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fanaticsnail · 13 days ago

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Love Confession: Corazon

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 1,600+

Themes: Donquixote Rosinante Corazon x f!reader, love confession, mdni, 18+, smut, NSFW, P in V sex, creampie, admission of love, gendered terms used (spymistress as a job title), lazy sex, slow sex, romantic sex, teasing.

Notes: I hope you enjoy this little fic. The way I adore this man 🤌. Dedicated to @queenmimi2817 who also loves this silly man.

Legs splayed over his hips, your back was reclined against his chest. His bare skin heated your own and only fuelled that lazy moment of passion you shared with one another.

Usually Corazon and yourself would use whatever moment you could to quickly release your pent up lust, uttering a swift ‘Thank you’ while adjusting your clothes. What started as simply finding a way to relieve tension as two marines working undercover, you both continued to find these moments together amongst the Donquixote Pirates: with him as Doflamingo’s ‘heart’ and you as a spymistress for his private guard.

Both of you fed back information to the marine headquarters in your own way, and you both were grateful to still have one another in this new uncharted waters.

Where most of the time was quick, rushed, manic, and hasty, this morning was unlike anything you had felt prior. His cock was fully sheathed within your pussy, his palm pressing against your clit while the other hand moved to cup your breasts. Gently pinching and tweaking your nipple, there was no movement of his hips rutting into yours.

No mania, no frantic thrusts, no hasty release: you and Corazon, or Rosinante, had all the time in the world to be with one another. His lips pressed against your bare shoulders, his forearm firmly cradling your back to his body with a touch that felt like home. Hand still toying with your clit and rubbing it in gentle circles, you whimpered while you felt your need grow for him.

“This okay?” he asked softly, lips traveling up to your earlobe and pressing soft kisses on the velvety skin. His whisper sent a chill down your body, the rise in goose-flesh puckering your skin and pebbling your nipples within his palms.

“Yes-... fuck-... can you just rock a little?” you whispered in return, “You're perfect, I-I just need a little more.”

Rosinante groaned at your request, flexing his thighs and bobbing you up onto his cock while you slunk back into him. Each moment was slow, lazy, carefree and soft. The slow drag of Rosinante’s cock stretching your walls and hitting each zone of pleasure had your body flooding with endorphins screaming in euphoria.

As your lips parted to moan out a soft whimper of praise, the words toppled out without you truly thinking of any repercussions.

“I love you.”

Rosinante’s hips stilled, his cock completely sheathed within your pussy and feeling the way it tensed up around his shaft. You felt his stomach flex, his abs constricting in petrification as your words punctured his heart.

Neither of you had said those words to one another before, and the shock of the soft whisper had a heavy weight dragging behind it. His fingers stilled on your nipples and clit as your minds caught up to your words.

“Corazon, I-I-I’m sorry-!” Your hurried apologies flung over your lips and into the room illuminated by sunlight through sheer curtains, “I didn’t mean it.”

This seemed to cause more tension in the man behind you, slowly leaning up and taking you with him in his upright position. Cock still buried, your abdomen bulged with this new angle and caused you to groan in pleasure. His lips found your shoulder, pressing a gentle caress in soft kisses against your flesh.

“Didn’t mean it?” he whispered, his lips traveling up higher to your ear and gently tugging on the lobe with his teeth, “Or: didn’t mean to say it now? Those are two very different things, love.” His lips journeyed down to your cheek before pulling away and peering into your eyes.

“Which one is it?”

When his auburn gaze met with yours, your breath hitched and your need for honesty eclipsed your training as a compulsive liar as spy for the World Government. Both of you had suffered long within the Donquixote Pirates, and you truly felt like if you weren’t to confess to Rosinante now, you might never confess at all.

Gulping back your nerves, you slowly lean forward and brush your nose against the bridge of his before kissing the pointed tip.

“I love you, Donquixote Rosinante,” you utter, pulling away and darting your eyes between his own, “I’m sorry I said it now, with your cock buried all the way up to the hilt in my belly, but I’m not sorry I said it.”

The blonde bursts out in a wave of laughter, each chuckle swelling and pulsing his cock deep within you and causing you to moan out in bliss. Corazon moves his hands to your hips, lifting you up off his cock and turning you in his lap to face him.

“I am so glad you said something,” he teetered off his laugh, pressing his lips once more to your cheek before peppering a line up to your temple. “I honestly feel like I would’ve taken my multi-year unrequited adoration with me to the grave.” His smile split up his lips, a boyish twinkle glittering in his auburn eyes with every word. “And it’s better you sitting on my cock than on my face when you confess your love for me.”

“Rosi-,” you whine out, silenced by his lips colliding with yours in an innocent and charming expression. You felt him smile against your lips while tilting his head and humming against you. Pulling away, he spoke your full name, not the title you donned as one of the Donquixote Pirates, but the name you were born and raised with.

“I have loved you from the first moment I saw you,” he chuckled, rubbing soothing circles by the pads of his thumbs over your bare hips, “Before we had our first posting together, I think just after we graduated basic. I loved you then, and I love you now.” Your breath caught in your throat, tears beginning to well in your eyes and your lip trembling by the weight of his words, “I love you.” As you moved to speak, he squeezed your hips and clicked his tongue to indicate he wasn’t finished.

“I remember telling my unit in cabin quarters that I was going to tell you how I felt,” he laughed, raising his hand up to cup your cheek, “The bloody bastards laughed at me. Said you were ‘out of my league’ and to leave it up to the best of us to catch you.” As you once more attempted to speak, he silenced you with a kiss before pulling back away.

“Tell me again,” he uttered, holding hips lips away from yours and muting his words against them. He lifted you up with ease and slowly lowered you back onto his cock. As you drew down, your arms came to rest on his shoulders.

“I love you.”

Although you were moments ago just sat on his cock and enjoying a slow morning stretching out on it, the intrusion still managed to test your pelvic floor while you took him on a new angle.

“Again,” he panted, lifting you up and dropping you down in a heavy-set thrust into your body. Sheathing himself down at the hilt, stars began to split in your vision while you felt the call of desire simmer at the edges.

“I love you.”

“Again,” he groaned, the end pulling gruffly as he growled out. His own desire began to pull his guts to a tight coil while he matched dropping you against upwards thrusts.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

His pace picked up, bringing you both to the precipice of release while demanding to hear you speak the words he never thought he’d hear once more. His balls slapped your ass with each in-thrust, his movements growing manic as he used you as a sleeve for his ecstasy.

As white began to flood your eyes, the tightness in your coil fizzed into sparks of ecstasy. Euphoria bloomed in your chest, expanding and darting throughout your body like the expansion of wings in first flight. Your lips fell agape as your pussy began contracting around his shaft and beckoning him alongside you.

“I love you.”

Rosinante panted and cried out as he shot an explosive jet of his release into your womb, painting your walls with the love he so desperately felt for you. His much larger size in comparison to your body was felt in every groove in his throbbing veins swelling his cock. As his release began to overwhelm your pussy, the viscous splashback of his cum painted his crotch with his own release.

Both whining and panting, his movements grew languid while championing you both through weighted highs. He felt whole, as one, and at home with you sheathing him on his lap. As you both caught your breath, smiles mirrored one another while you leaned down and pressed your forehead against his.

“All that time?” you queeried, a small amount of teasing caught in your tone. Rosinante circled his forearms around your waist and pulled you up to rest your chest on his own. His cock slid out of you, along with a heavy slap of his release meeting the floor beneath the seat.

“You’re such a tease,” he growled at you, his nose playfully crinkling up at the bridge. He nudged his forehead against your jaw to turn your head, finding your neck with his lips and kissing you slowly. Sensing a small amount of mischief in the smile anchored to your skin, you arched your brow and asked him quietly.

“What are you planning, Rosinante?” Your question was met with a chuckle as he moved his hands down to cup each of your asscheeks in his larger hands.

“Just thinking back more on the way you admitted you loved me,” he shrugged, squeezing your flesh and groaning out a little. “I kind of want to hear you tell me you love me while sitting on my face too.”

“Rosinante-.”

“-We have all the time in the world today,” he cut off your train of thought, gently rolling your ass within his palms and fingers, “I want to hear it. Will you tell me you love me again?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

#one piece #x reader #2024 birthday party #2024 birthday event #Donquixote Rosinante #Donquixote Corazon #rosinante #corazon #x f!reader #one piece smut #rosinante x reader #corazon x reader #this was my birthday gift to myself. i just wanted it a little early because i was inspired.

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sentientcave · 7 months ago

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Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women #The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long #Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it #The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling

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