celenawrites

[celenawrites]

you've never been good with turbulence.

it's not the easy sway of a wide-body jet, but the vicious kicks of something this small—this rattling wasp of a plane, where you swear you feel the wind leaking in and the engines whining. every drop is a trapdoor opening under your stomach, yanking it up into your throat, and you press yourself against the window as if you could weld yourself to it. your jaw tight, teeth harsh on your tongue to strangle the pathetic little noises threatening to escape. no way you're going to make a fool of yourself in front of your fellow passengers, oblivious to your struggle.

least of all the man next to you.

not that he's paying attention. he fell asleep the second the wheels left the runway. slouched deep, knees spread wide, eyelids shut tight above his mask. his breathing and posture don't change when the plane lurches.

another big dip, and your nails bite half-moons into your palms. you shut your eyes. a second later, something taps your knee.

you jolt and look over. his hand is there, palm up, waiting. his eyes are still closed, his body still slightly slumped. the skin is rough, somewhat sun-damaged. tiny scars scatter across the back of it. another bump and you latch on before you can think, and the warmth of his palm and fingers automatically lacing with yours surprises you.

it feels childish. needy.

but his thumb strokes once, twice, over and over again slow across your knuckles, and you let yourself breathe.

you come uncoiled bit by bit, shoulders sinking, peeling from the window. his leg shifts, spreads even wider, knee pressed firm against yours. what would've felt invasive five minutes ago now feels like a brace holding you together.

the plane lands clean, smooth, the kind of landing that deserves applause. (no one does, thank god.)

and he doesn't let go.

you wiggle your hand, try for polite, no-pressure withdrawal. murmur a thank you with a nervous laugh. his grip tightens. just a hair.

a quick glance to the front—only one flight attendant on this tiny puddle-jumper, but she's swallowed by the churn of passengers fighting to get off. you part your lips to say something—anything—but the words stick to the roof of your mouth.

he rouses, straightening up in his seat and cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders like a bear coming out of hibernation. his eyes blink open, dark brown, and settle on you, crinkling at the corners as he squeezes.

with his free hand, he draws your hood back behind your ear and leans in. the mask brushes your ear.

"in a rush? didn't feel a ring on that finger."

[celenawrites]

Something about men who yearn…

[celenawrites]

Is anyone still here? 👀

[celenawrites]

Daddy dom Price and his sweet, independent girl who can turn her brain off when she’s around him.

[celenawrites]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, after years of active duty, has no idea how to court a woman normally.

Does recon (*cough* stalking *cough*) at his new date’s place sound normal - taking note of your daily routine, watching you go through mundane chores in skimpy little t-shirts that barely covers your ass as you bend over to take out the laundry from the washer and watching you enjoy a cup of earl grey (a woman after his heart, he says) normal? No, it isn’t.

But, is it normal for your date to come into your apartment when you call to take a rain-check on your date because your bathroom pipes burst open at the worst possible time and you need a plumber to help you stop them or you’d run out if water, only for Simon to offer his help and fix it, discarding his plaid shirt and distracting you with his biceps in that good-for-nothing wife-beater he has on (the one that makes you almost clutch your pendant in comfort as you try to call for takeout as you don’t try to fantasize about his big, muscly arms to have you in a headlock as he fucks you dumb)? Also, not normal.

But, Simon is not exactly a conventional man and after he fixes your pipes, being normal is quite possibly the last thing in his mind as he makes you cum on his thick cock for the third time in an hour, his fingers rubbing at your clit as you bite the pillow and make your back arch in a way that makes your ass grind against his pelvis and he cannot resist the urge to give it a good smack, laughing throatily as he hears your muffled whine at the sting.

Point to be made, nothing has exactly been normal when it comes to Simon. But that’s fine, he can make do with that - or so he believes as he sees you demolish the already cold takeout you both had neglected earlier for your lovemaking. Now, he has a date to plan for as he slowly enjoys the cold noodles from the takeout box and watches the shitty tele with you.

[celenawrites]

Is anyone up? 👀

[celenawrites]

guess who's back

[celenawrites]

hey so I'm working on this 😅

non-sexual dominance with cpt. john price, who is willing to be dominant on and off field if it means his soldiers (esp you) are able to stay sane and human throughout missions

[celenawrites]

had the freakiest dream with the hot blurred face guy, wherein I would have s-e-x with him in various places, but I kept downing the mood by hiding my body/expressions/moans cuz I'm am insecure fuck

[celenawrites]

update: i have a job now

[celenawrites]

non-sexual dominance with cpt. john price, who is willing to be dominant on and off field if it means his soldiers (esp you) are able to stay sane and human throughout missions

[celenawrites]

This still haunts me.

before y'all boo me off or whatever, just hear me out......

Captain Price and how his age is catching up to him. Years of military and constant substance abuse causing his body to ache all over. And then his pretty missus (or fiancée, if he hasn't made a wife out of you yet for some unfathomable reason) begs him with her doe eyes and kissable lips to quit smoking 'cuz she wanna spend the rest of her life married to him......

And fuck, if John isn't a man of his word.

Although keeping his word to his darling seems to be a lot harder than he thought. Unable to satiate his desire to smoke (he had foolishly thrown out all the cigars, even the fancy ones as he thought he wouldn't need any backups), he feels his fingers twitch out of habit and he breathes heavily to control himself. Deciding to get his oral fixation from elsewhere, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your soft waist as he kisses up your neck. You whine at him, telling him to not distract you from whatever dish you're working on. He scoffs at you, turning off the stove and spinning you around till you face him - reeling you in for a nasty kiss that is all tongue and teeth.

You can feel your lungs burn by the time he lets you go, instead going for your bare neck again as he marks you up with sharp canines, murmuring gentle praises as if they were salve to all the loving bruises he was inflicting on you.

Bringing you into the bedroom, he strips you bare and he just cannot resist putting his mouth everywhere and marking you up until you're singing his name for all to hear. It's not long until he's making love to you, each languid thrust aimed against that special spot that made you see stars, and once you're done, he urges you to clean up after yourself and finishes it off by licking your juices off your fingers.

So the next time you get guests in your humble abode and you bring them refreshments, Price is all too happy about reminding you of that time by grabbing your wrist and leaving skittish kisses against your fingertips, making you shudder with warmth and nervousness. The guest coo at the sweet gesture, none the wiser of what it means to you as you quickly exit the lobby with the excuse of making a hearty luncheon, with a skip in your step as you anticipate the next time John might need your help again.

And as his betrothed, you are more than happy to indulge in his oral fixations whenever he craves you.

[celenawrites]

first day of work and I got so sick I threw up twice

[celenawrites]

gonna slowly start posting more hopefully 🙃

[celenawrites]

I wanna sit on Simon's lap while he's manspreading on a sofa and feel him grope me with his rough hands like I'm a doll <33333

[celenawrites]

lmaoo I decided to write a little something about this here <333

marriage of convenience with sgt. kyle gaz garrick and him trying to navigate being a soldier as well as your husband...the awkwardness...the soft domesticity...the yearning....the understanding...the gentleness...mhm

[celenawrites]

inspired by this lil rambling I did a while back

The veil on your head sticks to your forehead with perspiration and your fingers ever so slightly shake with nervousness. You stand before a large wooden door, and walking inside the room seems almost impossible for you. You consider calling a raincheck, or maybe running away from this whole arrangement - but your friend pats you comfortingly on your back and you feel somewhat grounded again.

This entire fiasco is for your own benefit, and you don't have any other alternatives.

So you suck it up and push open the wooden door, taking long strides to close the distance between you and your unknown betrothed.

The church is mostly empty save for the groom and a few key witnesses, thanks to a favor the old priest owed to the task force’s captain. The door’s loud creak gives you away, and everyone is now looking at you. Captain Price, the man who orchestrated this union, stands proud and steady as he eyes you down mechanically - possibly an old habit from his time serving in the army for so many years. The old priest stands in front of the pews with bated breath, almost impatient to get this over with. There’s a middle aged woman sitting in the front and she looks at you sharply with disdain, you’d assume she’s part of your betrothed's task force, if it wasn’t for the fact you were intimated last minute that she’s his mother.

And there’s your groom - Sergeant Kyle Garrick, dressed in an all black suit as he eyes you down with what seems to be wonder in his eyes. Apart from them, there seems to be no one else present here. 

Your friend adjusts your veil as she walks with you down the aisle. You’re sure that by now, her hand must be throbbing in pain from how hard you’ve gripped her. When it came to tying the knot, you hadn’t exactly envisioned this in your mind - but you try your best to play with the cards you’re dealt anyway. 

You almost wish you had dressed elaborately, instead of settling for a short white dress and a rental veil that makes your nape itch - but your wedding called for urgency and you had to ditch the elaborate bridal plans if you wanted to ensure your amenities are not cut off by the end of the month. 

With bated breath, you walk down the aisle as you grip onto your friend for some comfort. The walk is finished in minutes, and your friend is quick to leave you standing before your groom and the priest as they take a seat in the pews nearby. You look at Mr. Garrick, and he’s even more ethereal up close. A light scar runs across the span of his left cheek, but it only adds to his charm. His warm brown eyes twinkle like stars under the yellow fluorescent lights lighting up the room. If you had met him under any other circumstance, you’re sure you’d been smitten by now. Maybe you’d have asked him out for coffee…

Almost sensing your nerves, Kyle is quick to flash a kind smile your way and you breathe deeply as you look back at him and smile back a watery smile of your own. For his sake, you’ll suck it up and deal with it just fine - no matter what. 

Snapping out of your wishful thinking, you try to concentrate on what the priest is saying, but it is so hard to pay attention to the dronings of an old man when your handsome soon-to-be-husband stands in front of you. You notice that he taps his foot thrice at an interval of eight or so minutes, maybe as a way to deal with his nerves. After all, this is not just your wedding day. 

You both soon dot your I’s and cross your T’s as you both give out short, succinct vows and promise each other the promise of love and respect ‘till death do us apart’, which leaves an ashy taste in your mouth. This is not how this was supposed to be, but you both have no other choice in the matter. 

The rings are brought out, and you gape at how pretty the diamond looks on the thin platinum band. You wonder how much of his paycheck Kyle had to spend in order to find something this big and beautiful, and you almost feel ashamed for the ring you bought, a simple band with small gems encrusted in it - no cheaper in this economy, but still falling short of what the Sergeant had prepared for you. 

With quivering hands you slip his ring onto his finger, and he quickly returns the favor with a steady hand holding onto you, the warmth of his palm feeling awfully nice and comforting against your clammy hands. The priest finally announces, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Fearing the worst, you close your eyes shut as you’re not certain on how to approach this step. You’re no virgin, but kissing a man you barely know (and marrying said man) is something you hadn’t anticipated in your twenty-something years of your life. You feel Kyle wrap an arm around the small of your back gently as he raises the veil on your head - only to give you a chaste peck on the corner of your lips, just shy of giving you a proper kiss. Everyone present in the church let out reluctant claps, calling curtains on the show you both have put out knowing well enough that there is more to come. 

Now that the union was finally complete with witnesses and your marriage certificate soon after filed and to be submitted for review, you are looking forward to crashing on a bed and sleeping the day away after gorging out on some much needed junk food. (Especially if you wish to forget how Kyle’s mother has been eyeing you down like some filthy vermin throughout this sham of a wedding, really.)

“Welcome to the married life, Mrs. Garrick”, Kyle is quick to whisper in your ear as he ushers you out of the small church, and you’re yet to decide if you like the way he refers to you as his. 

“Can we get some takeout on the way home?” you ask him, and he smiles that brilliant smile your way, the one that makes you just a little weak in the knees. 

“Whatever you want, wife.”