he had wished his parents had the chance to do as well. and so you inevitably became his personal retainer again. not that you were complaining, no, but it was different from when the two of you were children. things like helping him bathe, get dressed, and aiding him at the crack of dawn—it just wasn’t the same anymore.

especially considering that tending to his nightly duties included him being balls deep inside of you. face down, ass up, your kimono disheveled and almost in tatters, ayato muttering something about how he’ll buy you a new one, one that he’ll personally pick out—to him, it’ll be a sign of ownership. he kept his focus on plowing into you, gripping your hips so hard every night that you’re afraid you might find indents of his fingers one day, your insides already having molded to the shape of his dick.

you’re biting his sheets, trying so hard to not make a noise when he pulls out, maneuvering you over onto your back. he slips a thumb into your mouth as you suckle on it, much to his enjoyment, as he tells you to not muffle yourself. he pushes his length back inside, bottoming out when he caresses his hand over the bulge, admiring the sight and drags his hand back to your hips (where it belongs) and begins thrusting yet once again. you’re full on moaning now, relishing in the way ayato hits every place that makes your eyes roll back with his fingers playing with your clit, making the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter with every thrust.

when your orgasm hits, your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, blocking out any sounds leaving your mouth and covering yourself so ayato doesn’t see what a blushing mess you are. he tsks to himself, one that you can hear, but quickly throws whatever thought he had away, replacing it with the idea that he has all night to rid of those hands that’s hiding your beauty from him. perhaps maybe with your obi, or maybe a bright, red rope? how about both? what other sounds will he be able to hear tonight, what cries will he be able to coax out of you, he wonders, melodies that he can’t wait to hear.

his cock twitches inside of you at his own imagination. he leans down, his body almost flush against yours as he kisses your temple, placing a hand on the top of your head as his thrusts suddenly increase in speed, signaling him close to release. you’re whining at the overwhelming sensation, biting into his shoulder to help muffle your moans when ayato stills, pushing himself as deep as he can reach as he cums inside, his warmth filling you up.

“if this sticks, maybe this will give you a reason to finally marry me.”

baizhu x assistant afab!reader

you’ve been baizhu’s helper since he saved your life a few years ago. he had found you battered up and injured when he was visiting qingce village. it was only after he took you back to bubu pharmacy to take care of you, a complete stranger, were you able to recover. you didn’t know how else to pay him back, nor did you really have anywhere else better to go, so you asked for him to take you in, and he obliged, greatly appreciating the help. he especially appreciates your help in aiding him develop a new medicine.

one that involves his hand in your underwear. he coated the “medicine” on his tips of his fingers before shoving it down your pants, caressing it against your clit, massaging the substance in your insides. he pushes a finger to your entrance slowly, coaxing it in as it begins to make you tingle, your body heating up. you’re starting to get needy, grabbing at baizhu’s wrist when he keeps going agonizingly slow, and to your surprise, he lightly pushes your hand off. he says you have to be patient, that he’s making sure you’re properly absorbing the medicine, that he doesn’t want to hurt you, telling you all of this with a grin, not showing any hint of concern.

he finally pushes in a second finger, making you cum instantly around his fingers to his delight. it’s working beautifully on you, perhaps a little too well when you grab the hem of his jacket as he’s about to pull away, asking for more. he wasn’t actually going to stop, it’s not like he went in this purely for research purposes, but the way your cheeks are flushed, beads of sweat dripping down into the crevices of your shirt, the rise and fall of your chest from him riling you up—it’s enticing. he’ll just have to make a mental note for later and tend to you now, after all, it’d be cruel of him to leave you like this when you’re asking so nicely, right?

he tells to come to the edge of the bed, enough so that your ass is almost hanging off as he peels off your underwear, watching how it clings to your messy cunt, sticky with your cum and slick. he wets his lips in anticipation, wondering how well your essence has soaked up the aphrodisiac as he licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste. he can already feel it getting to him as well, the residue or whatever was left on you, he figures, is still doing its job. either from the high of knowing how effective his medicine is or the effects really kicking in, he starts to eat you out with fervor, lapping up everything you have to give him, the noise so obscene that they bounce off the walls of his room.

you don’t have the time to feel ashamed by how loud it is, your hands going to tug on his hair as he grunts in response, the vibration of it ripples against you making you moan. he focuses his tongue on your clit, licking and suckling the tiny bud as he shoves two fingers into you, saying something about how you’re still tight even after an orgasm and his drug combined. he’s rutting himself against the mattress of his bed, his clothed cock desperate for any sort of friction as he feels you tightening up around his fingers for a second time tonight.

he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out as he watches you unravel on his tongue, the sight one to behold. he gently fucks you on his fingers through your orgasm as he cums against his tight pants, slurping up your release as he stands up, unzipping himself to reveal his still hard length.

“there are still more tests to run, i’m afraid, before i can put this medicine on… our shelves, you see.”

childe x cicin mage afab!reader

you, a regular cicin mage, have been assigned to work closely under the 11th harbinger, tartaglia, your immediate response being nothing but a simple “fuck.” you’ve met the harbinger before and you immediately didn’t know how to feel about him. he was so… odd? so… kind? compared to the other harbingers at least, and on the contrary you actually felt the need to be even more wary with him. your first couple months working under him were quite fine. in fact, he was a great boss, he was kind and understanding and after a bit, you’ve completely adapted to being by his side. 

that is until he drags you to a harbinger meeting, forcing you to sit next to him as he places a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. he’s stroking the soft flesh, his pinky occasionally brushing over your clit, covered by your leotard. you’re lucky that the other harbingers can’t see what’s going on, though, they seemed to not care for your existence and presence at the meeting anyways. you try to brave up, attempting to push his hand away when he doesn’t relent, completely ignoring any signals you’ve been giving him, participating in the meeting as if he’s absolutely unfazed.

he goes from being subtle to shameless rubbing the nub, not hiding his intentions whatsoever, especially when he pushes your leotard to the side, playing with you skin to skin. your hands cover your mouth, not caring about what the other harbingers might think at this point when tartaglia dips a finger inside your entrance, slowly coaxing it in as he watches your expression, choosing to put in a second. the stretch is divine, two of his fingers already proving to be larger and deft, feeling better than whatever you might be able to do to yourself, and you’re confused. how is he touching you so skillfully? as if he’s already familiar with your walls and every crevice, curling the tips of his fingers to hit your favorite spot with every thrust.

you’re unaware of the obscene noises the two of you have been making, painfully unaware of how the jester has already brought this meeting to an end, some of the harbingers completely ignoring you both as they exit, others shaking their heads in disgust. you’re resting your head against your arms on the table, trying your best to hold in your moans despite having no reason to do so at this point while tartaglia gets more bold with his movements, ripping your leotard for better access and movement.

the squelching sounds and your heavy breaths bounce around the walls of the wide hall, ricocheting back towards you, only adding to your nearing release. tartaglia can feel the way you’re tightening around his fingers, fastening his ministrations until you cum. he groans at your pussy convulsing against him, the bulge in his pants growing larger and larger as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“darling, i think you’re gonna have to… work overtime tonight, am i clear?”

cyno x matra afab!reader

you’ve never really been a good subordinate, always skipping out on meetings as you deem them unnecessary, opting out on drinking with your colleagues, never listening to cyno. it’s not like you can help it, honestly. you have your own way of doing things and you still manage to get the job done regardless, so is there really any harm to your methods? technically no, and cyno has yet to really do anything substantial that could threaten your position, so you decide to test his patience.

his patience that apparently isn’t limitless, you’ve figured out. by…well, you know, the way he’s fucking you against the shelves in the house of daena. he’s keeping you captive, trapping your body with his as it takes all of your willpower and concentration to not make any noise—to not attract any attention towards you both. his chest is flush against yours, his cock fully submerged within you as you grip the shelf for some sort of purchase with one hand, the other desperately covering your mouth.

you can feel his breath, hear every groan that escapes his lips right next to your ear, the sensation only turning you on even further as his hand finds its way underneath your shirt, choosing to play with your nipple. he gives a particularly sharp thrust, as if he’s trying to elicit some sort of noise from you, saying something about how he’s been needing a reason to punish you, about he’s been waiting for this “opportunity” for a long time. his words are lost on you, could you not comprehend simple sentences anymore or was he spouting pure nonsense? you’re not sure, your head foggy from how slow he’s going, how he would suddenly snap his hips against yours, how sometimes he’d suckle on the nape of your neck or bite your shoulder, the figure eights on your clit, everything is driving you absolutely insane.

the general mahamatra, someone you figured whose sex drive was nonexistent, is throwing you for a loop today. someone who is more well endowed than you would’ve imagined, someone who’s filling you up oh so perfectly, the head of his dick kissing your cervix in ways that makes stars float right before your eyes.

at this point you’re tempted to place both of his hands on your hips, to urge him to fuck you right then and there in the house of daena, and you do, but all he does is grip your hips tightly, not budging an inch as he smirks against your shoulder.

“this is a punishment, remember? have i fucked you so stupid already that you’ve forgotten?”

➳ an: wow look at all those tags! also i literally have no idea why childe's banner thingy is so fkn blurry compared to the others... akhdkahsd

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[babygirl-riley]

Welcome Home

You surprise Simon at the base instead of being at home. You also think about how far he has come to acceptance.

Warnings: mentions of sexual acts, fluff, dad!simon, angst, pregnancy

“I’ve fallen for it, I’ve fallen for it somehow.”

A/N: THE PART TWO DAD!SIMON FROM @ave661 IS KILLLINGGGG ME! Seriously chokehold she has me in ALL the time with her art. 😭

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

You called Price beforehand, asked him if it was alright to surprise Simon. You wanted to show up at the base with your baby girl waiting for him. Like you always do. Thankfully and full heartedly he agreed, he even added that he is excited to see his niece. On the way to the base you felt excitement as you played music for both you and your baby.

Your baby gabbles as she plays with hanging baby toys on her car seat. Simon has been gone for a month, it has been so long and you were so excited. He missed having her first tooth, which he will be so excited to see.

Once you got you and your child out of the car you headed to the inside of the base. “141 will be landing in 5 minutes ma’am.” A man said guiding you to the tarmac. “Captain Price said to meet them there.”

You followed the solider to the direction of the tarmac. You knew very well where it was at, a year ago you were on the team for 141 but decided to retire once you found out you were pregnant. Memories littered the hallways as you held your baby close.

“No.” He mumbled as you both stood in your room. He didn’t move for a moment, you thought he was going to leave and not come back for hours. Simon doesn’t do well with emotions but the last couple of months, he has been able to open up more. Now this. You didn’t know how he was going to react let alone what he was going to do.

It was clear, two lines, one word, 6 tests. You and Simon have been in secret for 2 years, established a relationship in a year. You played with your hands as nerves started to kick in. “I thought you were on birth control.” Simon said looking up at you, his eyes only to be shown. The skull mask looking at you.

“I am.” You said your heart slowly hurting, you knew that he never wanted a kid. You knew of his past so this was a joke for the both of you. It was frowned upon when a lieutenant would be sleeping with their sergeant. Hell damn near court marshaled.

Simon looked back down at the tests. He can’t. He won’t. His mind racing a million miles an hour. How could he explain this one to Price? How could you hide a belly on the force? Is there a way for it to be a secret anymore? He cursed himself for loving the fact that he could breed you. It was a new found kink, with him thinking of his cum coating your walls. Simon never broadcast it to you. Telling you that seeing a belly got him feral, thinking about how your body would react to his gift. But…It’s just…is it too soon? Was he ready? Surely he couldn’t be.

“I can get…”

“No,” He cut you off before looking up at you. “This…Not that. ‘M,” his voice trailed. No abortion, he won’t put your body through hell just because both of you didn’t want to wrap it. “I just-I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either,” You whispered walking slowly up to him. “But we can figure this out?”

Simon nodded once still looking at the tests. You waited as he stood there and sighed. “We have to tell Price now.”

“Here is the tarmac,” The solider said breaking you from your thoughts. “It looks like they have just landed.”

You mumbled a thank you as soldiers came out one by one from the plane. All covered in dirt or blood, tired written on their faces. You frowned knowing that Simon felt the same, it couldn’t have gone the way it suppose to.

You smiled as you walked out watching Gaz come out first, happy surprise on his face. He looked to the side of him to see Soap, who smiled at you nodded. Price smiled, heading towards the direction you were before stopping. Simon, walked out last, almost stopped in his tracks.

Smile beaming on his face underneath the skull mask. His girls. He be-lined to you and your baby girl. His heart beating quickly, as excitement coursed through his veins.

Price stood as both of his teammates broke the news. He had his suspicions of them fucking around but not together. He itches his beard as your tears start to mellow out. Simon was not looking at him but folding his arms while leaning against the wall.

It was like two of his kids came home after school to get hounded at. It was amusing if Price wasn’t angry. Yes. He was at first, his lieutenant and his best sniper in a bit of a bind. She has to be discharged no way will Price NOR Simon let her go out in the field. Especially since they voiced they are keeping the kid.

“We keep it low,” Price finally spoke watched as both of you looked up. “We have to slowly discharge you, not try to have eyes on the situation until then. No missions for you.”

You nodded, first time every has he seen you so shy. Timid. Usually you had confidence written all over you. “Yes sir.” You mumbled looking away.

Price looked at Simon. “I want to have a discussion with you,” He looked at you as you stared at him. You both are young, younger than him anyway. He seen how Simon’s demeanor changed throughout the years when you came on the force. Of course no one else saw it, but Price did. He always knew. “Dismissed Sargent.”

Your baby squealed with delight as she bounced in your arms. “Da! Da!” She yelled as Simon walked over, having heads turn to see the little baby showed her excitement. Simon did take note that she knew who he was and in fact used ‘dada.’

Simon almost damn near sprinted as he walked up to both of you. You let him take your baby as he grabbed her, she screamed laughed, as he rose her to the air. Holding her sides gently but firm. She is so tiny compared to him, she kicked her feet softly in the air, laughing her little head off. Simon loves that sound, the sound of pure joy coming from her. To the point he didn’t give a damn who was around them. Simon was never a shower when it came to his private life, but when she was around wow, he would make sure everyone knew who she was.

Simon sat across the table from you, your bump more noticeable, 6 months to be exact. He still couldn’t believe that what was growing inside you was his. Part of him. Something that he would have never thought would be done. Or have. You have become more aware and accepting of having the child. Yet he still hasn’t.

“I know it will take time Si,” You said knowing always what he was thinking. Simon snapped his eyes up at you, he felt guilt for sure. You were just honorable discharged and he stayed in the force. “I can’t make you feel happy about this. But…But I know eventually you will.”

He didn’t believe you until one night he laid between your legs as you rubbed the back of his head. Simon chuckled lightly at the tv show you were both watching right when it happened,felt a small poke to his head, he froze, you felt him tense. “What…what that?”

You giggled lowly as you rubbed your belly. “It’s the baby,” He still didn’t move when he felt it again. “She moves a lot when you make any sort of noise.” Simon rose slightly, looking up at you, curiously. You grabbed his hand and placed it where she was. His eyes trained on his hand. “Say something.” You whispered.

Simon looked at you unsure before clearing his throat. “Uh, hello baby girl.” It took a second before he felt the bump move to his hand. A soft graze. He snapped his eyes up at you and tears brimming your eyes, nodding. Encouraging him to continue. Simon’s eyes started to water, everything hitting, even when she isn’t out here she was wanting him. Knowing that he is her dad. And she was his baby.

His hand rubbed your belly. “‘Ight ass kicker. I’m happy to hear ya too.”

“Hello my angels,” He said as slowly held her close to him. Her head cradled inside of his neck. Her hands gripping his uniform. He placed a hand on the back of her hand holding her close. You smiled as he placed his other gloved hand on your cheek. “Why ya ‘ere?”

“I couldn’t wait at home,” You stated as people passed the both of you. “She couldn’t either,” you bumped your shoulder against his. “Told you it was dada.” You teased talking about the last time you both were on the phone. Her screaming ‘da da da,’ knowing damn well it was her daddy on the phone. Simon would tease and say that she got your intelligence since she was only 5 months.

Simon chuckled rolling his eyes, turning his head as she rose from his shoulder. She started towards his skull mask gripping the bottom of it. “Not yet sweethear,’” he whispered gently grabbing her hands. “We are gonna debrief it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Lass,” You laughed as the scottish came up from behind Simon. Slapping his back. “Oh well hello little miss.” He scratched softly underneath her chin. She laughed again shaking her head as she clung onto her dad. “Yer playing hard to get now?” He teased and looked at you.

“Hey Johnny,” You laughed reaching for your baby. She came to you with ease, which you mentally sighed in relief, hoping that she wouldn’t ball her little eyes out when she watched her dad leave. “We will wait on the cafeteria.”

Simon placed his forehead against yours. “It will be quick.” He whispered.

You nodded as you watched them all file into the base. Your baby holding onto you cooing. “Why don’t you ever get that excited to see me,” You playfully glared poking her stomach. She giggled swatting your finger away. “Brat.” You laughed taking her and you to the cafeteria.

[hecateslore]

olderboyfriend!Simon thoughts

most definitely buy's you a gun as an anniversary present, and you almost scream. You tell him to take it back and he says hell nah! Eventually you like the gun and going to the ranges with Simon.

He say's things like, "I'm even better with a knife." and it's true, you watch him skin oranges and lemons to the pulp... extremely precise. You watch him with a confused face, internally screaming at the way he cuts them so smoothly and quickly.

"Hold this." He'll say as he takes the gun out of the glove compartment, whenever he's looking for something random like a tool.

Simon Riley is the king of fuck around and find out, anything is a weapon, you learned the hard way when you saw him throw a patio chair at a guy who tried to steal your car at three in the morning. Yes it was hot and yes after the police left you guys had hot steamy sex...

Extremely neat. military habits! That's until you come into his life, you're a bit messy, he doesn't mind but if there are crumbs anywhere but the table, he will freak out.

is a kisser, will kiss anything, your foot if he has too, knee, calves, shin, shoulder blade, forehead, ear, lips chin. He rlly doesn't care.

Not a big reader, thought it was stupid before and still thinks it is.

He is tech savvy though. fast typer, it kind of freaks you out to watch him fill out paper work on the computer, he types faster than you.

Has been almost everywhere in the world, absolutely HATES the heat. Loves water though, get that man to a beach now. He will swim for hours, and will lay on the sand, he always wanted to retire and live near a beach, somewhere sunny, but not too sunny.

Will talk about you in front of you and will act as if you're not there. Super good at ignoring people, he ignores you when he's pissed all the time. He will shut off his phone if you text him while he’s ignoring you. One time you wrote a note right in front of his face, stuck it on the fridge, he grabbed it and tossed it in the trash.

Very petty man.

Sleeps in total darkness, and will wait until your in a deep sleep to unplug your nightlight.

Super light on his feet, yes he scares you a lot.

Un-ironically listens to Tom jones, and does a really good impression that you make him do whenever he's drunk. Yes you guys watch flushed away almost every other week. it's a guilty pleasure film.

Very flirty, very smooth and extremely charming. and I need him in every hole- *gunshot*