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a friend of mine fucking said Flashlight

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im in love with this typa posts

serving face with mama

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let's go on an adventure with mama 💕

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Your everyday with Price - GIF compilation

Feel free to add more lovelies 🩷✨

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Can someone help me why does clicking the links in my masterlist lead to tumblr website and not the app itself???

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Vampire141!Au

•Vampire141 but not like ancient medieval times vampire but more like mission gone bad and suddenly they turned into vampires.

•Decided to live together and with their salary mixed together, they were able to get a pretty big house. Complete with spacious living quarters, wide kirchen and even an outdoor pool.

• Cons happen when you're a vampire, well for one you're fucking immortal, second, big fucking house can't clean itself.

• Enter you, desperate for money, you look for ads for any possible flexible yet easy money. Prayers answered, You saw a job ad for a maid for a pretty rich looking house so why not. You talk with your future boss and the pay is quite to your liking.

• Now you work as a maid for the 141, retired military men living with each other, and it doesn't escape you that there's something deeper within them. Not the part where you saw each of them making out with each other, but the part where they are usually active at night only and you never EVER seen them eat but only drink rich looking wine that looks too thick to be liquid.

• Now working for them several months, you've gotten close to them, so close they even offered you to move in with them and how could you reject the offer. Although your close enough with them you still didn't wanna question their lives not wanting to potentially effect your paycheck.

• But who cares.

• "So.... You're a vampire?"

• "mmm-Yea, pretty much." Johnny confirms as he sun(moon)bathes with you outside.

•"Right...Right.... So why do vampires always live in mansions?"

• "Lass... If I became a wee immortal vampire and no' even live in a wee mansion, might as well step into the sun lad."

• hm.... He's right

This shit's fun... Might make more

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“Will you still love me when I forget what love is?”

Well damn.....

(p3 fae poly 141 x cursed human reader) || Masterlist || cw: angst

When it came, it did so in layers; not all at once like fire razing down a forest, but like snowfall. Gentle and inevitable, each melting flake a small forgetting.

First, it was names.

You would look at Kyle, his familiar grin flashing like sunlight through trees, and call him by a title from a kingdom long swallowed by moss and time. You would laugh at his expression, uncertain why the sound tasted strange in your mouth, and the room would grow unbearably heavy, as if the walls themselves could sense the fracture forming inside you.

You’d ask Johnny to bring you tea, then wonder aloud- like a child startled awake- if you even liked tea anymore.

You stopped calling Simon by anything at all, not out of cruelty, but because your mind could no longer find the thread of him. As if the loom of your memories had begun unraveling, one golden thread at a time.

You even forgot Simon’s face one day.

He finds you curled in the hollow beside the singing well, where fae voices forever hummed through the mist. The stones were slick with memory, the air heavy with time and sorrow. You were wrapped around yourself, a trembling creature of light and loss.

“I didn’t know who you were.” You whispered when he sat down beside you.

He nodded, his eyes dark wells of unspoken grief. “That’s all right.”

“I thought you were going to take me.” You looked down at your trembling hands. “I thought… you were here to end it.”

“You’ve never been anything but safe with me.” He said. His voice was steady like old oaks, but he didn’t speak again for a long time, and neither did you.

The castle then watched it continue.

its stones bones shivered in mourning as it saw the way your footsteps faltered in the mornings now, how you stood at the edge of the corridor with your hand against the wall, trying to remember which direction leads to the garden and which leads to the throne room. It murmured gentle guidance beneath your feet, shifted the stones so you always turned the right way. But you still hesitates. Still frowned, still murmur apologies under your breath.

“Sorry, sorry… I knew this. I knew this.”

The will-o'-wisps that once flickered mischievous in the shadows now clustered around you like living stars, their tiny bodies pulsing gently as they guided you step by step, glowing a mournful silver instead of their usual playful blue.

You asked John one evening- while he read to you from a worn book in your shared chamber, his voice a steady beacon in your fogging world- if the stars had always looked like that. The question was so soft, so simple, and yet it cracked something in him, because you used to name the constellations like old friends.

You were afraid of shadows that weren’t there yesterday. Of reflections that looked a second too slow in catching up. Of voices you knew, but couldn’t name.

Next, it was time itself.

Not hours or days- years. You’d call for your parents in the twilight, confused and teary when they didn’t come, not remembering they’d passed so long ago not even the tree spirits remembered their faces. You'd clutch letters to your chest like they'd just arrived, unaware they'd been yellowing on your shelf for decades.

You’d forget your own mirror image.

You’d wake screaming from dreams you couldn’t describe. You’d shrink from your reflection, pressing trembling hands over your face and whispering, “That’s not me. That can’t be me. I was- I never- John, John? John, please-“

One night, you stood in the courtyard barefoot in the snow, robe fluttering like moonlight. You stared at the moon and asked no one in particular: “… Am I a prisoner here?”

Thrain was with you, as he always was. He nuzzled your shoulder in response, trying to soothe the fear rising within you. You gripped his fur and leaned against him like a child lost in a storm.

And gods, the way they ached.

Johnny laughed louder now, louder and wilder like the summer storms of the old world, trying to cover the shattering silence your confusion left behind. He called you "lass" in every sentence so you'd feel anchored to something. He walked a step behind you everywhere, pretending it wasn’t because he was worried you might forget where you were.

Ghost began carrying tokens- little things. Ribbons, dried flowers, silver buttons and tinkling bells. Each one had a story of you, and each time you forgot one, he’d hand it to you gently and say, “Yours, love. You gave it to me.” He’d say, like it was a cherished secret between the two of you.

Gaz took to humming your favorite tunes beneath his breath as he worked, even though you no longer sang with him. When you looked at him in confusion, he just smiled and said, “You always liked this one, remember?”

They stayed with you, every hour they could. But John- John suffered.

He sat with you for hours even when you didn’t speak- when words were too difficult and you forgot what clouds were called and what shapes they were. He kissed your hands when they trembled. When you woke in the night and begged to go home, not knowing what "home" meant anymore, he held you close and whispered: “You’re already there, darling. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

But, still you were slipping like mist through their fingers.

And the castle mourned with them. The walls dimmed, the corridors wept condensation like tears. Will-o-wisps flickered low and quiet, guiding you slowly even when you no longer asked. They stuck to your clothes and your palms, and did not have the heart to leave you alone.

And Thrain watched with the most solemn of gazes.

When you grew too afraid of your own chambers, he stood beneath your window all night. When you refused to eat because you thought the food was poisoned- memories of old war resurfacing from broken pathways- he let you feed him first, licking berries from your hand until you giggled faintly and took a bite yourself. He walked the castle grounds with you in silence, letting you lean against his massive shoulder when your steps faltered.

But none of it stopped the slow unraveling.

One morning, you looked into a mirror and didn’t recognize the face staring back. You reached out and touchd the glass, brows furrowed. “Who is she?”

Kyle was behind you, hands full of ribbons meant for your hair, and he hesitated. “That’s… you, love.”

You blinked, tilting your head. Slowly, a strange expression on your face, you pulled back. “She looks sad.”

He swallowed hard. “You’ve been hurting. But we’re going to fix it.”

“You promise?”

He knelt, took your hand, and kissed your knuckles. “All of us. Every damn one.”

Another day, you looked at John- his beard newly trimmed, his eyes soft and hopeful- and asked him quietly, your hands twisting the soft fabric of your dress. “Are you my husband?”

His face broke, the way cliffs crumble slowly into the sea.

You don’t remember the look he gave you. But you remember that night’s dream- a whisper of a man in a blue cloak with hands like warmth and a voice like thunder saying: “Yes, love. Always.”

And somewhere in your heart, you think you believed it. Even if you didn’t understand why, even if you didnt remember when.

“Will you still love me when I forget what love is?”

“Yes, love. Always.”

P4

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🔮141 𝕬𝖀𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙🔮

Different Jobs Au

Vampire Au

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Absolutely love your bear!price content, I’m obsessed with the idea of this man and his lover raising an army of cubs the man can’t keep his hands off his mate

WTH I SO SORRY WITH LATE REPLY, BUT U KNOW WHAT THNAK U :DDD

John being a touch starved bear just sounds perfect for me.

I'd imagine the start of your relationship wasn't that obvious he's touch starved but as the more you progress his hands just grabs at whatever skin thats possible to grab tbh and that will show at the amount of cubs the two of you will have together

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Different jobs 141 au

Lumberjack! John Price, who's married to you and would carve you a new coffee table, chairs and cabinete (maybe even a crib if you're considering)

Firefighter!Simon Riley, fireproof the shit of your house, double-check cables and wires, update the fire alarm you know it, and appreciates good food every time he comes home (you for dessert)

Car Mechanic!Johnny Matavish, who does car work for you for a blowjob in return, would do car work in thin white tank top if your watching making sure his sweating body hits the sun right (he fucks you at the backseat)

Wildlife Officer! Kyle Garrick, who loves going out to forest with you, knows alot of survival skills, really skilled with the rope doing all complicated knots and shit. likes making you blush when the two of you go swim in a clean lake and he looks like some ancient god rn. (fucks you by the tree with your hands tied at your back)

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John’s parents are extremely protective of you and I mean that they will fight John himself if he ever dares to hurt their precious angel of a daughter-in-law.

Once during Christmas dinner, John’s entire extended family was invited to it. Being his younger, prettier new wife meant that a lot of jealousy was going to be projected onto you.

From men wanting a more younger woman compared to their wives to boost their egos and from the women who felt threatened by you.

And you best believe that one of the women made a snide remark that would get her an eventual earful.

“It must be nice to be a pretty little thing. Being able to pick up men like our John here. Tell me darling how many men have ran through you before you met-“

A pair of hands slammed against the dinner table shaking it slightly and it was not by John but his loving, non-confrontational mother.

Your sweet mother-in-law went off, Emily Gilmore style. Pointing out all of the other woman’s flaws and unfavourable qualities. She went as far as blaming that woman’s looks and disgusting attitude for being the reason why her husband cheats on a regular basis.

The whole house was stunned, yourself included. The silence was only broken by John gruff snort. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow for him to only hold your hand underneath the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Your mother-in-law sat down with a huff and carried on with dinner as if she hadn’t ripped someone a new one.

Best believe no one had said anything rude to you ever again.

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🪭𝔓𝔬𝔩𝔶!141 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱🪭

DarkPoly!141

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🚬 𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 🚬

• Post romantic date

• Shaved

• Sub!Price

• Birthday boy

• Private sauna

• Food lover Price

• Filipino!Reader

• For a mission

• He shaved

𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚛!𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌e

• Bear!Price

• Perfect Fit

• Cubs

• Right to bear arms

• Outdoor sex

𝚃𝚘𝚡𝚒𝚌𝙷𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍!𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌��

• Basis

• Football match

• Bare

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Dark!Poly!TF141 x Fem!Reader

//Dead dove do not eat themes, near hypothermia expierence, physical and emotional abouse,Non-con, mysoginistic actions, the 141 are not nice here

tell me if i missed sum!

It started ever since you got stranded in the middle of the road due to your tires popping in the middle of nowhere.

This smooth talking dark skinned man was kind enough to help you tow your car somewhere safer while you ride by the passenger seat driving you to a place where he lived with his lovers in a peaceful barn.

So when did you get held captive again?

Months past already, a year possibly. You lost count.

Kyle was his name, introduced you to his mates while he told a guy named Simon to fix up your car. After that, you met John and Johnny relaxing by the couch watching a new season of football, welcoming you.

"Her tire got busted, but the bigger problem is her engine," Simon said once he returned after an hour or so.

They invited you to stay considering it will take time for your car to be fixed.

You politely decline, not wanting to intrude.

They insist.

Days past and living with them was fun, Johnny and Kyle were energetic, bouncing jokes to one another. A great contrast to John and Simon, the more quiet matured-esque type of the team.

They told you about their days in the military, once retiring they can't seem to separate from each other, and things escalated from there, you guessed

Simon would disappear from time to time going to the shed/garage next to the house where your car and tools were being kept. You offered to help him with your car, yet the others were quick to shut down that idea of yours

"No need to worry your pretty head about that luv" John supplied.

You should have run away from there on.

Has one month pass?

Two maybe..

All you remember was that it has been weeks, and the 141 has been too generous to let you stay. Knowing they'll stop you from checking up on your own car, so as of right now, Kyle and Price went outside to stock up, Johnny in the shower, and Simon was in the shed.

Your car can't be that bad can it?

You would notice Simon would be the only one going out and fixing it. You could guess it would take time to fix a car with only 1 person doing it, so you thought maybe an extra hand wouldn't hurt.

These people are really nice, feeding you, lending you their clothes as extra, and even buying you comfy underwear to wear even if it seemed embarrassing to them. You tried contacting, but it seems like your phone suddenly gave up on you and couldn't detect a single signal.

With that, you look for other ways to occupy your time. With a tough decision, you decide to go to their giant shed and garage combination outside by yourself while you still have the chance. If anyone known that your car engine is discombobulated, then it should be you.

With that thought in mind and everyone else is distracted with doing their own thing, you head out.

You shouldn't have.

You shouldn't have entered the garage.

You shouldn't have stayed frozen when you find your car pieces scattered.

You shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling somebody was behind you.

You shouldn't have overstayed your welcome.

○●○●○●○●

It was cold, and the snow was piling up by the window sill outside. And so was your coughing and wheezing from the rough kick to your stomach delivered by Johnny. He was angry all because you didn't want to wear the skimpy lingerine he got you.

"I asked one thin' bonnie! Just one!" He shouted, You don't know if your ringing ears were caused by the pain or his voice.

You wheeze as you try to find a reply but fail.

You've been in this shitty hell hole for months, you guess, based on the snowy flakes outside

Of course, you didn't want to wear that lacy thong and bra. It was freezing, and you don't wanna have icy nips

But of course, they couldn't understand that simple logic as simple as you asked, being let go the month prior.

Slowly, after finding out they were selling your car parts as if they were nothing, you tried to run for help, but then Kyle and Johnny just taunted you by screaming 'help!' The same pathetic way as you did to show that no one was around.

You couldn't keep a straight head after that.

They showed their true colors, keeping you a glorified housewife pet thing.

John would force you to sit on his lap while you feed him snacks, and his hands grope your ass a little too rough, and his bulge would poke you.

Simon would put his dick into you, not caring if you're washing dishes and water splash around.

Johnny would make you help him in the garden, but ultimately, ending you being bended over the fence.

You try to shower, but before you can lock the door. Kyle is there stopping the doorway in time and forced you to undress in front of him, as Kyle waited for the water to heat up.

It's torture, worse —they don't even hide their depravity.

Sunny days became a nightmare with all the sundresses they would make you wear. If you were good enough, you could keep your underwear on. If not, then the wind is your enemy and your kidnappers, your nightmare.

Months pass, and winter comes in. Everything felt more questionable.

What's their goal with you?

Were there other tortured people prior to you?

How do you get out?

You couldn't catch a break despite the men saying they spoil you rotten and all you have to do is sit still and look pretty.

You didn't want to.

Johnny didn't like that.

Now, back to you wheezing on the floor, glaring up at Johnny as he waves around a santa theme lingerine.

"C'mon me and the boys personally picked this for you!"

Well obviously. Considering it barely leaves anything to the imagination.

"Spoiled rotten a'ready luv. Least you could do is be tha'kful" John chimes in.

Thankful your ass.

The room is heavy agreement as they stare down at you, thinking what punishment should they conjure for a brat like you.

You sometimes wish Simon stayed quiet.

"Let's put her outside."

Kyle perks up

"Outside? Hm... Could do. If you don't even want to wear a simple lingerine by the fireplace to keep you warm. Might as well not wear anything."

Your stomach dropped.

Your head light.

No... They couldn't be serious could they?

"W-what?"

"Ah, Simon, always the opportunitist. A'right, you heard 'im,' Price states as the rest gather around you. Johnny and Kyle forcefully shove you to a standing position, ignoring your yelling profanities while Simon opens the door.

You could already feel the cold burrowing into your flesh, but that didn't stop from them shutting the door by your face, leaving you shivering in the first contact of wind hitting your skin.

It wasn't heavily snowing outside, no harsh winds or so, but the cold is always unforgivable if you're wearing nothing but a skimpy piece of shit they put you on.

You could run.

But where?

Even if you did know something, you would be dead due to hypothermia before reaching it.

So you beg.

Even if it ruins your leftover dignity.

You slam the door repeatedly.

Even if your fists are shaking.

You shout for forgiveness.

Even if a god doesn't hear you.

You do anything but die.

It's not like this...

You tried to go the shed/garage, but you know Simon keeps the keys. They keep anything away from you.

Without many options, you cradle your shoulders as you bend your knees into a fetus position. Trying to salvage any warmth that could be left.

You could feel your body shivering uncontrollably, your teeth clattering against each other, and your stomach turns into itself, trying to find comfort. Your fingers are turning numb (are they still there or were they cracked off without you noticing.)

Your body automatically dozing off into nothingness without much of your control (even though you never had one to begin with). Your eyes closed, and consciousness drifted off to someplace else, so you didn't notice the door opening or the warmth of a body and hand carrying you inside.

□■□■□■

Might make part 2 idk

open for ideas tho!

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thanks you for the meal

You Have Nothing to prove to Your Birdie - Old Man!Price 🕊

It was the same every night, since he came back home from his most recent deployment.

His kisses were still the same filled with need and favour of savouring the sweet flesh he has become familiar too. Hands grope, grab, tug and pull at any sort of flesh John’s hands can grab onto, sliding up your thighs to press his finger against the dampness on your own ruined pantie. 

But the urgency is cut short, every night. A final kiss to the forehead, looking at you with remorse and regret as he apologises for being tired. You don’t press on his excuse, after all John could be considered a war hero at this point. The scars of battle wears a man tired as you living with its living proof. But something always felt off as of recent. 

A frustrated ‘I’m sorry, love’ begrudgingly leaves his mouth as he rolls away and settles on his side, trying to grasp onto the fragments of sleep. Your hand finds its way to his chest, rubbing the skin soothingly, to coax out his vulnerability. 

“Talk to me, John.” Your soft voice echoes through the room, soft but firm. 

John doesn’t move, allowing himself to melt into your touch. 

A beat of silence drops. Another, and another before he exhales, shoulders drooping in defeat as John tries his best to look at you. The honesty teeters on the tip of his tongue while the lies reach the back of his throat as John swallows down the white lies. 

“I don’t wanna disappoint you, Birdie.” John exhales with remorse, “can’t get it up, been that way since the last op. Figured it’d pass, it hasn’t.” John’s tone is hard, clipped like he’s reporting intel rather than baring something that clearly wounds him. He tries to keep his emotions at bay, still hesitant to let his vulnerabilities out. 

Leaning in, you press a chaste kiss to the corner of John’s chapped lips, “You’re silly if you think I only want you for your cock.”

Your actions slow and deliberate as you move to straddle him, arms wrapped around his neck to bring his face closer to his. A hand comes up to cup his cheek, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. 

“Captain Johnathan Price,” you say softly as your lips graze the shell of his ear before nipping his earlobe gently. “I want you. The man who holds me like I’m something precious. The man who makes me feel safe with a look. The man I ache for, even when you’re not inside me.”

You grind your lips against him as John finds his hands on your hips giving it a soft squeeze, curling into your flesh as he tries to anchor himself. Feeling the smallest twitch beneath, though it doesn’t last long earns a sense of victory to brew within you, however, the flicker of need and want once again returns to John’s gaze. 

You whisper sweet nothings, kissing along the line of his throat, "I think about you when I'm alone." I touched myself in our bed and in the shower. I see your hands and hear your voice in my mind.

As you move his hand down and place his fingers between your thighs, he lets out a low, guttural groan as you inch his fingers to your needy cunt. He notices how wet you are, and his eyes dilate softly rubbing through your panties.

"Fuck, birdie."

"Do you feel that?" You guide  his fingers into your sopping pussy urging him to slowly thrust in and out, saying, "That's you." That's what you did. Not your cock. You.”

Hungry eyes observe you with an unvarnished, almost awe-inspiring intensity, as though you were something sacred that was rupturing just above him. As his eyes follow every movement and every chill that runs through your body, his pupils are blown wide, his lips are slightly parted, and his breath comes in shallow draws.

John’s fingers slowly and deliberately press deeper, filling you to the brim scissoring into the gummy walls of your pussy, your entire body trembles as the pads of his fingers neatly curl. His calloused thumb makes tight, wet circles around your clit, first slowly and then more quickly and precisely.

Desperate for more, for everything, your hips rock to his beat. On each side of him, your thighs shake, and your hands fumble for support, grabbing his chest, Desperate for more, for everything, your hips rock to his beat. As the ecstasy coils tighter in your core, your legs quiver on either side of him, and your hands fumble for traction, clutching his shoulders, biceps, or chest, anything to anchor yourself. With a gentle, broken moan, you tilt your head back and allow the sound to fall freely from your lips. 

John’s breath hitches, “God, look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe and lustful love. “So fuckin’ beautiful when you fall apart, birdie.”

Sharp and all-consuming, your orgasm rises and falls like a wave. Your climax tears through you in shuddering waves as your hips grind against his hand, your back arches, and your nails bite into his skin. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer as your voice breaks into quiet sobs.

You collapse against his chest, still panting, and press soft kisses to the damp skin of his neck.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” you whisper, fingers threading through his hair. “You’re mine. That’s enough.”

His arms instinctively encircle you as your breathing slows and you melt against his chest; they are secure, strong, and safe. John doesn't feel like a man who is failing at something for the first time in weeks. He feels like yours. The realisation that you don't need him to be tough, flawless, or unflappable is what warms and grounds him. 

All you need is him here, alongside you. 

Cherished. 

Wanted.

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We got Price crying over shaved resder but what if reader crying over shaved price?

The room felt heated, with you and John making out just by the bed.

John feels your hands unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt

"Let me suck you off, John"

Dinner date, check

Belly full, check

Lovely wife wanting to suck him off ,double check

hell yea life is good

but as he felt his pants fsll, your hands freeze

It took a moment for him to notice but he smirker nontheless

"Enjoying the view lo-"

"im going to bed"

Now it was his turn to freeze

"Huh- what?"

"Its... Bald, John...."

John Price, a renowned captain of the 141, known for his quick thinking and great strategies leading to 141's success, is now dumbfounded.

Yes, he shaved.

But... Isn't that good?

He noticed quite some time you would have to pull something out of your mouth every time you suck him off and from that he been thinking that he's getting too bushy down there, so to save the both of you the trouble. He shaved.

"I thought I loved you enough already John.... You... You didn't have to do this.." You sniffled

Oh no, not the sniffling

"C-come on now love... It will grow back"

He tried comforting, but he couldn't really take this situation too seriously with him half naked, dick out, and dumbfound over you crying to his shaved private parts.

"Alright then.... Wake me up if it did. Goodnight John." You held back tears and sniffled for the last time.

Yeah... He'll never shave again.