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mason’s a massive sadist we know this. but how exactly that expresses itself is very interesting because it reads as very animalistic like much else about his character to me…

what really seems to get him is inflicting like. raw unfiltered pain. he doesn’t want to humiliate or control you through it he just wants you to squirm and scream and bleed like, well. an animal. that’s all. his prey. squeal like a slaughtered pig! bleed like the throat of a deer with a ripped out throat bleeds. again, pointing towards one of my favourite lines from him “You got an animal’s scream… gets the heart pumping.” here.

besides this i’d say his other big thing seems to be fear? that primal fear that is ingrained in each of us when feeling like we are being watched/hunted by a predator like him… so yeah, extremely animalistic i’d say…

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Snake 👍

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Gonna try my luck on tumblr again with cod fanart? I feel like nobody who follows me on my other platforms cares for my interest in cod so maybe I'll get new people here? Hello? Pls

This is all I've got so far cause I have no push to draw more fanart when nobody cares about it haha

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Me when me when i cant have a consistent art style

Mmm fat men

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we know that mason is an absolute beast physically, insanely tall/massive and especially strong, but i don’t think he’s the fastest actually. with that much mass you just ain’t. however a true hunter doesn’t need to be fast, they need to be utterly unrelenting above all else. persistence will win over the quick little rabbit hops all the time.

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nsfw below the cut

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My favourite thing about Lawrence, is that he makes the cutest angry faces :3

NO TALK HIM! HE ANGY 😠

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Could you write something about Price infantilizing his girl a bit? (Think “awww, all dumb for me? Can’t even think) but MORE

“you all dumb for me now, sweetheart?” price drawled, voice low and thick with amusement. “can’t even think, can you?”

you blinked up at him, glassy-eyed, mouth slack where he had your chin tilted up with his thumb. you were in his lap, bare thighs over his cargo pants, dress straps sliding down your arms. he hadn't even touched you properly yet—just a few whispered praises, a little pressure here, a teasing kiss there—and you were already gone for him.

“look at you,” he cooed, almost mockingly sweet, brushing your hair behind your ear like you were something breakable. “so soft. so stupid for me, huh?”

you whimpered, body twitching when he leaned in and pressed a warm kiss just beneath your jaw.

“that brain of yours shuts right off the second i get my hands on you. don’t it?” he murmured, nipping gently at your neck, pleased with the way your body arched into him instinctively. “poor thing. bet if i asked you your name right now, you'd just blink at me.”

you tried to say something, anything—but all that came out was a breathy little sound. your eyes fluttered. you couldn’t even remember what you were trying to say.

“useless little baby,” he chuckled darkly. “don’t worry your pretty head. i’ll do all the thinking for you.”

then he kissed your temple, warm and patronizing, like you were a pet or a doll. you melted into his chest like it was the only place you belonged.

and maybe it was.

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[ My idea is that Strade is a psychological monster, he's a social genius and very very good at people and their behavior.

Not to mention he's all confidence and charisma...

...I know the type.]

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your vision turned white as his fist connected with your face—his knuckles slamming against your cheekbone painfully. a guttural cry left your lips as your head slammed back against the wall, the pure strength of his punch making your fragile body stumble.

“what have i told you about talking back?” strade’s voice cut through.

your hand moved to clutch your cheek, a whimper leaving your lips as you a pained sob left your lips. your vision blurred as you looked up at him—warm tears slipping down your cheeks.

strade stood in front of you, one hand clutched the other, his rough thumb lazily rubbing his knuckles, his gaze was sharp. piercing through you as his pupils seemed smaller than before, yet he grinned. that stupid fucking grin. the one he’s always had, the one you wished you could wipe off his face.

“i’m waiting, fotze.” (cunt)

he mused, watching as you meekly whimpered and cried.

your breathing was choked, like your lungs couldn’t properly fill to help you breathe.

“n-not,” you stammered, words choked weakly as you whimpered pathetically—like a little puppy.

“not to what?” he cooed.

“not—t-to talk back..” you hiccuped, soft, choked sobs leaving your lips as you stared at him, feeling more tears roll down your cheeks.

“and what did you do?” he said, his hands falling to his sides as he stared at you, expectantly. you glanced away, practically curled into yourself like a wounded animal, desperately trying to avoid predators.

you swallowed, “i talked back..”

strade hummed, making a disapproving sound, like a disappointed parent after getting shown their child failed an exam. “ja, you did.” he said, his german accent thick as he tilted his head and looked at your pathetic form.

“you know i hate when you talk back, and yet you continue to do it.. it’s almost like you want me to beat you.” he said, his tone going from disappointment to amusement, “is that what you want, mein liebe?” (my love) he cooed, his hand moving to cup your delicate face, inspecting where he punched you, oh yeah, that was definitely going to leave a bruise.

not that he minded, of course.

“ah, i hit you pretty hard, ja?” he said as he admired his work, you could only whimper.

his hand moved to hold your wrist, his calloused hand gripping your arm tight, a quiet reminder of how little you truly were compared to him.

he lead you to the kitchen, where he lazily wet a rag with cold water before moving to sit besides you, holding the rag to your face. “there you go, such a good girl.” he teased, babying you in the way he knew you hated. you only let him, biting your tongue, you knew better than to try and be snarky now. you had already pushed your luck! if you weren’t careful you might be dumped in the basement like trash and left there in the cold darkness without nothing.

you liked sleeping in his bed more than you liked sleeping on the cold concrete floor.

“if you talk back to me again, you’ll be nothing more than dead weight to me, got it?” strade said softly, yet that softness couldn’t hide the threat in his words, his free hand moved to grip your thigh, a firm hold that solidified his words—if you do that again i’ll fucking gut you.

you nodded weakly, sniffling. “yes, strade..”

a deep chuckle left his lips, “braves mädchen,” (good girl) “you’ve become special to me.. i wouldn’t want to throw all of that away!” he continued, moving his hand from the rag and letting you hold it instead.

he stood, ready to leave the kitchen before he pressed a kiss on the crown of your head, his actions contradicting his words. it almost made your head hurt, he was so complicated to understand.. and at times like these you wondered if it was even worth it staying alive.

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BTD

rkgk :33…

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I finally started on this project yayyy

Part 2 will come out next week Monday :3

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more shitposting

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I have Mason as one of my many comfort characters who are insanely fucked up. Like I know Mason hunts MC down like a deer in the game and I know that there's no ending where both you and Mason can live together but Goddammit, a tboy loser like me can dream. I just want him to cuddle me and comfort me. He looks so warm.

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Something something neighbor!Price who just so happens to also be retired…

Has his dad bod absolutely perfected. He is still fit, with some definition but he’s gotten a bit softer in some areas. A little extra pudge on the tummy. *chefs kiss*

Sees this pretty little bird moving into the small house down the road from his, while out on one of his walks. Notices you struggling with a heavy box.

“Need help there sweetheart?” He asks, his voice smooth - yet some how still deep, gravelly.

“Oh, it’s okay - hmmph,” you groan, as you try to heft the box out of the back of your car, “I’ve got it!”

Independent. Capable. But oh so soft.

Yeah…Price was done for.

He gave a soft chuckle as he moved closer, one hand grasping a side of the box. “Please let me,” he gives a genuine smile, “only the neighborly thing to do, help a pretty bird like yourself,” he says with a cheeky wink.

You blush, but relent, letting him take the box. Heaving it into his arms with ease (what a yummy looking snack those biceps are…). You follow him in with a much smaller box, directing him where to put his.

John stays to help you finish unloading your car, maintaining it was no bother. It really wasn’t, he was finding that he liked your presence. Soft, and kind, but with enough fire to put John in his place.

You invited him inside to cool off when you both finished, offering a cool glass of lemonade. Sat at your small dining table, he slowly drank his lemonade. Taking in your small home and the way you carried yourself. He couldn’t help but think…

Darlin don’t get too cozy, you’ll be moving again in less than a year. This time it’ll be just down the road into his place, as his girl.

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[ Itchy for Mason rp...]