amagialp

[amagialp]

“Collision Course” a cod fic (slight tw, minors dni)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader Tags: !!canon!! Ghost is a terrible driver, accidental injury, hospital visit, slow-burn-ish start, protective behavior, guilt, trauma bonding, off-duty Ghost in sweatpants and a hoodie, gruff awkwardness, eventual comfort, swearing(tw)

It’s just your luck that your day ends with headlights and asphalt.

You hadn’t seen the car. Too focused on the bags in your hand, the wind in your ears, the fact that it was finally getting dark after a long shift. One second, your foot steps off the curb. The next, there's a loud screech, a blinding flash of headlights, and a solid fucking impact.

Pain blooms in your side. Your body hits the pavement hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

A door slams. Footsteps rush.

“Shit. *Fuck-*oi! Hey. Hey, you with me?”

You blink up. The world swims, your vision foggy, but the voice is clear. Deep. British. Rough. You register bits and pieces in your daze: black hoodie, mask, broad shoulders, tactical boots. Not a civilian. Military, maybe?

You gasp out, “You hit me.”

“I know. I know-Christ. I didn’t see you. You just-fuck, you just stepped out.”

He crouches beside you like he’s afraid to touch you, gloved hands hovering over your body but never landing.

“…Are you dying?” he asks.

You blink at him, stunned. “What?”

“Are you-like...fuck, I don’t know. You breathing fine? You can move your toes? Say something that makes sense?”

You wiggle your foot, just to prove a point, then hiss through your teeth. “Hurts.”

He looks like he’s about to throw up behind the mask. “Okay. Okay. That’s… fuck. I’m taking you in. Don’t argue.”

You’re in his passenger seat less than five minutes later, propped up with a hoodie behind your back, your bag tossed into the back seat like it doesn’t matter. You get the feeling the man driving isn’t the type to deal with minor injuries, or people, period.

He keeps muttering under his breath.

“Should’ve taken the side street. Shouldn’t’ve rushed. Bloody idiot.”

You stare out the window, clutching your aching ribs. “You’re not exactly calm about this.”

“I ran someone over. Of course I’m not calm.”

“You barely hit me-”

“Don’t say ‘barely,’ I saw you bounce off the bloody bonnet.”

You can’t help it, you laugh, a short, pained noise. “Oh my god. You’re awful at this.”

“I know,” he mutters. “Driving. Talking. People. I’m dogshit at all of it.”

“…So what are you good at?”

There’s a pause. The air shifts. Something colder seeps in, just for a second.

“…Not anything you’d like,” he says.

At the hospital, he stays. Despite your protests. Despite the fact he doesn’t know you. Despite looking like he wants to evaporate into thin air under the fluorescent lighting and clipboard questions.

He doesn’t give his real name.

Just “Ghost.”

You think it’s a joke until you catch a nurse flinch when she hears it.

He stays out in the hallway after the doctor confirms nothing’s broken. You only have some bruised ribs and a twisted knee. It still hurts like hell. When you limp out with a crutch and a prescription paper, he stands.

“Let me take you home.”

“You’ve done enough,” you say.

“I nearly turned you into a road pancake,” he says gruffly. “Let me make sure you’re alright.”

You pause. He's still masked. Still shadowy. Still dangerous in a way you can’t explain.

But… he waited. That counts for something.

“Fine. But you’re not driving.”

“…Fair.”

He calls you the next day.

Somehow, he'd memorized your number off the hospital form. Just to “check in,” he says. That’s it. But one call becomes two. Two becomes a few texts. Then a delivery order shows up at your place with no name, just food, paid in full.

And that’s when it starts.

You don’t know what he wants. You don’t know why he keeps checking in. But you know that the man who hit you with his car is now the closest thing you have to a friend lately.

And maybe that’s the weirdest part of all?

-------

another draft! thoughts?

[amagialp]

“THE BLACK WOLF” Ghost x Reader | Medieval AU | Part II (TW)

← Previous | Next →

Ghost is a feared executioner and royal hound, always masked, rumored to be cursed by death itself. You are the court’s new healer or rather a noble prisoner meant to be used as leverage. But Ghost takes a strange interest in you. He stalks the castle halls, watching from shadows, until one night you're summoned to his chamber… and it isn’t for healing

Tags: Dark romance, possessive obsession, slow-burn smut buildup, medieval court setting, soft yet strong reader, power imbalance, filthy intent (later), stalking elements (TW) (MINORS DNI)

You leave his chamber on unsteady legs.

The air in the corridor feels colder than it should, like his presence clings to your skin even after the door shuts behind you. The castle is dead silent this late, only the creak of old stone and your own heartbeat. You don’t run. But you want to.

You don't sleep.

Instead, you sit by the window long past midnight, watching the fog roll in across the lower courtyard, his words echoing between your ears like a heartbeat.

I watch you too.

You should be afraid. You want to be afraid. But there’s something worse than fear curling inside your ribs...something warmer. Something traitorous.

The next morning, you pretend.

You tend the other soldiers with steady hands. Patch wounds. Clean blades. Pour tea for nobles who don’t thank you. You smile when you’re spoken to and bow when expected. But your thoughts are far from the marble halls.

You don’t see him. Not during meals. Not in chapel. Not in the training yard.

But at night?

The door to your chamber creaks open just slightly. Nothing more than a whisper. When you turn to look, there’s no one there. But your candle burns lower than you left it. Your scarf, folded. Your hairbrush, moved.

He’s been here.

The third night, it happens again.

A soft knock. Not the King's summons. Not a servant. Just one slow tap on wood. You open it, and there he is.

Still masked. Cloaked in black, gloved hands behind his back. Silent.

You can’t breathe for a moment.

“I didn’t summon you,” you say, voice low.

“I know.”

You grip the door tighter. “Then why are you here?”

“I wondered if you’d open it.”

The heat returns, low and aching in your stomach. “What if I didn’t?”

“I’d have waited.” A pause. “I’m patient.”

You swallow hard. “And if I asked you to leave?”

“I would,” he lies.

You know it’s a lie because he doesn’t move. Because his eyes never drop from yours. Because you feel watched even as you speak.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say quietly.

“You should be.”

“I think,” you say, “you want me to be.”

A twitch at the edge of his mask. Maybe a smirk. Maybe something darker. He steps closer, into your room this time, and shuts the door behind him without breaking your gaze.

“Tell me to stop,” he says.

You should. You really should.

But instead-

“…What do you want from me?”

He steps into your space. Not touching. Just there.

Close enough for you to feel the heat of him. Close enough to see the scar again, the one that vanishes beneath his collar. You wonder who gave it to him. You wonder if he bled. You wonder how many begged for mercy with his blade at their throat.

“You,” he answers simply.

Not your healing. Not your favor. Just you.

He doesn’t ask to touch you. He doesn't beg or plead or persuade. He waits.

And you realize, he’s not a man used to permission. He’s a weapon given direction.

But this?

This is him choosing.

------

Hope you guys enjoyed the second part of this series <3

anyone want a tag list? please just comment so!!

once again thoughts are well appreciated! please dont be shy:]

[amagialp]

"Curiosity, Uninvited" a cod fic

Ghost x Reader | Tension, Soft Obsession, Slight Intrusion

Sooo, you’re the newcomer at this super secret military base. Enter Ghost- the silent, masked enigma who’s been ordered to check out your stuff… discreetly. What he finds? Well, let’s just say your messy, messy little life is a lot more interesting than he expected.

(slight TW, minor dni)

heh posting drafts- request open! :P

The door clicks shut behind him.

Ghost stays still for a beat, silent, masked, shadowlike. He doesn't like orders like this. But commands had made themselves clear: you're new, technically unvetted, and someone has to do the job. Someone silent. Someone trusted.

And unfortunately for you, that someone is him.

The room is warm. Lived-in. Soft, compared to the sterile walls of the rest of base. It smells faintly like sugared lotion and something... softer. Personal. He doesn’t mean to breathe it in, but he does anyway. Once. Just once.

Your bag's on the floor. A black leather tote, shiny, slouchy. Angel Kiss. Branded clear in that over-the-top, early-2000s flair. Cute, he thinks, but doesn’t let the word form too long in his head.

He crouches.

The zipper makes the smallest whirr as he opens it halfway. He’s met with chaos. Half-eaten candy bars, some unopened. Crumpled wrappers like foil secrets. A pouch of makeup, half unzipped, stuffed with little glosses and oils and pink things. A tiny perfume bottle shaped like a heart. He almost closes it then, he's not a thief, not a voyeur.

But then he sees it.

Tucked low, like it fell out of something: a little wisp of fabric. A thong. Soft, cutesy. Tiny lace trim. Innocent enough in color, but… intimate.

He doesn’t move.

The air stills in his lungs, like the room just got tighter. Hotter. He blinks once, twice. His gloved hand hovers over it but doesn’t touch.

There’s a fur-lined jacket tossed on the chair beside the bed. Big hood. Pink-lined. Very you. Very not-military. He can see you in it. Laughing maybe. Biting your lip while sneaking snacks late at night.

He exhales slowly.

Ghost rises to his feet, hands tucked behind his back like nothing happened. But his eyes linger on that messy tote. On the brush with your hair caught in it. On the little perfumes and sparkly lip tubes. On the undone.

It was supposed to be a routine sweep. But now… now you’re etched into his mind. He’s not proud of it.

He shuts the bag gently.

And when he leaves your room, quiet, careful, he knows he’ll never look at you the same again...

part 2? yes no, bc ive got a heck more :3

[amagialp]

HELLOOOO im a new follower and i wanted to make a request!sorry if this makes u uncomfy or something but i would love some cnc with ghost

AND I LOVE UR FICS SM SO FAR

HI! welcome and thank you for the loveeee

thank you for the ask as well C:

im open for anything honestly so dont be shy! :3

hope you like it!

(MINORS DNI, HEAVY TW) -> Warnings (18+ only): CNC / dubcon themes, rough sex, restraints, masked Ghost, degradation, praise, spit, manhandling, biting, aftercare (implied), gender-neutral reader. All acts are pre-negotiated and consensual, but read responsibly.

Title: “You Can Run” Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader Genre: Dark smut / CNC Word count: ~1,200

You agreed on the rules beforehand.

You were the one who asked for it... whispered it into his ear one night when the touches got too lazy, too soft. I want you to take it. I want you to chase me. I want you to ignore when I say no.

Simon hadn’t responded with words. He'd just looked at you. That heavy stare. The kind that weighed more than his silence ever could. You weren’t sure if he was considering it, or if he was restraining himself.

He asked the next night.

"Safe word?"

You told him. He nodded once.

No other questions.

And tonight, it starts.

You don’t even hear him come in. One minute you're getting undressed, the next you feel it, his hand...around your throat from behind, just firm enough to press you against the wall. You gasp, squirm, already aching, already drenched in adrenaline.

"You didn’t fucking lock the door," he growls into your ear.

You thrash a little, but his hand on your throat tightens, not enough to choke, just enough to remind you: you’re his now...

“I didn’t know you were coming-!”

"That’s the fucking point."

You try to turn. He shoves you face-first into the wall, one arm pinning yours behind your back, the other yanking your shirt up and over your head. It hurts. A little. Just enough. It’s rough and messy and exactly what you wanted.

His voice is low and close and cruel: “Gonna act like a dumb little slut, yeah? Leave the door unlocked for anyone to walk in? Like you want to be used?”

You shake your head. "N-no-Simon-please-"

A sharp slap lands against your ass. Then another. “Wrong fucking name,” he growls. “You don’t get to call me that when you’re acting like this.”

You bite your lip, whimpering.

His hand slides lower, between your thighs. “Already wet. Can’t fucking believe it.”

You whisper a soft, broken "no" just like you agreed to. And Ghost growls like it only fuels him more.

“You think that stops me? You think I give a shit?” he hisses, pressing your cheek harder against the wall. “That’s not how this works, sweetheart.”

Then he spins you, and your back hits the wall this time. He grabs your face in one gloved hand, tilting it up to meet his mask.

“Beg,” he orders. “Beg me not to use you.”

And you do. You say everything you agreed to beforehand-voice trembling, eyes wide, playing the role so well it almost scares you. But Ghost? He’s thriving in it. His hand slides down your body again, and you feel him, hot, hard, straining through his pants.

"Too late now,” he mutters. “You wanted this. You're gonna take it."

He shoves you to the bed, your body bouncing against the mattress before he’s on you. Gloves still on. Mask still on. Eyes burning. He flips you over onto your stomach and yanks your bottoms down in one smooth, brutal motion.

Then he spits. Right on you.

You gasp.

He leans down, voice low and hungry: “That’s all you get for lube. Be grateful.”

And then he’s inside.

One hard, deep thrust that has you arching, crying out, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depends on it. You struggle, kick a little, say "no" again in the most perfect, helpless voice you can muster.

But he doesn’t stop. He fucks into you like it’s his right. Like your body belongs to him. Like you’re a toy, a hole, something warm to ruin.

“Thought you said no?” he growls. “Funny how your greedy little body’s sucking me in.”

His hand wraps around your throat again, yanking your head back so he can growl into your ear, hips pounding against your ass, bruising, unforgiving. “You love this. Being forced. Being used.”

And you do.

You fucking do.

You’re gasping now, moaning, tears in your eyes, not from pain, but because the overwhelming filth of it all has taken over you. His grip, his thrusts, the sound of skin on skin...it’s too much.

And still not enough...

His thrusts get faster, deeper, more desperate. One hand tangled in your hair, the other wrapped tight around your hip as he slams into you over and over.

“I should leave you like this,” he hisses. “Fucked open, dripping, ruined.”

You sob something incoherent, part pleasure, part overstimulation.

Ghost groans through clenched teeth. “Cum for me. You wanna be a toy, then do your fucking job.”

And you do. It crashes over you hard and fast, your entire body locking up, spasming around him. You go limp the second it hits, a broken moan slipping out of your mouth as you feel him still.

Then, release, hot and deep inside you. He groans, teeth clenched, fingers digging into your hips like he doesn’t want to let go.

The silence after is sharp and still.

You barely feel him pull out, barely notice when the weight of him leaves the bed. You're boneless, aching, spent.

Then there’s a soft rustle. A blanket. A bottle of water cracked open. And his voice.

“Color?”

You blink, dazed. “Green.”

You hear him sigh. A relieved one.

“Good,” he says, voice low and soft now. “You did so fucking good for me.”

[amagialp]

cod x gn.reader who is an intern, comes home after work and duty all tired and sleepy and only has enough strength to change clothes and wash up, and literally falls into the arms of his partner

(I work in an internship, and God, almost every single day there are people who, after reading all sorts of articles, have discovered all sorts of diseases that they don’t have. And they don’t trust doctors. It’s tiring...)

(lazy sex)

heya sorry for a late reply, i had issues with my inbox for quite a long time :(

Since you didnt specify a character i decided to do the 141 + könig as a treat :3 hope you enjoy!

(MINORS DNI, SLIGHT TW)

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You don’t even take your shoes off before collapsing face-first into the bed. The keys you fumbled in the lock are somewhere on the floor, your bag half-zipped, and your shirt still damp with sweat. You don't have the energy to move, to think, to do anything but breathe. Just one more breath. Just let yourself be still.

And then he's there. No words. No heavy footsteps. Just the soft squeak of the mattress as Ghost sits down beside you, gloved fingers trailing over the back of your neck. "Rough shift," he mutters, low and gravelly, like he already knows the answer. You hum a little, eyes still shut. He doesn't press. Just unzips your top with gentle hands, peels away the fabric, gets rid of the layers weighing you down like armor. He helps you to the bathroom, silent but steady, making sure you rinse off and get into something clean.

You try to thank him. He stops you with a hand at your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip, eyes unreadable behind the mask. "Don’t need your thanks. Just need you here.”

You fall into his arms again, and this time, you don’t move. His body is warm against yours, steady, grounding. When you grind against him just a little seeking comfort, not lust he doesn’t hesitate. He just pushes his hips forward, a low growl rumbling in his throat. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice rasping. “I’ve got you.”

It’s lazy and wordless. His hands roam slow, possessive. He doesn’t take off all your clothes, just moves them enough. His fingers curl around your thighs, spreads you just enough to sink into you with an exhale that sounds more like a sigh of relief. No rhythm. No heat. Just this heavy, grounding motion that makes you feel real again. His body blanketing yours, one hand gripping your hip like you’ll drift away if he lets go.

And when you come, tired and quiet, he follows after, pressing his face into the crook of your neck like he’s hiding there.

“You’re safe now,” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracked. “Sleep.”

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You barely get the door closed before you feel arms loop around your waist and a familiar nose nudging against your neck. “Missed you, babe,” Soap murmurs, lips brushing your skin. “Look at you... poor thing’s about to fall over.”

You hum tiredly, leaning back into him, letting him strip your bag from your shoulder and kiss the top of your head. “Didn’t think you’d be home yet.”

“I made sure I was,” he says softly. “Knew you’d need me.”

He guides you toward the bathroom, fingertips brushing your sides. He doesn’t let you do anything alone. He’s already turned the shower on. Already laid out clean clothes. He helps you undress, not in a lustful way, but with care, reverence, like it physically hurts him to see you like this. You wash, and when you come out in an oversized shirt that probably belonged to him once, he’s already curled up in bed, blankets pulled back just for you.

You fall into him without thinking, your face tucked under his chin, your limbs weak and barely responding. He just rubs your back, humming softly.

Then your hips shift, just slightly. You don’t say anything, but the message is clear in the way your breath catches. “You want me to take care of you, huh?” he whispers. “Even like this?”

You nod.

He doesn’t tease. Doesn’t crack a joke. Just kisses you slow, hand slipping down your thigh as he urges you to straddle him. It’s sleepy, warm, indulgent. Your body moves with his like a soft rhythm only you two know, his hands planted firmly on your hips, his eyes watching your face the whole time.

There’s no rush. No show. Just him whispering, “That’s it, love, just like that,” while you ride out your exhaustion in the most comforting way possible. When you're done, he pulls you close, presses his forehead to yours, and falls asleep with your heartbeat against his chest.

John Price

You know he's watching from the moment you enter his gaze following every movement as you kick off your boots and peel off your outer layers, sluggish and slow, like your limbs are made of sand. You say nothing. Neither does he. There’s no need for words when he sees the exhaustion written into the way your shoulders droop.

He closes the book in his hands and crosses the room quietly. His hand cups the side of your face, thumb brushing just below your eye. “Come on,” he says, low and tender. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He helps you out of your clothes. Helps you into the shower. Wraps you in a towel after and tugs an old shirt over your head. You’re not sure when you last spoke, but your eyes are already fluttering as he pulls you into bed.

You collapse onto his chest, boneless, and he kisses your temple. "Sleep if you need to," he says. "I've got you."

But your hand moves under the blankets, brushing along his stomach. And when he catches it, he pauses. “You sure, sweetheart?”

You nod.

He rolls you onto your back, slow and patient. The sex is lazy, he takes his time, lets you fall apart underneath him in drawn-out waves. His hand never leaves your cheek, his eyes never leave yours. He’s quiet, except for the soft murmurs, the low grunts, the way he says your name like a prayer.

After, he pulls you into his arms, strong chest rising and falling beneath your cheek.

“Good,” he mutters, thumb rubbing circles on your back. “Just rest now. I’ll handle everything else.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The second you step in, Kyle’s already taking your bag, pulling your jacket off, fingers brushing your arms as he kisses your cheek. “You alright, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer by the way you lean into him. “C’mon. Let’s get you washed up.”

You let him lead you, eyes half-lidded, legs barely cooperating. He moves around you like he’s done this before, guiding you into the bathroom, turning on warm water, helping you strip down without a word. When you’re clean, he wraps you in the softest towel you own and kisses your shoulder.

By the time you’re in bed, you’re already half-asleep. But the moment his hands slip around your waist, something in you stirs.

You reach for him. He kisses your wrist. “We don’t have to. You’re tired.”

“I want to,” you whisper, voice barely there.

So he takes his time. Pulls the covers up around you both. Kisses your neck from behind, one arm wrapped around your chest, the other slowly guiding your hips back into his. It’s lazy. Gentle. The kind of sex where your legs stay tangled, where his breath fans against your skin the whole time, where he keeps whispering, “You’re doing so good, baby… almost there,” like it’s not about him at all.

And when you both finish, soft and quiet, he doesn’t pull away. Just holds you there, safe in the quiet. “Love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “Sleep. I’ll be right here.”

König

The door barely shuts behind you before your knees almost give out and König’s already there, rushing to catch you in his arms. “Schatz,” he whispers, eyes full of concern behind his mask. You cling to him, trembling from exhaustion.

He doesn’t speak again. Just lifts you gently, carries you like you weigh nothing, one hand under your thighs, the other supporting your back. He lays you on the bed like you’re something fragile, and you can’t even help him undress you, you just let him. He peels your clothes away, washes your face with a warm cloth, dries your hair with careful hands.

You whisper something soft in German, your pronunciation terrible, but it makes his eyes soften. “You want me?” he murmurs, his accent thicker than usual, already understanding.

You nod. Too tired to beg. Too tired to think.

He climbs in behind you, presses your back to his chest, and slides a hand under the blanket, slowly pushing into you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. His other hand cradles your face while he rocks into you, deep, slow, tender.

“Good,” he breathes against your neck. “You don’t have to do anything, liebling. Let me make it better.”

You come slowly, softly, tears pricking your eyes not from pain or pleasure, but from the overwhelming safety of it all, his warmth, his patience, his quiet strength.

And when it’s done, he wraps his arms around you tighter, whispering soft nothings in German until you finally drift off against his chest, completely, utterly safe.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED :D

(reqs open!)

[amagialp]

“THE BLACK WOLF” Ghost x Reader | Medieval AU | Part I (TW)

Ghost is a feared executioner and royal hound, always masked, rumored to be cursed by death itself. You are the court’s new healer or rather a noble prisoner meant to be used as leverage. But Ghost takes a strange interest in you. He stalks the castle halls, watching from shadows, until one night you're summoned to his chamber… and it isn’t for healing

Tags: Dark romance, possessive obsession, slow-burn smut buildup, medieval court setting, soft yet strong reader, power imbalance, filthy intent (later), stalking elements (TW) (MINORS DNI)

They warned you about him the moment you arrived at court.

“Don’t speak to the man in the black mask. Don’t look at him. Don’t be near him. If he’s in the hall, leave.”

He doesn’t eat with the others. Doesn’t kneel in chapel. Doesn’t speak unless commanded. He’s a hound, they say. The Black Wolf, his Majesty’s shadow, his axe, his punishment. His executioner.

But you are no stranger to monsters. You were raised by them.

They dragged you here across the border after your uncle’s rebellion failed. You're not a lady anymore, just a bargaining piece. A warm-blooded pawn under a pretty name, kept alive in this stone-cold keep so your father might behave.

Still, you're useful. You know how to tend wounds. How to grind herbs and sew flesh and hush a man’s death rattle. A little healer, locked in a tower, serving the very court that destroyed yours.

But not even you expected him.

Not the way his boots echo through the stone when the rest of the castle sleeps. Not the way he stops at the end of the hall where your chamber lies... not saying a word, just… standing. Watching. Not the way your hand trembles when you reach for the candle, knowing he’s near before you see him.

You catch glimpses sometimes. From a distance. In passing. Broad shoulders. A black cloak. That death’s-head mask. The smell of steel and ash and blood that seems to cling to him like a second skin.

You never speak. But he does.

Eventually.

It begins the night you're summoned.

Not by the King. Not by the Queen. By him.

A low ranking guard appears outside your chamber, armor half-unfastened and face pale as chalk.

“His orders,” he stammers, avoiding your eyes. “The Black Wolf. You’re to tend to him.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“To his wounds?”

A pause. “He didn’t say.”

His chambers are deep in the old wing, cold, firelit, and dead silent. The door is already ajar.

You step in with care, candle in hand.

He’s there, waiting.

Unmasked? No. The mask is still on, expressionless and fixed on you. He sits in a chair beside the hearth, one leg splayed, cloak draped over the other. Gloved fingers drumming on the armrest like he’s waiting for a command to strike.

He doesn’t speak.

You steady your voice. “I was told you called for me.”

“I did.”

A beat.

You try to read him, but the mask gives you nothing. Only those eyes. Dull gold in the firelight. Unblinking.

“I can prepare salve if you’re injured.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what-”

“I wanted to see you.”

Your mouth parts, but no sound leaves.

The fire cracks.

“You watch me,” he says, quiet. “I feel your eyes.”

You exhale through your nose. “Only when I hear the others talk. I wondered what kind of man you were.”

A pause.

“And?” His voice is rough... deep enough to settle low in your gut. “What did you decide?”

You meet his eyes. That’s your mistake.

He looks at you like he’s reading your thoughts. Or breaking them.

“I don’t know yet,” you whisper.

His head tilts. “You’re not afraid of me.”

You hesitate. “Should I be?”

The pause that follows is a threat in itself.

When he finally rises, the room shrinks around you. He’s tall- broad in ways you expected, but heavier somehow in presence. Like the air obeys him.

He stops just before you. You don’t move.

His gloved fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, and tug the candle from your hand. He sets it down on a nearby table, and in the sudden shift of shadow, he leans closer.

You can see the faint scar across his throat. The worn edges of the leather strap holding his mask in place. His voice, when it comes again, is lower than before- just for you.

“I watch you too,” he murmurs.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t need to.

The room is hot with something unspoken. You feel it in your spine, your belly, your throat. He wants.

And it terrifies you that part of you wants to be wanted.

Finally, he steps back... just slightly. Enough to let your lungs expand again.

“You may go,” he says. “For now.”

You don’t sleep that night.

Not because you’re afraid. Because the part of you that’s still soft, still human, still untouched-

Can’t stop wondering what he’d do if you didn’t leave.

-----

Hope you guys enjoyed :D

Thoughts are well appreciated! also part two will come soon!

[amagialp]

Part two of ghost x gender neutral reader!

(TW: slight mention of sexuality, MINORS DNI)

The tension had only grown worse since that night. Ghost was everywhere, a shadow at your back, a lingering presence that set your nerves on edge.

He never acknowledged it outright, never gave you any proof. But the way his eyes lingered, the way his gloved fingers brushed against you in passing, too deliberate, too knowing...made your skin prickle.

Training had become unbearable. Harder. Longer. More grueling. Ghost pushed you to your limits and then past them, watching with that same unreadable stare as you struggled to keep up.

Tonight was no different.

You staggered back to your room, muscles screaming, mind too exhausted to process anything beyond the ache in your limbs. The door clicked shut behind you, and you barely had the energy to strip before collapsing onto the bed.

But something was wrong. Again.

Your room smelled different. Faintly. Familiar.

Like him.

Your breath hitched as your gaze darted around, searching for anything any sign that he had been here. And then you saw it.

A single pair of your underwear. Folded neatly. Placed on your pillow.

Your mouth went dry. Your pulse pounded in your ears.

This wasn’t a mistake. This wasn’t an accident.

Ghost wanted you to know.

And fuck, you didn’t know what scared you more, that he had done it…

Or that, despite everything, the heat pooling in your stomach wasn’t entirely fear..

(My request are open to anything!)

[amagialp]

Its the hoe life, or no life❤

" I want him to eat me out like its his last meal.

I want his inner caveman to come out and devour me whole 😍

Nothing, nobody, just me and König and pure animalistic instincts, with his head between my legs. "

(something younger me wrote😭)

[amagialp]

COD story/writing help basic description info <3

for all my authors out there and or aspiring ones, here is a list on physical description on majority of COD characters, based off of only canon (confirmed) and what we see from in game models

hope this helps!

Task Force 141

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Eye Color: Brown (comics), possibly blue in-game

Hair Color: Brown, possibly dyed/bleached blonde

Height: ~6'4.5" (189 cm)

Build: Broad-shouldered, muscular

Weight: Estimated 90–100 kg

John "Soap" MacTavish

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Dark brown, mohawk

Height: ~5'10" (178 cm)

Build: Athletic

Weight: Estimated 75–85 kg

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Black

Height: ~5'11" (180 cm)

Build: Lean, athletic

Weight: Estimated 70–80 kg

Captain John Price

Eye Color: Blue-green

Hair Color: Brown with hints of gray, beard

Height: ~6'2" (188 cm)

Build: Strong, muscular but not overly bulky

Weight: Estimated 85–95 kg

Alex Keller

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Light brown, short cut

Height: ~6'1" (185 cm)

Build: Lean but strong

Weight: Estimated 80–90 kg

Los Vaqueros

Alejandro Vargas

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Black, short with beard

Height: ~6'2" (188 cm)

Build: Muscular

Weight: Estimated 90–100 kg

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Black, military cut

Height: ~5'10" (178 cm)

Build: Lean, athletic

Weight: Estimated 75–85 kg

Shadow Company & La Araña Cartel

Valeria Garza ("El Sin Nombre")

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Black, straight, often tied back

Height: ~5'7" (170 cm)

Build: Lean but toned

Weight: Estimated 60–70 kg

Phillip Graves

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Brown

Height: ~6'0" (183 cm)

Build: Athletic

Weight: Estimated 80–90 kg

KorTac + Others

König

Eye Color: Blue (speculated)

Hair Color: Blonde (shaved)

Height: ~6'10" (208 cm)

Build: Massive, strongman-like physique

Weight: Estimated 120+ kg

Sebastian Krueger

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Blonde, short

Height: ~6'0(+)" (183~ cm)

Build: Lean but strong

Weight: Estimated 85–95 kg

Nikto

Eye Color: Blue (possibly cybernetically altered)

Hair Color: Unknown (typically masked)

Height: ~6'2" (188 cm)

Build: Muscular

Weight: Estimated 90–100 kg

Keegan P. Russ

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Dark brown, short cut

Height: ~6'0" (183 cm)

Build: Athletic

Weight: Estimated 80–90 kg

[amagialp]

some shit ghost would send

(cred: pinterest)

[amagialp]

NEW COD (maybe) SERIES DETECTED??!!

FIRST OF ALL: MY requests are open, and yes there will be part two of this if you guys like it <3 THIS IS A GHOST X GENDER NEUTRAL READER INSERT!!

!!TW AND MINORS DNI!! grammarly used~

A ghosts obsession

The air was thick with sweat and exhaustion, the training grounds buzzing with the sharp bark of orders. You dropped to your knees, panting, muscles burning from the relentless drills Ghost had put you through. The others had been dismissed twenty minutes ago, but not you. Never you.

“Up.” His voice cut through the haze of your fatigue, cold and unwavering.

Your fingers dug into the dirt as you pushed yourself up, jaw clenched. Ghost had been brutal since the breakup...since you made the mistake of thinking you could leave him. You were no rookie. You’d been under his command for years, and before that, tangled in sheets and whispered promises that meant nothing now. Or at least, they shouldn’t.

But Ghost didn’t believe in letting go. He believed in discipline. In consequences.

“Again.”

Your entire body screamed in protest, but you obeyed. Because he was your lieutenant. Because you had no choice.

You could feel his gaze raking over you, hot and possessive despite the icy exterior. It hadn’t always been like this, before, his eyes held a different kind of fire when they lingered on you. Now, they were unreadable, but something told you he was enjoying this.

When he finally dismissed you, you could barely stand. Every step back to your quarters was a test of will. Stripping off your sweat drenched clothes, you tossed them into the laundry pile before collapsing onto your bed. Sleep took you fast, too drained to care about anything else.

But when you woke, something was… off.

You frowned, eyes scanning the dim room. Your gear was in place, your duffel still zipped where you left it, but your laundry pile...

Gone.

Your stomach tightened.

No. Not gone. Sifted through.

And missing something.

A slow, chilling realization crept up your spine. You knew. You knew who had done it.

Your pulse hammered as you exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to stay calm. Because what were you going to do? Confront your lieutenant? Ask him if he’d stolen your underwear like some sick fucking trophy?

No. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

But as you lay back down, a new kind of unease settled over you.

Ghost wasn’t letting you go.

And deep down, some part of you knew, you didn’t really want him to.

---

WOULD APPRECIATE SOME FEEDBACK I TAKE ALL CRITISM IN!!! SHOULD I RLLY MAKE IT A SERIES?? <3

[amagialp]

Devil on my shoulder (SHORT COD FANFIC)

P.S no hate to this idea if your against these ideologies! this was a private request i got if you dont like it, SCROLL!

and also TW and MINORS DNI, grammarly used!

REQUEST OPEN!!💕

Simon Riley wasn’t a man easily rattled. He had faced war, death, and the worst humanity had to offer without so much as a flinch. But watching his girlfriend carefully arrange black candles in a perfect circle while humming a tune he was fairly certain wasn’t from any church choir? Yeah, that was new.

He folded his arms over his broad chest, standing in the doorway of her dimly lit apartment. The air smelled of burning sage and something metallic, and the only source of light came from the flickering candles on the floor.

“Dare I ask what the hell you’re doin’, love?” His voice was low, gravelly, edged with a mix of curiosity and mild concern.

“You could,” she mused, adjusting a small ornate dagger next to a worn leather bound book. “But then I’d have to initiate you, and I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

Ghost tilted his head, eyes narrowing beneath his balaclava. “Initiate me into what, exactly?”

She finally looked up at him, eyes gleaming with something wicked. “A little blood magic, a chat with the other side... nothing too crazy.”

He let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. He had dealt with enough real-world demons, he didn’t much care for messing with any supernatural ones.

“You know, most people light a few scented candles, maybe put on a horror movie,” he said, stepping closer. “You? You’re over here makin’ pacts with Lucifer.”

She smirked, reaching out to grab his gloved hand and pull him down beside her. “Oh, baby, this is just a casual Thursday for me.”

Ghost allowed himself to be pulled in, settling into a crouch. He’d never say it out loud, but there was something oddly comforting about the way she moved through this world, completely unbothered, utterly herself, even when it meant making him question his own sanity.

She traced a small sigil onto his palm with her fingertip, her touch light but deliberate. “Relax, soldier. I wouldn’t sell your soul without permission.”

“Tch,” he scoffed, but he didn’t pull away. “Appreciate the courtesy.”

She grinned, leaning in just enough for him to catch the scent of whatever incense she had burning. “You’d make a fine demon, though. Got the look and the attitude.”

Ghost huffed a quiet laugh. “If I’m goin’ to hell, at least I’ll have good company.”

She kissed his knuckles, her lips soft against the rough fabric of his glove. “Damn right you will.”

And just like that, Simon Riley. stone cold killer, hardened soldier, Ghost, found himself kneeling at the edge of a ritual he didn’t understand, next to the woman who made damn sure he didn’t need to.

Would you guys like more of this/similar? request away <3

[amagialp]

heya!! hope you’re doing good! i loveddd the piercings request and thought id raise you: simon, konig, and johnny’s reactions to your new tattoo! specifically a lower back tattoo (may or may not be influenced by the fact that i just got tramp stamp last week) 🫣 my fiance is obsessed with it if u know what i mean :3

HII sorry for late reply i was on a short hiatsu! but i love this idea and thank you for blessing my inbox with it❤️

(requests open, and also MINORS DNI, GRAMMARLY USED)

Johnny

The first time Johnny sees it, he's immediately on you. A low whistle, hands gripping your waist, thumbs brushing over the ink like he’s memorizing it.

"Ohh, now what’s this, sweetheart? Didn’t tell me you went and got something so filthy on that pretty skin of yours."

His voice is all teasing, but his grip tightens when you move, keeping you right where he wants you. Before you know it, he’s on his knees behind you, dragging your waistband lower, pressing hot kisses to the space just beneath it.

"This is gonna be my favorite spot," he murmurs against your skin, voice low and reverent. "Gonna make sure you remember that."

König

König doesn’t say much at first. Just lets those huge hands of his ghost over your back, tracing the ink with a silent fascination. But when he finally speaks, it’s thick with something possessive.

"You let someone mark you here?" His fingers press, just enough for you to feel the heat of them. "Right where I hold you down? Right where I bend you over?"

It drives him mad. He gets fixated, tugging up your shirt at any given moment just to look at it, running his tongue along the ink when he’s got you bare beneath him. When he finally loses himself, he makes sure you feel every inch of him press against that sensitive spot, making you associate the sting of the tattoo with the pleasure he drowns you in.

Ghost

Ghost doesn’t react at first, just stares, dark eyes locked onto your lower back like he’s committing it to memory. His gloved fingers brush over the ink, slow and deliberate, tracing the edges with a kind of reverence that sends a shiver up your spine.

"Didn’t think you could get any prettier," he murmurs, voice rough, almost strained. "Guess I was wrong."

And then he’s on you...a firm grip at your hips, his mouth hot against the ink, tongue tracing the fresh lines like he’s tasting the mark. He doesn’t just look, he claims, dragging you into his lap, making sure you feel how much he likes it. When he finally pulls back, lips swollen from the attention he’s lavished on your skin, his gaze flicks up to yours, dark and heavy.

He exhales sharply, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s grounding himself. "Hope you know what you’ve done, love. ‘Cause now I’ll never stop touching it."

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS IM OPEN FOR MORE SIMILAR ETC JS HOP ON INTO MY INBOX!:p

[amagialp]

opinions on COD fics, TW KINKY CONTENT! VERY VERY SUGGESTIVE!!! MINORS DNI (POLL)

[amagialp]

Quiet sweetheart (short COD fic)

(Slight mentions of nsfw minors DNI) requests open <3

Your giggles are entirely out of place here. Legs spread wide, his broad body pinning you down, every sharp thrust drawing obscene squelches from where you’re so thoroughly taken, there’s nothing funny about it. Nothing.

Except for the damn dog tags.

They’re clinking and bouncing against your face every time he moves. You’d been doing so well, biting back the little breathless laughs at first, but one finally slips out.

That’s when he pauses.

Simon freezes above you, sweat slick muscles tensing. His dark eyes narrow as he huffs, clearly unimpressed by your sudden amusement.

“What’s funny?” he drawls, voice low, thick, and tinged with that edge that makes your stomach flip.

“Your tags!” you wheeze, unable to stop yourself now, tears springing to your eyes. “They..they keep hitting me!”

He smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up in a way that promises nothing good. He leans closer, his weight pressing deliciously against you, grinding his cock deep enough to make your laugh stutter into a moan.

“You laughin’ at me?” he murmurs, teasing.

“No, no, just-”

Your words cut off with a gasp when Simon suddenly snaps his hips forward, his cock dragging hard and fast against that perfect spot inside you. You claw at his shoulders, the laughter fading into desperate little cries.

“Not so funny now, is it?” he grunts, his pace brutal.

The tags bounce harder, the chain scraping against his chest as he works your body with precision, pushing you higher up the bed with each unrelenting thrust.

And then he does it, grabs the chain between his teeth, those dog tags clinking and rattling as he snarls around them. The sight alone knocks the air from your lungs.

“Gonna laugh now?” Simon growls, muffled but sharp. He leans down, dragging his teeth along the metal chain as his hips roll mercilessly, the head of his cock hitting so deep it’s almost too much.

Your giggles are gone, replaced by broken, needy whines as he fucks you into the mattress. You’re clinging to him now, nails digging into his back, legs trembling as the intensity of it all overwhelms you.

He lets the tags drop, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckles darkly. “That’s better, love. Nice and quiet, yeah?”

Quiet isn’t the right word for the sounds you’re making now, but Simon doesn’t seem to mind. Not when you’re falling apart beneath him, your body arching, tightening, as he chases your release like it’s a mission he won’t fail.

And, of course, he doesn’t.

Hope you guys liked this, its been rotting in my drafts. and please go ahead and request anything you would love!

[amagialp]

love your fics, how do you think konig, soap and ghost would react to reader wit piercings??? 😏😏 preferably smut but you can write as youd like :)

THANK YOU AND OMGSSS LOVE THIS IDEA!!! HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY IT AS WELL, REQUESTS OPEN! :P

honestly those three + piercings = chaos in my head lol

(TW: smut, suggestiv language etc) please proceed with caution ❤️

GN! reader

Nipple Piercings

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The first time he realizes, he just pauses, staring at you for a solid moment before muttering, “Bloody hell...” That’s it, that’s the tweet. But that little grunt tells you everything.

Simon’s a man of subtle touches, but this? He’s hooked. Fingers brushing over your shirt when no one’s looking, his gloved hand sliding under it during downtime, tracing slow circles around the piercings to watch you squirm.

If you’re wearing something where they’re slightly visible (like a tight shirt or cold weather ahem), you might catch him standing closer than usual, clearly blocking anyone else’s view. He won’t say anything, but his presence speaks volumes.

During private moments? Oh, he’s all over them. He tugs, flicks, and bites with just enough pressure to leave you gasping. He won’t outright say it, but he loves how responsive you are.

König

König is immediately flustered. Like, cheeks red, words tripping over themselves flustered. When he first notices, he’s struggling to maintain eye contact, muttering something like, “Oh, ah… that’s… interesting.”

But the man is curious. After the initial shock, he can’t help but ask questions: “Did it hurt? How long to heal? Does it feel… different?” You might have to tell him to slow down with all the questions.

When he gets bolder, he’s incredibly gentle. He’ll brush his fingertips over them like he’s afraid of hurting you, completely mesmerized by how they feel under his touch.

The first time he kisses you and accidentally tugs on them, the noise you make just about breaks him. He’s obsessed after that, but he’s still so shy about admitting it.

Soap

Soap’s reaction? Immediate mischief. The grin on his face says everything. “Yer full o’ surprises, aren’t ya?”

He loves catching glimpses of them through your shirt and isn’t subtle about it either. He’ll waggle his eyebrows at you like a cheeky bastard.

During private moments, he’s playful as hell. He’ll nuzzle his face against your chest, muttering things like, “These might just be my new favorite thing.”

But he’s not just playful... he knows when to turn up the heat. Loves to tease with gentle nips and tugs until you’re a mess beneath him.

Tongue Piercings

Ghost

Simon notices immediately but doesn’t say anything at first. He just observes, quietly noting how it changes the way you talk or how it glints when you stick your tongue out.

The first time you kiss him with it? Oh, he’s hooked. He pulls back just a little, murmuring, “Do that again.”

If you start teasing him tapping it against your teeth or sticking your tongue out at him he’ll give you a warning look that promises consequences. And Simon? Always delivers.

In the bedroom, he’s completely fascinated by it. He’ll run his thumb over your tongue, feeling the piercing as he mutters, “Such a pretty mouth…”

König

König is speechless when he realizes. His eyes keep flicking to your mouth every time you talk, and his face is burning red.

He won’t ask directly, but his curiosity is through the roof. You might have to be the one to kiss him first, and when he feels it against his tongue, he’s stunned for a second before melting into the kiss.

Afterward, he’ll quietly admit, “I like it it’s, unique. Just like you.”

He’s secretly obsessed with the way it feels during kisses and might nervously trace it with his finger when you’re being affectionate.

Soap

Soap is all in. The second he sees it, he’s already smirking and asking questions like, “Does that make kissin’ better? Or should we find out?”

He’ll tease you relentlessly, sticking his tongue out to mimic yours or making cheeky comments. But he’s also incredibly interested in how it feels during a kiss (or more winkwink).

Loves flicking his tongue against it when things get heated. He’ll pull back with a grin, licking his lips like he’s just tasted something addictive.

Will absolutely joke about it to the others, saying things like, “Bet none of ye can handle what my bonnie’s got goin’ on!” (Don’t worry he keeps the details private).

Lip Piercings (Labret/Monroe/etc.)

Ghost

Ghost notices immediately and is lowkey obsessed. He’ll spend way too much time staring at your lips when you talk.

The first time you kiss, he’s fascinated by the cool metal against his lips. He pulls back slightly to mumble, “Feels good… different, but good.”

Loves tugging gently on the piercing with his teeth when things get heated. It’s his subtle way of reminding you who’s in charge.

König

König is awestruck. He thinks it looks stunning on you but doesn’t know how to compliment it without sounding awkward and weird.

He’s shy about touching it at first but eventually gets bold enough to trace it with his thumb during intimate moments.

Loves the contrast between the cold metal and the warmth of your skin when he kisses you. It drives him wild, though he’d never say it outright.

Soap

“Didn’t think you could get any hotter, but here we are.” Soap immediately hypes you up. He loves how bold and unique you look with the piercing.

Playfully tugs on it when he kisses you, grinning at your reaction. He’s all about making you squirm.

Buys you fun lip rings or studs as gifts. “Thought this one would look good on ya. Fancy tryin’ it on for me?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What do you think? Did I miss any piercings you’d love to see the COD boys react to? Let me know in my inbox or comments 👀

[amagialp]

Slasher headcanons!

not my usual fandom post, but please feel free to request anything! :P

(TW) and GN! reader hope you like it!

Michael Myers (Halloween)

Silent acts of affection: He'll fix things around your house when you're not looking, broken locks, creaky floorboards, even your car engine, but never tells you he did it.

Unsettling gifts: Michael doesn't understand normal romance, so you'll find things like feathers, cracked mirrors, or bones neatly arranged on your doorstep.

Childlike curiosity: He stares at you for hours not only because he’s creepy, but also because he’s trying to understand what makes you tick. If you catch him, he just tilts his head and keeps staring.

Jealous rage: Anyone who flirts with you ends up mysteriously missing or finds themselves suddenly terrified of "something" lurking nearby.

Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th)

Gentle giant energy: He’s incredibly soft with you, always hesitant to touch, afraid he might hurt you with his size and strength.

Nature dates: Jason loves being in the woods, so expect long "quiet walks" through the trees, with him subtly steering you away from dangerous areas.

Primitive gifts: He’ll leave flowers, smooth stones, or handmade wooden trinkets for you. Sometimes they’re perfect, other times, they’re... rough. It’s the thought that counts.

Protective rage: If someone harms you, they’ll regret it almost immediately. Jason’s wrath is swift and terrifying, but he’ll make sure you never see that side of him.

Leatherface (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Domestic sweetness: Despite the chaos, Leatherface tries to make your life comfortable, even cooking for you or attempting to sew something nice, though it might not always go well.

Physical affection: He doesn’t know how to express love, so expect bear hugs that are almost too tight and clumsy pats on the head.

Territorial: He’s deeply protective of his space, and by extension, you. Anyone who intrudes on what he considers "yours" is immediately in danger.

Childlike trust: He’ll follow your lead almost blindly, looking to you for approval in everything he does.

Billy & Stu (Scream)

Chaotic duo: They’ll argue over who gets to sit next to you during a horror movie marathon and will both pretend they weren’t scared when you call them out.

Competitive affection: They’re constantly trying to outdo each other to impress you, whether it’s with compliments, gestures, or taking out "obstacles" in your life.

Endless pranks: They team up to prank you, but if you ever prank them back, they’re both shocked and oddly impressed.

Weirdly supportive: They encourage your dark side, hyping you up if you ever show any interest in violence or twisted humor.

Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street)

Dark humor overload: Freddy flirts through sarcasm and mocking, but if someone else dares to insult you, they’re in for a nightmare.

Dream manipulation: He creates scenarios in your dreams just to make you laugh or to give you an escape from reality. It’s his twisted way of caring.

Possessive in your dreams: He doesn’t like anyone else entering your subconscious space, treating it like his personal domain (king gojo).

Nightmare protector: If you’re scared of something in a dream, Freddy will destroy it for you, though he’ll make fun of you for being scared in the first place.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Meticulous gifts: Asa leaves you intricate, terrifyingly beautiful things he’s crafted... like butterfly displays or twisted sculptures made from things you’d rather not know the origin of.

Fascination with your routine: He studies your habits obsessively, making sure he knows everything about your day to day life. If something disrupts it, he’ll "fix" the problem quietly.

Quiet, calculated affection: He doesn’t express love traditionally, but his attention to detail in how he takes care of you (even in small ways) speaks volumes.

Possessive and territorial: The idea of anyone else touching you or your belongings infuriates him. He’s not above setting traps to ensure people keep their distance.

Collector tendencies: You’re his most prized possession, but unlike the others, he protects you with a quiet reverence.

ChromeSkull (Laid to Rest)

Silent communicator: ChromeSkull relies on body language and technology to "talk" to you. Expect texts or typed out notes that are surprisingly sweet but still laced with his signature dark humor.

Obsessive filming: He constantly records you... not in a creepy stalker way (okay, maybe a little :D), but because he finds you captivating. The tapes are for him alone, and he guards them jealously.

Over the top protective: Anyone who so much as raises their voice at you is immediately on his hit list. His revenge is brutal, but he makes sure you never see that side of him.

Oddly stylish: He takes pride in his appearance and will sometimes dress you up too, giving you gifts like leather jackets or sunglasses to match his aesthetic.

Acts of service: His love language is taking care of "problems" for you, whether it’s fixing your car, eliminating someone who upset you, or just quietly keeping watch while you sleep.

The Sinclair Brothers (House of Wax)

Bo Sinclair

Charmer with a dark side: Bo loves flirting with you and making you blush, but there’s always an edge to it, as if he’s daring you to fall for him completely.

Overprotective sibling vibes: If Vincent or Lester get too close to you, he’ll intervene under the guise of "making sure they’re not bothering you."

Fix it guy: He’ll tinker with your stuff, fixing anything broken or making small improvements, even if you didn’t ask. It’s his way of showing he cares.

Jealous streak: Bo doesn’t handle competition well. If someone flirts with you, he’ll drag them into his workshop to "fix" them.

Vincent Sinclair

Artist’s devotion: Vincent loves sketching or sculpting you, often without you knowing. His art captures every detail, from the way your hair falls to the light in your eyes.

Gentle giant energy: Despite his imposing presence, he’s incredibly careful with you, treating you like something fragile and irreplaceable.

Silent adoration: He rarely speaks, but the way he watches you intensely and with complete focus says everything.

Gift giving: Expect handmade items like wax flowers, tiny sculptures, or jewelry. He pours his heart into these creations, and they’re always meant to protect or comfort you.

Lester Sinclair

Playful but protective: Lester loves teasing you, but if anyone else tries it, he’s quick to shut them down. He’s got a surprisingly sharp temper when it comes to your safety.

Nature walks: He loves taking you into the woods, showing you secret spots and teaching you random survival tricks, like how to set traps or identify plants.

Down to earth affection: Lester’s not one for grand gestures, but his constant kindness like keeping you company or bringing you snacks, makes you feel cared for.

Acts as the "buffer": He’s the calmest of the brothers and will often step in if Bo and Vincent get too intense around you.

!REQUESTS OPEN!