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midnighmoonligh · 11 months ago

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Agere CoD Animal Crossing Head Canon's

(this is just for fun)

Item list; Denim Overalls (white), Kerokerokeroppi Pin, Pacifier (baby grey), Simple-accent Socks (white), Rubber-toe Sneakers (black), Dreamy Backpack (mint), & Panda Umbrella.

Big on-island design

Plays religiously when little

He will harass anyone he can to play with him

Ghost has to aggressively avoid Kyle when playing, he makes him regress

Has a Dark Academia theme

Favorite holiday is a mix of Halloween (favorite character is ofc Jack) and Turkey Day

Aggressively collects amiibo cards, has two binders full of them

The villagers he has are; Apollo, Wolfgang, Skye, Dobie, Chief, Kyle, Fang, Freya, and Vivian.

His starters had been Apollo, Daisy, and Pecan

Ghost's favorite villager is Kyle (looks like Riley & has Gaz's name)

Item list; Annyeong Tee, Baggy Shirt (gray), Dreamy Pants (blue), Jogging Shorts (black), Diaper (light blue), Mohawk Wig, Punk Hair Wig (orange), Pacifier (baby gray, Pacifier (baby mint), Holey Socks (blue), Knee Bandages, Knee Brace (black & blue), Basketball Shoes (light blue), Crossbody Boston Bag (blue), and Blue Umbrella.

All his villagers are jocks

His first animal crossing game was New Leaf

Prefers new leaf, but doesn't mind new horizons

The villagers he has are; Kid Cat, Samson, Stinky, Tank, Teddy, ED, Tad, Moose, Mac, and Lyman.

He collected the amiibo cards for a small time to get jock villagers, but he gave his collection to Ghost.

Soap's favorite villager is Tad

His favorite holiday is Bunny Day

His favorite character is Zipper

His original villagers were Teddy, Deirdre, and Poncho

Soap's Island is a cross between city-theme and kidcore

Obnoxiously into animal crossing conspiracies

He has loads of theories about Zipper

Item's list; Anorak Jacket (red), Colorful Striped Sweater (white, yellow, & red), Diaper (cream), Formal Shorts (white), Track Pants (gray), Crown, Colorful Striped Knit Cap (red), Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby pink), Color-blocked Socks (brown), Kerokerokeroppi socks, Pompompurin boots, Rubber-toe High TOps (berry red), Bug Cage, Butterfly Backpack, and Rainbow umbrella.

Big on bug collection

Maxed out the bug half of the museum

Gets so excited when seeing Flick

Casual player & often hangs out with ghost

Has had the same villagers since he started

Only really plays if he can play with someone

Got the crown from Ghost (both Ghost & Soap worked to get it for him)

The villagers he has are; Molly, Fauna, Beau, Erik, Deirdre, Pecan, Poppy, Kiki, Mapple, and Ike.

His starter villagers were; Fauna, Deirdre, and Pecan.

His favorite holiday is Festivale and Bug-off

Will take a day off just to sit and play the Festivale event

He'll spend an entire day running around collecting flowers because shiny

His favorite characters are Nat, Flick, & Kiki

The island theme he picked is a sort of glow forest

Item list; Colorful Striped Sweater (navy, light blue, & pink), Oilskin Coat (red), Explorer Shorts (beige), Pineapple Aloha Shorts (red), Outdoor Hat (red), Pacifier (baby yellow) Pacifier (baby orange), Pacifier (baby pink), Rounded Beard, Frilly Knee-high Socks (black), Knee Bandages, Rubber-toe Sneakers (yellow), Rain Boots (red), Fish Pochette, and Fish Umbrella.

The museum is fully maxed out

Shares an island with Gaz, doesn't decorate

He will get super anxious when things are suddenly different

Fishes ALL THE TIME

Only plays to fish for hours

Rich from the fish he catches

Gets lost on the island a lot

Will excitedly shake Gaz if he finds out CJ is roaming around

Is a pro at the fishing tourneys

He has all the special items you can get from CJ

Has the same villagers as Gaz

His favorite characters are CJ and Chip

Gets upset when things block the view of where he's fishing

Will complain about how clapped the villagers look

His favorite holidays are Fishing Tourney and International Museum Day.

Item list; Energetic Sweater (purple), Konnichiwa Tee, Mod Parka (green), Cargo Pants (avocado), Chino Pants (gray), Labelle Cap (midnight), OK Motors Cap, Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby green), Color-blocked Socks (green), Pom-pom Socks (green), Kerokerokeroppi Boots, Rubber-toe High Tops (olive), Nook Inc. Pochette, and Frog Umbrella.

Loves when it rains

Decorates like crazy

Super pretty and aesthetic island

Specifically created places where Price and fish

He's on fashion and his storage is full of clothes

Doesn't have enough space for his clothes and gets really upset about it

Island aesthetic is neutral neighborhood

He borrows Ghost's cards. He thinks they're really cool

His villagers are; Pietro, Julian, Elmer, Papi, Victoria, Roscoe, Winnie, Savannah, Reneigh, and Annalise.

The original villagers he had were; Julian, Alice, and Elise.

Gaz specifically picks the most obnoxious villagers to annoy Price

He forgets to warn Price when making changes to their island

Favorite holiday is Toy Day

Favorite character is Isabelle

Item list; Chick Tee, Culottes (white), Diaper (light blue), Boa Parka (gray), Denim Overalls (avocado), Kiki & Lala Pin, Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby mint), Color-blocked Socks (white), Nordic Socks (gray), Tube Socks (navy blue), Cinnamoroll Sneakers, Cute Sneakers (blue), Rubber-toe High Tops (blue), Bear Backpack (brown), and Pineapple Umbrella.

Only plays with Logan and/or Hesh

Shares an island with Logan & Hesh

Hesh's wife plays with them too!

Loves collecting shooting stars & their crafting recipes

Doesn't do anything in particular, mostly just follows Logan & Hesh around

Often watches Logan & Hesh fight over decorating (sometimes antagonizes it & finds it funny)

Logan enjoys having a fall scene, always skipping time to stay in it. Hesh prefers winter. So to compromise they split the island into three parts

Keegan went for a dark cottage-core on his side

Their villagers are; Phoebe, Charlise, Katt, Tybalt, Claudia, Filbert, Kitty, Tammy, Graham, and Vesta.

Their original villagers were; Phoebe, Kitt, and Charlise

His favorite holiday is New Years and Christmas

He always makes sure to play on holidays!

Favorite characters are Timmy and Tommy

Item list; Dreamy Sweater (blue), Garden Tank (blue), Kids' Smock (cherry blossom), Culottes (white), Diaper (light blue), Dreamy Pants (blue), Cinnamoroll hat, Prom Crown (silver), Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby mint), Pacifier (baby blue), Kiki & Lala Socks, Lace Socks (white), Cinnamoroll sneakers, Mary Janes (blue), Dreamy Backpack (mint), and Blue shiny-bows parasol.

Doesn't share an island with anyone, but is always having shadows play with him on his island

Half the island is worked on the other half isn't. It's been this way for two years

Has a fairy-tale aesthetic (mostly greyscale)

His favorite villager type is dogs

His favorite villager is Cookie

Favorite event is New Years (for the fireworks) and Fireworks show

Favorite character is Redd

His current villagers are; Goldie, Cookie, Portia, Shep, Bea, Butch, Maddie, Daisy, Lucky, Bones, and Boom.

His original villagers were; Lucky, Sparro, and Bam

He has a small collection of cards. He only bought them to collect the dogs more easily but ended up giving up

Plays more than anything when he's injured

Item list; bone Tee, Cardigan School Uniform Top (beige), Two-tone Pants (yellow), Worn-out Jeans (light blue), Paper-bag Hood, Ski Mask (black), Halo, Cosmos Crown, Pacifier (baby gray), Pacifier (baby yellow), Aran-knit Socks (white), Cute Sneakers (yellow), Mary Janes (red), Vivid Socks (yellow), Nook Inc. Knapsack, and Eggy Parasol.

Shares an island with Horangi

Horangi plays way more than he does

Plays New Leaf more than New Horizons

Only really plays when regressed

Absolutely terrified of the bugs and will run away from them or yell until Horangi catches them

Their villagers are; Bangle, Bianca, Claudia, Leonardo, Rolf, Rown, Tynalt, Patricia, Spike, and Merengue.

Their original villagers were; Bianca, Dozer, and Shari.

He really likes talking about animal crossing

He loves playing with people online

His favorite characters are Isabelle and Digby

Horangi conned him into having all the tigers

Island Aesthic is kid core (he begged Horangi)

He has ALL the fruits

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coyotecreeture · 1 month ago

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Day eight: create a stimboard for an f/o/comfort character/kintype/alter of yours! My most favoritest. John Price. He is so dad it's not even funny <3 I gib him a little kiss on the forehead

#moodboard #stimboard #.jpg #moms and dads #.gif #by me!#caregiver #cutiepieautistic's 1602 follower challenge #cod agere #cod mw2 #cod john price #captain john price

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ghosty-fics · 6 days ago

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John Price-Teething Baby

(M4A/Gender Neutral/Platonic/Possibly OOC)

*Oral Fixation*

-Names used: Dove, Dovey-

Word Count: 610

Oral fixation. John learned that concept soon after looking out for his teammate. He had noticed it before ever finding out about how they cope. It was subtle. Chewing on pen tops or pencils, their nails always bit down to stubs or the skin around their nails shredded. They always seemed to have something in their mouth. Gum, suckers, straws from their lunch, even their own fingers when they thought no one was looking.

After John began looking after his teammate while they regressed, he noticed it was worse in their little state. Fingers, sippy straws, even stuffies were not safe from his baby’s teething wrath. He started with snacks to maybe curb the need. He didn’t want to spoil his baby’s appetite so that didn’t last long. Then he decided to get actual baby teethers which helped after a while but didn’t really solve the problem of them chewing when in public.

John searched high and wide for a solution and finally found it. The package arrived today and he was beyond excited to present it to his baby.

_____________________________________________________

You sit in your quarters, bundled up in your blankets and holding your favorite stuffie. As always you absentmindedly chew on the top of the poor things head while you watch cartoons. You were enjoying your quiet time in between missions and meetings. Just as you were thinking about John joining you, here he comes, hands behind his back and a wide smile on his face.

“Hey dove.” John says as he approaches you, removing a hand from behind his back to pet your head. “How’s my little one doing?”

You sit up quickly in his presence, giggling at his pets. You release your stuffie from your chewing as you speak, “Good, sir! What you have there?”

You try to peek around John’s back to see what he’s holding but he shifts to continue to hide the surprise.

“Ah ah dove. Not yet.” John chuckles, tapping your leg gently, “Scoot over.”

As you comply, he plops down moving the white box to his lap. You shift and peer over, staring excitedly at the box, “That for me?”

“Yes, dove. That’s for you, but you have to listen to me before you can get it.”

John smiles and laughs a bit as you put on your oh so adorable serious face and nod. He continues, “This is a very special gift and you have to make sure that it gets cleaned everyday okay?”

He smiles as you nod quietly. He opens the box and hands it over to you revealing the various different chewelry he had picked out for you. Some bracelets and some necklaces of various different toughnesses and textures. All for you to try out.

You slowly smile and quickly tackle your carer into a tight hug as a thanks, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You put one of the bracelets on your arm then put one of the necklaces around your neck, immediately putting the chewy pendant into your mouth.

John silently praises himself for cleaning them before giving them over to you. “You’re welcome, dovey. I’m happy you like them.”

“I love them!” You say giggling as John sets the box on the floor.

He shifts and scoots you over, laying down in bed with you. He allows you to grab your stuffie and get comfortable as he turns your show back on. He pet your head gently as you both relax into each other for the rest of the night.

John smiles down at you as he watches you chew your new necklace, saving the poor stuffie from your biting and drool for now.

#fandom agere #age regression #sfw agere #agere fic #little reader #caregiver john price #cod agere #gn reader

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spac3-pup · 1 year ago

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Pony Town new toys

little regressor!Gaz and little caregiver!Price :D

#sfw little community #sfw littlespace #sfw agere #agere fandom #sfw age regression #sfw agere blog #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #regressor!gaz #kyle gaz garrick #caregiver!price #john price #cod agere #plushies #pony town

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oceantornadoo · 2 months ago

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ch2 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

You hate John Price because he ruined your childhood. Or at least, his father did.

Growing up as a bastard was hard. You do thank your lucky stars that you were a bastard in modern-day society, and not during some time when your mother could have had her head chopped off. It’s the small things.

Your mother was Mr. Riley’s nanny. How original.

Mrs. Riley, Simon and Tommy’s mother, did not like her husband. Smart woman. He was cruel, knew how to poke at scars until they opened and bled down bruised skin. They had an heir and a spare, neither of which she was particularly attached to. It was enough to fulfill their marriage contract, so she got to live out the rest of her days in a beachside condo in Cornwall. Simon and Tommy were raised properly, the Riley way, in Greater Manchester. In a mansion bought by blood and exploitation, guns and gold.

With the wife out of the way and two boys under five, Mr. Riley hired a nanny. The way your mother tells it, only after three glasses of wine before the sun sets, she was low on cash and desperate for a place to stay. The whispers about the Riley family were loud, but the grumbling of her stomach was louder. It’s a phrase she repeated over and over during your childhood, as you hopped from international school in Paris to private school in New York City, wherever your father decreed was safer. You tell her she doesn’t need to justify it, even now as you live with your brother and she stays countries away, but she’ll just give you that same tightlipped smile. She still doesn’t forgive herself for who your father was, so you have to forgive her for the both of you.

She couldn’t say no to Mr. Riley. Maybe it was the sight of her with his kids or her constant proximity, but he claimed he was in love. You can’t say no to the head of a gang, especially if you’re an employee. And once she became pregnant, he tightened the reins. Pulled strings to become your legal primary caregiver so she couldn’t leave the country. It was only after a robbery went wrong, where Mr. Riley lost almost a quarter of his wealth, he invited others to weigh in on the situation. Or at least, Mr. Price.

You were seven, Tommy was ten, and Simon was fourteen. Simon said he was too grown up to play with a baby like you, but Tommy always stuck around. Tommy just beat you in hide and seek, again, and frustration seeped out of your skin. He always caught you, no matter where you hid. He was counting down to another round and you were determined to win this time. There was one place he wouldn’t think of - your father’s office.

There have been a lot more men around lately. Mama had told you to keep upstairs, out of eyesight, but you wanted to win this time. Tommy was counting from sixty, too fast in your opinion, so you creeped down the stairs at warp speed. There was a secret door to Father’s office, mainly for the maids, and it had a door for your dog. Riley was huge, so the flap took up a third of the door. You were still small enough to scurry through, though it was becoming a tighter fit lately. Determined, you popped through the flap, being sure not to disturb Father. There was a chair for you to hide behind, a perfect angle to hide from the man on the other side of Father’s desk while still keeping an eye out for Tommy’s feet.

“They hit you because you’re weak.” The man’s voice was familiar. Mr. Price. He was around more and more, always bringing his annoying son John. He was sixteen and thought he was so cool, bossing around the staff like he was, well, the boss. And he never wanted to play.

“They hit us because my idiot men weren’t watchin’ the cameras.” Father replied. He sounded angry. He always snorted like a bull before he started yelling, and you could hear him huffing. “Y’ve got a bastard an’ ‘er mother yankin’ ya by the balls. She’s the help, for god sake. The scousers see an opportunity.” You knew that word. Bastard. Simon had called you bastard once, a year ago when you took his stuffed animal that he hid from Father. Mama told you it was a mean word, only said by people with too-small hearts. When Simon said it, you cried for an hour. He apologized, hugging you like a baby until the tears receded. Then, he promised to hurt anyone who said that word to you.

“What do you suggest?” Father didn’t say anything about the mean word. He was like that, he didn’t protect you like Tommy or Simon. “Send them away. Make your enemies forget about your weakness. Bring Simon into the fold.” That wasn’t Mr. Price speaking, it was John. He wanted to send you away? You prayed not to Cornwall, where Simon’s mom lived. She was scary.

“I second John. You need strength, not complication. Focusin’ on Simon learnin’ the ropes will emphasize your heir, not the help y’ forgot to wear a rubber with. ‘Least til she’s eighteen an’ can be married.” Mama wasn’t married, so you didn’t want to be either. “Appreciate the help, gentlemen. Now about the Chester deal…” You tuned them out. Sent away? You had to tell Mama. Slipping away like a cat, you ran to find Mama, not stopping even when Tommy found you. He’d won, again.

Without John’s suggestion, you might have stayed. You might have gotten a real relationship with your brothers. You might have prevented Tommy from walking into that gunfight and- that’s where the hypotheticals stopped. Who knows what would have happened? What you know is that, despite being provided for and with your mom, there was always that what if? clinging to the back of your brain.

Your father died when you were twenty-two. Months after he’d paid your last college bill, thankfully. Simon called you during your summer of freedom, a twenty-nine-year-old man with no clue how to run an empire. A lost younger brother between you. He’d promised to protect you, and that was your chance to return the favor. Family first, the Riley way.

Now, years later, the hate for John Price has turned from a boil to a simmer. Something you don’t think about constantly until he’s right in front of you. It’s hard to blame a man for a teenage hypothetical, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t insult him for being a pompous git. A mafia brat. Decades of being shitty to each other have turned the cord of your relationship rotted black, a frayed string connected by the fact you can’t physically hurt the other. You’ve got no clue why he wants to marry you of all people, so you’re determined to scare him off. This should be fun.

“Quaint,” John mutters to Gaz, who scoffs. They took the jet, a quick hour trip, and brought Laswell, his trusted lawyer. The bookstore is off a side street in Greater Manchester, next to a cafe and a flower shop for god sake. He has to give it to Ghost; it’s a good place to clean cash or lay low. Discreet. No clue why the spitfire’s running it, though. He’s surprised it’s not gone to ruin.

The bell over the door makes a faint tinkling sound as they enter. Gaz goes first, ready for an ambush like the control freak he is, and John can see you smiling at him. It’s a smile he’s never seen, unbidden and shy. It immediately sours once John emerges, turning into a faint frown. “You actually came.” You say it like you aren’t discussing a marriage contract to tie you together for eternity. It’s been a year since John last saw you. Your meetings are infrequent, mainly in passing during weddings and funerals. He knows it’s been years since you came back to Manchester, but you finally seem to have…matured. More confident with your movements, at ease behind the counter of your bookstore. If he were a different man, your confidence would be attractive, but in this world, something about it irritates him.

He sees you pick up your phone, a battered thing, and fire off a short text. Not five seconds later, Soap and Ghost emerge from the shadows of the backroom, men in suits at their shoulders. The shop is immediately crowded, and you cringe at the change in atmosphere. “You’re lucky I closed the store today. Your vibe would freak out the customers. Come on.” John is already practicing restraint, biting his tongue so he doesn’t reply like a scorned teenager. He’s too grown for this.

Soap leads the way, opening a hidden door to the basement by tugging at a dusty bookshelf in the back. He holds the door open for everyone, trading looks with Ghost before nodding to the Price group. “What do ya do if a customer pulls that book by accident?” Gaz wonders out loud, snorting to himself as he approaches the door. “Dosnae happen, Garrick.” Gaz grins and John sighs inwardly. “Usin’ last names now, MacTavish? I can play that game too.” Gaz dips down the staircase before Soap can answer, presumably needing to have the last word. Between you and Soap, this is going to be a long meeting.

The bookstore might be old and dusty, but the basement is sleek and modern. John passes a small med bay, fully stocked, before they reach a large conference room, equipped with TVs and enough office chairs for a small army. Even Gaz lets out a low whistle, while Laswell hums thoughtfully. Kate’s probably memorizing the layout for another upgrade to her office.

As everyone sits, two waiters make their rounds, taking drink orders. He gets a tea and thanks the waiter, catching your brows furrowing after he murmurs his gratitude. Odd.

“Right so-” Soap starts, but Gaz cuts him off. “You’re a bloody barrister?” Soap practically growls at his tone. “Solicitor. Not jus’ a pretty face, Garrick.” It’s silent as the two stare, a contest only broken when Simon clears his throat. “Get on with it, haven’t got all day.” Soap starts again, mainly talking with Kate as they go through the contract. John has it practically memorized. 25% of his businesses, mainly the ones not in London, in exchange for their weight in Ghost’s gold, something he desperately needs. Relinquishing his claims to border territory between Manchester and Liverpool, something that would make his father turn in his grave, for thousands of weapons. Guns, bullets, tracking equipment - anything he can use that has removable identity numbers. It’s a deal that’ll help him win against Shepherd’s men. All for the small price of being married to you, of course.

“Ms. Riley will marry Mr. Price and produce a minimum of two children within ten years. In case of fertility struggles, one child will suffice, only with a board of doctors agreement. If infertility persists and no children are produced, we have clauses for that.” The statement rolls off Laswell’s tongue easily, but John can tell the moment it reaches your brain. Your eyebrows go sky high, and you almost stand until Simon puts a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Board of doctors? What, so if I can’t get pregnant, I have to inform an entire hospital just so I don’t get shot? That’s barbaric.” You spit out, and John can’t help but agree. If the situation comes to it, he wouldn’t want the future mother of his child having to humiliate herself like that. Thoughts of you being a mother are turned away, a dreary thought for another day.

John murmurs instructions to Laswell, who notes them down with ease. He can tell she approves as her shoulders relax slightly. “We can amend this line. It’ll only require one doctor, not a board, and it can be your current gyno or someone else. The matter will stay between Ms. Riley, Mr. Price, and Mr. Riley if it comes to be.” Laswell replies. You huff, irritated that John agreed, and he smirks at you from across the table. You’re so easy to tease, probably because you’re snooty and spoiled.

“What about my bookstore?” The question escapes you after another ten minutes of Laswell droning on about childcare protocol. How if there’s no child in ten years, and all avenues have been explored, the marriage will be dissolved. “What about it?” Laswell asks smoothly. Your eyes dart between her’s and John’s. “Well, I’ll hire a manager for the Riley store, but what about in London?” John considers it, running a hand through his beard. It’s a safety risk, but who knows what havoc you’ll wreak on his home if you’re bored 24/7. Something to do would be nice.

“‘Ve got a few closed storefronts I own. You could take one.” Your mouth drops. You didn’t expect him to agree, to be honest. Imagined yourself chained to his property, playing housewife night and day. “I want to own it. Buy it from you so the deed is in my name.” You cross your arms on your chest, quirking an eyebrow like it’s a challenge.

“Fine. But you’ll let it up once there’s kids.”

“Not happening.”

“First few years, at least.”

“And are you taking a few years off for paternity leave?” Well, no. But he’s running an organized crime unit of over 5,000 members and you’re running a bookstore. John can’t have other families seeing his wife working when she’s supposed to be resting or raising his heir.

“First year after every new kid. That’s what I’ll agree to.” Soap murmurs something in your ear and you sigh with defeat. “Fine. But you have to sell me the property at fair market value and you can’t use it for any business. And I get to pick any property not in use.” This seems to be the hill you’re dying on. If you were a Made Man, he’d add in flowery language, guaranteeing you the cheapest property. But he’s already taking your home and your business from you, not to mention your womb and ten years of your life. He can spare a building.

“Agreed. Next.”

Soap continues on, his leg bouncing under the table with so much force that it’s shaking. He’s eager to get out, that’s for sure, and John can’t help but wonder why. “Ms. Riley will reside with Mr. Price at his permanent London residence. If she wishes t’ leave city limits, she must request written permission.” John quirks an eyebrow. Surely you’ll bite at this one.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth. Took you almost thirty seconds to say it. He could see you weighing your options in your mind, the price of too many amendments versus your freedom. He almost respects the move, until he remembers this is the Riley brat. Not someone to be respected.

“‘S for your safety.” He croaks out, throat dry from lack of use. Speaking to you is like breaking the fourth wall, an unsettling feeling. The full force of your glare is blazing hot, the pits of Hell contained in two eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’ve always got a gun and a man on me.” You challenge him.

“Guns run out of bullets. Men die.” He replies, smug with the fact you can’t particularly deny what he’s saying. You turn to Soap, muttering your dissent. He shakes his head, then looks over at Ghost. The bastard has his mask on, but even a blind man could see he agrees with the statement. He wants to protect his sister, a trait John knew he could rely on.

“Fine. Oral works.” You say the words like they’re bitter on your tongue, something you want to spit out. “Does it, sweetheart? Good t’ know.” You roll your eyes, then shove Soap’s shoulder for him to continue. “Can’t believe I’m marrying a manchild.” If you’d said it in front of his men, he’d have to reprimand you, but he can drop the mask in this room. He’s not going to punish his future wife this early. It would throw off the wedding atmosphere.

Laswell marks the change from written to oral permission then continues. She’s at the last few lines, thankfully. “The marriage cannot be dissolved unless in the case of maltreatment or abuse. If there is evidence of Ms. Riley cheating, 50% of the Riley Family assets will be transferred to the Price Family and the marriage will be dissolved. Any bastards will not be recognized and will be given no child support.” The word bastard echoes around the room. Laswell could say she didn’t realize the context of the word but, knowing her, it was probably used on purpose. A test.

You roll your shoulders back. Ghost’s eyes narrow into black pits. Soap’s hands clench and unclench on the table. Despite the obvious tension, there’s no immediate reaction. You don’t jump on the table and curse his ancestors or pull out a gun and start shooting. Both he expected more than the actual outcome, which is…nothing. You nod at Soap and Ghost, gesturing at them to continue.

It should be a victory. Gaz is nudging him under the table, his right-hand man all too proud that he riled up the Rileys. The feeling of success is hollow as John tracks your tense muscles, the way you turn your gaze to the contract in front of you and don’t move, even when Laswell finishes reading it. You’re just…frozen. It’s too human of a look on you, and John wonders if this is what your marriage will be like. Cold. Distant. Robotic fucking, just enough to make heirs. A fidelity clause only for you, while John can do whatever he wants as long as there aren’t any kids made. It’s a point he would have let you argue, let you add a fidelity clause for him too, but you take it on the chin. Is it punishment for the family sin you didn’t commit? The mantle of knowledge is heavy on his shoulders.

John signs. You sign. Ghost signs then hands it to the lawyers. Gaz is the witness. In five minutes, John has turned his mafia into a militarized mob and gained a wife who hates him. Every man’s dream.

Papers are gathered as the waiters clear glasses from the table. He stands only after you do, observing how Ghost has to touch your shoulder to get you to pay attention. Soap leads the way again, but John hangs back until he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. The dislike is still there, a plant that sprouted roots eons ago, but the urge to be a good husband is there as well. He was raised with the standards of chivalry, to be the picture of a gentleman. He will not treat the mother of his children like how his father treated his mother. He will be better.

“Alrigh’?” He nudges your shoulder. It snaps you out of your daydream, glassy eyes meeting his own as you take stock of the situation. “Fuckin’ mint, thanks.” It’s the most Manc thing he’s ever heard you say. “Remember bein’ promised tea, but not a biscuit t’ be found.” You snort and he’s glad for it. You seem to finally be out of whatever funk came over you. He lets you go in front of him on the staircase, keeping his eyes firmly on the sliver of skin that shows as you move and the outline of a gun tucked in your waistband. John Price does not stare at his fiancee’s arse at all. Mostly.

“Guess I’m not wife material, Price. Looks like you’re getting the shitty end of this deal.” You shoot him a cheeky grin once you’re on the main floor, and he’s glad it looks mostly genuine. You’re easier to deal with when you’re bantering, not whatever that was back there. “Jus’ bought ya for some guns, sweetheart. Not lookin’ good on the husband front, either.” You roll your eyes, biting your cheek so he doesn’t sense a laugh. The whole group is at the door now, awkwardly standing on opposite sides of the room as the two of you talk. Is this what your wedding will be like?

“I’ll, uh, see you Saturday.” At our wedding. To each other. Jesus, this is a bleak future he’s thinking of.

“See you Saturday, John.” You stand in the center of your store. Sunlight is streaming through the windows as the sun goes down, and if John were a different man, he’d tell you you look beautiful. He’d kiss your cheek, then your forehead, assuring you that your years of spats were just a form of foreplay. He’d squeeze your shoulder in reassurance, murmur a sweet nothing in your ear. Fortunately, or unfortunately, John is not that man.

“Remember, somethin’ borrowed, somethin’ blue.” He winks but there’s no charm behind it. He thinks.

“Something old, something new. A sixpence in your shoe.” You whisper it just to him, like a secret, and then turn away. Like he was never there.

John turns away, feeling oddly flustered, and doesn’t catch Gaz’s eye as they leave. He avoids Gaz’s gaze as he shakes Ghost’s and Soap’s hands. He’s still avoiding it when they get into the car, Laswell splitting off to her own chartered vehicle. It’s only when the doors close his right-hand man decides to speak.

“You’re fucked.” He says it sternly, like a teacher scolding his student. The kid’s a decade younger than John but acts like he’s his father.

“Piss off.” He’s got no idea what he’s talking about. There’s nothing between you and John. That bridge has been burned, ashes turning to dust in the wind.

Of that, he’s almost sure.

I hope the background wasn’t too boring! Stay tuned for a chaotic wedding week 😁lmk if you want to be tagged (please remember this is 18+)

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

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aew-kun-age-regression · 1 year ago

Text

"Masks can hide a lot.."

Pairing: Caregiver!Captain John Price + Little!Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Summary: Price comes up with a creative idea to help support Simon..

Warnings: Not accepting regression, bit angsty, mentioned little!Soap and Gaz, Nicknames (Bud, Buddy, Si)

A/N - An idea due to one of @little-babybell posts!!! <333 I'd like to add that I'm quite tired atm and I'm in quite a bit of pain so this might not be the best but it was fun to write and a good distraction!!!

‼️THIS IS NOT NSFW‼️

NOT Proofread

Simon was still getting used to accepting his regression. Now the team were incredible when it came to showing support, even if that was just in the form of also regressing and being protective over Simon as they regressed older, showing him that it was okay to do so. However he just wasn't comfortable.. it didn't matter happen times he was told that "it's okay" he couldn't, wouldn't believe it.

It had been a particularly rough mission. Both Gaz and Soap were surprisingly not regressed however both men had decided that after the drawling mission that they definitely wanted a shower and to go to bed. Ghost wasn't exactly in that situation though. God how much did he want to though. He was sat in his room, gear still on. He rocked back and forward on his bed, dirt and grime crumbling onto the once clean sheets.

Price always checked on the boys after missions. And so after checking on both Kyle and Johnny he knocked gently at Simon's door.

"Ghost? You alright in there?"

A quiet and muffled sob could be heard from behind the door. That was all Price needed to step into his room, quickly closing the door, Simon wouldn't want anyone to see him in this state. Price slowly crouched in front of the crying boy.

"Simon.. buddy.." He paused with a small sigh before speaking again. "Can we get you out this vest..? You don't want all this icky uniform on right now do you?"

Simon nods slowly, lifting his arms in a way to signal that he wanted help. Price chuckled a little before helping him. By the time Simon was dressed into a hoodie (of Soaps) and some joggers he had calmed down a little.

"Do you wanna watch a movie in the living room bud?" Price could deal with the dirty sheets at a different time, right now his priority was keeping Simon calm. The taskforce had a designated living room area so Price was confident that noone other than taskforce members would be able to access the room.

Simon nods and after a bit of coaxing and the two ended up on the sofa.

Simon ended up choosing to watch The Good Dinosaur. As the colourful movie played on the screen Price reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain black pacifier offering it to the small boy. Simon whined, his eyes said he wanted nothing more than to use the Paci but he also couldn't bring himself to use it, he couldn't bring himself to be that vulnerable. Even despite trusting Price with his life.

"Hey Si.. I have an idea.." and so Price proposes the idea of using the pacifier but behind his mask, almost as though using it as a safety blanket. After a moment of thinking about it Simon nodded and slowly took the pacifier from Price's hands, placing it in his mouth and adjusting his mask to make sure it was fully hidden. He ended up nodding off about half way into the film, Pacifier resting in his mouth discreetly.

It was a small step forward in getting Simon to accepting his regression for what it was, a healthy coping mechanism that helped him greatly...

#agere blog #sfw agere #sfw littlespace #sfw little post #little space #agere little #aewlittlerambles #sfw little community #aewlittlestories #cod agere #call of duty agere #caregiver!captain price #caregiver!john price #regressor!simon riley #little!simon riley #regressor!ghost #little!ghost

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deebris · 11 months ago

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Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod modern warfare #call of duty #imagine #x reader #simon ghost riley #mom reader #mother reader #task force 141 #angst #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2

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ssspace-cadet · 6 months ago

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i can imagine sitting in the living room, watching your favorite tv show bundled up in a soft blanket. soap and gaz are watching along with you, price is leaning on the counter reviewing paperwork, and ghost’s making a cup of tea.

the last few weeks haven’t been easy. if anything, it’s taken a toll on the team. you glance around, noticing soaps fingers drumming on the armchair of the couch with his brows furrowed, gaz bouncing his foot while his eyes are trained on the tv, price rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and ghost brooding in the kitchen a little more than usual.

With a determined look in your eyes, you shut off the tv, saving the rest of the episode for later. “oi what gives?” you look at soap and take his hand, tugging him from the couch. gaz gives you a puzzled look, but then you grab his hand too and pull them both to the kitchen. price and ghost noticed the chatter of the tv disappearing. ghost watched, stirring the mug in his hand slowly.

You tug soap and gaz to price, letting their hands go and scampering over to ghost, grabbing his free hand and pulling him to the trio. all four of them give each other confused looks, then look at you. “hug time.”, you mumble seriously, forcing them into a little circle with you in the middle.

price starts to chuckle lightly, and soap cracks a smile. ghost’s eyes soften, and gaz puts an arm around all of them. “bring it in lads, c’mon now.“ “cant disobey the boss can we?” “oll righ’ then.”

all of them wrap their hands around each other, circling you. a smile forms on their faces, ghosts mask tugging up slightly, his eyes looking lighter.

after the hug time, ghost sits down with you to resume watching tv. before you click play you feel a presence behind you. “nice thinkin’ pup.” you smile, scooting closer to him and stealing a little sip of his tea. he lets you.

from then on, it’s known as the team huddle, except it’s more a group hug and less of a game plan.

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bunnyinvanilla · 2 months ago

Note

hello!! i hope this is okay and that you’re taking requests because i absolutely adore your writing! your relationship with God and spirituality is also really special to me, i love to see how you connect with Him <3

could i please request a comfort fic, perhaps about sweet reader having subdrop and aftercare fluff? or just any sweet fluff with the dynamic you write. i hope you’re doing well, thank you for the wonderful content!!

I saw this req this morning and it made me smile sooo much, thank you for the kind and sweet words bubble bee, im genuinely head over heels over this message <333 im glad you can see through how special my relationship with God is, he’s literally my comfort person and i love showing how much he means to me and how much i love him, he’s so good and kind and caring ૮ ⸝⸝o̴̶̷᷄ ·̭ o̴̶̷̥᷅⸝⸝ ྀིა by the way, i love writing about daddy price in the ddlg setting, id regress all the time with him 🐰

🍼 | ddlg, agere dynamic, sugar daddy dom!john price x sugar baby little!fem reader, pure fluff, laaarge age gap, reader is 21 and john is in his mid 40s, might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but shows what their relationship also consists of.

you only wanted to be held, loved and protected by a strong, old and gruff man :( and sugar daddy!john price was the best caregiver ever to toy.

you were his little girl, so young and innocent, didn’t want to worry about adult life :( could be his princess in peace n let him handle all the responsibilities that came with being an grown up.

those burdens and life expectancies stilled the moment you sat down on john’s lap, recharging your little self, and basking in your daddy’s attention — he could read you with a single glance, the redness of your cheeks, the way your eyelids grew a bit heavier, your fidgety movements and incoherent mumbles, your clinginess, they all spoke volumes about your needs.

he moved his lips to your temple, pressing a few kisses on top of your head, his mustache was pressed against your hair, rubbing it affectionately “what’s wrong, sweetheart? feeling little, mmh?”

you nodded against his chest, curled up like a lap bunny, your legs swinging over his — you had to act like a big girl outside, just to come back home to him and sink deep into sub space. ૮꒰っ˕‹̥̥̥ ꒱ა

“dont wanna do anything today, sir,” you closed your eyes took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of his muscular, chiseled chest radiating warmth against your body, his bulging arms holding you close to him.

“have to study, but i just wanna lie down ‘n rest, read my books, watch cartoons n drink hot cocoa..don’t wanna be an adult, it’s tiring, wanna be carefree, live the kind of life God has promised us,” you snuggled your face against his pectorals, and his arm quickly moved to your head, large and warm as it begun to caress your hair, brush it with his bare fingers

“I know, doll face, don’t have to worry about a single thing, sweet girl, just be daddy’s little girl, you have me to take care of you” he pressed another kiss to your temple, and you lifted your head from his chest, pushing your bottom lip out and looking at his lips, letting him lower his head and meet your lips with eager compliance,

you titled your head to give him more access, and his tongue pushed deep into your mouth, pressing against yours, making you pour a soft, delicate whine into his mouth, which he quickly took possession of, devouring it.

he pulled away, your lips only inches apart, his warm, breath caressing your flushed, red cheeks, but you wanted another one, neediness flowing into your body and making you even clingier — you pressed your mouths together again, open mouthed kisses that he accepted with an amused, entertained expression, his sharp, intense eyes never leaving you.

“careful, angel, might give this old man a heart attack with all this affection,” his gruff joke, mumbled roughly, made you giggle against his lips, and you gave him a sweet smile, your eyes as glittery as those sticker sheets you — unexplainably to him — liked to collect.

“can you use your words to tell daddy what you need right now baby, mmh? wanna be my little girl?”

you nodded shyly, your fingers playing with the strap of his watch, “ben n Jerry’s…”

“wanna eat ice cream on daddy’s lap? your favorite flavor?”

“yes daddy, please” you nodded again and gave him your puppy pleading eyes, feeling appreciative for his understanding and deep, gentle love towards you — he was such a fierce, bulky man that only learned how to be gentle with his hands to hold you, his little princess :(

“your wish is my command, my lady, come here,” he stood up, effortlessly carrying you with him and locking your legs around his waist with a single arm, “I’ll get your favorite stuffie, probably wonders where his momma is, mmh?”

(っ˃̣̣̥ -˂̣̣̥ς)

“sleepy,” you mumbled against his neck, letting him carry you with minimal no effort — he chuckled deeply, and patted your butt playfully, “yeah babygirl, nap time after ice cream, so daddy can go do some work stuff, deal?”

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