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keresnotceres · 11 months

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Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut

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dazed-and-confused23 · 1 month

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Dear Hearts and Gentle People 13

Summary: You are kidnapped in the middle of the night while the two of you are camped out a little too close to fiend territory. Cooper finds you and makes them pay the price for taking you in the first place.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst and Violence. Dark themes. Cooper is not a happy camper. Forced drug use and sexual assault but no rape. Blood and death.

Part 2 -> HERE

Masterlist

It's been a week since the fiend leader Motor Runner and his crew of misfits had captured you. It'd been in the middle of the night, Cooper asleep and you on second watch. Your mind was already drowsy, and you hadn't been paying the best attention to your surroundings when you'd wondered off to take a pee that night. Four of them had jumped you, stuffing a dirty sock in your mouth and spraying some type of chem in your face that made you pass out within seconds.

Since then, they've kept you hopped up on a concoction of drugs. It was mostly a mix of jet and med-x, drugs that made you feel calm and foggy brained. Motor Runner had learned quickly that he couldn't touch you unless you'd been double dosed and restrained, wrists lashed behind you as you kneeled by his throne made of human skeletons They'd taken your clothes early on, leaving you in nothing but the thin underclothes to protect your modesty.

Cooper had woken that morning and found you gone, but your things still left behind. Panic and anger had set in immediately, and the ghoul gathered everything up before he started to follow the tracks that led into the destroyed city that surrounded the Strip. It was slow going. The ruins were rife with all kinds of surprises, and he'd had to fall back more than once after getting overwhelmed by a gang of fiends.

However, he'd finally arrived at Vault 3, and nothing was going to stop Cooper from getting you back.

You swayed side to side, high as a kite, and so drugged up that you weren't sure which was was up and which was down. The world spun around you, making you feel sick as bile curdled in your stomach. Motor Runner was saying something, but you couldn't be bothered to pay much attention. Your hearing felt muffled, but you could feel the vibrations of some type of explosion going off further up the Vault.

"Hear that, bitch? Sounds like someone actually tried to come save you. It's soo fuckin' bad that they'll never make it down here."

A gritty hand grabbed your jaw, and cool metal was pressed to your temple, digging in hard enough that it cut into your flesh. Blood wells up and drips down your chin to mix with the other disgusting fluids and gunk that stains your front. Your jaw aches, but you know better than to fight against what the fiend leader wants from you.

Cooper tosses another grenade down the hall, a terrible grin on his lips as the fiends scream in pain, shrapnel shredding through their flesh and sending blood splattering the walls. His side arm flashes in the dim red lighting of the vault, and Cooper relished in the carnage that he leaves behind him. The fiends deserved worse than death, and he would happily be the one to deliver their silence.

They put up more and more of a fight the deeper he went inside the Vault. The ghoul ducks into an abandoned room and quickly reloads, sliding rounds into the chamber with steady hands before he ducks back out into the hallway to blow away three unlucky men that'd been charging down the hallway with pool sticks.

One of them gasps for air, but he's still alive, so Cooper stops for half a second to haul the man up, slamming him against the wall. The bounty hunter's face is stained with red, and the fiend howls in agony when Coop digs his his finger into the bullet wound on the raiders' side.

"Where the fuck is she?" He spits and shakes the man when all he can do is cry, "Answer me you son of a bitch!"

"Down! Motor Runner has the bitch!" the man eventually screams and Cooper puts him down like he would a rapid dog. On he went, dropping fiends and tossing explosives when he could. The walls were painted red by his actions, and the entire vault looked like a murder scene by the time he'd made it to the lowest level.

Tears fell from your eyes as Motor Runner used your mouth, his heavy cock sliding in and out as he takes pleasure in using you. He grunts and moans like an animal, and you have never felt so shamed and disgraced before in your life. You gag around his length, and a sick combination of precum and drool drips from the side of you mouth to mingle with the blood already there.

This is the scene that Cooper arrives to, his features pulled down into an awful snarl as he points his hand cannon at Motor Runner. He takes you in, your bare chest, and the thin panties you wear that hardly cover anything. The fear and broken, defeated look that you wear across your beautiful face.

"Ha! Nice job gettin' down here, Rotter!" The fiend leader hisses and snaps his hips, vulger curves spewing from his lips, "Just in time to watch me cum down your cunt's throat."

Cooper hears you whine and watches you clench your eyes shut. He can hardly see through the film of red that covers his vision, so raged filled that his hand shakes from how tightly he holds his side arm. Motor Runner still has a pistol pressed against your temple, smart enough to not take any chances.

"She ain't yours, Fucker," Cooper snarls right back and takes a couple of steps forward, only to stop when the raider jerked you around to kneel in front of him, on display like come kind of fucked up prize. The fiend scoffs at him.

"Doesn't look like it's your cock in your mouth right now, does it?"

Even drugged and out of it, you can still register what's going on, and hateful shame fills you up to your core. With a vault full of fiends, fighting back had felt hopeless, but seeing Cooper made rage build up and bubble over. Motor Runner had made a mistake when he pulled his attention away from you, and you took your change the second You felt the barrel against your temple go slack.

Cooper watched as Motor Runner's face went white, a silent scream falling past his lips as you bite down as hard as you can. Your teeth pierce his dick, and blood wells up in your mouth as the fiend rips away from you. You fall back, jaw aching at you hit the ground with a thud. You grunt when the back of your head hits the concrete floor, and you see stars.

The ghoul dashes forward, grabbing you the arm to haul you to his side while the fiend wallows on the floor, his hands grabbing at his dick that hangs limp between his legs. Cooper fishes out his knife and cuts the rope around your hands, and you move before he can make sure that you're okay.

You fling yourself on top of the fiend, pinning him down with your knees on his shoulders as you wrap your hands around his throat. You use every ounce of strength you have left, squeezing and watching the life fade out of the man's eyes before you roll off his cooling body, laying on your back as you cry and stare up at the ceiling.

Cooper carefully picks his way over to you, crouching by your side and gently gathering you up and in his arms. You don't fight him and only cry harder when you pick up his familiar scent when you shove your face in the crook of his neck. You shiver and shake, relief filling your body as your ghoul holds you tightly.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you, babygirl," Cooper rumbles, but you shake your head. You didn't care, the ghoul had come for you, and that's all that mattered. He gathers your frame up and stands with a soft grunt.

"Let's get outta here."

#cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #cooper howard x reader #x reader #the ghoul x reader #dear hears and gentle people #angst with a happy ending #kidnapping

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juvenillia · 8 months

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~ future days ~ John Price x fem!reader [fluff fic]

summary: After John got lost during a mission, he found himself in a place he'd rather not have found because now he won't be able to leave, and that's all because of you.

a/n: I saw this post and needed to write a little fic for it, plus I placed some of my 'the last of us' love in it, therefore this is the version of the song that kept me writing and inspired

cw/tw: mentions of violence and loss, but only the slightest, John is kinda selfish but in a good way, this is tooth rotting fluff

worcount: 3.2k

》 Read on AO3 《》Master Post《

„Captain, how copy?!“, the voice in his comms was frail. Everything around him was buzzing, shaking. He couldn’t remember how he got here. His eyes searched for anything that would make him see. A wetness crawling through his body, followed by a numbness. “He has to be here!”, a deep voice with a Russian accent yelled. That was the only thing that brought his senses back to life. He had to survive. He stripped out of the tactical gear and went back into the cold the lake next to him provided. Clinging to the rifle, the only thing that could keep save him now. In his current state he wouldn’t be able to swim far enough but he had no choice. He had to endure and survive like all the times before.

The next thing he remembered was an unfamiliar warmth creeping up his body. He blinked his eyes open and was greeted with the dim light of the sun making its way through the blinds. He was laying in a bed, delicate lavender sheets wrapping around his toned body. A rough pain piercing through his chest as he sat up. His hand immediately pushing against it. He observed his surroundings. The room he found himself in was cozy. A little bedside table next to him, on top of it was placed an empty bowl with daisy’s painted on it. A little wardrobe next to the door. As he brushed over his chest, he realized that he didn’t wear any shirt. His chest was wrapped in bandages. To clean for the injuries, he had to endure. “What the ‘ell?”, his voice was raspy, rough from the sleep. No matter where he was, he needed to get a grip on it. From the interior and the way his body was taken care of, he assumed that it wasn’t Russian imprisonment, but he couldn’t be sure after all. He threw the sheets away. Still wearing the cargo pants, he used to. So, whoever took care of him, seemed too shy to pull him out of those. Standing a bit weak in his knees, he steadied himself on the doorframe, before pushing him further up.

He carefully opened the door and listened in, nothing seemed like a threat. He really couldn’t hear anything besides some birds singing outside. The hallway he walked through was like the bedroom. Small, sweet, and lovely decorated. Some pictures of flowers, different old castles and beautiful landscapes covered the walls as he strode along. There was a door to the left that led into a comfortable looking living room, and to the right to a small kitchen. In front of him was the door that would bring him out of here. So, he let his feet carry him over. He just stopped when he heard a door creak. He instinctively went around the next corner and found himself in the small rustic kitchen. He peered around the corner and literally had to catch his breath at the sight. A gorgeous woman just passed the door into the hallway. Wearing an adorable dress, reaching to your knees, which hugged your curves just in the right places. Some brown casual boots. And two heavy loaded baskets, one in each hand as your trailed into the kitchen. You didn’t take notice of him. You simply walked past him, humming a sweet melody and God, it was the prettiest sound he ever witnessed and still it seemed familiar. Placing the baskets on to the kitchen table and starting to unpack everything, just when you turned around to put something onto the shelf next to the door you shrieked. “Oh my…”, you lost grip of the packages of flour your hand had clung to just a moment before. Pressing your hands to your heaving chest. He looked at you completely stern, still his eyes soften. He reached out to pick up the goods you just dropped. To your fortune they stayed intact. “Sorry…”, his voice was so calm and deep, as he put them on the table. Eyes lingering on your figure.

“No worries.”, you chimed after catching your breath. “Just didn’t think you’d be awake and walking around already.” Your voice was so sweet, he was sure he never heard something like that before. He only stood and there and watched as your kept unpacking the loads of groceries. Eventually he started to hand you a few things to help, and you beamed at him in pure happiness. “You must be hungry.”, that’s when you looked directly at him, pouring a glass of water, and putting it in front of him on the table and he sat down. He was mesmerized by the way you moved and talked. He even asked himself if he already was done, and that is what heaven must feel like. “I wanted to make some tomato soup. Recipe from my grandma, it’s literal the best you’ll ever have.”, you dragged his attention back to here and now, while pulling out a pot. You kept humming the melody while starting to prepare the food. This melody felt so familiar to him, still he couldn’t remember where it was from.

“Why are yer doing this?”, his voice was so uncommon and felt so unsuitable for this place. He felt unsuitable for this place. “Pardon?”, you didn’t look at him and kept chopping the tomatoes. “Was my question unclear?”, he was so stoic, the Captain coming to the light. It earned him a soft chuckle as you turned around. “Couldn’t leave you out there dying. So, I brought you here.”, you put the knife aside and faced him. Your eyes met his, and you got lost for a second. “You… you brought me here?”, now his voice was filled with disbelief. You didn’t look like you could carry him god-knows how far. You only nodded with a sweet giggle at his reaction, turning back to the meal.

You then explained everything, how you found him at the river side near the forest you like to walk through in the mornings before getting in the village for work. You went back to get a barrow to bring him back, cleaned his wounds and took care of the deep ones, before bandaging him and putting him into your bed. Looking after his wounds for the last six days. “I slept six days?” You nodded, while dusting of your hands at the side of your dress, after putting the pot on the stove. “We should take a look at the wounds though.”, you said, while your cheeks got stained in a slight red. Taking care of him while he was asleep was one thing, but having his perfect body on full display while he watched your every move, it made you nervous. You carefully freed him of the old bandages and cleaned every wound and carefully inspected the stitches of the nasty ones. Before wrapping him up again. “Where did you learn that?”, his voice grew a bit softer while you treated him. He had a weird sting in his guts. Your touch felt so comforting. A warmth filling his stomach like a good hot tea after a long deployment. “I was a nurse, before I left the city and looked for something more peaceful.”, you explained, making the last knot in the bandage. Then you reached behind you and pulled out a plain grey shirt. “I hope it fits.”

“I am John, by the way.”, he said calm while drying off some of dishes. You stood next to him washing the rest. You told him your name and he repeated it. Sweeter than anything you heard him say. It made your heart flutter. Another silence making its way back to the kitchen, and you filled it with the same melody from earlier. John closed his eyes, enjoying your soft hums, the sun beaming over his skin through the window, all that peace he never witnessed. He dared himself to enjoy this, eventually too much, and that’s how your days went on. He helped you with little tasks in the house, kept you company, you talked about a lot under the sun. About his life, not about the things he had to do. Just that he was in the military. He wouldn’t want to keep it secret; he was proud of the things he accomplished. Proud to make this world a better place, he just wanted to keep the violence, blood, and dirt away from you. You were so innocent and sweet; he didn’t want to corrupt you.

He found a liking in this; he found a liking in you. On the third day he insisted that you sleep in your bed again. The couch would be enough for him. He had slept in worse places. And neither of you knew what that change of spots did to you. Your whole bed smelled like him, just his own unique scent lingering between the sheets. Same was with the couch. Your delicious fragrance lying in the cushions as John pressed his head into them. Shamelessly inhaling every bit of it. You told him the couch would be a bad place to sleep for him and his injured back, and still he had the best rest of his entire life there.

It was early in the morning when he woke up, completely rested, the usual drill waking him and dragging him out of his sleep. That’s when he thought back to his boys, to his team. What would they think of him? They would risk their life’s just in that moment and the selfish side of John Price didn’t even want to set a foot out of that cheerful home. He would’ve been announced MIA anyways. So maybe that was a possibility for him to start over. Maybe he could listen to that selfish voice inside his head that begged him to stay here. To stay by your side. He wanted to be close to you, closer than he was with anyone.

His eyes trailed over the comforting living room he’d spend the late nights with you, watching a trashy tv series, it was your favorite, while you eagerly explained everything around the plot, so he’d understand. And everything he could think of was how pretty your lips looked, glistening from the wine you just had, still a drop of the liquid trapped in the corner of them. He had to fight the immense scream inside him to let his thumb brush it away. You would always laugh at him, asking if he would even be listening at all and he only smiled, being caught off guard. Being honest he did listen, but he didn’t care about what you talked about, but he’d listen all the way. Your eyes so full of passion and your sweet voice he never wanted to miss. And every evening he would move an inch closer to your spot. Secretly slipping closer into your side. Resting his arm on the back of the couch just behind you. And again, a bit further to the right, until your thighs would touch, and he wanted more. He craved more. Wishing every evening that the exhaustion would pull you into his chest. He would gladly welcome you.

Still, he had a duty to fulfill. He got reminded as his eyes clung to the rifle next to the stool. You left it there. Told him for just in case. It didn’t make you feel uneasy, knowing that he would be here to only use it to protect you. You knew he would never do something to cause any physical pain to you. Even if you’d be the fool in the end, you trusted him. A wounded soldier you barely knew a thing about, but he was nothing than sincere with you and you enjoyed his company. Your mom always told you to never talk to strangers, and here you were rescuing a completely and utterly dangerous stranger and letting him in into your life.

His feet carried him over to his weapon of choosing. Letting it linger in his hands, his eyes trailing over the outlines, the trigger, everything that was so familiar to him. Then his eyes stopped as they focused on a framed image in the background. It was placed in the windowsill behind a piano. It showed a soldier and woman in a white apron dress. They were quite young and not recognizable for John, but the smile gave it away. A smile he fell in love with since he woke up in a new life. Putting the rifle away and taking the picture in his hand. Observing how the two of you stood there, arm around each other, genuine smiles that reached your eyes. He noticed the similar features your faces shared when he noticed the name on the jacket of the recruit. A deep sigh left his throat as he put the picture back to its original spot. It made sense though.

He sat on that stool and let his calloused hands brush over the quite dusty wood of the piano in front of him. He opened its protection and pushed a key. The coat of dust made him wonder. Everything in this place was so neatly and clean, but not this instrument. His eyes trailing back to the picture before he slowly started playing, letting his fingers dance over the ivories. It was an odd time to remember, but he did. He remembered every tone of the melody and just let his muscle memory take over. Nearly closing his eyes, getting carried away. Just a few moments later he paused, hands still lingering on the white and black keys. That’s when he noticed a quiet sniffle. He immediately turned around to see you, leaning against the doorframe, arms hugging your own figure tight, your lips turning in the prettiest smile he ever saw you wearing. Still, he felt somehow guilty, taking, and using your property like that. Probably causing you a painful memory.

“Darlin’, I’m…” – “That was beautiful.”, you interrupted him, making your way over to him while a few tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He smiled at you, weak as one of his hands reached out to you and you let him pull you in. He made some space on the small stool, and you sat down. Pressed in the sight of him but he wouldn’t mind. You wouldn’t mind. How could you. You let your hands linger on the keys, just above the spot where his fingers stopped. Your eyes pinned onto it; his eyes were only on you. You pressed some of the keys without any meaning of them sounding melodic. “My brother always played that song. I never learnt to.”, you voice was much more quiet than he was used to. A weak smile tugged at your lips. That’s when he noticed, he knew the melody you were always humming just like he knew the man in that picture. He remembered the late nights in a pub when he witnessed that song for the first time. It was a song he knew complete. He put his right arm around your waist, pulling you even closer in his side, before he placed his hands back onto the keys again and played that same old song. You leaned into him, closing your eyes while getting lost in the moment. Listening to the nostalgic melody, his steady heartbeat; you never felt so lighthearted.

He rested his head onto yours, while you started humming along the melody he played, until your hums turned into soft vocals. Not pulling your head away from him. “If I ever were to lose you, I'd surely lose myself, everything I have found dear I've not found by myself, try and sometimes you'll succeed, to make this man of me, all my stolen missing parts , I've no need for anymore, I believe, and I believe 'cause I can see, our future days, days of you and me.” As your voice went quiet, his hands kept playing for a few more tones before resting on the keys once more. He never felt so at ease, nothing on his mind and completely captured by this moment. By the warmth radiating from your body, by the way your scent flooded his nostrils. He never wanted anything different anymore.

One hand found your chin and carefully tilted it in his direction. Your eyes locked and you slightly parted your lips, while your heart wanted to jump out of your chest while looking in those deep stormy eyes. His other hand rested on your thigh now, his body turned more into your direction. The small space on the stool already put you close together, but now he leaned a bit more in. The tip of his nose touched yours, his hot breath brushing over your skin. It send shivers down your spine. You didn’t want to avert your eyes, you didn’t want to break eye contact, but everything felt so intense. Your body was literally trembling with anticipation, while he seemed calm as a rock, but not cold. His eyes held so much hidden in them. Still, he didn’t move any closer, stayed still in this position, until you cautious nudged his nose with yours, just then he closed the gap between you both. Letting his lips linger on yours, hesitant, but so full of emotions. You felt the tingling of his beard over your skin. A deep kiss that said so much more than words ever could. Your hands found his chest, while he deepened the kiss, before parting for mere seconds. A gorgeous smile tugging his lips upwards, his eyes filled with adoration before he leaned in for another taste of your lips. More eager, more passionate. His hand wandering from your chin to cup your cheek, slowly caressing it with his thumb while not parting his lips from yours. One of your hands found his shoulder, and from that it wandered to his neck, pulling him impossible closer. Neither of you wanted to let go, it felt like tasting the sweet taste of water after wandering the desert for months.

Just when both of you had no oxygen left in your lungs you parted once more, and he placed a quick peck onto your forehead before he leant his front against yours. You still felt his beard pricking at your skin. It was a unique feeling of intimacy. Something you never had experienced yourself. This gorgeous smile never leaving his lips. “I see my future days here…with you, darling.”, he breathed out, barely above a whisper. Those words were meant for your ears only, and they made you smile. Your hands wrapping around his neck. “But no more sleeping on the couch, alright?” He only laughed sincere at your statement ans pressed his forehead further into yours. How should he be able to sleep somewhere else when he knew you’d be curled up in that cozy bed of yours, leaving the spot next to you open only for him? And just like that the selfish voice in his head had won, but he shouldn't care, not when he pulled you closer in his embrace and forgot about all the dirt and darkness.

taglist: @ghostslillady

#john price #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain price #price x reader #price x you #tooth rotting fluff #cod fanfic #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #john price fluff #cod mw fanfiction #john price fanfiction

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ursa-tan · 1 year

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141 + König w/ a reader who’s just had a long day

—————

141 + König & reader

Short Drabble

You’ve had a long day on base, boring and packed full of things you didn’t want to do. Now you just need to rest.

By the time you finally find yourself making dinner the sun has set, leaving the only light to be provided by the LED bulbs of the communal kitchen. It’s a miserable feeling, everything is so quiet and still. Nothing feels like it should, especially with the fact that all of the boys have retreated to their rooms, leaving you alone to sort yourself out.

You give up on whatever pathetic attempt at “dinner” you’re trying, opting instead to slouch back into a chair slightly pulled out from the table. Despite the fact that sleep is tugging desperately on your weary mind, you can’t find the energy to stand up and go to bed.

What does get you moving, however, is the idea of being able to see your favourite person on base. The thought alone gets you to your feet, trudging slowly towards his room, avoiding the temptation to just lay down on the carpet of the hallway and fall asleep.

———-Captain John Price-———

You don’t bother knocking on his door, instead just twisting the handle and pushing the door open

He’s sat up in bed, book in hand and glasses resting on his nose, bathed in the warm light of his bedside lamp

Price doesn’t bother to look up, only murmuring: “Close the door behind you”

You pad into the room, sliding the door shut behind you and letting it click shut. He doesn’t look up at you at all, eyes fixated on the book he’s holding up. You can’t help but watch him read, seeing his eyes flirt surprisingly fast across the page as you round the other side of the bed.

Soft, warm cotton greets your skin as you pull the sheets back. The mattress sinks under you as you gently climb into bed, still wearing your daytime clothes. This seems to get Price to react, as he turns his head to look at you over the top of his glasses.

“Take off the jeans, you’re not wearing those to bed.”

It’s a simple request, but still hard to do with your complete lack of energy. You do manage to strip the jeans off, electing to kick your socks off along with them. After a few seconds of deliberation, you slip off any other even mildly uncomfortable clothing garment and then climb back into his bed.

He doesn’t stop you this time, instead lifting up the arm closest to you. It’s in invitation, one you gladly take, to slide in and lay your head gently on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, feel him breath, and it’s practically already lulling you to sleep.

“Long day?” He mumbles, turning the page of his book.

You don’t bother answering properly, letting out a small sound and nodding your head instead.

“We best sleep then.” This time he closes his book as he speaks, placing it on the night stand along with his glasses. He shuffles down the mattress, letting you get comfy with your head on his chest before turning the light off.

———Simon “Ghost” Riley———

You don’t even get the chance to knock on the door before he’s opening it, dressed in plaid pyjama pants and a slightly baggy grey shirt

He still has a balaclava on, one with a big hole over his eyes, allowing you to see the concerned look he’s giving your puffy, tired, red eyes

He ushers you into his room, giving you the command to “get into something comfortable” before slipping out of the room and walking off

Simon comes back not too long after he left, having given you a chance to get changed into a pair of his pyjama shorts and a hoodie. It’s warm and smells both of him and of laundry detergent.

When he comes back, he has a plate in one hand a a plastic water bottle tucked under his arm. Half of an apple - cut into slices - and a piece of buttered toast are on the plate.

“You need to eat,” he grumbles, pushing the door shut and twisting the knob as it slips into place.

He guides you to sit on his bed, holding the plate in front of you, prompting you to take it. Once you do, he does the same with the bottle - after cracking the seal for you.

You take a bite of the toast, realising he’s put honey on it. Not too much, but just enough for it to taste sweet.

Ghost sits next to you as you eat, hand on your knee, thumb swiping back and forth across your skin. It’s an action that has you leaning into him by the time you’ve finished eating. He takes the plate from you, prompting you to have a drink before placing the bottle on the floor next to the plate.

“You look like you need sleep,” he whispers, guiding you to lay in his bed, facing the wall.

It’s not long before he’s slipping in behind you, having put on some rain noises to play in the background. Wrapping his arm around your waist, Ghost pulls your back to his chest a bf tucks your head under his chin.

——-John “Soap” MacTavish-——

You have to knock a few times before he answers, having been dead asleep

Both his eyes and his posture are droopy, showing you just how hard he’s finding it to drag himself out of bed for you

It doesn’t stop him from smiling when he sees you though, or from pulling you into his room and kicking the door shut as gently as he can

Soap doesn’t say much if anything as he drags you over to his bed in the near total darkness of his room. He guides you to the bed, helping you shuffle into it just before he does.

You don’t mind the lack of words or light, actually finding it quite nice on your tired senses. It gives you a break after the day you’ve had.

Soap pulls you against his chest, practically laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you. It’s still for a moment emigre he pulls you up slightly, just enough to start placing kisses against the top of your head.

He keeps doing this, placing soft, rhythmic kisses into your hair. One hand comes to rest on the small of your back while the other moves up to mess with your hair. Specifically, the fuzz at the nape of your neck. He teases it slightly, tugging as gently as possible, rubbing it between his fingers.

You take a moment to intertwine your legs with his. He moves with you, only moving so as to prevent you from having to move him.

You stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in his arms, listening to his heartbeat and his breathing. It’s safe and warm, and you feel tired.

———————König———————

He opens the door after exactly one knock, almost like he’s waiting for you, to scared to tell you he knows you’re there before you tell him

He reaches out, scooping you up almost immediately and pushing the door shut, holding you against his big, warm body

No time is wanted before he’s speaking loving words into your ear, proving himself up against the headboard and wrapping a blanket around you

König holds you close as soon as he’s able to get his hands on you, bringing you up to wrap your legs round his waist. It’s slightly I comfortable with how big he is, but his warm hands on your thighs more than make up for it.

He slips into his bed, back pressed against the back board, pulling a pillow up behind him to his spine isn’t pressing directly into the wood.

“Oh Mein kleiner schatz, you look exhausted,” he mumbles, petting your hair and back as he wraps a blanket around you.

You can’t help but nozzle into his chest slightly, relishing in his warm hand messing with your hair. His other hand is drawing patterns into your skin over the denim of your jeans.

“How about we take these off and get you comfortable?” He whispers into your ear, hugging you close for a second before helping you stand up. He’s insistent in helping you change, only turning his back when you strip off your undergarments in a favour of one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers.

As soon as you’re more comfortable, he’s pulling you back into the bed - back into his lap - to swaddle you in a blanket again. He’s pressing you against his chest as soon as possible, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“It’s ok, mein maus, you Can sleep now.” Is the last thing you hear before you fully relax into your giants chest.

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #cod mw22 #könig cod #konig x you #ghost cod #ghost x you #simon riley x you #soap cod #soap x you #john mactavish x you #price cod #captain price x you #john price x you #badly translated german

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greatstormcat · 8 months

Text

TF141 x f!oc Monster AU

Part 2

Master List

TW: death

MDNI

This promised to be an unusual posting, which was just perfect Sergeant Morwenna Winter, the more unusual the better she thought as she knocked on the door marked Captain Price. When Price bellowed through the door for her to enter, Winter opened the door and walked in to stand before his desk at attention.

Price looked up, his blue eyes reflecting the light in the room and appearing to glow. Winter felt the magickal energy radiating from him, her senses responding to it and drinking it in. The Captain leant back in his chair and smiled, showing sharp incisors as he did so, and his massive bulk causing the frame of the chair to creak in protest. It was no secret that Captain Price was a Bear Shifter and even in human form he was an intimidating sight with his thick muscles and shaggy facial hair.

“Good to finally meet you, Sergeant,” he said, his voice gravely yet soft. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Winter replied respectfully, standing with a straight spine. As a mortal standing in front of the person in charge of the most infamous supernatural Taskforce in the world, she intended to impress.

Price inhaled and chuckled, clearly smelling her apprehension. “At ease soldier…” he murmured and stood up, walking around his desk to stand in front of her. He dwarfed her, despite her average height and build being nothing to be ashamed of. “You’re on probation for the next few months, although I suspect you won’t have much trouble finding yourself a permanent spot on the team if what I've heard to correct. Just don’t let them push you around, they may be bigger than you but I know for a fact you can handle them.” He grinned broadly through his beard. “Come on,” he grunted as he made his way to the door.

He led the way outside, the floodlights illuminating the outside world as the sun had set an hour ago. “This team works better under the cover of darkness, you’ll see why soon enough,” Price explained as they walked toward the training ground. The sounds of shouting drifted across the darkened grounds, until they reached the training area. Teams of humans and supernatural entities were completing drills under the watchful gaze of two Sergeants, one of which clearly had horns on his head and a tail resting on the ground behind him.

The two men turned to acknowledge Price as he called out to them, and both fixed her with a curious gaze when they saw her beside their Captain. Winter felt a a light touch brushing against her mind, one of them was trying to slip into her thoughts. Get out, she sent the thought back abruptly. Both of the Sergeants stood taller than her, just as Price had warned her.

“This is Sergeant Winter,” Price introduced her to the two Sergeants, and they eyed her with interest. She felt the probing against her mind again, causing her to frown at the persistent intrusion. “This is Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish.” Price gestured to each of them in turn and they nodded at her.

“Ah, the new member ya mentioned,” MacTavish, the horned Sergeant, greeted her with a grin. “Good to finally meet ya. The Captain has been keeping his cards close to his chest on who he was bringin’ on board.” He had a strip of shaggy brown hair between his curled horns and as he moved, the light glinted on the faint scales across his skin. He was clearly a Dragon Hybrid.

Garrick cocked his head and looked intently at Winter. There was an air of coolness about him while his outer appearance was that of a handsome dark skinned human… very handsome indeed. Winter had to stop herself from staring. When he finally spoke, the hint of sharp fangs coupled with his aura made it clear he was a Vampire. This is who had been trying to reach her thoughts. “You’re human,” he observes, “but not fully… you’re something else but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Price chuckled as his sergeants stood there looking confused. “Her callsign is Witch if that clears things up,” he grins, folding his arms across his broad chest and looking smug.

“A Witch? That’s interesting,” Garrick grinned stepping a bit closer. “You can call me Gaz, and he goes by Soap,” he indicated MacTavish over his shoulder, who rolled his eyes theatrically. Winter, glad for the diversion from the vampire turned to Soap.

“What kind of name is Soap for a Dragon Hybrid?” She asked in confusion, and Soap shook his head in irritation running a hand absentmindedly over his hair.

“Long story, hen. I’ll save it for another time if ya don’t mind,” he mumbled evasively and turned to Price, his scaled tail twitching. “Just so ya know, we haven’t heard from Ghost yet. He said he would be back at sundown, and well...” he shrugged.

“Humph,” Price grunted, “he better not be taking any more risk than necessary, he can’t stay gone for much longer or he won’t make it back. Come on, you two show our Witch her new home and I’m gonna check on the Lieutenant.”

Gaz fell into step beside Winter as they walked towards the barracks, still testing the edges of her mental defences. Will you stop doing that, I'm not letting you in, she silently said back to him.

Just checking to make sure you are really what you say you are, he replied in her head while giving her a sideways glance. He smiled at her, the tips of his fangs pressing at his bottom lip in a way that drew her eye, making her have to tear her attention away from Gaz as Soap held the door to the barracks open for her.

Soap glanced between Gaz and Winter, a faint smile twitching the corner of his mouth as he noted her slightly flustered expression. "Everything alright?" he asked with feigned innocence.

"Just peachy, thanks," she replied, brushing past him into the building trying to ignore the blush creeping up her neck.

They enter the barracks and Soap chatters amiably showing Winter around with Gaz constantly nearby her, watching her every move and touching her mind from time to time with a small smile but saying little. Eventually they reach their various quarters, and Price is standing in the open doorway of one of the rooms, arms crossed over his barrel chest.

Soap paused beside him looking concerned as he peered into the room. “Still nothin,” he stated rather than asked as he stood by the Captain, who shook his head in response. Winter looked around them through the door and saw a person dressed in black lying on the bed inside. The head and face was covered in a black hood, with a batter skull mask over the top portion of their face. As she looked closely she realised the form wasn’t moving and she couldn't tell if they were even breathing or not.

“Is that person… dead?” She asked haltingly, confusion and concern bubbling in her chest as they all just stood there looking at what appeared to be a corpse on a bed.

“Ghost’s been dead for years, love, but it hasn’t held him back yet,” Gaz murmured, standing at her shoulder. Before she could say anything further she felt a rush of coldness skim past her entering the room, and the apparently dead man took a deep breath and sat up.

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girlactionfigure · 5 months

Text

*ISRAEL REALTIME* - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

▪️Kerem Shalom - A huge traffic jam of aid trucks that will not enter Gaza today thanks to the blockade.. ‘the blockade’ is hostage families and fighter families (the Order 9 movement) who are protesting against aid entry with no return of hostages and ongoing attacks against the fighters. "No aid passes until the last of the hostages returns.”

▪️Hezbollah announces that at 11:20 it launched two suicide drones towards the Iron Dome batteries near Kfar Blum. IDF confirms falls in open areas.

▪️Israel is considering not extending the current water flow agreement with Jordan in the background of the harsh statements of senior officials against it following the war in Gaza, led by Jordanian Foreign Minister Ayman al-Safdi.

▪️China's Ministry of Defense: "We have never supplied arms and weapons to the conflict in Gaza. We always adopt a responsible approach to arms exports.”

▪️The Gazans report that they received an instruction (from the IDF) to evacuate the area of UNWRA's Sana'a center in western Khan Younis by tomorrow at 5:00 AM. There are about ten thousand displaced persons there.

▪️In light of the spread of rumors about the establishment of a Palestinian state and the end of the war with a surrender agreement that removes the IDF from the Strip, the members of the ‘military camp’ movement (reservists) decided to intensify the struggle and embark on a number of projects across the length and breadth of the country in front of the government systems in order to convey their demand 'This war cannot be ended without exacting a heavy territorial price from the enemy and a 180 degree change of the reality that was here before October 7.’

The members of the movement decided at this stage to turn the encampment in Jerusalem into a march of reserve fighters leaving the northern Gaza Strip towards the government offices in Jerusalem.

On Sunday, February 4, the reservists who were released from reserve service in Gaza will begin a march from the entrance to the northern Gaza Strip to Jerusalem, a five-day journey that will end with a rally in front of the Prime Minister's Office. The reservists call on the public to join them in the journey or segments of it and at the end of the victory rally that will be held on February 8 in Jerusalem.

🔶 JUDEA-SAMARIA Front

▪️Terrorist who attacked IDF forces in Jenin and was killed this morning, was imprisoned in Israel for 16 years… released 2 months ago as part of the hostage releases.

▪️Bethlehem: confrontation between IDF forces and Palestinian police by police station that included the throwing of a stun grenade by IDF soldiers. The Palestinian policemen went back into their police station.

▪️IDF forces are currently doing counter-terror operations in the town of Kablan near Shechem.

▪️Shechem: Shin Bet arrests two wanted persons and a 3D printer used to manufacture weapons was confiscated.

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Iron Sword #Realtime Updates

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jewels-writes · 7 months

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deception (part 2)

Warnings: mild(?) verbal arguments Word Count: 1,741 Fandom: Call of Duty Notes: I'm sorry if this part is boring, but it's important for the world building lol. Next chapter will have more action <3 As always, not well proofread, apologies per usual. Part 1 Part 3 — — — —

Interrogation after interrogation went by until the entire team was let out for the night. They didn’t have enough information to accuse anyone for now. Despite this, Laswell had ordered that you were to all refrain from communicating with each other.

“You'll be sleeping in separate rooms. We've arranged everything.” She said to the group after she'd stepped out of the interrogation room, motioning to the other agent to hand out papers that you assumed held your new sleeping arrangements in them. You saw Price clench his fists beside you, clearly unhappy about this.

“You are also to not speak to your teammates–or anyone besides me or agents–until this mess is resolved.” She continued. "I don't care about any personal affairs involved, this is above feelings toward others.” Her gaze leveled at Price and you, her implication clear.

Price might have been able to suppress his anger, but not you. “This is outrageous, Laswell.” You spoke up. You knew acting out like this would make you look bad, but you were upset. The pent up stress and uncertainty weighed on you and this seemed to be the best outlet right now.

As the room fell silent, all eyes turned towards you, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. Price's grip on his clenched fists tightened, his jaw set in a firm line. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with conflicting emotions.

Laswell's gaze bore into you, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of irritation and superiority. “Outrageous? My orders are for the sake of the mission and the safety of everyone involved,” she retorted, her voice laced with arrogant authority. “In times like these, personal affairs must take a backseat, soldier. We can't afford any distractions.”

The weight of her words struck you, igniting a surge of anger that burned in your chest. You took a deep breath, struggling to control your emotions, but the frustration slipped into your voice. “You expect us to trust each other, to fight together tooth and nail, and then you strip us of the one thing that keeps us grounded? Our connection?”

Price stepped forward, his voice firm, but controlled. “Laswell, we may be soldiers, but we are also human beings. We need each other. Placing these restrictions only weakens us, and it undermines the very unity you seek to preserve.” You looked over to him, grateful that he’d taken your side on this mess.

Laswell's expression hardened, her jaw clenched. “Your emotions won't change the facts, Captain. Until this matter is resolved, the orders stand. Separate rooms, no communication.”

You could feel the rage bubbling within you, the urge to lash out growing stronger with each passing second. But Price's hand on your arm, his grip grounding you, reminded you of the bigger picture. You fought against the anger, taking a step back and tried to regain control.

“Easy, love.” He warned you with a knowing kindness in his tone. He knew you were upset, hell, so was he. But he knew lashing out wouldn't solve this. “It's not forever. Hopefully just one night.”

“Better damn be.” You grumbled before stepping back, standing beside Price, his hand still on your arm.

— — — —

Soon enough, an agent pulled you away from Price, insisting you follow them to your new room assignment. It was degrading, having to be guided around like some child. Though, you were grateful there weren't any prying eyes like there was earlier. It was late, most other soldiers were asleep, not wandering around base.

As you were led to your new room, your resentment simmered beneath the surface. The agent escorting you seemed unfazed by your mood, their expression stoic and professional. The hallways were quiet, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the floor. It felt eerie, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air.

The agent stopped in front of a nondescript door, handing you a keycard. "This will be your room for the night. Rest up and be ready for further questioning in the morning," they instructed, their voice monotonous and detached.

You nodded curtly, taking the keycard with a mild sense of unease. The door creaked open, revealing a simple, sparsely furnished room. The sterile ambiance accentuated the isolation and the growing frustration within you. It felt like a prison, a stark reminder of the rift that had been forced between you and the rest of the 141.

Closing the door behind you, you exhaled a heavy sigh, the exhaustion of the day weighing on your shoulders. The room felt cold, the silence deafening. It was in stark contrast to the warmth and security you found in Price's presence. You craved the comfort and reassurance only he could provide.

As you sunk onto the bed, the sheets feeling cold against your skin, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. The uncertainty and distrust hanging over the team had created a chasm that threatened to consume you. And being separated from Price only made it worse.

You just wanted to be held by him, just as you normally were. You weren’t supposed to, but most nights you’d go to his bed, cuddle up beside him. You knew tonight you’d get caught if you tried, but god, you wanted to.

Before you knew it, you were crying. The tears streamed down your face, the silent sobs shaking your body as frustration, helplessness, and anger poured out of you. The emotions you had been holding back for so long were unleashed in that moment—raw and overwhelming. The room felt suffocating, the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

You longed for Price's presence, his strong arms wrapped around you, offering comfort and peace. But the reality of the situation refused to allow you such a simple pleasure. It tore at your heart, the pain of separation so acute in this moment of vulnerability.

Your cries echoed in the empty room, a stark reminder of the anguish that consumed you. You wished for a release, a way to make sense of the chaos that surrounded you. But there was no easy answer, only the daunting task of finding the truth and proving Price's innocence.

Slowly, your tears subsided, leaving you exhausted and drained. You wiped away the remnants of your tears, your breathing slowly calming as you were left with an emptiness inside.

Grateful for the second pillow on the bed, you held it close to your chest, wishing it was Price. Or even just an article of his clothing with his scent embedded into the cloth. You were used to stealing a hoodie from him, settling for the clothing instead of him when you two couldn’t be close. Though you were sure the entirety of the CIA was going through his things, ruining their smells. Probably going through everyone’s belongings. Probably making a damn mess of it all too.

You sighed, the fatigue and exhaustion finally settling in. Your eyes slowly closed as the heaviness of sleep came over you, claiming you for the night.

— — — —

The next several days dragged on. The questioning never seemed to end. The agents would pull out an article of clothing or one of your belongings from an evidence bag and ask the most unrelated questions about them, digging way too deep into them.

The room was filled with the eerie sound of silence, broken only by the scratch of a pen against paper as one of the agents scribbled notes. Their piercing gaze remained fixed on you, their curiosity masked behind a façade of detached professionalism.

You sighed heavily, weariness seeping into your voice. “It's just a shirt,” you grunted, your tone laced with exasperation. “It holds no hidden meaning, no secret codes or messages. It's a personal item, nothing more.”

The agent across from you arched an eyebrow, recognizing the annoyance in your tone. “We've uncovered so much about each member of the team. Every detail matters.” They replied matter-of-factly.

Deep down, you knew their relentless pursuit of information was necessary to uncover the truth. But the constant digging felt invasive, like an assault on your privacy and personal history. The weight of their suspicion bore down on your shoulders, overwhelming you.

“Do you have any actual evidence that I did something? Or any of us? Who even suggested there was a spy?” You asked, knowing you probably weren't going to get a solid answer.

The agent's expression remained impassive as they met your gaze with a cold detachment. “We have gathered enough circumstantial evidence to merit further investigation,” they replied, their voice devoid of any emotion.

Frustration welled within you, and the lack of transparency from the agents only added to your growing sense of unease. “Circumstantial evidence? That's hardly enough to accuse someone of being a spy. You can't base a case solely on assumptions and guesswork,” you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration.

The agent leaned back in their chair, crossing their arms over their chest. “We have a duty to ensure the safety and security of the forces. We must consider every angle, every possibility.” they explained, their tone remaining steady.

The answer failed to satisfy you, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You knew the importance of uncovering the traitor, but the lack of concrete evidence and the constant questioning wore away at your patience.

“I just want this to be over.” You muttered under your breath, your voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and resignation. Looking up at them again, you asked, “Has anyone been cleared yet?” The question was a shot in the dark, you knew that, but it had been days without anyone but these emotionless agents. You missed Price. You missed everyone.

The agent studied you for a moment, their gaze steady and piercing. “I cannot disclose that information at this time.” they replied cryptically, leaving you frustrated. Yet again. The hope that had begun to rise within you faltered, overshadowed by the lingering doubt and uncertainty.

You clenched your fists, the frustration and anger coiling within you like a tightly wound spring. “We deserve to know if any progress has been made. We need to trust each other if we're going to unravel this conspiracy.” You urged, your voice determined.

The agent's expression remained unchanged, a sense of detached authority emanating from them. “Rest assured that we are doing everything in our power to resolve this situation swiftly and efficiently.” They replied dismissively. (I don't know how to end chapters lmfao. Sorry if it seems like it just cuts off. Next part in a few days, whenever I get around to writing it.)

#angst #x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #captain john price #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #modern warfare #john price #captain price #price cod #writing #fanfic

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ledlightsmanufacturing · 11 months

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LED lights are a game-changer in the world of lighting, offering energy-efficient and eco-friendly solutions for both residential and commercial spaces. When you switch to LED bulbs, you'll experience the benefits of bright and long-lasting illumination, all while significantly reducing your electricity consumption. Enjoy peace of mind knowing that your LED bulbs will last for years, providing a reliable and cost-effective lighting solution for your home or business.

Watch Full Video on You Tube - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SI9UFLP5PvE

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ifyouretooshysblog · 1 year

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I rewatched Magic Mike earlier and it led to this…I’m feral.

18+ NSFW! Steddie x Reader thot below

Imagine this… modern Eddie and Steve are Magic Mike style male strippers at a club in Indianapolis. They do the provocative dances on stage and sometimes even dress in costumes. They also do private dances for the right price. Sometimes they do solo work of course, but more often than not they end up performing together.

You had just gone through a really tough break up, so your friends decided to drag you out of bed to have a night out on the town. After bar-hopping for a couple hours you guys ended up at a strip club. It is a pretty diverse club; there are male and female performers of all different sizes and many sexualities seem to be explored. You are pretty tipsy at this point and are having a blast just talking to your friends and looking at the bright lights and half naked bodies in the room.

All of a sudden you could hear the faint sound of police sirens and the lights in the club turn red and blue. At first you are confused and are about to make a run for it thinking that the cops were actually there, when all of a sudden you see a couple of men chasing each other. They make their way up to the main stage where you get a better view. The man being chased has a full head of long, curly, dark hair. He is wearing a leather jacket and a black t-shirt. You blush as you look down and realize that he’s only wearing black boxers on his lower half. His pale legs are littered with a few tattoos, but unfortunately you aren’t close enough to tell what they are. Your eyes look over to the man chasing him and he is equally as hot, but in a different way. He is in a dark blue (and obviously fake) police officer uniform. His brown hair looks soft and like he had just spent the last hour in the back room styling it. The final touches to his costume were a pair of sunglasses and a stick-on handlebar mustache.

As they ran onto the stage, the “cop” eventually catches up to the “crook” and tackles him to the ground, taking his leather jacket off of him in the process. The cop climbs on top of the others back, using some flimsy handcuffs to restrain him. He pulls the man up by his hair gently so that he is on his knees in front of the audience. The cop scolds him for being such a bad boy and then rips his shirt off. The crowd goes wild for it and so do you. The man being scolded only scoffs and reaches up to rip the other man’s fake mustache off of his face. It was such a hilarious act that you couldn’t help but laugh harder than you have in a long time. Music starts playing and they begin dancing. The dance between them is sensual, aggressive, and honestly enchanting. You know that they have taken on the role of enemies for the performance, but you can also tell that that’s all it is to them: a performance. Even from the point when they first came on stage they treated each other with so much hidden respect and care and it continued on through their whole time on stage.

After they were done with their set you stood up and cheered as loud as you could. One of your friends offered to go give them the money as they were coming off of the stage and you gave her plenty to give to them for their part in your sexual awakening. She returned with a smirk on her face, which you should’ve known better to brush off. About ten minutes later one of the security members comes up to you to escort you into one of the rooms for a private dance. You look at your friend in shock and she tells you to have fun. And have fun you did.

You sat on the couch in the room for a couple minutes by yourself. You didn’t know for sure if either of the two men you had been drooling over earlier were going to be the ones giving you the private dance, but you hoped so. The noise of the music in the club becoming slightly more audible turned your attention to the door. Both of the men from earlier were now in the room with you. Suddenly you felt shy. Both of them only had tight boxers on that left very little to the imagination.

They decided to give you some space at first by standing in the middle of the room. You took the opportunity to admire both of their bodies as they stood in silence for a moment. Finally, the one with chest hair that narrowed all the way down to his naval spoke up.

“Hey pretty girl, we heard you were a big fan of our show out there.”

You blushed and looked into his eyes. “Of course…You guys are just so…” You tried to find the words to describe them.

“Sexy? Hot? Mesmerizing?” The other man asked bashfully taking a step towards you.

“All of the above.” You agreed.

They shared a look and a smirk that told you that the next fifteen minutes was going to feel like five hours.

“Well as much as me and Kas here would love to keep hearing your sexy voice, we are on a time restraint. Now usually touching isn’t allowed on your end, but I don’t think we have enough self control to stop a pretty little thing like you from touching us.”

The man he referred to as Kas went over to a speaker and hit play causing some soft, sultry music to play from it before they both came close to you.

“One more question and my lips are sealed.” You spoke looking up at the two men. They both raised their eyebrows waiting for your burning question.

“Is your name really Kas?” You asked the dark-haired one.

He let out a deep chuckle before leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You stared deep into his eyes waiting for his answer with anticipation.

“I’m afraid not sweetheart, it’s just my stripper name. Don’t worry though. If you’re good for us maybe you’ll find out what my name really is.”

All that you could do was nod. A silent agreement that you’d do anything to be good for them. That was their cue to begin. At first you let them just run their hands against your skin. Both of them were so close that you could feel their breath on your body and you couldn’t help but clench your legs. The way they were touching you was just so erotic. The cop didn’t seem to like that though, because soon after he pulled your legs apart and slowly started grinding his hips into yours. Kas was by your side on the couch, lightly rubbing your shoulders and watching intently. You could feel them both start to harden against you and at that point you couldn’t help but break the no touching rule. One arm wrapped around the man on top of you, pulling him closer and needing to feel him on top of you. The other hand lightly grabbed onto the hair of the man that was now softly kissing your neck. The rest of the time consisted of all three of you exploring each others bodies instead of dancing. Nothing went past grinding, light touches, and soft moans. It made you even needier when you were pulled out of your trance by a whisper in your ear.

“Time’s up sweetheart.”

As the timer went off on the clock in the room, both men removed themselves from the couch. You looked up at them with doe-eyes as they got ready to leave.

“Don’t look at me like that honey, I’m trying to get rid of this!” The man with silky hair said, pointing down at his very big and very visible erection.

You laughed softly before getting up from the couch.

“Thank you guys. I really needed this tonight.”

“It’s our pleasure, really. Oh before we go, here’s this.” Kas said before handing you a napkin, most likely from the bar in the club.

They both hastily gave you kisses on the cheek before exiting the room as quickly as they came. You were disappointed to see them go, but it didn’t last long as you looked down and read the napkin.

If you ever need anyone to get in trouble with

XXX-XXX-XXXX Eddie

If you ever need someone to come bail you out

XXX-XXX-XXXX Steve

You shoved the napkin in your pocket and chuckled to yourself. These boys were going to be a lot of trouble, but maybe they’re exactly what you need.

Okay…I’m going to bed now 😂 Hope you enjoyed!

#steddie x reader #eddie x reader #steve x reader #fem reader #imagine #steddie #stranger things

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workersolidarity · 5 months

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[ 📹 Footage from some of the results from drone and missile strikes launched today against the Yemeni Armed Forces by the United States Armed Forces.]

🇺🇸⚔️🇾🇪 🚀💥 🚨

💥UNITED STATES LAUNCHES COMBINED DRONE AND MISSILE STRIKES ON YEMENI TARGETS💥

The United States Department of Defense announced a series of combined drone and missile strikes on what it called "Iranian-backed Houthi" military targets in Yemen.

The U.S. announced the strikes in a press release Thursday evening, stating that, "in light of the illegal, dangerous and destabilizing Iranian-backed Houthi attacks against U.S. and international vessels and commercial vessels from many countries lawfully transiting the Red Sea, today the militaries of the United States and the United Kingdom, with support from Australia, Bahrain, Canada, and the Netherlands, conducted strikes against military targets in Houthi-controlled areas of Yemen."

The U.S. Defense Department said the strikes were intended to "disrupt and degrade" the Yemeni Armed Forces' capabilities to "endanger mariners and threaten global trade" in one of the world's most critical waterways.

The strikes are also intended to "send a message" to the Ansarallah movement-led Yemeni Armed Forces; that the U.S. intends to exact a price for Yemen's solidarity with Palestinians under bombardment and siege in the Gaza Strip.

The U.S. added that the Yemeni Armed Forces would incur further attacks if they do not "end their illegal attacks" in the Red Sea.

"Today's strikes targeted sites associated with the Houthis' unmanned aeril vehicle, ballistic and cruise missile, and coastal radar and air surveillance capabilities," the Defense Department statement says.

"The United States maintains its right to self-defense and, if necessary, as will take follow-on actions to protect U.S. Forces."

Since November 19th, the Yemeni Armed Forces have launched upwards of two dozen drone and missile strikes targeting Israeli vessels and commercial vessels headed to or from the ports of occupied Palestine.

In response, on December 19th, the United States announced a coation taskforce with several Western countries, as well as Bahrain, to counter the Yemeni attacks on Israeli and other commercial vessels heading to occupied territory through the Red Sea.

"Today, a coalition of countries committed to upholding the rules-based international order demonstrated our shared commitment to defending U.S. and international vessels and commercial vessels exercising navigational rights and freedoms from illegal and unjustifiable attacks," the DoD said in the press release.

It should be noted that the "rules-based International order" that the United States endlessly uses to justify military actions against State and non-State actors alike, is in direct contravention of International Law, the only framework agreed to by the entirety of the "International community" the United States references.

#source

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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chxrrylime · 1 year

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uhm.. so.. i was watching burlesque and had a thought 🌝

listen listen, price w a m!reader who’s kind of his boyfriend but kind of not? like a situationship sort of, whenever price is off duty he goes to reader’s club to watch him dance (lingerie included if you’re comfortable) and they always fuck after, but price is starting to develop feelings, he doesn’t say anything bc he thinks reader won’t share the same feelings little does he know reader actually does, so maybe some smut (bottom reader) and some feelings talk fluff ?? 🧎🏽 much thanks 🫶🏽🫶🏽

As someone who's accidentally said I love you during foreplay it's easier than you think. Also, this is the fit I had in mind when writing this (x) (x).

Price x M!Reader ↪ 1863 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male submissive (burlesque dancer) reader, cis male dominant Price, referenced/implied prostitution, unsafe sex, minor angst, possessive behavior, love confessions, lingerie, burlesque/brothels, penetrative sex, anal sex, and analingus.

Price weaves through the crowd of sweaty and drunken bodies, eyes trailing after you as you leave the stage. Only when you return to that inky blackness behind the curtain does he train his gaze elsewhere, toward the red-lit hall you’ve led him down the last few times.

The two of you have done this enough times that it’s almost muscle memory at this point, he doesn’t even have to count the doors anymore to find yours, raising a fist to knock.

The first time he’d ever wandered in here, looking for a drink in more ways than one, he was immediately enraptured by your figure moving about the stage, hips swinging so tantalizingly—watching how easily you moved to the music, the cute little lingerie sets you wore each time accentuating every pretty curve and crevice.

Price was a simple man, and so he usually preferred the simplicity of a strip club to burlesque shows, but the way you performed had him hooked. None of the other dancers could compare to you, and to Price it was no wonder why you were one of the very few that had their own dressing room.

You open the door and Price drinks you in, a short little silk robe wrapped around your frame. He can see the dark red of your stockings and knows you’re still in the little thong and garter belt you had on stage, the thin black harness hugging your chest.

“John,” you breathe, face lighting up. Price doesn’t want to admit the flutter in his heart each time he comes back from work, sometimes months later, and you still remember his name. He thanks his lucky stars it’s one of the most common ones in the world.

“Invite me in?” He asks.

“Vampire,” you laugh, stepping back to allow him entry. He moves into the room and you close the door behind him, locking it. He looks over your vanity, examining the makeup and jewelry scattered about.

You let your robe slide off and move toward him, placing a gentle hand on his arm as you slip between the table and his solid, warm body. His large hands immediately move to your waist, squeezing you.

“Christ,” he murmurs, taking you in again, like he can never get enough.

“Always the first time with you,” you say softly, teasing, “didn’t you see me on stage?”

“It’s so much more stunning this close, love,” the pet name slips out unbidden, and you blush, your own hands trailing up his sides to his chest, massaging at his pecs and earning a soft little grunt before you continue your journey upward to wrap your arms around his neck.

He’s the first to lean in, pressing his lips to yours. You hum, immediately trying to deepen the kiss, but he doesn’t budge, kissing you slow and sweet. Indulging himself. His brain always gets so fuzzy when he’s with you—always feels so good just touching you.

You move your head to kiss the corner of his mouth, and his cheek, his jaw, and he tries to chase your lips, making an annoyed little noise that has you smiling.

He moves instead to kiss at your neck, nuzzling against the soft skin there.

“Getting sweet on me, John?” You joke, and Price tenses. Your brow furrows and you move your hands to his arms, rubbing up and down, “hey, hey, I’m just kidding.”

“Funny,” he responds flatly, gripping your chin with his thumb and forefinger before pulling you into a rough kiss, tonguing into your mouth and making you moan wantonly. When he pulls back there's a string of saliva connecting your lips that snaps as he talks, “this what you want?”

His free hand grips your bulge hard through the soft fabric and you yelp, melting into a moan as he squeezes and gropes at you. You hold his offending arm, using him for leverage to rock into his touch. He watches you with intense eyes.

But something is off, his movements jilted, shoulders drawn up tight like he’s holding himself back from something. You pull his arm off of you and the slightest hint of worry crosses his features.

“You’re upset,” you say softly, running your fingers through his short hair.

“It’s fine,” he grunts, though his eyes flutter shut, leaning into your gentle touch, “I’m fine,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince more than you.

“You can talk to me.”

“That’s not what this is,” he says darkly, like a sad admittance.

“It's whatever you want it to be.”

“S’long as I pay enough, right?” he tries to joke, though it falls flat, smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“I’ve never charged you…” your brow furrows, cupping his cheek. His blue eyes seem a little glassy—faded, and they squeeze shut as he speaks.

“You charge the others,” he grumbles, “I know there’s others.”

He’s jealous, you realize. And then, more suddenly, this… thing, between you two. It means more to him than you had thought. You’d considered yourself a passing fancy to him—a warm and wet hole ready and waiting for him whenever he was on leave.

“Why do you think that is, John? That I charge the others, and not you?” You try, wanting to say what you feel without words.

“Got a great cock, maybe,” he jokes again, and you can’t help the little chuckle that escapes past your lips.

“Okay, yes, you do. But of course that isn’t why—I mean, fuck, John, there’s so many rules I let you break.”

Price looks at you carefully, like he’s searching for the lie—waiting for the punchline to come where he’s the butt of the joke. Why would you care for someone like him? Some older man bound to the military life that only comes around every few months, if that. You deserve so much more from a lover. A partner.

“I like you,” you finally breathe out, that small weight hovering above your chest now.

“More than you should,” Price says, kissing you.

He’s gentle again, though now with an insistence, one hand tugging at your harness to arch your back, your chest puffed up against his broad torso.

You don’t need him to admit anything—you know him. Over the year or so you’ve known him, you’ve learned despite how much he can talk, he’s not a man of emotional words. Things like affection are spoken through action—the steady press of his thigh between your legs, the calloused hand thumbing at your perked nipple.

He speaks through action, and pleasure. Your pleasure.

He hitches his hands under your thighs, hauling you up onto the counter. You gasp at the show of strength, squeezing his shoulders as he lowers to his knees with a grunt, mouthing wetly at your bulge before trailing down, tugging aside the thong—always so obsessed with keeping them on—to lap at your hole.

You cry out, feeling the thick muscle slip into you, licking hungrily at your insides. Price moans against you, moans like he’s the one feeling it, and the vibrations make you shudder, grabbing a fistful of his hair to rock down onto his mouth, trying to take him deeper.

He stretches you open on his tongue so skillfully, his beard scraping so deliciously against your inner thighs. You can’t help but watch as his own hips rock lazily into the air, mindlessly humping like a mutt. It makes your cock spur, what you do to him.

“John,” you moan, tugging at his hair, “fuck me, please.”

He growls against you, eyes rolling back ever so slightly as he trails back up your body. He pushes you to lay down as much as you can on the cramped surface, sucking and nibbling at your nipples as he fumbles with his jeans, pulling his cock free with a relieved groan.

He straightens to slap his heavy prick against your thighs a few times, stroking himself. The tip is flushed and sticky from precum, the clear fluid dribbling out and down his shaft, slicking the way for his fist.

He lines himself up with your hole, rubbing the spongy head against you as he leans in, forehead pressed to yours.

“Tell me the rules,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Your head is spinning, so close to being filled and yet he won’t move, freehand firm on your hip to pin you in place.

“W-what?” You stutter out, blinking blearily at him.

“The rules you have. For your clients,” he growls out the last word, that jealousy flaring in him again. It makes you moan, and he moves to suck bruising marks against your throat.

“I–I,” you choke, swallowing, “condoms. Always.”

He bites down on your neck and slides into you, making you cry out as you stretch to accommodate his girth, the wet heat of your insides so snug around his cock as your walls ripple and flex around him.

“What else?” He whispers, hips beginning a slow but steady pace, ever so slowly increasing in speed as he picks up momentum. He captures your lips with his own before you can speak, licking into your mouth and biting down on your lower lip before pulling away to let you talk.

“No kissing,” you breathe, a dazed smile spreading across your face. He smiles back, kissing you again, hungry and ever so insatiable.

You push at his chest, urging him to lean back so you can tug at the hem of his shirt. He quickly shucks it off, wrapping his strong arms around you to pull you flush to his body.

His hips start to move faster and with more force, balls slapping against your ass with each thrust, cock ramming into you and making you see stars, punching little ‘ah, ah, ah’s out of you with each movement.

He trails his lips up your neck, breathing in your scent, taking in everything he can through every sense he has, trying to burn it into his memory like he hasn’t vividly relived everyone of these nights any chance he can get with a hand fisting his cock.

“I love you,” he gushes, the words out of his mouth before he can think, and he keeps saying it, over and over like a prayer, squeezing you so tight against him as he pants against your heated skin.

“Fuck, oh fuck, John m’gonna—” you cry out, back arching, baring down on him as your cock swells and kicks within your thong, cum spurting against the tight fabric.

Price groans at the vice grip around his dick, having to slow his movements in fear of tearing you with how tight you're clenching down around him. The spasm of your walls milk him, squeezing at the sensitive tip and making him gasp as he suddenly cums, balls drawing up tight as he fills you with his load, hips rutting, stuttering into you.

He shakes ever so gently with the aftershocks, face still hidden against your shoulder as he continues to inhale your intoxicating scent, hands mindlessly smoothing up and down your back as you in turn pet through his hair and at the base of his scalp.

“I love you, too.”

#price x reader #price x male reader #modern warfare #modern warefare 2 #captain john price #smut #mine

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beardedmrbean · 27 days

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JERUSALEM (AP) — The Israeli military said Friday its troops in Gaza found the bodies of three Israeli hostages killed by Hamas during its Oct. 7 attack, including German-Israeli Shani Louk.

A photo of 22-year-old Shani’s twisted body in the back of a pickup truck ricocheted around the world and brought to light the scale of the militants’ attack on communities in southern Israel. The military identified the other two bodies as those of a 28-year-old woman, Amit Buskila, and a 56-year-old man, Itzhak Gelerenter.

All three were killed by Hamas while fleeing the Nova music festival, an outdoor dance party near the Gaza border, where militants killed hundreds of people, military spokesman Rear Adm. Daniel Hagari said at a news conference.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called the deaths “heartbreaking,” saying, “We will return all of our hostages, both the living and the dead.”

The military said the bodies were found overnight, without elaborating, and did not give immediate details on where they were located. Israel has been operating in the Gaza Strip’s southern city of Rafah, where it says it has intelligence that hostages are being held.

Hamas-led militants killed around 1,200 people, mainly civilians, and abducted around 250 others in the Oct. 7 attack. Around half of those hostages have since been freed, most in swaps for Palestinian prisoners held by Israel during a weeklong cease-fire in November.

Israel says around 100 hostages are still captive in Gaza, along with the bodies of around 30 more. Israel’s war in Gaza since the attack has killed more than 35,000 Palestinians, according to Gaza health officials.

Netanyahu has vowed to both eliminate Hamas and bring all the hostages back, but he’s made little progress. He faces pressure to resign, and the U.S. has threatened to scale back its support over the humanitarian situation in Gaza.

Israelis are divided into two main camps: those who want the government to put the war on hold and free the hostages, and others who think the hostages are an unfortunate price to pay for eradicating Hamas. On-and-off negotiations mediated by Qatar, the United States and Egypt have yielded little.

#nunyas news

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xxgigglinggrenadexx · 2 months

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Room Decorating Tips!!!!!

How to make your room cool and emo scene- a guide that i thought would be useful

Lights!! This is super important and colored lights can change the whole feel of a room. You can buy color-changing led strip lights off amazon for like $15. (They also sync to music which is really cool.) If this is inaccessible to you, you can also wrap regular lights in colored tissue paper and make them any color you want. Pick a color that matches the other stuff in your room!!!

Display your clothes!! Y'know that one shirt you wish you could wear everyday? Put it on your wall. All you need for this is a coathanger and a nail. Hammer the nail into the wall and hang the coathanger with your shirt off it. This does great for covering up blank wall space + you can put your favorite clothes on display until you want to wear them. (If your parents won't let you put nails in your wall you can hang them off your curtain rod or something)

Posters- I get posters from random online band merch stores and companies like Trends International or Hot Topic. Pick out posters of your favorite bands/movies/random aesthetic things. If big posters aren't in your price range or you don't have space for them, you can still just print out 132457 photos of your favorite band or artist and tape them to your wall. This looks great and is good for filling in small blank spaces.

Carpet/Curtains/Bedding- Try to match your carpets and rugs, curtains, and bedding colors to the general vibe and color scheme of your room, and the light color you chose. You can also look and try to find cool invader zim themed duvet covers somewhere if you like, but if you can't, don't worry, your room will still look cool without them.

SHELF SPACE!! This is very important. Put stuff you want to display on shelves and put the random junk that you never use in the closet!! This might take some sorting around, but in the end it's totally worth it. YOu can put up CDs or vinyls you own, funko pops, dolls, whatever items you like.

Ceiling Space- You can totally put posters and stuff on the ceiling- anything on your walls can go there too. One thing i did to my ceiling was to buy some of those cheap black gauze Halloween decoration cloths and just pin them to the ceiling. I also added fairy lights (these are available at craft stores or on Amazon) so it looks like stars!!

Anyway, i hope this helped whoever comes across it! Also a lot of these tips can be applied to any aesthetic decor, not just emo and scene, so feel free to use them however!

#emo aesthetic #room decor #room design #emo room #emo

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noonaishere · 6 months

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Online/Offline [C.S] - ten | F, senpai

You sat, like every other time you streamed, in front of your computer with the room lights off, but a strip of soothing red LEDs on so you could still see your desk. You were a faceless streamer and could comfortably sit in the darkness since no one needed to see you. Your blue light blocking glasses rested on your nose as you set up the chat and everything else you needed for a hard night’s work of being silly on the internet.

“Oooookay. Can you hear me guys? One, two. One, two. Mic check, mic check. Sob in the mob with the Rob Bob Bob?”

A few people in the chat helpfully answered that your audio sounded too quiet. You adjusted it.

“How about that? Price check on prune juice, Bob. Price check on prune juice.”

Everyone started sending thumbs ups and happy faces, with a few saying “You’re good!”

“Thank you, kittens. I guess I have to do the intro, huh.” You took a breath and - as fast as you could - said: “Hey everyone it’s Jageun Geomeun Goyangi, JGG, the Little Black Cat, coming to you live out there in radioland. We got a great stream tonight; a few indie games, I might play an old favorite, who knows where the night will take us? I hope you enjoy the stream and I hope you enjoy the jokes and remember, no backseat gaming., or I’ll turn this car around! If you like the video, like it, if you dislike it, dislike it, but let’s waste no further time and get to gaming.”

You paused. and inhaled deeply.

“How long was that?”

This was an odd little game that developed between you and your chat. When you first started, you tried to make your intro as personable as possible and it just got longer and and more ridiculous. Now you said it as fast as possible to see if you could beat your best time.

The times rolled in.

LeaBea: 0:8.02 TheNicestGuy: 0:0:7.57 QuackIsWhack✅: 0:0:8.22 🗻of Namhae: 0:0:7.58 YangYangGangGang: 0:0:8.15 SleepySheepy😴: 69:69:69.69

“SleepySheepy you’re so full of shit,” you laughed. “But also: nice, nice, nice, nice.”

SleepySheepy😴: LOLOL

“And what’s with the disparities guys? I felt like that was under eight seconds and you’re all giving me weird numbers.”

🗻of Namhae: You didn’t tell us when to start, lol

“That’s true Namhae, I should start giving signals. That’s my fault. Anyway, we got a good stream for you tonight, a few indie games, I might play an old favorite--” You laughed.

🗻of Namhae: 😞 LeaBea: LOL SleepySheepy😴: F WackIsQuack: Haha! QuackIsWhack✅: Change your fucking name back, I swear to god

“No name trolling, you know the rules, ladies, men, and nonbinary friends: Be nice in the chat, the world is already too harsh.”

JohnnyYuta: Sorry, Quack QuackIsWhack✅: Thank you

“Okay, let’s see… if Keeho is alive… and awake. And then we can see who else wants to stream.”

JohnnyYuta: He’s already streaming A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: He’s been streaming all day QuackIsWhack✅: You know what that means…

“I don’t have enough money to buy chicken nuggets?”

The chat flooded with emojis of potatoes that were meant to be chicken nuggets. Truly a crime against humanity that there wasn’t a nugget emoji.

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🗻of Namhae: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 SleepySheepy😴: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack✅: You gotta kill him

“I will, Quack… or should I say: Shane Madej. And then you can trap him in your ribcage like the demon you are.”

QuackIsWhack✅: LOL

“But if JohnnyYuta and Tree saw that he’s streaming already, let’s go raid him. Send him: the nuggets.”

You navigated over to Keeho’s Twitch page to find him, as your spies informed correctly, already streaming. As you and your chat made your way over to his, and his chat was suddenly filled with the same message of five nuggets in a row, over and over again.

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🗻of Namhae: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 TheNicestGuy: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 I💚Keeho: Heyyyy, it’s Cat! A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: The jig is up! JohnnyYuta: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 StrickenChicken: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 UltimateHyung✅: Oh noooo~~ a raid~~ lol UltimateHyung✅: Whatever shall we do with all these nuggets! I💚Keeho: Hi Cat! 👋 There’sARockInMySock: Cat!! 🗻of Namhae: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 SleepySheepy😴: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 MinHoe: Sheepy, I thought you weren’t awake now?? SleepySheepy😴: I fucking LIED lol MinHoe: lol

“There’s what in the chat?” Keeho looked up from his game. “Ohh, Cat's on! Hi Cat!”

🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: ACCEPT OUR NUGGETS!! 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 🖤🖤JGG🖤🖤: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔

“Accept nothing. Accept my Discord invite, you pest.”

Di-Dng!

“Hiiiiiiiii~~,” you sang.

“What’s going on, Cat?”

“Nothing much. I thought you said you weren’t starting before now?”

“Ummm, did you hear there’s a new map in Tale of Tails?”

“That weirdo gumiho gacha MMO you play?”

“Yes.”

You laughed. “No, because it’s a weirdo game for weirdos. Like yourself: a weirdo.”

“Okay, there’s no need to go so hard, what are my fans going to think?”

“That you’re a weirdo.”

“You can just admit you’re jealous, Cat.”

“I have no desire, nor need, to admit such a thing.”

He laughed. “I’ll get you hooked on it one day.”

“Some of us aren’t rich and can’t buy the best cards, my guy.”

“You don’t need to buy cards, my dude.”

“Is that what you tell yourself every time you hit ‘Purchase,’ champion?”

“It’s what I know, chief.”

QuackIsWhack: The girls are fightingggggggg MinHoe: Sheepy, answer my fucking message SleepySheepy😴: nah fam MinHoe: Don’t you nah fam me SleepySheepy😴: lolol 🗻of Namhae: Oooo MinHoe, so forceful 🗻of Namhae: Kabedon him against the wall next SleepySheepy😴: lolol, senpaiiiii~~~ MinHoe: I hate you, Sheepy MinHoe: 😞😞😞 SleepySheepy😴: 😎😎😎 LuciPURR: Cat, call him “buddy,” “guy” next

“They want me to fight with you more.”

“You just came here to fight with me?”

“No, I came here to fight you… in the realm of games!”

“I’m going to send you to the Shadow Realm!”

Both of you started singing the Mortal Kombat theme.

🗻of Namhae: MORTAL KOMBATTTT QuackIsWhack: daNA daNA daNA TheNicestGuy: daNA daNA daNA A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: DA DA DA DA DA DA DA JohnnyYuta: DA DA DA DA DA DA DA UltimateHyung✅: There’s the traitors UltimateHyung✅: I saw you sell Keeho out in Cat’s chat QuackIsWhack: Yo, but why are you stream sniping, boss? UltimateHyung✅: Are you defending them, Quack? QuackIsWhack: You’re all guilty of the same crime JohnnyYuta: You gotta do what you gotta do to get your fav streamers to stream together lol SleepySheepy😴: You gotta do what you gotta do what you gotta do, you know? LuciPurr: Do the Dew A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: I ship them 🥵 JohnnyYuta: My OTP 🗻of Namhae: guys… TheNicestGuy: GUYS QuackIsWhack: No shipping. I’m the mod, I say so UltimateHyung✅: Not in this house you aren’t QuackIsWhack: In Cat’s chat I am lol UltimateHyung✅: Lol QuackIsWhack: We should migrate back to our own chat anyway

“Thank you, Quack,” you said. “There will be no shipping in this house. Especially not drop shipping.”

“We’re in different houses.”

“There will be no shipping in either of these houses. Only a pox upon them.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m about to ship you with the wall.”

“Ohhh…”

“By slamming your head into it.”

Keeho laughed. “You’d have to be here first. And on camera.”

“Fuck, my one weakness.”

“You’re like a vampire.”

You hissed like Nosferatu.

“Understandable. I’ll set up the game.”

“Kay kay.”

“Kee Kee.”

“Ho Ho.”

“Santa??”

The two of you laughed.

As Keeho invited you to the game he read the chat. “‘Is Cat a vampire?’ Are you a vampire, Cat? Am I friends with a Dracula?”

You hissed into your microphone.

“Is that a cat hiss or a vampire hiss?”

You laughed. “Now I’m not sure.”

Keeho chuckled.

“But I’m a faceless streamer, person-in-Keeho’s-chat.”

“So you’re like a vampire or something and can’t appear on camera.”

“Vampires can’t go out in the sun, dude.”

“Twilight ones can.”

“You’re trying to make a point to me about vampires with the straightest, most boring vampires possible?”

He laughed.

“Where’s your sense of terrifying homoeroticism?”

QuackIsWhack✅: They do be like that tho There’sARockInMySock: The inherent homoeroticism of the vampyr 🗻of Namhae: Vampires are gay?

You laughed. “Yeah, they’re pretty gay, Namhae. At least the good ones are. Bram Stoker was closeted and stuff… he was best friends with Oscar Wilde… you know how it goes. Carmilla was like the OG vampire book and that was about two girls. Anne Rice’s vampires were pretty gay as well.”

“Why do you know so much about vampires?”

“Maybe I’m the Big Titty Goth Girlfriend we’ve all heard so much about. Ever think of that?”

“Then you are shooting yourself in the foot by not having a camera.”

You cackled.

“Plus, I know what you look like, and you’re not.”

“Oh shit, yeah. Damnit, if only we were never friends in real life.”

Keeho laughed loudly. “Let’s go back in time and not be friends, and then I’ll believe it when you say it.”

“Yes, that’s my fucking plan.” You laughed.

QuackIsWhack✅: Anyone who asks about her tits, gets the hammer JohnnyYuta: Dang, Quack JohnnyYuta: Punish me mommy QuackIsWhack✅: You trying to get banned? JohnnyYuta: Absolutely not, ma’am 🧍‍♂️ A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Crack the whip on him! QuackIsWhack✅: Tree? A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: No ma’am 🧍‍♂️

“What in the kinkery fuckery is going on in your chat?” Keeho laughed.

“Stop looking at my stream, dude. And I don’t claim them.”

“You have to claim them, they’re your chat.”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

QuackIsWhack✅: Excuse you?

“Quack is my only monkey. I made a circus just for her.”

He laughed.

“She’s been around the longest.”

🗻of Namhae: I’ve been here since the beginning too QuackIsWhack✅: Yeah, haven’t you been here longer than I have?

“Wait, what? Namhae, you’ve been here the longest?”

🗻of Namhae: I think so. I remember back when you only had five subscribers, right when you started 🗻of Namhae: (One was me, btw. lol) QuackIsWhack✅: Yeah, I came in at like, 15 or something lol 🗻of Namhae: Lol 🗻of Namhae: This is the same account from back then too, go check how long I’ve been subbed JohnnyYuta: No lies Namhae? 🗻of Namhae: Lol, why would I lie? Quack can just check QuackIsWhack: Ohhh yeah, lemme check A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Did she have any other fans then? 🗻of Namhae: There was a handful of people 🗻of Namhae: I haven’t seen any of their names in a really long time though QuackIsWhack: Holy shit, you’ve really been here the whole time 🗻of Namhae: See? 😊 A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Yooooooo TheNicestGuy: Wow JohnnyYuta: Oppa! YangYangGangGang: Oppaaaa!

“Ohhhhh shit. You hear that, Keeho? I’ve got someone who’s been here almost as long as me.” You laughed.

“Shit, I’m so jealous. That’s so cool though.”

🗻of Namhae: 😊😊😊

“Aww, cute blushie smiles right back at you, Namhae. You know what? I should make you a mod, since you’re always around.”

🗻of Namhae: Really? 🗻of Namhae: I’d be honored JohnnyYuta: Oh shit TheNicestGuy: Wow… A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Senpai’s noticed him, AND he’s gonna be a mod? A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: I’m so fucking jealous

“Well, you know, stay around for five or so years and maybe you’ll become a mod too, Tree.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Goals 🥲🥲🥲 JohnnyYuta: Living the dream, Namhae

“You’re so silly, Tree. Annnnnd, you’re a mod now, Namhae. Quack can message you and tell you the ropes.”

QuackIsWhack✅: We got so many ropes, you’d think it was the Scouts up in here 🗻of Namhae✅: testing…? 🗻of Namhae✅: Oh my god 🗻of Namhae✅: I have a check QuackIsWhack✅: Woowwww JohnnyYuta: Look at himmmm QuackIsWhack✅: How do you feel, Namhae? 🗻of Namhae✅: So special 🥺🥺🥺 A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Ahhh my TT QuackIsWhack✅: lolol 🗻of Namhae✅: 😤😤😤 🗻of Namhae✅: Who needs to get banned? Lemme at em! YangYangGangGang: There’s a new Oppa in town

You chuckled. “You’re funny, Namhae.”

“I’ve seen him in my chat occasionally when you’re not streaming, he cracks me up.”

🗻of Namhae✅: 😳😳😳 JohnnyYuta: BOTH senpais have seen him! 🗻of Namhae✅: I don’t know what to do with all this A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Go crazy! Go stupid! SleepySheepy😴: Go apeshit MinHoe: Sleepy, answer me dammit SleepySheepy😴: 😴😴😴

You laughed at the chat.

Di-Dng!

“Heyyy, BrickTheBracken and MickTheMacken are here!”

“Hey guys,” Keeho said.

“Hey hey,” Bracken and Mick responded.

“Are you guys in the same room again? You’re a little echoey.”

“Sorry,” Bracken responded. “We just moved into the new place and we’re not totally set up yet.”

“I’ll take my laptop to the other room,” Mick offered. A few seconds went by and he could be heard shuffling his headset. “This better?”

“Much better.” Keeho answered.

“Do we know if Yeji or Ryujin are going to show up?” You asked.

“They should,” Bracken offered. “Maybe they had to stay late at their day jobs?”

Di-Dng!

“Don’t even fucking talk about day jobs,” Ryujin exploded into the chat. “I was watching you guys on the way home and I’m so mad I had to stay late. I wanted to be around for the nugget raid.”

You laughed.

“Love a good nug raid.”

🗻of Namhae✅: Everyone loves nugs 🗻of Namhae✅: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 QuackIsWhack✅: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 StrickenChicken: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 UltimateHyung: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 LeaBea: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 TheNicestGuy: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 YangYangGangGang: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 SleepySheepy😴: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 LeaBea: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 There’sARockInMySock: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 MinHoe: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 LuciPURR: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 🥔🥔🥔🥔🥔 JohnnyYuta: All hail the nugs!

“Ryujin, are you watching my chat?”

“I ammmm, thanks guys. Now I really feel like I was at the earlier raid.”

“My chat’s pretty sweet.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: You’re sweet

“Oh, Tree, I’m blushing. My heart just went ‘doki doki,’ dude.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: 😳😳😳

“Can you quit flirting with your chat and accept my invite?” Keeho asked.

“I’m not flirting with anyone. They’re all just lovely people.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t see an invite from you.”

“Huh? Oh, I didn’t add you.”

“HA!” You laughed loudly.

QuackIsWhack✅: F A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: F StrickenChicken: F UltimateHyung: F SleepySheepy😴: F I💚Keeho: F LeaBea: F JohnnyYuta: F TheNicestGuy: F There’sARockInMySock: F MinHoe: F 🗻of Namhae✅: F, senpai

“At least Namhae respects me.”

🗻of Namhae✅: I respect you, sunbaenim

“All I need is your respect, Namhae.” Keeho said as he held his fist to his chest and pretended to struggle with his emotions.

You laughed. “Close my stream, dammit!”

“I’m going to close it when we start playing.”

Di-Dng!

“Guys! I made it!” Yeji yelled, winded.

“Okay, okay, calm down.” Keeho responded. “Do you want us to play a round while you get situated or would you rather play now?”

“I need to play something and not think about the printer that I spent like three hours trying to fix because our office didn’t pay a bill and now the printer company won’t come fix it and no one else can or wants to fix it.”

“Holy shit,” you said. “You’re way too pretty for that, Yeji.”

“I knowwww, I should never have become an office worker. I thought it would be easy.”

“Aww, my baby.”

SleepySheepy😴: WE love you, Yeji I💚Keeho: Yejiiiiiii LeaBea: Aww 😥😥😥 There’sARockInMySock: Yeji! 💜💜💜 QuackIsWhack✅: We love you, bubbah A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: Yeji is the prettiest JohnnyYuta: Love our girl StrickenChicken: I’m not wlw, but if I was I would pick you, Yeji UltimateHyung: Were I single, I would ask you out in a manly fashion 🗻of Namhae✅: You deserve better, Yeji

“Are you looking at my chat, Yeji?” You asked.

“Ryujin is showing me. Aww, you guys are sweet.”

“You do deserve better.”

“I know… UGH I have to interview somewhere else or make more money streaming so I can leave.”

“I think you can do it. I mean… I never went to college and here I am.”

“Living the dream, Cat.” Ryujin said.

You laughed. “Nah, I’m living the ‘a lot of hard work and a little luck’.”

“Dang right, hard work,” Keeho said emphatically.

“Mhm.”

“Now: Are we finally going to play?”

“Yes!”

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