#jonathan price x reader imagine

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s a quarter to three when the door to the bedroom opens and shuffling echoes in her ears. The covers are pulled back and a weight dips into the space behind her, a moment then strong arms pull her back to an equally strong chest. A low groan rumbles through her back and in her ear, a sleepy smile coming across her lips as she lazily rolls, more like flops in his arms, until she’s got her head tucked into his neck.

“Home late,” she mutters against his skin and his fingers trail underneath the gray t-shirt she’s got on—his t-shirt—a silent apology in the form of a caress.

“Work ran late,” he replies lowly, rubbing his cheek against her head. “Sorry, love.”

She ignores the apology. “Kick some bad guys’ asses?”

“From Mexico all the way to Chicago,” he answers with a smile.

“Good job,” she answers, running a hand up his chest, warm skin beneath her fingers, heartbeat fluttering at her fingertips. “Proud of you.”

His smile grows and he hunkers down with her in his arms, tangling their legs as he pulls the covers up to their noses. “I’m proud of you, love.”

“I said it first,” she retorts with a lazy huff, already feeling drowsiness starting to wash over her. “I’m proudest.”

“Yes, you are,” he snorts, letting his eyes fall shut. “I love you.”

Her hand pats his chest, nose brushing his skin as she tips her head up and presses her lips to his pulse. “Love you, more.”

He waits until she’s asleep and murmurs earnestly, “I love you most.”

[eccentricallygothic]

| Older |

Pairing: Boyfriend's Dad!John Price | Son's Girlfriend!You.

Description: Guys your age just aren’t the same.

Warning(s): Infidelity, age gap, Cap being a badass, teasing, thumb sucking, stuffie riding, Daddy kink, Cap smokes, allusions to biting, little boob play, lowkey intimidation kink bc it's me, power imbalance-ish. MDNI. 

Note: I, infact, am not sorry. I guess the son and Reader are in college/uni? Ps, Barry Sloane is becoming an obsession. HELP!  

MASTERLIST

. . . 

It wasn't supposed to happen and you didn't mean for it to.

Not at first, anyways. 

But your boyfriend's good natured, authoritative, brave and yet mysterious dad was always so calm and cool and laid-back with a cigarette dangling between his lips and his thick maney arms and tattoos that often hid under his shirts. He always knew what to say and what to do. Nothing was a big deal to him and he always had your boyfriend's back in the most warm and wholesome way. He was a man who understood how to take care of things and he knew everything and you were convinced there was not a problem he didn't know his way around.

At first it was curious glances on your part, then it was friendly and innocent grazes on his. It moved onto lasting looks and then longing touches. The two of you never said a word, though. No. There was no address, no discussion. Just a chilly day when you had been a little cold and your boyfriend hadn't been home. 

Class had been a little too upsetting and your boyish partner had been too caught up in his own worries. You had been in need of comfort and some big love and John had been your knight in shining armor. He had come around looking for his son in that truck of his, sensed your distress, sat beside you and reassured you like no one had ever before. His gentle voice and careful caressing was something you'd never forget. However, your other memories of that day were foggy, you were not sure whether it was out of how small your mind had become or due to the burning guilt of what it had started. But one thing had led to another and one moment you were nuzzling into his warm arms, then your soft cheek was rubbing against his beard, next your noses were touching and then your lips were on each other’s, his mustache tickling your skin as he had went about exploring you with his scarred manly hands. So on and so forth, it hadn't stopped from that day on.

Time was against the two of you and every minute was valuable. 

But that didn't stop the Captain from being an absolute tease who often brought tears to your eyes. 

Like he was doing right now. 

“Daddy, please…” You whined as you rocked yourself harder on the soft toy, your baby blue dress bunching on your thighs that were covered in his bite marks -thank God your boyfriend was out of town on a school errand- as your hair fell about your face. “Hnng…” Your hips ached a little from the strain you were putting on them but the heat scorching your loins was way too compulsive for you to even think about stopping. 

John's heavy form was relaxed against the headboard as he lazily took another drag of his cigarette, cool eyes watching you almost casually. “What is it, babygirl?” You whined at the name he used and how the baritone of his voice drilled into your soul as he did so, causing for more slick gush out of you as a result. “Hm?” Your pussy was so puffy and needy. 

“Need you, Daddy, please!” You cried out your plea, feeling yourself on the verge of tears. 

“You do?” You vigorously nodded to his raised eyebrow. John snorted before tilting his head to one side and shrugging. “I don't know, baby” you pouted at his words, gulping a thick bile down your parched throat. Your lips were so dry. “Mr. Octs looks quite cozy tucked in between your pretty little thighs” it didn't matter what you looked like, he had a way of always making you feel like the smallest most precious thing alive. 

“But Daddy!” Your protest transformed into a moan midway.

The soldier exhaled a white cloud of eye watering smoke, his eyes squinting as he did so. “Aw,” he chuckled, leaning forward to finger your hair away so he could look at you better. “But what, precious?” His eyes darkly flickered down to your flushed lips and he connected the poisonous stick to his lips again, its lit end glowing a bright amber as he did so. 

“W- Want you!” You were dangerously close but it wasn't enough. “Want you o- only!” You needed him most, always. 

“You do?” He feigned surprise as his voice strained due to how he pushed the cloudy venom into his lungs.

“Yes!” You couldn't believe it. You were doing a hell of a job at showing him what he appeared to be dubious about. He was too mean. But that was exactly what you loved so much about him; the perfect mix of strict and soft.

John shrugged. “I don't believe you.” 

Your eyes widened. “Please!” Your voice became a little too agitated and the man looked at you a bit dangerous now. 

One of his eyebrows raised. “Please… what?” 

Your pussy clenched. God. He was too much. Your chest that spilled over the neckline because of how he had pulled your dress down ached from how it was heaving. “Please, D- Daddy…” A satisfied half smile quirked one side of his mouth up. “Please, n- need you…”

“Yeah?” He cupped one side of your face and collected the half tear that threatened to trickle down your face. 

It was a sign. You must show him. Daddy needed to be earned.

So you obediently wrapped your lips around the thumb he pushed in your mouth after tracing its shape with his rough thumb pad, exhaling through his nose as his eyes squinted again and the sight made you moan. You felt your cheeks hollow as your lips made an embarrassingly loud squeaking sound but you were way too far gone. 

“Oh, baby” John chuckled as he looked down at how you were animalistically grinding against the plushie. Your knees were getting tired and you were desperate. You needed him to lay you down or bend you over or put you on your side and take you until you were full and sore from his girth. “You are drowning Mr. Octs down there” his dirty words both added to the heat in your cheeks and between your legs. You moaned out loud and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Pweeee—” you tried to plead but his thumb alone was too much for you. You were just a little girl after all. You gagged. 

“Is that how you'll suck me dry, baby? You will be good like that for me?” He watched your glittery lip gloss coat his digit as he took a small suck of his dying cigarette. You hoped with everything you had for him not to light a new one. You eagerly nodded. “Gonna be good for your Daddy?” You meweled out a yes, feeling a cold droplet of sweat trickle down the side of your face.

“Mmm” he snuffed out the cigarette in the glittery ashtray that you had bought for him in secret and hid in your boyfriend's presence -since he didn't smoke and neither did you- like your life depended on it. “And how would you like Daddy to be good to you?” The remainder of the smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke.

“Nnng” John pumped his thumb in and out of your lips now. You settled the plushie in a slightly different position so you could free one hand. “Dada~” you lisped out through his digit as you cupped your pussy before moving to your ass and squeezing it before giving yourself a light spank, the twinge of pain bringing you to your orgasm and you threw your head back, feeling your thighs violently shake as you rubbed your cunt hot on Mr. Octs' belly, feeling your insides boil over with the sweet turbulent pleasure.

“Good girl,” the Captain praised as he unplugged your mouth to shrug his flannel off. “You did such a good job for Daddy” your hands desperately darted to your boobs as you squeezed them and pinched the nipples to show him how you wanted them to be treated. Although you knew right then that John would do better and more. He always did. It was the reason why you betrayed your loving boyfriend the way you did. “Now lay back for Daddy and let him take care of you.”

You obeyed but your mouth began to run from the sensitivity and need. “I— Daddy— I—”

“Hey,” the old(er) man pushed you further down with one of your boobs and then crawled over you like a vulture. “Shut up” he softened the blow of his words with a soft kiss, making your upper lip tickled with his bushy mustache. “I got this” he knew you had nothing valuable to say. Your mind just ran too fast sometimes. Fortunately, you had your boyfriend's dad to take the weight off your shoulders. “I got you.” 

. . . 

I appreciate feedback, reblogs and thots. Let's cry about our Daddy together <3 

[sapchat]

141 head cannon based off irl story

So my brother-in-law’s brother was telling us how he met his current wife, (he’d been married 10 years then she cheated and they divorced.) they’d been coworkers and had hung out outside of work with others and stuff. Well one day he was like “hey a group of us are going to ‘local pizza place’ after work, wanna come?” And she was like “yeah sure I’ll see y’all there!”

Guys she got there and it was just him. Was a complete set up and he was just chilling. But she was like “eh whatever let’s eat”

He moved in with her 2 weeks later and they’re married with 2 kids.

It’s 141 coded. You can’t tell me that Soap wouldn’t be like “hey lass me and the boys are going to the pub later, wanna join?” And showing up to Johnny just sat at a table like ‘😄’

Gaz is a little more subtle… he invites you out but when you show up and no one else is there he’s just like “☹️ they ended up not being able to make it…” ‘😏’.

Price is also a little more subtle, he’s all “hey we’re gonna try and go try this place! I’ll even drive you!” Just for people to slowly start dropping out/getting called back to base until it’s just you two.

Simon honestly probably doesn’t even give it 2 weeks until moving in. He’s probably putting his socks in your dresser that night. He isn’t subtle about the invite either, “going to the pub later, wanna come?” Not his fault you just assumed the others were coming too…

[l0velylecter]

Hi ! I see your headcanon "random dude getting aggressive", can I ask it for Price and Gaz please ?

— the cod : mw men + being protective ! [vol.ii] characters : captain john price, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : gn!reader, headcanons, drabble rating : t for teen and up audiences , minor descriptions of violence, sfw!

01| He knew he should've been the one to go out and get coffee. You had insisted on buying it, telling him that driving for hours must have been exhausting; a quick coffee run was the least you could do. So when he saw you by the rearview mirror getting hit on by a creep and then verbally harassed for turning him down, Gaz practically shoved the car door open to interfere. His hands curled around the lapels of the shorter man, holding him in place while his voice lowered with a threat. Once the man raised his hand in defeat, spewing about how he didn't want any trouble, Gaz had let him go with one last shove; only walking away cause you told him it wasn't worth it. By the time you returned to the car, the coffee was already cold — his attention focused on you instead. Eyes apologetic even if it wasn't his fault. " Next time, I'm getting coffee. Clear?" You bit the inside of your cheek to hold your smile, already feeling better. His hand, reassuring on your thigh. " Clear." 02| You've seen Price frustrated, his head in between his hands, hunched over the table. You've even seen him angry: chairs flipped over at the knowledge that Shepherd's been lying to them this whole time. But you've never seen him furious like this — the rage rippling off him in waves, silent yet overbearing; you would've thought the temperature in the room had dropped. His grip against the man's hand was vice, grounding the man who had verbally cussed you out in place. Price's eyes flickered to yours, checking if you were injured, asking if you were okay. Once you nodded, he lowered himself to the Major's face, not caring if he was talking to a fellow higher-up officer. " If you think you're going to fucking get away with this, you're wrong."

The next day you heard the Major lost his job, and when the news broke out, you tried not to make eye contact with Price from across the dining hall: knowing that he'd stare right back at you.

a/n : hi anon ! sorry this is super short, but i hope you enjoy it ! thank you for requesting, i had a fun time writing about these two as always. happy holidays <3 

the cod : mw men + being protective ! [vol.i]

[piratesfromspace]

Night Blue (Price x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Price

Rated: Mature

Word count: 3k

Summary: "Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor." or when Price comes to your rescue.

Note: I'm not the author of this fic, it is actually a Christmas gift from my boyfriend (yes I have the best boyfriend ever)! He writes for a living and has yet to dip his toes in fanfic territories, but I think he did fantastic and was very good at writing with the female gaze in mind. His take on Price has me drooling. He used the codename Rain, but note this is not part of the Rain Universe. Please let him know in the comment what you think of his first CoD fanfic!

Content: military!fem!reader, Reader has blue eyes but no body description other than that, mention of food & alcohol, rescue mission, implied torture, competency kink, typical level of violence

Muffled voices. Metallic clinking. Crowded interior. This could be your next mission. Or the last one. But it isn’t. It’s only a date. Well, Only. If only “only” could be only. It isn’t. It’s been years. You know him. This isn’t a first. But somehow, your heart is racing. It’s a fancy restaurant, after all. In the middle of good old London. He always had great taste, if not old-fashioned. But he’s late. He’s always late. You never understood that. How could someone that precise on the field be this messy in civvy street? Where the heck is he?

Did he try to take the tube? Again? He can’t do that. Not anymore. Not after what happened the last time 141 was deployed in London. He should be in a cab right now, on his way, with a big, innocent grin on his face. At least, you hope he is. You don’t want to drink this expensive bottle alone. Spend the night by yourself. Fall asleep in a cold bed. 

“Don’t let me down, Bravo 6.”

You said it aloud with a sigh. Someone answers.

“Oh, you know I won’t, darling.”

He’s here. Where did he come from? Doesn’t matter. His noise discipline is on point. That’s something he brings from the field. Ever so stealthy, he takes the chair before you and says “hi” in his thick accent. Thick as his moustache. What’s the name again? Mutton chops or something. He’s so damn proud of it. It’s cute. You noticed he trimmed it for the occasion and probably added some kind of oil to it. You smell it from here. An odd but somewhat comforting smell. Like a cosy fireplace or a warmish glass of Scotch. You wonder if your sheets will smell like that in the morning. He’s trying to say something, but you're already lost in the thought. Split seconds where you don’t listen, only think about those infamous mutton chops climbing your legs. Focus, damn it. What is he wearing? A suit? That’s strange. Well, you always thought anything besides a loaded chest rig looked weird on him. Wait, no. That’s not true. He wears jumpers and cardigans quite nicely. You always pictured him as an old British gentleman. A sailor embarking on a frail boat. Or a hunter walking to a black forest. Something like that. Old-fashioned indeed. It’s an acquired taste. 

So you talk. Like a lot. Spend time in each other’s eyes. Those grey-blue marbles, in which you see more than what is said. The joy of the moment, of being here, yes. But also the sadness, the pain. What is supposedly left behind, somewhere on a desolated field, and yet always comes back to scratch those eyes. It’s okay. You have the same. That’s why it’s working. But you remember. You remember how bright, much brighter, these eyes were the first time you saw them.

TEN YEARS AGO

Black and white. Night and snow. Somewhere in Northern Europe, the winter wind sweeps the clouds across the sky and dusts the flakes off the trees. But two bushes remain still. Until they don’t. All ghillied up, two operators crawl in powder snow. They talk as loud as the wind allows them to. 

“Follow me and keep low, lieutenant. Target’s right ahead.” 

“Solid copy.”

Captain MacMillan leads the way in near-total silence. His second in command, Lieutenant John Price, tries to keep up. He misses the warmth of the base. Of a pub. Of anything warmer than this icy desert at this point. But he needs to stay focused. They’re deep into enemy territory, trying to retrieve an ally he only knows by reputation. A track record he admires. So he wonders. What happened? A trap? A mistake? Perhaps it’s a warning in disguise. It goes to show that no one is ever too good to get caught. To get killed. 

Listen to the captain. Do what the captain says, his head repeats. Enough to forget his instincts or the will to think for himself. Violence and timing. Once you’re on the field, only these two matter. They don’t require you to think. Only to act, and act at the right moment. Old man MacMillan told him so. And despite his age, Alpha Six is teaching him a lesson. The captain moves like a damn ghost. The cold doesn’t seem to bother him. It’s almost like the snow melts around him so he can look like a real bush. The deadliest bush in the country, probably.

“It’s a goddamn convention around here, John.”

Price looks down. The warehouse and its surroundings are barely lit, but using thermal goggles, he can already count twelve guns guarding the target, plus three engineers working on an Infantry Fighting Vehicle. Guards, not soldiers. The new plague of the free world: PMCs. Former soldiers, swapping insignias for fatter paychecks. Russian, probably. He hears them talking through the wind. Or maybe French. They hire all across Europe, after all. The captain’s accent brings him back to Scotland.

“We could wait for them to break off, but that’d be playing with the target’s life, and we’d probably freeze our asses to death… There’s only one way to do this, innit?”

“Right. Care for a suggestion, captain?”

“I’m all hears, lieutenant.”

“That IFV. Maybe it is operational. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to find out. We take it down first. C4 should do the trick. They hear the boom. We split. You dance, I get inside. Once the target’s identity is confirmed, I take the long trek home through the forest, and meet you at LZ.” 

“You forget your rank, lieutenant. Why should I be the one dancing, John?”

“With all due respect captain, you forget your back. I’m sure the target’s a big boy. Unless you’re ready for the fireman carry of your life, you let me do it. If you hurt yourself, who will put those Christmas lights on the tree? Your wife will never forgive me…”

“Alright John, lead the way.” 

They don’t need their ghillies anymore. The bushes become men. They check their weapons. Price is about to take point when MacMillan nudges him. His fatherly smile almost lights the dark.

“The next time you bring my wife into this kid, you’re going down.”

“Roger that, captain.”

One of the engineers went for a cigarette. Lord bless the smokers. They all leave their post, eventually. Even when they don’t, that smoke will shake their focus. Move fingers away from triggers, grenades, alarms. Enjoy that last cigarette, lad. This smoke’s about to kill you faster than lung cancer. MacMillan jumps from the white shadows, arms instantly locked on his prey. His combat knife bites. Screams die in the engineer’s throat. Blood bubbles explode. The wind covers almost everything. The fluff of the snow takes care of the rest. 

Words come to them, though, and both captain and lieutenant freeze instantly. Their weapons are up, ready to strike. But they don’t want to fight. Not here, not now. More words. Price is trying to make sense of them, but he skipped too many classes for that. Damn you and your bad boy attitude, he thinks, until he hears a laugh. The words are repeated, but not as a question. That delivery transcends all languages. It’s a joke. Tension goes down, but MacMillan is already one step ahead. 

Pripyat. Urzikstan. Many more. Price has fought next to the captain since he joined the SAS. It’s a weird thing, but by now, he probably knows him better than friends. Better than family. And it shows. They don’t have to speak, but that’s always been a requirement on the field. What’s more impressive is they don’t have to sign full sentences either. They’ve experienced enough settings and parameters to understand how the situation will eventually play out. So they commit to the action, together, before the scenario can even start. Like two polished pieces of the same high-precision clock, they act as one to define time itself. 

“Together”, he signs.

For the two engineers, it’s time to die. Focused on the scratched hull of their IFV, these poor bastards never see it coming. A .45 ACP bullet penetrates their skulls at subsonic speed and settles down in their brains, avoiding any ricochet on the armoured surface of the vehicle. They climb on top of the tank. Price removes the bodies to find a hatch while MacMillan gets a block of C4 ready. Except for the wind, the place is silent. Which means no one knows they’re here. Good. But it could also mean the target is dead by now. The same thought has crossed the captain’s mind. He suddenly acts faster, despite the gloves and the numbed fingers they’re supposed to protect. Price follows and places the C4 inside the IFV, next to what he remembers to be a fuel tank.

About ninety-two seconds later, John learns his memories are correct. From the safety of distance, MacMillan has blown the IFV straight to hell in one glorious explosion. But it only takes about twenty more seconds for the PMC to react, learns Price on his watch. And that’s bad news. They’re still sharp. Drilled. Ready to respond. And they do. John counts half of them spreading out of the warehouse through truck gates and access doors. Their plan is sound. They’re looking out, trying to nullify the effect of surprise with a solid assessment of who or what is outside.

And it’s only one man, but he gives them a round for their money. MacMillan uses every trick in the book and every weapon he carries to make them think there’s a whole squad hunting for them behind the snow, between those big black trees. And they fall for it. At least one of the mercenaries does, and chooses to provide firing support from the door he was supposed to shut behind his comrades. 

John sees the opportunity immediately. Timing. In just a few rounds, the mercenary will have to reload. Or maybe he will suddenly realise the door is still open and stop firing. An empty mag hits the floor, and Price jumps out of cover. Violence. He grabs the mercenary’s weapon with one hand while the other secures the kill. The bastard’s heavy, and the thump of his fall makes a lot of noise. Silenced handgun raised, Price waits for a moment, scanning the entry corridor for potential targets. But no one comes. More words, inside. More shots, outside. Chaos is settling in, everywhere.

Another opportunity, then. Price presses on, checking his corners with the precision of a machine. A door opens to his right. Two mercs, rushing out of a room to help their comrades overwhelmed by MacMillan’s tactics. John is almost as surprised as they are, but not quite. Timing. They’re too fast, and likely to fire from the hip. Violence. He empties his mag on the two targets. One mercenary drops suddenly, like a puppet cut from its strings. The other falls, but slowly. His vest caught the heat. If he’s good, there’s a chance he might go for a sidearm, or a knife. No time to reload then. Price runs and then falls on his knees to finish his target with a clean cut from his combat blade. The bastard knows death is coming, but he’s not ready to embrace it just yet. His arms move in a life-or-death reflex, and Price is stopped a few centimetres away from a kill. There’s no timing anymore. Only violence, a test of raw strength. John tries to stab the merc down the neck. The poor guy can’t do anything but buy some time, and wait a few seconds for someone to go check the corridor. But no one comes for him. Only death, in the form of a straight silver blade slowly piercing his throat.

Rolling to the side, Price suddenly remembers to breathe. Staying on his back, he reloads his weapon without thinking, his two eyes locked on the door the mercs have opened seconds prior. He counts. One when he entered. Two in the corridor. With half of them still outside fighting MacMillan, that’s two mercenaries unaccounted for. Usually, it is the wounded, the insecure or the frightened you leave behind. But when it comes to target protection, it’s the other way around. Your last wall of defence is also the toughest. The big guns stay with the target until the end. If Price wasn’t so actively trying not to think, maybe he would have remembered that. 

He enters the room. More like a hangar. It’s dark. Only the moon and distant muzzle flashes provide some light through large, rectangular windows. Timing? Put the night vision set on, find the bastards, and apply a bit of violence. Wait. Price holds on to his set. Did someone cut the power? It could be MacMillan toying with them. But more likely, the mercs have figured their opponents are properly equipped. And now, they’re just waiting for Price to put his night vision on. They want him to rely on the tool, for there’s no faster way to blind a man than putting the power back at the right moment. So Price throws the night vision set away, into the room. Five thousand quid of government-issued tech crash on the industrial floor. One second. Two seconds. The light goes back and the night vision set dies a second time, broken apart by crossfire. 

The shots from the right probably came from that little accounting office Price sees through a piece of shattered glass. He resists the urge to throw a grenade, that could threaten the target’s life. His back on the wall, he’s getting closer to the office. More words. They come from the left. These mercs can’t shut up to save their lives. What is it this time? There’s a trace of panic in the sentences. They’re probably asking for reinforcements, but there’s a hell lot of static on the other end of the line. MacMillan has done his part, and there’s no military base around anyway. In typical Laswell fashion, Kate had saved the only piece of good news for the end of her briefing, Price remembers. So good luck with that, lad. But keep talking. The echo allows John to move closer and closer to his next kill. Until the warehouse is silent again. Until something inside the office decides to move. 

It’s a lock. Inside the door, it jiggles enough for Price to notice someone’s about to leave the office. He waits for the final click to bash the gate. It arrives a split-second later, and John kicks the door like his dad used to kick rugby balls on Sunday mornings. Wood breaks. Bones follow. Price puts another bullet in another skull. It happens so fast the merc can’t even fight or scream. But his finger was already on the trigger, so his assault rifle yelled for him. The burst catches price off-guard. Bullets pound his plate and the walls alike. He falls. 

When the kick finally fades, the world is backwards. Literally. Between two containers, he sees the target, bloodied and tied up to the floor. Or is it the ceiling? He’s not sure anymore. His ears are buzzing. His chest is compressed by the impact. There’s no gun in his hands. He wants to rise but he can’t. Someone comes. Someone that’s not MacMillan. Price rolls from back to belly. The world looks finally looks right again. Well, right as it can be when you’re crawling unarmed in the face of the Grim Reaper.

His weapon raised, the last merc stops next to the target and fires. Not rounds, but words. More words. Insults, probably. Weirdly, they’re not aimed at Price. They’re for whoever is still under the same black hood they always put on prisoners. She answers, proudly, in their language. 

Wait, she?

Gunshots. They come from outside, from the forest. Surprised, the last merc tries to sneak a look between the crates. Price gathers the little strength he has left to look for a weapon. But he’s still dizzy. A hippo with a full belly would be faster. He looks up, facing death with both eyes open. Only death doesn’t come for him. The target is free. She climbs on the mercenary like a damn spider, using her legs to maintain the bastard’s weapon against his chest while she strangles him with the little piece of plastic tying her two hands. John finally finds his sidearm. He wants to help her. He wants to shoot. But SAS lieutenant John Price is not so sure of his aim anymore. So he looks, and eventually, the mercenary crumbles.

Price now moves a bit faster and a bit closer. The target’s still fighting. But her prey is long dead. There’s no breathing left in him. His neck is broken. So broken that little piece of plastic is slowly severing head from body. And yet she fights, furiously. Moving slowly, talking even slower, he tries to calm her down. She releases her grip on the dead mercenary. Describing his every move out loud, John carefully guides his blade between her two hands and next to her neck. Underneath the bruises and the cuts, she’s a woman alright. Their eyes locked. Back to the mission.

“Lieutenant John Price, British SAS. I need your codename, fast.”

“Why are you here? I had it under control!” 

Her voice is confident. Not a single taint of doubt in it. Price chuckles.

“I’m not sure I see it that way, darling. Now, give me your codename so I can get you out of here.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Again. Confident. She’s looking at the half-decapitated mercenary with disdain, not disgust. She killed before. In more ways than one. More brutal ways. 

“I had it under control.”

Her time to chuckle. She pauses. Takes one good look at him. That sort of threatening gaze birds of prey will give you if you happen to drive through their land. She measures. Judges. And weirdly enough, the whole thing ends with a sight smile.

“Codename’s Rain. Nice to meet you, lieutenant. Now, can a lady get a proper extraction, or what?”

“Sure thing, ma’am. Follow me.” 

They grab some gear and step out of the warehouse. Outside, the night is silent again. The moon shines on the black of the trees. The white of the snow. The red of the dead bodies. 

And the blue of their eyes. 

[mrsmidnight15]

Imagine getting up early and having coffee with Price. The sun still hasn't begun its ascent and everything is still quiet. Both you and John work in tandem, clearing out the old coffee grounds and filter while John gets a new one. There's a slight fumble when both fingers go to press the start button at once, coming to a compromise and pressing it together. Strong arms lift you up onto the counter, pressing soft kisses to your temple and bridges of your face as the coffee machine goes to work. Rough weary hands hesitant to leave your waist as the dripping coffee slowly comes to a stop, reluctantly pulling away to grab two mugs and fixing both to your preferred tastes.

[sapchat]

This man deserves to be a father…

dad!Price

[gazspookiebear]

Ugh idk I'm just gonna spit this out

I feel like last names are a very underrated thing in fanfics- There's so much potential!!!

Take Ghost for example

Imagine: He has his father's last name, he's not a fan of it, he falls in love and gets married, whatever.

Give this man your last name!!! Simon [L/N] would be so fucking cute in x reader fics???

Or shipping with other 141 members...

Simon MacTavish, Simon Garrick, Simon Price!!!

OR

Ghost has his mother's madien name and is very fond of it (I usually see x reader fics give the reader his last name, so I don't think I need to mention that lol)

But John Riley? Jonathan Riley or Kyle Riley?? God, I think I'd explode...

OR!!!

Combining their last names!

Hyphenate it or just put it together, idk. You can't tell me Rileygarrick or Price-Riley doesn't go hard??? C'monnn

Orrrr give him someone else's last name and make his last name into the middle name

Simon R. Price/Simon R. Garrick...

If I make an au where soap and ghost get married, y'all better BELIEVE I'm making his name Simon Riley MacTavish!!!

Sorry if this isn't coherent 😭🙏- just had to get this out so I don't forget about it

[georgiapeach30513]

Underneath the City Lights, Part 2

Summary:  Ari has some questions and a plan

Pairings:  Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, forced dancing, non con groping and sucking, choking, fingering, voyeurism, conspiracy, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

“Ari, what are you thinking?” Ari’s piercing blue eyes look out the window of his office, and over the city.  The distant neon glow of the Dirty Martini clouding anything that he should be thinking.  You had grown up, and it appeared that you were being used as a pawn by your own brother.

Your father had been a kind and just man.  Ran a respectable establishment, and now it seemed the Dirty Martini was more seedy.  Gossip of how it was just a cover for peddling more than just burlesque entertainment.  The business in flesh wasn’t anything new, but would your brother actually offer up your own body for the right amount?

“Ari?” Jonathan asks again.  His boss had become more and more distant with his thoughts.  “You’re taking her claims seriously.”

“Why would a brother send his sister into my room where she was wearing fabric that left nothing to the imagination?  Cameras pointed right at the chair I was sitting in to ‘protect her’ or was it to sell more than just her body?  He didn’t care to have her fully exposed to me.  And on display for whoever was watching.”

“Yes, the city knows you are the most fierce mafia boss since your great grandfather.  The sight of your silhouette causes fear.  He knows better than to let a video of you out of some woman’s cunt was soaking your pants.”

“I’m not worried about that video getting out.  I’m worried about a brother selling his sister for the right price.  Her grandfather was my father’s advisor.  You realize that, right?” Ari shakes his head, still unbelieving of how your family had fallen so far.  Your family was once feared, and now they were selling lust.  

“She knows something.  Look at their accounts.  They’re passed due.  They’re desperate.  Why wouldn’t they try and take from the hand that feeds them?  And fucking August Walker.  Pig.  How many dropped soliciting charges does he have?  Calvin would sell his sister to make a buck, and get them out of debt with me.  This is trouble for us.  But she also needs protecting.”

“Well, you’ve been invited back again tonight.  The diamond has a grand performance just for you.  So says this August Walker.”

“I want the place surrounded.  I won’t be moving tonight, but I’m going to see if I can get any information out of her.  She’s an asset.  And our teams can formulate the best way to get her out of the club undetected.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact she’s got a beautiful voice, and even prettier face?  Judging by the state of your pants, and quick departure to the shower you thoroughly enjoyed your time with her,” Ari smirks, adjusting his jacket before he leaves without another word.  He always was a softie for a damsel in distress.  Especially ones he felt familial loyalty to.

“Hmm,” Calvin asks, studying the footage from last night.  He had seen Ari intently watching you while you performed, but your private audience solidified his affections.  Ari, the most feared man in the city, was entranced by you.  He looks away from the screen when Ari’s mouth surrounds your nipple.  It was an image he couldn’t get out of his head, but if it meant that Ari had a distraction, it would be okay.  “What state was he in when he left?”

“You mean the huge hard on he couldn’t disguise with your sister’s juices spewed on his pants?”

“Can you not talk about my sister like that?”

“You’re the one that put her up on stage.  The one who knew exactly what Ari would want.  She’s got him wrapped around her little finger.  Imagine, Ari the man we’re trying to take everything from, wrapped around the pinky of your baby sister,” August leans back in the chair, wondering just how long it would take to have Ari completely spent by you.

“A baby sister that I control.  This is too good.  Whatever you did that night, we need a repeat.”

“No.  We need grander.  Ari needs to feel possessive and jealous that other men are staring at her tits, vying for her attention, and willing to pay for her pussy.”

“And she needs to understand who is in control,” his hand rubs over his chin as he thinks.  It was the perfect option for you to realize exactly where you stood in this operation.  You were nothing.  “Put up the cage.  Make sure she remembers that she is but our little bird.  She’s there for entertainment, and for everyone to gawk at.  Women need to want to be her, and men need to want to sink into her and own her.  And if her cunt can keep Ari occupied, and we make more money in the process, it’s exactly what we’ll do.”

“You’re a sick fuck you know that?” August stands, it was time to get you ready.  He knew the perfect costume.  The perfect way to show off your curves.

“Yeah, well, keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll be able to feel her flesh around you.”

“Aye aye, captain,” he wipes off his mouth, heading to your dressing room where he could already hear you protesting.  It was always the same.  A little brat that needs to be punished for her stubbornness. In time.  He would get to it.  In time.

Slinging the door open you take one look at him before throwing a vase of fresh flowers towards his head, and he glowers at you.  Wiping the water off his face before starting towards you, “Go away!” You scream, but he doesn’t react.  He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.

“Don’t touch me!” Grabbing at your wrist, he pulls you closer to his body.  His free hand pulling aside your robe.  Getting a peak at the swell of your chest, “You pig!” You spit up at him, and he wipes your saliva off his face as well.  The hand around your wrist moving to your throat, and he backs you up to the wall.

A thick thigh going in between your thighs, “August, please, stop.”

“How quickly your tune changed, princess.  So sure into groveling for mercy.  What have we here?” He moves aside your robe, exposing one of your breasts, and pushes you further on his thigh.  “Such a little girl and such a big attitude.”

“Let me go.”

“No, I don’t think I will.  I enjoy the view too much.  You want to act like you can pitch your little fits without consequences.  You can be heard all throughout the backstage.  Do you know why you have a private dressing room?” You shake your head no, and his glowing blue eyes finally look up at your face.  “Privacy, princess.  I could have you choking on my cock if I wanted to.  Slam you down on the vanity while I rail into you, and you’re just a slobbering mess.”

“Then why don’t you?” His grip around your neck gets tighter, and you try and gulp, but he only forces a slow grind on him.  “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Because your untouched pussy is more valuable than one that’s been stretched out on my fat cock.  You need to remember your place.  You’re worth nothing more than the wet skin between your legs.  You think you’re something special because you can sing, and you got the King to pay for an hour of your time.  His first question was how many people have had you.  All he wants is to split you open.  Conquer you.  You’re nothing.  There’s nothing special about you, but these perky tits, and tight ass.  Once you realize that you’re no more than a flashlight to these men, the better off you are.  And stop with this fucking attitude,” he leans over giving your nipple a suck before grabbing the pumps out of his pocket.  Cupping your tit as he gives your pebble peak a nibble.

“They need to be lubricated, don’t they?  I believe we’re going to suck the life out of these pretty tits.  Keep them hard the rest of the night.  They did the trick though, didn’t they.  I watched Ari unable to keep his mouth off them.”

“August,” Rita says firmly, walking into the dressing room.  “I think it’s time for you to leave,” your lip trembles as he tightens the contraption on you, wincing when he twists it all the way, and you look down in horror at your nipple sucked into the cylinder, throbbing and swollen.  He moves onto the other one, and Rita slaps a hand on your vanity.

“August, your master is calling you.”

“Shut up, you fucking bitch,” his voice mumbles around you nipple.  Standing up straight and attaching the other clamp.  “You know what the third one is for, princess?  You gonna let me suck on that clit, too?”

“August!”

“What the fuck is your problem, Rita?” He finishes up on your skin, and his body spins around to look at her.  “What?  Ari already requested an hour-long private show.  He liked what he saw.”

“And I’m sure Mr. Levinson would not like to hear about you tainting his companion.  What costume is she wearing tonight?” Rita changes the subject to business.  She was smart even if people assumed she was just your handler.  Her eyes only flick once towards you, but it was long enough to see you were stunned quiet.

“The dove costume.  She’s singing in the cage tonight.  Just so she remembers her place.  Make us proud.  Maybe you can see if Ari’s dick really is that big.  I’ll be watching,” smirking, he makes sure to hit Rita’s shoulder with his own.  Slamming the door for good measure as he walks out of the room.  He would have you.  Once Ari was destroyed by you, August would make Ari watch him own your pussy, right before he was shot in the head.

“You know how to piss him off,” Rita says, stepping up to you.  “What else did he do?”

“Nothing you didn’t see,” wiping at your tears, you look down at your chest, “God, I hate him.  I hate this.”

“Play the game,” Rita straightens herself back up, looking at you, smiling when your breathing picks up in panic, “Play their game better than they do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do.  That’s why you're not fighting him.  You’re playing their game, and you’re playing it better.  You see the bigger picture.  You’re smarter than either Calvin or August give you credit for.  Ari is a good one to have on your side.  And even you know this,” you turn around, not wanting to acknowledge anything she was saying.  Playing dumb was becoming second nature to you.

“Good girl.  You just may survive.”

“Rita, go get my costume for the night, and have Tonya come in here to do my makeup.”

“Of course.  Dulce.”

Ari snorts, but leans closer towards the stage, watching you swing inside of a cage.  Calvin wanted to pretend he was a genius, but this message was not subliminal as he thought.  It was meant for him and you.  Putting you in your rightful spot.  Caged up, pretty, and singing for a crowd.  Top completely exposed to everyone looking.

“They’re all watching her, boss,” Jonathan knew better than to stare too long at you.  Ari never took kindly to sharing his play things.  

“Put in my bid for her company.  I do not care the cost,” Jonathan looks over at his boss, wondering what exactly had him so consumed in you.  He was sure that it was more than just the information that you claimed to have.  “Jonathan, I will have company with her tonight.”

“Of course,” he heads off to tell Calvin to name his price for you for the evening.  Knowing that he would only take an hour of your time.  But he would ensure that you would not entertain anyone else.  

Ari’s eyes drift over your curves as you shimmy around.  Other people would think that you were confident in this performance, but he knew better.  Watching as you try to hold the microphone in a way to cover your bare chest, or even the amount of times you would turn around, showing only your feathered ass to the audience.  

He didn’t care.  He would have you alone soon enough.  Away from these prying eyes, and men that were licking their lips and ready to devour you.  He had to get you away from here, regardless if you had information or not.  Your brother had brought you out to slaughter, and left you to be nothing more than a pile of flesh, rhinestones, and feathers.  

The ache in Ari’s pants told him he was definitely attracted to you, but he would be more than just a hungry man.  Unlike the men and women in here that are chomping at the bit for a tiny morsel of you, he wanted you to be able to be the little girl that couldn’t look people in the eyes when she talked.  Now you were a dancing fool for money and pleasure.  Business of the flesh would always be there, but you didn’t want it.  

The other girls laughed, and giggled on stage.  You kept looking off to the side at someone.  Waiting for approval, and continuing on your number.  Ari had questions, and when you were safe, he would get answers.  Was it just Calvin controlling you?  Or was there someone else you feared?  And should those people lay a finger on you, they would be dealt with.

“Mr. Levinson,” Ari turns to look up at the gentleman that dared to take his attention away from you, “I’m August, I’ve come to take you to your private room.”

“And you can wait until she’s finished.  I’m quite enjoying the show.”

“She’s nearly finished.”

“Then you won’t mind waiting.  Are you in charge of her wardrobe?” August nods, smiling as Ari looks only at you.  “Make sure her tits are covered.  I’m the only one that gets to look at them.”

“Sir?”

“I will pay extra to make sure she’s properly dressed for my tastes.  In the private room she can wear whatever she prefers, or nothing at all.  On that stage I want her covered.  Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And do me a favor, quit pumping her nipples up.  They look bruised.  Perhaps you’re using too much suction, August?” You bow, and your arms immediately cover your chest as Ari stands up.  Proving just how much taller than August he was.  Ari’s shoulders are much more broad.  Ari didn’t know why, but he loathed this man.

“I…her nipples need to stay hard.”

“Her nipples will be covered up for all of these people, but me.  I can make them plenty hard on my own.  You may show me the way to the private room.”

“It’s our finest room, sir.”

“I’m sure it is,” buying his time.  That’s all he was doing.  Waiting for the proper moment to strike.  No one would ever find you, and they would never make you feel like meat again.

“Ari,” you whisper, walking into the darkened room.  He was already comfortable and sitting on a couch, his legs spread out wide when he lifts his finger, instructing you to spin around.  Unlike August’s demands, you obey promptly.

“C’mere, and remove your robe,” you let the silk slide off your skin, and only a shelf bra, and barely there panties decorated your body.  Sashaying your hips as you walk closer to him.  You are much more confident with just him.  He’s even able to catch a glimpse of your velvety and glistening folds as you go to straddle his lap.  Whoever chose this outfit needed a raise.

Settling on his lap, his hands circle around your ass, pulling you flush to his crotch, and you lean forward, kissing along his neck as you start grinding on him, “They want to kill you,” you whisper into his ear, leaning back off his chest, and placing your hands on his knees, you continue your motions.  Those panties exposing more and more of you.

Your swollen tits did look good in your bra, and they were beckoning him to grab them.  Giving you a pinch, you wince, making him stop immediately.  “You’re bruised.”

“He left me in those things too long, and they were too tight.”

“I knew it.  I’ve got,” you shake your head no, looking up at the camera again.  “What is it that you want?”

“Make him pay for earlier,” Ari could feel his blood boiling already.  He didn’t know who he was, but he did something to you.  “Put on a show for him.  He’s watching.”

“August?” You give him a small nod, reaching to move your panties aside, you are drenched.  Your body still rolling over top of him.  One look up at him, and you nod, giving him permission to touch you.  “I won’t do this if you’re not okay with it.”

“If I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have my pussy spread open for you.  I want him to pay.”

“This is only a business agreement.”

“Exactly,” you agree, moaning when his finger slides up your slit.  Giving your clit a roll between his finger and thumb, he pushes two fingers into your core, and you are no longer pretending when you whimper at how well he fills you up with only two thick fingers.  Looking down to watch him pumping in and out of you.

“Son of a bitch!” August hits the table, and slides his chair away from the screens.  “Fucking whore!”

“Isn’t that her job?” Rita laughs.  It served him right.  August and Calvin could play their little games with you and Ari, but they were idiots.  Wanted to start selling you because of Ari’s interest, and then get pissed off when he enjoyed his merchandise.  

August looks back at the screen as Ari spits down into your hole, his other hand grabbing at your tender nipple, and pulls.  Making you move closer to him.  “Fuck my fingers, and tell me what they’re planning.”

With your body hunching over him, you lean into his neck, and no one was any the wiser as to what you were doing.  No one could see your mouth moving, or what you were saying.  All they could see was you rising and falling onto his fingers.  Viewing your legs quivering as your walls clench tight around him.  

“Growl all you want to, August.  He paid for ‘the flesh in between her legs’.  Now how will you ever stack up to him?”

“You’re a bitch just like she is.”

“And she’s the product, isn’t she?  That’s what you and Calvin wanted.  I believe she’s doing her job well.  Enjoying herself in the process,” August grits his teeth when your head tilts back on your shoulders, and you ride over Ari like a crazed woman.  Tits bouncing in his face when he sucks on one of your hardened buds.  “Don’t be jealous.  You can’t sell sex, and get jealous when people enjoy your wares.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Then quit getting hard.”

“Get out of here!” He yells, and Rita slowly backs away from him.  He had an erection that needed to be tended to.  He’s just thankful that all you were feeling was Ari’s fingers, and not something else.  It was almost time.

Ari wipes at his beard as he gets into the car.  Looking out in the city lights, “The house better be prepared.  I need her out, and need myself to go missing.  You’ll be in charge, but I’ll be the one driving.  Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” his assistant responds.  Not making a comment about the state of Ari’s clothes, or the red bruises on his neck.  Didn’t want to mention how Ari kept making excuses to have his hand near his mouth, or was constantly readjusting his pants.  “What did you find out?”

“They want to overthrow me.  Ahh,” he lets out an evil laugh, looking back at the Dirty Martini, “They’ve made an enemy of Dulce though.  She wants blood.”

“She wants your dick.”

“And she can have it whenever she wants.  But she’s much more valuable than that.  Have a jet ready.  We move tomorrow night.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @softsatnin @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @buckysteveloki-me @whimsyplaty92 @elrw24 @sunshine-midnight-rain​ @lovsalpkin​

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s subtle things they notice in Price’s demeanor that tell them something’s going on in his personal life. A flash of joy in his eyes at a text here, a private phone conversation outside the building there. It’s only until Ghost makes a note of Price’s new aftershave that the man seemingly fumbles his reply with, “Oh, just wanted to try something new.” Something new, their asses. The man’s been using the same aftershave since he was sixteen. Why change now?

With no tact at all, it’s Soap that breaks the silence in the break room with, “So, who is she, Captain?”

Even Ghost rubs his temples at that, but Price looks shocked. “What?”

“The lass that’s got you tripping over yourself. Going home at five-thirty on the dot. Who is she?”

Price looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole, an uncharacteristic expression on him and he clears his throat, scratching at the table. “Just a woman I met at a shop the other day.”

“Just a woman?” Gaz retorts with a smile. “C’mon, Price, you changed your aftershave.”

He flushes. “I just wanted a change.”

“After thirty years of using the same wintergreen scent you got from your old man?” Ghost mutters, cocking a brow. “Try again.”

Price’s neck disappears into her shoulders. “She thought it smelled nice when we were shopping one day.”

Soap smirks. “Oh…he’s whipped.”

“I am not!” but his defense betrays him as crimson creeps over his skin.

“How old is she?”

At that, Price falls silent and he looks away. “She’s…a few years younger.”

Soap blinks. “Sugar baby younger or just younger?”

“Dude,” Gaz gripes. “Subtlety much?”

“What? No one else was ripping the Band-Aid.”

“She’s in her late twenties,” Price answers. “Twenty-nine.”

“Damn, she’s almost half your age.”

“I…I know,” Price says, practically deflating. “I keep trying to tell her that there’s someone younger and better for her, but she won’t have any of it.”

Before anyone can even break that silence, Price’s phone rings, Elvis’ Burning Love echoing between them, and he’s just a hair short of Soap’s fast grip to answer. Price is spitting as he jumps for his phone but Soap answers it on speaker.

“Hello! You’ve reached Captain Price’s phone.”

Uh…is Jonathan there?

“Oh, Price is busy at the moment, but I’m one of his guys. I’m Soap.”

Oh! Jonathan talks so much about you! You and Kyle, and Simon! He’s so proud of the three of you.

“See that’s surprising, because he hasn’t told any of us about you, Missus Price.” Soap smirks at Price as the man suddenly goes still.

Oh—I, we—he, oh, we’re not—we’re not married. We’re just...dating.

“I dunno, Missus Price, you got him to change his aftershave after thirty years. I think it’s a sealed deal.”

You think? I wouldn’t mind being married to Jonathan. He’s…everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s amazing. He takes care of me, even though he doesn’t have to. And he’s always telling me that whatever burden I can’t carry, to just give it to him, because he can. He…he’s the love of my life. I’m so proud of the man he is.

Soap’s smirk melts into something soft, much like the Captain in front of them. “Yeah…he’s good like that.”

He is. Look, I was just calling to ask what he wanted for dinner, but I’ll just make his favorite. I know he’ll be happy with it regardless. And, John, will you…will you tell him that I called and that I love him? And that I hope he has a wonderful day?

“Yeah, Missus Price, I’ll tell him the second I see him.”

Thank you, John. And tell the others that they’re welcome to come visit any time. I know I can’t wait to meet all of you in person.

“Neither can we. Have a good day, Missus Price.”

You too, dear.

Soap hands Price back his phone and smiles at him. “So, can we come over for dinner?”

The lot expects Price to rear back and punch him, but he’s still trying to pick himself up from the puddle he melted into. “Yeah…I think that will be okay.”

[eccentricallygothic]

You've a sore throat but you like to refuse medication so Older Boyfriend!Captain John Price…

You best believe the man uses his age as a reason to be bossy especially if it concerns your wellbeing. 

“No, meanie, stop!” You fight against him although it's always in vain because the older man is a wall of muscle and strength. “Ugh, get away!” You try to smack away the strepsils he holds for you in a firm pinch.

After the gargles he forced on you just now by trapping you between his body and the sink, you will die before you take the strepsils! 

The oldie always gets the worst tasting ones too! 

Something about this specific flavor makes them more effective, if it even makes sense which it doesn't!

One con of having an older partner that you've discovered -damn your type- is that the fuckers are fucking stubborn. 

They're always right because they've ‘seen more’ and ‘know better’ and you're just a kiddie brat.

“Come ’ere” he grunts in his burly man voice, eyebrows knitted together as he collects your struggling form with one arm and pushes the lozenge in your mouth with the other. 

“Nu! Ugh! Leave me alone, I don't like you!” You cough at the taste that manages to permeate itself in your mouth and huff as you glare up at him before sealing your teeth shut. 

“Yes, now say a real big and cute ah for me~” he shimmies open a slot between your lips, completely unfazed by the ‘fight’ you're putting up, before pushing the little coin of medicine inside with the help of his thumb.

“Hate you!” You puff your cheeks. “Y'ur a brute!” You further express your disapproval by pushing both of your hands into his hard chest the moment he releases your hands that he was holding captive behind your back. “Meanie, meanie, meanie!” Tiny fists drum on his rock hard chest.

The bear of a man only smiles before leaning down to press a cheeky kiss on your lips. “I love you more.” You roll your eyes at the satisfaction on his face.

You'll get him back, and soon!

. . .

had a rough day. this is pure coping.

[imkumichan]

Call of Duty x Makima!Reader

Call of Duty with Dazai! Reader

Warning: MC’’s personality is based on Makima from Chainsaw-man.

took place after modern warfare 2022

.

“Captain price, you’ll meet my intel in the second’s safe house tomorrow”

Price, he must admit that the person he’s seeing in front of him right now is not what he imagined. A beautiful young woman with doll-like features wearing a dress shirt and black tie looking at him with her lips curved into a smile, which he noticed it doesn’t reach her eyes.

She was standing with both hands behind her back, with how young she looked, Price would not be surprised if she was a greenhorn in this field, but as good as Price could read people, he doesn’t see anything that could tell him if the woman was nervous. In fact, she seems relaxed and confident.

“Captain Jonathan Price”

a sweet, gentle voice coming out from her mouth, greeting his ears like a melody, he was sure, if he was a lesser man he probably would get slightly distracted by how alluring it was.

“Just Price is fine,” he said, noting how the young woman walking toward him. As she was coming closer, he then feels something is off with the woman, something about her just making him uneasy. And not many people could make him feel that. He then decided that he will ask Laswell about this woman before they will be working together with the rest of his team. He will test her himself if he needs to. He will make sure that there would be no more back-stabbing to his team. 

“Looks like we’ll be working together until death do us part”

He wonders where Laswell found this woman.

[l0velylecter]

hiii just came across your site and your hcs of the cod men are so fucking amazing!!! i was wondering if you could do a part 2 of the size difference imagine w/ the other cod men characters? but only if you're not busy!! thnxx

— the men of cod : mw ii with a tiny s/o [vol.ii ] characters : captain john price, phillip graves, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick, rodolfo parra fandom : call of duty modern warfare ii tags : gn!reader, headcanons additional warnings : size kink, manhandling, explicit descriptions of sex ( not me writing this on christmas eve LOL it feels illegal )  rating : e for explicit, nsfw!

01| His breath ghosted against your nape, the invisible hair standing up, begging to be pet. Price's chuckle reverberated down your spine, pricking the skin with goosebumps as his beard scratched the surface. With his size, he could easily have you bent over his knee, four fingers sinking into your body to spread you wide. He never gets tired of seeing you like this, disheveled and writhing just from his hands, struggling to adjust to the size. And when you'd try to grind yourself down the hilt, he'll firmly still your hips ( even if his own self-control is on the brink of collapsing.) — Patience, love. I need to be thorough with you.

02| As much as you enjoy standing up to Graves, sometimes, there's something in submitting yourself to him that feels downright euphoric. And Graves is more than happy to manhandle and fuck you into a mating pres. With your size, he's obsessed with how easy it was to get you into this position: ankles on either side of his shoulders as he drives his cock into your quivering hole. Your body was coiled tight, the pleasure so intense it was painful, tears pricking your eyes and running down your neck, which only turned him on even more. His body curved and bowed, hips pressed hard against you, arms below your body, and hands gripping your shoulders. And when he comes, hot spurts of cum spilling, dripping down your stomach, he kissed your leg. Teeth latching on to skin as he groans desperately — Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby you're so tight, so good, so wet for me. Do you like that baby? I know you do. I know you can take it. You're a good girl. 03| The heat was blooming against your abdomen, seizing your body into a spasm as Gaz pushed your legs apart to push himself deeper — hands, firm and steady against your hips to maneuver you however he wanted. He had you against the couch, the wall, the kitchen counter, and now atop the bed. And you enjoy being overpowered and pinned against any surface for him to take, to please. Even after preparing you, he still needed to be careful, arms on either side of your face to not crush you. You shuddered, feeling your stomach bulge, his cock pulsing inside. He pats your thighs in encouragement, thumb stroking you down your high as you come undone — That's it, babe. I got you. I got you. 04| You never expected this from your sweet Rodolfo. And how can you deny him when he had asked you so kindly? Even on his knees, with you sitting across him, he still reached your eye level, your hand absentmindedly smoothing down his arms to feel the muscle. He was so careful with you that you sometimes forgot how big he was. As you tried to sink onto his cock, his hands eased you down the hilt, head lightly hitting the headboard when you started rocking back and forth: fingers digging into his broad shoulders. Even when he was setting the pace, handling you like a doll, a toy, he was still gentle, only roughly pulling you down to push you to finish — Gracias, mi corazón. Thank you.

a/n : anon thank you so much for requesting ( and your sweet compliment ) ! i had so much fun writing this hahaha it’s been a while since i wrote something so steamy 🙈 i hope this lives up to your expectations + happy holidays <3

imagine the men of cod : mw ii & size difference [ vol i ]

[ragingbookdragon]

STOP THIS SHIT IS SO FUCKING CUTE OMG

hello! i'm pretty sure your requests are open but i'm not sure if your write for all the cod characters if possible could you write for a reader who does beauty pageants/is a beauty queen and is really famous because of it. Thank you!!!!!

ghost team/141 with a beauty queen s/o

tags: established relationships, reunions, fluff, jealousy, talks of death/kidnapping, no actual death or gore, general chaos

characters: simon, johnny, gaz, price, alejandro, rudy, farah

a/n: this wasn’t exactly specific so i’m assuming it’s their s/o, i’m sorry if that’s wrong 😭

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

he never actually talks about you

if word got out at all he knows he’d be putting you in danger

so everyone in his squadron is surprised when they touch down and a beautiful woman is standing there

they’re immediately gossiping, accusing each other of holding back on a relationship status- no attention lands on simon

johnny genuinely thinks you’re gaz’s girlfriend due to how young and vibrant you look (which mildly offends simon- is he saying he looks old 😭)

gaz on the other hand thinks you could be dating alex or rudy- who immediately gets flustered whereas alex laughs and said he wishes

this annoys simon, so he walks away from them, towards you. no one seemed to notice- but when you call simon’s name excitedly and fling your arms around him they’re all stunned

johnny SPRINTS over, wanting to meet you and tease his friend- simon punches him in the arm

“you’re beautiful by the way, i’m johnny. so how long have you been seeing this grumpy ass- ow!”

simon rolls his eyes, whereas you shook johnny’s hand and met all his colleagues

of course, they all complimented you, giving you wide smiles and sweet words

simon feels a spark of jealousy, protectiveness- he wants to pull you away but that would be extremely out of character

you notice simon’s discomfort and hold onto his arm, deciding on telling them the basics such as your name, occupation, how long you’d been seeing simon and the fact you were his fiance

johnny and gaz go wild- literally trying to get more information- yet price pulls them back

“sorry about them. have a nice evening, ma’am. you too, si’.” he smiles, and simon finally gets to leave

pampers you over you pampering him- he loves taking care of you

washing your hair, cooking for you, all that domestic stuff drives him wild <3

will only allow you to give him a massage when he’s half asleep, lord knows he needs one- but he will allow you to wash the fading face paint from around his eyes and press kisses along his lips and face

he’s very happy to be back with you, hugging you tightly and swaying with you

if you came home with another trophy from a pageant he’ll congratulate you then say sorry for missing it- so many kisses, he’s so proud!!

johnny

OH MY GOD THIS BOY LOVES YOU SO MUCH

will NOT stop talking about you

shows many pictures of you to the team- they think he’s lying 😭

simon teases him about having a ‘fake girlfriend’

gets so defensive of you, if someone even tries to say your images are ‘photoshopped’ he goes off on one saying how they haven’t met you and how you’re really pretty!

as soon as he can, he gets you to meet his friends :)

he hates feeling like he’s leaving you out of things when he goes out with colleagues, so he finally brought you along when your schedule was clear and literally everyone nearly fainted from shock

“so johnny wasn’t lying, huh?” “seems that way.”

he’s so prideful- HE pulled YOU, he’s so proud and loves you so much

keeps an arm around your waist, leans into you, kisses your cheek- loves pda

he makes sure to watch EVERY single one of your pageants- he gets upset at other models trying to one up you

the others just thought he was really into it because he has 3 older sisters, but they didn’t actually know it was you in them so they were really mean about it 😭

LOVES helping you pick out costumes or outfits, LOVES IT

will beg to do your makeup- he was used as a model for his sister’s stuff when he was younger so he knows the basics about makeup

it’s a little sloppy tho, he doesn’t practice so you’ll look a little… off

if you had to join some sort of reality tv style beauty show, he will kick EVERYONE out of the rec room to watch every episode and records every episode he misses on his phone 🫶

he loves you so much and is so supportive

-

gaz

he’s only open about it if people ask him if he’s dating anyone

so of course, johnny being johnny, asks one day

“hey are you seeing anyone?” / “oh yeah, my girlfriend back homes waiting on me.”/ “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL US????” / “no one asked..?”

when he shows everyone a picture of you, they’re all so shocked

“y/n l/n??? are you sure?!” “nice try kid, she’s a literal celebrity” type attitudes all around

he silently plots to prove them all wrong

texts you asking to meet him when his mission is over ‘because he misses you’ when in reality he wants to rub it in his friends’ faces- he’s so mischievous

as soon as johnny sees you he trips and falls out the jeep- he thought he saw a ghost or smth

“baby!” you grin, engulfing your boyfriend in a hug. he twirls you around as you kiss his cheeks saying that you missed him

“i missed you too. come meet my friends.” he’s so sweet

smug little smile as you talk to everyone, holding your hand, eyeing each of their surprised faces with pride

his plan worked perfectly and he was in such a good mood

anyway- as a general lover, gaz is so sweet

he’s got some spare cash- so he likes to spoil you

literally loves buying you dresses or makeup palettes and accessories, even if you can buy it yourself

adores your pageants- doesn’t understand them, but watches them anyway just to see you smile

if you get all ‘oh don’t look at me, i haven’t got ready yet’ type of person, he puts a whole ass rule on the house saying you’re not allowed to dress up fancy- he wants to see you however you look because he loves you no matter what <3

-

price

is very secretive. more than simon. doesn’t want you getting tracked down, linked to him or worse

comes home silently in the dead of night and kisses your face gently

you wake up when he gets in bed, rolling over and hugging him tightly.

“you should of told me you got home” / “no, no. it’s okay. i don’t want anyone affiliated with me seeing you… you’re too precious.”

so protective, when someone recognises you in public he’s got a hand on your lower back- if anyone asks about him you literally just flat out say he’s your husband (because he is), as much as he doesn’t like it

he understands you may want to be public about your relationship, but he doesn’t want the wrong people seeing it and coming after you- it’s his worse nightmare

he’s literally had nightmares of you dying, is so paranoid sometimes that he forgets to relax and spend time with you

as badly as he wants to keep it under wraps… he loves you too much. if you wanna go to dinner, he takes you. wanna go shopping? sure, where do you wanna go?

loves pampering you, like the others, but his pampering is much more personal or gentlemanly (not that the others aren’t) he loves showering with you, zipping up the back of your dress, holding the door for you, etc

literally the definition of gentleman, he loves doing things for you

calls you beautiful and gorgeous every time he sees you

can’t always watch your pageants because he’s such a busy man, but he does his best- he definitely forgets everyone’s names and does not understand anything

-

alejandro

you were a big face in las almas, but no one in his life other than you, his and your families and rudy knew about him being your husband

johnny saw your face on a billboard modelling something and immediately was like “she’s so pretty omg??”

alejandro grew very jealous, but understood people would react that way to you a lot considering you’re a beauty queen

like price, he keeps everything under tight secret- he’s dealing with a literal cartel, he can’t say a peep about you in any presence in case the wrong person hears it- your life is literally on the line

when he’s home with you, gives you gentle kisses and hushed words on how much he loves you

as much as he wants a normal life, he can’t take you out to places, el sin nombre has eyes and ears everywhere and if the cartel were to see you it would mark you as a target immediately- however, he does want to take care of you and give you a semi-normal life

he goes out, buys takeout for you, little gifts, ect

loves how your eyes light up when you see him, it’s what he lives for

doesn’t get to watch any pageants you’re in, but loves hearing you talk about them and you’re experiences

hugs you tightly at night, he’s so protective and silently scared- he doesn’t want you to get hurt. his worse nightmare is waking up and you’re dead or missing

such a clingy lover, he’s so romantic too. he wants you to know he genuinely loves you

brings rudy around sometimes, it’s always lovely because you and rudy are like best friends (i.e sneaking off to plot a prank whilst alejandro is terrified thinking something happened to you)

he adores making homemade food for you, it’s one of his passions, not to mention his food is amazing and it’s the least he can do for you

gets so involved in any gossip you have, literally sits on the couch with you gossiping and expressing his feelings on the situation/drama

will repeat the gossip to rudy on missions because he’s awful with drama, loves talking about it (in spanish so the others don’t really understand it)

-

rudy

same as alejandro, he’s petrified something could happen to you

unlike alejandro, he loves going out to places with you

he’s a pushover too, if you wanted to go on a day out for your anniversary, he’s all there

keeps his pistol on him because he doesn’t want any trouble and wants to protect you

calls you his mariposa (butterfly) because he thinks butterflies are beautiful like you :,) <3

avid cuddler, yet he’s the one on your chest, head resting on you as you talk about all the drama going on with other models/beauty queens

adores you, stares at you with lovesick eyes because you’re just so pretty!!

doesn’t have a lot of money, but saves up a lot to buy you nice things :)

he’s reluctant, but after johnny nagging him he introduces you to the team- much to alejandro’s disapproval because he’s like your older brother and wants to protect both you and rudy

rudy will one hundred percent spend some time in and out of missions looking at pictures of you, you fuel him and give him a reason to fight to survive when he’s away

one hundred percent has a locket with your picture in it- the picture is of the two of you on your first anniversary with rudy smiling brightly and you kissing his cheek- but he isn’t stupid and leaves it at base just in case anything happened to him

watches your pageants on his phone, absorbs every drop of information so he can talk about it with you either on the phone or when he gets home

he’s such a dedicated lover too, spend so much time with you because you’re his favourite person :)

-

farah

gushes about you around base

like literally brags

“yeah that’s cool alex, but have you seen my girlfriend?” / “yes. as a matter of fact we all have”

rerun nights? rerun nights

will rewatch everything you’ve been in with you, face masks, junk food- she wants you to be a normal person outside of your ‘beauty queen standards’ that the company you’re under force onto you

never expects you to uphold those standards around her, she loves you and wants to let you be yourself <3

adores how you look no matter what- her gallery is full of candid shots of you and selfies of the two of you

nights out!!!! loves going out with you, especially if alex comes along because you guys are a triple threat

if you’re not from urzikstan like her, she wants to introduce you to her culture and wants you to do the same, loves cooking traditional meals for you and wants to know everything about your country

her wallet has pictures of you two in a photo booth, it’s her favourite things to show everyone around her

she CRAVES that domestic life with you, but also craves the chaos that comes with your fame

wanna chase paparazzi?? she’s leading the charge and will bark at people- she’s going the full mile

the public love her, they literally adore you two

interacts with your fans a lot too :) she loves watching them go wild when you post a pic of the two of you on a date night

[kniesyswrld]

Outfits I’d KILL To See NHL Players Wear

[bogusboxed]

Boxtober - Day 9: "Don't Buy A House Off Craigslist."

Day 9: -The Puppeteer X GN!Reader “Sounds like a you problem.” X “Up Against the Wall Kiss."

-I do not own "The Puppeteer/Jonathan Blake" and do not take credit for him.

-Rating: Viewer discretion is advised !!

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of suicide, a fairly detailed kiss scene, and harassment from a stranger.

-

It's been a couple of months since you moved into this house. The house you now call home. You didn’t get many visitors, and when you wanted to see someone, they’d convince you to go to their house. Even the movers didn’t step foot inside, and most delivery services, if they knew, wouldn’t go further than the front lawn. And it was all because you moved into a house where someone committed suicide.

The day you bought the house, you didn’t even bother to look into its history. Your eyes only saw the unbeatable mortgage and pricing. I mean, of course, you looked at the interior and whatnot, but you thought people stayed away from it due to how long it’d been up. You thought they were scared of vintage houses. But, you were wrong. They didn’t like the house because it was haunted. At least that’s what the locals told you. They swore up and down you’d be running out of that house in no time, but it never came.

You assumed they were trying to have you leave because they despised the new people. Which made sense since they were a very small community of people and didn't have many visitors. And because of everything, you couldn't bring yourself to believe in the ghost. Because you’d been living there for months with nothing ghost-like occurring. And the only scary thing was how many teenagers came around to chant the name "Jonathan Blake". You always have to tell them off. You didn’t know what a sick and twisted high they got out of that. For fucks sake, let the dead be dead. You couldn't imagine how unbearable they'd be on Halloween night. Or maybe they'd leave you alone, believing this would be the height of the haunting.

Last night had been unbelievably rough. You had those kids come back, and you had a nightmare. A dark and gruesome nightmare. A nightmare about the suicide of Jonathan Blake. You felt terrible, but it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t control what you dreamed about. Even so, you'd hoped you'd forget it more quickly. You needed to stop talking to the locals so much. They were getting to you. You forced yourself up, feeling the apparent sweat that had formed on your forehead. Your current bedroom was cold as you grudgingly got up. You came into contact with the wooden flooring as you yawned. You changed into some sweats and a shirt. You had no intention of doing anything. It was the weekend, after all. All you wanted to do was binge on scary movies and sleep some more. You walked through the house and you could hear your breath and steps echo. You then made it to the kitchen. The sun was fairly out due to it still being early in the morning. So you didn't need to turn on the light as you made your coffee, eagerly waiting for it to be done.

You stood there for a moment, waiting for your coffee to dispense as the doorbell rang vigorously. The disorienting noise rang throughout the house as it hurt your ears. Your hands jolted as you made your way to the door as fast as you could. You were going to snap if it was those kids again. As you cautiously opened the door, you were met with a pale man with short dark brown locks framing his face. And with that, he was adorning stereotypical mailman's attire, even adding a blue baseball cap on top. He held out a brown package. It must have been something that you ordered a while back.

"I believe this is for you." At first, he didn’t look at you but then turned to you. His face changed after staring at you for an uncomfortable moment. "Oh, good morning," he said cheerfully as he leaned against the doorframe. "I didn't expect to see an angel." his teeth were whiter than him. You’ve never heard someone unironically use such an internet pickup line.  "Um, thanks for the package," you said as you slowly shut the door in his face as he took the privilege of forcing it back open. "You know, it’s pretty rude to do that, but I'll let it slide." he looked at you for way too long, making sure to take you all in as you gave him a vile side-eye. The man stepped a foot into your house as you stared at him harshly. You didn’t know how many hints you had to give this man before; you’d have to slap him. You could feel yourself cringe. You would've preferred the angsty teens over this any day. He then took a step into your house as you backed away. "What are you doing?" you asked him as he tried to make his way into your house. "I'm making sure the package is delivered," he reassured. You could right-hook this man. He wasn't much taller than you. You could tear him apart. You told yourself. You weren't going to be the next death in this house. He then made his way completely into the house. He was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t know what to do. You had to put your foot down.

"Hey, I’m not into you like that and I also don't feel comfortable with this, so please get out of my house." you were about to snap out on this man. He frowned harshly, his face tense a good amount. "I'm just doing my job, so why are you like that?" he raised his tone and acted as if he was in the right. This guy had the nerve to intrude into your house and then say that. You cussed him out. "It's my house and because you're fucking weird," you told the mailman, as he was taken aback for a second. "Oh, you're with that emo over there?' 'Is that why you won't give me a chance?" he asked, squinting in your living room. Who was he talking about? It was just you and you alone in that house. You had no roommate or partner. You knew right then that this guy was mental and you needed him out. You were going to go call the cops on the man as he started to cuss at whatever was behind you.

"Who?-" you stuttered as you heard loud footsteps marching their way toward the both of you. You heard them right behind you as they got closer to you. You felt a sudden cold surge go right through you as there was now a solid figure right in front of you.  Someone just walked through you completely, and you could still feel their touch. You could still feel the shivers that had run up your spine. The feeling was so ethereal but so unnatural, yet you wanted to feel it again. "Boo." The figure tilted his head as the mailman screamed violently. He fell to the floor as the figure towered above him. "Jonathan Blake?" he whispered as he picked himself up and ran out the door. The mailman screamed "Puppeteer" as he stuttered. He managed to cuss the both of you out as he ran for his truck. As soon as it was just you and the spirit. You could feel yourself swallowing. Fear injected itself into your system, but you couldn't manage to run. You were enchanted by whatever that past feeling was and now by the unhuman man in front of you.

The figure wore a gray beanie on top of his jet-black hair. His skin was an irregular gray, but that wasn’t the most out-of-place thing. It was his glowing yellow eyes. His golden eyes radiated toward your normal ones. He had no pupils or whites. It was all yellow. You couldn't stop staring in awe. You should have been terrified, and you were, but your fascination with him had overcome your fear. "Boo," he muttered again, getting even closer to your face. You could tell he didn't have his shoes on the ground. Instead, he was floating a couple of inches off of the hardwood floor. He looked into your eyes, tilting his head. He appeared to be questioning you more than you were questioning him. You didn't move or run. You just couldn't. You were mesmerized by him. And even so, you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest. You didn't even feel like you were there. You were just lost in his gaze as sweat fell to the floor. "Interesting," he said, raising his eyebrows as he put himself back onto the ground. You could feel his gaze burn into your trembling frame. He was still taller than you. It didn't even make a difference if he was in the air or not. He still stood strong. The room only seemed to get colder with him in it. You could smell coffee coming from the kitchen as you looked at the transparent man in front of you.

"There's an actual ghost in my house." the words came out shaky as you felt your lips tremble violently. "Sounds like a you problem." he stood strong in front of you. You reached out to his torso. You wanted to know if he was real. If he was a ghost or if you were going insane. You didn't know what this would solve, but you were going to try it anyway. You placed your hand on his chest, pushing it against it. Your hand didn’t go through. You could feel a chill run up your fingertips on contact. "You can’t just do that." he grabbed your wrist harshly as you attempted to pull back. But his hold was just too strong. A million thoughts were running through your mind, but you couldn’t seem to organize one of them. "Huh?" you wanted to say so much more. Was he a ghost or not? He made no sense. He felt solid, but seconds ago he walked straight through you. And seconds ago, he was floating. You had so many questions and yet no answer. For example, why did the guy who committed suicide, Jonathan Blake, go emo?

"Yes, I’m real, and yes I'm a spirit," he answered two of your questions as his hold on you went away, but his hand was still very much gripping onto you. He quickly slipped his hand through your arm to demonstrate it to you. In the legend, the people spoke of Jonathan Blake. They said he’d drive you to suicide just like the world did to him. They said he was violent. They said he would string you up and take your organs out one by one. But, here he was playing into your antics. He even saved you from that bitch of a mailman. Was he just playing with his food? You didn't know if you would be able to answer that. You were way too deep in the cold, soft feelings that he brought you. And every time you felt his hand phase, it was pure ecstasy. "I was hoping to make my appearance later, but, you know." he exhaled, waiting for you to relax and get over the initial hype of seeing a dead person.

Even with all of this. He was still a rumored spirit that fed off of suicide, and you weren't ready for it. You didn't want him to do that to you. You liked whatever was going on currently. You wanted to be his friend. "I don't want to die." your eyes widened softly as you gazed at him. You didn't want him to drag you into that dark place. You had a prime question in mind. One that stuck out. Was he gonna end you today or was he going to take his sweet time with you?  He chuckled and even laughed at your misery. "Oh, I love hearing that line’ ‘But, I’m not going to hurt you.’ ``Only cause you to live here, and it's making it easier to find people," he told you blankly, but you didn’t believe him. He wasn't actually going to leave you alone. You weren't going to be the one he chose to spare. You didn't even notice your hands violently shaking. You were so confused. You had way too many emotions coming at you at once. You were getting stressed and overwhelmed. It was too much for you. You could feel yourself hyperventilating as your vision went dizzy. Your legs turned to jelly as you started to wobble backward. You didn’t know what to say or do. You fell against the wall. The puppeteer quickly made his way to you.

As you backed even further into the wall, he pressed his hands on either side of your frame. "Shouldn’t have bought a house off Craigslist." he tilted his head down to you. He was much larger than you. He practically caged you, and the worst part was he didn’t even have to try. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as they ran down your face effortlessly. "Hey, it's okay." his yellow mouth laughed as he brought you in for a hug. He was alarmingly cold but still alluring. He probably didn't even know he was pulling at your heartstrings. You knew he wasn’t actually trying to comfort you, but it felt like he was. He wasn’t even trying to lie, but he already had you falling for it. He was being so sadistic toward you, but you couldn't help but completely indulge. Was he just capable of manipulating your feelings, or were you just like that? Were you playing checkers while he was playing chess?

But, for some reason, it felt good to be special. It felt good to be the only one excluded from his murder. It felt good to be the only one he had mercy on. But knowing how you were feeling about it made it so much worse. You liked being special to him. Even if he was lying to you. But, even with all of this, he had your mind spinning. You hated that you could even feel that for someone like him. You could feel the tinge of disgust coursing through you. You didn't understand why he wasn't trying to kill you. You didn't want to be excluded, but, at the end of the day, you had no choice. It wasn't up to you, was it? He grabbed your tear-stained face, wiping away your tears with his freezing hands. You could feel yourself involuntarily embracing him. It felt so good, but it was terrible. He still had a grin even after his fingers were stained with your tears.

He placed one of his digits that had been immersed in your tears and licked it. His finger popped out of his mouth as he smiled at you, taking your expression all in. He thrived in sorrow, and you were directly giving it to him. You could feel your stomach coil as red dusted your face. You wanted to listen to your impulsive thoughts. You wanted to run with it. You felt fluttering in your stomach. According to his legend, the only thing he could sense was depression. He probably didn’t know what you were about to do. But you did. This was going to get you killed.

"Now back to the deadly ghost in my house shock era," he muttered, expecting you to go back to freaking out. But you didn’t. Instead, you made sure he was in his solid state as you pulled him in by the collar and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. His golden smile immensely went away in pure shock. As his cold lips come into contact with your warm ones. For the second you two were connected, you swore you would have felt a faint shock. His lips were rough and harsh against your soft ones. You remembered the details by looking at his face. He stood still, mouth agape.

"I- I didn’t think that was a part of being scared of a spirit." he froze in place, blinking at you while tilting his head. You could see his gray cheeks had a darker gray sprinkled on them. He came back to you, pressing you back against the wall. He was much more curious than before. Maybe it was because you two were at vastly different temperatures. But, you wanted more, and you could sense he wanted more too by the way he stared at you. You didn’t know how to describe it other than with a hungry gaze. He dipped down again, about to connect your lips. You two heard blaring police sirens again. As soon as you turned to find the source and turned back, he vanished. After that morning, you were never alone. After that morning you had a poltergeist boyfriend. And now no one has ever fucked with you again after the mailman ran into town screaming that he’d seen him.

-