incogxmari

[incogxmari]

Yes, I am a straight man. Yes, getting the shit beat out of me in an all-male mosh pit is an erotic experience for me. We exist

[incogxmari]

Johnny isn’t subtle in his endeavours.

There’s nothing shy about this man. He doesn’t bide his time or make a spectacle of courting you properly.

He inserts himself into every part of your life. Whether you like it or not, and of course, you don’t mind one bit.

He brings you back to his place, an intimate little flat in Glasgow, and right of the bat he’s got a spare drawer for your things and a toothbrush that sits next to his.

There’s nothing casual about John Mactavish.

He interlocks your fingers with his and rests them against his thigh as he drives. Bringing them to his lips every so often to place a kiss to your skin.

If you cook - he does the washing up. Vice versa. There’s that immediate domestication. Talks of the future. You smile warmly when he mentions trivial things, how many kids he wants, where he wants your first proper shared home to be.

In such a short space of time you’re already too deep into this. Carved on each other’s hearts. Your whole life you’ve never believed in soul mates, had thought it was such a silly idea - Johnny had changed all of that. With every fibre of your being you now believe that this was meant to be. Carved from the same stone. Bound to one another.

You’re just grateful he’d found you.

[incogxmari]

i am a sucker for the typical stoic fictional man who is actually so soft for his s/o. who buries his nose into the crook of your neck and wraps his arms around your waist whenever he can. maybe he’s not always good with his words, but for you? god. he literally hands you his heart on a silver platter

[incogxmari]

artificial intelligence anthology | price x reader

dark. specific content warnings/tags included in the posts. all vibes, no brakes.

#artificial intelligence au

first meeting

lights out

do not fuck the robot

silent treatment

[incogxmari]

What's the opposite of a secret baby trope? Aggressively telling the man about the pregnancy?

You bursting into the farmhouse on the 141 ranch and having to stop yourself from swinging on one John Mactavish, opting instead to shove five positive pregnancy tests under his nose and ask him what the hell he's going to do about this? Only to be met with a marriage license he'd signed months ago?

[incogxmari]

winter soldier au with John Price who was held in a gulag for three years and comes home wrong. comes back snarling and furious and threatening to rip apart the goddamn world if they don't give him what belongs to him, what's rightfully his, if they don't give him back his fucking wife, right this second—

the only problem is: John's ex-wife remarried. she's halfway around the world, and Laswell knows John enough to immediately squash that idea right away. but if not her, then who?

and then you walk into the room—a newly hired secretary that John has met less than a handful of times; a pencil pusher barely even a blip on the radar—but he pounces. snatches you up before any of them can react, tucking your bemused face into his chest, cradling you tight; possessively clutching at you as Kyle tries, and fails, to calm him down.

"you don't know her, sir. just let the girl go—"

it's met with a nasty snarl. all gleaming, bloodied teeth. a stranger in a familiar shape as John drags you further away from them. "this is my goddamn wife."

his declaration is met with shock. you're definitely not his wife. you barely know him much outside of a several, threadbare exchanges where he breathed down your neck about filing the wrong reports, and the cluttered mess of your desk ("a goddamn eyesore—"). you're not even friends. and in all honesty, you didn't even think he liked you that much. so. wife?

but he's beyond reason. his head a mangled, trenched mess of artillery fire and Makarov's torture. three years, Kate breathes. three whole years.

you can tell, almost immediately, by the look on her face that this—that you—will become a necessary loss in the grand scheme of things. and when John lets her close enough to whisper into your ear (having somehow convinced him that he can just walk out of here with you, his fucking wife, leaving for the marital home (and bed) that he demands from them for this brief stalemate)—she hurriedly tells you about their plot. this high risk, no reward scenario of playing along. not that you have much of a choice.

keeping John Price as close to them as possible was worth more than something as flimsy, as malleable as your agency, your autonomy. and if the way to do it was to let a brainwashed man play house with you, then so be it.

she, at the very least, offers a grim sort of smile even though you can see her working out the mechanics of it all as she makes promises on your behalf. things like, yes, John, you can leave with your wife. she missed you so much, John. she's so happy you're home.

"we kept your wife safe for you, John—" no one seems to react to the violent way Johnny has to be dragged out of the room by Ghost, kicking and screaming at the injustice of it all because th' captain wouldnae do this! don't do this t'him!

and John—if there's any part of that man still inside him, he doesn't let an inch of it show—just nods, lip pulling up into a snarl as he bullies you closer to his chest, and growls about finally getting you home.

"I'll keep you with me," he rasps, blunt fingers spreading wide over the fill of your body. a mad, twisted gleam of possessiveness, ownership, burning in bruised blue as he familiarises himself with this body he claimed as his. "right where you belong, wife."

(the word comes out in a bite. snaps around you and sounds just like mine.)

[incogxmari]

i am so soso so charming please just let me in and i can show you how charming i am please. im so charming but i can only show u if u let me in. please [BANGING ON DOOR] please im so charming i promise [DOORKNOB RATTLING] im a people person youll love my engaging repartee and disarming smile [GLASS BREAKING]

[incogxmari]

You've always wanted a dog. It doesn't matter what kind, you'd be happy with any, but no matter how much discussion, Soap never budges, holding the exact opposite opinion about dogs. Which you understand given his experiences with them, but it's still a little disappointing.

Until he compromises one day under the condition he gets to choose the dog. Specifically a guard dog, in his words. One he's known and worked with multiple times. One he trusts to take care of his sweet lass. One that will protect.

You get so excited, you buy the collar and everything, eagerly waiting the day Soap is coming home with the dog... only to be confused when Ghost walks in behind him, no dog in sight.

"Uh, hi, Simon?" You peek around the man. Perhaps the dog is hidden behind the man's massive frame. It's not. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?" You shoot Soap a confused look. "And where's the dog you promised me?"

Soap chuckles at your confusion. "He's right here, sweetheart." He pats Ghost's shoulder, and the man takes one big step closer to you, closing the gap within that single stride. The shadow he casts somehow makes him look larger. "You said you'd be happy with anything, and I got you the best one! Ghost'll do anything you say—sit, stay, attack—you'll love him!"

You're not quite convinced. Can't lie and say you're not a little disappointed, but all thoughts of dissatisfaction are briefly forgotten when Ghost reaches down to grab your wrist, the one loosely holding the leather dog collar in hand, and undoes the buckle for you. He then guides your limp hands to slip it around his neck, adjusting it perfectly before letting your hands drop. When he pulls away, a shiver runs through you at the hungry gleam in his eyes, smirk evident in his voice.

"Woof."

You gulp. Maybe Soap is right. Maybe you will love him.

[incogxmari]

vampire gaz that likes to sit you on his lap when he feeds from you. hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing softly over the skin he finds there. nose in the crook of your neck, intoxicated by the smell of your blood lingering just beneath the thin stretch of skin. your body knows he's a predator, knows you should run. but you're nothing but a fawn in his grasp, teeth at your neck, and you're addicted to the way it feels when he sinks them into your flesh, splits you open with fire and venom, makes you warm and pliant in his hold. you never thought being fed from would feel so good, a certain sort of calm overtaking you as he drinks, slipping deeper into him the more he takes from you. you let him, fingers curling weakly into the fabric of his shirt, trusting he knows his limits.

you don't even realize you've fallen unconscious until you wake in his bed, blood smearing his mouth as he unlatches from where he bit into your thigh. the throb of the mark is nothing compared to the embarrassing need between your legs, wet and warm and wanting. he smirks like the devil as he crawls over your body on one hand, the other going to his belt as he settles between your legs.

"don't worry, darling," he rasps, throat thick with your blood and eyes dark as the night, "i'll take care of your next."

[incogxmari]

if i survived a slasher it’s because i fucked him

[incogxmari]

[incogxmari]

You cannot tame the mane.

[incogxmari]

maybe monsterfucker erotica doesn't need a plot but it certainly gives the whole thing a bit more substance

[incogxmari]

If he really wanted you he’d kidnap you

[incogxmari]

You cannot tame the mane.

[incogxmari]

by the way Soap eats ass no matter what you've got between your legs BUT there's a special place in his heart for going down on pussy, making his way further south as the bird he's got in his arms protests, and then hearing those protests turn into soft, breathy little moans as they realize oh, that feels really good—

[incogxmari]

simon doesn’t really enjoy clubs or loud bars, but you like to go dancing and what kind of man would say no to their seeing their woman dress up all pretty and dance for them?

the image is so clear in my mind of him leaning back in his chair, thick thighs spread to accommodate the pretty thing stood between them. one paw firmly gripping your hip whilst you sway to music and the other gripping his drink tight

makes you hold your drink right inbetween your bodies so he can keep an eye on it as efficiently as possible whilst you just focus on having fun

simon doesn’t dance, but he loves to watch you dance. loves to grip your hips and spin you around, pulling your ass flush against his crotch so you grind against him as he eyes your figure with those steely eyes of his

do you guys see the vision? please tell me you see the vision

when you’re facing him, arms slung around his neck as you yap in his ear about how much you love this song he knows, he requested it whilst you were in the bathroom because he knew you’d spend 15 minutes just complimenting random women in there. you’ll tell him all about your new friends and instagram followers when you come trotting out to find him waiting for you with an outstretched hand and another drink

feeling his big hands sliding up and down your sides, over the small of your back before shamelessly groping your ass in front of everyone with no shame. yanking the bottom of your dress down when he feels it ride up in view of unwanted stares, giving your ass a gentle pat to signal that he’s got you taken care of

sigh when will it be my turn