you can’t convince me these men wouldn’t appreciate a pair of plush, pillowy thighs.
price keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh during long drives. fingers flexing, tapping every now and then. sometimes jiggling them, whether he realises it or not.
when there hasn’t been another car for quite some time, his hand starts to wander higher along the inside of your thigh. he just grunts when you glance at him.
“need somethin’ to keep me awake, love.”
honestly? you stop pretending to mind. not when you know those thick fingers can work absolute magic.
simon likes seeing evidence of himself on you. rough hand gripping until faint fingerprints bloom across your skin.
he’ll stare at them afterward. there’s something deeply possessive in the way he looks over the marks, eyes going darker by the second.
“look at tha’,” he murmurs, voice rough enough to send heat down your spine. “fits me hand perfect, don’t it.”
it’s a proof that you’re real. and his.
johnny would be shameless about it. pinching your thighs every chance he gets just to hear you complain about him being annoying.
the real danger starts when his teeth suddenly sink into the meat of your thigh like some needy mutt, just enough to make you jolt.
then he kisses and licks the mark like that fixes anything. grinning widely when he sees the imprint he left behind.
“coulnae help maself, bonnie.”
kyle is gone the second he rests his head in your lap. completely gone. the way you play gently with his curls, fingers massaging his scalp while his eyes flutter shut…
it would make any man melt.
“my sweet girl takin’ such good care of me.”
but be aware, this soft man might turn feral in a moment, fighting the overwhelming urge to drag his tongue along the inside of your thigh just to hear the sound you’d make for him.
graves is totally not staring at how your thighs fill out those slacks today.
he insists on wedging onto the couch beside you that is clearly too small for two people, “helping” you dig through stacked folders for a contract that he misplaced.
when he runs his mouth again to defend himself, you nudge your thigh to push him out of the way.
“careful, darlin’.” he catches your thigh before you can pull away, thumb pressing slow into the soft flesh there. “keep this up and i’m gonna forget we’re workin’.”
alejandro’s hands always drift to your thighs whenever he pulls you close. you’re never safe wearing a shorter skirt or dress near him.
loves putting you on top of the counter, spreading your legs just enough so he can stand between them with heat in his eyes.
“how’s a man supposed to stay respectful with these thighs wrapped around him, cariño?”
the worst part? that devastating grin turns downright smug when your legs part wider for him without you even realizing it.
and rudy - our sweet, disciplined rudy - pretends to be better than the rest of them.
but one look at your thighs in shorts and suddenly he’s wishing for the old rosary his abuela gave him years ago, the one sitting forgotten on the bedside table shelf.
he shuts his eyes with a quiet curse in spanish.
“dios mío you’re gonna be the death of me.”
as if gripping those worn beads could save him from every impure thought clawing through his head right now.
…and if any of these men ever catch you feeling insecure about your thighs - hating their size, disgusted by those dimples and ripples of cellulite, yada yada yada - best believe they’ll have many ways of reminding you just how much they love them.
⤷ MASTERLIST
a/n is this self-indulgent? yes. much love to all the girlies out there who are insecure with their thighs 🫶
being a little slow with reqs srry about that (not proofread i fell asleep 3x while writing this)
ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з
Watching COD Men workout :3 (and getting caught-)
:‹ Price...
He didn't think anything of it when he casually announced to you he would be working out, he was already walking towards the bedroom to change as he left you on the couch scrolling on your phone, except you IMMEDIATELY stopped scrolling and raised an eyebrow but his back was already to you, walking away
You sat up, putting your phone down you waited and listened for when he would walk out of the bedroom, you observed him walk past with lighter clothes and a towel
You followed him as he made his way to the little workout area he had set up in your home (according to him this was better than going to the gym), and watched as he started working out
Despite the jokes others often threw at him, he was pretty fit, you practically drooled as you watched him lift, and THANK GOD he wore shorts today because when he started visibly sweating???
Not to mention the sounds of his grunts made you fumble in your pocket for your phone, your fingers tried opening the camera app but it was difficult when your eyes were focused on him
You took your eyes off of him for ONE second as you looked down at your phone, and when you aimed it up to take a video you jumped back, flinching when you noticed his chest was taking up all of your camera's view
He had walked up to you while you were busy making sure the angle was just right to capture all of him, you barely registered when he asked why you wouldn't just join him
:‹ Simon...
Bruh he KNOWS you ain't got a single athletic bone in your body so why are you at the gym every time he so happens to be there?!? You certainly didn't go some digging around and ask the only other person he interacts with.. not like you'd ever do that, that's crazy haha
What's sad is that this man covers up more than a Victorian era lady, even when working there's no chance you'll see him wearing tight tank tops or shorts, he's somehow able to keep this up even during the summer, man and you were so looking forward to seeing him show some skin :(
^Although adding to that, you go feral when you so much as get to see his veiny hands when he takes off his gloves and readjusts them, Simon hears growling and he wonders if Riley got loose but no that's just you
No one else says anything when they walk past you and you're watching Simon like a hawk watches its meal, and man you wished you could take a bite out of those thighs-
:‹ Johnny...
He would assume you're just trying to take pics for inspiration or something, just like how it's totally normal for him to have pics of another dude he really admires because it's something called "motivation"
And sure it might be a little weird when he's taking a break, is taking a sip of his water but accidentally spills some on his shirt making it cling to his chest and you without waiting a single second pull out your phone
Also, he hears the camera shutter go off like every three minutes to the point that it unnerves him, but when he turns around you pretend you're taking a selfie (you DEFNITELY weren't zooming in on him..)
At some point he comes up behind you, takes your phone out of your hands and no matter how hard you try punching him there's just no way you're getting your phone back...
:‹ Kyle...
One day when he's about to leave for the gym he's surprised to see you wanting to tag along, he agrees and opens the door for you to get into the car, he's glad you want to come along with him and maybe start a routine yourself
But you know the REAL reason why you're going to that gym, you're so ready to get some closeups of him in his workout clothes all sweaty and grunting you're already drooling just thinking about it, Kyle looks over thinking you're hungry poor thing, and you are.. but not for food mwehheh
Once there you pretend to find something to do but make sure you find a good spot to watch him from, you practically steal the spot from some gym bro who was doing his warmup
You know it's prime time when Kyle gets on that treadmill and you get a nice view from behind, he has his headphones on so you don't think he would notice if you stared a little, right?
Wrong he saw you ogling from the mirror and you shamelessly grinned at him and took off
:‹ Roach...
You giggled maliciously to yourself as you saved yet another picture of Roach working out that a fellow soldier had taken and sent to you
Poor Roach didn't know why his buddies would ALWAYS take a mandatory photo every time they worked out, something about "keeping track of the progress" but those photos are really just getting sent to one person who demands to have a new photo every day (you)
You have an entire album dedicated to him working out, it’s not common so you consider these pictures rare and therefore cannot be seen by anyone else
That is until Roach himself accidentally comes across them when you’re admiring them when you think no one is around, but you make the mistake of letting your guard down and falling asleep with your phone unlocked
Roach was the unfortunate victim to walk by and catch a glimpse of your phone screen, backing up and taking a closer look…
:‹ Alejandro...
You love looking at his arms, you do it every chance you get, and what better chance to stare at him than when he's working out? You're a mosquito the way you're attracted to the veins on his arms and hands when he's doing exercise or hard work
Is it wrong to want to watch those beefy muscles at work?! You love it when he goes to blow off some steam and he's just absolutely beating the shit out of that punching bag, you wish you were that punching ba- WOAH. Something about having him stir up your insides-
That lovesick, dumb look on you scares people a little, especially because you're sat there for however long Alejandro decides to workout that day, which can be long or short depending on how he's feeling
He finds out because whenever he checks ur socials you somehow always have the latest pic of him working out alongside some freak caption that can only be the result of a person down BAD
:‹ Rodolfo...
Oh you just KNOW how strong his back muscles are it drives you insane to think how lucky the other soldiers at base are when they most likely see those muscles at work a lot more often than you do
It's silly really, you could just ask him to take his shirt off and he'd listen to anything you ask of him, but there's something sweeter in watching him workout, unaware that you're there watching
You're supposed to be running a few laps yourself but you can't help but become distracted by how tight his shirt has gotten now that it's clung to his skin due to the sweat rolling off of him, you trip over yourself but you don't even feel the pain as your head is still turned his way
He's noticed, seen your nosebleed and runs over, all worried as he holds a tissue to your face, but you barely answers his worried questions as you're just stare shamelessly at his chest, he takes your silence as a sign of you being disoriented and pulls you up so quick you're barely processing it except for the fact that his arms are around you and pulling you into his side
and yes you have a stupid grin plastered on your face so you look insane lol
:‹ Phillip...
You're pissed the Shadows tattled on you and told their boss about you watching him workout, can't a girl/guy have hobbies?!?
But if you're telling me he wouldn't like that? You're lying. He's prob set you up a front row seat, tease you about how your little camera won't do him justice, observe with your eyes and see it up close, yeah?
Catching you staring, eyes absolutely stuck to him, mind mush by the time he's done taken his shirt off because of how "intense" that workout was, all your reactions feed into his ego that's already big enough as is
It starts getting a little weird for him when you ask how his workout was and then mentioned a really specific set of workouts he did just that day, like how do you know exactly how many times he did squats?
:‹ Makarov...
How amusing.. he may have thought you simply were in awe of how strong he was, you've seen his scars and admire him, right? Wrong, your honor they are all freaks and only wish to see that layer of sweat form over his skin as he works those muscles and limbs
This is the only moment you see him uncover himself and you can admire the markings on his skin, you don't know it but he's being generous letting you observe, anyone else wouldn't have this chance
You're barely thinking, not like you ever do when around him, just snapping picture after picture and smiling until he one day demands for your phone, he can't risk you leaking something, he has enemies everywhere after all, no?
But he allows you keep watching because.. idk why maybe he likes it or sum idk
:‹ Keegan...
You think he doesn't notice you staring but he does, that man can notice anything around him within a certain radius, so you aren't exactly slick when you ask him to help you pick up some boxes and carry them, he knows you're plenty capable of doing it yourself
Why you want him to do it is beyond him tbh, but you don't miss the opportunity to stare as he bends over to pick the boxes up and pressing up to two or three against his chest as he carries them over
He doesn't know how or why but you've somehow have been able to figure out his exact workout schedule, he has a routine when it comes to this stuff.. usually it's at night that he prefers because the place is empty and somehow he can always see you obscured in the shadows observing him
He's caught you stealing his spare shirt he keeps in his bag once he's changed, he had to wrestle that thing away from you because who would actually wants a sweaty and used shirt? You apparently
You're not being subtle either whenever you bring up how he'd "benefit" from getting tighter workout clothes to allow him to move freely
:‹ König...
For fun you'd join König and "help" him workout.. how? Well he's a big guy so sometimes for a challenge you'll sit on his back while he does pushups or something, but he's confused as to why you always without fail insist to set up your phone to record the workouts
You even buy one of those clip on mics so you can get the sound of his labored breaths, he questions it silently but never outright asks you, you'll listen to it later with headphones to capture EVERYTHING, you might even download it and listen to it like on a cd or have it saved on your phone, you play it every night religiously and it has you sleeping like a baby by the time the recording is over
You wish you could see him workout in a compression shirt or perhaps be lucky and see him without a shirt but that's a bit of a stretch, and what's worse is that he doesn't seem to know what he does to you!
:‹ Horangi...
You lament the fact that you don’t get to see those muscles as often as you’d like to, so you take to watching him whenever he works out, the tiger for once isn't doing the stalking and is instead being watched
While working out, he's wearing one of those tank tops he so much loves, he gets hot a lot for no apparent reason, and all of his previous shirts were so musty you went out a bought him new ones, except he complained about how most of them were long sleeved so you ended up cutting the sleeves right off and making a mental note to only purchase tank tops next time
You just seen him lifting and you're a mess, a puddle on the floor if you will, and it takes everything in you to not let out demonic screeching when he flexes his biceps, checking in the mirror
Except he jump scares you when you notice he's been looking at you through the mirror
:‹ Nikto...
you must've been knocked out and lost half of your good braincells if you're asking NIKTO to work out with you, not that he won't but most people wouldn't ask the guy who delivers straight up insane lines while aiming at targets, you know?
"you say you're okay?" he asks confused as he has you in a headlock, this.. isn't even a workout anymore it's just sparring which wasn't what he originally had in mind but whatever
your cheeks are squished, his sweat is transferring onto your skin and you can smell his sweat but you wouldn't trade places with anyone else right now, in fact this is where you'd like to stay for a while so you try and stall, you freak
later when he's doing squats you position yourself a little behind him and pretend you're doing pushups but you've become distracted and are now instead just lying on the floor, your head propped up on both your hands as your feet swing in the air behind you, that perverted smile on your face
it slightly unnerves Nikto when he catches you staring in the mirror but doesn't say anything, from now on he just declines to you whenever you ask to workout with him
Omg I just discovered your 141 imagines and I’m addicted! I’ve been scrolling for miles. Could I request a throw back for the One Bed trope with Alejandro or Rudy?
Or? Or? Babes. Anon. You're getting both. Can't dangle those two beautiful men in front of me and ask me to choose. That's cruel (it's not I'm just being dramatic.) Please enjoy the smut. :)
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra x Female Reader (reader is Mexican)
Content & Warnings: oral sex, unprotected piv, creampie, mention of trafficking, prior trauma, past relationships, rough sex, coworkers that fuck
Word Count: 2k
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
Alejandro Vargas
Dampness sticks to your skin. Moisture blooms on the aged concrete walls. Distantly, you hear water dripping, slow and steady like a leaky faucet.
“It’s not much,” comes Alejandro’s voice as he enters the small room. “But you’re safe here.”
Here is a hole in the ground, just a rotten board covering a metal door in the earth, and a ladder leading to semi-darkness. The safe house Alejandro brought you to is completely remote, a sanctuary from the fallout following the assassination of the leader of the region’s cartel. A murder you helped execute with your red-painted lips.
Small and cramped, the lone room in the underground safehouse is sparse. There’s a worn mattress on a metal frame with a few blankets piled in the middle. In the corner is a faded wood bookcase minus a shelf and smelling of rot.
It’s only a few days.
Alejandro coughs, your gaze shifting from the bookcase to him.
“They don’t know it’s me?” you ask, voice cracking.
Alejandro’s mouth twitches. “Have a shower.” He jerks his head to the right. “Through that door.”
Frowning, you step forward. Alejandro shifts back as you peer out in the short hall. There’s a ladder, and two doors, one of which stands open. From it, you can just make out the edge of a cracked sink.
“Down here?”
Alejandro inclines his head. “Runs on a hand pump. Water won’t be warm. But it’ll do the job.” He reaches out, almost absently, lightly cradling your check. Gaze roaming, your savior frowns. “You’ll want the blood off you.”
Clarity comes, your arm rising, hand pressing to the front of your dress. It crackles and crunches, thick and hardened with blood. Not yours, but of the man that kept you, showed you off when his wife and kids weren’t around. Men with power love to parade their pretty things. Now, he’s composed of rotting flesh and splattered brain matter.
Alejandro’s hand drops to your elbow, “I’ll find you some clean clothes.”
Robotically nodding, you shuffle toward the bathroom. There’s a toilet, the cracked sink with a matching cracked mirror, and shower that’s just a off-pale green curtain, a showerhead, and a drain in the floor.
You don’t shut the door, stripping in full view, turning the crank in the wall. Behind the wall, a pipe rattles, and then clear cold water bursts from the showerhead. It pebbles your nipples, brings a shiver to your skin, but it’s washing away the blood, softening it until is runs down your body and circles the drain.
“I’ve brought—”
Alejandro’s voice falters. You glance over your shoulder, finding him standing in the doorway, gaze averted from your naked body. Too focused on removing the blood, you never shut the curtain.
He clears his throat. “Found a towel. Clean clothes.” Failing, Alejandro’s gaze shifts to your body, works his way up until he meets your eyes. Your savior glances away again. “Have a few storage boxes,” he explains, as if you wanted to know where he found them. “Smell a bit musty.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, reaching for the offered towel as the water sputters out.
Alejandro walks in, bringing the towel closer. He stands there, stoic and observing, watching as you dry yourself and dress. The clothes don’t fit, too large, but it’ll do. It’s better than the blood.
“I’ll take the floor,” says Alejandro, backing away.
“No,” you say quickly, darting forward without thought, grasping Alejandro’s wrist.
He’s surprised as you, lips parting slightly as he takes you in. This isn’t a man you’ve just met. For months, Alejandro sought you out, stalking your every step, emerging from the shadows when prying eyes were absent. Always flirting, always insisting, negotiating to the point of exasperation. Fear came first, for your life and his, but you were never caught, not even gossiped about.
His favored would never. Not the gorgeous thing that sat in his lap. That spent more time with him than his wife and kids. That never had a choice to begin with because you don’t say no when a drug kingpin offers to pay for your abuela’s cancer treatment in exchange for being his mistress. The monster that paraded you in front of his men, fucked you in front of them, enjoyed coming inside you without birth control but never liked when you ended up pregnant. Those always had to go away. Can’t have bastard children running around.
Alejandro whispers your name the same way he did when he dragged you from the slaughterhouse. Bullets flew. Blood sprayed. You, curled up on the ground, crying. And then Alejandro, wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up and away.
“I don’t bite,” you smile.
Alejandro chuckles, the corner of his mouth quirking. “That’s a shame.”
Your stomach flips, squeezes. This is the Alejandro who pursued you, gained your trust, and helped you escape. The one who flirted with you, the man you eagerly awaited until his next appearance. Alone with him, hidden in this bunker, you’ve never felt safer.
“Alejandro,” you murmur, breathy and soft.
You place your hands on his chest, the rough fabric of his uniform scratching against your skin. Pressing in, you keep your gaze low and demure, focusing on a small strap near your right hand, toying with it but not loosening.
“We shouldn’t,” he rasps, needy.
His tone goes straight to your pussy. After meeting Alejandro, you thought of him during sex, picturing him over you, his hands on your body. It’s the only way you could show desire or orgasm, pretend that you were even remotely interested in the man paying for your abuela’s cancer treatment.
“But you want to,” you say, tugging on the strap. “And I want to.”
Let you choose this for yourself. Have some control for once.
Temptation is easy. Alejandro needs no more convincing.
He grasps the back of your neck, banishing separation. One arm snakes around your back, and your hands slide up to lock behind him. Months of tension evaporate in a second, morphing into desperation. Fresh clothes forgotten, Alejandro yanks them off you, baring your body. He drops to his knees, kissing your stomach and hips, spreading your thighs with his hand, placing kisses there, too, only to part your pussy with his fingers and give your clit a little lick.
Eyes rolling back, you fist his hair, hips arching upward into his mouth. Alejandro’s hands grasp your ass. The world tilts and you’re on your back, the worn mattress beneath you, and Alejandro’s head buried between your thighs.
Toes curling, everything in you sharpens. A hard swirl of his tongue and you’re already falling apart, choking out a sob. Years of faking it and the real thing slams you into the floor, crushing you under its fist.
“Wanted to be here forever,” groans Alejandro, lightly biting your inner thigh. He turns his head, bites the other, licks a slow line up your pussy. “Worth the fucking wait.”
Alejandro pushes up and over you, pinning you to the bed. Your mouths connect, tasting yourself and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke. Still in uniform, Alejandro is ceaseless, starved for your kisses, claiming you like he’s always owned you.
You spread your legs wider, reaching between your bodies. A large bulge meets your palm. Alejandro’s hips flex, rubbing his erection against your hand. Hunger chews beneath your skin in urgent need, wanting out, wanting Alejandro in. In similar desire, Alejandro places his hand over yours briefly before yanking at his zipper and button.
“Keep the uniform on,” you gasp, helping in easing his pants open, to admire the way his cock slides out, bouncing slightly as it’s released.
A haggard groan leaves his lips, dripping like honey as you explore him. He’s heavy and thick in your hand, warm and throbbing. Your legs fall wider, heels hooking behind his thighs to guide him forward. Alejandro’s forehead dips to rest against your own, his gaze glued to your face, watching every little movement, every expression.
You guide him in, heels digging, urging him deeper.
“I was always there,” he rasps, rocking his hips slowly, his cock slowly dragging in and out of your pussy. “Never alone.” His thrusts slowly increase. “You were never alone.”
The next thrust is hard. You gasp, lips parting. Alejandro smiles, cheeky and soft, still gazing into your eyes as you come undone.
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
Rudy’s heart is a bent branch close to snapping.
On the other side of the bed, the only bed, you unclip straps, removing gun holster and knives until you’re down to just your clothes. Rudy does the same but his fingers are sweaty, his gaze busy watching your slow removal, as if he’s not in the room at all.
He clears his throat, and you turn. “I can sleep in the chair,” he says flatly because it’s the only restraint he has.
You glance at the off-red armchair in the corner. “The cuck chair?”
“There’s only one bed.”
You arch an eyebrow. “That a problem?”
“Don’t start,” he breathes, removing his gun, checking the safety. If he unloads and loads and unloads it’ll keep him busy and not looking at you.
“Rudy.”
“Sergeant Major,” he corrects.
There needs to be distance. Alejandro did this on purpose, shoved the two of you together because he keeps asking why the two of you aren’t a thing anymore.
“Sergeant Major,” you repeat, softly, enunciating. Rudy surrenders, looking your way, only to find you topless, breasts on display. “My apologies.”
He glances away quickly, the back of his neck flaming. “How’s Rose?”
“Rose?” you snort. In his peripheral, you bend, removing your pants. You’re not wearing underwear. “On first name basis now?”
Rudy inhales sharply, exhaling slowly. “Your mother. How is she?”
“She asks about you. Wants to know why I’m not bringing that handsome man around anymore. She thinks I did something to run you off.” Rudy remains silent. “Did I?”
“No,” he finally says, removing his jacket and then his shirt.
You’re completely naked now and on display, not caring to cover yourself up. Rudy can’t help it, his dick is hard and throbbing, his mind racing toward old memories of you begging for him to fuck you.
“You shower first,” he grunts, undoing his belt buckle.
“There’s room for two.”
Rudy curses and turns on you, ready to swat the idea aside. Words escape him, leaving him stranded and staring, lips parting as he takes in the full view of you, and how you saunter closer.
Reaching for his buckle, you slide the belt from of the loops, dropping it the floor. “Or we can go to bed. Shower in the morning.”
Absently, he drags his fingers over your shoulder and down your arm, trailing back up to rest his hand between your breasts. Your heartbeat upticks, chest heaving slightly with anticipation. The feeling grows. Become bright and hot and red.
Grasping the backs of your thighs, Rudy lifts and dumps you onto the bed, following after. Pinning one leg to the bed with his hand, he lifts the other, locking it against him, your foot in the air. Rudy doesn’t need to touch to know how wet you are.
“How long were you thinking about me?” he growls, control slipping.
You fist the sheets, tilting your hips to give him better access. “The whole time,” you admit.
Rudy shouldn’t, but he does.
You welcome him without resistance. There’s no softness in him, only carnal need. He thrusts, your body bouncing but unable to go anywhere. His hold is powerful, vice-like. Rudy needs to fuck you, hard.
Head falling back, you moan, the end strangled as your pussy squeezes him. Rudy releases your thigh to palm one breast, teasing the nipple between his fingers.
“Tell your mamá she’ll see that handsome man again.”
Your lips form the start of words. Rudy silences them, crushes it into dust in the air. He brings your legs together, turning you onto your side. Bracing himself with his hands flat on the bed, his thrusts quicken. Your hand comes around his throat. Squeezes.
CW: mid/plus-size reader, photos of people wearing lingerie!, mentions of sex/sexual activities
Photos are not indicative of reader's body type/skin colour/other physical attributes! Just meant to be examples, but us bigger girls deserve some rep on here (but also why is it so hard to find cute pics of mid/plus-size girlies that aren't ads or extremely edited?)
All rights go to owners of the photos! I tried to crop out their faces as best I could <3
John Price
Price would love anything feminine. He adores when you play into his housewife kink, parading around the house in babydoll dresses and fur-lined robes (preferably sheer). He wouldn't even bother with taking the pieces off once he gets his hands on you, simply pulling and adjusting where necessary. Not above ripping either, but don't worry, he'll gladly buy you some new sets. Maybe he should get you some of those crotchless panties, poppet, would save him a lot of hassle.
Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish
Listen, as much as he loves it seeing you all dolled up, there is nothing that gets him going quicker than you in some raggedy, hole-ridden comfy clothes, preferably when they're his. His boxers framing your plump ass so nicely, digging into your flesh a bit when you move and his shirt doing nothing to hide the jiggle of your tits while your nipples poke through the fabric. If he sees you like this, his hands are all over you in a split second. God forbid your shirt is cropped, showing off your soft tummy and the underside of your breasts — you couldn't pry him off with a crowbar.
(you cannot tell me Johnny doesn't own some dumbass boxers like this)
Simon 'Ghost' Riley
In fear of repeating myself, I think Simon would also go a little dreamy-eyed over you in your comfies. Except, unlike Johnny, he loves those sweet little pj-sets you wear. He's still a little taken aback every time he comes home to you curled up on his — your — couch. The realization that he has something this sweet to come home to — that he has a home at all, hitting him like a freight train. Like Price, doesn't bother taking your pajamas off when he pounces on you. Just makes it easier for him to tuck you into bed after he's done with you.
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
Garters, belts, straps, buckles, the whole thing. And best believe he's the one picking them out, too. You'll randomly find boxes on your bed, the contents in different styles, colours, fabrics. He insists you model them for him, or send him pictures if he's deployed. The sets are an absolute nightmare to get into, but he'll gladly help you take them off, darlin'. Don't mind him though, if he snaps a photo or two in the process. Also loves it when you wear lingerie as part of an actual outfit. What can I say, the man loves showing you off (with the knowledge he's the only one that gets to see the full sets and everything underneath them later).
König
Anything resembling some cheap halloween costume from party city. It honestly doesn't matter to him what; sexy secretary, naughty nurse, you name it. Literally whatever. He will lose his mind a little if you go as far as to engage in some roleplay pertaining to whatever you're wearing — acting like he's your boss or your patient. Oh, a pair of animal ears can and will make his eyes roll back in his head. (He will, however, ensure that your outfits are of relatively good quality — they've gotta outlast a least a few rounds, Schatzi).
Philip Graves
Ugh, he's so nasty (affectionate). He wants you to look hyper-feminine. His perfect little all-american wife (even if you've never set foot in the usa, or don't yet wear a ring on your finger) in her hyper-feminine lingerie, waiting for her soldier to come home. Frilly bras, lacy undies and silky night dresses in white or pink or any pastel shade. He gets off on the innocence they exude — makes him want to ruin you. And then wife you up. Maybe give you a baby or two.
Alejandro Vargas
Corsets!!! Or anything somewhat structured, really. This man adores the shape of your body no matter what, and the way the corset only accentuates the curve of your waist and pushes your tits up so deliciously has him rock fucking hard. If you choose to add some thigh-highs to that with the plush fat of your thighs spilling over the edge you may as well have killed him. He also has this weird infatuation with the marks the corset leaves on your skin after you (or he) take it off.
Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra
This poor man nearly faints the first time you wear lingerie for him (and pretty much every time after that). It doesn't particularly matter to him what it is, but he does like it when you stick to the classics: simple lacy bra and panty set. He likes that it makes you feel confident and (relatively) comfortable, as your comfort is always his number one priority. He also just thinks the simplicity of the sets helps accentuate the beauty of your body, rather than distract from it.
Valeria Garza
Anything expensive. Like, crazy expensive. She has the money, amor, why not spend it on something she enjoys? She'll make sure you only wear the highest quality fabrics (and that goes for all your clothing, by the way, she likes taking care of her girl). There are diamonds glittering all over your body, highlighting all your curves and twinkling with every move you make, and a nice string of pearls disappearing between your folds.
(I couldn't find ANY photos of this type of lingerie on bigger bodies, my apologies. Rest assured Valeria will get everything custom-made for you — remember, only the best for her girl)
boys trying to survive nnn with their partner (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)
a/n: if it wasn't for @blissful-bunny, there wouldn't be nnn. LMAOOO i hope y'all will enjoy, it's my first time doing something like this... and i think i don't hate it as i did before!
mdni, as always. nsfw below + keegan's version here
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Being around Ghost durning this time is funny, to say the least. You know about this bet from Gaz, when you invited the whole Task Force 141 for dinner. There wasn't much of a reaction from you, just a nod and a hum that's interesting to hear that. Nothing more, until your boyfriend's friends went home, and you stayed with him, washing dishes.
"You think you're gonna last?" you ask, and you pretty much can't stop yourself from laughing when he gives you a side eye.
"'s just a month." he grumbles, and you know, you somehow irritated him. Or, the bet did, you're not really sure. "Been through worse."
Theoretically, it is true. He's military, he has seen things that you won't ever see, something so stupid like this challenge shouldn't be something hard to do.
Practically? Practically, he takes every fucking chance to get closer to you. You're making breakfast, showering, washing the dishes? He's gonna be right behind you. It's not surprising at first, he liked to be near you always, but it has a malicious intent to it, when he drags his clothed cock up and down your ass, grunting right into your ear. He gets you worked up, and you're pretty sure he's gonna lose, but he stops right before he cums.
You can't really decide if it's funny or sad to see him like this. It's his pained expression that he gives when he bites on his lower lip, grumbling something about watching you touching yourself, so it will be better. You can't really say no to a man starved, so you put out a show for him, thinking how so much better his fingers would be in your pussy.
If it would depend on you, you'd kneel and relieve him, but what can you do, when he has this ridiculous challenge of his?
He breaks after two days, when he sees you in your shared gym, exercising. It's unexpected, when he puts down dumbbells you were working with, doing squats; you want to ask what's wrong, but when he lifts you up, your back hitting the wall, you just know. You even forgive him when he doesn't prep you enough, and he just thrusts into you without much thinking of it, his balls heavy.
You know you won't leave this gym for a long time.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
"You're participating in what?"
To say it was weird, was one thing. To say that Kyle does it, was even weirder, especially that he was straight from two months of deployment. Needy. You knew it, as you were with him almost three years by now, he had always spent hours in bed with you because he missed you like a madman. These two months were pretty much the longest you've been separated with him, so, you can imagine your surprise, when you learned about the challenge, when you two were cleaning your apartment. He was touching you every now and then, giving you little kisses, and now he was talking about something like this.
"I'm—"
"—No, I heard you" you chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm like… trying to understand who convinced you to do so."
"Bet with Soap. Lad thinks 'm not gonna last with you." he murmurs, and you just know that this motherfucker made this as a personal challenge. So, you just nod your head, to Kyle's surprise on his pretty face. "That's… all you're gonna say?"
"What else I'm supposed to say?" you raise your eyebrow, amused. "That I feel sorry for you, this will do?"
"That ain't funny."
"It is, kind of funny." you grin, as you kiss his forehead, at which he closes his eyes, so you repeat kissing his forehead a few times. "I'm gonna support you in this, yeah? So it's gonna be easier."
It wasn't easier. You could see that he glances at you every now and then, when you are doing domestic things around the house, giving him little, encouraging smiles. Little do you know that Kyle's bulge is growing larger and larger every time he looks at you.
Gaz is pretty calm, at least until he sees you in his t-shirt (that is way too big for you) and just panties underneath, sitting right beside him with a bowl of popcorn. You two planned to watch a movie, but your boyfriend quickly brushes it off, as his hand wanders under the hem of your panties.
"Kyle, you—"
"I know." he almost growls, as he puts you on his lap.
The moment he feels your wetness, he's a gone man; he makes you ride him, and the challenge is just a fading memory, when his lips attack yours.
John "Soap" MacTavish
Soap is absolutely offended when everyone in Task Force 141 tells him he's gonna lose the challenge. He can't shut up about it for an hour straight, as he lays with his head on your lap, telling you something about celibacy and being true lover, not some "horny arse like the others". You listen to it with a small, amused smile on your lips because as much as you love your boyfriend, everyone is right about it.
He's not gonna last, and he knows it personally too, but you say nothing about it. You just listen to Johnny's ramblings, until his eyes are on you, observing your reaction so casually.
"What do ya think? 'm gonna beat it? Be the best?" he tilts his head like a puppy, squinting his eyes. It's an icy ground you're standing on right now.
"I think… it's gonna be hard." you answer; slowly, reluctantly. It's not something that he wants to hear though, as he groans, shaking his head with displeasure. "What? You asked!"
"I ken it's gonna be hard. 'm askin', if 'm gonna beat it" he emphasizes his last words, and you can feel he barely holds himself from rolling his eyes.
"…well, baby, as much as I have faith in you in other things…"
It's not a good answer for him, nor for a challenge, considering that you end up getting fucked by him – it's some kind of punishment, he tells you, when he folds you in half. He tells you that he also didn't lose the challenge, technically, as you had sex November 1st , at 3 a.m. You nod, hesitantly, so you could go to sleep without causing him to ramble about it again; you are exhausted.
It takes him three days of fucking you in various places to finally come into the conclusion that the challenge isn't for him. Three days of promising and hearing him whining that it's gonna be 'st the tip, baby, to feel you good.
"Good that you've figured that out." you say with a small smile, in restaurant's bathroom, his forehead against yours, as his cock is still buried deep inside you.
"Lasted longer than lads. Sure of that."
John Price
You want to think of your husband highly, when you hear of this stupid thingy. The authority, someone that leads the Task Force 141, setting the example for his younger proteges with his willpower. Someone who actually cares about engaging in challenges, even if they're stupid, even if he shouldn't even look at something like this.
Yet, you know John, you're married to him, for God's sake – and you know his sex drive. When this man is home, nothing and no one stops him from getting what he wants, and that's on you. In your mind, there's a core memory of him saying that he absolutely loves your pussy, multiple times.
So it's not a surprise that he doesn't participate in this challenge. It's not a surprise when he babbles about having kids with you while he fucks you wherever he can; kitchen counter, under the shower, your couch. His obsession over kids grew over this month more than ever, and you were happy to meet his expectations in a middle, since you thought of having a little angel in your small family for a longer time now. Having a dog wasn't enough.
A surprise comes when he proudly admits that he won in the end of the month. Boys are pretty much shocked by this, considering that their Captain didn't even look frustrated once, and he was in better mood than usual. Yet, they don't have a place to complain, so they accept the defeat with a frown on their faces, and a quick comment from Soap that he for sure cheated.
"You didn't win, honey." you laugh to him, sitting at his lap, when he's in his office, alone.
Price arches his eyebrow in amusement. "I did."
"That's not really—"
"Listen, we were tryin' for babies, weren't we? It wasn't egoistical fuckin'." he explains, completely serious.
It takes all in you not to either gasp or laugh again. "So, if it would be without the intention of making babies, you'd lose?"
He gives you a quick nod. "Exactly, missus. Exactly."
Alejandro Vargas
It's easy to last a few days for Alejandro. Maybe even a week, or a bit more. With his kind of work, being a Colonel, you often didn't see him for days, or even weeks if it was a bad time. Right now, with working over destroying a Mexican cartel, being home was rare for him. Was it saddening? Of course, but you knew what you were doing when you married him, you've talked with him about it for days, maybe weeks, even.
So, maybe that's why he didn't really think much of a challenge when he agreed to it, one of the nights he was drinking with Los Vaqueros. Just for fun, just to make a fun memory in this mess they were in. Days were passing in the blink of an eye with the same routine; a few hours of sleep if he's lucky, patrol, documents, action and repeat. Nothing too fancy, nothing too new for a man of war like he is, he got used to it all.
Harder was the moment he came home to you, where you were waiting for him with your open arms, all needy for his presence, for his touch, but somehow, somehow he managed, giving you the best orgasm of your life with his mouth only, even if he was in need too.
"Cariño?" he calls you, confused, when he doesn't see you in bed in the next morning. In his sweatpants only, he goes to the kitchen, following the sound of pan that sizzles lazily in the background.
"Makin' breakfast, Ale!" you reply, looking behind your shoulder with the biggest smile that slowly falters the moment you see his eyes darkening in the span of seconds. "What's with the face?"
He approaches you slowly, caging you between his arms. "Just… appreciating" he says, as he starts kissing your neck "my little wife. Who's been really patient with me, gone for so many days. And now, you're making me breakfast—" he groans, shaking his head. You can feel his growing bulge, as you grind your ass against it.
It's obvious that Colonel lost the challenge, after he arrives to his work with his wife, his arm possessively around her. Why? Maybe it's your neck covered in hickeys, your trembling legs, or his arms visibly scratched, but no one says anything about it in the base.
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra
You have a kind of forbidden romance with him; you're the one of Los Vaqueros, and the romance is absolutely prohibited here, to prevent the collapse of the squad. Not to mention that he's a right hand man of Alejandro, so he has to follows the rules directly. Maybe even more than anyone here, to be honest; setting an example that he's not a exception to the rule.
It doesn't help that you're so kind. That you nod every time you see him as a silent greeting, and then you rush to do whatever you have to do today. It doesn't help him that you're helping everyone around you with a smile that could light up the whole town, and he smiles every time he sees it, too.
Everyone pictures that Rudy would win the challenge easily, since in their heads, his head wasn't occupied with anyone, and he could easily withold himself with his desires.
And maybe he would. Maybe he would, if you weren't the one guarding the base with him, if you weren't the one who was smiling at him with those plump lips of yours.
"If you'd only know how much I thought about… hah—" his breaths are ragged, as the pace of his hips gets quicker. His lips finds yours, as he kisses you with such hunger, you know without a doubt that he means what he says. It automatically makes you smile.
"It's fate that binds us, then" you say, your fingernails clutching at his arms; you're sure that you're the creator of bloody crescents here, but you can't care less about it. Not when the man of your dreams is fucking you.
He smiles at your words.
Rudy never been a good liar, and you painfully learn it, when Alejandro asks him why he's so happy; as you stand nearby, you hear the whole conversation. It's cute in some way, the way he's a blabbering mess, without any sense of it.
It takes Colonel's one look at you, and he knows.
You never walked faster to your work, neither did Rudy.
Konig
If you think he's gonna even try playing at this, you're in deep denial. Maybe if he'd be alone he could try of a genuine curiosity, but not when he has you. Such a pretty, obedient girlfriend, that he has wrapped around his finger, and a girlfriend that is pretty much at his service every time he wants.
He's a man to laugh about that challenge with his squad, telling them that they're filthy, and he would last the whole month, maybe even longer, if it weren't for you. Because he's such a caring boyfriend, he listens to your needs, even if you're whiny.
At least, that's the story that his squad knows.
He tells you about this while he folds you in half, that he needs to act a little grumpy around his squad, to put a facade that he's hungry because it's the right thing to do. When you suggest that he could even try, he barks a low laugh, while he pumps his cock before thrusting into you.
"Schatz, as if. Not gonna play the kids game." it's all he says, kissing you with affection on your swollen lips. "I do not intend on torturing you like this. You wouldn't survive a day without my dick."
There's some truth to it — but you're truly wondering if that's you who wouldn't survive without his dick, or he, that wouldn't survive without your pussy and sex, considering he is even more of a maniac than you are.
Cat-calling CoD men because I'm definitely a little sick and crave the sweet release of death
Cw: None? I'm pretty sure it's just gn!reader teasing these guys.
Y'all this is so ass. I got lazy towards the end. Someone else can make this better, I'm gonna pass out for three years...
John Price:
It's pretty common for poor Price to get bullied by you. But this? This might be his least favorite... He dropped something, barely even thinking as he bends over. What he isn't prepared for? You, slapping his ass like it owed you money, and letting out the loudest wolf whistle he had ever heard.
To say he bolted upright would be an understatement.
"Darling."
"Yes, my handsome captain?" Pretending to be innocent, blinking at him like you hadn't just sent his soul to the shadow realm.
"Christ," he rubbed his temples, "you're gonna be the death of me, luv..."
It's not like that would stop you though, not when he looked so cute while blushing.
Simon "Ghost" Riley:
Really it was his fault, strutting around in those pants. They were small, tight, and definitely deserving of what you were about to do.
He visibly froze when you whistled at him, turning around slowly. With the most deadpan voice he could manage:
"What."
Honestly he sounded baffled, completely unprepared for this. You? Whistling at *him*??
And of course, when you don't respond, he simply stalks off. Confused and defeated, forever wondering why you do this to him...
Johnny "Soap" MacTavish:
Oh you think he's confused? Surprised?
Hell no. Bro is smiling like an idiot, wiggling his hips slightly.
"Yeah? Y' think so?"
You were trying to fluster him, you ended up bright red as he tries to get you to repeat yourself. He will also be bragging about this for the next week, constantly on about how "he got cat called" and how "everyone wants him" (you literally whistled at him once)
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:
Oh my poor baby...
Despite being undoubtedly handsome, bordering supermodel territory, he still ends up looking around all confused like.
"Me?" He says while pointing at himself, confused and slightly embarrassed.
Like- obviously??? Who else would you be whistling at? It's pretty clear you meant him, and the fact he can't realize it only makes him cuter.
Just... Whatever you do, don't slap his ass, alright? He makes the sound of a startled kitten, literally shaking as he whips around. He is not prepared for this type of interaction, please be gentle with him 😔
Nikolai:
Ooh, another overconfident bastard... Obviously the second you see Nik strutting around in that silly little jumpsuit, you're making a plan.
Find him, smack his ass, then run so he doesn't find and kill you. Simple, yeah?
Nope.
He turns much faster than you expected, grabbing you (very gently), and grinning.
"Hah! And what was that for, Маленькая мышка?"
Turns out, this man has experience in getting dat thang slapped (you know it jiggle) and therefore practically smelt your intentions when you came into the room. You're never gonna be able to get the jump on him, he's gonna be pouncing on you the second you even try to form a whistle. Don't worry though- he loves the attention...
Alejandro Vargas:
A mix of cocky and flustered- aka very entertaining to mess with.
He bends over to pick something up, not even pausing the story he was telling as he does so. He doesn't expect to hear you letting out the loudest whistle, then a sharp pain. Poor guy shoots up like a rocket,
"¡¡¡JODER, QUÉ COÑO-!!!"
Then he sees your face, laughing. He has no choice but to take a deep breath and push his hair back, straightening his shirt like he hadn't just felt his soul leave his body.
"You think you're funny, ¿Querido?"
Be prepared, he will not let this go for at least a week. Every time you even think about bending over, he's gonna materialize out of nowhere to whistle and holler. Normally he'd pride himself on being a gentleman, but this? Well you started it, he's just getting a little payback.
Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra:
Dead silent.
He doesn't even twitch when you smack his ass, he simply slowly stands up.
And turns.
Yeah, you don't even need any words to know that you need to run.
Phillip Graves:
This cocky bastard- he could absolutely be a drag queen in another life with the amount of sass he pulls. (Also he walks surprisingly good in heels...)
The kinda guy who responds to your whistle with a "You're damn right!" And then saunters away with an extra sway in his hips. He doesn't act surprised, he doesn't try to get you back- heck he doesn't even seem to remember the next time he sees you!
He simply rolls with it. He's hot and he knows it, he's just happy you're finally noticing >:3
König:
Hadir Karim:
Oh this poor man...
You whistle at him, pulling a "Damn Boy!!" while you're at it, and he turns bright red. Sure he laughs it off, playfully glaring, but y'know what? He'll be kept awake for the next few nights thinking about it...
Eventually he tries to get you back, barely even getting through his awful pickup line before he regrets anything. Of course that's when Farah would walk in, and of course she'd slap him in the back of the head and lecture him about not being a creep to people.
Take pity on him and don't even try, it'll only end poorly...
He literally falls over.
You didn't mean to hurt him! You just gave him a *little* smack. How were you supposed to know that he would go tumbling forward, curses in German and English alike filling the room.
It only gets worse from there though.
Obviously you check in, right? Leaning over him, making sure he didn't hit his head. Well that only makes it worse! Poor guy almost passes out- not from the injury, but from how quickly fear turned into admiration. You just look so nice overtop him, worried for his well being...
Y'know when in anime the character gets the bloody nose and passes out? Yeah. That's König.
You learn your lesson while sitting with him in the infirmary. *Don't* try to catcall König...
Nah, I didn't have a kink for men grovelling (/lie) I have a kink for men suffering. I need reader to have her own happiness
Reader suddenly switches and starts acting more energetic again. For a while the boys like it bc not they don't have to face the consequences of their actions and can escape the guilt if there's no constant reminder.
But something's wrong. It takes them a while to notice - or rather, they take a while to notice BC noticing shatters their illusion that everything is well and they aren't bad people
She's still not eating Johnny's prepared meals but she's gaining weight again and it takes a while to notice BC he's not in charge of stock but some ingredients have been disappearing at nights. Some that can be eaten right away, but funnily enough he also finds himself low on ingredients that need to be prepared. It just so happens that he notices when he makes one of his more easy and filling dishes most all of the ingredients he reaches into are much lower than last time he made it.
She still seems unkempt but her hygiene improves. Her hair is brushed and Gaz hears the showers, though he knows that none of her maids have taken up their duties again. She also still doesn't wear any of her dresses, not that the boys see her enough to notice, but Gaz knows how difficult those are to put on on your own. So when he swears he hears the rustling of fabrics or sees a glimpse of her holding a dress through a crack in the door, even though he knows he saw all her maids elsewhere, he tells himself he just miscounted.
She's more energetic sure, but she's hardly more happy, in fact there seems a determination that borders on desperation to her if anyone watches her for long enough. Not that she lets them. She doesn't leave her room during the day still but once Simon was awake and saw her walking the grounds in the middle of the night. If he had looked again the next night he'd have seen the same, but, well, who wants to face their mistakes
The boys notice, because of their guilt, but choose to ignore. Price, on the other hand, doesn't notice at all
Well, he notices his reputation dwindling. And seeing his wife less and less often. But he doesn't notice any of the changes and doesn't even realise she's began to leave her room again as no rumours change
He does, however, pay attention to his boys.
When Gaz seems jittery at meetings, when Johnny lingers at the table, when Simon stalks the halls more frequently, with the attitude of a predator ready to strike fleeing prey.
So when they tell him they haven't seen her in a while, he's confused. He thought they all hadn't seen her in weeks?
At their explanations - which devolve into pleas - he goes to check up on his wife. Only to find her room empty.
See, she knew she wouldn't have to worry about anyone interrupting her or noticing her, and realised how much of a power that was.
Learning how to cook by spying on the cooks and Johnny, finding little recipe books for when he would leave. Stocking up on food.
Beginning to take care of herself, but only just enough. Dresses that were heavy and difficult forgone in favour of stitching old tablecloths and sheets into simple and freeing garments.
Walking the grounds as much as possible at night to build up her strength again. Background training in dancing and standing with heavy garments for long periods of time helping in building her cardio back up.
She'd had to have a little subtlety in hiding her intentions around the boys, but her real weapon was her husband.
Her husband with an extensive library with books about survival, hunting, wilderness guides. Her husband with plenty of money and expensive items scattered across the place. Her husband with maps and notes of the nearest towns and their prospects and differing prices.
Her blind husband who didn't notice as his wife planned her escape right underneath his nose.
And finally, her. Just her. No husbands or titles or maids or society breathing down her neck. Her, free and already behind a mountain in the distance on the back of a working donkey - the Duchy's fine horses would have gathered too much attention. She stopped for supplies and to sell her goods where possible, but left as quickly as she came, knowing the village folk would write her off as a thief but any who knew would be able to trace where she sold the items. Best to ditch them at her journeys start rather than end.
Not that she knows where it will end. Not that she cares. She could die tomorrow and would still take her last breath more free and happy than she's ever lived before.
(idk maybe she joins some bandits or meets a wandering knight or jumps aboard a ship or something and makes it far far away. Maybe she becomes a stable hand to a Grand Duke and his dashing young right hand man Mr Parra (can you tell my bias). I need her to have a happy end tho, so that if/when the 141 find her they have to realize that she really is better off without them.)
Holy fuck. I’m in awe of you??? Of your brain?? This was amazing to read omg thank you so so much!! You’ve already written so much of her with the 141, so i wrote a little bit of her with rudy! I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed reading your ask! 🫶🏻💕 also i feel like i will never learn how to do a decent ending that isn’t abrupt as fuck 💀😭
Dukedom au masterlist
The sun poured golden light through the arched windows of the estate, its brilliance softened by sheer, embroidered curtains. The atmosphere was serene, the kind that made one’s soul settle into quiet contentment. Seated by the window, harp nestled against your shoulder, you plucked the strings with practiced grace and ease. Music spilled into the room, lilting and wistful, speaking of stories not with words, but with melodies.
Grand Duke Alejandro sat nearby, sharp eyes softened by the rare tranquility your melodies provided.
He had been the first to notice your talents, taking you in when you stumbled upon his estate seeking work. What began as small performances to soothe his guests had blossomed into something more. You were now a cherished member of his court- an artist whose music could bring grown men to tears and whose presence brightened even the darkest days, and your past a thing of, well, the past.
You glanced up briefly, right as Rudy entered the room. His eyes immediately sought yours, like a compass pointing north, a warmth in them that never failed to make your breath catch. He wasn’t the Grand Duke, but he carried himself with a quiet power- a man who commanded loyalty and admiration with ease, especially yours. And though his duties often kept him busy, he always found time to sit and listen to you play even if only once a day, as though your music was as essential to him as the air he breathed.
Never before had you felt so cherished.
Today was no exception to his focus. He lingered by the doorway for a moment, his gaze enthralled, before moving closer to you.
You smiled, the motion soft and genuine, your fingers never faltering on the harp strings even as you leaned towards him the way a flower leans towards the sun.
When you finished, Rudy (and Alejandro) applauded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that felt like the first rays of dawn. “You outdo yourself every time, mi querida,” he murmured, his voice low and rich. You felt like you would melt into his should he choose to cradle you.
Alejandro chuckled from his seat, always ever so entertained by the two of you. “You’re lucky I tolerate your interruptions, Rudy. I’d have her play all day to myself if I could.”
Rudolfo grinned but never looked away from you. “A day very well spent, I’d say."
Your cheeks flushed, but there was no embarrassment in it. Just a gentle warmth, the kind you hadn’t felt in years. Rudolfo’s attention wasn’t like John’s distracted glances, Simon’s intense, disdained looks, the unseen glares of Johnny and Kyle. It wasn’t tainted by resentment or obligation. He saw you- truly saw you- and cherished what he found.
You fell into an easy conversation, one Alejandro occasionally joined, though he often just watched with an amused glint in his eyes. It was clear to anyone who observed you that something unspoken yet profound was growing between you and Rudolfo- if not already at full bloom. Alejandro wasn't going to intervene, he knew his friend had a lovely little proposal awaiting just the right moment.
Though not everyone was quite as content as you.
They hadn’t expected to find you so far from the duchy, let alone flourishing like this. The rumors of your presence in the Grand Duke’s court had been thin whispers, barely heard, yet they had clung to them in their desperation for answers.
Price led ahead, his jaw tight and his expression grim. Duke Riley followed close behind, his unease well-hidden. They entered the estate under the guise of seeking an audience with Alejandro, but their true purpose to themselves.
It was Simon who first spotted you through an open doorway, seated at your harp. For a moment, he froze, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of you.
You were radiant. Your hair, no longer a tangled mess, shone in the sunlight. Your once sickly complexion was now warm and healthy. And the way you played- it was as though the music flowed from your very soul, unburdened and free. The few times he'd heard you play back at the Price duchy were nothing compared to the melodies you now strung.
“Bloody hell.” John muttered, his voice barely audible and just as shocked as Simon.
John stepped forward, his presence imposing, but before he could even make his way towards you, Rudolfo appeared beside you. He leaned down to speak to you, his expression gentle and fond, and you laughed- a soft, delicate sound that made Price’s chest tighten.
They watched as Rudolfo offered you his hand, which you took without hesitation, without any fears. He guided you to your feet, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that spoke volumes, more than any words would or could.
The two of you looked at each other with such affection it'd make the stars sigh in envy.
Simon and Price could only stand there and stare. No words would come to them.
Much latwr, when they returned to the manor, Johnny and Kyle were waiting, their expressions anxious. “Did you find her?” Johnny asked, voice tight.
Price nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “We found her.”
“And?” Kyle pressed.
Simon shook his head, lips pursed. “…she’s not coming back.”
