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dixons-sunshine · 3 days

Note

I love your Daryl x reader stories

I wanted to ask if you could write sth about Daryl x fempolish reader. Like maybe they meet in Alexandria and she made him some polish food he loved or just some love short story. I don't know it's up to you.

Have a great day

Just Try It | Daryl Dixon x Polish!Fem!Reader

*GIF and moodboard aren't mine.*

Summary: After finding all the ingredients needed to make one of your cultural dishes, you decide to make it when Carol invited you and Daryl over. However, you never suspected a man that ate snakes on the regular would be so skeptical when it came to food.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: The Commonwealth.

Warnings: Swearing.

Word count: 932.

A/n: Thank you so much for helping me with the translations @mawidixon! I hope you like this! (Translations will be at the bottom.)

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“Nah, it looks weird as shit. Ain't gon' eat it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, huffing in frustration. “Kochanie, I've seen you eat a snake before. We've had to eat literal dog meat before. How the hell are you picky about this? It's just Pierogi. I've eaten this many times before the world ended. It won't kill you.”

Daryl peered over your shoulder, looking at the Pierogi that you were busy frying in a pan. His eyes were carefully following your movements, skeptical about the dish you were preparing. Carol had invited you and the kids over for dinner and had asked you to prepare Pierogi, and you had agreed rather ecstatically. It was rare for you to be able to make one of your traditional dishes, so you had jumped at the opportunity to do so.

“Why would ya boil it and then fry it? Seems fuckin' unnecessary if ya ask me,” Daryl replied skeptically, slightly scrunching his nose. “And the mashed potatoes? Why would ya wrap dough 'round it? Ya could jus' eat it as is. No need to go makin' dough outta flour and ruinin' mashed potatoes by wrappin' it 'round it. S'a waste of cheese, too, addin' it in.”

You clicked your tongue and carefully took the pan from the hot fire, and placed it onto a rag on the counter as to not burn the pristine laminate countertop. You turned to Daryl, your eyebrows raised questioningly. “Be honest with me right now, Dixon. Have you ever actually had Pierogi before?”

Daryl immediately shook his head. “Nah,” he told you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You hummed and nodded, turning to the bowl that had the Pierogi that you had made earlier. You grabbed the lukewarm Pierogi and extended it towards your partner, laughing at the face he made at it.

“Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy,” you mused, laughing harder at the confused face he made. “Before you ask what I said, it's not important. What is important, however, is you trying this. It's delicious and I can't have you thinking that eating squirrel meat is better than this.”

Daryl reluctantly took the dumpling, holding it gingerly between his fingers. “'Least m'familiar with squirrel meat. Know it ain't gon' taste any different each time.”

“Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek,” you muttered under your breath, before shaking your head and sending Daryl an amused smile. “Daryl, stop being so stubborn. Po prostu spróbuj.”

Daryl grumbled something under his breath before looking at you again. “Nie chcę.”

“As impressed as I am that you understood me and that you managed to reply, saying something in my language won't sway me.”

Daryl shot you a small smirk. “Worth a shot,” he replied, before hesitantly taking a bite of the Pierogi.

You watched in amusement as a whirlwind of emotions played on his face. First skepticism, then surprise, and then he looked impressed. He practically devoured the rest of the dumpling in hungry bites, reaching for another one in the bowl, but you stopped him.

“Nope. I can't allow you to do that, misiu. The rest is for tonight,” you told him with a smile. “I can't disappoint Carol now, can I? She was eager about this the whole day. You only just came around about this. I'd rather give these to someone who's had faith in me from the start.”

“C'mon, tha' ain't fair,” Daryl groaned. “Merle once said tha' these things tasted like crap. Went into vivid detail 'bout how it tasted, too. Can't blame me fer not trustin' it.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You should've had more trust in me. I've been making these things since I was a kid. I'd never intentionally make you eat something bad,” you told him, before placing the lid onto the bowl and handing it to the archer. “Here, why don't you go ahead and take this to Carol? She's expecting us.”

Daryl took the bowl from you. “What about ya, robaczku? RJ and Judith are waitin' fer their auntie.”

You smiled at the nickname he had picked up from you, and motioned towards the dumplings still in the hot pan. “I'm just gonna wrap these up and put them away. I'll be right behind you.”

Daryl nodded and leaned forward to place a quick kiss to your lips. He soon pulled away and started walking away, calling to you over his shoulder. “Jus' so ya know, those are mine. Judith and RJ dun' need to know 'bout those.”

You laughed and called out to him. “So, are Pierogi's better than squirrel meat?”

Daryl paused at the doorway and contemplated on how to respond. He smirked to himself as he looked down at the bowl in his hand. “I'll let the kids decide tha', sunshine. I love ya.”

“I want an answer from you!”

The door shutting was the only response you got in return. You looked down at the pan and shook your head. There was never a dull moment with your beloved huntsman.

“Ja też cię kocham, you asshole,” you mused with a laugh.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Translations:

Kochanie: Honey.

Twój wyraz twarzy jest przeuroczy: Your facial expression is adorable.

Nie możesz zawsze jeść tylko wiewiórek: You can't always only eat squirrels.

Po prostu spróbuj: Just try it.

Nie chcę: I don't want to.

misiu: teddy bear.

robaczku: love bug.

Ja też cię kocham: I love you too.

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allllium · 1 day

Note

Heyaaa, I have a request! If it's not too much trouble, have you listened to too sweet by Hozier.. that song with the tf 141 boys (if it could be Ghost, it would be great!!)

Thanks in advance!!! And it's perfectly fine if you don't wanna!

~ I'm really sorry this took so long, I have not been feeling great but here it is. I hope you like this because honestly I am terrible at comprehending songs but I think this fits pretty well :)

~ If you're not happy with this for any reason please let me know and I will happily redo it with your advice <3

~ Fluff, WC: 1,189

You have a crush on Simon Riley. You know this, and so does everyone else, including him. Despite the very obvious adoration on your part he's never said anything about it.

You honestly have no idea how he feels about you and you're not sure you want to know. You do tons of little things for him and he does things for you, but that's all your relationship entails.

You are both so different it's not like you could ever fit together so perfectly, right?

I take my whiskey neat

“Here you are Lt.” You slide him a drink across the table. He makes a face behind his mask that you now recognize as his scowl. “Don't make that face at me.”

“You can't even see my face,” he replies, in his signature thick accent. “And I don't need you buying me drinks.”

“Well that's too bad 'cause’ I did. Don't tell me you're gonna let good whiskey go to waste.”

His deep brown eyes stare at you for a heavy moment before picking up the drink, lifting his mask just enough to show his cut jaw and full lips.

“Usually this is where I get a thank you.” You taunt him, trying not to let your gaze linger on what you can see of his perfect but slightly messed up face.

“Don't push your luck, Sargent.”

My coffee black…

“Oh dark like your soul, ain't that right Lt.” You gesture towards his black mug of black coffee.

Simon takes a deep breath as he takes in your words, his chest rising and falling in annoyance. He shakes his head silently, apparently not wanting to pleasure you with a response.

“Seriously, how do you drink that?” You put your hand on his perfect arm to push him out of the way of the coffee pot.

“Oh let me guess you take your coffee with a pound of sugar.” He rolls his eyes at you, in more of an attitude than you appreciate.

“Incorrect. I'm sweet enough as it is.” You smile at him while you turn around to stir your drink.

“Maybe a little too sweet don't you think?”

“Only to you.” You mutter under your breath.

…And my bed at three

“Oi Lt, what are you doing up at this hour?” You take amusement at the way this giant of a man jumps slightly at your voice.

“Did you just say oi?” He asks as if he didn't just hear you say it.

“Yes I did, do we need to get your hearing checked?” You make fun of him for the hundredth time that day.

“Why?” His gruff voice cuts through the air.

“I want it on record that I don't appreciate this attitude of yours. And I said "oi” because I'm becoming more like you.”

“I don't say oi.”

“I don't believe you. You sound like you say it.” You shrug and take a seat on the couch next to you.

“What does that mean?” He sits down next to you but he seems like he doesn't want a real answer.

“Your voice.”

“What's wrong with my voice?” This time it seems like he actually wants to know what you think.

“Oh nothing. It's a nice voice but it just gives me oi vibes.” He stares at you like you're crazy.

“I have a nice voice do I?”

“Don't let it get to your head.” You lay your head.on his shoulder.

No one speaks for a while but eventually Simon sits up. “It's three in the morning, we should get to bed.”

“Yeah that's probably smart.” You give him a big smile when you stand up. “Goodnight Lt.”

You're too sweet for me

“And here you are.” You take a dramatic bow as you hand Simon his gift, acting as if you just delivered the most important thing in the world.

“What is this?” He asks with a tone of impatientence.

“A gift.”

“It's not a holiday-” You quickly cut him off.

“Or your birthday I know, but I remember you saying something about it and got it for you”

“How do you know it's not my birthday, I've never told you that.” He pauses for a split second before continuing, “Did you look at my files?”

“That's not important, open your gift.” He shakes his head but opens the bag you've given him.

Quickly, he pulls out a mask just like the one he's currently wearing. A mask you've handmade just for him.

“What is this?” He instantly demands.

“That is what we call a mask sir. I remember you told me about that one having an annoying hole so I thought I'd help you out. Originally I was just gonna patch the hole but then I figured that mask has been through a lot so you deserved a new one.”

He loudly clears his throat. “I hope you know there won't be a gift in return.”

“I don't expect one, simply doing a nice thing.”

“Well thank you Sargent.” You smile at his thanks, feeling how much he means it.

“Anytime.” Is the only word you get in before he runs off.

You're too sweet for me

“You know this is basically our third date.” You randomly blurt out. You're sitting with Simon in a coffee shop off base. You don't know what you were expecting with Simon off base but one thing you never thought about when inviting him out is his absence of the mask.

Obviously wearing it would draw more attention than usual but now you're sitting straight across from the face of the man you're practically fawning over.

“This is not a date.” He defends roughly.

“Yes it is, our first was dinner and second was the bar so that makes this the third.”

“Those weren't dates, just outings between friends.” He runs his eyes everywhere but your face.

“Aww so you admit we're friends.” You can't help but tease. “But I'm being serious Simon. You can't deny it forever.”

“Yes I can.” He fiddles with his drink as you continue your mini interrogation.

“No you can't. I know you like me, Lt. Why won't you say it.”

“You're different.” He begins.

“If you start to say I'm dumb you're getting punched.”

“No! Of course not. You're different from me and I don't know if we would work.”

“Bullshit. Spill it.”

“Fine, you're too sweet.” He spits out as if it was fire coming out.

You can't help the bubbling laugh that spills out your mouth. “Too sweet? What does that even mean?” You ask him, still laughing.

“I don't know. You're too sweet to me, you give me things and you say all the right things and I don't think I could give all that back to you.”

‘I don't want you to give me anything back. I want you to give me you, you're too sweet for me too Lt. Even if it is in a different looking way.” You slide your hand across the table to lay on his. He returns your hold and gives you a smile that is uniquely his. This is all you need.

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty simon riley #call of duty simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #domestic ghost #ghost simon riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley fanfic

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scar-lie · 3 days

Text

The remaining of you [Natasha]

Summary : Dealing the aftermath of the scene Natasha dreaded to come sooner in her life

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader, Mom ! Natasha x Daughter! Romanoff

Warning : shouting, crying, mention of death, scared little Romanoff, torture, nightmare, I thinks that's

Word count : 2,514

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

“What is your problem, Nat?! You can't just drop her off just like that, like she's nothing.” Wanda screamed at the red head, whose head was low, taking a deep breath and placing her hands on the table in the kitchen.

"Wanda, please, not now,” Nat whispered, swallowing the lump on her throat. But Wanda’s not having any of her shits anymore; she's tired of seeing how the little redhead heart broke every time Nat refused to do anything with her.

"No, Natasha, I’m not gonna let you throw her like garbage anymore; enough was enough; that girl is trying to at least have your attention, even for a second, but you always rejected her; you don't even spare her even a glance, and it broke her heart.” Saying Wanda was furious was an understatement. She took the girl under her wings a week when Natasha and Yelena brought her in, seeing how the baby was craving some affection and skin-to-skin contact.

"Wanda, please, it's not that easy.” Natasha was thankful that most of the Avengers are on mission and some run their own errands, leaving her, Wanda, and the 5-year-old girl in the compound.

“What Natasha? It is not easy for you to show a little affection to your daughter. You have 3 years, Natasha, 3 years to pull yourself together, 3 years that she's under my wings to protect, to love, admire, care for, and to be a mother to her. She's just a little girl, Natasha, and she's craving her mother's attention. Why can't you give her that? ”Natasha saw the hurt in her eyes, and she knows that it's not only Wanda's emotion she's showing but also the little girl too.

“I want to, Wanda, ok, I really do, but I can't, ok, I just can't,” Natasha shouted, looking up at Wanda with tears in her eyes.

“I want to cuddle her, kiss her, bond with her, spoil her, sing to her, or tell her story. I want to be Wanda. I really want to be a mother to her, but I just can't…….I-I” Natasha shook her head, wiping her tears that were now falling. She knew how her daughter was hurting; she heard every cry; she knew she always knew.

“Then do it; love her; show her that she matters to you because she will not love you or be there bothering you for your attention forever. Don't take her for granted, Natasha; you have a precious girl who loves you more than life itself; don't waste it.” Wanda stands tall in her spot, getting strong for the kid and not cave in and comforting her; she has to do it for the sake of the little girl who's sleeping upstairs.

“Don't let your insecurities get the best of you again; don't push her away like you did with Y/N; if you really love Y/N, you will take care of that little girl you two made; don't let history repeat itself.” Wanda quickly got cut off by Natasha's sudden outburst, with tears streaming down her face.

“You wanna know the reason why? Huh? That's the reason why I can't look at her; I can't be with her because every time I look at her face, all I can see and think about is Y/N, how she lay in that fucking bed unresponsive, how I didn't protect them, that I let her alone with an open window for my enemies to attack freely, and I blame myself for what happened, because if I could just be brave and don't let these thoughts get the best of me, I should have been there to protect them, or I should be the one laying in my own fucking blood, not her.” Natasha then punched the cabinet beside her, wanting to let the emotions out.

“I can't, Wanda, ok, because that day keeps flashing in my mind when I look at her eyes. She reminded me of how stupid, reckless, and selfish I am. Because of me, her mother got killed, and she got kidnapped right after she was born.” Wanda frowned, looking at Natasha with sympathy, so Natasha shook her head, not wanting her pity.

"Don't, Wanda, please don't look at me like that; I don't need your pity, Wanda.” They quickly got interrupted with the cute little voice in the entrance of the kitchen, making both of them look up in the direction.

“Auntie Wanda? ”The little girl whispered, clutching her big husky dog stuff toy that's a little big and taller than her, looking at her auntie with doe teary eyes, pout lips, and her cheeks and tip of her nose are red until she saw the redhead in the room, making her feel small and want to hide, so she scooted to the side, trying to hide in the small cabinet, only the head peeking out to look at her auntie Wanda.

"Oh, sweetheart, what happened? Why are you hiding there? ”Wanda softly talked, walking to the scared little girl, and sat on her heels to be on the same level as the little girl. She quickly wrapped her arm around her auntie, sniffling, and still had a strong grip on her stuff toy, so Wanda took her in her arm, one hand rubbing her back while she cried and one arm under her bump, and swayed her back and forth to comfort the little girl.

“I-I had a bad dream,” the little girl mumbled, soaking her aunt’s shirt.

“What dream is it? Can you tell Auntie Wanda what a bad dream it is? ”She nodded, looking at her auntie and wiping her tears, then resting her head on her auntie's shoulder while playing with the neckline of Wanda's shirt.

“I-I saw blood and bad guys,” Wanda giving her a reassuring smile to continue.

“And……and they took and I saw this fat old guy; he-he said I-I would stay with him from now on, and-and I saw dead body besides him,” the littleredhead cried again, seeing the woman lifeless, not knowing it's her mother she saw.

“Is it the same old guy and the same woman you saw?”Wanda asked softly, looking at Natasha, who has a defeated look on her face and a mixed emotion. She truly can't read Natasha at the moment.

“Yes, the beautiful woman with Y/H/L Y/H/C and arrow necklace, then the guy has glasses and white hair.” This makes Natasha clench her jaw and fist, knowing who the person her daughter is talking about, and she's afraid that the scene is that night her world will stop.

"Shhh, it's ok, sweetheart. You're here with me. You're safe now. He's not going to take you. It's ok.” Wanda gives Natasha a small smile, then goes up to their room floor to comfort the little girl and put her to sleep, leaving Natasha alone in the kitchen with her thoughts.

Natasha is jealous of Wanda. Yes, she's jealous of how Wanda can naturally take care of her daughter, how she loves Wanda, and how they both bond and do everything together. She's pretty jealous because she wanted a daughter; that's her one dream—a daughter with you.

So Natasha goes to the gym again to get all of her frustration out of her body and mind, to block everything that's bothering her, and maybe, just maybe, it will block the nightmare she has had since your death.

"No, no, please, don't hurt her. You got me, ok, hurt me instead. Just please don't hurt them,” Natasha begs the faceless woman in charge of guarding her. She's strapped down to the chair in the corner of your room where you're peacefully sleeping with your 8-month pregnant belly. You look peaceful and gorgeous.

But all the begging is useless because four women enter the room, and Dreykov is mockingly smiling at her. She hates it so much, but she didn't think of that; her mind and eyes are in your sleeping body.

When the four women approach you and the three women pin you down, it makes you awake in panic. They made sure you didn't move much, and the other one proceeded to slit open your stomach, making two big cuts, one horizontal and one vertical.

This makes you scream in pain, with tears running down your face because of the unbearable pain you are experiencing. You can feel her hands moving through your insides, slicing you open. You tried to break free to save you and your daughter from them, but you are no match for them; they are strong and can kill you in a second.

“NOOOOO!!!! PLEASE STOP IT! Please, please, I’ll do anything. Stop hurting her, stop hurting them.” Natasha screams, trying to break free from the restraints to try and save you both, but all she can do is watch you suffer from the hands of Dreykov, where she also watches how he takes her right after they cut the umbilical cord.

She watched how they just left you laying in your own bed, bleeding and unable to move or breathe. She watched how life drained out of your eyes, how the color of your skin turned pale, but how you looked at her in the eye while you were dying.

“Y/N? No please, no don't leave us please, no no noo please, no don't take my baby away no please.” Natasha keeps screaming, crying, and begging, but it's all no use; your dead in front of her, eyes still open, and your daughter is taken away. She's left there in the chair, feeling every pain.

“Wake up, wake up, Ms. Romanoff,” the little red head shouted, shaking Natasha violently. The other few attempts she made to gently wake her up didn't succeed, so she shook and slapped her to wake up.

“NOOOOOOO! ”Natasha screams, sitting up, beads of sweat rolling down on her face while she's panting, looking around the room until her eyes land on the little redhead who's now on the floor barefoot, head down, and nervous.

She got scared when Natasha suddenly jolted up, thinking that Natasha would hit her or shout at her, so she quickly climbed down, head low and nervous, so she kept taking small steps backward.

This didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, so she took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and Wanda's words kept echoing in her ear: “She will not love you or be there bothering you for your attention forever. Don't take her for granted, Natasha.”

And seeing her own daughter get scared and afraid to be near her is heartbreaking. She knows that sooner or later, her daughter will slip away, so she quickly gets out of bed, going to her daughter, but the little girl quickly backs away when she hears her footsteps.

So Natasha stopped, kneeled down, and carefully reached her arm out with a small smile. This made the redhead look up at the hand and up to her mother's face. Seeing a small smile made her butterfly fly in her stomach, but she was still skeptical; she didn't know Natasha, so she kept staring at her outstretched hand.

“Hey, it's ok, I’m not going to hurt you or scream,” Natasha softly said, making eye contact with her daughter. This brought her to tears, seeing your face on her daughter even though she had Natasha’s fierce red hair, green eyes, and button nose, so she quickly wiped it away for her sake.

“Wh-why are you crying?”Little Redhead asked, stepping forward and reaching out to wipe away the tears that keep running down her face, so Natasha chuckled to cover up the crack in her voice.

“Nothing; I-I’m just happy and sad at the same time,” she said, giving the little redhead a genuine smile. She was happy that she got how caring you are.

“Can I give you a hug? ”She asked innocently, making Natasha admire her, analyzing every detail on her face, and the silence made the little girl a little bit nervous, thinking that she didn't want hugs.

“Auntie Wanda said if I saw someone's sad, I should ask if I could give them a hug, ca-cause Auntie Wanda said it always works because my mommy used to do it before.” This makes Natasha even fall in love deeper with the little girl, so she quickly hugged her daughter tight, but not too tight to hurt her.

The little redhead smile, wrapping her arms around Natasha, resting her head on her shoulder, happy that she gets to hug her momma for the first time, so she’s relishing this moment, afraid that in the morning she will ignore her again.

“Are you feeling better? ”She asked innocently, so Natasha nodded, cradling her to her arm, and sat at the end of the bed.

“Yes, yes, I am.” Natasha sat the little girl on her lap and looked at her face.

“You look so much like your mother.” The little girl blushed, smiling and getting a little shy at the compliment.

“Th-thank you, you look pretty,” Natasha chuckled, tucking her little girl's hair behind her ear.

“You should go back to bed; your auntie Wanda’s not going to be happy when she finds out you stay awake at this time,” Natasha whispers, and the little girl looks down, fidgeting with her own hands, a bad habit she gets from you when you're nervous, scared, or overthinking, so Natasha stops her hands and holds them.

“What's the matter? Has something happened?”The little girl contemplates if she will tell her or not, but she has no other choice cause Wanda got called on an emergency solo mission, leaving her with the redhead, so either she should stay awake all night and wait for Wanda to tell her or she should tell Natasha and have a good sleep.

“I-I had a bad dream again,” she shyly said, still looking at her lap.

“The same one you said earlier? ”The little girl nodded, so Natasha took her chin and made her look at her.

“Hey, it's ok, I’m here…… How about you join me in my bed, and we will sleep next to each other? What do you think??”The little girl eagerly nodded; her eyes went wide, and she had a huge grin on her face. She feels like it's her lucky day, spending the night sleeping next to her mother.

“Will you tell me a story? ”She asked, getting in the middle of the bed, and Natasha got under the cover, leaving space for her daughter and inviting her in so the little girl could quickly snuggle at her.

“Of course," Natasha starts to tell her a story about how she and her mother met, making the little girl listen carefully and getting amazed by the story until she’s sound asleep in Natasha’s arm, making her smile, and seeing the little girl sound asleep makes her heart melt, so she wraps her arm around her and joins her in a slumber sleep.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanova #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #black widow #black widow 2021 #marvel black widow #natalia alianovna romanova #natasha x you #natalia romanova #mcu marvel avengers #marvel mcu #wanda mcu #mcu #mcu edit #marvel #natasha marvel #wanda marvel

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ken-dom · 3 days

Text

The Stars Look Very Different Today

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace solo fic

2.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: The computer has a new command for Ryland — one he’s extremely relieved to carry out.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’m barely half way through the book and I’m so in love with Ryland already. My god. Anyway this obviously got me into researching some of the hornier aspects of space travel, potentially unlocked a new kink along the way, and this is where I ended up. If you’re as curious as I am about the topic of this fic, you might enjoy this Vice article and also this Mauden article!

Title from Space Oddity by David Bowie, suggested by the wonderful @heresthestorymorningglory who encouraged me endlessly with this fic, as always!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, Project Hail Mary spoilers!, masturbation, if you squint it’s kinda Ryland x Computer — and it’s kinda forced masturbation but he definitely wants to do it so take it as you wish, premature ejaculation, written from Ryland’s POV in keeping with the novel, horny Ryland, mentions of porn, low key science kink, and my favourite tag ever: cumming in space! 🪐🛸💦

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Ejaculate.’

The voice has become familiar to me over the last few days. Almost comforting at times, if not a little on the unsettling side. But hey, unsettling isn’t the worst thing a person can be, right? Or a computer, if we’re being technical. Which I suppose we should be.

I blink my eyes open, groggy from what I’m guessing was a relatively short period of sleep before I check the analogue clock on the wall to confirm it. I don’t think on it for too long, however, because my attention is pulled to the heat I can feel pooling in my gut, and the throbbing sensation in my… between my legs. It’s untimely, but expected.

I’ve found myself with this little problem upon waking up for the third time in a row, now. The previous times, I’ve ignored it, willed it away while trying to keep my mind on everything else I’m still adjusting to rather than wasting my time… enjoying myself a little too much.

This time, though, it seems the ship knows and wants me to do something about it.

I obviously haven’t heard correctly. My inconveniently timed arousal must be playing on my mind. It has been a while since I… no, that’s irrelevant right now, I’m giving in but I need to focus.

Why would the computer instruct me to-

‘Ejaculate.’

There it is again, plain as day this time. Yup. The computer wants me to… ejaculate.

Despite being completely alone, lightyears away from another living human, I feel incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

I gradually sit up and look around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes, careful not to cause any friction that might exacerbate matters. One of the robot arms is waiting patiently at the other side of the small room, holding out a little plastic cup, which I presume I am supposed to deposit my offering into. And then, what? Give it back to put into safe storage? Or eject it out into space where it’ll crystallise and float forever as evidence of my deed, only for some alien to discover and analyse a hundred years from now and take back to his home planet with breaking news. ‘Sex seed found among the stars, Earth astronaut got too excited about space travel.’

Sex seed? Jeepers.

Maybe, more likely, they’ll keep it to repopulate in the event of this whole thing not working out, or-

Ok. Let me think this through a little more scientifically.

Why would I need to ejaculate right now? What’s different about this time to the previous times I’ve woken up with a raging erection straining against my uniform?

‘Ejaculate.’

‘Just give me a moment, please?’ I reply, irritable, and the computer does not answer. The robot arm remains, though, and I know I will be given no choice in this.

Is that ethical?

Whatever. I don’t think I need to get caught up in the semantics of whether one can consent to a spacecraft computer asking for one’s semen, robot arms or not. And after all, in the words of the wise Beyoncé, I woke up like this.

So, back to the question. If it’s not for repopulation purposes, perhaps… ah! Of course! It’s for my own good! The computer is trying to make sure I stay healthy.

Masturbation has been proven to lower anxiety levels and stress. This is a high-pressure sort of situation after all. Maybe it thinks I need a little relaxation to be able to focus properly, or to keep my blood pressure levels well maintained?

That’s the stuff. I’m really getting the ball rolling now.

I remember a study I read, and realise that actually, the fact that it’s been a while is actually important here, too, and not just a distraction my body insists on.

Infrequent ejaculation can result in prostatitis, and the way to avoid the secretions and subsequent bacteria growth that cause the condition, is to ejaculate. Frequently.

The computer has either noticed my recent arousal levels; the higher heart rate, the dilated pupils, the change in blood flow to cause certain… swellings, and let’s face it, the scent of desperation I must be giving off after this long without an orgasm, and thinks I’m overdue an ejaculation or two… or, it’s programmed to encourage masturbation at set intervals with frequent ejaculation in mind as a necessary tool to health.

In honesty, I started to lose my erection when the first of all these thoughts occurred to me – nothing like a computer and a robot arm teaming up to persuade you to rub one out for them to kill the mood – but… mmh…

Listen, I know I can get a little… carried away with science, but I really am alone out here and I don’t think the computer is at all concerned with what gets me going. It just wants me to cum in a cup. I can do that. I think.

I retrieve the cup from the robot arm, which folds away, patiently waiting for me to return with the goods, no doubt.

‘Don’t look, okay?’ I say a little weakly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I know it’s a computer, but it knows things. Too much, almost, and I feel watched. I’ve never been into that, being watched. Nothing against it, but I much prefer to do this with my curtains closed and my doors locked, preferably in a darkened room, or the shower. Since I can’t be afforded these luxuries aboard the Hail Mary, the least I can ask for is the computer not to look.

It doesn’t answer me, of course. I didn’t really expect it to, but at least with whatever else it gathers about me, it’ll know I’m not enjoying it’s presence while I knock one out for it.

Who knows, maybe over time, we’ll get to know one another and the computer’s presence will be the only way I can jerk off. Maybe it’ll start talking me though it… would dirty talk be programmed incase of difficulty… getting into it?

I chuckle softly, knowing that liking the computer is a real possibility. Doll syndrome, it’s called. I’d start preferring the computer to a real living, breathing human. Or maybe there’s another syndrome specifically for the preference of a computer…

But I’m letting myself get distracted again.

Back to the matter at hand. Ha!

I sit back down on my bed, my erection pressed painfully against my uniform trousers now, as I consider the little plastic cup. By the look of it, it holds about 100mls. The average ejaculate is around 1.25-5mls, and from experience I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of that range, so it’s extremely unlikely I’ll fill it, but it really has been so long, the fleeting thought passes through my mind that it won’t be big enough.

Then my thoughts switch to how this is all so clinical and not at all sexy. I guess that’s another kink I might be missing out on, but before I can get carried away again, the robot arm drops something else down for me.

Oh. It’s a dirty magazine. The sort they keep on the top shelf, hidden behind more family friendly editions like House and Home or Celebrity Chat or whatever people read these days.

A pair of breasts almost knock me clean out as the magazine drops into view before me. The robot arm flicks through the thin, glossy pages and holds it open at a page of a woman with her legs spread, glistening folds displayed beautifully as if just for me.

But she’s not real. Looking at the image only reminds me that I’m alone, and whilst her aroused state and thoughts of how she might pleasure herself does make my cock twitch, my heart sinks a little that I’ll never feel another wet pussy.

‘No thank you,’ I choke out, slightly reluctant, and the robot arm switches to a magazine it was apparently holding behind the one with the pretty vagina photograph.

This one displays an image of a thick, handsome penis, uncut and leaking at the tip, fingers ghosting over the happy trail above…

‘No, that’s not the issue,’ I say, a little high pitched, because my cock is leaking now too, and I know I’m not going to make it to the cup if they keep showing me images like this.. ‘I just… I can manage on my own, thank you.’

Still, I feel a little disappointed when the robot arm takes that enticing cock away, too, and I’m left truly alone once again.

I let out a long breath, as even as I can muster. I need to get out of my head.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I focus on the ache between my legs. I think about taking my time, really enjoying the sensation of touching myself in space – and the thought that I’m actually in space, does it for me again. With an involuntary pulse of my cock, I feel a thick drop of pre-ejaculate form at the tip.

Take my time? Who am I kidding.

Clasping the cup securely in one hand, I slip the other over the crotch of my trousers and the strangled noise that escapes me would’ve been enough to wake the whole neighbourhood had I been back home on Earth.

I feel a rush of shame flood my senses, but then I remind myself that I can be as loud as I want here. In space, no one can hear you moan. I laugh again, feeling giddy. This is kind of exciting, actually. The thought that I’m alone is finally working for me, and without overthinking it any further, I tear open the fastening on my trousers and let my cock spring free.

I’m so hard it’s painful, visibly throbbing, angry red tip shining with pre-cum. Begging to be touched.

I realise as I stare down at my neglected equipment that words like cum and cock aren’t usually so easily thrown around in my vocabulary, and that I must be unusually horny – another word I tend to shy away from until the moment calls for it – to be thinking like this.

I bite my lips together, anticipating how it might feel.

I’ve never done this in space before. It must be ok to do it, otherwise the computer wouldn’t expect me to just get on with it, ‘reading’ material included, but what if it feels different? What if it hurts?

I tentatively raise a trembling hand and carefully drag a featherlight fingertip up the underside, base to tip, tracing a thick vein and collecting some pre-cum on the way.

I squirm, moaning loudly. I wonder if the computer has really shut its ears off, or if it’s simply programmed to know the difference between horny, desperate groaning and other types of sounds, like real pain or distress.

Whatever, I need more. Fuck.

I suck my finger clean and do it again. A gentle fingertip ghosting up the hot flesh and my body jolts upright.

I’m not gonna last more than a few seconds, and I know it.

It turns out that for whatever reason, touching yourself in space feels fucking incredible.

I lose track of most of my thoughts after that, feeling like I’ve transformed into some sort of rabid animal.

I slump backwards, spreading my legs, and my hand wraps around my shaft, immediately pumping furiously as a broken string of growls and roars rip from my throat.

I barely have time to remember the cup, but somewhere in the haze of unbridled bliss, my lizard brain must have kicked in at just the right moment because only instinct could have given me the sense to raise my other hand and position the cup to catch the insane amount of ejaculate I release as I writhe on the sheets.

Some of it dribbles down over my fingers, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I deposit some in the provided receptacle, I suppose, the computer will be satisfied.

It seems to drag on for a while, this release. Not that I’m complaining; it feels so good I wouldn’t be able to comprehend words enough to form an actual complaint at this moment, even if I wanted to. But as climaxes go, this one, long and intense and oh, so delicious, is up there with the best.

I shakily place the cup (around 7-10mls not including what I didn’t catch – that has to be some sort of record for me) onto the floor and roll over, curling into a ball, my softening cock twitching through aftershocks of pleasure as every muscle in my body relaxes me into another round of sleep.

I wake up five hours later, sprawled on my back with my cock out, still soft for now, and my hand sticky. It must have worked. I must have needed it.

Slowly, I sit up again, tucking my co- my penis back in. Making myself presentable. I am in uniform, after all. I reach up to smooth my hair down. It’s a mess, and there are loose strands stuck to my forehead. I’ll deal with that later.

I notice the cup of ejaculate has gone, collected by my trusty pal, the porno robot arm, and a little sink has been revealed from behind its wall panel.

The computer isn’t going to instruct me to clean myself up – it’s giving me that dignity at least, but it’s pointing me in the right direction. And it’s correct.

I stand on shaky legs to head over there, feeling a slight headrush.

Hopefully, the computer will never speak of it again-

‘Thirty-seven seconds.’

‘Until what?’ I ask, too relaxed to care very much, as I soap up my semen-coated palm.

‘Thirty-seven seconds to produce 7.8mls of semen.’

My cheeks burn. It timed me? And I couldn’t even last out a whole minute?

Did computers care about premature ejaculation as much as humans seem to? Is it even premature when you’re only trying to pleasure yourself?

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while,’ I retort, sheepish but clearly irked. ‘A long while.’

No further comment from the computer. Great.

I know it’s time for me to get on with the thousand other things occupying my time on this ship, so I do. But the nagging thought I couldn’t shake as I observed the beetles told me that I had to prove the computer wrong about my stamina.

I can last.

And apparently, the thought of proving the computer wrong about my own masturbation habits was doing it for me and-

‘Mmhhnnn-’

That delicious friction against my sensitive cock in these pants was tormenting me. And I thought cock not penis so I must be horny again. Does space travel typically cause high levels of arousal?

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

‘Computer, you got another cup? You can watch this time. I’m gonna put on a real show for you.’

#not s f w 💀#ryland grace #ryland grace smut #project hail mary #project hail mary smut #ryland grace fic #project hail mary fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

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falsemortal · 17 hours

Text

Hunger

The Ghoul takes a moment to adjust the bandolier on his shoulder, then his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the shotgun before he straightens up and heads towards the back room. He navigates the bar like he owns the place.

He’s wasted enough time, she should be back.

The door to room 3 is slightly ajar, and he can hear the soft hum of a radio and the rustling of fabric coming from inside. He pushes the door open, and Lucy's eyes lock onto his.

She's changed into something a little more... enticing, her curves accentuated by a tight dress, the shade of blue makes him sick but he can’t deny she’s beautiful in it. His gaze rakes over her, taking in every little detail.

The wooden floor creaks under his boots as he approaches.

“W-what are you doing here?” Her hands automatically go up to cover herself, despite being dressed. Although far less than the last time he saw her, “You can’t be back here, I have a client coming-“

He chuckles, low and husky, as he shuts the door behind himself. "Ah, sweetie, you're so cute when you're trying to play hard to get," He says, eyes subtly roaming over her body. "You don't need to worry about any clients coming, sweetheart. I've got a premium on my time with you." He pulls out the card the bartender gave him, winking at her.

“..you’re the one who-?” She sits on the edge of the desk, flushing brightly. “What do you want? What bounty am I worth now?”

He snorts, a low, raspy sound. "Oh, darlin', you're worth so much more than just caps to me," He says, "You're worth my time, my attention... and maybe even my protection." He takes another step closer, eyes locked on hers. "Let's just say, I've got a certain... interest in you, Lucy Maclean."

A slow, provocative smile spreads across his face as he reaches out, gloved fingers brushing against the edge of her dress.

Her eyes widen, watching as he gets closer. “..why? I have nothing else to give you. We.. we already had our ‘exchange’, didn’t we?” She gestures to him with her newly acquired finger. ”What else do you want to take from me?”

He chuckles, low and menacing. "Oh, darlin', you'd be surprised what I want to take from you," He rasps, "I'm not just looking for caps or information. I'm looking for something a little more... personal." He leans in closer, his breath hot against her ear. "I'm looking for a little taste of heaven, Lucy. And I think you're the perfect place to start."

A slow, deliberate kiss is pressed against the side of her neck, just above her clavicle.

She gasps, her hand going to his chest, curling into the collar of his shirt. The heat of his mouth went directly to her core, a small fire burning within her.

He takes advantage of her reaction, his marled lips tracing a path up her neck to the curve of her ear. "Oh, yeah, sweetheart," He whispers, voice husky with desire. "You're makin' me so damn hungry." His hand wraps around her wrist, holding it in place as he continues to kiss and nibble at her skin.

His free hand starts to caress the curve of her hip, fingers dancing across the fabric of her dress.

Her small hand touches his cheek, softly letting her thumb swirl a soothing pattern. She can feel her body getting hotter with arousal, and she’s frightened by how turned on she’s getting.

He pauses the assault on her skin, hazel eyes flicking up to hers as he feels her hand on his cheek. His gaze burns with a mixture of lust and amusement as he smiles lazily.

His thumb strokes against the side of her hand, his touch light and gentle as he draws her hand away from his face, his fingers intertwining with hers.

“Can I please have your name?” she murmurs out of nowhere, “I don’t want to just call you Mr Ghoul..”

He chuckles low in his throat, eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, darlin', you want to know my name, huh?" He contemplates, then sighs, "Well, I reckon it's only fitting you should know the man who's goin' to... take care of you." He pauses, gaze burning into hers. "My name's Cooper Howard, sweetheart. But you can call me Coop, if you want. Just.. keep that between us, huh? Don’t need to world knowing my business."

Her whole body twitches against him, “W-wait.. like.. like… you’re THE Cooper Howard?”

He laughs, the sound low and menacing. "The one and only, sweetheart," He drawls, grip on her hand tightening as I press myself closer to her. "The Ghoul of the Wasteland, the man they whisper about in hushed tones around campfires as little ghost stories... that's me."

He tilts his head, eyes locked on hers as he speak in a tone that sends shivers down her spine. "And you're thinkin' it's weird that the infamous Cooper Howard is holdin' your hand and makin' you all hot and bothered?"*

She downright squeaks. “I..I had such a huge crush on you when I was younger.. I watched your movies in the vault- Oh gosh!”

He lets out a low, husky laugh, the sound sending vibrations through his chest as he tightened his grip on her hand. "Ah, darlin', you're makin' an old man blush.”

He pulls her closer, his face inches from hers as he whispers, "And what do you mean, 'had a crush'? You still got a thing for me, don't you, sweetheart?"

She flushes, her eyes darting away from him. His voice was doing things to her.

He chuckles low in his throat, hazel eyes never leaving hers as he presses his advantage. "Aww, come on, darlin', don't be shy," His voice softened to a gentle tease.

He reach out with his free hand, fingers tracing the curve of her jawline as he draws her gaze back to his own . "You know you want to talk about this... and maybe do something about it?"

She melts into his touch, her eyes shining up at him.

He smiles, eyes glinting with satisfaction as he leans in closer, breath whispering against her ear. "That's it, sweetheart... give in to your desires.”

He tightens his grip on her hand, fingers intertwining with hers as he pulls her closer, their bodies almost touching. "You know you're wantin' this... and I'm more than happy to oblige.”

“You.. did pay for a service, Cooper.” She blushes even brighter, “I.. I have a room next door if you want to be more private.”

He raises a nonexistent eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face as he teases her. "Oh, darlin', you're thinkin' I'm just here for the service, huh?"

He leans in closer, voice taking on a sly, seductive tone. "Let me tell you somethin', sweetheart... I've got more interest in you than just gettin' my rocks off.. But I gotta admit, the thought of bein' alone with you in that room is mighty temptin'..."

That piqued her interest, “What else did you want then?”

He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as I lean in closer. "Well, darlin', I've got a proposition for you. One that's gonna make you a whole lot richer... and maybe even give us both a little something special."

"You see, I've got a little problem. A certain... taste that I just can't seem to shake. And I think I know just the person who might be able to help me out."

Her head tilts to the side slightly, edging him to go on. Curiosity twinkling on her face.

He smiles, a slow, sly grin spreading across his face. "Let's just say... I've got a certain fascination with the more... exotic flavors in life. And I think you might just be the one to satisfy my cravings, darlin'."

“You’re not eating me, Cooper.”

He laughs, a low, rough sound that sends a shiver down her spine. "Oh, no, sweetheart... I'm not lookin' to make a meal out of you just yet.”

He reaches up and gently pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers brushing against her skin. "I've got something else in mind... something a lot more fun."

#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #the ghoul #lucy maclean #cooper howard #ghoulcy ficlet #what happens after this? who knows!#what was cooper offering her? ALSO who knows!#is it an AU? a little bit of divergency #(don’t look at me I’m innocent)

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beautifulpersonpeach · 12 hours

Note

Not gonna lie, this whole thing really sucks. I think I wrote a message awhile back about the very cool feminist angle of the Plus Global Auditions Invitation video, I'm an SNL Army and was new to watching kpop very closely and was so sold by that video. I thought - 'this company is really different.' Going public with a company f*cks a lot of things up, it happens all so often, and often it's the people and the ethos that gets messed up the most. It's frustrating to see this devolution. Because I was really excited by what MHJ was being given space to do at BH/Hybe. Though, as a fellow art school student, I am shaking my head and serious side-eyes at how she says things like 'I'm an artist, I don't know how to read contracts' (obviously I'm paraphrasing) - it's clear Hybe knows she's got the goods but she's not playing by their game anymore. The response and flood of crazy comments and hate at BTS is frustrating but expected, but just such a waste of time all the same. I've also never thought BH and then Hybe were super super smart and long-gaming everything (don't come for me Bangtan U fans) I think they were lucky and scrappy and skillful and making cool things happen moment to moment. Later on they got better at the strategic planning, sure. I don't know. They may need a good kick in the pants to remember that's what makes them great at what they do. But still, I hate the idea of MHJ being cooked even if she seems like a real pain in the tush to work with. Because technically, she's what got me to really buy-in to what BTS & BH were doing in the first place.

***

Yeah, it's a shitty situation.

To be fair, I think at the start, Bang PD was trying to do something different and 'forward-thinking' with HYBE. He sought out good talent going by the hires he did in 2019/2020, managing to onboard creatives like Min Heejin and Zico. Zico already incorporated his company to manage himself before Bang PD approached him, which is probably why he owns ~24.5% of KOZ - his sub-label in HYBE.

But with Min Heejin...

She had partnered with 250 - a popular DJ in Korea and NewJeans' main producer, since she left SM in 2018. He runs BANA (a creative collective) but she'd wanted her own label since the start.

Bang PD knew this, and wanted her for HYBE, so it's likely he made all sorts of promises to get her on board without awarding her a single share. Almost as soon as key creative decisions had to be made post-Global Plus audition, they both clashed, but HYBE as a company was less than 1 year old and it appears Bang PD and MHJ still had good relations... which was kinda easy since he still needed her creative output and wanted to see what she could do. So they let her make her own label: ADOR, and keep NewJeans even though according to Min Heejin, HYBE executives and Bang PD thought her concept and style of music for them would be impossible to sell to k-pop stans.

They expected NewJeans to fail or flounder. Instead, by 2023 NewJeans had become one of the top 5 most valuable k-pop IPs in Korea. If my guess is right, by that point she had no shares in ADOR, no agreement with HYBE's indefinite non-compete clause. She could walk anytime and I'm sure a lot of people wanted her.

Then HYBE approached Min Heejin with the shareholder contract to give her 20% of the company. It's a classic 'carrot and stick'. The carrot was easy to see. Apparently offered her the shares at a very low price, apparently Bang PD even lent her the money to buy it, for a valuation that HYBE considered more than generous, he was in her KakaoTalk chats buttering her up with those godawful emojis lmaooo. He was selling that shit hard. The stick in the contract was the poison pill which essentially tied her to HYBE for as long as they want her.

Perhaps she was aware of the pill and signed any way because at that point they still had good relations with Bang PD and HYBE in general. But according to her, Bang PD kept wanting more control over NewJeans the more successful the group became. Realizing she had to do something about the poison pill, she sought to negotiate, and as is typical in these sort of situations, you fight greed with more greed.

Asking to bump up the multiple on the options from 13x to 30x is frankly ridiculous. For a male CEO I can see it being considered... maybe, but for a woman? In Korea?

I'm sure when the other suits at HYBE heard that's what she was asking, at least one of them almost had a stroke. The logic is simple though: start crazy high and end.. just high. If HYBE was looking to exert more control over NewJeans (for example, every sub-label and group in HYBE changed to using 'bio-paper and ink' for their albums starting in 2023, to help HYBE meet their ESG targets. The only company that's not made the switch yet, is ADOR. Given how carefully MHJ controls branding and album design for NewJeans, I can see this minute detail being a massive thorn lol)... anyway, if HYBE was indeed looking to gain more control, the fact that they'd have to pay 30x if MHJ exercised her options on a whim, would serve as a very strong deterrent.

Given what I understand Korean corporate culture to be like, I doubt she had any friends in upper management to start, but with a demand like that, practically all of them would turn enemies in a heartbeat. It's the sheer audacity lmao. My guess is she would've eventually negotiated down, at least once she was assured real creative independence from Bang PD. But at some point, rather, quite predictably given this is corporate Korea, the need for control and the egos involved decided she had to be cut loose now and perhaps taught to not bite the hand that feeds her.

It's not a sentiment limited to the suits at HYBE. It's followed her since SM and the general public would hate it too, which is one reason I think it's only a matter of time before the narrative switches again to HYBE's favour. I promise you, most regular men in Korea would go red in the face, eyes bulging out their heads, drool and spit shooting out like projectiles, at the thought she would dare to demand such a thing. And in a way they'd be right. It's an insane amount of money for female creative in Korea, but I think given everything else, it also seems like a gamble she was taking as a means to an end. A simple negotiating tactic, given what she keeps highlighting as her main goal - unimpeded and full creative and managerial control.

Bang PD wants to build a 'forward-thinking' company comparable to Western conglomerate juggernauts like SONY and Warner Music, but I don't think these Korean men have the chops to do it right, just yet. I've had that impression of Bang PD for a few years now. He's been getting results, but they are inconsistent and he's got the biggest 'surety' in a sense with BTS, so he's been fine, and will continue to be fine for a few more years at least. But if they are messing up this spectacularly with their first female executive and one of their most valuable IPs, over... an options price negotiation?

And they want to pretend to be better than any other corp in Korea?

Lol.

Anyhoo.

I sympathize a bit with how you feel, but as a Korean woman, I guess I'm numb to it. There's a reason I've never chosen to work in that country, there's a reason why the birth rate is nearing the negatives. It's really unfortunate, and I'm sorry you're seeing a prior expectation you had getting blown up this way. And this latest hatefest on BTS has been quite ugly and isn't near done yet. This whole situation is gross, and even more so when the motivations behind it are so... banal and backwards.

But these are undercurrents that are too simple and boring for the average stan. Burning the witch who is responsible for masterminding the demise of a virtuous group is far more exciting. And so that's how the story will go.

I just hope that by some miracle, NewJeans turns out okay and manages to thrive after this. Because in all of this mess, they will deal with the implications the most and for the longest time.

#newjeans #ador #min heejin #bang pd #hybe #kpop

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tassodelmiele · 23 hours

Text

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

Here we are, it's finally monday and we can hope again in having a good, productive week (please let it be a sunny one too I can't hibernate in April I need my photosynthesis).

I'm wondering what do you think of this little work of mine, so if you feel like it you can write me whatever comment/question/any various and possible magical shit.

Have a good chocolaty day ⁓

DISCLAIMERS: little bit of touching and hints about sub/dom relationship! Finally my kinks are emerging! (evil laugh); Ghost-who-needs-to-make-peace-with-his-brain x Reader-who-needs-to-learn-how-to-shut-up; "How to be a psychologist without a degree" (by John Price); embarassing mission I hope does not exist in reality, but i needed it for plot's sake; little bit of wounds and scars (Doc.'s gonna tie you and Ghost up to a chair for the rest of your life); yelling and fighting and arguing (you're used to it by now).

..................................................

Fourth part here:

..................................................

«Why the hell you've let her-»

«MacTavish»

Price swallows through the smoked breath, clenching his fingers around the consumed cigar just to distract himself from the willingness to punch a wall, or the Sergeant's face.

«I've already had Ghost yelling at me for half an hour. Spare me»

«Then explain yourself, Cap.»

«I can't. I've no explanation. She'd done it by herself»

«She's no insubordinate»

«Not in that sense». He sighs. «I told her no. I knew it was too much for a rookie». He chews the extinguished cigar for a while, taking his time. «Laswell agreed. But that goddamn girl managed to convince Kate, somehow»

«How come?»

«Dunno. But she's already feeling bad enough, and she was the one who's got to rescue the girl»

«Laswell?? Ye serious?»

Price nods, eyes locked at the door in front of them. The doc entered almost one hour ago.

«And» Soap dares to ask «is Laswell…uhm…»

«She's ok» the Captain anticipates him. «Nothing broken. But the rookie…». He sighs again, scratching the bridge of his nose, pushing lightly his digits on the eyes. «I don't like soldiers wasting their lives like this. Especially good ones»

«The mission had to be done anyway»

«We could have waited for a better plan»

He takes a last chew on the cigar, spitting it on his glove before squeezing the leftover crumbles in his fist. He throws everything in a trashcan, then gazes at Soap.

«We've got shit to do, Sergeant. We'll come to check her later»

«They've done something bad to her». That wasn't really a question, even if Soap hopes to be wrong. «Am i right?»

«What came up in that bloody lil' head of yours?»

Three gunshots in your arm (the right one, 'cause luck kicks you in the ass as always), one blade wound and various bruises, just to complete the masterpiece. Doc sent you out of the bed with a promise: to try to not touch the medications.

One in particular.

You didn't even want to eat, but you need to. So breakfast has started, with chocolate scent, closed stomach and two pairs of gaze on your red face. You've tried to avoid contact with every human being in the base, but someone's got a good sense of smell for you. And you eventually end up with Soap and Gaz surrounding you with their (legitimate) questions.

You're blushing like hell, stirring oatmeal crumble in the mug with your eyes drowning into it.

«…I've thought…i could be helpful»

«You're a brave kid, but that was-»

«Stupid» Soap ends the sentence. «To say the least». He finishes his coffee in a sip, swallowing the hot liquid in a rush. «It wasn't a rookie's work, ye should've known»

You nod in embarrassment. «I did know»

«Then why?»

«'Cause…» you swallow, burying your eyes more into the mug, scratching the cuticles skin out of the nails. «…a girl was required. For the mission»

«Hold on» Gaz grabs your shoulder, lowering his voice. It was a confidential subject, not the one to speak about in a crowded dining room. But he keeps on with his curiosity anyway. «It was about weapons traffic, wasn't it?»

You nod.

«Then why a girl?»

You're about to answer, your mouth's already open even if you're not sure if filling them with a temporary lie, or just spit the truth.

Another sudden press on your shoulder takes you off from every doubt.

A big hand grabs you firmly, squeezing skin and bones underneath your uniform. Your body instantly shivers, tightening under the hold. You raise your head a little, but you know whose mask you're gonna jump into.

Ghost has the magical power to bring back the silence. He doesn't even have to speak, just a glare of his is enough. His look hits Soap and Gaz as to say: shut your bloody mouth; and they just roll their eyes at the ceiling, as to say: but we wanna know 'bout her mission, damn it.

Then he lowers on you just that tiny bit that's needed to let you feel his body heat closer, so warm against your cold limbs.

«Your presence is required» he says quickly, almost murmuring against your ear.

And here you are, walking behind his massive figure with eyes lowered on the ground, following his feet at a security distance through the base. He stops a couple of times to talk with someone, moments in which you play camouflaging with the wall; then you two reach a door, and you're so into not-seeing in front of you that you don't even look at where you are.

He closes the door behind you, and only after a few seconds of embarrassment you find the bravery to mumbling:

«W-who required me?»

«I do»

Your heart skips a beat before your ears could collect his voice and your synapsis could elaborate its meaning. That's when you suddenly raise your sight, finding him clinging on the desk while looking at you through the mask, and even if you can't see his face it's pretty clear that he's judging you. You can read it on the skull, as there's an imaginary -but very perceptible- neon writing saying: You're a bloody stupid gnome.

Voice escape through your lips automatically: «I'm sorry»

«'Bout what?» he kinda calls you out, pressing with his sternness on your pathetic whimpers.

Your eyes lower again.

«…causing trouble-»

«Just that?»

You nod. You don't wanna talk about what kinda trouble; but he does.

«Take off your shirt»

Your brain flashes a sudden error signal, allowing you to shiver and wrap your arms tight around yourself.

«…sir?»

Stupid question. You know why he's asking, the goddamn doctor had probably told him.

«Your shirt» he repeats, not moving from his place.

Two days ago, you would have started a war about this, yelling at him without regrets, brave enough to fight against your superior like two children between one small bucket.

Not now. Now you just stand in your special spot in the office, allowing your body to move just what is needed to breathe, eyes locked on the floor. You feel him growing impatient, sighing through the mask as you're disappointing him.

«'K. If that's so…»

The sentence remains hanging in the air, and in a matter of seconds, without getting aware of how fast he came toward you, his hands are on your shoulder. You instantly panic but you're too small to fight against his weight that's pushing you against the door, pinning you still with an hand on your breastbone while the other runs to your shirt's hem.

You grab his wrist in a stupid attempt at stopping him, but he lifts the shirt up in one movement, revealing bruises, a bloody bandage, and…a little scar slightly under the belly button, fresh from the oven and still shiny from some medical gel: the writing made out of fire burns on your skin in an elegant gothic style.

He stares at it, contemplating that swallowed piece of tattooed skin. Your face becomes so red you could spontaneously combust in this exact moment.

«Who made it?» he burst out, whispering harsh words.

You swallow hot air, digging your dry throat and hoping that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth will be the most sensible as possible.

«It's…it…traffic wasn't just 'bout weapons»

«Humans» he talks over immediately.

You nod your head, specifying with a swallow: «women»

«You've sneak in as a good to be sold»

«There was no other way to-»

«And they've marked you» his voice's not that high, but you're whispering enough to make it easy for him to have the upper hand on you. You become quiet, avoiding his sight, with your hands still wrapped around his wrist.

«Are you proud?»

The question wasn't expected, spitted roughly through his mouth. You clench your digits, digging in his gloves.

Then you nodd.

«Yes» the answer is a breath, warmth by your boldness and the consciousness that you've done what had to be done. And none would have taken that awareness from you. You eventually lift your sight a little, meeting his mask, letting the skull shape fill your eyes.

«Yes, I am»

You know he's looking at you as if he's got an idiot under his sight. You feel him judging, investigating your behavior, interrogating your posture. And you, trapped between a scary giant and a door, with his cold glove pressed where your belly still hurts, you dare to stare at him for one whole minute.

It seems enough: he lets you go, shaking your hands away from his wrists as he stands in all of his height against you.

«Good soldiers come home alive, little gnome»

«…it's a curious scolding from one who lives a dangerous life»

«I've already told ya: you don't know me»

«But i'm neither deaf nor blind»

«Buy a bloody mirror then». He takes two steps back, letting you breathe freely for the first time since you've entered the room. «Ya can say you see us clear, but speaking of seeing yourself…I can't say the same»

«I know me»

«It seems not»

Blood starts to rush to your brain as the embarrassment turns into a mixed spoonful of anger and bitterness. You follow him, still at security distance, toward his desk. «Why? 'Cause you've caught me touching myself once and I made one bloody moan?»

«'S not that, and we've already talked enough 'bout it» he mumbled, pretending to not pay attention as he looks through some documents on the table.

«Oh, oh sure! Now we've talked enough about it» your arms end up crossing on your chest. «after you've ripped my elbow»

«It was just a nerve»

«Judicially irrelevant»

«Shut your bloody mouth»

«Why? 'Cause you've told me s-»

«Yes»

You freeze; that was a cold, hard stone order. He's got his knuckles clenched on the table, his back's muscles are visibly breathing under the pressure of maintaining a glint of calm.

«You» he turns at you, pointing a finger at your freezed face «you are a goddamn idiot, one of the worst species. I've tried to convince myself you weren't actually so stupid but, damn god, was i right in the first place»

Guilt assaults you with a knife at your throat, for reasons you don't know. And you find your eyes lower, your spirit evaporated, your anger extinguished under his glare. You try to mutter:

«I've just done my duty-»

«You threw away your life»

«The mission had to be done, that was our last possibility to catch that damn illegal traffic» you rush, raising your voice to grow some confidence in your speech «Laswell needed a woman and i just did my damn work!»

And he almost barks back, raising stern and furious eyes at you: «than what 'bout asking someone more experienced, you bloody asshole?!»

«'Cause it was needed a woman with-!». You suddenly stop, biting your inner cheek as a last word slips, almost like a whisper, through your lips: «…inclinations»

He's left speechless for a while, standing in front of you with the finger still hanging toward your figure. You swallow; you know he's going to ask more, and that's just 'cause you can't keep your mouth shut.

As if you've called it, he spit out a terse: «Explain»

You sigh. This would be a great time to sink ten meters underground.

«I» you start gesticulating, drawing figures in the air with your hands «I am…i-»

You expect him to joke about your incapability of connecting two words together; but he remains silent, looking at you almost with curiosity. And you're forced to keep on talking.

«…I like certain things people don't usually…agree to do» you force words outside your mouth, with cheeks on fire and eyes buried on the pavement.

His conclusion wastes no time to come:

«You're a submissive»

It's not a question, it's a truth and it hits you like a brick in the face, as if he'd already understood your particular nature till the beginning. There's no need for more explanation: you know what kind of submissive he's referring to, and he evidently knows just enough about the subject to grin, just a little, under the mask.

«The target was known for his…peculiar sexual tastes». The additional clarification was not necessary, but he gives it anyway. He let out a soft chuckle, almost like he's having fun thinking about it. «I can't believe that Laswell really rely on this stupid trick»

You would really clarify how much Laswell fought against your will to volunteer for that risk, but your voice is gone under the embarrassment. Your digits are digging into cuticles again, and you're about to pretend to not exist, turn your heels and just go away.

And you don't even notice he's got closer again, till he forces your face up by roughly grabbing your cheeks in one hand.

The disappointment is palpable.

«You've run into that perv's den alone, risking yourself for a mission you knew you couldn't handle…just to satisfy your throbbing cunt?»

That hit you worse than every other thing he's thrown at you till now. Your cheeks catch fire in his hands, guilt choke air in your lungs and poisonous butterflies eat your stomach, whispering through the entrails: he's right.

But you don't want him to be right.

«I've just decided to put every weapon I've got at your service» you spit out.

His grip gets tighter. «Sure thing. And what have you gained? Apart of a saving operation that wasted everyone's time, of course»

«Mission was completed»

«We would have found another way to do it, rookie»

«But I did it» you grab his wrist, trying again to escape from his hold. «And i'm alive, so why the hell are we even talking about-»

It happens all of a sudden: he pushes you again against the door, harder and roughly enough to make your spine squeak on it. You hold a yell, and one second after you can't breathe anymore.

He holds you by your mouth, pushing on your face with his whole hand open, while the other runs down right under your belly, squeezing on your crotch like it's made of play dough.

«This is no playfield». His voice is almost a growl murmur in your ear as he lowers enough to overcome you with his bigger body. «Soldiers have morals. And dignity. Maybe 's not clear to your pretty little brain. So: watch» and he speaks slowly, growling coldness with tongue maid of sharp metal, his eyes on you with that goddamn mask supply (and you're sure you're gonna dream about his sight forever) «your. Bloody. Mouth. Kitty»

The nickname, the grip on your pants, the fact that you're breaking your personal apnea record…just burn your brain. And, in a loss of breath, trying so desperately to find a way out of that embarrassment while freezing your hormones that are already running too low on your body…

You bite him.

You sink your teeth in his glove as hard as you can, ripping off that goddamn dignity he was speaking about, letting the residual rage work as a fuel for your mouth. He suddenly jerks with a step back, catched by surprise, tearing his hands away, and to do so…he pushes with the other hand on your lower belly.

On your goddamn freshly engraved and barely healed tattoo.

On the scar the doc pleaded with you not to touch.

You spit his glove out of your mouth, yelling like your vocal chords have turn into a megaphone.

Ten minutes later, you two are waiting outside of the infirmary.

The knock on the door doesn't distract him, too focused pretending to find his paperwork attractive.

Price gets in without invitation.

«Just a word» he sits at the desk, usual hat at his place and cigar climbing from his lips «between me and you»

Ghost doesn't lift his sight.

«I've talked with doc-»

«I don't need to be scold 'bout it, if that's what ya'r here for»

Price sighs a low, maybe a little bit too paternal: «Ghost-»

«If you two» Simon raises his voice a little «believe in trusting every goddamn rookie, sending them risking their bloody neck just 'cause they've told you how good they are at shaking their ass-»

«You've already yelled about it, give my ears a rest. In any case, Laswell made the best choice in her position» Captain talks over him. «And I agree with her. We couldn't lose that opportunity, Simon»

«She didn't even managed to end the mission alone»

«But the rookie did a great job. Only problem was taking her out of that shit»

«You can't seriously call a kink exploitation one "great job"»

«She's a soldier. We're not here to babysit, risking our life 's part of our contract»

Silence.

Price starts to get nervous, feeling some mixed emotions that he really can't stand at six in the evening. He suddenly stands up, patting both hands on the desk, taking a deep breath before exhaling a long, almost exhausted:

«There's nothing bad in making friends with your allies…»

Ghost is already rushing an "i don't need friends" kinda sentence, but Price anticipates him:

«Me too, i've made friendships on the battlefield that i hope will last as long as my bones will walk on the dirt. Then, we could die together and be happy in whatever hell God'll decide to send us. But» and his "but" was final «i know what you're doing here. Stop it. It's gonna be draining, for the both of you»

Ghost spits out: «I'm doing nothin'», too rushed, then muttering: «Don't even like her»

«I don't care who you like. You can marry whoever you want, you've got my approval»

«For fuck's sake Price-»

«Wanna delete her from your eyesight? Just look straight in front of you from now on. Wanna keep an eye on her?» John raises his hands, throwing Ghost's embarrassment in the air while admitting with the most honest attitude: «Sure. Ok. I keep an eye on you all every goddamn minute of my life. She's not a princess, though. And ya'r not a bloody knight»

Silence becomes again the king in the office. Price is still fixed in his extreme openness, ready to give his Lt. the best suggestions on how-to-not end up again at the infirmary with that goddamn rookie (before the doc kills the both of them).

Then Ghost finally raises his gaze.

And Price has a bad s-.,ensation in his guts, almost like he'd said something he shouldn't have.

«Keeping…an eye on her» Simon repeats, lost in thoughts.

John nodds, hesitating before leaving the office.

..................................................

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod fanfic #fanfiction #writers on tumblr #ghost x reader #ghost x you #johnny soap mctavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #writing dialogues is so funny #Price is basically becoming more and more the pscyhologist of the team #Task Force 141 is a close team of gossiper #don't know if ou've already noticed but i don't know shit about miitary life #it will be something more spicy sooner or later #for now just hints about sub/dom relationship

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