#Study Chair Low Price | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cottonlemonade · 1 month ago

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Fake Dating Your Ex

word count: 2852 || avg. reading time: 12 mins.

pairing: University AU pining ex!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff + angst

warnings: bullying

request: For a midnight snack I’ll get a 15 and 24 and go back to sleep with kenma please || fluffy-angsty, fake dating + jealousy, ex Kenma

“Question.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna ask yet.”

“Fine. What?”

“How would you, as a person… as a…. as a human person”, you shook your head for a moment but then decided to roll with it, “feel about accompanying another human person to an event?”

Your ex finally looked up from the console in his hands with profound confusion written all over his face.

“What?”

Bracing yourself you tried again, spelling it out this time, “Would you please come with me to my high school reunion?”

You expected him to frown, sure, but instead of the immediate shot down he asked, “Why?”

Not a No. Okay!

Pulling up a chair from the adjacent lunch table to sit down across from him, you used your hands in a nowhere near helpful fashion to explain, “I got invited and originally I said No because why would I want to go but then this girl who used to bully me-“

“Momoka.”, he added.

“Yes.”, you said in surprise, “Her. Anyway, she messaged me and asked if it’s because we broke up.”

“How would one correlate to the other?”

“Because while we were dating I may or may not have bragged pretty excessively about you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you were all over my social media for two years and well, now you’re not, so she was asking if we split up.”

“We did.”

You tried not to click your tongue, thinking any sass would lower the likelihood of him agreeing to play along. “I know, but I don’t want her to know. So I may or may not have kinda sorta said that we are doing better than ever and just because you gained so much more popularity that we are trying to keep it on the down low and”, you took a deep breath, “she said I should bring you then and I may or may not have said Yes.”

“Y/n.”, he groaned.

“I know, I know! But I will get you SlimeBlast2 and the new Counterforce if you just pretend to be my boyfriend for one more evening. We can even leave early!”, you offered, spurred on by the fact that he hadn’t yet simply gotten up and left, “You can say that you have a planned stream that night and be back home before you know it.”

He thought about it for a moment while he resumed his game.

“Why have a reunion three years out of high school anyway?”

You mimicked her voice. “Because she is moving to America with her doctor fiancé and wants to say goodbye to everyone before she leaves. - Tch.”

He paused the game again and regarded you with a studying look. You, on the other hand, were focused on kneading your chubby fingers and not meeting his gaze.

“When is it?”

“So this is what all that streamer money can get you, not bad, not bad.”, you said as you slid into the passenger seat of his new car. Kenma didn’t comment on that. Nor did he compliment your little black dress that had him do a minuscule double take the way it hugged you in all the right ways. You broke up six months ago and instead of wallowing in a dark room as you had done, Kenma chose retail therapy - to the extent that every other day another out-of-breath mail carrier was ringing his doorbell and handed him anything from new consoles to games to figurines and even a body pillow because, thanks to you, he was now incapable of sleeping without something soft and squishy in his arms. This car was one of those more recent purchases, an impulse that surged in him around the same time he watched you flirt with a TA. He also felt the forgotten price tag itch in the back of his black button-down and matching dress pants he wore tonight.

The drive to the venue was mostly silent due to a mixture of old comfort and new awkwardness. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you play with your fingers, twirl your hair, scratch at your neck, and chew your lip.

“No one forces you to go to this thing.”, he eventually said. His GPS announced that you’d arrive soon.

You stopped scrunching your dress, sighed, and looked out the window onto the well-lit row of restaurants and bars you were driving past.

“I know. Social pressure does, though.”

“You never really cared about what people thought.”

“Ha! Good one.”, you countered drily.

“I mean it.”

“You only think that because we didn’t know each other in high school. This devil-may-care attitude”, you gestured vaguely up and down yourself, “was carefully curated once I was finally free of these people.”

“So, why not just ignore the reunion and go do something fun?”

“You know, if you’re gonna keep being right and logical, this night is not gonna work.”

He smiled and rolled to a stop in the parking lot among many other cars.

“We can still leave.”

You scratched at your neck again. He reached out to grab and trap your ever-busy hand in his, laying it gently on the middle console. He waited.

“Yeah… maybe you’re-“

“Hey!”, a muffled call accompanied by knocking on your window cut you off. Outside stood one of your former classmates waving excitedly.

Kenma grimaced.

“Look who I found getting all cozy in the car!” The large private room in the restaurant was filled with a whole bunch of people you hoped to never see again. They sat on the floor around the long table, apparently a couple of drinks ahead already.

“Oh my god, Y/n! I can’t believe you came!” Momoka got up to greet you like an old friend. Her cheeks were pink and she was clearly not too steady on her feet.

“What’s this? - Is that a hickey?!”, she squealed with mock scandal, pointing at your neck.

Your hand shot up to cover the reddening mark.

“I-uh-“

“Yeah, I just… couldn’t help myself.”, Kenma said in a tone that wouldn’t convince anyone sober. Luckily no one was.

She turned to him and as if she’d known him for years she slurred, “Well if it isn’t Kodzuken! I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t think you were real. I mean, of course you’re real but what would you ever want with our Y/n, when you could have anyone!” She laughed and ushered you both to sit next to her.

“I’m so sorry.”, you whispered to Kenma while cups of sake were pushed into your empty hands.

“Tell me, because I’m dying to know”, Momoka said, leaning forward, “how did you two even meet?”

The handful of former classmates in your general vicinity stopped their conversations to listen.

Kenma and you looked at each other.

“We just met at uni.”, you shrugged and pulled a platter of food closer to have something to do.

“Oh come on, Y/n-chan, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”, Momoka playfully pushed your shoulder.

“It was our first day actually.”, Kenma said, “I was sitting in the cafeteria playing a game and she came up to me with her tray and asked if she could join me.”

You caught his eyes and smiled, touched that he remembered.

“Of course, you met over food. Our Y/n loooves to eat, doesn’t she?” Momoka giggled into her sake.

Unfortunately, your mouth was just full of maki roll.

Kenma frowned.

“So, Kodzuken - or should I call you Kenma? You’re probably so tired of people addressing you by your username. Like hello, I’m a human being, too! So Kenma, what is it like being a streamer? I, personally, love YouTube. I think if I hadn’t gotten engaged”, she raised her hand to show off her ring, “I would have also gone into streaming. It looks so fun. And you’re just playing games all day. I love playing games. You could say I’m a gamer girl myself.”, she laughed and brushed her hair behind her ear like she was confessing something embarrassing, “I have played Animal Crossing over 100 hours. I know it’s too much, but what can I say, you understand, right? Sometimes you can’t put a game down for months.”

“… right.”

When he didn’t answer as bright-eyed and infatuated as she hoped, she turned to you with a devious smile, “Our Y/n should definitely do some of those… uh eating shows! You know, the ones where they just eat ungodly amounts of food at once. She’d be so good at that. Honestly”, she chuckled behind her hand, “I could have sworn she was training for that in high school.”

“Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” You pushed your untouched sake further away, stood up, and walked quickly out of the room, sliding the door closed behind you. Muffled voices, cheers, and laughter could still be heard. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a few deep breaths. Slipping back into your shoes you walked over to a corner with an open window that looked over the quiet courtyard that was closed for guests because of the snow. What a horrendous idea to even come here. Why did you think it would be any different? People didn’t change. As soon as you were in the company of your bullies suddenly you turned back to the timid little fat girl that was pushed into cold showers with her uniform on, that was tripped in the hallways, hackled in class for a wrong answer. The girl that was pointed at whenever she ate something. It didn’t matter what it was.

Normal lunch? - What a glutton!

A homemade salad? - Who is she trying to impress? As if that is gonna do anything.

It was only in university that you found people who accepted you for who you were and not what you looked like. And Kenma had made you feel loved and wanted for the first time in your life. Until he didn’t. You vividly remembered the night you broke up with him. His genuine shock when you told him that just hanging out and watching him stream was not how you envisioned your relationship to be like. After over two years of dating, you realized that you wanted more than dry texts and being the one to initiate intimacy. Kenma was a great listener and didn’t rush you into anything. He let you grow on your own and was truly happy when he saw you smile. But it wasn’t enough. You didn’t regret breaking up with him. It was the right thing to do. But whenever you felt stressed or overwhelmed you did seek out his streams. His calming voice and deadpan comments still helped you truly relax. You wondered if he missed you too sometimes.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.”, Kenma said behind you.

“Hey.”, you sighed, “Sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Don’t worry.” He came to stand next to you, close so that his arm was touching yours for a sliver of warmth. You both watched the snow fall for a moment.

“You really toned down just how obnoxious those people are.”, he noted, “I understand that you’re upset.”

“Oh, I am not upset. I am way past upset. I’m freaking miffed, that’s what I am.”

He gave a playful gasp. “Damn, not the m-word. - By the way, that girl hit on me the second you left the room.”

“Oh god, really?”, you scoffed.

“Yeah, apparently I’m on her list.” He put the last word in air quotes. “Like she can sleep with me and her fiancé would be fine with it.”

“Wooow, congratulations. Doesn’t that make you feel extra special.”, you said sarcastically.

“Absolutely.”

“Truly the bedrock of any good and healthy relationship.”

He chuckled under his breath. “I know, right? As if I’d ever want anyone else when I have you.”

A pause followed in which you were trying to find covert ways to push your face in the snow to cool it down and Kenma regretted ever learning to speak.

“Listen…”, he said after a minute or so, “why don’t we get out of here? You made an appearance, proved I’m real and now you can go enjoy your night. Maybe… maybe we can head to your place, get some pizza, and watch a bunch of those trashy Christmas rom-coms? I know Netflix is flooded with them right now.”

You stared at him for a moment, then squinted suspiciously. “I’m gonna yell at the TV, you know that.”

He smiled and his eyes softened.

“I’m counting on it.”

You looked down at your arm that was still gently pressed against his, thinking.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go get your stuff then. - Here.”, he fished his keys from his pocket, “You can wait in the car, I won’t be long.”

You turned the keys over in your fingers as you watched him go, shaking your head in an attempt to smother the bubbling feelings in your chest. As you walked out towards the car, you tried to remember in what state you had left your living room when-

“Y/n?”

Very confused, you lifted your head and saw a young man standing a few meters away. He was maybe a head taller than you, broad shoulders were well hidden underneath a soft sweater and coat. Nothing about the man seemed familiar, not the glasses or the styled black hair. He must have noticed your confusion when he put a hand to his chest and said, “Izumo.”

Kenma was very glad that he wasn’t raised to be polite so he just gathered your purse, scarf, and jacket, said you both would be leaving, and closed the door behind him. Even though at most 20 minutes had passed since your arrival, it felt like you and he had stood by that window for hours watching the snow. He should tell you that he wasn’t over you.

He should tell you that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes again if you’d give him another chance.

He would ask you to take him back.

His steps lengthened at the thought of being back at your place, cozy on the couch and having an absolute ball listening to you rip the movies to shreds. Pulling his puffy parka tightly around him he hurried in the direction of his car and saw you talking to someone. At first, he was worried it would be another bully but then you laughed. His steps slowed.

N…no! He was not about to lose his opportunity to get you back to some random hunk with a sleeper build. Picking up the pace again, he thought hard about what to do. What happened next was not one of his proudest moments. Kenma came to a halt next to you, lay your jacket over your shoulders, and said, “Here you go, babe.”

“Oh, hey, you’re Kodzuken!”, the guy said and had the audacity to give him a genuine smile, “I’m a big fan! I’m glad to see you two are doing well. I wondered if you might have broken up because you haven’t posted about him in a while, Y/n.”

You laughed nervously.

“No, nothing like that.”, Kenma said, and, developing a life of its own, his arm naturally wrapped around your waist, “Everything’s great.”

“That’s what I thought.”, the guy said brightly, his eyes flitting momentarily to the mark on your neck and to Kenma he added, slightly flustered now, “You got yourself a good one.”

“Did you want something?”

“I- uhm.”, Izumo blinked, perplexed, “No, just catching up. But I see you’re on your way out. Have a good night you two. And Y/n, we should totally have coffee.” Kenma pulled you closer to him. “You know, when you have the time.”

Very glad his much-practiced glare was still hitting the mark, Izumo bowed to both of you and went inside.

Once in the car, Kenma looked at you, mentally preparing himself for a scolding but found you smirking and nodding your head.

“What?”, he asked.

“Nothing just…. Didn't have you being jealous on my bingo card this year. Interesting.”, you clicked your tongue in amusement, “Very interesting.”

“I wasn’t j-“

You met his eyes and cocked your brow.

He mumbled something and turned to focus on his steering wheel so you wouldn’t see the hue of pink blooming in his cheeks.

“Izumo was bullied in high school, too.”, you explained, “So he was one of the few people I got along with. We weren’t ever super close or anything but I’m glad he seems to be doing well.”

“Oh. Well… okay then.”

“So no need to be jealous, babe.”, you echoed his tone with the last word perfectly.

His face felt even warmer.

“In my defense, he looked like he was about to ask you out.”

“Uh huh.”, you became, if possible, even more smug and clicked your seatbelt into place, “I mean, could you blame him?”

It was remarkable how quickly your confidence bounced back by simply watching Kenma squirm for an answer.

art: 8.amidori_RN on Twitter

a/n: thank you so much to the anon for this absolutely juicy request. I hope you enjoyed it! And thank you everyone for waiting 🌱🌟

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 9 months ago

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1.8k / 24 / soap soulmate au, part 4

...

Price takes a seat opposite you. Ghost stands behind him, massive arms crossed. Price folds his hands together.

"Tea?" he asks.

You say nothing.

"Ghost, go get us some tea."

Ghost leaves. Price examines you, drumming his fingers against the table. He acts friendly. But he's not playing. You have no doubt he'll extract the information he needs by any means necessary. You need to make sure he doesn't figure out which of your buttons to press.

"You're Soap's girl," he says.

You say nothing. His stare presses in on you as heavily as the silence, pushing your back into your seat.

"Who is he to you?"

You shift, uncomfortable in your chair. "A stranger." You roll your shoulders as if trying to shrug off the implications. "An enemy, ostensibly."

Price leans closer. "You kiss your enemies often?"

Not until Johnny walked into your patrol path.

"Left quite the impression on Soap. You made a bit of a mark on Ghost, too. Not that it’s hard." Price leans back, giving you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "He’s got a soft spot for Soap, hm? So he doesn't want you hurt. Doesn't want Soap put out."

You remain silent, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He studies you, utterly calm. He's trying to read you. It's obvious he has some kind of game plan, and now he thinks you have one, too.

"Weren't quite planning to walk into someone like him, were you? Things happened, didn't they? Things you had to work through."

"No."

"Really. 'Cause with the way you're acting, I'd wager you had different plans for yourself. Now you're all twisted up in this. Plans got ruined because he came along. Maybe you've got your own plans, hm? Got a whole life back home. A career, clearly. Nice little house. Maybe you've got a boyfriend already."

"What do you want?" you grit out.

"Access, love," he says, like this whole interrogation is just a pleasant chat. That new base of yours, the one Graves commandeered. How do you like it?"

"Barely seen it."

"I imagine you're rather busy lately, then. Lot on your mind. Shepherd must have you working hard." You notice a muscle twitching in his jaw. He has an iron grip on his temper. "But you saw enough of it to get a good look around, hm? The layout, the security, the systems. Tell me about it."

"I don't know anything."

"Nothing?" He leans forward again. He doesn't seem to like that answer. "The security cameras. The guards. The patrols. The sensors." His voice is low. "You don't know anything about those?"

"Didn't ask."

"Hm." His shoulders lift in a slight shrug as the expression on his face hardens further. "You didn't ask." He repeats. "Didn't ask. Didn't ask..." Then he pauses, staring through you. He leans back again. "No, of course not. You follow orders. You do your job. Can't fault you for that." He speaks with a cool tone, but there's a tightness in the lines of his jaw as he says it. "And now you're here and your buddies are gone. Just you. The only target left." He lets the silence stretch out. "Do you think Graves'll come for you?"

"No."

"Hm. Why not?"

"I'm a nobody."

"Hmmmmm." His smile doesn't change, but the lines around his eyes shift as if he finds that amusing. "And you're perfectly content with that? With knowing that when you walk into that base every day, you'll just be another body for Graves to throw onto the heap?”

You hold his gaze. "Yes."

"You don't think you're worth more than that?"

You say nothing.

The smile is still there, but his eyes narrow. He's judging you. Judging your worth. You hold his gaze. He seems to recognize something in you--that you're telling the truth. You know what you are. You're a mercenary. You're expendable.

"You must have a low opinion of yourself." He sighs, crossing his arms and settling a little further into his chair. "You've accepted you're not walking out of this base, then."

You nod.

Price examines you, eyes narrow and intense. Peeling you apart. You're certainly not an idiot. Smart enough to know you're expendable; loyal enough to take orders, keep your mouth shut, and follow through without asking questions. Not the type of soldier he prefers, but in the right hands, you'd be lethal.

Tough to crack, too. He rubs his chin. Hard to threaten someone who doesn't have anything to lose.

Two sharp knocks on the door herald Ghost, who slips back inside and closes the door. He's not carrying tea.

"Might want to pick up the pace," Ghost says. "Soap's back."

You stiffen, as much as you try not to show it.

Price's gaze flicks over to you, noting the tensing of your shoulders. "He knows?"

"Affirmative, sir. Someone outside must've seen her mark and tipped him off."

At that moment, there's a banging on the door. Johnny's voice echoes from the other side. "LT!"

Hearing it is a punch to the gut.

Soap keeps knocking. "Ghost, get yer lyin' arse out here!"

Price looks at Ghost and nods toward the door. "Go on, then, handle it."

Ghost curses under his breath and slips outside.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, LT, what's goin' on?"

Ghost's reply is too low and muffled to catch.

"Busy with what?" Soap snaps. "I know she's here. I need to see her."

Ghost's reply this time sounds harsher.

"Like hell I'm not. That's my goddamned soulmate, aye? My girl. I've got a right to see her. You'll not keep me from the one person in the whole bloody world that's mine."

"Captain's interrogating her." Ghost's tone is low and loud now, a warning. "You don't get special privileges with her."

Soap lets loose a string of colorful curses. You can make out roughly half of them through his accent. "What does Price think she's got that's so bloody important I don't get to know about it?"

"She's a Shadow, Johnny. Chrissake."

"Aye, an' she's in that room goin' it alone. She needs me."

Your heart twists in your chest, and it forces out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It's eating at your resolve. Just hearing him speak about you is making you want things you shouldn't. He sounds like he wants to protect you. Like you're worth something to him. You try to shake it out of your head. You're a prisoner here. This isn't a love story. He doesn’t love you. He doesn't know you.

Then you look up, and your blood goes cold. Price is staring at you, and he's smirking.

His eyes move over you, dissecting you piece by piece, and you feel your expression revealing too much. He saw your mask slip. He saw what you're concealing.

"I'll be damned." His smirk grows. "I thought Shadows were all cold-blooded bastards."

Your mouth twitches like it wants to bare teeth. "Go to hell."

"Ghost," he calls mildly at the closed door, "get in here. And bring Soap, would you?"

No no no no. Panic washes over you. You pull at your cuffs, feeling yourself lapse into a freeze response. Not Johnny. You can't face him. You try desperately to get a grip on your body's reaction, to remember your training.

You turn your head away from the door and fix your eyes on the opposite corner of the room. Among the many rifles and launchers racked on the walls, you find a pistol and you concentrate on it as hard as you can. You study the polish smudged near the mouth of the barrel. The scarred grip.

Behind you, the door opens.

Soap is across the room in moments. He kneels next to you, his hands falling to your arm, to your shoulder, your neck. His thumb brushes across one of the many cuts on your cheek.

You feel outside of yourself. Soap seems too fixated on your state of being to notice.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ. What did you rat bastards do to my girl?" he growls.

"She did this to herself," Ghost says. He puts his hand on Soap's shoulder. "And we need her restrained while we question her--"

"Back off," Soap warns, brushing his hand away. "Am not dealin' with you right now."

Price cuts in, voice firm. "Soap, cool off. Now."

Soap's temper flashes hot. His jaw clenches. His muscles tense. But he takes a deep, steadying breath. "Aye, Captain," Soap says. He straightens up, his hands falling away from your face. But it's clear his blood is still simmering. "Permission to remove her cuffs."

"Negative," Price says. Soap starts to say something, but Price cuts him off. "No. She's unpredictable. You know that as well as we do. We can't afford to trust her until we understand what Graves' orders are."

Soap curls and uncurls his fists, evidence of the sheer will he's exerting to keep his feet planted where they are. "And what do you expect me to do? Just leave her here? Not say a word to her?"

That smirk curls Price's lips again. "Quite the opposite. I'd like you to do the talking for us."

Price stands and gestures to Ghost again, and Ghost guides Soap by the shoulder over to him. Soap resists on principle for a moment before his mind catches up and he walks stiffly to the other side of the table.

“She has information we need," Price says. "Alejandro, remember? Once that's squared away, we'll need no hostage. You understand me?"

There's a beat of silence.

"You want me to interrogate her," Soap says.

"I want access," Price replies.

"And once I have the information?"

"Then she’s all yours. You can do whatever you like. Let her go. Hell, drive her to the airport if you want. But until then" --Price's hand lands on Soap's shoulder and pushes him down into the interrogator's seat across from you-- "she doesn't leave this room. You understand?"

You feel Soap's eyes on you.

"Fine. I'll do it. But it's gotta be me and her. No one else. You let me do my job the way I know it needs to be done."

"Hm." Price glances at you. You're still concentrating on the pistol on the far wall. "That's just fine. Ghost, let's give 'em some time alone."

Ghost follows Price out of the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Sir?" Ghost's voice is low and uncertain.

"Trust me, Soap is the leverage we needed. He'll do just fine.”

Ghost is quiet for a moment. "If he keeps his head on straight."

Price hums in agreement, his smile genuine now. "If he keeps his head on straight."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

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frozenchihuahua · 28 days ago

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Chapter 1-

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley, sat in the therapist's office, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the clock on the wall. Mandated therapy sessions, ordered by John Price, felt more like a punishment than anything beneficial. He was determined to make this as difficult as possible for the new therapist.

“How can someone be late for the first session?” he muttered under his breath, fiddling with a pocketknife in his hands.

The sound of the door opening interrupted his grumbling.

“Sorry I’m late!” A warm, apologetic voice filled the room. “It’s pouring out there, and I forgot my umbrella.”

Ghost looked up to see his new therapist enter. That wasn’t what he had expected—young woman, younger than him but not much, with rain-soaked hair but somehow a soft demeanor. She set her things on the desk without a hint of formality, she placed a dry towel underneath herself, then plopped onto the sofa opposite him, smiling despite her damp clothes.

“Simon Riley, right?” she asked, still catching her breath. “I’m Y/N L/N, you're therapist like you may see. I’ve been working with military personnel, so don’t worry—I’m familiar with all the jargon...probably.” she chuckles.

“Simon.” he replied curtly, studying her with skepticism.

Y/N didn’t seem like someone who has competencies to this. She seemed too carefree for this. Still, Ghost immediately put up his defenses, He was damn irritated by this 'forced' therapy.

“So, how’s this supposed to work?” he asked with clear sarcasm. “Am I supposed to lie on a couch and tell you about my feelings?” He added a bit of irony to the last word, his tone dripping with disdain.

Y/N laughed lightly, she wasn't affected by the man's sarcastic tone. “No, not at all. At first, you can talk about whatever you want or just sit there, and do nothing.” she said calmly. “” Real” therapy doesn’t usually start until a few sessions in. For now, I’d just like to get to know you a little.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She was nothing like any therapist he had encountered before...she’s strange, without a shadow of a professionalism. “You really think you can get to know someone in…” He glanced at the clock and groaned. “…fifty minutes?”

Woman smiled wider, as if she were secretly waiting for every one of his questions. She leaned slightly towards him.

“Enough to get an idea” she said with a shrug.

Ghost rolled his eyes, his irritation drip clear in his posture.

“Well, my day’s been fucking crap” he said bluntly. “Had to come here, on a completely unnecessary..." The man smirk, "therapy".” He paused before grudgingly adding, “And yours? You got completely soaked.”

She chuckled softly. Wet blonde strands stubbornly stuck to her face.

“Well, mine sucks, i’m soaked and cold” she admitted, glancing down at her damp coat. “But look outside, it’s pouring, yes, but in here it’s dry and warm. We’ve got tea, so it’s not all That bad.”

Her casual, almost cheerful demeanor threw Ghost off balance, her behavior made him nauseous; he was already fed up just thinking about the fact that he couldn't quit this shit.

Ghost sighed deeply, the sound carrying his frustration. He shifted in his chair, leaning back with an air of defiance as if challenging the woman to prove this wasn’t a waste of his time. He studied her again, her calmness almost irritating in its simplicity.

"You don't seem the type" he said abruptly, voice low but pointed.

Y/N tilted her head, her curiosity genuine. "The type for what?"

"Therapist." he replied bluntly. "You look too soft for this line of work."

Her lips curled into a faint smile, not offended but amused. "Soft, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment. But really? Maybe you’ve got me all wrong."

His brow furrowed. He didn’t like being wrong, though he wouldn’t admit it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his mask a shield for the flicker of interest her words stirred.

"Is that so? Enlighten me then."

She crossed her legs and clasped her hands together, her demeanor still light but now carrying an undertone of seriousness. "Well, Simon, i’m not here to fix you or tell you what to do. My job is to create a space where you can feel... human again, if you want to. That’s not easy. That’s damn hard when you’ve spent years building walls so thick you can’t even see daylight anymore."

He stiffened at her words. "You think you know me?"

"No no, not yet." she replied, unflinching. "But I know the type. i’ve worked with soldiers, operatives, people who’ve seen more than we ever think. And the one thing I’ve learned? Everyone’s got a story. And those stories weigh heavy, whether you admit it or not."

He scoffed, leaning back again, arms crossed once more. "So what? You think I’m just gonna spill mine because you’ve got some fancy degree and a couch?”

“No.” she replied calmly, mirroring his posture with a subtle confidence. “What I want is for you to talk to me like an equal by the time we’re done here, no pressure. Just two people having a normal conversation. So, instead of diving into the deep end and dredging up traumas, let’s start with something simple. Let’s just get to know each other.”

Her tone was steady, her words deliberate but she wasn’t trying to pry or force her way past his walls. Instead, she was extending a kind of olive branch, offering to meet him on common ground.

Ghost raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched into every line of his body. “Get to know each other, huh? Bullshit, what’s that supposed to do?”

“It’s suppose to keep us from wanting to kill each other over the next year.” she said, offering him a convincing smile, one that seemed to almost lighten the weight in the room. “Either way, we’re stuck with each other for the year.”

"Great." he muttered dryly. "A year of this...”

~Gusy i'm not a therapist, the whole story is pure fiction, just have a good time while reading!

English is not my first language, if i made a mistake, please let me know.

- Chapter 2 - ⬇️

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #slow burn #chapter 1

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batboyblog · 10 months ago

Text

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #10

March 15-22 2024

The EPA announced new emission standards with the goal of having more than half of new cars and light trucks sold in the US be low/zero emission by 2032. One of the most significant climate regulations in the nation’s history, it'll eliminate 7 billion tons of CO2 emissions over the next 30 years. It's part of President Biden's goal to cut greenhouse gas emissions in half by 2030 on the road to eliminating them totally by 2050.

President Biden canceled nearly 6 Billion dollars in student loan debt. 78,000 borrowers who work in public sector jobs, teachers, nurses, social workers, firefighters etc will have their debt totally forgiven. An additional 380,000 public service workers will be informed that they qualify to have their loans forgiven over the next 2 years. The Biden Administration has now forgiven $143.6 Billion in student loan debt for 4 million Americans since the Supreme Court struck down the original student loan forgiveness plan last year.

Under Pressure from the administration and Democrats in Congress Drugmaker AstraZeneca caps the price of its inhalers at $35. AstraZeneca joins rival Boehringer Ingelheim in capping the price of inhalers at $35, the price the Biden Admin capped the price of insulin for seniors. The move comes as the Federal Trade Commission challenges AstraZeneca’s patents, and Senator Bernie Sanders in his role as Democratic chair of the Senate Health Committee investigates drug pricing.

The Department of Justice sued Apple for being an illegal monopoly in smartphones. The DoJ is joined by 16 state attorneys general. The DoJ accuses Apple of illegally stifling competition with how its apps work and seeking to undermining technologies that compete with its own apps.

The EPA passed a rule banning the final type of asbestos still used in the United States. The banning of chrysotile asbestos (known as white asbestos) marks the first time since 1989 the EPA taken action on asbestos, when it passed a partial ban. 40,000 deaths a year in the US are linked to asbestos

President Biden announced $8.5 billion to help build advanced computer chips in America. Currently America only manufactures 10% of the world's chips and none of the most advanced next generation of chips. The deal with Intel will open 4 factories across 4 states (Arizona, Ohio, New Mexico, and Oregon) and create 30,000 new jobs. The Administration hopes that by 2030 America will make 20% of the world's leading-edge chips.

President Biden signed an Executive Order prioritizing research into women's health. The order will direct $200 million into women's health across the government including comprehensive studies of menopause health by the Department of Defense and new outreach by the Indian Health Service to better meet the needs of American Indian and Alaska Native Women. This comes on top of $100 million secured by First Lady Jill Biden from ARPA-H.

Democratic Senators Bob Casey, Tammy Baldwin, Sherrod Brown, and Jacky Rosen (all up for re-election) along with Elizabeth Warren, Cory Booker, and Sheldon Whitehouse, introduced the "Shrinkflation Prevention Act" The Bill seeks to stop the practice of companies charging the same amount for products that have been subtly shrunk so consumers pay more for less.

The Department of Transportation will invest $45 million in projects that improve Bicyclist and Pedestrian Connectivity and Safety

The EPA will spend $77 Million to put 180 electric school buses onto the streets of New York City This is part of New York's goal to transition its whole school bus fleet to electric by 2035.

The Senate confirmed President Biden's nomination of Nicole Berner to the Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit. Berner has served as the general counsel for America's largest union, SEIU, since 2017 and worked in their legal department since 2006. On behalf of SEIU she's worked on cases supporting the Affordable Care Act, DACA, and against the Defense of Marriage act and was part of the Fight for 15. Before working at SEIU she was a staff attorney at Planned Parenthood. Berner's name was listed by the liberal group Demand Justice as someone they'd like to see on the Supreme Court. Berner becomes one of just 5 LGBT federal appeals court judges, 3 appointed by Biden. The Senate also confirmed Edward Kiel and Eumi Lee to be district judges in New Jersey and Northern California respectively, bring the number of federal judges appointed by Biden to 188.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Democrats #politics #US politics #climate change #climate crisis #student loans #debt forgiveness #shrinkflation #women's health #drug prices

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strlingsav · 2 years ago

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Jealousy

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon gets jealous.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

The room smelled of Price's cigar smoke and spilled beer; the consequences of poker night. Price, Gaz, Soap, yourself and Ghost were perched around the table, placing bets before the next round. It was a great way to blow off post-mission steam, and steal money from your teammates. You hadn't been so lucky thus far, Price was particularly skilled.

Your gaze lifted to study your opponents, holding your cards close to your chest. Price kept his cigar in his mouth, thick, white smoke trailing from his lips. Gaz had his brows furrowed, concentration on his features. Ghost sat beside you, hunched over the back of the chair. He too was surveying the room, cold eyes raking over the faces of his teammates. Soap was almost giddy, he was terrible at hiding how good his hand was.

You weren't particularly interested in cards, but you played anyway to pass time. It was entertaining from your end of the table, watching the chaos unfold as your teammates indulged one-too many beers. You preferred to stay sober- you weren't very experienced with the game, unlike Price and Ghost. You needed every bit of your sober disposition to play.

Your eyes drifted to Ghost, who had been burning holes in the side of your head. You blinked innocently at him, fluttering your lashes. A vicious tactic, you knew that, but the way his eyes raked over your face was worth it- you knew it would get to his head. But as you studied his face, his brow quirked up, and you saw the fabric of his mask shift over his mouth; he was smiling. You quickly broke the tension before anyone caught on to the silent exchange, redness engulfing your cheeks.

It came to the showdown, and as the men laid their cards out on the table, there was silence. Grunts of disapproval and low murmurs of frustration broke the air as they scanned their cards, comparing hands to each others. You looked out, over your cards, your eyes meeting Soap's gaze. He still held his cards, waiting for you to move.

"Go on then," He urged, hiding a smirk.

"Don't look so smug," You teased. "I'm about to ruin your night."

Soap let out a chuckle. "You could ne'er ruin my night."

You raised your brows. "Even if I take all your money?"

"I could list a couple ways you could make it up to me," He grinned.

Gaz groaned, far too familiar with Soap's antics. You nearly rolled your eyes, his comments were just a way to get in your head.

"You couldn't pay me to listen to that," You screwed up your nose.

"I could just show ya," He leaned forward. "I'm free later this evenin' if you're up for it."

You laughed. "You need to get laid, Sergeant, you're like a dog in heat." You shook your head.

"You offerin'?" He was grinning ear to ear.

"Enough," Ghost's voice interrupted the tension, almost soiling the playful mood. "Lay 'em out."

Your head snapped to look at him, now wearing an unreadable expression behind the mask. His eyes were stoic, body rigid, more so than usual. He had little to no patience, but he usually didn't mind Soap's ribbing, it was cheap entertainment.

You furrowed your brows in response, and he turned his attention to the Scot across from you, avoiding your gaze.

Soap laid out his cards, splaying them out before him. A straight. He sat back, hands behind his head, a grin on his face. You, in return, set your cards out, showcasing your winning hand; four of a kind.

Soap's face fell, mouth opening in shock as he stared at your cards on the table.

"Steamin' Jesus," He sighed. "You oughta be cheatin'."

"Don't be a sore loser," You smiled, leaning forward to collect the pot.

Soap was about to respond, when Price cleared his throat.

"Better luck next time," He said, hand clasping down on Soap's shoulder. "'M off to bed."

Soap still sat in disbelief as the Captain stood from the table. He took his beer with him, puffing his cigar as he left the room. Gaz and Soap finished the last of their drinks, and you pocketed your profit- Soap watched you with a glare. The rest of you decided to call it a night, cleaning up the remains of the cards and chips.

Ghost stood to his feet, finishing the last of his bourbon. You followed, creeping behind him when the others retreated to bed.

"Will you be joining me in my room tonight, Lieutenant?" You asked, a sultry tone to your voice.

He recognized it immediately, wanting desperately to follow, but he had already fabricated hallucinations behind his eyes of the Sergeant, and you- his girl. Soap hovering over you, privy to the soft whines from your lips, curves of your body, defiling your pussy- it made him sick. Only he had access to those intimate moments, or so he thought.

His chest bubbled with unspoken anger. He fought within himself, trying to rationalize, fight for you, but he inevitably gave in to the jealousy that clawed at his throat. It was the path of least resistance, to believe the worst from those closest to him. It was a familiar embrace.

He didn't say a word, his body tense as you slid your palms around his waist, easing into the gaps between his tactical vest.

"Someone could see," He said gruffly.

A lie- a white lie to give himself space. He knew no one would be coming back, not with the copious amounts of liquor indulged and the late hours passing by quickly.

You pulled away, a bit thrown by his rejection. It landed in the pit of your stomach, reached up into your chest and stole your breath. His tense disposition alerted you to the fact that something wasn't right, not since he'd snapped at the Sergeant.

"Alright," You sighed. "I'm going to bed," You fumbled with your hands, anxiety settling into the pit of your gut.

He set his drink down. "Be there in a bit."

Ghost was never usually so quiet when the two of you were alone, and certainly didn't deny your touch.

You nodded, choking down your questions so not to worsen his mood. Ghost excelled at hiding his feelings, on the rare occasion he found something that angered him. He wasn't fond of talking, of telling you when you pissed him off, so you kept your prodding to yourself until necessary.

With one last look over his back, you let him be, returning to your bunk.

You stripped out of your clothes, changing into your shorts and T-shirt after brushing your teeth. You waited with trembling hands, your anxiety increasing with each passing moment. You didn't know what to expect, who to expect. Ghost, or Simon. You didn't want to go to sleep with Simon angry, and his sour mood was gnawing at you. You wanted to fix it.

You settled into bed, blankets tucked under your arms. You tried to focus on your book, mindlessly running over the pages without absorbing a single thing. You were too preoccupied with Simon. You let out a sigh, listening for the sound of boots. Listening for him.

The door finally opened, and Ghost stepped inside. The air was thick with silent expectations, a waiting game. Who would break first, make the first move to say something- anything. More often than not, it was you.

You didn't mind being the mediator, you were excellent at communicating. It was ninety percent of your job. You only wished Simon would meet you halfway, but that wasn't the kind of man he was, and you'd learned to navigate it well enough. It was tiring, though.

You knew it wasn't that he didn't want to talk to you- he just didn't know how. How to express why he was angry. You were sure that before you, Simon fixed his anger by shooting things. Taking out his frustration on missions, on targets. He never needed to learn to communicate, he'd never had even a semblance of a relationship with anyone aside from his last girlfriend, when he was in his early twenties. He'd never been close enough to anyone to justify it.

You sat up, the book falling to the side as you readjusted in the bed.

Ghost began undoing the chest plate and other equipment strapped to his body. He was still quiet, and you watched with a frown.

"Simon?" You said quietly, gauging his reaction.

He looked over at you.

"What's bothering you?" Your voice was meek, uncharacteristically so, but you hated to see him that way and didn't want to push him even further.

He sighed, a heavy breath that sounded like it'd been trapped for days. He continued undressing, prepared to escape, to run from the conversation. But he knew you'd get it out of him.

"Simon," You said again. "Talk to me."

You tilted your head as he rearranged his things on the dresser.

"Nothin' to talk about, get some sleep," His voice was gruff, quiet, defeated.

"Talk to me," You repeated, your voice a bit weaker now.

"I said 's nothin'. Be fine in the mornin'."

"But you're not fine now. Just tell me."

You were getting worried now, stomach flipping. He paused, back flexing beneath his T-shirt as he straightened out. He turned on his heel to face you. He kept his mask on- another barrier between you, a reminder that even though you'd already clawed so deep through the layers of stone he built, there were still pieces of him you might never truly have.

"You wanna know?" He asked.

You nodded. "Course I do."

He shook his head. His shoulders tensed. You could tell he was holding back, not wanting to dive into the conversation headfirst. He was avoiding the question, his arms at his sides.

Finally, he spoke. Monotone, bleak- unencumbered by tact or empathy. It was a simple question. He wasn't one for dancing around a subject, he wanted answers, if he was going to talk at all.

"You been fuckin' the Sergeant?"

His eyes were unforgiving, an endless abyss of darkness ready to swallow you whole and eat you alive. You felt the pressure of his gaze, an invisible force pushing you into submission. You weren't one of his targets, but you certainly felt like it.

You blinked a few times, his words shocking you to your core. It deeply unsettled you. A bitter taste on the back of your tongue as you digested his words. It was entirely out of the blue- an unfounded accusation.

In all the time you'd been together, not once had he ever shown any concern over the men you worked with. You thought he trusted you. It stung, hearing him ask you such a question, you were disappointed he saw you capable of that. Of hurting him- adding to the array of scars on his body and mind.

"W-what?" You shook your head.

"Answer me," He said, hands extending to grip the metal footboard.

"I- Why would you even ask me that? No, I haven't been fucking Soap," You exclaimed, pulling the blankets back to stand up off the bed.

"Seems he fancies you quite a bit."

"Simon," You breathed in, arms crossing over your chest. "I haven't slept with Soap."

He was still stoic as ever, eyes clinging to yours as he debated the candour behind your words. You could practically see the thoughts behind his mask, knew he was clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring as he sucked in deep breaths to keep his temper under control. He couldn't always hide from you behind his balaclava, you'd seen his anger before, in true form.

"That so?" He moved closer, his shoulders swaying as he stepped toward you.

"Yes," You breathed, hopeful he'd believe you.

He was silent, only the sound of his breathing filled the air.

"You bein' honest with me?"

His skepticism was palpable and it broke your heart, even more than the question.

You'd given the relationship your all, everything you had. Given Simon your all. Every single piece of yourself was out in the open, ready for the taking, he just had to ask. You'd bend over backwards to please him, do anything to keep him. The accusation made you sick to your stomach, wondering where you went wrong, why you'd made him feel that way.

"Yes, I've never been unfaithful to you."

Your eyes met his, unwavering. You had nothing to hide- never had. Not from him. You ached to show him just how devoted you were. But your rational thought process was no longer applicable- Simon had tasted betrayal before, over and over. He was all too familiar with the feeling of a knife in his back, the aching pain that bombarded his entire body. The sting of humiliation, of leaving his peace of mind in the hands of another and having it torn to pieces. You knew he needed more, needed the reassurance, and he didn't need to ask.

"Ask Soap yourself- I don't care." Your pulse pounded in your ears. "Whatever you need to do to believe me."

He shifted his chin upwards, a weight lifting off his shoulders. Relief washing away the ache. He had a difficult time trusting, believing that you wouldn't hurt him- but you never lied. Always said what you meant, and you never burned him with false promises.

He went against every instinct in his body, every nerve screaming at him to run, flee, push you away. But even he knew that was his conditioning, his instincts weren't created in a world that had you- it was far different then.

"'S fine," He said quietly. "Don't need to."

You let out a sigh, still trembling with confusion and nausea. His chest rose and fell quickly.

"I ain't impressed with the way he talked to you," He said, moving closer.

"He only said it to get under my skin. Besides that, he thinks I'm seeing someone back home. I thought you knew that."

"I do-" He sighed. "S'pose I jumped the gun. Just- imaginin' you, with him," He stopped himself, knuckles white around the iron.

You nodded, still standing with your arms crossed. He would never apologize- would never say, 'I'm sorry', but his actions spoke far louder than his words.

He sat down on the bed, his hands reaching out for your thighs. You let him touch you, though you still felt a bit of resentment for his false accusations. You had to let go, had to remind yourself he only knew what he knew, what'd been done to him before.

He pulled you onto his lap, hands sliding around your waist as he tugged you closer.

"Y'still want me?" He asked, eyes flashing from your waist to your eyes.

"I always do," You said softly.

He nodded, a quiet moment of reconciliation, understanding. You knew that to outsiders it would look strange- the silent reunion between you. Apologies and forgiveness that were never really spoken.

"Take my mask off," He said, the timbre of his voice rousing the ache for him that lay dormant, sleeping until woken up by his touch.

You obliged, lifting the cotton fabric from his face, pulling it off to see the disheveled brunet hair beneath. Your eyes fell to his full lips, then you took your time savouring the way his crooked nose flattered his face. His lashes kissed his cheekbones with every slow blink, dark eyes narrowing as he tried to read your thoughts.

He leaned forward, pausing for a moment to glance at your eyes, before he pulled you closer, barely touching your lips with his own.

He sighed deeply into your mouth, a relief to hold you, know you were his, tangible evidence that he was lovable, that someone would crawl through the barren trenches of his mind to know him. He was unbelievably grateful; skeptical, too, but he chose to leave his faith with you for safe keeping. He'd let down most of his walls, for you, a long time ago, and thus far you'd done nothing but nurture him, love him. You'd proven him right.

You lifted your hands to slide around the back of his head, fingertips gliding into his ruffled hair. You couldn't get enough of the taste of him; tobacco, bourbon. You would tattoo it on your tongue if possible.

He pulled away, taking in your face; your features that drew him in, set his gut on fire. He'd kill for your lips, set cities ablaze just to look into your eyes one last time. The obsession worried him, it terrified him, but he was already addicted, too far gone now to do anything but surrender. He was more than okay with that.

"Could rip the smug grin off his fuckin' face," He said, fingertips digging into your hips.

"I think that would get you discharged," You teased.

"I'd kill for you, sweetheart. Gettin' discharged ain't a problem."

By his tone, you knew he was serious. As disgusting as it made you feel, you enjoyed it. You must've been sick in the head, but you relished in it. The level of determination he had- it warmed you to your core knowing he was just as committed.

"Prison time, then?"

"For you, not a second thought."

He didn't waste any time tugging you back in for seconds, this time, guiding his tongue in your mouth, swiftly gliding against yours. You moaned softly, an unintentional reaction to the warmth shooting up your spine. He knew you loved the feeling of his tongue, the way he was heavy-handed when he kissed you- unforgiving as he took what he wanted.

"Take this off," He breathed, fingertips inching your shirt up.

You lifted your arms to cooperate. The cool air hitting your body, competing with the heat in your womb, lavished your body with goosebumps. His calloused hands cupped your breasts, eyes locked on your chest as he massaged gently, coaxing the sweet sounds of pleasure from your lips. His white-hot touch erased any other thoughts, your sole focus was his hands on your body.

You could feel the arousal seeping from your core, head tilting back to allow him full access to your body. His hand moved to press against your back, a flat palm that offered support and comfort. He took advantage, pressing his lips to your skin. First your neck, his tongue running over your jugular, pounding in your throat. He absorbed it with his lips, teeth softly biting into the malleable flesh.

He ducked his head to show attention to your breasts, wrapping his lips around the silky tissue, sucking gently. A flat tongue ran over your nipple, and a jolt of electricity shot through your spine. You were still clinging to his shoulders, back arching into him.

You breathed heavily, so delirious with lust, desire, any touch from him was like lighting a fuse. He beckoned you to stand, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts. He waited for you, for your permission. You licked your lips, hands on his as you helped him slide the fabric over your thighs, landing on the floor.

He watched from a short distance, eyes raking over the tempting curves of your body, the incredibly silky glow of your skin. He too, licked his lips, his hands a bit rougher now as he pulled you back onto his lap. You gasped, falling against him, your thighs spread over his.

"You all mine?" He asked, head nuzzled against your temple, his gruff voice in your ear.

"Yes," You whispered. "Always."

"That's my girl."

His hand traced your thigh to your pussy, a gentle touch as he reached your clit. His gaze was locked on your expression, your lips parting, eyes shutting tightly. Your pussy was throbbing and needy, nearly burning with desire. You gasped. He peered down at your body, lips dragging against your neck.

His fingertips applied more pressure, relieving the dull ache, and he circled your clit. Your hips mindlessly drove forward, grinding yourself against his touch. He responded in earnest, moving his fingers quicker, harder.

Your head fell back as you basked in the pleasure coiling itself like a snake inside your womb. He had mastered your body, unraveling you in seconds like he did with his rifles. He had a knack for memorization, muscle memory, and your body responded the same way every single time.

He found pleasure in watching you squirm, pant and gasp, begging for his fingers. Faster, harder. He devoured your pleas, already one step ahead, feeling the way your hips moved, your waist twisted. When your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him into your chest, trying to merge yourself with him, he slid a finger inside you. He groaned approval against your jaw, savouring the slick warmth of your pussy, a shiver running through his spine as he remembered how you feel around his cock.

"Y'like that?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

You nodded frantically, eyes shut as you focused on the building tension in your gut. The way it enveloped you, tugging at every nerve in your body.

"I know you do, sweetheart, know just what you like."

"Fuck- yes, Simon," You moaned.

It was never enough, not until he filled you completely. But he couldn't resist the satisfaction of your pussy clenching around his finger, especially when he added a second, listening to the vulgar sounds of your wetness squelching around him.

He marvelled at the sight of your climax; head falling back, a whimper ascending into a moan, your forehead prickling with sweat. It was impossible to tear his eyes from you, to deny himself the vision of you coming undone on his hand. Your ribs shifting with every breath, hugging your breasts as you leaned back. He lifted his other hand to run over the ridges.

You shivered, relaxing into his body as the last of your orgasm died out, breathing against his chest. He enjoyed the silence, watching you recover. He didn't allow you much time, shifting to lie you down on the covers.

He lifted his shirt over his head, his temperature rising as a result of his efforts. He crawled between your thighs, biceps wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer.

You didn't have much say, and you didn't mind. You were pliable with him, a willing participant to his pleasure. He did what he wanted, and you agreed in every possible way.

His calloused palms engulfed the flesh of your outer thighs, an iron grip you could never- would never want to escape from. His chest was pressed firmly to the bed, head turned to lavish your inner thighs with delicate kisses.

He quickly surrendered to his desire, not feeling particularly strong-willed, and bit into your flesh, licking your wounds. The silken moisture of his tongue against your thighs had your hips shifting impatiently, and he relieved your suffering, relocating to your clit.

You sighed softly, hips bucking up into his mouth as a jolt ran through you, still sensitive. He devoured your movements, hands clamping down to restrain you while he licked over your clit.

"Y'taste so good, sweetheart," His muffled voice against you made you squirm.

Your fingers slid through his hair, tugging softly at every caress of his tongue, every time he'd wrap his lips over your clit and suck. Your muscles contracted, abdomen tightening as you fought the overstimulation. You wanted to give in, to give him everything he wanted from you.

But as his eyes met yours, your lips parting to accommodate your heavy breathing, you couldn't wait any longer. Couldn't handle your pussy fluttering with nothing to fill it.

"Please," You whispered, his eyes softening.

Watching his jaw move, his head turn side to side as he gorged himself on your juices, your voice broke with a whimper, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I need you," You said, lifting to your elbows. "Need to feel you inside me."

He sat up slowly, kneeling between your thighs. His lips were glistening with your arousal, chest wet from your cum seeping down toward the bed. You reached out to feel him, to run your fingers down his chest and torso. He shut his eyes briefly, nostrils flaring as he regained his breath and enjoyed your soft hands over his body.

Your eyes scanned his abdomen, drawn to the scars that littered it. It magnified your desire, your lust, the battle scars were an implication of survival, war. It was primal, the reminder that he was a man's man, ready to take all of you in one fell swoop.

"Say it again," He breathed, his hands still grasping your thighs.

"I need you inside me, Simon," You said, unabashed, free of any inhibitions.

"Yeah?" There was an inflection of mockery in his tone, but you ate up every bit of it. "Need my cock, don't you?"

"Yes, baby- I need you, need your cock." You were delirious with lust, whining and begging beneath him.

"That's what I like to hear," He nearly grinned. "Only I can fuck you how you need, ain't that right, sweetheart?"

You felt your pussy flutter again, mindlessly nodding as his hands rubbed up and down your legs.

"Please," You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth biting down to distract from the jittery feeling inside you.

"Fuck," He cursed, leaning over you. "You make my cock hard, love."

You took his face in your hands, pulling him down to meet your lips. You devoured him, devoured the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. Mostly bitter, a hint of sweetness, and the still remaining flavour of him. It was intoxicating.

He quickly undid his belt, aggressively yanking the buckle from the leather, pulling his briefs down to expose his cock. He ran his hand up and down his length, before pressing the engorged tip to your clit. He teased you with it, applying enough pressure to make your hips twitch. Slowly pushing down, his jaw dropped as your pussy swallowed him, squeezing him into the velvety walls.

A nasally gasp came from the back of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed his groans.

"This cunt was made just for me."

His lips beside your ear, you could feel the vibration in his voice. The rasp of his tone lavished your skin with goosebumps.

"Only you," You choked down your whimpers, turning your head to meet his gaze.

The first roll of his hips covered his cock in your arousal, the slick juices allowing him to glide deep inside. The depth knocked the wind from your lungs, and your hands clung to his back, nails digging into his muscles.

His pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he lowered himself to press his weight against your body. You welcomed the intrusion, moving a hand to the back of his head, cradling it as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His lips attached to your throat, feeling the moans and pleas as they passed your larynx. He swallowed them whole, pushing himself deeper, pulling back and repeating to hear the gasps and whimpers from your lips.

"God," You breathed, squeezing down with your muscles as you lurched forward, clinging to his head and shoulders. "So good, Simon. You fuck me so well."

"Bloody hell sweetheart," He grunted with effort. "Tha's 'cause this cunt is mine- all fuckin' mine."

"Shit, Simon," You gasped.

He groaned with approval, continuing his thrusts inside you, his cock grinding into you, massaging your walls.

"Touch yourself," He said, watching you drop your fingers to your clit immediately.

He moaned softly when he felt your pussy clench, and you arched your back for better access as you circled your swollen clit. He shifted upwards, allowing you space while driving his cock inside you.

Your eyes rolled back, choked gasps escaping as you focused on your orgasm, the way his body looked as he thrusted inside you. All muscles, flexing, glistening with sweat.

"I'm so close," You whimpered.

It was engulfing your entire body, the pleasure made your toes curl as you squeezed your thighs at his waist, rocking with his movements. You panted against his shoulder, biting softly at the taught muscle, which earned a groan.

"That's it," He whispered, encouraging you closer to your climax. "Cum on my cock sweetheart," He grunted in your ear.

You felt the fluttering of pleasure erupt from your clit, your head falling back to the pillow while you chest lifted to meet his. You pussy squeezed his cock, contracting, as your nerves were lit up with euphoria.

"Fuck," He gasped, his cock tensing as your pussy hugged him tightly.

He watched with bated breath, still as he could be while rolling his hips against yours, not wanting to disturb the sight before him. He consumed your moans, lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing as he bore down, thrusting even harder inside you.

You cried out, choking on your moans. He found satisfaction in breaking you down, watching you come undone on his cock, knowing no other man would ever see you the way he did, do what he did to you.

"'M gonna cum in this cunt," He panted.

"Cum in me, please," You were near tears, pussy beginning to feel raw from the amount of friction you'd experienced already. "Give me your cum."

"Take it, sweetheart- every fuckin' drop," He grunted as his pace slowed, hips jerking sporadically against yours as he began to release inside you.

He watched your pussy drain him, your cum around the base of his cock, white, creamy- it made him shiver.

He enjoyed the warmth of your pussy for a few moments, before pulling out with a cringe. He was overstimulated, but watching his cum begin to seep out of you mesmerized him. A true mark of his possession- the fleeting idea that it would take, and you'd be all his, carrying his child.

He knew it was a ruse, a dream spurred by testosterone and dopamine, but the thought clung to his mind for a while after- shamefully so. He never imagined himself as a father, never had the desire to bring anything similar to himself or his bloodline into the world. But as he looked over your spent form, your hands reaching for him, his bringing you into his chest, he wondered if it would be so terrible to have something that was also half of you.

You looked up at him with tired eyes, pieces of hair clinging to the sweat on your brow, lips red and puffy with irritation. You smiled softly, leaning up to kiss him, a delicate offering. He accepted with no hesitation, like it was second nature. And maybe it was. You'd more than earned his trust; maybe he could learn to ignore his instincts and give you all of him. You deserved it, he decided.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #strlingsavwrites

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priceyprice · 4 months ago

Text

Prof!Price

"No."

"Please!"

"I said no." She passed her hands through her hair, feeling frustrated that her lover wouldn't listen to her.

Professor Price was sitting behind his desk at his home, grading some work he was going to do in the university, but decided to bring it to his apartment. His glasses were low on his nose, his face was serious, and the floor lamp that decorated the corner of his office was dimly on, giving him an intimidating aura. Everyone who looked at him for the first time would've been intimidated just by his presence.

Everyone except his lover, of course.

The same one that's standing at the other side of his desk, asking a favor. "Please, I need you to do a reposition to my class for the last quiz."

"Why?" He said without looking away from the papers he was holding.

"Because my grade wasn't good!" She said, pointing at herself. Price just lets out a bitter laugh, finding that comment funny.

Sometimes, she forgets who's she's talking with.

Sighing, he dropped the papers on his desk and finally met her eyes. His heart skipped for a second, seeing how beautiful she was with his white shirt and some shorts. Her damp hair was a clear example of what they were doing and the reason why Price was doing that paperwork so late at night.

"Love, I know all your grades by heart. Your last quiz was perfect. " He said, taking off his glasses and intertwining his fingers on top of his crossed legs as his back rested against his chair.

"I... I know, but still I-..."

"Are you doing this for you or your friend?" Her mouth closed into a thin line as she started to feel the embarrassment creep up to her cheeks. Price sighed again when he immediately picked up why she was asking him that.

He pushes his rolling chair backward, making space between him and his desk as he tapped his broad thigh with his palm. "Come here, love."

With short steps, she gets closer to him until she is just in front of his legs. Her hands were together, fingers fidgeting with themselves thanks to the nerves. Price slides a hand to her lower back and pushes her down until she's sitting on his lap with her legs on either side of his thighs.

He tried to look into her eyes, but she was looking everywhere except his. She didn't have the balls to look at him after he caught her true intentions.

Price placed his fingers under her chin, caressing her skin softly, feeling the little bump of a tiny scar she had there from a long time ago. "Love... look at me." He said, putting more pressure on her chin to make her look at him.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to his, finally meeting his icy blue orbs. "Don't ever try to hide your beautiful eyes from me."

She swallowed.

"Relax, darling. I'm not mad at you for that request. You know I don't have any problems changing my methods of studying or making things easier for you, it's just... We're talking about your friend...and you may know her, but I don't. And I don't want you to go this length for her and then later put you in trouble."

His voice was calm and tender to her, with nothing but the purpose of making her understand his point. He could do it without any complaints. His lover could ask him to fail everyone in the university, and he will do so without any explanation.

But this is another case.

Price doesn't know if it's just because she's his lover, and that's one of the basic things a couple has, or because he's much older than her (even though she's an adult), but he has this feeling of protection everytime he's around her. That strange sensation to keep her under his wing because there's people with bad intentions, and they want to tarnish her pure and bright soul.

He doesn't know if her friend knows about their relationship. She could be using his lover to get better grades.

"Oh... I didn't think about that. B-But... She's a really good friend! I may not talk to her a lot, or we haven't been going out with a few friends, but she helped me a lot with other classes. S-So I thought I could help her this time even if it's anonymously..." She explained, feeling a little nervous under those shiny blue eyes.

His hand went under her shirt on her lower back, feeling the softness of her skin. He just stared at her for a few seconds, thinking.

"Does she know we're in a relationship?"

She shakes her head sideways with a few strands of hair falling in front of her face in the process. His hand softly grasped those strands and put it in the back of her ear, caressing it softly after. "Are you sure, Love? I don't want to find out later that she's using you to get better grades."

"I swear, John. No one knows about us."

He looked into her eyes, trying to read her. She wouldn't lie to him that easy. He knows her better than she knows herself. He has memorized every single detail of her, every single thing she likes, she hates, and her expressions. She was telling the whole truth.

Price sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a second. "Okay... I'll do it for you. I will give the class another chance to take the quiz and give them the option to choose the quiz that has a better score."

A big smile grew on her face, making him grow a little one on his lips. She quickly passed her arms around his neck and hid her face, giving him a tight hug. "Thank you so much! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

He lets out a little laugh, tightening his grip on her and giving her a kiss on her scalp.

She has him wrapped around her pretty little finger.

And he knows it.

[Prof!Price Masterlist here]

#captain price #john price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #captain john price #captain johnathan price #johnathan price #professor price #prof price #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

Note

What if Price got migraines, so he came to your piercing shop to get a Daith put in to help (because he hates taking meds). But then, he decides to get more done....

"Sweet Relief" (AO3 Link)

The shop had been quiet all winter. It started with No Ink November, an inside joke you and your business partners laughed about every year. Money was tight, that was for sure, and no amount of Instagram deals or tell-a-friend coupons were going to dig you out. So, you’d been practicing with your piercing skills. Your shop had plenty of tattooists, and one girl was even a specialist in scarification, but no one did piercings. You decided to work hard and fill a niche.

It was a cold January morning, and you rolled into the shop around noon, setting up your station for your three o’clock appointment, a daith piercing. The guy had booked online with some generic disciple name like Mark or Luke or something. You checked the sheet.

“John…”

Based on his questionnaire, it was his first piercing, but he’d been tattooed by your shop partner, Caitlyn.

“Hey, Cait!” You called into the back of the shop.

She shouted back,

“Sup?”

“You know a John Price?”

She poked her head around the door and came over to your station,

“Sure do. He’s a total hunk. Some army guy. Comes in about two or three times a year for work. Is he cheating on me?” She laughed, ribbing you.

“He wants a daith,” you showed her the sheet.

“Huh,” she shrugged, “Cool. Enjoy it, babe.”

Winking and laughing to herself, Cait ducked back into her station and you waited for the man to show up.

Then, like he had been summoned, the shop’s door bell tinkled and an enormous, bearded man stepped through. He was in casual clothes, and he wore a wool beanie to keep out the cold. He looked around the space calmly, giving a polite nod and a wave to Cait. When his eyes found you, he smiled,

“Hey.”

Goddamn if his voice wasn’t like a warm fire on a snow day. It rumbled, low and deep through the room, hitting you right in your chest, surprising you.

“Hey!” You recovered, “You must be John. Come around.”

“Yeah,” he made his way over to you and sat in your chair, “I’m here for the daith piercing.”

“Gotcha. I’m all ready for you. I’ll clean the site, mark it, and I’ll show it to you before we commit.”

You got to work, studying his face as you worked. There were little scars here and there, and a big one near his temple, ragged and rough. You rubbed cleanser on his ear and asked him,

“So, why this one? You get headaches?”

“Sure do. Don’t always have meds out in the field, so I needed something a bit more permanent.”

You gave him a curious look,

“The field?”

“Army. Special Forces. That’s where I got this beauty you were admirin’.” He thumbed the large scar on his brow.

You blushed a bit. He sure was observant.

“Ouch,” you said, “I promise this won’t hurt half as bad. Here, have a look.”

You held up the mirror to let him see the mark you’d made. He shrugged,

“You know best, love. I trust you.”

His words stirred something in your belly. You liked the pet name, and his ease with trusting you went right to your head.

“Alright, hold still, John. You wanna count?”

“No,” he smiled and turned his eyes on you, watching you work on him.

You shoved the needle into his skin and watched his eyes close as the pain washed over him. He took it in stride, smiling when you finished with the hard part. He opened them again to watch you, and he almost seemed to look at you with some level of desire. So, you tried out a pet name of your own.

“There you go, handsome. All set.”

“Cait should’ve warned me. Had no idea my pain would come at the hands of such a pretty artist.”

“Careful, soldier. Gonna get yourself a tongue ring on the house if you keep buttering me up like that,” you showed him the barbell you’d installed, and he took a cursory glance at it.

“Maybe that’ll be my next one. I heard they work wonders.”

“On migraines?” You laughed, confused by his tone.

“No,” he leaned forward, putting himself in your space, “On pretty artists.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you

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tradgedyinwaves · 4 months ago

Text

Touch - Ch. 8

tw: mentions of stalking, the boys are a wee bit toxic, ex is a jackass, fatphobic comments, reader is a bit vindictive, suggested kidnapping

Dating four people was exhausting. Especially being the newest addition. They all wanted to spend their apparently endless free time with you and frequently, you found yourself on a date with more than one of them. All because they couldn’t be patient.

Johnny had actually whined when he found out just how far things had progressed between you and Simon, jealous that he’d been talking to you the longest and not even gotten a kiss. So you spent three days dedicated to spending time with him alone. By the time the two of you left your flat at the end of the third day, you were sore, exhausted, and covered in love bites. Johnny was so pleased with himself, he was practically skipping.

After that, you took a break from the boys completely as you needed time to recharge and recover. Better believe that when you came back to them, they’d already taught Johnny a lesson in self-control and you were greeted with an apology from him for not playing nice with you. You’d told him you forgave him, even though you hadn’t seen an issue with his insatiable appetite for you.

They learned patience after that, dedicating specific weekends to a single man for dates and fun while the week was spent casually hanging out. Your stalker only showed when you were alone, which the boys insisted was never. Even if physically you were alone, they knew where you were since Simon had slipped a tracking device into the lining of your purse and they connected your GPS in your phone to their own. But even those trackers couldn’t see when the shape lingered on the roof across from you, studying you.

A few weeks into your new normal, an invitation arrived in the mail. The paper was pure white, gold writing informing you that you were cordially invited to Kit and Heather’s wedding. You had choked on the fact that you’d received an invitation, feeling like you should be more upset that he was moving on so quickly, but then you remembered the four men that had spent the last few weeks devoting their time and energy to you, adoring you, and making you feel like the most important person in the world to them.

With a smirk, you shoved the invitation into your purse and headed over to the boys’ flat, forgetting to change from your work clothes. By this point, you had a key and the passcode to get into the building and burst into the flat with a wide grin. “Look at this shit,” you announced, dropping the invitation on the coffee table where the boys leaned over and looked over it.

“He’s got some balls to be inviting you,” Price grunted, leaning back in his chair as he swirled his whiskey. You walked over to him with a pretty smile and climbed onto his lap, straddling his wide hips. “I want to go,” you stated simply, looking down at the big man below you with the prettiest puppy dog eyes and Price was caving immediately. “Acht, fine. But who’s going with you?” he asked, raising a brow while his hand found it’s way to your hip. “All of you?” you answered timidly, a light blush coloring your cheeks.

“All of us, petal?” Johnny queried, leaning back on the couch with his legs over Simon’s lap. You looked over your shoulder and nodded, biting your bottom lip. “Why’s that, dove?” Kyle asked from his spot in the other armchair. “Well, I-it’s petty, really. Just wanted to show off how much better I am without him,” you answered, dropping your eyes to your lap as Simon let out a low chuckle. “I’m in. He’s met me without the mask, I’d be glad to show off for you, luv,” he stated, raising his eyebrows at you which only served to darken your blush.

“Sounds like a plan then. We’ll have to contact Laswell and let her know, so she can avoid sending us out around that time if possible,” Price squeezed your hip as he spoke, taking a swig of his whiskey. You leaned forward and laid on his chest, his arm moving to drag his hand up and down your back.

The room quieted as the boys resumed their previous activities. Kyle was in the kitchen cooking up dinner while the game played in the living room. Johnny and Simon resumed watching as well, yelling out to Kyle when he needed to come watch a play. Price sipped his whiskey while you napped in his lap, the sounds and scents lulling you to sleep while his massive paw warmed your back.

New information had plans changing, red strings moved about until a perfect scheme was created.

Arriving in New York had hit you with a wave of nostalgia and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Your family wasn’t from there, so the only memories you had were with Kit and those memories weren’t ones you were thrilled to revisit.

The morning of the wedding found you sitting in the bathroom, waves of panic ripping through you. The last time you’d seen Kit was in a courtroom where you’d looked pathetic as you cried over the loss of your marriage and the new couple sneered at you. What if he just invited you to humiliate you again? Just to rub his happiness in your face.

But wasn’t that what you were doing here? To show him that you had moved on to much bigger and better things? Successfully talking yourself out of the panic attack, you finished getting ready, only stepping out once you felt everything was perfect.

When you finally did leave the bathroom, four heads turned towards you with different versions of shock and awe painted on their faces. A dark burgundy dress adorned your form, a modern version of a 50’s formal dress that settled off your shoulders, cinching your waist and flaring around your hips to end mid calf with little black kitten heels so your ankles didn’t end up broken. You’d really leaned into the decade's inspiration, enhancing the look with a pearl necklace that sat right at the base of your throat and pretty pearl earrings sat on your ears.

“Say something!” you gasped out, feeling like their eyes were burning holes through you. Kyle was the first to snap out of it, approaching you with the warmest smile. “You look beautiful, dove. I think I speak for all of us when I say you’re the most gorgeous woman we’ve ever seen,” he reassured you and you heard some small agreements from behind him.

They were already dressed, each of them sporting simple black suits that had to be tailor made to fit their massive forms properly, wrapping muscles in the dark fabric. Briefly, you wondered if you needed to make an appearance at all, wanting to spend the next few hours undressing them with your teeth.

When the five of you arrived at the wedding, Kit’s family greeted you with wide eyes. They’d tried to keep you from being all four of them in, but when Simon peered down at your ex-father-in-law, daring him to open his mouth, the five of you were let in without any more fuss.

Hiding in the back, you watched them marry in silence, having no more tears for your past. Simon and Price watched your face for any sign that you needed a break, but the resolute stillness had them more concerned. Normally a pretty emotional person, the cold look in your eyes made them a little nervous.

When the happy couple turned towards the crowd, your eyes met Kit’s cold gaze and you smiled, waving at him while surrounded by your men. His gaze shifted from you almost immediately as his new bride started to rally him down the aisle.

The five of you were the first ones out the door once guests were allowed to leave, finding a quiet spot along the edge of the woods outside. You separated yourself a bit, watching from afar while Kit and Heather were having their photos taken. It reminded you of your own wedding and it made something pinch in your heart.

“You doing alright, luvie?” Simon’s voice startled you from your preoccupied thoughts, turning to look up at the dark eyes settled over a plain black gaiter. Despite wearing essentially the same suit, each man had customized it in some way. Simon added the black gaiter, only comfortable going without his mask in his or your flat and black leather gloves.

From where you stood, you could see Price’s boonie hat settled on his head where he’d put it when they escaped outside. Johnny had a tartan pocket square that matched his tie, the pattern subtle with the dark palette. Kyle’s suit was pristine, pressed to have a crease down the front of each pant leg and shirt cuffs that adorned silver initial cufflinks.

“I’m alright. Just reminiscing, I guess. This is a lot more than I got for our wedding. It was small, but I suppose marrying an heiress would warrant this extravagance,” you stated, turning fully away from the scene out on the lawn. “Well, heiress or no, she has nothing on you,” he reassured you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

When they finally opened the open air hall for the reception, your group waited until others were in, hoping to sneak in once things got going. Unfortunately, going anywhere with four massive men following you around didn’t work for flying under the radar. So when you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to your group and you flushed, darting for the corner to hide.

Kit and Heather made their rounds, blissfully ignoring you and the guys until your ex-in-laws insisted it would make them look good if they at least greeted your lot. You were three glasses of champagne in while the boys were stone cold sober so when the couple approached, you gave them a wry smile while your eyes flashed with something dangerous. Even though you’d moved on, you still hated your ex with every fiber of your being.

“Kit. Heather. Congratulations,” you stated, the tone almost seething despite the edge of civility. Their noses turned up at you, disgust on their faces. “Let me introduce my boyfriends, John, Kyle, Johnny and Simon,” your tone changed as you listed them off, fondness pushing out the anger.

“Requires more than one to handle all of you, huh? Now you really are just-” Kit’s words were cut off by Price’s low growling voice. “I’d watch what you say next. She’s worth more than either of you ever will be.” Kyle had to put his hand on Simon’s chest to keep the man from lunging for Kit’s throat. You knew what he was going to say and surprisingly it didn’t bother you.

“At least they know how to make a woman cum. Obviously, you don’t or your beautiful bride here wouldn’t be fucking David behind your back,” you broadcasted, raising your voice ever so slightly as Heather’s eyes bugged and Kit looked like he was going to kill you. “Not my fault you’re oblivious. I clocked it the second I walked in and saw her making heart eyes at him while you were talking to her parents,” you shrugged and turned to walk away before you felt the familiar feeling of his fingers wrapping around your arm.

“I suggest you take your hands off of me before you find out exactly what my men will do to you,” your voice was low, full of warning. He scoffed and tugged on your arm, a massive mistake. Johnny’s hand shot out to rip his hand from your arm while Kyle removed his hand from Simon’s chest, letting the furious man loose.

The leathered hand wrapped around Kit’s throat and squeezed, slamming the man against the back wall and subsequently gathering everyone’s attention to the group. “If you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll find out what true nightmares are,” Simon growled, nose to nose with your trash ex.

You sniffed at the sight, watching Heather screech and plead for Simon to let him go. “Alright, alright. Please, just let me go,” Kit begged and it made a piece of your heart heal, watching Kit get his ass handed to him. Simon huffed, growling at the man before looking over his shoulder, looking for your eyes. You nodded and he dropped Kit, stepping back as you stepped forward. “This is for putting your hands on me,” you stated before reeling back and decking him in the nose.

Kit crumpled, stumbling over to Heather as he dripped blood on her dress. “I hope you treat her better than you did me, no one deserves what you did.” You made eye contact with Heather before turning on your heel and walking out, the boys following behind.

No one spoke as your troop traveled back to the hotel, all of them staying close. They hated that the night had turned the way it had, but the man-child had deserved it. They wanted to praise you for the fantastic punch and the way you’d stood up for yourself. But you were withdrawn, mind replaying the moment over and over again.

You disappeared into your room, citing a need to be alone for a little bit. When they came to check on you an hour later, the room was empty. Except for a hundred masks just like Simon’s and pictures of each of the boys with you.

A single picture of you laid on the bed with a large red x over your face with a word written under.

Karma.

Ope.

Thank you to everyone who is supporting this story. I appreciate every single one of you.

#captain john price #call of duty x reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #poly!141 #cod fanfic smut #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x you #john price x reader #john price #simon riley #john price x plus size reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #touchau

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cityof2morrow · 4 months ago

Text

CDK: Company Expo Set (Mesh + Recolor Pack)

Published: 9-14-2024 | Updated: N/A SUMMARY Cubic Dynamics by John B. Cube and Marcel Dusims forged the future with furnishings that were minimalist in design and maximalist in erudite pretension. Generations later, the company continues to produce edge-of-cutting-edge designs. Use the Cubic Dynamics Kitbash (Simmons, 2023-2024) collection to set up corporate, exposition, and office environments. Envisioned as an add-on to the Cubic Dynamics set (EA/Maxis, archived at GOS), it features minimalist and retro-futuristic objects. Find more CC on this site under the #co2cdkseries tag. Read the Backstory and ‘Dev Notes’ HERE. The COMPANY EXPOSITION SET includes 20+ items to create a conference/event space for your businesses and corporations. This set doubles as the main MESH PACK for all items in the CDK series.

DETAILS All EPs/SPs. §See Catalog for Pricing | See Buy/Build Mode All files with “MESH” in their name REQUIRED for textures/models to display correctly in-game. Recolors are linked to the Booth Partition (vertical woods, metal), Booth Table (horizontal woods, colors), Booth Wall in marble (256x256 Mm marble), Floor Sign 1 (256x512 vertical images), Painting 001 (256x512 images), Painting 004 (1024x512 images), Pinboard (256x512 pinfabric), Pinboard Poster (512x512 horizontal images), Planter 001 (256x512 paneling/pouf). Objects in Sims 2 are limited to two recolorable parts, so not all items are recolorable in the same way. Several objects in this series are oversized/offset. You may need to shift an object upwards once to level it, and you may need “move objects” and “grid on/off” cheats to place them to your liking. When placing partitions/floating shelves and tables/desks/counters on the same tile, place the partition/shelves first. I recommend using this set with Object Freedom 1.02 (Fway, 2023), which includes Numenor’s fix for OFB shelves (2006), for easier use overall. ITEMS Banner Signs (Regular/Table) (380 poly) Booth Partition (405 poly) Booth Sign Small/Large (124-128 poly) Booth Table (572 poly) Booth Wall (44 poly) Down Low Exhibition Table (116 poly) Floor Signs 001-005 (364-794 poly) Expo Leather Gallery Chair (1079 poly) Pinboard (112 poly) Pinboard Poster (12 poly) Planters 001-002 (178 poly) Stall Small/Large (429-434 poly) Wall Sign (92 poly) DOWNLOAD (choose one) MESH PACK from SFS | from MEGA RECOLOR PACK from SFS | from MEGA COLLECTION FILE from SFS | from MEGA *collection file last updated: 9-30-2024

COMPATIBILITY AVOID DUPLICATES: The #co2cdkseries includes edited versions – replacements - for items in the following CC sets: 4ESF (office 3, other 1/artroom, other 2/build), All4Sims/MaleorderBride (miskatonic library, office, postmodern office), CycloneSue (never ending/privacy windows), derMarcel (inx office), Katy76/PC-Sims (bank/cash point, court/law school sets, sim cola machine), Marilu (immobilien office), Murano (ador office), Olemantinker, Reflex Sims (giacondo office), Retail Sims/HChangeri (simEx, sps store), Simgedoehns/Tolli (focus kitchen, loft office, modus office), ShinySims (modern windows), SH (reverie office, step boxes/shelving), Spaik (sintesi study), Stylist Sims (offices 1,2, & 3, Toronto set), Tiggy027 (wall window frames 1-10), Wall Sims (holly architecture, Ibiza). *The goal is to link the objects to the recolors/new functions in the #co2cdkseries without re-inventing the wheel! Credit to the original creators.

CREDITS Thanks: ChocolateCitySim, HugeLunatic, Klaartje, Ocelotekatl, Whoward69, LoganSimmingWolf, Gayars, Ch4rmsing, Ranabluu, Gummilutt, Crisps&Kerosene, LordCrumps, PineappleForest. Sources: Any Color You Like (CuriousB, 2010), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), FlatIcon, Dreamstime, Starline via Free Vector, Cube3d. SEE CREDITS (ALT)

#ts2downloads #sims2cc #ts2cc #co2cdkseries #ofbprops

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theartofcollapse · 11 days ago

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Hello, I really love all your work! ❤️❤️ Was wondering if I can request R x Casey Novak where r is kinda hesitant getting into a relationship with her cause her job? Maybe happy ending just cause it is Christmas 😂

a/n: thank you so much. I hope you like this one as well🤍 i'm taking requests, so feel free to leave a message :) summary: read above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 1.5K

masterlist

Legal Bindings - Casey Novak

Casey and you first met when you were called as a witness for one of Casey’s cases. You worked as a social worker, and your testimony had been crucial in securing a conviction. After the trial, Casey had approached you to thank you personally, and what started as a professional conversation quickly turned into something more.

You’d been casually dating for about two months, sharing coffee dates, occasional dinners, late night conversations on the phone, romantic walks at night around Central Park.

You’ve always admired Casey’s passion and dedication as an ADA, but getting close to someone whose job constantly exposed them to darkness was daunting, especially when that someone was Casey Novak, fierce, relentless, and prone to putting her job above all else.

The low hum of conversation filled the cozy coffee shop as you sat across from Casey, stirring your latte absentmindedly. She was radiant as always, her auburn hair catching the sunlight streaming through the window, her green eyes focused entirely on you. It should’ve been comforting, flattering even, but instead, it made your stomach churn.

“You’ve been quiet,” Casey said, her voice soft yet probing. “That’s not like you.”

You shrugged, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ve just been thinking, that’s all.”

Her head tilted, concern flickering in her gaze. “About what?”

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything at all. You liked Casey, more than liked her, actually, but the reality of who she was and what she did loomed over you like a shadow. It wasn’t her fault; she was incredible. But incredible came with a price, and you weren’t sure you were ready to pay it.

“Us,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Casey leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting from concern to cautious curiosity. “What about us?”

You took a deep breath, staring down at your coffee. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Her brows furrowed, and for the first time since you’d met her, she looked genuinely taken aback. “You don’t think we’re a good idea?”

“It’s not you,” you said quickly, your words tumbling over each other. “It’s your job. The cases you handle, the hours you work, it’s a lot, Casey and I’m not sure I can handle it.”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak right away. Instead, she studied you, her sharp mind clearly working to piece together what you weren’t saying outright. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“Y/N, I know my job is intense,” she said, choosing her words wisely. “But it’s also just that, a job. It doesn’t define me.”

You met her eyes, your throat tightening. “But it does affect you. You go home with the weight of those cases on your shoulders. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Casey’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to take your hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You don’t have to compete with anything. Yes, my job can be overwhelming, but it’s also why I need someone like you in my life. Someone who reminds me that there’s still good in the world, that it’s worth fighting for.”

You wanted to believe her. God, did you want to believe her. But the thought of late nights, missed dates, and the constant worry that her work would take too much from her - maybe even from you - kept you rooted in hesitation.

“I don’t want to lose myself in this, Casey,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

Her grip on your hand tightened, and she leaned in even closer, her eyes boring into yours. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen. And if it ever feels like too much, you can tell me. I’ll listen. I’ll do everything I can to make it work.”

The sincerity in her voice, the determination, it was almost enough to tip the scales. Almost.

“I just… I need time,” you said, pulling your hand back gently.

Casey nodded, though you could see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Despite your doubts, a small part of you, a hopeful, reckless part, wanted to believe her. Because if anyone could make it work, it was Casey Novak.

You weren’t sure what made you say yes when Casey asked you to meet her again the following week. Maybe it was the way she said, “no pressure,” or maybe it was the way her voice softened, almost pleading, when she’d said, “I’d really like to see you again.”

So here you were, standing in front of her apartment door with a bottle of wine in your hand and nerves twisting in your stomach. This felt big, too big. You told yourself you could still back out, but before you could entertain the thought, the door swung open, revealing Casey in jeans and a casual sweater, a rare sight that made her look softer, more approachable.

“Hey,” she said, smiling like she’d been waiting all day for this moment. “Come on in.”

You stepped inside, noting the space. It was neat but lived-in, with books and case files stacked on her coffee table and a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of her couch. It was the kind of home that reflected someone who was always busy but tried to make the most of the little free time they had.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, leading you to the kitchen, where the faint aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air.

“You cook?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Casey chuckled, setting out plates. “I had to learn at some point. Takeout gets old fast.”

You set the wine down on the counter, watching as she moved around the kitchen with ease. It was strange seeing her like this, so relaxed and normal. You weren’t used to thinking of her that way. To you, Casey had always been larger than life, a force of nature in the courtroom, all sharp edges and fiery determination.

“You okay?” she asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Just not used to seeing this side of you.”

She smiled, handing you a glass of wine. “That’s the point, isn’t it? For you to get to know me, not just the ADA, but the person behind it.”

You took a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the way her words made your heart ache. You wanted to know her, but part of you still wasn’t sure if it was safe to let yourself fall.

Dinner was simple but delicious, and Casey kept the conversation light, asking about your day, your interests, and steering clear of anything that might remind you of her work. It was nice, easy, even, but you could tell she was holding back, trying too hard to make this comfortable for you.

Afterward, the two of you settled on the couch, a comfortable silence stretching between you as you nursed your wine.

“I meant what I said before,” Casey said suddenly, her voice quiet but firm.

You turned to look at her, your brow furrowing. “About what?”

“About this,” she said, gesturing between the two of you. “I know it’s not going to be easy, and I know my job makes things complicated. But I want this. I want you. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it work.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “What if it’s not enough? What if you get so caught up in your work that there’s no room for anything else?”

Casey reached out, taking your hand in hers. “Then you call me out on it. You remind me why I’m doing this, why it’s worth fighting for. Because I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let my job take me away from the people who matter most to me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with promise. For the first time, you felt a flicker of hope, a small, fragile thing, but real nonetheless.

“Okay,” you said softly, meeting her gaze. “Let’s try.”

A slow smile spread across Casey’s face, and she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steadier this time. “But if it gets to be too much, I’ll tell you. And you have to listen.”

“Deal,” Casey said, her smile widening.

For the first time in weeks, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing worth having ever was, but as Casey leaned closer, her lips brushing yours in a tentative, hopeful kiss, you thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

#fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #2024 #english #casey novak x reader #casey novak x y/n #ada casey novak #casey novak #law and order #law and order svu #detective #olivia benson #elliot stabler #odafin tutuola #john munch #alex cabot

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gofishygo · 4 months ago

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i know this is pretty niche in terms of topic, but i just want a strings orchestra conductor! john price n first chair violinist! reader.. (definitions below bottom banner)

price of the burningham royal string orchestra has the unfortunate habit of losing his first chair.

his first victim was johnny mactavish- an ex military- just like him. sharp mouthed and witty, with an obnoxious mohawk that the man had sworn he would tear right off of his head. but what had stuck out to him the most was his passion for his arts running far less silently than price's had, even in the old days from before he had started conducting. but after an incident dug out from his sas days had left him half deaf, with a starburst shot on the side of his head and bad blood to be cleaned, he had bid farewell to soap.

and next in line was kyle garrick, who had shared a desk with johnny. unlike soap, who was sharp, loud, a serenade written in baroque times, kyle was much more snide with his work. charming, and gentle, in all the right ways- he'd guided you to your desk with a gentle hand on the small of your back in your early days- but as price's successor, had coined his conductor's ability to lay a heavy hand, a sharp look when needed. but kyle, he has his own fatal flaw; he often finds himself entangled in brilliant melodies, lost in his own interpretation of every piece of repertoire. and soon, that leads him to conducting an orchestra of his own, taking on the studies of a musician like price had, and leaving the first chair cold.

but unlike other fleeting faces, johnny and kyle only fill out two of the four he'd bothered to remember. because he remembers bringing out a hand to first cellist simon for a few months since kyle's transfer, the shadow and backbone of his orchestra.

and he also remembers you.

you, with your pretty face and nervous expression as you had ducked your ways through the chairs and stands in your first days as a violinist under the burningham's string orchestra- and the sparks that had flickered behind doe eyes. even then, you had always had some sort of bratty rebuttal hidden under the tonal qualities of your violin- the way you would glare at him with quiet concern when he would slip marlboro cigarette between his lips in the small breaks during rehearsals, how you would look up at him and promptly play your own, quieter interpretation of the repertoire you gave him. your silent determination- it takes up space in the sounds of his own viola, fills the gaps of what he has longed for during lonely nights. it is your quiet, ingenious spark, and the wisdom behind your eyes that makes him offer you the first chair with a firm tap of your shoulder after rehearsal, the quiet liverpool drawl of his voice inviting you to his office for a chat. it is not the sparkle in your eyes when you focus, the fluster that you try and fail to hide when he attempts conversation with you, how perfectly he imagines your face would fit in the palms of his hands. it is not that at all, he thinks, he lies.

but behind the closed doors of his own office, whatever bubbles in his chest can no longer be fought off by the low hum of whiskey or the pleasant fuzz of tobacco in his veins with you- such a lovely songbird- trapped in his cage. and he simply cannot help it, with the melodies that escape your lips in between his kisses.

so now, you finally sit in the first chair that he knows you have worked so hard to deserve- and you also lay in the arms of the man who has managed to entangle you- wholly, truly, melodically.

first chair- usually, first chair in violin 1 is considered a very prestigious seat in any string orchestra. they act as musical leaders, tune the orchestra, and work very closely with the conductor. them, and the conductor (and guest of honor), usually take bows at the end of a performance.

conductor- a person who directs an orchestra. i dont know what else to say girl

*a strings orchestra will usually consist of instruments: violin, viola, cello, and double/alto bass.

#just a little writing exercise to try subliminally transfer myself into a better string group 🙏#got a new desk partner and i honestly... dont like him :(#i dont care that this is a 13-18 year old orchestra HOW CAN YOU NOT STAY IN TUNE FOR MORE THAN 2 SECONDS #i swear i will eat his fuckass violin if he plays 30bpm above tempo one more time #kind of hate this but make bad art !!!!!!!! not everything can always be perfect #୧ ‧₊˚ 📧 ⋅⸜#call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #call of duty fanfic #john price #john price cod #captain john price #captian price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #cod price x reader #price x reader #price x you #captain price x you #captain price x reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x gn reader #call of duty x fem reader #call of duty x reader #taskforce 141

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yyawnjun · 5 months ago

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THEO AS TATTOO ARTIST

from my serie: P1HARMONY STUDIO

A tattoo of water lilies, an attractive and talented tattoo artist, a phone number that is seemingly impossible to obtain, and certain feelings that are hard to hide. What could ever happen? a.n.: first part! hope y'all appreciate the lil connection between the stories ndaja (you will understand reading the other stories when they will be out <3) ; 2,5k wc ; fluff !!; no warnings ; theo being a tattoo artist makes so much sense. ; shootout for this beautiful banner AND for proofreading this to my favorite girl ever @gfnextdoor @sobun1est (GO TO FOLLOW HER RN) ; writing this to find all of the few p1eces on this app!!

event taglist : @tkooooop (send an ask to be added)

Soon the receptionist found your name on the appointment list and led you down a hallway to room 11 where you would speak for the first time with your tattoo artist about your first tattoo. You had been thinking about getting it for years, and you were looking for the right place and the right time in your life. So one day, after moving alone to a new city to continue your studies, you decided to celebrate the new beginning with a tattoo.

After a long search for the perfect shop, you were lucky to come across "P1HARMONY," a shop with great reviews despite being little known. You had previously decided what you wanted tattooed, where on your body, and in what style. After seeing some tattoos on the Instagram page, you decided to visit the place. In particular, the amazing and simple style of a specific Theo caught your eye. Unfortunately, the tattoo artist you wanted wasn't available when you first visited. However, you were able to schedule a meeting for the next day so you could talk to him face-to-face about your tattoo.

It was around 10 am when you entered room number 11. When you walked in, you saw that the blinds were still a touch low so the light was reflected enough to illuminate the room without being overly blinding or annoying. You immediately saw the boy who introduced himself as Choi Taeyang, your tattoo artist seated on the chair next to a desk. His pale skin provided a pleasing contrast to accentuate his reddish lips, and his jet-black hair matched the color of his eyes. His expression seemed calm and even his glazed eyes were softened by a small smile. He didn't have any tattoos on his arms as you expected, but you could see one on his chest because of the shirt's neckline.

“I heard this will be your first tattoo. What were you thinking of doing?” He asked you after you walked in and sat down in the chair across from him. Even though a whole desk between you two, you could still feel your heart pound as his black eyes remained to gaze at yours. His calm attitude quickly made you feel comfortable, to the point where you began discussing your desired tattoo design. You clarified that you wanted a water lily to be placed on the inside of your arm. To ensure that his style was appropriate for you, he got up to display his collection of tattoos.

He got up and took a big notebook from a shelf that had sketches and pictures of tattoos he had done. As you reviewed that type of portfolio, you grew to admire his lovely line and the numerous incredibly accurate details that accompanied it. You saw that, although focusing more on the medium-sized tattoos, he had no trouble applying color and that the size of his tattoos was the most different.

As soon as you finished looking at his notebook. You looked up, convinced now more than ever that he would be the one to give you your first tattoo. You started to look at him, but he was already looking at you. You looked away for a moment while he kept his gaze. “Okay, I’m convinced”

“Perfect, then by this evening I will send you some ideas of your tattoo, both colored and not. Once you have seen them, we can discuss the price together.”

“Thank you. Do I need to leave my email or my number to the secretary?”

“Yes… I mean, no, don’t worry. If it’s okay with you, you can leave it with me and I will contact you,” all his confidence seemed to waver as he said that. His voice sounded halting, and his cheeks were flushed. You didn’t pay much attention and gave your number to him.

“So, water-lily girl, what’s your name?”

You chuckled at the funny nickname "Yn, my name is Yn," to which he responded with a smile and a firm handshake.

In contrast to your hand, his hand felt quite warm and had a firm hold. You got up to go a little while later, and he got up right away to open the door.

A quick nod and you were out of room number eleven. You walked towards the main exit where you ran into two boys, one tall with red hair and lip piercings, and one with black hair and a temporary henna tattoo on his arm.

“And you know that, even though I’ve known Theo for a week now, I still haven’t managed to get his number!” said the red-haired boy. Suddenly, their conversation took on a more intriguing tone. I mean, because you already had his number…

"Of all the people I know, very few have his number." the other boy replied. And after that sentence, you lost a heartbeat skip and an involuntary smile. Why did they ask for your number? Or was it all just your imagination? The truth is that you had to move from your hiding spot to get out. You did this by lightly smiling at the two boys.

“And she didn’t leave her contacts at the secretary’s office,” the receptionist told the two boys that were still looking at the girl that just left the shop.

“Either Theo scared her, or Theo took her contacts,” the henna boy replied.

“She was really cute, I don’t know whether to hope that he scared her or that he thought she was cute,” the redhead added.

“The second option,” said Theo, who had just joined in the discussion. No one had noticed his arrival, and everyone was slightly scared by his sudden comment.

“You did well, I’ll be rooting for you. You should give me your number so you can keep me updated.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Jiung,” Theo chuckled before going back to his studio to take care of your tattoo.

It was 8 pm and you had just finished taking a shower when your phone rang. It was a message from an unknown number. But you immediately recognized who it was from the profile picture, and his introduction in the message; it was Theo, the tattoo artist. For a little while you felt the emotion rise, even if he hadn't written you anything so crazy... but you could still hear the voices of those two boys talking about how rare it was to have his phone number. And you got it right away... that boy blushed and stammered when he asked you for it. Oh, how all those romantic Kdramas are starting to bring out your delusional side…

“Hey, I'm Theo, the tattoo artist at p1harmony. We met today and I texted you to show you some tattoo ideas. Sorry, there are a lot, I ended up getting carried away. I hope you like at least one. Let me know so I can fill a spot for you starting tomorrow if you're available.

Have a good evening Yn”

You grinned at the message and began glancing through the pictures. Every one of them was more beautiful than the last.

The style was similar in all of them, and yet they were so different. You fell in love in particular with a water lily colored in a reddish pink with green petals. It had little stars around it that lit up the water lily, giving it a fairy-like tone-

You stood alone thinking about the tattoos and imagining the boy doing them. As he worked on his graphics tablet, you could picture him focused, with his eyes half closed and his forehead slightly furrowed. After a while, you responded to him, telling him which one was your favorite and asking if you could have an appointment the next day.

“A date tomorrow. Sure, see you at 10 am.” he sent the message shortly after your confirmation.

“Of course, I meant for your tattoo.” at 1 am, when you were still awake watching your favorite TV series.

You smiled and replied with a funny emoji to let him understand that you knew it.

“...unless” was the message he sent you at 1.54 am, which you saw fleetingly - because you were still absorbed in watching the series - and which he deleted a minute later.

You wanted to scream because that message had caught you off guard. Unless what? You were fantasizing a little too much about a boy you had met the day before…

Shortly after you fell asleep lulled by those sweet thoughts.

“Welcome,” he said to you as soon as you returned to room number eleven. You found him standing next to the armchair where you were supposed to lie down. He was wearing black gloves and a white shirt that highlighted his hair, which was particularly neat, pulled back by a light layer of gel.

He had a warm smile that lit up his face, and his eyes shone with the light that came in from the windows.

“Come and sit here, so we can try the stencil,” he told you.

You sat down while he went to print the stencil of the tattoo you had chosen. You had time to admire his studio. Everything was clean, and the predominant colors were black and white. On the walls hung some of his tattoos and sometimes certifications.

You smiled when you saw a print of a painting by Monet, of water lilies that stood out next to his desk. It seems like he did some research for your tattoo. He appeared so young, yet so skilled; the room featured a few bookcases filled with different tattoo manuals and journals containing pictures and sketches of his tattoos.

You took a moment to lean over and check the year he had won the competition, so you could figure out how old he was.

Just as you were checking he came back and stopped your train of thought. “I was born in 2001, and now I’m 23.” he smiled at you as you shyly sat back down.

“Oh okay..thanks,” you said blushing.

“Here’s the print, stay still while I try to position it on you.”

He was able to place the print on top with extreme delicacy since you sat down and stretched your arm. "Are you ready, Yn?" and you gave a nod.

"Alright. I've already prepared everything I need; we can get started."

Suddenly your arm contracted at the contact with his hands, the fear of the needle of that machine mixed with the delicacy of your body gave you shivers all over your body.

Your arm suddenly tightened at the touch of his fingers; the combination of your body's sensitivity and your fear of the machine's needle sent shivers down your spine.

"Is everything okay?" he asked you, stopping before even touching you with the needle.

"Yes."

"They won't hurt; they'll be like tiny pinches, I swear. - he said - tell me a little about yourself so you can distract yourself in the meantime."

The proposal seemed acceptable to you, so you started to talk about your recent move. He nodded in silence and added a few questions. You noticed that the pain had become bearable, and you took your time observing the boy so concentrated while he tattooed you. His eyes were half-closed, and his head was scrunched up, just as you had imagined. His mouth was slightly open, and he was carefully holding your arm while he tattooed you. With more time to focus on him, you became aware of how near your face was to his, and you made an effort to glance aside to keep your eyes from meeting.

“And would you like to tell me something about yourself?” you asked him bravely. You were used to listening, but you had been pleased to be able to talk to someone. He also spoke a little bit about himself, saying that he had moved into the studio a year before and was gradually getting to know all the people who worked there. He cherished that work environment, and they were all wonderful people. He spoke and you listened to him; he and he remained focused. He was so attractive that even if you tried not to get lost in his words, you found yourself missing a few sentences.

You had lost a few heartbeats, your sense of time, and now even your shred of dignity when you decided to ask him if he was dating someone.

He looked up for a moment, shook his head, and asked you the same question again.

“No, I’m not,” you told him.

Theo and you both began to smile, but you hardly noticed his as you felt his heartbeat quicken due to your posture allowing your palm to lightly feel his heartbeat.

Before you knew it, the tattoo was finished.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said

“Yes.. beautiful.” he said looking into your eyes, and then added “Yes, the tattoo. I’m proud of it.” he continued pretending as if nothing had happened.

Shortly after he placed a specific wrap around your tattoo, to prevent it from getting ruined or infected. You quickly paid for the tattoo and stood up to go.

“It was nice meeting you, you can text me if you need anything. You already have my number anyway”

“Thanks again, Theo.”

“Unless…” he said to you when you were at the door with your back turned.

You connected to the deleted message right away. Was that cryptic method he was asking you out? Instead, you chose to be naive and pretended to be confused.

You turned around and found him standing a few meters away from you.

“We can see each other again tonight, you and I. But not for your tattoo. I mean, would you go on a date with me?” he asked you.

Your heart started to beat wildly.

“Sure Theo, I’d love it.” and immediately your gazes moved. “I’ll text you the details then,” he said to you.

Out of excitement, you turned around and tried to push the door to leave…even though it said “PULL” in large letters.

He smiled and tried to open it for you, but you managed to be quicker.

When you opened the door intending to listen in on your conversation, you found two boys outside the room you saw the first day.

We are even now, you thought, recalling the first time you overheard their chat...

But Theo didn’t see it that way and started chasing while the two tried to escape.

“INTAK, JIUNG STOP NOW.”

You smiled and greeted them, then tried to leave while giggling at the funny scene.

At the entrance, you find a boy with platinum blonde hair who has just arrived. You noticed from his bags that he was probably a make-up artist who worked there.

“Hey, you must be Yn,” he said to you

“Uhm yes, who are you?”

“ Oh sorry, I’m Keeho. I work here as a make-up artist, and Theo told me about you. Just tell me if that dork dared to ask you out.”

“He did.” you smiled.

“Let's go, Jongseob owes me 10 euros… may I ask you again if you accepted?” And you nodded.

“YES! Thank you. Now Soul also owes me 10 euros. One day, I will offer you free makeup.”

You laughed at the amusing interaction, nodded, and walked out, your thoughts still wandering as you imagined the upcoming date with Theo.

#k labels #k - labels #p1harmony #p1h #choi taeyang #choi taeyang x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony imagines #p1h x reader #p1h fluff #theo p1harmony #choi tayang fluff #keeho fluff #theo fluff

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hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 3 months ago

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Kinktober 2024 Day Seventeen

Boot Riding

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Capitan John Price

“Mind telling me where you’ve been?” Price questioned before Gaz had even finished closing the door behind him.

Gaz glanced at the clock. It was a minute, maybe two, past seven. He was barely late. At least, not late enough to warrant the hard glare Price was giving him from behind his desk.

“Just making my report to Ghost.” Gaz shut the door and walked up to the front of the desk, grinning down at the captain. “Got a problem with that?”

“Yes.” Price leant back and stared up at his sergeant. “I don’t recall telling you to give any kind of report to Ghost. Let alone, telling you that this report could make you late to meet with me.”

“I’m sorry.” Gaz leaned over the desk, one hand planted on the wooden surface, the other reaching out for Price’s face, until he moved his chair back, out of Gaz’s reach.

“You want to apologise to me, sergeant?”

“It’s two minutes, it’s hardly a big deal.” Gaz stood up, folding his arms.

“It’s two minutes you spent with Ghost—”

“And not you? I though we talked about you being jealous, John?”

“I’m not jealous.” John spat the word out. “Strip, now.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, but complied, leaving his clothes where they fell in a crumpled mess on the floor when he tried to go around to get to where Price was sitting.

John held up a hand to stop him. “Really, sergeant? Clean that mess up.”

Gaz stopped, frowning as he met the captain’s hard stare again. He debated it, then decided that now probably wasn’t the time to make whatever Price had in store for him worse, so he stopped and picked up his clothes, carefully folding each item before setting the pile neatly on the front edge of the desk, crouching out of Price’s sight, out of his stare, as he tucked his boots up against the front of the desk below it.

Price grunted in approval when he stood back up, and beckoned Gaz to come close, pointing to the ground in front of him as he swung his chair to the side. “Kneel.”

Gaz did so, sitting on his heels as he pressed his legs together in front of Price’s boots, his hardening dick resting on his thigh, half concealed by arms stretching down so his hands could rest on his knees. Price reached out and cupped his chin, tilting Gaz’s head from side to side as he studied his face. Gaz kept quiet, but shivered as he felt his dick continue to get hard against his thigh, thanks to Price’s silent stares.

“He’s at least had the decency to not leave any marks.” Price grunted, pushing Gaz’s head back as he let it go, his eyes flicking down to Gaz’s half hard cock instead. “Did he send you off with that?”

Gaz shook his head. “All your work. Sir.”

“What? Just telling you what to do?” Price chuckled low in his throat, leaning down towards him. “Anyone can give instructions, Gaz.”

“I don’t follow instructions from just anyone.”

“Right, just me, and Ghost.”

“You’d be surprised.” Gaz murmured, his breath bating in his throat for the grand reveal.

“How so?”

“Most of the time, I’m telling him what to do.”

“Sure, you are.” John chuckled, in a way that told Kyle he didn’t believe him. He indicated for Kyle to split his legs open as he pushed his right leg forward, nudging his black, leather boot between Kyle’s knees. “You’re going to grind on my boot, and tell me the truth, you understand, the truth about what Ghost does to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Kyle widened his legs, shuffling close until his dick was rubbing up against the leather boot. He wrapped his arms around John’s shin, shifting his hips up as he tilted his head to one side, resting it on the top of John’s knee as he looked up at him. “What do you want to know?”

“Have you let him jerk you off?”

“Yes.” Gaz started rolling his hips, rubbing his dick against John’s boot. He bit his lip at the initial discomfort, dragging his skin against the tough surface, until it faded and left him searching for more texture with each roll of his hips as he struggled to find the right angle.

“How often does he do it?”

“Uh, quite often.” Gaz tightened his grip on Price’s trousers, pinching the cloth between his fingers, dragging it out from where it was tucked into his tightly laced boot. “He’s willing to do it for us- me, whenever, rather than me jerking off.”

“Is that so?” Price eyes lit up at the ‘us’ Gaz let slip, before picking up a cigar from the ash tray and relighting it. “How does he do it? Left or right hand?”

“Right.”

“Fast? Slow? Tight? Or squeezing?”

“He goes fast. Doesn’t do too much, just grips and goes until you, uh, finish.”

“Does he make you clean his hand?”

“Usually wants to wipe it on your shirt.” Gaz grunted as his dick rubbed against Price’s laces, his hips bucking up as he remembered the harsh speed of Ghost’s hand jobs.

“Isn’t he generous?”

“Uh huh.” Gaz tried to shift his dick away from the laces, back to the patch of untextured leather he’d found before. He didn’t want to cum before Price said to.

“Does he ever get you to return the favour?”

“Sometimes. He wants, prefers, to get sucked off, though.”

Price grunted. “Good trade, with how well you suck dick, Garrick.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gaz preened as Price stroked his cheek, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“Does he ever suck your dick?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“At his own pace. You just sit there and let him work.” He swallowed, clenching Price’s shin tight and slowing his hips, not missing the tinge of desperation that came into his voice as he continued speaking. “He doesn’t let you… No touching. Doesn’t let you touch him.”

“His rules, I suppose. Do you think he’s as good as you?”

“No, he’s nowhere near as good as me.” Gaz answered without thinking. When he’d processed what he’d said, he felt his face run hot, and his eyes widened. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.” Price lifted Gaz’s head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands, holding his cigar between his teeth as he tugged Gaz’s face up, grumbling around it as he continued his interrogation. “Does he let you cum down his throat?”

“Insists on it.” Gaz jerked his hips to a stop, precum dribbling down the leather as his breath choked in his throat. Fuck, he was close to coming.

“S’alright. Take your time.” Price’s thumb stroked his cheek. “Tell me how he fucks you.”

“Right.” Gaz tried to gather his thoughts away from how good it felt to have Ghost filling his ass as the memories flooded into his mind. “Likes to have you prepped, finger yourself open. One time… he had me and Soap prep each other.”

“Did he now?” Price murmured, brushing a tear off of Gaz’s cheek, his eyes sparking again at the mention of Soap.

“Yeah. He likes to be able to just sink into a hole and fuck. Hard, fast. Manhandles you. Won’t wait for you to come before he does.”

“Does he now?” Price’s brow furrowed. If Kyle was in a clearer state, he might have thought it was a look of disapproval.

“Makes up for it, though. Excellent aftercare. Cuddles you close, slowly jerks you off. Always makes you a bacon sandwich.”

“Ah, that explains where all our bacon goes.” Price gently ran his thumb along Gaz’s lip. “And what about when he lets you fuck him?”

Gaz’s dick twitched, as he remembered how Ghost had ended up underneath him that one night. “He begs.”

“He…”

“Begs. Does it really well… almost too well. And he cums loads. Makes a difference to see it all over him rather than in… in you.”

“Go on.” Price’s voice seemed faint to him now. Like he was far away. Not that it mattered, Gaz was going to ramble on whether the captain told him to or not.

“He’s loud. Whiney. Goes all pink, all over. Tight and squeezes like a vice.” Gaz swallowed, rubbing his dick up against the laces again.

“Does he?”

“Yeah.” Gaz squeezed his eyes shut.

“Go on. Come.”

“Fuck…” Gaz came, spreading his come over Price’s boot as he thought about fucking it deep into Ghost’s ass, all while Price cupped his face, murmuring gently above him.

Eventually, Price drew his leg back and lifted Gaz into his lap, guiding him up as Gaz’s legs shook underneath him, wrapping him securely in his arms before he spoke again.

“Thank you for telling me that.”

Gaz leant into his chest. “You’re welcome. Am… am I forgiven for being late?”

“Of course. Just see that it doesn’t become a habit.”

Gaz looped his arms around his neck. “Course it won’t.”

“Good. If there’s a next time, I’ll be having words with both you, and Ghost.”

“Words? Or watching?” Gaz nuzzled into Price’s neck.

He chuckled. “It’s like you read my mind.”

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roguelov · 8 months ago

Text

Crimson Stained Petals (Chapter 4)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.4k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: minor angst (dealing with nightmares and depression), mostly fluff, pining, blood (reader gets minor cut)

Chapter 3 and more chapters to come!

Over the few days, Morpheus had noticed a dreary cloud forming and seemingly growing over your head. It casted its gloom and rain dampening your radiance. Your smile was not quite as bright, it barely reached your now sullen eyes. Your presence was no longer felt in every room. Your laughter, your occasional humming, your musical-like steps were gone. You were a shadow, a husk. And big by bit, you retreated from him; you actively avoided him, or so he believed.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus asked one evening.

The pair was in the study. Papers littered all over the desk along with uncapped inkwells and used fountain pens. They poured and poured over the dull necessities of maintaining the bookshop - going over profits, bills, shipments, and new orders.

Lucienne peered at her lord over her glasses quizzically. “Yes?”

“Have you spoken with our dear mortal recently?” Morpheus still stood over the desk and continued to scan over documents, trying not to look bothered by his inquiring question or your sudden change.

“No, I haven’t.”

A tension set in his jaw. “I see.”

Lucienne quickly picked up on Morphues’s displeasure. A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. She was not oblivious to her lord’s far more chirper attitude since welcoming you into the manor. “May I ask what brought up this question?”

“Curiosity,” he replied nonchalantly.

Lucienne hummed, unconvinced. “Curiosity? Or concern?”

Her question stirred a reaction out of him. Morpheus whipped his head, now facing Lucienne directly. “And if I am, is there anything wrong in worrying about her?” His question was one of concern for you, yet his tone in which he spoke was biting - what exactly was Lucienne implying?

Lucienne’s smile only grew. She calmly responded, “No, sir.”

Upon seeing Lucienne’s calmness, Morpheus’s shoulders instantly dropped. His anger was misplaced. All the fight was drained from him, and soon the truth spilled out. “She -“ he sighed - “she does not seem happy and … and I do not know if it is because of living here or because of troubled nights.”

Lucienne thought of how there was an easy solution to his conundrum: he should speak with you. However, she held her tongue this time and instead opted to ask a question regarding you. “Troubled nights?”

“The other night, she spoke of having a nightmare.” Morpheus’s eyes shone with a heavy sorrow. “She … she was utterly frightened, Lucienne. Her fear nearly choked me.”

Lucienne frowned. “I was not aware, but a nightmare is a nightmare. There is not much one can do.”

Morpheus sighed, dropping into his chair. He tipped his head back and stared blankly up at the high ceiling. His heart - ancient and heavily barricaded - ached to see you smile. Just once more, just for a moment. In such a brief period, you had invaded his thoughts. He did not realize he craved it, sought it out, until it was taken from him.

Taken.

It seemed many things were taken from him in recent years. He pushed aside those thoughts and painful memories. He ran his hands over his face then through his tousled hair. Such complex feelings swirled inside his chest and constricted his heart.

“You care for her.” Morpheus lifted his head, looking towards Lucienne. She continued, “Which is never a bad thing, sir. She has brought new life here.”

And in you, she thought.

“I care for all of you,” he answered, dismissing her comment.

“You do, and we appreciate it.”

He raised an eyebrow at the weighted pause at the end of her sentence. “But?”

She smiled to herself. “I believe the care you feel for us and her are different.”

Morpheus frowned. Was he truly so easy to read? Did he truly become enamored with his housekeeper so quickly like a tale of forbidden romance? Did he truly want a partner … or did he want something else? He turned his head away, grumbling to himself.

Care? If one could call it such.

Does a farmer not care for his slaughter? Care, hunger, desire, it all can twist together. They can form into complex knots, making it impossible to tell where one may begin or end.

“For you, my lord.”

A beautiful picturesque rose dripping in a passionate red appeared in front of Morpheus’s face. He was working tediously in his study, and surprisingly failed to hear him. He just appeared, a magical and strange habit of his.

Morpheus blinked, gently taking the rose out of his hand. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

He smiled warmly like a sunny day. His wondrous new grander had already made such a change in the once dismal manor. Colors of all sorts were injected into the very foundation. Flowers bloomed wildly and freely, life blossomed with a new fever. “I thought you might like it, sir. Red suits you perfectly.”

”How do you do it, Lucienne?” Morphues whispered softly, changing the conversation. His voice was filled with sorrow as memories resurfaced. Sweet, painful memories, ones he wished he could forget yet also wouldn’t trade anything in the world for they were more precious than any gold or jewelry.

“Meaning what, sir?”

”To be close to her, to not be affected by her?”

Ah.

”Well, someone taught me control.” Lucienne slowly organized papers. “Someone had once found me in an awful state and was able to bring me back to my senses. Now, part of me cannot bare the smell of human blood without my stomach twisting into disgust.”

Morpheus’s eyes softened.

Lucienne gathered up the papers, ready to part of the night. “A solution to your problem: perhaps you can try to talk to her and cheer her up, sir. I’m sure she would appreciate the gesture.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how would I do that?”

She chuckled, almost in a knowing way, and strolled out of the study. “I believe you will figure it out, sir.”

The soft click of the door echoed in the now quiet, lonely space. Morpheus peered over to the window with its curtains drawn. Even drawn closed, the setting sunlight streamed through the cracks trying to warm the earth in its last moments. Tilting his head, he saw the surrounding woods fade in the dying light. As his gaze darted around taking in the surroundings, it landed on a corner of dark greens and deep reds. Lucienne’s words replayed in his head. He was on his feet, already looking for you before he fully understood it himself. His feet carried him downstairs towards your room, however he stopped in the dining room. Looking ahead, he instead saw you sitting in the sun room. You were on the couch with your back to him and your head bowed. He immediately changed course.

Quietly, he opened the door. The potted trees and fauna stretched its shadows and created unique jagged shapes. A soft orange bathed over the room. The fractured soft light shone through the glass and casted you in an ethereal halo of twinkling gold.

You were a goddess of light.

As he walked towards you, you did not stir. You had heard him by the high pitched squeak of the door and the faint clacking of the heels on the tile floor. He stopped by your side, peering down at you. “I see you are still reading that book from before.”

You laughed, a quick huff through your nose, and closed the book in your lap. You glanced up at him with a forced smile. “Trying and failing, sir.”

His eyes swept over your face. Gaunt was the first word to come to mind. You appeared gauntly and ragged. Bags were carved under your eyes, and your skin had lost its glow. He pushed on, trying not to dwell and stare at your new appearance. “And what has your mind occupied this time?”

The other night. The nightmares. An unpleasant past. You.

“I suppose a lot of things,” you answered with a heavy sigh.

Morpheus frowned slightly. Yet, he quickly wiped it away, replacing it with a small endearing smile. He extended his hand down towards you. “I know a place to help clear your mind, would you care to join me?”

Your eyes flickered up. His dazzling blue eyes - contrasted against the golden dazzling air - only showed kindness and a hint of concern. You should refuse, you should stay or perhaps return to your room for the night, but … but how could you say no? Not when he looked at you in such an alluring way, and not since he piqued your deep rooted curiosity. You carefully set the book aside on the plush cushions, and placed your hand in his. “I would love to.”

Morpheus’s smile grew as he drew you up to your feet. “Wonderful.”

He hooked your arm through his and guided you forward. Together, you walked out through the back entrance of the sun room, heading directly for the rose maze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, however its last bits of rays faintly colored the sky. Oranges and pinks still stained the vast canvas known as the sky. They desperately clung behind as rich purples, dark blues, and an all consuming black began to drip down coating all corners. The moon, perfectly sliced in half, already shone in the dimming sky. Its companions, stars, began to twinkle and fill the empty space for the moon was never alone. The rose maze, under this changing light, was mysterious. The greens almost appeared black, while the reds were embers of a dying fire. Excitement buzzed across your skin. Your heart flipped, nearly dropping into your stomach. It was all so thrilling to finally set food inside, and to be by Morpheus’s side as your guide.

Even if you shouldn’t, even if a logical part scolded you.

Morpheus drew you close as you approach the entrance of the maze. “Now, stay close. At night, it can be tricky to navigate.”

There was a hint of humor in his voice as if he was trying to spook you. You chuckled, shaking your head, “Really? Is that your plan? To take me in and do what you want without anyone seeing?”

He laughed, a deep rich laugh that vibrated in your own chest. “You have me figured out.”

You smiled, a true genuine smile. It returned as if it never truly left. It was nice to be joking and laughing with him. It was surprisingly so easy, like two friends and nothing else.

No titles, no past.

Stepping into the maze was stepping into another world. The maze hedges were easily seven feet tall and two or three feet wide, it fully blocked out the world the further you walked in. The hedges were cut and trimmed to perfection. No branch stuck out, only roses. And the roses? Gorgeous with no flaws. There were full roses with their petals spread out to greet you, there were buds still closed waiting for their time, and there were roses in every stage of blooming covering almost every inch of the hedges. The sweet floral aroma tickled your nose and filled the air.

You hummed, pleased by the scent.

Morpheus peered over at you, taken by your wide curious eyes. Your eyes darted all around, fascinated by it all, memorized by its beauty. Strolling further in, he followed the correct path leading to the center of the maze. His stride did not hesitate, but only slowed when your eyes longingly lingered back on all the passing flowers.

Best of all, and to your surprise, there weren't only red roses.

No, the deeper you walked the red stayed, yet yellows, pinks, and whites were slowly incorporated into the mix. A beautiful blend, and various shades, of warm inviting colors. It was like a storybook, a scenery plucked from a far off prosperous kingdom. Tempted by their beauty, you reached out, running your fingers along the soft petals. It was fine silk, or like a cloud.

“Careful -“

You hissed, stopping in place. A thorn had pricked your thumb.

Morpheus instantly frowned and moved in front of you. He carefully took your hand, examining your thumb. It was nothing to be concerned about. An insignificant prick, no worse than a paper cut. A small dot of blood began to well up. The dot sparkled like a certain ruby pinned to his tie. Before he could stop himself, Morpheus brought your thumb up to his lips. His lips - soft and gentle - pressed into the pad of your thumb kissing it.

Your heart flipped in your chest.

Morpheus’s eyes glanced up, locking with yours. A look flashed across his eyes, a look which could only be described as hunger. He nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs by such a simple look. He pulled away and dropped your hand. Turning his back to you, he mumbled, “Apologies for my behavior.”

He licked his lips, tasting the tiniest bit of your blood. He had to suppress a groan. It was truly addicting, like a newly discovered liquor he could happily get drunk off of each and every night.

“I have an older sister who used to do such a thing if any of us were injured. It’s a habit I unknowingly picked up,” he explained.

No, not explained but excused. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. However, it was a lie he told himself and you, rather than admit the aroma of your blood tempted him to act.

“It’s okay,” you muttered, feeling your heart skip in a way you had never felt before. “I should have known better.”

Morpheus wanted to say something, wanted to do something. He wanted to draw you close, he wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, he wanted to nuzzle his face into your neck, he wanted to hear you say his name over and over, he wanted to -

“Please,” he cleared his throat, “I would refrain from running your fingers over them. The thorns are quite sharp, and we needn’t any more accidents. Come, the center is up ahead.”

He walked - no, marched - ahead, and did not bother looking back to see if you were following.

Your lips thinned in thought. You silently followed him as this bizarre tension hovered in the shared space. The only sounds were the crunching of both of your shoes against the pebbled path. You eyed Morpheus’s back curiously and with some trepidation. He had once again pulled away from you. He showed you such kindness, yet almost scared by something he backed off. Why? What frightened him? What thoughts floated around in that head of his?

Why do you care, a voice called out.

You tensed a little. Why did you? It was so pointless and idiotic, especially when -

“We’re here,” Morpheus said. He rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Skirting around the hedge, you let out a small gasp. The pebbled path opened up. The space was carved into a perfect circle, with patches of lush full grass that tempted any tired feet to rest. One could lay and gaze up at the stars, or have a picnic in the high sun. However, most would turn to the concrete benches that surrounded the showstopper: a fountain at the very center. The fountain - smaller than the one in front of the house, yet had four tiers compared to the three - had dozens upon dozens of rose petals floating across the surface. Peering up, the moon looked back down at you in this secret oasis smiling. Its light rippled in the water, scattering its reflection. With the various colors from the roses, and the moonlight’s, it glittered here like a treasure trove.

It was breathtaking.

Morpheus glanced over his shoulder back to you. His heart lurched forward. You looked so beautiful under the moonlight. You slowly approached the foundation, dipping your fingers into the cool water. You picked up a petal, admiring it before setting it back into the water. A smile never left your lips. Any issues, any problems from before, were gone. Each of you solely existed in this moment. Morpheus felt his heart being drawn to you, bound to you. Anything you wanted, anything to keep you smiling, he would do.

What a frightening and thrilling feeling, so familiar yet so foreign to him.

You moved and sat down on the bench, watching as the water spilled over the tiered edges and as petals spun and danced on top of the water. The sounds of the water splashing, and trickling, was hypnotic and soothing. You sighed dreamily and murmured to yourself, “What a beautiful place.”

“It is.” You turned your head, looking up at Morpheus. His eyes were directly on you as he spoke, you always seemed to get his full attention. He smiled softly. He produced a rose from behind his back - a pure white rose that glittered like snow under the moonlight. He sat beside you on the bench, “May I?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, tucking the roses behind your ear. As he drew back, his nimble fingers skimmed along your jaw. His eyes softened. You truly were a fresh change in his life, a well needed change. You had taken his heart in the short time you worked here with your humor, your wit, your curiosity, and your kindness. He was smitten for deep in his heart he was a hopeless romantic.

He turned away from you, looking to the fountain. Your heart skipped. His touch burned across your skin. You reached up, touching the soft pure white petals. A smile crossed your lips as you stared at the multifaceted lord.

“I suppose I have to admit I do have an ulterior motive for asking you to join me,” he began.

“Oh?” You titled your head. “And what would that be?”

To see you smile again, he thought.

“I have a question to ask, a request, and I did not want anyone else to listen in.”

You leaned forward, silently waiting.

He bowed his head, and dare you say appeared to be almost shy. It surprised you to see him in such a way. He peered up at you with a cluster of unreadable emotions on his face. “I would like to ask if you would join me to attend my dear friend’s party.”

“What?” You breathed out.

“I want you to accompany me to Hob’s party, if you so wish to join me.”

“I … I am unsure. I am just taken back by your offer.”

“Do you truly find it so surprising?”

“Given my employment to you, I suppose I do,” you joked lightly.

“If you wish, think of it as a bonus for your wonderous upkeep of the manor.” He searched in your eyes hoping to find his answer. “So? Do you accept?”

You smiled softly, “How could I pass up such generosity? Yes.”

Lucienne was right. Morpheus knew exactly what to do.

Shortly after his surprising offer, Morpheus explained he will take care of anything. He will find a dress for you for the night, and pay all expenses - you reluctantly agreed after much arguing.

Soon, arm in arm again, he guided you out of the maze, and towards your room for the night. He paused in front of you, hovering slightly as if something weighed on him, as if he wished to say something else. His lips parted, but he just bowed his head. “Goodnight, I hope you have sweeter dreams tonight.”

“Thank you,” you bowed your head.

Say something, do something.

Instead, you just simply smiled. “Goodnight, sir.”

You twisted around to go into your room when a hand latched around your wrist. You suppressed a shiver at his cool hand. You peered over your shoulder looking down at the hand then slowly your eyes trailed up to see Morpheus’s wondrous blue eyes.

“Please,” he whispered softly, “when it is just us, call me Morpheus. No need for such formalities.”

Your heart fluttered, like a hummingbird. “Of course. Morpheus. Goodnight.”

His eyes twinkled, utterly overjoyed. A smile spread over his lips. He gently let go of your wrist and stood back with perfect posture. He bowed his head again, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You turned, finally stepping into your room. You gently shut the door as a giddy feeling washed over you. Morpheus’s footsteps soon faded away. You sighed, dreamily. Taking the rose from behind your ear, you floated over to the nightstand by your bed. You gently laid it down. Your fingers traced over the petals, unable to stop smiling. Maybe later you will get a cup and water for it. Your eyes, however, soon caught a folded piece of paper on the stand. Your smile faltered. Picking it up and unfolding it, your mother and father smiled back up at you. You folded the picture again. You tucked it under the beautiful white rose.

Just a little longer, you thought. I promise.

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #the sandman au #vampire!au #vampire!dream #vampire!morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #vampire!morpheus x reader #vampire!dream x reader #x reader #fem!reader

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