#jonathan price imagine

[ragingbookdragon]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[l0velylecter]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[piratesfromspace]

Night Blue (Price x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Price

Rated: Mature

Word count: 3k

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t let me down, Bravo 6.”

You said it aloud with a sigh. Someone answers.

“Oh, you know I won’t, darling.”

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

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

TEN YEARS AGO

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

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

“Solid copy.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. Care for a suggestion, captain?”

“I’m all hears, lieutenant.”

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

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

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

“Alright John, lead the way.” 

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

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

“Roger that, captain.”

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

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

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

“Together”, he signs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, she?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

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

“I had it under control.”

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

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

“Sure thing, ma’am. Follow me.” 

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

And the blue of their eyes. 

[musicalchaos07]

Older Mike and Will babysitting their niece and saying "she gets that from your side of the family" to each other anytime she displays certified weird girl behavior (which is often have u seen her parents)

[mrsmidnight15]

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

[cillianslvt]

i don’t think i’ll be happy until crane and reader from this

are. lemmy you better be quick with that part 3 🤣🤣🤣

@kiss-me-cill-me

[bleedingoptimism]

As Steve walks into the grocery store he pulls his sunglasses off, only to put them back on again immediately. The lights of the store make the back of his eyes sting. Hungover from a bad headache, not that people here would care why. Whatever, is not like everyone already doesn’t think he’s an asshole. He doesn’t need to perform for anyone anymore.

A guy, singing to himself down one of the aisles peaks his attention, he’s tall and has long black hair and Steve belatedly remembers that he’s Jon’s friend from California.

“Argyle?” he asks, more to himself than to him, but Argyle turns and smiles at him as if they are old friends. He approaches and grabs his shoulder, shaking him a little.

“Oh! Hi Stevie!” 

The confidence and attitude he carries himself with make Steve smile for some reason. It’s like he’s very sure of himself but in a nice way, not in a douchey way, like his high school buddies were. Although hearing someone call him “Stevie” reminds him of Tommy and a very different time and he can’t help but shrink inwards a little, “Oh no please, just Steve,” he says with an apologetic smile, pulling his sunglasses off again and placing them on his head. And because he doesn’t want Argyle to think he’s the douchebag, he explains further, “‘Stevie�� brings back bad memories,”

Argyle leans his head to the side with a pout but then smiles and squeezes Steve’s shoulder, “Dude, it’s fine, we can just make new ones, man! Better ones.”

Steve’s first reaction is to scoff. As if it were that easy… but then he thinks, hell, maybe it is.  Maybe it is and it makes him smile. Argyle is way too outgoing for it to be comfortable for other people, it’s kind of ridiculous. For a second, he wonders if Jonathan found it jarring when he first met him. But Steve finds it refreshing. He shakes his head and smiles,

“So what were you looking for? Maybe I can help?” he offers.

Argyle turns in a circle, letting go of Steve’s shoulder and opening his arms wide, like he’s presenting the store to Steve, “See man, I'm mentally preparing myself for the munchies. I kind of wanted to make a pizza but like sweet? You get me?”

“Like a pie?” Steve chuckles.

“That! Sounds delicious, dude! But I don’t know how to make a pie,” Argyle laments, and Steve has no idea what possesses him to say,

“I do. You want help?” 

Argyle stills his whole body and then shakes it before he starts snapping his fingers rapidly, startling Steve.

“Ok! Ok ok ok ok ok! Are you busy right now, man?”

“Just need to buy my groceries…” Steve says unable to keep the bewilderment off his expression.

“I’ll help you with that, we’ll buy things for the pie and then you invite me over, how’s that my dude?” Argyle says, no preambles, “I have a doobie and a lot of questions about all the shit that went down” he adds moving his eyebrows up and down quickly.

“What about Jon?” Steve can’t help but ask.

“Ah man, Jonny is with Nancy right now. Those two love birds had a lot to talk about, so I figured I’d make myself scarce.” Argyle answers, nodding apprehensively at his own statement.

Steve finds himself nodding along before saying, “Yeah, okay. Let’s do it!”

“Hell yeah, Stevie!” Argyle exclaims throwing his arms up and this time, Steve doesn’t cringe at the nickname.

After that, Argyle follows Steve through the store, helping him put things in the cart, making a few comments about differences in products or prices from California, but mostly staying out of the way and humming to himself. Steve asks him what he wants the pie to be (strawberries and chocolate) so he gets the ingredients for that too and then they are off.

When they get to his place, Steve tells him to get comfortable while he puts stuff away but Argyle helps him out before sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen and watching as Steve gets all the ingredients for the pie laid out.

“You know dude, you’re kind of exactly how I imagined you’d be,” Argyle tells him, gifting him another one of his smiles. 

“Really?” Steve asks surprised.

“Jon told me all about you, man,” he answers nodding. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that, “And you still want to hang out with me?” he asks, half judgy, half defensive.

“Of course! Because you know what I got from it, dog?” Argyle asks and Steve just stares at him, afraid to know the answer.

“That you are a good person, Stevie! So you got off to a rocky start dude, so what? I think that makes you all the more interesting.”

Steve purses his lips in an attempt not to smile and raises an eyebrow.

“You went to hell and beyond for someone you didn’t even like! You’ve paid your dues and a half for whatever shit you did when you were younger and it could’ve made you bitter or closed off, man! But it didn’t. Not even the tiniest little bit. You barely know me and you invited me over and offered to bake pie for me, dude!” 

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, “You got all that from what Jon told you? Also you invited yourself over,” he jokes. 

Argyle laughs and then just shrugs, choosing to ignore Steve’s question about Jon.

He lets it go, and Argyle lights up the joint while he starts making the pie. After they both get a few hits, Argyle starts asking him about everything. ‘Start from the beginning’ he says.

Steve starts off a little stiff but gets looser with the weed and Argyle's presence and ends up telling him practically everything. Argyle asks a few questions every once in a while, sometimes about the process of making the pie. Sometimes some really intense shit like ‘and how did that make you feel?’, ‘did you think you were going to die?’ ‘were you scared?’.

Steve answers everything honestly, and it feels incredibly cathartic. His favorite questions are the ones about the pie though, and he smiles the biggest when Argyle says next time he’ll make one for him.

In turn, Steve asks him how he met Jon and chuckles when Argyle confirms his thoughts and tells him Jon didn’t like Argyle one bit at first.

“He said I was too happy. He didn’t trust it. Dude couldn’t trust anyone that hadn’t gone through some kind of shit in their lives” Argyle laughs, “But I can thaw even the coldest of hearts, man! As we got to know each other, he realized that I did have my own shit going on, but that happiness was a choice for me. Is who I had chosen to be.”

They talk about that too, how it wasn’t an easy choice. How some days it’s harder than others, to keep at it. How all the Upside Down shit affected him too.

By the time the pie is done and the joint is gone, Steve feels incredibly close to Argyle. Like they’ve been friends forever. 

“So that’s pretty much it,” he says with a sigh after finishing a rant about why he doesn’t keep in touch with his high school buddies because Argyle had asked about them.

“Dude, you’ve been through so much,” he says solemnly.

“Yeah, you know that’s…. Life…” Steve says, shrugging. He doesn't know exactly what to say, suddenly feeling very awkward at being seen.

“Nah, Stevie. Me being kicked out of my house as soon as I was old enough to get a job ‘cause my parents couldn’t afford to keep feeding me and my younger siblings…. That’s life.” Argyle says seriously and quickly dismisses Steve's worried face adding, “It’s ok dude, they were great parents, they raised me well and I still go visit every other weekend” And then sighs and looks sternly at Steve again,

“Like I said, that’s life. What you’ve been through? Was hell”

“The kids had it worse- Ell-” Steve starts but Argyle interrupts him.

“That doesn’t erase what you've been through, Steve. It doesn’t make it less of a nightmare, man.” Steve just looks at Argyle as what he’s saying sinks in. 

“And you got through it, dude. You came out the other side even a better person than when it started and like- you saved lives! You saved my best friend's life and like- like- you should be proud of yourself Stevie. I’m proud of you, man” he finishes with a carefree smile. As if he hadn’t just rocked the ground Steve was standing on. And he doesn't know if it’s the weed, or Argyle’s words, or both but Steve closes the distance between them and hugs him.

“Oh, hey! Hugs! I love hugs!” Argyle laughs, and hugs him back, taking it all in stride.

“Sorry,” Steve sniffles embarrassed, “I didn’t know I needed to hear that till you said it,” he croaks.

“Nah, it’s good. I got you” Argyle responds, patting his back lightly.

The hug is wonderful, friendly, warm, and just the right length but when he’s stepping away from Argyle, he hears a wary sound from the kitchen door.

“Uhm…hi” 

It’s Eddie. Pocker-faced and cautious and Steve knows him well enough to know he’s freaking out inside.

“Oh, hi! Eddie! Good to see you, dude!” Argyle says good naturally and completely out of the loop. Steve smiles at him too and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand to dry them off a bit.

Whatever Eddie was thinking goes out the window when he looks closely at Steve and walks towards him, leaning closer to look him in the eye, “You okay?” he asks concerned.

Steve nods and Argyle clears his throat, “I’m going to… set the table for three,” he says, so maybe, not as out of the loop as Steve first thought.

Eddie completely ignores Argyle and grabs Steve’s face, his thumb caressing the underside of his eye, “You really ok?” he asks again and Steve chuckles,

“Yeah,” he answers with a smile.

Eddie hums and then looks back towards where Argyle is opening and closing cabinets in the dining room, looking for plates, “So… Should I be jealous?” he asks and Steve snorts amused, 

“Of course not,” he says.

“You sure? ‘Cause maybe your type wasn’t curls and big eyes, maybe it was long hair and weed all along,” Eddie presses and Steve can tell he’s trying to make a joke out of it but is actually asking for real and Steve gets frankly, really annoyed.

“You know what? Maybe you should be jealous. Argy would never accuse me like that,” Inwardly he cringes at the nickname but it gets the point across. Eddie’s face falls and he looks devastated and terrified for a second before Steve smirks bitchily at him and then Eddie is frowning.

“Asshole” he murmurs, despite still holding Steve’s face as if it were precious and fragile.

Steve steps closer, placing his hands on Eddie’s waist, “You started it” he says as an apology. Kind of.

Eddie huffs and moves his hands to Steve shoulder’s, one thumb pressed to his pulse, “I regret it” 

Steve hums, “Just for the record? A little possessiveness is kind of hot,” he says and pecks the tip of Eddie’s nose, “You questioning my feelings for you? Is not.” and then flicks it.

“Dully noted,” Eddie nods.

Steve looks him in the eye as he leans closer, kisses him fully in the mouth firmly, eyes open the whole time, and then whispers “Good boy,” before he steps away.

He smirks again seeing the full-body effect his little stunt has on Eddie. The way his eyelids fall, his mouth opens, the goosebumps on his arm hair, and the shiver that runs through his spine. He takes a moment to take it all in before he smiles, less predatory and more friendly. Eddie smiles back, and shakes his head amused, like he can't believe Steve is real. He does that a lot.

Steve then takes Eddie’s hand on his own and kisses his knuckles before moving past him and dragging him to the dining room with him, 

“Now c’mon. Let’s go eat pie with my new friend”

e͟n͟d͟

a coffee? a doobie? ☕🥐💕

[eternal-curse]

imagine if popular vampire media characters all had tumblr. that would be so hectic lol they’d have so much beef with each other

#this is about to be super out of character for all of them #but humor comes at a price

4 notes

👨🏻‍🦲 colin-robinson-69-420 Follow

Callout Post for @mag𝗂strate-murder (aka Astarion Ancunín)

@mag𝗂strate-murder (prev URL was @year-of-the-carr𝗂on-crow) has shown some absolutely vile, revolting, disgusting, toxic— sometimes downright evil— behavior on numerous (and lengthy!) occasions. This behavior has been repeated again and again. I would be willing to forgive and forget all of these things, IF they were first-time events or isolated incidents. They are NOT isolated incidents.

The list includes (but is not limited to):

Trying to attack his friends while they're peacefully slumbering.

The murder of countless (countless!) innocent people.

Theft. Maybe even robbery. Idfk.

Showing annoyance at the idea of saving entire groups of people from being enslaved or mass murdered. (These were two separate occasions... Yuck!)

I know I’m posting this at 8 o’cock, so many vampblr users may be currently asleep, but it’s my civic duty to provide information for the uh. The people at large. So there are more details, more moral crimes, and proof of all of the heinous actions this spawn has committed under the cut.

------------------------- read more -------------------------

🗡 magistrate-murder

I'm flattered. You just can't take me off of your mind, can you? Do you dream of me? I hope they're nightmares. 💕

🩸 blood-and-book-reviews Follow

I love how "theft" is directly between "killing innocent people" and "is chill with subjugation and mass murder"

🎸 the-vampire-queen

#did anyone else notice how they said 'moral crimes' #as if murder and theft and etc are legal? #lol? #weird... #<- prev's tags #my tags -> #YES OMG I NOTICED THAT TOO. #also what the eff? OP had to point out that astarion's a spawn? #why does it matter that he isn't a full vampire? #as someone who’s a vampire/demon hybrid that’s kind of a red flag to me :/ #ugh this is SO not math

12,987 notes

📚 j-harker

I’m missing @m𝗂ss-mina-murray. Currently out of the country for work.

💁🏼‍♀️ slayer-summers

Oh, I'm sorry :( At least the view is beautiful, where are you?

📚 j-harker

Transylvania. Why?

💁🏼‍♀️ slayer-summers

Get Out Of There Immediately Jonathan Harker Leave Get Out Now Get Out Go Leave Go Now

#buffy talks #slayer posting

548 notes

🎸 the-vampire-queen

I just learned about "vegan vampires." That's so stupid. Just eat the color red ???? It's NOT that hard

🎀 miss-draculaura

:(

🎸 the-vampire-queen

I'll make an exception for you

🎀 miss-draculaura

:)

1,600 notes

🐺 the-vampire-lestat

A preview of my upcoming book:

I am the vampire Lestat. I'm immortal. More or less. The light of the sun, the sustained heat of an intense fire-these things might destroy me. But then again, they might not.

I'm six feet tall, which was fairly impressive in the 1780s when I was a young mortal man. It's not bad now. I have thick blond hair, not quite shoulder length, and rather curly, which appears white under fluorescent light. My eyes are gray, but they absorb the colors blue or violet easily from surfaces around them. And I have a fairly short narrow nose, and a mouth that is well shaped but just a little too big for my face. It can look very mean, or extremely generous, my mouth. It always looks sensual. But emotions and attitudes are always reflected in my entire expression. I have a continuously animated face.

My vampire nature reveals itself in extremely white and highly reflective skin that has to be powdered down for cameras of any kind.

And if I'm starved for blood I look like a perfect horror- skin shrunken, veins like ropes over the contours of my bones. But I don't let that happen now. And the only consistent indi- cation that I am not human is my fingernails. It's the same with all vampires. Our fingernails look like glass. And some people notice that when they don't notice anything else.

Please, contain your excitement.

🐺 the-vampire-lestat

Who is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way?

💁🏼‍♀️ slayer-summers

Would you believe me if I told you we're still trying to figure that out?

#buffy talks #well ebony isn't real #but we still don't know who tara is

6,666 notes

🦇 cravensworth-king-of-bottoms

I've heard a rumor about this online webbed site; that is which it is filled to the brim with abstinants, celibates, and the like.

📸 liam-de-lioncunt Follow

Ugh... As much as I hate to use popular gifs, I feel compulsed to post this before anyone else does.

There. I did it first.

🦇 cravensworth-king-of-bottoms

Tonight, we FEAST. NYAH! HAH!

628 notes

🎸 the-vampire-queen

Just recorded this Mitski cover

6 notes

🧛🏻‍♂️ tepes-the-first

Why is it that when Gods demand blood, it's called a necessary sacrifice, but when I, Vlad Dracul,

💛 alucard

It's because you're evil.

🧛🏻‍♂️ tepes-the-first

For the last time, change your URL. Your name is Adrian.

📚 j-harker

I didn't know you had a son!

📚 j-harker

Wait, what was the original post about??

🧛🏻‍♂️ tepes-the-first

Don't worry about it.

📚 j-harker

Okay. :)

4,279 notes

💁🏼‍♀️ slayer-summers

I'm starting an emotional support group chat for slayers, does anyone want in?

💑 armand-de-la-cruz

Yes please!

⚔️ nandor-the-relentless-3

Guillermo?

⚔️ nandor-the-relentless-3

Why do you want to be in a vampire slayer group chat Guillermo??????

⚔️ nandor-the-relentless-3

Answer my texts Guillermo

63 notes

✨ edward-cullen Follow

My beautiful daughter. Looks just like her mother.

🍷 dimitrescu-winery

Get that wretched monstrosity of a child off of my screen.

🐈‍⬛ carmillas-admirer-sappho

wait, Ravioli is a real child? i thought she was just a photoshop meme of @the-vampire-lestat’s daughter Claudia?

6️⃣ vampire-count-er

What is the Vampblr number of the day? Let’s count the vampires of Tumblr above me in this post to find out!

Ah, that’s one vampire.

TWO! Two vampires!

THREE bloodsucking vampires! Ah ah ah!!

The number of the day is three!

7,012 notes

🐈‍⬛ carmillas-admirer-sappho

💀 real-carmilla

?

🐈‍⬛ carmillas-admirer-sappho

NO I TAKE IT BACK

CARMILLA I’M SORRY

🐈‍⬛ carmillas-admirer-sappho

BEGONE WHITE GIRL

🐈‍⬛ carmillas-admirer-sappho

please check your dms carmilla i sent you my address

1,982 notes

👨🏻‍🦲 colin-robinson-69-420 Sponsored by Blaze 🔥

The new The Vampire Lestat album sucks.

Get it? It sucks.

Because he’s a vampire.

It’s pretty funny, if you ask me.

#lestat de lioncourt #satan’s night out #the vampire lestat #vampblr #not a callout post

438 notes

🌙 werepire

Is no one going to talk about how problematic Marceline’s girlfriend is? Just because they’re both royalty doesn’t mean that Bonnibel can do whatever she wants with no repercussions.

I mean, here’s an article explaining all the horrible stuff she’s done [link]. Are we just going to pretend none of it happened?

👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 nadja-of-antipaxos

Hard agree. Down with the monarchies.

She can, however, do whatever she wants because she’s hot

[lovelybucky1]

Jonathan Crane taking the reader hostage after a drug deal gone wrong (thinking of the "buyer beware" scene from the Dark Knight Trilogy, here: https://youtu.be/Wu-Jj8xRiEI?feature=shared - like how cocky he is here xD) and I'll let you take it from here 👉👈

my inbox is open for cillian characters!

warnings: gender neutral!reader (no pronouns or physical description) mentions of drug use/addicton, kidnapping, shitty boyfriends, creep!jonathan, dubcon, implied smut, degradation

masterlist

you knew it was a bad idea going to a drug deal with your boyfriend. you hadn’t even been dating that long, there was no reason for you to let him drag you into this life. he had just wanted a little, enough for a week to help him study for finals. you tried to talk him out of it, telling him that getting high off some mystery stimulant wasn’t going to help him, but he refused to listen

it was after midnight when the two of you went out. you followed his lead, and you eventually ended up in a dark alleyway between a liquor store and a furniture store. a cliché scene, but unfortunately it was real and not some shitty movie.

you and your boyfriend waited and waited, and just as you suggested to leave, a white van pulled to the end of the alley. a man in a burlap mask climbed out of the drivers seat and approached the two of you.

“i see you brought a friend this time,” the man in the mask said. you inched behind your boyfriend, trying to keep a distance between you and the man. you wondered what he meant by this time.

“where’s the stuff?” your boyfriend asked instead of acknowledging his comment

“not a fan of a small talk i take it? fine, fine,” the man huffed. “five hundred dollars.”

“what!?” your boyfriend exclaimed. “i dont have that kind of money.”

“the price is the price.”

“last time it was only a hundred.”

“last time you got coke. this stuff is more expensive,” the man spits, and even through the mask you can imagine the sneer that’s evident in his voice. “do you want it or not?”

your boyfriend huffs and scrubs his hand down his face. “yes..”

“but?”

“but i don’t have that kind of money.”

the man stands still, almost unnaturally so for a moment before turning to look at you. the only visible part of his face is his eyes, and his stare chills you to the bone.

“i think we can come to some kind of an arrangement,” he says, looking bad at your boyfriend. “i don’t usually trade, but you’ve been a loyal customer for a while now.”

“what do you want?” your boyfriend asks, and there’s a sick feeling in your stomach that tells you exactly what he wants.

“them,” the masked man says, pointing a long, thin finger at you.

you gasp in horror and cling to your boyfriend, but he doesn’t offer any comfort. “they’ll cover all of it?”

the man chuckles. “i’ll even give you a discount on your next purchase.”

your stomach churns. how could your boyfriend actually consider giving you to this lunatic just for some drugs?

“okay,” your boyfriend says, extending his hand for the man to shake, but he doesn’t. your boyfriend then grabs you and pushes you forward towards the man.

“what the fuck? let me go, asshole! you can’t fucking do this to me!” you shout, but neither man seem to care

the man grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him. you’re looking right at his mask, and from this close, you can see bits of his skin through the holes in the fabric. you struggle against his hold but his grip is firm.

“what a pretty thing,” he says. he then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a vile of clear liquid. he hands it to your boyfriend with a chuckle. “buyer beware.”

the man takes you by the wrist and drags you towards the van, ignoring your protests and screams for help. you shouldn’t be surprised that no one came to help, though. this is gotham, after all.

the man slides the door to the van open and pushes you inside, sending you tumbling onto the vehicle’s floor. he climbs in after you and shuts the door behind him, putting you in complete darkness.

through the car door, you can hear muffled screams of terror coming from outside. you shake with fear and you feel the lump in your throat growing as the reality of the situation hits you.

suddenly, a light turns on and you can see the inside of the empty van, save for the man that sits in front of you.

“would you like me to take off my mask?” he asks. you’re not sure what you want. the mask is frightening, but you’re afraid that what lies underneath is even worse. “not a talker, huh?”

the man pulls off his mask anyway, and reveals an unmarred face. he has sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, plush lips and piercing eyes. if it wasn’t for the mask and the kidnapping, you’d think he was a regular guy. an attractive guy.

the man grins at you as he watches you take in his appearance. clearly he knows he’s good looking, because he preens at the attention.

“since we’ll be spending a lot of time together, why don’t you tell me your name?”

you dont answer, instead you lean back against the wall, trying to stay away from him. unfortunately, he leans forward so your attempts were futile.

“i’ll go first. my name is jonathan, but you can call me whatever you want,” he smirks

“asshole,” you spit.

“this is the part where you tell me your name.”

again, you refuse to answer. the less he knows about you the better.

jonathan sighs. “it wouldn’t take me much effort to figure it out. but unless you want me to uncover every single detail of your life, identify, dirty secrets… i suggest you tell me.”

you tell him, gritting your name out between your teeth. he grins back at you, all teeth and he looks like a predator about to eat his prey.

“i’m sure you know that i didn’t trade you for my very expensive formula just to learn your name”

“what are you going to do to me?” you ask, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice

“so eager,” he licks his bottom lip. “i was thinking we could get to know each other a little better.”

jonathan places his hand on your thigh and you flinch, which makes him chuckle.

“i’ll scream,” you say.

jonathan leans close to your face. “and no one will hear you,” he spits. “even if they did, do you think they’d give a shit? you know how many people are murdered in this city every day? no one would bat an eye at a stupid little slut screaming for help in an alleyway. hell, they probably won’t even notice you’re gone.”

his harsh words make tears well up in your eyes. you try to fight them back, not wanting to cry in front of him, but before you can stop them, they’re spilling down your cheeks.

“you poor little thing,” he says, tone now gentle as he strokes your cheek, wiping away your tears. you can’t help but lean into his touch. his hand is large and comforting, and his fingertips are cool on your hot cheeks. “let me make you feel better.”

before you can answer, jonathan is leaning in and pressing his soft lips to yours. you resist at first, but when he deepens the kiss, you melt into it. he’s dominant, claiming your mouth for his own as he explores you with his tongue, and for some reason, you let him.

he finally breaks the kiss and looks at you with wide, lust-blown pupils. “we’re going to have lots of fun together.”

his hand creeps towards your groin, but you slap his hand away. he grabs your wrists in either hand and holds you tightly so you can’t move them. “you’re not going to stockholm syndrome me,” you say.

“oh, of course not. it’s much more fun when you hate me. i’d much rather you struggle than give in.”

his tone sparks fear inside you, but along with that fear comes a strange pang of arousal.

“i’m going to break you,” he grins, pushing you back against the van wall.

part 2!

[gazspookiebear]

Ugh idk I'm just gonna spit this out

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

Take Ghost for example

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

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

Or shipping with other 141 members...

Simon MacTavish, Simon Garrick, Simon Price!!!

OR

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

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

OR!!!

Combining their last names!

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

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

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

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

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

[ragingbookdragon]

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

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

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

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

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

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

He flushes. “I just wanted a change.”

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

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

Soap smirks. “Oh…he’s whipped.”

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

“How old is she?”

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

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

“Dude,” Gaz gripes. “Subtlety much?”

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

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

“Damn, she’s almost half your age.”

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

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

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

Uh…is Jonathan there?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You too, dear.

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

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

[l0velylecter]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[georgiapeach30513]

Underneath the City Lights, Part 2

Summary:  Ari has some questions and a plan

Pairings:  Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating:  explicit

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

Word Count:  3.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me go.”

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

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

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

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

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

“August, your master is calling you.”

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

“August!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.  You just may survive.”

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

“Of course.  Dulce.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s nearly finished.”

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

“Sir?”

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

“I…her nipples need to stay hard.”

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

“It’s our finest room, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is only a business agreement.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a bitch just like she is.”

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

“I’m not jealous.”

“Then quit getting hard.”

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

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

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

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

“She wants your dick.”

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

Next

Masterlist

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

[themakeupbrush]

List of Met Galas since 2001

I've gotten a few asks for a list of Met Galas. Technically, the gala has existed since 1948, and been themed since 1973, but I started at 2001 to keep it short (there was no gala in 2000 apparently). If you're interested in every theme that's ever existed, there's a chart on Wikipedia.

Most lists online start somewhere around 2011-2013, since it wasn't covered by the press the same way before then.

2001 Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Christina and Lindsay Owen-Jones, Annette and Oscar de la Renta, Carolina Herrera Caroline Kennedy and Edwin A. Schlossberg

Sponsor: L'Oreal

2003 Goddess: The Classical Mode

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Tom Ford, Nicole Kidman

Sponsor: Gucci

2004 Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Renée Zellweger, Lawrence Stroll, Silas Chou, Edgar Bronfman Jr. Jacob Rothschild, Jayne Wrightsman

Sponsor: Asprey

2005 The House of Chanel

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Karl Lagerfeld, Nicole Kidman Caroline, Princess of Hanover

Sponsor: Chanel

2006 AngloMania: Tradition and Transgression in British Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Christopher Bailey, Sienna Miller Rose Marie Bravo, The Duke of Devonshire

Sponsor: Burberry

2007 Poiret: King of Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Cate Blanchett, Nicolas Ghesquière François-Henri Pinault

Sponsor: Balenciaga

2008 Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, George Clooney, Julia Roberts, Giorgio Armani

Sponsor: Giorgio Armani

2009 The Model As Muse: Embodying Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Kate Moss, Justin Timberlake Marc Jacobs

Sponsor: Marc Jacobs

Ticket Price: $7,500

2010 American Woman: Fashioning a National Identity

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Oprah Winfrey, Patrick Robinson

Sponsor: Gap

2011 Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Colin Firth, Stella McCartney François-Henri Pinault and Salma Hayek

Sponsor: Alexander McQueen

2012 Schiaparelli and Prada: Impossible Conversations

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Carey Mulligan, Miuccia Prada, Jeff Bezos

Sponsor: Amazon

2013 Punk: Chaos to Couture

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Rooney Mara, Lauren Santo Domingo, Riccardo Tisci Beyoncé

Sponsor: Moda Operandi

Ticket Price: $15,000

2014 Charles James: Beyond Fashion

Co-chairs: Aerin Lauder, Anna Wintour, Bradley Cooper, Oscar de la Renta, Sarah Jessica Parker, Lizzie and Jonathan Tisch

Sponsor: AERIN

Ticket Price: $25,000

Theme Announcement: September 4th, 2013

2015 China: Through the Looking Glass

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Jennifer Lawrence, Gong Li, Marissa Mayer, Wendi Murdoch, Silas Chou

Sponsor: Yahoo

Ticket Price: $25,000

Theme Announcement: September 11th, 2014

2016 Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Taylor Swift, Idris Elba, Jonathan Ive Nicolas Ghesquière, Karl Lagerfeld, Miuccia Prada

Sponsor: Apple

Ticket Price: $30,000

Theme Announcement: October 13th, 2015

2017 Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Between

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Gisele Bündchen and Tom Brady, Katy Perry, Pharrell Williams, Rei Kawakubo

Sponsor: Apple, Condé Nast, Farfetch, H&M, Maison Valentino

Ticket Price: $30,000

Theme Announcement: October 21st, 2016

2018 Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Rihanna, Amal Clooney, Donatella Versace Christine and Stephen A. Schwarzman

Sponsors: Christine and Stephen A. Schwarzman, Versace

Ticket Price: $30,000

Theme Announcement: November 8th, 2017 (currently the latest they've announced the theme)

2019 Camp: Notes on Fashion

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Lady Gaga, Harry Styles, Serena Williams, Alessandro Michele

Sponsor: Gucci

Ticket Price: $35,000

Theme Announcement: October 9th, 2018

Planned for May 4, 2020 (canceled) About Time: Fashion and Duration

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Meryl Streep, Emma Stone, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Nicolas Ghesquière

Sponsor: Louis Vuitton

September 2021 In America: A Lexicon of Fashion

Co-chairs: Timothée Chalamet, Billie Eilish, Amanda Gorman, Naomi Osaka, Tom Ford, Adam Mosseri, Anna Wintour

Sponsor: Instagram

Ticket Price: $35,000

2022 In America: An Anthology of Fashion

Co-chairs: Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Regina King, Tom Ford, Adam Mosseri, Anna Wintour

Sponsor: Instagram

Ticket Price: $35,000

2023 Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty

Co-chairs: Anna Wintour, Dua Lipa, Michaela Coel, Penélope Cruz, Roger Federer

Sponsors: Chanel, Fendi, Karl Lagerfeld (brand)

Ticket Price: $50,000 (most expensive to date)

Theme Announcement: September 30th, 2022

[imkumichan]

Call of Duty x Makima!Reader

Call of Duty with Dazai! Reader

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

took place after modern warfare 2022

.

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

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

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

“Captain Jonathan Price”

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

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

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

He wonders where Laswell found this woman.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

hi! hope you are well <3 for the character ask game!

#21 - könig

#9 - simon & könig

#25 - tf141

Hey!! 🩷💌 I’m doing much better, thanks ^^ Got some good news this week that should help my life situation quite a bit next year!

Answers for the ask game:

I don’t prefer to write him as this dirty talking, “guide you through it” dom. I imagine König getting a little overwhelmed when he gets to have sex. He’s not eloquent enough to keep his dom game intact, I imagine things like heavy breathing and awkward noises and staring at you, dead in the eye without blinking instead O_O Maybe he blurts out something odd or pervy if he’s feeling exceptionally chatty, but mainly just concentrates on rutting you desperately, maybe tells you he’s about to cum… What a sweetheart <3

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I like to do this “Tell them he’s neurodivergent without telling them he’s neurodivergent” thing with König. I also code him as mentally unstable in every story. Even the nun fic has a few hints of him not being entirely sane :D

I imagine Simon just disappearing without a trace for weeks and then coming back after I’ve just gotten used to him never being home. I’d be walking around in my bathrobe or something (oops this got super self-indulgent really fucking fast) and then I’d get flustered again, because how do you ever get to know your insanely hot, huge, stoic roommate, let alone get comfortable with them if they’re never there?!

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

With Simon? HAHAH I’d be so down bad for this man from day one and try to cover it by feigning disinterest or even ignorance. I’d be the cat who stares at a wall when he comes home (and then be a creep and sniff his gym shirt when he’s not looking)

Could I be roommates with König…. *wrings hands furiously* Uh, uh, uhhh, I think I’d be the type of roommate who makes coffee and food for the both of us, I’d get a bit motherly over this man. Try to flirt with him by feeding him and being extra sweet. I’d be flustered again but in a different way, try to cover it by acting like this cool soft girl or something :S

I think König would be more open to communication with how things should be arranged, wherein Simon would just do the dishes and disappear again without saying a word.

And why do I get the feeling that König would leave his dirty laundry lying around everywhere?? I’d nag about it just for the sake of seeing if he’d get embarrassed (he would!!). Yes, some unknown, ghastly mommy kink activated here for sure... omg

25. First impression(s) of TF141 and how I feel about them now

Simon “Ghost” Riley

First impression: Good God this man is annoying. So cringe. Please go see a therapist asap

Now: I’m sorry for everything I did to you <3 I’m sorry for babygirlifying you <3 <3 <3 It’s your own fault though, why are you so fine T_T

John “Soap” MacTavish

First impression: Wow wow wow what a fuckboy pretty boy puppy boy babe. Wow. And he’s Scottish? Could someone please punch this man???

Now: Stop it!!!!! Please stop hurting this man, what are you insane?!?

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

First impression: Aww. What a sweet boy ^^

Now: He’s sane, he’s sound, he’s disciplined and he’s husband material. It’s terrifying. Also why does no one dress him in full leather and give him a bike... I need him riding into the sunset without a care in the world. Let loose a bit. Go grab a bourbon and a girl and say goodbye to all that pew pew shit

Captain Jonathan Price

First impression: Oh look, it’s my husband! I wish he still smoked cigars….

Now: Oh look, it’s my husband! Maybe that’s why I don’t write fics about this man…......